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The morning after Buggy’s bombastic birthday party, Crocodile wakes up in an unfamiliar room with one of the worst hangovers he’s ever had.
“Ugh…” he groans as he tries to pry his eyes open, and fails. For once he’s thankful of the fact that they’re living in a literal circus tent, and that the few sources of light are not strong enough to aggravate his headache.
“Oh, you’re awake,” says a soft voice next to his ear, so close that Crocodile can feel the exhalation against his skin.
He jumps back, startled by the proximity, but when his eyes finally focus he’s able to put together that he just woke up next to Mihawk, on Mihawk’s bed, in Mihawk’s room.
Crocodile gapes. His mouth feels like it’s full of cotton, but he manages to croak “Mihawk?” like it’s not already obvious.
Mihawk smiles softly, which only makes Crocodile feel even more out of place, like he’s the butt of a joke or something.
“How are you feeling?” Mihawk asks, reaching for Crocodile. Crocodile pulls back instinctively, and Mihawk’s smile falters.
“Uh…” Crocodile mumbles uselessly. It’s too hard to communicate and try to make sense of the situation at the same time, but he doesn’t want to offend Mihawk, whatever that means.
“Sorry, I just,” Crododile says after clearing his throat. “I feel like shit.”
The smile returns to Mihawk’s face like it never left. “You must be hungover. I’ll get you some water,” Mihawk says, and proceeds to leave the bed.
Crocodile actually yelps when Mihawk emerges from the bed fully naked.
“What’s wrong?” Mihawk says as he turns to face Crocodile, and yep, that’s full frontal all right.
Crocodile can’t find his voice, so he just shakes his head profusely and pulls the covers up to his chest when he realizes he’s naked as well.
It’s not difficult to put two and two together when nakedness is a factor, hangover be dammned. He and Mihawk must have done the dirty last night, and as weird as that sounds, Crocodile is a practical man. He has no time to dawdle through the five stages of grief, so he jumps straight into acceptance to handle the real issue, which at this point is just damage control.
While Crocodile is going through his mental machinations, Mihawk fills a glass with water from the pitcher he keeps in his room, completely oblivious as he returns to offer the glass to Crocodile. Crocodile takes the glass, carefully avoiding to look anywhere near Mihawk as he gulps down the whole thing in one go.
“You must’ve been thirsty,” Mihawk says as he takes back the glass. Crocodile nods awkwardly.
“Well,” Mihawk adds, climbing on the bed. “I’m sure even the chief officers can take it easy today,” he says suggestively, crawling towards Crocodile as Crocodile backs away from him and into the wall.
“Mihawk…” Crocodile says when there’s no escape. Mihawk holds his face in his hands— his yellow eyes look unnatural, like he’s peering into the soul, extracting truth from within. Mihawk’s lips inch oh so ever closer to Crocodile, just a breath away from a kiss…
And then Crocodile ruins the moment by covering Mihawk’s lips with his hand, as he finally admits, “I don’t remember anything from last night.”
Mihawk looks struck. He pulls Crocodile’s hand away from his face, and keeps holding it in his. “You don’t remember?”
Crocodile shakes his head, trying to pull his hand back to no avail.
Mihawk looks around the room, then back at Crocodile, most specifically at Crocodile’s naked chest. “Well, we…”
“Yes, that much is obvious,” Crocodile says through gritted teeth. He never thought it would be this hard to keep a conversation with a naked Mihawk, but the man might as well be the epitome of masculinity. With his chiseled muscles, his perfectly groomed beard, and the patches of thick dark hair covering most of his body it’s honestly hard to look away. The man has never missed a day of training in his life, and it shows.
To make matters worse, Crocodile might as well be the opposite. He pulls the covers close to his chest, burning up in embarrassment as he realizes Mihawk has probably seen everything underneath already. He’ll admit he’s never been one for physical training, and sure, maybe he relies on his devil fruit powers too much. But that’s not just him being lazy, it’s not Crocodile’s fault that he’s surrounded by idiots and that he has to sit on his ass all day to sort through paperwork and make sure their entire operation doesn’t fall apart.
Crocodile’s train of thought is interrupted by a very peculiar sensation. His eyes widen in horror as he realizes what the gooey liquid slipping down his thighs must be.
“You came inside!?” Crocodile squawks in disbelief.
“You told me to,” Mihawk says, tilting his head in confusion. “Oh, I guess you don’t remember that either… May I help you clean up?”
“No!” Crocodile says as he practically jumps from the bed, taking the covers with him. Mihawk looks hurt for whatever reason, and Crocodile sighs as he remembers he has to mitigate the damage before this wrecks their professional relationship any further.
“Look, I…” Crocodile starts, but then he spots his clothes and his hook lying on the floor. He uses his powers to put them on as he holds the covers in front of him as a screen for modesty, and does a terrible job on both fronts. He ends up partially dressed, which is good enough, and somehow manages not to fall to his death by tripping on the covers.
Mihawk is still looking at him expectantly though, and Crocodile wonders if he’s done enough to salvage the situation. But the thing is, his head is killing him, and he honestly has no idea what to say. So he says the first thing that comes to mind.
“I need to take a leak,” Crocodile says.
And leaves the room.
After managing to feel a little more human by washing his face, dressing properly, and yes, actually taking a leak, Crocodile decides to turn his terrible morning into everybody else’s problem.
He walks into the party room to find Buggy and his entourage still passed out on the floor. With decorations strewn about, the whole place looks like it was drowned in confetti. To his surprise, he also finds Daz sitting on the couch and cradling his head between his hands.
Crocodile takes a deep breath, and yells, “GET UP YOU INCOMPETENT BUFFOONS!”
Daz’s face shoots up at him so quickly it must have given him whiplash. Buggy jumps all the way towards the ceiling and lands back on the floor in all fours like a cat. Alvida and Galdino try to disentangle themselves from a cluster of garlands with little success, and the rest of the crew members lucky enough to have been invited to the private party scurry around like cockroaches as Crocodile’s orders them around to clean the place up.
“Boss…” Daz says, clearly ashamed of having been found in such a disgraceful situation.
“Croccy, baby!” Buggy says in his usual high-pitched nervous tone. “What a party, right?”
“Yes, too bad I’m gonna have to sell you all into slavery to make up for all the expenses,” Crocodile says, but it lacks the usual bite.
“Where’s Mihawk?” Alvida asks when she finally manages to stand up on her wobbly legs.
Crocodile squints his eyes at her. “Why should I know?”
“Uh… because you left together last night?” Galdino supplies nervously.
“Did we now…” Crocodile mutters.
“Wait… You don’t remember?” Buggy asks in surprise.
Crocodile groans. He’d rather swallow his own hook than admit defeat to this pathetic ensemble, but it might be helpful to make a proper investigation of the events that transpired in this room last night before he talks to Mihawk again about the… situation.
“It appears that I don’t, so if any of you would like to enlighten me…” Crocodile says through gritted teeth.
“What’s the last thing you remember? You remember when we cut the cake?” Alvida asks.
Crocodile does indeed remember the monstrosity that was Buggy’s birthday cake. It was a 10 tier cake, with a Buggy shaped cake topper, and the only one who was able to cut the thing was, coincidentally, Mihawk. But everything else after that is a blur.
“Vaguely,” Crocodile admits.
“Well,” Alvida says. “Around that point we all started drinking the homebrewed rum the crew had been working on, and… I think that’s when you started taking your clothes off.”
“What!?” Crocodile exclaims, scandalized.
“That’s not how it happened,” Daz interjects. “You make it sound like it was some sort of disgraceful display. The boss was just feeling hot, and he took off his coat, vest and cravat. Then I told him to lie down and rest on the couch.”
“Right,” Galdino says. “And then you sat by his feet and he started petting your head like a dog.”
“Excuse me!?” Crocodile snaps.
“You were drunk, boss,” Daz adds with a twinge of desperation, “and you must have mistaken me for one of your bananawanis.”
“But you didn’t say anything to stop him, and then you fell asleep right there by his feet!” Galdino accuses as he points at Daz.
Before Daz can take it into his hands to silence Galdino for good, Buggy intervenes. “I guess that’s around the time I was passing the cake around, and I walked over to give you a slice.”
“And…?” Crocodile asks, almost regretfully.
“Well…” Buggy says, visibly sweating, “I gave you a slice, and you told me happy birthday, and… um… you kissed me?”
“I WHAT!?”
“It was just a peck,” Alvida says, as if that makes it any better.
“I think you’re just a slutty drunk, boss,” Galdino says with a little laugh in an attempt to lighten the mood.
“Please don’t kill me!” Buggy begs as he grovels by his feet.
“And besides, nothing else could have happened because Mihawk was watching you like… well, like a hawk,” Alvida supplies.
Crocodile kicks Buggy off and walks towards Alvida who, not surprisingly, seems to be the most sensible of the bunch. “Mihawk was watching me? What does that even mean?”
For all her bravado, Alvida seems to shrink away from Crocodile when all his attention is focused on her. “Well, you know…”
“He likes you!” Buggy screams as he throws himself at Crocodile’s feet again. “I thought he was gonna kill me last night! Oh please, don’t let him kill me! I’ll do anything! I’ll lick your boots!”
“He… what?” Crocodile asks. Every new piece of information makes his brain feel like it’s about to short-circuit. “That’s ridiculous. Mihawk likes me? He doesn’t like anyone. Or anything.”
“Oh, honey,” Alvida mutters.
“Boss, if I may,” Daz jumps in, “I’m quite certain master Mihawk holds you in high regard.”
“Okay, whatever, he likes me,” Crocodile says just to move past the whole thing. “But what happened next?”
“He said you’d had enough to drink and that he’d take you back to your room,” Galdino explains matter-of-factly.
Except Crocodile didn’t make it back to his room last night, and it must show on his face somehow because Alvida gasps in realization.
“Oh my god. You slept together, didn’t you?” Alvida exclaims.
Crocodile fights the rush of color in his cheeks, and says “that’s none of your damn business,” which is all the confirmation they’d ever need, really.
Before the situation can escalate any further, they’re all interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. All of their heads turn at the same time to look at Mihawk entering the room.
“Crocodile,” Mihawk says in his usual emotionless tone, but Crocodile recognizes a hint of concern in his eyes. “May I speak with you in private?”
Crocodile hesitates for a second. He really wishes he had a cigar on him. “Yes, of course.”
He follows Mihawk out of the room without looking back, but he can already hear the whispers behind his back. It’ll probably only take a couple of hours before the entire crew gets word of their sordid affair.
Crocodile sighs. He’s a silver medalist in the Grand Line, got thoroughly beaten by Whitebeard when he was at his physical peak, then got his ass handed to him again by a goddamn rubber rookie in a country made out of sand. He survived imprisonment, the Paramount War, and now the last blow to his reputation, serving under Buggy. He’ll be damned if the thing that brings him down is a consensual workplace relationship.
Speaking of consensual, it takes Crocodile a few seconds to realize that, as soon as they enter Mihawk’s room, the swordsman gets down on the floor and bows to him with his forehead touching the ground.
“Mihawk, what the fuck…?”
“I would like to sincerely apologize,” Mihawk says without raising his head. “I was under the impression that what we did was consensual.”
“Oh, for the love of…” Crocodile sputters. “Mihawk, get up. I can’t talk to you like this.”
Mihawk raises his head but remains seated on the floor with his legs bent under him, like he’s ready to commit ritual sacrifice at any moment. Crocodile lets out an exasperated sigh and pulls the chair from Mihawk’s desk to sit in front of him.
“Look,” Crocodile says. “We got tipsy. We fucked. It’s not a big deal. It happens.”
“But…” Mihawk interjects. “You said you don’t remember. Even if we were both drunk, the fact that I remember what happened and you don’t means you weren’t in any capacity to consent.”
“So you think you took advantage of me, is that what you’re saying?” Crocodile says as he pushes his hair back.
Mihawk lowers his head apologetically.
“Please,” Crocodile says. “It’s not like I blacked out. Stop beating yourself about it. That’s not the issue here.”
“Then… what is it?” Mihawk asks.
“Well…” Crocodile starts. “We can’t do it again, obviously. So we have to address that it was a mistake and move on. You know, like adults.”
“I… don’t think I can do that…” Mihawk says as he stands up from the floor, turning his back to Crocodile.
“Mihawk, come on,” Crocodile groans. “Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”
“What’s the point of all this, then,” Mihawk says morosely. “What’s the point of having overwhelming power if we can’t love freely.”
“Love?” Crocodile repeats in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am serious, you just won’t take me seriously.”
Crocodile pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. The entire thing feels surreal. Here’s the most stoic man he’s ever known, basically declaring his love for him, and Crocodile can’t find a way to let him down gently because, honestly, Mihawk has a point.
All his life Crocodile has guarded his feelings. He never allowed himself to love openly because, in his experience, people are fickle. He got hurt once and that was enough, and after that point relationships became transactional. Means to an end.
But last night something changed. Because Crocodile would normally never drink to the point of vulnerability, and the fact that he did means that he must have felt somewhat safe with these people, with this crew. And true enough, talking with Buggy and the others must have jogged his memory because suddenly he’s getting flashes of the party filled with music, dance, and laughter.
When was the last time he had fun like that?
Mihawk takes a few steps towards him and kneels down in front of him. He places his hand on Crocodile’s cheek, gently, and says, “would you like me to tell you what really happened between us last night?”
Crocodile looks from Mihawk’s eyes to his lips, his gaze lingering a little too long, and suddenly it all comes back to him.
His lips feel waxy with the residue of Buggy’s lipstick— an odd feeling. Crocodile smacks his lips once, twice. Yes, really odd.
“Well, I think you’ve had enough for tonight, don’t you think?” Mihawk says as he appears in his field of view. Crocodile likes Mihawk, but he’s been a bore all night, standing in the corner and silently sipping from his glass of wine.
“Please, don’t kill me! He kissed me all on his own! My intentions are pure, I swear!” Buggy shrills next to Crocodile. His ears are buzzing. Maybe he’s really had enough for tonight.
Mihawk walks up to both of them and Crocodile wraps both of his arms around Mihawk’s neck, naturally as breathing. “I am a little tired,” Crocodile tries to say, but it comes out a little slurred. Oh well.
Mihawk seems to get the point, because he places his arm around Crocodile’s waist and maneuvers him out of the room as Crocodile waves goodbye to everyone else. If he wasn’t as drunk, Crocodile would be impressed by Mihawk supporting almost his entire weight, but right now he’s actually more focused on Mihawk himself, whose appearance seems almost like a novelty.
“Where were you all night? I missed you…” Crocodile says. He had been looking forward to drinking with Mihawk, of that much he is aware, but when it became clear the swordsman wasn’t up to joining the festivities Crocodile decided to take up the crew’s offer to try their homebrewed rum. Maybe not the best idea, in retrospect.
“You know I’m not one for parties…” Mihawk says, almost like he’s avoiding looking at Crocodile.
“Are you angry?” Crocodile asks, because seriously what’s up with that.
Mihawk frowns. “Why did you kiss Buggy?”
Crocodile giggles. “It’s his birthday!”
“So everybody gets a kiss from you on their birthday?” Mihawk asks.
Crocodile shrugs. “Sure, why not?”
“Then… Do I get a kiss on my birthday?”
Crocodile giggles and shakes his head.
Mihawk stops in his tracks, and pushes Crocodile against the wall so that they both don’t fall to the floor. Standing this close, Crocodile notices Mihawk’s eyes, watery and unfocused, and the slight flush in his cheeks. Oh, he’s drunk, Crocodile thinks, a passing thought.
“Why not?” Mihawk asks with a frown. He looks so young like this.
Crocodile laughs and looks to the side, wavering under Mihawk’s scrutiny, but he eventually confesses. “If I kiss you, then… I might really fall in love.”
“So… If I kiss you now,” Mihaws says as he gently turns Crocodile’s head to face him. “Will you fall in love with me?”
Crocodile is brought back to the present by looking at those same lips that are once again inches from his.
“Crocodile?” Mihawk asks after a moment of silence.
Crocodile brings up his hand to place it on top of Mihawk’s. “I think I remember,” he says shyly.
Mihawk pulls Crocodile’s head down so that their foreheads rest one against the other, and Crocodile suddenly feels enveloped by an unfamiliar but pleasant warmth.
Safety and trust are both luxuries among pirates, and things Crocodile never thought he would have. Except now, in the unlikeliest of ways, he realizes he does.
“Do you remember when I kissed you?” Mihawk asks, looking up at him hopefully.
Crocodile can’t bear to look straight at him, so he looks away and deflects, “I remember I said I’ll kill you if you ever cheat on me.”
Mihawk lets out a soft laugh, says “that’s not going to be an issue, dear,” and kisses him.
Everything Crocodile has ever wanted has been taken from him, or just simply out of reach. His deepest wants and needs have been buried for years inside of him like a sunken treasure. When he woke up next to Mihawk this morning it didn’t make sense, because a world where Crocodile gets what he wants doesn’t make sense. But Mihawk’s kiss is a full-body sensation, makes his skin come alive under his touch, and that’s when he realizes the depth of his longing.
What is the point of overwhelming power if you can’t love freely?
“Okay,” Crocodile gasps as he breaks away from the kiss to take a deep breath. “Okay…”
Mihawk gazes into him with a searching look. “Okay?”
“Yes, I just…” Crocodile mumbles. “I feel like we’re doing everything backwards and I need to take things slow. Really slow. Like… Glacial.”
“Of course,” Mihawk nods. “Do you still think this was a mistake?”
Crocodile shrugs. “Well, we could have handled this better. I think I only drank so much last night because I thought you were ignoring me.”
“I wasn’t ignoring you, I just… I don’t know how to behave in a crowd,” Mihawk admits. “I really couldn’t take my eyes off you all night, I just didn’t know what to do.”
Crocodile laughs for the first time in a while. “I guess we’re just a couple of old fools, then.”
Mihawk bumps his forehead against Crocodile, and smiles.
“I guess we are.”