Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Red sky in morning, sailors take warning. Red sky at night, sailors delight.

-- pirate proverb

The Cross Guild ship sat anchored a few miles off the coast of Wano with the former marine vessel locked in tow for when they departed. It had been a hell of a few days.Crocodile and Mihawk had practically gang pressed him— and the crew— into what he had called a 'recruitment mission', chasing Smoker and his marine boys to the closed island after getting intel that they were there.

It was a crazy move. And crazier still, it had worked. Cross Guild now had a couple of famous marines (and an undercover marine pirate!) and their crew on the roster, a fact which seemed to please Crocodile to no end, and admittedly, probably would further demoralize the navy.

But that wasn't what was on Buggy's mind.

Buggy had gotten a few drinks into himself by the time he’d worked up the nerve to confront Crocodile. He and Drake had celebrated his switching sides the best way they could— by getting drunk and flirting back and forth for a few hours— before Buggy had finally had to excuse himself.

He rolled up his baggy sleeves and took a deep breath before he slammed open the door to the little lounge he knew Croc was skulking around in with as imperious a face as the new Emperor could muster. “Crocodile! I gotta talk to you!” 

Crocodile, of course, didn't even lower his cigar. He didn't even answer. He just waved him over. He was sitting in his tall armchair, feet on the table, with a bottle of rye and the morning's newspaper.

Buggy sauntered over with his hands floating off his wrists (and rested against his hips) and a big frown on his face. 

“I gotta talk to you, I said!” He leaned in. “About my crew!” 

Now Crocodile took the cigar out of his mouth, and breathed smoke in his face. "Alright, clown. I'm listening. What about your crew?"

Buggy breathed it in with a little shiver, before he huffed. 

“...you gotta treat my men with a little more respect. Cabaji’s tellin’ me that you’re going around barking orders at him and the rest of my guys.” 

Crocodile stared at him for a long moment, and then he patted his lap. "Sit down, Buggy."

Buggy huffed, flushing brightly as he stomped over and dropped neatly into his lap. “I mean it, Croc. They’re my men…they respect me. You can’t just push ‘em around like they were yours.” 

Croc's arm slithered around him and his hook dropped across his legs. "Buggy. Sweetheart. I bark orders at everybody. You know this."

Buggy pursed his lips in a frown, looking him in the eyes as he looped an arm around his shoulders. “...I mean, yeah. It’s onna the charming things about you, Croccy. But Cabaji’s gettin’ annoyed.” 

Crocodile puffed on his cigar, for a moment, and then pressed it into Buggy's mouth, still damp with his saliva. "That's your swordsman, right? Long dark hair? Bunch of knives?"

Buggy took a puff off it, hanging around his shoulders as he relished the taste. “Yeah, that’s the one. My number one acrobat. A real standout guy. He thinks you’re disrespecting us.” 

"Does he now?" Croc snorted, and stroked the curve of his hook over Buggy's thigh. "Alright, Bug. There are two solutions to this. Either one– you stick to me like glue so I can tell you the orders and you bark 'em…"

He left the suggestion hanging for a moment.

Buggy’s leg rubbed against his hook as his torso disconnected to lean into his body. He blushed, huffing softly. “You ain’t the worst company. But go on.” 

"Funny you should mention that," Croc chuckled. "Option two is you bring your 'number one acrobat' to bed with us and we sort out questions of respect that way."

WIth that, Buggy went bright red, and his head popped off to turn around and look at Croc with wide and flustered eyes.

Cabaji would be into it, of course.

It’d probably sort it out, one way or another, if he was invited there. It wasn’t as if they weren’t already intimate.

“I’ll think about it,” he said stiffly. “...on that note! I got something I gotta bring up about him.” 

Crocodile cackled, and grabbed Buggy's floating head by the pigtail. "Don't fly away on me, clown. What about him? Planning a spring wedding?"

Buggy yelped, and his head fell down against his shoulder again. 

“N-no!” he huffed sharply. “I wanna get him a devil fruit! He’s worrying about keeping up with all the freaks in the New World.” 

Crocodile twirled his fingers through Buggy's hair for a moment. "Huh, smart man. He doesn't already have one, then? Is he a haki guy, or what?"

“He’s an acrobat. And a damn good one too.” Buggy poked his chest with his floating hand, though…he did nuzzle Crocodile’s hand. “And he’s not a haki master like Mihawk or nothin’.” 

Crocodile stared at him, even as he stroked his thumb over Buggy's jaw. "So what, he's just a guy? And he hasn't fucking died yet?"

Everybody from Crocodile's 'crew'-- Baroque Works, what was left of them– had a Devil Fruit. Everybody he associated with had some trick up their sleeve.

Buggy brushed the scruff of his jawline against his fingers with a nod. Cabaji was amazing for having come this far with him— even against all the shit they faced, he was still alive and kickin’.

That had to count for something.

“He’s just that good, Croc. But he wants to be better.” 

"You know what? It sounds like he's fucking earned it," Crocodile grumbled. He patted Buggy's face not unfondly, and grinned. "I'll put in a request with Doffy and get him a fruit lined up. And I'm thinking you should bring him to bed whatever else we figure."

Buggy grinned widely at him, his body floating in pieces against the other man. 

“Damn right he has! I’ll let him know, Croccy!” He winked. “...about the invitation, too.” 

"Good man," Crocodile leered. "I–"

They were interrupted by a sharp knock at the door, at which Crocodile barked, "enter!"

Buggy’s head jerked up, and his body parts rapidly snapped back together as he wriggled on Crocodile’s lap with a grumpy murmur of ‘my respect as a co-leader!’

Crocodile didn't let Buggy up, his hook still firmly over his lap– but it didn't end up mattering anyway, it was just Galdino.

"Sir. Buggy."

"Mr. 3," Crocodile drawled out with the air of an almost affectionate nickname. "What's with the knock?"

"Some uh, interesting news, actually." He glanced back and forth between Buggy and Crocodile in a rather nervous way– despite that, Buggy thought whatever the glance was about, it didn't have anything to do with the compromising position.

“Hey Galdy.” Buggy murmured as he fell back against Crocodile with a sigh. “What’s up?”

"Well…"

"Out with it," Crocodile barked. He grinned wickedly. "Promise I won't shoot the messenger this time."

Galdino gave them a look somewhere between sour and wry. Crocodile's attempt at murder had become a joke somewhere along the way between them.

"It's Red Haired Shanks," Galdino said. "Doflamingo's faction reported in by transponder snail that his ship's been sighted around the other side of Wano."

Buggy’s face blanched underneath his makeup, and his eyes went wide over his smile as his lips closed. 

“.....” He gripped Crocodile tighter. “.......Shanks… is in Wano…as we speak???” 

Crocodile grimaced and raised his hook. "Is every damned Emperor on the sea in the same hundred mile radius?"

Galdino held his hands up. "Don't ask me, I just took the message. But… it sounds like it's close, anyway. Even with the recent shake up."

"Wonderful." Crocodile grumbled. He squeezed Buggy's arm. "Alright, Galdino. Thank you for the information. Were there any other details?"

"They said it seemed like he was making ready to leave."

Buggy grabbed Crocodile by the lapels, looking at him with wild eyes. “We should intercept him, before the bastard slips away again!”

He knew, distantly, he was being irrational. Something about Shanks always set it off in him. The entire reason he’d gone off at Luffy to begin with was because of that damned straw hat of Shanks’. 

Crocodile's hook pierced through Buggy's leg, as his grip tightened on his shoulder. "Are you crazy, clown?"

"I'll just… leave you to it then," Galdino murmured, slipping out the door.

Buggy leaned his face nose to nose with Crocodile.

“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to give that red haired bastard a piece of my mind? He…he…” his hands shook, “he broke my heart, Croccy!” 

Crocodile stared at him with incredulous annoyance that slowly melted away into exhaustion, and maybe a trace of sympathy. He let go of Buggy's shoulder and grabbed the bottle of rye from beside his chair, taking a long pull before putting it to Buggy's lips.

"Yeah. You've mentioned," he grumbled. ".... we're gonna have to go find Mihawk."

Buggy grabbed the bottle, and tilted it back in several long swigs. 

“Yeahhh….oh he’s not gonna be happy either, is he?” 

"Yeah, he sure fucking ain't." Croc shook his head. "How the hell did I end up with both of Shank's fucking exes?"

Buggy took another long swig of rye before he leaned in to kiss Crocodile’s lips. “I think that says a LOT about you and your taste in men, Croccy.” 

Crocodile kissed him back, before grumbling. "Well, I fucking hate that. Alright, let's go find Hawkie and give him the bad news."

Buggy laughed, leaning back enough to look him in the eyes. Despite the big smile on his face, he was reeling.

Shanks. Fucking Shanks. Red Haired Shanks the Emperor…the dopey cabin boy from when he was a wide-eyed idealistic brat himself. A boyfriend, a confidant…at least before he changed.

His fingers tightened on the bottle. He was going to need a lot more to drink if he was going to deal with him today.

Chapter Text

With the aid of his spyglass combined with his observation haki he could keep watch on someone from quite a distance away. Could watch them far before they knew he was there.

Red Haired Shanks stood perched on the rail of his ship, glass in hand, watching the crew of the Thousand Sunny make ready to depart Wano.

Now was the time. After what he'd seen the kid do in the fight against Kaidou— the white haired deity that had flickered to life from his devil fruit's power— now was the time to tell him the truth about the fruit. About his destiny. About what Roger had said.

Now was the time to challenge him, and see what he could really do.

Shanks tried to smile, but something gnawed in the pit of his stomach.

He should be happy.

Everything had been leading to this moment. Everything since those whispered words from his captain long ago. Ever since years ago when Luffy had claimed what should have been—

Since Luffy had claimed his destiny.

Shanks should be happy.

Shanks shouted the order to make ready to sail. They'd follow the Sunny at a distance until they were a day out from Wano and then make themselves known.

It was good enough that Luffy would be happy. That so many other people would be happy. He was sure that Roger was smiling somewhere, still.

He had to be sure of it.

Mihawk sat on the deck of the ship, carefully cleaning Yoru with a reverent and practiced hand. Under the broad parasol he’d insisted they install, he watched the sea beyond them as his fingers and his cloth trailed over Yoru’s shining black blade.

“Daz. Do you think the tea is steeped?”

The blood of the marines who hadn’t yielded was still fresh in his mind, the thrill of the short but interesting battle and its resolution of a whole cadre of new crew and executives for their little organization still buzzing distantly behind his sharp and canny eyes.

Cross Guild had devoured two of the Navy’s finest. Welcomed them, and their powerful underlings, into the fold. It was a victory; and now they moved on to the next step in their plan to whittle the Marine’s strength to nothing.

"Should be," Daz nodded as he eyeballed the teacup steeping on the tray.

“Thank you,” he glanced back at him with a subtle smile as he held his blade up to the light. Bergamot tea, steeped strong— he trusted Daz to make it correctly. “What do you think of our new friends, the former Marines.” 

Daz was the man that Crocodile had brought from his adventures in Alabasta. Mihawk's own man, Wallace, was with Perona, currently.

"As long as they don't stick a knife in our backs, I think they'll be great." Daz handed him the cup of tea. From the smell of it, he'd gotten it just right.

MIhawk took a deep breath, inhaling the fragrance before taking a long sip. Yes, it was perfect. “They seem to have impressed Crocodile…and he is not a man who trusts easy.” 

"Sure isn't," Daz agreed. Mihawk knew that he was well aware. Apparently, Daz had been working officially for Sir Crocodile and Rain Dinners for quite some time, while working unofficially for "Mr. Zero" and Baroque Works without knowing that the two were one and the same. And yet, he'd followed him even afterward. Through the depths even of Impel Down.

“He seems to have put quite a bit into that crew— I’m not a trusting man, myself… but if he trusts them I will endeavor to do the same.” 

Daz nodded. "Spent some time with a couple of 'em last night. They seem alright. I hope it won't kick the captain in the teeth."

Mihawk looked up at him with a thin smile. “If it does, I’ll simply have to hang their heads from the prow. But let us hope it’s as good as it seems.

He liked Daz. It was a comfort and a relief to know that Crocodile had had someone looking out for him in the years when they couldn’t meet under the watchful eye of the World Government.

Once, and once again in a way, he had been Crocodile’s right hand. His first mate and swordsman. He and Daz were still settling out exactly what that meant for the two of them– Daz having occupied the spot that he had vacated for so long– but it didn't seem to be a real problem.

"If you need a hand with that, let me know."

MIhawk chuckled as he sipped his tea again. “I might need a hand with it, should push come to shove. I–” 

"Hawkie!" Crocodile snapped sharply as he stomped up from below deck. He was dragging Buggy with him, a bottle of alcohol in the clown's hands. Mihawk could already tell something was up. He leaned over the back of his chair, teacup by his side and Yoru over his lap. His keen eyes scanned the bottle of alcohol as his lips drew into a tense frown.

“Crocodile. Bad news? Have the marine recruits betrayed us?” 

"Nothing as simple as that," Crocodile growled around his cigar. "Got a report, didn't we, Bug?"

Daz shot an apprehensive glance toward Mihawk, clearly picking up on the same 'bad news' feeling that he was.

Buggy slid over grinning a smile that wasn’t at all reassuring as he wiggled the booze bottle his way. 

“How about we have a drink, huh? The boys said they saw uh… they saw a ship off the coast of Wano.”

Mihawk raised his eyebrow at him with a low hum. “And…?”

Crocodile put his arm around Mihawk's shoulders. "And it's Shank's ship, Hawkie."

Mihawk’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

Red Haired Shanks. The two of them had a long and storied history. Meeting during a grand adventure, becoming rivals— the clash of wills and sword that reverberated around the world— and Shank’s injury bringing with it distance and the World Government’s interference as Mihawk became a proper Warlord of the Sea.

“What brings him to Wano, I wonder.” He stood smoothly up from under Crocodile's arm, and lifted Yoru to place upon his shoulder, glowering at the island in the distance. “...bring us around to him. I’d like a duel.” 

"You're kidding me," Crocodile growled. "Now you wanna duel him? Hawk, I brought Buggy over for you to talk some fucking sense into. We can't roll up to Shanks with one god damn ship and a handful of hungover marines!"

“You think he’ll simply kill us then?” Mihawk glanced over his shoulder at Crocodile as Buggy laughed nervously and popped open the bottle to take a long sip. 

"Hell if I know! Man was always a wildcard, and look what he did to the two of you! All I hear about is him decimating crews all over the grand line; do you two think he wants to have a fucking nice little duel and a chat?"

Daz quietly walked over and put a hand on Croc's shoulder. "Easy there, captain."

“What if he wants to say he’s sorry to me?” Buggy asked with a sniff as he hugged the bottle to his chest. “He’s got a lot to make up for, that bastard!”

Mihawk huffed sharply, his arms crossed over his chest. “His legend has been growing, but it isn’t as if I have stopped my rise either. If you don’t want to face him, Crocodile…I can go on one of the lifeboats.” 

"Like hell you will!" Crocodile barked. "Like hell I'm letting you go off alone."

Daz raised his hand. "If I may?"

Buggy flopped against Crocodile again, his hand detaching and bringing the bottle to Mihawk.

He took it with a nod and had a long swig. “...I’m listening.” 

"Why don't we send a messenger and see if he wants to talk and or duel," Daz offered, scratching the back of his head. "It's not like that would be hard to do."

Crocodile grudgingly slipped his arm around Buggy, and did the same once more to Mihawk. He gave each of them a speculative look. "Well? Daz has a point."

Mihawk leaned against him with an affection most never picked up on, huffing a long sigh. “...it’s a good point, Daz. I suppose it would come across as less of an act of war that way.”

Buggy poked his fingers together. “...can I write the letter?” 

"Not without a second pair of eyes on it, Bug," Crocodile grumbled. "But with approval– yes."

Buggy looped an arm around him with a wide grin. “I promise Croccy. You’re not gonna regret this!”

Mihawk wasn’t so sure, but as he stared out at Wano with narrowing eyes he knew something for certain.

He rested his shoulder against Crocodile’s, jaw set as he reckoned it.

It was long past due to face the ghosts of the past. 

Buggy’s feet were pacing the floor. Back and forth and back and forth as the rest of his body hovered around the cabin while chewing on the ends of his gloves.

They’d done it. The heavily edited letter had been sent to Shanks’ ship— the deed was done and the offer to meet was sent. 

He was terrified. He hadn’t spoken to Shanks in years and years; he’d only seen him rarely too, like the time he’d spotted him in Marineford during that massive war.

But Shanks— like he’d always been ever since he left— was far too important to notice Buggy back. 

Buggy's brooding thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. "Captain?"

The voice, and mode of address were immediately familiar.

“Gah!!” Buggy whipped around with a big grin. “Cabaji! My main man! Come in, come in!” 

When Cabaji slipped into the room, shutting the door quickly behind him, Buggy could already tell he knew something was up. There would certainly be rumors around the ship already about Shanks being sighted, and Cabaji was one of the few people who'd know that that held a significance for Buggy— even if he didn't know exactly what it was.

Cabaji nodded to him. "I heard a little rumor going around."

“Is it about fucking Red Haired Shanks?” Buggy’s lips twitched. “...because we just sent a letter to him. Mihawk wants to challenge him to a duel, I guess.” 

He whistled, giving Buggy a dubious look. "Mihawk's going to duel him? What about you?"

Buggy grimaced. “...I’m gonna give him a damn piece of my mind. Probably from the ship, and through an amplification snail.” 

"That's it?" Cabaji looked confused. Maybe it was because of the way Buggy had always talked about Shanks— when he talked about him at all, when he was drunk— like Buggy had been dead set on murdering him to death. "You're sure you don't want to get to him before Mihawk does?"

Buggy grit his teeth, one of his feet kicking a ball off to the side where it ricocheted off the wall.

"It's complicated, Cabaji! I REALLY wanna get down there and show him just how much I’ve grown. I wanna show him the FULL power of Buggy the Clown! But Mihawk’s got his mind set.”

Cabaji put his hands on his hips. "So Hawk and Croc are running roughshod over you again, Captain? What makes Mihawk's grievance more important than yours? Anyway, if Shanks is such a bigshot— shouldn't the two of you put him down together?"

He was losing Cabaji’s faith, he knew it. He half dropped into the sofa of his cabin as his feet ran to catch up, his brow knit.

How the hell was he supposed to explain the complicated bullshit that seemed to inundate his relationship with Shanks? Mihawk was pissed off at Shanks for, admittedly similar reasons, it seemed. 

Heartbreak. Heartbreak when someone they were close to started drifting away because of some grand responsibility or power trip. The worst part was Buggy didn’t even know WHAT bug Shanks had gotten up his ass. One day, one conversation with Roger and he was suddenly not the man he’d grown up with.

“It’s not ...they ain’t running roughshod on me, Cabaji! They’re…it’s complicated, dammit! I don’t wanna kill the guy YET. I wanna talk to him first. He’s got some things to answer for and he ain’t answering from the bottom of a grave!”

That seemed to cut through Cabaji's dubious look-– but it was replaced by another, even more conflicted expression. The acrobat leaned in closer to him, until they were shoulder to shoulder. He put his hand on his back. Usually; not always, but usually, Cabaji waited for Buggy to touch him first, like he was waiting for permission.

"Captain, can I— can I ask you a personal question? I've kinda wondered for a long time now…"

Buggy sighed low, under his breath, and looped his arm around Cabaji with a shake of his head. “I think I know what’s comin’...I’m listening.” 

Cabaji rubbed his jaw, leaning heavily on his captain. After a moment of silence he finally asked. "Were you and Shanks like… together? Is he an ex?"

“Ghhhhhhhhh.” Buggy’s shoulders sagged under his arms. “Yeah, he’s an ex. He and I …we were real close on Roger’s ship. For a long fuckin’ time too.” 

Cabaji wrapped his arm more tightly around him and pulled him closer. "Well shit. No wonder its so fucking complicated. Okay that's… I can see why you maybe wouldn't jump right to killing him. Is Mihawk going to kill him? Do we need to rein that in?"

Buggy groaned. “I’m pretty sure they’re exes too… I think he just wants to beat him to prove he’s stronger or some shit. You know Mihawk…a hell of a guy, but he tends to conflate mortal peril and romance.” 

"That… tracks. I mean, he's not wrong about that, " Cabaji murmured. Then he got indignant on Buggy's behalf again. "But hey! Hey, my question stands! Why does he get the first crack at him if he's an ex, too?"

“I mean, probably because he’s got a big fuckoff sword and jumps to use it at a moment's notice!” Buggy threw his hands up. “But you know what? You’re right! I’m gonna take the first crack. Damn the consequences!” 

"Hell yes, captain!" Cabaji grinned widely. "You know I'll back you up no matter what."

It was a big offer, when you thought about it. There were worlds of power level between Cabaji and Shanks or Mihawk. But he was still ready to jump into the frey.

“Cabaji…” Buggy grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him into a half hug. “Dunno what I did to get a guy half as loyal as you. I’m gettin’ you that devil fruit…gonna have Doflamingo hunt for it right away…you really are my best man. ...when we face down Shanks…I know you’re gonna have my back.”

Cabaji squeezed him back, the conflicted and dubious look that had plagued his features since he'd entered gone completely now. "Damn right, Captain. You'll always have me."

Buggy was damn lucky. Damn lucky that the crazy fucking acrobat from the East Blue had followed him all the way into hell.

He wouldn’t have it any other way

It had been almost a full day since their messenger had gone to Shanks, and had yet to return. Mihawk had been practicing with Yoru. His blade sang with each swing, decapitating dummies with ease as he danced around the ship’s deck with his intense and glowering stare.

If Shanks answered— if Shanks wanted that duel he’d long denied the man— then Mihawk was going to ensure he walked away victorious. He almost didn’t notice as Crocodile came out from below deck, his eyes narrowed in on a dummy in a hat. 

Crocodile stood and watched for a moment, before he cleared his throat. "We got an answer, Hawk."

Yoru stabbed through the heart of the dummy as Mihawk turned his gaze to Crocodile with a sharp grin across his face. "Has he accepted?" 

"You're gonna want to see for yourself." Crocodile smiled back at him, but it was a more careful smile than Mihawk usually saw written on him, as if he was still judging the situation. He held a folded scrap of paper out to him.

Mihawk reached out and grabbed the paper with a thankful nod, before looking it over with his mouth set in a frown.

It’d been so long. The world government and Shanks’ own piratical rise had caused the rift between them— the strange shift in his personality after the loss of his arm had sealed it. He’d forsaken the man as his rival during his spiral into depression and isolation. Part of him hadn't expected anything back at all. 

But there was the message, plain as day. 

Shanks had accepted the duel.

With a caveat.

"See what I mean?" Crocodile said, puffing on his cigar.

According to Shanks' note he was in the middle of some kind of 'important engagement' and would meet for the duel at Queen Ellery Island after that business was concluded.

"Queen Ellery Island…" Mihawk’s eyes narrowed. "...I know that island. So he wants to duel there in three days, does he? Where might he be heading now?" 

Queen Ellery was an autumn isle— like his own home for so long— in the nearby cluster. A dark little metropolis constantly covered in twilit clouds. A haven for crime and vice.

"Good question," Crocodile grumbled. He blew out a long puff of smoke and offered his cigar to Mihawk. "According to our intel, it looks like he might be toward Ellery already. Off in that direction, at least."

MIhawk took his cigar, and took a long intake of smoke to calm himself. Despite the placid expression, some well of emotion was bubbling inside him. Tension…desire…excitement, even distress over the wasted time.

"He used to be my rival." 

Crocodile closed the distance between them, looping his good arm around his shoulders, and squeezing him. 

"Wasn't even all that long ago, all things considered. I remember you two used to duke it out every time we crossed paths."

Mihawk nodded. "I used to think his blade would remain ever sharp, keen enough to help my rise to even greater heights." He leaned against Crocodile with a frown. "...and then he started to change. I changed too."

Crocodile leaned his cheek on the top of Mihawk's hat. "We all changed, Hawk. Time does that. The shit we all went through does that."

Crocodile had been cut down, his dreams dashed to pieces on the floor against Whitebeard… Mihawk had reeled from the splash damage, his own faith in everything so shaken that he began to turn in on himself.

The World Government had erected walls with their offer of ‘Warlord’--- lines of invisible transgression that pushed him from even his former captain.

It was no surprise those walls drove Shanks further away.

"Life changed, that much is true." 

"Derailed all our lives for a long time," Crocodile murmured. "But, me and you, we're getting back at it, right? Maybe the ol' ginger's rethinking things, too."

Mihawk tilted his head. "Do you think so?" 

Shanks… Mihawk had seen the road he was headed down ever since their last parting. Ever more the Emperor, ever more closed into himself and his crew as they worked on who knew what strange purpose.

Ever further from them, on some quest only the scion to the Pirate King could understand. 

"Who knows?" Crocodile shook his head, and ran his thumb over the edge of Mihawk's jaw. "Maybe we'll find out when you duel him, eh? Get the two of you drunk after, and figure out just what the hell has been going on."

Mihawk nuzzled his hand with a flush. "I’ve been wondering… I’ve been wanting to learn just what mission’s seized him so strongly to the exclusion of all else. It all happened when he returned without his arm."

"I've been wondering that too," Crocodile grumbled. He tugged Mihawk over to the bench in the corner of the room-– away from the destroyed dummies-– and sat them down. "He was always distant, and weird. But kinda fun, yeah? After that he seemed to lose his sense of fun."

MIhawk slid over with him with a low sigh, nodding his head before he sat against Crocodile with a nod.

"Yes. After that, he’d lost his sense of fun, and it seemed….something inside him. His freedom perhaps? His drive?" 

"Can't say I'm any better," Crocodile grumbled. "Wonder what it was that finally threw Shanks over the edge though. You ever find out how he lost the arm?"

Mihawk shook his head. "Only that he went back to some island he’d been spending time around, and came back a different man." 

"Must be a hell of a story." He shook his head. "I assume you want me to lay a course for Ellery? Or have you decided you'd rather blow him off."

Mihawk smiled grimly. "....Turnabout may be fair play, but I won’t forgive myself for letting this chance slip by. Set the course, darling. He has much to answer for." 

"Hey, Bug, guess what?" Crocodile asked, putting his arm around Buggy's shoulders as he snuck up on him from behind. How the hell did a man that big walk so silently?

Buggy jolted, falling against him as his skin prickled in surprise. "Maybe wear a bell, Croccy! You’re gonna give me a heart attack!"

He spun around to look at him. He’d been busy. Very busy. 

Very busy pacing around the ship like he was trying to set it on fire with the friction of his feet.

Just like normal. He was fine.

Super fine. 

Of course Crocodile just laughed at him, as usual.

"We're meeting Shanks on Queen Ellery. Should be about five days from now."

Buggy’s eyes bugged from his head. "He’s goin’ to Queen Ellery? We’re really gonna go see him??" 

"Yep." Crocodile nodded, thumping his hook against the back of Buggy's shoulder. "He agreed to duel Hawk."

Buggy vibrated against him, his eyes going wide. He’d agreed to duel Mihawk…Shanks. Mr. ‘I can’t even bother to notice my ex-boyfriends at Marineford, I’m too big and important and better than you’ Shanks…

Was going to duel Mihawk. In five days. On fucking Queen Ellery.

"Did he say anythin’ about me…?" he asked in a quieter voice than he intended. 

"He said he's 'looking forward to a chat', yeah," Crocodile nodded.

"Wait…he really said he was lookin’ forward to it?" Buggy grabbed his shoulders with a wide grin, even as his main body half turned under Crocodile’s arms. "HAH…figured that after years and years of being Buggy-less he’d..he’d miss me!"

Sure. Buggy had been the one who left. He’d been the one who never reached out…

But Shanks had changed. 

There was something about him that had shifted after that conversation with Roger. Like all the plans they’d made as kids didn’t matter anymore, and all the dreams they’d bonded over were nothing but something to grow up from. 

"You need a drink about it?" Crocodile asked, staring him down as Buggy gripped his shoulders..

"Yeah… I kinda hate how fired and …" (desperate) "--worked up I get about this. You’d think I’d…I dunno…forget. After a while." 

"But it still feels like a fresh wound, eh?" Crocodile shook his head. "C'mon, Bug. Let's head back to quarters, I'll get you good and wasted and you can tell me for the 10th time how he broke your heart."

Buggy huffed as he looped his arm around Crocodile. 

"sounds like a date, Croccy…" He paused for a moment before he whispered. "You think he’s gonna be happy to see me?" 

"Bug, if he makes you and Hawky any more miserable, I'm gonna fucking end him myself," Crocodile growled boldly. "Emperor or fucking not."

Buggy felt himself flush hotly, before he clambered onto Crocodile, arms looped around his shoulders and his body pressed against his back. 

"Awww, Croccy you’re too good to us!" He kissed the top of his head. "You’re the best warlord a guy can ask for." 

Three days from the message. Three days of increasing restlessness as they ticked down the moments towards their meeting with Red Haired Shanks on Queen Ellery Island. Buggy was practically chewing through his gloves as he watched the distant horizon where the sun was slowly vanishing. 

He’d distracted himself. He’d worked out some last minute shit with the boys, worked on routines, calls, everything he had to do for Cross Guild with the fervor of a man trying not to think about something fast approaching. 

There was very little to distract him right at the moment. Alone with the sea, the warm ruby glow of the sunset, and his thoughts.

He brushed his long blue hair over his ear with a quiet sigh and an attempt at a smile. He’d lay into him. He’d really tell him how he felt the last handful of years. And then maybe things would work out.

Maybe he’d even say sorry for whatever the hell had changed between them. 

He was contemplating all the possibilities when something started to nag at him. The clear water reflecting the ruby sky suddenly wasn't clear, but littered with large chunks of debris.

"Uhhhh…" He half leaned over the bannister of the ship, staring down at the water with a frown. "Guys!? Croc? Mihawk? Cabaji? Anyone?? Looks…looks like there’s some trouble around here. Shanks mighta gone to town on someone." 

"Huh? What's up, ca–" Cabaji came running over from across the deck, looking over to see the wreckage too. He whistled. "Damn, that's definitely a whole ship."

As Buggy followed his gaze westward toward the sun on the horizon, he saw the trail of debris become thicker, and a dark plume of smoke cloud the sky. A particularly large piece of hull nagged at the back of his mind.

Did he recognize that ship?

It took a longer moment of squinting at it to realize exactly how he did recognize it

"You’re kiddin’ me…there’s no fuckin’ way." He was breathless. "...that’s Red Haired Shanks’ ship. That bow, that flag…" 

"What?" Cabaji sounded completely incredulous. "No way, you're kidding?"

That was when Buggy spotted it.

Some poor soul collapsed crossways over a piece of flotsam hull barely the size of a door.

Buggy hissed through his teeth 

"Cabaji! Get the boys who don’t got devil fruits and fish that poor bastard outta the drink!" He leapt up on the bannister, grabbing some rigging to peer down at him. "It might be onna Shanks’ boys. We can hear about what the hell went down from him!"

Cabaji had already started moving before Buggy had finished, grabbing rigging from the deck, and holding onto it as he hurled himself straight into the water, and headed for the unlucky man who'd wound up in the drink.

As his gaze followed the acrobat the man on the wreckage drifted in the tide, bringing him around to a better angle for Buggy to see his bright, red hair.

It was Shanks.

Buggy hissed through his teeth, his eyes wide and panicked as he could only wait for Cabaji to arrive back on deck. He was no use in the sea.

"Shanks…what the hell happened to ya…what did you even need to DO?" 

Chapter Text

Practically the whole crew had been gathered on deck by the time Cabaji got to Shanks, and Buggy towed them back up out of the jaws of the sea. 

Mihawk had hurried up on deck with Crocodile when they both heard shouting, but he hadn't expected the scene in front of him.

Mihawk saw Shanks, his old rival and lover, soaked to the bone and collapsed against Buggy’s man as the clown hauled them by the rigging out of the sea with the help of his crew.

His eyes narrowed and darted to the sunken ship beyond. "...I never thought I’d see him in such a state." 

Crocodile slowly took the cigar out of his mouth, staring along with him. "What the damned hell happened? Is he alive?!"

"He's breathing!" Cabaji called.

"Thank fucking HELL." Buggy roared. "If he’d died, if he…ARGH!"

MIhawk walked towards the rope, grabbing it to help haul them the rest of the way. "...Red Haired Shanks would never simply allow his ship to be decimated like this. Something…quite serious happened."

"Everybody on high alert!" Crocodile growled. He started barking orders at the crew that faded into the background of Mihawk's consciousness while he helped Buggy pull the pair out of the water.

Cabaji came up over the rail with the unconscious man in his arms. Red Haired Shanks looked limp and fragile. It had been a long, long time since Mihawk had seen him in such a way, if ever.

Even after their legendary duel Shanks carried himself in a way that so rarely said ‘fragile’ . Even injured and bleeding…this was new.

He walked over, as Buggy put his hand nervously on Shanks’ back, and looked him over. "...he looks in no shape to fight." 

"Yeah, he looks like he just lost one," Cabaji agreed, still holding the man cradled in his arms. Shank's shirt was torn, and now that he was out of the water, it was clear that blood was soaking into it.

"Ssssss…" Buggy hissed softly through his teeth. "Shiiiit….shit shit shit! Someone grab the ship doctor! Hurry!"

Mihawk bent on one knee to get a better look at Shanks’ face as he lay limp and unconscious …and the wound across his chest. "....yes, he won’t be a danger to us in this state…" 

It was chaos on the ship. Every crewman was on alert for threats. Swimmers had been organized in boats to trawl the wreckage for other survivors. Shanks had been brought into the infirmary and laid out on the cot there, stripped and examined by their doctor, while Crocodile, Mihawk and Buggy hung back. There were cracked ribs, and some deep cuts that were being addressed.

Buggy leaned against Crocodile, feeling the sick turn in his stomach as he looked over the damage "someone really messed him up..I mean. I know Mihawk took him to task before but…"

"He usually left our fights about as damaged as me with that asinine little smile of his." Mihawk answered. 

"Yeah," Croc grumbled. "Well, Hawk, you weren't actually trying to fuckin' kill him. Whoever did this? They were."

Buggy twisted his glove in his hands. "But who the hell is crazy enough to go after an Emperor and WIN? Aside from fuckin’ Straw Hat Luffy, I mean." 

Crocodile's gaze lingered on Shanks' wounds. "Straw Hat doesn't use a blade."

Buggy nodded. "I KNOW that, intimately. Thanks!" The memories of the countless punches the manic little terror inflicted in the last three years.

Mihawk tilted his head. "And I doubt Zoro would do this without good reason, or a direct order." 

"Kaidou?" Crocodile suggested. "Their ship left headed the other direction, but if they doubled back, or pulled some trick…"

"The man didn’t exactly have an armada anymore, I’ve heard." Mihawk mused with a shake of his head.

Buggy shifted , rubbing his hands together with another low hiss. "This was not how I expected this to go AT ALL." 

"Nobody fucking did," Crocodile growled. "That's three emperors blown out of the damned water inside a week. If you two can manage without me for a few minutes, I'm gonna go see if I can raise Doflamingo's ship on the transponder and see if his surveillance team has anything."

"Please…" Buggy said breathlessly as his hand floated over to lightly poke one of the few non-wounded places on Shanks’ body— the top of his head. "Seriously, this is …Guh…" 

Crocodile squeezed Buggy's shoulder. 

"I get it, Bug." He pressed a kiss to Buggy's cheek and did the same to Mihawk. Crocodile was often like this, surprisingly tender in moments of worry. "I'll be back."

He left the two of them in the room with Shanks and the doctor, who didn't seem too pleased with Buggy prodding the patient, but certainly wasn't going to say anything about it.

He’d never seen him so weak and battered. Not even when they were kids. It hurt to see him banged up this badly, taking him back to one of their misadventures. The worst that’d happened was a bad gash on Shanks’ arm after they got into a fight they struggled to handle, but…

Nothing like this.

"He ever look this bad after your fights?" Buggy asked. "You said never, right? I…I've been phasin’ in and out."

"Rarely this bad. Always standing." Mihawk murmured. "Whoever is behind this is a dangerous man indeed…"

That was when Shanks groaned, and shifted uncomfortably in the cot— the first sound out of him since Cabaji had pulled him out of the water.

Buggy jolted back, latching onto Mihawk with a hiss of breath. "Aw fuck he’s wakin’ up! Hawky! Knock him out again!"

"No." 

The doctor looked over at them. 

"Ah, it might be a good idea to give the patient some space?" he offered timidly. Frankly, it sounded half way like he was hoping they'd ask him to leave the room instead.

"Shut up or I’ll pin you to a flagpole!" Buggy pointed his finger at the doctor. It wasn’t one of his guys… or rather, not one of his direct crew. But even so, they all looked up to him, right? He quickly added, "buddy ol’ pal! Just a joke! But I’m stayin’!"

Mihawk sighed with a shrug. "I would like him to see us when he wakes up." 

The doctor nodded, cringing obsequiously to Buggy. "Would you like me to try to bring him around, now?"

"Whenever you feel it’s safe." Mihawk assured. 

"He needs rest," the doctor considered, reaching for a bottle of something hesitantly. "But I suppose I might be able to offer better treatment if I knew what happened."

Buggy nodded, leaning forward to look Shanks over again. "Yeah…exactly. If we know what happened you can find like hidden injuries and shit." 

"Alright," the doctor nodded. "I'm going to wake him up. Try not to do anything to upset him when he wakes up, ah, please. Sirs."

"When have I ever upset anyone, huh?" Buggy huffed, "right Hawkie?"

"At least twice a week," Mihawk murmured, before grabbing Buggy by the back of the neck "don’t worry. I’ll corral him."

The doctor nodded again, and uncapped the bottle, waving it under Shanks' nose. Shanks groaned and squirmed, his eyelids fluttering open. The doctor put a hand on his shoulder carefully.

"Easy there. You're pretty heavily wounded."

"Where?" Shanks murmured, trying to sit up.

"You're on our ship, you fuckin' duuuuuhhharling—" Mihawk squeezed the back of Buggy's neck halfway through his sentence, the end of it rapidly changing as he squirmed in his grip.

"Good morning, Red Haired Shanks." Mihawk intoned darkly.

The doctor had been trying to keep him down, but when Shanks heard Buggy and Mihawk he sat up quickly– too quickly– clutching his head as an obvious dizzy spell took him.

"My crew– where?"

"Dunno," Buggy crossed his arms. "Look, uh, when we found you things had already gone to shit, Shanks. I'm not gonna answer that until I'm sure you're not gonna pass out over it."

Shanks' eyes seemed to be having trouble focusing as he stared at them. He put his hand to his head. "Great. I… I was in the water, wasn't I?"

"That you were, Shanks" Mihawk tilted his head. "...and who put you there?" 

Shanks touched the old scar over his eye and scowled. "Teach."

Buggy mouthed the name, before he sputtered out. "B-Blackbeard? That shitty upstart? The bastard from the Summit War???"

Mihawk's eyes narrowed. "Ah. The man who took Whitebeard's Devil Fruit and somehow survived eating two. We had word he was in this area…" 

"The same," Shanks said. There was anger in his voice— but very little fire. It was almost strange how hollow he sounded. His unfocused eyes stared at the wall for a moment, and then he laid back down on the cot.

"Eugh…." Buggy grimaced. That lack of fire… that… void there. It was either the blow to his fucking head or something worse. Something that died in the dismantling of that ship, maybe.

"I knew he was going to be trouble the moment he arrived on the scene…" Mihawk mused. "But I never thought he'd beat Red Haired Shanks."

"Hah." The single syllable rang just as hollow in Shanks' throat. "I need a drink."

The doctor fussed over him. "Absolutely not. Ah, sir, I think you have a concussion."

"Does that mean a drink would kill me?" Shanks asked.

"Ah, possibly, yes," the doctor murmured, pushing his fingers together and looking worriedly at his patient.

"I need a drink," Shanks repeated.

Buggy took a few steps forward, looming over the cot with a cross of his arms. "Shanks. Lookit me." 

Shanks barely turned his head. "Hi, Buggy. Long time no see."

Buggy's lips twitched. It'd been years… years… and years since they'd even seen one another. The man had a concussion, Buggy couldn't hold it against him if that was all his addled mind could think to say.

'Long time no see'.

But still. 

Was he selfish for hoping for a little more than something you'd give a half-remembered acquaintance or a drinking buddy you hardly knew the life of?

"Yeah. It's been a fucking while. What the hell happened to you?"

"Oh, nothing much," Shanks said conversationally, staring at the ceiling. "Luffy hates me. He beat me in combat and sent me packing. My life's mission turned out to be complete shit and then when I was sulking about that, Teach wrecked my ship. Mihawk, I see you standing there, will you get me a drink?"

"If you're that eager for an ignoble death in a cot, then far be it from me not to humor you. Doctor? Get this man a drink." Mihawk snapped his fingers.

"....." Buggy pointed his finger at Shanks. "Luffy hates you. That kid who never shut up about how you were his fucking hero. The kid wearing your fucking hat. That kid. He hates you?" 

"Yep." That was all Shanks said. Just 'yep'.

The doctor squirmed. "Ah, Mihawk, sir, I can't just let a patient poison himself…"

"He's done a good job of it himself already," Mihawk glanced down at him. "Shanks. The Doctor doesn't want you to die."

Buggy's eye was twitching, his lips pulled tight in his wide smile as he hissed a breath through his teeth. "Yep." 

It was happening all over again, the leadup to their big fight. That look on his face when he gave up on everything they'd stood for and headed for some 'life's mission' with only a cursory offer for Buggy to be his hanger on. Only this time it was worse.

At least then he still had a dream, now he was just…

"Cool. Good to know, cute kid…very violent." he clapped his hands together. "What's this about that mission of yours?" 

"Don't worry about it," Shanks said. "It was pointless anyway. Your doctor sucks."

Mihawk barked a sharp laugh. "He's doing his best with what he's got, Shanks. A doctor's only as good as his patient."

Buggy's hands shot out and grabbed Shanks' shoulders, his eyes wide and his smile wider "Shaaaanksssss…." he said slowly, his voice lilting in a way he KNEW happened when he got particularly annoyed. "I'm going to shake you."

"You could kill him like that," Mihawk added, his arms crossing over his bare chest.

"You hear that, Buggy? You could kill me like that." Shanks grinned the same miserable, grimacing grin at him. His body was limp and covered in bandages and he really looked like maybe he wanted to die. "You could tell everybody you killed Shanks."

"It's tempting at the moment," Buggy hissed down at him. "It's real tempting. But I don't wanna add another pointless tragedy to this damn mess."

HIs fingers tightened harder against his shoulders. his voice shook. "b-besides…" "I..wouldn't…I mean.."

"Buggy," Mihawk stepped over and put a hand on his shoulder.

"No , Hawky, I gotta …" Buggy sniffed. He'd miss Shanks. He'd been missing him for years now, always too bitter and angry to reach out. So why now, when he finally got the balls to reach out and have it out with the guy to maybe fix something for once. "Shanks. I know you're feelin' like shit right now. But trying to get your ex-boyfriend to put you outta your misery is… it fuckin' sucks." 

Shanks met his gaze for the first time, and held it, barely. Dazedly. "Just thought it might be romantic. Hah. No… fuck, sorry," he murmured, looking away again. "You're right."

"There's nothing romantic about making me kill you, moron," Buggy huffed sharply "Even Mihawk would rather give you a proper death in a duel or some shit."

"He's not wrong," Mihawk nodded slowly. "You've fallen from grace, but you're still a warrior."

"See that?" Buggy lightly shook his shoulders, thumping him against the cot. "So don't pull that shit with us, got it?" 

Shanks winced at the shaking, light as it was. "Guh… after all this time. After finding me like this? You two have any kind of respect for me left? I guess you both are crazy."

Shanks's voice was full of regret and something else. 

Shame.

Shanks sounded ashamed of himself.

"Perhaps it's nostalgia. Or perhaps it's an understanding that we are all one bad day from losing everything. Or maybe it's simply madness." Mihawk shrugged his shoulders.

Buggy snorted softly, looking down into his eyes. "Sounds like things really went to shit, Shanksy. I don't care what it is, we were crewmates once. You're still some of that guy I grew up with. I ain't gonna just let you drown. Even if I am still pissed off!" 

Shanks almost laughed. "And here I almost believed you when you said we'd be enemies. Guess all it took to change that was losing everything."

After that there was another awkward silence, before Crocodile thumped on the door.

"Get out here, you two. We need to talk."

The only person in the room who looked relieved was the doctor.

Crocodile dragged Buggy and Mihawk to the captains' quarters and lit a fresh cigar— offering them around— before he said anything.

Mihawk gratefully accepted one, though Buggy seemed to be keen to share his. The air was heavy with things unsaid, Buggy seemed to have a surprisingly grave expression on his face. 

Crocodile had been expecting the encounter with Shanks to be fucking dire, but he hadn't expected this. Shanks was an emperor. He'd turned himself into a legend in the last couple of decades while the three of them had sulked through failure after failure. Crocodile had expected the problem to be that Shanks was a cocky, arrogant and self-assured bastard who was "too good" for Croc's guys.

Coming across him at this— what had to be the man's lowest point— had thrown everything into chaos. It showed on Buggy's face— even on Mihawk's. The two of them were lost at sea with this encounter.

Crocodile wished he had better answers as he puffed on his cigar. "So Doffy's crew gave us an update. Blackbeard's on his way toward Winner Island right now. And according to his crew's chatter, he's definitely the one who blasted Shank's ship."

Croc had always had mixed feelings–intense feelings, but mixed– about Doflamingo. But he couldn't deny that his people were a hell of an asset to Cross Guild in terms of surveillance if nothing else.

"Apropos fucking island for him to go to," Buggy muttered darkly as he reached for Mihawk's cigar, who passed it to him with a low sigh.

"Blackbeard…to think the wretch was able to bring even Shanks low." Mihawk murmured.

"Yeah," Crocodile growled. "To say I'm not thrilled is an understatement. Another fucking poisonous legacy of the Moby Dick. Doffy turned course to follow at a distance-– against my recommendation."

Teach hadn't joined Whitebeard's crew until Crocodile had been long quit of his father's tyrannical crew. It was maddening— and apropos— that the old man who had had no faith in Crocodile was a bad enough judge of character to cause this… mess.

Buggy hissed through his teeth. 

"...Doffy'd better be careful. I like the guy, the last thing I want is him gettin' sunk too. Not after…yeah." He shifted against the sofa , his eyes flicking down. "I remember seein' him at Marineford." 

"I'd guess we all remember," Crocodile murmured, leaning back in his chair. He blew a breath of smoke out, and looked at Buggy and Mihawk. "So how's Shanks? Doc think he's gonna pull through?"

"He was ready to chase us out of the room once he got his wits together," Mihawk snorted. "But he thinks he shall pull through, just barely."

Buggy's brow furrowed. He puffed at the cigar. "It…wasn't supposed to go like this. Not one bit." 

"It sure fucking wasn't," Crocodile grumbled. Somehow the whole thing made him even more pissed off at Shanks. How dare Red Hair disappoint Buggy and Mihawk like this? He scoffed. "Doubt you're gonna get that duel any time soon, Hawk."

"Tch…" Mihawk's eyes closed as he took the cigar back from Buggy. "I doubt it. The fire's been snuffed out inside him. I've never seen him so… desperate to give up."

Buggy's teeth grit together, and his eyes darted up to Crocodile. "He tried to get me to kill 'im!"

Crocodile puffed his cigar thoughtfully. 

So Shanks had lost everything. So he was suicidal and ready to give up. Just lay down and let the consequences eat him.

Right where Crocodile had been two years ago after Alabasta.

"Alright. So what do you two want to do about him? Do we dump him in the sea? Throw him in the brig?" He let the question hang in the air and watched their reactions.

Buggy winced, visibly curling into himself. "We ain't dumping him in the fuckin' sea! I barely got him to talk to me…I ain't gonna let him die."

"He's not going to be dangerous, either…" Mihawk put his hand on his chin. He seemed distracted, lost in his own head. 

That was about the reaction Crocodile expected from both of them. 

He took another long puff of his cigar, turning it in his fingers, letting the moment linger, as if he was thinking about it. As if he hadn't already made up his mind.

"So we're going to thump his shoulders, light his fire, and drag him kicking and screaming into Cross Guild, eh?"

Buggy crossed his arms with a snort. "Of course we are. And then I'll shake the bastard as soon as it won't kill 'im!" 

Crocodile nodded to Buggy and turned to Mihawk with a cock of his head. "Hawk? How about your thoughts?"

Mihawk frowned at him, cigar in his mouth. 

"I don't like seeing him like this....Shanks was many things, but this…" He looked down at his folded hands "I think we could re-light his fire, with effort." 

"So is he worth the effort?" Crocodile urged. "That's what I'm asking. I know you both had a thing for him, well, now we've got him in our lap. We can either rehabilitate him and bring him aboard or finally say 'good riddance to that' and move on with your lives."

Buggy seemed physically conflicted, arms crossed over his chest. "I've tried to move on for years, Croccy. I'm tired. It never works."

"How about you, Hawky?" Crocodile was pretty sure that he already knew the answer.

"I didn't cut the rope to dump him back into the ocean," He said, glancing up at Crocodile. "...I'd like to see if he manages his second chance." 

"Then it's decided," Crocodile nodded. As if there had ever been any real doubt. "We'll wine and dine your ex, and bring him back into the fold. The three of us got our second chances. I don't think we have another twenty years to wait around for him to take his."

Buggy's face lit up, even if he tried to smother the smile. "Good. We probably don't, the way he's goin'. So we'll seize the day NOW! He'll be a proper pirate whether he likes it or not!"

Crocodile sat back, satisfied. "Good. I get the feeling it ain't gonna be easy, so you boys better prepare yourselves. Maybe we oughta come up with a plan of attack."

Chapter Text

Two days. It was two days since Shanks washed up against their hull. Two days where he was in the infirmary healing while Buggy restlessly flitted about the ship.

They were going to drag him into the fold, finally ending that years long MISERABLE BULLSHIT he called 'his life's mission' and taking him into cross guild to give everything a second chance. To give THEM a second chance.

So he'd paced. He'd busied himself, he'd draped on Crocodile and bitched about the past and how long Shanks was taking to get on his feet (he knew it was irrational). He hit Cabaji up for drinks and absolutely didn't cry even a little.

He even made a transponder call to Doflamingo for relationship advice (a terrible decision in retrospect). Anything to fill the space and stop himself from overthinking every little thing between the rescue and their upcoming talk.

At some point, under Doffy's suggestion, he'd gotten it into his head to prepare a dinner as soon as he heard Shanks was going to be up and on his feet. 

Crocodile had, rather surprisingly, respected the idea, and suggested he use the captains' lounge for the meal. On the other hand he had sneered and suggested that he hoped that Buggy wasn't planning on doing the cooking himself.

Reluctantly, Buggy surrendered cooking to the more capable, and occupied himself instead with making sure the table was perfect. Candles, stolen silverware, a small placard that read 'welcome back you fucking bastard' to place on the plate….

Romantic little touches.

Shanks was pretty certain that there was only one day in his life that had been as miserable as his last week had been. The day he'd found out from Roger—

He pushed the thought away, not wanting to dwell on it even now. He'd spent the last two days in miserable convalescence in the belly of an unfamiliar ship, attended to by a doctor who seemed woefully intent on making sure that he survived.

Shanks wasn't keen on that at this point. Unfortunately his body wasn't cooperating with his plan of 'just lay there and die'. He could already feel his wounds healing, as they always did. He brushed his fingers over the bandages across his chest and wondered if Teach had given him another scar.

He was just laying there, contemplating the miserable path of his life for the last two decades– everything he'd done, everything he'd missed– on that inexorable path that had turned out to lead… right here. 

To devastation and loss and irrelevance.

He was going over all of it again when realized the doctor was speaking.

"Sorry, could you repeat that?"

"Ah, yes, sorry, Chairman Buggy wanted to have a word with you. A meal, actually. And you're well enough to do that."

Shanks stared at the ceiling. What if he just said no? Would Buggy insist? Would Buggy push him like he hadn't pushed Buggy?

"Oh," was all he ended up saying.

"I'll help you get to the room." The doctor didn't give Shanks an opportunity to say no, and he didn't make one for himself.

Half an hour later he was dressed. Shanks had no idea where they'd gotten the clothes for him from and didn't bother to ask, and the doctor led him through the ship to a small door. It was funny to think, Shanks could have probably laid everyone but a handful of people on the ship flat with a thought— or he could have three days ago, anyway— but why bother, even if he could? 

If he escaped, where would he go? What would be the point?

The doctor opened the door, and Shanks shuffled into the room. The door was immediately pulled closed behind him.

It was dark, lit only by the flickering flames from the center of the captain's lounge. They were set in candle holders around the meal like the setup for some dark ritual, illuminating a large chunk of meat ringed by a pentagram of side dishes and cutlery.

And on the other side of it, hands folded over his mouth as he leaned on the table on both elbows with the light flickering across his red-tinged nose and long-lashed eyes was Buggy the Clown, watching him with the kind of intensity he usually got from Hawk-eyes. 

Shanks just stood there and stared for a long moment. If it weren't for the meat already sitting at the center of the pentagram he'd assume that Buggy was planning to sacrifice him to some dark god, or something, because who the hell knew what this was– an attempt at intimidation? It might have almost worked– or at least been funny– if Shanks could summon up anything other than exhaustion and apathy.

"Hi, Buggy."

Buggy stood, hands slamming down on the table hard enough to rattle the candlesticks, and immediately a rather uncomfortably intense smile lit up his face.

"Shanks. You look fucking miserable." His hand popped free and floated along, grabbing a knife and wandering its way to the meat. "Have a seat, will ya?" 

"Thanks. I feel fucking miserable." He shuffled forward and plopped himself in the only available seat, opposite Buggy. Immediately he scanned the table for alcohol.

There was some wine, good wine even, but it was by Buggy's other hand as his fingers scrunched against the tablecloth.

He looked Shanks over for a moment before he said. "You feeling anything else?" 

"Thirsty?" he hazarded.

Buggy grabbed the bottle of wine and dropped it closer to himself with a thunk well out of reach of Shanks as his face steadily turned the same red as his nose.

"Yeah, I'm starting to get real thirsty too," he huffed, and tossed his ponytail over his shoulder. 

Shanks had no idea what to do with that, so he didn't really bother. He looked Buggy over. It had been a long, long time since he'd seen him outside of wanted posters and newspaper clippings.

"Want to pour us both a drink, then?"

"In a minute." 

Buggy had changed…somewhat. His hair was still long, silky and that striking blue. His eyes were bright, long lashed and framed by his theatrical stage makeup, and he'd grown out his beard into a bit of a scruff. Other than that, he'd gotten a little bigger while still retaining that limber litheness that spoke to his talents as an acrobatic fighter.

"It's been a long time, Red Haired Shanks." 

"Technically it's been two days." Shanks leaned on his hand, elbow on the table. It was an obnoxious thing to say. He knew it was an obnoxious thing to say. 

He still said it.

Buggy had sure gotten handsome in the last 20 years.

"Ghhhhh." Buggy grimaced sharply, crossing his arms for a moment with his hands busying themselves around cutting the beef between them. "Eat my ass, Shanks. You know what I meant!" 

Shanks laughed, but even he could hear that it was a wan and rough thing that escaped his throat. "Yeah yeah, I know. You didn't seem too keen on it when I said the same thing a couple days ago, though."

"I was in a state of shock!" Buggy snapped with a frown, dropping a slice of beef onto Shanks' plate. "It wasn't exactly how I expected seein' you again would go." 

"Admittedly, it wasn't how I thought it would go, either." Shanks watched the meat drop onto the plate, splattering juice around the rim. 

He didn't really have any concept of how he'd thought it would go. If he'd had some vision or idea, it was lost to the chaos of the last days.

Buggy dropped a piece on his own plate as his eyes bored into him. 

"I…" he hissed through his teeth. "missed you."

It sounded like he was on the edge of imploding from even forcing it out. 

Shanks glanced around the room significantly. "Is someone holding you at gunpoint? Blink twice if you're being threatened."

The knife was suddenly buried in the roasted beef between them with a splatter of juices, buried to the hilt as Buggy's lips twitched.

His eyes didn't blink. Not once, not twice. "I'm… trying… to be… I… ARGH!" 

Shanks stared blearily at the knife buried in the roast.

Buggy had missed him. That had to be a joke, right? Buggy had told him to fuck off, in no uncertain terms and Shanks had done that. Shanks had done that despite the pain it had caused him, in a time where he was already adrift and hurting.

Buggy hadn't wanted him to look back, and he didn't. He didn't for years. He had fucked off.

Buggy missed him?

"Did you really?" he asked, belatedly.

"Yeah!!! I fucking did!" Buggy's lips pursed. "Don't get me wrong…I was pissed! I AM pissed! But I fuckin' missed you, you moron! Do you know how often I've thought of you? Do you know how many times Crocodile's had to tell me I was being 'depressing' bringing you up?" 

"No, Buggy, I actually don't know. Because I haven't seen you in twenty years. Is this a recent kind of nostalgia, or?"

Shanks looked away from Buggy and at the bottle of wine that was taunting him instead. This might actually be the most depressing thing that had happened to him all week.

More depressing than Luffy rejecting his destiny, and rejecting him. More depressing than– it seemed likelier and likelier— losing his whole crew at Blackbeard's hands. The idea that Buggy had actually missed him. Had talked about him.

Would have wanted him to be there.

"No, it sure ain't new! Straw Hat Luffy? The minute I saw that hat on the kid's head I got so twisted up about it I accidentally made the guy an enemy! Every damn day I saw your name in the papers, mr. Emperor, I thought about you." His fingers tightened around the knife in the roast. "Why the HELL didn't you turn around? I bet you never thought of me even once while off on your 'glorious life's mission' or whatever." 

"Why didn't I turn around?" Shanks drawled painfully. "Did you? I respected you too much to try to change your mind after what you said to me, no matter how much it hurt. I figured you meant what you said."

Buggy's eye twitched. 

"I meant what I said, alright. I meant I didn't wanna be cabin boy to a man who'd lost every dream we ever shared, Shanks!" He pointed to him, and his eyes shimmered in the candlelight even as they glared down at him "We were supposed to make it to the end of the Grand Line together! To find Roger's treasure, weren't we? But you gave up on it, didn't you?"

"Cabin boy," Shanks huffed. "You have some weird ideas about my intentions, Buggy. You never even asked. You didn't ask what I was planning. You didn't ask what I wanted you with me for. You just left. Yes. I gave up. And you either assumed you knew why, or you didn't care."

Shanks felt a twinge in his heart through all the exhaustion, and the apathy. It was almost like anger, which was almost like regret.

He had given up on his dream all those years ago.

He wished he'd never set out on a new path. 

Maybe he should have just turned himself in with Roger.

Buggy grabbed the bottle of wine off the floor and gripped it tightly. He narrowed his eyes.

"I didn't care, did I? Sure, if that's what you really think. You told me everything I needed to know about what you were planning. Roger was dead, and you were giving up on seeing exactly the thing that he left behind for us. You were gonna be one of the greatest pirates of all time, Shanks! I respected that, but you …"

Buggy hiccuped something like a sob. "You changed. Ever since Roger came back from Laugh Tale. How the hell was I supposed to ask you anything when I know you wouldn't listen? You were dead set on whatever 'mission' you just washed up over. You didn't need me for that, I know you didn't." 

"You're right," Shanks said, a heavy weight of lead across his chest. "I didn't need you for it. Turns out, I didn't need me for it either. Turns out nobody needed it in the first place and I should have gone with my gut instinct and just given up back then and there."

He grimaced, forcing himself too late to stop the words that were pouring out of his mouth, already too late. He fixed his eyes on the bottle Buggy was holding. "Would you please pour us a glass of that, Buggy?"

"Only if you ask nicely," Buggy held it protectively to his chest. "Like when we were younger." 

Shanks sputtered, and tried to remember if Buggy was talking about something specific, or just being a pill as usual. 'Ask nicely'--- hadn't he just said 'please'?

As he met Buggy's eyes he saw his eyebrows raise. 

He couldn't possibly mean a kiss. Sure, there were a few times they shared a drink, and the petulant Buggy had demanded a kiss before he poured. But with all the time that passed, he probably just was being a pill.

Shanks stared at him incredulously. He couldn't possibly want that. After all this time? Right now? They'd just seen one another for the first time in 20 years. They were in the middle of an argument.

But wasn't that just classic Buggy? Making him decide right there and then.

And what was Shanks supposed to do about it? With the table in the way, he'd have to get up– or lean across the whole fucking table, candles and all.

"Like when we were younger." Shanks stalled for time. "You're serious?"

"I said it didn't I? Do I look like a fuckin' clown to you, Shanks?" 

"Well now you're just making this more confusing."

It really was just like when they were kids. More than two decades later and somehow the second they're in the same room again, like nothing had ever happened.

Everything had fucking happened.

Shanks stood up.

Buggy kept the bottle held to his chest, watching him with those bright and staring eyes of his. That was something that had never changed about him…his eyes. The same bright, long lashed intense stare. They were as alluring— and frustrating as they'd ever been.

Shanks envied Buggy. All these years and he'd still kept his innocence. That was why Shanks had never said why he lost his dream. He didn't want to crush that for him.

With two long strides, he closed the distance between them, and grabbed the collar of Buggy's shirt.

It had been closer to 25 years than 20.

Shanks had missed him every single day.

He had never found the humility to come crawling back.

Well. 

Now there was nothing else.

Buggy stared Shanks down, the challenge issued from across the table with his sobriety on the line.

Like when we were younger. He'd said it knowing exactly what he'd meant, those stolen kisses before they'd drunk. A sign of just how close they used to be, right?

Shanks would never go for it. The incredulous look on his face said it all.

Which is why he felt himself stiffen in surprise the moment Shanks stood with a start and pushed himself back from the table and started towards him around its curve.

Was he coming to hit him? To grab him by the lapels and shake him while giving more excuses on why exactly he'd given up on everything they'd dreamed of? On them?.

Once upon a time, Shanks was the man he'd have been happy to let become Pirate King. Hell knew he was Roger's favorite… and he had a way of making even Buggy believe in him. When he'd come back without that spark, even back then in the rain before their big fight…

Buggy couldn't 'follow' him anymore. Someone had to keep the dream alive.

Someone had to seize the opportunity.

But here Shanks was, doing exactly what he didn't expect as he paced right up to him and grabbed his collar.

It was absolutely going to be 'getting shaken to the tune of excuses'.

But Shanks' hand was tight on his collar, and Shanks' eyes were intense and focused for the first time since Cabaji had pulled him out of the ocean. For a moment, it seemed like he might do something even worse than shake him.

Shanks yanked him up to his feet, and pulled him into a kiss, lips crashing against his own.

Buggy's eyes went wide, and he nearly dropped the bottle of wine in surprise— but he was always a man who seized opportunities. He kissed him back with passion, lips crashing against Shanks' as his other hand flew out and pulled him closer. 

Shanks' fingers let go of his tight grip on his collar, and slipped his way around his shoulders instead, chest to chest with him as he kissed him. What started as rough and sloppy, maybe even just a 'fine, if this is what you want' kind of kiss quickly melted into one of obvious desperation. His lips lingered and teased on Buggy's and his tongue moved to press between them.

Buggy felt the confusion well inside him. This wasn't…exactly how he expected this ploy to go either. He'd expected violence, harsh words, or even a cursory 'whatever' kiss. But this…

He arched himself against Shanks before melting into him with the same absolute desperation. His tongue met his, his lips sucked against Shanks' as his makeup smeared. Shanks was clinging onto him like a liferaft. Kissing him like… well like he hadn't seen him in more than 20 years.

Like he had missed him.

Tears welled up in Buggy's eyes, dripping down over his face as he dropped the bottle to the table and grabbed Shanks in both arms.Over 20 years…he'd missed him too…and he kissed him with the hope that he could feel that in every fiber of his being. 

Shanks' lips lingered on his even after he'd had to break the kiss for them to breathe. When Buggy saw his face, it was nearly as red as his hair, and his eyes were welling with tears like Buggy's own.

Buggy's own face was flushed red in the smeared spaces between his makeup, his lipstick mussed over his lips as he took several deep breaths. 

"...ah..gah…" He made a low, keening sound as he started crying harder. "I missed ya, Shanks! I thought— I thought ya might have come back, a-and gotten some of ya spark back if I…" 

Shanks rested his chin against Buggy's shoulder, pressing his cheek to Buggy's. "I missed you too, Buggy." His voice was rough, and croaking. "I'm sorry."

Buggy's fingers clenched tight on his shirt, trying to be careful of his wounds, so he didn't agitate them.

His own voice cracked as he whimpered tearfully. "I'm sorry too, ya know…I …when you were gone I thought you had forgotten about me. You had your crew, that mission.."

Shanks hissed through his teeth. "I didn't have shit, Buggy. I had nothing. And now everything I seemed to have is gone like the mirage it always was. But you're still here."

He heard Shanks' breath catch, and felt his chin dig into his shoulder, his arm tight around him.

"Sure am… sorry I never reached out. It just hurt, ya know? But…" He squeezed him. "Join Cross Guild with us, and we're gonna do somethin' great together. We're all gonna do something great." 

Shanks looked up at him again and now Buggy could see the tears staining his cheeks, running down along his old scar that Buggy still didn't know how he'd gotten. 

"Join Cross— Buggy— I—" he sounded incredulous as he stammered, but then he stopped and sighed. "Sure. Why don't we finally open that bottle of wine and you can tell me all about it."

Buggy's hand flew down to grab the bottle and held it up. "Settle in, Shanksy. I've got a LOT to tell ya." 

"Yeah," Shanks huffed. "I fucking bet. Could you do me a favor and pull my chair over? I think I might just fall over if I move."

His hand moved the chair, bumping it against the back of his legs before he dropped into his own and finally popped the cork with a corkscrew. 

Shanks fell into his own chair like a scarecrow dropping from its pole. He smiled wanly at Buggy, and finally wiped his eyes. "Thanks."

Buggy poured him a glass and pushed it towards him, before pouring his own and grabbing a napkin to mop up the tears of his own.

"Happy to, once you got outta your own head." 

"Out of my own head…" He sighed and shook his head, hair falling in his face. "Well, you made a start, that's for sure…"

Buggy pushed the glass towards him. "A start's good. Look, Croccy and Hawky? They and I got a good thing going here. We've got the Warlords… more than just this, ya know. We've got Doflamingo, we've got Hancock and her terrifying sisters. We even got defectors from the NAVY, big ones!" 

Shanks scooped up the glass he'd been offered and took a long, long drink– draining more than half of it in one go. "That's a hell of a greatest hits list, admittedly."

Buggy took a sip of his own wine with a grin. 

"It gets better. See… we've got an army of pirates under our sway; an armada, the combined gangs of multiple warlords and a marine ship combined— hell, Shanks. We're waiting on seeing if we get Moria and his zombie ship of the dead, too. We've even successfully got the people on our side. We're the biggest force against the government since the Revolutionary Army."

"A force against the government. Is that what Cross Guild's all about?" He took another sip of his wine. Buggy was surprised to find the side of Shanks' boot move to press up against his.

He blinked, before he smiled and brushed his foot against Shanks'. "Paaaarrrtially. Croccy'll tell you it's all about getting a military force strong enough to stand up to them no matter what. To fight 'em down and make them weaker. And it IS about that…but…"

"Yeah that sounds like Crocodile," Shanks murmured. "But?"

As far as Buggy was aware, Crocodile was the only one of their little trio who hadn't formally (or as close as one got to formally) dated Shanks. He knew for a fact that the two of them were at least acquainted. He didn't know if they'd ever fucked.

"But I think it's about makin' the dreams of every pirate come true." Buggy grinned widely. He tilted his head to the side. "You know Croccy, I know that…you ever get close to him?" 

Shanks turned red again, and drained the rest of his wine, setting the cup down on the table before reaching for the bottle. "Why are you asking about that n—"

He paused, and he looked at Buggy with narrowed eyes. The bleary look seemed to have completely left his gaze since the kiss, so that was something. But.

"......" Buggy gave him his biggest smile. 

Shanks poured more wine into his glass, and took a long drink, swallowing thickly. He stared at Buggy. "And Mihawk?"

Buggy flushed under his makeup and took a sip of his own wine. "Yeah uh they've been together for a long while. So…" 

Another slug of wine. Shanks spoke slowly. "So when you said 'join Cross Guild' what it sounds like you actually meant was…"

He trailed off.

"Eh, eh?" Buggy leaned over the table with a grin. 

"...this definitely explains Cross Guild better than anything I've heard so far," he drawled, finishing the rest of his wine in one gulp. "Cross. Exes. Haha."

".........I don't think that was Mihawk's intention with the name, Shansky, but it IS good wordplay. I'm gonna remember that one." Buggy bumped his foot against his again.

Shanks leaned his knee against Buggy's. This time he just reached for the bottle, and didn't bother pouring a glass. "I'm glad you've been having a good time, Buggy. Me and Crocodile uh— I mean, we fucked around a couple times but that was more than 20 years ago. It's been almost as long as you and me."

"....why ain't I surprised to hear that." He shook his head. "Looks like you've gotten yourself in quite the fuckin' tangle , Shanks." 

"A tangle, he says." Shanks shook his head and took a long sip out of the wine bottle. "Look, when I got your message I assumed you and Mihawk were going to fight over which of you got to kill me."

Buggy snorted softly. "Thought about it. But no. Mihawk's on an upswing and I wanted to talk to you for once. Is that so much of a surprise?" 

Shanks' shoulders slumped as he put the empty bottle on the table and leaned heavily against Buggy. It was probably a good thing Buggy hadn't cooked himself– it didn't look much like dinner was going to get eaten.

"Yeah, it kinda is a huge surprise. Didn't think either of you wanted anything to do with me ever again." Shanks' voice was thick and leaden. It was more than clear he absolutely believed it. "When Mihawk cut me off… I just— stopped."

"I get that…" Buggy sighed. He felt bad, he really did. All those years he thought Shanks was so hyped up on whatever mission he'd inherited that he wouldn't care about anyone else. "We were pushin' you away." 

Shanks rested his head on Buggy's shoulder. "I'm starting to feel things. We need another bottle of wine."

Buggy blinked at the empty bottle with a wince. "...yeah I'll ring up my guys to bring me another."
He looped his arm around him. "Shanks, I know everything's gone to hell but… I really am glad you answered that letter." 

Shanks looked up at him, his eyes sharp and intense, but desperately, desperately sad; tears once more threatening to spill over his cheeks.

"Buggy, I would have answered any letter you sent me. Any time."

They were gonna need that second bottle stat. He grimaced, tears welling up in his eyes again. "I didn't know that! I mean… I thought… I thought you were too busy for me anymore. You were an Emperor. You were important. I was just some dumbass in the East Blue!" 

There was a low, keening noise from the back of Shanks' throat. "You're my dumbass!"

And then he pressed his face to Buggy's shirt and started to cry.

It looked like they hadn't quite gotten to the second bottle in time.

Chapter Text

Mihawk and Crocodile sat in the captains' quarters at the table where the open transceiver was broadcasting. Crocodile was on his second cigar, and mid way through a glass of brandy, with his hooked arm solidly around Mihawk's shoulders. It had perhaps been the most awkward black transponder snail conversation he'd ever had the displeasure of listening in on. Buggy was close to tears the whole time, the argument cyclical and seemingly never ending…and now this.

It was…distressing. Distressing and difficult to listen to Shanks this way, so sure that he'd thrown his life away for good. Admitting that their breakup, a breakup the whole world had felt, had been some sort of final straw that broke the man.

The sound like a clown and a drunk being strangled came through the line as Mihawk's eyes delicately narrowed. "Oh dear." 

"He just started crying, didn't he," Crocodile huffed, puffing out a ring of smoke.

"Yes, I'm afraid they both have." Mihawk mused with a sigh. "poor men." 

"Fucking hell," Crocodile grumbled. He picked up his drink and swirled it in his glass. "This is painful to listen to. Buggy I expected, but this is Red Haired Shanks? What the fuck has he been doing this whole time?"

"Falling apart," Mihawk reached for another glass of wine. He needed it desperately. 

"Apparently!" Crocodile barked, knocking back his brandy. "Wish we had known fucking sooner. Who the hell could get close to him though? Thrice damned emperor with his mysterious bullshit and his anti-social fucking crew."

Mihawk poured himself another glass, filled to the brim. 

"It was one of the reasons we fell apart. Yes… the government drove a wedge from my end… but his insular crew and mysterious 'purpose' and that untouchable status…" He shook his head. "add that to the clear loss of real drive after he came back injured, I couldn't allow myself to try getting closer to a wall. But now…"

He gestured to the crying. "The wall's certainly crumbling." 

Crocodile grimaced at the transponder. "It sure fucking is. Should we bust in on 'em, or let this play out?"

"......do you think Buggy will throw a fit if we burst in? He may need the backup." 

"Hell if it were me I'd want backup," Crocodile growled. "Lover you haven't seen in years starts crying in your lap first conversation? If that had been me and you I would have been signalling for Daz so fucking fast, Hawk. Not that it could have been. But what do you do in that situation? We gotta at least get 'em out of the lounge."

Classic Crocodile. Mihawk tilted his head against him. What would he do in that situation indeed? If it had been Crocodile crying on him… or Shanks, if he'd gotten the plan to confront him first… he wasn't so sure.

Still, he had to answer. "Draw Yoru and challenge him to a duel." 

Crocodile glanced at the transponder again. Shanks and Buggy were still crying.

"Yeah I don't think that's gonna help in this case, Hawky."

As Crocodile marched with Mihawk through the ship's corridor a couple of doors down to the lounge where Buggy and Shanks were, he reflected on how fucking surreal this entire episode felt. Not only had Shanks— fucking Shanks!--- been brought low in combat (apparently twice in as many days, Crocodile still wasn't clear on that) but now he was a sobbing mess in Buggy's lap.

What a fucking day. He glanced at Mihawk, hoping that the man was holding it together as well as he seemed to be and worrying (justifiably, he felt) that it was probably not the case. Hopefully they could get all this shit sorted out and come out stronger for it.

"Ready?" he murmured to Mihawk, hand on the door.

Mihawk seemed as calm as ever… though there was that look in his eyes. The bubbling intensity that spoke to the inner turmoil he never really let out.

"I am ready, yes." 

Crocodile was going to have to have a talk with him about that, sometime. It couldn't be healthy, keeping bottled up all the time like that. What if he ended up like Shanks was now?

But now wasn't the time.

Now he pushed the door open and swaggered in, a bottle of wine dangling in his free hand.

"Pardon me, gentlemen."

Buggy was openly sobbing with his arms around Shanks' head, having drawn him into his chest as the two of them sprawled dangerously in their chairs.

Mihawk stared for a long moment before he whispered. "We should have brought something stronger than wine." 

Crocodile grimaced, and nodded subtly. 

"We'll fix that," he whispered back. This was a fucking mess. He cleared his throat. "Gentlemen?"

He heard Shanks choke back a sob into Buggy's chest and sit straight up, alert like a guard dog was alert, which made his bedraggled appearance all the sadder.

"Crocodile," Shanks greeted roughly, "... Mihawk."

Buggy's head snapped up, and out came a sharp yelp and a flail— he fell out of his chair "Crocodile? Hawk—EEEK!" "

Mihawk winced almost imperceptibly. "Hello, Shanks." 

"A little birdy told me you might be in need of another bottle," Crocodile said, trying not to grimace at the spectacle either. "And maybe a change of venue."

Shanks wiped his arm with his sleeve, and reached down to try to help Buggy up. "A little bird, huh? Sorry, I didn't turn out to be very hungry."

Buggy wiped his eyes with a sniff, grabbing his hand and standing with less difficulty than a normal man might due to his powers.

"You were listenin' in, weren't you?" 

Crocodile rolled his eyes. Of course Buggy had to ask him directly. "I wasn't going to leave you alone with an unstable ex who might try to kill you, Bug. But it seems pretty safe now, so. Change of venue."

He watched as Shanks grimaced, leaning on Buggy. But the lack of more dramatic reaction led Crocodile to believe he'd already assumed they were being listened in on, or just couldn't bring himself to care in that state.

Mihawk gave him a thin smile. "We're glad you're both safe…but we figured you could use something more to drink."

"Yeah uh, I wasn't able to reach the transponder snail. Shanks latched himself on me like a limpet." Buggy protested weakly. 

To his credit, Shanks did try to look at least a little more dignified, despite still being a sniffling mess. He pushed his hand through his hair, leaning on Buggy. "We've had a lot to catch up on, that's all."

"So it seems," Crocodile agreed. "Do you two want a private bedroom for a while, or do you want some company?"

Buggy had already introduced the situation to him, so there was no harm in asking directly instead of trying to suss out if the clown wanted backup by signals alone.

"Guhhhhhhhghh…." Buggy made a low, sick noise, before he held his hands up. "I— I don't mind company if Shanks don't…I mean, he's the one who's injured here."

Mihawk smirked slightly, before he nodded. "I understand if he doesn't wish to see me at the moment." 

Shanks looked between the lot of them, looking utterly exhausted and wrung out— maybe more so than when he'd been unconscious fresh out of the sea, if only because he could make an expression now.

"Might as well," he croaked out. "Otherwise it seems like I'm just gonna have to repeat myself three times. Unless you have the next room bugged, too."

This poor, sad bastard.

Crocodile heaved a long-suffering sigh. "C'mon. Let's get you to the quarters and get a little more booze in you."

Mihawk nodded with a subtle smile. "I think that'll help you feel a little more settled, Shanks. I imagine the doctor's been keeping you rather deprived." 

"Hasn't let me have a sip in two days," Shanks rasped. "Pretty sure he's trying to kill me."

Crocodile led the bunch out into the hall like a bunch of miserable baby ducks. At least it wasn't far to walk. And hey, at least it sounded like Shanks still had his terrible sense of humor.

Damn, that was probably why he liked the clown, wasn't it?

For all that Shanks had talked about 'having to repeat himself' there wasn't much conversation. They got straight to drinking, and it was one of the most miserable, awkward drinking parties Crocodile had ever had the misfortune of being party to.

Luckily, perhaps, for all of them, Shanks passed out on top of Buggy almost straight away. 

The poor, sad bastard, was all Crocodile could think.

"What the hell happened to him?" he growled after a tense few minutes of the three of them passing the bottle back and forth, wondering if their guest was going to wake up.

Buggy hissed low through his teeth "I mean, he's kinda been like this for years, Croc. Back at Roger's execution we had a big fight when he basically told me he was givin' up on everything we ever dreamed of together."

Mihawk glanced down at him, taking a long sip from the bottle with a huff. "Ssomething shook the worldview he'd stuck to since I lost my respect for him. Something big." 

"I can see that, for sure," Crocodile muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Well, looks like we're not going to find out until morning. But I'm gonna need one or both of you to stay with him tonight. If only to make sure he doesn't get up and fucking pitch himself over the rail."

He looked between Mihawk and Buggy. There was no way Crocodile was going to be able to sleep in his own bed tonight. He'd just lay awake thinking about the whole…. Mess.

Buggy grimaced, holding his hands up. "I dunno, what if he goes ballistic when he wakes up?"

"He won't, he's too beaten for that." Mihawk sounded certain, his piercing eyes on the sleeping man as he frowned a little deeper. 

"You want me to chain him up, Bug?" Crocodile drawled. He highly doubted Shanks was going to go ballistic, not after the way he'd been sobbing on Buggy when they came in. Unless he was completely insane, which Crocodile thought would be even more of a huge fucking nuisance than whatever the hell this was.

"No! I mean…" He looked down at Shanks with a sigh. "Man. Croccy…" he put his hand on the sleeping man's head. "I'll stay with him I guess. I'll try not to smother him, promise." 

Crocodile pinched the bridge of his nose again. Stupid fucking clown. Caring about him made Crocodile want to slam his head into a brick wall. "Fine, Buggy. We'll all stay, alright?"

Mihawk chuckled under his breath. "Infuriating, isn't he?"

"Hey!" Buggy huffed sharply. "...but thanks, Hawkie, Croccy. Not like any of us are gonna feel great sleeping tonight, right?" 

Crocodile shook his head. He stood, and wandered over to grab a cigar from the box on the table. "Sure fucking aren't. But thems the breaks, eh? Hey, congrats, jester, pretty sure this counts as bringing down a fellow emperor."

Buggy flushed under his makeup as he flashed a lopsided grin. "Well damn…yeah, the papers might pick up on that. He's gonna be pissed, I know it."

"Or start crying again," Mihawk murmured. "Or laughing. He's in a very strange place right now." 

"I'll fucking say," Crocodile grumbled as he lit a fresh cigar. "You two know him a lot better than me. Would you ever have expected this?"

Crocodile's head was swimming, even though he hadn't had that much to drink. He simply didn't know how the hell to handle this situation. Mihawk and Buggy may have known Shanks well, but he'd only ever known him as a rather dangerous and intriguing enemy. One who had risen, and risen, where Crocodile himself had fallen.

And here Shanks was, curled into a timid little ball sleeping the sleep of the unhappily drunk on his bed after apparently getting his shit wrecked by first Straw Hat and then by Teach.

Fucking Teach bringing down Shanks. Crocodile could never have guessed that would happen.

"Not really, no. Even when we fell apart, when he became half the man he used to be, he'd always seemed like he would stay steadfast on that mysterious goal of his."

Buggy sniffed. "I didn't think fucking Blackbeard woulda been the one to take him down. Straw Hat, I'd believe… Luffy's a monster if you ain't on his good side. And Shanks seems to have gotten on his bad side real fast. But Blackbeared…eughh." 

Straw Hat– Crocodile absolutely believed that he could take down Shanks. Crocodile was starting to believe Straw Hat could take down anybody.

"Guess Straw Hat softened him up," he said, setting his jaw. "So which one of you wants to try to pull his teeth to find out why this happened tomorrow? Maybe finally hear about this mystery goal of his?"

"He hasn't listened to me since I was a mini-Buggy," the clown grumbled under his breath, though Mihawk tilted his head towards him.

"You're still a force of personality, clown. Not only that, but your history with him could prove to be an asset." 

"So you don't wanna talk to him either, eh, Hawky?" Crocodile puffed on his cigar. Not that surprising, and he couldn't blame him. The way he understood it, Mihawk had been avoiding Shanks for years.

Crocodile had had a couple of trysts with Shanks, back in the day, back before he was cautious enough to avoid having sex with his enemies. But none of it had given him any more of an understanding of the man.

He was starting to wonder if anyone understood him. 

"I…do." Mihawk murmured. "I just have the concern that I won't break through his barriers." 

Crocodile sucked in a breath of smoke and held it in his mouth, letting the familiar sensation sooth him. He softly blew out the smoke.

"Talk to him anyway," Crocodile said. "If you can't get through, maybe you can soften him up. While you do I'll get Buggy some fresh air. Poor clown seems like he needs it, eh?"

He sneered over at Buggy. It was earnestly meant as much as it was a jab. Buggy looked almost as lost as Shanks, and Crocodile understood why. You build up a rivalry in your mind for 20 years and this is how it ends?

As confusing and sad as it was pathetic.

There had to be something going on. 

They'd get to the bottom of it.

Mihawk laughed sharply, one of his rare moments of audible amusement. "Fine. I'll talk to him. If it means you can wipe some of that pathetic expression off the clown's face, I'll do it."

The clown shrank under his sneer, frowning almost cartoonishly. "So what if I need a little air? Everyone needs air. You'd die without it, idiot." 

"Eventually," Crocodile purred, leaning over toward him, and putting on a wide smile. "Some day we'll see how long you can do without."

It wasn't a night for messing around, but he hoped the flirting at least would lift the clown's flagging spirits a little.

Buggy flushed deeply, and he jolted enough to jostle Shanks as he sputtered and looked off to the side.

Somehow–he looked more relaxed. "You're a real bastard, Croc." 

Crocodile kept an eye on Shanks, who murmured, but didn't wake. Once Croc saw he was settled, he smirked at Buggy. He was feeling more relaxed himself. "You know I am."

Yeah. It was going to be a bad night. But he'd lived through worse.

Buggy had had a bad night. Terrible night. The drinking party was a bust. He thought 'if anything is gonna get Shanks to cheer up, loosen up and stop miserably trying to pitch himself off a cliff it's booze', only for that to blow right up in his face.

All the way back in Loguetown he could tell Shanks had lost his drive, his ambition, but thought at least he'd picked something up to fill the hole. Now he didn't even have that, did he? That big , stupid mission of his, that 'purpose' that he never felt like sharing with Buggy…all up in smoke.

He'd wriggled himself out from under him, letting Mihawk take up Shanks pillow duties, as he and Crocodile headed up to the deck for a gasp of fresh sea air. Anything— anything to get out of the stifling stench of booze and regret. 

Crocodile slapped him roughly on the back with the back of his hook as they came up on deck. his other had was occupied with the thermos of coffee they'd hastily grabbed from the galley on their way up. Neither of them had slept more than a few minutes at a time. It was bad sleep even for men who were used to operating on an hour or two in a pinch.

Dawn was grey, and the deck was quiet aside from the moaning of the boards and the rush of the waves, and the call of early morning sea birds. Daz was busy up at the helm, the only one awake on deck aside from their lookout, and gave them a nod of acknowledgement before going back to his navigation.

Buggy watched the water churn and ripple for miles and miles all around them, his hand floating over a cup of coffee as he squinted into the early morning light.

He waved to Daz, letting himself stew in sleepy memories for a moment more.

Shanks. Fucking Red Haired Shanks. He remembered the boy on Roger's ship, full of hope and aspiration. He remembered the scowling young man in Loguetown, turning his back on their shared dream and offering him a place as one of his aimless lackeys on some 'oh so important mission' of his own. He remembered the mighty and deadly emperor who was said to be one of the fiercest forces in Paradise.

So who the hell was Shanks now? Which of those men, if any, was the man sleeping on Mihawk down in the crew's quarters?

Crocodile leaned against the mast, and held the thermos against his chest with his hook as he unscrewed it, taking a long drink of the warm, bitter liquid before he handed it to Buggy without a word. There were dark circles under his eyes, just over the long scar that crossed his face like a high water mark.

Buggy raised it to him with a weak smile before taking a long sip himself. Croc looked like a mess. He knew he looked worse, though. Dark circles, smudged and missing face paint… exhaustion and bloodshot eyes.

Like he'd seen a ghost and it'd cried on him for hours. 

Which admittedly, was basically what had happened.

"Tell me about you and Shanks," Crocodile said quietly. He ran his fingers through his limp, oily hair, shoulders sagging. "You've ranted about him plenty, but you never actually told me anything about how it was between you. Before it went bad."

"Before it went bad?" Buggy laughed tensely. "I was a fuckin' kid— but sure." 

He ran his hand through his long and teal hair, mirroring Croc's gesture anxiously. "He was my best friend. We were cabin boys together on Gol's ship." 

Crocodile smiled a sour little smile and grabbed the thermos back, taking another swig of coffee.

"The good old days," he huffed, with wry bitterness thick in his voice. Sometimes it was hard to remember, but Buggy was suddenly struck by the fact that Croc was only a couple of years older than him and Shanks.

"The good ol' days," Buggy leaned against him with a quiet grumble. The man was only a little older…a little. While he was a cabin boy, Crocodile was only a couple years older than him, trying to stand up to his old man.

Things weren't always good, but the days on Roger's ship at least had something special to them. Hope— excitement. He was always second best, but at least he was in the running. He was always sure Shanks would stick by his side no matter what.

"So once there was this island inhabited by a school of mermaids, right?" he began. 

Mihawk watched as Shanks drank down water like a fish desperate to breathe, washing down the tablets of pain medication kept on hand for this very purpose. Dehydration led to a hangover, a hangover Shanks was now suffering from.

He imagined it wasn't an unfamiliar sensation, the way he'd seen him drink the last handful of years.

He didn't say a word, simply staring him down with his intense glare.

Shanks took a few desperate breaths and then downed more water before putting the empty pitcher aside. He leaned back on the headboard, and glanced up at Mihawk from under his lank red bangs. His own stare had lost most of its intensity, filled instead with doubt and haunted by something Mihawk didn't understand. 

Mihawk studied it for a long moment. There was once a fire he respected in Red Haired Shanks' stare. He was an expert swordsman, with or without his good arm. He was ambitious and vicious as they came.

But he was half the man he used to be, and he didn't just mean the missing arm. He'd lost something that day in his shrouded mystery of a past and it wasn't just flesh and bone.

"Still thirsty, are you?" 

Shanks shrugged. "I can't drink enough wine to fix my head, and I can't drink enough water to fix the wine. You know how it is."

He closed his eyes and there was something like a smile on his face, but it was hollow, and joyless.

"I suppose I'm familiar with the conundrum, yes." Mihawk's eyes traced his lips. The miserable smile of the walking damned. "...such a smile doesn't suit you, you know." 

"No? Guess there's not a smile left that does suit me, Hawk-eyes." He heaved a sigh and his expression melted into more obvious melancholy.

"There was one, once." Mihawk shifted in his chair to tent his fingers and watch him more intensely. "And yet it's been wiped away— and I think perhaps it may have been a long while ago." 

"Yeah? You've known me a long time. How long ago do you think it was?"

Mihawk laughed sharply. "It's been a while, Red Hair. Since we were young man clashing on the open sea. Once, I thought you made a motivating rival." 

"That was more than ten years ago now, huh? Feels like yesterday." Shanks opened his eyes, only to stare up at the ceiling instead of meeting Mhawk's gaze again. "Mostly because of how much of a blur everything afterward feels like."

A blur. For Mihawk none of his own time was a blur. It was a slow march. A crawl from Marine Hunter, to Crocodile's First Mate, to Warlord of the Sea, to freedom from that self made prison and a return to form in Cross Guild.

For Mihawk it was a drawn out dirge punctuated with wine and blood.

Somehow, though. Somehow it didn't surprise him that Shanks was so lost in the fog of drink and duty that the days flew by.

"More than ten years. Yes." 

Shanks knocked the back of his head against the headboard and winced. "What a fucking waste of a dozen years, huh? Or is that just me?"

A dozen years ago everything had already fallen apart for Mihawk. Ten years ago already he'd been a government dog— a warlord— separated from his captain by a gulf greater than mere distance. His rivalry with Shanks had been a bright spot in that time– until ten years ago when that too had dissolved somehow. When Shanks had lost his arm.

When he'd lost his arm, something else was missing. There was that hollowness in his smile after that, and the start of yet another gulf between that one bright spot and himself.
Another gulf to separate Mihawk from the few things that brought him any measure of joy.

Shanks was no longer a rival, nor was he a worthy opponent. Not with whatever plagued him since then.

"It has had its bright spots," Mihawk admitted. "I met a promising young man, and an amusing young woman. They gave me some measure of interest. And now here we stand, reformed into something like our old selves with Cross Guild. But otherwise, it has been a bit of a waste, yes." 

Shanks laughed hollowly, more like an empty breath of air. "Glad your last couple of years were better than mine."

"Makes a man wonder just what made it so miserable, Shanks," Mihawk said slowly as he leaned forward with his fingers clutched together. "You've changed a lot. And have changed ever since that day, too." 

"Sorry I'm not at my best for our little reunion," Shanks huffed. "I know you were looking forward to finally skewering me down the middle. I made it no fun though, huh? A man's not exactly at his best when he finds out everything he's been doing with his life was for nothing."

"You did make it dreadfully unfun, yes. I'm displeased with that," MIhawk said dryly. "...the thing is I don't understand exactly what you've been doing for 'nothing', aside from making a nuisance of yourself in the New World." 

"Making a nuisance of myself." He chuckled and there was almost some good humor in it. "Believe me, that was the only fun part. What have I been doing? That's what I've been asking myself. I can tell you what I thought I was doing."

Mihawk tilted his head, birdlike and curious. He was curious, after all. What was so important that Shanks would sever every tie he'd made save for his own crew?

"I'm listening."

He hung his head and his red hair covered up most of his face. "I thought I was helping save the fucking world."

What a thing to say.

Mihawk snorted softly. "You. A pirate emperor. Saving the world? Laughable." 

"Isn't it? Figured it was the best position for the job. Whole reason that I clawed my way up. Well, that and to make myself a nuisance." 

"Best position for the job of…saving the world," Mihawk said slowly.

Making himself a nuisance he understood. Shanks was always— impish, was perhaps the right word. But 'saving the world' as one of the world's strongest pirates was an absolutely mad thing to say.

Even pirates who claimed to help others, who owned territory, were still pirates. The Sun Pirates saved the enslaved, but they still pillaged and raided like the rest. Whitebeard was a fool. Big Mom's nation of equality was a nation of utter control.

The World Government was worse, by and large. Hypocritical sycophants to the Celestial Dragons, one and all.

But still.

"I know what you're thinking," Shanks said, pointing a finger at him. "You're thinking how's a pirate supposed to save the world, right? But that's the thing. I thought all I had to do was line up one right shot. The rest was screwing around. Killing time. And I had something like 20 years to kill."

His brow furrowed slightly as his eyes bored into Shanks.

One shot to save the world…one shot that being an emperor afforded him, and he was killing time. 

"After all that, I missed the shot, too." He closed his eyes again. "Thought I could fix it, but now I find out, either I completely fucked the one chance anybody had to save the world— or it was all pointless to start with and nothing I did ever had any meaning."

"And just how were you supposed to save the world, Shanks? Killing the Four Elders? Or was this something more…" Irritating, perhaps. …"obscure?" 

"Obscure," he snorted. "I'll say. How was I supposed to save the world? There was this devil fruit. And I was going to give it to the right person. That's how I was going to save the world."

Shanks' voice was rough with regret and shot through with a wry, self-reproachful humor. Like he was telling a joke and it was on himself.

"You are kidding me." MIhawk said with distaste on his tongue. He respected devil fruit users. They were an interesting method of combat, another skill to be honed like a blade. Crocodile and even Buggy and all the others he'd met. They were all skilled fighters.

But a devil fruit couldn't save the world from anything. Not any more than a keen blade could, or a silver tongue. It was a tool like any other. The nuanced and many problems of their great blue seas couldn't be solved by a devil fruit in any one man's hands. 

"It sounds like a joke, doesn't it? It's the sort of thing to make you laugh, isn't it?" That got a laugh out of Shanks, too, dry and hollow and panicked. "But no, I'm not kidding. See some of these devil fruits, they're mythical. The power inside them isn't just any power, it's the power of a spirit. The power of a god. And there's one that the World Government's afraid of."

"The world government is afraid of a fruit," Mihawk murmured dubiously. 

"Yep." Shanks suddenly sat up and crawled his way from the headboard down to the bottom of the bed, much closer to Mihawk. He sat up, bare feet on the floor, and leaned toward him. "So afraid they changed the name of the fruit in all the books just to hide it. To make sure anyone who had it wouldn't know what they had."

Mihawk looked him in the eyes. "And what 'god' lived in this fruit? What god do they fear more than the powerful men who are marshaling to squeeze the life out of their aged throats?" 

"Nika. The sun god. Joyboy." Now Shanks met his eyes, seeming to search them for recognition, or reaction.

Mihawk slowly blinked. He recognized the name, dimly. Jinbei may have mentioned it once at a Warlord meeting, he'd heard it here and there on his time prowling the seas for someone to either kill, or kill him. Whispered like some great secret.

"Joyboy. Yes, I've heard the name." 

Shanks held his hands up as if in defeat. "Well. That's the god. That's the fruit. The mythical zoan fruit, model Nika. Only like I said. They renamed it to hide it."

"...because they fear this Nika, due to its power." Mihawk reached out and patted his shoulder. "...I'm not a man who adheres to faiths, Shanks. I believe in the power of men, but you do have my ear." 

Ironic, perhaps. He wore the iconography of a long forgotten faith of his home island. But it stood as a reminder of death as opposed to any god. 

"I know you've never been a man to believe in that kind of thing," Shanks said. Mihawk felt him flinch slightly under his touch, but after that, he leaned toward him. "Right now, I envy you for that. Do you want to know, Mihawk? What the government renamed the fruit?"

"I'm going to take a shot in the dark and say the gum-gum fruit, given you had a bit of a tiff with Luffy and his crew." he mused, voice deadpan and tired. 

Shanks raised his hands, and let them fall to his knees. "What can I say, Mihawk? Maybe you should have been the world's greatest detective instead of the world's greatest swordsman."

"If I'm ever defeated and my vanquisher fails to kill me, I suppose I'll retire from the position and take up investigation." Mihawk said dryly. "So that's it, hm? Luffy is the 'god fruit wielder' who the Celestial Dragons fear." 

"That's right," Shanks nodded. "And I just got done telling him about it."

Mihawk smiled thinly. "and he took it about as well as I might have if you told me my accomplishments were due to the grace of god, hmm?" 

"No, Mihawk, I think you would have been a better sport about it."

Mihawk rubbed his chin with a sly edge to his smile. "A frightening prospect indeed, Shanks."

Chapter Text

Crocodile squeezed Buggy's shoulder. He was feeling a little better after the coffee and the fresh air, and he was hoping the clown was too. He'd been listening to him tell stories about him and Shanks' childhood on Roger's ship for the better part of an hour. He knew he shouldn't envy him, not the way things had ended up, but he did anyway.

"You feeling any better, Bug?"

Buggy turned to him, and Crocodile suddenly felt the man's hand fly down and loop, arm and all, around his shoulders as he met his eyes with a watery stare and a wide smile. 

"...bit better, yeah Croc. Nothin' like talking to you without any torture to lift a guy's spirits." 

"It's too early for torture," Crocodile huffed grumpily. "Kicking you around isn't much fun when I'm running on less than an hour's sleep. I'm gonna check on Hawk and our guest. You wanna talk to him again yet, or no?"

Buggy bumped his shoulder lightly with the stump of his dismembered limb. "....yeah, I probably should right? Guy probably needs the special Buggy touch." 

Crocodile patted Buggy on his cheek– then pinched him and shook him by it with a tired smile. "Yeah. I'm sure he does."

That special Buggy touch. It was something alright. Maybe Shanks did need it.

Crocodile sat across the table from Mihawk in the lounge room that had been set up for Buggy's failed little banquet the night before. Now it was laid out with a light breakfast that included more than a few leftovers from that meal. And coffee. Lots of coffee. Crocodile was probably going to shake himself to pieces, but he needed to fucking stay awake.

Mihawk had told him, in his usual nonchalant manner, all about his conversation with Shanks. He'd started with 'Shanks thought he was going to save the world' and it only got crazier when he got to the how.

'Shanks was going to give Straw Hat Luffy's Gum-Gum fruit to 'the right person', only for Luffy to eat it.' turned very quickly into 'the Gum-Gum fruit is a mythical zoan of some sort, containing the Sun God Nika, or Joyboy.'

Croc was part way through what had been a pleasant if unusually exhausted and tense breakfast when he'd hit that part. 

Okay.

Okay maybe he wasn't going to need the coffee to stay awake.

Crocodile realized he had dropped his fucking fork.

"I'm sorry, you're telling me Straw Hat's got a fucking god fruit?"

"I suppose, yes. He's fairly unhappy with it from the way Shanks made it sound," Mihawk continued to slice his tomato, raising it to his lips as he looked up at Crocodile "I would be too in his position." 

"He's unhappy with it," Crocodile repeated. "He's got a god fruit and he's unhappy with it. Okay. Thanks, Hawkie. Hold on a second. I need to recalibrate."

Crocodile stared at the wall for a long moment.

He closed his eyes. In his mind, he stood in the middle of the empty desert and screamed as loud as he could.

He took a long breath, and smiled at Mihawk. "Great. Okay."

Buggy held the hot thermoses of coffee, one in each hand, and held the small tray of food balanced on the crook of one floating arm.

He stood there, in the doorway, blinking owlishly at Shanks with the makings of a good goddamned morning, and he couldn't think of a single witty thing to say.

Shanks looked…wet. Even after he'd long dried off from being dragged out of the ocean and a whole night later he looked wet.

"Morning…sleepy….man." he managed to say. 

"Morning, Buggy." Shanks was sitting up at least. That was sort of progress. He hadn't really been sitting up at all since the beginning of the conversation they'd had at dinner the night before.

Buggy grinned at him as he held up the thermoses with his floating hands. 

"Heyyy, you're looking really uh." He paused. "upright? Yeah. Real upright there, buddy. I'd almost call ya a stand up guy! Almost. Because you're sitting."

This material was dogshit. What the fuck was he saying? This whole situation was a disaster from the start, and then that meal idea took out all his confidence at the knees.

Shanks didn't wanna see him. He hadn't wanted to see him since Loguetown. Probably even before!

But Shanks laughed. He actually fucking laughed. It was a sad, shallow little thing, but there was a pained smile on his face as he looked up at Buggy from where he was sitting.

"Yeah, I sure am sitting, Buggy. Wanna come sit with me?"

"Oh, uh…" Shit, he actually liked it??? Buggy hurried—floated—over to drop next to him with a huff of breath. "Yeah. Figured you wanted to eat somethin'. Mopin' is hungry work, I hear." 

"Is it? I guess I should refuel for the next long mope session." Shanks slowly tipped over to lean against him— it was on the side without the arm.

Buggy passed him a thermos of coffee. "Better not be too fucking long, or you'll mope your dumb ass back into the ocean." 

Shanks took a long drink of the coffee, and Buggy watched his throat bob as he did. He sighed, a trace of the smile still on his face. "Nah. I don't think I can get that far. I'll just mope right into the center of the bed, flat on my back."

"You'll melt into it like that fucking Caribou guy melts into everything, then." Buggy pointed to him. "And Croccy'll kill ya for making a mess."

He stared at Shanks— all the various ways he grew up and stayed the same since that big fight in Loguetown— since the few sparing times they'd run into one another since. "and I'd miss ya. Kind of. Maybe." 

Shanks leaned on his shoulder for a long moment and then he sat back up and took another drink of the coffee. 

"Well. No maybe about it for me, Buggy. I missed you. I said that last night. I think. Last night's a little blurry. You asked me to join your guild thing, didn't you?"

Buggy chuckled roughly.

"I did, yeah. And I meant it. I mean, it'd be pretty great for our PR if we had an Emperor of the Sea on our side, yeah?" He offered Shanks the plate, floating it over to him with a grin "...and it means you'll have to actually stick around." 

"You expecting me to disappear?" Shanks set the thermos down between his knees and started picking at the plate as Buggy held it for him.

Buggy sipped his coffee. He couldn't get any jitterier than he already was. "...I might be. You're practically a ghost." 

"Nah. You saved my life, remember? I should be a ghost."

Buggy turned to face him. "I mean, even before that I mean. You'd gone off into the New World. After I told you I didn't wanna be your cabin boy, you left, Shanks. And when I saw you again, the few times I did, you were already a ghost. You know what I mean?" 

"Oh." The lingering little smile on Shanks' face faded and he shrugged. "In that case, you're right. I was a ghost alright. That's what it feels like anyway. I was telling Mihawk the same thing."

Buggy sighed, the good humor dissipating. 

"Not surprising. I figured he'd manage to get some outta you." He looked down into his coffee, frowning deeply as it rippled in his hands. "It made me wonder what happened to that stupid fucking cabin boy with his stupid handsome smile. Mr. Golden Boy of Gol D Roger's pirates." 

"Yeah." Shanks sighed too, and leaned against Buggy's shoulder again. "Yeah, I bet you did wonder… Stupid handsome smile, huh?"

A tiny sliver of that smile came back to his face, wan and uneven.

Buggy flushed with a narrowing of his eyes before he looked up at the ceiling. "Yeah, your stupid handsome smile, what of it? You had a nice smile. It almost made you bearable to spend time with."

Shanks huffed a chuckle. 

"Same to you I guess." He lapsed into silence for a moment, but before Buggy could think of what to say, he spoke up again. "You wondered what happened to me. I could tell you, Buggy. But you won't like it. I know you won't like it. That's why I never told you."

Buggy wrinkled his nose, looking down into the depths of his coffee again. "...I admit it's kinda been eating me up inside, Shanks." 

Shanks sighed. He leaned his head on Buggy's shoulder again. "I know. But I worry it'll be worse if I tell you."

Buggy swished the coffee back and forth with his disembodied hands, leaning against Shanks with a frown. 

"...what can be worse than you just leaving for no reason to chase some stupid mystery goal?" 

Shanks turned on him with a sad, almost hopeless look. "Crushing all your hopes and dreams?"

Buggy turned to stare him down. "Man, my hopes and dreams have been practically crushed for years. The only thing, the ONLY thing that's kept me going was trying to catch up and beat YOU and the fucking One Piece." 

"Yeah, Buggy. I know."

Buggy's lips twitched. "what, you're gonna tell me that you know what the One Piece is, then?" 

His hopeless gaze flicked away, staring at the wall. "You didn't ask Roger. I did."

He asked Roger— and Roger told him the greatest secret of the Grand Line? He frowned, chewing his lip for a moment before he leaned over. 

"And what coulda possibly been so fucking bad that it made you give up on everything?" 

"Didn't you ever ask yourself what made Roger give up?" Shanks stood up and he walked a couple of paces away from the bed, staring at the wall.

Buggy watched him go, not moving save for his hands to float over and set the thermos and plates down. "All the time. I assumed he knew his illness was gonna take him and wanted to die on his own terms."

"His own terms. Murdered in front of the whole world by the government?" His voice was distant, quiet.

"And announcing a new age of piracy to a bunch of hopefuls," Buggy muttered. He'd always hoped that was why anyway. He knew he was dying and he did the only thing he could to get one over on the government.

To rile the world up into an age of piracy before he went.

It was better than him just 'giving up'. 

"Well. There was that. That was what he needed to do. Yeah. He needed people to hear his message. So it would get to the right person."

"What the FUCK do you mean 'the right person'?" Buggy frowned sharply. "The right person is anyone with the damned will to hit the high seas for loot, glory and blood!" 

"You and Luffy would get along, you know?" He heard a little huff of breath from Shanks that might have been an awful laugh. "Maybe that's true. But it's not what Roger believed. It's not what he told me."

"If Straw Hat ever gave me a chance before he started throwin' punches? Yeah absolutely. Hell, we KINDA got along when we were bustin' out of Impel Down together," Buggy grinned nastilly, before he folded his hands together. "So what, Roger believed only one specific person in the whole of the great blue seas mattered? And it sure as hell wasn't me." 

"Or me," Shanks said to the wall.

Buggy stared at him. It was…disheartening? 

That was a bit of a fancy word for the gut-wrenching frustration, anger and betrayal that sat in the pit of his stomach. Shanks couldn't possibly believe it— Roger couldn't have either, right? The man who said whoever wanted it could set out for the store of his treasure couldn't possibly have thought so little of his own crew, the people, or the next generation to have sent them on a wild goose chase meant for one man alone.

And for it not to be Shanks? His golden boy? The one who always stood as the best cabin boy, the best upcoming pirate— the shining ray of light that Buggy was sure was set to be the next pirate king until he turned around and called Buggy a fool for believing in it?

"....what the hell do you mean, not you?" 

Shanks whirled around fast– violently. There were tears in his eyes and now he didn't just look hopeless, he looked angry.

His handsome, scarred face twisted up, and some kind of mad darkness alive in his eyes.

"I mean not me! I mean Roger told me, flat out, when I asked him that it would be pointless! That it wasn't meant for me! That I wasn't going to be the one! That was it, Buggy! That was what crushed all my hopes and dreams. The man who I looked up to personally telling me not to fucking bother!"

Buggy winced, his hands whirling in the air before they snapped back onto his wrists and he held them up with a deepening frown.

It'd have crushed him, too. It was starting to crush him now. If Roger told Shanks not to fucking bother it wasn't any surprise why he didn't even offer the information to Buggy. It didn't matter for him either. It wasn't for either of them, in Roger's eyes.

"He told you not to bother. Shanks, you were the best pirate I knew. Shit, I was gonna sail with you if you were planning on going for Pirate King! I was happy to until you told me it didn't— didn't fucking matter!" 

Shanks stumbled back toward him, and sank down to his knees at the foot of the bed where Buggy was sitting. He dropped his head against Buggy's chest. 

"I didn't know how to lie to you, Buggy. I couldn't— I couldn't find it in my heart to say to you 'let's do it' when I know it would be for nothing. I still wanted you to come with me but I just— I couldn't fucking lie."

Buggy was tensed as a spring, his arms lowering around Shanks' shoulders as he took a deep and shaking breath. 

"You always were a shitty liar, yeah. I—I'd have caught on right away. I just don't get it…why would he tell the world to go hunting for a treasure most of it ain't 'meant' to see? Who's the person he respected more than you an' me?" 

Shanks hung his head against him, pressing into his body. He shook his head. 

"He thought it was going to be his son. Ace. That's what I thought, too. But I fucked it up, Buggy. I might have fucked the whole goddamn world. Either that, or nothing I did mattered at all."

"That just sounds like fucking nepotism, man," Buggy grumbled as he pet his hair. His whole body was shaking, even as he petted his fingers through Shanks' hair. 'He might have fucked up the whole world' by not making sure Ace became his dad's chosen one? It didn't make a lick of sense.

"Oh yeah, the chosen one? My son, of course. Don't worry about it, it's my son who's gonna save the world!' just sounds like nepotism." 

Shanks laughed miserably against him and thumped his fist gently against Buggy's chest next to his face.

 "Sure does! Buggy— I should have just said fuck it. I should have just given up trying to do anything, and just followed you around. It would have been more fun and I wouldn't be in this fucking position."

Buggy miserably laughed with him, his fingers gripping bunches of his hair as he leaned in close. 

"Ace– poor kid wouldn't have even wanted it. Poor kid had been beaten down by life, I saw that much during the shitshow at Marineford." He grimaced "But what's this gotta do with Luffy? Why'd you get into a fight with the shrimp who looked up to you like nobody else in the world?" 

Shanks laughed miserably again and nuzzled Buggy's hand as he held his hair. He looked up at him with one eye closed. 

"Because Luffy's my fuck up, Buggy. He ate the fruit that I was bringing for Ace. The fucking fruit of fucking destiny! That was the punchline 12 years ago. That I thought it was supposed to be Ace— but then it turned out it was going to be Luffy."

Shanks barely paused. The words were tumbling out of his mouth in a stream, a rant— maybe even the raving of a madman.

"The fucking rubber fruit is the fruit of destiny? You're fucking me, right? I mean…" Buggy laughed incredulously. "The kid can stretch, and he's a damn good fighter, a nightmare…real cool, honestly…but it ain't exactly the power to change the world. It's– he's like a stretchy newspaper comic guy." 

Shanks clasped onto Buggy's shirt tightly and he stared up at him again, that dark, almost malicious, desperate gleam in his eye again. 

"It's not the fucking rubber fruit, Buggy. That's what the world government wants you to think. Its a fucking mythic zoan fruit. Its a fucking god fruit, Buggy, and you know what I thought, when I saw that Luffy had eaten it?"

"That this whole thing sounds like the ravings of a dying old man?" Buggy asked with a shaky grin. 

Shanks laughed, terribly. Miserably. 

"Yeah, actually! I thought, fuck, you mean I could have eaten the damned fruit myself? But then I told myself it must have been for Luffy all along. I told myself, well, that's destiny for ya! But now, get this, there's another punchline, Buggy. You'll love this one. You like dark humor, right?"

"Love it, man." Buggy looked down at him. He did, yeah, but not like this. This was just confusing and sad. 

Luffy, Straw Hat Luffy the grinning and shockingly charming little psychopath, had eaten some god fruit that Roger proclaimed was the only thing that'd let someone become Pirate King, by mistake or by destiny?

Madness.

Shanks tugged on Buggy's shirt again. 

"He doesn't want it! He doesn't want to fucking do it! He doesn't want any of it! So you know what that means? Either Luffy's doomed to a fucking destiny he doesn't want, or there's no fucking destiny and I could have eaten the goddamn fruit myself, or it was supposed to be Ace, and you can derail destiny and I did and fucked the whole world in the process!"

Madness. Shanks sounded completely insane.

This was what had driven them apart? This was what Shanks had been doing all these years?

"Hhhhhhhholy fuck." Buggy hissed low through his teeth. This was a lot to take in. A LOT to take in. Destiny, gods, Luffy for some fucking reason, Roger's prophecy appearantly, and Shanks' tangled feelings on the whole mess.

And that was what drove them apart— drove Shanks and Mihawk apart too. 

"Can I be honest here?" 

"Yeah, shoot, go for it, Buggy." Shanks stared up at him, clutching at his shirt for dear life.

"I get you bought into this whole 'god fruit of destiny' thing— and you'd been uh, following that for years even though Ace wound up eatin' another fruit and dying—poor kid. And I get that Luffy ate it and you've been twisting yourself up about if that was meant to happen or if you'd 'fucked up and doomed the world' or whatever…"

He trailed off as he tried to figure out how to say what he meant. "...I just don't get what convinced you that some rubbery god fruit was what was gonna 'save the world' in the first place. I mean, what's the kid gonna do that the rest of us can't?" 

Shanks threw up his hand and laughed. "I don't know! I don't fucking know, Buggy! Be god, I guess! Get the One Piece! I was 15 and I had all my hopes and dreams crushed, and I didn't know what the fuck was going on, and I bet my entire life on what Roger said!"

"Not exactly your best bet if I'm bein' honest Shanksy." Buggy reached out and put his hand on his head again. "I mean, if I'd been told I'd probably be just as fucked up as you though. That— that ain't a great thing to hear when you're already suffering."

He bit his lip before he said "...Luffy doesn't want the destiny, right?" 

"He sure fucking doesn't! He threw me off his ship about it!" Shanks thumped his head against Buggy's chest, his hair pulling taut against his fingers.

"Yeah uh, can't blame him there, Shanksy, for him it probably feels the same way Roger tellin' you that trying to become Pirate King was pointless. Someone he looks up to, ya know, telling him that he, himself, ain't what's important."

Buggy gripped Shanks' hair and gave it a little tug before he petted it. "so I say this, and I want ya to listen closely to me." 

Shanks looked up at him with his dark, almost unhinged gaze again, his lips slightly parted. "I'm listening, Buggy."

Buggy grinned sharply down at him. 

"See, the kid doesn't want that destiny—"

And who could blame him? Being a god was a raw fucking deal. Everyone's expectations and what benefit? It was like being a superstar but everyone expected you to be the one to solve all their problems.

Yikes.

"---So you join Cross Guild, right? And men, a bunch of powerful and dangerous men and women of the sea, we all work together to do what a god can't, or won't. Heh, we make our stand. Take down the World Government's systems just like we've been workin' towards, make real lasting change… even make a charge for the One Piece and save the kid from that destiny he don't want in the process. God or whatever doesn't have to lift a finger, and we take the glory. The world's saved. God or no God." 

Shanks stared at him. And stared, and stared. "You want to save the world. You're serious?"

Buggy rubbed under his nose with a grin. 

"What can I say? I'm the great hero Buggy. The beloved and magnanimous Emperor beloved by the people~. Ask anyone around here, they adore me." 

He leaned down towards Shanks with a wicked chuckle.

"We destroy the World Government's hold on the people, eliminate the systems the Celestial Dragons use to hold power over us? We're free, brother. And with that freedom comes treasure, fame, and power. Just like we always talked about. The people'll even THANK us for it! For acting like fuckin' pirates! Because the Marines and their damn masters are even WORSE than us!" 

Shanks stared at him. And he stared at him.

And he started to laugh, thumping his fist against Buggy's chest. And he laughed, closing his eyes, and thumping him over and over.

"Why not? Why fucking not! It's probably as useless as it is stupid, but why not try? The only other idea I have is to lay down somewhere and drink until I pop! This sounds like a lot more fun. Hell! Maybe it'll even work. And if it doesn't? At least I won't be across the whole fucking sea from you when—"

He broke off and shook his head. Somewhere in his laughter and his thumping, tears had started to quietly roll down Shanks' face again.

Buggy gripped him tighter, his lips parting into a shaky smile as he felt the hot sting of tears in his eyes again, and the burning trail of them down his own face as he started to laugh with him. 

"...damn right you won't be. You'll be right here in our crew of bastards and miscreants, Shanks." He chuckled roughly, hiccuping only a little. "And we'll have a flashy good time as we take the fight to the entire goddamn world— heroes to some and demons to others, right Shanksy?" 

"What a hell of a way to go down," Shanks laughed, rubbing the tears away from his face. "I just want one thing from you, okay, Buggy?"

Buggy blinked down at him, lips salty with tears as he flashed a wide and flashy grin. 

"Yeah Shanksy?" 

"I wanna kiss you again. Can I do that?"

Buggy's face felt hot under the tears as his smile grew warmer, more genuine. "Shanks, I'd been hopin'. I'd been hoping that you'd ask me that for a long damn time." 

Shanks pushed himself up from his knees, and into Buggy's lap instead. He wrapped his arm around his shoulders, and kissed him. It was desperate, like the night before, but less sad. Maybe a little bit more manic.

It was a million times better than the sad and miserable kiss they'd shared over the most awkward dinner he'd ever had. Manic desperation— that was at least something Buggy knew well.

He grabbed him tighter, holding him close on his lap as he kissed him with a matched desperate passion and the smearing of lipstick. 

Shanks bit and sucked eagerly at his lips, pressing his tongue into his mouth. He pushed him down on the bed underneath him, and rubbed his stubbly cheek against his.

"I missed you, Buggy. I spent twenty stupid fucking years missing you."

Buggy fell back against the bed, holding him to his chest with a quiet hiccup of breath as he caught it. 

"You missed me for twenty fucking years? I missed YOU for twenty fuckin' years!" He nuzzled his cheek against him with a whine to his voice as he murmured. "And I kept thinking 'once I get to the Grand Line, I'm gonna find him and snap him outta it or take him down. One way or another' " 

Shanks pressed his face tightly to Buggy's. "Well, you're here, aren't you? And I'm snapped. Oh I am definitely fucking snapped."

He laughed and hugged Buggy tightly.

Shanks had pretty clearly gone absolutely fucking insane. But he'd gone insane a long time ago, too. And what was Cross Guild if not a mad kind of circus? A bunch of pirates trying to change the world in an alliance that everyone the world over called 'absolute madness'.

Yeah—Shanks would fit right in here. Right here with Buggy, a man who'd missed him for two damn decades of wasted time.

"That makes two of us, Shanks."