inbox for golden peacock

[cartographie]

@nami

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[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. ]

[chiffonades]

Mmmm, me neither. [ The pleasure that Nami takes from his reassurance— from knowing that they have a space that's wholly theirs, unshared except for when they desire otherwise— is reward enough to make everything worth it. It warms his laughter and his tone, another quiet reassurance that his over-the-top affection is desired.


The idea of joining the royal ranks has never really sat easily with him. The way the resort seems to worship at the altar of hierarchy runs antithetical to everything he's come to value— he was happier aboard their tiny, cozy pirate ship than he ever was among the stark splendor that filled Germa Castle— and so he'd have gladly remained at rock bottom of the ranks if months spent living with Nami hadn't made it clear how much easier protecting those he cared about would be with enough rank and status. And as noble as that goal is, it's her happiness that makes quietly doing what he never intended on doing worth it in the end.

And so, of course, his suite is filled with things that are for her. As much as this is a place for all of their friends, it's a place for him and for her first and foremost, starting with this art room.

He can catch the glint of tears in her eyes as she turns away, as the reality of the art room presses in and declares it's presence loudly. For a moment, he's worried. Maybe this is too much? Maybe he's overstepped? Nami means more to him than he can ever really put to words, even with his gilded tongue, and the things he's said have always felt insufficient. Drawing's become important to her– he knows that much, at least– so dedicating another space for her to do it in had simply felt right.

While he's more than willing to give her space, the moment she glances back up at him, eyes glistening with even more tears that dampen her cheeks, he's moving, closing the gap between them. There's something about that brief moment of eye contact that sloughs off his uncertainty, her gaze seeming to beckon, to plead for nearness and he's only too happy to provide. Both of his arms circle around her shoulders, drawing her flush against his chest as he hugs tight, lips brushing a quick kiss against the very top of her head. ]

What I am is your handsome prince. [ He keeps his tone light and playful, laughing quietly at his own self-aggranizing, lips gently brushing another soft kiss against her forehead just before he grins at her. ] Just wanted to sweep you off your feet, you know? And make you feel cherished like you deserve, Nami.

[ None of which actually required this, he's aware, but Sanji doesn't do things by half-measures when it comes to the people he loves.

Grinning, he slowly unwraps his arms from around her, only to catch her cheeks between his hands and gently wipe away the tears, lips brushing as soft and sweet as they can against hers. ] Love you. That's why, you know? I love you and wanna make you as happy as I can. That and no other reason.

[cartographie]

[ Nami knows it's ridiculous to feel so shaken over something like this. Her ego has never needed nursing. She knows that she’s as wonderful and gorgeous as Sanji has always said she is, but this is different. Carving out space in his suite just for her is so far beyond words it’s hard to imagine even as it happens, an affection that has nothing to do with running cons or getting places and everything to do with the sort of stuff she wants to feel forever.

Cherishing, he says, and she can’t argue. It’s the only word that could fit the sheer weight of the warmth that’s settled over her heart like a blanket in the middle of winter. ]

Alright, alright. [ Her voice is too soft for her words to be as discouraging as she wants them to sound; even the way she shakes her head at him is undermined by the arms Nami wraps tightly around Sanji to hug him close to her. ]

You make me happy, Sanji.

[ Lifting her head, her eyes are bright as they settle on his face, the pink clinging to the apples of her cheeks going a deeper shade of red as the sight of him makes her chest ache sweetly. ]

More than I thought I ever could be with anyone. [ With trusting anyone like she does him, knowing he’s felt her love and her desire firsthand, knowing that what charges the air between them runs deeper than she has the words for.

Nami straightens again and turns to look around the room, the astonishment she would work to tamp down for anyone else softening her features as she shakes her head before finally leaning up to kiss him hard. ]

I could get used to loving you if I always get gifts this elaborate. [ A teasing, wolfish grin curves her lips between kisses, another facet of every way she can’t help but reveal her own happiness.⁣]

Love you too, you know? [ Nami whispers, echoing his words. ]