A/N: A new story. I should be working on others. I suck.

Disclaimer: I don't own the OP universe. E. Oda does.

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Special Nights

Night One: Mikan with Cream

By VirgoMaiden

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Sanji liked nights where the dishes were done early, Nami had bossed the crew enough for one day, and when the rest of the crew had their attention focused on something else. On those special nights, few and far in between, he would make hot chocolate with a small shot of whisky (or tangerine juice; it depended on what the two were in the mood for.). Paired with chocolate shavings and cinnamon cookies it gave the perfect atmosphere.

And on those nights, they talked.

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The first night they did this, it was the night Nami came back and officially joined the crew, after freeing her home from Arlong.

There was a definite silence as he finished the dishes, and he dried the last few, looking over at the clock as he did so.

Nine o'clock. A bit late to join the crew, but…

The sound of the door opening interrupted him from his thoughts and he looked over to the door, surprised. His face soon broke into a wide grin and his heart skipped a beat. Nami. He hadn't really talked to her before, but he was incredibly smitten with her, seeing as she was just his type: strong, tall, and confident. The fact that she needed no help with her figure was even better.

It was quiet for a few minutes as she rummaged around in the storeroom. She apparently hadn't noticed that he was in the room as well, but he really couldn't blame her; he had been in her life for about three days, after all.

She emerged, polishing a tangerine on her shirt, preoccupied with getting the little spots off of it.

"I can fix it up," he said, without even really meaning to.

She jumped, dropping the tangerine. It rolled around on the ground, stopping at one of Sanji's infamous black boots.

"I can't let you eat this," he chided. "It's dirty. Let me fix it up."

She opened to protest, but Sanji (who was not going to have a potential "moment" with Nami be let go of so easily) held up a finger, cutting her off. "Do you like cake or cookies better?" he asked.

She bit her lip for a moment, and it seemed that no, she did not want to eat with an "ero-cook" as that idiot marimo put it, but she nodded.

"Cake, but I'd rather have diced mikan. You can handle that, right?" she asked, almost as a challenge.

He grinned. "Of course," he replied smoothly. With a pop of his hand, the mikan the redhead loved so much flew into the air, landing in his other hand expertly. She wasn't impressed, obviously; it would take a lot more than some fancy handwork, he knew, but he was willing to go the extra mile.

He ran the tangerine under the cold water, recoiling slightly at the sudden temperature change. Nami, in all of her radiant beauty, pulled up a chair from behind him, the wooden legs scraping against the worn floor. While Sanji had only been part of the crew for a few days, he was quickly learning every nook and cranny of the kitchen he now commanded, and that included every creaks the worn floor made.

"Maybe it play it up a bit," he murmured, drying off the fruit. It glistened, and he took a knife from the chopping block. With a few deft strokes, the fruit was laying open in a star fashion, whipped dream layered on top.

Nami looked it over with slight distaste. "You don't get the concept of 'simple,' do you?" she questioned, taking the tray and spoon from him. "Never mind," she added quickly. "You'll learn."

Sanji just smiled and pulled up a chair to the table, alongside Nami. She stared at the treat for a moment, as if unsure, before finally dipping the spoon in the light cream. Her eyes widened at what he knew would be a light and airy sensation, but she quickly regained her composure, plucking the spoon out from her lips and straightening up a bit.

"Do you like it?" he asked, more from habit than a need-to-know. He had grown up taking other's opinions as well as not giving a crap; Zeff had taught him to take a little from both, although the kid had frequently 'messed things up,' doing a little too much of what the "Customer wanted," Zeff would spit. "Look, eggplant," he would lecture, "do your thing; if you need to listen to others in order to cook, than you're not a cook at all!" Then, not ten minutes later, he would lecture the kid again for being too "daring."

Between fighting the urge to scowl and to keep his friendly smile plastered on, a grimace, twisted oddly for one, spread over his face. Nami stared at him, spoon still in her mouth.

"…Am I missing something?" she asked worriedly. "Or is it necessary to praise you in the span of half a second?"

"Neither," he grunted. "What do you think?"

She paused for a moment, twirling the spoon around. Contemplating…

"Delicious," she decided. "The cream is amazing; like air. But you need to start understanding that when I say 'simple,' I mean 'simple.'"

Sanji nodded, taking mental note. "So no spoiling you?" he asked.

Nami grinned. "Of course not," she scoffed. "I never said that! Just…when I say something, I mean it."

Sanji grinned, somewhat wolfishly, and leaned in. "So if I asked if you had, say, feelings…"

Nami turned her head, acting (or quite possibly actually) insulted. "I'd say, and mean, no. Trust me, Sanji-kun, you're not my type. I'm not easy, Sanji. Learn that now rather than later."

Sanji pouted. "Aw, Nami-san," he wheedled. "You don't mean that, do you?"

She nodded, now sticking a small piece of tangerine in her mouth. "Yes, Sanji, I do. You're not my type. I doubt that you could ever be."

A smirk now came over his face and he leaned back into his chair. "You said 'doubt,' Miss Nami-san… You doubt that I could be your type."

She shot him a disdainful look. "Yes, I doubt you could handle it; Why? Reading between the lines? That certainly won't help you now."

"Au contraire," Sanji said, standing up and picking up her empty plate. He ran it under some warm water before drying it on a handy dishtowel. He faced her as he did this. "That certainly will help me. I believe that I can become the type of person that you want me to be."

She rolled her eyes. "Baka," she muttered, crossing her arms and staring at him defiantly. "No one can become my type of guy. Just ask the countless others that I've dated."

He didn't take the bait, although a small part of him surged inside at the idea of his Nami-san being with someone…else. Instead, he turned and put the plate back into the cupboard, the spoon accompanying it. It looked lonely, and he made a small promise to fill it up with useful dishes; his tools of trade. He turned back to her, a cheeky smile on his face now. "I'll put those there in case you want to do this again sometime, okay, Nami-san?"

She obviously took this as a move and gave him a disgusted face. She stood up, walked halfway to the door, and turned back around, marching towards him without any obvious change in pace.

"Let's get something straight, Sanji-kun," she said quietly. "You can pamper me. You can call me princess. Shower me with compliments. But the moment we are alone, we are playing my game. I don't care if you've gotten tens of hundreds of girls this way—in fact, I shudder to possibly be one of them. I do care what you will do and say when we are alone, though. And that will define if you are 'my type' or not."

It was quiet then, for a few moments. He could hear his new crew outside of the galley door, shouting and hollering. For a moment it sounded like fireworks were going off…

He shook his head, attempting to focus on the matters on hand. Maybe if he cleared things up for her? Yes, that might work…

"Listen, Miss Nami-san…" he said almost halfheartedly. "Can we start over? Forget that this ever came up? Forget I've met you before? We can start over, if you want."

She looked dubious for a moment, before sticking out her hand. "Who are you again? I can't seem to recall. My name is Nami, although you are permitted to call me Miss Nami-san."

Sanji smiled at the emphasis on 'miss.'

"It is very nice to meet such a beautiful lady such as yourself," he said smoothly. "I am Sanji."

"Pleasure," she said.

"It's all mine," he fired back. "It's all mine…"

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A/N: This chapter ends in a completely platonic manner on Nami's side. After all, it's only the first time! There will be more!

Chapters will be slowed, as I have two, three previous engagements. I apologize, first of all, if you are a AMtHGF reader that is waiting for the 9th chapter. (It takes a while to write those long chapters…!)

VM