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Even after leaving Arlong’s crew, Nami is still an early riser. It hadn’t been an official requirement; Arlong had liked his crew to party late into the night and liked to sleep in himself, but god help you if you were still asleep when he came knocking. Most of the crew adjusted to waking up an hour or half before Arlong did. Nami, always aiming to be one step ahead, trained herself to be up and running by 7AM.
Now on the Straw Hat Crew, Nami obviously remains the earliest riser. Zoro keeps an unpredictable schedule and cat-naps whenever he can. Usopp is the type to wake up for a job and sleep in otherwise. Luffy, full of energy, wakes earlier than Nami would have expected, but still not quite 7AM. So Nami is used to being the one who rings in the next day, double-checks the Merry's course. Until—
She wakes up one day to the smell of bacon frying.
It’s delectable, rich and savory and wafting all across the ship. No doubt their captain would wake up and float along the trail soon, but for now it’s only Nami—and Sanji, and she’s pissed he beat her to the punch. She hadn’t even realized she thought of it as a competition.
“Good morning, sunshine!” Sanji greets her when she enters the kitchen. His voice is interrupted by the sound of oil sizzling and popping, which works great for Nami. The less of him she can hear, the better.
Now she can see, she has to admit Sanji’s gotten her well and truly beaten today. Nami’s still in the haze of waking up and he already has two pans going, bacon and eggs. He somehow manages to keep his eyes on both pans and Nami at the same time.
“You caught me unawares,” Sanji continues, completely oblivious to Nami’s growing petty annoyance. He offers her a rueful smile from across the counter—too obviously delighted by her presence to fully sell it, but still sincere. “I was hoping to have this ready to serve by the time you woke up. I must apologize for the wait.”
Nami shrugs, schooling her face back into its resting expression. Lucky for her, mild annoyance is her default. “I don’t usually eat breakfast, so it’s fine.”
“Well, that’s about to change.” Sanji twinkles at her. “I assumed everyone would be fine with bacon and eggs, but let me know if you’d like anything else. There’s always toast, if you prefer. I haven’t quite gotten around to making marmalade out of the tangerines yet, but I can—”
“Bacon is fine.” Good god, Luffy’s picked up another chatty one.
Sanji does a dramatic little bow. “As you wish, madam. These—” he gestures to the pans—“are just about done, so I’ll plate them up for you.”
He does, and the smell of bacon is all the more tantalizing now it’s right in front of her. It looks fried to perfection, and the egg sits plump with its own yolk next to it. “Please enjoy.”
It’s delicious. Just as savory as it smells, crispy without too much salt or grease. The egg breaks perfectly when Nami slices through it. She’s had Sanji’s cooking before. The fried rice at Coco Village was made with paltry ingredients, but the taste of freedom had seasoned it well above any spice. This, though—despite no life-changing victory to cushion it and Sanji being Sanji—is somehow still working miracles: Nami feels her bad mood clearing despite her unexpected start to the day.
Across from her, Sanji is pretending to wipe down the spots of grease on his counter. He’s got the rag and all, but his hand has long stilled; what he’s really doing is watching Nami, his face openly hopeful for approval. Maybe even praise, if miracles really do happen. His visible eye meets hers shamelessly when she glares up at him.
“Do you like it?”
The way Nami’s nearly inhaled her plate should be answer enough. She refuses to feed his ego by saying it out loud. “Quit staring.”
He must know she enjoyed it, because his smile grows wider. He’s always smiling, like a damn Cheshire cat. “My apologies. You’re so beautiful I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
“You keep saying stuff like that,” Nami says, exasperated. “You’re not slick, you know. I know you said all the same things to Nojiko. We talk.”
Sanji shrugs, tossing the rag to the end of the counter. “And I meant every word I said. You’re both very attractive, competent women.”
“What’s your end goal here?” Nami demands. She knows Sanji’s technically an ally now, but she’s no Luffy. Sure, he helped them take down Arlong. She’s allowed him aboard their ship and eaten his food. But she barely knows anything about him. She has no idea if his sweet nothings are full of hot air or something much more sinister. “You think I’m going to fall for it? Let you get in my pants? It’s not happening.”
Sanji puts both hands up in surrender, his eyes wide. “I assumed no such thing! I apologize—I expect no reciprocation. I only fall in love easily.”
“You’re still hitting on me, even when you’re apologizing,” Nami says with a sigh. Maybe he really is just an idiot. Maybe he’s a good actor. He could just be waiting to sink his claws into her. Nami has met plenty of men like that. There’s never any way to tell.
Sanji is at least saying all the right things so far. “Oh, I didn’t mean—I apologize. Sincerely. Do you want me to stop?”
Then again, Nami is no stranger to seduction as a means to an end, either. She knows she’s attractive. She knows a lovestruck man makes a good tool. And if she lets Sanji continue this farce, she’ll always have a fish on her hook ready to go.
Nami is not a gambling woman unless she has a way to assure victory, and a man she doesn’t know is too much for her to bet anything on. She needs time. She needs data. She needs to know what Sanji’s really made of before she can map him out.
One of the old women at Coco Village once told her and Nojiko—if you want to make a man’s true colours show, tell him no.
It would be the decent choice. He might flip his shit right away and she could get this over with early. He might not. She’d have to wait him out. For how long? Until she finds him crossing the line? No, she wants to be a step ahead. She wants him to dangle where she wants. He can keep doing what he’s been doing. He can think she’s given him leeway. He can keep his infatuation fat and well-fed, and Nami will keep it in her back pocket. Helpless, sputtering fish on her hook.
“I don’t care if you’ve got a crush on me or whatever.” God, it feels so juvenile to say as an adult. “I can’t stop you. As long as you know it’s never going any farther, I don’t care about the cheesy lines. But if it ever gets creepy, and if you ever touch me, you’re dead. I’ll get the entire crew on you. Got it?”
Sanji nods furiously. He keeps his palms up like he’s making sure Nami can see he’s not about to grope her. Absolute fucking idiot. “Yes ma’am. Understood. Not a finger.”
“Good.” She could get used to this obedience, if it was real. Her plate is clean, so she stands up from the counter. “And Sanji?”
“Yes, Nami?”
Keep him dangling. “Breakfast was good.”
As she walks away, she thinks she can hear a muffled victory cheer. If this is real at all, it might even make her smile.