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Crocodile frowned as he shifted on the bed he was laying on to roll his shoulder and flex his arm, the pain that had been plaguing him all day seemed to be getting worse. He knew it was time to give up on getting anything productive done when he’d snapped at the girl who’d just brought some paperwork for him to sign to his office. He’d returned to the room he shared with his two partners and sat heavily on the bed, falling back and trying to just ignore the ache traveling up his arm.
“I heard someone’s grumpy today.” Buggy’s voice reached him and he just grunted, not opening his eyes. It was only a matter of time before one of them came to find him, word traveled fast on this island. He blamed the remnants of Buggy’s crew who remained stubbornly loyal to him.
Crocodile wasn’t surprised when he felt the bed dip suddenly to his left, Buggy having no doubt thrown himself onto it like a damn child. He grunted again and shifted away, a particularly strong throb of pain hitting him.
“Wow, they weren’t kidding.” Buggy said, his voice still light and teasing but with a softness of worry to it, “What’s up, Buttercup?”
“Hand hurts.” Crocodile said after a moment, knowing that Buggy wouldn’t leave until he got an answer. He had a tendency to meddle in things even when there was nothing he could actually do to help.
“Oh! Uh…” Buggy sounded way too amused and Crocodile could almost feel him struggling not to make a masturbation joke. “Have you been… signing to many…things?”
The restraint was almost cute.
“My other hand.” Crocodile said, holding up his hook with a wince. “Before you say anything, it’s called phantom pain.”
“I know what phantom pain is”
That made Crocodile open his eyes to look at Buggy skeptically.
“What? I was in the East when Shanks lost his arm. Who do you think the bastard went whining to about it? Not my fault he forgot what flashy fucking haki he has.” Buggy explained before taking Crocodile's arm gently. He’d helped take the hook off before, so it didn’t take long for him to get it off. He pulled off the sleeve to uncover the scarred mess of his wrist and frowned, looking between it and his own hand, “I was gonna suggest something, but I don’t know if it’ll work as well for us.”
“Use these.” Mihawk’s voice made Buggy jump and Crocodile felt something land on his chest.
He pushed himself up to see their other partner standing just inside the door to the room. There was no way to know how long Mihawk had actually been there. Whatever was on his chest fell gently into his lap and Crocodile looked down to see a pair of leather gloves.
“It’s so hot when you anticipate our needs, babe.” Buggy said as he eagerly took the gloves, pulling one on his left hand and holding the other one up for Crocodile who just looked between them with a disbelieving frown.
“What are we doing here, exactly?” He asked.
“Just trust me here, Croccy, please? The size might be a little off but it’s worth a try.”
Crocodile let Buggy help him into the glove, then watched as Buggy detached his own gloved hand and floated it over to press against his cut off wrist. Buggy hummed in thought before tugging Crocodile’s sleeve down to cover where their limbs met. It was a little smaller than Crocodile's own hand, but the bulky glove helped cement the illusion.
“Okay. Now… squeeze your hand into a fist, tight as you can.”
Crocodile looked at Buggy as he often did, like the clown was actually, certifiably insane. What outcome did he intend to get from this? He’d done everything, clenched his non-existent fist, flexed it, imagined his fingers cramping and stretching out… it had all just made the pain worse.
“I see where he’s going with this.” Mihawk said in that way that made it unclear if he was being metaphorical, or if he’d actually seen the outcome with future sight. “You should do as he says.”
Crocodile sighed and rolled his eyes, at least it couldn’t hurt anything. So he did it, focused on clenching his left fist as tight as he could, and to his surprise, he could see his fist closing. Distantly, he knew it was actually Buggy’s fist, but it actually looked like his own.
“Good, now squeeze harder, hard as you can.” Buggy instructed.
Crocodile did and watched as the leather of the glove grew tighter, the fist reacting to his thoughts.
“Perfect, now release it completely, relax your muscles.”
As he did, Crocodile watched his hand open and go limp. At the same time, the pain that had been present all day finally eased, the muscles in his arm losing their tension. He was sure the relieved sigh that left him was much more of a whimper, but his two partners would never hold it against him.
“Worked, huh?” Buggy said and Crocodile looked up at him in gratitude, not able to resist kissing that self-satisfied smug little smile Buggy got whenever he was right about something. Buggy laughed into the kiss and Crocodile barely noticed him reattaching his hand.
“How did you know to do that?” Mihawk asked, finally joining them on the bed on Buggy’s other side, his arm reaching around the clown’s back so he could rest his hand right above Crocodile’s hip. He was so tactile with them in a way that had initially surprised Crocodile, but he’d grown to love it.
“I.. uh… I studied with Crocus for a bit.” Buggy admitted, sheepishly. “He said a basic knowledge of human anatomy would help me control my devil fruit. He was right, the flashy bastard.”
Everything they learned about Buggy was both a surprise, and not surprising at all. Buggy had always been attentive to their health needs, and that of his crew. Crocodile just shook his head and reached up with his good hand to pull Buggy into another kiss, slower this time, lingering.
“Thank you.” He said as he pulled away, grinning at the stars in Buggy’s eyes.
“Yeah, Croccy, no problem. Anytime.” Buggy said and made grabby hands, “Kiss me like that again.”
If Crocodile wasn’t careful, Buggy might get used to ordering him around, but at that moment, who was he to say no to such a request?