Work Text:
You’ve seen a lot of weird things since you started sailing the seas, but nothing has ever painted a stranger picture than your current predicament. You and Crocodile were both eager to get away from Marineford, and you really, honestly didn’t mind offering a seat on your boat. But what both of you failed to take into account is that perhaps taking a devil fruit user onboard what is, essentially, a glorified plank of wood to brave the open waters wasn’t the best idea.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” you ask. What you thought had been a companionable silence was actually Crocodile fighting for his life from the exhaustion of being splashed by the waves.
“I’m fine,” he says, cradling his head in one hand.
It doesn’t help that the sea is particularly choppy and that the sun is almost setting. You might be a skilled navigator, but it doesn’t sit right with you to just drop Crocodile off in some random island in his current state, so you make an executive decision and set out for Kuraigana island.
“Where are we…?” Crocodile asks in a daze as you help him off the boat after you make port.
“This is my home,” you say, placing your hand in the middle of his back to gently push him towards the castle.
“What…? You live here?”
“Yes,” you reply nonchalantly.
“In a… castle? You live in a castle?” he asks in bewilderment.
You shrug.
“I thought you liked practical,” Crocodile says.
“It was practical that it was empty when I arrived,” you say.
Crocodile lets out a short laugh. He seems to be regaining some of his color, but his clothes are still drenched. Once you make it to the castle’s entrance you offer to take his coat, and then you excuse yourself to go find something so you can both dry off.
“Thanks,” Crocodile says after you pass him a towel. You know it’s not polite to stare, but you can’t help but notice that his once perfectly slicked back hair actually curls up at the ends when it’s wet.
You look away a little too late—Crocodile catches you staring— but neither of you says anything, and the moment passes.
“Well…” Crocodile says after he’s done drying his hair, but doesn’t follow up with anything.
You suddenly realize this all might be a bit too intimate. You just brought Crocodile into your home, and here you both are, standing shoulder to shoulder and dripping little droplets of saltwater on the stone floor of the hallway.
Crocodile has wrapped an arm around himself—it almost looks like he’s trying to make himself smaller. Maybe it’s a bit too cold for him without his coat on? Maybe he’s a little self-conscious about the way his shirt clings to his chest, the white fabric still a little wet and almost see-through…
Or maybe you should just stop this train of thought before it gets out of hand.
“Ahem…” You clear your throat. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Yeah, actually,” Crocodile says, and he follows you into the kitchens.
The wine helps. You feel a bit more yourself after you’ve both had something to drink. Less awkward.
“You’re sure you’re feeling better?” you ask, halfway through your first glass of wine.
“Yeah…” Crocodile says, swaying his glass in his hand. “I just… Didn’t want you to see me like that.”
You take a sip, and say, “it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve seen the toil of the curse.”
“It’s not just that,” Crocodile replies after putting his glass down. “Water is especially… bad. For me.”
“Oh.”
Before you can make any further inquiries— and it’s not like you’re meaning to pry, really— Crocodile makes a swirling motion with his hand, and a small whirlwind of sand rises from his palm.
“Oh…” you repeat. “I see.”
Crocodile has a playful smile as he moves his little spiral of sand across the room, eventually turning it into an elongated wave of particles that sparkles under the dim torchlight.
You catch yourself smiling as well, and then the self-awareness hits you all at once. Why would Crocodile show you his ability? This poised, collected, and self-assured man has done nothing but show you his vulnerabilities. You’ve known each other for such a short time, and yet there is a stark contrast between the guarded way he carries himself around others, and the way his walls seem to drop down around you.
Could this be a play? Could he be acting open and approachable so you lower your guard? Or does he not take you seriously enough to consider you a threat?
Or… maybe you’ve been the one leading him on. Accepting the den den mushi, standing up for him to Doflamingo, taking him on a boat ride and now inviting him to your home.
You’re barely colleagues, you barely know anything about each other, and yet… Maybe you’re a bit lonelier than you thought, and the possibility of friendship has you throwing all caution to the wind.
It’s certainly been a long time since you’ve smiled in the company of others.
Crocodile must see the conflict of emotion show up on your face, because he dispels his ability with a sudden motion of his hand. “Hey…” he says softly, “this is… Well, first of all… Thank you. For… You know.”
You nod, and you can’t help but notice how the usually articulate man seems to struggle with the words.
“You have a lovely castle here, but… I would hate to overstay my welcome, so maybe I should…”
“No, not at all…” you say abruptly.
Crocodile gives you a cautious look.
“I mean,” you say, trying to rid your face of any trace of emotion, “it’s quite late. Even if you call for your ship it will probably take at least a few hours until it gets here.”
“Yes, but…”
“You’re welcome to stay the night,” you finally blurt out. “If you want, of course,” you add, just in case.
Crocodile gives you a look. He squints his eyes at you like you’re a puzzle to be solved, but there's a slight tug at the corner of his lips, like maybe it’s a fun challenge.
“You’re serious,” Crocodile states rather than asks.
You take a sip of your cup. “Deadly serious.”
Crocodile snorts. “Okay… You know what? Okay.”
“Okay,” you repeat.
“Let me just…” Crocodile says as he stands up from the kitchen table and finishes the rest of his wine. “I need to make that call.”
“Go ahead.”
Crocodile pulls out a small den den mushi from his pocket and walks over to the hallway for some privacy. You’re debating whether to refill both of your glasses or put the wine away when he returns.
“They’ll be here around dawn, I think,” Crocodile says.
You nod. You have the whole night ahead of you, then. The whole night. Just the two of you…
You should really get your mind out of the gutter.
“Mihawk, listen,” Crocodile says, and you welcome the interruption to your current train of thought. “I feel like I already owe you like a dozen times over, and I just… I thought maybe we could even the score a bit, before I leave.”
“Oh?”
“If there’s anything I can do for you—”
“That won’t be necessary,” you say quickly.
“But…”
“Actually,” you interject, “there is one thing.”
“Uh… Okay…” Crocodile says. “What is it?”
“Follow me.”
You lead Crocodile away from the kitchens and into the lower levels of the castle. It gets darker and darker as you descend through a spiral staircase, and you have to stop to grab a torch along the way to light the path forward.
“Is this some kind of dungeon?” Crocodile asks. “Don’t tell me you have a prisoner in here or something…”
You shake your head amusedly.
“Wait, is this what you want me to do? Do you want me to help you torture someone in your creepy castle dungeon?”
You snort. “It’s not a dungeon, it’s the cellar.”
“Oh.”
“The dungeon is in the left wing.”
“Of course.”
When you finally arrive at your destination you prop the torch on the wall, casting the shadows away to reveal a small room with about half a dozen barrels and a wine rack with an assortment of oddly shaped bottles.
“Well, the offer still stands, you know. If you ever need help torturing someone…” Crocodile says.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” you say, scanning the room for one bottle in particular.
“Well, what are we doing here?” Crocodile asks.
“Ah, there it is,” you exclaim as you take a bottle from the rack and wipe the dust off of it. “This bottle of wine is at least two centuries old, I believe. It caught my attention when I first arrived at the castle, and I’ve been waiting for the right occasion to try it.”
“And you want me to drink it? What, you think it might be poison?” Crocodile asks, crossing his arms.
“No, I want you to drink it with me, as my guest,” you clarify.
Crocodile lets out a short laugh. “Alright. I’ll drink anything. Give it here.”
You pass him the bottle and he pulls the cork out with his teeth. It makes you realize this is the longest you’ve ever seen him without a cigar between his lips.
Crocodile raises the bottle in your direction, and then he proceeds to take a long sip —or at least it looks like he intends to— but almost as soon as the bottle makes contact with his lips he spits everything out in a sputtering mess
“Fuck!” he exclaims, wiping his mouth with his hand, but there’s a smile in there. “Fuck, that tastes like piss…” he says in a breathy laugh. “Heh… At least someone is having fun,” he says, and that’s when you finally notice that you’re both laughing, giggling like a couple of boys stealing their first taste of alcohol.
“Okay, let me try again,” Crocodile says, and this time he manages to keep the drink down. “Ah, it burns,” he says with a grimace.
You can’t stop the laughter bubbling up from your chest. Crocodile passes you the bottle and you take a cautious sip. To your credit, you manage to push the foul liquid all the way down your throat on the first try, but then you end up in a coughing fit so bad that Crocodile has to pat you on the back a few times.
“God, that was terrible,” you say with a frown, but for some reason you’re still chuckling like this is the funniest thing that’s ever happened to you. “And the smell… Ugh.”
“I know,” Crocodile says. “Let’s take it upstairs to keep drinking.”
“Oh, we must,” you agree.
“Any other secret treasures left behind in the castle?” Crocodile asks as you make your way back upstairs, taking small sips from the bottle as you pass it back and forth.
“Well, it looked like this place had already been looted several times when I arrived. I couldn’t find anything of much value.”
“Bummer,” Crocodile says.
You shrug. “Most of what’s left is trinkets… Family heirlooms probably kept out of sentimental value, books, letters…”
“Ooh, letters,” he coos. “Any sordid political scandals in there?”
“They talked a lot about agriculture,” you reply. “Actually, it’s quite fascinating. The soil here is rather rich, I’ve even managed to grow a few things myself.”
Crocodile snorts. “Of course you’d be into agriculture.”
“I found some love letters as well,” you say, trying to pique his interest.
“Oh?”
“Yes, from a princess to a knight, from a knight to another knight…”
“Mihawk, you naughty devil. Look at you snooping around other people’s business,” Crocodile teases. “Now you have to show me.”
“I can give you a tour of the place, if you’d like,” you offer, passing back the bottle.
“Lead the way,” Crocodile says, and then you spend the better part of the night showing him around the castle.
Crocodile follows you around with a twinkle of wonder in his eyes. He’s particularly captivated by the old library, filled with tattered scrolls and dusty tomes. Most areas of the castle are still pretty much as you found them, with a few exceptions, so to him it must feel like exploring an ancient ruin, which you realize is technically the truth.
The dungeon makes for a close second right after the library. Crocodile seems delighted with the old torture devices, some of them so intricate and convoluted in their designs that you both spend quite some time speculating on how they were actually used.
After that you take him to the study— a room you habitually use, and therefore make an effort to keep tidy— where you procure your small collection of letters, mementos, and other curious artifacts left behind from the previous inhabitants. There is, in fact, some evidence of a few political scandals that Crocodile finds amusing, but you both prefer to focus on the more mundane affairs as you try to paint a picture of the lives led by the people from this forgotten kingdom.
You both seem to lose track of time, and you almost manage to finish all that’s left of the ancient wine between the two of you, but then a sudden hunger strikes you both and you scurry to the kitchens like ravenous animals.
“Purupurupurupuru…” At some point, your meal is interrupted by a sound coming from Crocodile’s pocket. “Purupurupurupuru…”
“Ah, dammit… Where is it?” Crocodile says through a mouthful of bread as he pats himself down. He finally finds the source of the offending sound and picks up the den den mushi from his pocket. “You’re here…? Yeah… okay.”
You look out the window and realize it’s already the break of dawn. You can’t help the vague feeling of dread rising up from your throat, so you push it down with more bread and wine.
“Well,” Crocodile says, and he looks almost apologetic.
“Is it time, then?” you ask, even though you both know the answer.
“Yeah…” Crocodile says.
You nod, and stand up from the kitchen table. “I’ll walk you to your ship.”
Crocodile looks like he’s about to refuse your offer, but then falls into step right beside you.
As you leave the castle grounds, you attract a gathering of curious humandrills who start following you at a careful distance. They’re probably just looking for something to eat, but Crocodile stares at them in amazement. “You have monkeys?”
“Humandrills,” you correct.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks.
You shrug. “I had to leave something for the next time you visit.”
Crocodile lets out a wistfully laugh. His ship is standing just off the shore of the island, and you can hear the waves crashing in the distance.
“All right, then,” Crocodile says, and he turns to look back at you. “Until next time…”
You look back at him, unsure of what to do next. Should you maybe shake his hand? Pat him on the shoulder? Any farewell gesture you can think of feels both too intimate and too detached. So, you just stand where you are, and say, “until next time.”
Crocodile looks away with a small smile, and then he dissolves into sand right before your eyes, floating away as if carried by the wind until you see his silhouette standing on his ship, now a small dot in the distance.