#frobinwinter2017

Franky normally slept on his back, but for that night he curled up on his side, the better to hold Robin close to him. He felt Sanji’s eyes burning holes into his backside but resolutely ignored it until the sensation faded, indicating he had fallen asleep. 

“Everyone’s asleep.” 

He jumped and focused on Robin in the dim light from the snow-frosted window. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Doesn’t mean we can do anything, though.” 

“We did promise.” 

He traced her arm and spotted goosebumps. “Hey, are you cold?” He grinned. “Or am I just too hot?” 

“I’m cold.” He deflated. “Just a bit, though. It’s nearly wintertime, you know.” 

“I noticed.” He glanced again outside, where snowfall had started up anew. “Is that the real reason why you wanted to be here?” 

“Mostly, yes. That, and I didn’t think Nami-chan would have appreciated you in our room.” 

He smiled. “Maybe, someday, when she’s on watch . . .” 

“Hold your tongue.” Robin ran a hand down his body, feeling each part with a delicate touch that made Franky shiver. “Do you like any hot beverages? I know they don’t work for fuel, but . . .” 

“Hot---? Well---coffee’s alright with cream,” he said, eyes tracking every movement of her hands. “Hot chocolate, too, maybe with some spices---what are you doing?” 

“Looking for warmer parts of your body,” she replied, focused on her task. “I was thinking, we could get into the kitchen early tomorrow and have a drink together.” 

“Geez, sorry, am I cold?” he said in alarm. “You can go back to your room, I won’t be offended. And that sounds super.” 

“You are. Don’t worry about it.” She withdrew her hands and looked at his face. “Your eyes . . . are they the ones you had originally, or are they a product of being a cyborg?” 

“I made these,” Franky said, blinking. “But they look almost exactly like the originals did. Why?” 

“They’re beautiful. You did a wonderful job.” 

His eyes widened and his head moved back. “Oh, super---I mean, thanks.” 

“This body really is a fine piece of work overall,” she added, gazing at him with intense eyes. “Did you do it all yourself?” 

“Y---Yeah,” he said, his heart beating faster. “I mean, it was tough, but for someone like me, well---” 

“You’re incredible,” she whispered, so close she could kiss him without even moving. 

Gears whirred inside him and his heart pounded against his chest. “N---Robin,” he whispered. “I . . .” 

“There we go,” she said, moving away from his face to snuggle closer to the nook his body made. “You’re finally warmed up.” 

It took his brain a few seconds to realize what she meant. 

“You were complimenting me to---that’s not fair,” he exclaimed, lowering his voice just in time. “You little---” 

She let out a muffled laugh against him and he surrendered, pulling her in closer. 

“Ah. That.” He rubbed the back of his neck, grinning. His limbs and nose were drastically different colors from his torso, as if they had been lost in an accident and replaced. “I’m supposed to be south of here, but either one of your companions or mine messed with the wind patterns, and I ended up blowing this way.” 

She stared at him. 

“I saw you and got curious,” he added when the silence stayed cool. He shivered, rubbing his arms. “So, what’s your name? Rather, do you go by anything?” 

She looked down. So rarely did she speak with the other winter spirits that she hadn’t ever needed a name. But . . . 

“Robin,” she said at last, choosing the red-breasted bird she sometimes disguised herself as. 

“Robin. I like it. I go by Franky.” 

“How odd,” she said before she could stop herself. She bowed her head. “Apologies. That was rude.” 

“Not at all. It’s a weird name for sure,” he said, nodding to himself. “You don’t talk to others much, do you?” 

“We winter spirits don’t often speak,” she said. “Winter is a time for quiet, and death. We do our duties in silence.” 

“Sure sounds boring,” Franky said bluntly. “I argue with the others all the time. I say, ‘Stop it with the storms, you’re getting in my way!’ and she laughs and blows me away.” He scrunched his face. “I don’t usually argue with Luffy, since I do like the sun.” 

“And what’s your job?” Robin asked. 

“I am one of the spirits in charge of the super tides,” Franky said, growing a size larger when he spoke. Shrinking again, he said, “In or out, it’s what I do.” 

“You should get going, then. The tides affect many lives on this planet.” 

“I . . . yeah, I suppose so.” Franky began floating upwards. “I’ll see you around, Robin. Or not.” 

He drifted away on the wind and vanished into the winter night. 

Robin turned around and fell through the house she had been floating next to. The people sleeping in the room shivered and she floated back out, staring at Franky. 

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” she asked. “And don’t scare me like that.” 

“Sorry! It’s just that I’d never seen your frost pictures until a few days ago, and I wanted to see more.” 

Robin’s cheeks turned blue. 

“I see,” she said. “Look all you like. But aren’t you cold?” 

“Maybe,” Franky said, though he had begun to shiver again. He floated up to the window while Robin moved back. “Super . . . you’re great at this.” 

“It’s just my job.” Robin pulled her coat of snow and ice up to hide her face. “You should see one of the others’ works. I’m sure they’re far better.” 

“Don’t want to,” Franky said. He turned to look at her as she lowered her coat. “Hey, your face is blue . . . don’t tell me a winter spirit can get cold?” 

“Not the way you could,” she replied, turning away. “Speaking of which, please either cover yourself or leave before you freeze here.” 

“Can I freeze?” Franky mused even as he floated up again. “Ah, the mysteries of immortality. I’ll see you around!” 

Franky stared at the bouquet of frost flowers Robin had pushed at him. He looked up at her. “What’s---?” 

“A gift.” She stared at the snowy ground. “Think nothing of it.” 

He held them close. “They’re . . . super. Thanks.” 

But when he brought them to summertime in the south, they melted, falling into the sea below. He didn’t have the heart to tell Robin the next time he came to visit her, and covered up his shame by presenting her with fine tropical blooms. 

“Oh, Franky,” she said, gazing at the vibrant colors. “They’re gorgeous.” 

“Like you,” he said. He looked around and began floating away. “Well---I should get going.” 

Robin smiled after him. When she looked down at the flowers again, they had withered away to husks; such was the burden of winter. 

They met many times more, never quite touching, their speech growing fonder by the day. 

And then it came to pass that their seasons ended, and they were to go into hiding while spring and autumn came out to play. 

“I do hate melting away these beautiful pictures,” a rain spirit sighed, tracing the last of one of Robin’s fine crafts as it dripped into nothingness. “If I could only meet the maker and apologize . . . but such is the way of this world.” 

“I’m sure they understand,” said another spirit, one who helped the flowers bloom. “And besides, they come back here every year to do the same thing, just like us!” 

“But not one of these pictures is the same! Just like not one of my rainfalls is the same, or your flowers---” 

“I’m going to check if the cherry blossoms are ready,” the other interrupted, flying away. The rain spirit hung his head and sighed. 

“This is my favorite part of the year,” the autumn spirit sighed in another part of the world, floating from tree to bush to grass to paint the leaves with brilliant oranges and reds and yellows. “Everything turns out so beautifully! So wonderfully! So---” 

“Say another adverb and I’ll make you fall next,” another spirit nearby threatened idly. It was not yet his turn to bring down the hard work of the leaf-painter. 

“Please don’t be so rude!” the leaf-painter squawked. “Help me out here---!” 

“I could blow both of you away,” the wind spirit offered, floating by. “Then again, I would lose my companions, wouldn’t I?” 

“I’m only teasing,” the second one said, folding his arms. 

And they, too, were banished as summer and winter returned. 

“This is a surprise,” Franky said as Robin floated to him on a cloud of ice. “I was planning to come visit you, but . . .” 

“I couldn’t wait,” Robin admitted. She drew closer to him, but he pulled away, and she gazed at him with hurt eyes. 

“Sorry,” he said. “I just . . . I don’t want you to . . . melt.” 

She laughed, her breath no longer giving out mist in the warmth of summer. “I won’t melt,” she said at last. “I promise.” 

“If you’re sure . . .” 

He came closer on his bed of steam and placed his arms around her, drawing her so slowly to his body. She leaned against his chest, placing a hand on his shoulder. Her body was so cold but so comforting against his. 

When he looked down to see her face, he jumped at the tears upon it, the droplets freezing on her cheeks. 

“Oh, no,” he exclaimed. “Are you melting after all?” 

“No, no,” she said, wiping at her face and smiling. “I’m just . . . happy. I’ve never been so warm . . .” 

“I don’t like the cold that much,” he said, putting his arms around her again, “or I didn’t, before I met you.”