Chapter Text
Giolla had been ecstatic at the prospect of showing Law around the manor, but Doflamingo promised he would do that himself the following day. A long trip , he had said, and we’re very much looking forward to dinner and a good night’s sleep in each other’s company . The woman exclaimed in understanding, saying something about how the grandeur of the place was only enhanced by daylight bouncing off the walls.
“Speaking of dinner, Gi, my love is intolerant to gluten, be sure to tell the kitchen staff to adjust the menu accordingly.”
“Certainly, I’ll update the kitchen staff at once!” Giolla said with a bow while taking notes in a comically small notebook, before turning on her heels, excusing herself.
“Apologies for the trouble,” Law politely added; he knew how dietary restrictions and allergies could be a pain to adapt to, especially when the pleasant smell of a meal coming together already filled the hall, undoubtedly coming from a nearby kitchen.
“Nonsense, it is of no inconvenience,” Doflamingo waved a dismissive hand, bringing it to curl around Law in a protective and possessive stance to guide him to the upper floor. Halfway up the stairway, he yelled out to Giolla, “Gi! Where is mamá ?”
“In her bedroom, Young Master!”
“Showtime, muñequito ,” Doflamingo whispered to Law, taking one step at a time just so the smaller man could keep up with his strides. “Let’s see what you’re all about.”
The challenge in those words wasn’t lost to Law.
The hallway was neverending , with paintings of what Law could assume to be the extensive Donquixote family tree, dating back a couple of centuries. At least Doflamingo saved him the history lesson and they walked in silence; it had been a long day, and he wasn’t looking forward to hearing about the accomplishments of Donquixote The First .
Were they all named after wading birds, he wondered? Donquixote Dostork. Doheron. Do’ostrich. Dopelican. He’d have to check on the golden labels under each painting at a later time. His arm slowly slipped free from Doflamingo’s, as he held himself back to stare at the distant sovereign faces.
The last one of the series was that of a family of four. A tall, long-haired man with a proud smile under his moustache and his hand on the shoulder of a serious young boy sporting sunglasses, a baby pink dress shirt, a darker cravat and a regal pose, little chin angled upwards, ready to face the world and obliterate whoever stood in his way. No doubt in regards to who that little boy had grown up to be. A gentle, caring woman sat in a velvety red armchair, with a younger boy on her lap, overgrown bangs covering his eyes, the smile matching the sweetness of the mother.
There was room for more portraits. Was it mamá ’s hope, he wondered, that Doflamingo would pick a partner that would later be painted and featured on that long gallery wall?
Well, that wasn’t any of Law’s concern. Not like he could bear little blond Donquixote children with his physiology, anyway, so was this even a good idea? He hadn’t come prepared for that sort of talk. What if Lady Donquixote was expecting to meet a woman that night? Talk about the prospect of grandchildren?
“Law?”
At the mention of his name in that voice that made his knees shake, the young man straightened his back, lifting his head to look at the source of the sound. Donquixote Doflamingo was a very calculating man—cold, ultimate and manipulative. A terror to any political adversary and it couldn’t be any different in a relationship, pretend or not. If he had hired him , specifically, then he had a plan, and if he had a plan, then Law couldn’t be the one trying to connect the dots here.
After all, he was only meant to pretend to be in love; not question the logistics of a “royal” family.
He caught up to his fake boyfriend, tying their arms together for the rest of the hallway until they reached the final door.
✧
Hair which had once been blonde had greyed out with age. Bright gold turned to dusty silver, and once pretty locks and braids turned weak and so thin that they could barely be held up in a bun. Still, Donquixote Doflamingo’s mother held her chin high, an honest smile gracing her creased features, gentle brown eyes sparkling with tears of recognition, an emotion the elderly woman couldn’t match with words, a groggy grunt slipping through her lips instead.
Even in her advanced age, Law could see traits of her beauty. Despite being on bed rest, she was still fully clothed in an elegant lilac shirt and a long white skirt down to her ankles, a warm blanket shielding her shoulders. There was slight dusting on her face, make-up powder for a discreet look. She was sitting with her back against a comfy pillow on the left side of the bed; there was no one to occupy the other side, but mother had never moved to the centre of the mattress. As if a ghostly presence would still lay with her at night and she wouldn’t dare trespassing.
Law remained by the door frame, not wanting to step into the reunion until he had to. The woman lifted her weak arms to be tenderly embraced by Doflamingo, kisses pressed to her sunken cheek.
“ Mamá, cómo has estado? ”
It was clear Doflamingo expected a verbal answer, but he didn’t obtain one. Only a hazy look and a trembling lip, frail fingers running affectionately down the sharp angles of her son’s face. For a second there, Law thought she had made a move to remove those mysterious sunglasses, but alas, they remained on his face.
Even inside the house? That was some next-level commitment to a fashion sense. Or some real serious light sensitivity. Could he get away with it, if he were to ask?
Would Doflamingo allow a lover to know what was hidden behind those glasses?
A hand was extended towards Law, and he braced himself before moving to the bedside. Doffy’s hand was finding its way to Law’s waist a bit too comfortably, but it was part of the theatre, so he allowed it, going as far as to rest his own hand over the bigger one. He was brought closer, slotting himself between Doflamingo’s legs, a kiss pressed against his chest as if those lips knew exactly where to go out of fake practice. Who was the actor here, again? Could’ve fooled Law.
“I want you to meet my lover. mamá . This man is Trafalgar Law.”
Law received the woman’s delicate hand in his, gently squeezing it and letting her do the same. Her skin was pale, a direct contrast to his natural tan, the sparkly rings and gem-encrusted bracelets loose on her thinning fingers and wrist. He allowed her the time to access his presence, smiling warmly when her eyes flickered to his face. As a doctor (almost), he couldn’t help but notice the way her head bobbed sideways—a symptom of perhaps Parkinson’s, arteriopathic dementia, Essential Tremor disorder—a strain on her neck to look up at him with dusty eyes. So he took the liberty to sit down on his pretend-boyfriend’s thigh, easing her efforts.
If she was bothered he was a male, she didn’t show; thought her face showed very little beyond curiosity and the mumbles of words that wouldn’t leave her throat.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Graciela,” He greeted in her stead, speaking slow and respectfully, bringing his other tattooed hand to cup the old lady’s trembling one. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
The wristwatch he had just been gifted adorned his arm, complementing the tone of his skin and reflecting the light of the room in an obnoxious yet fitting manner; it occurred to him that Donquixote Graciela’s jewelry looked about the same on her. Ostentatious, rich, yet… adequate. Expected. Proper. It crossed his mind that Doflamingo would be a generous lover when it came to material affection. Perhaps even more than physical. If he didn’t have at least one stupidly opulent item on his person, their lie would be as transparent as glass.
She seemed to be taking in every detail about him; as expected, really. When your son introduces you as a partner out of the blue, of course a mother would want to know what made him so special. Undoubtedly, she wanted to ask questions, but the inability to do so made her resort to other methods to obtain her answers. The silence dragged on, though it wasn’t uncomfortable; merely made him mentally trace his own appearance, wondering what she could be focusing on. From the straight line of his nose, the near-transparent freckles over his cheekbones, the carefully trimmed goatee, the shape of his lips, to the twin holes on his lobes from the golden hoops he had removed prior to his initial encounter with Doflamingo. The colour of his eyes? Or maybe the single patch of white on his otherwise dark hair.
Had he fixed his hair before coming in? Christ, it must look messy after their little stunt in the car.
Law felt his client’s chin hook over the space between his shoulder and neck, leaning his head against his partner’s, and he automatically nuzzled against him like an affectionate cat. “You’ll like him, mamá . He put up a fight. Wouldn’t let me have him just because I wanted him the moment I laid eyes on him.”
At that, Law snorted. “Your son is a pain in the ass but I can be a bigger one.”
Neither Doflamingo nor Law were expecting the genuine gurgle that sounded like a laughter from the woman, but when it rapidly evolved into a coughing fit, Law was the first to move, assuring that she would remain sitting upright and there was nothing close to her throat that could restrict her breathing further. There was little else he could do but remain calm for the woman, holding her up gently, reminding her to breathe, using a handkerchief to wipe the drool off her chin. Likely, she had accumulated too much saliva in her mouth, forgetting to periodically swallow, and with the sharp inhale of her laughter, she had choked on it.
Giolla, alerted by the cough, had called the resident doctor, and both Doflamingo and Law were asked to leave Graciela to the care of the professional, being escorted outside the room.
“That went well,” Doflamingo said leisurely as they walked back down the same hallway as before, hands shoved into the pockets of his blazer. “You almost killed my poor mother.”
“Shut up , I did not!” Law defended himself as he followed, shoving at Doflamingo’s arm. It really hadn’t been his fault, there was no way to predict a reaction like that, and although humour wasn’t his strongest quality, it was a practiced go-to in situations his current occupation required. Plus, she would be okay!
Donquixote Doflamingo’s laughter had a pinning propriety to it. It was deep, echoing, purposeful and, at that moment, so penetrating that Law could feel it vibrate through his eardrums, be swallowed by his throat until it pooled in his lower stomach. That lavish and ample cologne the older man wore was suddenly all over Law again, as long, spidery arms trapped him into an embrace.
Over his own pulsing loud heartbeat, Law couldn’t hear Doffy’s as his head was pressed against that broad chest, finding a certain comfort in the proximity. He ended up putting his own arms around the other man, crumpling the fabric of that expensive suit in a fist. He wasn’t looking to be consoled, it truly hadn’t been anyone’s fault, but…
“It had been a long time since we were graced with mamá ’s laughter. It was… very special, despite the immediate consequence. Thank you, cariño .”
Yeah, well… Maybe Law could just enjoy this hug for a little while. Part of the act and all.
✧
Dinner had been served, but for three instead of four, Graciela’s plate removed since she had ended up falling asleep after her cough subsided. Law wondered why Giolla, that doctor guy, the stoic chauffeur or any of the other staff members they had passed by wouldn’t join them for the meal, but refrained from asking. The table was incredibly long for only three, but he could still only count two people present.
The food was cooling on their untouched plates, and Doflamingo swirled the red wine in his fancy glass with increasing impatience. Law couldn’t be that person to start without permission, so despite his hunger, he held back on his bratty urge to just grab the damn fork and eat his long-awaited meal.
It looked so good too; baked sea-bass with lemon caper dressing and a side of potatoes and a spinach salad, the chef had described, apologising for not coming up with something “more suited” on such short notice as if it wasn’t the best meal Law had had the chance to eat in the past few months.
There were a few rules in the household, as Doffy had informed him—one of them being, dinner with the family, always . There were inevitabilities, such as his mother’s case, but it had been over fifteen minutes and the younger Donquixote wasn’t present yet.
With this wasted time they could be spending eating , Law accessed the fact that they were in a dining hall. An exclusive division just to eat. Away from the kitchen, with an incredible view to the vineyards through the large windows, an absolute exhibition of the finest aging wines produced in the very facilities they were in occupying a great portion of the southern wall. Candles provided ambiance, as well as a distant vinyl record setting the mood. Doffy sat at the head of the table, Law to his left, and an empty seat to his right. The Donquixote family crest was imprinted on every single thing, from the large tapestry under the dining table, to the golden cuffs of the curtains, to the glasses where their wine had been served, and even the damn sets of cutlery.
Law could pretend to be surprised; but he wouldn’t give Doflamingo the satisfaction.
“What’s taking him so long?!” The blond called out to the two servers by the double wooden doors, who straightened their backs at the sudden volume.
“Young Master, Rosinante should be just a minute!” One of them said, hoping to God they were right.
Amusing. The audacity of making a man like Donquixote Doflamingo wait ? Law was looking forward to meeting Rosinante.
Though he supposed this was common behaviour between siblings, right? Lami would have the time of her life just being purposely inconvenient towards Law, either sneaking up behind him to scare him, or hiding something she knew he’d be looking for.
She would likely die before being late for a meal, however.
As if on cue, the doors were slammed open, and someone walked into the dining hall. A lanky figure, disgracefully tall, in stained denim overalls, dirty boots and blond hair. If not for the ridiculous height and the blond hair to match Doffy’s, Law couldn’t tell this was a Donquixote.
The way Rosinante carried himself had nothing to do with Doflamingo’s eloquent and royal demeanour. It lacked the poise and the entitlement that came with the family name, let alone the posture of someone who owned the fucking universe. This guy looked straight out of a comic book, tripping over the unlaced boot and almost taking the whole table with him.
Doffy didn’t say a word when Rosinante finally sat down in his rightful place, and Law decided he should probably be the one to speak to the man in front of him.
“... You must be Rosi. My name is Law. I’m your brother’s partner. Glad to finally meet you.”
Law had never seen Doflamingo’s eyes because of those stupid shades—he didn’t know the colour or the shape, if they looked like his mother’s, or if they were more like his late father’s—so it was a bit of a surprise to be met with Rosinante’s docile, loopy brown eyes. There was a glimmer of rebellion in them, a hint of burgundy like that when you shine some light on a glass of red wine, but with a certain… honesty , that for some reason Law wasn’t expecting.
Kind of like a Golden Retriever.
And a starving one, because he just hunched over the plate and began his meal without even saying or… acknowledging anything.
Law realised he was staring only when Doffy reached for his hand, squeezing it openly over the table. “Rosi, meet Trafalgar Law. Mi cielo, this is my darling younger brother. Not much of a talker, as I’ve told you. He seems to have forgotten his manners in the time I’ve been away, but the apology is accepted, and we may begin our meal.”
“I’m sure he had a good reason,” Law prompted, slipping his hand from under Doffy’s to lay the cloth napkin—surprise, surprise, it had an expertly embroidered “DQ” logo in gold right at the corner—over his lap. The chef had paired his fish with a zesty, refreshing white wine and he was just dying for a sip. The brothers had been served a red meat dish coated in some sort of crumbled bread and the same salad he had on his plate, and a red wine which looked very velvety and delicious as well. As it seemed, Law’s time in the Donquixote Manor would be greatly compensated with the opportunity to try the luxurious wines that came out of that very vineyard; damn right he was going to take full advantage of that.
They ate silently for the most part, with some occasional questions about the dealings of their business and their mother, to which Rosinante replied with either a nod, a shrug or a slight eyeroll. Even with the shortage of words, he could feel a certain tension between the siblings. It wasn’t Law’s job to meddle, so he didn’t bother. His meal had most of his attention because it was the closest to divinity he had ever had sitting on his tongue.
Sometime in the middle of the meal, he felt the poke of a shoe around his ankle, hooking him there in a pretend-caress. One glance at Doffy confirmed his suspicions that he was the one behind it, so he smiled, a bit too tenderly as he responded to the tease with a discreet kick of his own. Their oh so loving gaze was interrupted by Doffy’s phone vibrating on the surface of the table, the screen illuminating the name of someone important as well as the background photo he and Doffy had staged in the car, just an hour before.
He didn’t miss the fact that Rosinante noticed it, if the sudden redness of his cheeks and the fact that he was trying very hard to look anywhere but at Law was any indication.
“Forgive me, I must take this call. I’ll be back in a second,” Doflamingo said, bringing the phone to his ear and getting up from the table. He placed a long, gentle kiss on the crown of Law’s head before pacing to the next division. “Kaido. Talk to me.”
To avoid any awkwardness, Law finished his meal without looking at Rosinante. After only a couple minutes, a server came to remove both his empty plate and Rosi’s, and ended up taking Doflamingo’s as well because the Young Master wasn’t particularly known for finishing his greens. He said something about refilling their glasses while waiting for dessert, but Law thought it was better to opt out. This was only his first night as a fake-boyfriend, he couldn’t risk a loose tongue and saying the wrong thing.
“I’m stuffed. It was fantastic,” Law politely thanked, which clearly earned him some favour with the workers, who smiled back at him with appreciation and kindness. For some reason, that had Rosinante frowning, across the table from him.
While waiting for dessert (because of course they would insist on finishing dinner on a sweet note), Law wondered if there was any need to lie to Rosinante. Or any of the house staff, as it was; the important thing was to have Graciela believe they were a couple. That at least one of her dear sons was delivered and taken care of, that someone would watch over him and love him after she’s gone. Certainly that was a sentiment everyone understood, but also realised was pointless; no one could tell Donquixote Doflamingo what to do with his life. It could all just be an elaborate scheme to fool the sensitive old lady and stop there. It seemed a bit excessive, since none of these people were dumb and didn’t look like they had it in them to go against a request from their Young Master. Yet again, Law wasn’t about to complain when he was being paid for a full-service. Plus, Doflamingo seemed to adore the whole theatrics involved.
“So,” he couldn’t escape a little small one-sided talk when there were only two people at the table, could he? “I hear you work in the vineyard. Must be tough, no?”
A shrug. Of course. Why should Law expect anything else? On the bright side, it wasn’t like Rosinante could put him on the spot and ask something incriminating. But someone who was genuinely interested in Doffy and the family would at least attempt to connect with the brother of their lover, right? It felt like he should keep trying even if he felt like he was talking to a cardboard cutout in the shape of a person.
“I wonder,” he chuckled to himself, “If Doffy ever joined you on the field? There’s something incredibly satisfying in the idea of seeing him in overalls and all stained with grape juice.”
Maybe his timing had been off or the image he conjured was just too funny, because Rosinante was drinking the last of his wine and ended up spitting all of it, coughing violently as the nectar spilled from his lips and even his nostrils, staining the rest of his clothes and the once pearly white cloth napkin.
Trafalgar Law made two Donquixotes choke in one evening, and he hoped the counting stopped there.
One of the servers came rushing by to clean the mess on the table and their Young Master’s clothes with urgency, and through some wheezing, Rosi thanked them with a flat hand near his chin, followed by a slight movement forwards.
Ah. Sign language. Interesting.
He could use that little piece of info.
“It was only for a semester at college, but I did take some sign language classes,” he prefaced, before making a fist with his right hand and a clockwise rotation above his heart. Sorry.
At that, Rosinante seemed legitimately surprised, shaking his head “no” as if to say, don’t worry about it. A couple more gestures followed: Pretty funny, though.
Look at that, Law was actually having a conversation. That was probably the most communication anyone had pulled out of Rosinante for the night. He smiled before taking a bit of a chance with his rusty gestures, simple words. I meet your mother. She is nice.
Rosinante seemed apologetic at that. Coming to think of it, he seemed to have a broader emotional range than his older brother, and was able to show it just with his face. Maybe it was the eyes? Could that be the reason Doffy hid his own? A good businessman shouldn’t wear his emotions on his face, afterall. She is. But she’s so tired.
No matter what, she know she is loved , he ended up gesturing after a brief pause. It coincided with the moment dessert was brought before them, and Doflamingo’s return.
“Don’t worry, buddy. You just hold your end of the deal and let me worry about Caesar. Have a lovely evening,” Doffy concluded the call, groaning as soon as the device slipped into his pocket. He wrapped his arms around Law’s neck, possessively holding him from behind, his large hands roaming where they very damn well pleased. “Impatient folks, these business partners of mine. Hey! Why is my love’s glass empty?”
“Oh, no, I can’t drink anymore,” Law intervened, tangling his fingers with Doffy’s spidery ones so as to stop him from crossing the line—this man was sure to keep him on his toes; he couldn’t let his guard down or he’d be going against his own rules.
“Nonsense. Just one more! Where’s the harm in that?”
“You know I don’t hold my liquor that well, papi ,” he said in a lower voice, so only Doffy could catch the bite in his words.
“Maybe that’s my plan,” Doffy whispered back with a grin, dangerous and sharp, and looking like a premise to a very big mistake. “Loosen you up so we can finish what you started in the car on the way here.”
Before Law could swat Doflamingo away, he was off of him, giggling in that superior and gloating tone. But Rosinante was no longer sitting in front of him either, having inhaled the dessert and fled the scene, leaving only an empty plate. Just when Law was about to prove to Doffy he had been doing a good job, better than this imposing fuck deserved.
Ah, well. He downed that fresh glass of the white wine, interlocked with decadent bites of the almond-flour lava cake they were served for dessert, and wondered half-way why he had thought this was a terrible idea when it tasted so damn good.
✧
Law ended up caving to yet another glass, which way too smoothly became three or four more. He lied; he didn’t hold his liquor that badly, it was just… a very high quality wine he wasn’t used to, and it slipped down his throat with a honeyed ease, and it didn’t seem like it was taking that much effect, but it kinda was?
“ La luz de la luna te sienta bien, corazón mío. ”
The autumn breeze carried a pleasant chill with remnants of summer, the booze turned his legs to jello, and maybe he sort of enjoyed the company on this “sobering” walk across the pathways of the vineyards. At this point, he must have been objectively clinging to Doffy’s side, head and heart pounding with a childish excitement at foreign words that Law ought to see as vain. This “moonlight”, streaks of somber silver, slipped through the vines to create this ethereal pattern on the floor, their clothes, their skins.
“Do you say that to all your fake boyfriends?” Law managed with only half the snark he intended.
“Only the pretty and expensive ones,” Doffy retorted with no hesitation. He approached Law to bring him closer to his body, the height difference making the boy tilt his head up so far he might fall back if not for the firm support on the low of his back. The motion started a low-effort dance to a song neither of them could hear but were in sync to. It felt dumb, absolutely idiotic, but Law could think of worse, more embarrassing things to be doing at the moment than to be swung around by Donquixote Doflamingo.
He nuzzled against his chest, too tipsy to find the restraint not to drown in that expensive, warm and spicy scent. It made him dizzy, it made him blind, but the little voice in his head that always told him when it was time to get away was suspiciously silent at that moment. “Ah. Here I thought I was special .”
“Oh, but you are, Law,” Doffy insisted in a private whisper, cupping his fake-boyfriend’s face and making him look up at his own reflection in pink shades. Law was getting a little tired of that perspective, if he were to be honest, but any thought of the sort was swept from his mind when his lips were captured in a surprisingly gentle kiss. Light, tentative, experimental. Lacking any of Doflamingo’s arrogance, none of that egoism that always leaked from his very existence. His eyes closed as he found himself climbing up Doflamingo’s frame to reach for more of that warmth, more of the red wine Doffy had had. “More so than you believe.”
When Law opened his eyes again, more inebriated by Doflamingo’s essence than any alcohol he consumed that night, he thought he might have seen the flicker of a cigarette lighter not far from where they were, but the vision faded about as quickly as it had appeared, as the powerful man before him took what was being so freely given.