Idea taken from here (chickenshit on tumblr, /post/37446542890 ), this one is number five. I plan on doing others-if you like this one, keep an eye out for others! Doflamingo and Crocodile belong to Oda, the idea behind this ficlet belongs to R. McKinley. Thank you very much for reading.
Crocodile was not one for spontaneity and Doflamingo knew that. Such a fact never stopped him from dumping multiple unplanned events and outings and projects on the older man weekly, though many were much more complex than a completely unexpected request to dance in the middle of the kitchen.
As Crocodile had looked up from his seat at the island in the middle of the room, from his newspaper, he had frowned. "Dance? Right now? You're an idiot."
Words like that had no effect on Doflamingo. Unruffled, he leaned across the island and slapped the paper with his open palm, preventing the other man from reading further. "Come on. I want to dance, Wani." As Crocodile sighed, he grinned wildly—he knew he had won. As he straightened up he trotted to the other side of the marble counter and gripped his other half's forearm, easily lifting him off the stool and using his foot to push the seat under the counter.
"You're a terrible dancer. I don't know what you expect to get out of something as stupid as this." Crocodile was looking at the wall very pointedly, as though he had every desire to avoid Doflamingo's face. Like he was the slightest bit embarrassed. Instead of answering, the much taller man gripped Crocodile's hand and hook and lifted them, beginning immediately to goad him into moving, attempting to swing him around the room.
Though Doflamingo would never admit to it, he was clumsy when it came to dancing. His footfalls were heavy compared to Crocodile's (who actually seemed to have some ability) but he moved all the same, whirling circles around the structure in the middle of the kitchen until he ended up backed against the cool surface of the refrigerator. As he stopped and, consequently, Crocodile did too, Doflamingo paused. He took a rare moment and just looked—he didn't keep moving, he didn't say anything, he just looked.
He was suddenly acutely aware of the bridge of Crocodile's nose, the bump that rose just below his eye line; of the scar that marred his otherwise conventionally attractive face; of the hollow cheeks and arching cheekbones; of the few wisps of hair that had come out of his otherwise perfectly slicked back head. He watched Crocodile's eyebrows raise in confusion and he almost looked concerned, because surely something had to be wrong if Doflamingo was neither moving or speaking consistently.
The hooked man's mouth moved, though Doflamingo couldn't have repeated his words back to him. Instead, he suddenly lurched forward and found his face within inches of Crocodile's, though the aforementioned didn't move out of the way. He watched him through half-lidded eyes, as though daring him to close the gap but instead of taking that initiative, Doflamingo spoke instead.
"I love you—"
Crocodile looked like a deer caught in the headlights. It was probably the second worst reaction imaginable, second only to a look of disgust. Doflamingo immediately recoiled, surprised that the words had left his mouth in the first place, and he fumbled for a way to fix the wrong he had just done. "—in that shirt. It's nice. Good color."
He was quiet, and suddenly the air around them was heavy. He eased out and around the older male and began rooting through cabinets, desperately looking for something to occupy himself with. He knew he couldn't just run out of the room; that would make him look even stupider than he already did.
"Oh … thank you."
The uncertainty in Crocodile's voice went so far as to even resemble disappointment, though Doflamingo knew that his cover up had been weak and that those three words were still hanging dangerously in the air.
For the remainder of the day, his eyes fell anywhere but on Crocodile's. And he pretended that he couldn't feel eyes on his back until well into the night.