The desk. The drawers. The floor.

Nope.

"Where is that quill?" mutters Donquixote Doflamingo as he lifts his bulky antique desk to check if the object that he's looking for is hiding under a corner or something.

Still no sign of the quill.

It's his favorite one. A tiger-striped pheasant feather. So much more elegant than plain goose feather.

Fifteen minutes later, after having turned his room inside out, Doflamingo is convinced that the thing must be somewhere else. He puts his hands on his hips and thinks.

Sometimes Roci borrows his quill because he loses his all the time. Maybe it's with him, then?

The tall male exits his room and strides towards his brother's adjacent room. The door is slightly ajar, so Doflamingo assumes that it's safe to enter. He opens his mouth and almost calls his sibling's name when he notices that the latch bolt is jutting out from the side of the door, like someone pushed the door knob button before the door had properly clicked into place.

With his body still behind the door, Doflamingo cranes his neck to take a peek inside.

Roci is thrusting in between Law's parted thighs. From this angle, Doflamingo can see only the younger male's legs and tattooed hands. The rest of Law's body is pretty much smothered by Roci's larger one. They're fucking so hard that the bed must be creaking, but Doflamingo can't hear a single peep because of his brother's soundproof barrier. It's weirdly like watching porn with the audio muted.

The elder Donquixote isn't surprised by the scene. The couple's relationship hasn't been that discreet. Law started giving Roci the goo-goo eyes since he was in his pubescent years. Later he got heart tattoos to solidify his position in the Corazon Army. At seventeen, the boy moved into Roci's room. Anywhere the blond goes, Law follows him like a shadow.

Love is a strange thing. That stab scar on Roci's moving back makes Doflamingo recall how both males had been trying to kill each other when they first met. Look at them now. Each person has become all the world for the other. Now they're just inseparable.

When Law's toes curl and his hands dig roughly into the other's scarred back and shoulders, Doflamingo takes it as his queue to leave and shuts the door gently.

On the way back to his room, the tall male decides that it wouldn't kill him to use other quills once in a while. He could always ask his brother tomorrow whether he's seen that elusive feather or not.

At least he doesn't have to endure any distracting noises while he works.