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deathbyclown · 3 months ago

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Bump in the Night Pairing: Crocodile x Buggy Rating: T Words: 11,000

Summary: Buggy is being haunted!!! Or at least that’s what he tries to explain to his business associates! Crocodile is not having it, but when it starts to become a distraction…well maybe he’ll humor the clown.

(Buggy is convinced there is a ghost in his room and he goes through several methods to be rid of it, with no luck. Crocodile is progressively losing his patience with Buggy until he decides to let Buggy stay over. Will Crocodile be able to help Buggy with his ghost problem?)

((The POV will switch between Buggy and Crocodile))

AO3 Link

THUMP

Buggy sat straight up from his bed, pulling the covers up to his chin. There it was. That sound again! He glanced around in the dark room, his eyes attempting to adjust to the darkness. Only moonlight shone in through the gaps in his tent, making everything hard to see, stretched and shadowed with just the little bits of light. His looked all around and shrieked at the dark looming figure next to his vanity. His hand fumbled against his lamp, trying to find the stupid switch, the hairs on the back of his neck tingling, very aware of the thing in the room. He flicked on the light and grabbed the dagger he kept under his pillow, turning the blade to the figure, but it stood there, motionless, inanimate. He took a shaky breath, dropping the dagger to the bed, relieved to see it was just his coat rack.

He couldn’t keep doing this! He had woken up every night to the same sound, only to find nothing in the room, his heart pounding. He would be in deep asleep, and then the thumps would happen. Like clockwork, thumping somewhere in his room that stopped as soon as he sat up. And he’d feel a chill, a presence, and all the hair on his body would stand on end, a cold sweat overtaking him, making him clammy. He’d look around the room, dagger in hand, only to find.... nothing. He was sure that someone or something was in the room with him, he just couldn’t see it. He could feel it though, that same feeling when someone is staring at you, watching you, and he’d whip his head around, searching frantically for the source of his discomfort, but there was nothing he could see.

He tried to settle back into bed, keeping the lights on. He closed his eyes, but his whole body felt tense, his heart beating quickly, hard enough to feel it through his chest, to feel it in his throat, his mouth, to hear it pounding in his ears. He took a deep breath and tried to calm down, easing into his nice soft plush pillows and blankets.

THUMP

Buggy shot up and out of bed, rushing out of his room and into the town. His heart beat wildly, the cool night air chilling his clammy skin, filling his lungs. He didn’t care that he was only in his underwear and bonnet, running on dirt roads in bare feet. He didn’t know where he was going, but he knew he couldn’t stay in his room for another minute. Every little sound, every small movement out of the corner of his eye made him jump, the dark quiet rows of tents and newly constructed buildings seemed much more eerie in the dead of night.

He saw a light on in one of the buildings and made a beeline for it, as if he were a moth to a flame. As soon as he reached the building he threw open the door and slammed it shut behind him. Whoever was inside was already awake anyway, so what did it matter if he was loud? He relaxed a little against the door, the warmth and light inside felt comforting, like whatever was in his room, whatever was out there in the darkness, wouldn’t hurt him in here.

He walked further into the building, which he realized was a home, and he felt uneasy once more, but for a very different reason. The only ones who had new homes on Karai Bari were the newest arrivals, who did not want to sleep in a circus tent under any circumstances. So he was in the home of either Mihawk or Crocodile... or one of their subordinates. Was it better to face the enemy you knew versus the one you didn’t?

Buggy took a deep breath and continued forward, peeking around corners and doorways until he came across a partially opened door, warm light streaming from the doorway, the smell of cigar smoke wafting into the partially darkened hallway.

Crocodile. He was awake. Of course he was, did he ever stop working? Buggy peeked around the doorway and saw Crocodile sitting at his desk, his shirt open at the collar, his hand holding up papers as he tiredly looked over them, his cigar hanging loosely between his teeth. He sighed slowly, smoke swirling from his lips.

“Why are you here, Buggy?” He asked, his voice just above a rumble, but clear in the quiet room.

Buggy jumped with a squeak, pulling his head from the doorway and pressed his back against the wall. He held his hand over his heart, nearly beating out of his chest; he wasn’t sure how many more scares he could take.

“H-how did you know I was here?” Buggy peeked back in, and then slowly entered, not coming in further than a few steps from the door.

Crocodile gave him a look, like he was stupid and then sighed, rubbing his forehead with his hand.

“Haki.” he stated simply and then added, “You’re also very loud.”

“I’m not that loud!” Buggy argued, loudly.

So Crocodile could tell he was here by using...haki. He had forgotten about haki, locked it away with the rest of his memories about his time with the Roger Pirates. Almost everyone on that ship knew how to use it, but he was too young at the time to truly grasp it. And then after Roger’s execution, Buggy shed everything that reminded him of Roger, of Shanks, of his childhood adventures. All of those things, they hurt too much to think on, so he just didn’t. He had more important things to focus on, like his own flashy life!

“Did you fall asleep?” Crocodile seemed to be genuinely asking, looked him up and down, his papers set aside a while ago as he smoked down his cigar.

Buggy must’ve just been standing there quietly, nearly motionless for long enough to throw Crocodile off. Ha! It may not have been intentional, but he managed to trick him! He should do something to take advantage of this situation, to rub it in Crocodile’s face, but he yawned before he could help himself, revealing himself to be perfectly awake.

“DAMNIT” Buggy shouted, suddenly, smacking his hands into his forehead, making Crocodile's eye twitch.

“Buggy.” Crocodile stood from his desk, his voice dangerous. Buggy froze, watching as Crocodile circled his desk, standing to his full height, taking slow deliberate steps toward him.

“It’s almost three in the morning. You’ve shown up to my personal residence, uninvited. You’re nearly naked. You’re loud. You’re tracking in dirt .” Crocodile kept speaking, each step toward Buggy felt like a threat. “You’re standing there, interrupting my work and wasting my time. So you better have a damn good reason to explain your presence here.” Crocodile loomed over Buggy, whose fear easily returned as he stood in Crocodile’s shadow.

“C-Croccy! I. I didn’t realize it was your house! But! But you’re just the guy I wanted to talk to! Y’see there’s someone in my room... but I can’t find them! They keep making noises and-”

Crocodile put his hook under Buggy’s chin, the sharp point pressing into him, painful, but not yet breaking the skin.

“Let me give you an example of what you should do when there’s an unwanted guest in your room.” Crocodile grabbed Buggy by his throat with his hand, squeezing tightly, making him choke and gasp. His hands clawed at Crocodile’s arm, his body attempting to break away, but his throat was held firmly in his grasp. He walked Buggy’s throat to the front door, the rest of him following in a panic, his body swirling around him like a swarm of bees. Crocodile threw open the door and chucked Buggy’s neck as far as he could throw it, the other parts of him following like a group of ducklings after its mother.

That didn’t go well. Buggy managed to catch himself from falling onto the ground when he re-assembled but when he took his first step he tripped and stumbled, falling face first into the dirt. Now Buggy was cold, and dirty, and had to either find somewhere else to sleep or return to his haunted room. He groaned in frustration and dragged his feet back to his tent. Maybe whatever was there would be gone because he left and it lost interest!

...

Buggy nodded off at breakfast, face dropping right into his plate of eggs and sausage. He didn’t get a wink of sleep last night after he returned. Instead he showered, got dressed way too early, started his makeup, realized he hated his outfit and changed. And then proceeded to change five more times, leaving clothes everywhere in his room. And then he fell asleep while he was straightening his hair and burnt off a large chunk. It was a very messy morning.

He wiped egg off of his face for the second time that morning, stabbing a fork into a sausage link, bringing it to his mouth with his eyes closed and biting down around nothing, chewing on air as he drifted off again.

“Captain?” A voice cut though his snoozing and he sat up with a start, squinting and looking around. A few of his subordinates were sitting down around him, eating their own breakfast. They must’ve seen him struggling to stay awake (and eat his breakfast) because they were all looking at him with concern, murmuring amongst themselves. Buggy sat up a little straighter, remembering to plaster a confident smile on his face.

“Did you have a long night, sir?” One of them asked, a little timid.

Buggy smiled tightly at them, nodding his head slowly. “Oh nothing I can’t handle!” he tried to wave away their concern.

“Don’t worry Captain, you can confide in us!” One of them encouraged, the rest of them sounding their agreement.

Buggy hesitated, tightening his lips in a line as he thought it over. It was probably not a good look for him to be sharing something that could be seen as a weakness with his underlings, at least that’s what the voice that sounded like Crocodile in his head warned. But Buggy wanted to share what was going on with him, because he had never dealt with a ghost before and wanted advice. So against his better judgement he explained to the group of people sitting with him what he had been experiencing the past few nights.

A few of them nodded sagely, and the others just looked confused.

“I was on a ship where this very same thing happened to the captain! Y’see he had the same kind of problem, hearing sounds at night, strange noises. He swore someone was following him. He spent every night awake, barely sleeping during the day. Well he was so exhausted he finally fell asleep. He slept for near three days, so we went to check on him. And when we looked inside...he was dead. No one had been in the room, ‘cept him! The whole crew was in shock. We looked high and low for any clues, but there was no signs of foul play. The strangest thing about it was…he died lookin’ like he was screaming… but none of the crew had heard a thing.”

Everyone at the table was silent and Buggy was sweating right through his shirt. Is that what was going to happen to him?! Was he going to be murdered by a flashy ghost, unable evade whatever was chasing him???

“Oh that’s a load of bullshit! I’ve heard that same story a hundred time over from a hundred different crews. That’s just a ghost story they tell to rookies!”

The crew members started arguing amongst themselves, leaving Buggy to sneak away, trying to keep his cool so he could leave the tent unnoticed and then frantically run to Crocodile’s office. He needed someone strong and knowledgeable to help him! And since it was morning now, and neither of them were tired, maybe this conversation would go a little better than last night.

Buggy knocked on Crocodile’s door this time, trying to restrain himself from banging, but not really managing. The door opened and before him stood Daz, who looked down at him stone-faced.

“I-is Crocodile here? I gotta talk to him!” Buggy peeked past Daz, trying to see if Crocodile was behind him or something.

“He’s in a meeting.” Daz answered and Buggy whined in frustration.

“Well, when will he be done?!” He looked up at Daz’s face, pleadingly.

“He’s busy most of the day. I’ll let him know you stopped by.” Daz closed the door on Buggy and he stood there in shock for a moment and then screamed, kicked the door, and then hobbled away in pain.

He needed to talk to someone else about this, someone who felt obligated to help him!

...

He sat down with his lieutenants to devise a plan for his ghost. He explained everything to them, adding in what he was told this morning about the captain who mysteriously died. Cabaji and Mohji shared Buggy’s reaction, shocked and terrified, but Alvida just scoffed and rolled her eyes. Galdino just sat there with a serious look on his face, rubbing his chin in thought. Buggy turned to Alvida, offended by her dismissal.

“Hey! Why are you rolling your eyes?! This real and I'm going to die!! Do you think that's funny?!”

Alvida let out a tired sigh. “Ghosts aren’t real. You probably just have rats because your room is a pigsty.”

Buggy’s face flushed and he growled, “Are you calling me a pig?! Because I’ve seen your room! Its looks like a torture chamber!”

“This coming from the man who decorates his room like a 12 year-old girl.” Alvida shot back, looking relaxed, but mildly entertained.

Buggy shot from his seat, stretching his body to tower over Alvida. “ITS FLASHY! !”

“Buggy.” Galdino said suddenly, making Buggy twist his body toward him. “I may have a solution to your problem.”

Buggy snapped back to his normal size and leaned over the table eagerly towards Mr.3. “Really?! Well spit it out!”

Mr. 3 frowned a little deeper and adjusted his glasses. “If there is a being or entity in your room and it is able to make sound, then that means it must have a physical form. And if it has a physical form, then that means it has a weakness, which means we can take advantage of that weakness.” Galdino looked meaningfully at Buggy, who nodded along, thoughtfully, but he had no idea what Galdino was getting at, and this became obvious the longer it took Buggy to fill in the blank. Mr. 3 huffed in frustration and continued.

“And that weakness is being vulnerable to capture! So we would just have to set up a trap and then we would be in possession of a ghost! “ Mr.3’s eyes shined with excitement and determination. “Can you imagine how much of your debt would be erased if you could offer Sir Crocodile something that rare?”

Buggy gasped loudly, drawing everyone’s eye. He rushed forward and grabbed Galdino by his shoulders, shaking him. “That’s a brilliant idea! This is why you’re my buddy! I knew you were still on my side!” Buggy grinned from ear to ear, and Mr. 3 gave him a self-satisfied smile in return, a light blush on his cheeks.

“Well, then, lets go to my workshop! We can draw up some blueprints!” He grabbed Mr.3 under his arms, who made a noise of indignation, and flew them out of the room, Buggy’s feet pattering after him

Alvida gave a weary sigh. “They are so stupid.”

...

Daz let him know that Buggy stopped by, seeming frantic, but really, when wasn’t that clown in a panic? He waved it off and continued his work, easily losing track of time, once again. He didn’t give Buggy a second thought for the rest of the day. He sat in his comfortable armchair, having just finished his dinner, and listened to his favorite record while he read the newspaper. It was a wonderfully quiet and productive day today, and it was that thought that made him realize he hadn’t heard from Buggy since this morning. It was rather unusual given that, so far, Buggy had interrupted him at some point during the day, intentionally or unintentionally, every day since they formed Cross Guild. Usually, it was from causing a disturbance somewhere on the island, and every once in a while it was Buggy coming to him directly to bother him about some kind of grievance that Buggy could easily solve himself.

But there were no such disturbances today. And Crocodile was starting to find that more worrying than Buggy’s chaos and noise. If something happened to him, if he died or got hurt, then it wouldn’t be a problem. His followers would defer to Crocodile if he played his cards right. But what if Buggy was doing something to betray him? That would be a problem.

Begrudgingly he left his cozy armchair and subtly made his way to Buggy’s tent. It was late enough in the evening that he was probably doing his stupidly long nighttime routine. What a waste of time, washing his face with three different soaps, adding oils and lotions and patches. All of it was slick and gloopy and sticky and smelled sweet, like something he couldn’t recall, but was being replaced in his memories by Buggy.

As he approached he could hear Buggy being his usual loud self, and Crocodile silently breathed a sigh of relief. Well, at least he knew where Buggy was, but now he needed to figure out what he’d been doing all day. Buggy was shouting, the words indecipherable through the hum of noise across the island, but he heard another person’s voice, a man and paused at the doorway to the tent. He listened intently, only catching bits and pieces;

“No! Not like that, you’re doing it wrong!”

“...”

“Can’t you make it harder?”

“...”

A yelp, definitely from Buggy. Crocodile bit into his cigar, not sure what to make of what he was hearing. He rang the annoying bell that Buggy had attached to his tent for visitors and waited. It became suddenly quiet and Crocodile almost went in when a very red-faced and sweaty Mr.3 poked his head out from the flaps. He looked around in annoyance and then up in fear as he saw who stood before him.

“M-Mr. 0!” Mr.3 stood suddenly and stepped forward, revealing more of his body to Crocodile. His clothes were disheveled, his one suspender slipped off of his shoulder, his shirt open at the neck, revealing more sweaty skin.

The irritation he felt at seeing Mr.3 was immediate and sudden. Why the hell was he in Buggy’s room looking like he’d just interrupted them in the middle of screwing? Is this what Buggy was busy doing all day?

Crocodile locked his jaw and looked down coldly at Mr.3 who trembled in place. Crocodile was about to chew him out when Buggy popped his head out, only his head, the rest of his body left behind somewhere and now Crocodile really couldn’t get a measure of what was going on in his tent.

“What the hell is taking you so long? I’m waiting-” Buggy did a double take at Crocodile who could feel the vein in his forehead pulsing. “Croccy, baby!” Buggy’s head floated before Crocodile who grimaced at Buggy getting so close to his face. “You’ve caught us at a bad time! We’re kinda in the middle of something, so do y’think I could do a raincheck on our meeting?” He pleaded, giving Crocodile his best pout. As if that would work on him.

He rolled his eyes and turned his face from Buggy as he felt his cheeks warming, pretending to look disinterested as he pulled his cigar from his lips. “We didn’t have a meeting, idiot. Daz said you were looking for me.”

“Oh, well, you’ll be proud of me, Croc! I fixed my own problem! Speaking of which, I gotta get back to it! see you later!” Buggy zoomed back into his tent and Mr.3 looked quickly between Crocodile and the tent flaps, made a sort of bow and apologized, then followed Buggy back into the tent.

Crocodile blew smoke from the side of his mouth sharply and tried not to let Buggy’s easygoing attitude get under his skin. Proud of him? Like hell he was. Whatever he was feeling toward Buggy in this moment wasn’t something he wanted to examine. He turned on his heel and went back to his comfortable home. If Buggy was solving his own problems now, all the better. Less worry for him. Let that rotten little clown do as he pleased, as long as he stayed the hell out of his way.

...

“He looked kinda mad, didn’t he? Good thing he didn’t come in here, I don’t think he’d be happy to see what I’ve done with the place.” Buggy floated above his floor which was entirely covered in wax. Mr. 3 huffed and continued his taxing wax work, trying to follow the haphazardly drawn blueprint that Buggy sketched out that afternoon.

“Are you sure you want this to be triggered by any touch? What if a rat runs across the floor?” Mr.3 panted, finishing the last series of cages hanging above Buggy’s floor. The only non-booby trapped spot in the tent was the bed and the edges of the circular tent. Mr. 3 sat down along the edge, wiping his brow, trying to catch his breath.

“I DON’T HAVE RATS!” Buggy screeched, scowling at Galdino.

Mr.3 huffed and rolled his eyes. “Well, whatever is taking form in your room may end up triggering multiple cages, are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Of course!!” Buggy held out his arms wide, “if one cage doesn’t do the job, then we’ll have all these flashy back-ups!!”

Mr.3 sat up, and rested an arm on his knee, shaking his head. “I don’t think this is the best method, but we’ll try it.”

“Of course this is the best method, I’m the one who came up with it!!! Now get out of here!! I need to fall asleep so the ghost will come by!!” Buggy’s hands shot across the room and pushed at Galdino’s shoulders.

“Oh. I thought…well, right, of course…” Mr.3 stuttered, face bright red, tugging at his already open collar. He got to his feet and carefully made his way to the exit. He turned to face Buggy before he was fully out of the tent. “If you do catch something, let me know. It doesn’t matter if its late at night or early. I’ll be able to transport it.”

“Yeah, yeah! I’ll call you! Now buzz off!” Buggy shoo’d him away, pushing him the rest of the way out of the tent and flopped back into bed.

“Geez what a yapper.” Buggy muttered to himself, snuggling down into his fuzzy covers.

Buggy had a good feeling about his plan, not only that, he felt safer with all these traps around him. After tonight, his ghost problems would be over!!

…

Pu-dup, pu-dup, pu-dup, pu-dup, pu-dup.

Crocodile threw out his hand and snatched up the snail-phone.

Who the hell was calling him at three in the morning?

“What?” He gruffed into the receiver, his eyes still closed.

“Sorry to interrupt your rest, but I thought you should know there’s quite a commotion going on at the clown’s tent.” Mihawk’s smooth voice informed him.

Crocodile’s brows furrowed. Why would he care about what’s happening at Buggy’s tent? As long as it didn’t affect him, it wasn’t his responsibility.

Crocodile sat up anyway.

“What do you mean by commotion?”

“Apparently he’s stuck. Half the island is there, screaming about an assassination attempt. It’s quite loud. I’m surprised you can’t hear it.” Mihawk said, sounding bored.

“You think someone tried to kill him?” Crocodile asked, putting the snail on his shoulder, lighting a cigar.

“Hardly. If anything, he probably did it to himself. That being said, I don’t think it would hurt for us to make an appearance.”

Crocodile mulled over his words. It would certainly look good for the both of them, would earn more favor from Buggy’s supporters, who were already skittish around him and Mihawk.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.” Crocodile sighed, hanging up and dropping the snail back onto his nightstand. He rubbed at his eyes, a headache beginning to form. Cross Guild was starting to become a lot more work than he anticipated.

…

Buggy wailed, his head bouncing around the wax cage. He could feel his body parts so close but he couldn’t call them back and it terrified him, made his panic leap tenfold. He sobbed, crying out for help, and he could hear voices, people yelling and calling out to him. It offered him no comfort, they couldn’t do anything about these cages! He needed Galdino! He cried out for him, hoping someone would get him and free him.

Light began shining in, and Buggy flipped his head, watching as a hole began forming, the wax disintegrating before his eyes.

“G-galdino?” Buggy asked, squinting against the sudden harsh light. A hand reached in and grabbed him by the hair, pulling him out. He was face to face with Crocodile, who looked furious, but was attempting to keep his composure.

“CAPTAIN!!!!” His subordinates clamored for him, surging forward to try and see him, but Mihawk held them back.

“Give him some space.”

And the crowd of people pulled back, crying and hugging each other, thanking Mihawk and Crocodile.

“What the hell did you do?” Crocodile hissed, quiet enough for only Buggy to hear, using his hook to hold Buggy as he disintegrated another cage, releasing one of Buggy’s feet.

Buggy sniffed, wishing he had his hands to wipe his tears. “I-I was trying to catch the ghost!!” Buggy wailed, tears flowing.

Crocodile paused and fixed him with a stare. “You can’t be serious.”

Buggy’s bottom lip wobbled, answering Crocodile with a quiet “yeah…”

“The only thing you managed to catch was yourself.” Crocodile muttered under his breath, releasing a part of Buggy’s torso.

“Well, that wasn’t supposed to happen!! Galdino and me had a flashy plan!! I just forgot…” Buggy hesitated and looked off to the side, muttering the rest of his sentence out of the side of his mouth.

“What was that?” Crocodile lifted Buggy to eye level and Buggy avoided his gaze, sweat gathering at his hairline.

“I-I…well, I might have forgotten about the traps, and got scared when the first one fell…. and left the bed when I heard the ghost…” but then Buggy suddenly perked up.

“Wait!!! That means the ghost in one of these cages!!!! Stop opening them!!!”

Buggy wriggled away from Crocodile’s hook and zoomed around the room. He could feel his body parts, knew exactly which cages had him. And that meant he knew which cages were ‘empty.’

“Don’t open these cages!!” Buggy sat his head on one of the empty ones.

Crocodile grit his teeth, his patience running thin. He didn’t say a word though, very aware of his audience. Crocodile opened the rest of the cages, until Buggy was back together. He left the others untouched, as requested. Buggy sighed in relief at having himself in one piece, feeling truly grateful Crocodile and Mihawk showed up to save him.

“Thank you Croccy!!! My savior!!” Buggy wrapped his arms around Crocodile’s neck and hugged him tightly. Buggy could feel Crocodile tense underneath him but he didn’t throw him off like he normally would if they had been alone. His audience cheered and applauded, patting Crocodile, and Mihawk, on the back and offering handshakes as they left. Buggy was sure he’d hear an earful from them in the morning, but he’d worry about that later! For now, Buggy could call Galdino and get his ghost boxed up and out of his room!!

…

All of the cages were empty. Properly empty. Not even a rat, which would’ve been better than nothing. He and Mr.3 double checked every cage, triple checked!! But there was nothing inside, just air.

Buggy felt defeated, blaming himself for triggering the boxes, for missing his chance to catch whatever was haunting him. He sighed dejectedly, resting his head on Galdino’s shoulder.

Mr. 3 placed a hand on Buggy’s head, a mild attempt to comfort him.

“Perhaps this ghost can change its form, become solid and transparent at will.” He offered, slowly undoing all of the wax as they sat on Buggy’s bed.

Buggy looked up at him with large wet eyes, looking somewhat hopeful. “Yeah? You think so?”

Mr.3’s cheeks turned pink and he looked straight ahead, “of course. And if that’s the case, my wax won’t be able to hold something like that.” He brought a hand to his chin in thought.

“You may have to talk to an expert. Someone who has experience with ghosts.” Mr.3 nodded to himself, as if approving his own thoughts.

“An expert? In ghosts?” Buggy pouted, sinking further against Galdino.

“I-I’m sure there’s someone like that around here.”

Buggy huffed, wrapping his arms around Mr.3, holding onto him as he thought about his words. He did have all kinds of people here, ones with some really unique backgrounds. He just had to find them.

“I should get going.” Mr.3 whispered when he finished cleaning up all the wax, not moving.

Buggy groaned and let go, falling back onto his squishy bed.

“Fiiiiine!” He grumbled, wanting to stay here, but he had to meet with Crocodile and Mihawk soon. He was dreading it, this meeting, especially after last night…

As soon as Buggy arrived to the meeting he got cut into pieces and lectured for about an hour. Needless to say he was in tears by the end but surprisingly Crocodile and Mihawk let him explain himself once they were done yelling at him. He put himself back together and explained his ghost problem.

Crocodile scoffed. “You really thought setting up traps like that would help you capture a ghost? How stupid can you be?”

Buggy bristled, swelling in his red outfit “Well, what would you have done!?”

Crocodile got to his feet, matching Buggy’s height. “I would’ve laid my head back down and gone to sleep because ghosts. aren’t. real.”

“Perona can create ghosts.” Mihawk added suddenly, making Crocodile and Buggy turn their heads to look at him.

He just blinked slowly at them as they stared in silence. Crocodile rolled his eyes. “That’s a devil fruit ability, it doesn’t count.”

“It does too!!” Buggy countered. He turned his attention to Mihawk, who still sat there watching them. “So you have experience with ghosts, Mihawk? Do you think you could help me out?”

Mihawk leaned back in his seat, his fingers playing with the cross around his neck. “I have certainly experienced ghosts, but only from Perona’s ability.” Buggy’s face fell, but Mihawk continued. “But I have several books on the subject. Come by my home after dinner. I’ll have them ready for you.”

Buggy perked back up, zooming over to Mihawk, hovering over him. “R-really?! I can come over right now!”

Mihawk shook his head, pushing Buggy away with a single finger. “Tonight. I’ll need time to gather the materials.”

Crocodile tsk’d, drawing the attention of both of them. “You can’t be seriously entertaining this.” He drawled, knowing Mihawk was not a joking man, but hoping that just this once he was.

Mihawk stood from his seat and gave Crocodile a small smile. “We live in a strange world, Crocodile.” He tipped his hat and left, Buggy zooming around the room, leaving Crocodile irritated, chewing at his cigar.

…

Walking into Mihawk’s home felt chilling, like he was going through a haunted house, and Buggy was starting to second guess asking Mihawk for advice. The hallways were dark, narrow, and he trailed behind Mihawk as close as he dared, his hand clutching onto his coattail.

“My library.” Mihawk said suddenly, opening a door, making Buggy squeak in surprise, his hands grabbing onto Mihawk’s arm. With both of Buggy’s hands hanging off of him, he held out his arm for Buggy, bidding him to enter first.

“You’re quite jumpy. Perhaps a glass of wine to soothe your nerves?” Mihawk offered, picking off Buggy’s hands like they were a piece of lint. Buggy took a few steps into the space, relaxing only slightly at the sunset glowing through the large windows behind an ornate wooden desk.

“Y-yeah. I’ll take a glass.” Buggy sat down on one of the armchairs near the desk, glancing around the room, fear making way for curiosity. It was certainly a library; floor to ceiling bookshelves lined each wall, all organized in a system Buggy would mess up if he was in charge.

Mihawk handed him a glass of wine, the bottle seemingly appearing out from under the desk, along with two wineglasses. Buggy didn’t question it, just gulped down the drink like it was juice.

Mihawk gave him a look of distaste but didn’t say anything, sipping from his own glass and leaning back in his chair.

“Crocodile was sparing with the details, so I’d like to hear from the horse’s mouth, as it were, what exactly you’ve been experiencing.” His eyes were intense, practically glowing and it put Buggy ill at ease. He took another gulp of wine and clutched the glass in his hands. Mihawk was always scary looking, he tried to reason to himself, no need to be intimidated!

Buggy took a deep breath and gave Mihawk a detailed re-counting of his sleepless nights, of being haunted by a sound that wakes him, but has no source. Mihawk listened patiently, nodding along, his face thoughtful as Buggy described his reasoning behind the traps he set up with Mr.3.

“That logic was flawed from the get-go. One does not need physical form to create sound. Thunder claps and wind howls, but it cannot be captured.”

“Well! I know that now!!” Buggy grumbled, crossing his arms, his face warming from embarrassment.

“I think you’ll find the information in these books useful. I’ve marked a few pages specifically related to ghosts and their expulsion.” Mihawk pushed the pile of books across the desk. Buggy hopped up from his seat and snatched up the first book from the pile.

“Alas, I did not come across any information about capturing a ghost. I would’ve liked to see your little spectre.” Mihawk said wistfully, thumb and finger brushing over his goatee.

“Hah! Spend a night in my room and you just might!” Buggy commented off-handed, his attention absorbed by the drawings and words on the pages.

Buggy went right to the page that Mihawk marked in this book. It had some interesting information, stuff he never would’ve thought about. Using holy power to expel something demonic. Of course! He needed water and salt and some crosses and statues and maybe even one or two religious fellas, the kind that wore special outfits.

“I accept.” Mihawk answered and Buggy didn’t even register the words, still wrapped up in all the new information he was absorbing. But he realized Mihawk said something and he lifted his head, hoping he would repeat himself.

“Huh? Whadya say?” Buggy’s brow furrowed, his brain trying to put together the words he just heard.

“I accept your offer. I’ll stay in your room tonight. I’d like a chance to see this ghost.” Mihawk explained, leaning back in his chair, steepling his fingers.

Buggy felt like he missed something. When in the hell did he ask Mihawk to spend the night!? Just as he was about to tell him no, a little light went on in his brain. Mihawk is powerful enough to destroy just about anyone. Or anything! And he’s offering to basically be your bodyguard for the night!!! Take the offer, stupid!!

“When should I expect you?” Buggy asked, closing the book with a snap, knowing in the back of his mind he’d have to scramble to clean up his messy room. (Messy! Not filthy!! He didn’t have rats!!!)

…

Crocodile knew it was last minute, but he’d finished the last of the zucchini bread Mihawk made and he had gotten so used to having a slice after dinner with his coffee that he was feeling its absence. So, after nibbling on a few things to try and stave off the craving with no success, he, begrudgingly, made the easy walk to Mihawk’s house and knocked on the door. Hopefully he had an extra loaf or perhaps some other baked good he’d be willing to part with. Although, he knew Hawkeye’s zucchini crop has been doing well, so no doubt he has the materials to make it even if he didn’t have any bread on hand. How difficult is it to make zucchini bread anyway? … … …

Crocodile looked at his watch, and knocked again, lost in thought about bread… … …

What the hell is taking Mihawk so long???

Crocodile knocked again, louder, trying the handle. Locked. Mihawk was always home at this time of night. It was the time of day he took to unwind, part of his routine before going to bed. If he wasn’t here…then where else could he be?

Crocodile returned home and grabbed his snail-phone, calling up one of his most reliable sources of information: Daz, who gave him a surprisingly detailed account of what occurred between Buggy and Mihawk in his home. How in the world does he get this info? Crocodile shook his head, dismissing his thought. Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.

Crocodile stormed out of his home, his long strides taking him quickly to Buggy’s tent. Of all places! Of all people! He can’t believe Mihawk got sucked into Buggy’s nonsense about ghosts! The whole island may be going along with Buggy’s insanity, but he would not!

He hesitated at the entrance to Buggy’s tent, annoyed that he didn’t have a door like a normal person. He really wanted to pound his fist against something right now. He stood there fuming for a few seconds, unsure how to approach the situation. When did he become so rash and careless? That stupid clown was rubbing off on him. He grabbed a cigar from his coat pocket and brought it to his mouth, looking for a lighter while he held it in his teeth.

“Here.” A hand appeared, a lighter with a green flame held out before him.

“Thanks.” Crocodile leaned toward the flame, puffing a few times to get the cigar started. And then he jolted, realizing Mihawk stood beside him.

“Where the hell did you come from?” He gruffed, irritated at being caught off guard.

“I was reclining in Buggy’s bed, reading, when I sensed you. You seemed agitated, so I came here to check on you.” Mihawk answered easily, tucking the lighter into a heavy looking robe, his chest exposed, as it often was. But Crocodile noted he wore soft looking lounge pants. He really was spending the night with Buggy, wasn’t he?

Crocodile wanted to snap at him, but he had to maintain his composure, to match Mihawk’s energy. But this whole thing was just absurd.

“Don’t tell me you’re trying to help the clown catch his ghost?” Crocodile sneered.

“Oh no, nothing like that.” Mihawk waved his hand as if dismissing the idea.

That did not make Crocodile feel any better. Why didn’t he feel better? So was Mihawk just sleeping in Buggy’s bed…for what? He felt surge of…jealousy. And it made Crocodile sick to his stomach with the realization.

“No, I simply wish to see the ghost, if it is indeed real.” Mihawk added, looking up at Crocodile.

Oh. So he was here for the ghost. And not for… well it didn’t matter.

“Of course you are. What you’re doing is absurd, but I can’t stop you.” Crocodile puffed at his cigar, breathing out a long stream of smoke. Really, he was hoping to see Buggy and rough him up a bit for inconveniencing him. That always made him feel a little better, bullying the clown.

“I just came by to see if you had anymore zucchini bread.” Crocodile asked, pulling the cigar from his mouth and flicking off the ashes, trying to seem casual.

“Oh yes. I have quite a bit. It’s in my freezer.” Mihawk reached into the pocket of his robe but both of them whipped around to the entrance of Buggy’s tent as they heard him scream.

“Mihawk!!! Where are you?!?? Oh my GOD the ghost took him!!!! Crocodile’s going to kill meeee!!!!” They could hear Buggy sobbing and both of them rushed into the tent to see Buggy clutching the book Mihawk was reading to his chest, his head thrown back as he cried.

Crocodile crunched into his cigar at the sight, irritated on so many levels; His stupid dramatics, his obvious anguish at losing Mihawk, his rightful fear of Crocodile. All of it just pissed him off.

Mihawk walked around the room, as if looking for something.

“It would seem I was away when the ghost appeared.” He said, sounding mildly disappointed. Buggy turned to Mihawk and shrieked, throwing the book at Mihawk and scrambled backward.

“What the HELL is going on!?” Buggy had a dagger pointed toward Mihawk, a pillow held tightly to his bare chest.

“I stepped away for a moment to chat with Crocodile and apparently I missed the ghost.” He said with a sigh, sitting down on the bed. Buggy’s head swiveled around, eyes widening when he saw Crocodile, just now realizing he was in the room.

Crocodile continued to observe, smoke trailing from his lips. He felt a kind of satisfaction at Buggy being so wary of Mihawk.

“S-so you’re Mihawk and not the ghost?” Buggy asked, his hand trembling as he held out the dagger.

Mihawk raised an eyebrow but just nodded and said “Indeed. I am not the ghost.”

Buggy threw away the dagger and pillow and lunged at Mihawk, hugging him tightly. Mihawk seemed mildly confused, and had a light blush on his cheeks, but seemed otherwise unperturbed.

“I thought the ghost got you!! Why did you leave?? You scared me!!” Buggy wailed, rubbing his tears and snot into the arm of Mihawk’s robe.

Crocodile nearly snapped into his cigar, his teeth gritting so hard at Buggy’s pathetic and shameless display. That creeping feeling of jealousy roared to life at the sight of Buggy holding onto Mihawk. He swore he saw Mihawk’s golden eyes glimmer at him before he returned his attention to Buggy, petting his head in comfort.

“It was not my intention to frighten you. But do you think me so weak? I certainly hope I would put up more of a fight, in such a case.” He gave Buggy a small smile, and Buggy just held him tighter, babbling apologies. Pathetic.

“If there’s no danger, I’m leaving.” Crocodile grumbled, turning away from the disgusting obvious affection the two shared. He’d seen enough. Damn that Mihawk. He didn’t realize it until this moment, but he wished he hadn’t turned Buggy away that first night. He just caught him at a bad time, tired and frustrated with his mountain of paperwork. Maybe things would’ve gone differently if he had pretended to take Buggy seriously. Maybe Buggy would be clinging onto him, grateful for his presence, squeezing him tightly with his weak little arms. Stupid clown. He didn’t need Buggy.

…

The sleepover with Mihawk was a bust. In fact it left him even more stressed out because he kept waking up to double check that he was there. Mihawk decided to spend the rest of the night there, still hoping to catch sight of the ghost, but nothing happened. And Buggy was left exhausted and still being haunted!! Buggy definitely heard the ghost last night!! He needed to try the stuff from the books Mihawk gave him. He’d gather the materials today and create a super flashy anti-ghost sleeping space!!

By evening he managed to get most of what he was looking for, except the religious fellas with the special outfits. He did get a few offers from people who had said outfits, but they were just costumes. Which meant they didn’t have the power to expel demons or whatever so he didn’t take them up on it.

He put on an iron necklace, covered his bed in salt, put an iron dagger under his bed, burned sage, said some words in a language he didn’t understand and sprinkled holy water on his pillow and around his bed.

Sleeping in his salty bed and pressing his face into his damp pillow wasn’t exactly comfortable, and the smell of the sage just made him hungry. He had a pretty hard time falling asleep but eventually he managed, sinking into his grainy bed.

…

THUMP

Buggy twitched in his sleep. He turned over, his hand brushing over grainy sheets, his dreams turning to images of the beach.

THUMP

Buggy clutched the sheets, his eyes shooting open. He laid there, heart beating wildly in his chest, waiting.

THUMP

Buggy clutched the cross around his neck and scrambled for the iron dagger under his pillow, unable to feel it.

THUMP

It was right next to him and Buggy shrieked, rolling away from the sound, getting twisted up in his blankets, falling to the floor.

This anti-ghost shit wasn’t working!!! Buggy frantically clawed his way out of his blankets, stumbling onto his feet, trying to regain his balance. He could feel it, the presence in his room, looming behind him. He didn’t dare look back, running out of his tent as soon as he got his feet under him.

There was no way in hell he was sticking around!! He hurried to Mihawk’s house, bare feet slapping against dirt and grass before hitting flat stone. He was nearly there when a large figure approached from the corner of his eye. He stopped short, freezing in place, slowly turning his head to the huge shadow slowly slinking from the darkness.

“Ghost troubles again, clown?” A deep voice rumbled and Buggy caught a whiff of cigar smoke.

He sighed in relief, pressing a hand to his chest. Crocodile stepped into view under a street lamp, looking tired, his hook covered in blood.

“Wh-why is there blood? What were you doing!?” Buggy stuttered, pointing a trembling finger at him.

Crocodile smirked and blew out a long plume of smoke. “It’s late, let’s talk inside.” He ushered Buggy to his home, his large hand on his shoulder, comfortingly warm against his chilled bare skin. But Buggy was still on edge, jumping at every little sound and touch. What if Crocodile was going to use that hook on him next!? Maybe he should just politely slip away and knock on Mihawk’s door.

Before he knew it was was pushed onto Crocodile’s couch, a glass of whiskey pushed into his hand. Crocodile sat in his large armchair, taking a sip from his own glass. He used a handkerchief to wipe down his hook. He looked relaxed, bored, not paying much attention to Buggy as he rubbed away spots of dried blood.

Buggy just sat there, hunched over and shivering, his legs pressed together, his glass of whiskey cupped in both hands on his thighs. There was no way he could drink alcohol right now, his stomach clenched with nerves, too volatile to accept anything so hard and acidic. He glanced up at Crocodile.

“D-do you have any tea?” He asked quietly.

Crocodile paused his cleaning and he looked Buggy up and down.

“I don’t drink tea. Only coffee.” He answered, continuing to clean his hook.

“Oh. Ok.” Buggy traced the rim of the glass with his thumb. Maybe just a sip wouldn’t hurt.

Crocodile stood and took off his hook, something Buggy had never seen before. He tried not to stare but he couldn’t help himself. Crocodile had his sleeve folded over his arm, the extra fabric falling loose as it came free from the hook. He set down the hook on his desk and removed his coat, returning to Buggy. He stopped in front of him and Buggy stared up, shrinking slightly, unsure if he did something wrong. Crocodile placed the coat around his shoulders and took the glass of whiskey from him.

Buggy was in shock. Did he die? Why was Crocodile being so nice to him?! Whatever the reason, Buggy wasn’t going to complain right now. His coat was so thick and cozy, still warm from Crocodile’s body heat. Buggy pulled the heavy coat tighter around himself, the fluffy collar tickling his face. It smelled like Crocodile, like cigar smoke, spicy and strong, and his cologne, fresh and masculine, and his hair product, light and mildly floral. Buggy breathed in deeply, nuzzling his face in the soft fur.

“You’re not wearing your little sleeping hat.” Crocodile commented, removing his ascot and unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt, a thin gold chain gleaming against pale skin and sparse dark hair.

Buggy watched him with wide eyes, his mind bouncing around at all these new sights Crocodile was showing him. He wore a necklace!? Buggy never knew that! What did it mean? Wait, Crocodile said something to him.

Buggy’s hand went to his hair when he processed Crocodile’s comment. Just his messy hair, unbrushed and sticking out, loose over his shoulders and back. How had he not noticed.

“It must’ve fallen off when I rolled off the bed.” Buggy murmured, tucking his hair behind his ears.

“Your ghost made you roll off the bed?” Crocodile asked with a derisive smile.

“It didn’t make me! I had to! It was right next to me!! It would’ve killed me!!” Buggy insisted defensively.

Crocodile scoffed. “Your ghost hasn’t laid a finger on you this whole time, has it?”

Buggy flushed, his body breaking apart under Crocodile’s coat, filling the empty spaces and making himself big, hovering above his seat.

“That’s not the point! It’s still tormenting me!”

“Is that why you were wandering around outside, past midnight, half naked?” Crocodile asked, his eyes dancing with amusement.

“I! I wasn’t wandering! I was going to Mihawk’s house! Because unlike you, he believes me!” Buggy crossed his arms, turning his back to Crocodile. “Speaking of which! I should get going! Mihawk’ll be able to help me!” Buggy flipped his hair and started shrugging off Crocodile’s big warm coat.

Crocodile grabbed his arm, preventing him from taking off the coat and Buggy turned his head to look at him in question.

“Don’t bother Mihawk. You can spend the night here.” Crocodile said, his words so final, it felt less like an offer and more like a command.

“Really?” Buggy looked up at him in awe. “Does that mean you believe me?”

Crocodile frowned, sliding his coat back onto Buggy’s shoulders.

“No.” Crocodile answered so firmly it left no room for argument. Buggy frowned still wanting to respond but got distracted as Crocodile pushed his hand against Buggy’s back, walking him to the door. He turned out the lights to his office, dropping them into darkness. “Let’s get ready for bed.”

Buggy stumbled through the dark, Crocodile leading him through the hallway to a doorway that had French doors. Crocodile pushed them open and nudged Buggy forward, flicking on a lamp. Everything in the room was cool, sleek, dark furniture with leather and gold. The lighting was warm, but dimmed, making the space feel quiet, smaller. Buggy was too afraid to touch anything, everything seemed expensive and breakable. There was an armchair, a small table, an armoire, a dresser, and a bed large enough to comfortably fit two Crocodiles. The bed took up most of the space in the room and Buggy glanced back at Crocodile who put out his cigar in an ashtray on his beside table.

“If you need to use the bathroom it’s through that door. Otherwise you can lie down.” Crocodile said, sitting down in the armchair and sliding off his shoes. Buggy nodded and hesitantly climbed onto the bed, unsure if Crocodile meant he was supposed to lay down here or somewhere else. It’s not like there was really anywhere else anyway. But he moved slowly just in case Crocodile told him off.

But Crocodile said nothing, continuing to undress, unbuttoning his shirt, exposing the white tank top he wore underneath.

Buggy swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry, unable to take his eyes off of Crocodile’s chest. He was so large, thick, his pecs jiggling with the movements from his arms. Crocodile undid his cuffs and slid the shirt off, dropping it into a hamper. He undid the belt to his pants, curling it up like a snake and placed it in a box in his armoire. He took off his pants, exposing his dark soft looking briefs and pallid muscular legs covered in dark black hair. Buggy had to stifle a giggle at seeing the little sock garters that Crocodile had around his shins. He removed both of them, folding the straps and setting them in a box next to the belt. He removed his socks and put them in the hamper, along with his pants. He took off each ring and set them down on one of the bedside tables.

Buggy had never seen so much skin from Crocodile. He couldn’t help himself, his eyes eating up every little detail of his body. Crocodile removed his tank top and Buggy sucked in a breath, his thick muscled body had long scars across his chest that went over his side and to his back. Scars similar to the one across his face. Crocodile glanced at him at Buggy’s face heated, looking away as soon as their eyes met.

Crocodile huffed and went into the bathroom. Buggy slid off Crocodile’s coat and dropped it to the floor, flipping open the heavy quilted comforter. The sheets weren’t smooth or fluffy like Buggy’s, more starchy and cool like cotton or linen. How boring. And he didn’t have enough pillows! Crocodile had two pillows on each side of the bed. That was not enough for Buggy! He had to have at least five! Two for his head, one behind him, one in front of him, and one to hold in his arms while he slept on his side! How could Crocodile sleep like this? Buggy snuggled down into the bed, the feeling of the sheets scratchy against his bare skin. He huffed and tried to move around, feeling tiny in Crocodile’s oversized bed. Everything here was too big! The pillows were overly large and tall underneath his head he couldn’t lie down flat, he was practically sitting up. Buggy frowned, turning to the pillows to adjust them. He punched them a few times but nothing happened, their shape returning exactly to how they were. Buggy grumbled to himself and took the one pillow and put it behind him turning on his side but he didn’t have his hugging pillow so he laid on his back instead. Crocodile came out from the bathroom smelling like toothpaste and mouthwash, walking over to his dresser. He put on a pair of linen lounge pants and a matching long sleeved sleep shirt. Buggy watched, trying to be subtle about it, peeking over the covers.

Who the hell wore that many clothes to bed!? No wonder he didn’t have soft sheets!! He wouldn’t be able to feel them with an outfit like that!!

Crocodile turned to the bed and Buggy ducked down, his eyes looking over the covers. Crocodile flipped open his side of the blankets, slid in, then turned out the light.

It was pitch black in the room. No fairy lights, no lanterns, no moonlight or streetlights, just darkness. It made the air feel heavy, and Buggy squirmed in bed, his hands subtly searching to re-locate his pillows, despite him still touching them. Crocodile turned in bed, got comfortable and remained still, quiet.

But each minute in this darkness just put Buggy further and further on edge, until he was trembling and sweating, thinking he was seeing things move in the darkness.

“Why are you moving so much?” Crocodile grunted, turning in bed, maybe toward him?

“I can’t see anything and it’s freaking me out.” Buggy whispered, his hands gripping the blankets hard enough make his hands ache.

Crocodile sighed and Buggy yelped when he felt his hand on him, pulling him closer. Buggy’s heart beat quickly, but as soon as Crocodile held him against his chest, he started to calm down.

“Are you just now telling me you’re afraid of the dark?” Crocodile’s voice rumbled through his chest, loud in Buggy’s ear.

Buggy looked up at Crocodile, or at least tried to, but he couldn’t exactly see him.

“I-I’m not afraid of the dark!! Your room is just pitch black!! I can’t even see the fingers in front of my face!” Buggy said indignantly, pushing a finger into, what Buggy assumed, was Crocodile’s chest.

Crocodile sighed in a long suffering way and turned away from Buggy moving off the bed.

“W-wait! Where are you going!?” Buggy frantically pawed at the space Crocodile left, trying to see if he could pull him back somehow.

Suddenly moonlight flooded into the room, the glow of the streetlights casting shadows over everything.

“Better?” Crocodile asked, standing beside a window, the curtains pulled back.

Buggy sighed in relief, the outline of Crocodile now obvious to him, his body washed in moonlight.

“Yeah. Thanks, Croccy.” Buggy snuggled down into bed once more, the bed dipping as Crocodile rejoined him.

“You’re a lot of work, you know that?” Crocodile complained, turning onto his side, looking at Buggy.

Buggy could actually see him now, just an arms length away. Buggy gave him a bashful smile and crawled over, wrapping his arms around Crocodile the best he could and hugged him tightly.

“I’m sorry!! Thank you for being so nice to me.” Buggy pressed his face into Crocodile’s neck and he could feel his Adam’s apple bob. “Even though you don’t believe in my ghost.” Buggy mumbled into his skin.

Crocodile scoffed, his hand lightly tugged Buggy’s hair. “You owe me for entertaining you like this. I can add it to your debt if you’d like.” He teased.

“Crocodile!! Don’t be mean!! My ghost tried to kill me tonight and I can’t pay back a debt if I’m dead!!” Buggy whined, pushing against Crocodile’s chest.

Crocodile chuckled, his fingers still playing in Buggy’s hair. Buggy stilled, in shock once again from Crocodile. He’s never made Crocodile genuinely laugh before. The only time Crocodile laughed was at him, usually when he was getting bullied. Buggy smiled, warmth blooming in his chest. Crocodile had a nice laugh when it wasn’t being directed derisively at him.

“I think the only thing that could kill you in that room would be the rats.” Crocodile smirked.

“I DON’T HAVE RATS!!” Buggy cried, pushing Crocodile onto his back, pinning him down, straddling his waist. Crocodile laughed a little harder, his hand moving to hold Buggy’s hip. Buggy was jostled by Crocodile’s laughter and he couldn’t help but laugh lightly himself, holding onto Crocodile’s shoulders. Crocodile’s thumb stroked the top of his thigh, his touch warm, gentle.

Buggy stared down at him, a curtain of blue hair narrowing their vision to one another. Crocodile’s eyes glimmered in amusement, a soft smile on his handsome lips.

Wait. Handsome? Sure he looked big and tough and powerful, but…

Buggy sat back, his fingers tracing the lines and buttons of Crocodile’s sleep shirt. Maybe he was a little handsome. He does have a nice body…and he takes care of himself… he has a nice laugh, a pretty smile and soft looking lips. Buggy’s fingers mindlessly trailed the skin on Crocodile’s neck, up to his jaw, tracing his lips.

Crocodile’s lips parted slightly, his hot breath washing over Buggy’s fingers. He had to stop, because he was about to stick his fingers in his mouth and Crocodile would kick his ass if he did that! Buggy slid off of Crocodile, his heart fluttering, face warm and palms sweaty. What was going on!? Why did Crocodile even let him do all of that?!

“S-sorry. We should, um, go to sleep. G’night!” Buggy stuttered out, turning his back to Crocodile, and bringing the covers over his head. Gahhh!! Why was he feeling like this!? His mind couldn’t stop racing.

Crocodile sighed and shuffled in bed. “Good night, Buggy.”

Buggy laid there for what felt like hours, replaying his evening with Crocodile. The feeling of his coat, his smell, watching him undress, laughing with him, feeling his skin, his breath. All of this played in an endless loop, his stomach swooping when he thought about touching Crocodile’s lips, about Crocodile’s hand in his hair, on his thigh. His skin tingled from his head to his toes, and he felt a kind of giddiness, making him squirm in bed, unable to sleep.

Crocodile put a hand on his waist and he froze, heart jumping to his throat. He pulled him back, until he was flush with his chest, holding him tightly.

“Stop moving. Go to sleep.” Crocodile gruffed.

“S-sorry! Ok!” Buggy tensed, his back straight as a board. How was he supposed to sleep now!? But as he felt Crocodile’s even breathing, the weight of his hand on him, his strong heartbeat thumping through him, he was lulled to sleep.

…

There was something moving in the room. Crocodile could feel it even from his deep sleep, the movement tickling the back of his neck. He opened his eyes, looking around, not yet moving, loathe to do so now that Buggy was snuggled so comfortably into his chest. He would kill whoever was stupid enough to come into his room and interrupt his sleep, especially when he had a guest. His haki told him that whatever was in here was small, almost like a bird, but just floating around. Some kind of ability from a devil fruit user? Was someone trying to spy on him?

THUMP

It ran into the wall. So, it couldn’t see? What would be the point of that if it was a spy?

THUMP

Buggy jolted, gasping, his eyes flying open. Crocodile looked down at him in question.

THUMP

“It’s the ghost!! It’s here!!” Buggy whispered frantically, pressing himself into Crocodile. Crocodile shot out an arm using his sand to grab the object. He pulled it to himself, sitting up, holding it in his hand.

“Buggy, turn on the light.” He told him, his voice gravelly from sleep.

The light flicked on, both of them squinting from the sudden brightness. Crocodile blinked down at the object in his hand.

“Is it the ghost!? Did you catch it!?” Buggy asked anxiously, leaning over to get a peek.

Well it definitely wasn’t a ghost. Crocodile looked up at him, blank faced.

“Wh-what is it!?” Buggy sat back, leaning away from Crocodile’s open hand as if it would suddenly jump out and grab him.

He held it up between his thumb and pointer finger.

“Ewww!! Is that a spider!?” Buggy panicked, backing up even further.

Crocodile grit his teeth and tossed it at Buggy, who shrieked and squirmed away.

“You idiot! It’s your hand!” He snapped.

Buggy paused and held up his arms, noticing that he only had one hand attached to him. The other laid before him and he called it back, re-attaching it to his arm. He stretched his fingers and made a fist.

“Huh. It feels like it fell asleep.” Buggy commented, shaking his hand. His brow furrowed as he tried to wake up his hand and Crocodile felt like he was ready to strangle Buggy.

“Buggy.” He growled and Buggy’s head shot up to look at him, trepidation clear in his face at Crocodile’s tone.

“You’ve been crying about being haunted, causing trouble for everyone on the island, myself included, and the entire time, your fake ghost was your disembodied hand?” Crocodile bit out, the vein in his forehead pulsing.

Buggy shrank away from him, holding out his hands, looking terrified and sheepish. “N-now, wait! I didn’t know I was the cause! And it’s not like I was making up the ghost or anything! Something was bothering me!! A-and look at that, you helped me solve my ghost problem!!! Thank you, Croccy!” Buggy nervously babbled, forcing a cheerful tone.

This idiot clown was going to put him in an early grave. What kind of moron gets scared awake by his own hand and doesn’t even realize it? He should beat him for being so stupid. Was Buggy was cute enough to deal with his bullshit? He took a deep breath, rubbing his hand over his face. He peeked at Buggy through his fingers; Buggy looked up at him with shining eyes, near tears, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, his hands twisting in his lap. Crocodile grit his teeth and ran his fingers through his hair. Unfortunately, Buggy was cute enough. But he’d most certainly be punishing him later. Right now he was too tired to deal with Buggy’s nonsense.

“Just turn out the light. We can discuss this in the morning.” Crocodile sighed, climbing under the covers once more.

Buggy did as he was told, staying silent the whole time, moving slowly as if worried that any sudden movement or sound would change Crocodile’s mind. He laid still and flat on his back, the covers pulled up to his chin.

Oh no. That wouldn’t do. Buggy was in his bed and he would be enjoying every moment of it, especially if Buggy was going to cause him trouble. He pulled Buggy to his chest, holding him close. Every time he felt Buggy’s warm body against him, smelled his sweet fruity shampoo, put his bare hand on Buggy’s naked waist, his heart fluttered and his stomach swooped. He would never admit it out loud but there was no way he was going to let anyone else sleep with Buggy.

“Are you mad at me?” Buggy asked quietly into his chest, looking up at Crocodile. Stupid sweet pathetic clown. Every time Buggy looked up at him like that he just wanted to take a bite out of him, wanted to squeeze his cheeks until his pink lips pushed out.

“No.” He lied, his fingers playing with Buggy’s soft hair. Buggy turned toward him, his hands on his chest, looking up at him hopefully.

“Really?” He asked, eyes shining.

“Yes.” He lied again, his heart skipping a beat. “Now go to sleep. We have work to do in the morning.” He slid down and kissed the top of Buggy’s head, curling his arm around him to hold him close. Buggy sighed in relief and snuggled into his chest. There was no way he’d let Buggy go.

#crocbug #crocobug #buggy the clown #sir crocodile #buggy #crocodile x buggy #one piece #fanfiction #cross guild #buggy one piece #crocodile one piece #I hope you enjoy my silly little fic!#ummm feel free to let me know your thoughts! 👉👈#fanfic

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