Cigars
Author's Note: Surprised? A CrocRobin fic! Strange pair, I know, but I love it to death! It's a pair that I can't ever find anything on, so I decided to write one myself! Slather up some bruschetta on a crusty baguette and sit tight. At long, long last I present to you my finished work. Also, as a by the way....the songs I list before the story begins I highly recommend you play while reading. I think it sets the mood better than reading in silence, except if you're like me and sometimes you get caught up listening to the music and not focusing on working. Haha, oops. And another by the by...more of a character relationship analysis than a full-fledged story, so some of you might find this a bit....boring. Review if you like at the end :)
Love,
Ridell
Something always brings me back to you
I never takes too long
No matter what I still do
I still feel you here till the moment I'm gone
You hold me without touch
You keep me without chains
I never wanted anything so much
But to drown in your love and not feel your reign
Set me free, leave me be
I don't want to fall another moment into your gravity
Here I am, understand
So tall, just the way I'm supposed to be
But you're onto me
and all over me
You loved me because I'm fragile
and I thought that I was strong
But you touched me for a little while
and all my fragile strength is gone
Set me free, leave me be
I don't want to fall another moment into your gravity
Here I am, understand
So tall, just the way I'm supposed to be
But you're onto me
and all over me
I live here on my knees as I
try to make you see that you're
Everything I think I need, here on the ground
But you're neither friend nor foe
Though I can't seem to let you go
The one thing that I still know is that you're keeping me
Down
You're keeping me down
But you're onto me, onto me
And all over
Something always brings me back to you
It never takes too long
Gravity, Sara Bareilles
Cigars
"Just a few more days," he says, his voice quiet but lively, from his recliner in the corner.
The cigar in his hand has burned down to a short stub, and he squashes it against the armrest, holding in the last drag of smoke in his lungs before blowing it out slowly into the room. She hates the smoke, and they both know it. Her blade-thin nose wrinkles slightly as the smoke reaches her, though she wisely says nothing.
He looks at her, splayed out on the bed, a book propped on her flat stomach, her corona hair spilling around her face on the white pillowcase. Accompanied by his closest subordinate, his confidence reassures her that their plans are coming to fruition. Soon, she will have her history, and he will have his kingdom. She smiles a slow, secretive smile, her dark eyes fixed on the ceiling.
"Just a few more days," she repeats slowly. Her voice betrays nothing, though he notices something in the curl of her fingers, the brief clench of her fist on the sheets. He knows her; he is not her superior officer for nothing, after all, and years spent with her have made him an expert in the art of her body language--and concludes something is amiss.
"You seem uncomfortable," he chuckles, reaching for another cigar. Together, they sat in silence for a few moments in the hotel room.
She sits up as he lights his second smoke. "You know I don't like the smoke, Sir."
He raises his eyebrows at her and takes a puff. Scowling, she lays back down and examines her fingernails, but says nothing more. Shrugging nonchalantly, he goes to the windows to open them. Aware that she was watching him, he takes the cigar and taps it against the windowsill, and tosses it into the trash with the other stub, snuffed.
"You seem nervous," he repeats. "What is it?" He says this like a statement, not a question.
Secretly, Robin wonders how much of her history Sir Crocodile really knows.
"Nothing, sir," she dismisses him casually. She is quiet for a moment more, and then says abruptly,"You know, the hotel manager thinks we are together, I heard him talking."
Crocodile laughs. "Isn't that to be expected? We're always here. What else would they think we're doing? They don't know of my grand scheme to overthrow the King; naturally, they'd assume otherwise. And besides--" he gives her burning look that makes her skin prickle and says quietly, "it's not like he's entirely wrong, am I correct?"
Robin diverts her eyes, determined not to clench her teeth. Finally, when she is sure she can maintain an air of complete calm, does she speak. "I know," she says awkwardly. "But I couldn't imagine a more odd pair. The hero of Alabasta and a fugitive," she runs a thin finger across her jaw distractedly. "It might be detrimental to your reputation if this news leaked."
He shrugs easily. "By that time, I will have crushed Alabasta."
She falls silent.
"But in the instance that Alabasta will not crumble under the will of Baroque Works, what will happen then? It is unlikely," she adds quickly, seeing his incredulous expression, "but we must be prepared, just in case."
Now, it is his turn for a moment of silence. He weighs her words carefully, searching for any hidden meaning, as he has always done. She may be his closest companion and subordinate, but he has never spared anyone the benefit of a doubt. Besides, he had sought her because of her vast knowledge, power, and, yes, body. She had come to him seeking protection and for her own ambitions. Nothing more. And in that sort of relationship, you cannot not simply trust.
Perhaps...?
Quickly, he runs his eyes over her face, trying to catch any twitch in the muscle, an aversion to eye contact, anything--nothing. She is watching him with the same guarded expression, but there is something glimmering behind her eyes, a raw whisper, but it is enough. He has seen this look before...it is a hungry, thirsty look; ambition, greed, lust, and something more. He knows this because he is sure his own eyes reflect the same.
And the lizard's eye shut, just as quickly as it had opened. The glimmer of realization was gone, until another day.
"Baroque Works will not fail," he says abruptly, lighting another cigar. "It never has, and it never will."
And it was as they were, the Commander and his subordinate.
End