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You wonder if she tastes like tangerines.
You aren’t allowed to wonder things like that, you know. That has been made very clear to you, again and again, your knuckles bloodied from slaps from rulers and your knees sore from hours pressed against the stone floor as your prostrated yourself. This ship though, with the laughter carried on the wind and the warm arms almost constantly wrapped around you, it almost makes you forget.
It makes your eyes linger on her exposed shoulders, the bit of stomach she reveals when she stretches. It makes your heart skip at the sound of her laughter, at the smell of her perfume gently carried to you by the sea breeze. It makes you wonder what she would think of your wondering.
You feel a tap on your shoulder, and you know instantly it’s her. “Hey!”
You spin around, and Nami is frowning at you, her forehead crinkled in concern. You hate when she frowns. “What?”
“I called your name a dozen times! Are you okay?” The wind blows, and she’s so close her hair tickles your face for a second. You’re overwhelmed by the smell of her shampoo, citrus and something else you can’t quite place. Once, when you were overwhelmed by the longing, you used it, just a bit, so that night you would be surrounded by the scent and pretend she was right next to you. You had dreamed of her that night, soft lips and wandering hands and gentle words that you can hardly bear to remember, knowing they’ll never be real. You hoped she couldn’t hear your quiet sobs when you awoke. You knew Robin had, from the pity in her gaze the next day, her gentle hand on your shoulder. She didn’t make you talk about it, probably didn’t even know how to, but she let you know she knew. That she accepted you anyway. That meant everything.
“I’m okay, I’m just a little out of it today. Did you need something?” You give her a smile you hope is convincing. It becomes a little more real with every passing moment, the longer you look at her. You can’t help but feel your burdens lift in her presence. She has that effect on people. Or maybe just you.
You nearly jump out of your skin when her hand takes yours, when her fingers intertwine with yours. “I want you to come with me today. We’re going shopping. Are you in?”
“Of course. Anywhere you want.” You’d go anywhere she took you, to hell and back. But you can start with down the road.
She smiles at you again, a full grin, nothing held back. When she smiles at you like that, with a pure carefree joy you’re not sure she ever felt before you met, the fluttering in your chest doesn’t feel wrong. It feels like the only good and natural thing in the world. She instantly pulls you into her side, keeping you close as you practically dash off of the ship. She must have something special in mind, for her to be so excited.
That something special, as it turns out, is actually for you. She shoves you into a dressing room the moment she reaches the boutique, a shine in her eyes and a slight upturn on her lips as grabs a stack of dresses. She squeezes into the dressing room with you, her chest brushing against your back just for a moment as she slides onto the bench behind you, but for you it feels like an eternity. You know your face is red, and you pray like hell the blood leaves your cheeks before you turn around. This is normal, you reassure yourself. It doesn’t mean anything that she’s going to watch you undress, her eyes lingering on your cheeks and hips for longer than socially appropriate. It’s normal the way she slightly bites her lip when you start unbuttoning your shirt. Her eyes don’t leave you for a moment, and while you feel vulnerable, you don’t feel embarrassed like you expected. You feel safe with her, appreciated in a way no one else has ever made you feel.
When you slide into the first dress, a beautiful pale blue sundress you think would look far better on her, she takes your hands in hers. “You look beautiful,” she whispers, full of wonder. Instead of pulling away and grabbing the next dress from the pile, she lingers, staring into your eyes for far longer than you expected. The warmth of her gaze pulls you in, and the light seems to catch small flecks of gold in her eyes. You knew they were there, of course. You know every part of her you’re able to, every part you’re allowed access. You can’t help it, the way you’ve memorized her face or the way her fingertips feel as they brush against your skin, the touches always far too fleeting.
You could spend eternity like this, slowly being pulled into this woman, in this small space where there is nothing but the two of you and infinite possibility between you. But then a noise from outside, a quiet chime of a bell indicating other customers, and the spell is broken. There are other people in this world of yours, none of them as wonderful or as lovely as the woman across from you. Your hands fall apart from each other. You’re not sure whose leave first. You’re not sure it matters, as reality sets back in. But part of you hopes it was you. That she would be willing to keep hold of you as long as she could, if only you weren’t afraid. Of putting a name to the feelings in your chest, so delicate and fragile you’re afraid the words might shatter them. Of the possibility that you really are alone in this, that every quick touch and lingering glance is nothing more than they seem and you’re simply reading into them. That you’re so hopeful you’re finding something meaningful where there’s simply nothing to be found.
There’s a word for what you feel, what you want her to feel. You know that. You want to say it so badly, to scream it until your lungs give out, to let this thing with wings free from your chest and allow it to soar beyond the boundaries you’ve set for yourself. But you’d suffer in silence for the rest of your life if it means Nami stays here with you, by your side, her warmth only a step away if you were brave enough to take it.
“Here’s the next one,” she murmurs, placing a verdant silken gown in your hands. It’s far nicer than anything you own, something far too nice for a pirate. You try to tell her as much, but she insists. “I…just want to see it on you, just once. Can you do that for me, please?”
“Anything for you,” you whisper, the words leaving before you can think. The fabric is cool against your skin, falling just right, as though it was made for you. You’ll never see a ballroom, you know, can never truly belong among such a crowd. But it’s nice to imagine, for a moment, what it might be like to twirl under the flickering lights as they catch the honey highlights in Nami’s hair, as she leans into you, pressing her face into your neck for just a moment, whispering words that are just for you as the crowd watches, and no one says a word. As enraptured with her as you are, surely.
You don’t notice you’re crying until her thumb wipes the tear from your cheek. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” you insist, beginning to hastily slide the dress off. “I’m fine.”
She purses her lips, and you know she won’t let this slide. She never does, always determined to uncover your pain so she can soothe it in whatever small way she can. You don’t know if anyone has ever cared for you as much as she does. “I don’t like it when you lie to me.”
“I don’t like lying to you, either.” And it’s true. But the truth is a dangerous thing.
“Do you–”
“Not here, please,” you beg. Not in this little closet, only a thin door separating you from the cruel outside world. You can’t admit anything here.
She looks at you for a moment, her eyes searching for something, before she sighs. “Okay.”
You try on the rest of the dresses in silence, knowing you’re not going to buy a single one. They’re all beautiful, everything she touches is, but every single one brings to mind another image you can’t cope with. The two of you walking hand in hand down a busy street, laughing. The two of you on the deck of the Sunny, her arm wrapped around your waist, your faces softly kissed by the sea breeze. The two of your intertwined, her lips on yours, her hands sliding up your thighs, under this damned dress and up to–
You take the crimson dress off so quickly you nearly rip it in half. You make up a quiet excuse, something about needing air, before bolting from the store as Nami calls after you. You need to be alone, before your thoughts bubble over and start to infringe on reality. You can’t risk it. You couldn’t stand if you were wrong, if your hopes led to distance between you that you can never surpass.
You don’t realize how fast you’re moving until you’re forced to stop and catch your breath. You sprinted nearly the entire way back to the Sunny, back to safety, back to the place the thoughts don’t feel so scary, don’t feel so wrong. Back to where you’re allowed to dream of the taste of tangerines, if only until dawn breaks.
It doesn’t take long for Nami to find you on your bench, hunched over, head in your hands. You aren’t crying, not quite. The well has run dry, you think. Instead you just force yourself to breathe, press your hands into your eyes hard enough to see stars and imagine you’re back out at sea, surrounded by nothing but the love of your friends and the sea.
She doesn’t ask if you’re okay this time. She knows better. She just gently peels your hands from your eyes before pulling you up. “We should get back.”
“Yeah,” you agree softly, not even daring to look in her eyes lest the thoughts overwhelm you again. There’s a bag in her hands, tissue paper hiding whatever she decided to take home. You hope it’s something for herself. She deserves it.
You don’t speak on the walk back. Her fingers brush against yours once, and you make a whimper resembling a wounded animal. She doesn’t do it again.
You plan to hide when you get back, to wrap yourself in your blankets and let your mind run through whatever scenarios it needs to get them out. You take a bath first, to wash away the embarrassment of running away, the shame of it. You’re surprised when you hear a knock on the door, but you instantly know who it is. You would know her anywhere.
“Do you mind company?” Nami’s voice is uncharacteristically timid. You’ve never known her to be.
You should say you do, you know. You won’t be able to keep your eyes off of her, and there’s only so much plausible deniability left. But you’ve never been able to say no to her. “No, of course not. There’s plenty of room.”
And there isn’t, really, not when her presence fills every room she’s in until you’re drowning in it, but oh, what a good way to go. If she forced your head under the water right now, all you would do is relish the feeling of her fingers around your throat before your consciousness faded.
You manage to avert your eyes until she’s under the water. You expect her to sit across the tub, taking her own space to unload her burdens, but she sits right next to you, her thighs touching yours. They’re as soft as you imagined.
You try to control the beating of your heart as you sit there, aware of every breath that she takes. “Do you want me to wash your hair?”
You blink. “What?”
“Your hair? I’ll even let you use my shampoo if you promise not to tell anyone.” There’s a slight gleam of mischief in her eyes, and you wonder if maybe she noticed that bit missing. She’s always been an observant one.
You should say no. Maintain what little distance your weak will allows you to. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
You’re hopeless.
Her fingers are gentle as they scrub the sweet smell of citrus into your scalp, as she surrounds you with the scent of her, with her warmth. Her breasts brush against your back, and for once, you allow yourself to simply enjoy the feeling instead of biting the inside of your cheek so hard it bleeds. It feels…domestic. Another forbidden word crosses your mind, as you wonder if this is what it would feel like to be doted on by your wife. You don’t force it out of your brain as quickly as you normally do.
She gently pours water over you, washing away the suds, before moving on to the conditioner. She’s very thorough in her application, and when she’s done, she lingers for a moment, her body pressing into yours.
“Am I alone in this?”
“What?” You try to move and look at her, but she wraps her arms around you, keeping you in place. Maybe you’re not the only one who loses their nerve when your eyes meet.
“You feel it too, don’t you?” She sounds almost desperate. “I don’t want to push you, I wanted to wait for you to come to terms on your own, but I–I can’t stand not knowing any more.”
God, you feel it. You’ve felt it from the moment you first saw her. Maybe from the moment you were born. Every single second before you met was simply time you were waiting for her, even if you didn’t know it yet. Every dream you had of soft hands against your skin, of warm lips against yours, of love and lust and everything in between, they were all of her. You just didn’t have a face to put to them yet. But can you say it? Let free what you’ve been keeping trapped for so long?
“Please, just tell me.” Her soft voice pleading with you is far stronger than the fear that’s been holding you back your entire life.
“Yes,” you whisper as you turn to face her. “I feel it. I always have.”
She tastes like tangerines.
That was the only thing your dreams got right, however. Her lips are softer than you could possibly have imagined, and her hands are calloused from the nonstop fights that come with your lives. Somehow the slight scratch of roughness against your thighs is far better than the softness ever could have been. In your excitement, you both crash into the water, the thundering splash sending what feels like half of your bathwater onto the floor. You can’t bring yourself to care. You’d happily drown down here, let her steal the air from your lungs, the blood from your veins, your heart from your chest. Anything she wants of you, she can have. It was always hers.
You come up for air only when you have to. Even when you do, she keeps her arms around you, presses her face into your neck, clinging to you like you’ll slip from her fingers the instant she loosens her grip.
“I dreamed about this,” she murmurs. “So much.”
“So did I,” you whisper back, a giddy smile on your face. “I never thought it could happen.”
“It had to. It was meant to be.” She says it with a confidence and finality that doesn’t at all match the hesitation she showed earlier. You’re glad. Boldness has always suited her. She shines the brightest that way.
The words you’ve been suppressing spill forth without abandon, finally done begging for release and simply escaping themselves. “I love you.”
She smiles against you, joy forcing giggles from her. “I love you, too,” she whispers.
The water is freezing once you finally leave, lips swollen and suspicious bruises marking both of your necks. The crew does not comment, content to allow you to enjoy your moment, knowing how long and grueling the path here was. Tomorrow you're sure there will be knowing glances, needling jokes and jeers, but tonight is only for you. They’d never take your joy from you, your dear friends.
You don’t know when you agreed you’d be sharing her bed. You don’t know if you even talked about it at all. You simply followed her there, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Before you rest, she places a familiar bag in your hands, and inside you find several of the dresses you tried on earlier. The blue sundress, the silken gown, the tight red one that you tore off in your haste to leave.
“I wanted you to have them,” she insists.
“I thought you hated spending money.”
“No, I like having it. That’s entirely different. I just like you more.”
Your heart still flutters as it always does, but the feeling isn’t quite so suffocating. Her arms wrap around you the moment you set the dresses aside, her legs intertwining with yours. Your body fit together naturally, as though they were always meant to. She presses her nose against your pulse point, taking a deep inhale.
“You should always be here.” It isn’t a command, not exactly, but she certainly isn’t asking . Perhaps she’s simply stating a fact: you were meant to be here, by her side, just as she was meant to be by yours.
“I always will be,” you reply. You mean it more than anything you’ve ever said.
You dream of her that night, as you always do, but the warmth doesn’t leave when you awaken. She is in your arms, your nose buried in her hair, and she shows no signs of leaving. You never thought you could be so lucky.