Work Text:
Crocodile's fingers lingered on the smooth shell of the transponder snail. It had been the hardest call he'd ever made in his life.
'First, I'll call Mihawk', he'd said to Doffy, as if it was so easy. As if rekindling a relationship that had been nothing but bitter ashes for well more than a decade could be so easy. Maybe it could.
Crocodile had been bitterly afraid that Mihawk would say no. Hang up on him. Maybe even laugh that soft, dry laugh at him first.
But he hadn't. No, it had been like all the years between them had dissolved. And Crocodile felt ashamed of himself for worrying.
He would have known. He would have known at Marineford if Mihawk had come at him with any kind of killing intent, rather than the simple need to hold up his grim duty as a Warlord for a little longer. Maybe only until he had known Crocodile's plan.
"I should have called him earlier," Crocodile murmured to no one.
"It's done," Crocodile murmured, his shoulder brushing Doflamingo's arm as he emerged from his room into the hideout's hallway.
Doffy grinned, looking up from where he'd been leaning against the wall waiting for him. "How'd it go?"
"He's coming."
Doflamingo's smile hitched even wider somehow. Crocodile was never sure how he managed it. It wasn't like Straw Hat and his damned rubber mouth. Doffy just knew how to smile like the top of his face was about to fall off.
Crocodile let himself smile too, despite the lingering embarrassment and the knot of all the worries about what could go wrong. He took a half smoked cigar from his pocket and re-lit it, puffing it back to life. Honestly, Crocodile couldn't blame him for smiling right now.
"That's the three of us, then. How big is this party going to get?"
"Big as we can make it," Crocodile declared. "I told you after I sprung you from custody, we're gonna show the World Government what happens when pirates hang together."
Crocodile had asked Doflamingo to have his crewman Violet keep a lookout for Mihawk's ship, so he'd have some warning before he arrived. He was glad for it, because the nerves were churning in his stomach. On the day that Violet reported that she saw Mihawk's ship sailing toward the Mystoria harbor, he nearly got cold feet and fled. But he steadied himself instead. He dressed carefully, and shined his hook.
He didn't have to ask Doflamingo to wait with him at the bar, Doffy, and the rest of his family, did that without asking.
"You seem nervous, Croccy," Doflamingo teased softly.
"Fuck you," Crocodile huffed, knocking back a long drink of his whisky. "It's hard. We were always supposed to meet up again, after the Warlord thing ended. But then it… never did."
It was Crocodile's fault. Mihawk had certainly been waiting on him to make the first move, right?
Or maybe not. Maybe if that were all he'd been waiting for, Mihawk would have been at his side on Marineford, asking for an alliance, like Doffy had. Instead of standing— if only perfunctorily— in his way.
Crocodile didn't know. He couldn't know. He loved Mihawk. He had loved Mihawk for all this time, even through all the years of silence and distance. But his mind was so often a closed book to him.
All he knew for sure was that he had called, and Mihawk was coming.
What that meant was yet to be seen.
Crocodile felt it the moment that Mihawk walked through the door. His presence seemed to shiver through Crocodile's very being. He would have felt it anywhere, known him anywhere. Even when he had been haki blind he would have felt him.
He turned, and Doflamingo turned with him, and there Mihawk was, standing in the door.
The last time that Crocodile had seen him was two years before, clashing at Marineford. Before that, at a series of pointless warlord meetings, where they sat across the table from one another and pretended to harbor nothing but contempt.
Crocodile had watched him grow older at a distance, and it broke his heart to realize it.
The last time that he'd seen him— that he'd really seen him— was on that day, months after their defeat at by Whitebeard, when they staged their fight, and parted.
Over the last decade and a half, Crocodile had had many occasions to wonder how much of the fight had really been staged. Had grown to worry that Mihawk really did hate him. Or worse, think nothing of him.
But here he was.
Before Crocodile could find his voice, Doffy stood, and gave Mihawk a little salute. He waved and the rest of the family followed him to the staris out the back. A little pang played over Crocodile's shriveled heart, grateful for the privacy.
Crocodile took a breath, and he smiled. He couldn't help it. Of course he smiled. How could he not? Here was Mihawk, and he didn't have to pretend to hate him.
He raised his glass. "I see you made it, Hawk."
“And I see it’s quite the grand reunion, Croc.” Mihawk glanced towards the retreating patrons and the flamboyant Doflamingo.
He walked over, and dropped onto one of the rough stools beside him. Crocodile felt like he hadn't been this close to him in ages. Close enough to touch, and without any of the feigned enmity.
He turned, framed by the guard of his legendary sword as he leaned on one elbow with the trace of a smile. It was almost aching to see. “You know, this takes me back.”
"Didn't seem right to start anywhere else." He waved quickly at the bartender to get them a drink.
Crocodile had been operating out of Mystoria for a while, now. Since he'd crossed back into the New World after Impel Down. He hadn't known where else to start again, than the place that he'd done it before so long ago.
"Besides, this is where I knew you'd be able to find me without me saying."
Mihawk chuckled. “Yes…there’s no way I’d ever forget our time just short of paradise, Captain.”
Crocodile knew he was still smiling but he felt his eyes sting with the threat of tears. Just hearing Mihawk say that— just the reassurance that Mihawk still remembered. Still thought of it, it threatened to break him.
“If I remember, the last time we were here together, your nonsense set fire to the western district.”
Crocodile broke. He couldn't help but laugh, and all the worry and stiffness went out of him. This was Mihawk. He was still Mihawk. His lover, his best friend, his first mate. The man who had stood by him for all those years at sea, through blood and gold, and everything that anyone could throw at them.
Right up until that fatal moment.
Crocodile felt himself shaking, as he slipped his arm around Mihawk's shoulders. To reassure himself that he was really there, that it wasn't a dream.
That Mihawk wouldn't push him away.
The first friendly touch with his old lover in more that fifteen years. He felt the heat of his body under him. He still smelled like Mihawk, too. Like soap, and sword oil, and leather.
"My nonsense, he says. As if you weren't right there with me trying to burn the louse out of his hidey-hole." The memory came to Crocodile like it had been yesterday. Like he hadn't pushed the thought of all those madcap adventures with Mihawk as far out of his mind as he could, for so long. They had been terrors together, once.
Maybe they could be again.
“I always had a problem being drawn into your nonsense.” Mihawk snorted softly. “And we did flush him out in the end.”
As he spoke, Crocodile felt him lean in to his touch, toward his body. The narrow, smaller man resting part of his weight against him. Crocodile felt a lump forming in his throat.
"Damn right we did," Crocodile laughed, worrying about how hoarse it might sound. "And now here you are getting drawn into my nonsense again, eh?"
He gave him a hopeful— maybe pleading look, and Mihawk responded by weaving his fingers through the fur of Crocodile's coat. He looked up at him, and their eyes met. Mihawk's strange, sharp eyes had always been so damned bewitching.
“It seems. Like that whole mess with Roger’s golden coins…given the flamingo’s here too.” He chuckled, low and rumbling under his breath. “And I still have no idea what asinine plan you’ve got up your sleeve this time.”
Roger's golden coins. The misadventure in the wake of the execution. Another memory that Crocodile hadn't thought of in so long. He turned it over in his mind like a stone in his palm, warm, and fond. Was Mihawk trying to remind him? Trying to convince him that he'd been thinking of him all along, by bringing up these old tales?
He hoped so. It was working. All of the worry that Crocodile had harbored in his old, black heart was slowly melting away.
"Had to break the bastard out of marine custody– I'm damned if I'm gonna let him out of my sight after I went to the trouble." Crocodile shook his head.
Now was the time. Mihawk was here. If Crocodile was going to give him the pitch, why draw it out?
He pressed his cheek to Mihawk's, feeling the warmth of his flesh, and the scratch of his stubble. "As for my new asinine plan– you ready to hear it?"
“I”ll suffer his foolishness then. For you. But I’ve been absolutely dying with curiosity , Crocodile. Especially after you neglected to include me in that little Utopia plan of yours.”
Crocodile had been midway through opening his mouth to speak when Mihawk's words cut right through him.
"Neglected to include you? When I told you I thought we needed an impregnable home base you told me to come to that miserable rainy island of yours!" Crocodile took a deep breath, pushing away the old hurt. It didn't matter. Mihawk was here now. "But hey, I'm giving you a second chance."
“Kuraigana Island is beautifully defensible, Croc. It would have been far less lonely if you’d been there.” Mihawk leaned on his hand, snorting softly. But Crocodile could see the little smile on his face. Mihawk was teasing him. “...you’re giving your old swordsman a second chance, hm? Another shot at your ‘utopia’?”
"Something like that, yeah," He leaned in closer, refusing to give any ground. Mihawk kept bringing up 'utopia'. It was something that they'd disagreed on. Crocodile let him have the point. "But I'll admit, I learned a valuable lesson when I got my ass handed to me two years ago."
“Not to make an enemy of a punch-happy princess?” Mihawk asked as his fingers brushed through the coat’s ‘fur’ before looping below to press against his back.
There he was, teasing him again. Had Mihawk ever joked with him at the Warlord meetings? Ever cracked a smile in his presence in the 14 miserable years of empty distance between them? He was smiling now. He was joking now.
And Crocodile laughed roughly. "Not exactly. Hell– that princess? We're friends now, you believe that Hawk? … friends."
Friends. Friends were something Crocodile thought he'd given up a long time ago.
He leaned into Mihawk, and the regret hung heavy in his heart.
“I wouldn’t have expected that, Croc, not at all. Hah, I’ll have to ask what changed.” Mihawk's fingers trailed up Crocodile's back, and he leaned into the reassuring touch. "Though, I’ve made unexpected bonds, myself.”
He chuckled. "That kid you were training? Funny, him and the princess are on the same ship right now, unless something's gone sideways."
“That’s right. And Moria’s ‘Ghost Princess’, who I only just managed to convince to step out of harm's way.” Mihawk leaned over, his hat bending to accommodate as he rested his cheek against Croc’s shoulder. Crocodile's chest tightened, as he held him close. He hadn't been close to him like this, in this simple way, in so long.
“It’s funny how fate conspires to give us a connection to the straw hats, hmm?” Mihawk continued, softly. “I’m pleased you patched things up…lesson learned, hm?”
"Lesson learned," Crocodile murmured back. They'd wandered far off the point. It was unsurprising, with so damned much to talk about. But he wanted to tell him. He started again.
He hoped his nerves didn't carry in his voice, trying to make the whole idea sound fun. Casual. Like it wasn't the stupidest and most brilliant idea ever. Like it wasn't going to get them all killed. Like it wasn't what they should have done more than a decade and a half ago.
"That's why instead of looking for a super weapon, I'm going to build an army. An alliance. And we're gonna go after the navy, instead of waiting around for them to go after us. Sound like your kind of party?"
Mihawk’s sharp, hawk-like eyes focused in on Crocodile’s face as a vicious smile crawled over his lips.
“...my , Captain…no more waiting around and biding our time? No more cheap tricks?” He looped his arm around him to draw him closer. “An all out war against the hated marines, making our stand like men? It sounds like my kind of party indeed.”
Crocodile felt his lips trembling, and the heat in his eyes again as Mihawk called him captain.
He put his hand on Mihawk's face, as if it would steady him, stroking his thumb along the edge of his beard. Crocodile had never touched it before. He'd grown it after they parted.
"You were the first one I thought of when I decided," he admitted. "No more hedging my bets, Hawk, no more playing it safe. I'm ready to gamble– win or lose."
An all out war against the marines. He knew it was what Mihawk had always wanted. It was what Crocodile had never been able to give him.
Not until now.
He shivered, as Mihawk's fingers drew thoughtful loops on his back, under his coat.
“If you’re ready to gamble it all, Crocodile…I shall gamble it all right beside you.” He smiled sharply and Crocodile had never been gladder to see that smile. Never been happier in his life. “Besides, I haven’t had a good battle in ages. Not since that mess in Marineford and my protege…if we’re going all in, I’ll wade into hell beside you. Just like the old days.”
"Just like the old days." Crocodile was sure his voice broke as he leaned his face in close, lit by the firelight. "Sorry it took so long."
“I’ll forgive you for it, Croc,” The swordsman hummed as he looked him deep in the eyes, noses nearly touching, “as we make up for wasted time.”
"Cheers to that, Hawk."
Crocodile's voice was a rasp, and to smother the sob that threatened to follow, he pulled Mihawk the rest of the way towards him, and closed the distance. He kissed him— a rough, desperate kiss.
How could it be anything but desperate and rough, after so long? After so much wasted time?
Mihawk's mouth was sweet against his, and Crocodile gathered him in his arms tightly, refusing to let go.
He'd said he would gamble it all, and he meant it. Win or lose, it didn't matter. This time if they went down, they'd go down together. Crocodile should have known all those years ago that it was all he really wanted.