For Fowo, a friend.

(And she liked it so much she ended up drawing fanart, now the title cover! Thanks Fowo!)


-Gold-

"Pink" was his mother's lips pressing against his cheek, and his tiny hands trying to push her while he laughed and squealed for his brother's help. Her arms wrapped around his small frame, blanketing him in comfort. The feeling made his heart pump out endorphins and warmed his tiny soul.

When Vergo had thrown the feather cape over Doflamingo's shoulder, he was instantly taken back to that same feeling. It was a sea of light, gentle feathers tickling his neck and face. Although Doflamingo couldn't see what it looked like, he knew right away that it was "pink," reuniting with him after all these years.

Dressrosa was a plethora of exotic, intense colors. The "orange" was the fragrance of the sweet, acidic air tickling his nose as he awoke every morning. It was refreshing, smooth, and left him grinning with each inhale. The "yellow" an intense, powerful heat that prickled against his face, warning him not to fly too high. There were days when it was favorable, and Doflamingo enjoyed its presence above him. There were days where it burned his tanned flesh, a reminder not to overindulge.

Purple was the sun setting at just the right hour. The air around him was cool, but the stone structure still retained the heat of the day. Doflamingo removed his coat and rested on the patio floor, back warm and chest cold. He listened to the winds while enjoying the mixed messages of "purple."

The sound of laughter, his crew making noises as they chatted over the dinner table, fireworks and parties were "white." Dressrosa carried various shades of it. His executives said it was impossible. He didn't care, the country was as "white" as you could get.

The sea and sky, vast and impossible for Doflamingo to determine, much less comprehend, was "blue." He could not conceptualize such a massive amount of space, nor would he allow himself to. The color of water was "blue," and that carried the faintest image of death. Sadness was often associated with "blue," and Doflamingo had had enough of that to last a lifetime. It was rainy days. It was wet with tears. It was missing Monet while she was away.

Doflamingo avoided "blue," adorning it only when necessary.

Despite this, his crew would occasionally warn of him of clashing colors. From the silent secrets behind his purple shades, down to the silkiness of his orange capris, feeling as crisp as the citrus rind sharing the same name. They always laughed it off, never knowing the reason why he wore the mixed matched combination of orange and pink. Vergo's smile against the palm of his hand reassured him of an understanding.

Strangers who mocked his choice of apparel, ignorant as they were, usually didn't live to talk about it later.

Save for one man.


What was "gold?"

"You look like a damn flamingo." Crocodile sounded offended.

Doflamingo had answered the man's call. He took a few members of his crew and landed one of his ships on a small, fall oriented island located somewhere in the New World. It didn't take long for him to catch word that the ex Shichibukai was taking residence in one of the nicer hotels. Doflamingo asked for directions and with some help from Baby 5, was able to burst through the hotel door and surprise the sandman.

"Fufufufu." Doflamingo chuckled and felt a hand adorned in jewelry grab his face, pulling him down.

"What's with all this pink?" he heard Crocodile growl at him.

"You don't like it?" Doflamingo asked, staring at the source of the annoyed voice. The heat from Crocodile's breath excited him. The bitter scent of tobacco had his mouth watering. "You said I needed to get a new look."

"I didn't think it was possible," the man muttered. "You look worse now than you ever did."

Doflamingo had felt it in his hands many times. "Gold" had been a trinket handed to him by adult Celestial Dragons. The sound of their voices insinuated there was something special about the cold, flat circle that rested in the palm of his hand. He remembered giving it a squeeze. It upset him when it refused to break, change shape, or give away under his strength. "Gold" was soft metal, but the coin in his hand refused to bend under his will.

Doflamingo pulled his index and middle finger inwards, feeling invisible strings wrap around and tug the giant hook. From it Doflamingo was able to create an image of the man's broad form. It wasn't necessary to start from the prosthetic, but ever since Crocodile told him it was gold, he had a hard time resisting.

A thumb and index finger pinched Doflamingo's bottom lip. "Were the women taking a day off when you decided to buy new clothing?"

He reveled in the pain and pouted. "I like pink. It's one of my favorite colors."

"Hmph!" Crocodile thought he knew everything. Doflamingo loved that confidence, but he listened to the man's frustrated reply and chuckled.

A nail grazed his lip. "You would say something so ridiculous."

Doflamingo knew the man didn't understand him. "Does it bother you that much?" he taunted. He tugged his strings and reminded Crocodile of the small hold he had built between them.

"Gold" grew warm over time. Doflamingo carried it in his hands, between his fingers, rubbing it, working it, feeling the coin take in his body heat. In private he pressed it against his lips, letting the more sensitive part of his body test out the smooth texture of the metal. He tasted it and enjoyed the strong, metallic flavor. He was not surprised when "gold" fought against him and chipped a tooth when he attempted to bite down.

He listened to Crocodile's heavy breathing. Doflamingo wanted permission to touch the man's face and capture his changing image. He bided his time and settled for the man's caped shoulder.

Crocodile's nail pressed deep into Doflamingo's lip. The tall man let it drop; accepting the pain the older man offered him. He winced behind his shades, waiting for something wet and warm to burst from his flesh. When it did he finally relaxed. The pain was unpleasant, but Crocodile's lips were over his, masking the discomfort with pleasure.

A tongue lapped up the blood. Doflamingo smirked against Crocodile's natural scowl. His knees bent to ensure their strange signs of affection would last longer. He wanted Crocodile to be greedy.

This evening he was being selfish. Doflamingo sighed when Crocodile broke the kiss; his sticky lips pulling in Doflamingo's swollen bottom one and nursing on the wound. Crocodile's hands had a firm grasp on him. His chin ached between the fingers that possessed him.

Crocodile's favorite color was the intense heat that emitted from the flames. It was the stabbing pain of the arrow puncturing his flesh. It was his bloodied up lip. It was Doflamingo feeling weak, but so damn horny.

"Gold" turned cold if left alone too long. The same warm feeling against his lips turned icy after he left the coin alone on his nightstand for just an hour. It was simple in shape and form, but "gold" had its surprises.

They remained against the wall of the hotel room. Without making any physical contact with the surrounding area, Doflamingo might as well have been in the middle of the ocean. Crocodile's hook was the only thing keeping him afloat.

"Please tell me I at least get the comfort of a bed this time," Doflamingo purred once Crocodile broke away. He licked his lips and tasted the bittersweet combination of his blood and Crocodile's saliva.

He heard fabric being undone. Was it the ascot? His heavy arm was still resting on Crocodile's shoulder. He still felt the warm fur underneath him.

His finger's felt a pull. Crocodile raised his hook up and let the tip of the weapon make contact with Doflamingo's bare chest. "Humor me, and I'll consider it," Crocodile said.

"My outfit isn't enough?"

Crocodile took a step back. Doflamingo's arm dropped. He listened. Crocodile threw something heavy across the room. No doubt it was that expensive coat landing on top of chair. Never the floor. Doflamingo waited for the metallic sound of a belt buckle getting undone. No such luck.

He felt the strings around his fingers get pulled. Crocodile was lifting his arm? Maybe he was undoing the buttons on his shirt. Doflamingo waned to reach out and touch the man's hot skin. He wanted to be a part of the strip. He wanted to get stripped.

"Do you want to know what my favorite color is?" he asked, ashamed by how desperate he sounded.

The tugging ceased. Now Crocodile wasn't even moving.

"You have none," Crocodile responded.

The words stung some. Doflamingo let the ache occurring in his bottom lip distract him from the pain in his chest.

"I do," he insisted.

He heard Crocodile chuckle. It hurt, but Doflamingo was willing to endure the cruel laughter. Crocodile was so close, and it had been so long since the man blanketed him with hot shades of pink.

Crocodile took a step forward. Doflamingo felt the man's body heat against his bare chest.

His lips pursed, expecting a bite, a kiss if he was lucky.

Crocodile's fingers rubbed against his face, trailing up and stopping at the edges of his cheekbone. Doflamingo felt the temperature around him rise. He grinned when he realized he wasn't the only one in the room praying for affection.

But then the fingers grabbed hold of the sunglasses. Doflamingo twitched when Crocodile yanked them off his face.

Crocodile loudly shook the spectacles in front of Doflamingo, letting him know he had them in his possession. Doflamingo's eyes remained opened, not directed at the sound, but where he though Crocodile's face lay.

"Tell me," Crocodile mocked. Doflamingo listened to the material click in the man's hand. He heard them land somewhere in the room. Hopefully somewhere soft. Crocodile knew he couldn't risk getting caught without them.

Crocodile's hand grabbed him and pressed him against the wall. The hook rose higher, taking Doflamingo's fingers up with it.

"What's your favorite color?" he demanded.

The man was staring up at him.

Everybody wanted "gold." It was a hard, rare metal, and the color of it brought imagery of wealth and power. People dressed up as pirates, donned the Jolly Roger, and scoured the earth for "gold," thinking they could collect and tame it. Control it. They saw "gold" and fought over it. Humiliated themselves for it. Sold their souls for it. Everyone had a price, and it was thanks to "gold."

"Gold," Doflamingo answered. Crocodile's hand gripped his shoulder so tight it started to hurt. He felt Crocodile move closer. Doflamingo kept his eyes down.

"Why?" Crocodile asked in a low voice.

It surprised Doflamingo. It almost sounded like Crocodile wanted to know. Doflamingo would have loved to give him the real answer. He wished for nothing more than to have Crocodile hear his version of the color and how it brought him to his knees.

But Doflamingo knew Crocodile. No matter how genuine he might sound, there was no changing the fact that Crocodile tossed the sunglasses across the room. Crocodile's hand was already gripping his feathery coat, bending and breaking delicate pink feathers. The man would have his way with Doflamingo. It was up to Doflamingo to decide how it would happen.

"Gold" was a dangerous thing. It was a dangerous color.

"I'm a pirate," Doflamingo answered. He felt the strings around his fingers fade, releasing their grip on Crocodile's hook. "I'd be a fool not to love it most of all."

It was stained with blood.

"Is that so?" Crocodile muttered.

Doflamingo felt the cool metal press against his bruised and swollen lip. He closed his eyes, letting the relief spread across the bottom half of his face.

It slipped through the hands like sand on a stormy day.

"It's true." Doflamingo felt his face burn when Crocodile pulled the coat off from his shoulder. It fell to the floor, collecting around Doflamingo's legs. The feathers tickled and warned him that he was no longer safe. He was entering a dangerous whirlwind.

Crocodile laughed. "Kuhahaha." His hand grabbed Doflamingo's neck. Pressure pushed against his Adam's apple, enjoying the heat emitting from the taller, blind man.

"I bet you don't even know what it looks like!" the man taunted.

What was "gold?"

"Fufufufu." Doflamingo raised both his hands up, inviting himself to cup the smaller man's face. His right hand rested against the man's proud smile. Crocodile could never comprehend the truth behind his words. Doflamingo was fine with that, so long as he could get an image of the man before and after getting used up.

"Of course not," he lied, letting out another short chortle when he felt Crocodile's grin widen at his response. "But that's not going to stop me from chasing after it. I love the stuff," he added. He noticed a crack in his voice. He quickly added, "I can't get enough of it."

The grin hidden underneath his hand faltered.

"Gold" was Crocodile.

The lips underneath his hand trembled.

"I made you laugh."