CAKE

A/N: Written for my dear friend, Namibean. (Go check out her SaNa fics!) Happy birthday!

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Nami didn't know if she would ever look at cakes the same way again. Or dessert in general. And pudding. Pudding was the worst of all. They were reminders of things she preferred not to think about right now.

So she started refusing desserts – except for ice-cream.

And Sanji, poor Sanji, was perplexed. Why was his beloved Nami-san not taking desserts now? He'd even made some wonderful orange-flavoured cake with chocolate cream on top that she'd once called her favourite.

Was Nami ill? No, that couldn't be it either. She looked perfectly fine. If she was ill, Chopper would know, and Chopper hadn't said a thing.

Did she hate him now? That was what he feared most of all. But she didn't seem to hate him either. Why, then, was she now rejecting food that she'd liked?

Or… Sanji trembled at the thought. Or had he lost his touch?

He began to spend more and more time in the kitchen, muttering over the stove and the refrigerator. He pored over cookbooks. He inspected the foodstuff in storage twice over, thinking that perhaps he needed better ingredients. He cleaned his kitchen even more meticulously than before; the kitchen counter practically shone in the light. He slept even less, staying up to practice and experiment with cooking techniques and recipes.

When he developed dark circles around his eyes, Chopper took notice and declared that he was working too hard. Sanji denied it. Chopper rejected his denial and smacked him, saying he would brook no arguments. (As Chopper had hooves instead of hands, that smack really hurt.) Sleep and rest; no work for at least a day.

Almost sulkily, Sanji traipsed off to bed. He curled up in his hammock, feeling unhappy. But unhappy as he was, he was also truly tired, so it wasn't long before he fell asleep.

Chopper, meanwhile, decided to consult Nami and Brook. Was Sanji suffering trauma after Whole Cake Island? He seemed unusually anxious about his cooking and had they not noticed that he was drawn and tired these days?

They had. Brook noted that Sanji-san seemed particularly worried about his desserts. He'd seen him bake and throw away three different cakes in a row, which was terribly unlike him. Well, "throw away" was more like "just gave it to Luffy without a second thought" so it wasn't exactly wasteful. But it was unusual for Sanji, was it not? He usually saved part of his desserts for the ladies.

At the mention of that, Nami stiffened. She remembered turning down Sanji's offers of cake, meringue, cookies. Was that why Sanji had been so agitated over his cooking lately?

She offered to speak to Sanji.

Chopper was thankful. If anyone could get through to Sanji, it would be Nami.

So Sanji woke up from a thankfully dreamless sleep to the dreamlike sight of Nami sitting in a chair by his hammock.

Nami was not afraid of direct confrontations and confront him she did. Was she the reason, she asked, for his strange behaviour lately?

He waffled, trying to put forth some excuse about just needing to practice.

She wasn't going to let it go that easily. She guessed (accurately) that he didn't want to hurt or upset her. She sighed and began to explain albeit haltingly the effect that Whole Cake Island, and specifically the whole insane affair with the wedding, had had on her.

Sanji was good at listening, and he listened carefully. When she was done, he was quiet for a moment. Then he slid out of his hammock and onto his knees before her. He took her hands in his, looked at her seriously, and said that if it helped, he would never make another cake or pudding again.

She looked touched, but pointed out that he loved baking.

He admitted that it was true. He did love baking, and desserts in general. They were a particularly artistic form of cooking. But he loved his Nami-san more.

Nami drew him up and kissed him, trying to put her feelings into the kiss. She felt his momentary shock vanish as he took charge, cupping her face in his hands and moving his lips over hers in a manner most tender. She pulled him closer, the fabric of his shirt cool against her heated palms.

When they broke apart, breathing hard, she said that perhaps she wouldn't mind cakes again. Pudding she still wasn't sure about, but cakes… Cakes were okay.

He promised to bake her the most splendid cake ever. And no more pudding unless it was a life or death situation. He could get along just fine without ever making pudding again. Nami, he couldn't live without.

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