24 days of Christmas: Marmalade
Thanks to @gravitymikanheart on tumblr for the prompts that had to do with family! Hope you enjoy :)
rominaluchetta/Pixabay
“Ha-CHO!”
Nami fought to suppress a giggle, but as with many fights in her life, it was in vain. But who could really blame her?
Law was unfairly cute with a dusting of flour in his hair and a dollop of icing smudged on his nose. Not even the sour look he threw her way could mitigate her mirth.
“Shouldn’t you keep your eyes on your pot?” Law’s voice was acerbic as he tried to brush away some of the icing sugar.
The sudden onslaught of burnt citrus made Nami swear, put on oven mitts and snatch away the overflowing pot from the hob, resolutely ignoring Law’s snicker.
“Crap.” Nami peered at the congealed mass clinging to the sides of the pot, beautiful shades of dark brown and deepest black mingling with crunchy bits and bobs. “Oh well. Luckily, we have enough tangerines for another batch.”
“Tangerine marmalade just sounds wrong.” Law grimaced as he measured a spoonful of cardamom into his bowl, spatula clattering against the edge.
“Says the man who thinks plum pudding is the best thing since sliced bread,” Nami scoffed, peeling another tangerine, careful to separate zest from pith.
“Plum pudding is the best thing ever. Sliced bread should just cease to exist.”
“I thought you detested plums.”
Law measured out the dough in even rows, each measured to flow out a perfect amount not to merge into a single, huge tray-cookie, but rather to maximize the space use when placed in the oven. “Fermented plums. Plum pudding, on the other hand…”
“Every now and then I question your judgment. This is one of those situations.”
“And yet here you are, baking cookies with me.”
“I am making marmalade. You are baking cookies.”
“And good thing I am, after the catastrophe of your swordsman.”
“You shouldn’t have sent Zoro to do the shopping, not if you have special requests.” Nami was unsympathetic towards such rookie mistakes. “At least he got the right kind of gluten free flour the third time around.”
Law merely scoffed and bent down to put the tray of finished cookies in the oven.
Nami was not looking at his very shapely arse, straining against his jeans with the movement.
She knew he knew what she had been doing by the satisfied smirk gracing his features as he righted himself.
“Why are you making marmalade? You don’t seem like the most avid kitchener?” Law asked, starting to clean up after himself.
“I happen to be a very good cook,” said Nami, nose in the air as she stirred her pot anew.
Law raised an incredulous brow. The effect was, however, somewhat lessened by the icing still on his nose.
Nami should probably tell him about it.
At some point.
“It was me who fed this crew before Sanji turned up, you know.”
“And what a price they paid.”
“Oh, yes, they did. Zoro’s still paying it off,” Nami said with a smirk.
“You are a cold-blooded witch.”
“And that’s why you like me.”
“A reason among others,” Law agreed. “But marmalade? Seems a bit complicated, though?” Nami could tell he wouldn’t give up, the change back to their previous topic was evidence enough. And the curiosity in Law’s voice was real; Nami could feel the weight of his full focus on her.
And so she pondered the answer.
The golden concoction in her pot had thickened enough to cling to the spatula. Fragrant smells mingled around her, the earlier tones of charcoal and scorched sugar dissolved into the Sunny’s efficient kitchen fan.
She could almost hear Nojiko’s laugh woven into the rich aroma, feeling the warmth of a pair of strong arms around her when Bell-mère taught her to stir the marmalade in even arcs before the boil.
“When I was small,” she said, “we didn’t have much.”
The hadn’t had much. It was only later, when she really thought about it, that she realised how little they had actually made do with.
Nami swallowed, following a bubble rising to the top. The marmalade would soon start to boil. “But when the seasons changed, when the year neared its end, my mother always made sure we had a feast.”
The really hadn’t had much. But Bell-mère had always, always made it so much more. When they didn’t have firewood, they camped in the kitchen, building a fort out of pillows and mattresses. It was great when they got to eat pancakes and it was only latter when Nami realised how cheap the ingredients for that was. Hand-me downs were always tailored and changed and made so much more than the patched things they started out as.
But once a year, there had been a feast, with rich foods and pudding. And snacks and gingerbread and marmalade.
“And I was responsible for making the marmalade.”
It was only when she felt Law wrap his arms around her and leaned his head against her temple she realised the stinging in her eyes and wet tracks on her cheeks. The marmalade was bubbling along nicely now, the thermometer showing a steady, perfect temperature.
Nami exhaled, feeling the tension she hadn’t even noticed leave her bones. “And it’s a good thing I’ve kept it up all these years,” she continued with a tremulant smile, brushing the tears away. “Else we wouldn’t have anything to eat with your cookies.”
Law’s laugh was a pleasant rumble in her back, his arms tightening around her for a breath.
Nami leaned back in his embrace, enjoying the moment of silence.
“Cora taught me the recipe,” Law said, his voice almost a whisper. “It’s been ages since I tried to do them.”
Nami squeezed his arms, still locked around her, smiling gently up at him.
“Come on. Let’s get some tea and enjoy the fruits of our labours.”
AO3
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