inbox for golden peacock

[cartographie]

@nami

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[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. ]