Work Text:
Nami never thought she’d see the day when she’d hop in bed with a man who was technically her boss, was definitely her best friend, and who she'd thought was not romantically interested in her.
She’d absolutely never in a million years would’ve thought that man would be a pirate, let alone crowned the king of pirates mere weeks later, nor that she’d go on to quickly become known as his queen.
And certainly, if anyone had told her that it all started when she’d yanked him into her room and out of the bitter cold, his silly ass wearing nothing but his shorts, a blanket, and his beloved straw hat, she’d have scoffed in complete dismissal. Because who, her?? Nami?? Allowing herself the great misfortune of shacking up with a damn pirate in the first place, much less one who was clearly lacking any sense?
Not a chance, she'd have said!
But of course, back then, she hadn't yet met him, and meeting him was what had marked her course leading up to this remarkable sequence of events.
“Nami! Naaaamiiiiiiii,” hollered the wholly unmistakable sound of Luffy’s voice from outside, punctuated with his loud, rather enthusiastic banging on her door. “Let me in, it’s cold out here!”
“Huh?” Nami pauses in brushing her teeth, throwing a startled frown toward door. “Luffy?” She calls out, toothpaste splattering everywhere. “Dammit,” she sputters thickly, a foamy glob also dropping down the front of her sweatshirt. She leans over to spit in the sink and quickly rinses out her mouth before heading for the door, almost dreading whatever had dragged her blasted captain to her doorstep on such a miserably cold night.
“Luffy, what in the hell?” She yanks open her door, her brows slammed down in glare of equal parts alarm and exasperation. “Boy, it is cold outside, and it’s late, so this had better be good. Did something happen?” She worriedly runs a look over him, not seeing anything of concern.
“No? I’m-m-m-m just fr-freezing, that’s what-t-t-t,” he chatters out, violently shivering under the blanket clutched tightly around his shoulders.
“Well, no shit, my guy, it’s snowing out,” she snarks at him. “What do you need? I’m about to go to bed, so make it snappy.”
“Another bl-blanket,” he manages, “’s cold in the boys’ room.” He peers over her shoulder inside her room, and somehow manages to quiver and clack even harder. “Nami, lemme in, I’m-m-m freezing, and it looks real warm in there.”
“Luffy, I don’t have any extra blankets—“
“N-nami,” he interrupts forcefully, dipping his face in closer to catch her gaze in a very deliberate, wide-eyed, earnest stare, “I’m fr-fr-freezing. Please let me in, I can’t even feel my nose anymore.”
Nami then watches the captain of the Straw Hat pirates, a man widely feared, loved, dreaded, and respected across the seas, proceed to cross his eyes in an effort to see his nose, one of his hands slipping out from under the blanket to reach up and poke his nostril.
“Oh my god, stop it, it’s still there,” she snorts softly in humor, lightly flicking his reddened nose. He jerks back with a squawk, and she sniggers at him. “See? Told you.”
“You stop it, that kinda hurt,” he mutters, glaring at her with such an acute look of betrayal, she can’t help but laugh at him a little.
“You’re so dramatic. Come in,” she capitulates with a hefty sigh and a roll of her eyes, grabbing his shoulder and yanking him inside. “You’re letting all the cold air in. Won’t be warm in here at all if you keep the door open, and then we'll both be cold, and—“
“Awww shut up, you’re the one who wanted to fuss in the doorway forever,” he snots back, and then he's moving around her room, restless and nosy as he ever is, his little snit rapidly evaporating.
Such is the way of things with Luffy; the man is all heart, and he feels every feeling with every ounce of it until the next crashes into him.
She can’t help but wonder what he’d do if he ever fell in love, what it would look like for him, that moment of realization.
Stop it, you silly girl, she admonishes herself, he isn’t for you, so let it be.
Gods above, she wishes he was! She’s just wretchedly in love with him; those seeds were sewn when she’d brokenly asked him for help, finally realized she could, and then exploded into full bloom after she’d learned everything he’d done for her on Drum Island.
“Huh. So I was right,” his voice shakes her from those thoughts, “it is warmer in here. Sucks that you don’t have anymore blankets though, sure could use one, I’m still pretty cold.” He shivers for emphasis. Then he brightens up on her. “Can I just stay with you tonight?”
She blinks at him in surprise. “Excuse me?” Did he just ask to spend the night?? Her mind whirs giddily at the possible implications, because they’d be alone, Robin has the watch—
“Can I stay with you tonight?” He repeats, his gaze fastened on her intently. He used to unnerve the hell out of her with those black-eyed stares, but these days, she’s more appreciative of the warmth and open curiosity in the direct eye contact.
“Uhhhh…ah,” she stumbles a bit, snatching up her scattered wits enough for maybe a solid, heated retort, and then she promptly snaps her jaw shut. It’d do no good to yell at him, and she knows he hadn't meant anything by it anyway. Further, she’d known this is where things were headed the second she’d snatched him into her room.
“Yeah, sure, you can stay, whatever,” she acquiesces with a helpless gesture of her hands, “I mean, why not, you’re already here, might as well.” She mentally shakes her head at the crazed path her heart and her thoughts fly at the notion, her cheeks firing up as she moves past Robin’s neatly made bed to her own. “But if you kick me or hog the covers, I’ll shove your ass to the floor, got it?”
He blinks large, beautiful eyes at her. “Huh, didn’t mean sleep with you.” He glances away, rubbing the back of his neck, the blanket opening up to reveal a tanned sliver of his leanly muscled, and very shirtless torso. And she could swear a faint flush hit his cheeks, but if it did, it was gone by the time he looked back at her, flashing one of his brilliant smiles. “But yeah, it’s warmer that way, smart thinking. Especially since there aren’t any other blankets.”
Welp, if you ever needed confirmation that he’s not interested, you just got it, she thinks pragmatically with a practiced smile. “Exactly. And of course I’m smart, that’s why you need me. Anyway, I sleep on this side,” she points to the side farthest from the door. “You can sleep on the other.”
And honestly, it’s easier now, there is no room for question, no what-ifs. She now knows. She can quietly love him until it fades, and everything will be okay. No dramatics, no messes. He’s her captain and her best friend, and she’s perfectly content to keep him as both.
“Yup, you’re the brains of this operation,” he cheerfully agrees, tossing his blanket haphazardly over her bedding before climbing into his designated side, “definitely wouldn’t have made it this far without you.”
She can't stop staring at him. It's not even as though she's never seen him shirtless before, she has--many times. It's just that it was never in her bed, watching him slip under her covers, long, slim muscles flexing under beautiful skin as he adjusts his blanket over her comforters, balls up his pillow, and lays back--
Perfectly content, her ass.
“Oh, that’s a given,” she snaps out of it with a snort, feeling far from the nonchalance she’s faking at the moment. She readies her pillows and climbs into bed beside him, “you don’t know up or down from side to side, you’d be dead by now.”
“Hmmm it’s a wonder I wasn’t dead already and then never got to meet you, actually,” he shivers down further into the covers, pulling them up to his chin. “Did you know that right before I met you, I lost my boat in a whirlpool, and was adrift in a barrel?”
She stops, then turns an incredulous stare at him, a sort of hollowed out feeling in her chest at his words, never got to meet you… “A barrel? Really? That…was dumb.”
He shrugs, unfazed. “Was either the barrel or the whirlpool.”
“You’re absolutely unbelievable,” she mutters, rolling onto her stomach, facing him, “well, I’ll tell you this, if you ever do something that stupid again, I’ll—I’ll revive you so I can kill you myself. And charge you for both services.”
“Pfft, and you said I was dramatic,” he snorts at her. Then he tilts her a pensive look, digging his pinky finger into his ear. “I’m glad I did get to meet you. Even if you did just threaten to charge me after killing me. After reviv--revriv--reversing me. Wait, how would that even work anywa—hemngmmp!”
“Stop,” she huffs an exasperated laugh at him, her hand clapped over his mouth, and oh god his mouth is so soft, warm, please Luffy, don’t be weird about this, your lips feel so nice— “you’re just yapping at this point to hear yourself yap. Go to sleep. That’s an order, captain.”
He stills at her flirt wrapped in a sharp command, his eyes melting hot on her. She swallows hard, and she wants to yank her hand back, because lord, she’s never touched him like that, spoken to him that way, and she wants to trace the line of his mouth with her fingertip, brush her thumb over his lower lip, kiss him—
“Anyway, it's just," she begins haltingly, finger tapping his cheek as she gathers her thoughts. “I just…don’t like the idea that I might not have ever met you,” she finally tells him. He only watches her, waiting her out, those gorgeous eyes so, so warm on her— “You…you completely changed my life, and I don’t know how I’d have done it without you.”
He remains silent for a moment longer, then he grins into her palm. She lets her hand fall, slipping back under the covers, and just like every other time he smiles, it’s like the sun bursting out from behind a wall of clouds. “Yeah, good thing it all worked out, because it sounds like neither of us would be us without each other, huh?”
And his words kind of sting a little, because if she didn’t know better, he’d almost sounded romantic just then. “Yeah.” She pauses, heart and mind reeling, feelings and thoughts threatening to bubble up, but none of the words seem right. Instead, she sighs and smiles at him, then turns away to hit the lights. “Good night, Luffy.”
“Hmm,” he hums up at the ceiling, clearly already distracted from the conversation. And then he nearly makes her choke on her own breath with his next question, “hey Nami. If you always sleep on that side, what’s over here on my side?”
Your side?! What the hell, Luffy, I wish it was! “A pillow,” she answers grudgingly, hoping he doesn’t press for more, because he really doesn’t need to know that she likes to have an extra pillow at her back, or sometimes to hug, or why she likes it— “go to sleep, Luffy. Please. I’m tired.”
“Alright.” His voice is quieter, and she can tell he’d turned his head back toward her. “‘Night, Nami. And thanks for letting me stay tonight. It feels good here.”
All she can do is smile to herself as he rolls away from her, because goddamn, the man is accidentally saying some shit that’d be so easy to take it the wrong way—
She pauses.
…accidental? Is it?
Luffy can be maddeningly dense, but she knows he isn’t stupid. He’s observant, perceptive when he wants to be, and deeply intuitive, he’s easily picked up on different dynamics and nuances between people that she’s seen. And while he’s obviously a virgin clear down to his toenails, she knows for a damn fact that he’s not ignorant about romance and sex either. After all, he is nineteen, grown, and a pirate to boot, for gods’ sake, and she’s lived on a damn boat with him and several other men for months at a time, boys talk and shit comes out.
He knows what he’s saying. There's no way he doesn't. Which means he knows how he’s saying it, too, and he knows the context, the when, the where—in her room, in her bed, under her covers, sleeping with her.
Her heart rate skyrockets. Her breath catches in her lungs. Her stomach feels like a small jar full of hundreds of butterflies, and she aches to her fucking teeth to say something, to touch him.
“Hey Luffy,” she calls his name almost breathlessly, does it before she loses her nerve, reaching over, urgently patting at his back, demanding.
“Yeah?” He looks back at her over his shoulder.
“Are you…are you warm enough?” She can’t breathe. Her chest aches. Her heart feels like it’s in her mouth.
“Nuh-uh. Still cold.” No hesitation, and she can hear the grin in his voice.
Her body floods warm, and she bites her lip to keep from giggling like a giddy schoolgirl at his blatantly open invitation.
“Well, we can’t have that, now can we?” She snorts, scooting over close and slipping an arm over his ribs, curling against smooth, rich skin and long, lean muscles. “After all, warmth is what you came here f—oh holy hell, Luffy,” she yelps at first contact with his feet and hands under the blanket, “you’re freezing!”
“Been telling you,” he snickers, then shivers rake his body head to toe as she lifts the covers to adjust them more comfortably over the both of them before spooning along his back. She flattens her palm to his chest, greedily soaking up the feel of him, the jagged ridges of his scars, then smoothing out over unmarked skin, and further out, the pucker of his nipple tightening under her fingertips. She hears the catch in his breath, and she can feel his heart crashing into the wall of his chest under her hand. She can even feel its faint thump against his back. Smiling at that, she closes her eyes and presses her cheek to the nape of his neck.
His teeth chatter briefly, another shudder zipping down his spine, and then he slides his arm over hers, his fingers curling through hers as he holds her hand to his chest. “You’re hot though,” his voice a low rasp in the dark.
“So are you,” she flirts back, laughing softly at the goosebumps rippling up over his torso. He'd definitely known what he was saying then! “Good night, captain,” she deliberately teases out his title this time, her lips brushing his skin. She’s had many a fantasy calling him that in bed, and she’d noticed his earlier reaction—
Her only warning is him wriggling his fingers out of hers, and then he’s rolling over, pulling her into his arms, his chest, guiding her leg up over his hip while his leg slips in between hers. The covers are a mess, and he doesn’t bother straightening them out, not with the way he yanks them up over the both of them, bunching them up, wrapping her into a tight, chaotic cocoon.
“‘Night, Nami,” he murmurs low and thick into her hair, his hand cupping her head, pressing her face into his throat, the other flattened over her lower back.
It’s her turn for shivers and goosebumps, the feel of his voice against her lips, the sound and feel of it in his chest making every muscle in her body clench in pleasure, and even though his hands and feet might feel like blocks of ice, his strong, slim body feels so solid, warm, a heat that radiates outward and melts into her bones.
A great fortune, indeed, snuggling her captain of the Straw Hats, and she can’t help but wonder if maybe this is how it looks like for him, when he's in love too.