Chapter Text
"I told you, it's not about the money," Nami sighed, rubbing her temples as the old fisherman grinned at her with yellowed teeth. His boat smelled like week-old bait and bad decisions, but she leaned against the railing anyway, letting her tank top ride up just enough to catch his wandering eye.
The Straw Hat crew had docked at this nothing island for supplies, and while Luffy was busy inhaling every meat skewer in sight, Nami had spotted opportunity in the sagging face of the harbor master. He'd been reluctant to waive the docking fees until she'd 'accidentally' brushed against his arm while examining the ledger. Now here they were negotiating over fish guts and free mooring for the day.
Franky was watching from the pier, arms crossed over his chestplate. He'd been quiet since she boarded the old man's boat, which was unusual for him. Normally he'd make some loud comment about “super flirty tactics” or something equally embarrassing. But today his sunglasses hid whatever judgment might be brewing behind them.
"You got a real way with words, missy," the fisherman chuckled, scratching his stubble as his gaze dipped to her hips. Nami smiled sweetly and twisted a strand of orange hair around her finger, noting how his pupils dilated. Men were so predictable, especially the ones old enough to know better.
Down on the dock, Jinbei was helping Chopper carry medical supplies toward town. The whale shark fishman moved with deliberate grace, his massive frame never seeming awkward despite the narrow planks. Nami caught herself staring at the way his shoulders flexed under his kimono, then quickly redirected her attention back to the fisherman before he noticed her distraction.
The fisherman leaned closer, his breath reeking of cheap rum as he whispered something about showing her his 'special catch' below deck. Nami suppressed an eye roll. Honestly, do they all recycle the same tired lines?
Still, she let her lips part in mock surprise. "Oh my," she murmured, tapping a finger against her chin. "Is it bigger than your... boat?"
From the pier, Franky's metal fingers twitched against his biceps. The fisherman didn't notice, too busy puffing up at Nami's implication. "Why don't you come see for yourself, sweetheart?"
Jinbei's deep voice rumbled across the water before she could answer. "Nami-san." He stood at the edge of the dock now, arms crossed in a way that made his biceps strain against the fabric of his sleeves. "Luffy is attempting to eat a seagull. Again." His tone was perfectly even, yet the way his gills flared betrayed irritation.
"Ah, duty calls," Nami sighed, patting the fisherman's leathery cheek. His face fell as she vaulted over the railing, landing lightly on the pier beside Jinbe. The merman's presence was a solid wall of heat at her side, and she couldn't resist brushing against him as they walked. "You know," she mused, pretending to adjust her sandal strap, "you could've just said you didn't like me flirting with him."
Jinbei huffed. "I have no opinion on your methods of negotiation."
Liar. She'd seen him snap a bundle of timber in half last week when some merchant started getting handsy with her. Of course she'd baited him into it.
Franky fell into step behind them, his mechanical joints whirring softly. "Super risky move, Nami-sis," he said, though his usual boisterous tone was muted. "Dude looked ready to keel over just from you smiling at him."
Nami tossed her hair. "Jealous?"
Instead of his typical loud denial, Franky just adjusted his sunglasses. Interesting.
The marketplace was chaos: Luffy perched on a fruit stall while the owner screamed, Usopp trying to barter for spare parts. Sanji was already elbow-deep in some local grandma's spice jars. Jinbei moved to intercept their captain, his sheer size parting the crowd effortlessly. Nami lingered, watching the way his tailcoat stretched across his back.
Franky's shadow loomed over her. "Y'know," he said casually, too casually, "Jinbei's old enough to be your—"
"Don't." She jabbed him in the ribs, ignoring the clang of metal under her finger. "Besides, you're no spring chicken either, grandpa."
His grin returned, sharp and familiar. "Yeah, but I'm your grandpa."
She was about to retort when a massive hand landed on her shoulder. Jinbei had returned, Luffy dangling from his other arm like a misbehaving kitten. "We should leave," the fishman suggested quietly. "Before this town's mayor arrives with a list of… grievances." Behind him, half of the market’s stalls sat in disarray.
Nami sighed. "Fine. But you're carrying my shopping bags."
Jinbei's mouth twitched. "As you wish."
Franky groaned mockingly. "Man, when do I get that treatment, pretty lady?"
Nami smirked, hiking up her skirt just enough to watch his hydraulic systems stutter. "When you stop calling me 'sis,' bro."
Jinbei cleared his throat. Loudly. The fisherman's boat suddenly seemed very far away.
The Sunny's deck was unusually quiet as they sailed away from the island, mostly because Luffy was sulking in the crow's nest after Jinbei confiscated the half-eaten seagull carcass from his grip. Nami lounged against the railing, pretending to study their course while actually watching Jinbei coil ropes with those thick, webbed hands of his. The way his muscles shifted under dark blue skin when he pulled the lines taut should've been illegal.
Franky plopped down beside her with a metallic clank, handing her a sweating glass of orange juice. "So," he drawled, "we gonna talk about how you practically eye-fucked that old fisherman back there?"
Nami took a slow sip, letting the condensation drip onto her cleavage just to watch Franky's gaze flicker downward. "I was negotiating," she said primly.
"Negotiating what? His last heartbeat?" Franky snorted.
Behind them, Jinbei's deep chuckle rumbled like distant thunder. Nami arched a brow without turning around. "Something funny, Jinbei-san?"
The helmsman kept coiling rope, but his shoulders relaxed in that subtle way she'd learned meant he was amused. "Merely appreciating your... dedication to cost efficiency."
Franky threw his hands up. "Oh come on! You can't tell me you're cool with that, bro!"
Jinbei finally turned, sunlight catching on his sharp teeth as he smiled. "I am not her keeper, Franky. Nor are you."
Nami hid her grin behind her glass. Watching these two dance around whatever this was had become her new favorite pastime. Way better than counting berries… Almost.
A sudden splash broke the moment. Chopper's tiny hooves skidded across the deck as he rushed to the railing. "Guys! There's a ship following us!"
Nami's playful mood evaporated. She snatched her clima-tact from its holster in one smooth motion, already calculating wind speeds. The ship approaching was sleek, painted black. No visible flags. Pirate hunters? Marines?
Jinbei's bulk blocked the sun as he stepped forward, nostrils flaring as he scented the air. "Not Navy," he murmured. "That hull is reinforced for—"
"SEA KINGS!" Luffy's voice screeched from above as he launched himself cannon-style toward the mystery ship.
Franky groaned. "God damn it."
The black ship's deck erupted with movement as Luffy landed amidst what appeared to be a dozen terrified researchers clutching notebooks. One gray-haired man in a rumpled lab coat shrieked and fell backward off a barrel.
Nami's grip on her weapon loosened. Scientists? She exchanged a glance with Jinbei, who looked equally puzzled.
Franky cracked his knuckles. "Well, guess we're boarding whether they—oh, hell."
Because the old scientist was scrambling to his feet now, adjusting cracked glasses as he stared up at Nami with sudden, alarming intensity. "You!" he gasped. "Orange hair! Are you by chance—"
Jinbei moved before Nami could blink, placing himself between her and the stammering stranger. His dorsal fin bristled visibly. "State your business."
The scientist swallowed hard, eyes darting between Jinbei's fangs and Nami's cleavage (priorities, apparently). "W-we study rare weather phenomena! Your navigator's reputation precedes her! We wish to… to consult!"
Franky's metal fingers twitched. "Consult, huh?"
Nami rested a hand on Jinbei's arm, feeling the tension in his muscles. "Let me handle this." She stepped forward, hips swaying just enough to make the old man's Adam's apple bob. "Consultation fees start at five million berries per hour."
The scientist turned ashen. "F-five mil—"
Jinbei's gills flared in silent laughter. Franky muttered something about "highway robbery" but didn't interfere.
And as the negotiation began, because of course it would, Nami caught Franky watching her with that strangely quiet intensity again. Interesting. Maybe this voyage wouldn't be so boring after all.
The first time Nami saw Haredas, she nearly stabbed him with a compass. He'd materialized from a swirling cloud of mist, just appearing like some perverted genie while she was charting the strange currents of the sky islands among which she found herself.
"Young lady!" he'd wheezed, adjusting his round glasses with fingers wrinkled as dried seaweed. "Those calculations are woefully inaccurate!"
She'd pressed the sharp tip of the sextant to his throat before registering the way his eyes sparkled with genuine excitement, not at her body, but at her half-finished weather charts. Most men looked at her and saw cleavage or a pretty smile. Haredas looked at her and saw potential.
Two weeks later, she found herself curled in the crook of his favorite reading chair, a monstrous leather thing that smelled of pipe smoke and ozone. He was wrapped up in explaining atmospheric pressure gradients with the passion most men reserved for describing their favorite brothels. His gnarled hands traced patterns in the air, conjuring miniature cyclones between his fingers to illustrate a point. Nami watched, mesmerized, as the storm spiraled inches from her face.
"You're not even looking at the demonstration," Haredas chided, though his tone was warm.
Nami smirked and popped a grape into her mouth. "I'm looking at the demonstrator."
The old wizard blinked, then cackled so hard his cloud-shaped beard quivered. "Cheeky brat!" But he didn't stop her when she 'accidentally' brushed against his arm reaching for another grape, nor when she started wearing shorter skirts to their lessons. Weatheria's eternal spring meant she could get away with it.
It wasn't until the night she caught him watching her from the balcony, her silhouette backlit by lightning as she practiced clima-tact maneuvers, that she realized the power dynamic had shifted. His gaze wasn't lecherous, just... attentive. Like she was a storm cell worth studying.
Nami had sauntered over, still buzzing with static electricity. "See something you like, old man?"
Haredas had stroked his beard, considering her with the same focus he gave cumulonimbus formations. "You're wasting energy on the third rotation. Tighten your core." Then he'd walked away, leaving her standing there in her tiny shorts, thoroughly outmaneuvered.
The memory faded as the black ship's gangplank clattered against their railing. The stammering scientist, Professor something-or-other, was practically vibrating with nervous energy as his team lurked behind him clutching instruments like shields.
Nami leaned forward, letting her top gape just enough to make the professor's glasses fog. "So. Five million per hour. Cash upfront."
Jinbei's sigh ruffled her hair as Franky muttered something about "extortion" under his breath.
The professor mopped his brow with a handkerchief. "M-miss, our grant money barely covers—"
"Four million," she purred, tapping a nail against her clima-tact. "And I'll throw in a personal demonstration." Behind her, Franky's hydraulic systems hissed.
Jinbei's massive hand settled on her shoulder—not restraining, just present. "Nami-san," he rumbled, "perhaps we should discuss terms... privately."
The professor's eyes darted between them like a cornered rabbit. Franky cracked his knuckles with a metallic clang that made the research team flinch.
Nami patted Jinbei's wrist but didn't pull away. "Relax, boys. I've got this." She flashed the professor her sweetest smile, the one that made old men forget their own names. "Tell you what. Three million. Plus access to your log pose data for the last five years."
The professor gaped. "H-how did you know we—"
"Because I'm *good* at my job." She twirled a strand of hair around her finger. "Unlike some people who chase storms without proper funding."
Franky's grip held a metallic sparkle. "Damn, sis. Cold."
Jinbei's thumb traced idle circles on her shoulder, probably unaware he was doing it. Nami filed that detail away for later examination. Like a particularly intriguing weather pattern.
The professor deflated. "Two million. And the data."
Nami pretended to consider it while the crew held their breath. Even Luffy, who'd appeared dangling upside-down from the mast with ketchup smeared across his face, was absorbed in the moment.
"Deal." She extended her hand. The professor shook it with trembling fingers, then yelped when static shock zapped him. Nami winked. "Told you I'd give a demonstration."
Franky's laughter boomed across the deck as Jinbei's grip tightened infinitesimally on her shoulder. Oh yes. This voyage was shaping up nicely. Nami tilted her head back, letting the sun warm her throat while the wind carried the scent of ozone: sharp and electric. It smelled like Weatheria. Like him.
Haredas had been the first to treat her like something more than a pretty distraction. The memory bloomed behind her eyelids: his study, cluttered with barometers and half-drunk cups of tea, where she'd sprawled across his desk just to watch his eyebrows twitch. "You're blocking my sextant," he'd grumbled, poking her thigh with a compass.
She'd stretched deliberately, sandal dangling from her toes. "Am I?"
The old wizard had sighed through his nose: the same exasperated sound Sanji made when he caught Luffy trying to steal meat from the ice box. He'd grabbed her ankle and tugged her upright with surprising strength. "Pay attention, girl. You want to learn storm-calling or not?"
His hands, gnarled as ancient driftwood, had lingered a heartbeat too long on her calf before returning to his instruments. Nami had bitten her lip to keep from grinning.
Then there was the evening she'd found him waist-deep in the floating archipelago's thermal pools, steam curling around his bare torso. Most men her age would've postured or flexed. Haredas just blinked at her over his shoulder, water sluicing down the valleys of his spine. "Your form is off on the downburst technique," he'd said, as if she wasn't standing there in a bikini that cost more than his entire wardrobe.
Nami had stepped into the pool, watching his pupils dilate when the hot water lapped at her hips. "Show me."
He had. His palms guiding her wrists through the motions, his breath stirring her damp hair as he murmured corrections. When her elbow slipped, his chest pressed against her back, just for an instant, she'd felt the arrhythmic stutter of his pulse where their skin touched. The realization had hit like lightning: I could break this man.
And then she chose not to.
Because Haredas never once treated her like a conquest. Not when she ‘accidentally’ wore his robes belted at the waist with nothing underneath, not when she traced the map of his old scars with her nails and asked how he got each one. His stories were better than any treasure.
Back on the Sunny, Jinbei's thumb still circled her shoulder. Nami exhaled, pulling herself from the memory as Franky leaned in—close enough that his reactor hummed against her side. "You're doing that thing," he muttered.
"What thing?"
"The thing where you mentally undress somebody old enough to be your granddad."
She flicked his nose. "Jealous?"
Jinbei cleared his throat. The professor was sweating through his lab coat. Nami smiled.