youshidiots | open 🤡 overflow

It happens more often than you might think.

[ Buggy only got to taste a moment of being Warlord before the entire system was abolished, but Mihawk had been one practically since its inception. He's been privy to a lot of the drama and skulduggery in the World Government despite his service to them being fickle at best. Granted, much of the information he'd gathered was not exactly with their blessing.

As he speaks, his sharp eyes scan over the floor. Hopefully Buggy can make do with an eventual nod of approval and a gesture to the bin he can use to dispose of the dust, because that's all he's getting. That, and this conversation, one could argue. ]

There's a vacuum beneath the bed that you can see to the carpet with.

[ In case Buggy thought he was done. It's just a cordless push vacuum, but it gets the job done in this small place. ]

Edited 2023-12-04 18:00 (UTC)

Aw c'mon...

[not just one menial chore, but two? when will it end!!

there's a touch of melodrama as buggy heaves himself off the floor to approach the bed - he would have sent a hand under there to feel around for it, but mihawk said all of you and that definitely isn't a hill to die on. it seems almost sacrilegious to be rummaging around under the swordsman's bed (and he tenses, without thinking, when he loses visual while remaining vulnerably exposed) but it only takes a moment to emerge with the vacuum in hand.

for a second buggy sits back on his heels, looking plaintively around the carpet, very obviously thinking do i have to?? and coming very close to saying it out loud. but, finally, he just gets back up, heaves a put-upon sigh, and starts to push the vacuum back and forth across the fibers. the petulance lingers.]

Well, I think we should publish our own paper, then.

[ Mihawk ignores the complaining for now, which he admittedly finds more amusing than the groveling. At least it's honest. It's not exactly like Buggy is supposed to be having fun here, so really it's just the sound of success. And in his mind, it's just finishing up the second part of a single goal: cleaning the floor. Wait until the man finds out there's another task after this.

There's a creak while Buggy is rummaging under the bed, signalling Mihawk has sat back down in his chair. He's got the paper back open when Buggy starts pushing the vacuum around, though he's probably a bit more obvious with his own glances over the edge of it as Buggy passes into view, which he often does because the swordsman has since turned the chair back (and Yoru) towards the desk and faces out into the room now. ]

Let's assume we can acquire a printing press. Are we hiding a bevy of talented writers here that I'm not aware of?

[ Mihawk would be surprised if most of their numbers were illiterate, especially the pirates. ]

I dunno. How many do we really need?

[he wasn't being entirely serious, but he wasn't entirely kidding, either. they should be controlling the narrative, one way or the other. he'd be willing to bet that crocodile, well accustomed to the nuances of shadow government, has already given consideration to the idea and likely come up with his own solutions, whatever those may be. so it's okay to toss some ideas out right now, even if it's just so mihawk can swat them down. this is what collaboration looks like!

hard to tell if this rug is getting cleaner at the same time or not. buggy is splitting his focus between the lines created by the vacuum as it rolls back and forth across the carpet, and mihawk's unnerving stare observing him from over the paper.]

Maybe it shouldn't be writing anyway! Maybe it's better if it's mostly pictures. Or drawings. Or cartoons! Picture this: the Adventures of the Star Clown and the World's Greatest Swordsman!! I'd read it every day.

[ Mihawk actually thinks having their own news production is a good idea and one he's idly fantasized about before, something he's getting around to admitting to Buggy by prodding him to expound on it. He even has an idea or two about how to get it done. But then the clown has to go and keep running his mouth. What a ridiculous idea. He's glad his face is mostly obscured by the newspaper because he feels a hot flush of what he can only guess is embarrassment and disgust rolling over him, uncertain of whether or not it's blotting his skin. It's been hard enough to know his image is living on hundreds of posters across the seas next to Buggy's (dwarfed by Buggy's, to be exact). He'll eat his hat before he becomes a cartoon character, much less with him.

This is threatening to put their progress back quite a bit. ]

Don't speak again unless spoken to.

[ There's a snap as the swordsman fully opens the paper to disappear, only the black top of his hat visible. He reaches to take a gratuitous swallow of his wine, chasing down the roil of the disturbance. ]

[whoops. and here buggy had been so pleased with the notion a second ago... carried away by his own delusions of grandeur yet again. instinctive protest rises up in his throat - complaints, maybe a little more groveling - but with some difficulty he swallows it once again, although the grimace of frustration is left clear on his face since mihawk is no longer looking at him.

he can be useful. if they'd just let him.

in a way that didn't involve housekeeping, that is. there's an element of thoroughly lopsided but very effective pride that keeps him motivated to do this well. but if not this, then something. mihawk already admitted once that buggy did better than expected. buggy is convinced that he can do better than that. he's certain he can prove, somehow, that his role in this venture is a critical one, that even if crocodile and mihawk could and will dispose of him the second his liabilities outweigh his meager benefits, they'd still have a harder time making it work without him.

sometimes telling yourself nice lies is the best way to make it through the day.

in any case, he keeps his mouth shut and glowers his sullen resentment at the carpet instead while he runs the vacuum over it. in the interest of proving something, he even wriggles his way under the bed to roll the mechanism into every dark corner, as nitpicky as he would be if he was setting the stage for one of his shows; if mihawk finds fault with his work now, he's liable to have a meltdown. but by the time he crawls out from under the couch and stands up again, he's feeling quite satisfied with his work.

despite the order not to speak unless spoken to, buggy doesn't want to just stand around waiting to be acknowledged while mihawk reads the paper and deliberately ignores him. so he speaks up anyway, a hand on his hip, the other holding the handle of the vacuum.]

Okay, I'm done.

[ Time allows Mihawk to cool off again, back to something less reactionary and more reasonable. Being mad at the clown for having a silly idea is like being mad at the humandrills for initially rooting around his garden with swords - justifiable, but it's only in their nature. And if he can teach baboons agriculture, he can surely work with Buggy.

It isn't as if there's no potential there. He had been debating on instructing the other man to get under the bed, but Buggy takes the initiative without being told. Mihawk watches him from around the edge of the paper, or at least the legs and torso sticking out from beneath the bed. Whatever little show tricks the clown must be doing and things like raiding seem to be keeping him in shape in ways that are more practical than the star blob he sometimes portrays. It doesn't seem like he's got any trouble having to employ his joints rather than shooting limbs off for this or that task, something Mihawk had been admittedly curious about.

Buggy may or may not hear the telling ripple of the newspaper flying back up into place as he comes free of the bed even if he doesn't see the wall move in time. When he eventually announces his completion, Mihawk slowly folds it and does a scan of the room before those piercing eyes rise up to look at Buggy. ]

You've missed a spot.

[ Cooly, Mihawk unfolds his legs, splaying them just enough to silently indicate the patch of rug beneath the chair upon which he's sitting. Presumably, Buggy is going to come and get the spot. When he does, and when he's finished, Mihawk reaches out to grasp the handle of the vacuum while it's still between his feet. ]

Good. Now... get on your knees.

[ The vacuum blocks anything closer than before the toes of Mihawk's boots. ]

[it might be impressive how quickly he still approaches a meltdown, in just the brief time it takes for mihawk's mouth to form the words 'missed a spot'. then mihawk parts his legs. buggy's mouth slams shut before he even realizes it was open.

he certainly does finish the patch beneath mihawk's chair, meek but visibly wary; he's not paying any mind to yoru, or the kogatana, or his own dagger lying sticky with fruit juice, but if mihawk decided to crack the bottle of piss-wine over his head, that would hurt. plus then he'd be covered in wine, like a fucking idiot. but mihawk's preferred methods of torture without crocodile to goad him on have been... mystifying, so far.

every single interaction feels like a carefully laid trap, and sometimes sheer curiosity compels buggy to spring them.

so he kneels again, this time very slowly. the fact that mihawk is still holding onto the vacuum is making him very nervous. it'll take a minute for buggy to bring his attention back to the other man's face.]

[ As Buggy kneels, Mihawk does reach back for a wine bottle... to pour the rest of the open one into his glass, the intent possibly clear from when he grips it by the base and not the neck, and the fact he does it so calmly. Then he picks up the glass and regards Buggy. So far, they've had that barrier of distance and the newspaper between them; now it's time to see how the clown really feels about having the fullness of Mihawk's attention on him. ]

I believe you've mentioned licking my boots before...

[ Buggy is right to feel as if these moments have been calculated - they have, from the moment the man walked into his tent. The responses have not been entirely (or even mostly) predictable, but the stimuli are deliberate. Like now, evoking the mention of the clown putting his tongue to his boots, Mihawk picks up the vacuum and slowly hovers it across one of the aforementioned shoes; his thumb is precariously close to the switch which will open the dirt trap. In the end, past the grueling seconds he watches for any sort of distress or anything else to form on his subordinate, Mihawk sets the vacuum down off to the side, leaning its handle against the desk. ]

I assume you know how to black them.

[ He takes a sip of his wine, the amber eyes almost seeming to glitter wickedly as he narrows them ever so slightly. The heel of one boot taps the lowest drawer of the desk behind him. ]

All the supplies are in there.

[oh, fuck, watching mihawk lift the vacuum over one boot had almost made him scream. if that trap had opened, he would have immediately collapsed into a pile of body parts and misery. when mihawk sets the vacuum aside and points him toward the drawer instead, buggy very nearly falls apart anyway, but at the last minute he manages to contain it to a desperate whine, slumping back on his knees.

how much acute psychological warfare must one sorry little clown emperor be made to endure??

he does, at least, know how to black them. it's been a while, but he remembers. shanks used to repair gold roger's shoes, while buggy mended rayleigh's; it was the raised-by-pirates version of a coloring book when they needed to stay out from underfoot. if mihawk insists on having his boots polished, buggy will turn in a professional job. but he still has to make a big dramatic show out of dragging himself over to the desk drawer to fetch the shoe shine supplies.]

Just how many of your chores do I have to do before you forgive me?!

If all that mouth is going to do is complain, you can continue to keep it shut.

[ While he doesn't smile, there is an air of smugness around the swordsman that suggests he might be enjoying Buggy's annoyance. He leans back in his seat, ready to watch the other man get to work with his drink in hand. It's been a long time since he's had someone in this particular position. Normally he has to take care of the oil tanned leather boots himself, but after their raid he hasn't really had the time to do so. ]

I've been thinking. You're usually good about asking me what I want. The party is the only thing I can recall recently where you didn't. Why do you suppose that is?

[buggy shoots mihawk a sulky look, but doesn't say anything else as he returns to the spot on the floor in front of him. there's no reluctance now in sliding closer to the swordsman - he's quite certain that mihawk won't try hurting him right now and risk ruining his outfit with boot oil. that means buggy is free to be fussy about it.

he also doesn't kneel again, but instead tucks himself up cross-legged right at the swordsman's feet, setting a brush and a jar and a pair of soft clothes down next to him. from this angle, it would be easy to just take a second and admire - even just for aesthetic reasons! - the intimidatingly attractive older man peering at him from within the silhouette of his hat, with his eerie eyes and his sharp cheekbones and his bare fucking chest - but right now buggy is far too busy nursing petty resentment to let mihawk catch him looking.

it does surprise him a little bit, when the older man speaks up again without issuing another order in the process. buggy glances up at him, only just biting back the insolent urge to ask if he's allowed to speak to answer. at the same time, he sends one hand with a cloth to the kitchenette to get it damp, not realizing that mihawk might consider it an act of disobedience instead of the clown's usual thoughtlessness; hopefully mihawk can overlook the cutting of a few corners now and then for the sake of keeping a process moving.]

I told you... I thought it's what you wanted. [he undoes the buckles on the boots, one by one.] How many times do I have to say I'm sorry I guessed wrong? [the thing he hasn't actually said once yet.] It'll be easier if you take these off, by the way.

[ There's a displeased little grunt as the hand shoots across the room, but seeing what it's off to do, he does judiciously decide pragmatism is more important than strict obedience. Buggy is where he needs to be and it's not a case of the man just lounging somewhere while his disembodied limbs do the work. ]

You still haven't said that you're sorry.

[ He will not fail to point out, having observed it before. He also pointedly fails to bother taking the boots off. ]

Wha--

[oops - called out on his evasive bullshit. the baseless protest dies quickly into a grumpy sound. since mihawk isn't gonna let him take the boots off, apparently, buggy proceeds to grab one foot and pull it into his lap, so he can see what he's doing as he starts to brush it down.

the silence draws out a little longer. then buggy mumbles, head bent over the boot in his lap.]

...I'm sorry I told you not to come to the party. Okay?

[ There is the softest intake of breath through the swordsman's nose as his foot is tugged into Buggy's lap. He wasn't expecting to be handled in that particular way, but he allows it, settling his heel wherever the clown wants it. The dark lashes lower a fraction as the apology eventually makes its way out; he's actually inclined to believe it with how reluctant it is as opposed to pleading.

After a beat of hesitation, Mihawk leans down, wine still in one hand but his free one reaching to take Buggy by the chin, a relatively more tame version of trying to draw the man's attention than what he employed when he first arrived. ]

While I can appreciate your consideration, there is no need for you to guess with me. [ There's one thing Mihawk hasn't given until now himself: acknowledgement that Buggy was trying to do him a favor. ] I won't penalize you for asking what I want and giving me choices. I almost certainly will if you take them from me.

[buggy flinches a little when mihawk grasps his chin and turns his head up, still half expecting to feel his own head come off at any moment. but mihawk still doesn't hurt him - just talks to him, making him listen, wide green eyes locked by the intensity of that focused yellow gaze.

it all sounds perfectly reasonable, and yet buggy's skepticism is tough to disguise. it just sounds too good to be true that mihawk would take his questions in good faith, instead of beating the shit out of him for asking in the first place, like crocodile would probably do. but crocodile's edge is blunt and brutal when it comes to discipline. mihawk's is more refined, forcing buggy to think about his actions instead of encouraging him to stop thinking altogether. he even acknowledged buggy's good intentions - finally!]

You won't get mad at me when my followers get carried away with the decor?

[because that is a battle he's never going to win. he'd just as soon put his energy to better use elsewhere... if his menacing colleagues let him.]

[ Mihawk isn't the world's best people reader, but even through the makeup, the apprehension in the other man is apparent. He knows he deserves that. There is no real trust between the leaders of this guild, at least not presently, though they do have a few unifying goals. That's enough for now.

Now that he clearly has Buggy's eyes, Mihawk will let him go at the question, giving a soft huff as he settles back again. ]

That's an entirely different issue than what we're discussing.

[ He won't make promises about not getting angry - he'd have broken it only a few minutes ago when the cartoon idea was brought up. Now what he does about that anger could possibly change. Will it? Well, one thing at a time. What he's about to offer up feels major enough. ]

... But I wouldn't have minded terribly tonight. You did something deserving of the recognition, finally. I've never been interested in those sorts of accolades.

Edited (we needed the pouty icon) 2023-12-05 06:09 (UTC)

[this time buggy's silence isn't forced. even without mihawk's hold on him, it takes him a second to sink back again, certainly looking as bemused as he feels. the validation wraps itself around him like a warm, heavy blanket, and buggy wants to clutch at it, conscious of how easily it could be ripped right out of his hands again - less likely to be an act of cruelty than by his own miscalculations, it seems. although buggy can't imagine giving up the screaming horde of devoted followers who cheer on everything he does, there is something altogether priceless by comparison about mihawk's hard-won acknowledgement. whether it's obvious yet or not, he's starting to pay better attention to the nuance of this particular treasure hunt... learning to pick the lock, perhaps, instead of just blowing it up.

mollified, buggy picks up the supplies again to resume polishing the boots. it helps to be doing something with his hands when he's considering his options.]

What if it's something I wouldn't think to ask?

[less of an immediate concern, more of a preemptive one, for which mihawk will hopefully have a suggestion as opposed to just a warning to watch his back. he glances up again, very mindful of the polish in his hand and the boot still being (respectfully) manhandled in his lap.]

I'll do my best, obviously - but you're not the easiest guy in the world to get to know, Hawk Eyes.

Often I see no reason to allow myself to be known.

[ In other words, this is a feature, not a bug. Until Perona decided to just invade his home and his life, Shanks was probably the person who knew Mihawk best. In some ways he still is. And like Buggy, that had started off in an effort not to be murdered by the swordsman.

He spares a moment and another sip of wine to wonder what they're up to now, his gaze going off into the middle distance of the tent. ]

I can hardly give a reliable answer for vague hypotheticals. I suppose - what's the parlance? We'll "cross that bridge when we get to it".

[ Buggy may just have to keep on learning the hard way. ]

I would suggest you focus on doing your best with what you have before you now. [ His heel pushes itself into Buggy's thigh - not hard, but enough to draw attention back towards it. ] This is what's in the scope of your control.

[buggy had his mouth open to argue, for all the good it would have done him, but the sudden beat of unexpected pressure gives him a noticeable start; it does drop his attention immediately back to the task at hand, and also serves as a perfectly timed reminder to shut the fuck up for a second. he really feels like he's fucking getting somewhere right now so get out of your own way, you idiot.

if you see him flushing under his makeup, no you don't.]

Quit it - you're gonna have some patchy-ass boots if you jostle me around.

[he gets mouthy when he's feeling confident, which mihawk is free to take as either a good or bad sign, depending on what he's hoping to accomplish with this whole encounter. buggy has definitely taken some things to heart, though the chances are good that he's taking more than mihawk intended to give. but the chances are also good that these boots are going to be polished as hell in a few minutes; buggy works in near silence, switching boots halfway, until both of them are sleek and shiny.

then he sits back, grabbing the damp cloth so he can rub his hands clean.]

Since we're trying to stay on the same page and everything, I just feel like I have to tell you: if you smudge up my work before it dries, I will never invite you to another party ever again.

[ Unbeknownst to Buggy, Mihawk had planned to make this very difficult for him - crossing his legs, maybe kicking the other in the process, test the clown's temper, that sort of thing. But now they've had this little tete-a-tete, he feels content to watch the other man take care of his boots. He notes the silence and sees no need to break it; this focused, diligent side of Buggy is an interesting one to be sure, and for once it feels like he really is able to separate the makeup from the man. Hawk Eyes finishes his wine and even waits for an opportune moment before placing the glass aside. By the time the other finishes, he feels centered, the sting of the earlier offense soothed.

Instead of taking hold of the man's chin for attention this time, Mihawk gives in to the temptation to push his fingers down into that cotton candy hair. They slide across Buggy's scalp, coming to grip at the root firmly, though not enough to hurt. He could tell the other man that he did a good job and that would surely be enough, but he's just finished doing Dracule a service, so there's an even more appropriate pair of words to give. He wonders how they'll land. ]

Thank you.

[every time buggy tells himself he's got a decent handle on how to deal with dracule mihawk from now on, the swordsman does some new fucking thing to smack him right back down off his high horse.

except in this case it's not a slap - it's fingers in his hair. he's been taking better care of it these days, so it's thick and perhaps surprisingly soft, very fun to touch in fact, for a tactile sort of person. but whether mihawk intended it for the purpose or not, having his hair stroked and then gripped like that sends a charge straight through him, heat blooming under his skin; his breath hitches, catching his voice in his throat so he can't say anything without swallowing first.

is it possible getting that thank you feels even better? maybe. but the hand in his hair is very distracting.]

You're... welcome. [he very clearly envisions himself climbing into the swordsman's lap. distracting.] Just don't get used to me doing your chores for you.

[said as if he might not fuck everything up all over again tomorrow, or the day after, or the day after that. that's future-buggy's problem. present-buggy tilts his head a little just to see if mihawk will maintain that solid grip.]

But I wouldn't be opposed to doing you a favor or two, every now and then. If you felt like it. [pushing his luck? there's plausible deniability in there still, for either one of them. but buggy is prepared to kick that door wide open if mihawk agrees to unlock it.] Just something to think about~

[ He's surprised by the texture, having expected something closer to wool or raw cotton with how much volume there appears to be. More interesting at the moment, however, is Buggy's response. The touch had been experimental, a venture into finding something that might be considered rewarding to the younger man. Well it certainly seems to prove effective, though Mihawk wasn't expecting the effect it might have on him in turn. His sharp eyes pick up the flush beneath the make-up and his libido stirs with the same sort of interest as a shark smelling blood in the water. It's not the first time tonight it's happened, though it is the one where he feels the least disgusted with himself over it; being turned on by a man flustering beneath his hand and between his thighs seems pretty reasonable.

It's the thought of using his grip to guide the clown's face further between them that's ill-advised and should stop immediately. Buggy helps by trying to pull his head away, something he can interpret as discomfort; the grip maintains for a moment longer before Mihawk releases him. His traitorous fingers take another stroke across that scalp, though, wanting another little pass through the soft strands before Buggy either does or doesn't take the opportunity to escape.

And then there's talk of favors. Hawk Eyes tilts his head, one feathered brow arching. With a meal mostly consisting of a bottle of sangria and a handful of kettle corn in him, Mihawk feels it's perfectly acceptable to be ~~catty~~ curious since he's been presented the opportunity. ]

Would those be the same sort of "favors" you provide Crocodile?

[ Actually, it's a thought that has crossed his mind a couple of times tonight, so it's really more like he's finally giving in to the temptation to call Buggy out on it to confirm suspicions. Better him than Crocodile. ]

[disappointment flickers visibly across his face when mihawk lets him go, but he takes it in stride - he hasn't been pushed away or hit or even told to shut up just yet, and more than that, it's clear that mihawk is curious now. buggy can do so much with curiosity.

he doesn't disguise the shiver that the lingering touch gives him, or the way his lips part on a sharp little exhale, or the way his eyes dilate, going dark with want. there's no trick to it: mihawk is outrageously attractive, after all, tall and dark and strong, and - at least for the moment - not trying to kill or maim him. once again, buggy is faced with a dangerous gamble: quit while he's still ahead, or try and double his winnings, at the risk of losing everything he came in with and then some.

when mihawk mentions crocodile, any lingering caution evaporates instantly. now buggy is certain he has the older man's attention.]

Maybe. I mean, I wouldn't mind.

[without admitting specifics just yet. that's less about plausible deniability now, and more about not discussing private affairs between himself and crocodile without the right assurances being in place. he shifts on the floor, back onto his knees, in the process bringing himself a little bit closer between mihawk's spread thighs. buggy keeps his hands to himself for the moment, but there's blatant invitation in the way he looks coyly up at the swordsman through long lashes covered in blue glitter.]

It would only be fair - if that's what you wanted. See, Croccy's real good about letting me know exactly what he wants. You like to be all mysterious about it. But we all want this arrangement to work out... don't we?

[buggy certainly does. he's made that abundantly clear and will continue to do so. he knows crocodile is invested, and suspects he's becoming more so all the time. mihawk is the one who only seems to be here because he's bored. if that's the case, buggy is very interested in keeping him entertained.

now he risks losing a hand by running his fingers up the back of mihawk's leg, above his freshly polished boot, trailing up the side of his knee, toward his thigh, coaxing him to open his legs a little more.]

How about just a taste? To help you decide. [he grins - wicked, darting his tongue across the red paint on his lips.] You can keep touching my hair if you want.

[ Once again, Mihawk is surprised by Buggy's response. He anticipated at least a little floundering under the question, but it actually seems to embolden the clown. He draws a slow, steadying inhale through his nose as the other man comes up onto his knees, refusing the urge to sit up straighter himself.

Hawk Eyes doesn't intend to let anyone - much less someone like Buggy - see him sweat. He can't really do anything about the bit of a flush crawling across the pale skin of his throat and chest, though, when that tongue darts out suggestively and something between arousal and repulsion rolls hotly over him. Incredible how brazen this man has gotten - that momentary coyness combined with the glitter is funny - while knowing Mihawk has at least three blades within arm's reach. No more than a day or so ago, he'd have made Buggy regret it.

For now, he gives a soft scoff. His leg refuses to budge, but that also means a boot isn't going into Buggy's chest either. ]

If I allowed such a thing, I'd be the one doing you the favor.

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my favorite icon 😌

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