Practice, as they say, makes perfect. And it was a bonus that practice also gave him easy access to plentiful wallets if he worked it right. So it was that the young Doflamingo-barely ten-spent yet another sunny afternoon tripping the locals with his fledgling Devil Fruit ability, flicking strings across the street from his hiding spot in an alley just in time to snag a heel. When they toppled, he would scamper out under the pretense of seeing if they were alright, even helping most of them onto their feet. What they would not realized until it was far too late that while he did, he was also palming their wallets from their pockets and purses with deft, undetectable fingers.
It was getting really hot out and he was debating calling it a day to seek out a cold drink at a local café when a particularly smug looking boy caught his eye. Oh no, that was way too good to pass up: this guy was walking around in black pants that had actual ruffles at the ankles and a long-sleeved black coat lined with fur. Hell, his hair was even slicked back, making him look like he was pretending to be some big-shot crime lord or something…Mingo smirked and got himself into a crouch, ready to spring his trap on this new target if just for the pleasure of putting his smug face in the dirt.
In the blink of an eye, a thin string flung out from the boy's finger and he snickered to himself, gleefully waiting for the telltale tug and resounding cry of alarm as yet another clumsy oaf fell prey to the trick. Moments ticked by and he lit up excitedly as the string tugged…but the expression fell into a confused scowl as there was no outcry of shock, no shout, no body hitting the ground. What gave? Peering out at the street, he saw the older boy had indeed stepped into the string, but it hadn't tripped him up at all. He had walked on a few steps before stopping, peering backward at the ground as if seeking the source. Shit, he couldn't see the string…no one could see his strings! At least, no one had before now. But Mingo sighed with relief as the raven-haired boy shrugged and turned off again, assuming it had been a loose cobble or perhaps he'd simply tripped himself.
Mingo scowled as the boy passed out of sight, studying every little detail he could so that next time he saw him, he would get him good. No one was allowed to get away from his string trap without him being able to figure out how.
A few days later found him skulking in the same alley when the smug boy in the coat appeared again. Mingo had nearly given up on the idea, assuming the kid was probably part of a caravan or maybe he was a pirate and had left the town, but he sprung to life in an instant with a manic grin. Awesome, time to give it another try. And this time, he was determined to get the guy to fall. Waiting until the very last second, he threw out both hands and sprung out three strings from each hand, focusing hard to keep them wound together into a thicker cord and made damn sure it was held taught.
"Try walking away from this one," he found himself snickering, watching with bated breath.
An ankle connected with the invisible cord and Mingo gave a crow of delight that he then choked on in disbelief as the kid's ankle then stepped through it and he stood safely on the other side. Stopped dead in his tracks, there was no mistaking the obstruction this time, no confusing it for a cobble or his own error: there was something there. Mingo gawked, even as he felt sharp golden eyes land right on him when he forgot to dive for cover and hide: how had he done that?! He could have sworn he saw a shimmer, as if the kid's ankle had become something else-something grainy-for a moment. It looked kinda like sand, actually.
Before he could do anything else, he glanced up when a cold shadow fell over him and blinked, finding himself face to face with the irritated teenager.
"And what the hell do you think you're doing, brat?" the raven-haired boy growled menacingly.
"H-hey, Sandman!" the blond blurted with a wide, nervous grin. "Nice trick!"
The teen raised a brow at this scrappy little shit crouching in an alley and snorted, arms crossing over his chest and tilted his head to one side. Slowly, a smug grin pulled at his lips and he lowered himself to be on eye-level with the younger boy.
"I'd return the compliment if yours wasn't so damn lame," he jeered, grin only widening as the kid bristled angrily at the insult. "Seriously, you've got shit luck to get stuck with a power like that."
"What?! Like yours is any better!" Mingo snapped, pointing accusingly at the ankle he'd seen turn to sand. "So you can turn to sand, big whoop!"
"Oh, I can do much more than just turn to sand," the teen chuckled darkly, reaching a hand out to slam it into the wall just beside the blond's head.
Mingo turned to watch with widening eyes as the color seemed to drain from the stucco surface, paling and crackling until it finally burst apart into a fine dust. Turning a highly wary look back to the teen, he froze as the guy actually started laughing at him.
"What did you do?" the younger boy all but whispered, curious even while being vaguely terrified and angry for being mocked.
"Pulled the water out of the wall until it broke."
"Wow…that's actually pretty cool," Mingo admitted, then he grinned sharply. "Can you do that to people?"
Blinking at the question, the teen managed to look surprised for a moment before his expression neutralized again.
"As a matter of fact, I can."
"Can you show me?"
"If you insist."
Fingers shot out and took hold of the blond's neck, hefting him up off the ground easily enough. He took hold of the teen's wrist with both hands and grinned even wider, a wildness in the expression that gave the other boy pause. It would be simple to pull the water out of his body, leave him shriveled up in the alley and be done with it. No one would miss a dirty little pickpocket, after all. Maybe they'd even pat him on the back for ridding them of a nuisance. And he was certain the kid knew it, so why the hell was he grinning like that?
"Aren't you afraid to die?" he found himself asking, surprised again to be genuinely curious.
"Naw, it's a waste of time being afraid of death. People with power get to call the shots, right? So if I died to someone stronger than me, well, that's just how the world works! Fuffuffuffu!"
Pondering the boy's words, he soon gave an exasperated sigh and let him go, dumping the blond to the ground unceremoniously.
"You've got a really weird way of looking at things, brat."
"Doflamingo."
"Pardon?" the teen knit his brows.
"It's Doflamingo, actually. Not 'brat'."
"Well, good to see that your shit luck extends to names, Doflamingo" the teen laughed at the ridiculous name, turning away and strode out into the sun-baked street.
"Wait! So you're not gonna kill me?"
"Those who stand on top determine your fate, you don't get to decide what I do or don't do to you," the teen replied over his shoulder before he vanished into the crowd.
Mingo sat in the dirt for a long time, staring after the departed teen. After a few minutes had passed, he stood up and brushed himself off, grinning to himself. Those who stand at the top determine your fate? He liked that phrase. He liked that a lot.
"How the hell did you find me, anyway?"
Mingo chuckled from his perch on the ship's railing, grinning up at the raven-haired teenager seated beside him.
"It was pretty easy, actually. You kinda stand out with that dumb coat, people don't dress like that around here since it's so hot."
"Is it? I barely noticed," the teen shrugged indifferently.
"You from a summer island or something? I don't know how you can stand wearing all that stuff in the heat."
"Or something. You really ask too many questions, brat,"
"I told you, my name's Doflamingo!"
"Alright, Doffy," the older boy drawled, pronouncing the name as one would when talking to a baby.
"Better, I guess," Mingo grumbled with a pout. "And you never told me your name, either."
"So I didn't."
"Soooooo?" the young boy pressed expectantly, leaning forward a bit.
"My name is," the teen began before reaching out, grabbing hold of Mingo's chin and smirking. "None of your business."
"Hey! That's not fair, I told you mine!" he whined, grabbing at the teen's wrist.
"Life's not fair. Get over it. And I didn't ask for your name in the first place, you just blurted it out."
"Because you kept calling me a brat!"
"Which you are."
"Just tell me your name, you jerk!"
"Why should I?"
"I bet it's really stupid," Mingo muttered, switching gears. "That's why you won't tell me, isn't it?"
"My name isn't stupid."
"Uh-huh. But you won't tell me what it is? I bet it's funny."
"It isn't."
"I bet it's actually a girl name."
"It isn't."
"Maybe it's Clarance."
"It isn't!" the teen snapped, scowling in annoyance.
"Okay, whatever you say, Clarance…" the blond snickered, grinning wide. Got him.
"It's Crocodile!" he snarled, fixing Mingo with a sharp, golden-eyed glare.
"…like the reptile?"
"Don't you even start with me about that, you damn bratty bird!"
Mingo got pummeled and nearly thrown off the ship for laughing as hard as he had at that, but for whatever reason he was spared a second time from being slain by the teenager.
"What, you're leaving? Already?"
Crocodile sighed, sitting on a crate near the ship's gangplank, glancing down at the frowning kid before him. It was hard to tell with the sunglasses in the way, but he could still pretty much feel a glare cast at him.
"We've been here for weeks, that's already too much time wasted," he replied with a shrug. "Pirates don't stay in one place for long, y'know."
"Time wasted..?" Mingo mumbled to himself, hands balling into fists at his side briefly before opening again and he reformed his expression into a grin. "Hey, I have a better idea, Croco-kid."
"And that would be what, brat?"
"Stop being a pirate," he stated as if it were the most logical choice to be made. "There's a lot more fun to be had here in this kingdom! You'd never be away from sand and I bet we could get rich quick off the people living here."
"We?" the teenager repeated the word with a raised brow.
"Yeah, you and me! How about it?" the kid proposed eagerly. "Wanna team up with me?"
A long pause followed and Crocodile peered at Mingo for a time, weighing the kid's words with a measure of actual consideration. He wouldn't lie and say that he wouldn't miss this kingdom and its rich resources, abundant sand, and heavy pockets. But what kind of life was there to be had running around with a homeless kid with nothing to his name but a pair of sunglasses and a shitty Devil's ability? He was young and bold and stupid, maybe a bit nuts, and quick to temper. Did he really feel like playing babysitter to some snotnosed brat he'd just met, giving up his position with the crew and his big plans for the future?
Of course not. Who would do something like that, anyway?
"I don't team up with anybody," he replied flatly, and Mingo instantly fell into himself before bursting back with red-faced fury.
"Don't lie! That's the same as brushing me off!" the younger boy snarled.
"More or less," Crocodile sighed, smiling just a bit. "Look, you're barely ten, right? You're in way over your head and I can't stick around to keep you from drowning in it."
"Then take me with you!" Mingo blurted, surprising the teenager by sounding genuinely desperate.
"Not a chance. The captain would never take a kid along, you'd get in the way. Maybe if our paths cross again when you're older-"
"I wouldn't! I swear!" the younger boy interrupted. "I can be a pirate just like you!"
"You're too damn young to be a pirate!" the teen finally snapped, getting to his feet and loomed over Mingo. "And with that attitude, you're too young to be here on your own! Just go home, already. I bet mommy and daddy are worried sick, anyway!"
Mingo laughed harshly and it made Crocodile pause at the sound, brows lifting.
"Didn't I tell you?" the younger boy whispered, grinning sharply. "They're dead."
"Ah, I didn't…" the teen muttered awkwardly, suddenly feeling a bit bad for the jab. "I'm sorry."
He reached out to lay a hand on the boy's shoulder in a comforting gesture, but Mingo shrugged out of it with a baleful glare.
"Don't be, I don't want your damn pity!" he shouted and swiped his hand in a claw-like gesture toward Crocodile's face. "I never want anything from you, ever, you stupid reptile!"
Before he could react, a razor-sharp string cut across the front of his face and he gave a pained squawk, hands leaping up to find a gash that ran from ear to ear. Blood began to dribble down his cheeks and nose, leaking between his fingers as he stared down at Mingo with wide eyes. Mingo, too, was staring, eyes just as big in shock; he hadn't meant it. He hadn't meant to do that!
"I…I didn't…" he sputtered, taking a step backward away from the older boy. "I didn't mean…"
"Get the hell out of my sight before I turn you to dust, you shithead!" Crocodile roared, hands flying away from his face and curling into tight, bloody fists at his sides. "If I ever see you again, it'll be too damn soon!"
Not that Mingo had much choice in the matter, as when he turned to run, the cobbles began to erupt just under his feet, sent flying by jets of sand that would make damn certain that he scrambled as quickly as possible away from the furious teenager. If he found his eyes to be slightly wet, he ignored the sensation. He'd show him, alright. Not today, not tomorrow, but someday? Someday he'd show that shitty reptile he made a big mistake by refusing him.
Loguetown was certainly crowded. But had he expected anything less? This was a historic event, after all. Anyone who was anyone was here, pirates and Marines alike. It was the day of the Pirate King's execution and Sir Crocodile had seen fit to make an appearance. Shouldering his way through the crowd, the rookie captain was drawing a bit of attention from some, whispers and fearful glances only bringing a smirk to his face. Drawing in a drag of his cigar, he felt his shoulder connect with someone decidedly less yielding and he gave a displeased grunt, pressing past with a curt snarl.
"Get the hell out of my way."
A few steps later, he felt his ankle snag on something and without thinking about it, turned it to sand and stepped through. But despite avoiding the obstacle thanks to his quick reflexes and ability, he stopped dead in his tracks as a memory skipped to the surface of his mind. Gold eyes lifted and scanned the people around him before having to look up at the person he had just shoved past. He stared, usually collected face falling just a bit into an incredulous expression. It couldn't be. No way. No way in hell.
"Hey, Sandman," Doflamingo offered with a wide grin. "Nice trick."
Goddamn, but hadn't bird-brat gotten big…
"What a show, huh?"
Crocodile had been returning to his ship, fully intending to get the hell out of the town before any of the Marines decided to go after the gathered pirates, and now appeared to have to get past a particular shithead in order to do so.
"I suppose you could call it that," he muttered, crossing his arms over his chest as he regarded the young man before him, actually taking him in.
Well, he was a sight, that was for sure. He was tall as hell, probably closer to nine feet tall than Crocodile and still growing, thin and lanky limbs the young man had seen when Mingo was just a kid now fleshed out with lithe muscle proudly showcased with an open jacket-vest lined with…were those pink feathers? Knee-length shorts hung loose around his bony hips and were done up with a safety pin-fashion statement or second-hand, he wasn't certain-and he was wearing a pair of goggles pushed up on top of his head. Despite their presence, he was also wearing a pair of ridiculously ornate sunglasses with orange lenses, even though it was well after sunset.
Crocodile's eyes lingered there on hidden eyes that he felt studying him in turn and scoffed, pulling a cigar from the case in his pocket and put it to his mouth, bringing a lighter to it.
"You know it's nighttime, right?" he spoke at last, and Mingo laughed.
"Really? I thought it was just abnormally orange out." [Credit to x for the dialogue/outfit design]
Snorting, the young man shook his head at the outrageous teenager standing between him and his ship-how had he known which one it was, anyway?-and realized that it had been nearly seven years and the idiot hadn't changed at all. Oh sure, he was physically older and seemed to have found his way in the world if he had gotten to Loguetown, but he was still a goddamn brat as far as Crocodile was concerned.
"I see you've moved up in rank a ways, Croco-man," the blond began, shoving his hands into his pockets and nodded toward the ship beside them. "Rookie Captain Croc. Oh wait, it's Sir Crocodile now, isn't it? My apologies."
A overdramatic bow of respect was given toward him and-coupled with the ridiculously long and awkward limbs-Crocodile bit down on his cigar to choke down a chuckle that nearly was.
"And I see you've managed to cultivate a wardrobe even more dirty and poorly conceived than when we last saw one another," he countered. "How did you manage to get yourself out here?"
"Same as you, on a boat," Mingo jeered down at the shorter man, brimming with glee over having several inches over him now. "Is that so surprising?"
"Honestly? Yes. I expected the world to eat you alive at some point in the past."
"Hmph," the blond's face fell into a scowling pout, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. "So little faith in me, my dear reptile. I'm happy to disappoint you in saying I've done quite well for myself, in fact."
"And I am sure I'm happy for your success. Now, if you would just step out of the way and let me on my ship…" the young man grumbled, moving to walk around the teenager.
"Aw, c'mon, don't be like that," Mingo stepped back into Crocodile's path with a lopsided smile. "We were just getting caught up, you can't run off again so soon!"
"This town is crawling with Marines, only a moron would be caught sticking around to have a pointless conversation," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "So what else is there to say beyond 'goodbye'?"
"Well, you could say a lot of things. How about 'yes'?"
"Yes? To what?"
"Wanna team up with me?"
Crocodile sputtered, having to bang a fist against his chest to clear his lungs of the smoke he had just inhaled the wrong way. He couldn't be serious! But despite that dumb grin plastered on his face, the young captain could tell with a grimace that he was.
"Hey, you said that if our paths ever crossed again-"
"No," Crocodile bluntly cut him off.
"No? Just like that? You didn't even pause to think about it this time!" Mingo bristled, anger settling into his expression, felling his grin.
"There's nothing to think about. I don't team up with anybody."
"Not even with an old friend?" he tried hopefully.
"We are not friends, Doflamingo," and he lifted a finger to tap the scar where it cut across his right cheek. "Our paths may cross again and again from now until the end of days, but they will never run in the same direction."
"So you're just gonna brush me off again, huh? Even though you said you'd consider it when I was older…"
"I recall saying 'maybe'. Now get out of my way, you brat."
Lowering his head, Mingo began to laugh quietly. Then his hands were flung up from his pockets, fingers twitching into disjointed claws and Crocodile could feel the passing breeze of invisible strings thrown in his direction. They surrounded him, coiling around his limbs, his neck, seeking to bind him, to strangle him where he stood. It was startling, to say the least, enough so that he had actually let the strings touch him in the first place. Glaring up at the teenager who was smirking at him with a sense of victory, the young captain burst apart into flowing, shifting sands that proved the strings to be useless.
Mingo was barely able to squawk in surprise before the sand was upon him, hands forming from the swirling storm and they closed around his neck tightly. Furious golden eyes emerged next, followed by the rest of the man's face as he leered into the blond's, taking pleasure in the flitting sense of fear he got from the teenager before he was able to reign himself in again.
"You swore you wouldn't get in the way, yet here you are," he growled low, nails pressing into the teenager's neck sharply. "And you said you never wanted anything from me, yet you continue to ask! Tell me, Doffy: what is it, really? Are you going to continue to get in my way? Are you going to continue asking me for things you can't have like a spoiled brat?"
"Again and again, until the end of days," he croaked out with a manic grin, wild as the day seven years ago when Crocodile had last threatened to choke the life from him.
Expecting fingers to tighten further, Mingo found himself abruptly dropped to the street. Wincing as he hit the hard pavement, he glanced up at the man hovering over him, still partially formed from the cloud of sand. He was…was he blushing?! The teenager gaped openly and Crocodile must have realized his mistake because he instantly shut his expression once again, disappearing into the flowing sand and diving by onto the ship. From there, Mingo couldn't see where the young man had gone but he couldn't have chased after him if he wanted to: as if on cue, a group of Marines rounded the corner onto the street and spotted him. Pointing and shouting soon followed and he was up on his feet, running off with a wide, shit-eating grin as he cast one last glance over his shoulder to the reptile's ship.
Well, well, well. That was certainly something to look into, now wasn't it?
"How did you get into my office?"
"Through the door," Doflamingo chuckled, having made himself quite comfortable on the older man's desk.
"The door was locked."
"That's the funny thing about locks," the young Shichibukai all but cackled with arms held outward, shrugging. "They get unlocked."
"I am the only one with the key," Crocodile growled, shutting the door behind himself.
"And you imagine that should have stopped me somehow?"
"What the hell are you doing here, Doflamingo?"
"Ugh, always with the full name," the blond groaned, pouting as he cupped his chin in one hand, elbow propped on a knee. "Shouldn't we be using pet names at this juncture, Croco-man?"
"What the hell are you doing here, Donquixote Doflamingo?" Crocodile repeated himself, taking brief pleasure in the visible cringe the other man offered in response.
"Can't I visit to congratulate my dear reptile on his new title? Shichibukai…that's a pretty big deal, isn't it? In fact, it's almost as if-"
"Don't," the older man warned with narrowed eyes.
"-we're teamed up at last."
"That is as far from the truth of things as you could possibly be," Crocodile sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "How do you go through life being such a empty-headed moron?"
"Considering I got into the club before you? I'd say I go through life pretty swimmingly."
An eye began to twitch and the older man glowered at Mingo furiously.
"But since we are allies, now, even if it's just a technicality of our titles and all the strings that come with them…" the younger man went on, grinning at his own reference. "Why don't we just bite the bullet and make things official? You and me, Croco-man. C'mon…how can you possibly say no?"
"Easily."
"You're a stubborn old fuck, aren't ya?" Mingo grumbled, grin falling into a sour frown. "What's the deal, anyway? I haven't asked in a while…a real long while. Why won't you even consider a simple, tactical, logical alliance?"
"Because I don't team up with anybody," Crocodile repeated those tired words that only served to piss the younger man off even more. "The sooner you get it through your thick skull, the better. And if I ever did decide to lose my damn mind and form an alliance, it certainly wouldn't be with you."
Lazy moments previous, Mingo was suddenly in motion, hands out of his pockets and fingers crooking into claws, strings flinging outward to snag hold of Crocodile and drag him over to the desk. It was a treat to see that smug face fall into one of shock as he did, grinning sharply as he held him captive before him. The older man struggled against the strings and he realized with a sinking feeling in his chest that he could not loose himself from them like he had before. Something had definitely changed in the younger man's abilities…something he didn't like at all.
Meanwhile, Mingo looked Crocodile over critically, noting that his strings were indeed holding him in place, unable to leak away into a cloud of sand. Through the threads he could feel the other man shift and struggle against his bindings, but one string in particular was being tugged in a peculiar way and caught his attention. Curious, he pulled at that string and forced Crocodile to lift his left arm that had been hidden under the coat he wore more like a cloak. Late afternoon sun caught the side of the golden hook and Mingo stared at the weapon that occupied the space where a hand should have been. Looking at it for a moment longer, he turned a questioning gaze toward the older man.
"When did this happen?" he asked, brows lifted. "Do like the addition, though…"
"None of your damn business, bird," Crocodile spat angrily, yanking at the strings again.
Snorting, the blond tugged at the strings and pulled the other man closer, grinning wide when they were only a few inches apart. Leaning down from his perch on the desk, he studied his reflection in the gold hook briefly before running his tongue lewdly over the curve down to the point. Letting fingers play over the rounded part cuffed over the wrist, his other hand snapped out to take hold of Crocodile's chin firmly.
"You should really stop trying to brush me off, Crocodile, I've been nothing but patient with you this whole time," he purred dangerously, letting his nose touch the other man's. "But someday, I might not be. So let's hear it, then, shall we? Let me hear you say 'yes' just this once."
"No," Crocodile bit back defiantly, unmoved by the threat. "And it will always be no, until the end of days."
"Haven't heard that one in a while," Doflamingo chuckled, inching downward a bit to lick the other man's chin, thrilling as it caused him to squirm uncomfortably. "Seems it puts us at an impasse, though. If you refuse to say yes and I refuse to stop asking, I suppose we'll be doing this indefinitely until the Devil calls us home."
"I would welcome Hell," the older man grumbled, the rest of his tirade smothered by a pair of lips crushed against his own and that goddamn smug laugh.
Nothing productive would be done in the next few days. Crocodile resigned himself to that fact and hoped for swift delivery from his personal demon.
"You idiot…"
Doflamingo growled, the newspaper he'd been reading crumbled into a tangled ball of shredded strips at this point. He dropped it, too disgusted with the article to even continue touching the paper it had been printed on. But though the article was unreadable now, the keywords still knocked around in his mind tortuously.
Alabasta saved. Traitor hero defeated. Secret organization exposed. Shichibukai status stripped. Immediate transfer to Impel Down.
Sir Crocodile. His reptile.
Life without parole.
Long fingers twitched with anxiety and he forced himself to grip his knees to still them, scowling sharply as his gaze fell to the windows. It was sunny out, warm. So why did he feel so cold? He stood and took the ball of paper with him, kicking the windows open with a foot and tossed the mess from the window to catch on the breeze, carrying it away.
"You goddamn idiot reptile…you should have joined me while you still had the chance!"
Of all the things Doflamingo expected from the War at Marineford, a ship falling from the sky had not really been one of them. But the cargo the ship carried with it-its living cargo-was least expected of all. He'd heard in passing about a break-out. Some kid with a hat trying to rescue his brother but guess that plan backfired beautifully because here they all were, getting ready to execute him anyway.
But this ship. This ship was now the Shichibukai's singular point of interest because among the escapees from Impel Down that had now crash landed in the heart of the battle was his reptile, Crocodile. He watched with keen interest as the older man went right for Whitebeard, only to be stopped in his tracks quite violently by the kid with the hat. What was his name? Ah, Mugiwara Luffy. That was it.
The one who had put Crocodile in prison in the first place.
A cold bitterness settled into the pit of his stomach despite the initial elation at seeing him as he watched the older man pick himself back up, surveying how far he had been thrown from Whitebeard's ship. Some of the Emperor's men uselessly tried to strike him, but were easily sucked up into one of his sand devils.
"Don't interfere with my goals!" he roared furiously.
But his advances would be blocked yet again as Captain Jozu stepped in and caught the former Shichibukai off-guard, throwing a diamond-enforced punch into his face that flung him backwards…landing mere feet away from Doflamingo. Sand sputtering from his injuries, he rubbed at his jaw with his hook, grumbling to himself from a crouch.
Before either man could reach the other, however, Doflamingo threw out his hand and crooked his fingers, halting Jozu instantly in his tracks. Crocodile paused with some surprise at the man before him before his eyes narrowed into an exasperated expression, looking up to the sound of familiar laughter.
"I'm impressed you got out, Croco-man!" the blond called from his perch on Jozu's back. "How was your bath in the pond of blood?"
"Doflamingo," he growled, gritting his teeth. "Don't interfere. You wanna die?"
"What an unpleasant thing to say…" Mingo sneered, then added for old time's sake. "How 'bout it? Wanna team up with me?"
Crocodile had refused.
"Right now, I don't want to see you enjoying victory," Crocodile explained to Sengoku.
By this point, Doflamingo had heard just about enough of this drivel. Fingers crooked wickedly and there was a sharp sound of air being sliced, nearby Marines gasping in horror as Crocodile's head was sent flying from his shoulders. Of course, he knew this would not have done the reptile in. Certainly not. But it did get his attention.
Doflamingo strode forward through the crowd of men as Crocodile reformed his head.
"Oi oi, Croco-man," he chuckled darkly. "So you're ditching me to team up with Whitebeard?"
Crocodile fixed him with a narrow-eyed glare as the last wisps of sand fell back into place.
"It's enough to make a guy jealous, ya know?"
"I don't team up with anybody," he countered flatly, back turned to the younger man, by now more than accustomed to this idiotic exchange.
"That's the same as brushing me off."
"More or less."
Silence settled between them, tension building as neither man made a move. Eventually, it would be the subtle shift of hands being pulled from their pockets that triggered the beginning of the fight, Crocodile rounding on Doflamingo with his hook. It was a swift attack, forcing the younger man to block it with his foot instead of being able to retaliate with his abilities. The sheer force of their clash sent them both-and all the Marines stupid enough to stand nearby-flying backward.
Clever. Seemed the old reptile still had his teeth.
Doflamingo lay in the rubble of his ruined castle, panting for breath despite the ache it caused to his bruised ribs-no, those were probably broken, actually-and stared up at the ceiling. Odd, everything looked so different without his sunglasses. He was really gonna miss them. For whatever reason, that was one of the first things Mugiwara had been certain to break. Really, just added insult to the metric shitton of injury he'd racked up. It was enough to retain consciousness at this point, but he supposed that if he did pass out, that was perfectly fine. To be expected, really.
He drifted in and out for well over an hour before he realized he could hear something outside. It was a rushing, howling sort of deal…wind? No, angrier. A storm? Closer, but not quite. His addled mind was struggling to think of other weather phenomena when the acrid scent of desert sand filled the ruined throne room and he froze.
Sand.
Sand? Was he hallucinating? It couldn't possibly be him. Why would it be?
A cold shadow fell over him and it took more strength that he wanted to admit to just pry his eyes open to look up. Standing above him, battered and delightfully disheveled, was Crocodile. Outside the chamber, howling sand devils blocked the ways inside, affording them a brief reprieve from whomever had chased the older man there.
"H-hey, Sandman…" Mingo muttered with a dry chuckle, closing his eyes again. "Nice trick."
"And hello to you, shit-bird," Crocodile rumbled, trying his best to hide the relief in his eyes. "Welcome to rock bottom. Allow me to be your guide."
"Couldn't ask for better."
"Crocodile?"
The older man looked up from the book he'd been reading, peering over at the bed in which the blond had been sleeping fitfully for almost two days without waking. Bleary blue eyes blinked at him in confusion before he realized that he wasn't still asleep and he was actually there. Limbs and chest were done up poorly in bandages that itched like hell and everything ached, but he was alive.
"Ah, you're awake. Was beginning to make plans for your funeral."
"Touching, Croco-man. Would there be flowers?"
"Many."
"And food afterward?"
"Certainly."
"See? I knew you had a heart," he chuckled weakly, wincing in pain as it jarred his ribs to do so. "Ow…so. Where are we now?"
"My ship, far away from Dressrosa. It was swarming with Marines."
"You…came to Dressrosa," he said, clearly uncomprehending. "Why?"
"Because I saw that bullshit in the paper about you resigning and I knew goddamn well you were up to something stupid."
"It didn't seem stupid at the time."
"Retrospect is a bitch. How are you feeling?"
"Hurts like retrospect," he sighed, earning an amused snort from the reptile. "So you actually came to see me?"
"I came to see what you were scheming, I didn't realize I was about to step into a war."
"I might have miscalculated a bit, I think."
"You think?"
Doflamingo sighed heavily, weary and aching in every way possible. He closed his eyes and tried not to think too hard about anything in particular. So focused on not focusing on anything, he startled as a hand rested over his forehead, blinking his eyes back open with a questioning glance.
"Checking for a fever," Crocodile muttered, but even in his current state, Mingo could tell it was a lie.
"Conclusion, Doc Croc? Give it to me straight," he muttered in amusement, pressing into the hand and nuzzling a bit.
"You've come down with 'Mugiwara meddling'. You won't be going anywhere on your own for at least a few weeks," Crocodile rumbled, letting his hand continue to rest where it was.
"After that?"
The older man shrugged, offering a slight grin.
"Who knows. It could be terminal. You may never recover fully."
Doflamingo laughed, cursing under his breath for the pain it caused his bruised ribs. Why was this bastard being so oddly playful right now? Had he missed something? Was this even the real Crocodile? He decided a test was in order.
"Say, Croco-man."
"Hm?"
"I have an idea."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. Wanna join my family?"
"There's not much left to it, is there?" Crocodile asked with a quirked brow.
"No, I don't suppose there is…" he mumbled, closing his eyes once again. Damn.
There was a pause in the conversation and with each passing second, the younger man withdrew into himself further. While it might not have been perfect, he had truly cherished his family. But now? He didn't know what had happened to them; Crocodile had seemed to avoid the topic altogether for reasons he could guess at. It soured his stomach, the uncertainty of their condition. Had they escaped with their lives as he had? Had the Marines taken them away? Or had they been-
"I suppose all the more reason to expand," Crocodile finally broke the silence.
"Huh?" Doflamingo blinked back to the present, looking over with a perplexed expression.
"I thought…when I stormed the heart of the city, I had thought that the world had finally made good on my prediction and devoured you," he admitted quietly, gaze locked on the hook resting over his lap.
"So little faith in me, my dear reptile," the blond found himself speaking old words in this new conversation. "I'm happy to have disappointed you."
"You're practically useless now, bird," the older man continued. "With your kingdom fallen and you kicked out, Marines and the World Government on your ass, the most logical thing to do would be to throw you overboard."
"But…you're not going to do that…are you?"
"No, no I am not."
"Why not?"
"Because, as I said to you once, you don't get to decide what I do or don't do to you, Doflamingo."
"So, that means..?"
"It means I'm saying yes."
Dumbfoundedly staring at the older man, it was the first time Crocodile could recall finding the blond rendered speechless. Wonders never ceased. Blinking at the raven-haired man with wide eyes, it took several attempts at opening his mouth-closing it, opening it again-before he could manage to sputter anything resembling a response.
"But, you don't..?" he slowly caught on, daring to be hopeful. "You said you don't. You don't team up with anybody."
"I don't. But in this case, I am willing to make an exception."
The silence that followed was so absolute, Crocodile had to check for a pulse after a few minutes to be certain that Doflamingo had not died from shock. After letting the idea that the impossible was happening sink in, the injured blond looked over to the older man sitting beside him and reached out, tugging at his sleeve.
"So what the hell happened to all that 'until the end of days' talk, Croco-man?"
Crocodile shrugged, looking at him with an uncommonly genuine grin.
"Welcome to them."