[ While she’s content to soak up compliments like a greedy sponge, being called out for the color stubbornly clinging to the apples of her cheeks makes Nami’s throat tighten slightly as a soft, strangled groan escapes past pursed lips. She averts her eyes with a dismissive shake of her head and a muttered ‘shut up’ that’s too fondly spoken to be sincere before shifting her focus and using the time it takes for her eyes to run over every detail of the first room to get the color of her face back under control. How Sanji managed to slip past her defenses isn’t a mystery exactly, but that doesn’t stop her from amusedly turning the question over in her mind. It’s a thought that never fails to leave her internally exasperated in all the greatest ways.
The mellow, golden light that fills every room somehow serves to make the suite all the more uniquely his. A space that’s clean and cozy but still generously geared towards the comfort of others, much like the rest of him. The thought settles around her pleasantly thudding heart, adding fuel to the gentle glow of an already fond fire within it. The only space Nami has ever known as belonging to Sanji, even partially, is Baratie. Trying to compare this suite with the floating restaurant drives the point further home that Zeff’s place wasn’t somewhere Sanji was meant to occupy for the rest of his life. He’s a good man, and she knows he would have done it anyway if Zeff allowed it to happen, but it wouldn’t have been his own life that Sanji was living. The casino is a prison. No amount of creature comforts will ever make Nami forget that no one is here willingly, but after walking into the impeccably appointed kitchen only to be met by that bright-as-daybreak smile while Sanji excitedly starts to point things out, a person could start to forget that and let themselves get caught up in what’s got to be the warmest welcome possible instead.
Without the months Nami spent gradually letting Sanji get closer to her, the desire to take in every detail of this kitchen—a place she knows Sanji will make himself the most happy in (as opposed to the other rooms where that’s her job)—wouldn’t take precedence over the news that not only is there a bedroom that’s meant for the two of them in the suite, but it’s apparently the best part of the whole place. Depending on what’s waiting for them there, she might argue in favor of his kitchen. For now, she’s happy to let everything he points out guarantee she won’t be able to get the grin off her face if she tried, though the look she gives him tips more towards the dubious after he points out the counters. ]
Wonder what you’re going to do with all that space.
[ Nami shifts her weight and lets her hip bump against Sanji’s, looking up to flash a wink at him (in case it wasn’t clear she isn’t wondering about that at all), before she slips out from under his arm and meanders forward, her shoulders rolling comfortably as she takes a deep, contented breath. Just like him, his suite has already begun to feel like home. Not waiting to be shown, Nami pulls the door of the pantry open, humming, impressed, as she takes a few steps inside, her fingers touching over the wood grain of the shelves she passes while her eyes dart this way and that, inspecting the spread of ingredients the resort’s already left him stocked with.
No. It’s unlikely she’ll stop smiling any time soon. Warmth sits comfortably on her chest as she turns on her heel to face him, their eyes meeting once more as her fingers find the hem of her skirt. She smoothes them over the fabric, a motion that could have been invitational or an idle movement, were it not for the slow way her eyebrows raise at him, making her look coy and curious. ]
So, our room, huh? [ Nami puts the emphasis on the second word of that question, because while she doesn’t want to cut the tour short, she wasn’t going to let that interesting detail slip away without teasing him. ]
I think we could make a few rooms between here and there, our room too, if we wanted.
[ By the time she finishes sharing that thought, Nami has wrapped her arms around Sanji’s waist and is well on her way to leaning into him again. Her hands splay across his lower back, the flats of her fingers conforming to the planes of his body beneath his shirt, holding him for the joy of it while she rises onto the balls of her feet and lets her lips ghost against the side of his jaw.
Happy housewarming, Sanji.
Keeping him here in the pantry is surprisingly alluring, but for now, she'll file that thought away for later (both for here and back home). Instead of lingering and letting her lips brush any higher than the soft spot of skin just beneath his earlobe, Nami moves past him again and back into the kitchen, walking backwards so that she can keep smiling at him like an utter fool. ]
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The mellow, golden light that fills every room somehow serves to make the suite all the more uniquely his. A space that’s clean and cozy but still generously geared towards the comfort of others, much like the rest of him. The thought settles around her pleasantly thudding heart, adding fuel to the gentle glow of an already fond fire within it. The only space Nami has ever known as belonging to Sanji, even partially, is Baratie. Trying to compare this suite with the floating restaurant drives the point further home that Zeff’s place wasn’t somewhere Sanji was meant to occupy for the rest of his life. He’s a good man, and she knows he would have done it anyway if Zeff allowed it to happen, but it wouldn’t have been his own life that Sanji was living. The casino is a prison. No amount of creature comforts will ever make Nami forget that no one is here willingly, but after walking into the impeccably appointed kitchen only to be met by that bright-as-daybreak smile while Sanji excitedly starts to point things out, a person could start to forget that and let themselves get caught up in what’s got to be the warmest welcome possible instead.
Without the months Nami spent gradually letting Sanji get closer to her, the desire to take in every detail of this kitchen—a place she knows Sanji will make himself the most happy in (as opposed to the other rooms where that’s her job)—wouldn’t take precedence over the news that not only is there a bedroom that’s meant for the two of them in the suite, but it’s apparently the best part of the whole place. Depending on what’s waiting for them there, she might argue in favor of his kitchen. For now, she’s happy to let everything he points out guarantee she won’t be able to get the grin off her face if she tried, though the look she gives him tips more towards the dubious after he points out the counters. ]
Wonder what you’re going to do with all that space.
[ Nami shifts her weight and lets her hip bump against Sanji’s, looking up to flash a wink at him (in case it wasn’t clear she isn’t wondering about that at all), before she slips out from under his arm and meanders forward, her shoulders rolling comfortably as she takes a deep, contented breath. Just like him, his suite has already begun to feel like home. Not waiting to be shown, Nami pulls the door of the pantry open, humming, impressed, as she takes a few steps inside, her fingers touching over the wood grain of the shelves she passes while her eyes dart this way and that, inspecting the spread of ingredients the resort’s already left him stocked with.
No. It’s unlikely she’ll stop smiling any time soon. Warmth sits comfortably on her chest as she turns on her heel to face him, their eyes meeting once more as her fingers find the hem of her skirt. She smoothes them over the fabric, a motion that could have been invitational or an idle movement, were it not for the slow way her eyebrows raise at him, making her look coy and curious. ]
So, our room, huh? [ Nami puts the emphasis on the second word of that question, because while she doesn’t want to cut the tour short, she wasn’t going to let that interesting detail slip away without teasing him. ]
I think we could make a few rooms between here and there, our room too, if we wanted.
[ By the time she finishes sharing that thought, Nami has wrapped her arms around Sanji’s waist and is well on her way to leaning into him again. Her hands splay across his lower back, the flats of her fingers conforming to the planes of his body beneath his shirt, holding him for the joy of it while she rises onto the balls of her feet and lets her lips ghost against the side of his jaw.
Happy housewarming, Sanji.
Keeping him here in the pantry is surprisingly alluring, but for now, she'll file that thought away for later (both for here and back home). Instead of lingering and letting her lips brush any higher than the soft spot of skin just beneath his earlobe, Nami moves past him again and back into the kitchen, walking backwards so that she can keep smiling at him like an utter fool. ]
What’s our next stop?