Even weeks after he’d rescued Doflamingo, Crocodile still wasn’t used to being out in public with the man.For years their relationship had been a badly kept secret, relegated to occasional meetings on distant islands, and clandestine trysts in the aftermath of Warlord business.

Now here he was out for a proper meal with the man. Despite how hard he tried to feign his usual gruff aloofness, the mask didn’t fully hold. He scooted his chair closer, and put his fingers around Doflamingo’s hand under the table, where no one could see. Doflamingo squeezed his hand and his smile widened.

“You know it’s almost long enough for me to braid like I do the kids,” Doflamingo stroked the comb through Crocodile’s oiled hair.

“Don’t you dare! Letting you brush it is humiliating enough.” Even so, a wry grin spread over his face as he protested.

“Humiliating he says!” Doffy leaned forward, resting his chin on the top of Crocodile’s head. “You know for a self-proclaimed gentleman you’re awfully rough.”

He snorted, and leaned against him in return. “I’m here, aren’t I? I’m letting you do this.”

“True, you’re not all scales, Crocodile!” Doffy laughed and kissed his head.

“Just mostly.”

After the disastrous clash with Whitebeard, Doflamingo had welcomed Crocodile and his few remaining crew into his home at Spider Miles. Doffy’s face had gone white when he saw the bandaged stump of Crocodile’s arm.

In private, Doffy scooped him up into his arms, kissing gently over the flesh around the bandage, and down over it.

“You poor thing,” Doffy kept cooing soft consolations, mixed with promises of assistance with revenge.

Crocodile wouldn’t have allowed it with practically anyone else, he shouldn’t have allowed it with Doflamingo. But his pride was in tatters already, and he cried in Doffy’s lap.