Longest chapter so far.
-Part 1-
The Third Worst Day of His Life
-Now-
"This California weather," a tall, disheveled man said with a sigh. He sniffed, lifted his hand up and gave a quick wipe. He blinked several times, causing his small dark spectacles to slip over his squashed in nose. He sniffed and wiped again. "It's the end of January, and my allergies are acting up…I can't imagine how I'll deal when the spring arrives."
"It's Cali, Trebol," Diamante said with a huge grin, "we're already in spring! Give it a week or two and we'll be enjoying that sweet, southern California summer weather."
"God I hope so," Trebol whined. He hunched over, wrapping his arms around himself as he looked around the apartment, wrinkling his nose every few seconds in a fruitless attempt to stop the dripping. "Doffy," he groaned. "Can you get me a blanket? I feel a migraine coming on."
"Not right now," Doflamingo said, walking into the living room with his laptop at hand. "We've very important things to discuss if we plan on getting this up from the ground."
"I got the jest of it," Trebol muttered. Doflamingo frowned, looming above his subordinate with his laptop dangling threateningly above the other man's flat head. Trebol looked down in defeat, nudging himself to one side of the couch as he let Doflamingo continue.
"Well, then," Doflamingo continued. "As you know I've got about half a dozen or so underlings at hand, I plan to split them evenly amongst you two, and eventually Pica–"
"Pica's coming?" Trebol asked with some hesitance.
Doflamingo groaned. "Diamante," he said, turning to the other man.
"Oh, I couldn't," the man said, shrinking into his seat. "He wrote the answer to you after all."
"Yeah, "Doflamingo said, "but you got to see him."
"But you explain things so much better," Diamante said, looking away as he continued to humble himself.
"Well, I suppose–"
"BUT, since you insist!" Diamante took a deep breath. "He's busy with his mission to spread the true word of the lord." Diamante smiled, leaning casually in the armchair with his legs spread out. "According to Doffy he'll be coming over at the eighteenth month marker…"
"I thought it was a two year mission?" Trebol asked.
"It's complicated," Diamante shrugged. "Apparently you can leave early under the right conditions."
"Anyways," Doflamingo said, doing his best to persist under the many distractions, "I wanted you three to focus on my bigger trade. After a lot of thinking I've decided to have Vergo look after Monet and Caesar."
"Caesar?" Trebol asked.
"Met him the day before you arrived," Diamante responded. "Strange bloke with a fascination for toxicology."
"Too fascinated if you ask me," Doflamingo said. "The man keeps bringing up talk about moving up…he's even mentioned us making a deal with bigger names."
"He sounds disobedient," Trebol remarked.
"Perhaps a new chemist is in order," Diamante suggested, grinning evilly at the blond.
"I must admit, he still has his uses," Doflamingo confessed, turning away and giving a small shake of the head. "Vergo will make sure things are kept in order. Whether or not I upgrade my business will be a decision made by me and me alone."
Both Diamante and Trebol smiled.
"As for you two," Doflamingo said, "I'll need you to help me start the trade as soon as applicable."
"What do you need?" Trebol asked.
"I need you to get your most loyal…" Doflamingo stopped, lowering his face thinking silently to himself.
"What is it?" Diamante asked.
"I'm looking for the right word," Doflamingo muttered, his eyes peering through the upper park of his sunglasses. "You see, I need you to find people. People you can trust. People you already know."
Trebol carefully raised his hand. "So, friends would be the word?"
"No, you can't have friends," Doflamingo quickly answered. "Friends make you emotional. Friends can betray you. I can't have you two working under such a handicap…I need your orders to be precise, so friends are out of the question."
"But Doffy, aren't we your–"
"Right," Diamante said, "so subordinates would be the right answer?"
"Not so," Doflamingo replied, just as quickly as before, "there needs to be a great deal of respect between you and these persons of interest. I need you to rely on them just as much as they would rely on you. They need to be almost equals when it comes to making certain choices. Their lives are not simply something that we can toss."
Doflamingo thought for a second of the teens he and Vergo had acquired aid from a few months ago. That Bellamy fellow. He couldn't think of any real positive things to say about the teen. The boy was a tool, a simpleton that trusted him and would sell his drugs until he was no longer needed. He wasn't necessary in the long run.
Vergo was a piece of a puzzle needed in order to complete his plans. A missing Vergo meant a great hindrance to all long-term goals. Vergo was more than just a subordinate. He relied on Vergo to provide essential information, to provide a constant flow of supply and demand. Vergo was something, but what was it? What was the word he was looking for?
"So," Diamante said, "just to reiterate; you want us to find people we trust, that we can rely on to do our really fucking dirty work, and not have to worry about betraying us?"
Doflamingo felt himself being dragged right back into reality as the words sank into his clouded brain. He gave a slow but steady nod. "That's what I need. And I need them now. I need this to start right away."
"Hmm," Trebol pondered a bit, "honestly, I can't think that sort of trust being natural outside of a family?"
"Family?" Diamante pulled back in aghast. "That's what you come up with? That's just stupid. Family, mixed in with crime? What do you think we are, the mafia?"
"It was just a thought."
Family? Yes, that worked, to an extent. There were so many flaws with it though that made it an overall mess of a definition. Family was too important.
Doflamingo snorted. "Diamante's got a point. Family is a terrible definition." He saw Trebol's exasperated expression and felt something, perhaps a combination of pity and empathy, dwell in his chest. "But," Doflamingo added, "You should now…in theory, I do grasp the definition and why it would apply well to my demands."
"I suppose," Trebol said, still looking quite defeated.
"…I suppose a break is in order," Doflamingo said, detecting the complete destruction of concentration in the air. "I'll go get you that blanket."
"Thank, Doffy," Trebol said; leaning in so close that Doflamingo could feel the man's breath hit his skin. At this point Doflamingo sprang himself up and began to make his way into the hallway.
"Yo, wait, Doflamingo," Diamante suddenly said, raising his arm up and trying to halt the young man.
"What?" Doflamingo asked, looking a little irritated.
Diamante produced a worried look. "What exactly, if you don't mind me asking, is the end goal here?"
Doflamingo's eyes went wide "What?"
"I'd like to know what Trebol and I have to look forward to," Diamante replied, his voice more confident. "This is pretty heavy, and I think having a better understanding of what is going on will help us prepare when we look for those people you want us to find."
"Hmm, yeah, I understand," Doflamingo answered, "yeah I get it. If I want you to work at your best I really should explain the entirety of my situation to you."
"Can you get the blanket first?" Trebol asked.
"Just a few minutes," Doflamingo said, sitting himself back down in his seat. "You see. Well." Doflamingo chuckled. "I haven't been completely honest with you two. Or anyone really."
"Not too surprising," Diamante admitted.
"But don't worry, that'll end right here," Doflamingo added. He cupped his hands together, his heart racing as he felt his smile hold something more than his usual avarice. "You see there's something else I want. More than power. More than money. I want more than missing faces on milk cartons, mast panic, or, hell; absolute chaos." Doflamingo's face hurt from how much he was smiling. His chest beat with excitement.
"Jesus," Diamante muttered, his face growing pale.
"What is it?" Trebol asked.
He could see it. Doflamingo knew he was out there somewhere. For a long time Doflamingo wondered about the price. He hated his upbringing, but if anything came from it, it was that you can put a price on anything. He was going to place a price on human beings. He was going to put a price on life. Everyone had some sort of price. Even Crocodile. A price to locate. A price to capture. A price to train. A price to reform. A price to own, permanently.
But time is running out. Doflamingo knew he had to hurry. He had to hurry.
They all had to hurry.
-Then-
It was one of the few instances where Doflamingo's birthday fell on a weekend. Of course, Doflamingo had brought it up a few times during the week, trying to nudge a subtle hint to the teen over what he might like for his birthday. Doflamingo had the money to spend, and by god he wanted to spend it all on a day with Crocodile, preferably with it being celebrated with just the two of them. Crocodile, being the person that he was, made no attempt to show any interest on Doflamingo's twelfth year on this earth, leaving the younger to do all the work.
Not that Doflamingo minded. By this point he was used to it. Doflamingo had grown and adapted to Crocodile's natural disinterest: discovering that, as he grew older, Crocodile seemed to care even less for things that he didn't immediately gain from. And what did Crocodile have to gain from another birthday?
Doflamingo stopped his bike as he heard the distant echoes of a shipping train cutting through the town. It seemed so far away, but Doflamingo felt it's eerie call as though it had been whispered from a voice right behind his back. He'd hear the howls every once in a while as he made his way over to Crocodile's, and every time there was an itch in the back of his mind. What did it remind him of?
Never mind, the boy thought, there were better, more important things to think about. Like Crocodile. Like…willing Crocodile. Molding. Contorting.
Crocodile didn't seem to care about a lot of things because he only cared for things that he could benefit from. Doflamingo cared for his friend deeply and wanted nothing more than for him to reap the benefits of the world. But it would be impossible for Crocodile to gain all the treasures of the world if his view of what was considered to be treasure was limited. Crocodile had taught him to how steal, how to bride, how to bully, how to express dominion.
It was only fair that Doflamingo try to do the same for Crocodile.
There were all sorts of pleasures to be had. The games they played in the desert were long gone but there were so many games that could be pursued and achieved in this world. Crocodile didn't yet see but everything he had taught Doflamingo was connected to a much bigger plan that Doflamingo hoped to teach Crocodile. And this would be chaos. Yes, chaos: something so simple, yet still managing to be unleashed with the upmost eloquence.
This was Crocodile's way: he liked to unleash fury without dirtying his hands. Fighting was almost always a last resort, and when he did fight Crocodile preferred to go about it in a quick, painful manner as to leave his mark and go back to whatever the hell he had been engaged in prior. But what if he learned to get what he wanted though random acts of misery and torment? Surely there was something to gain in ruining the world by engaging in unruly acts of chaos. There had to be something eye opening when criminal acts were performed openly and without caution. Carefully stealing snacks, clothes, or even sunglasses provided a small amount of chaos, as precious goods were being taken from the suppliers without pay. But! but what if things were being taken without fear of being caught? What if they stole right in front of the suppliers? What if something big was taken, something really valuable?
The trains howled and Doflamingo was once again pulled back into the trance.
He needed to go places. He needed to leave the dry, boring state filled with mindless ants and go somewhere, anywhere.
Doflamingo pulled out a cigarette and lit it, huffing quickly on the addictive fumes as he felt a warm, comforting feeling inside of him being pulled out from a distant memory. He gave a long exhale as he suddenly remembered a promise from a long time ago, back in the days of buried treasure and simple reenactments of imaginary inspirations.
"The ocean," he said, aloud, inspired, and practically exhilarated.
He had forgotten for so long, the promise that the eight-year-old Crocodile had made to him. And being only five, he had been dumb enough to believe it all! It could still happen though. Crocodile was getting older; surely long distance transportation was not too far off from becoming an achievable pastime? Crocodile might laugh, but then he might actually consider it.
Wouldn't it be something if they just left one day without warning? Obviously it wouldn't be today, but they would do it, and when they did, imagine the reaction. Nobody would know where they went off to, and why. It would be out of their mothers' control, no officer would be left with a lead, and, most important of all: they would be in complete control. Chaotic to everyone but the two of them: the ideal situation. Nothing is ever that perfect though.
Doflamingo placed his bike on the porch and lifted the potted cactus that was situated right next to the door, exposing the house key that had been placed by Crocodile's poor, simple mother. He plucked the key and unlocked the door, placed the key back in it's obvious hiding place, and walked right into the house.
He hadn't thought about how early it was until he looked over at the clock hanging in the kitchen. It was quiet, but it was almost always silent, especially considering the inhabitants. Crocodile only spoke when he felt like it, and his mother didn't seem to have much fight in her to try to pry words out of her son whenever Doflamingo saw them together (which was rare to begin with). The bright light emitting from the room had temporarily drawn his attention, and once Doflamingo turned he noticed the time, feeling a small curious smile grow on his face when he saw it wasn't yet nine.
Doflamingo crept his way up the stairs, paying close attention to the silence of the house. The air was still and tasted fresh which meant Crocodile was still asleep and sober, or at the very least sleeping off whatever he had intoxicated himself with the night prior.
He walked through the small hallway, stopping at Crocodile's door and pressed his head against it, making extra sure that the boy was still asleep. He nearly stumbled forward when he felt the door move away from him, and was forced to grab on the knob in order to save himself from falling hard and waking up the older boy. Doflamingo was wide eyed. He gave himself a moment to relax, pull himself up from his awkward crouch, and let go of the knob without making any sound. He had not expected the door be to slightly ajar. It wasn't in Crocodile's nature to leave the door open. Doflamingo chalked it up to Crocodile leaving the room earlier at some point, either to relieve himself or grab a quick bite before finishing his beauty sleep.
He pushed the door open the rest of the way and peered into the dark room. The curtains covered most of the windows, allowing only some light to fall on top of the desk resting against it. Doflamingo looked to his right and wasn't surprised to see a messy bed with an even messier resident in it. He was, however, very surprised to see a pale back facing him. It was October, but the weather was still warm, and Crocodile had decided to go shirtless. He was shirtless and snuggling his blankets, completely unaware. Doflamingo could see bare skin, pale skin making the subtle movement with each soft inhale and exhale.
He backed out of the room, almost shutting the door behind him until he remembered that a disturbed Crocodile meant a cranky, angry Crocodile. So he gently placed the door back to it's original position before grabbing ahold of himself and rubbed his reddened cheeks until they ached.
Doflamingo had sort of hoped these feelings would wane a bit. He would have really liked for him to focus more attention on the fairer sex. For some reason Doflamingo couldn't ease that arousal, that strange, unnatural want for the male body. His hands slid down to his pants as he applied pressure, squeezing his legs together and carefully counting off the alphabet as a means of distraction. Seeing Crocodile so exposed brought such an excitement to his young heart. Doflamingo was beginning to worry there was something more than a simple physical attraction. The very thought made him sick.
"C-Crocodile!" Doflamingo yelled out. "Are you awake?" Of course he knew Crocodile was still resting, and he knew yelling loudly would wake the boy up, and Doflamingo wouldn't have to worry about staring at his sleeping form, feeling eternally guilty about his sexual desire.
He waited a few seconds. His breathing was the only sound being made.
"Crocodile?" Doflamingo called out again. He pressed his head against the door, making sure this time to hold on to the knob and not make a fool of himself again, as he listened to see what sounds were being made in the room. He could make out a few muffled sounds, perhaps movement, and he was sure he heard Crocodile crack out a groan, but there was no indication that he had left the bed and was moving about.
"Crocodile?" Doflamingo said once more. He carefully opened the door and peered inside.
There was the sound of someone who did not want to leave the bed.
Doflamingo made out some movement in the bed and saw Crocodile's arm reach out and pull up his sheets, covering his exposed back before curling up and going silent again.
Doflamingo called out. "Hey. Crocodile, wake up."
He watched the body contract. Crocodile groaned in his man-made cocoon before looking over his shoulder and staring disdainfully at Doflamingo.
"What are you doing here?" he muttered hoarsely.
"It's Saturday," Doflamingo answered. He took a few steps back into the room; confident he wouldn't get caught red faced in the darkness. "You sound gross. Are you sick?"
Crocodile blinked a few times. "What time is it?" he asked. He didn't sound well.
"Almost nine," Doflamingo replied.
"Ugh, you're too early," Crocodile hissed. Doflamingo watched him cover his face with the blanket, groaning into the sheets with his raspy voice that kept reminding Doflamingo over and over that Crocodile would not be physically well enough to go out and spend the day with him. "Give me ten more minutes," he muttered through his sheets. Doflamingo felt his own fingers stretch out with surprise.
"What?" he asked.
"Ten minutes. Go downstairs," Crocodile muttered.
"You're sick?" Doflamingo wasn't sure why it came out like a question.
Crocodile groaned loudly. Doflamingo shrugged and left heading downstairs back into the living room. He sat himself down on the loveseat in front of the television. He picked up the remote and turned the T.V on, trying to distract him from the bare image of exposed, sensitive flesh for as long as he could. He changed a channel and the sudden image of Crocodile changing right above him made his stomach queasy.
He wondered if he could come up with an excuse to get back into the room. The reward would be well worth the brief punishment. Crocodile was a prude, but it wasn't like he was hiding anything special in particular.
And Crocodile was older so–
Doflamingo blushed and turned the sound up till it was practically deafening. It didn't help cloud the thought of seeing Crocodile naked, but it did result in Crocodile hurrying down the stairs, almost fully clothed save a pair of socks and shoes, snatching the remote and turning the volume down before giving Doflamingo one of the most threatening glances he had ever seen. It was the glare that killed all arousal.
After this Doflamingo stared empty-minded at the television, the image still in his mind, but the animal fear reminding him that Crocodile had left with the remote, and chances were next time he did do something to upset him the remote might end up being used as a weapon. Still, while he had time to himself, Doflamingo once again found him musing over the possibility of explaining to Crocodile of his chaotic vision. The older teen was sick and probably wouldn't want to go out for too long, Doflamingo would have to be a fool for not taking advantage of the situation.
He waited another few minutes before hearing Crocodile go down the stairs again. He looked over the furniture and watched the slim figure move around in the kitchen, grabbing whatever was available for consumption. Doflamingo couldn't help but stare longer than needed, his eyes glued to Crocodile's legs slowly moving about in worn out jeans.
Crocodile walked over with a piece of toast in his mouth and a small bag in his left hand Doflamingo hadn't noticed it until the boy lifted his arm, offering the bag to Doflamingo.
"What?" Doflamingo asked.
Crocodile pulled the toast from his mouth. "Your present," he said in his usual monotonic manner, "happy birthday."
Doflamingo stared at the bag for a second before happily snatching it from the older teen. He had assumed that Crocodile wouldn't waste money on something so trivial, but seeing the bag had lit up a new passion in the boy. He pulled out a thick, yellow book and stared at the cover, his sunglasses falling down the bridge of his nose as he awed at his new gift.
"You got me Watchmen?"
"Mhmm," Crocodile muttered as he sat himself down next to Doflamingo. He took a few bites from his small meal and pulled the remote from his pocket, letting it rest on the table.
"This is all of the chapters."
"Yeah."
"And there's other stuff in it?"
Crocodile gave a short, quick nod.
Out of greed, but not specifically for the actual price, but more so for the attention and affection, Doflamingo asked, "How much did this cost?"
"You're getting really annoying," Crocodile warned before falling prey to a raspy, wet cough.
"How sick are you today?"
"Don't worry, we can go do whatever you want to do," Crocodile answered.
"I don't want you getting worse," Doflamingo insisted. "We can stay inside and do something tomorrow."
"Mihawk and I have things to do," Crocodile said, finishing the last of his meal.
"Mihawk?" Doflamingo asked. He placed the graphic novel carefully on the table, hoping Crocodile would notice the affection he had placed on the gift. "What are you two doing?"
Doflamingo could see Crocodile peering at him through the corner of his eye. Crocodile picked the remote up and turned up the volume.
"We need to see Moria. Get some stuff."
"Stuff?"
"Where do you think I get your fancy cigarettes from?" Crocodile asked.
"You buy them?" It was a stupid question. He quickly added, "Who's Moria?"
Crocodile got up from his seat and grabbed the remote. "No one special," he said before turning off the T.V.
"Why can't we just get the stuff today?" Doflamingo asked.
"No money," Crocodile stated.
"I have money."
Crocodile flinched. "I'm not going to owe you money."
"Well, of course not," Doflamingo said, smiling, "You won't have to owe me anything. It's my treat!"
The older boy shook his head. "I'm not taking your money."
Doflamingo was persistent. He pulled out his thin wallet and pulled out some bills, offering them to Crocodile. He could see the boy looking down at the bills, hesitant to take them.
"Birthday money from my parents," Doflamingo said. "My dad. I wont miss it."
It was hard to resist such an offer. Crocodile took the money.
"I'll call Moria and see if he'll show."
Doflamingo wasn't a fan of Crocodile's dependency, but saw no issue in providing a little something for Crocodile if it meant not sharing that time with Mihawk. He'd have Crocodile all to himself. Perhaps there would be time to talk.
Doflamingo did not like Moria. There wasn't much to like about the tall, pale, gothic-punk-thing who sat ominously underneath the gondola in the center of the not so nice part of town.
Moria himself was an interesting figure. Sitting on one of the porches that were situated in the gondola Moria looked something like a giant vampire. He was adorned in black, worn, heavy looking leather; some of which containing patches of old metal bands, chains connecting one side to the other, and giant, inappropriately placed tears. He wore makeup, which was surprising to Doflamingo since he had always figured men didn't wear makeup, and was done up to make the then seventeen year old look all the more menacing. His hair was all over the place.
Doflamingo rested against the worn white railing as he continued to stare at the giant figure sitting on the graffiti stained porch, staring back at him with a giant grin. He knew it was impossible, but Doflamingo could have sworn those teeth were all razor sharp. He continued to quietly observe, almost forgetting his hatred of drug addiction in order to figure out just what exactly Moria was supposed to be.
"You never told me you had a brother."
"He's not my brother."
"Oh, so you're buying for kiddies now?" The older teen laughed, exposing those strange, sharp looking rows of pearly whites, "Kishishishi! How cute! You think you can impress the boy by buying him some smokes, eh Crockie?"
"I've been buying for him for a while," Crocodile replied in annoyance. "He just wanted to come along today."
"Oh, I bet," Moria said with another haughty laugh. Doflamingo watched the young man spread his legs out as he rested deeper into the seat. He frowned when he saw yet another tear in the clothing.
Crocodile rolled his eyes. Doflamingo could see that the teen was beginning to regret this decision. Doflamingo had hoped his age wouldn't have gotten in the way, but it appeared that three years (five for Moria) were too much to be taken seriously for such an event. Doflamingo went back to hating the cigarettes that he depended on. He want back to loathing the little green buds that Crocodile desired.
Crocodile then pulled out the money from his jacket. Doflamingo feared the money would be handed to him, but instead, to his surprise, and dismay, Crocodile approached the older teen and offered up the money.
"This is all his," Crocodile said to the goth. "All of it."
The young man dressed in black peered at the messy bundle of wrinkled bills. He suddenly pulled himself back to a more respectable position, plucking the money from Crocodile and giving it a quick count.
"Hey, kiddo." Doflamingo looked and saw two black pupils locked on his thin form.
He raised a finger and pointed at himself. The older teen grinned.
"Kishishi, yeah, you."
"I'm not a "kiddo"," Doflamingo said.
"Oh, of course you're not," Moria said, still smirking at the younger boy. "Nah, you're different. Real different. A guy like you knows how to make money…knows how to properly spend it too." Doflamingo could detect a thick layer of sarcasm being applied to every word the man spoke. However, being in a position of power, Doflamingo decided to bear with it until he got what he and Crocodile wanted.
"So, where'd you get the money?"
"My parents," Doflamingo answered flatly.
"Kishishishi…did you steal it from them?" Moria asked hungrily.
"No, it was given to me," Doflamingo answered. He rested himself against the railing in order to feel in control. He could see Moria trying to figure him out. Neither was entirely sure why such precious information was being given away. Doflamingo gave a glance over at Crocodile through his shades, wishing that Crocodile could see what he did. What a waste drugs were. They were hopelessly in love with a temporary sensation that couldn't possibly satisfy their growing desires. Doflamingo knew Crocodile didn't appreciate this favor of his. The only reason Doflamingo was buying now was so he wouldn't spend his money with Mihawk later.
"What nice parents you have," Moria said. He could tell that the older teen thought him a liar. That was just fine. He didn't trust Moria anyway.
"I know," Doflamingo lied. "They're always giving away money."
He watched Moria's eye light up with excitement. Better not tell him it was birthday money. Then again, maybe he'd get some special deal. Oh why did he have to be addicted to cigarettes?
"You share the weed with Crocodile?" Moria asked. The goth was getting straight to the point. He wanted to make money. Obviously weed was the more expensive choice.
"I prefer Lucky Strikes," Doflamingo answered.
"You know, cigarettes are bad for your health," Moria said in a cautious tone. "They can give you cancer."
"And marijuana wont?" Crocodile remarked. Good, he could read through the bullshit too.
"I've heard it can cure cancer," Moria answered with a smile. "You know, Doflamingo, I can get you a great deal on sativa."
Doflamingo suddenly felt a hard stare rest on him. It was Crocodile's.
Addiction was a weakness. Crocodile must know this.
"Or are you more of an indica?" Moria asked.
"We don't buy indica," Crocodile suddenly blurted out.
"He might," Moria suggested, smirking deviously at the younger boy. "Some people like the body high."
Doflamingo couldn't help but take notice at Crocodile's sudden snap. What was wrong with indica? A body high sounded just as time-wasting as a mind high.
"Doflamingo, just get the stuff already!"
A thought arose in his mind. How pissed would Crocodile be if he got the other kind? What would happen? What would Crocodile do? What could he possibly do?
It was risky business, but earlier in the day Doflamingo had remembered that personal promise of his. Chaos. Could Crocodile adapt? He'd still get his drugs. What was so different between body and mind? You needed both to survive. And Crocodile was sick. Better to make his body tingle.
"Calm down," he said.
"What?" Crocodile and Moria both asked.
"What's taking indica like?" Doflamingo asked, turning to Moria.
"Don't get indica," Crocodile said, moving up to Doflamingo. seeing the older teen's bigger frame caused almost caused him to back away, but Doflamingo managed to hold his own and keep his eyes on Moria.
The goth smirked. "You'll feel fantastic. Indica leaves you able to be active."
Then Doflamingo looked up a Crocodile. "Why does it matter which one we get? 'Sides, wouldn't it be better to not waste time lying around in one spot?"
He could see the developing anger in Crocodile's eyes. Fear. You're Afraid.
"I don't want indica."
He decided to test strange waters. "I've never had it before."
"You hardly ever smoke it."
"You can have what I don't use."
"I prefer the mind high." Doflamingo couldn't figure out why Crocodile would prefer one thing to the other, especially when that thing was free. Crocodile couldn't seem to grasp the concept. Doflamingo found this so fascinating. It was an amazing trait to have…were Crocodile not addicted to the sensation.
You wanted to mold him, right?
Control. Chaos. Doflamingo knew he had the advantage. It was his birthday. Crocodile was ill. He was promised a treat. Doflamingo could give it to him. It just wouldn't be the right one. What could he possibly do, other than leave? No, Crocodile wouldn't leave. His pride wouldn't let him secede. Crocodile wouldn't give up. He'd lose a battle, but certainly wouldn't give up a fight. That was the problem with his need for control and order. What was the worse he could do?
Doflamingo smiled. "Well," he said, "it's my money."
And Crocodile never bought him a pack of cigarettes again.
-Now-
The sounds of crickets could be heard chirping through the open sliding glass window. Doflamingo pursed his lips together; his pupils contracting as he slowly lifted his head up and found the intense light of a setting sun welcoming him. He took a final drag from his cigarette as he sank into the seat of his couch.
He rubbed the butt of his cigarette into the ashtray while letting his tongue drag across the dry roof of his mouth. He stared at a small notepad that lay on his table, staring at the one name that he had written on it. He moved in closer. He practically hovered over the notepad.
Vergo, Monet and Caesar would all be focusing on the drug business. Bellamy and his gang, canon fodder, would be engaged in whatever Vergo had planned for the business. This would work well. No one needed to be added, and no one ought to be subtracted.
Doflamingo looked down at the notepad again and stared at the single name that he had written on it. He wondered, licking his tobacco thirsty lips, what he was to do with Violet. That girl was still so young, but not too rebellious, and though he had her in his grasp he couldn't help but wonder what use she could have outside the usual dealings. He couldn't just let her go, not with the information she had from years of slaving underneath him, but he didn't think it would be too fair to place such a burden underneath Diamante, Trebol, or Pica.
Doflamingo picked up the pen that lay next to the notepad and wrote down Baby 5's name on it, pausing for a moment before deciding to add Pica's name right next to hers. Baby seemed dedicated to get her work down and if she continued with her training as she said she would (all paid for by her until Doflamingo decided she had earned a reimbursement), Doflamingo was sure she would work well underneath Pica. This decision was only temporary until he could make contact with the older man and decide whether he would be willing to have her.
"I got dinner!" Doflamingo heard an overly cheery voice from behind him call out. He continued to stare at the notepad as Trebol walked into the living room, along with Diamante, carrying two bags of to go meals.
"Do you have names?" Doflamingo muttered.
"I actually called a guy I met back in Amsterdam," Diamante remarked. "Guy is a bit queer, but I think he's got what it takes."
"You think?"
"Diamante," Trebol interrupted. He leaned in close to the taller man, earning an uncomfortable grunt from Diamante, "you can't just say that. It's inappropriate."
Doflamingo responded. "He clearly didn't mean it that way." Trebol sank back into his seat; giving Diamante his much needed space. Doflamingo eyed the bags that were resting on the table. "So, what did you get me?"
"Food, or the guy?" Diamante asked.
"Both," Doflamingo answered.
"Mexican tonight," Diamante answered, lifting a Styrofoam container out from the plastic bag. "And the guy goes by the name Pink. Not sure what his real name is. Anyways, he seems pretty interested in the operation."
"And how much did you tell him about the operation?" Trebol asked.
"Everything he needed to know," Diamante answered, pulling out another container and handed it to Trebol, "can't expect to catch his full attention if I leave any detail out. Sides, Doflamingo's idea is so crazy that no one would believe him even if he decided to tell."
Doflamingo smirked. "Is that what you think?"
"We're getting into some heavy black-market stuff here," Diamante said, handing Doflamingo his meal. "The kind of stuff you see romanticized in the movies. Shit, no one will expect us to succeed."
Doflamingo opened his container and stared at a red and yellow mess, his poor human eyes only capable of making out the refried beans.
"But we will," he said.
"Exciting," Trebol remarked.
"Things are gonna get pretty insane soon," Diamante said with a laugh.
And then Caesar called.
-Then-
Doflamingo first took weed in Crocodile's basement. Of course Crocodile had already been high upon entering and had no problem sharing his pipe with Doflamingo. Like the excited idiot he was Doflamingo went ahead and deeply inhaled his first hit of hot, bitter and earthy fumes, nearly choking himself to death when he felt the smoke tickle his throat, his central nervous system enveloped in a warmth he had never known possible. It was good. It was damn near wonderful until Doflamingo realized he had spent three hours in a basement, sitting on his ass doing nothing but talking about…what did they talk about? He couldn't remember; that was just how bad it was. He remembered thinking up amazing thoughts, but almost all of them dissipated once he came through. He could recall Mihawk showing up and taking a few hits before…damn, there it goes again. Whether it was a result of taking in too much, his virgin lungs and brain, or a combination of other things Doflamingo wasn't too sure. But he hated the idea of wasting precious time sitting on a worn couch, doing absolutely nothing of value.
Worst of all…Crocodile was doing this on a regular basis.
And Crocodile now.
Doflamingo coughed. He looked over at the ashtray lying on top of the table, his dry eyes blinking and refocusing on the burning tip of what remained. He had done the whole damn thing. Crocodile refused. Damn. Though he has thought he wouldn't care about Crocodile's stubborn attitude, there was some pain in seeing him refuse just a hit.
He let his fingers grab hold of the carpeting; his nerves shooting a message up his fingers, hand, wrist, arm, muscles, wet and red and bone, and shoulder, and every little bit of his spine; nerves, vertebrae and cells, crawling, tickling, licking up his neck, till, finally, reaching up into his brain, exploding over and over, yelling and shouting with glee: "you've gone and grabbed the soft carpet!" He smiled.
He heard Crocodile laugh. Doflamingo turned, looking over and staring at the spread figure on the couch. His eyes first laid on Crocodile's thin, long leg. Through those faded, worn out jeans he could make out that fine, desirable figure.
"Wow. You are so out of it." Another laugh. It's slower and lasts longer as it rings inside Doflamingo's ears. Wasn't this stuff only supposed to work on the body?
"You're happier." Doflamingo muttered. He removed his shades and stared up at Crocodile. "Didn't think you'd get over it so quickly?"
He watched the smirk on Crocodile's face shrink. "I'm still thinking up a punishment."
Had Doflamingo any idea that Crocodile was about to take away his smoking privileges he might have said something, might have fought back. Instead he crawled closer to the couch, his shaky hand griping Crocodile's leg before being flung away by the older boy. Doflamingo didn't seem to notice or care about the sudden rejection.
"You're so warm," he said, looking at his hand. He could still feel the heat sinking into his palm.
"I'm sick, remember?"
Doflamingo looked at the pale face and suddenly recalled that worry of his.
"I forgot."
"Obviously," Crocodile remarked.
Doflamingo leaned against the couch, detecting the heat from it's inhabitant and felt his throat go dry as his eyes once again laid on the ashtray, then to the small baggie with the remaining weed.
He slowly opened his mouth. "Have some." The words seemed to echo throughout the living room.
"No," Crocodile said.
"It feels good," Doflamingo said.
"I don't care," the older boy answered. No, you care.
Doflamingo stood up, hovering above the lying body on the couch. Crocodile looked to the direction of the TV, purposely ignoring Doflamingo's presence. Doflamingo concentrated on the sounds behind him. He concentrated on the feeling on his socks soaking deeper into the carpeting, sinking into quicksand flooring.
"Why can't you have fun?"
Crocodile slowly turned his head over and grabbed a throw pillow, burying hid face in it.
"I miss when we did everything together." Doflamingo sank back down, his knees hitting the floor hard. There was no pain but there was a constant reminder that he had made sudden contact. He reached out and touched Crocodile's shoulder. "You're no fun anymore."
"You need to grow up."
"You need to relax."
"You promised you'd get me MY STUFF."
"I can always buy more later."
"You suck."
"You're weak."
Crocodile peered out from the pillow and stared heavily at Doflamingo. It was around this time he had probably decided to not buy cigarettes for Doflamingo ever again. Doflamingo felt Crocodile pull his shoulder away from him. The blond reached out again and grabbed hold of the bottom of older boys shirt.
"You're supposed to be better than me," Doflamingo said. "You're supposed to teach me how to break all the rules…but we stopped doing that." He took a deep breath. His mind briefly went fuzzy from the rush of fresh air. "I miss that. Crocodile. I miss it all. I want to burn things. I want you to tell me to burn things. Lets do it. Now."
A sweet painful sensation between his legs stopped him from getting any closer. There was another painful sensation from Crocodile yanking his shirt free from Doflamingo's shaky grasp.
"Crocodile?" Doflamingo said aloud.
"You need to grow the fuck up."
"…it's my birthday."
"…I know." A long pause. Crocodile sighed. "But you're not a child anymore."
"We need to leave."
"What do you mean?"
"We need to get out of here, now." Doflamingo could feel his throat tighten with the passion that he had kept trapped inside for so long. "We need to leave this town. We need to get out of here…"
"You're really high."
"It's not the drugs."
"Oh yes it is," Crocodile said. "You're feeling pretty confident now. But it's a really stupid idea." No. "All of this is just stuff that sounds nice for right now." No. Please.
…
…what happened then?
…what did I do then?
Disappointment. Doflamingo opened his eyes and looked the living room. His eyes ached with the pain of constant irritation. Had he rubbed them prior? He was sure he hadn't cried from the news.
Crocodile was hopeless. The words stung his chest with a pain he could barely acknowledge. It seemed beyond his comprehension. Doflamingo blinked a few more times before turning over and spotting the sleeping form on the couch. There was a blanket now covering Crocodile. Some time must have passed. Once again weed wasted the hours away. Fucking weed. Never buy it again. Never let Crocodile have another opportunity with it again. Crocodile.
Doflamingo grabbed the table and used it as support as he struggled to get himself standing. He looked out the window and noticed a drastic change in the stretching of long, twisted shadows. Indeed, some time had passed.
He took a step forward, hunching over and grabbing his bag so that he could properly dispose of it. He knew Crocodile wouldn't smoke it. Pride. Fear. Whatever. It didn't matter anymore. But he didn't want Crocodile near it. Doflamingo reached out for the larger bag, the graphic novel that Crocodile had actually spent money on to get for him. He didn't steal it. Doflamingo ought to have been happy. He had been happy. Now he was pissed. He left the bag alone.
He turned his attention to Crocodile. The boy looked red faced. Doflamingo didn't care. He was in that curled position. Doflamingo didn't care. He felt his lips part as he watched the sleeping form beneath him, each inhale a crime against Doflamingo.
Twisted thoughts sprung up in the back of his mind. Crocodile could not adapt. He would not embrace any change. He was old. He was a part that could not be fixed. Doflamingo tried his best to let these words affect him correctly. He wanted to forget the importance of their private relationship. He desperately wanted to fall out of love.
He wasn't sure how it happened but Doflamingo once again ended up on the carpet, his knees shaking and his hands grasping the cushions of the couch as he carefully leaned forward and let his head hover above a sleeping Crocodile. Doflamingo was very aware of his situation. He knew he shouldn't. He knew he was under some influence and yet couldn't come to blame the high on what he was about to do. Nothing could have stopped it. Not the knowledge of the truth, the promise that in four years time he would have the body beneath him, not the promise that Crocodile would attempt to fulfill for him.
So he did it. Doflamingo brought his lips against the heated cheeks, not the least bit surprised by the amazing outcome. He could feel the heat, the burning flesh against his chapped lips, running through his face to his mind and bringing forth an emotional pleasure that he couldn't have never imagined. He knew it was going to feel good. It felt good. He would have done it again but fear pulled his lips away from the sleeping form, sexual guilt forcing him to hurry up and get out of the house as soon as he could.
It felt good. Doflamingo could feel his lips tickle, his heart pump with hurt and passion as he ran out of the house, forgetting his bike as he ran across the neighborhood, his body breaking into the occasional skip as every nerve in his body took hold of the new memory and began to play it over and over again.
He ran faster than he ever had before, his body bursting with a sensation he would only experience through future liaisons with the same person. As he kept going, somehow making it to the bus stop, his heart racing, he grabbed hold of the baggie in his jacket and pulled it out, staring at it with a strange look. He tried to think of why Crocodile might refuse to take something that made his body feel so magnificent. He tried to think of a way to get Crocodile to never smoke the stuff again. He thought of a way to never have to see the boy again.
The feeling lasted forever.
Thanks for reading. Please leave your opinion, positive or negative, in the form of a review. Remember, I'm going to have to "unveil" rather mature information in a few chapters, so if there are some concerns I would like to be told so. Your input is extremely important to me.
