Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The promise of a date for Friday seemed to bring more trouble than you had initially expected.

The meeting with Crocodile left you feeling light and smiling for the rest of the day. In fact, it had you kicking your legs and screaming into your poor pillow once again. Though, this time it was for a good reason. Sleep had escaped you and you found your imagination could run wild with ideas when given the time. You began to imagine what a date with the mysterious Crocodile would be like. Would he take you to an expensive restaurant where the wine cost more than your rent? From the way, the man dressed you could only assume any date with him would be costly. Perhaps he’d take you to an event where you were expected to keep your hand on his arm? Perhaps he’d bring you into his home. Oh, the options were plenty and sleep was evasive, so you were able to spend most of the night dreaming of how Friday would go.

But, that also meant you could spend more of the night thinking of how nightmarish it could go as well.

What if he changed his mind before then? What if when you called him, he just never answers? You wouldn’t have the courage to face him again, not after how things had gone before, so you knew this would be your only chance for something like this. What if he was too ashamed to be seen with you in public? You certainly didn’t own any clothes that could compare to his tastes. In fact, the only dress you still own had been something you wore years ago when you first graduated high school. A nice dress for certain but not something to be worn to a five-star restaurant with a man of such a caliber. Oh, how the options for this to turn sour were also plenty and before long your alarm would sound and you’d have to start your day. Although you wouldn’t work until the evening, you could barely find the willpower to do the things you would normally do. Your mental clash had worn you out and by the time you were tying on your familiar apron and pulling your hair under a cap, you were both still high from his words and shivering from your fears. 

What would not be of any help would be when the man of the hour would wander into the coffee shop.

Of course, there had been a chance he would show up. There were very few days he would show up, most of which involved rain. It was cloudy for certain but the rain wouldn’t start until later that evening when you were due to get off. Whatever high that had lingered and had your coworkers watching you with curious glances would fizzle the moment sharp, cold eyes found you behind the counter. It had been your day to serve the drinks up front and you suddenly wished you could switch places with anyone in the back. Tending to the proofing dough would have been more preferable to the look Crocodile was giving you. Although he was dressed as he always was, he looked…off. As though his vest hadn’t been ironed that morning and his coat hung a little too loose off his shoulders. While you hadn’t expected him to treat you differently in public considering there hadn’t even been the idea of a relationship yet, just a date, you had hoped he wouldn’t direct that annoyed glare at you like he was.

Had you messed up already?

Worries from the previous night surfaced and you barely caught how his gaze darted back to the phone in his hand, which buzzed for his attention without a pause. Had you not been so convinced he was already annoyed by your presence you could have realized perhaps his phone had been the source of it, but he had already tucked it away by the time you returned with his drink order and his glare fought your fleeing gaze once again. He didn’t even thank you before he turned and shuffled immediately out the door. The bell signaled his departure and you continued to watch him through the front windows until he was gone.

Not even a courtesy glance.

And like a switch, the sparks of hope fizzled out like embers under a well-polished shoe and you were upset. Upset enough that even your co-workers wouldn’t dare to get near you as you worked. The mood shift could be felt in the air and it only continued to decline as you began to mess up orders. On the third separate order where the drink would be spilled and you’d have to apologize once again would you finally be shoved to the back. While your co-workers were wise enough to keep out of your way while you fought with dough and dishes for the rest of the evening, the manager on duty would not be.

Nami had always been a warm and sweet face in the business. Apparently, she had inherited it young. Her and her sister taking over when their mother’s passing hit directly after Nami had finished high school. It had been a tragedy and despite knowing Nami as personally as you do she never speaks of it unless the date of memory is at hand (and usually it’s her simply asking if you’d help her pick out a few flowers). Nojiko, older by two years, would be the more open of the two to talk about it. You still wouldn’t pry even to this day. After their mother’s passing, Nami and Nojiko had taken what had been a passive business on the side and turned it into something booming. While they managed an orchid outside of the city to supply many with fresh tangerines, they both took care of this place. A memory of their mother to cradle and raise until it managed to garner a crowd on the daily. Nami was shrewd. A well-known shrewd who penny-pinched until she had managed to upgrade nearly every aspect of this business. Despite being shrewd, she had been a surprisingly caring boss who tried to hire those she thinks ‘needs this chance’. Apparently, a fresh high school student who was hoping to go to college had met her needs and you didn’t hesitate to dive right in and prove your worth. Both of you knew you wouldn’t be here for much longer. Your degree would open up opportunities for you, but you both put that to the back of your minds. Nami treated you like she would anyone who was family. She chased the creepier customers out when they made unwanted passes and didn’t hesitate to drive you home even though you only lived a walk away. 

Nami was almost always the closing manager on duty. Nojiko almost always opened. Sundays, the shop would usually close for inventory and stock. It used to be the sisters’ only day off, but a freshly hired manager had been proving himself useful in giving them a day of choice off through the week. Due to your schooling, you almost always worked with Nami with the exception of the occasional Sunday for inventory or Saturday morning you offered to handle. As you had predicted, when the time came for your shift to end and the other workers had already clocked out, rain started to pour. Considering Nami wouldn’t let you leave unless it was in her car you would say until she finished the end-of-day paperwork. Your gloom hadn’t lifted even when she finally locked the door and when you both squeezed under her umbrella she finally broke the moody silence.

“Spill.” You blinked owlishly. Both of your steps splashed in thick puddles in the parking lot and rain occasionally nipped at your exposed elbow. Nami’s umbrella was just a bit too small for you both. Nami, however, held her piercing gaze on you as you both approached her distant vehicle.

“Spill?”

“You came skipping through that door as if you had just won the lottery. Now you’re pouting like someone stole your favorite toy and won’t give it back. Like an entirely different person came and took your nametag for the rest of the shift.” Your head dipped and you felt shame on your cheeks. You wanted to apologize, but you knew Nami wouldn’t accept it unless it came with an answer. Nami’s vehicle was old; bought with a bargained amount of cash that Nami had continued to lower with her words. The seats were the nicest part compared to the broken speakers and how it shook slightly when first started up. But Nami was persistent that it would continue to last and she refused to drop any of her savings unless it finally croaked. When the vehicle finally rumbled to life and shook for a solid moment, you allowed yourself the moment of peace to watch the rain reflect on the windshield.

“It’s stupid.” Nami looked over when you spoke. Despite the engine on Nami wouldn’t turn anything else on. You were thankful she didn’t appear in a rush to get home. It wasn’t as late as you both would normally get out on the weekends and your class for the next morning wouldn’t be until closer to mid-day. You could spare the time to clear your thoughts. Your experience on dating (or anything else involving romance) could only fizzle down to a handful of dates and quick sexual experiences in high school. Times you didn’t even think about now. Nami, however, often had men swooning over her in bunches. If there was anyone to turn to for advice it would definitely be her.

Still, it didn’t make you feel any less embarrassed to bring it up.

“I met a guy.” Nami’s eyes lit up. Her arms propped up n the steering wheel and she looked at you with a stare that urged you to continue. “The neighbor guy I told you about.”

“Tall, dark, and kind of rude? One-handed guy? The one you embarrassed yourself in front of-”

“Yes, that one.” The usual smirk that lit up her face ignited full force at your dismissive wave.

“Well?”

“You hesitated. You hesitated for a long time until your buried your face directly into your arm that propped up on your crossed legs. 

“He asked me out.” You would not dare bring up how it happened. You were already embarrassed enough and you knew Nami would never drop it. Revealing to her about the date already brought up the risk of her being extra teasing whenever Crocodile would enter the shop. It’s a miracle she’s been able to keep her mouth closed as long as she had once you revealed you had a crush on the man. Though whenever he appeared she’d immediately search you out with her eyes to give you a look . At your words, Nami looked almost relieved.

“Finally! You know, I was waiting for someone to make a move before I-”

“But I’m not so sure if we’re going to have the date or not.” Nami deflated and almost seemed to pout.

“What? Why not?” Seconds ticked into minutes and your mouth would open and close, the words on your tongue-twisting before they escaped. You didn’t know how to phrase it. How exactly do you inform her of your worries accompanied by his reaction from earlier? Had you possibly been overreacting? Doubt crept into your mind then and you finally had to find the least embarrassing explanation for her. The words tumbled out in a mess and Nami listened patiently with a frown.

Then, like a crack of lightning from the storm outside, she would laugh. A hand smacked the steering wheel and the car beeped as she choked on her own laugh. You’d jump and watch as she brushed the laughter from her eyes and looked at you with a gaze so fond it caught you off-guard.

“You’re so cute it hurts.” Embarrassment painted your cheeks bright and you suddenly felt like a kid being teased. You’d bury your face into your arm more before sitting straight up, legs stretching out.

“I don’t see how I’m being cute.”

“When was your last date?”

When did you?

It must have been the last year of high school. A Junior had asked you to join him and some friends for bowling. Having been presented as a group activity it would shock you to show up and find it to be mostly couples instead. Surprisingly the accidental date didn’t turn out as horribly as it could have when the truth had come out. Two more dates would come from the two of you, both at the movies before you would break things apart before graduation. Your heart hadn’t shattered and last you saw on social media he had found someone nice in another state. Ever since you had been so focused on work and school that you didn’t even think of entertaining the idea of dating again. Nami would laugh softly at this information.

“So, you’ve never dated a man before.”

“He was a man.” You sounded confused. It only furthered when Nami would shake her head.

“No, he was a boy. You were both too young and naive; thus a boy. However, from how you’ve described this man, and what I’ve seen, he is definitely a man .”

“The difference?”

“The difference is this isn’t going to be like any date you’ve ever had before.” You looked worried and she lightly brought a hand on your own to squeeze. “Listen, you go get your date planned out. This Friday, right?” You’d nod.

“In theory-”

“You plan this date out,” She started, tone a bit firmer. “And you tell me everything tomorrow when you come skipping through that door again.”

Nami’s ominous words and reassurance lingered the entire car ride home. She would stand strong with her words of you reaching out to him despite how much you tried to reason that you should possibly leave him alone for the time being. Her voice of reason wouldn’t let up and just as you pulled into the spots in front of the apartment building would you finally stop pouting and agree. With the hour it was there wouldn’t be many people in the building. Only a handful stood around the doors trying to weigh their options with the storm at hand. The elevator would be empty and you’d lean against the back wall after hitting your floor number. Nami’s advice rang in your ears once again and you finally adjusted to reach into one of the pockets of your pants. Bypassing the heavy apron that was now covered in flour and smelled of coffee you found the prize you had been searching for; Crocodile’s card. Having thought ahead you had brought it in hopes of possibly calling the man on your break. You had psyched yourself out hours ago. Now, it weighed heavy in the fingers of one hand as the other sought out your phone.

‘Send him a text and be casual about it.’

‘He prefers calling-’

‘We both know you can’t handle a call with him. Just text him you had a long day and you’d like to set the date up.’

How did she manage to make it sound so simple? The elevator’s ascent would be announced with a groan and you tapped in the numbers with a cold finger. Putting him in your contacts had been easy. The harder part would come when the elevator doors were open and you still hadn’t managed to type out a single response. His name was tucked up top and in the corner and the blank chat caught your reflection. The card, now useless, was growing wrinkled from how tight you held it until you dropped it into your apron’s pocket to be disposed of later. Nervously you glanced up from your phone and did a brief scan of the hall. Not a soul in sight. You double-checked Crocodile’s own door before stepping out of the elevator. Your eyes didn’t entirely leave it the entire walk, as though you expected it to suddenly swing open. The phone would be forgotten in your hand as the other searched for your keys-

The sound of another door opening behind you made your heart hammer and your keys drop with a clang. Your poor phone took a hard grip and you whirled to find Kuma instead of Crocodile. Having just been stepping out of his own home he did a wide sweep that landed on your suddenly relieved form.

“Kuma.” You said, voice much more steady than you expected it to be. “You scared the shit out of me.”

He didn’t apologize and you didn’t care.

“Did I?” He asked, though no need to. You crouched to fetch the tangled keys and you pocketed your phone without thought. Kuma didn’t move from his position, watching you the entire time from behind the glare of his glasses. Kuma was a massive figure. Something taller than even Crocodile and the ears on his ridiculous hat brushed the head of the ceiling when he fully stepped out. The balance this man held despite his size was something to be jealous of. He turned and locked the door behind him while you were left to admire the size of him once again. It was something you often did when you two shared company. There had even been one of the rare occasions he had actually come into your home for a brief moment of lunch and you had questioned him about his clothing.

‘Custom.’  

“Are you heading out for the night?” Polite speak. Something that had managed to weasel you into his inner circle. At least, you think you were in his inner circle. Kuma never invited others over outside of the same few people. He seemed to take initiative and constantly leave for hours on end. There had even been a moment where he wouldn’t appear for several days, only noted by how his mail had piled up. You had been polite enough to hold onto it until he returned. He turned the favor by giving you a brand of tea you had not been able to find anywhere in the city, no matter how hard you looked for it. Kuma didn’t move once he turned around. His lips didn’t even twitch into a frown or a smile. A neutral expression. Guarded.

“I am.” He finally answered. Normally, you would wish him well and let him leave without much trouble. But you hesitated and caved with a deep, long sigh.

“Kuma.” You could feel his gaze settle. “Do you text?”

“No.”

“Nevermind.” 

“Why?”

You blinked. Kuma normally never pried. He would ask polite questions to keep the conversation going, but he never pried. It was almost a strange courtesy given how secretive he was. Most of your conversations had been in regard to the city, your education, and the bread the shop you worked at sold. 

I knew he cared. That might be pushing it, but this at least showed he was interested enough to finally pry.

“I, uh, I’m not good at texting. I’m trying to text. It’s a bit hard.” Kuma didn’t react. Not outwardly. One hand curled up suddenly and you thought he was reaching for something in his pocket-

A book. He pulled out a book to tuck against his side. One that had managed to remain tucked inside one of his pockets.

His clothes are massive.

“Calling is easier.” His advice would linger long after he would leave. You’d watch him turn without a goodbye and start down the hall until his figure squeezed into the elevator. Neither of you waved and you finally sighed and opened the door to your apartment, turning on a single light to kick off your shoes. Compared to many your apartment was fairly bare. Only your room had really been decorated and most of it had been gifts or items from your childhood home you couldn’t part with. The rest of your home was bland. The furniture you had bought this past month (your most expensive purchase ever) had been the most you had decorated it with and you took full advantage of the couch to fall back onto. Maybe in this relaxed position, sending a text wouldn’t be as hard. You shoved a hand after the phone you had tucked away earlier.

Only to find that Crocodile’s fresh caller ID was pulled up.

It took you far too long to register that you were, indeed, in a call with the man who had been igniting your nerves all day. Your heart stuttered an stopped and the breath felt stolen from you. All the panic that had been shoved down into the bottom of your chest filled you so suddenly that you were certain this had to be a nightmare. You dropped the phone again with it landing on your stomach as you rocketed up. Eyes wide and hands shaking, you tenderly grasped the offensive item and lifted it up with bated breaths.

Nothing.

Should you speak? Maybe he had realized it was a mistake and had set the phone down somewhere. Maybe he had assumed you were ignoring him. Would he be as annoyed as earlier if you spoke now? How long has the call been going on?

Over five minutes, almost on the dot.

He had heard you and Kuma speaking. He must have. Then that means at some point, in your panic at Kuma’s appearance, you had strangled your phone into calling the one man you had hoped to not call at this hour. You thought briefly of just hanging it up and playing it off. The text suddenly didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

Crocodile spoke your name in a way that had you sitting at attention and you spoke before you could stop yourself.

“He-hello.” You winced. Your voice was a nervous stutter. Crocodile acknowledged you with a hum and nothing else for several seconds. You swallowed. “Did I call at a bad time?”

“Perhaps for you.” So he had definitely heard you speaking to Kuma. You fell back on the couch and pressed your free hand to cover your eyes as though that could hide your embarrassment from this man.

“I, ah, didn’t mean to…call you.” There was a long enough pause that you thought he had possibly hung up.

Then he chuckled. God, did he chuckle. A low, deep noise that sent shivers along your spine even through the phone. The hand on your eyes had to drop to your mouth to keep you from saying something dumb and inappropriate.

Inappropriate? You hadn’t even gone on a date with this man yet and you were already letting your imagination run a bit too wild.

You never know how the date could go. You had to fight the thought off or risk your imagination taking reigns.

“I see. Calling me was a mistake then?”

Fuck.

“No! Not, ah. I need to talk to you. I just, I was going to text you.”

“I’d prefer to hear your voice as it is now.” The confidence in how he spoke simultaneously irked and amazed you. He spoke with a calm voice. He spoke as though he already knew what you would say next. This conversation felt like a dance that you most definitely were not leading.

And you definitely didn’t know how to respond.

“Oh?” The squeak seemed to be enough for him as he chuckled again and you crossed your legs from how much your body was starting to curl in on itself. Warmth flooded your chest and spread to the tips of your fingers from the sound and you quickly realized this crush had you in a stranglehold you couldn’t so easily escape.

“If you sent me a text I wouldn’t get to hear how nervous you are.”

He was teasing you.

The realization had your chest thundering with emotions. All thoughts of him being annoyed earlier left and all you could focus on was the image of him, seated on his own couch (or even bed) with the phone cradled to his ear. He would be smirking. You knew he would be, considering how fascinated he sounded by your embarrassment.

There it was, your imagination running wild once again.

Thankfully, he would speak before you would have to find words to stutter out and dig yourself further into a hole.

“I will assume this is about the date.” You nodded, cursed silently to yourself, and responded.

“Yes.” Your voice evened out as much as his did; suddenly all business as though this wasn’t to discuss a date but a future transaction. His voice was still startlingly soft when he spoke to you and it helped to calm the nerves he had been rubbing raw.

“Do you have anything planned?” Your silence answered him enough, though you dug for some kind of excuse.

“I…haven’t been on a date in a long time.” Not the excuse you should have given. Your visible wince had you shift and curl onto your other side, facing off of the couch. Crocodile acknowledged you with a grunt.

“Neither have I.” Something about his admittance helped you to relax just slightly. “What foods do you prefer?” 

“Pasta.” He wouldn’t respond. He was waiting and you had to sheepishly whisper. “I…don’t really cook for myself. I like the bread we sell at the shop, but I…ah, haven’t cooked much since I moved here.” You braced yourself for more teasing. Maybe even disbelief. But, to your shock, he didn’t give you either. Instead, it was a thoughtful noise.

“Would you like to learn?” The question caught you off-guard in a pleasant way.

“I would.”

“Would you be opposed to coming to my home?” He spoke so lightly, so calmly, you almost missed what he had said. You briefly thought of it to be a joke. That still wouldn’t stop you considering the idea of going into Crocodile’s apartment for cooking lessons was something you had never thought to be possible. And here it was, being offered.

And your imagination could only bring the idea of an apron to the front of your mind and you quickly had to turn again.

“I would love that.”

“Would you?” This whisper felt low. Dangerous. The sound of a predator cornering something before it strikes. The hairs on your arms raised and you were suddenly very aware of the words that had left your mouth. You swallowed and wondered if he had heard it before you took the chance to speak.

“I would.” Emboldened, even if just slightly, you pressed on with your nose touching the back of your couch. “I assume casual clothes would be okay?” Although it had been a long time since you had gone on a date, it had been an even longer time since you had been sexually active. It wasn’t something you actively searched out, meaning your amount of partners was low. But the moment Crocodile released a low, almost sigh of thought that turned into a rumble of words did you feel something lower than your chest ignite.

“Wear something you don’t mind getting messy in.” Was there a double meaning to his words or was the sudden arousal you felt doing things to your brain? It felt like sparks came through the phone. A tension suddenly wedged itself and you felt far too hot in your work clothes than you had a moment before.

“I have an apron.” You finally said once you cleared through the fog just slightly.

And you would realize you had fallen right into a trap he must have laid out.

“Only an apron?” 

Crocodile standing before you with only an apron on would be an image you’d want to be painted and hung. Despite how rarely he left during the day, his skin was surprisingly tanned. Not dark enough to be obvious with tan lines, but a warm coloration that gave way to milkier aspects of his body. Legs thick with refined muscles flexed when he turned-

Your imagination had a chokehold on you and all you could do was sharply inhale.

“I. I, ah.” Crocodile’s chuckle was warm and light and something seemed to give way in you at the sound.

“I’m looking forward to Friday.” There was the sound of something moving on his end. Perhaps he had actually been busy somewhere and wasn’t home the entire time you had been worrying. Perhaps he was simply reclined in bed as you had thought of him. Regardless, something moved before he would speak again. “Come over at three. Eat before you come, the dinner we’ll be cooking won’t be ready until closer to nine.” You heard a flick and knew he just lit a cigar - he must be outside. “And bring your apron.”

You refused to tell Nami anything from what had been shared the day before. Her pout would haunt you through your shared evening shift on Thursday until she finally caved and seemed to mostly drop the subject.

Then Crocodile would enter closer to closing and her eyes would light up like a cat’s finding a fresh mouse to harass.

Crocodile had been in a much better mood when he would meet you that night. A talkative one, even. Something he had never been in before when visiting the shop. He had lingered for longer than he ever would, hovering by the counter as the last customer for the night just to ask you how your day had gone.

Nami wouldn’t stop grinning.

You managed to ignore her stare and grin despite how obvious it was and Crocodile only spared her a glance. Unbothered by the attention. He would be polite enough to ask if he was causing any issues by staying as late as he was. Nami was very quick to happily inform him that his presence caused no issues at all. So, he would linger until the doors were about to be locked and he would have to finally leave (although Nami insisted he could stay). For a moment you thought he would simply leave as you lingered by the door, keys dangling from your fingers as you had volunteered to lock the door. In an action, far too smooth fingers captured your own and swept it up until knuckles brushed his lips that were much softer than you had expected.

Oh, Nami would not let it go at all when you dropped the keys and he left with a confident smirk.

Friday would arrive and you would spend the entire day pacing in your apartment until your feet ached and the hour at hand would start to arrive. Crocodile hadn’t reached out since his flirtatious departure the previous day and you found yourself on edge the entire time. Waiting. Waiting for what? A sign of some kind; a text that helped to sink those worried feelings far out of your mind. But the man didn’t text and you were far too nervous to call him this soon to the date. Instead, you busied yourself with figuring out what to wear.

There came an entirely new wave of worries.

Casual. You both had agreed on casual wear (maybe too casual) but you had no idea what casual meant to this man. You doubted you had ever actually seen him dressed in only casual wear. Most of his clothing was tailored to his form to emphasize his physique. Intimidation often radiated off him in waves and the case of cigars in the breast pocket seemed more expensive than anything in your closet. Would he actually wear casual or would his casual still be out of your pay range? You didn’t know and the pressure to wear casual but nice casual had you sweating until you finally settled on something bought long ago. It was simple and casual in your eyes; jeans secured to your legs and a dark blouse that exposed your neck with long sleeves you rolled up to your elbows. No jewelry. With the date surrounding cooking you didn’t want anything that you’d have to remove or risk dangling into food. And, of course, your apron just as you both had mentioned. He gave no hint to what the both of you would be making even at the previous night. Even when you poked and prodded he would reveal nothing and his kiss had left you flabbergasted enough to drop the question. It neared three and you finally steeled your nerves enough to lock your door and approach his with a raised fist.

It would take you several minutes to will that hand to knock and by that point, it was exactly three minutes passed three and Crocodile opened the door immediately.

Apparently, Crocodile could dress casually. Instead of the multiple layers of his suits, he wore a navy sweater with the softest material hugging around his thick neck. The sleeves were folded back high up to his upper arms and you got your first real glance at pale ivory skin. Tiny scars littered around his knuckles, once hidden behind heavy rings of beautiful stones, and you were moderately intrigued by the tan lines formed from them. Those firm fingers twitched as though grabbing for something not there. Dark khakis hung firmly around his hips and it briefly shocked you to see bare feet poking out over the welcome mat tucked in front of the door. You had almost expected him to be wearing his dress shoes inside his own home. A ridiculous thought, but it was very much a little hard to be forming thoughts when he stood before you dressed in such a foreign way. His stance emphasized the force of his thighs and the slimness of his hips and you found your gaze lingering on the way his arms crossed.

Then he spoke your name and amusement danced in his eyes at the unwelcome blush on your cheeks. 

“You’re on time.” He spoke with quiet emphasis. His shock wasn’t open on his face. Just in the way, his eyes flew over you in a quick sweep. 

“I think I’m a little late, actually.” You admitted softly and he chuckled.

It still affected you; worse than it had on the phone and you swallowed harshly as he held the door open wide. So distracted by the man before you that you had failed to notice how different his home actually was in comparison to your own. The shock of it had you stopping just past the door and you barely took note of it shutting behind you and locking (something you should have worried about in hindsight) when your mouth fell open. His home, though shaped with the same layout as your own apartment, held several severe differences in comparison. First to note would be the floors were darker. As though painted by a shine of some kind. They were still the same hardwood as your own, but these held a cherrywood coloring to them. The second would be the lighting. Someone had to have gone through and changed out all the ceiling mounts for the lighting for this look to be achieved and you wondered if Crocodile had done this himself. Pendants cradled low lighting over the well-furnished living area cradled ahead of where you had entered. Daring to look left you spotted the kitchen with its door wide open. It was as furnished as the rest of his home; lights bright and aimed directly at the newer appliances that shimmered despite their obvious signs of use. Similar to the long, stretched rug you both stood on there was another one in a similar design hugging the center of the kitchen. Shelving lined both the walls of the kitchen and stood along the edges, where a table was almost tucked in the corner. Your gaze lingered back towards the bit of living area you could spot and the many blooming cacti decorating the layers of bookshelves that already looked ready to overflow from the number of books stuffed into them. Before you could even read a title of a book a hand cupped the curve of your back and all thought of investigating the mysterious home blanked.

Crocodile was touching you.

It was a polite touch; one to guide you towards the open door of the kitchen (as though he knew you had forgotten the theme of this date) but that didn’t stop the stains of scarlet from staining your cheeks. The hand lingered long enough to stop being polite even after you both entered the kitchen.

“You wore the apron.” He sounded amused. No, he sounded intrigued. Then, in a tone much lower and more sinful than the rest of his words had been he muttered. “Not just the apron?”

He would let out that same type of chuckle when your face lit up bright. Despite his teasing, he would release you and brush his hand away to fully enter the kitchen. The way he carried himself was impressive; he walked with confidence you had never seen in a person. He controlled the room and everything in it and he wasn’t afraid to let anyone know. Like a lion prowling over his territory with no fear of outsiders disturbing it. Truly a sight to witness, especially in the natural environment of his home. Unlike the times you’ve seen him in public, he truly looked relaxed here. As relaxed as he could be at least. Once in the kitchen completely you took notice that there were already items on the countertops cupping around the stove and sink. From the items there it truly looked as though he had spent his morning grocery shopping. Fresh vegetables such as carrots and onions were tucked in a bag to the side with plastic bowls filled with a red paste of some kind. He bypassed the supplies already on the ready and wasted no time in reaching into one of the cabinets hanging on the wall.

“I will assume you know how to use a knife?” The cutting board he would pull out thudded on the countertop below. Your confident answer suddenly died when he reached for the knife held to pull out the largest knife tucked into the back; the chef’s knife. The blade caught in the light and your mouth closed for only a second.

“We don’t use chef’s knives at work.” That was answered enough for him and he motioned for you to come closer. You took a few steps towards him until standing near the side. He motioned again and your confused look brought a glimmer of a smirk from him.

Then, with the knife on the board pointed away, his hand cupped your hip and he pulled you before him in a gentle motion. Immediately your cheeks felt hot, but you fought down the embarrassment on your cheeks to focus on when he started speaking.

“You’ll want to hold it close to the base.” 

Oh, I wi-

You had to stop yourself there immediately. The sharp inhale at his words didn’t help to hide your inappropriate thoughts, however, and Crocodile moved with leisure to bring an arm around you. Your eyes immediately snapped to his hand only to watch as he cupped your own like a blanket.

Your mind definitely went blank.

If he spoke then you heard nothing of it, focused on the way he felt so warm with the skin-to-skin contact. Even when his fingers curled to bring your own around the handle of the knife you could only blink at where the contact was being made. Then, heavily, you swallowed and made sure to tighten your grip enough that the knife wouldn’t slip when he guided your hand to lift.

“To chop, you’ll want to use a swaying motion. Try to not lift the blade as chopping down too hard dulls the blade faster.” He rolled his wrist, the motion almost natural to him. It felt strange to sway the knife how he wanted. The groove wouldn’t come for a few more motions. Though, you would blame how distracted you were getting as the muscle of his other arm brushed your hip. You could definitely feel the heat of all of this man through his clothing when he stood so close behind you. His chest hadn’t touched your back, not yet, but with how he stepped closer you knew it would only be a matter of minutes or less until contact.

“My knives are very sharp.” He warned when the motion stopped. “A sharp knife is safer than a dull knife, but keep in mind how dangerous that edge can be.” Cool air would strike your body suddenly as he released you, stepping away in two long steps. You felt as though you could breathe again and braced against the counter with your other hand until your legs steadied. Had you been holding your breath the entire time? It was a possibility.

“What am I cutting?” Your voice sounded calmer than your heartfelt and you were thankful for that. Maybe with enough exposure to this charming, physical side of Crocodile you would gradually grow more accustomed and less flustered. In theory at least. He didn’t speak at first. His hand captured the bag the vegetables had been in and he delivered it to your side in the sink.

“Mince these.” A gaze checked your face and he seemed satisfied at your lack of confusion on the directions. No more words were shared as you got to work rinsing and chopping. You tried to mimic the motion he had shown you earlier with the knife. It took several attempts and a few strangely sliced pieces before you started to catch on. Crocodile’s figure would linger in the kitchen until the motion got comfortable, then he left. It was silent and you weren’t entirely sure when he had left as you wouldn’t notice until you reached for the final onion. A brief concern would be interrupted by the faint sounds of something moving. He was still in his apartment somewhere and you decided to keep one ear peeled for him while you worked.

Then, softly, as though rising from a slumber, a scratch of a record turned into the sounds of a violin carrying.

Music? It distracted you from your work long enough to look to the doorway to greet the man with something of a shocked and intrigued glance. An eyebrow rose on his own face as he approached one of the case shelves that held boxed, dry foods.

“I enjoy music when I cook.” Classical music. Although left unsaid it wasn’t hard to piece it together as he set to work on gathering other supplies from the unlabeled boxes he had organized. The next track to start was heavy with the string instruments and there would be times you grew distracted enough to lose focus on mincing to focus only on him and the music that broke the silence. 

“Done?” You spared him a nod as you delivered the bowl of minced vegetables to him. “You did well.” And you would have to force yourself to ignore the chuckle he gave at how you seemed to glow at the praise or else risk growing flustered again. The bowl would be ignored for a moment until he pulled from a cabinet a large pot.

“What are we making?” You finally dared to ask again. However, his brief glance and twitch of the lips told you he wasn’t going to answer you. A surprise to await you for dinner. For as long as he could keep it up, at least.

“I want you to keep an eye on this.” You wanted to roll your eyes at him for ignoring your question but didn’t dare. You didn’t know how well this man could handle someone disrespecting him even slightly considering how he carried himself. Instead, you approached eagerly as he settled the pot on the stove. Heat turned to a medium range, he turned the top of the bottle of olive oil tucked to the side of the stove and poured a generous amount into the pot. The vegetables joined soon after and from a holder, he pulled a wooden spoon to place in your hand. “Let it simmer, stirring to keep the heat even. Tell me when the onions are easy to see through.”

“What are you doing?” If he wouldn’t tell you what he was making you could change your tactics. At the other end of the counters he had gathered supplies of his own; flour measured out carefully with a trio of eggs safely placed in a bowl waiting to be cracked. A lip turned and he took his spot in front of his station and set to silent work. He didn’t seem to care that your eyes were on him while you spared glances at the simmering vegetables to stir them. In fact, there were times his eyes would purposely seek your own out as though to make sure you were watching.

Flour would be spread into a small mound with an open crater in the middle. There he cracked and poured the eggs. With a fork and refined practice, he went to work. Mixing the eggs gradually into the flour that he flipped in with timed flicks of his wrist. Not once did something seem to happen that he didn’t want to happen - complete control etched into every fiber of his being. His confidence was not falsely placed in himself and it showed when he eventually lost the fork and switched to kneading what would finally click to be a ball of dough.

He was making the dough by hand.

The motions reminded you of Nami at work. Although she was usually more violent and harsher with her movements. Almost fighting the dough instead of kneading it. Crocodile’s movements were calm. Massaging the dough with just enough grip to round it out and gather more flour onto it to keep it from sticking. For a moment, you wondered if he was making bread of some kind. It wasn’t like bread you’ve made at the shop and your interest outweighed your need to watch the vegetables until his movement stopped and you found his raised eyebrow directed at you.

You quickly stirred the vegetables.

His movements wouldn’t pick back up until he saw you weren’t as distracted as before and you could freely watch him again. By the time he was pulling the dough up to tuck away in a bowl you finally spoke up.

“The onions are clear.” Suddenly he was by your side and you were shocked by how quickly he moved there. He reached around you and to the other supplies bagged on the counter to pull out what looked to be two packages of ground meat. Pork and beef, respectively, that he turned up in a swift motion to add to the pot. It sizzled loudly upon contact and you, without direction, began to break it apart and stir it in. You could have sworn there was a very proud look in those eyes, but you didn’t linger long enough to see as he threw the trash away.

“Brown the meat.” He directed as he turned the heat up slightly. “Then, we’ll add the wine and turn the heat up further.”

Something about his look had you wondering if he spoke about the food or-

“Yes, sir.” Your mouth immediately snapped shut and his head turned sharply. Eye contact. Heavy eye contact as you tried to find a reason behind your wording only for it to fail when his smirk turned into a toothy grin - something feral.

“Sir?” Oh, there was amusement, but beneath it, there was definitely something else that you couldn’t focus enough to figure out. And he faded like a ghost, turning and shifting back to the dough he was carefully covering and tucking into a corner out of the way. When his gaze turned away you dared a deep sigh to steady yourself.

Keep it together. You tried to will yourself. But you had an entire evening with this man and you had a gut feeling it would continue like this. 

Maybe further. The sudden thought made you swallow. Did you want things to escalate to such lengths? Of course, you did. Crocodile was a handsome man. A very attractive man and you’ve gone a very long time since you were intimate with anyone. But did you only want something physical? Of course, you didn’t. But would he get the wrong idea if something physical happened from the first date? Would he make assumptions? What was he already assuming now? There were questions growing in your throat and you wanted to ask them, but Crocodile seemed to interrupt them with a popping sound. The wine. He had opened a dark bottle titled in a foreign language that smelled far sweeter than you expected.

And lord did it roll down the tongue and chin when Crocodile tilted the bottle to take a brief taste.

Your eyes chased the single drop at the corner of his lip that didn’t escape the swipe of his tongue as he brought the bottle down.

“Black Muscat.” The bottle was offered and you slowly held a hand up. Nervous. You hadn’t had anything alcoholic in a while too (since a night with Nami) and you had definitely not had wine in a very long time. When you took it he watched you intently until you took a tender sip, copying the movement he had made earlier in licking up a stray drop off your lip. It was sweet. Very sweet and you thought about another drink before he was taking the bottle and fished two glasses from the cabinet. “You like it?” You nodded and he was eager to pour you a glass. Not full, but a decent amount for you to start nursing as he fixed his own drink.

“Do you often drink when cooking?” He held up his glass and it took you far too long to realize what he wanted. Those golden eyes followed you until your glasses met in a tender ‘clink’.

“Sometimes.” A sip of his drink brought with it a sigh that had you swallowing your sip far too hard. “I enjoy wine with my dinner usually. Although, this sauce will take a few hours to make. So, I’m hoping to enjoy this wine over the time it takes to get to know you instead.”

Oh, he was smooth.

Another refill would follow before the wine would be added to the browned meat and tender vegetables, only for it to cook off quickly at the high heat. Crocodile wouldn’t speak much for several minutes as he watched with nothing for himself to do. Simply giving an admiring glance in the lighting whenever you followed his directions. With the wine gone, he would direct you to add what was in the plastic containers - tomato paste and sauce. You didn’t mix it. Just poured it in before adding the salt and paper that awaited at the sides. Bay leaves topped it before it was brought to a quick boil and then left to simmer.

And you were finally led to the living area with the wine bottle tucked into his arm.

Crocodile’s living area was spectacular; something caught between modern colonial and victorian in design with scarlet reds and dark browns. Gold littered in small decor on the many shelvings he had to cup the living area. A sectional draped in light blankets over the dark cushions stood to one side with a private chair nestled by a shelf of only books. Curtains were pulled tight and pinned over the windows despite the unblocked door leading to the small balcony. While your own was mostly unused except for whenever a guest wished to smoke, Crocodile’s seemed to be littered with items for him to enjoy sunbathing when the weather permits it. An electric fireplace would be the only thing that seemed out of place amongst the designs. Tucked in by the door and between shelves opposite where you both entered. No television in sight. The wine bottle and your glasses would clink when you both sat on the coffee table before the sectional and he would sink into the cushions easily.

Then he motioned for you to join him at his side.

Not entirely knowing what would be polite distance, you settled with a space between where your knees could brush. He seemed satisfied enough and you two resumed sipping on the glasses of wine.

“How long will the sauce take?” When you asked it he had been looking at something outside. Whatever it was didn’t hold his attention hard enough for him to not immediately look to you. 

“Three hours, although we’ll need to be in there at the end to finish it off. The dough will have to be tended to in thirty minutes, however, so until then you have my undivided attention.” As if to prove a point he turned slightly and crossed one leg over the other to keep his body angled towards you. The music changed, the sounds slowing and taking a more sensual change and you could spot the small record down the short hall on a stand by a door.

“I wouldn’t know what to do with it.” Maybe it was the wine but you found it slightly easier to speak to him. Another sip passed your lips and his amusement lit up further in those eyes.

“Well, it is wise to use a first date to learn about the other person. Asking questions seems to be the best option.” With his glass steadied on the table and mostly to be ignored he brought his arm up and over the rest of the couch; around your shoulders. The edges of his fingertips brushed a shoulder and you leaned unintentionally closer as though guided by that touch. His lips twitched.

“I don’t really know what I would ask you.” You were honest. While there were a lot of questions burning in your mind you couldn’t just settle on one to ask. Hell, it was hard enough to focus on the man when you both were seated so close that you couldn’t properly think.

“Would you prefer if I ask a question and you ask one in return?”

“Like twenty-one questions?” You remembered this game from school. Mostly your friends used it as a way of getting to know each other back when you were all younger. It had been a while since you had even heard of it let alone done it.

“Something like that, yes.” At your intrigued glance he tilted his head. “Would you want to go first?”

What should I ask?

“Are you from here?” Simple enough. Something to keep your mind from wandering to something dirtier. Something that had you briefly glancing to the crossed legs before you could stop yourself. Crocodile, however, seemed to not be caught in the same struggle as you. No, his head was cocked in thought and he watched you through half-closed eyes. It seemed his own sips of wine had started to catch up as the minutes rolled on, though nowhere near how your own had.

“No.” A simple answer. He reached for his cup after a moment. “I was born in Italy. My parents moved when I was still young. They settled closer to the coast and I moved here permanently a decade ago. Before that, I traveled for work.” The red stained his lips and he licked them off slowly.

“What do you do for work?” He smirked then, lips curling.

“I believe it’s  my turn to ask a question.” A small chuckle burned from your fluster and he swirled the wine in his glass for a moment. “Are you currently in school?” You nodded.

“At the end of it, actually. I’m hoping to get my degree in a few more semesters, maybe less if they’ll let me take extra classes online.” You took a bigger gulp of the wine than you meant to and were thankful when he refilled it for you. If he was attempting to wine and dine you he had definitely nailed the first part of the statement. “I’m going for a business management degree. I didn’t know what I would go for at first then I started working for Nami -you met her the other night,- and I thought about running a business. Maybe opening up my own coffee shop.”

“Interesting.” He muttered it into his glass. The electric fireplace kicked on and the heat started to fill the room immediately. Crocodile made a small movement as though to shift closer and your knees brushed for a moment as he settled his drink back on the table. You wouldn’t let your own go as you repeat your earlier question.

“What do you do for work?” That had been something that had haunted you for a while. Something that had first appeared in your mind when you witnessed him coming and going from his home at odd hours. The man hummed and you felt those fingers brush your shoulder again from his relaxed stretching.

“Financial Planner.”

You hadn’t been expecting that.

“Although, I do own a popular casino downtown.”

That, you had been expecting.

“You own a casino? Can I come see it?” The wine had definitely started to affect you. Had the thirty minutes for the dough already come and gone or did time simply seem to pass far too fast only for you? As if realizing how affected you were, Crocodile reached out and took the cup from you despite the unhappy twist of your lips. A pout formed and he paused with his eyes on you for a moment in debate.

“I’ll take you there someday.” A promise and his eyes turned away. In the distance, a timer went off and he stood gracefully, muscled thighs flexing from the sudden movement.

“Is that the dough?”

“It is, I’ll be back.” A promise and he was gone, fading from view and into the kitchen in a few long steps.

And you were left alone in his living area.

You had thought about remaining on the couch in silence until he returned. But your curiosity and lack of restraint at edging on tipsy guided you until you were standing before his bookshelves. On top of the intriguing art stationed at the edges, he had many potted cacti plants. Most of them were in bloom and sprouting beautiful flowers on their crests. However, your attention would settle immediately on the books. A few of them were financial books and you would only spare them a glance. The others were history books. Not just about one particular event or location, but an array of different topics that ranged from different corners of the world. Some were in languages you couldn’t understand and some were just old enough that some of the text in them was illegible. By the time you had shifted to the corner shelf, by the balcony door, you would discover two mostly hidden books about art from around the world.

And Crocodile would suddenly fill the space behind you so he could bring his hand out to caress the spine of one of them.

“Interested in reading?” The vibrations of his voice settled above your ear. As though he was whispering a secret just for you to hear. You knew he heard when your breath hitched and you could only watch as the tip of his finger brushed from top to bottom of the book in a move far too sensual to be intended for the object alone.

“J-just seeing what you have.” It was obvious he didn’t entirely believe you. His hand shifted and brushed another book until your attention shifted to it.

“I enjoy history.” Despite his proximity and his touches, he spoke in a calm tone. Not something to fluster you, although his body was doing that well enough. But as though he was answering another question. “And art. But I more enjoy history as a whole.” He would hold this position with you for several seconds. Your heart raced and you just knew he could have felt it if he stepped close enough for his chest to touch your back. He didn’t. Then he pulled away and once more swept a hand towards the sectional. 

It turned out, Crocodile was definitely an interesting figure once you got to know him.

He had traveled for work long before settling down. A decade had been spent in this city and, specifically, in this apartment complex. You were still confused about why he lived there compared to the other places he could definitely afford.

‘It’s cheap.’ And you couldn’t argue considering that was a selling point for you as well.

You had tried to politely ask about his age. Not to give it lightly, he had danced around the vague questions with equally vague answers until you finally gathered the courage to ask. Fourty-six. When he asked you thought of dancing around the same before you would give him your age and he didn’t seem as put off by the age difference as you had expected. The game of twenty-one questions would simply devolve into chatter. Crocodile wouldn’t give you any more wine for up to almost an hour. He would have to sneak away to check on the sauce and stir it and you managed to sneak a refill, which he caught you doing. 

Then, when the end of the third hour appeared he would finally vanish with an order for you to remain on the couch. Wanting to keep the dish a surprise, he had mostly shielded you from the kitchen at this point. Despite it being a cooking lesson in the beginning, he had promised you that you weren’t missing anything he couldn’t tell you about. The sounds of him working had almost been enough to convince you to sneak a glance at what he was doing.

Then he called your name and the sounds went silent.

“You can come now.”

Oh? Your imagination tried to take flight and you fought it down and stood. You thought of grabbing the nearly empty bottle of wine (had it been full?) but decided against it and instead carefully walked on bare feet towards the kitchen. Your shoes had been abandoned after the first hour by the table. Smells had started to gather almost a full two hours ago, but they were nothing compared to when you finally entered the kitchen. It was just as you had seen it only a few hours ago except for a few key details. The lights were dimmed. No, one set had been turned off and the other was halfway there. The table once tucked into the corner had been pulled out, though not centered, and had been decorated since you last saw it. There were two placeholders tucked on each side with silverware casing it and a small, colorful bouquet of flowers were centered. It almost looked fictional with how perfectly it encompassed a ‘date’ as someone would dream and you had to blink several times to make sure the wine hadn’t finally gotten to you. Crocodile himself stood just to the side, by the stove, where he had just finished draining thick, flat noodles. For a moment, you weren’t sure if you should approach the table or where he was finishing the dish until he spoke again.

“Take a seat.” Your decision was made for you, and you didn’t hesitate to approach the table. The chairs made a sound when you pulled it out before settling in the one not facing him. Leaving your back to him you focused instead on the flowers and examined their healthy petals and the bright colors they displayed.  The silverware on the table was lined up symmetrically from across one another and the glasses on the table were filled with water instead of wine. You took a thankful sip knowing that any more wine might not do good for you.

Then the food was delivered with a soft ‘clink’ and you lost the words to describe how delicious it looked.

The sauce he had you work on and let simmer for hours had, at some point in his own hidden actions, turned into a near-light, caramelized color. The meat and vegetables were visible though they were coated in the sauce that thickened over the thick, cupped noodles that had been covered. Steam still lingered above it and it was obvious it had been freshly finished before your entry. It smelled rich. Almost sweet at the right angle with the herbs encasing it with another kind of kick. Another ‘clink’ and Crocodile sat across from you, adjusting his own chair and watching your initial reaction.

“What is this?” And finally, like a veil being lifted, his lips turned into a very handsome smile and he finally revealed the dish.

“Bolognese sauce on tagliatelle pasta.” Your head cocked. “You just made bolognese sauce for the first time. Congratulations.”

“Does the sauce always take that long?” You would question as you picked up your fork. He would lightly prod into his first bite and you mimicked his actions, keeping an eye on him as he did you. The meal tasted as good as you could have expected; the smell did no justice to the flavors that met your tongue. Your eyes fluttered closed after a moment. You had to use your free hand to cover your mouth as you chewed in hopes of silencing whatever noise threatened to come out.

“You look like you’re enjoying it.” His voice lowered and you quickly opened your eyes to catch his own over the flowers. Slowly, he took a bite from his fork and made a show to lick his lips of the sauce as he had with wine early.

“It’s delicious.” Your voice was far breathier than it should have been and you could spot it when the heat spiked in his gaze suddenly.

Suddenly, the room was hot again and you struggled to swallow your first bite.

“Are we continuing our game of questions from earlier?”

“No games necessary. Ask what you wish to know.” As he ate his eyes never left you. Even when he politely put his fork down to wipe at a mess at the corner of his mouth or to still a gentle sip of his water. He was always watching you. Your movements, the way you covered your mouth when you spoke, and the way you couldn’t hold his own gaze for long. You tried to not focus on his stare and instead focus on what you wanted to know about him.

But when he licked his lips while admiring your own it was very hard to focus on keeping your questions clean.

“How long has it been since you’ve had a relationship?” The safest of all the questions you’ve had. If he was shocked by the question he only showed it with a raised eyebrow. There was a moment you thought you overstepped your boundaries before he settled his fork on the edge of his plate once again.

“Since before I moved here.” He sounded thoughtful. He wasn’t looking at you anymore but past you, at a memory of a time before this apartment. “So, over a decade I should suppose.” That information genuinely shocked you.

“A man as handsome as you without a date for that long?” Those golden eyes caught you once more and you paused. 

“Perhaps there wasn’t anyone who I held to the standard of my time.”

Until now. Went unsaid, emphasized as you felt something brush your leg and make you jump in your chair. The edge of his foot had hit just above your ankle and your heart jump-started into action. Licking your lips -something he watched heavily,- you quickly swallowed more water.

“I haven’t had a serious relationship in a while either.”

“No, someone as beautiful as you?” His tone was teasing and you tried to not smile around your cup. The combination of a compliment and tease and wine had you blushing bright for him to see. 

“Perhaps my standards were too high.” 

“Or they were just high enough.” And he disregarded any subtlety. His foot brushed higher, up your leg to hit just at your knee and you sucked a breath between your teeth. He smiled. Something far too innocent for the effects he was having on you.

“Where do you want this date to go?” The words left your lips before you could even think about it. Spurred on by wine and molten golden stares and footsy; you only realized what you had said when he straightened slightly.

Then, he laughed low in his throat and you definitely didn’t drop the fork onto the plate.

“We haven’t even had dessert. Yet, I supposed figuring out what we would want from this now would save us from any…misunderstandings.” Oh, you knew what he was referencing and you refused to meet his gaze to give him the satisfaction of embarrassing you further. Suddenly, he was serious and all business as his lips turned into a more neutral state with only a slight curve. “I don’t just date for fun. Nor do I invite someone to my home without reason. I do have a few ideas for how I wish for this date to go, but if you are uncomfortable with any of them then this can simply remain as a date.” He sounded rehearsed, almost. As if he had been practicing what to say since this date had come to fruition and you were startled at how prepared he was. And bold.

“I-I, uh. Well, I don’t…I don’t like to date light-hearted either.” The surprise group date had been the real only instance of a relationship that wasn’t taken seriously. Before that, your first boyfriend had been someone you had hoped to spend a long time with. High school sweethearts, as many would say, then he one day sent you a text and ended the entire relationship. It affected you badly enough that you failed an important test dropped your grade and caused your parents to worry for a while. “I…uh, I don’t know what to expect from this date. If I’m being honest, it’s been so long since I dated anyone that I’m not entirely sure what to do from here. The last date I had was when I was in high school, so…not the best resume of experience to use.” Something in his eyes flashed and he bent forward to balance on elbows on the table.

“Your last date was in high school?”

“With a friend. It wasn’t serious. Before that, uh, was my first boyfriend and it ended…not too well.” He didn’t speak and your nerves seemed to push your mouth to move. “We broke up. And, I ended up going to college. I haven’t tried dating since. Mostly just school, then moved here and you were attractive and…uh…” Your mind was blanking and the distraction of turning the pasta over repeatedly with your fork couldn’t hold up for long. Not with how he watched you with such an intense look that you couldn’t help but finally meet his gaze once again. Something had burned in his eyes. Something you couldn’t entirely describe no matter how much you searched for an answer.

“I see.” His voice gave nothing away and that did not help your nerves or heat. Especially when he finally crossed his silverware over his plate and folded a napkin over it. He waited patiently and watched how you swirled your pasta until he spoke up again. “Finished?” Your nod was immediately followed by him swiping the plate in a smooth movement.

“I think we’ll both get along fairly well with our wants.” He said only after he had stood with the gathered dishes at hand. You started to stand as though to help carry something but his stare grounded you. As he walked away, heading more than likely for the dishwasher, he continued to speak. “If you wish to pursue a relationship with me, then I do have a few…conditions for it.” He waited to make sure you were listening as he began to rinse the dishes before loading the washer. 

“What are they?” You dared to ask. The idea of conditions had you nervous. It felt like a red flag that Nami would absolutely be chewing you out for if you ever mentioned it to her.

“I do like to dine out some nights. I would prefer to eat out at least monthly somewhere. You would have a choice, of course. I would pay for it. But I would enjoy a night out with you.” You felt his glance and dared to look back to meet his own eyes as they swept you over. “I’m sure you would look amazing in a dress.” Satisfied at your fluster he turned back to the plate he was rinsing. “I’m a very busy man. I do prefer calling, but texting would be more convenient for casual communication. Unless you need me, I would suggest texting me if it’s to speak about your day.”

That sounded simple enough.

“I am also a man with needs.”

And that sounded not simple.

Your heart sparked to life once again and you immediately looked back to the table. Chewing on your lip seemed to ground you as much as digging nails into your thighs as the silence hung between the two of you. You weren’t sure if he was waiting but your nerves caught up to you again.

“Needs?”

“Are you a virgin?” That question shouldn’t have choked you as hard as it did, but you inhaled too quickly and had to clear your throat far too loudly than you had expected.

“N-no.” The water shut off and the washer clicked shut. A ‘beep’ and it began to hum to life and other sounds would follow. Sounds of the fridge opening and a dish hitting the counter. Plates were picked up from a cabinet somewhere and you were tempted to look. Tempted. But his question still bounced in your head and you were far too flustered and blushing to actually look back at him.

“I will never force you to do something you’re uncomfortable with. But if we have a relationship, I will wish to engage in a sexual relationship with you.” 

You were very much jealous of how calmly he could speak of such things. How he didn’t have colored cheeks and stutters with the words that were far too clinical to be that attractive. Tuning out the sounds of him moving through his kitchen you focused instead on how hard you were gripping your thighs and trying to steady yourself from the simple statement. Was he expecting a response or was he simply stating a fact? Should you respond? What could you even say in response?

That sounds great! Would you seem too desperate in his eyes?

I’d have to think about it. But you knew you wouldn’t. You and he had been edging on something far less innocent than this date had started as since you showed up. Crocodile suddenly stood at your side and you traded your thoughts to stare up at him instead.

In his hand was a glass cup; in the cup was a swirl of bright yellow-orange and white with a spoon sticking from it.

At your questioning look his lips twisted up.

“Dessert.” His only explanation and he sat the cup before you before bringing thick fingers to cup the edge of the spoon. The concoction split smoothly when he turned the utensil, bringing up a solid bite of the dessert to hover before you. An offering. A treat if you looked at it in the right lighting. When you sniffed it reminded you of mangos and that could only be confirmed when you tilted your head forward and accepted the treat with an open mouth and half-closed eyes. A hesitation passed for a moment, where Crocodile didn’t actually feed you like you had expected and you worried about your actions. Then the chill of the spoon met your tongue and you automatically closed your lips around it.

He watched you as you looked up at him to suck the dessert from the spoon with tight lips and he gave his first real reaction in the form of inhaling sharply through his nose.

“What is this?” You would ask when the spoon was pulled back. He would be scooping up another bite to offer you before he answered.

“Mango panna cotta. I had some leftover. The next time you are over I will show you how to make it.” A pause as you swallowed the next bite, eyes closing entirely at the taste of it. “When you aren’t as full of wine as you are now.”

“I’m not that bad off.” You tried to defend. The water and not drinking as much had definitely helped, but you knew you were still on the edge of saying you were tipsy. Crocodile knew too. Another scoop and you finally turned to avoid the bite eyes catching his curious ones. “Did you only make one?”

“Just for you.” At your look, he cracked a grin of far too many white teeth visible. “Just for you-”

It was hard to shock Crocodile. That would be something to learn as you would spend more time in his presence. But the way you reached up to pluck the spoon from him and offer up the bite to him before he could finish speaking left him speechless. Both of his eyebrows would raise and his grin would drop into a confused frown. You had to raise yourself out of the seat slightly to reach him even with your arm outstretched.

“We can share.” There was some sort of innocence in your eyes at that statement. An innocence that pulled and grasped at something deep in him that had him smiling.

Something that made him want to strip you bare of the innocence in your gaze.

His adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. Gently he would press the spoon back towards you, two fingers guiding until it met the corner of your frown.

“I made it for you.” He insisted, retaking the spoon from your grip despite your frown. There was the edge of a pout on your lips but you still opened your mouth to take what should have been his bite. However, he didn’t wait until you would pull back. No, the spoon was pulled with startling speed from your lips and clanked on the table from being neglectfully tossed. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t have a taste, does it?”

The only warning would be something that would take an embarrassing amount of time for you to process and realize the meaning of. But at that point, a chapped upper lip brushed against your own and you felt your gasp being stolen.

You’ve kissed before. In high school, when you had last found yourself on a date with a more casual partner. Just before graduation, you both had shared a gentle peck on the lips. All of your kisses had been innocent, even when you engaged in anything remotely intimate. They had been nice and safe; nothing compared to what Crocodile was offering you. He devoured you. He kissed as though his goal was to still your voice and breath, teeth catching your lips when he cocked his head just right. With a hand bracing on the back of your chair, he curved over you like a shadow and absolutely swallowed you with his height.

You would have to apologize to Nami later. There was absolutely a difference between a boy and a man.

A man kised you as though you were the thing he had dreamed of for years. You were his dessert, set to be indulged in at a pace he set. And you could only cling to him with both hands finding purchase on the soft edges of his sweater. His body was firm and warm and perfect to dig your nails into to ground yourself when he pressed even harder into you. The sounds of your chair scraping would have distracted you had his tongue not brushed between your lips and tasted the dessert on your tongue.

Having someone else’s tongue in your mouth was an experience that you had expected to be far grosser than it actually was. It had been something you had avoided in high school. You had thought it was unsanitary compared to the other kisses you could have shared. Oh, how wrong you had been. That tongue of Crocodile’s seemed to work magic in your mouth. No longer simply devouring you but tasting you. Memorizing the details of your teeth and tongue until he was satisfied and pulling back. His lips were already brushing against yours to seek more and you felt suddenly much drunker than before. One kiss and you were falling apart, only steadied by the way he licked his lips.

“Delicious.”

The next kiss involved his hand pulling you from the chair.

His warning of having needs fell to the back of your mind as your own needs became very present. Especially when this man managed to pull you against him and lift you with one hand as though it didn’t bother him at all. As though you were a feather in his eyes. Set on a mission, he kissed your mouth with another fiery passion and the dessert would be ignored in favor of your body hitting the wall past the table. His arms and legs caged you in and his tongue continued to work magic in your mouth. The room spun when he pulled back and you took a sharp breath as lips found your neck. One leg brushed between your own and he balanced you carefully there, letting your weight rest on his thigh so as to free up his hand to run along your side.

“How far would you take this?” His teeth met your neck and the question was whispered against your pulse. He awaited your answer by entertaining himself by running fingers along the exposed skin just above your hip. You opened your mouth to try and answer only to let a noise of shocked pleasure escape when he brushed those lips under your ear.

How far did you want this to go? Of course, at this moment you were very hot and turned on and not thinking clearly. That ability had been out of your grasp for as long as he was pressing into your body as-oh. Oh. He was hard. He was hard and pressing eagerly into your thigh as his lips set to catch the edge of your ear. Without much thought, you brought your leg to put pressure over the clothed erection-

Your name would be muttered as though in a warning.

“Tell me to stop.” His voice was rough when it finally reached your ear. Your body arched to chase when his hand cupped over your stomach and pushed your clothing up to expose just your belly button. “Or I’m going to fuck you.”

Shit.  

“Please-”

“Oh, Croco-boy~.”

A chill cut through the heated exchange and you both froze. His hand was steadied despite how tense he had grown. An agitated groan turned into a sigh and his forehead sunk to meet your shoulder.

“Damnit.” It was a sharp, annoyed curse. Then, his hand was moving again with a thumb brushing over your ribs. “Ignore him, he shouldn’t be able to get in.”

And the mysterious man was knocking and you wanted to ask Crocodile who would be there so late but his mouth was back on your neck and you were falling apart once again. Reignited by the lust still lingering, Crocodile immediately set to leaving hot wet marks with his mouth along your neck. He lowered and caught at the collar of the blouse that hung a little low and tasted above your collarbone. A movement to pull it further up-

“I know you’re home.” The voice returned, heavy with sarcasm. A strained laugh followed. “You’re always home when you’re not scaring your clients.” Another knock and you jumped. Crocodile released a very strained noise that turned into a pleasant groan when your mouth met his neck instead. He must have expected you to stop, so the moment your teeth left a mark just on his jugular he choked on a noise. And you wanted him to make more. To hear him gurgle and groan as he completely fell apart at your touch. You wanted to drive this man mad and leave as many marks on his body as he would let you.

But you wouldn’t get the chance as the lock clicking and knob turning immediately froze you both again.

Crocodile didn’t immediately react in a panic. Although you both were in a compromising position you both had a chance to step away, with him coming before you like a shield. His hand remained curved back to cup your arm and he tried to keep you from the view of whoever the stranger entering had been, but it was hard to not catch a glimpse of him. The man dressed as though he wanted to be the center of attention. Sandy hair and tanned skin, as though he had just left a tropical island only an hour ago, looked strangely golden under Crocodile’s low lighting. The long feathered coat in the brightest shade of pink you had ever seen had immediately drawn your gaze around Crocodile’s extended arm. It reflected under the light as though to absorb it and shine it right back in that almost obnoxious color that hurt your eyes. Shades tucked on a long nose balanced on angular cheekbones and in the reflection of the scarlet lenses, you could see what this man was seeing.

You looked very ruined.

Your cheeks burned and your hair had been ruffled up enough that it didn’t look fixed anymore. With your apron long abandoned in the living area (having been disposed of when you both had started talking in the living area) your outfit was revealed in all of its wrinkled glory. Although your shirt had been pulled back down it was still untucked and awkwardly raised up to reveal a sliver of skin. 

You tried to tug your shirt back into place.

Much like Crocodile this man also wore tailored clothing. However, unlike Crocodile his tailored clothing was something bright and clashing with the dark atmosphere of the apartment around him. And also unlike Crcocodile his shirt was completely unbuttoned with a sculpted chest and swollen muscles on display. You could feel when his gaze started to observe and process the scene for the menacing grin turned absolutely feral.

“Oh? I see someone was busy.” His laugh was loud - bouncing off the walls of the kitchen as he crossed a leg and propped against the frame of the wall. Goosebumps burned up your arms and you steadied yourself with a hand to Crocodile’s back. The muscles of his back tensed and his hand shifted to stroke a thumb along the bump of your wrist. 

“If I don’t answer my door and it is locked, do you really think I wish to talk to anyone?” There was a pause, accusing eyes on the key the man flicked between fingers as if to show off how he snuck in. “Especially if it’s you at my door.”

“Ouch, Croco. That hurts my feelings.” From the way, his grin curved and he laughed you could only assume his feelings weren’t actually hurt. Crocodile wouldn’t move and you were thankful that he could fully shield you from the stranger. It seemed that, for the time they bickered, you had been forgotten about. Out of sight and out of mind. It allowed you a moment to steady your heart and take deep breaths. At least, until the man’s voice peaked in interest.

“If I had known you were making dinner I would have come sooner.” His eyes adjusted from the dessert on the table past you to your peeking form and he made a show of licking his lips slowly. “Especially with the dessert on the menu.”

“Doflamingo.” It was a warning in his tone. Especially when you made a small noise of both shock and confusion as your cheeks flushed. Doflamingo cocked his head much like the creature he was named after and let his tongue hang for a second. Under the low lighting, you caught the glimmer of a piercing that clicked against his teeth when he pulled it back. Crocodile puffed up and you could tell he was on the edge of possibly physically kicking the other man out. One of your hands couldn’t fit around his wrist but you tried and tugged to catch his attention.

“I can head home.” Something in his eyes very obviously didn’t want you to go. You didn’t want to either, but the wine was settling and the hour was growing late. And the other man was looking at you as though you were for dinner and you just had a feeling he would say something to trigger a fight. Crocodile’s eyes softened after a moment and he sighed, turning completely to shield the kiss he’d placed on your forehead from Doflamingo. It was tender, far more tender than any kiss you have shared before, and he cupped your cheek with his hand. The intimacy had you far warmer than you could have explained and you hesitated before bringing a hand up to his chest to pat it gently.

“I’ll call you.” He promised, a secret to your ear only and you shivered. His lips brushed your cheek once more, in goodbye, before he turned to shoot a warning look to Doflamingo. “What are you here for?” The words had an edge to them you’ve not heard from the man before. Taking this as your chance to slip away, you slunk past Doflamingo once he stepped fully into the kitchen and tried to ignore the way you could feel his gaze follow you. Their conversation wouldn’t be loud enough for you to hear. The music had picked up and you were thankful to have the moment to steady yourself as you pulled on your shoes. Although the wine had mostly worn off you could still feel a buzz in your head that slugged your movements just slightly. That and your exhaustion and the sudden appearance of another man during a very intimate moment had your head swimming and yearning for a bed for the night. Perhaps while they were busy you could simply slip out the door and to your own apartment.

That, however, took a turn when you turned from your crouched position to spot Doflamingo perched in the entrance to the living area. 

While Crocodile was named for one, Doflamingo truly embodied a predator. A beast peered down at you with a look of hunger displayed by the way his loose tongue stroked over his teeth with gentle clicking noises. Although his eyes were hidden it was obvious that his gaze was traveling from the way he tilted his head down just slightly. Crocodile was tall but Doflamingo stood at least a head and a half over him with broader shoulders and refined muscle mostly on display. Once he noticed you were looking he pulled his tongue and chuckled low. Goosebumps burned on your arms from the sound and you clenched fists to steady.

“Leaving already?”

“Doflamingo.” The warning call was followed by Crocodile stepping out of the kitchen. “Ignore him.” The order was directed to you and you jumped. Quickly, you tried to skulk your way past the flamboyish man.

Doflamingo did not like to be ignored.

The moment you were within reach his arm curled out as though to catch you and you froze. He didn’t touch you, however, arm hovering just before you with fingers twitching with the urge to touch. His laugh bounced over the music.

“Oh, you’ve got a cute one, Croco.” Crocodile did not enjoy this. He did not enjoy when Doflamingo hunched forward to press his face in your view and you could just tell from this distance that his hair had to feel soft. 

What products does he use? You had the feeling if you asked he wouldn’t hesitate to tell you. But you also knew he wouldn’t hesitate to have you touch his hair and from the way, Crocodile’s teeth were grinding you didn’t want to add tension to this situation. Doflamingo spared a glance over his shoulder to gauge the reaction of the man he had come to see before shrugging his shoulders.

“I don’t bite.” His hands raised as though in surrender. However, his head cocked back and he chuckled at a joke he couldn’t wait to share. “Unless you’d want that.”

You ducked under his arm before Crocodile could interfere.

Crocodile would open the door for you and use his body once more as a shield from his uninvited guest. His hand lingered on the door for a second as he watched you step out and you held up your hand for a final goodbye.

Crocodile barely paid attention as he turned with a look of fire and rage burning in those eyes at the now laughing Doflamingo.

Shit. You hated how that look definitely did something to you that you would swear on taking to your grave.

You would not hear from Crocodile for the next three days.

Once you had snuck home you immediately kicked off your clothing and slipped into your bed to try and muffle any thoughts that lingered from the evening. You would have believed it was a dream had you not awoken with the realization that your work apron was still, in fact, at Crocodile’s. Nami was very definitely entertained when you came to work after essentially vanishing for the weekend. Especially when you informed her why you would need a new apron (even if just temporarily). She would absolutely lose her mind over the details, squealing as though she was a gossiping girl back in school. You would not inform her of how it ended (nor any of the spicier details that led to nothing in the end) and you hoped for the entire shift you worked that he wouldn’t show up. You just knew Nami would say or do something that would have you unable to ever work there again. Not while he came there.

But you heard nothing from him. Nobody would come or go from the apartment during those days either; not even Crocodile himself. Then, the night after your shift ended you would leave your shower freshly dried and dressed for the bed to find a message on your phone. You didn’t hesitate to open it thinking it was possibly from Nami about something with closing only to instead discover Crocodile’s name flashing back at you. Along with one single message.

What are your plans for Valentine’s Day?