You grumble from your 'privileged seat' in one of Nami's fold-out lawn chairs.

"'It's an important job', they said. 'We're counting on you,' they said."

You wave your arms over your head at the gorgeous blue sky and sunshine bearing down over the Thousand Sunny.

"We're at a goddamn island resort! What's the point of leaving behind a guard?"

You huff out a sigh and pout a little, only because none of your nakama can see it. You know they gave you the assignment to make you feel a bit better about the fact that you're the only one who's still recovering from Fishman Island. An adventure that, for everyone else, had been an exercise in exhibiting how much more awesome they were. And you, the ship's chronicler? You have a broken leg in a cast and a swollen foot from a recent surgery courtesy of Chopper.

"Na~mi," you whine to the navigator, who stayed behind with you while the others take advantage of what she's assured will be an unheard of opportunity to cut loose in the New World. "Can't I go ashore for just five minutes? What if I miss out on something exciting while I'm sitting here?"

"Then I'm sure Usopp will be more than happy to blow the details out of proportion for you," she answers patiently from her mikan grove. "And Robin will iron out the exaggerations later. Now shush and enjoy the peace while it lasts."

You groan and shift your leg, wishing you could roll onto your side. Granted, compared to the medical experts from your birthplace, Chopper's a freaking genius, and he promised that what would've been at least a few weeks recovery will be done within days, if not hours.

But your captain is Straw Hat Luffy, for crying out loud! A few hours is ample time for him to get into trouble and resolve an entire adventure that you're not around to witness and document!

You glare at the parasol shielding your eyes from the sun. You have half a mind to make an impromptu crutch out of it and sneak onto the beach while Nami's occupied.

"Sit." She commands, walking up the steps to the bow as if she knows your intentions. You surrender the idea immediately- you might be crazy enough to risk Chopper's temper by disobeying orders, but not the cartographer.

You stretch your arm down to scratch because the damn cast itches like a mother but Nami straddles your thigh.

"No scratching." She says evenly, her voice lacking the heat she uses for the special brand of idiot she has to herd around daily, because she knows you know better. Had she sat over you like this two years ago, she would have been wearing a catty smile, you'd be a conservative eight on a scale of fluster ranging from one to Sanji, and she'd be demanding something as compensation for some slight she probably made up.

Now, you just comply and eye her warily while she peels back the skin of a mikan. A second glance reveals she's brought quite a few.

"Taunting me now, too?" You ask. It's past lunchtime, and if not for the fact that you heard Sanji trilling about 'Nami-swan's specially prepared midday fruit platter' earlier, you would think it odd the cook hasn't come running back to fix something.

But you did. So you don't.

"That's not a very friendly tone," Nami says, popping a little fruit in her mouth. "I guess someone doesn't want any."

There's her catty grin.

"Sorry," you say, trying not to clench your teeth. "Would you please be so kind as to share your precious mikan with me?"

She tilts her head, the light catching her fiery hair that she's carefully grown out- it distracts you while she gently pushes a piece of fruit into your open mouth.

"I suppose I can't let you starve." She says with a dramatically flippant sigh. She rolls over and lays back, shoulders against your chest. She takes another bite and feeds you a second morsel without even looking up.

The intimate physical contact, back flush against your front, would have been at least a day's worth of awkwardness and a stream of teasing (threats against your life in Sanji's case) before. But it's not 'before' now, and that's as clear as it's ever been. Her figure still fits inside a little over half of yours, but while she's never been quite fragile, her arms carry noticeable definition now, and under her softness you can tell there's a six pack to rival any of the boys.

She wriggles a little over your hip, probably to get more comfortable.

"That," she says in reference to an involuntary shift you make. "Was your leg, right?"

Or maybe it's a new form of torture.

"Y-yes." You hiss out in a stammer, face hot in the shade, though you can't find it in yourself to feel embarrassed.

"Are you planning to go somewhere?" She asks, almost conversational in the way it's familiar and light. She feeds you another bit of mikan, how many have you had now? You glance down at her hands, then at the wooden deck and count the discarded peels.

'Two, three- eh screw it.'

You decide you can't be bothered, and try to focus on what Nami just asked you. Your head buzzes a little and you feel incredibly relaxed for some reason. When she pokes your face with another slice of orange fruit, you only register that it's one she's bitten into after you eat it.

"You saturated these in alcohol, didn't you?"

She must have brought some in from the refrigerator while you were moping.

"Maybe." She drawls, playing coy.

"Where'd you pick up this delightful idea?" You ask, licking your lips. You can't even taste the alcohol and you're not a lightweight, so it must be vodka, and you hate vodka, sneaky bastard water-looking-alcohol that it is, but damn these mikan are delicious.

"Weatheria." She answers quietly and the levity of the banter suddenly ebbs away.

You sober a little at that answer.

"Oh."

She sighs, and the flow of treats stop. You still haven't really talked to your nakama about the two years you all spent separated. You know you'll have to, it's part of the story, your job as the chronicler on board, but aside from a note 'We came back stronger' in the crew's log book, your own draft of your written adventures remains untouched.

Objectively, it's ridiculous. You're more intimately involved with your crew mates, more aware of their habits (sometimes unfortunately so) than you ever were with any of your family, and none of you have secrets. Of course, that's mostly because you know what questions you shouldn't ask, what things are more important and weighty left unsaid.

You should be able to just ask 'Where did you guys end up?' and make a party out of it, like the Straw Hats do with any event that isn't a fight for a friend. It shouldn't be a taboo, not like the name of Luffy's brother or Marineford.

But the question comes attached with an excruciating memory. That you all lost each other. That stacking your willpower on top of your spirit over your dreams wasn't enough to cut it. That you had to tear all that down and rebuild it on a foundation of individual strength, so that you could be enough to never be separated again.

You shiver, remember that for two years you were so distraught at night that you didn't write anything. You coil an arm around Nami's waist and hold on. She wraps her fingers around your forearm without a grip.

"You know," she says sleepily. "I'll have to charge you my standard rate for feeding you."

You exhale a silent laugh. You breathe in her scent- mikan, clouds (somehow- fitting for the weather witch), a healthy dose of saltwater and of course, the expensive paper she uses for charts.

"What is your standard rate?" You ask, sinking into drowsiness. "Usually there's just a percentage attached to your services. Or my infractions."

She turns her cheek onto your chest and sighs.

"I'll let you know when I come up with one."

You had a lot of time to think about your nakama while you were apart, and you think you've figured out why she keeps the entirety of the crew in steep debt to her.

It's just her way of saying

'Don't ever leave me.'

"Well, I've got some bad news," you murmur. "I'm flat broke. So it looks like..." you yawn. "You're stuck with me for a long time."

She hums and dozes off.

You figure there's about a fifty-fifty chance that Sanji will be among the first to return to the Sunny. Whether or not Nami will still be napping in the same position is anyone's guess.

In short, taking a snooze right now is a dangerous gamble with your life. Even without stepping off the ship, you're on an adventure.

You think, just before falling asleep.

'I love this crew.'