Work Text:
Leaving the meeting chamber Crocodile pauses in the doorway. His size and his coat's bulk force Mihawk to pass close enough to him to, he is sure, smell the whiskey on his breath, which is exactly his intention.
His eyes linger on Mihawk as he brushes past, and Crocodile's heartbeat catches as the other man's golden gaze flicks up briefly to meet his own before he's gone.
They cannot touch.
They cannot be seen together.
They cannot let the World Government see them as weak, or know how to hurt them.
Crocodile just wants Mihawk to know he misses him.