Chapter Text
Now hold on. Let's go back a bit and wonder why the couple was in this position. The reason was that his wife wasn't exactly advertised as his wife. During Alabasta, they knew he was married. However, she was seldom seen during official events. Even King Cobra himself wasn't even sure that Crocodile had a wife.
Crocodile wasn't entirely keen on making her well-known in the first place, and his wife didn't seem to wish for it either, so they left it at that.
Now, when the end of the battle arrived and Crocodile saw her face, he was feeling a migraine may come soon. He was not sure if he should thank his stars that he decided to leave the island to come check on Angler or strangle her. Of all the things-
Don't get him wrong, he was mildly proud of her. Sure, this was foolhardy, but she had managed to stay alive, and he was assuming, in a place she wanted to be. It also seemed like she had done decent for herself. The muscle and skills told him that she had been eating well and training diligently.
He stands up in a flash and looks at Angler.
"I want to meet the Fox," He says, hand crumbling the already bitten-through cigar from his lips.
Angler looks at him in mild surprise, then back at the Fox.
"What? Have they-"
"Get them here. Now." Crocodile snaps.
Angler, to his credit, nods and scrambles for the door.
The minute he left, Crocodile took out a new cigar, and Daz automatically clicked open a lighter, lighting it. There's a moment of silence before he speaks in a quiet voice.
"I apologise that I hadn't found her earlier, sir."
Crocodile puffs out a cloud of smoke, eyes now on the slowly emptying ring, as the men of the club drag the bodies of the Marines out back, where they would be trussed up and moved to his ship.
"It's fine. I told you to drop the search on her anyway," He mutters.
His mind was far away, remembering the days after they managed to escape Marineford, the frantic search for shelter and assets, as well as for his wife. According to what Daz managed to dredge up, as soon as Crocodile was captured, his entire operation was quickly pulled out into the light. She somehow managed to slip away in the fray, where no one had seen her since. After a year, Crocodile had told Daz to stop the search, making peace with the idea that she had probably married someone else and was probably living a quiet life on some forgotten island. But after so much time….
Angler's voice suddenly called from outside the door.
"Sir, they’re here. Should I let them in?"
He looks at Daz and nods. Daz walks over and opens the door, showing his wife, looking smug if not a little tired, and looking the same as she did in the fight. She blinks before yelping and turning to try and run.
"Aw, Hell no!"
Crocodile spreads out his sand quickly, capturing her and yanking her in. His sand pulls her closer, against her struggling limbs, and holds her up and closer to him.
"Oh yes." He counters dryly. Angler stood, blinking dumbly before Daz joined him outside, closing the door to give the couple some space.
She was wriggling. Or at least trying to anyway. She glares at him, and he reaches out to touch her hair. She bites his palm, eyes full of fury. He sighs, letting her.
"Living up to your namesake, I see."
She doesn't respond, still biting his hand, teeth now breaking skin, causing small beads of blood to emerge.
He clicks his tongue, poking her cheek with his hook, and taking away his hand from her face when she reluctantly lets it go, to sit back down on the chair, his sand placing her, restraining her legs, on his lap. She huffs and looks away, arms folded, and no longer biting his palm. He studied her now, roving a slow eye over her.
"You cut your hair." He remarks, remembering her hair reaching up to her mid-back, now chopped messily with its length grazing her shoulders in some places.
She snorts. "And dyed it, actually. Or didn't you notice?"
He hummed and reached out with the same hand, cupping her jaw and making her look at him.
"No biting," He warns, turning her face this way and that. Now that he saw it, he could see it. Her face was the same, just buried under grime, dirt, sweat, and the messy black markings.
He swipes a thumb over her cheeks, messing up the paint. Then his eyes fall on the rest of her, noting the decent amount of muscle on her person. She wasn't really skinny when they were still together, more chubby really, but she didn't have as much proper muscle as she did now.
"You owe me an apology." She finally says.
"An apology?"
"Yeah. For not telling me and leaving me to fend for myself."
He raised an eyebrow. Then he squishes her cheeks together.
"You brat, you know why, don't you? I'd even go on to say that you've done a good job for yourself on managing to fend for yourself, hmm?” He’s teasing. He knows that he isn’t being fair. She also knows this, she’s just not milking it.
She winces and tries to yank her face back. Her hands now go to his wrist, trying to pry his hand off. He stops, pulling his hand back to rest his chin on it. He lifts his hook to gently poke at the fabric around her body.
"And? What's all this?"
She scowls. Lifts her chin high.
"Clothes."
"Why 'the Fox?'"
She blinks. Then tilts her head at him, just like the namesake would in confusion.
"No one would have thought that someone who was supposed to be married to you would end up as a boxer who fought the Marines." She shrugs.
"Plus, I like the hair. Cool, ain't it?" She shakes her head a little.
He rolls his eyes and continues, idly dragging his hook up and down her body, head resting on his palm. She stares at him for a bit before grabbing the curve of his hook with one hand.
"Crocodile."
"Hmm?"
She wasn't looking at him now, looking down at the golden hook. A thoughtful, if not pinched, expression on her face. She looks at him then and opens her mouth to speak, but he’s already cupping her nape with his hand and dragging her in for a kiss.
In the first few moments, she pauses, probably out of shock, but then cups his cheeks with both hands and starts engaging. He tastes her chapped lips, his tongue meeting hers. He feels her hand slide into his hair, tangling into the strands. The kiss isn't a 'hello', or an 'oh so you finally do it', it's a 'I missed you, understand? I missed you, can you feel how much I missed you?' kiss. A desperate, love-filled one.
It's not a long kiss, but he can feel it. He can feel the many emotions in this kiss. He hopes she can as well. By the four seas, he missed his wife. He missed this.
Eventually, they broke the kiss, panting slightly. She rests her forehead against his, and he moves his sand so that she is now fully leaning on him.
"I missed you." She mumbles, hands now cupping his cheeks again, his eyes close automatically as he feels her touch, heavy and slightly callused, but still hers.
"I know." I missed you, too. Left unsaid, but he knew she would hear them. Feel them.
A few minutes later, she’s lying on his torso, head tucked under his chin. Hook arm curled protectively around her, and his hand held one of hers, his thumb exploring her rougher palm. He was slightly fascinated by her new physique, now small and tough.
"I….have a question for you," He says slowly.
"What?"
"Do you want to come back with me?"
He felt her pause. Then he feels her sigh against his skin. He automatically shifts her closer, thinking that she’ll say no.
"Where? To be by your side as you rule under your Clown?"
Now it's his time to scowl, his thumb pressing into the skin of her palm.
"The Clown rules under me."
She snickers. An affirmative to his question, then. Good.
"Coulda fooled me"
"Brat"
"Grouchy old man"
"Heathen"
"Bastard"
"Wife."
She pauses, then says just as softly as he remembers.
"….Husband."
A while later, Daz would knock on the door and enter after not hearing an answer, only to see Crocodile crack open an eye, curled protectively over his sleeping wife. And it would be an intriguing sight. The famed Sir Crocodile, former Warlord of the Sea, Mr. 0 curled protectively, like a dragon around a gem, over a woman who looked like she didn’t belong with him. A woman known as the Fox.