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Months pass, and you forget about Crocodile’s den den mushi, but not before you carefully tuck it away inside your bedside drawer.
It’s easier than you thought to get used to all the perks of being a Warlord. With your bounty frozen, you’re not getting chased by marines left and right anymore, and lesser pirates wouldn’t dare to get in your way.
You’ll finally have some time to tend to your garden. The tomatoes are coming along nicely, and you even have plans for a small vineyard, but it’ll take some work around the island. Not to mention you’ll have to drive off the monkeys again. They’re getting a bit too close to the castle, and you wouldn’t want a repeat of the pantry break-in incident— they’ll just have to learn how to live without cheese.
It’s too soon to get comfortable though, and you’re not surprised to receive an official letter of invitation alongside the newspaper one morning. It’s not like you’re busy, but you’re also not going to drop everything at a moment’s notice, so you take your time to finish your breakfast, drink your coffee, and read the paper all the way through before you set out for Marineford.
As you reach your destination, you find it strange that the only ship at the dock is the pink monstrosity that is Doflamingo’s ship, but at least you have some actual space to maneuver your boat instead of having to squeeze between the stupidly big ships of your fellow Warlords. And still, Doflamingo’s ship is already taking so much space that no one could blame you for having to make port right next to it, or for listening in on a conversation that maybe you shouldn’t have.
“A photoshoot… All this for a fucking photoshoot…” says a deep voice you’re now able to recognize.
Crocodile seems to be coming down from Doflamingo’s ship, followed by its owner. It’s a bit of a surprise to see them arrive together from what you’ve seen of their previous interactions, so when they don’t realize you’re within hearing-range you blame it on them, and not on your own curiosity, when you stay still and listen quietly.
“He’s just testing how tight the leash is. As if you wouldn't do the same,” Doflamingo says with an amused smile.
“I was doing business,” Crocodile spites back.
“Right. Your very important business.”
Crocodile looks rattled. He squints his eyes at the blond, and says “You knew…”
“Oh, come on…”
“No, you knew. You always know,” Crocodile says, pushing his hair back. “That’s why you dragged me here. Because you thought it would be funny.”
Doflamingo raises his hands up like he was trying to tame a wild beast, but he can’t hide the smirk that shows on his face. “Now, now, let’s be reasonable… Fuffuffuffu…”
“Reasonable? You want reasonable?” Crocodile threatens, bringing his hook up to Doflamingo’s face.
“Yes… You’re acting hysterical,” Doflamingo says, and he must have been expecting what Crocodile’s reaction would be, because his smirks widens as Crocodile’s eyes narrow.
It all happens too fast, and if it had been anyone other than you the consequences would have been disastrous, but it still takes you a moment to realize that your body has moved on its own to stand between the two men— one of your hands on Crocodile’s hook, which is millimeters away from Doflamingo’s face, and the other on the hilt of your sword.
“Crocodile,” you say, a warning and a greeting.
“…Mihawk,” Crocodile says, and it sounds almost like a question.
“Fuffuffuffu… Look at you two, on a first name basis and everything! When did this happen?” Doflamingo asks amusedly.
“Fuck this,” Crocodile says, and he steps back almost violently, shaking off the hand you had on him. He walks away towards the Navy HQ without another word, and you’re left to deal with the aftermath.
“You know, Hawk Eyes,” Doflamingo starts in a casual manner, “I’m sure you’ve been around long enough to know that information is quite the valuable resource around these waters.”
You nod, your hand still on the hilt of your sword.
“Well, here’s a freebie for you,” Doflamingo says, and you have to stop yourself from taking a step back when he bends all the way down so that you’re face to face. “…I don’t like sharing.”
You’re not quite sure what you’ve gotten yourself into, and it’s not like you planned doing this in the first place. You acted on pure instinct, and okay, you’ve had exactly one conversation with Crocodile, and maybe it would be okay—nice, even— to have more of those in the future, but that still wouldn’t justify getting in this amount of trouble with another Warlord.
But like hell you’re going to give Doflamingo the satisfaction.
So you lean in, and say, “neither do I.”
And that’s that.
“Heh,” Doflamingo says after a pause. He leans back, like he wants to take a good look at you, and then turns in the direction of the headquarters. He turns his head back at you expectantly, and says, “shall we, then?”
You follow a few steps behind him. You might have just earned his respect, but you wouldn’t be caught dead with your back wide open.
Once you reach the headquarters you realize there is, in fact, a photoshoot. Journalists are flooding the room, and you’re momentarily blinded by a flash as you enter. A few marines are trying to contain them to one single area, but they still somehow manage to get all in your face asking questions at a thousand miles per hour.
You spot Crocodile by the window, smoking a cigar. He has appropriated an ashtray from somewhere in the room, and he might look entirely composed to an external observer, but when your eyes meet for a brief moment you can tell he’s still rattled. Doflamingo on the other hand seems to bask in the attention. He’s already managed to prop himself on top of the table to pose for the paparazzi. The only other Warlord in the room is Kuma—and yes, you finally had the decency to learn the other’s names— but he’s just standing there, face hidden behind a book as usual.
It’s a terrible waste of an evening, but not too terrible all things considered. At some point Sengoku shows up and he manages to get the room under control somehow. All you have to do is stand there and pose for a couple of pictures, which you hate, but at least you don’t have to talk. Sengoku handles all the questions, and once the press is finally dismissed, he has the audacity to ask if there are any pressing Warlord matters to discuss.
Crocodile storms out of the room, leaving behind a trail of smoke, and Doflamingo bursts out laughing.
Sengoku sighs, and for some reason he looks at you when he says, “it had to be done.”
You’re not here to listen to excuses, so you promptly take your leave. You head straight to the dock, itching to get home, but you stop on your tracks when you find a familiar figure standing next to your boat.
“I guess it’s not so bad,” Crocodile says after a puff of smoke. “Your boat, I mean.”
You take a few steps to stand next to him. “It gets the job done.”
“Just one seat, though,” Crocodile observes.
“It’s been known to be able to carry one more person under certain circumstances,” you say. By one more person you mean Shanks, and by certain circumstances you mean that one time he got drunk out of his mind after one of your fights and you had to deliver his sorry ass back to his ship.
Crocodile sighs. “Remember when I said I would love to have you owe me a favor?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, what if it was the other way around?” he asks, and he looks almost… bashful.
It’s not hard to put two and two together. Crocodile didn’t bring his ship, Doflamingo somehow convinced him to board his own ship all the way here, and given the current situation Crocodile would probably rather die than set foot on that ship ever again, or have to wait at the Navy HQ any longer than necessary.
“I can give you a ride, if that’s what you’re asking,” you say.
“I am,” Crocodile says. “Asking.”
“Where to?” you ask, and it’s as simple as that.
“Anywhere, really,” Crocodile says after putting off his cigar. “Anywhere I can make a call to get picked up by my ship, I just don’t want to do it here.”
“Oh, you can’t be serious!” says a gleeful voice. Doflamingo walks down the dock and stops halfway between his own ship and your boat. “I was wondering where you went, Crocodile. You’re not planning to ditch me, are you?”
Crocodile pushes his hair back. “I really fucking hate you, you know.”
“Fuffuffuffu…” Doflamingo laughs. “I guess you really don’t care about size, then. It’s all about the motion of the ocean, right?”
“You fucking child,” Crocodile snarls.
“It’s not worth it,” you say calmly. You really don’t want a repeat of what happened earlier. The whole thing is beneath you—beneath you both, really— so you gently push Crocodile into the one seat on your boat and untie the knot.
Doflamingo watches as you steer away into open waters, that smug smile never leaving his face.