Chapter Text
Law loves his job, he truly does.
There was something inexplicably beautiful about the structure of a home, watching one be built, the sequence of foundation slipping against red brick until it molds a house. There was a subtle difference to it, and when Law was younger, it was something that always attracted him to such spaces. The walls, counters, ceilings and voids. It’s a paradigm much like the human body. The beating of a heart, the soles of one's foot, a laugh.
You could find an abundance out here; Victorian, Mediterranean, modern and contemporary. There are thousands of styles that you could flip over and turn in your head, add onto, dismantle if you so pleased. There’s an art to it that hands of different kinds put together to make the perfect living space for another. It makes Law feel an uncanny joy when he witnesses a homeowner's face light up when the project is done, knowing they will spend years of their life there.
But right now, he’s reconsidering his line of work.
“You’re shitting me.” Law deadpans, staring directly at Garp who is doing everything in his power to not look into grey unamused eyes.
“Afraid I’m not,” he grunts, still staring off into the direction of an outside window whose view is currently blocked by a newly constructed building.
Law hated the company who took that view away, and on many occasions, he has voiced that loud and clear. Now was not the moment for such trivial things.
“How has that damn hellhole not gone under yet. I forgot we even had the property listed, isn’t it like a century old.”
“Maybe about two.”
“You’re proving my point. I’m not taking it.”
Garp shakes his head, finally turning to look at Law, “this person specifically asked for you and your team.”
“I don’t care if god asked me to rebuild that monstrosity, I’m not doing it.” Law seethes through his teeth, and for good reason.
The house was- to put very simply- a fucking dump. It’s miserable and hideously old, and not even the vintage old. Its roof is noticeably caved in, that much is obvious even through the fucking black and white photo. They couldn’t be bothered to take an updated picture. The French style chateau was an hour's drive, way out in the countryside where the neighbors try to live as far away from each other as possible. Law looks at the pictures littering Garp’s desk with thinly veiled disgust.
The looming gate can’t hide all the weeds and shrubs, and tall, tall grass fields. He’s pretty sure one could get lost with only a step inside. Zoro would need to be guarded at all costs. Luffy would attempt to hang from that rotunda dome. Kid would agree with Law, he always does. Ace is sure to rip him a new one.
The place is a lost cause and Law’s going to smite the person who ever thought this home could be saved.
“I know you don’t want to do it,” Garp sighs, and oh no, here comes the sulking, “but they need you. This is your brand.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It’s a luxury house. Two acres of land, an abundance of rooms-”
“And each and every one is going to have to be renovated, you’re not selling me.”
“It has limestone.”
“You know red brick is my favorite.”
“Look at the double staircase. On the outside, I might add.” Garp quips.
“That’s the only salvageable thing.”
“Did I mention it’s a château?”
Law presses an inked-up finger onto one of the papers hidden in that file that should be burned, “yes. It says it right here.”
Garp leans back in his chair, a conspiratory smile cracking his mouth wide, lacing his fingers together.
“You know the man who bought this, his family owns multiple wineries across the globe.”
Law’s ears suddenly perk up at that, sitting straighter in his chair.
“Is that so?”
Garp nods his head, drumming tanned fingers along his knuckles, “I’m sure if you take the job you might even be given perks. That doesn’t sound too bad, fixin’ up the place and getting something out of it.”
The raven narrows his eyes at the space behind Garp, lips pursed. He’s mad that’s all it takes for him to reconsider the offer, but he still stands strongly on the opposing end. There’re too many risk factors. In the pictures the interior is still in, mostly, pristine condition, but who knows how long ago it was taken.
That’s years of built up dust, lord forbid if there’s termites, animals scurrying around, and Law is almost one hundred percent positive it’s haunted. Not to mention how harsh that countryside is. Snow mantles over in thick layers from November to April, so not only are the renovations going to be astounding, but the person living there might instantly regret it because of the conditions.
He will admit they chose the right time to look into it. The amount of time it will take to flip the home will no doubt be finished by the time November comes around. And they’re in June. That’s hours of lost sleep, not that Law can complain about that, along with months of mulling over decisions. And there’s no telling how picky the homeowner is. Law knows this is a bad deal, even if the prospect of free wine does sound extremely appealing.
Law smacks his lips, huffing a little bit, “what’s the profit?”
“Sixty even.”
Law’s eyes widen, “each?”
“Straight across.” Garp lilts.
“That’s a lot.” Even for Law. He’s not one to brag, he knows he’s spectacular at what he does, and he has the money to show for it. But sixty thousand for each hand on his team. The amount seems extreme. The work will be worth it, but still...
“The, possible, owner is very generous.”
“Yeah, I’m sure they are.” Law scoffs, “and you said possible. I want this to be purchased before I, or anyone on my team, steps foot in that rat’s nest.”
“I’m afraid that’s unfortunate for you then.” Garp runs a hand down his face like this is the one thing that’s going to ruin the entire plan to get Law to say yes, “the owner wants to meet you first.”
“Okay?”
That’s not new, of course the owner wants to meet him, he’s the foundation for this entire project. If anything needs to be done it gets sent to him. Aside from the homeowner, Law makes the demands for every inch of square space, so it’s not odd that whoever it is wants to meet before they get started.
“There.” Garp mutters, glancing away from Law.
“There, where?” Law asks incredulously, sensing his impending doom.
“He wants to walk the property before it’s bought, and you being the field manager, is going to have to be there also.” Every word is rushed without Garp even looking at Law and he’s pretty sure if the older man was, he would have been turned to stone at the icy look.
“That’s out of the question.”
“But you need to.” Garp fucking whines, looks at Law with those goddamn puppy dog eyes that remind him too much of Luffy’s. He has no idea why he’s stayed at this damn company for so long.
“I don’t need to, you want me to. Is the owner bribing you? What are you getting out of this?”
“I’m offended you think I could be bought.”
“You can. Remember the Russian widow who purchased that villa, and she-”
“That’s not the point!” Garp spits, that stoic exterior finally showing a crack, “Law you know I’m not going to order you to take the job, and I could easily give the owner recommendations for another firm who specializes in this type of remodeling, but this is where you shine. This is the type of plan you and your team excel in, and if he’s willing to ask for you personally, then that means he does too. So, please? Will you do it?”
Oh, he laid it on thick. The old geezer knows Law turns putty at only the mere mention of praise.
“I’m confident the man is going to buy the place, no matter if it’s on the cusp of death. He’s boasted a very generous offer for it. More than the asking price.” Garp adds, as if that makes any difference to him.
Law sighs loudly, dragging the sound out until it’s a groan and it’s unbearable. He wishes he could go until he doesn’t have any sound left to make, until he shrivels up on this alabaster floor and Garp has no choice but to call other companies. But he is a grown man, a successful man, and there’s wine involved.
“I’ll do it.”
Garp claps his calloused palms together loud enough that Law jumps in his chair, already sweeping the offending documents back in the file to stuff it in Law’s direction.
“And if I don’t get any wine out of this, I’m going to gouge out your eyes.” Law plucks the file with deft fingers.
“I’m such a stickler for your punishments.” Garp replies, face lighting up. Law just got played.
“I expect a bottle on my desk by the end of this week.”
“I’ve already ordered it.”
Law smacks his teeth, turning on his heels, “the most expensive.”
“Only the finest Junmai for you, darlin’.”
Law hates him.
Garp stops him with his name as soon as his hand is sealed around the doorknob, and he turns with a raised eyebrow.
“What is it?”
“He wants to meet today, at,” Garp checks his watch casually as if Law isn’t plotting on how to disintegrate from the earth right now, “3 on the dot.”
Law checks his phone, utterly disappointed, “that means I have to leave right now.”
“I’ve already got the car loaded with gas.”
Law hates his job.
· · · ·
The drive is, as expected, treacherous. Not only was it the middle of the day, but it’s the middle of the day in June. Even through the expensive windowpanes the sun is searing the leather interior. The air blasting in his face makes up for it, so does the orchestra of strings currently strumming through the speakers.
Law is convinced the owner has a sadistic streak. It’s hot and far, and Law is not even dressed for the occasion. He’s in his usual slacks and his shirt sleeves are rolled up, the image of a relaxing Thursday gone in only the blink of an eye. And the traffic. The traffic went on to no end until he got to the backroads that hold no signal at all. Law could be thrown off the road and chopped up into little pieces and not a soul would know.
So, when Law does finally make it there, to already see a sleek red ‘67 convertible with legs hanging over the edge, he’s unimpressed. He's jealous. Suddenly his mind is rewinding back to the time he found a car magazine in his uncles' garage that had the same image in front of him plastered on the cover. Law would die for that car. In only a split-second Law hates everything about the person he’s soon to be working for. And he’s blocking the gate.
With a little screech to let off some steam, Law flings the car door open, slamming it shut. Those legs twitch at the sound, straightening and pulling in, and Law doesn’t bother glancing over when he unlocks the gate. It’s fucking massive and rusted, but the elegant designs of metal swirling around the top make up for it. The grating it makes across gravel quickly takes that admiration away.
Law turns around, already sweating, ready to talk to his client now that that’s out of the way, but a wall blocks his path. A slab of silken muscles and a shirt spread wide open for all the world to see, expensive threads molding his arms. Saffron pants hang low on those hips, showing off the prominent V that’s dipped between his abs. He almost assumes he’s sweating, but the man is shaped in the form of a god and he’s sculpted like one. He’s glowing.
Law raises his gaze, higher and higher, and damn this man is tall.
Holy mother of Hera, Law is in heaven. He could spit tongues right now.
Law is not a prude, far from one actually. Law is a lover of sex, and not just any sex, but dirty raunchy ‘look-me-in-my-eyes-and-spit-in-my-mouth' type of sex, and this man looks like he was built for that one specific purpose.
The sheer size of him towers over Law and the shade feels exquisite. His reflection is gazing back at him in orange reflective glasses, and the man’s sinister smile reminds him of Éloa leaving heaven to spend her days with Lucifer in hell. The man is a red apple in the garden of Eden, and Law is Eve. He is sin incarnate and Law is fucking craving.
“You must be Trafalgar Law.” The man drawls, grin turning nearly predatory.
Law’s knees threaten to give out on him at the rasp. A guttural voice, deep enough that Law already feels him balls deep inside of him. In the reflection he sees his eyes lid and cheeks turn pink, and he glances away to a tree that looks the same as another.
“You would be correct.” God he’s breathless, if he’s asked, he’ll blame it on the heat.
“I’ve heard wonders about you,” the man purrs, he steps back, and Law stops himself from following like a lost puppy.
“That so?” He asks to the man’s back.
He’s currently stepping over the door of his car instead of opening it. Law never paid attention before, but now that he sees it, the picture is comical. How huge the man is, swallowing up that tiny little car. A leg clad in loose yellow pants spreads wide over the cream interior, hand curling around the wheel- Law wishes it were his throat.
“Why don’t we get this over with, it’s hotter than hell.”
Or maybe that’s just you.
Law nods dumbly, moving to his car and he’s stopped by that meticulous voice, a big hand patting the leather next to him.
“No need to drive on in there while I’m already here. I’m sure it’s going to be meddlesome.”
And he’s right, plus it gives him an excuse to pretend he might one day find and own that same car. Law rushes to turn off his vehicle, sliding the keys in his pocket, and when he turns the door to his side is already open. Law can’t deny, he feels like a kid in a candy store sliding on the material. He’s used to the finer things in life, but there’s something different about being in a car you hope to someday own. Law tries not to let out a moan at how he melts into the seat, instead keeping his eye on the road in front of them.
“So, what interests you about this place?” Law asks conversationally, a sliver of professionalism sneaking through the lust.
“Curiosity.”
The word spills in the atmosphere around them just as the car is turning into the gated property. There is an abundance of trees, overgrown branches and grass, flowers sweeping across the vast field when the wind blows. The driveway is only visible because of rows of white peeking through the weeds and shrubs. A bird rustles its way out of a tree when the car drives past it. Law attempts to hide his disgust.
The place is just as awful as he knew it was. A little potential, just as sliver.
“I’m told that you excel in remodeling luxury homes.”
“I wouldn’t say that exactly.”
This will surely be the place to test that.
Everything is worse than it was in the pictures, horrible, much more fucking horrendous than Law could ever dream of. Simple curiosity shouldn’t be enough incentive to buy the place, but the man clearly has a mission because he presses on the gas a little bit harder. Law’s stomach sinks into his ass when something rustles in the field, his fingers curl in leather seats and the man is fucking laughing at him.
“I apologize for not introducing myself,” the blonde says, light at the ending of a tunnel where the grass recedes, “I’m Donquixote Doflamingo.”
Each syllable of the name rolls off his tongue so smoothly, Law doesn’t even think to admonish him for his bad manners, and when he swerves recklessly around the circular path. Those big hands move easily to switch the gear, turn the car off, and all Law can hear is his ragged breathing.
The name sounds vaguely familiar, but then Law remembers what Garp said about his family owning wineries.
“Well it’s nice to meet you,” Law breathes, “let’s get this over with.”
Law doesn’t bother to hide his disdain as he leaves the luxury of the car to step on cracked pavement. His eyes immediately hone in on a shattered window at the second level, spider webs obstructing all of the views. As if to add onto the effect of a house that’s haunted, there are crows lined up on the roof, glaring down at the unwanted visitors.
“Charming place,” Law mutters, startling slightly when Doflamingo laughs right next to him. For a man of his size, it’s amazing he didn’t hear him move.
“It sounds as if you don’t like my new home.” Doflamingo muses.
“A home signals a place of residence or refuge, this has neither.”
The blonde’s smile damn near splits his face, pressing a hand to the base of Law’s spine.
“I’m going to like you.”
Law doesn’t want to be liked; he wants to be fucked. Usually he doesn’t make it a habit to fraternize with a person that’s hired him for business, but he would make every exception for this man. He lets himself be pushed up one of the staircases, reaching for the house key in his pocket.
“That’s not necessary.”
Law is unimpressed.
“Although it wouldn’t be considered breaking and entering since you’ll be owning the place, I don’t find it amusing you’re willing to add more work onto this estate.”
Doflamingo hums, using his free hand to sweep in the air towards the direction of the door, “it’s already broken.”
Law clamps his mouth shut, ignoring the smile on the bigger man’s face by looking to see that the door is, indeed, unhinged. Joy.
“Seems you have your work cut out for you doll.” Doflamingo sounds delighted.
“I’m sure I’ll have aged beyond my years once I’m through with this project.” Law gripes, taking the last step. He’s proud of his observation before, the staircase really is the only salvageable part so far.
“I’ll enjoy watching you work to the bone.”
It’s not flirting, per se, but the sadistic undertone gives Law quite a thrill.
Doflamingo, to Law’s horror, frees him of his touch, pointed shoe coming up to kick the door open. Law is one breath away from saying something about the handling of vintaged property, but it dies when a (thankfully empty) bird's nest smacks to the ground.
“This place is a wreck.” Doflamingo seems satisfied by that, stuffing his hands into his pockets to move forward.
Law agrees, but he’s not going to say that out loud.
When they step into the house, Law is pleasantly surprised to see that it’s intact. Aside from the obvious wear and tear of years going unused, it’s still put together impeccably. The double staircase matches the one that was outside, a spacious entry.
Law looks up, the chandelier can still be used, but that roof is one rain shower away from shattering. Off to his left there’s an open room that could be used as the study, to the right a living area since it appears slightly bigger. Law nods his head in approval, a picture already mapping out in his mind.
“So, what are we looking at doll?”
Law doesn’t even give a thought to the nickname, his mind automatically going back to the information in the file. Even if he would have declined the offer, he would still remember every detail just because it’s engraved in his nature to do so.
“A limestone chateau, built in 1894,” which shows, “it was rebuilt 2 decades after construction because of a fire that broke out. The residence at that time had an eager child who found the arts of pyromania intriguing.”
Law could have left that last part out, but Doflamingo seems like a man who would find that thrilling. His grin in return proves that feat.
“I’m sure you know already, but it has twenty-five thousand and seven hundred square feet of living space, set on two acres. Seven bedrooms, five baths- two of which are half bathrooms. In the back there is, supposedly, a maze-like garden.”
“Can you think up a rough estimate of when you should be finished?” Doflamingo asks, eyes settled on worn out wood. That doesn’t look like a good sign.
“Hm, I’d give it a good four months. Five for our design consultant. We’ll have to go back to the office and settle on the details of how you want it. It’s a good thing we came so that you could see it for yourself and get an idea.”
Doflamingo nods, “this is all I need to see.”
“You don’t want to look around? For its age it looks to be in excellent condition.” Compared to what Law assumed.
“I’ll leave the dirty work to you doll.”
This fucking bastard.
Law bites his lip in order to not lash out. He drove an hour, just for a nearly 15 minute- barely even there- walk through. The most eye-catching part was being glared at by crows.
“Let’s get back to the office to discuss details, shall we?” Doflamingo croons.
· · · ·
The drive back is exceptionally exciting, mainly for the purpose of Doflamingo whipping about through traffic. Law’s fingers curled over his own steering wheel as he watched that cunning smile and blonde hair flitter away, down the highway so quickly he was gone before Law could even blink his eyes.
The time alone gave him time to think about Doflamingo and that godawful house. He doesn’t appear to be a playboy, so that knocks a whorehouse out of business. He wonders if he’ll use the chateau as a working place, turning the backyard into a vineyard. Law wouldn’t mind setting the plans for that.
Kid is going to be the easiest person to convince, the symmetrical layout of the house fits his standards to a T. Luffy is going to be the hardest to maintain, maybe even Zoro. The house is too delicate for them. Law fears that even if they breathe on it the entire place will come down. Mihawk is going to be fucking thrilled to decorate, and if he’s happy, then Shanks is happy. He’s going to have to call Sabo and give him a heads up on an inspection, but that can wait for now. So can Ace.
Sphinx comes into view soon enough, what with Law caught up in his thoughts the entire drive. The building barely even reaches the middle of the newly placed one, but its name still sticks out nonetheless because of its infamous here in Dressrosa.
Before Law, Garp and Rayleigh put the name on a map. Turning a dingy little two-bedroom house into a three story, fully lavished, building. Garp took up the office work, and Rayleigh... actually, nobody knows where he is, aside from Garp maybe. He only makes his appearance if they’re in dire need of help. Which is rare.
That beauty of a car is parked right next to the space that has Law’s name written on it, and it’s empty. Which means Doflamingo is already inside. With a sigh Law shuts the car off, hoping he’s not looking around his office space, and makes his way into the building.
“Where’d you run off to?” Kid immediately cracks as soon as the glass door closes.
“Don’t you have things to do?” Law ignores his leering face and the sound his boots make grating across the marbled floor. He’s sure to put a dent in it with the amount of muscles woven into that body.
“Like you?” Kid drawls, thumbing the button to the elevator.
Law has, fortunately, always been the victim of Kid’s blatant flirting. While he would never sleep with him (unfortunately, because of work and all), he doesn’t mind feeding into him one bit. Law likes to think a small amount of coquettishness is healthy in this line of work, one never knows when an 18th century chateau is going to work its way into your fucking life. And a certain redhead is the perfect picture of muscles and brawn holding it together.
“Smooth, how long did it take you to think of that one.” Law sidles into the elevator, skin tacky with dried up sweat. He feels disgusting, probably smells it too, but the scent of old houses and matted soil is already imbedded into both men’s senses. Still, he needs a shower.
“Garp told me bout that little piece in Sabaody.” Kid says instead, and Law knocks his head back on the elevator wall just as it dings, signaling their arrival to the second floor.
“A little piece he called it?” Law frowns, that old bastard.
“That he did, we takin’ it?” Kid sounds just as eager as Law hoped he would. He needs to have that much enthusiasm for them both because Law sure as shit wasn’t.
“Unfortunately, yes.”
The outline of a huge silhouette is shown at Law’s window which is luckily not obstructed by that offending hunk of metal near Garp’s.
“You gotta date?” Kid asks, hairless eyebrows raising when Law looks towards him.
“That is our client Eustass-ya.” Law urges him forward with a tilt of his head, as much as he would enjoy being alone with the blonde, it’ll also help having Kid in there with them. Mihawk is a much more fitting choice, but he has to work with what he’s got.
Kid mutters something about a huge bastard, as if he has any room to talk, just as soon as Law is swinging the door open to his office. Doflamingo turns on his heel and greets Law with a huge smile as if they weren’t with each other not even an hour and a half ago.
“I was wondering how long you were going to make me wait.” Doflamingo says as a greeting.
Law gets the idea that he’s not a man left waiting often. His mere presence commands the room, like he should be sitting in the chair behind his desk in place of Law.
“I didn’t ask you to speed off without me,” Law quips, “this is our architect Eustass Kid, Kid this is Donquixote Doflamingo.”
“Donquixote?” Kid’s voice raises a touch higher than what Law is used to and he flicks a gaze over his shoulder, just in time to see those crimson eyes widening.
“The one and only.” Doflamingo responds proudly.
Law is going to have to ask what that reaction is about, but for now he takes his seat, gesturing to the two in front of him for his other guests. When both men are seated Law takes out his notebook, flipping through pages brimming with words until he gets to a clean one.
“Usually I would have one of the designers here while we talk about this but seeing as they are both out of the office at this moment, Kid will do.” Law starts, crossing his leg, he decides to go for the most important part, “now, what’s the budget?”
He’s never really realized how massive Kid was until seated next to Doflamingo. Both men fill up the entire space of his office with only their auras, sitting in Law’s cute little curved chairs like it’s a damn throne. He’s starting to think the heat is getting to him because fuck they look incredible next to each other. The sun and it’s rays. Law needs to get laid, clearly. He needs a fucking drink.
Doflamingo waves a dismissive hand in the air, “so long as you fix the place up, you’re free to use any expense you need.”
Law was never one to find flaunting wealth attractive, but it looks stunning on Doflamingo. Here is a man who’s purchasing a rundown luxurious house and not even blinking an eye at the price, let alone the amount he’s no doubt going to have to spend to get it fixed up. It’s like pure gold has melded into the form of a man and that man is sitting right in the chair of Law’s office.
“My team and I are going to have to go back to the house and scale it out, but for the most part it doesn’t look like a lot of work as I previously thought. The gate will have to be first on the list, as well as the door, cleaning up the yard. We’ll have to call Ace to prepare him for that, maybe ask him to bring Deuce along.”
“I’ll get on that.” Kid replies.
Thank goodness.
Law nods, looking towards Doflamingo who hasn’t taken his eyes off him since he stepped foot in the room, “are there any specifications you have on the gate? Or are we free to do as we please?”
“Oh, you’re free to do whatever you want doll.” Doflamingo says the words from the pits of his stomach, low and smooth like rolling mountains, and Law could cum just by hearing the man speak. This must be what insanity feels like.
Kid raises a questioning look in Law’s direction like he can sense his growing lust, and he ignores both men to write in the journal on his lap.
“The driveway is a lost cause also. I was thinking a look of pure white; it would look aesthetically pleasing with the limestone. But we’ll have to work on the roof before anything, do we know when Robin will be back in town?”
Kid rolls his eyes up in thought, tapping a finger on his thigh. Law traces the movement for a second, enough time it takes for Kid to look back at him.
“I think she said the beginning of July.”
Law mulls it over in his mind. Enough time to get the roof finished, maybe even start on the floors in the home. They could always come back to that, what with all the other work the house entails.
“Let’s have her on the job.”
Kid makes a noise of surprise, “what’re you thinkin’ of using her for?”
“A mural on the ceiling would be nice. There's a rotunda dome at the entrance, so it’s the perfect space for it. Tell me Doflamingo, are you a lover of the arts?”
“That I am.”
“Which style would you prefer? Our muralist is quite skilled, she has a varying range of styles. I’m sure she can paint whatever you have in mind.”
Doflamingo hums in thought, sliding a dainty finger across the bottom of his lip. It looks tempting, a tempting little offer, but Kid is staring at him again. Law tries his very best to look professional, and not at all like he wants both men to spread him out on his desk and use him how they see fit.
“The creation of Adam doesn’t sound too bad.”
Law balks.
That just won’t do. He rarely tries to talk homeowners out of their thoughts, but the idea is so overused that Law can’t help himself.
“You mean the one Michaelangelo himself wanted nothing to do with?”
“That was just speculation.”
“What- no, it was not-”
“Aren’t you supposed to do what I tell you to?” Doflamingo’s voice gets dangerously low.
Law likes to think that’s how it would sound before he bends him over and spanks his ass raw, but this is very important, Law can’t think about such things right now.
“I would do anything for the sake of your house, but that’s so very cliché of you. I would never expect such an idea coming from a man of your stature.”
Kid looks at Law like he can’t believe he’s talking to Doflamingo so casually. Hell, it surprises him also, but he’s not going to simply beat around the bush. He might as well make himself acquainted now; they’ll only be spending every single day together until this project is done.
Doflamingo’s laugh is boisterous, mouthwatering, his Adam's apple bobbing with each intake of air. Law could have got lost in it, drown himself in it.
“I suppose you’re right,” Doflamingo sighs, lips still curled up, “tell me doll, what would you choose?”
“A Monet piece would be very fitting, since it’s a French styled home. What about his water lilies?”
“Too placid.”
“Hm, you may be right. How about something Greek then?” Law wonders aloud.
“I’m thinking Dutch,” Doflamingo supplies.
“Oh? That’s a nice surprise. Are you looking for a self-portrait?” Law’s bad attempt at hiding his sarcasm fails when Doflamingo’s lips twitch in amusement.
“Are you familiar with Alma-Tadema by any chance?”
“Vaguely, only one comes to mind, but it’s too wicked for a mural.”
“The roses?” Doflamingo’s eyes light up and maybe Law should have left it at Michaelangelo.
“It’s distasteful.”
“I think it’s just perfect.”
Of fucking course he does.
“It gives one the idea of suffocation, is that the impression you want to give your guests?” Law raises an eyebrow, appalled at the fact that Doflamingo is considering using The roses of Heliogabalus.
“Oh absolutely, don’t you think it’s enticing? A picture of roses littering the ceiling, it’s so hard to depict there are people drowning under them, and most people don’t even look under the surface. All they’ll see are petals falling.”
Kid seizes up next to Doflamingo who is grinning at Law like what he just said is something any sane person would think to say. But Law gets the picture of it, he knows they’ll be overlooked, because even he didn’t know the meaning of that painting the very first time he saw it. Besides, Robin is glorious in academism.
“Fine.”
And things go about like that over the course of two hours. Law supplying an idea, Doflamingo criticizing it and both men arguing until they come to a conclusion. At this point, Law has not a clue why Kid hasn’t gotten up to leave. Though he’s positive, if that amused smile is anything to go by, that he’s liking the blonde ruffling his feathers.
They manage to talk about the yards, what type of flowers to use for the garden, the flooring for the interior space. All tedious things that will amount to something in the end. Doflamingo is adamant about any use of his money, no doubt he’s filthy fucking rich if he’s this indulgent.
“Well I think that’s about all we can do for now, until we get a better layout of the property.” Law says to Doflamingo, turning to Kid, “we’ll go to the house tomorrow so that we can take a look at the damage, and also to take a peek at those rooms. We need to see what we’re working with.”
“That sounds like a plan,” Kid raises from his chair, “I’ll leave you two to the rest. I'll go talk to the guys.”
Kid doesn’t wait for Law to respond; it seems he doesn’t give a shit about tossing him to the lion that’s eyeing him very heavily. The door closes softly behind the redhead, and Law stares at it, if only to not look at the man who’s leering at him.
“That’s all I need from you today.” Law snaps his journal closed, sliding it back into his drawer.
Law raises an eyebrow when Doflamingo doesn’t move.
“Unless there was something you needed?” Law hates that it comes out suggestive instead of the snapping retort he had originally planned it to be.
He doesn’t know what it is about the blonde, but there’s a tension coiling up between them and it makes Law want to push. The other man gets so very pleased when Law makes a witty little remark, and it grates his nerves.
Doflamingo stands up and Law has to lean back in his chair in order to look up at him. He’s never met a man this tall before, he didn’t even think they existed. All 6 foot something of Doflamingo looming over Law in such an intimidating way.
“Let me take you out.”
And Law isn’t expecting that. The man sure as hell doesn’t beat around the bush. He would like to agree, his mind already has and so has his cock, but Law can’t risk the sake of this project over a hot piece of ass. He is mature. A grown man that makes morally right decisions, he cannot be swayed.
“You can’t afford it.”
Law can’t fucking believe he just said that. And so fucking confidently. Doflamingo is staring down at him with eyebrows risen in shock as if nobody has ever spoke to him like that, and Law is pretty sure he’s the first. Maybe he should think twice about talking snarky to a man that seems to have more money than god. No telling his social status, he could be in politics for all he knew. It would put a harsh blemish on his pristine career if Doflamingo only talked to the right people.
That shocked expression melts quickly though, and it’s not to one of those dazzling smiles, it’s a subtle one that has every intention of clawing at Law’s heart.
“Do you want to try me?” Doflamingo purrs.
“Are you trying to buy me?” Law quips, tilting his head to look up at the man through his lashes.
Law’s gleefully disregarding the fact that he’s flirting with a client. He can see the disappointment in Garp’s eyes now.
“I think I already have.” Doflamingo muses, moving away from the chair. Law hopes, halfheartedly, that he strides around his desk and takes his ass, but he’s wisely walking towards the door.
“Be careful,” Law drawls, setting his elbows on his desk to rest his chin on his hands, “I’m the one spending your money here.”
Doflamingo fixes a salacious smile at the smaller man, pure and utter sin and Law almost believes in love at first sight.
“You can wring me dry, doll.” Doflamingo says the words like a promise, and Law takes it as such.
And then he’s gone.
Shoes clacking, hips swaying, and that fucking car roaring to life. Law stares at the door with an amused smile even after he’s gone, not caring that anybody could walk by and look through the window to see him smiling like an idiot.
It’s been a while since Law has felt like this, had that low simmer of arousal pulsing his veins. Maybe he can’t do anything with the blonde now, but time flies by fast. The house will be finished in the blink of an eye, and when it is, Law fully plans on making do on that promise.