AN- I felt inspired.


-Part 2-

Decided Entrapment

-Then-

The car was parked right in front of an old park that was suffering the effects of the cold winter weather. Crocodile and Doflamingo jumped out of the car, dashing across the dying grass over to a few smaller trees. Crocodile jumped up, grabbing on to a branch. He swung himself upwards into the tree, quickly resituated himself and began to reach out and rip apart anything that looked like it would burn well. Doflamingo shivered underneath the tree, picking up whatever Crocodile threw down. Eventually Crocodile would look around the branches, finding nothing that wasn't too moist, and dropped back down, helping Doflamingo pick up their collection of kindling and moving back to the car. They repeated this process just a few more times until Crocodile's trunk looked like a miniature forest. Finally, they drove off into the desert.

Always the desert. Even though it wasn't the same as the one they had played in from long before Crocodile couldn't help but notice they always ended up in one.

He exhaled and watched his breath disappear into the air, while carrying a large box filled with a crapful of old memories he couldn't care less about, struggling to make his way over to a small collection of small, abandoned buildings once belonging to a proud race, now left to rot and be used by crack addicts who wouldn't mind the intense heat or cold. Doflamingo caught up and surpassed him since all he had to carry were bundles of sticks. And he could see where he was going, even behind those stupid sunglasses of his.

After a few trips, and letting all the sand pour from their shoes, both boys rested inside of the chosen building, a lighter and the limited starlight being their only sources of light. There was no moon; so much of the kindle distribution was random and based upon how shitty a corner appeared.

They were sure that some kind of wildlife was inside, creeping around and trying to make sense of Crocodile's and Doflamingo's strange game. Every once in a while someone would make out the subtle sound of padded feet on wood, or a light, short creak from the weight distribution on old, tired scaffolds.

"I hope there are no kittens," Doflamingo commented, picking out the fireworks that would be used for tonight. The other half would be saved for later, whenever Doflamingo chose to use them. Crocodile suspected he might not be around when that time came.

"I don't see any cats," Crocodile remarked.

"It smells like cats," Doflamingo muttered. He sounded worried, but Crocodile couldn't care less about the lives of some stupid animals who chose to live in a shithole in the middle of nowhere.

"They'll be fine," Crocodile insisted, waving his hand at the boy, trying to hurry up the selection process. "If there are cats they'll leave. They'll smell the smoke."

Doflamingo threw a large blue rocket over to Crocodile.

The two continued to distribute the belongings until the floor was covered in an even amount of materials. Doflamingo and Crocodile carefully counted out the amount of fireworks they would be using for tonight, and then Doflamingo left with his share. Crocodile waited inside, feeling a little worried as he counted and recounted the fireworks, and then looked over to the entrance of the house.

Doflamingo walked through the front door and stared at the wonderful mess they made.

"How are we doing this?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," Crocodile admitted, staring at all the fireworks and the vast amount of space that separated each one. It wouldn't be possible to light them all without a fuse going off and setting the house ablaze with them in it.

"We'll have to pick the biggest one," Doflamingo suggested. "We'll aim it at another big rocket, and then those two should be enough to set off some kind of chain react of fire and stuff."

Crocodile gave a nod. The reasoning sounded simple enough. They picked up the biggest one they had found, then placed it right in the center, aimed at another rocket placed by a small pile of branches and old sketch books. The two huddled around the door. Crocodile crouched down as he pulled out his lighter and carefully lit the fuse. They exited the building, slamming the door behind them and running as fast as they could, doing their best to fight the sand that tried to sink their feet in..

They heard the first scream before making it to the car. Crocodile couldn't help but stop and look over to see what was happening. He saw a flash of light through a busted window, followed by an explosion of smoke. He continued to back away from the house, but kept his eyes locked on the building, so very curious and excited to see what would happen.

"Hurry up and get over here!" Doflamingo called. Crocodile continued to carefully backwards walk to the car, squinting and trying to make out any changes occurring inside of the decrepit house. More and more smoke exited through the window, but so far no sounds of fireworks going off. No colors or bright flashes.

"Fuck," he said. He turned himself around and stomped through the piles of sand and rocks, over to Doflamingo who was resting on top of the hood, bottles of gin and juice open, a red cup in his hands.

"How disappointing," Doflamingo muttered. He lowered his orange shades and peered over at the target house, also squinting in a desperate attempt to find something. "Well, shit…I wonder what went wrong?"

"Maybe there's too much smoke," Crocodile replied, leaning against the side of the car. He held on to his keys, just in case the house decided to change its mind and burst into flames.

A few seconds went by and suddenly a red cup was rudely shoved into his face. Crocodile took a step back, cursing a bit more, before finally snatching it from Doflamingo. He watched the boy stare approvingly at him, smiling and showing off those perfectly aligned pearly whites, and then made another cup.

"Better luck next time," he heard Doflamingo say. The boy took a sip of his sweet alcoholic beverage and then stared out into the desert. Not the disappointing house, but beyond into the familiar scenery of rocks, cacti, and the occasional wild animal. Crocodile also began to nurse his drink, letting the strong taste of synthetic cherries and cranberries mixed with dry gin soothe his soul. He really wanted that house to burn.

"Maybe one of us should open the door," Crocodile said.

"What are you talking about?"

"Maybe it needs more fresh air," the scarred man suggested. "Too much smoke can choke out a fire."

Doflamingo shrugged. "You going to do it?" he asked. Crocodile nod his head. The boy looked over at the house and sighed. "Fine,' he said. "Don't kill yourself."

"Don't be stupid," Crocodile remarked. He went over to the passenger side of the car and opened the door, searching through the messy confines before pulling out a few old, used napkins. He would need something to restart the flame. Crocodile looked into his half-filled cup and lifted it up to his lips, downing it all in just a few gulps. He wiped his face, feeling a little lightheaded. He spotted Doflamingo staring at him and offered the cup to the boy.

"I need a little bit of gin," he said. He blinked a few times. On an empty stomach the mixed drink could immediately be felt. "Just enough to wet the napkins."

Doflamingo jumped off the car. Crocodile blinked a few more times, letting his eyes readjust while Doflamingo let a bit of the drink pout into the cup. Crocodile stuffed a few of the napkins into the bottom, then spread out the evenly across the top, making sure the upper napkins didn't absorb too much liquid.

He walked over to the house, his scar feeling the heat and his nose and eyes burning because of all the smoke. When he was close enough he held in his breath and opened the front door, shutting his eyes nice and tight when he was blasted with a wall of smoke. He waited a few seconds until it died down and then pulled out his lighter once more, setting the top napkin ablaze before throwing it into the house. He ran off, leaving the door open, hurrying over to the car and Doflamingo.

"Hey, hey! I see something," Doflamingo said, pointing a finger over in the direction of the house. Crocodile stopped and could see a small flame gathering around the entrance of the house. A small grin appeared. It had taken longer than expected, but he would get his show. "Hurry up, Croco!" he heard Doflamingo whine.

"Calm down," Crocodile groaned back. He walked over, past Doflamingo and into the driver seat. Although had been in quite a hurry before, the running did nothing to quell the cold weather. They were in the middle of a desert, in the middle of the night, and in winter. Crocodile held on to himself as he watched Doflamingo move to the side, entering through the passengers half.

Doflamingo grinned. "Good thinking," he said. He sipped his cup while sharing out into the desert, now light up with a gigantic lantern in the middle.

"I wonder how long it will take for it to get big enough?"

"Better be soon," Crocodile muttered. "It's getting too fucking cold."

Doflamingo chuckled. "A few more cups and you'll feel fine."

"I need food," Crocodile complained. The house began to crackle and pop with noises. The two rolled down their window just far enough to get the full experience, listening to strange growling noises echo across the dark scenery.

"When did you last east?"

"I snacked around eleven," Crocodile replied. "And the alcohol's starting to make me sick now."

The roof began to cave in and the two watched morbidly as they spotted solid matter go down with the top of the house. They couldn't tell if it had been bodies of animals or what, but both Doflamingo and Crocodile couldn't tear their eyes away when they noticed all sorts of strange shapes beginning to fly out from the top, some racing about into other houses, while other forms struggled in the clouds of smoke. One long trail of light burst through the flames, flying upwards into the sky. Doflamingo leaned out of his seat, looking up at the window, trying to see where the firework had gone. They never got the show.

"How much time do we have before we're limited to just Denny's?" Doflamingo asked, slurring the final word for a second too long.

"Maybe an hour, and hour and a half at most," Crocodile replied. Even from the distance and safety of the car he could sort of feel the warmth of the fire hitting his face. He looked over and could see Doflamingo's face glowing from the light of the fire. By now the entire building was engulfed. So far no other rockets had shot up. Overall, a little disappointing, but Crocodile couldn't complain. He had an idea and he went with it. The day didn't completely suck.

"What do you think?"

Crocodile rested against his seat. "I don't know," he said. "I guess I was hoping for a little more. Like with the giant rat."

"Maybe next time we'll find ourselves a dog or cat," Doflamingo said, reaching out and patting Crocodile on the shoulder. Crocodile continued to watch the gigantic flames eat up the building and all his old childhood possessions. He felt Doflamingo rest the hand on the shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze, and he supposed the day had been good.

"We need to leave soon," Doflamingo said.

"You really think so?"

"I mean, I know we're close to a reservation, and police have better things to do than go out and listen to some non-whites complain over a fire...but still," Doflamingo said, moving out of his seat and closer to Crocodile, "I really don't want you to get in trouble."

"A few more minutes," Crocodile replied, pushing the boy away with his hand.

This was new. Boyfriend new. That was what Doflamingo sort of was now, at least in the blond's eyes. Even after pushing Doflamingo out of his view, Crocodile could still feel his presence all over him, he could detect the warmth of the boy's hand reaching out and touching his right hand, grabbing it and affectionately holding on to it.

The walls fell apart, and now all that was left was a huge pile of woods and burnt things. There was nothing left that resembled the house he and Doflamingo had intruded upon earlier. Bits of flame flew away and disappeared into the air. Now Crocodile was starting to get bored.

"Alright," he said, grabbing his keys and struggling to stuff them into the ignition. He would have given Doflamingo the keys, but it looked like the teen was on his second serving of the sweet, mixed drink.

The car swerved, making a sharp turn around and kicking up a nice storm of sand as Crocodile accelerated out of the desert. The ride was fast, uncomfortable, and bumpy. Doflamingo was getting visibly drunk and seemed to have no problem placing the cup crookedly inside of the cup holder, spilling some reddish liquid and chuckling as it splashed all over the sweater he was borrowing. Crocodile could feel the air grow hot and sticky despite the fact that he had just finished complaining about it having been too cold for him.

"C-Crocodile?" Doflamingo did not sound too good. Crocodile knew it was the driving. He was driving on an empty stomach recently filled with corn syrup and gin. He could barely see where he was going. He kept hitting rocks and now he could make out Doflamingo holding on to his stomach.

"You better not throw up," Crocodile warned. He stared out, trying to make the best of the limited view, catching a glimpse of the main highway that would lead them back to

civilization. "We're almost there."

"That's not it!" Doflamingo proclaimed. Even in the darkness of the car Crocodile could see the boy turning red from overconsumption. Or was it something else? Maybe the boy was just blushing? Crocodile could feel his own face burn after the thought settled.

"What is it?" he asked, making sure to keep his eyes only on the road. He wasn't used to this sort of thing. These feelings made him nervous. He felt hotter than he should, and he had an inkling that the air conditioner would do little to cure it.

"W-when are you going t-to leave?" the boy slurred, his head sticking out enough for Crocodile to feel uncomfortable.

"I don't know," he lied.

The boy rested back into the passenger seat, slowly nodding his head. His sunglasses continued to slip down his warm face. Crocodile went down the long highway, thinking up something nice to say.

"The sunglasses fit you," he said, raising his right hand and gesturing towards the boy's face. His eyes were on the road.

Doflamingo chuckled. "I'm old enough to quit school, you know?" He didn't stutter a word. Crocodile gripped on to the steering wheel, letting the deadly combination of words sink in and strangle his throat, tightening around him until he remembered he had to breathe.

"Why quit?" he finally asked.

"T-there's nothing for me to really get from it," Doflamingo answered. "I've already missed so much. And… it's not like I need a high school diploma in order to make money."

As true as Doflamingo was, and as prepared and confident he sounded, Crocodile couldn't help but want to immediately disagree. He hated school himself. He had graduated with nothing learned; only that he could get away with all sorts of things he put his mind to it. Doflamingo had come up with a series of things to do with himself. Crocodile could remember every little half-baked idea that the blond had come up with the past few years, so he knew full well that Doflamingo could quit right now and be all right in the long term so long as he applied himself.

"You should think hard about what you plan to do with yourself," Crocodile said, staring out into the road. They were just a few minutes away from salvation. Perhaps the topic could be changed.

"I kn-know what I want," the boy muttered.

"Do you, really?"

"I want to be powerful," Doflamingo said. Silence. Crocodile could see the light of the city just ahead. It no longer mattered. The word remained inside of his mind. Doflamingo had said everything he needed to know.


-Now-

Doflamingo and Baby 5 had snuck around the neighborhood and had situated themselves right behind the target house. It was nice and quiet, and luckily for the two of them most people were either busy inside, or simply had not noticed their presence. Doflamingo was grateful for such neglectful neighbors.

"Don't you think I should have the gun? "Baby 5 asked, pointing at the handgun that Doflamingo practically cradled in his possession.

Doflamingo stared at the weapon in his hands, and then at Baby 5, then back at the weapon. "Have you ever killed a man before?" he asked her in a whispered voice. She shook her head, but then mentioned her previous job as a stripper, and what it all entailed. Doflamingo thought about it for a moment, then pointed at the gun. "Can you kill a man?" he asked her. She confidently gave him a nod. Doflamingo sighed, looking down at his only means of defense, and considered his chances with it compared to without it.

He wasn't too big on the latter. "Next time," he said. Baby 5 pouted, but got over it the moment Doflamingo pointed at the fence.

"Remember what I told you," he whispered to her. She gave another nod, staring at the high fence with a small, cute smile on her face. She took a deep breath. "Wait for the text," he warned her as she jumped and grabbed on to the top, holding on frantically with her delicate thin fingers.

"We can't afford to screw this up," Doflamingo muttered. He rested himself against the fence, folding his arms as he patiently waited for the phone in his pocket to vibrate. Baby 5 continued to hold on to the fence, her legs kicking up every once in awhile.

"I wonder what will happen if we do?" Baby asked aloud. Doflamingo looked up and pinched her arm, causing her to drop and land roughly on the floor. She whined and began rubbing her rear end and picking herself back up, facing her boss with a red face. "That was really mean!" she proclaimed, wiping her face of any stray tears.

"Don't say such stupid things," Doflamingo retorted. "You know we're in Whitebeard territory…and now you're talking about us getting caught? Don't be so stupid and maybe I'll stop myself from treating you like a child."

The phone went off. Doflamingo peered down at his cellphone, surprised that he was getting a call right at this moment.

Baby 5 gasped. "The signal!" she proclaimed, slapping her hands on the sides of her face in surprise. She jumped in place before pointing at Doflamingo, then over at the fence. "This is it, I'm so nervous!"

Doflamingo pulled out his phone. It was Pica who was calling him. He was sure he had mentioned to text, not call him, but then things never really did turn out the exact way they're supposed to be. Doflamingo had been rather quick giving out the details. He crammed the phone into his pants and grabbed Baby 5 by the waist, hoisting her back up onto the fence, giving her a moment to get a leg over into the other side before gently pushing her across. Luckily she made no sounds, other than a grunt from the impact. He smiled. He was actually feeling quite excited about this. Grasping the handgun, he jumped up, grabbing the top of the fence and climb his way up.

Baby 5 was crouching below. There was a window right in front of Doflamingo's landing spot. He jumped back down, letting himself land roughly because he was too tall to get away with hiding. He remained on his stomach, looking up at Baby 5 who was staring up through the window. He slid his hands across the moist lawn, letting his gun rest in front of him.

He swallowed. This neighborhood was making him sick to his stomach. "What do you see?" he asked her.

"Someone is moving around," she answered. She raised her head up a bit. "The curtains make it hard to see," she added.

"Male or female?" Doflamingo calmly asked. Time was limited. He couldn't rush his words. He knew he could rely on Pica to guide and keep control of the situation o the other side of the house.

"Thin in frame…definitely not the guy I saw before," Baby 5 replied. She further lowered herself down so that she was resting on her stomach. She smiled at Doflamingo. "We have to take down the girl…"

"No," Doflamingo said, "we need to keep her alive until we get my precious cargo back." He lifted his free hand up and shook it at Baby 5. "We're going up against a woman. Odds are she's gonna be worth something to somebody…maybe the boss. We want to leave her as intact as possible, maybe even use her as a hostage against the big guy you saw before."

"So you want me to capture her?" Baby 5 asked. She sounded way too chipper, considering the situation, but Doflamingo ignored it.

"Bruise the skin, break the leg," Doflamingo said in a hushed voice. He could feel his heart beginning to beat quickly. He was sure explaining this was taking too much time. "Whatever you do though, don't kill her."

"Ok," Baby 5 said. "I can definitely do this!"

Doflamingo smiled at the girl. He felt his phone go off again, causing him to turn away from her and look down his leg to see what was going on. He heard Baby 5 make her move, without the given order, jumping up from the grass and running towards the door. Doflamingo pulled out his phone, feeling a grave and heavy feeling overcome him when he saw Pica's number glowing across the screen.

"Baby," He called out. He winced when he heard her kick open the door. It was an impressive feat, but in no way changed the fact that something was up, a conflicting change that was now going to complicate things, especially now that Baby 5 had announced their presence.

"Fuck," Doflamingo groaned. He stuffed his phone back into his pants, jumping back into standing position. Already he could hear something going on inside. It was a fight. He heard a loud grunt when the sound of contact was made. Doflamingo frowned as he held the gun tightly in his hands, sneaking past the window and leaning against the busted opening to the back of the house.

He turned the corner, gun pointed at the source of the sound, a vein popping across his temple when he saw a man standing in front of him, grabbing hold of Baby 5 with a gun pointed at her head. Doflamingo scowled, lowering his gaze as he watched the oddly dressed man break a smile, his heavily adorned makeup adding certain eeriness to it all.

"A third member," Doflamingo grumbled. So, that was what Pica had called him about. Doflamingo wished he had taken the time to answer that call. Probably would have saved him a great deal of hurt.

"Well, wellll," the man said. His voice was incredibly obnoxious; Doflamingo couldn't help but snicker at it. "See this, Miss All-Sunday?" the man called over to the end of the small living room, "we have ourselves some lost birds!" He gripped Baby 5 tightly, laughing loudly when she let out a small whine. Doflamingo really wished he had given her the gun now, because the only thing he could do at this point with it was drop it and hope the man wouldn't blow her brains out.

"How interesting." Doflamingo paled, lowering his arms as the huge, black figure Pica and the other's had described before made his appearance known. "I wonder if this has anything to do with the girl's you've picked up?"

"I'm certain it is," a cool voice replied. From behind the man a tall, slim woman appeared, dressed in the same extravagant attire that Gladius had mentioned before. She walked passed the large man, her high heels clicking softly against the floor. She stopped right in front of the lowered gun, not afraid that it was pointed at her exposed legs.

"Are you looking for something?" she asked him. Her deep blue eyes pissed him of to no end. He refused to believe this was happening to him. It was three against one, and Doflamingo knew that if he dared to use the gun he'd end up dead.

"The drugs, I bet!" the loud man laughed. Baby 5 struggled, tying to free herself from his grasp, but the slim man proved to be too quick, as well as flexible, for her to get away from. "Now, now," he hissed, "I reaaaallly don't want to hurt you, deary!"

"The boss will not like this," the heavily built man grumbled.

They had used the word drugs. Not women, but drugs. Doflamingo knew right away that the women were probably long dead now, their precious cargo long since harvested from their remains. However, there was still some hope that his product was still in the house. Oh, but then he'd have to get them…and right now he was surrounded.

This was not an ideal situation. Doflamingo held on to his gun, keeping it raised enough for him to make a final move. With his eyes covered by his shades, he made a quick glimpse around the room, trying to spot any signs of escape. As he made a second or third look around, he noticed some movement coming from the side window. Something pointy. Doflamingo swallowed, realizing that a rescue crew could very well be around the corner, so long as he gave them enough time for them to hurry inside. He looked at Baby 5, watching her shake in the strange man's grasp. He really should have given her the gun.

Doflamingo forced a smile. "He might," he said, chuckling a bit at the very end. "After all, it's my product…Miss? Miss All-Sunday?"

"You made that?" she asked, taking another step forward. Her confidence was surprising. Doflamingo grew worried. She could very well be working under Whitebeard with that sort of attitude. "I wonder," she said, reaching out and snatching the gun from Doflamingo's hands, "if that's really true or not."

"He still broke iiinnn!"

"Mr. 2 is right," the other man growled. "He knows this place exists…we can't let him get out." He took a gigantic step over to the man called Mr. 2 placing his large hand over Baby 5 and covering her entire face. Doflamingo felt his stomach do a flip when he watched the girl's legs begin to shake frantically.

"Please don't," he said, turning and looking over at Miss All-Sunday's deviant smile. "Shoot her if you like, but don't fucking suffocate the girl. She's new at this sort of thing, you know?"

Miss All-Sunday frowned. "Are you serious?" she asked him. He watched her raise her arm up, his gun in her hands, pointing right at the center of Baby's chest. Doflamingo kept himself still. He forbade himself to shake, even just a little bit. And he wanted nothing more than to shake. This was not good, not at all, and he could very well tell by the woman's cold expression that killing Baby 5 would be easy.

"Ooh, not the breasts," Doflamingo whined, shaking his head. He could see the three all making faces at his displeasure. Doflamingo kept his ruse, hoping that Pica would make his move soon. "I really like those…could you aim higher?"

"Disgusting," Miss All-Sunday muttered. Her finger was all over the trigger.

A small tapping sound was heard against the window. Doflamingo's eyes went wide when his eyes turned to the far right, spotting a plain hand smack itself against the corner of the window.

He shook his head. "You've got to–"

Miss All-Sunday pointed the gun at Doflamingo. Luckily for him, at that very same moment, Mr. 2 pointed his gun at the window. Miss All Sunday and the larger man both looked over at Mr. 2, the woman frowning while he kept his large smile, the man reaching out and trying to stop him as he pulled the trigger and shot the window, hitting the palm of the hand.

Doflamingo heard Gladius swear and curse. "Got him!" Mr. 2 laughed. But his victory was short lived. Doflamingo watched Baby 5 take advantage of the man's distraction. She raised her leg upwards.

"Mr. 1," Miss All-Sunday yelled. The man grabbed Baby 5 by the hair, but she continued to retaliate despite the pain, kicking Mr. 2 in the leg. He yelped. He didn't let her go, but instead accidently pulled the trigger to the gun again, shooting the wall. Doflamingo watched the woman turn her head for just a second. He grabbed her, wrapping his arm around her neck, his other trying to grab the gun that was in her hands.

Pica burst into the room. Doflamingo raised his leg up, trying to kick the woman's leg and knock her off balance. The gun was just out of his grasp. He had no idea what else was going on as he and the girl struggled. He could hear Pica yell some words out. He could hear everyone else screaming and raving about, all expect that Sunday girl.

He grabbed the barrel of the gun. She jammed her shoulder into his stomach. Doflamingo held in his cough, gagging silently as he tried to yank the gun from her. He caught a glimpse of Pica passing by with Baby 5 in his arms, her face covered in blood.

Doflamingo had to think. Baby 5 and Gladius were out of commission, and he still didn't have his drugs back. He could run right now, save himself from this monumental screw up, and hide and wait for the rest of his executives to come up. Vergo was on his way to Japan, and there was hope that Kaido wouldn't make things miserable. This woman could be working for Whitebeard, and the last thing he wanted was another warlord breathing down his back. Doflamingo could let the barrel go right now, push the woman forward, and then make a made run for the door. He'd be ok. He'd live to see another day.

But then he wouldn't have his product. All the hard work he had done, and it would be all for naught. And even if he did run, he would have to live with the fact that he had failed, failed so miserably, and would spend the rest of his days reliving the failure, over and over again. Doflamingo knew that he couldn't be killed at this point, not when three of his subordinates knew where to find these people. If the drugs were here, then Doflamingo could reckon this house was a trading post, maybe even a hideout. They wouldn't have time to move all their equipment before the cops were called. And such a waste of money! And a really nice house! There was time for clean up though. Doflamingo could be moved around, hidden. They would clean up their mess, keep him alive for a few hours, maybe a few days, plenty of time for his other executives to come over, plan something out and rescue him, and finally retrieve his drugs.

Goddamn that fucking pride of his. Doflamingo purposely let his hands slip off of the barrel. He watched Pica turn, eyes wide in disbelief, not understanding how the blond could let such a mistake take place. Doflamingo kept his composure, quickly mouthing out the word "go" to Pica, letting Miss All-Sunday turn around, kneeing him between the legs and smacking the handgun across his head. He dropped to the floor, holding himself and his breath. It fucking hurt.

"They're escaping!" Mr. 2 yelled, pointing the handgun out at the three figures that Doflamingo could barely make out. His vision was blurry, and the intense pain that was spreading across his body made it impossible for him to focus much on anything else.

"Don't shoot," Mr. 1 said. "We cannot afford to attract anymore attention!"

"B-but they knoooowww," Mr. 2 whined. Doflamingo hissed out a sigh. Breathing was becoming difficult. His sunglasses fell off his moist face and he could see the man's outfit was covered in blood. Hopefully it was more his than Baby's. Mr. 2 looked over to Miss All-Sunday, his large hand covered his poorly decorated face. "We need to do something about all of this…Mr. 0 will not like this one bit, no he won't!"

"We need to stow him away, find out where he's from," Mr. 1 said. "If he's really the producer then odds are they'll be back."

The bloodied up Mr. 2 groaned. "We need to kill him now!"

Miss All-Sunday dropped down to a squat. Still holding the gun, she grabbed Doflamingo by the hair, forcing him to look up at with his already pained expression. She smiled coldly at him. "Where did they go?" she asked him.

His body shook in agony as he brought himself to smile. "I…am…going…to…" Doflamingo paused, stopping his breathing as the urge to gag came up. Miss All-Sunday sighed, raising the gun up and pressing it against Doflamingo's head. He chuckled. It was all so familiar to him, except now he couldn't fight back because the stupid bitch decided to kick him where it counted most.

"Shoot…you...right up…your…cunt," Doflamingo finally huffed out the final words.

He watched her produce a small chuckle. She actually removed the gun from his head, no longer finding him a threat. "Of course you will," she said, bringing herself back up and walking away from Doflamingo.

"Take him downstairs," she ordered the two men. "And clean up all of this! Mr. 0 will be back any day now…" For the first time Doflamingo noticed that Miss All-Sunday didn't sound as calm as she had when she spoke with him.

He wondered why.


-Then-

Doflamingo never said a thing about spending the night because Crocodile would have mentioned that he had school in the morning, and then they would only start to argue. Crocodile was tired, his stomach filled up with fats and oils that made him feel so lethargic and unwilling to deal with the boy. He just drove back home, taking Doflamingo with him, not saying a goddamn thing as Doflamingo went back on autopilot, philosophizing up new ways to approach their boring little world, neither of them acting as though anything had really changed today. By the time Crocodile had parked he actually felt pretty good about the situation, because it had felt so normal.

It wasn't until Crocodile was back in his room, looking at the piles of organized, folded clothes on the floor, did he remember what had bothered him just hours before.

He watched Doflamingo make off to the bathroom, leaving him time to undress and think about this unsettling feeling. Of course Doflamingo wanted to go with him, that was an easy given. And Doflamingo said he had wanted power. This made so much sense it hurt to think that Crocodile was even remotely surprised when it had been said in the first place. What he didn't quite understand were his feelings regarding all of this.

This was not the first time that had this conversation. Crocodile was piecing it together, replacing pants with thinner, looser fitting garments, while trying to remember Doflamingo's exact words when he had won him over a few hours ago. Doflamingo said he wouldn't understand some of his reasoning. He said it wasn't only about love, but something else, and that something had been redacted from the entire conversation. And now Crocodile could feel it, the very way Doflamingo had uttered that word, power. What was it that made Crocodile so agitated, attempting to tie it with him, to try to connect it with the relationship that Doflamingo desperately wanted to make.

Crocodile made his way to the bathroom, passing by Doflamingo along the way. The boy said or did nothing out of the ordinary, only looking at Crocodile with the same amount of eagerness that he usually carried when he dared to go shirtless. He washed his face and brushed his teeth, the latter being done with so much care that it took forever for Crocodile to finish. Or maybe he was just stalling.

But when he got back into the small room he saw that Doflamingo was already half-asleep in bed, taking more than his fair share of blankets, curled comfortably on his side. He could see that the boy was still wearing a shirt. Based upon the boy's exhausted expression, he doubted Doflamingo was in the mood to have it removed by his hands.

No sex, Crocodile thought to himself. He couldn't make out what he was feeling when he thought it up. He supposed he was just relieved.

Crocodile got into the bed, gently at first because he was still a little nervous and wasn't sure what Doflamingo might be up to. But then he head Doflamingo utter a half-growl, half-whine when he pulled at the covers, and then Crocodile realized that absolutely nothing would happen to him, so he went back to his usual self, shoving Doflamingo to just one side of the bed so that he could have his fair share. He took his half of the bed covers and blankets and turned himself around, his back to Doflamingo.

"Goodnight," he said. He closed his eyes and counted to ten, then twenty, and then he opened his eyes again as he brought himself to wonder about Doflamingo's comment. What was this power? How was that boy going to obtain it? What did it all have to do with him?

Crocodile sniffed. Perhaps he was looking too deep. This was a sixteen year old, not some complicated mind, and although Doflamingo talked the big talk, he had hardly ever seen an instance where it ever amounted to anything. Odds were the boy simply didn't want to lose him, not after "winning" him after such a long wait.

"G'night," he heard Doflamingo say.

Crocodile shook in the covers. How on earth was he supposed to enjoy all of this if he was so busy trying to frame Doflamingo for a crime that he had no evidence for? A crime that, even if it was to exist, Doflamingo had not even committed yet?

Crocodile sighed. He looked over his shoulder, spotting the shape of messy blond hair. He told himself that he was only doing this because Doflamingo had been so giving, and it was the least he could do. Crocodile scolded himself as he turned himself around, now facing Doflamingo. He grabbed on to his precious blanket, making sure he was covered enough.

Doflamingo stared at him with tired, blue eyes. Enough of his body was covered for Crocodile to feel less bothered. The eyes were pretty enough for him to almost think of them as feminine, and that sort of made things even better for him. They were blue, and they were lidded too, because Doflamingo was still tipsy and had overfed himself, and Crocodile liked that he could compare them to a woman's. It felt non-threatening.

The eyes lit up.

"What?" Crocodile muttered. He lowered his face into the sheets, letting more than half his face get engulfed. Doflamingo said nothing, only nudging himself close to Crocodile. The raven-haired man was silent and let Doflamingo get closer until he could feel their bodies touching. He did freeze up a little when Doflamingo began to cuddle, his arm wrapping itself around Crocodile; his face getting buried right next to his. Crocodile moved on to his back, because all this touching, no matter how innocent it was, was something he didn't really know how to respond to, and Doflamingo followed, resting his head on top of young man's chest.

Crocodile stared up into the ceiling, counting all the defects as he adjusted himself. Doflamingo had stopped moving and was now resting on top of him, like there was nothing wrong with that. How?

He felt Doflamingo's head move. "Are you alright?" the boy asked.

Crocodile's mouth opened. He knew he would be leaving soon. He told himself over and over again this was all temporary. But then, if it really bothered him, why agree to it in the first place? And Doflamingo was warm and surprisingly soft for someone who was built like a stick, and every time he touched him now only good feelings arose…so what was really bothering him?

"I don't know," he answered.

Doflamingo head moved again. "Is this too much for the first night?"

Crocodile sighed. "I'm not…sure?" A hand moved across the sheets, resting itself on the young man's side.

"You're warm," Doflamingo calmly announced. Crocodile nod his head, still looking up, feeling his body heat up from the compliment.

"I really like this," Doflamingo added. Crocodile raised his head, looking at the boy's crown, watching Doflamingo move his head and stare right back at him. "You feel nice…I really want to give it a go." A small smile appeared on his face. "If you don't like it we can sleep another way…"

Doflamingo was being more than fair, so Crocodile gave a nod. He thought he'd just rest his head against the pillow and give up for the night, but instead he kept staring at the boy, his mind locked on every word Doflamingo had said, how terribly kind it had all been, and how very unlike Doflamingo it was to even act like that. And then those two blue eyes went back to being lidded again, and Crocodile eased up, not freaking out one bit as Doflamingo pulled himself closer, letting his lips hover just above Crocodile's.

It wasn't anything he couldn't handle. He felt the boy's lips against his own, and it only lasted for about a second before Doflamingo ended, not Crocodile. But just as he was about to return back to his original position, Crocodile latched onto the boy, embracing him, refusing to make a comment as he kept his arms loosely wrapped around Doflamingo, not releasing until he knew the boy was nearing sleep.

He let go of Doflamingo. "Are you alright?" he heard the boy whisper. The breathing was nice and slow.

Crocodile frowned. "I'm not sure," he admitted.

"This is alright?" Doflamingo asked into the man's neck.

"I guess," Crocodile answered. He somehow knew Doflamingo was smiling. God, he hoped he wasn't feeding that boy's ego.

"That's good," Doflamingo practically cooed out. Crocodile privately mourned the loss of his assumed heterosexuality in silence; feeling an overwhelming sadness overcome him as he felt his left hand betray him, once again resting itself on top of Doflamingo, hand on blond locks, gently petting the boy to sleep and feeling a strange sense of comfort from the thought.

You're supposed to be leaving.

It made him all the more sad to think that he was in a position of conflict, one that he had willingly entered. He held in his breath, fighting back the pain in his lower throat, not giving any sign that he was upset because Doflamingo had fucking won, leaving him cornered without any real idea of what to so with himself.

Instead, he kept on petting until he passed out.


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