Work Text:
Doflamingo came into the room at four, documents in his hand.
He sat at the desk, flipping through the papers.
Page after page. His jaw tight.
"There's a party tonight," he muttered, his gaze fixed on the documents. "Giberson’s."
Rosinante looked up at him, waiting.
“He expects a fair amount of drinking," Doflamingo continued, still refusing to meet Rosinante’s eyes.
More flipping.
Rosinante watched him. Then it clicked.
The letter.
I will not allow myself to become that drunk again.
If there are meetings that require plentiful drinking and cannot be avoided, you may come with me. I have nothing to hide from you.
And now there was a meeting that required it. Doflamingo was keeping his word.
Rosinante went still, his chest tightening.
"I know you are pregnant," Doflamingo said slowly, "but I'd rather you were there."
The words came out like they had to be dragged out of his throat.
"Okay," Rosinante said.
“It won’t be crowded, I’ll be in the VIP—”
“Doffy. I’ll come.”
Doflamingo put the document down and finally looked at him.
“Ten o’clock,” he said, already picking up his coat and walking out.
He paused at the door, his back to Rosinante.
"Do not wear the shirt with the lacing."
Rosinante exhaled exasperatedly as he heard the footsteps go down the corridor.
He looked down at Rosalia in her cot.
She cocked her head at him.
"Your father," he said, picking her up and settling her against his chest, "works very hard."
She flailed her little hands before pressing them against his face, looking at Rosinante intently.
"And so did I." He looked at her pale red eyes. "Before you. I was Corazon." He paused. "I was also a Marine Commander. At the same time."
Rosalia made a sound.
"I know," he said. "It's impressive, isn’t it."
He looked at the door Doflamingo had just walked through.
"It's time," he whispered, "to make myself useful again."
They arrived at Giberson's with the rest of the Family.
The ballroom was massive. Navy blue velvet draped the walls from floor to ceiling, the tops disappearing into shadows. Crystal chandeliers hung overhead, the lights dimmed, blurring faces across the room.
The smell hit Rosinante as soon as they walked in. He covered his nose against the mix of expensive cigars and aged brandy.
Doflamingo’s hand moved from around his shoulders to the small of Rosinante’s back, steering him past the main floor up into the VIP area.
The VIP area was a raised platform along the back wall. The floor was reinforced glass, thick but clear, giving a direct view of the main ballroom below.
The Family spread out the moment they stepped onto the platform. Diamanté wasted no time introducing himself to the other guests. Trebol had already slung an arm around two men at the bar, his laughter booming across the platform. Pica leaned against the wall, drink in hand, surveying the room.
Doflamingo guided Rosinante away from the bulk of the smoke drifting up from the main cluster of guests. He moved them towards a quieter corner at the far end of the platform. He sat down and pulled Rosinante beside him.
His hand landed on Rosinante's thigh. Fingers spread wide.
Rosinante felt the looks before he saw them.
Their eyes moved from Doflamingo's face to the hand resting on Rosinante's thigh. Then to Rosinante. Back to Doflamingo, before darting away.
Brothers didn't sit like this.
Rosinante's cheeks burned. He kept his head down and tried to shift his leg slightly.
Doflamingo's grip tightened, fingers spreading even further.
Rosinante stopped moving.
Doflamingo was already talking business to someone who had approached the couch.
A server appeared. Doflamingo ordered without looking up. A minute later a wine glass was set in front of him. He took a slow sip, then held it out.
Rosinante took the glass and smelled it. Grape juice.
He smiled, brushing his fingers against the back of Doflamingo's hand. Doflamingo's skin was warm. Already three drinks in since they'd sat down.
A woman near the bar glanced at them again.
Rosinante pulled his hand back and turned his face away, letting his hair fall forward.
He used to want this. Have Doflamingo claim him in front of everyone. Now it was happening and it felt nauseating.
Doflamingo's hand was still on his thigh. Completely unconcerned with what anyone in the room thought about it.
Rosinante sipped on his grape juice and focused on what he had to do.
He let his gaze drop through the glass floor.
The ballroom below was a blur of faces under the low light. Most of them he didn't need to know. Middlemen, lackeys, pawns who simply filled space. He filtered them out automatically.
An older woman near the high tables, adorned with a sparkling red dress and thick gold jewelry. Important, judging by the circle of people waiting for a chance to even speak to her.
Two men occupied the leather sofa in the corner, wearing over-the-top suits. They looked completely relaxed, exchanging laughs and smoking cigars over an expensive-looking box sitting between them. A server stood by permanently, tasked only with pouring their drinks from a private bottle.
Then his peripheral vision caught a familiar shape near the back.
Umit.
Rosinante's grip on the glass tightened.
Umit wasn't just a buyer. He was the King of Logistics. He bought weapons in industrial quantities to supply his networks. Doflamingo had been trying to lock him down as a client for years.
He was standing near the bar with someone Rosinante didn’t recognize. A lanky man with long dark hair.
They spoke briefly. Then the other man tilted his head towards a hallway at the side of the room.
Umit followed.
"I need the washroom," Rosinante said.
Doflamingo broke off his conversation and shifted as though to stand.
Rosinante stroked Doflamingo’s wrist with his thumb.
"I'll be quick."
Doflamingo nodded, his hand falling away.
Rosinante set the glass down and slipped off the couch.
The noise of the party thickened as he went down to the main floor. Voices speaking over voices. Obnoxious fake laughter. Glasses clinking.
He moved through it the way he used to always move through it. Shoulders hunched, eyes down.
Everyone who looked at him just saw him as Corazon. Doflamingo’s brother.
Nobody bothered to look at him twice.
He'd forgotten how easy it was. How invisible he could be when everyone treated him as just his brother’s shadow.
He reached the entrance of the hallway and snapped his fingers, the sound dying before it could even form.
Silence formed over him like a second skin.
He kept walking until he found it. The third door down. He could hear voices on the other side, low but clear enough.
"Three weeks now. No contact, no shipments. My buyers need their weapons."
"Marines?"
"Or dead."
"I can fill the gap. Forty-five a unit."
"Forty-five." Umit repeated it slowly. Like he was tasting something rotten.
"Forty if the volume is significant enough—"
"Don't you know who I am?" Umit's voice cut clean. "I buy more in a month than most dealers move in a year. Forty-five is a joke. And not a funny one."
"Forty," the man said. "Final offer. No negotiation. The Marines are squeezing everyone. Supplies are getting thin."
That was all Rosinante heard.
He didn't need more information.
This man was offering forty a unit. Umit's usual dealer was gone.
Doflamingo could do thirty-eight, easily. And with Umit's volume, thirty-eight a unit was a significant margin.
He stepped away from the door and returned to the main floor.
He took a glass from a passing tray and drifted through the crowd as though he were mingling, moving casually towards the stairs.
Then he stopped.
Doflamingo was standing at the bottom of them.
Craning his neck with one hand on the railing, shirt already unbuttoned halfway down his flushed chest.
His eyes took longer than usual to find Rosinante.
He came over.
"What are you doing?"
"I was just looking around," Rosinante murmured. “It’s a nice ballroom.”
"You've been gone for 10 minutes." Doflamingo stepped closer.
Doflamingo's eyes dropped to the glass in his hand. Rosinante followed his gaze.
"Doffy—"
Doflamingo snatched the glass from Rosinante’s grip and sniffed it.
"I didn’t drink it." Rosinante mumbled.
Doflamingo’s jaw tightened. He set it down on the nearest table harder than necessary.
"I didn’t drink it," Rosinante insisted softly.
"Why are you down here?”
He didn’t wait for a reply. His hand found Rosinante's arm. Gripped it harder than he meant to before walking up the stairs towards the VIP area.
“Doffy, you’re hurting me—”
He let go of Rosinante.
"You are pregnant. In a room full of people who would cut your throat for the right price. And you decided to take a stroll."
"I wasn't—"
"You don't know these people, Rosinante. You don't know what they would do if they knew who you were to me. If they knew you were carrying my heir."
Rosinante's mouth closed.
Doflamingo’s eyes were hard in a way Rosinante hadn't seen directed at him in a long time.
They stopped at the door.
"You are not to leave this room without me," Doflamingo instructed. “Is that understood?”
He placed his hand firmly on Rosinante’s back to guide him back in.
Rosinante sat back on the couch.
Doflamingo went to the bar and came back with a fresh glass of juice. Set it down in front of him so hard that it spilled over the edges.
Then he stood there for a moment, staring down at Rosinante.
Rosinante didn't look up. He picked up the glass and drank it while looking to the side.
Doflamingo's hand moved. Brushed the hair from Rosinante's forehead, before moving to hold his jaw.
He took a long exhale. “Tell me if you need the washroom.“
Then he went back to finish his conversation at the bar.
Rosinante sat still and finished his juice. He didn't get up for the rest of the night.
The party began to wind down. Giberson's potent liquor had finally caught up with everyone.
Doflamingo emerged from the bar with Giberson, still laughing about something.
His walk was unsteady now. Tie almost undone.
He made his way to the couch and dropped down beside Rosinante.
Doflamingo leaned his forehead against Rosinante's shoulder, pressing him into the cushion.
Giberson snickered at the sight and shook his head before walking away.
"Rosinante," Doflamingo said, muffled against his shoulder. His hand found his thigh. He massaged the flesh through his trousers before moving upwards, slipping under his shirt.
"Doffy." Rosinante's hand came down to stop it. "What are you doing?"
"Nothing." Doflamingo's voice was slurring. His fingers kept moving, sliding up past his ribs, finding the pendant.
He traced it with his thumb, then lifted himself from Rosinante's shoulder, looking at him with unfocused eyes.
"Doffy, people are staring."
"Hmm."
Doflamingo leaned in towards Rosinante's neck. His breath was hot against his skin.
Rosinante stood up.
Doflamingo swayed at the sudden loss of support, nearly tipping sideways before catching himself on the arm of the couch. He looked up at Rosinante with blurry confusion.
Rosinante found Diamanté across the room, still in the midst of a conversation. He caught his eye and nodded towards Doflamingo.
Diamanté excused himself and came over. Took the situation in. Doflamingo half-slumped on the couch, Rosinante standing two feet away with his arms crossed.
He walked over to the couch and crouched. "Young master. The ship is waiting at the dock."
Doflamingo blinked at him.
"Ship.”
"Yes. Whenever you're ready."
Doflamingo sat there for a moment. Then he pushed himself up.
“Why would I take the ship?”
Diamanté gestured to Rosinante who had an unamused look on his face.
“No strings.” Rosinante said sternly.
They arrived home just after three.
Doflamingo shut the bedroom door behind them and shrugged off his coat. His shirt was already fully unbuttoned.
He cupped Rosinante's face, pressing a slow kiss beneath his jaw. His hands found the buttons of Rosinante's shirt, undoing them one by one without taking his mouth off his neck.
"Come bathe with me."
Rosinante smiled faintly, letting Doflamingo finish unbuttoning his shirt. The shirt slipped from his shoulders and fell to the floor.
"I will." He placed a palm against Doflamingo's chest. "Run the bath first."
Doflamingo leaned in to press one last kiss to his jaw.
"Don't take too long."
Then he disappeared into the bathroom.
The moment the door shut behind him, Rosinante went to his desk.
He pulled out a sheet of paper and wrote quickly.
Umit.
Regular arms supplier missing. Presumed dead or compromised.
Temporary supplier offering forty a unit.
Doflamingo can comfortably undercut at thirty-eight.
"Rosinante."
Doflamingo's voice called from the bathroom.
Rosinante folded the report and shoved it into the drawer.
He let out a long breath and went to join Doflamingo in the bath.
A knock on the door.
“Come in.”
The staff appeared in the doorway of Doflamingo’s office with a tray holding a kettle of ginger tea and two teacups.
“Young Master.” He bowed. “Corazon is requesting a meeting.”
Doflamingo looked up from his documents.
“Corazon?”
“Yes, Young Master.”
Doflamingo set his pen down and leaned back in his chair.
“Send him in.”
Rosinante sat down and placed the document in front of Doflamingo.
The room was silent while Doflamingo read the short lines, his eyes moving up and down the page repeatedly.
He set it down.
“Rosinante,” he said. “What is this?”
“Umit needs arms,” Rosinante said. “You can do thirty-nine. Then he’ll ask for a better price, and you can offer thirty-eight. It’s still a huge profit.”
He poured a cup of tea for the both of them and pushed one towards Doflamingo.
“You should contact him soon,” Rosinante continued. “It sounded urgent.”
Doflamingo picked up the paper again.
“You did this last night,” Doflamingo said.
“Yes.”
“At the party.”
“Yes.”
Rosinante took a sip from his cup.
Doflamingo’s grip tightened on the paper, the edges crumpling.
“Why are you doing this?”
“I want to.”
“Rosinante—”
“I chose you,” Rosinante said, resting his palm on Doflamingo's arm. “So this is my family too.”
“You don’t have to do this.”
“Let me help, Doffy,” Rosinante breathed, letting his hand slide from Doflamingo’s arm to his fingertips.
Doflamingo took his hand and laced their fingers together.
“Good work, Rosinante.”
Rosinante grinned.
“At work, you can call me Corazon.”
The corner of Doflamingo’s mouth lifted into a smirk.
“Good work, Corazon.” He brought their joined hands to his lips.
Rosinante felt the warm press of his mouth against his knuckles.
Then the shape of it slowly changed, curving downwards.
Doflamingo pulled away.
“Rosinante.”
Rosinante waited.
“Tesoro called two days ago. There’s been resistance towards the Vespa Development. Significant enough that construction has stalled in two sectors.”
Doflamingo took a sip of tea with one hand, the other still holding Rosinante’s.
“Tesoro wants it handled.”
Rosinante looked at him. His breathing had quickened.
“When do you leave?" he asked, throat thick like it hurt to speak. "And for how long?”
“Tomorrow. For a month.”
Rosinante's hand jerked away from Doflamingo's so fast it knocked the cup.
Scalding hot tea splashed across his chest and stomach, before the cup hit the floor and shattered.
He didn’t react. Didn’t even flinch.
Doflamingo was already out of the door.
“Tomorrow,” Rosinante repeated to the empty room, his face completely blank. “For a month.”
Doflamingo returned with a wet towel. He crouched beside Rosinante and unbuttoned his shirt, pressing the cold cloth against the reddened skin of his stomach.
“Why are you only telling me now?”
Doflamingo heard the quiver in his voice and didn't reply.
Rosinante grabbed Doflamingo's wrist.
"Why? Why are you—"
“I didn't know how to tell you,” Doflamingo said quietly, not meeting his eyes.
The chair scraped back.
Rosinante left while buttoning his shirt.
Doflamingo returned to the room early.
Early enough that Rosalia was awake, doing tummy time on the mat with her cat crinkle.
Mila was near the cot, arranging the freshly washed baby bottles.
She looked up when the door opened, saw Doflamingo, and set the last bottle down.
"Young Master." She bowed, "I'll take my leave, have a pleasant evening."
The door clicked shut behind her.
Rosinante was on the floor.
Sitting beside Rosalia, back against the edge of the bed. His head was buried in his knees.
Doflamingo sat down on the floor beside him.
Rosalia looked up at her fathers and waved the cat crinkle, before she resumed pressing it with both hands.
"I spoke to Mila," Doflamingo said. "She won't be taking any days off. Not while I'm gone."
Rosinante didn't move.
"I've arranged for a Den Den Mushi to arrive later. You'll call me every—"
"No."
Rosinante lifted his head. His eyes were red.
"You call," Rosinante said. "You're the one leaving."
Doflamingo took the cat crinkle from Rosalia.
"Fine," Doflamingo muttered, idly pressing the cat crinkle.
He adjusted the button eye that had gone slightly askew then returned it to her.
Rosinante leaned sideways and rested his head on Doflamingo's shoulder.
The tears came spilling, soaking into Doflamingo's shirt.
"I'm pregnant, Doffy,” Rosinante said, trying to keep his voice steady. "I was alone the first time. And I thought— I thought this time it would be different."
Doflamingo's hand moved to the back of his neck.
"Rosinante—"
"The morning sickness is going to get worse soon." His voice was getting shakier. "And I'll have to deal with it alone. And visit Dr. Tegata alone—"
His breath hitched.
"I don't know what's wrong with me. I did it all by myself the first time. But now you're here and—"
He stopped. Swallowed. The tears were coming faster now.
"Now you're here," he repeated. "But you're leaving."
His last word dissolved into a sob.
Doflamingo sat on the floor with his pregnant brother crying against him and did not know what to do.
His free hand pressed the sides of his temples.
He did not have words for this. He could not think of anything to say to make the crying stop.
His hand pressed more firmly against the back of Rosinante's neck while the other settled between his shoulder blades, pulling him closer against his chest.
Rosinante's fingers twisted in his shirt. Each sob shaking them both.
Then, a small sound.
Doflamingo looked over Rosinante's shoulder.
Rosalia had let go of the cat crinkle. Her face scrunched up, mouth open in a wail that started to get louder.
She had been watching. She didn't understand any of it.
But she understood the sound her father was making.
She didn't like it.
The wail hit full volume.
Doflamingo looked at Rosinante crying against his chest, then at his daughter crying on the mat.
He let out a heavy sigh and scooped her up with one arm.
She cried harder, pressing her tiny face against his chest beside Rosinante's.
Both of them, forming two wet spots on his shirt.
Doflamingo bounced Rosalia slightly, his other hand rubbing Rosinante's neck.
"Stop crying," he whispered.
Rosinante was sniffling now, his breathing still uneven.
Rosalia's cries faded into loud, angry fussing.
"Both of you," Doflamingo said. "Are such crybabies."
Rosinante let out a soft, wet laugh, wiping his tears with the back of his palm.
Doflamingo opened the door at the sound of footsteps approaching.
A staff stood in the corridor holding a Den Den Mushi.
He took it without a word and closed the door, before crossing the room and setting it down on the bedside table beside Rosinante.
Then he sat on the edge of the mattress.
His hand found Rosinante's thigh under the sheet, thumb moving slowly across the warm, bare skin.
He had left for countless trips before. Short ones. Long ones. Trips that lasted weeks. Trips where he didn't call and didn't think twice about it.
This felt different.
It felt wrong.
Rosinante's hand came up and found Doflamingo's face in the dark.
"Come back."
"I always come back, Rosinante."
"Before four weeks."
"I'll try."
Rosinante's mouth curved into a small frown.
"Don't try. Do it."
"The weather is unpredictable," Doflamingo replied.
Rosinante's hand slipped from his face to the back of his neck, pulling him closer.
Doflamingo leaned in.
"I hate this," Rosinante whispered.
"I know."
"I hate that you're leaving."
He knew he sounded childish. He didn't care.
"I'll be there for everything after," Doflamingo said. "Whatever I miss."
Doflamingo closed the distance and kissed him.
"That's not the same," Rosinante whispered, in between kisses.
"No," Doflamingo said against his lips. "It's not."
He didn't pretend otherwise, just kept kissing him. His hand still stroking Rosinante's thigh, sliding higher.
Rosinante kissed back and stopped saying anything about him leaving.