Chapter Text
Doflamingo was going to murder his brother. He’s said it many times before (usually following a round of having to pour water over a flaming Corazon’s head, or checking him for head trauma after a serious fall, or, on one memorable occasion, fishing him out of a storm drain), but this time he meant it. This time, fratricide was his only option. Any who could see his case laid out would have to agree.
His frustrations had come to a head one unseasonably chilly autumn night. He’d found himself sitting on the metal benches in the nosebleed section of the lacrosse field’s bleachers, which he’d not had to lay eyes on since he played lacrosse here back in his high school days. It was a fall exhibition game, which meant the scores had no bearing on actual season stats, the general public was obnoxiously loud and present, and sneaking in a single flask of hooch was clearly not enough preparation to get him through a game tonight; but he could tolerate all that. He liked watching lacrosse (even if none of the current players could hope to come anywhere close to his level) and his presence would hopefully shut up Corazon about his not leaving the house much. A tolerable way to pass a few hours, all things considered.
Or at least it was, until he looked lower in the stands and saw the marching band kids clustered together, laughing and gossiping and stealing ill-gotten refreshments from each other in groups of threes and fours. Doflamingo finally found his brother at the edge of this crowd, trumpet case leaned casually against his leg in preparation for their performance. He bristled. Because despite the chilly temperatures and the fact that there was at least another twenty minutes to go before the marching band members would disappear below the stadium to get changed into their uniforms, Corazon wasn’t wearing his band jacket (not a letterman jacket, it didn’t matter that it was the same shape and color and faux leather material as the ones the athletes wore, band kids did not have letterman jackets!). Instead, the garment had been wrapped around the shoulders of one surly underclassman by the name of Trafalgar Law.
Doflamingo curled his fingers so tightly against the fabric of his pants it’s a wonder they didn’t rip.
-n-
It all started a few months ago. Doflamingo had perhaps drunk a bit too much the night before (among other things) at a party of an old acquaintance, and he’d barely had the sense to get himself back home to sleep off the worst of it in his own bed. He’d woken up cursing the sunlight trying to sneak in through the blackout curtains of his room; his place in Mariejois was much better suited to recovery from a long night of debauchery. It was better at hosting long nights of debauchery, for that matter, and if Doflamingo had had his way, that’s exactly where he’d be right now.
He should have been in his penthouse in Mariejois, drinking and networking and otherwise getting ready for the fall semester of his junior year in college, over halfway to the business degree his father pressed him to get. Doflamingo was supposed to have people fawning over him at the lavish parties he threw on an invitation-only basis, delighting in the way his seemingly well-to-do associates would gape at his home, a split-level modern marvel of glass and steel, with roof and pool access, of course; what was the point of family money if you didn’t occasionally use it to remind people of the status it afforded you? He was supposed to spend his days on campus surrounded by professors trying to cozy up to him in the hopes the Donquixote family would bestow a generous donation upon the school, or have classmates begging to take a picture with him or get his number in the vain hopes that they might capitalize on the brand recognition of Donquixote Doflamingo. That was the life he deserved.
But unfortunately over the summer, one of his parties had gotten a little out of hand. Nothing the family lawyers with their NDAs and settlements couldn’t handle, naturally, but they’d advised him it would be in his best interest to take a semester or two off from school, until things could blow over. He’d keep his apartment, naturally, but the only people likely to visit it in the near future would be a small staff of weekly cleaners. Taking time away from Mariejois wouldn’t delay graduation by much, and one of the suits had even concocted a lovely (albeit cliche) story about it being his choice to leave, spending a year or so back home or traveling abroad to get more familiar with the family business and all its international assets.
He’d thought of protesting at first. Unfortunately, his parents were rather clear that if he still wanted access to his sizable monthly allowance, he’d have to move back into the family home in Dressrosa, where his brother and the visiting staff could ostensibly keep an eye on him. Tch, cowards, trying to order him around from the other side of the globe. They were off doing mission work in the ass end of nowhere, what did they care where Doflamingo stayed?! But they still controlled the purse strings (at least for now), meaning that one steamy July morning, Doflamingo found himself back in Dressrosa, coming down the stairs of his childhood home without a shirt (because fuck shirts in this heat) pants half done up and sunglasses firmly in place (because also fuck the sun), alone without a single hungover body tripping him up in the halls or stairs. What a concept.
His bare feet padded across the vintage wood flooring as he headed for the kitchen with every intention of making a Bloody Mary, hoping it would at least help chase off the worst of his hangover from the night before. He got as far as the doorway and stopped in confusion. Where there should have been an empty kitchen before him, Doflamingo found himself staring at the back of a shirtless, barefoot, bedraggled teenage boy going through the cabinets with clear frustration. His dark hair was a mess, doing its best to hide two gold ear piercings in his left ear, and tanned muscles flexed as he shuffled about the kitchen on a clear hunt for something. “Where the hell do you keep the mugs in this mausoleum?” he grumbled as he shut a cabinet with more force than was strictly necessary.
Doflamingo couldn’t help scoffing. The family manor might be big by some people’s definition, but it had nothing on the sprawling mansions he’d visited on weekends or over break with trust fund kiddos and new money. They’d seemed desperate to show off their recently acquired status with the biggest and shiniest toys and home, all of them buoyed through college by a combination of coke, family connections, and poorer classmates more than happy to write final papers for less than what Doflamingo spends on takeout in a given week. Still, the kid’s commentary wasn’t too far off the mark; the dark wooden walls bracketed by oil paintings, the massive fireplaces at each end of the house, even the nineteenth century furnishings in the parlor and most guestrooms all spoke to an earlier era of home decor that Doflamingo would happily gut for something from this side of the millennium, if given the chance. But his parents liked their old things in their old house, and the estate wasn’t Doflamingo’s to control (yet). That morning, he settled for sneaking up behind the teen (origin still unknown) and asked, “Looking for something?”
He relished the way the kid had to spin around and backed straight into the counter, looking towards and then up at him. Doflamingo was tall by anyone’s standards, and easily had a head of height on the teenager. Back when he was in middle school and had hit his growth spurt well before Corazon, his size was more than enough to intimidate most people into beating a hasty retreat back up the stairs to Corazon’s room and hiding out there until Doflamingo was long gone. This kid, however, merely scowled up at Doflamingo in clear annoyance at having been startled this early in the day. Hmm. Well, Doflamingo had been away for a few years now; maybe his old skills were getting rusty. “You Doffy?” the kid asked.
Doflamingo very deliberately kept the predatory smile on his face, even as he could feel one of the veins in his temple begin to throb. “Doflamingo,” he corrected. “Corazon’s the only one who calls me that around here.”
“Well then, Doflamingo,” the kid replied without batting an eye, “Do you people keep coffee mugs anywhere in this absurdly oversized kitchen, or do I need to ring a bell for a maid and expect her to pop up with a full tea set in hand?”
Normally, Doflamingo would have treated this level of disrespect with a swift tour of the foyer that ended with a rapid departure through the home’s front door, so to speak. But there was something playful in the kid’s tone, a gentle mockery in his smile and eyes that suggested he was more interested in pushing buttons than truly insulting Doflamingo’s home. So, no forcible ejection just yet. Still, Doflamingo couldn’t allow the brat to act so cheeky without any consequences. He could have pointed to a cabinet two doors down on the right that housed the bowls, plates, and mugs that he and Corazon used most regularly. But where was the fun in that?
Instead, he indicated the cabinet to the left of where the kid was currently searching. His grin widened as he teasingly stated, “You’re close.”
The kid turned around without a word and opened the door, frowning in disappointment (as Doflamingo knew he would) to see shelves filled with the family’s “nicer” dishware, the coffee cups on the very top shelf. They were hardly ever used, and so did not demand an easily accessible location the way some of the other dishes would. But that meant ladders or stools were usually required to get them down, unless one wanted to go through the indignity of climbing atop the counter for easier access. Or, if one were a person of Doflamingo or Corazon’s height. Law clearly put this together as he was once again forced to face Doflamingo, incredulous and frustrated now. “Really?”
Doflamingo kept right on smiling, knowing exactly where this conversation was going to end up. “That’s an odd way of asking for help.”
The kid bristled, and Doflamingo shrugged past him to get to one of the glasses in the drying rack. He still needed that Bloody Mary, after all. He could give the kid a few minutes to swallow his pride. Doflamingo barely had time to gather up the tomato juice from the fridge before he heard a sigh, followed by, “Please.”
“Hmm?” Doflamingo swaggered back over to the teenager, doing a poor job of concealing his amusement. “What was that?”
“Could you please put those freakishly long limbs to use and get me a coffee mug, before I steal your brother’s credit card and order breakfast on his phone?”
Doflamingo couldn’t resist laughing at that. “Well, since you asked so nicely.” And then he went in for the kill.
The cabinet they needed him to reach was near a corner in the kitchen layout, and the kid had unwittingly shoved himself right into this space. Doflamingo put one hand on the counter, just barely to the side of the kid’s right hip. He leaned forward then, a combination of his torso and kitchen topography effectively trapping the brat in place and pinning him back against the counter as Doflamingo slowly reached up and over, his chest pressing against the kid from face to waist. Teenagers were so particular about their space; he’d be shocked if the brat didn’t run upstairs shrieking about Doflamingo assaulting him and vowing never to return to this house. But he couldn’t right now, not with the weight of a grown man holding him in place, and Doflamingo was going to drag out every second of this. His fingers delicately brushed over each and every cup in the cabinet as though the fate of the world hinged on this very specific selection, wanting to pick out just the right one for his guest. He could almost imagine the way this kid would stiffen as this dragged out, how he’d start shoving uselessly against Doflamingo and demand for him to forget the mug, just move.
So imagine Doflamingo’s surprise, then, when all his actions got him was a breathy little gasp.
Doflamingo kept waiting for a bigger reaction, eyes firmly on the cups and mugs above so as not to give away the game. But there came no protests, no futile attempts to wriggle free of his trap; in fact, he’d swear the kid’s left hand brushed against his abs (just for a second and retracted so quickly it could easily pass for an accident), their legs practically tangled up with one another. When he finally could drag it out no longer and pulled out a mug, he looked down to see wide eyes and slightly darkened cheeks. The kid’s gaze briefly shifted down to his chest, then snapped back up to Doflamingo’s face once he realized the man was watching him. Well now.
Doflamingo handed the mug to him, being careful to brush their hands together so the kid could notice their obvious difference in size. He didn’t seem put off by what happened, and even found it in himself to mutter, “Thank you,” as he clutched the cup in front of himself.
Oh, Doflamingo could have fun with this.
“Can I make you a drink?” Doflamingo offered, knowing that there were so many meanings behind that. He could be talking about a coffee from their espresso machine, of course, or he could be talking about something with a little extra surprise from the liquor cabinet at the far end of the room. He knew it. The kid knew it too, knew exactly what kind of insinuations that phrase carried, and on the heels of such intimate contact as well. Doflamingo was delighted when those pretty hazel eyes widened and-
Ka-THUNK!
Two heads jerked towards the general direction of the stairs, Doflamingo sighing loudly as soon as he heard a telltale yelp following the crash. He was about to call out when the kid beat him to it with a shout of, “God damnit Cora-san!” And then the mug was abruptly shoved back into Doflamingo’s hands and the kid was taking off out of the room, leaving behind only a litany of unflattering comments about Doflamingo’s younger brother and his perceived lack of hand-eye coordination. And that was Doflamingo’s introduction to his brother’s dear friend Law.
–
Months later, Doflamingo was cursing his lack of initiative. They’d had a few more run-ins over the next few weeks with similar levels of…interaction, we’ll call it that, before Corazon admitted to Doflamingo that Law was his boyfriend and had been for quite a while. And Law was frustratingly loyal and devoted to his precious “Cora-san,” and seemed to have developed tunnel vision with regards to any flirting sent his way by Doflamingo or other parties. Never mind that if he had reciprocated, Doflamingo would have had to murder him on principal because no one fucking jerked around his brother like that. The issue was that Law was with Corazon, when he should have been with Doflamingo, and at this point Corazon was so smitten with Law that any attempts to break them up would probably result in a migraine-inducing amount of wailing and weeping on the part of his younger brother.
A buzzer sounded and as one the band students rose up, shoving bags under benches to save their seats and shuffling down the stairs in no great hurry. Law sent off Corazon with a kiss (Doflamingo felt his temples throb) and pulled the band jacket more tightly around a scrawny frame that Doflamingo knew was too small for Corazon’s clothing. He looked ridiculous, borrowing a letterman jacket because his own windbreaker was too lightweight for this weather. Doflamingo wouldn’t have lent him such oversized clothing. Doflamingo would have bought him his own jacket, something that fit and accentuated the muscles he was working so hard to build up in their basement gym, something deep and rich in color that accentuated Law’s naturally darker skin tone, made of fabric that felt unspeakably smooth under Doflamingo’s fingertips, thick enough to keep him warm but thin enough that Law could feel the heat of his hands through it if Doflamingo were to grab him by the arm and-
And these pants were form-fitting and showed everything, so unless Doflamingo wanted to get another public indecency charge that the family lawyers would have to make disappear, he needed to derail that train of thought.
Apparently bored now that Corazon was gone, Law stood up and stretched before looking around the stadium, probably curious as to how many people would show up for a practice game when the real competitive season didn’t begin until February. His eyes drifted up the stands and eventually settled on Doflamingo; even from this distance he could see Law raise his eyebrows. They stared at each other for a moment, before Law looked away and turned back to his seat. Doflamingo watched in mild confusion as Law gathered up his tattered messenger bag and Corazon’s backpack, only realizing what was about to happen when Law stepped out onto the stairs and began making his way further up into the bleachers. Well now. This evening might have just taken a rather interesting turn.
Law hissed as he reached the top level and felt the wind fully against his face; the backboard for the seating at this level only went up to chest height. “It’s freezing up here,” he complained while awkwardly side-shuffling his way into the row. He thrust Corazon’s backpack out in front of him, clearly expecting Doflamingo to do the gentlemanly thing and help him put up their valuables. Normally Doflamingo would have been happy to watch him squirm and struggle a bit, but the steps were steep and if Law split his head open falling down them then there was a very realistic chance Doflamingo would never get to split him open in far more enjoyable ways. He grabbed the backpack and shoved it under the benches with reckless abandon, then carefully took Law’s bag and gently set it on the seat beside him. “Thank you,” Law stated as he took a seat on Doflamingo’s left and pulled Corazon’s jacket more tightly around his shoulders. There was another gust of wind then, and Law cursed. He side-eyed Doflamingo, considering, and then inexplicably got up and moved to sit on his other side, shoving his messenger bag out of the way. When he noticed the way Doflamingo was looking at him, Law smirked and informed him, “You make a great wind break.”
Doflamingo laughed at this, just for a moment. “Happy to be of service. That the reason you came up here?”
“I’m thirsty, too.”
“The vendors are at the bottom of the stairs, you know. Is Corazon-” and Doflamingo had meant to make a snarky remark about his brother’s scatterbrained tendencies rubbing off on his boyfriend, but Law shocked the words right out of him. He was leaning forwards, all the way into Doflamingo’s personal space, so close that his face was nearly mashed up against Doflamingo’s chest. Icy-cold fingers disappeared within the gap created between Doflamingo and his partially unzipped jacket, dancing around Doflamingo’s ribs and pecs with such abandon that Doflamingo was half-tempted to make a comment about treating him to dinner first. And then as quick as they’d come the fingers were gone and Law was sitting back, his prize clutched in his hand. Doflamingo’s flask, plucked straight from his inner pocket.
“You know what’s in there, right?” Doflamingo casually asked without making so much as a cursory attempt to take it back.
“The only thing that can get you to sit through a high school exhibition game,” Law guessed, eyes glued to the lid as he unscrewed it and took a swig. His brows furrowed but there were no watering eyes or coughing to follow; not the kid’s first time drinking then, though Doflamingo would wager he’d never so much as sniffed something with a price tag like what Doflamingo had brought along. “Smooth,” he remarked, and then held out the flask to Doflamingo without bothering to close the lid.
“How charitable,” Doflamingo inwardly snarked as he took the flask back. “If the game’s going to be awful, at least the refreshments can be decent,” he said aloud.
Law pulled his bag closer, tucking it between his legs as he looked down onto the field. The band members were doubtlessly still changing, and they had a few minutes before Corazon would come out and perform. “Corazon’s not expecting you to be here,” he stated. “He told me you don’t usually watch the marching band shows.”
“I’ve been away in Mariejois,” Doflamingo reminded him.
“What, and you can’t find better entertainment in Dressrosa?”
Doflamingo naturally couldn’t come right out and say that his interest in Corazon tonight had nothing to do with the band’s performance and everything to do with the scruffy brat that had so recently attached itself to his brother, but that was probably in poor form. Liable to get stalker accusations thrown at him, even, which would certainly throw a wrench in his plans to eventually get Law comfortably splayed out across his bed and that goddamned jacket chucked straight into a burn pit. He settled for a truth that was both technically correct and not at all the answer Law had been wanting. “I have a vested interest in seeing what makes my brother happy,” he said with a general indication towards the field. “I’ve been at college for a few years; high time to catch up.”
“Uh-huh. Cora-san said you didn’t bother even coming to family events while you were away,” Law knowingly retorted. He clutched the edges of the jacket, pulling it tighter around him in a vain hope of blocking out the worst of the wind. The garment made him smell of Corazon’s shampoo, woodsy bordering on floral, along with a faint underlying hint of the cigarettes Corazon smoked. It pissed him off. “If you won’t even come home for your brother’s birthday, you can’t expect me to believe you’re excited to see him play the trumpet at a game that doesn’t even count,” Law continued.
Doflamingo shrugged his shoulders. “You can believe what you want. Doesn’t change the fact that I’m here,” he said. He wasn’t trying to impress Law (he didn’t need to try ) but maybe there was a part of him that hoped Law would see how giving of a person he was. Gracing his brother with his presence at such a stupid event. A perfect gentleman; right up until they got him and his partners made it clear that they wanted something rather ungentlemanly done to them, anyway.
Law scoffed, bouncing his leg and shifting against the bench. The tip of his nose and the apples of his cheeks were starting to turn pink from windburn. Hunched into himself, hiding from the wind and failing to keep warm, Law looked so much smaller than he really was. So deliciously vulnerable . “I wish they would hurry the hell up,” he grumbled. He darted his eyes sideways to Doflamingo and frowned. “How are you not cold?”
Truthfully, Doflamingo recalled how nasty the weather could be at these games and had dressed appropriately in a well-tailored coat and snug scarf. The only answer he gave, however, was, “I run hot.” It was a terrible line and had been since first thought up by someone who was presumably at a bar past midnight and in dire need of a ride home more than a mediocre lay, but it would serve its purpose all the same. He wasn’t trying to tumble Law into his bed tonight, after all.
His words made Law snort and roll his eyes, but Doflamingo could see the exaggerated intent behind the mannerisms. He didn’t miss the way Law’s fingers began picking at the fabric on his bag’s shoulder strap, nervous (and perhaps a bit excited?). He heard the implication even if they were both going to pretend it wasn’t there. Doflamingo was happy to plant the seed and let it rest for a while; he broke the tension by extending his flask into Law’s peripheral vision, pleased when he reached out to take a second drink. “Last round, before I finish it off,” Doflamingo cautioned. Naturally, Law tilted his head back and chugged the last two sips. “Easy,” Doflamingo laughed, eyes tracing a drop of liquor running from the corner of Law’s mouth down his chin and onto his throat. “It goes down easy but it’s strong, and you need to be able to walk down the steps at the end of the game.”
“I’m sure I can find some help,” Law said as he passed the (now empty) flask back to its owner once again. It might have been a suggestive line, but he had to ruin it by poking his leg out and brushing his toe against Corazon’s backpack. “Cora-san will have to come up here to get his stuff.”
“Right, right.” Damn his brother, he’d probably come up here and immediately realize that not all the redness in Law’s cheeks came from the cold. He’d scold Doflamingo and accuse his older brother of being a bad influence, all while getting to cling to Law and haul him back to the car and taste the bourbon on his tongue. If he said “I run hot,” to Law that’d get a laugh, and a demand to come closer and warm me up, then, and like hell a little crybaby like Corazon would actually know how to properly “warm up” Law. For now, though…
The next time Law shivered, Doflamingo magnanimously removed his scarf (the material a thick, plush pink and made of real cashmere, not that cheap knockoff nonsense everyone could find on poor people apps these days) and dropped it around Law’s shoulders. The movement startled Law, and he likely would have protested if Doflamingo didn’t instruct him with, “Quit shivering like a cat left in the cold and take it. Corazon would have a conniption if you got sick after coming out to watch him.”
It worked. Law wrapped the scarf around him, successfully masking the scent of Corazon’s questionable shampoo and cheap cigarettes with the cologne Doflamingo favored. The shivering lessened but didn’t stop; but then the crowd was cheering and they both looked to the field to see the marching band walking out from the locker rooms below, and the conversation was forgotten.
The routine was forgettable in the way most marching band routines at the start of season tend to be. Corazon only lost his footing once (likely because he only had to take up a single position and stand still, the band director must have learned their lesson from previous mishaps) and then it was over and the teenagers were scuttling back inside to change back into clothing that was both warmer and less likely to cause complaints from band parents if they were stained or torn. Corazon emerged in jeans and a button-down that were frankly too lightweight for this weather, and shivered as he returned to the bleachers.
He searched the bleachers, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. A smile, visible even from a distance, brightened up his face, and he started to scurry up the stairs towards Doflamingo and Law. Both of them watched Corazon with uneasy anticipation, Doflamingo holding his breath. Stairs were always tricky for his brother, but this time he managed to make it up without falling. He sidled into the bleachers, tripping over Doflamingo’s legs and Law’s bag, before they were finally able to breathe again as he settled into the spot next to Law. Law scooted closer to Corazon. Sought out the warmth that Doflamingo would have offered him if he could have.
Corazon dipped his head towards Law, not quite kissing him as he whispered something into Law’s ear. His eyes narrowed, then shot towards Doflamingo as he sat back up. He must have smelled the alcohol and he knew where it came from. Doflamingo just smirked back at him, and ultimately Corazon didn’t say anything.
They didn’t stay for the whole game. Corazon never cared for lacrosse, not even when he was coming to watch Doflamingo play, and Law clearly wasn’t interested. Doflamingo was decidedly unimpressed by the caliber of athletes this season had produced (and perhaps he was getting sick of looking over and seeing Corazon’s hands wrapped around Law’s, dwarfing the smaller limbs as he rubbed them to keep them warm). Since Corazon didn’t drive, that meant whenever Doflamingo was ready to leave, he’d need to leave as well. And he was also going to have to stop groping his boyfriend in front of everyone else.
Finally, when the game reached a point where any member of the audience could conclude the losing side had no hope of making a meaningful comeback, Doflamingo decided it was time to go. Rising to his feet, Doflamingo stretched and gestured towards Law. “We’re leaving. Do you need a ride home?” he asked.
“He’s spending the night,” Corazon said, voice muffled as he fished for his backpack under the bench.
The smile froze on Doflamingo’s face, teeth clenched together. “Oh. Is that so?”
“Why? Is there a problem?” Law smirked up at him.
There was a problem, but Doflamingo couldn’t say that. He was already sick of seeing them together, the last thing he wanted was to let them know their teenage romance was driving him to the brink of his sanity. “No problem at all.” Doflamingo’s temple throbbed.
Descending the stairs was a sobering experience as Doflamingo and Law both remained on high alert, Doflamingo going in front of Corazon as Law followed behind, one hand hovering above the waistband of Corazon’s pants to grab him at a moment’s notice. They made it to terra firma without incident, whereupon Doflamingo dropped his guard and allowed Corazon to trip over a discarded corndog. He hauled his brother back to his feet before Law could even think to crouch down and fuss over him, and somehow they made it to the parking lot without further incident. Law clambered into the back seat with both their bags, while Corazon slid into the front. Doflamingo was sure they’d like to ride together, but unfortunately cars like his weren’t built with the sort of legroom in the backseat that people like himself and Corazon required. How tragic.
–
Things were easier when Corazon didn’t have friends (or at least the kinds of friends that could be easily run off once they wore out their welcome). Doflamingo wished they could go back to that. That way he wouldn’t be upstairs, pretending to scroll through the social media feed of his Mariejois crew while actually fantasizing over what Law and Corazon were getting up to downstairs. They were horny teenagers in the privacy of a massive house; it didn’t take much imagination to guess what they’d gotten up to as soon as Doflamingo had announced he was going to bed, make sure Corazon doesn’t set himself on fire, Law. To be clear, Doflamingo didn’t care if Corazon got laid. In fact he’d prefer it because it reflected poorly on him to have a loser, virgin brother.
But the problem was, this was not a forgettable fling that could be brought home, enjoyed for a few hours, and then promptly tossed out the front door with a pile of their clothing and a very strong hint that there are far worse things in life than being left naked on the doorstep of a one night stand. The problem was, Corazon had brought home a striking young man with a delicious combination of sarcasm, bravado, and intelligence nearly as enticing as the V of his hips created by those sinfully low-riding jeans he favored. The problem was, Doflamingo had seen the way Law’s rough edges would soften as Corazon pressed him against his side, like Law was trying to burrow into a space Corazon had made just for him. The problem was Corazon had kept an iron grip on Law as he led him to the home theater to put on a movie that they definitely would not watch, but that Doflamingo could vaguely hear even from his room because Law at least had the decency to try and block out their sex noises.
Perhaps they thought they were being clever, as though in the entire history of sex-crazed teenagers, they were the first ones to ever think up playing a two-star 80s rom-com on max volume to disguise their true intentions. As though Doflamingo couldn’t hear the creak of the couch frame in time with Law’s gasping breaths if he pressed his ear to the door. As though he wouldn’t be able to enter the room hours later after they’d stumbled their way to Corazon’s actual room, dick-drunk off each other with the room smelling of sex and rumpled blankets and cushions strewn about. As though a little digging wouldn’t reveal a tied off condom at the bottom of the trashcan (which Doflamingo would charitably not mention beyond indicating to Corazon that it was his turn to take out the trash this week, for which he clearly deserved a fast-track to sainthood).
Corazon and Law were quite active and interested in each other, of that Doflamingo had no doubt. Why did Law have to be so enticed by his brother? Doflamingo had so much more to offer. He was more adventurous, more capable-
A thunk from downstairs accompanied by a shriek of surprise halted his inner diatribe. Add less likely to cause a localized disaster to the list as well, he could safely say that no sexual encounter of his had ever ended with one party getting concussed or worse. He’d hoped the novelty of the relationship would wear off by this point. He’d hoped the novelty of Law himself would have faded from Doflamingo’s mind, freeing him from the unnecessary distraction of snarky, scruffy teenagers floating in his peripheral vision at all hours of the day. But neither of these things have happened. Law was in the Donquixote home more often than not these days, and Doflamingo’s fingers still itched to touch. No, more than that. He wanted to press his mouth against Law’s throat and leave a necklace of marks all the way around. He wanted to feel Law panting against his cheek and hear him moaning in his ear, wanted to wake up with his waist sore from how hard Law’s thighs had been wrapped around him and feel the sting of nail marks on his back from Law clinging to him. But he couldn’t have any of that, because Law was clearly infatuated with his brother, and Doflamingo’s list of questionable decisions in life would always stop short of outright forcing his partners to submit to him (not that he’d ever needed to expend much effort to make them agreeable and compliant, mind you). Hands off for now. He wouldn’t touch. However…
If Law and Corazon were going to make such blatant use of common spaces for less than chaste purposes (spaces Doflamingo was entitled to as the heir apparent to this estate, lest we forget), and Doflamingo didn’t intend to directly interfere with or upset their relationship, what was the harm in checking up on them? After all, their relationship might yet go the way of so many teenage romances and fizzle out. Corazon could have clipped an artery on the way down from whatever he fell from, and Law might be half-naked and panicking. And if that happened, wouldn’t it be nice for Doflamingo to be there, to make the call to 911 for his brother and wrap up a shocked and bloodied Law in something that wasn't that goddamn band jacket, to offer him someone to commiserate with about Corazon's sad inability to so much as take off his pants without fracturing something? Going downstairs in the middle of their extracurricular activities was for Law’s sake as much as his own, really. There couldn’t be much harm in looking in on the pair of them.