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Immersion cracked and fizzled as the patter of rain against glass shifted to something more like lead pellets on metal floors. Doflamingo’s brow twitched as he lowered his book in his left hand, adjusted his shades with the right. Hail. The Numancia Flamingo could handle it of course, but it was still a pain. He chewed on his thumbnail as he eyed those clouds, hoping the pellets would stay bullet sized, rather than anything larger.
Before his focus had a chance to settle back on his novel, a clamor of footsteps echoed down the hall. Vergo appeared in his doorway with Diamante. Marines were on them. His sigh was reluctant. Everyone was, really. All hands on deck with this inclement weather was a pain, but what else could be done?
Trebol launched slime bombs. Pica lit the canons. Gladius remained inside. Señor Pink tried his hand with some sort of compact rocket launcher, but didn’t seem to have much luck. The navy gained on them and Doflamingo really didn’t feel in the mood for toying with them anymore. Maybe it was this weather. Those heavy clouds were a nuisance but they also provided the perfect perch to cast his strings and rid of those vessels for good.
Although a little surprised with the display of their captain’s stern efficiency, rather than his typical playful sadism, everyone was thankful to be inside. Diamante and Señor Pink started cooking something to warm everyone up. Passed tea around. Doflamingo hunched over his typical seat and shook damp clusters of sleet from his pockets as he eyed over to Vergo. “Where’s the kid?”
“No clue.” Vergo accepted the cup passed his way before leaning in towards the captain, while Trebol and Diamante bickered over how much pepper was too much pepper. “Medical wing, I presume.”
“Is he not feeling well?”
Another clueless shrug from Vergo. “Seems like he’s been on and off with that new medicine.”
Swirling the warm tea, which Doflamingo honestly preferred to hold rather than drink, the concern dwindled from his mind at the sight of dinner. The kid was tough. Besides, in weather like this, it was probably for the best he didn’t show face. Couldn’t risk exposing him to any sort of sicknesses, especially not now.
Well, even if Gladius came down with something, or if he keeled over, it wasn’t the end of the world. A waste of resources, sure, but he’d rather the chemical damage knock him off soon, rather than waste his time and energy elevating his expectations.
Evening approached and the storm calmed. Most of the crew gathered in the cabin for their nightly round of poker. Doflamingo had been dealt one of the best hands he could recall when the doors opened behind him, from the kitchen. He peered over his shoulder lazily. It was none other than Gladius, wearing one of his favorite oversized sweatshirts, hood drawn over his head and casting shadows over his face. There was a blanket thrown around his shoulders, too. He gripped a heaping plate of leftovers with black mittens, eyes flickering around from person to person behind his goggles.
“Late to the party, kid.” Diamante greeted.
“You want us to deal you in, Gladius?” Trebol offered.
“No.” He replied curtly, “I heard the canons firing earlier. Is everything okay?”
“Yes, everything’s alright.” Doflamingo assured with a smile. At least his voice sounded clear. That was always nice. Those medications were doing something. “Feeling under the weather?”
The boy hesitated. “Yes. Sorry I wasn’t there to help, I just, I figured it was serious and, I-I didn’t want to get in the way.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Doflamingo swatted a hand and glanced back to his cards. “If you’re cold, we can crank up the heat.”
“That’s okay. I don’t want to roast everyone else for my sake.” He glanced back to his plate. And then, without another word, he departed.
After an awkward pause, everyone resumed their game. Vergo folded.
“Doffy, I uh…I don’t mean to stir any shit but…” Diamante cleared his throat and nudged his glass around to avoid eye contact. “Doesn’t seem like the kid’s getting any better.”
“Might even be getting worse.” Señor Pink chimed in quietly.
“It’s possible.” Doflamingo regarded smoothly. Snapped a straight flush down onto the table with a soft, rhythmic plop of waxed paper on polished wood. “Hasn’t made any strides in the amnesia department either, to my knowledge, so. Maybe he is just a waste.”
“He’s great with that devil-fruit.” Pica chimed in, folding as he saw what Doflamingo had laid out.
“When he’s in control of it.” Señor Pink muttered.
“Which…isn’t often.” Diamante added in, “Why don’t you just let me knock him off the side of the ship sometime this week? Make it quick?”
“Yeah, I hear drowning is one of the most peaceful ways to go.” Trebol agreed.
“I thought it was freezing to death.”
“Actually, it’s carbon monoxide poisoning.” Vergo corrected.
“We’re not gassing the little shit.” Doflamingo grasped the coins at the center of the table and dragged them closer. “Until he actively shifts from asset to liability, he’s fine. I don’t mind accommodating for his health, for now. His mind’s still working and that’s…there’s some worth there. He’s got the brains of a physicist. Exceeds my level of understanding, at times.”
“Damn shame he lost his memories.” Diamante mused.
“I agree. I’m craving an origin story but, suppose we’ll have to make due with what we’ve got.” He waved his hand at the dealer, “C’mon, on with the next round.”
“You’re just impatient because you don’t want to lose your winning streak.” Trebol sniffed, accepting the cards passed his way.
A firm chuckle from the blond, “That’s only a problem if one of you can’t manage to win it back. I’m all in this round, let’s get this going.”
It was no surprise Doflamingo maintained victory that night. He always seemed to get the luck of the draw, although Señor Pink came in close. The blissful high of that accomplishment lingered with him as he prepared for bed, setting his razor aside and dabbing at his face with a towel. Did anything he could to ensure he’d never resemble that piss-poor excuse of a father.
And then there was a knock on his door. His bathroom door. Which meant someone bypassed the bedroom door, and went straight for the heart. It was easy to figure out who was knocking as well, since it was such a delicate sound, and it seemed insulated. Cushioned by fabric. He fetched his shades from the pocket of his sleepshirt and yanked the door open.
Little Gladius stood on the other side. He was in his hoodie and mittens but the blanket was gone, and his mask was down around his neck, and the goggles were gone, so Doflamingo was left looking at the pathetic face of this sniffling, whimpering boy. It did terrible things to his heart, staring into those leaky grey eyes. Almost looked brown.
“What is it, kid?” Doflamingo knelt down across from him and pressed the back of his hand to his forehead, hoping this could be something easy to solve. A fever, nausea. Kids liked to visit adults right before vomiting. Something he recalled doing himself more times than he cared to admit. “Are you going to be sick?”
Those eyes clenched shut and he shoved his hands in his pocket, leaving the mittens behind. With shaky, cracked knuckles, he grabbed at his hood and pulled it off.
The captain didn’t mean to stare. He didn’t realize how much time had passed since he last saw Gladius without the hood. Days at least, and he figured it was because he was cold, or struggling to identify a personal style that suited him. His hair had grown out in droves, silvery blue, but it was a matted mess of tangles and frizz. That strange emotion he wore finally clicked. Embarrassment.
“I-I’m sorry sir…” The boy sputtered, “Ever since I started that new medicine…i-it started to grow back and I, I didn’t cut it, I didn’t know how, and then it got all…tangled and ugly and I, I don’t know what to do! I d-don’t know who else to go to…” A wet gasp, “Because I…it doesn’t look like Pica’s, or T-Trebol’s, or Diamante’s, o-or—”
The boy drew his rambles to a halt when Doflamingo reached over to feel the consistency for himself. Although there was a lot of it, it was thin, fine. Like his own. “Have you washed it?”
“I-I tried…” He whimpered, “It, it gets all…all stuck and tangled and…and then it falls out wh-when I try to…to untangle it…”
Despite that strange kick to the heart, Doflamingo grinned. “This is nothing to cry over, Gladius.” He straightened up and found a clean washcloth there on the counter, passing it to the boy so he could wipe his tears away. “It’s a good thing, really. If your hair’s growing back, that means your health could be improving.”
“I…I hope so…” He mumbled, clutching that washcloth tightly as he pulled his mask and goggles back on, watching the adult rustle around through his bathroom drawers. “I-I’m so sorry I…I barged into your room…”
“Water under the bridge.” He produced a wide-toothed comb, presenting it to the kid. “Did you try one of these?”
“No, I…I just used my fingers…” He accepted the comb dubiously, “I don’t have one of my own…”
“You can keep that one, if you’d like.” He leaned against the counter. “I don’t use it much anymore.”
The kid investigated the tool for another moment. Ran his finger along the teeth. Reached up to make an attempt at detangling his hair. Then promptly jammed the comb into a massive knot, pulling hopelessly.
“Ah, not like that. Here.” Doflamingo gently nudged his hand aside, taking the comb for himself. Before he even registered what he was doing, he had a clump of Gladius’s hair in hand, swiftly working the mat away as painlessly as possible. “Stop me if it hurts.”
“It doesn’t…” A leftover sniffle. “Th-Thanks…”
The captain exhaled silently, but didn’t offer any verbal response. As he got to the heart of the tangle, he reached for an extra bottle of conditioner on the counter, and smeared a dollop into the knot. It was the same way he used the dirty, undrinkable water to rake the mats from Rosinante’s hair when their mother wasn’t around to do so. Conditioner was slightly more effective.
As his mind started to slip away into the melody of bitter memories, reality washed over him when nearly the entire chunk of hair he was working with tore off, resting there in his palm. Gladius’s shoulders tensed. “D-Did it fall out?”
“Yes.” He tried to be subtle when tossing the clump in the bin. “You weren’t kidding about that, huh?”
“Th-That’s not normal, is it…?”
“Ah, no, not typically.” Upon closer investigation, he realized it didn’t pull out to the root. The hair just broke off, leaving half a centimeter of white fuzz in its wake. “Seems like it’s just breaking. Damaged. Not the end of the world.”
Gladius cleared his throat and Doflamingo just moved onto the next knot without being prompted. Gentler this time. There was a chance it would fall out but he didn’t pull as much this time, and that seemed to be doing him some favors. “Everything about me is damaged.” Gladius muttered under his breath.
“Physically, yes.” The captain glanced at his own reflection for a moment. For some reason, the more he spoke, the less he believed himself. “Your body’s a bit battered but your mind is sharp. A few missing memories, sure, but…” He chuckled as he ended up tossing another, smaller clump. “We’ll just make new ones.”
Finally, he got the kid to chuckle. Although the sound didn’t last. His head dropped, and so did his voice. “I-I’m really…I’m sorry about this, sir…y-you shouldn’t have to be doing this.”
“Nonsense.” Doflamingo disregarded casually, “Told you we’re brothers now, didn’t I?”
“B-But you, you’re the captain, and I, I’m just an officer. I’m not like them. I don’t get it.” Just as Gladius started to fall into the lull of having his hair brushed, a coarse pull jerked his eyes open. “Ow.”
Half-distracted, Doflamingo muttered some sort of apology. How his hair was both breaking and tugging was truly a mystery. “What are your thoughts on cutting it shorter?”
“…well, then it’s just going to grow out and get messy again…” Gladius grumbled. “I-Is there some way I can…I can learn how to style it like yours?”
“Of course.” The blond confirmed, swiping the comb through with care as he untangled one last knotted area off to the side. It was still frizzy, kinked and bent funny here and there, but the mats were gone. He patted the boy on the head as he opened another drawer, digging out his trusty bottle of hair gel. “This is going to be your best friend. Keeps everything place. Just be careful with your hood after I put this on, or it’ll get all bent out of shape.”
“I-I won’t put it on, after this.” Gladius confirmed, a bit more hope in his tone. “As long as it looks good.”
“Well, if you don’t like how it looks, you’re going to tell me.” Doflamingo clarified, “I’m not going to have you walk out of here just as embarrassed as you were when you stepped in.”
A little laugh fell from the young marksman. His hands fisted eagerly in his pockets. If only he could see himself in that mirror, rather than stare blankly at the bathroom cabinet beneath the sink. Maybe one day, if he was lucky enough to see it, he’d be half as tall as Doflamingo.
A chill rattled down his spine when cold hands raked through his hair, sweeping it back with a few gathering motions. Extra gel was applied to more difficult areas, around the sides, up front. Doflamingo turned him around at different angles too, tongue stuck between his teeth like an artist gauging the quality of his work. It was tough for Gladius not to giggle beneath that mask, especially with Doflamingo spinning him around like a pottery wheel.
And then, he stood tall. He washed his hands, dried them. Gladius almost reached up to touch the mysterious masterpiece before the captain’s hands fixed around his ribs and hoisted him up to finally take a look at himself in the mirror.
Puffy grey eyes widened. He grasped onto the edge of the sink with wonder as Doflamingo grinned proudly behind him, watching the kid angle his head for the best view possible. Wasn’t exactly the same as look Doflamingo’s, since there was a bit more to work with. He had most of it gathered in soft spikes towards the back, smoothed out evenly to compensate for any missing patches. It wasn’t a mess anymore. It didn’t feel uncomfortable.
It looked good. Gladius felt good.
His lower lip trembled and with a nod to the captain, he was set back on his feet. Doflamingo grunted when the kid hugged around his knees. Chuckled to himself and kneeled there across from him, pulling him in for a proper hug.
“Th-Thank you…thank you so much…” The kid mumbled into his shoulder.
“Of course, Gladius.” The blond clapped him on the back, a soft thud of heavy fabric and bony shoulder blades. “Takes a minute or so for that stuff to set for good but, once it does, it should stay put. And rinses out easily in the shower.” He pulled Gladius away and held his shoulders. The kid was obviously grinning ear to ear under that mask, and it left the strangest aftertaste. “I hope you feel less troubled.”
“Y-Yes, I do…” He reached up to touch his hair himself, still mystified. “…do you have any more of that stuff…?”
“Here.” Doflamingo stood to pass over the bottle. He had several others, anyway. “I’ll be sure to get my hands on some more soon.”
The boy grasped onto the bottle and comb like it would cure him completely. “I’ll make this up to you one day, sir.”
Another pat on the head. “You can make it up to me now by getting some rest for the night.”
Overcome with the success of the evening, Gladius was silent when he departed.
The captain glanced at himself in the mirror, eyes dropping to the conditioner. Maybe Gladius was a waste like the executives foretold, but he was a waste Doflamingo cared about. For whatever reason, that miserable, soft-spoken, sickly little brat got under his skin and had him reevaluating his recklessness.
He was just an officer, a few weeks loyal, at that. Doflamingo didn’t owe him much of anything. Not responsibility, not mindfulness. A sick waif of a creature, no different than most kids Doflamingo stepped over. But there was a nostalgia factor to Gladius. He needed protection until his flight feathers grew out. Doflamingo had faith he’d be able to take the world by storm, once his health was secured.
At this point, he’d be devastated if the kid didn’t make it. He’d be a failure. Gladius promised lifelong devotion, and had only shown loyalty thus far. His sickness wasn’t something either of them could fix or control, and it left them both compensating however they could.
Just the same, he couldn’t completely disregard his executives' concerns. Maybe the kid would croak overnight, finally lose the endless battle with that ruthless chemical poisoning. With him, they’d lose hundreds of thousands of berris worth of medications and treatments. Those jumbled blueprints would make no sense without him there to explain the constants, those complex equations living in the back of his skull would wither up just the same.
It was just so easy to trust that smile. His dreams were simple and he viewed Doflamingo as a hero. At least if he did die, he’d go with a smile.
The captain hit the mattress in a strange storm of bliss. He was warm and comfortable now. He had a family who served him, who he could care for, he could provide for. He could protect them. And yet, he still yearned for the unattainable. He yearned for power over Gladius’s sickness. He yearned for a world of complete control. People would rise and fall as he saw fit. They would leave him only when he had no use for them anymore. Gladius. His mother.
His brother.
One of these nights, as he reached for that magic bottle, Doflamingo decided he’d finally sleep for himself.