AN- These chapters are getting way too long.


-Part 2-

The Second Set and the Situation

-Then-

There were three solid knocks, separated by an equal one-second pause, letting Crocodile know that Mihawk had arrived. The young man remained quiet in his room, back to the door. He was in no mood to have guests over.

"What?" he asked stiffly.

November was two days away. The original plan had been to leave at the end of the year, maybe before Christmas. No, definitely before the holidays. Crocodile had wanted to leave while everyone else was distracted. He wanted to disappear from this stagnating land before anyone could notice and drag him back into it.

Things had been slowing down lately, and Crocodile kept his back to the door as he listened to it open, hearing Mihawk slowly make his entrance.

"Renovating?" the boy asked, looking around Crocodile's bare room.

The original plan was to leave at the end of the year. For some reason this had changed as Crocodile was finding himself more and more preoccupied with removing posters from his wall, collecting up old figurines and choosing what would remain and what would be tossed, chucking away anything that was over ten years old, from his distant, alien childhood, and folding clothes for warmer weather and placing them in boxes or bags.

"Something like that," he replied. He got up from his desk and stared coldly at the boy. His writing desk had been left intact. Unlike the rest of Crocodile room, he had no choice but to leave it that way. Nasty scribbles adorned the sheet of paper that covered it. "What do you want?" he asked.

"Do you get carded at the stores?" Mihawk asked.

"You want me to buy you something?"

"It's for a party," the teen confessed.

"I didn't think you were into those," Crocodile remarked.

"Shanks said he'd get us alcohol, but I've seen his fake I.D," Mihawk replied as he made quick glances around the small room. All sorts of clothes were aligned and folded across Crocodile's bed. He spread his legs, hoping to cover more ground and make what nonsense he had illustrated as invisible as possible. The young man could see that Mihawk knew something was up. It wasn't like the boy to go out of his usual bored expression. It wasn't like him to let his mind wander out of the usual. The last time he did he almost got himself killed.

"So…when are you leaving?"

Crocodile's frown could not expand any further without his face beginning to ache. "I'm not," he said.

"It looks like you are," the teen remarked. Crocodile leered at the boy. Mihawk shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket. "Do you get carded?" he asked, changing the subject and letting his voice fall flat.

"No, not anymore. The scar helps," Crocodile mentioned. He could see Mihawk grow uncomfortable at the mentioning of the scar. Even after more than two years the subject of his scar and how and why he received it was still a touchy subject. He looked over at his bed, quickly counting up the piles of long sleeved tops he had then added, "my I.D is pretty realistic."

"If I give you money can you buy a few six or a twelve pack?"

"How much am I making off of this?" Crocodile asked.

The boy shrugged. "I'll give you twenty."

It wasn't as though he had anything better to do. He had cleaned his walls of any precious memorabilia, leaving all the shelves bare minus a few special trinkets that would kept out until it was time to leave, and most of the clothes he didn't care too much about had already been organized and packed. His drawing desk was the only thing that had been left intact, but only because the young man needed a way to release his frustration without punching a hole in the wall, a feeling that he noticed had begun to rise since returning home one morning.

The trash bin next to the desk was filling up with crumbled up disturbances that would not leave Crocodile's mind, no matter how many times he illustrated it, scribbled it out, and detailed it after hours and hours of hard work and patience. Even though Mihawk never saw a thing there was a huge wave of relief when they left, because all Crocodile could think about while they spoke were those stupid crumbled up pieces of paper, tossed away without a second thought, even though they held nasty little secrets.

The two walked past several small liquor stores, opting for something more mainstream. When you're an adult it's so much easier to steal or trick the big name stores. Cheap dollar and liquor stores expect thieves, and a camera can cover an entire store. A Walmart or Target would be filled with cameras, but they hardly ever got the face, not that Crocodile would have to worry to begin with. Maybe a bottle of gin to help him ease the migraine that developed in the back of his mind when he though too much these days, but he would be semi-honest with the alcohol today and would buy Mihawk his cheap, watered down beer.

And right now he stood in front of the large array of choices, with Mihawk carefully shadowing him, but somehow sticking out like a boy who had never purchased alcohol in his entire life, giving a nod when Crocodile picked up a somewhat decent brand for the raven-haired boy to show off with later.

Mihawk was getting older. Crocodile hadn't thought too much about it, never really caring enough to try, but he supposed parties were something that someone had to go to at least once in their life. Everyone needed that kind of peer pressure. Everyone needed a sort of release.

And now his head began to hurt.

The jacket he had on him wasn't heavy enough to safely hide a large bottle of strong tasting gin or vodka. Nevermind whiskey. Crocodile quickly perused the aisle until he found a few single serving bottles, picking up a few flavored choices that fit comfortably in the palm of his hand, and letting them slip under the cuff of his jacket. He plucked three and figured he had enough to give him a decent buzz, and then left the aisle with Mihawk following him at a safer distance.

As he got closer to the register he shooed the boy away. Mihawk was just too obvious. He placed the twelve-pack down and he looked over and saw something colorful in the distance. He shoved his left hand into his pocket, letting a small bottle slip inside. He squint his eyes and could see the rows of strangely colored sunglasses, the ancient remains of the eighties and early nineties, up for sale at a huge discount.

He bought the beer without getting carded. The scar, though somewhat annoying, was admittedly good and giving Crocodile a few good years to his age. He hated how it itched and ached in the cold, but at least he wouldn't have to worry too much about getting his fix for the next two years.

He couldn't see where Mihawk went off to, so when the beer was bagged, instead of heading out, Crocodile went over to the corner of the store, staring at the discounts being given away, at a ugly pair of pointed, white sunglasses with orange tinted lenses.

"What are you doing?" he heard a nervous voice ask. Crocodile shook his head. It bothered him how terrible Mihawk was at this. He was friends with several well-known thieves, and yet he didn't know how to act when a crime was being committed. Poor Mihawk didn't like that the planned had diverged. Crocodile picked up the pair of sunglasses and lifted them up into the light, surprised that he could see through the intensely colored spectacles.

"How interesting," he muttered. Crocodile knew the key to not getting caught was to keep calm and appear that he belonged in whatever scenario he had chosen to enter. This was not the first time he had stole something, nor would it be the last.

Mihawk, out of impatience and unwillingness to enjoy the ugly trinket, grabbed the sunglasses and stomped off to the cashier. Crocodile turned himself around and watched Mihawk buy the pair, without ever having asked if Crocodile cared enough to even want them in the first place. There were neon green and reddish purple shades, Crocodile could have easily picked any of them out, but instead he chose the color that didn't go with a goddamn thing he wore, not that it really mattered, because they were horrifically ugly sunglasses, and judging by the other pointed shades, he'd have to wear them pretty high up his face in order to cover his eyes.

Also, he'd look like a complete jackass wearing them.

Crocodile sighed, raising his scarf up with his shoulder as he was reminded of his scar and the cold weather that awaited him outside, and then slowly dragged himself out of the store, unsure of how he would tell Mihawk that he had just wasted five dollars on something that had only struck with Crocodile's curiosity. While he waited he let his right hand into the sleeve of his left arm, pulling out the remaining bottles and placing them in the pocket of his jacket.

"Here you go," Mihawk said when he walked out, showing a small plastic bag into Crocodile's hand, along with fifteen dollars and a penny.

He looked down at the bag with dismay. "Where's the rest of my money?" he asked rhetorically. Of course, the sunglasses would have resulted in such a devastating end for him, but Crocodile pushed the thought away, hoping Mihawk's IQ had simply dropped in the past five minutes, and that he would receive the rest of his promised share in a matter of seconds.

"The sunglasses cost $4.99," Mihawk answered.

"I don't recall ever wanting them, or asking for them, or having anything to do with them," Crocodile said, pulling out the white sunglasses.

"You were playing with them," Mihawk answered.

"And you somehow deducted that I wanted to commit to wearing them out in public?"

Mihawk frowned. Crocodile held on to the pack of beer.

"I think they'd look nice on you."

"Fuck off, I want my money," Crocodile replied.

Mihawk groaned. "Seriously?"

Crocodile raised the bag of alcohol up and waved it in front of Mihawk. "You'd be surprised how quickly I'd be able to finish this," he muttered.

"That'll burn through your week's injection," Mihawk stated.

"The look on your face when you tell everyone you've failed would make it worthwhile," he replied. "I know how you are with promises."

"…"

"How many other people do you know who'll be willing to buy you all of this?"

Mihawk sighed, pulling out his wallet and handed Crocodile a five. He snatched it from the boy, shoving it into his jacket and then handed Mihawk his pack of beer. Mihawk said nothing as he took the bag. Crocodile then offered the smaller bag to him, letting it playfully sway in front of Mihawk's disgruntled face.

"I think they'd look better on you."

"They're absolutely hideous," Mihawk muttered.

"And you were going to have me accept them as a part of the payment?" Crocodile feigned the question. He snorted. "What a piece of shit…" He let his arm hang to his side, the glasses swaying just enough to remind him that he was stuck with them, at least until he could find an interesting enough way to destroy them. Or maybe he'd just throw them over a running train.

He lifted his scarf up to cover the bottom half of his face, just below his prickling, ticklish scar, while Mihawk wandered into the city, looking unnatural as possible without even knowing it.


Mondays were usually the moodiest for Crocodile. And while he took a shot from one of his three bottles, he could feel the back of his head ache as he reminded himself it was Monday, and on Mondays he always stuck a needle in, and even though things were supposed to distribute evenly, there was always that hindering thought that would pop up in the back of his mind, and he'd get anxious and moody and incredibly restless.

Crocodile had the very strong urge to keep away from his house. He was already outside, and he had wasted half the day organizing and reorganizing clothes that couldn't really be boxed away, not quite yet. He wanted to get the hell out of Arizona as soon as possible, and while he certainly planned on moving up the date, there were still restrictions binding him to the state.

He chose fireworks, not the idea itself, because there wasn't an idea to begin with, just the actual word when it popped up in his head. He would take a bus to the reservation, purchase some fireworks, and do…who the fuck knew? They were fireworks, and they weren't the shitty sparkling kind either. They were the kind of fireworks that left a nice bang, an ashy residue everywhere, and smelled deliciously good with their hot, heavy smoke. With smoke on the mind, Crocodile also considered procuring some cheap cigarettes as well, if he was to go to the reservation.

Maybe he'd light something on fire. One last hurray before he left.

He could always tie the fireworks to a living creature. He wasn't drunk or sadistic enough at the moment to actually consider the thought, but seeing how anxious and restless he was feeling now, Crocodile wouldn't be too surprised if he did end up murdering a cat or small wild animal.

He wanted to destroy something. That's what was bothering him so much. Crocodile needed to see something, or some being, to get wrecked.

So Crocodile headed back home, his pace faster than what it had been when he had forced himself up and along with Mihawk to the convenient store, his scarf somehow undoing itself and him having to fix it over and over again. He also considered just taking a car, but he really didn't want to burn a building down until the sun was setting, and the drive to the nearest shithole reservation was less than an hour's way by car.

The cold winds died down, and Crocodile could feel his anxiety ease. Maybe the alcohol was working its way into his blood, soothing those frequent bursts of violent, hormonal desires, and giving Crocodile the opportunity to relax, even sort of smile a bit as he turned the corner into his neighborhood. He pulled out the second bottle, from his pocket, and he began to nurse the flavored vodka, even though it was pretty warm. It didn't matter. The cold air and citrus flavoring made it bearable. He tied the worn top of his small plastic bag together, squeezing the air out of it until it was only eighties tinted sunglasses, and then threw the bag up the air, stumbling forward as it came down so he could catch it. It didn't matter if the sunglasses broke, he might very have made a little plastic bomb out of them later tonight, but he was in a playful mood, for once, and didn't want to lose them on the first, second, or third throw.

He saw Doflamingo's pretty pink bike resting on his porch.

Since the boy could not be found Crocodile just stood in front of the door, knowing full well Doflamingo would be in his room. And if he was inside that would mean that Doflamingo would see the new, stripped down version of his room. Crocodile yanked his house keys from his pocket, no longer looking forward to getting the money he needed.

Doflamingo was a strange one. Ever since Crocodile had left he had not heard a word from the boy. Crocodile wasn't surprised by this outcome since he had been so unlucky to hear Doflamingo moan over the...thing they had done a few weeks prior.

He found Doflamingo on the bed, playing with his Gameboy. Crocodile could see his neat little piles placed on the bedroom floor. At first glance it didn't look like Doflamingo was in any way bothered. His eyes were on the screen, only glancing up when Crocodile had entered the small room, then back down at the game. The clothes were still in their original piled ordered.

Crocodile proceeded with caution. "Can I help you?" he asked.

A smile emerged on the boy's face. Crocodile walked over to the bed, tossing the bed on the sheets, and crossing his arms as he looked down at Doflamingo. "It's Monday," he said. He stared at Doflamingo's everyday attire. "You're missing school?"

"Lets get high," the boy said, looking away from his screen and up at Crocodile. The raven-haired man couldn't help but notice that there was a rather unkempt look to Doflamingo's appearance. His hair, while still short, was in need of a cut. Crocodile could make out the little details.

"I don't have anything," he said. He further analyzed the boy. Doflamingo was out of touch because his backpack was nowhere to be seen. He was out of it because by the looks of it he also forgot his favorite pair of goggles, even though there were clearly no plans on ever going to school.

"Buy something."

"I thought you didn't like pot," Crocodile remarked.

"With you, it's not terribly bad," Doflamingo answered. He turned off his Gameboy and brought himself to the edge of the bed. "And who says it has to be pot?"

Crocodile didn't feel like spending the day stoned. And with Doflamingo in his room, staring up at him he couldn't help but feel that restlessness grow and redevelop inside of him.

"I'm going out," Crocodile said to Doflamingo. "I'm just here to get some money." He then walked away from the bed, from Doflamingo, and went through his top drawer. "You can stay if you want to…but I'm probably not going to be back for a while."

"When are you leaving?"

Crocodile looked over his shoulder and stared at Doflamingo with a warning look.

The boy kept his smile. "I thought you were leaving in December is all." He stuffed his Gameboy into his jacket, then both of his shaky hands. "But I see you're just so ahead of schedule." Doflamingo feigned a laugh. "I might not have time to get you a going-away present."

"Thanks, but don't waste your money," Crocodile said. He filled his wallet with a few more twenties. He heard the plastic bag being touch and messed with by Doflamingo's curious hands. Crocodile quickly made his way to the door.

"Where did you get these?" he heard Doflamingo ask.

Crocodile stopped at the door. "You like them?" he asked without looking at the boy.

"I think they look cool," the boy admitted. From the second floor view Crocodile could see the front door, and it made him feel sicker that he was getting so worked up about this. He knew full well Doflamingo was hiding something. Crocodile shouldn't be so nervous about it anymore. What was the point?

"You can have them," he said. Crocodile walked out of the room, letting his kind words distract the boy long enough for him to make it down the flight of stairs, but not long enough that Doflamingo was hurrying down after him.

"I can really have these?" Doflamingo called out. His voice was a pitch higher. Crocodile guessed that such an ugly thing would cause excitement to Doflamingo. His trembling hands were on the stair railing, and Crocodile could just imagine the look on the birdbrains face once he gave a stiff nod of the head before trying to inch his way to the front door.

"How do I look?"

Crocodile huffed. He very stiffly turned around and looked up, staring at Doflamingo holding on to the railing with both his hands, quite obviously too nervous for his own good, looking down with that smile, the white and tinted sunglasses raised nice and high and covering his two blue eyes. He looked like an asshole, just as Crocodile had suspected anyone would look like wearing them. But the sunglasses brought a feeling of familiarity that he had not experienced in a few years now. Doflamingo had his sunglasses-

"-About time you got me a new pair," the boy remarked. He pulled them off and looked at them, admiring the colored shades as though they had always been an intended gift. "And these are so pretty."

"Try not to cry," Crocodile muttered, heading out the door.

But he didn't get very far on his own. Doflamingo must have raced down the stairs, because Crocodile was still going across the front lawn when Doflamingo grabbed on to him, slowing him down into a halt, feeling thin arms tightly wrap themselves around him.

Crocodile sighed. "I'm in a hurry," he lied.

Doflamingo eased his embrace. "What are we going to do?"

"We?"

"Yes, I'll help pay for whatever thing you have in mind," the boy said. "I saw you pull out quite a bit too…are you planning on moving away tonight?"

"No," Crocodile answered. He made a note to hurry up with the packing once he was done with Doflamingo. Doflamingo had seen what he was up to. Somehow he would try to stop it. Crocodile's head ached again so he pulled out his final serving of alcohol and began to nurse on it.

"What are we doing, then?"

"I'm getting fireworks," Crocodile commented. "I'm going to do something with them." He sipped and watched Doflamingo skip ahead of him to the car.

"I'm taking the bus," he said.

Doflamingo frowned. "The bus?" he asked. Doflamingo knew Crocodile's destination. And Doflamingo thought himself too good to take the bus everywhere. "That'll take forever."

"Precisely," Crocodile said.

It was hard to tell Doflamingo's exact expression with those stupid sunglasses. The orange shades were distracting enough, and the odd way they were shaped added a level of intimidation to Doflamingo's demeanor. Crocodile could not see through the shades, so the blond's blue eyes were invisible. He just barley knew that Doflamingo was bothered by something.

"You don't know what you want to blow up yet?"

"I'm mulling over it," Crocodile replied.

"If we take the car I can find us all sort of things to destroy," Doflamingo said.

"Like what?"

"We're going to a reservation," Doflamingo said, grinning widely at Crocodile. "You see how much crap they dump along the way? We start with mattresses and then work our way up from there."

Mattresses were boring, but they did seem like a nice place to start with. Crocodile then pondered over the possibility of setting a trailer on fire, maybe even one filled with feral cats.

Doflamingo slammed his hand on top of Crocodile's car. That usual, cocky look of his showed through the orange lenses. Crocodile wanted a good enough reason to push Doflamingo away, but so far the blond kept to his word and didn't mention a thing about what had happened a few weeks prior. But would it have mattered even if he did?

Crocodile walked over to the car, ignoring Doflamingo move excitedly about, practically jumping into his car seat. He started it up, letting that thought of Doflamingo wanted to get high hover above his head for several minutes with the upmost amount of suspicion.

The boy hadn't gotten high in years.


Tax-free cigarettes had a stronger, more acidic taste; at least that's how this particular brand was for Crocodile.

The weather had cooled down drastically, and even with the added warmth from a sweater he had uncovered in the back of his car, along with the biological heat created through his tipsiness, Crocodile was still feeling rather chilly. He had to smoke though. His scar tickled in the still air. Crocodile let out lazy exhales and let the warm smoke hang around his face.

"You think it's a foxhole?" he heard Doflamingo ask.

The boy was talking about the small hole that they had passed on their way to the reservation. On their way back from it both couldn't help but stop. The same, gruesome thought had entered both their minds. Doflamingo was resting on a squat, his head to the side as he carefully looked into the dark hole.

"How big are foxes," Crocodile muttered. He pulled himself off the car and walked over to the strange hole. It was situated right beneath a boulder and a pile of torn, papery looking garbage. "And how do we know there's anything inside?"

"All desert dwellers are nocturnal," Doflamingo answered. In his hands was a small, red and yellow rocket.

"Could be a rabbit," Crocodile suggested.

"Rabbit's scream," Doflamingo said.

"That they do," Crocodile remarked. He'd like to hear a scream. He removed the half used cigarette from his thin lips and offered it to Doflamingo. The boy looked up, smirking evilly as he took it in his hands, shaking a little as he brought the burning end to the long string that hung from the colored rocket.

"On the count of three?"

"The car's parked far enough," Crocodile said, looking over at his car. A good five feet. And he doubted the boulder on top of the hole would move. If a fire started they'd be able to escape in time. Doflamingo would probably have to drive, but they'd be fine.

"What about us?"

Crocodile shrugged. "You really think we're in any danger?"

"Guy selling it was pretty shifty," Doflamingo said.

Crocodile groaned. "Ugh, just light the damn thing already!"

Doflamingo made a face and commented on Crocodile's shitty drunk attitude. Crocodile snorted. He knew he wasn't drunk. He looked over at the sunset and mulled over what to burn or destroy later. They were in the middle of nowhere, in between a reservation and damn near empty liquor store. Even with the mattresses, garbage bags, and distant abandoned building, Crocodile was still feeling unsatisfied about his purchase.

"It's lit," Doflamingo commented. Crocodile watched Doflamingo stand up and back away from the hole. Crocodile took only a few steps back, his eyes on the lit firework that was aimed into the hole. He covered his face up with the scarf, his eyes glued to the flashing light and gathering smoke that began to lift up as the fuse dwindled down to the last few inches.

"I hope it's a bunny," Doflamingo said, finishing off the rest of Crocodile's cigarette.

"I hope there's something in there to begin with," Crocodile said underneath his shrouded breath.

And then the rocket went off, shooting itself right into the hole. At the sound of its scream both boys stumbled back with surprise, Doflamingo actually covering himself with his arms, and then they eased up, their eyes on hole.

The ground shook. Crocodile and Doflamingo could make out the sounds of muffled popping taking place inside of the hole. They both took another step back. The ground shook again, this time earning a few shaking pebbles, and an explosion of smoke escaped from the tiny entrance, racing out and dispersing all over the area.

"Holy shit," Doflamingo said.

"Boring," Crocodile muttered in disappointment.

But no sooner did the smoke burst out like a strange bomb did a solid, screeching mass shoot out from the hole. Crocodile's jaw slowly began to drop, though his expression remained rather poised and bored as a small, round form jumped and screamed in its high pitched voice, running out of the hole and halfway across the highway before stopping and dropping on it's stomach. Doflamingo laughed, pointing at the smoking body, and Crocodile himself couldn't help but wander off and approach the cooked body, his sneakers poking at the singed flesh, his nose, while still covered with the scarf, wrinkling at the sour, overcooked smell.

"What is it?" Doflamingo asked, running over and grabbing Crocodile.

Crocodile shrugged. "I don't know…a large rat?"

"A muskrat?" Doflamingo said aloud.

"What the fuck is a muskrat?" Crocodile asked.

"A large rat," Doflamingo answered. He let go of Crocodile and ran across the other half of the street. Crocodile watched Doflamingo fish through a dead, dry bush and pick out a decent enough stick. He walked back to the center of the road. He poked at the body.

"Gross," Doflamingo said. "It's all cooked."

"How do you think it ran this far?" Crocodile asked, watching Doflamingo stab at the thickened skin. The large rat-like creature was constantly releasing smoke from its few orifices. The muscles would have been stiffened through the heating process.

"Willpower?" Doflamingo commented. He shrugged, dropping the stick as he grew more bored with the dead animal.

"What now?" Crocodile heard Doflamingo ask.

"There's an abandoned building off about a mile away," Crocodile said.

"What should we fill it with?"

Crocodile raised a brow. "Fill it? "

"Why set an empty building on fire?" Doflamingo asked. "You're going to be leaving anyways, might as well fill it up with all sorts of things and set it ablaze."

Crocodile liked the idea, but at the same time worried over the risks. He was leaving soon, and it was that exact reason he knew he should be avoiding getting himself into too much trouble. He grabbed ahold of himself when a cool breeze the two of them. The noxious scent of burned rat filled his nostrils and he was reminded of the sin he had just committed.

He knew there would be so much more excitement if he just let it all burn.


Halfway to Crocodile's house Doflamingo changed his mind and wanted to get drunk instead. Crocodile thought this was better than wasting money on an ounce or an edible, so they made a slight detour to the same convenience store he and Mihawk had visited earlier. Being more street smart than Mihawk, Doflamingo let Crocodile go ahead without him, as it was getting darker and the indentured servants working at the store would more suspicious of the boy's presence.

Crocodile left the store with a bottle of gin and cranberry-cherry juice. Doflamingo insisted upon the latter. Still a little lightheaded from the previous drinks he had consumed, Crocodile was in no hurry to get himself drunk. Doflamingo drove them the rest of the way back to Crocodile place and the two of them hurried through the house, racing up to Crocodile room where they began to pick apart the cherished memories that would not be saved.

Doflamingo lifted up his new sunglasses to better make out some of the older figurines that Crocodile had left behind, while Crocodile himself opened up boxes of from his childhood. He had originally planned to throw it all into storage, the attic, or just dumpy it all, but now it all had a purpose.

"The green ranger?" Doflamingo asked, raising the toy up in his hands.

"Death by fire," Crocodile muttered.

"Pirate?"

Crocodile went through the box. "Don't care," he replied.

"I wish you had a nasty ol' cat for us to kill," Doflamingo said. Crocodile lifted up an old picture. He stared at the man and woman, both looking so young, and frowned. He threw it over his shoulder, towards Doflamingo, where the boy just barely caught it.

"Mommy and Daddy then," he heard the blond comment. "Maybe we should go by my place and pick out a few things?"

"How long do you think that will take?" Crocodile asked. He pulled out a few older sketchbooks and began to flip through them, determining whether his older works were worth keeping.

He heard Doflamingo move around. "Maybe too long. We should save some of the fireworks for later."

"Maybe," Crocodile said.

He heard the trash bin fall on its side. "Sorry," Doflamingo muttered. "Didn't mean for that to happen." Crocodile sighed. He stood up and stared at the overall contents of the box. He couldn't think of a time where he'd ever come back here and take these with him. His childhood was a messy, emotional part of this life, and the more he thought about it, the less he cared to have any of these material possessions. He had memories, and those could be easily selective, which meant they would be more than enough for Crocodile. Toys held nothing more than pure nostalgic value, and Crocodile was trying to start over.

He raised his hand and gestured Doflamingo to toss his findings into the box.

"What about the gun?" the boy asked.

Crocodile looked over and stared at the boy's glimmering shades lighting up because they were just right under the influence of the window light. In his hands was the handgun. Crocodile walked over and snatched the weapon from Doflamingo.

"That's mine," he said. Simple. He placed it back into the drawer under his desk. Doflamingo made a pout, but he ignored it. Doflamingo eventually went over to the bed, grabbing the small collection of things that would be tossed into the fire, and placed them within the confines of the box.

Doflamingo knelt down, resting his hand on the topmost level of the box, measuring out the contents of old memories. "We need more," he muttered.

"Any ideas?" Crocodile asked.

"Kindle?" Doflamingo said, pointing over to the balled up paper that had failed to been picked up when he had accidentally caused the bin to fall over.

Crocodile stared nervously at the mess. "Sure," he said.

Doflamingo tossed the insides of the bin into the box. Crocodile carefully plucked the few balls that were on the floor, keeping an eye on the curious boy in case he decided to unravel one of them. He didn't. Doflamingo had no reason to go through another person's trash.

"We need more," Doflamingo said again.

"Like what?" Crocodile asked.

"We need to mutilate some trees," Doflamingo said.

"Do you think we should buy some fuel?"

"We'll save that craziness for later," Doflamingo said. "We should cherish a natural explosion before going straight to a chemical fueled one." He smiled. "I do appreciate that kind of thinking though."

Crocodile scratched his head. "I think this is ok," he said.

The boy smiled. "We can do my stuff later?"

He shrugged. "Sure, why not?" It was strange because Crocodile was almost sure that he meant what he had said. "Assuming this doesn't suck though. This could still suck."

Doflamingo looked over at Crocodile. The young man dug his hands into the pockets of his jacket, staring into the colored shades and waiting to see what the boy would do next. He had that stupid little pout on his face.

Crocodile smirked. "Going to critique that comment?"

"This is going to be a lot of fun," Doflamingo said.

"Alcohol and fireworks?" Crocodile asked. He picked up the box and headed over to the door. Doflamingo still had that stupid look on his face, and with those new glasses on his face he looked practically uncanny to Crocodile. The young man sighed. Fine, he'd give it to the boy.

"It'll be fun," he said. He walked out of the room.

Doflamingo called out. "Let me borrow a sweater."

"Fine, fine," Crocodile said as he went down the stairs. Doflamingo quickly caught up with him, again, and followed right behind Crocodile as he struggled to put on a dark sweater. Crocodile couldn't help but notice how the article of clothing fit the growing boy. Doflamingo was still the shorter of the two, but the gap was beginning to fade. It made Crocodile a little nervous.

"What are you staring at?" Doflamingo asked.

"You can see through those things?" Crocodile replied jokingly. He didn't have to think hard on his lie. "Your hair is a mess. You need to remember to cut it."

Doflamingo played with his short locks. "I forgot. I was distracted."

"Whatever," he replied, walking past the bothered teen. "Remember to spend your money on more important things, other than alcohol and nasty juice."

"I wanted us to get drunk," Doflamingo said.

"I know, but it's a waste," Crocodile said. He reached for the door but then Doflamingo ran up in front of him. The boy grabbed the box from Crocodile, yanking it and tossing it on the floor.

Crocodile looked down at the spilled mess that the teen had created. He sighed heavily through his nose, feeling a rush of pissed off adrenaline run through his veins. "What. The. Fuck."

Two arms grabbed him by the shoulders. Crocodile knew right then to turn his head and avoid that unwanted physical contact from Doflamingo. Crocodile winced when he felt the boy move inwards, Doflamingo's warm face so close to his.

"Look at me," Doflamingo said.

"No," Crocodile replied, still avoiding eye contact from the boy. "Just settle for the fucking cheek and get the hell out of here."

Doflamingo whimpered. "I don't fucking get it. I don't get why I can't get you to just listen to me!"

Crocodile rolled his eyes, grabbed Doflamingo by the waist and pushed him away. The boy didn't fight back, didn't say a damn thing, just stood there, brushing himself off, breathing heavily and looking down and away from Crocodile.

"You made a promise," Crocodile hissed out.

"I never said a thing," Doflamingo said, slowly raising his head up and smiling at Crocodile. "I just wanted to have fun, maybe get drunk or stoned…"

"And fuck," Crocodile added, frowning at Doflamingo's shaking form.

"Your words, not mine."

"You have no idea how desperate you're coming off," Crocodile muttered. He walked over to the cardboard box and resituated on its bottom, keeping it from spilling anymore of Crocodile's old possessions. "You're a fucking girl…"

Doflamingo chuckled. "Really?" he asked, shaking his head. "Really, you're going to say that, to me? Fuck, Crocodile…do you really think this is only about love?" Crocodile froze in place when the boy spat out the word. He heard a soft thud and looked over to see Doflamingo on his knees, grabbing some of the discarded things and throwing them into the box. He watched Doflamingo smile at him. "It's way more than just love. And I thought I could make you come back if I just offered myself all up to you."

"What on earth are you talking about?"

The boy threw a paper ball at him. "I want what you are," he simply stated before looking away from Crocodile. "I want everything you did, but I want it even more."

"I don't understand."

"You never will," the boy said.

Doflamingo sighed, grabbing another paper ball and tossing it at Crocodile, not watching as it bounced off the man's chest and rolled across the room. Crocodile frantically got up and chased after it, afraid of what might happen if it got lost. But when he picked it up and then turned around he saw Doflamingo staring at a sheet of sketch paper. When did he pick it up, and when did he have the time to unravel it and stare? Crocodile stopped where he was. His hands squeezed the small ball in his hands.

He heard Doflamingo heavily exhale. Crocodile watched the sheet lower and Doflamingo looking up at him, not saying a word. And those sunglasses. He couldn't see past them, and he couldn't really tell in the dark what kind of expression the sixteen-year-old was making, and it bothered him.

"Give it," Crocodile demanded. Doflamingo offered the wrinkled sheet up without saying a thing. The older of the two felt his face burn with shame and embarrassment. Doflamingo had seen thing nobody was supposed to see. He was an idiot. He recrumbled the paper, throwing it roughly in the box, spitting out a few swear words when it bounced out.

He felt arms wrap tightly around his waist. Crocodile jumped, shaking his body and grabbing Doflamingo's thin arms, growing pissed and angry when he felt Doflamingo hold on to him tighter, pressing his body so close Crocodile could feel the boy shaking his head against his back.

"Calm down," Doflamingo yelled. "Just calm down and let me talk!"

"Why?" Crocodile barked.

"Because I really like you," the boy answered. Crocodile responded with a shiver. He didn't want to hear that. His body went tense. Doflamingo still held on to him. "I really like your body, too."

Crocodile's head hurt, but then so did his entire body, and especially his chest.

"You're a fucking asshole," Doflamingo said. "But doesn't really matter to me. I figure I can fix that over time, once I have you for myself…but right now, I mean it still doesn't matter so much to me, because I really do like you, a lot." Crocodile jerked when he felt Doflamingo squeeze him.

"I know you especially don't want to hear this…"

"Then don't say it," Crocodile snapped, fighting his way out of Doflamingo's arms. He yanked one arm away and immediately got up, his strength just barely overpowering Doflamingo's. He grabbed hold of the doorknob, his hot hand trembling as he turned it. He was always angry with the boy, and he was angry now, but he also felt something burning inside of him that wasn't quite anger, but something terribly painful and welcoming to hear. He had wondered what Doflamingo had thought about him a few weeks ago, only because the boy had seen him without clothing, and because it drove him near insanity to think that anything positive could be attributed to this form.

But Doflamingo had just said it. He hadn't given any exact details, but he had said enough for it to affect Crocodile, and already there was a part of him that wanted to know more. Maybe this was why he couldn't move, even though he was a turn of a doorknob away to freedom.

Crocodile moved his head, slowly turning it and looking to see what Doflamingo was up to. He stood quietly, right behind him, his sunglasses keeping Crocodile from being able to correctly determine what sort of emotion the boy might be feeling. It frustrated him, after going so long with just goggles, to not be able to read that boy's mind.

Doflamingo pulled at the sweater. "What?" he nervously asked. "Are you going to leave me again?"

"No," Crocodile answered.

Doflamingo took a step forward. "Are you going to listen to me?" he asked.

"I'm currently debating that," Crocodile replied, staring down at his feet. He wanted to go on the defensive.

Doflamingo leaned against the wall, right in front of Crocodile who was still holding onto the doorknob. He watched the boy look down at his hand. He could see the boy's lips get pulled in, thinking if he should swat the hand away and force Crocodile into another corner of the room. The boy touched his hand, letting his fingers rest on top of the hot, shaking flesh, gently grazing it before grabbing a hold and pulling it away from the doorknob.

"Crocodile," Doflamingo muttered, staring at his newly possessed hand. Crocodile could feel his entire arm stiffen up ad the boy struggled to bring it to his face, opening it up and continuing to molest it with his hungry fingers and lips.

"You really do turn me on," the boy said. The sunglasses slipped down the bridge of Doflamingo's nose, letting just a little bit of blue expose themselves in the dark living room. "I really like it. Everything about your body gets me excited," Doflamingo continued, bringing Crocodile's hands to his lips.

"Why on earth can't we just be fuckbuddies?" the blond asked through Crocodile's hand. The hot breath made the older of the two incredibly nervous. He felt another source of heat gather around a particular part of his body. Doflamingo chuckled. "I mean, we all have to start somewhere, right? I know you liked the sex. I already told you I'm more than willing to give it to you."

"There you go, sounding like a girl again," Crocodile said. "You think you can trade sex for love? That's…precious."

Doflamingo stared back, not giving any sign that the words had affected him. Crocodile felt Doflamingo's hands give a squeeze around his left hand, forcing a finger to brush against his pale, thin lips. Crocodile felt his face begin to tickle with heat.

"I already told you," the boy said, "this is more than just love." Crocodile could see Doflamingo's grin begin to form. "Not that it really matters…I know you want love too. I know you crave the attention. Because you can't produce it for yourself. Only someone else can give it to you, and I'm letting you know I'm so ready to provide."

A hand let go of Crocodile's, only to then grab hold of the man's arm. Crocodile let himself get pulled him, away from the door, against the wall with Doflamingo's hands wrapping around him, pulling him so close he had no choice but to face the boy.

"You don't want to hear it, but it's the truth," Doflamingo said. He wrinkled his nose, pushing his sunglasses back up. "I'm attracted to you. You know that, but you can't handle why I might be."

"You like men," Crocodile stated. He felt fingers grip the back of his jacket. "I already know that," he said.

Doflamingo chuckled. "And I think you're fine just the way you are," he said, letting his grin stretch from ear to ear. "All of it," he continued, "looks perfectly fine to me…"

Crocodile's eye twitched. Doflamingo laughed. "Does that really freak you out so much?" he asked. "Does it really seem so crazy to think I might have been right all along? That everything I said a few weeks ago was absolutely true?"

Yes. Crocodile couldn't really think about it any other way. Even with Doflamingo embracing him and speaking to him in that hushed voice, Crocodile still couldn't believe everything he was being told. It made his chest beat and ache to think human desire could work that way, especially in accordance with him. His eyes darted around the living room as he tried to think something up to say. It hurt too much to really say a thing. It was a relief to not have to think about it anymore.

Doflamingo rest his head against Crocodile's chest, and Crocodile let him. His heartbeat began to come to a slow as he let the words sink in while Doflamingo took in deep breaths, smiling affectionately against Crocodile's clothes, pressed hard enough so that the elder could feel it. An arm let go of Crocodile, dropping down next to Crocodile's right hand, hanging innocently for a few seconds. Crocodile was too distracted by Doflamingo's affection, unsure how to approach, that he hardly noticed when he felt Doflamingo's hand grab his right, this time in a slightly different matter. Fingers were locking. When Crocodile realized it, it was far too late. They were holding hands. And when he let this new thought sink in, he wasn't too sure he actually wanted to let go.

"We'll burn everything tonight," Doflamingo finally said.

"Yeah."

"And we might drink something, if we actually feel like it," he heard the boy add. His voice was still muddled. Crocodile had to look down and stare at the tinted shades that gave no real answer.

"I'm going to need a drink, after all of this," he said to himself. But it was loud enough for Doflamingo to hear. He felt his shaky hand getting squeezed by Doflamingo's.

He had the strangest feeling he was going in too blind and unaware of what Doflamingo actually meant. What did the boy want from him, he wondered. The language had been so cryptic. It was too hard and early to say if Doflamingo was actually talking about love but only refrained from using the word so that he wouldn't sound so desperate or childish. Yes, maybe that was it.

Crocodile was no longer being restrained by Doflamingo's embrace. He could breath freely again. But Doflamingo's hand found itself against the man's face, fingers gently guiding Crocodile's face to his own, trying to get the man to make his choice without having to ask.

And who was to say this would change anything? Crocodile asked himself. He was still going to move. And he was still going to do what he had to do in order to further transition, and still meant leaving this state, and Doflamingo. It didn't matter what he did.

He likes your body? Crocodile was sure he could make the most out of this. He was sure he was in control. Doflamingo was the one who needed him more. And Doflamingo would never say a word about it to anyone. So there was that as well. He likes it? You? This body? It looked like he was still in control of the situation. Doflamingo could say what he liked, but ultimately it was all in his hands. He likes it.

Crocodile decided he would give Doflamingo what he wanted. He moved in, ahead of Doflamingo's finger, and kissed the boy gently on the lips. It was a test kiss, very quick and gentle, just in case Doflamingo might pull away, but of course he didn't. And the moment when Crocodile did kiss the boy those shaking hands that had guided him so close immediately wrapped themselves around Crocodile, again, this time far more possessively, pushing them together and extending that tester kiss into something more passionate and nothing Crocodile could prepare for.

The hands that had been locked together were now both frantically searching each others bodies. Doflamingo took control of the kiss; sucking, nipping, and starting all over again, trying to get a better taste of the young man, trying to possess and push him to make another move.

Doflamingo whispered to Crocodile. "Fuckbuddies?"

Crocodile stopped and raised a brow. Of course he knew Doflamingo would never be satisfied with just that. He smiled, which Doflamingo took for a yes, but was actually a reaction to the very statement. Did the boy really think he could make a relationship out of this? He was leaving soon!

He was leaving soon…

For some reason this bothered Crocodile. It hadn't before. While Doflamingo laughed and celebrated this unusual reunion, dropping down and undoing Crocodile's belt, followed by the zipper and pants, the young man stood, staring out, the rest of his body on autopilot, as he then realized that this, this was actually starting to affect him.

He actually liked your body. Somebody doesn't think it's a complete mess.

And we were about to leave.

Crocodile let out a loud gasp as felt Doflamingo take him into his mouth, his face burning red as he grabbed on to the boy's head, feeling those messy locks that really needed to get cut, the back of his head hurting as it continued to warn him about that pesky time limit. But the thought quickly dissipated as Doflamingo's tongue worked its magic, his humming driving Crocodile to almost completely forget what had been bothering him in the first place. The boy felt nice.

Doflamingo's mouth was hot and wet and felt so good. So much better than hands. So much more intense, and Doflamingo was giving it all away, just for him. All for him. And even though Crocodile could feel something happening deep inside of him, for the first time in a long while, he really didn't fucking care.

We were so close.


So the next chapter will be probably be mostly set in "Now," in order for me to play catch up with the rest of the story. I may add another scene with them together though, if it's requested. Please let me know what you think in the form of a review or PM.