It was the middle of the night, and Doflamingo was, for the first time in a while, surrounded by people who were intently watching his every move. Unfortunately for him, those people were armed to the teeth and didn't seem much in the mood for a chat.

He let out a sigh through his nose, craning his neck to look one of the guards in the eye. Even in the dim lamplight, the officer's poorly-masked fear was clear as day; the lanky man with a mop of messy red hair peeking out from under his hat pulled his rifle closer to his chest, shifting his gaze off to the sea's horizon through the window.

Doflamingo smirked and turned his gaze to the porthole as well, absent-mindedly noting that it might be his last chance to enjoy the view ever again. It was almost unsettling to him how normal everything seemed in that moment. As always, the stars gleamed overhead with a taunting sparkle, reflecting off the waves below in a shimmering blanket of white and silvery-blue. A haze over the water coiled around the currents, occasionally breaking to allow coasting birds passage back into the sky. Even without his rose-tinted glasses on, the world really did look the same.

Except, nothing was the same. Not even in his worst nightmares had he ever met such an unfortunate fate. How ironic it was, that Vergo would die so soon before this; the man would be of such great use to Doflamingo in a situation like this, but now he's found himself entirely alone. And alone he would be, likely for the rest of whatever life he had left in him. He could have decades left, if the speed at which he'd recovered from his last battle were any indication. But who knew how long he'd last in Impel Down? Not that he was expecting anyone truly impressive to reside there still; no, of course not—anyone worth their salt had gone years ago, from what he'd heard. But the boredom alone would probably be enough to eat him alive.

Leaning forward to rest his aching arms on his curled up legs, the chains keeping him secure scraped against the floorboards with a long, drawn-out clatter. Nobody in the room acknowledged the noise, but Doflamingo was sure the sound reverberated in their minds as much as it did in his. One would think the silent tension would ease a bit after three days of sailing, but apparently not.

Idly counting the number of sea creatures that surfaced alongside the marine ship as they sailed along, he briefly wondered if he'd be able to count on one hand the number of levels they'd descend before he was thrown away to be forgotten forever. They definitely wouldn't be foolish enough to keep a man like him locked up in Level One; it wasn't even worth entertaining the thought. Being locked in Level Two would be amusing enough, if the animals were as fucked up as he's been led to believe. Level Three was supposed to be awfully full of sand; a fitting prison for the rest of his life, if ironic emotional torture was the goal.

Shit, just the thought of it made his stomach churn. He bit his the inside of his cheek to keep from grimacing; sand was far, far from the best thing for him to be thinking about if keeping his composure was on his to-do list.

Would Crocodile ever forgive him for this? No, probably not. And he'd be entirely in the right to not do so. The two of them had been planning to meet up in the next few weeks, "for a business discussion," as the other had put it. But even through the muffled echo of the transponder snail, Doflamingo had caught the hint of hopefulness in his voice. "Business" was hardly the word he'd use to describe what he was anticipating when they were to see each other again; at least, not entirely. He hadn't been planning to reject any schemes Crocodile could have actually proposed—surely there would have been a few to discuss, knowing him—but there was no doubt in his mind that they were both expecting a much more sensual visit. Well, if Crocodile wanted to see him now, he'd have to hand himself over to the government to do so.

But at the very least, Doflamingo likely didn't have to worry about seeing much sand where he was going; who was he kidding, there wasn't likely a soul in all of Level Six that was more cut out for "Eternal Hell" than he was. The prospect of him ending up anywhere else was laughable. He'd heard all sorts of things about Impel Down; terrible, hilarious things that he—if absolutely nothing else—would really enjoy verifying for himself. Rumors have a nasty tendency to get out of hand, and seeing some of them with his own eyes would at least make for a rare opportunity. Or perhaps the prison's recent renovations would supply him with some sort of new horrors unlike anything he'd heard of before. "Wouldn't that be something," he chuckled to himself under his breath, earning the barrel of a gun to the cheek.

"Shut the fuck up, you piece of garbage," one of the younger but less prissy officers growled. "No talking, got it?"

Doflamingo's grim smile stretched his bruised cheeks, and he raised an inquisitive eyebrow at the man who stared back at him; was he allowed to respond without getting his jaw blown off, or was that demand just meant to apply after he had the chance to reply to the man's question? Luckily the idiot seemed to grasp his dilemma after a moment, scowling as he pulled his gun away; but not without an extra shove against the blond's cheekbone, and Doflamingo fell back on his seastone-bound hands to keep from meeting the floor. So he'd be punished for not talking, too? Not a very fair set of rules, even by his standards.

"How violent," he muttered dully, pushing himself back up to some semblance of a seated position, and settling with his back against one of the wooden columns. "Is this how they train you marine children to act these days? Brats like you ought to respect your elders."

"Old or not, scum is still scum," the guy snarled as the corner of his mouth twitched, and a pair of bright gold eyes that matched his hair flashed with a spark of overinflated rage.

Doflamingo would have rolled his eyes if he could do so without breaking eye contact, but he was a bit more interested in seeing how long their little staring contest could last before the man started to squirm. "...Hotheadedness with a hair trigger like that will get you in a lot of trouble, kid."

"No trouble that I can't handle, old man." The marine scowled and looked away, leaning back in his chair and shutting his eyes as if he was actually planning on taking a nap or something equally as passive. "I thought I already told you to keep your mouth shut."

But Doflamingo was hardly done; that man was the first one to hold even a meager conversation with him all day. He'd milk the shitty exchange for all it was worth. "Why don't you uncuff my hands, so I don't have to talk in order to knock you down a few pegs? Unless..." he dragged out the last syllable tauntingly. "...You're actually afraid of me after all?"

Off to the side, Doflamingo heard a muffled squeak from one of the greener officers. He couldn't see around the pillar to examine the source for himself, but judging from the noise, they were probably shaking in their shiny little marine-issued shoes.

The one with the feisty attitude unfortunately didn't offer up a verbal response, choosing instead to stand from his chair with another one of those testy growls. The relative silence of the ship's atmosphere was relieved as the wooden floor creaked under the man's shifted weight; but before Doflamingo's ears had the chance to appreciate the refreshing change of ambient noise, a much louder slamming sound came from the deck above them.

The grating screech of metal grinding against metal above them brought everyone in the room to attention, looking amongst themselves in confusion. What the hell was that delightfully annoying sound?

"Shit," the angry blond he'd been talking to before muttered under his breath, glancing out the window that was now blocked by a ship. Oh, so they were being raided. How fun. "I'm going up to the deck. You guys keep watch down here."

The others didn't object, saluting quietly and giving each other side-glances as the officer made his way up the ladder on the other side of the room. The chaos above was even more apparent when he opened the hatch; although the words were impossible to make out, a chorus of furious shouting and gunfire filled what had been silence only a moment ago. What kind of monstrous enemy could cause so much discord in such a short amount of time? The thumping sounds of people and weapons falling to the deck made it difficult to keep his interest moderated.

The hatch slammed shut behind him, and for a few short moments, the sound was almost completely inaudible. When the hatch opened again, Doflamingo was almost hoping it was the blond officer coming back down; he would have loved to taunt the man for turning tail like a coward in the heat of the battle. But for a moment there was nothing. The pause was long, and he focused in even more on the fading screams to make up for the fact that nothing was happening within his field of vision. But the people above him were growing quieter; or perhaps the conscious numbers were simply thinning out.

The deck was silent when a shadowy figure drops through the open hatch, and the storeroom erupted in shock and scattered shouts that strained his unadjusted ears.

"Crocodile?! How?!"

One officer in particular had practically stolen the words right out of his bloodied, slightly slack-jawed mouth. How, indeed?

Doflamingo swallowed thickly despite the relentless hammering in his chest as he watched the marines closest to the hatch try and fail miserably to bring the newcomer to his knees. Crocodile wore an expression as captivatingly disinterested as ever while he absorbed blow after blow, pulling the life out of every poor idiot that stepped within his range. A sudden swell of pungent smoke and spicy cologne triggered memories Doflamingo had buried deep and left locked away; gods, when was the last time he'd woken up to that scent on his sheets? A long time ago; far too long.

Any effort that Crocodile was putting in to the one-man slaughter didn't show on his face in the slightest; he wore a blank stare as he decimated every soul in the room—save for one, of course—without breaking a sweat. As expected of him, really.

"Well," Doflamingo started, inwardly berating himself for the slight breathlessness in his voice. "What brings you here? Come to make sure you get the chance to kill me yourself?"

He was so full of shit it was almost funny.

"You really think I would go through the trouble of invading a marine ship just to kill you?" Crocodile snorted, craning his neck to look down at him with a disbelieving expression as he whacked another marine right in the face with his massive metal hook. The number of marines that were both conscious and willing to attack him seemed to have dwindled to a meager few by that point. So they weren't all completely moronic after all.

"Well, I can't imagine any other reason you'd bother coming all the way here." That was a lie. He could imagine dozens of reasons. But none of them were within the realm of things he was comfortable allowing himself to believe. To be fair, he was having a hard time believing what he was seeing right in front of him; but he knew from frustrating experience that his hallucinations could never replicate the man in his full glory. He knew the real deal when he saw it.

"Who said it's your face I'm after?" Crocodile replied curtly, taking a long drag from his cigar as he made his way across the narrow storeroom. Upon reaching him, Doflamingo couldn't help but chuckle at the sight; Croc was taller than him, if only by a few inches, when he was forced to be seated on the floor. Seeing the other man from that angle was equally off-putting and alluring all at once.

"...My mistake, then." The contentious banter that they used to break the ice upon every meeting they ever seemed to have was as depthless as ever. Why it was even still necessary? They were far beyond formalities, weren't they? The slight smile on the other man's face as they held eye contact expressed something beyond their words, however. Really, it had been far too long; and to think he'd nearly resigned to never seeing Crocodile again.

"You look pathetic, Joker," Crocodile hummed, twirling a key around on one finger. A steel-toed shoe prodded mockingly at Doflamingo's side just underneath his rib cage.

Ignoring the foot that threatened to topple him over like an upside-down turtle, Doflamingo eyed the key intently. He'd almost forgotten how much of a smug bastard the other man could be; but it was charming as hell, if he were being honest. "Are you planning to set me free? Is this what the world's coming to?"

"Now you're getting it," Crocodile said, letting out a wave of smoke as he bent down and dropped to his knees. His fingers grazed delicately over the cuffs on Doflamingo's wrist, and Doflamingo was extremely pleased to find that the remaining, less-brave marines had taken entirely to watching on with horrified faces rather than opting to interrupt them. Feeling the sensation of the other man's hot breath on his skin at such close quarters, he was sure he'd destroy any poor soul who dared try to intervene; well, at least, he would have were it not for the seastone cuffs. Really annoying things, they were. Fuck whoever designed them. Maybe he'd go after them next.

His inner musings were abruptly cut short when Croc ran a thumb over the tired crease under his eyes, softly, but not without purpose. "You look like you haven't slept in days," he whispered under his breath, though it seems more like a thought that had slipped out than a deliberate statement.

"I haven't slept in decades," Doflamingo snorted, reflexively flicking his tongue against the man's wrist when it strayed too close to his lips. The lack of functional hands was driving him crazy at such close proximity, but the slight shiver that ran up Crocodile's arm was an acceptable reaction for the time being. "Now, if you're satisfied with the small talk, would you mind terribly using that key to uncuff me...?"

"Oh, this?" The man raised an eyebrow, turning his attention back to the key clutched between his fingers. "You want me to uncuff you right now, huh? And then what'll you do?"

At first, Doflamingo said nothing in response. What will he do? Well, obviously getting the hell out of there was first on his list. But he had a feeling that the question ran a fair bit deeper than that. "...I'm not quite sure. But something tells me you have a suggestion."

The smile that stretched across the other ex-Shichibukai's scar-ridden face told him that, yes, the man most certainly did have an idea.

Hell, anything with him would be worlds better than Impel Down. Reflecting back the man's grin with an understanding nod, Doflamingo raised up his bound wrists to Crocodile patiently.

xxx

It was just barely afternoon, and Doflamingo was, for the first time in a while, looking out at the sea in comfortable silence with a single companion.

The sand underneath his bare feet was warmed enough by the sunlight to burn a little, but it was a comfort unlike any other in comparison to the cold, wet wood of the marine ship he'd spent days sitting on prior to that moment.

The sky above them was virtually cloudless—and with only the distant cry of seagulls and the muted rolling of waves approaching the beach a few feet away from them, he could swear that he was either finally dead, or asleep somewhere and dreaming; but there was no way in hell his dreams would ever be so overwhelmingly painless.

Such bullshit textbook-peacefulness wasn't supposed to exist in the real world; leave it to Crocodile to somehow find a place like this in the middle of the New World.

"Where exactly are we?" he asked, looking around at the empty shore. There was nothing of note at all save for the ship they'd arrived on, and a pair of big, slightly odd-looking crabs digging around in the sand not too far away. There was no town in sight, no buildings to speak of. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been somewhere so downright isolated. It was… well, liberating.

"It doesn't have a name yet," Crocodile shrugged in response, taking a long drag from his cigar and craning his neck back to release a smog of gray up into the air. "...If you have one in mind, though, I'd love to hear it."

The short conversation drifted off to a somewhat uncomfortable silence as they stood alone together. What was he supposed to say, in a situation like this? Sure, Doflamingo had entertained the possibility of someone coming to his rescue. But never him.

"I honestly didn't think I'd ever see you again," he admitted, opting for once to take the route of honesty. He stared out at the sea with what he could only assume was a completely pathetic look on his face, not at all comfortable with the fact that his eyes were completely without cover in the other's presence. It felt incredibly ridiculous, considering he'd already been without them for quite a while, but he lifted a hand to subtly cover part of his face from view anyway. "I mean… is this where you've been hiding out these past few years?"

"Mm, only every now and then." Crocodile's tone was thick with distraction and vague indifference as he lifted his hand to knock Doflamingo's finger-shield from its resting place. He at least had the decency to keep his eyes on the horizon in front of them, however.

Back by the line of trees that divided the beach from the forest, Doflamingo could hear Daz hacking away at some branches that fell to the ground with a series of muffled thumps. Firewood, he guessed. Apparently they'd be camping out for the night.

"You know, I really figured you would have found another country to conquer by now," he started again in a lighter tone, crouching down to sit on the sand with a quiet exhale. Being tied up in such an awful position for so long had really done a number on his muscles; it would likely be a few days longer before he could walk right again. "But I guess that explains why you have time to chase marine vessels around, hm?"

"I told you I have some plans to discuss, and I meant it," Crocodile replied sternly, and Doflamingo felt the weight of a hand press into his shoulder from above. The man's thumb brushed over bare skin at the hem of his collar, sending a shiver down his spine that he didn't bother trying to hide. "...But what about you? Are you planning to start again after being crushed that thoroughly?"

Thoroughly? Well, it wasn't like he could argue with that, but the words were still comically harsh. "...I take it you read the news?" Whatever that was, anyway. One of the most irritating parts about being caught immediately was that Doflamingo hadn't been able to read what the newspaper had said about his defeat. He doubted they'd reported the whole truth—when was the government ever known to do that, after all?—but they'd likely painted the story in a way that suited his atrocious image anyway. That said, he would have liked to see exactly the way they'd described his fight from an outside perspective. It was hard to recall much that happened in the heat of the moment after all.

"I did." Crocodile was quiet for a moment longer, then settled down on the sand next to him and let out a quiet sigh of his own. "From the story I read, though, I expected you to be in a lot worse shape than this."

Doflamingo snorted disdainfully, his grin twisting in irritation as he idly dug his toes into the sand. "Oh, please. That snot-nosed kid isn't capable of beating me that badly. You and I aren't that similar, you know." It was a low blow, but nothing more than baseless criticism, and he knew it; they were perfectly similar. Doflamingo had been beaten pretty badly, that was for damn sure. But pretending he didn't give a shit was more fun. And the more he acted that way, the more true it felt.

"He's not the worst brat in the world," Crocodile muttered under his breath, shifting over so that the sides of their arms touched despite their shoulder height being quite a bit off. "...Though if I ever come across him again, I might have a word with him for breaking those glasses of yours. I liked them."

There was a pause as he absorbed those words, and Doflamingo couldn't help laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of the man's declaration when it registered. Had Croc ever complimented his fashion choices before? There's no way he could have; he would have remembered something as absurdly exciting that for sure. "Of fucking course you did," he laughed, running a hand through his hair as he leaned forward to prop himself up with his elbows on his knees. "So did I."

He glanced over just in time to catch the genuine smile on Crocodile's face before he returned to his stoic indifference. Another drag off of his cigar, and he stubbed it into the sand beside him. "Alright, listen. It's early, and I haven't quite finished preparations, but…" he trailed off, shifting onto his knees and sliding in front of Doflamingo to meet his gaze directly. Reaching into his back pocket, he procured a thick, yellowed paper and handed it over.

It was a map, littered with nearly a dozen ink circles scattering as many islands, and a slew of barely legible notes all over.

"Wait," Doflamingo paused, looking over the words scribbled on the margins. "Isn't this handwriting-"

"Trebol's? Yes," Crocodile cut in, giving the shitty writing a sour look. "That would be his… unique handiwork. I'm sure you mind quite a bit, but I've been trading correspondence with some of your allies in preparation to conquer this area together. He and some of the others have been gathering intel along with my men. I had my doubts, but they managed to get quite a bit of work done in a short amount of time. I think we could accomplish a lot if we combine our forces."

Something in Doflamingo's chest lightened at this, but the feeling was gone in an instant. "In case you've forgotten, I'm-..."

He's what? What was he so reluctant to say? Alone? Utterly devoid of people to call comrades? Trying not to lose his shit over the fact that nearly everyone that had ever cared at all for him was now detained and about to suffer the same fate he'd been facing just hours earlier?

His expression darkened as he gave another glance to the map. There was so much detail put into the scribbling; and now that he was taking a closer look, he could make out the distinct marks of others on the map as well. They'd put a lot of work into it, hadn't they? And now he'd never have the chance to praise them for their efforts. They'd rot in prison and never know of his appreciation.

The thought hurt a little more than he'd expected.

"They're on their way here as we speak," Crocodile started lowly, as if reading his thoughts. Doflamingo simply stared at him wide-eyed in confusion as he reached out to place his hand on the his. "I sent some of my new recruits out to retrieve them while Daz and I went after you." Slowly, he ran his thumb over the red marks on his wrist, as if rubbing them carefully enough would magically make them disappear. "Everything's going to be fine. You can trust in that."

"And… what if I don't want to join in on this plan of yours?" Doflamingo made a point to sound testingly defiant, but he was unable to keep the grin from spreading across his face. This was exactly why he loved that man so relentlessly.

Crocodile scowled, hand twitching on top of his before gripping harder on the skin that'd been chafed raw by seastone. "Don't you think I've earned your compliance for freeing you from a lifetime of boredom and uselessness?"

Doflamingo could hardly contain himself when the man made faces like that; really, Croc should have known better. Without skipping a beat, he shoved the man back and held him down by his shoulders with a vice grip. Despite how ineffective the trap was given the circumstances, Crocodile didn't put up much of a fight, staring up at him with a disgruntled expression as he shifted around in the sand. "I guess I do owe you one… I'll consider it if you ask nicely."

"Fuck off, I can tell how excited you are," Crocodile muttered back, looking up at him with a hint of red tinting his scarred cheeks. "...Don't be stupid."

"Oh, come on, just say 'please'," he purred, leaning more into the man's space of his own volition until he felt the point of a sharp hook prod into the small of his back to guide him even closer.

"No," he growled back, though it came out as more of a shaky breath than anything else, and there were lips on his before he could formulate any sort of asinine retort.

Doflamingo deserved prison, he could admit to that. But did he deserve this?

He wasn't quite sure he cared to know the answer to that.

Where was Fujitora during all this? He was taking a nap. Definitely, yup.

Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed! Writing these two was really fun! I'm sure they'll go on to be very successful together ;u