Late Night Conversation
A One Piece Fic

Nami was so tired at the moment that the only thing on her mind was sleep. She wanted to go to her room, throw herself in bed, and turn in for the night. Sleep was already tickling the outer edges of her consciousness, almost causing her to trip on the last step leading up to the second floor of the ship.

"Just stay awake for 15 more seconds," Nami willed herself as she pushed the door to the girl's dormitory open. The well oiled hinges opened without a squeak, and she found herself looking into the tidy room that she shared with Nico Robin. Her roommate was already inside, seated at the small table with her head in a book. Robin did not raise her head to acknowledge Nami's entrance, so the navigator decided not to bother the woman and to head directly to her bed. However, after a moment's observation, Nami realized that Robin's eyes were not focused on her book, but upon a spot on the table about six inches above her book. Robin wasn't reading at all.

Nami shut the door as quietly as she had opened it and slid into the unoccupied seat at the table. Finally, Robin looked up and seemed to draw herself out of her reverie. "Oh, Nami-chan. What's wrong?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," she replied, tilting her head slightly out of concern. "What were you thinking about?"

Robin's thin fingers slid under the book and she shut it slowly between both hands. "...memories, the past," came the slow reply.

"Good memories or bad memories?" Nami could already see from Robin's eyes that the memories were not pleasant, but she wanted to give the woman a chance to answer in her own way. The girl knew better than anyone what kind of life Robin lived before joining Luffy's crew, so she also knew that Robin did not always want to discuss the pains of her past. It was never a nuisance or a bother for Nami to listen to her roommate's stories and offer her sympathy, but getting Robin to open up was occasionally a challenge.

"Bad memories," the archeologist decided. She stood with the book and headed toward the nearest bookcase to shelve it. As soon as it was out of her hands, Robin seemed to notice that the sun had set long ago. "Has so much time already passed since the afternoon? How late is it?"

"Very late. I was wondering why you weren't at dinner. Do you want to go to the galley for a bit?" Nami asked, rising out of her chair. She was alert now, and more than happy to accompany her friend on a midnight raid of the kitchen.

Robin shook her head, still hovering by the bookshelf. "I'm not hungry right now."

"Then perhaps a drink," offered the girl. She quickly pulled out a bottle of alcohol from a nearby cabinet and pointed to her own bed with a free hand. "Sit," she ordered Robin. With an amused smile, the woman retrieved two tea cups from a different cabinet and sat down where she was commanded to sit.

"I believe it's a little late to be drinking," Robin observed.

Nami sat down next to her companion, taking one of the cups for herself and pouring them both a drink. "You always say that, yet you always drink. You should save yourself the breath and stop saying it in the future."

"A good piece of advice," Robin conceded. She tapped the rim of her cup lightly against Nami's and downed the amber liquid in one gulp. It was hot and bitter, but the warming effects of the alcohol were instantaneous. She held out her cup for another helping, which Nami was quick to oblige.

"Do you want to talk about it?" asked the orange haired girl, referring to the bad memories that Robin had alluded to earlier. She quickly drank her own second cup of alcohol and re-capped the bottle. "I'll listen to whatever you have to say, whatever you want to tell me."

Robin paused for a moment, but decided against dredging up the past tonight. She gulped her second helping and tucked the bottle and their cups onto a shelf. "It's a little too late to bring up those kinds of stories."

"You always say that too."

Robin allowed herself a small smile and brushed the back of her fingers against Nami's cheek. "I appreciate you giving me a chance to vent and complain, but I'll pass for tonight. Another time, perhaps when you're not so sleepy." She started to stand, but Nami caught her around the waist and pulled her back onto the bed.

"Wait, at least lie with me until I fall asleep," Nami begged, gazing up at Robin with a pout on her lips. She was acting like a child, but she felt a sudden desire to connect with Robin, and it helped that she knew Robin would spoil her and give in to her demands.

"That's quite the selfish request."

"Maybe it is, and maybe it isn't," came Nami's vague reply. She quickly dove under her covers and lifted one side of her comforter to allow Robin a place to lie. As soon as the woman was in bed, Nami sidled up to her and draped an arm across her chest, locking Robin tightly in place. "Thanks."

A moment's pause. "You too."

They lay quietly for several more moments as the room filled with their steady breathing. Then, quietly, Nami questioned the archaeologist.

"Are you happy here?"

"Of course."

"I'm glad," Nami whispered, hugging Robin even tighter. She could do nothing to erase the other woman's past pain, be it pleased her that she and the rest of the crew could brighten Robin's future. To her mild surprise, she felt Robin wrap her own arm around Nami's shoulders and pull the two of them closed together.

"Thank you," came the soft reply, and both of them returned to silence and eventually fell asleep for the night.

Author's Notes: Just a light fic between Robin and Nami. It somewhat implies that they could be more than friends, or that they're just really close friends. I'll leave that up to to reader. Either way, I've always been intrigued by Robin and Nami's connection. They seem to be good friends in the manga, but I don't see them really having much in common to talk about. Still, they do get along and I sometimes wonder just how close they are. Hopefully, very close. =)

Anyway, please comment and such. I hope you liked it!

And no, I haven't abandoned my Negima fics. I'm still trying to work on them (sort of). One shots are just so much easier to write than full fledged stories. _