Greetings and Salutations, everyone! Great googly mooglies! It's GooglyMooglies!

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm actually not that big a fan of ZoNa, and anything with Zoro in it has to have at least just a little angst as he tries to be all emotionally distant and such, because that's just how he is. Nami can be sweet and emotional when she wants, but she can be a pretty cold bitch herself as well... going on this thought and a sudden need to write SOMETHING cuz of all the fanfics I've been reading lately, an idea popped into my head about how I could make it work... barely... and I'd still get the twisted joy of putting them through some emotional trauma +evil grin+

But that's not til later.

For now, the first chapter!

No, I own nothing.

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169... 170… 171… 172… 17—

And there it was again: that nagging, invasive feeling that let him know he was being watched. He paused at the top of his next push-up (left hand, number 173) and looked over his shoulder. He saw no one, save for Nami, lounging on a lawn chair, reading. Zoro scowled at the woman. So brazenly showing off her body like that… Ugh. Had she no shame? He rolled his eyes for asking such a question. She was Nami. Nami, so blatantly using that pathetic excuse for a man of a cook. Nami, outrageously charging her own crewmembers for simple services, favors, and offenses. He could have no respect for anyone that could do such things, and the cook taking it all and begging for more made him sick. Zoro continued to scowl at her, his annoyance even now bubbling beneath his unchanging expression…

Sunglasses. The fact that he couldn't see her eyes only made her appear more demon-like.

His lip twitched, barely smirking. Women did not interest him in the slightest emotionally, and only to a minimal amount sexually; he had much more important things to concentrate on. He never pushed it, but allowed them to come to him if they so wished it, accepting most physical advances with smug disdain and ignoring any that smelled as though they could carry some emotional attachment. The last thing he needed was a heartsick woman (or women) pining for him, or even (he shuddered) pursuing him. Not that Zoro was gay or anything; he liked women, true, but they were amenities, not necessities. He could live without them. Not that he didn't occasionally allow himself a survey of any goods that were around for observation. Even more rarely would he allow himself a quick imagining of a scenario. (He refused to call them fantasies. Fantasies were girly, magical, happy, unattainable daydreams. Girly, magical, and unattainable were not words Zoro used to describe anything concerning himself. And these imaginings of his were far from happy: they were filled with lust, pride, domination, satisfaction… nothing so emotionally waterlogged as happiness or love.) Now he allowed himself such a wandering of his mind, and, still scowling, slowly let his eyes begin to wander down the reclining form of the woman. True, she was beautiful; there could be no denying the fact. Hair blazing in the sun, sharp, intelligent eyes cradled in long, dark lashes, a pert nose well-positioned above full lips… his eyes slid down her body like oil, squinting slightly while the rest of his expression remained unchanged… He began to imagine what it would be like to dominate that well-graced body, to force his will upon the all-too-eager girl… she was probably a screamer. His faint smirk twitched to a slightly broader one as his eyes barely squinted again.

She suddenly looked up, turning her head, first left then right, then back to finally notice Zoro scowling at her. Raising a quizzical, slightly perturbed eyebrow, she asked, "Can I help you with something?" He snorted in response, rolling his eyes. She frowned and gave a small hmph, genuinely annoyed now.

"I felt someone watching me," he said plainly.

"Why would I be watching you?"

"I never said it was you," the man retorted, rolling his eyes yet again and turning back around.

174… 175… 176…

She kept her head down, pretending to be lazily immersed in her book, turning the page every few minutes to encourage the charade, but all the while actually watching him instead. Her dark sunglasses hid her eyes completely; useful for scouting out the victim of her next theft or admiring an attractive man without the risk of having him notice; she had learned from firsthand experience that letting a man know you were attracted to him was not always a good idea. It usually only encouraged obnoxious behavior. Such was her purpose now. Her eyes traced the curves of the muscles on his back, glistening with sweat, rolled around the large right hand clenched into a first and held behind his back as he executed push-up after one armed push-up, traveled up his thick forearm and even thicker bicep, up to his shoulders, down the flat of his stomach that was so regrettably facing the other direction… for the number of fights they had all been in together, his back was impressively almost void of any scars… it was his chest that was riddled with them, his chest and face and arms and legs... but none so great or terrifying as his most impressive scar, shoulder to hip bone…

He paused, and she knew she had succeeded. The ever alert Zoro, like herself, could sense that someone was watching him. He looked back over his shoulder with his usual scowl, eyes moving over the unusually empty deck of Sunny, back and forth, and finally coming to rest on her, as she knew they would. She didn't even blink, watching him and praising herself silently for spending the money on her sunglasses so long ago instead of actually stealing them…

Counting the seconds, she could have laughed out loud when she saw his eyes barely squint, barely begin to wander. She contented herself with an inward grin.

5… 6… 7…

After ten full seconds of letting him take her in, she physically looked up, turning her head each way before stopping at him. "Can I help you with something?" she asked snootily, aristocratically raising a single perfect eyebrow. She almost smirked as he rolled his eyes and snorted. So like him… no longer acting, Nami frowned and gave an annoyed hmph.

"I felt someone watching me," he said simply, but not before allowing the smallest drop of suspicion to leak into the statement.

"Why would I be watching you?" she asked him with a sniff of disdain.

"Never said it was you," he replied back, now most genuinely annoyed. With a roll of his eyes, he turned his head forward once more and his back began the steady rise… and fall… Rise… and fall… of each one-armed push-up. Nami grinned, smug.

Maybe this wouldn't be as hard as she had originally thought. Not that she had been planning anything originally. He was attractive, so she occasionally watched him, and, like the swordsman, on even rarer occasion slipped into a fantasy (she had no problem with the word) involving perhaps some alcohol, a dark alleyway or room at an inn, and a feral, raw heat that made the back of her neck prickle when she thought about it. Also like the swordsman, her fantasies were nothing of happiness, only pleasure, satisfaction. Let Sanji have his knight-in-shining-armor, save the damsel-in-distress and ride-into-the-sunset fantasies… these were wild, raw, and real. And, when considered honestly, pretty damn feasible. Of course, the idea of having sex with any of her crewmates could hardly be considered normal. From an outsiders point of view, the one she would be most likely to actually have sex with was Sanji, of course. And she would, if he could grow up enough to get over that stupid chivalry shit and stand up to her, challenge her, be dominating enough to actually seduce her… she knew he couldn't though, and it was disappointing to think about. Nor would she be able to dominate him to her satisfaction; he would be too willing to cooperation, too eager, and sex was no fun when there was no chase, no struggle, no conquest. In the end, Sanji was just too much of a gentleman to give her what she wanted.

Luffy… she had played with the idea once or twice before. He was cute, yes, and she appreciated his slender muscularity (as she did Sanji's), and she was certain that anything she tried with him would be unique, interesting, and probably a whole hell of a lot of fun. But no matter how she looked at it… he was Luffy. Her captain, her friend, her redeemer… and she wouldn't be surprised if she would have to show him exactly what to do… his naïveté at 17 still confounded her sometimes.

Usopp was never considered a possibility. His devotion to Kaya, reflected in his devotion to Merry, was absolute, and to her, he was simply not the most attractive of men. He was a true friend though, and useful in a pinch, despite his constant fleeing from battle and his overly-long tales of glory told to Chopper and anyone else willing to listen. And she owed him big-time for the Clima-tact, and even more so now that he had improved it and created the Perfect Clima-tact.

Chopper? Nami was not into that sort of thing.

There was always going to be the tiniest part of her that could not forgive Franky for what he and his family had done to them back in Water 7. That terrible rift that was driven between Usopp and the rest of the Strawhat crew could be blamed for a large part on the Franky Family, the theft, and all the other terrible events that happened over the span of those few days. Yes, he was her crewmate, and she trusted him with her life as she did everyone else on the ship, but that night had placed the smallest seed of fear in her that perhaps, just maybe, something could happen that couldn't be fixed as easily as the events in Water 7, and fixing that had not been easy anyways. So no matter how much she trusted the cyborg with her life and the lives of the entire crew, as she did to every member, she could never consider anything with him…

Besides, she got the feeling that had a thing for Robin.

She had actually considered becoming a lesbian once after a particularly unsatisfying night in port, and played with the idea of propositioning Robin… It didn't take long for that idea to be squashed.

But Zoro… of all the crewmembers, she knew Zoro was the only one that could provide her with the heat, the wildness, the passion and intensity that she so craved… if she were to decide she wanted it from him.

She could remember perfectly the first time she realized that he was in fact a normal human being with a normal sex drive. Well… almost normal. Even if he didn't appear to have any need to satiate it like Sanji did. After a particularly rowdy night at an inn, she had woken and exited her room to discover Zoro exiting not the room they had taken for the boys next to her own, but from another room further down the hall. She had openly stared at him with more surprise than shock or mortification, standing there with his shirt slung over his shoulder, boots in hand, softly closing the door when he turned and noticed her staring at him with a slight jump (she relished the idea of having caught him off-guard just once). His cheeks had barely turned pink (she still wasn't sure if she had imagined it) and his eyes had narrowed, daring her to say a word. She did not take the challenge, but simply raised a single eyebrow with a slight smirk, then turned and walked down the stairs. They never spoke of the incident.

There were a few other occasions, where, late in the night she could hear movement and a female voice, sometimes a murmur, sometimes a muffled scream. It happened more often with Sanji, but he seemed to care enough about everyone's (a.k.a. Nami and Robin's) good opinions of him to make sure he partook in such activities on a different floor. Nami had a knack for guessing, however, especially with the ever-easy-to-read cook; He was always a little more flirtatious, a little more attentive and doting on her and later Robin as well, as if the previous night and reaffirmed the idea that he could one day score with either girl if he tried hard enough. Not that he realized that she knew about his various "escapades;" she was always careful not to be noticed if she spotting him leaving a different room, or leaving the table in the tavern a little early after some sneakily exchanged glances with a woman across the room.

In contrast to this, Zoro rarely made any true effort to hide his activities in port, other than not making any attempt to reveal them to the rest of the crew. Nami respected that for some reason. She found it incredibly honest of him, a raw sort of honesty that she rarely saw anywhere else; he could still be Zoro but still be human, an idea which had not really occurred to her before that surprise encounter in the hallway of the inn that morning.

She stared at the unread page of her book, lost in thought, then remembering the need to turn the page continue her charade. She flipped the heavy cream-colored page, stole one last glance at the swordsman, still doing push-ups (422… 423… 424…) and, with a smug grin, began to read the book for real.

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What did you guys think? Please review or add me or SOMETHING to let me know you liked it! Or hated it even, just please be gentle…