Chapter Text
Fewer things were greater in the world than a perfect sandwich. And the moment that accompanied said perfect sandwich was one of the few quiet, stress-free moments in Sir Crocodile’s life. Being evil and plotting all day and night wasn’t exactly hard, but it sure did get exhausting being surrounded by idiots.
It was a labor of love, though. Eventually the sandbox that was Alabasta would be the greatest place ever. And he’d get to shove that king and his perfect hair into the sand, too. Also, there would be bananadiles. Many, many bananadiles.
But first things first: sandwich.
Sir Crocodile made his way to his room, where he had specifically requested his lunch be taken so he could enjoy it in peace and quiet without dealing with anyone else. Because everyone knew better than to bother him when he went in there.
Or, at least, most people did. There was one exception that he usually managed to avoid. However, this wasn’t the case today.
There was the bane of his existence, the king of Dressrosa himself, sitting cross-legged on his nice table. Doflamingo’s disgusting, filthy shoes were on Crocodile’s once spotless table. Crocodile’s sandwich–his perfect sandwich–was in Doflamingo’s over-sized hands.
He couldn’t conceal his disgusted face.
“Hey! I was going to eat that!”
Doflamingo paused in his obnoxiously loud chewing to give an (awkward looking, but friendly) smile and a half wave. “Hey, no worries, babe,” he said. “I saved you half.”
He offered Crocodile what was left of the once beautiful sandwich–which was now half eaten with visible bite marks and…was that a pink feather sticking out of one end? That was definitely a pink feather.
“Not that you’d want it,” he continued. “Trust me. The bread’s kinda crusty, the meat’s not that tasty, and who even made these sauces? Not to mention–Croc-man, this thing is full of sand.”
The one positive thing about his day was utterly ruined. Crocodile fought the urge to rip that stupid smile off of Doflamingo’s face. No. It wouldn’t do to have them fighting. Not yet. He’d have his chance some other time.
“I locked the windows specifically so you couldn’t get in here,” Crocodile said.
“Oh yeah–About that.”
Doflamingo pointed to the window. The glass was shattered and spread across the floor, the frame was destroyed beyond repair. The special locks were still intact. Doflamingo had not bothered trying to mess with it. He just threw his weight around and forced himself through in the true Doflamingo way. Crocodile shook his head in disbelief.
“Why. Just…why,” he said.
“You know, I’m all for clever puns,” Doflamingo began, “but when there’s sand in a sandwich it’s kind of troubling. We ought to hook up sometime, get some actual good food.”
“Out.”