inbox for golden peacock

[cartographie]

@nami

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[cartographie]

[ She should be used to the way he willingly fawns over her, committing every second of his time to answering her call, adoring her in a way that makes it clear he doesn't care if she, or anyone else, knows, but Nami still blushes and has to duck her head to hide her face while Sanji makes a show of opening the door of his suite for her.

Something about the sight of his space, and the natural way it fits him without her being specifically able to pinpoint how and why that is, makes Nami grin broadly, her gaze sweeping over the room, lingering briefly on his own ocean view before she looks back up at him, the arm wrapped around his waist tensing in a little hug. The kindness in Sanji's words leaves her warmed through and smiling, eyes narrowing in appreciation as she watches his face. ]

It's perfect. They'll love it. For a bunch of pirates, we're living pretty well, aren't we? [ Nami turns her attention towards the entrance into another space and leans in that direction. ] Come on, I want to see the rest.

[chiffonades]

[ He should be used to the way his feelings for her surge at even the drop of a pin, but Sanji isn't quite prepared for the way his heart tightens and adoring warmth floods his chest in the blink of an eye when he catches how pretty she looks with her cheeks flushed. ] Shit, you look so damn gorgeous when you're blushing.

[ He throws her a wink, but lets her escape into the room, taking in all the little details that make it feel comfortable. Her reaction is everything he'd hoped it would be— they have her suite, true, and that will always feel more like home to Sanji than anywhere else here, but having more options is nice, too— and he laughs his agreement, returning the hug with a squeeze of his arm around her shoulders and a brush of his lips to her temple. ]

This isn't even the best part. [ He grins at the way she leans and gently redirects her another way for now. ] Let's leave our bedroom for last, yeah? [ If they're going to end this tour somewhere eventually and enjoy one another instead, that seems like the right place. Instead, he guides her to the dining area and one of the kitchens and pantry. ] Think you'll like the rest of it just as much. Kitchens all got plenty of counterspace and there's a giant walk-in pantry. I'll show you everything.

[cartographie]

[ 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. ]

What’s our next stop?

[chiffonades]

[ Were it not for her— and Zoro, and Hilda, and everyone else he’s come to care about— the kitchen and everything that goes with it might be his pride and joy about this suite. In the weeks since his promotion, he’s been through what feels like a dozen different designs— or, well, concepts, at least— almost all of which featured massive, resplendent kitchens as the centerpiece, a crown jewel amidst the glitz and glamor of an already luxurious living space. Being a chef has always meant that nowhere ever feels quite as familiar and comfortable as a well-stocked kitchen will. Even back on the Merry, that cozy little galley had felt more like home than the men’s quarters ever had.

But that’s not quite so true here. He’s cooked in dozens of kitchens— a few belonging to Nami, a few to friends, more to the resort itself— and most have felt as alien and off as this whole damn place is. That reality has shifted his perception, made him think twice about what home is when they’re surrounded on all side by a vaguely hostile entity.

Seeing Nami’s detailed inspection— and the way she teases him about counterspace— still brings a smile to his face, richly warm laughter accompanying an arch of his eyebrow and a wink of his own. ] Between you and me, I think we can figure out a fun way to make use, yeah?

[ But even if he’s not in rush— and happy and content to point out every little clever details he’s had them build— the kitchens aren’t the most exciting part of this place for him. They’re his place, the place where he can simply be, can simply express how much he cares without needing to utter a single sappy world (he still will when Nami’s involved), but there’s so much else that makes this place a home for them all.

Grinning at her and the slyly teasing lift of her brow, his head dips in a definite nod, palms catching her face between them as he leans in and brushes a deeply fond kiss to her forehead, voice soft but certain. ] Yeah. Our room. And whoever we want to let spend the night.

[ Winking at her, because they both know two people he definitely means, he feels his cheeks lightly flush after that kiss so delicately placed to his jaw. It’s reflexive, then, the way his arm wraps so tightly around her shoulders— almost possessively so— fingers curling around the rounded curve beneath her blouse. His head turns to retaliate, dusting kisses into her hair— her temple, her crown, a few places in-between— as she slips out of his grip.

Laughter rumbles in his chest in that same warmly fond way while his teeth rake over his lower lip, feeling almost shy as the next destination pops into his head. ]

I don’t wanna ruin the surprise but— I think you’re gonna love it.

[ His hand darts out in the blink of an eye and gather her hand in his with another laugh, fingers threading together with hers, so perfectly intertwined that he sighs as he enjoys the warmth flowing from her palm to his. And then he’s off with a gently insistent tug, guiding her down the hallway that does lead to their room, although he stops short, grinning as he turns the knob to a wholly different room.

With it’s soft lighting and elegantly carved wooden floors, the arts and crafts room is a space that’s not for him at all. It isn’t that Sanji couldn’t learn how to draw, or paint, or sculpt, or that he can’t do something as basic as stitch a tear in his slacks. But when push comes to shove, none of those are his passions, the things that drive him and enrich his life like a good spice. With drawers and shelves covered in all kinds of supplies— markers, pencils, fabric, thread, paper, and so much more— this isn’t his space.

His head turns, fondness softening his gaze as he looks at her, an almost shyly earnest smile on his lips as he tugs her hand, guiding her just a bit deeper into the room to where the large, sprawling desk awaits, a leatherbound book full of empty pages waiting on top of it. ]

You, uh, told me once that you liked to draw again now that you’re free of Arlong. So I thought— maybe you’d want a room for doing it whenever you come over?

[cartographie]

[ A part of her will always be somewhat wild, the feral traces of the upbringing she’d had to give herself while coming up under Arlong’s thumb as his prisoner and mapmaker, cobbling together her best estimations of how she ought to act and treat others with the odds stacked against her. She knows where she belongs now. Luffy’s made sure of that, and, on a deeper level, Sanji’s done the same. She belongs with her crew until the One Piece is found, and her map is finished. But after the months they’ve spent here, just the two of them, Nami has begun to realize that she’ll belong to Sanji for much longer. Beyond the practical side of things, the comforting knowledge that at a higher rank he’ll be less vulnerable to the resort and all its nonsense, his kitchen thrills her because she knows how wonderful he’ll feel working in it. It makes her happy because it will make him happy, and selflessness is kind of a new concept for her. Thanks to Sanji’s constant presence, however, Nami likes to think she’s learning her way around all these newfound intricacies of the heart fairly well.

That experience has left her warmed, rather than unsettled and uncertain, when he confirms that word, ‘our,’ before capturing her face between his palms and stooping to plant a kiss on her lips. Nami follows the gesture with a breathless chuckle as her eyes round in curiosity, a look that’s hidden against his shoulder as Sanji wraps his arms around her and dusts kisses to her temple and the top of her head. ]

I don’t think I’m going to want company for a while. [ Contentment warms through her, a feeling that’s wholly different from the smug delight of receiving gifts. Getting a room of their own in his space is a present of a different kind, one she’s only just begun to learn how to take without getting flustered.

Still, it doesn’t prepare her for what’s waiting. Sanji takes the lead once again, steering her down the hallway and into a room situated to the side of what looks to be a pretty direct path to this mysterious bedroom they’ll be sharing.

It’s over for her after Nami steps inside. Her heart stops as her gaze sweeps the room, understanding beginning to dawn even before he speaks up, confirming the suspicions already sprouting in her imagination—thoughts so fragile and delicate she’s almost afraid to think them until he turns them into the kind of certainties that make her chest feel like it’s on the verge of bursting. ]

Oh– [ Dropping his hand to cover her mouth and stop herself from sputtering in shock, Nami turns away too hastily to write it off as just having a look around the space, her eyes brightening with tears as everything sinks in.

This is for her.

Like his kitchen is to him, this space is for the part of herself that she’s only begun to let blossom since her time with Arlong finally came to an end. From her first sketches in the resort to now, every picture she draws feels like the sweetest rebellion imaginable—a real and concrete way to prove that her life is her own again, that there’s nobody coming to discover what she’s doing and grab her hair or twist her arms to punish her for wasting time. She likes to draw because she can. For the first time in a long time, that piece of herself can be reclaimed, and Nami has spent over a year reaching for it with both hands—that Sanji supports her enough to carve out a space for her within his own suite just for her drawing is moving in a way she can’t explain.

Nami’s shoulders are tense as she does everything she can not to cry. It’s a losing battle, and tears spill past her eyes just as soon as she thinks she’s composed enough to dare a look back in his direction, only to lose it at the sight of him. ]

Why? Why would you— [ She doesn’t really need to ask when because he’s Sanji is all the answer she could need. ] You’re really something else, you know that? [ She adds almost weakly, before sniffling. ]