One Piece Hiccups

One Piece and all associated characters belong to Eichiro Oda. This story is unapologetic fanservice, so don't expect anything too deep.

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon at Nami's apartment. She was trying not to think about her Advanced Economics final for a moment as she poured herself a glass of orange juice. The slender redhead sighed as she looked over her scribbled notes, wondering why Robin had to choose today to pick up groceries. It wasn't that Nami didn't like a change of routine now and then, she just preferred the company of the statuesque brunette to her other roommate, who was currently sprawled on the floor, pounding away at a video game controller.

Nami stared at Hancock and took a sip. The Oriental beauty had an insanely well off family, (luckless) suitors practically lined up to flatter and pamper her, and made the Dean's List as early as freshman year in Fine Art. This made it all the more absurd that she would fall head over heels for a goofball who thought Francis Bacon was a restaurant. Even in sweatpants and a hoodie and lying on her belly with her bare feet in the air, Hancock still looked like a queen. The budding economist shook her head and rubbed her own shortish hair as she stared at Hancock's flowing black tresses. 'Well, no use getting jealous,' she thought as she finished her drink. But as Nami tried to get back into studying, a strange sound escaped her.

"Hic." Nami lost focus for a moment. 'Great, now my body's making fun of me,' she thought, 'just what I needed. I'd better pretend it didn't happen.'

It didn't work. "Hic. Hic. Hic. Hic. … HIIIIIIIIIIC!"

"Can't you keep it down, Ginger?" snapped Hancock, finally looking up from her game. "I'm trying to snipe Usopp over here!"

"I'll have you–hic–know that I'm–hic–trying to–hic–study for a test, you–hic–diva," Nami fired back.

Suddenly, Hancock's eyes lit up. She paused the game, slowly stood up, and made her way over to Nami, her voluptuous hips almost gyrating as she walked.

"You've got the hiccups, haven't you, Ginger?" the heiress teased as a malicious grin spread across her face. "Oh, tut tut, we can't let that keep distracting you now, can we? Especially with finals so close."

'Oh crap, she's using that cloying baby voice,' Nami told herself, but before she could protest, Hancock had grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the kitchen.

-u-

"This is a cure my grandmother taught me," said Hancock as she squeezed some honey into a spoon. "Open your mouth…"

Nami kept her lips tight. "Hic."

Hancock brought the spoon closer nonetheless, making train sound effects. "Here comes the Choo-Choo!" she sang in her condescending infantile tone. Finally, Nami reluctantly opened her mouth. Much to her surprise, Hancock put the spoon in bowl-side down, forcing her to lick the honey off, and even after that, she wouldn't take it out.

"Hakok, whaadahfuuu? Hic!" squealed Nami, trying to free her tongue.

Hancock just giggled. "What was that you said yesterday about gagging you with a spoon, Ginger?" Nami rolled her eyes. It was just like Hancock to pervert a figure of speech like that. Fortunately, the heiress relented. "Well Ginger, it looks like we'll just have to try something else."

And with that, she dragged her captive back out of the kitchen.

-u-

Nami stared at the large glass on the table. "Um, Hancock, I–hic–don't know how a–hic–glass of water's gonna cure–HIIIIIIC–hiccups."

"Well, Ginger, it's quite simple," Hancock smirked, "you just have to drink the entire thing without stopping or breathing."

The very idea of draining the enormous vessel in one go made Nami queasy, but if it would get Hancock off her back, she'd have to give it a whirl. She picked up the glass and slowly raised it to her lips. "Bottoms up," she sighed.

It was easier said than done. The glass was tall enough to fit a squirrel in, and the temptation to breathe through her nose was incredible. Only Hancock's smug grin kept the svelte girl from giving up. Nami choked on the water several times before she finished, and when she did, her cheeks and neck were soaked. She gasped for breath.

"Not bad," said Hancock. "How are you feeling?" Nami responded with the one-finger salute, but when she opened her mouth to curse, a very familiar and undesirable sound came out. Hancock shook her head and tut-tutted in mock disappointment. "Looks like we'll have to try again."

-u-

As if the honey spoon gag and water glass torture hadn't been enough, Hancock then put Nami in a closet and closed the door. "Okay–hic–I don't know how inciting claustrophobia is supposed to–hic–stop hiccups, but I'm starting to think you're not–hic–interested in curing me at all, Han–hic–cock," she called out. There was no answer. Silence reigned.

"Okay, Hancock, this has–hic–gone on long enough," whimpered Nami. "If this–hic–is about lat week, I didn't know any–hic–thing about the kumquats!"

Just then, the door flew open, and in the resulting flood of light, Nami saw Hancock silhouetted against it, a dead look in her eyes. There was no emotion whatsoever in her menacing gaze. But most terrifying of all was the knife. Nami shrieked.

"Well, how was that?" Just as abruptly as she'd revealed herself, Hancock dropped the psychopath act.

-u-

Several other "cures" followed, each one doing little to calm Nami's impression of her roommate as a serial killer. She swallowed salt, held her breath, stood on her head, and sucked her thumb. It was driving her to the breaking point.

"Alright, Hancock," she yelled, "I've had it up to here with your 'hiccup cures!' A girl can only tolerate so much humiliation before—"

She stopped short, as if she'd just had a major revelation, before noticing she was alone once again. But this time, Hancock's chipper voice was right around the corner.

"I've got just the thing for youuuu!" she said in her cutesy sing-song tone. This time she held a roll of silver duct tape, and was in the process of pulling off a long strip. No prizes for guessing what for.

"W-wait, Hancock, have you even heard me hiccup lately?" asked Nami. And just like that, Hancock fell into a pout. But before Nami could gloat, a tiny sound escaped her roommate's lips.

"Hic."

Hancock's eyes grew wide as dinner plates and she backed away, right into Robin's arms. 'When did she get here?' thought the heiress as she squirmed in the Archaeology graduate's firm grip.

"My, my, it looks like Miss Sculptor has developed the hiccups," giggled Robin as Nami finally pried the duct tape out of her former tormentor's hands.

"I know just the thing," Nami purred in an infantile, sing-song tone as a sadistic grin crept across her face.

-u-

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon at Robin's apartment. She bustled around the kitchen, humming a tune as she put the groceries away. The tall brunette sighed as she thought about how peaceful Nami had looked as she stepped out for a long walk. She'd always liked the cute redhead's take-charge attitude, especially when it came to dealing with their other roommate, who was squirming on the couch.

"Mmmmm! Mmmrr rhmflmn–hmc–mmffle mmmmph!" Hancock was not a happy camper. Once Robin had successfully pinned her arms behind her back, Nami had plastered several strips of tape over the rich girl's lips, covering her mouth from ear to ear and pinning her jaw shut. On top of that, they'd tied her wrists behind her with more tape (to make sure the gag stayed on) and taped her ankles together (so she couldn't run away). No matter how she squirmed and fumed, the tape wouldn't budge.

"You can struggle all you want," Robin remarked in a dark voice, "all you'll get is tired. Believe me, I know how restrictive and unforgiving duct tape can be."

"Mmrrfflgrrrrp!" growled the bound and gagged artist.

Robin tut-tutted sarcastically. "I let you lie on the couch, I make sure your hair stays out of the tape, I even put a pillow under your head, and you're still an ungrateful brat to me. I suppose the 'kill 'em with kindness' approach doesn't work on everyone."

Just then, there was a knock on the door "She couldn't be back already," mused Robin as she went to answer it, ignoring Hancock's muffled death threats. The young historian undid the deadbolt, and whose face should greet her but chef-in-training Sanji.

The dapper blond gentleman bowed lower than should have been humanly possible. "Dearest Miss Robin, is Lady Nami on the premises?"

Robin shook her head. "No, I'm sorry Mister Chef, but she's not in right now."

"Oh. Well, in that case, would you have the time to—?"

"No, I'm sorry, but I'm quite busy right now—"

Robin stopped as soon as she saw the slack-jawed look on the cook's face. She didn't have to turn around to know that Hancock had, in spite of her bondage, managed to get on her feet and hop across the room. The brunette instinctively shut the door.

It took sixteen hours to rebuild Sanji's nose.


End file.

One Piece, Humor