Archive of Our Own

For some reason that Mihawk couldn’t guess, Shanks was still laying on the floor. 

As they were walking down the beach, chatting quietly and getting away from his unnecessarily loud crew (something Mihawk was grateful for) he felt as he slowly started to relax. The night was cold and dark, the moon hidden behind some clouds that prevented them from seeing too far away. But it was good enough for him. He really didn’t need to see in order to know what faces Shank was making, how his smile shined and that he was doing that head tilt of his with each question.

It was surprising how much Shanks seemed to care for this boy. He didn’t show it as much when they were with his crew, but as soon as it was only the two of them it was one rapid question after the other. All his curiosity overflowing over Mihawk, uncontrolled by all the alcohol in his bloodstream.

It was probably all that alcohol’s fault. 

One second Shanks was inquiring about the boy and the next he was tumbling over his own feet and falling face first to the sand. Mihawk almost saw it in slow motion, his body reacting on instinct. He could have prevented Shanks from falling, his hand was already brushing against the younger’s arm. But just as it was about to close around it his fingers stilled, almost like he had been slapped.

It has been years. Long years of learning how to distance himself from Shanks. It was painful, and annoying and, honestly, harder than he had anticipated. Something he couldn’t wrap his head around most of the time, because both of them knew it was coming from the start.

Mihaw was probably too young for the title he held. But in all honesty, it wasn’t on him that apparently every swordsman was subpar. As it turned out, not even the infamous pirates were up to the challenge.

The idea seemed good at first. If the government was so concerned about them it must mean they were good fighters. At least some of them should. But no. No one of them was good enough.

None of those he had crossed his path and his blade with lived up to the test. And he was quickly getting annoyed with that island and its inhabitants. What had happened that morning could hardly classify as a duel. “I’m the best swordsman of this land” he said, “I’ll win and take your title for myself” he added, his chest swelling with pride. If that island's greatest swordsman could only provide a few seconds of battle and two missed swings it spoke volumes of the deception anyone else was going to be.

So he dispatched the rest of those who were brave enough to try in barely the span of the morning. And the evening was just spent in the local tavern, waiting for a real challenge that just couldn’t seem to arrive.

What did arrive hours later, as the sun was setting, was a loud group of men. There were only four of them, but they could have been at least a thousand, taking the security and authority they walked with. And in Mihawk's mind they could also have been millions, because he honestly only cared for one of them. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the one boy standing in front of the rest. The red haired couldn’t be older than even Mihawk, probably not even of age yet. But he carried himself with the confidence of someone that was already accomplished in life.

He was loud and vibrant. The tavern was suddenly turned to a completely different place in an instant as he stepped in. That room that was broody and dark suddenly shined with the last rays of sunlight and even seemed warmer as they took themselves inside and looked for a seat. There was only one open table, the one right beside his own. And in retrospect maybe it was fate, maybe they were just meant to cross paths and meet each other once and again, as time had proven. 

“Ey, Cap’n, aint that the swordman, the famous one?” As he saw one of the other man wrap his arm around the red-haired guy’s shoulders he realized he was staring. For some reason he was simply unable to not look at him. It was almost as if his body wasn’t able to react.

There was something magnetic over him even before their eyes crossed. But as dark eyes met golden ones and the big goofy smile took over the other's face he realized “magnetic” didn’t cut it. There was something else, something even more powerful.

He saw as the boy got closer to him, not stopping at the adjacent table as he expected, but actually sitting in the chair next to his, one arm draped over the back of Mihawk’s chair. His fingers closed on instinct around his sword's hilt, but didn’t actually draw it. 

That was something that went against all his instincts, he didn’t appreciate someone standing so close. But the smile seemed sincere, and for some reason he exuded some tranquility.

“Isn’t this something amazing, lads? We’ve run into the world's best swordsman.”

“Greatest.” His voice sounded foreign even to him, somewhat smaller than usual. And apparently it was amusing to the other one, if the mischievous shine in his eyes was an indicator of anything. Annoyed, he moved the chair so the arm would be pushed away, and he saw it fall in the space behind as the other one broke laughing.

“Excuse me, greatest swordsman.” 

Two of the other men had made their way towards them a little slower, pushing the open table so it sat closer to Mihawk’s. But before he could tell them to get the hell away from him the only one missing made it to the table, holding five beers that he placed over it.

“Who invited you to sit here?”

“C’mon, we’re even inviting you to beer, and you seem lonely and sad. You should be grateful.”

“Grateful you’re insulting me?”

“Not an insult, but a mere description. You could use a smile and-”

“Captain, let him be.”

Mihawk heard him mumbling something under his breath, but since he couldn’t decipher the words and the red haired did in fact turn towards the table to grab a beer, he didn’t feel like complaining. 

No one of them had introduced themselves, all Mihawk knew was that the red haired youngster was their captain, apparently. But he didn’t really care. He had no need for their names. After that meeting he wasn’t really sure why he wasn’t already ending, he would never see them again. At least that was the idea.

He didn’t have the time for friends, not even for acquaintances. He just had to endure their presence for a little longer, only for the time it took them to get distracted so Mihawk could sneak out and head to his room for the night. He did had enough manners to not just get up and leave, even though he should have done that.

The last man that arrived, one with long silvered hair, pushed the extra beer in his direction, but Mihawk just shook his head and lifted his wine glass in his direction. He couldn’t care less for something as crude as beer, not really a pleasant taste in his opinion.

Apparently that was something that captain of theirs found immensely funny, according to the fit of laughter that almost threw him out of the chair. And the fact that he kept bringing it up the rest of the night. In the end Mihawk stayed with them for longer than he had intended, at one point starting to actually enjoy himself and the stupid and easy humor of those four. It was weird, he even had to fight the muscles of his face in an effort to not smile. 

It was an easy night. A good end to a shitty day at the very least.

With a murmured excuse, Mihawk finally got up from the table and made his way to the door. The cold night was a welcomed change after so many hours trapped in a tavern. With a little luck he could enjoy one last good night of sleep before sailing away again. Or so he thought.

Just as Mihawk had got to the street he heard a loud scream at his back calling his name. Obviously, when he turned, it was that red-haired guy again.

“What would you need now? Haven’t you laughed enough at me?”

He didn’t said anything until he was standing right in front of Mihawk. They were basically the same height, maybe Mihawk still standing just a little taller. He saw the red-hair take the strawhat that was hanging at his back, put it on and immediately take it off with a flourish. “The name’s Shanks, thought I should introduce myself, since you’ll be seeing and hearing a lot of me out on the seas.”

Mihawk had to bite his tongue in order to not give him a snarky response and tell him that he hadn’t asked. He guessed it was normal for people to actually exchange names and the sort when talking for so long. “Okay. Whatever.”

“Aren’t you charming… Well, see you around.” With one last wink, he actually winked at Mihawk, Shanks turned on his heels and returned to the bar. Mihawk saw the door close behind him far before he actually was able to take in what had just happened. That was one weird guy, definitely. 

Luckly they would probably never cross paths again. The seas were too huge and unpredictable. No way they would cross again. At least that’s what he hoped for.

Sadly, he was wrong.

Shank’s was still laying on the floor, arm spread to the side and loud laughter filling the night. He was always so loud and theatrical -although he was always accusing Mihawk of the latter-, so determined to make known to the whole world he was there and was ready to be seen. To Mihawk, Shanks was like the ocean: loud, dangerous and full of mysteries. Also like the ocean, Shanks was something Mihawk feared he would never be able to get away from.

Even though he knew he should. He had to, in fact.

Still, he stood just by Shanks, looking down to that stupid smile of his, to the way his eyes lit with a mix of amusement and alcohol-fuelled mischief. Not like Shanks actually needed to be inebriated to be the cause and reason for mischief. No, that was just him, him and his dumb easy smiles and bad ideas that somehow could pull multitudes to do his bidding.

And Mihawk wanted to be different from that, he really did. He had spent years working in order to not be manipulated by Shanks, even if it was much more difficult than what he had expected. Because he wanted to make him happy, to be the cause of that smile and the person Shanks would turn to when he was feeling content. 

“Ey, help me up, would you?” Shanks' voice was like a wake up call for Mihawk, he hadn't realized he had been staring for a while now. At first he was going to help him, pull him up and continue with their walk. That was probably the best, the more normal thing to do given the circumstances. 

But Mihawk couldn’t force himself to take his hand.

“Do you really need assistance in getting up? Can’t you just do it yourself?” He said, after a couple long seconds of silence. 

“Of course I can, I just don’t want to…” His words came in the form of a low whine, probably a tactic that usually worked for him because, who could say no to Shanks? Who could actually have the nerve and cold blood needed to say no when he was pouting like that and his eyes were basically watering and he did that tilt of his head, and... Honestly, any man just a little bit weaker than Mihawk would give in to any and every one of his whims.

But Mihawk couldn’t. He couldn’t give in to Shanks, not again. Not ever. Because even if he wished he was stoic, even if to everyone else he prided himself as being someone that could not be bothered by what others did or want, he wasn’t. Not when it came to Shanks, not when it was that smile and his chest tightened in pain.

Not when Shanks laughed the way he was laughing now, not when he saw him push himself upwards so he was sitting on the sand. “You’re as helpful as always, charming …”

His laugh got even louder when he saw that Mihawk was just standing still, not even bothering with a response, as always. Shanks have been calling him charming even since the day they met, but the word was not more true than it was then. Just another way of making fun of him.

And in all honesty, it was not something Mihawk liked putting up with, because even if it meant nothing the stupid word made him feel things. The small dip in Shanks’ voice when he said it, the stop right before saying it. It meant nothing. It changed nothing.

“Don’t ignore me, Mihawk! You’re no fun these days.” Shanks’ hand closed around his calf, and Mihawk froze in place. He shouldn’t do that, they didn’t touch. Not… not anymore.

Mihawk’s travels had taken him all over the world. Still, he remained unbeaten.

Everytime a small part of him hoped that on the next island someone would actually be able to beat him, to be an actual challenge at the very least. But everytime that was proven wrong. Even though, as he made it to shore he once again hoped for an actual challenger.

Mihawk made his way down towards the beach with long slow strides. First he needed to make himself seen, so any possible challenger would go to him. It has been years since the last time he had to actually announce himself, the cross sword on his back already speaking volumes. Any swordsman worth his gold knew who he was, anyone that saw him knew what it represented.

The beach was empty, low tide providing a pretty big scenario for the fights that were to come. Even if they were probably going to be mostly underwhelming.

Out of the corner of his eye he could already see groups of people approaching. Some only there to watch, some already wielding swords and looking only slightly terrified, some of them laughing with nervousness as their friends tried to push them in his general direction.

One after the other, they were quickly dispatched, sand getting redder by the second. As most people did, one after the other they chose first blood. And that was disappointing. Not that Mihawk wanted to kill or die, but most people that chose that kind of duel did it because they knew they could never win.

Mihawk won over a dozen duels in the span of half an hour. Challengers getting both bolder and scared as he dispatched them. Probably some of them were counting on him getting tired. Most people would. Not like wielding that kind of sword was an easy task, but he was no regular man.

The only real thing that came close to surprise him was the group of men that appeared walking down the beach and the loud scream of pirates . 

And there they were, once again: red-haired and his crew.

Shanks looked as sure and confident in himself as always. Long curly red hair showing from under his hat and long black coat floating right behind him. Only his first mate, Benn -Mihawk hated that now he knew their names, most of them at least, excluding the new incorporations or those he had managed to avoid- kept walking by his side, the rest of them waiting close enough to be seen but far enough it almost didn’t count. But there was no need for more of them to scare almost everyone away. 

“Here to challenge me at last, red?” Mihawk’s scream made those two stop in their tracks just a few yards away from him.

It was almost a stupid question, one that only tried to make the villagers calm down. All those years ago Shanks had been right about one thing: his name was now resounding in each and every corner of the seas. There was no one left that didn’t know who red-haired Shanks was. Who the Red Hair Pirates were and all those rumors that rose wherever they sailed. 

For better or worse their presence was hardly missed and suspicion and fear appeared in every single bystander. Something Mihawk found stupid, even he could see most of it was unfounded rumors, no one in their right mind would believe half the bullshit that people said about Shanks. Yeah, sure, he was a pirate, and he fought, killed and stole when he had to, or more like when he felt like it. But he thought those rumors about him freely slaughtering people based on random criteria were simply to stupid to be believed.

No monster, no matter how good a liar they were, could actually hide behind that honest smile of his. That same stupid smile he always flashed at Mihawk whenever the topic of duels was brought up. Every time their paths had crossed Shanks had tempted Mihawk with the idea of a duel. And even if the first two or three times he had taken it as a joke, as years flew by Mihak grew impatient. He could feel Shanks’ power, he was able to see that the man was destined to be a great warrior, a worthy opponent. And he couldn't wait for the day it came.

Every single time Shanks had said he would one day challenge him, took the title of greatest swordsman so he could display it right next to his title of pirate, even one day next to the king of the pirates one almost everyone was fighting for (Mihaw rarely took that last one seriously, he never smiled as bright when he said that, so he probably didn’t want it as much as thought people expect him to want it). Still, he never actually challenged him.

Shanks always backed out at the last second, he said there was no need to challenge him in order to know he was going to lose. In my current state , he always added. Not yet, hawky. You’ll have to wait a little longer and make do with all those other challengers. One day…

One day. 

One day that never seemed to came. And Mihawk was starting to feel restless. He even had been the one to bring up the challenge in the last few months. Something Shanks and his crew seemed to find really funny, judging by the not-as-quiet-as-they-hoped laughs. But his pride could take a little laugh if it meant he got what he wanted.

And that day. That one day did seem to be the right day. Shanks didn’t answer his question, but he did let his coat fall to the sand, from where Benn picked it up reprimanding his captain for being so careless with his stuff. And Shanks did take the final steps towards him, left hand falling over the hilt of the sword that hung from his waist.

Shanks had grown in the last years, now standing basically at the same height as Mihawk, probably taller if he were to take off his boots. His shoulders were also broader, and even if the smile was the same, the shadow of a beard that cloaked it was new.

“You sure you’re ready for this, hawky?” His voice was low, probably only meant to be heard by him. And even if his smile was nice, the words and his eyes veiled a threat: he was not going to hold back.

Finally .

“You done cowering behind promises, red?”

His words ignited something in Shanks, something that shone in his smile and that managed to light up his eyes with power. A power that for a second almost had Mihawk submitting. He was not surprised Shanks was able to use haki, but the level of it did caught him slightly off ward.

Sadly for Shanks, who probably wanted to end that challenge easily and quickly, golden flashed back and something aching of a warning reverberated with his heart beats.

“I do not recommend for you all to actually stay and watch, no matter how tempting the spectacle may seem!” Nor him or Shanks took their eyes off each other, both knowing the first one to do so would be at disadvantage. Still, they both heard the few remaining villagers that had been brave enough to not disappear as soon as the pirate had walked down the beach made a hasty exit.

Even Benn made his way out, only stopping to wish good luck to his captain and promising to go back with a doctor when the duel was done.

They both stood there for a while, seconds and minutes going by as they let their hakis test each other. Shanks had drawn his sword, but both of them still had them pointing towards the floor, not even falling into position.

After so long Mihawk was in no rush. He had managed to wait years for this duel, and after so long he was not the one that had to take the first swing. He was willing to let Shanks take that honor, be the one that set the pace for the duel.

But Shanks was frozen in place, his smile getting softer as his haki got stronger. His breathing was long and profound, calm even knowing what was to come. Just like Mihawk, he was in no rush, no nervousness or fear propelling him to move.

“Now, this… this is it. What I’ve been missing.” Mihawk didn’t get a chance to ask what he was talking about, what was he missing or what this was. Before that, Shanks was already raising his sword and in a quick move bringing it back down towards Mihawk’s flank.

Just as the sword was deflected Shank’s smile grew wider, and with a low good he tried again. And again. And again. Each one of his thrust parried and answered just with as much force.

Each time the swords crashed so did their wills, their emotion, and it almost reflected in the world around them. It was like the crashes brought waves of air, sand flying everywhere from both their movements and the wind. Once and again they came to each other, closing with each thrust and then getting away to avoid being the ones to get hit.

As minutes went by, Mihawk started feeling something growing inside him for the first time in years. No other person had been able to challenge him like that in such a long time. No other fighter had the might and will Shanks did. Also, no one else was as annoying and talkative as Shanks. He kept laughing everytime one of the swords came close to cut skin, kept commenting and teasing Mihawk for every missed swing.

“You know, I thought you were better than this, hawky.” He said, dodging one slash by crouching down.

“And I wasn’t expecting you to be so annoying,” he answered, deflecting the sword once again. “This is a duel, not a monologue.”

With one fast movement he finally made contact with Shanks’ body, although it wasn’t with the cutting edge and only served to send Shanks flying to the side and onto the sand with a hard hit. He could hear him mumble a curse under his breath.

As he got closer again, he felt a pang of emotion and ardor burnin through his veins. This was a good fight, an amazing one. He could feel sweat dripping down his back for the first time in forever, his breath was getting rigged, his heart was pulsing a mile an hour.

This. This is the fight he’ve been pursuing for so long.

Or so he thought. But of course, Shanks had to do something that bursted that perfect bubble of his. Because he was a cheater after all, all cocky words and selling himself for more than what he was worth. And because he was not going to simply take the loss.

Just as Mihawk was making it to him, Shanks turned over himself, right hand on the floor and leg thrown in the air to keep Mihawk at a distance. Something that didn’t really work. He only needed a small pause to avoid it. 

Sadly, Shanks was counting on that. Because the next thing he knew was that there was sand being thrown at his face. And Mihawk had to tear his eyes away from his rival to avoid being blinded. It was only a second, but that was more than enough for Shanks to land a blow. He felt the skin of his arm break, warm blood slipping down his elbow.

And any other of his duels that day would have ended there, as blood colored the sand at his feet. But that duel was like no other, and Shanks was like no common challenger. So they both kept going, not even having to check with the other.

“Cheater…”

“Not cheating, using the resources. That’s what a pirate does, charming. ”

Just as he winked with his last word he had to take a jump to the side, yelping in surprise as Mihawk’s sword twisted in the air and came back against him.

They kept the duel going for over an hour after that. Pulses of strength and haki crashing one after the other. Both of them managed to land some good powerful blows, and both their bodies were starting to actually get sore and tired. And even if Mihawk didn’t want that duel to end he knew he had to finish it. Because in the end, even if Shanks was a good opponent, he was not as good as him. Not yet at least. Even though he could see a future where he was beaten by him.

Shanks’ sword flew out of his hands with a swift movement, and Mihawk brought himself to a stop, cutting edge of his sword pressed against Shanks’ chest but not putting enough force in the gesture to actually hurt him.

“Okay, okay. I surrender…” Shanks brought his hands up, and tried to take a step back, although he only managed to fall to the floor, hands barely managing to support him. “Damn, I honestly thought I had a chance, hawky.”

“At least you actually gave me a fight.” For some reason Mihawk felt like he needed to confort Shanks. Maybe because he needed him to keep his bravado and keep training. He needed more duels like that. Even better ones.

Mihawk sat down right next to Shanks, letting his blade rest by his side. He was starting to feel all the tiredness and sore muscles now that they had stopped. As his breathing got even and he withdrew the force of his haki all the hours fighting finally got to him.

Damn, he wanted to get back to his boat and rest.

“Hey…” Shanks’ voice was soft and, as Mihawk turned to look at him, so were his eyes and his hand. A hand that for some reason was now caressing his cheek. That was new, that was… something. Something he felt in his stomach and that had him moving his face a little closer to Shanks’.

But Mihawk didn’t like people in his space. He didn’t like people close to him. Or touching him. And he and Shanks never touched. It wasn’t like a rule or something, they just didn’t feel the need. They were forces of nature, dangerous beings that traveled the seas and only crossed at a distance. Something that was best kept apart.

“What?...”

“You’re bleeding, charming…” He almost felt out of his body, like he was watching the scene from outside. Mihawk couldn’t even feel the place where they touched. Only warmth and tingles in the area. What was that? What's this?

He almost would’ve sworn Shanks leaned into him, got a little closer, eyes fixed in his cheek and something different from haki shining on them. Something that got even brighter when he moved up to his eyes and saw him staring back.

There was something thick in the air. Something that almost felt like a haki wave but was different. Almost more powerful even if there was not real strength in it. 

It was something that he definitely couldn’t name, couldn’t even place a finger over and simply point out what it was. And okay, Mihawk was aware he wasn’t really good with words and people and all those words that had to do with what people felt, but he sensed that this was something that not even an expert on the matter could name. Because it was special, unique. He did know as much.

They were so close. And that feeling was so powerful. And Shanks skin was rough and warm, and felt good against his own. And… and Mihawk felt his mouth dry and a pull on his stomach. One that made him feel like he was falling. Perhaps because the sand under him held no importance compared to Shanks, because he could be sitting anywhere in the world and it would be the same, but no one else could take Shanks’ place in front of him.

“Mihawk… I’m- Are you…” Sadly he would never know what Shanks was going to say, because they both separated like if they were hit with reality. 

They both had felt their presence far before they saw the pirates arrive, a numerous group of Shanks’ men running down the beach in their direction. Loud screams and cheer when they saw their captain waving back at them. Did they think Mihawk was going to kill him? Why were they so happy?

“Who won, cap’n?!” 

“Well… As you can see we’re both fine but tired, so I would say it was a tie. Honest-”

Mihawk got up from the sand, cutting Shanks’ discourse and all that lies he was clearly having a hard time believing even himself: “ I won.”

At the same time Shanks yelled a “just let me brag a bit, hawky…”, Mihawk saw the other pirates turn to one another and start handing out coins and complaining out loud.

“Did some of you actually betted against me? Outrageous!!

“Not our fault, captain,” said Benn, getting a little closer and pocketing his newly earned money. “Only a fool would've thought you would win…”

“Mutiny. This is Mutiny!”

Even if the fight had been nice, the aftermath was not so great. Shanks had dragged him towards one of his men, a doctor apparently, and said he was not to leave before all those injuries were treated. Yeah, but at least I hurt the greatest swordsman in the world , he kept saying to his men whenever they mocked him for the loss, that’s way more than anyone else can say…

And yeah, Shanks was right. But seeing him get all worked up over his men's words was too funny. So he kept quiet and let Hongo -once again learning another one of their names, sadly- cover all the wounds with ointment and bandages. 

Once again, Mihawk found himself actually spending a couple hours with Shanks and his men, all celebrating and having so much fun around him that at one point he was dragged into that enjoyment.

Mihawk didn't have to put up with that.

He knew it was a bad idea even before he docked and got to land. He shouldn’t have sought Shanks. It was hard enough to keep his determination and stay away from him without having him clinging to his leg and pouting in his direction.

He didn’t need all those fucking stupid memories of something he didn’t have. Something he was never going to get. Something he had forced himself to accept. Something he felt growing again and needed to stop before it got to the hurting point again.

Shanks was still talking, and upon being ignored he tried to get Mihawk’s attention again by shaking his leg. But the swordsman just shook him off, freeing at the same time his leg and part of his brain.

With a step back he regained some of his composure. He was fine, and he had already done what he had come for. Staying for that stupid drink had been an awful idea, but he was still weak to Shanks. Even after so many years. Still, his job there was done, so he could leave.

He had to leave.

So that’s what he did. Mihawk just turned on his heels and tried to articulate a goodbye, even if probably it wasn’t much more than a choked word or two that refused to leave his lips. Because even if he knew he had to, he could never say parting words to Shanks.

Not even the first time they met, not any one single time in the years they had known each other. Mihawk was simply unable to say a normal goodbye, not even a curt bye. He couldn’t do it, because he didn’t want to think of a time that turned that farewell into a definitive one.

He did prided himself in being stoic and strong, but it was all a farce. He was weak when it came to Shanks. So weak and pathetic.

“The fuck’s wrong with you?!” In all his wallowing Mihawk had actually managed to forget Shanks’ presence. He was so focused on the idea of Shanks that he actually forgot him, at least until a strong body crashed against him from behind and Mihawk was thrown down to the floor because of the force.

Shanks wasn’t really stronger than him, and had Mihawk been a little more focused he could’ve avoided the crash. But he wasn’t. So one second he was making a hasty exit and the very next he was laying down, Shanks’ warm body pressed against his back.

And fuck if that wasn’t a feeling, a memory he wished he could forget.

That duel was only the first one. For the following months, years, they took a rematch everytime an island was unlucky enough to have them be there together. and everytime Shanks got closer to beat him. He kept landing cuts and punches that left Mihawk sore and bruised and forced to rely on Hongo to aid him in order to avoid an infection.

Other challengers came by, but Mihawk found them progressively more and more annoying. After having found someone that was actually up to the test, all those reckless and underprepared that came by seemed even worse.

To Shanks' crew displeasure -at least Benn had complained to Mihawk that it was annoying- they crossed paths almost once every few months, sometimes more, sometimes less. And, apparently, in the meantime their captain was constantly making them train with him and trying to get better both in his fighting and his use of haki.

Something that still wasn’t enough to beat Mihawk.

The swordsman had been staying on that island for a couple days. It was like a minivacation, some spare time for himself. He was not a sentimental man, and something as mundane as a birthday rarely made him stop; but for some reason he felt like it was not yet the time to sail again. And he rarely went against his instinct, those were what kept him alive after all.

The day of his birthday Mihawk was roaming down the dock market when he saw the jolly roger and something inside him almost clicked. Shanks hadn’t come to fight him in over three months, probably too busy being a pirate to waste some time in a fight, according to what Mihawk had read in the papers. But he was there now.

Suddenly Mihawk found himself walking towards the ship, slowly making his way as Shank’s crew docked the each-time-bigger-vessel of the red-haired pirates. The way down the dock was slow but sure, he could almost feel something thick in the air between them, even if it wasn’t there. No way Shanks was actually projecting haki his way, he couldn’t even know he was there. At least not until one of the officials spotted him and with a loud “Captain, looks like haw-eyes’ here!” provoked a ruffle on deck and Shanks’ bright smiling face appeared on sight.

“Ey, hawky. It’s been a long time, eh?”

Mihawk came to a stop just a few steps away, his eyes focused on Shanks. Out of the corner of his eye he saw some of the men, especially the new ones, scatter back into the vessel in an effort to get away from him. That was nice, even if Shanks and most of the officials had never really feared or even truly respected him, at least those who had met Mihawk first through his reputation seemed to do so.

“Sorry to say so, but I’m here to disappoint, charming .” Shanks had made his way to him, letting his hat hang over his back and letting his hair dance with the wind. And for some reason Mihawk noticed that first, before the words started to make sense. Because for some reason the state of his hair and the fact that it looked fluffy and longer was vital to Mihawk. So vital he let a couple seconds pass by before the muscles of his face started working again and he was able to raise one eyebrow in question. And Shanks was able to answer without missing a beat even if he never asked out loud. “I’m not here to fight today. Only party and celebration on this fantastic day.”

That surprised Mihawk. The only other time Shanks had denied him a duel was because of a particularly ugly wound in his left arm. And that was okay, Mihawk was not so much an asshole to not get that fighting him wounded wouldn't be funny. But because of a party. That was ridiculous.

“And what's the joyous occasion?” He forced himself to ask, because he could see that Shans wanted him to, that he was dying to tell him why.

“Well, you see, charming . It’s one of the most important days of the year, it’s my birthday.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” Shanks looked at him in confusion the smile on his lips quivering a little, probably because he was expecting some kind of happy wishes or at the very least a happy birthday , and maybe Mihawk was being kind of an asshole for not doing that, but it just felt so weird, so unexpected to share a birthday, that he couldn’t really react.

Especially for the two very different ways they seemed to perceive the day in. Mihawk had never even thought about celebrating a day just because he was born on it; but Shanks did seem like the kind of person that made a pretty big deal about it, like he did with everything else.

Shanks cared too much about everything, in Mihawk’s opinion, he made a big deal of the smallests of things and turned everything into an enormous event. But the fact that he seemed to be hurt by Mihawk’s indifference hitted hard.

“I… I mean, that’s nice. Happy birthday, or whatever. I was just… surprised.”

“ Or whatever . Your charm’s getting out of the charts.” The smile was back in Shanks’ lips, and Mihawk felt a little better because of it. “Why’s it surprising, though?”

“Well, not surprising. It’s stupid, honestly. Only it is…” Mihawk didn’t want to say it, because he knew Shanks would make a fuss about it. Shanks would turn that casual meeting into a big event or something. And Mihawk wasn’t having it. But he could see some bright and honest curiosity in Shanks’ eyes, and couldn’t resist it. “It is also mine. My birthday I mean. Also today. Weird…”

“Weird you say?” The gleam in his eyes didn't anticipate anything good, and Mihawk realized that telling him was, as expected, a mistake. “It's fantastic! Only more reason to celebrate.”

“No.”

“What? Why not?” 

“I have no need to celebrate something as trivial and unimportant. I find no pride or joy on my birthing day; and in consequence I do not celebrate it.”

Shanks stared at him as if he was an alien or something of the like, as if someone not taking each and every chance to go all out on a celebration was impossible. Maybe it was in his world, because if he knew one thing about Shanks was he lived in a whole different one than him.

“Okay, we won’t celebrate yours if that’s what you want. But you’ll come, right? For mine?”

Mihawks knew he shouldn’t, there was no need or point in celebrating Shanks’ birthday. But he looked so excited and his eyes were shining so brightly, and it was only a stupid party on their ship. So, what harm can it do?

“I’ll try to, if I’m not too busy with preparations.”

“You leaving already?”

“Yes. Tomorrow at the latest. I have other places to be.”

“Tomorrow at the earliest, charming . Don’t stand me up on my birthday.” Mihawk was absolutely sure he could never let him down purposely, but he was not going to let his reputation go to waste so easily, so he retreated from the docks with only one sharp nod of his head and ignoring Shanks’ loud yells.

Sunset came faster than he could comprehend. Mihawk did finish buying anything he could need on his way towards the next island he would make his next stop at, and he did so in record time, making sure to not be busy at the time he supposed Shanks’ party started. He hadn’t given him an hour, but about early night and until they couldn’t stand any longer sounded about right for a party of his.

So after a quick dinner in a local tavern, Mihawk made his way to the ship, questioning each and every one of his life choices along the way.

To no one's surprise it was loud, wild and rowdy. By the time Mihawk arrived the pirates were already drunk out of their minds. Alcohol of various types and forms being passed and displayed all over.

Mihawk made his way towards the captain’s cabin, in front of which he could see a desk where Shanks and some of his officials sat. They were laughing and talking in a close way, all of them leaning over the table and pushing each other with big smiles on their faces.

Well, they were close except for one exception: the open spot right by Shanks. And even if there was no reason for it, Mihawk felt like it was for him. Upon seeing the space, his heart did one weird thing in his chest, like it got both smaller and bigger at the same time. That was something Mihawk hadn’t felt before.

Or maybe once before: when Shanks had left that stupid soft caress in his cheek.

Still Mihawk refused to acknowledge it. He had read enough to know something like that could only mean feelings. And he was not going to go down that rabbit hole. He didn’t have feelings for Shanks. He couldn’t. Not like that.

Somehow, he managed to make his way to the table without being spotted. All of them simply too inebriated to care and too confident that nothing could come their way to stand at attention. Loud conversation and even louder laughs died as Mihawk sat beside Shanks.

Although it only lasted for a second before the red-haired was throwing an arm around Mihawk’s shoulders and yelling again. “You finally made it! Almost thought you were standing me up!”

Mihawk saw some coins being thrown around the table, and idly wondered if Shanks’ crew had betted on his presence there. But he only devoted a second to that thought. If the officials were so bored and nosy it was none of his business or concern.

“Yeah, got nothing better to do.” And even if that wasn’t a lie it felt like one. Sure, there was nothing Mihawk could be doing on that island aside from sleeping or wasting the night on his ship watching the waves until he felt like sleeping. But he would have dropped almost anything he could’ve done for seeing Shanks’ stupid bright smile. That one his presence was causing. Or so he hoped.

Fuck, he was pathetic.

A wine glass was placed in front of him, and Mihawk raised one eyebrow at that. The rest of them were drinking beer or some other form of strong liquor, but none of them had a glass of red liquid. One red that was not that different from the one that got in his peripheral vision when Shanks leaned towards him. “I got it for you. I know you’re too much of a snob to appreciate beer, but don’t want you not having something to drink, that would’ve been rude.”

Yeah, he was simply trying to be a little nice. The fact that he got a special drink for him meant nothing. Even if his insides were twisting and tightening with a pang of emotion and content. Mihawk’s brain was having to fight itself, because on one hand he needed to convince himself that he meant nothing special to Shanks; but on the other he had gone out of his way to get him a drink. 

He didn’t know what to say to that, what to make of the things he was feeling. So instead he took the glass and tilted it a little, happy to see the telltale crescent shape that insinuated it was a good wine. How much did Shanks actually spend on that?

Mihawk felt the eyes of some of Skank’s men over him, but not as heavy as the dark ones by his side. It was obvious they didn’t understand what he was doing, but Mihawk was in no rush, so he took a profound sniff of the liquid. Even if the smell wasn’t that strong, it did make him think of sweets and the color red. Or maybe that was only Shanks by his side. At last, he took the glass to his lips, cheered by laughter and lots of commentary for his antics. Those brute pirates clearly didn’t have a clue to the proper way of drinking. Something he already knew based on their enjoyment of beer.

As he took the sip the tip of his tongue started to tingle a little bit, and it was an easy and fast travel for the liquid down his throat. It wasn’t his favorite, and he would have never chosen this one for himself. But the gesture was nonetheless appreciated.

“So?” Shanks’ eyes were intensely focused over him, curiosity and excitement dancing behind a layer of glossy drunkenness.

“It’s not bad. A little too sweet for my taste. But better than beer.” Mihawk wasn’t sure why, but his words were reason for a new round of laughs and loud cheers among the pirates. 

Luckily the atencion didn’t stick to him for much longer. Shanks quickly changed the topic when he turned back towards his friends and started a poker game with a deck he quite literally took out from under his hat.

After only a handful of rounds Mihawk had demonstrated he was far too good for them. Most of them proved to be simply not smart enough to account for the odds, some were too drunk to actually focus for longer than a round, and then there was Shanks. Shanks who wore his heart on his sleeve and couldn’t help himself from displaying his emotions and what he thought of his hand every single time.

So just as quickly as the game had begun it ended. 

Shanks got up from his chair, complaining and whining because it was unfair that they were beating him not only on his birthday, but also in front of his guest. And that was simply rude.

“Your guest’s the one picking us clean, cap. He’s the rude one.”

Mihawk could only sigh at their antics, it was definitely too much energy and flare for him. “Not my fault none of you actually know the rules, or how to hold a bluff…”

Half the men got up from the table, scattering in order to find something new to drink and somewhere nicer to spend the night, somewhere they weren’t losing all their money at.

At first Mihawk didn’t give that more than a thought, watching Shanks disappear into the crowd without much more than a last glance. And at first he didn’t take into consideration the minutes that went by without him returning. It was his birthday party after all, of course he wanted to celebrate and spend some time with his friends.

But once the wine bottle was empty and Mihawk was still sitting in the same place, listening to a stupid conversation between two of the officials about who was the best fisher, he decided it was enough. It’s not like he had expected Shanks to ignore all his friends in his favor. But he would’ve appreciated a little bit of attention, considering he was only there because it seemed so important to the other.

Just as quietly as Mihawk had gotten there he tried to leave the ship. Although he did see Benn looking in his direction for a second before disappearing into the crowd. A crowd that was a multitude of young and drunk pirates with far too much energy to Mihawk’s taste.

It had been a bad idea. He shouldn’t have gone to that stupid party. Sure, the first few minutes were fine, but he wasn’t cut out to be surrounded by so many people. Especially not when his mind was making him feel things over the fact that none of those people were Shanks.

He had gone because there was something wrong with him, with the way Shanks made him feel and Mihawk wanted to find a reason for it, and ideally also a cure. But all he got was a weird feeling in his stomach and a lot of annoyance.

It was so stupid. He was, for thinking Shanks had actually meant something with the invite. It was simply an excuse to have fun and drink and party, and Mihawk was there so Shanks probably just felt obligated to invite him. Yeah, that must be it. He was trying to be nice.

And for some reason that nice made Mihawk felt all important and special. And he wasn’t. Not to Shanks.

As the yelling and the music slowly died at his back, Mihawk regained some of his thinking abilities. His brain started to take control of his body again, because even considering all the alcohol it was stronger and more composed than his stupid heart. Because unlike his heart his brain was not feeling broken and hurt. Because even taking everything into consideration, his brain was not aching for something impossible.

Something he would get over in no time, surely.

These feelings were not real. They didn’t mean anything. He was only accusing some loneliness and found Shanks interesting and someone he could relate to. It was nothing else. Nothing.

He had almost made all the way to his ship by the time he heard the loud and frantic steps behind him. When he turned it was to a large mane of red hair crashing into him. As arms curled around him Mihawk froze in place, too taken back for the action.

“You left. Why?” Shanks was warm and clearly druk out of his mind. That was the only possible explanation as to why he was hugging Mihawk. He shouldn't be hugging Mihawk.

“I was- got- I’m leaving tomorrow, red. Wanted to sleep a little before.” Yeah, that sounded right. It made sense. He wasn’t leaving because of his feelings and that stupid little jealousy. No, it was because he was sailing first thing in the morning. Yeah.

“But it’s my- our birthday. And you promised to come to my party.”

“I did no such thing. And either way, I attended your party.”

“But left too soon. I wanted you to stay a little longer.”

Mihawk felt those words in his core. Felt them aching in his heart and down to his stomach. Shanks wanted him to stay by his side. Did that- did that mean something? Or was Mihawk reading too much into it? Surely Shanks didn’t mean anything. Right?

But even if he didn’t, it still meant so much to Mihawk.

“Still, it’s late. I’m sorry I left unannounced, but I do need to sleep.”

Shanks finally took a little step back, although he was still too close, and his arms were still hugging Mihawk’s shoulders. And now suddenly it was worse, because he was staring into his eyes with an uncharacteristic seriousness. And his breath smelt like alcohol, but he didn’t care. Couldn’t care as his hands took a consciousness of their own and found Shanks hips and hugged him back closer.

God, he wanted Shanks closer. Much, much closer…

“Maybe…” Shanks was so close he could almost feel his lips moving, and Mihawk had to do a gigantic effort in order to not look at them. “Maybe I should escort you back to your ship. Make sure nothing bad happens to you.”

They were quite literally only a few steps away. And there was nothing, no one on that island that could do anything against Mihawk. Both of them knew that. But the excuse sounded too good to ignore it.

So Mihawk nodded, not really wanting to let go of Shanks.

Shanks whose smile was so big and bright, Shanks that was so enticing and alluring, Shanks who almost had Mihawk throwing all his self control and restraint flying out the window. It was only through years of learned restraint and the fact that he couldn’t bear to lose Shanks as a friend and rival that he managed to get away.

Shanks’ hands still lingered over his shoulders for a couple seconds, as if letting go of him pained him physically. But that was probably only a little delay on his reaction time due to the alcohol.

The last steps toward the ship were suddenly too few. Only granting them a few seconds to walk side by side, before they arrived. And at that moment Mihawk could have taken any excuse that granted him a little bit more of Shanks’ time. As selfish and greedy as it sounded.

That day he was lucky enough to have Shanks grant him an excuse: “Hey, I know you didn’t want to celebrate your birthday with everyone else, but… but maybe a drink? Just the two of us.”

“Yeah, that sounds nice. Just the two of us.”

One after the other they got on the ship and climbed up to the crow's nest. It was a tight space, barely enough to fit two grown men. But in Mihawk’s opinion that may have made it better. Shanks was the first one to sit, back resting against the low wall and a bottle of rum appearing somehow in his hand.

Their shoulders were touching, so close someone could maybe say they were sitting one atop the other. And Mihawk’s hands were shaking a little bit as he passed two glasses to Shanks.

“To us. And happy birthday, charming”

Mihawk felt the corners of his mouth pulling upwards, but managed to fight that action by letting out a long prolonged sigh. “Sure, to us.”

The rest of the night was easy, the two of them laying there comfortably, talking and looking up at the stars without any worry in their minds. It was almost what Mihawk wanted: enough quiet to be tranquil, but still Shanks’ voice, content and full of a joy that only belonged to him.

Slowly the cold started to get more prominent, and just as slowly they got closer to each other. Mihawk’s head resting over Shanks’ shoulder, eyes heavy with both sleep and calm. Shanks' arm once again found a way around Mihawk, his hand idly moving up and down Mihawk’s back.

“It ended in a pretty big fight.” Was saying Shanks, smile obvious in his lips even if Mihawk wasn’t looking. “Damn marines blew or mast out in a fucking second. But we’re not an easy crew to take, you see. Like, c’mon, they even had the upper hand ‘cause of mobility. And still, it was their ship, the one making a run for their lives after a barely entertaining fight.”

As laughter started to build up in Shanks’ chest, Mihawk was able to feel it directly under him, his head moving with the spasms. “The marines tend to do that, yes. Too concerned with self preservation and the likes.”

“You encounter them a lot? It doesn’t surprise me that you can take one of their fleets on your own, but that sounds awesome. Tell me.”

“Not a lot, luckily. They do show up from time to time, but take off to the seas as soon as it begins to get interesting. People I wouldn’t mind fighting tend to do that.” 

Under him Shanks stiffened, his arm closing tighter around Mihawk. “Like me?”

“Like you, yes. But you do have the excuse of not being good enough and needing to train…”

Shanks pinched him on the side for the comment, letting out a sound of annoyance that provoked a small laugh in Mihawk. By that point he was sure they had drunk too much. Even if quantity wise it wasn’t that much, for some reason all that alcohol had gotten to his head and was making him act oddly.

He was never this affectionate with anyone, he never let himself get as close and enjoy someone’s company. Mihawk was not like this. But Shanks was warm and weirdly smelt like soap. And fuck. Fuck he shouldn’t be enjoying his company so much. He really shouldn’t.

And he really needed to find a way to stop thinking that. There was no good in what his thoughts were up to. He needed a way out of them. “So, this last months? What have you been up to?”

Shanks took a second too long before answering, which told Mihawk he definitely had something good to tell, even if he insisted it hadn’t been anything relevant.

“Okay, okay. I’ll tell you some of it, although it wasn’t that interesting. Well, it all started when we stumbled upon a pretty weird rumor. I don’t really remember all the details, but the important part was that there was a pretty big-interesting-unique treasure. And well, we’re pretty simple men, you know? We hear treasure, we’re in. The problem is: we weren’t the only ones to hear the rumors…”

As Shanks kept talking, Mihawk let himself be dragged a little bit closer, sighting in content as the voice slowly calmed him down and put him to sleep. When his eyes closed Mihawk thought that it was definitely time to tell Shanks to get back to his ship. But he didn’t want to.

The last thing he heard was Shanks’ laughing, calling his name probably to tell him to get away and get to bed. But he got quiet as Mihawk’s hand closed around the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him as if the world would end if they separated.

“Okay, okay. Sleep then, charming. Good night…”

His sleep was profound and dreamless. And came to him so quickly Mihawk was definitely confused when he woke up, laying on the hard wooden floor and with a big strong body clinging to him from behind. His body tensed, rolling over himself in order to fall into an adequate position for attack. But just as his knees made contact with the floor and Mihawk got ready to punch, he saw Shanks.

The younger was still sleeping, his long coat draped over him and halfway through the floor where Mihak was not even a second before. What? Were they…? Huh?

Shanks’ hand appeared from under the coat, tapping softly on the ground, and Mihawk heard him mumble incoherent words of bother. Mihawk could swear he even heard his name in those mumbles, but decided to ignore it.

Enough trouble was he having to deal with his own disjointed thoughts as it was.

Why was Shanks sleeping by him? Why was Shanks cuddling him?

His head was going too fast for him to take in everything. And the slight hangover was not helping at all. No. What wasn’t helping at all was Shanks’ presence there. He had to leave. But Mihawk couldn’t force himself to reach out to Shanks and shake him awake.

So instead he jumped down from the crow’s nest, landing with a loud hit that managed to finally startle Shanks, who looked in his direction, hair everywhere and eyes blown out. “Fuck, charming”, he said, placing a hand over his chest, trying to calm down his heart. “You almost killed me here. What time is it?”

“Late.” Was all Mihawk said, turning his head away in order to focus on reading his ship.

He checked once again that all the provisions were in place, and that the state of the ship was just as impeccable as always. Which of course was, not taking into account the man still laying on the ground and the bottle and two glasses discarded by his side.

“I take it you’re not a morning person…” Shanks landed right by his side, still not wearing his coat despite the cold.

Mihawk wanted to say something, he should probably say something. At least, Shanks was clearly expecting him to, dark eyes following each of his moves as the two glasses were rinsed and placed back in place. But he couldn’t. Because there was something in his throat, a kind of pressure that dried his mouth and kept the words inside. Also, he couldn’t speak because he knew nothing good would come out of his mouth at that moment. Not with the tightness he felt in his stomach, not with the ache he felt in his heart, not with the resolution his mind had come to about Shanks.

Because Mihawk knew he would say something he would regret later if he spoke at that moment. Because Mihawk knew he was not going to be able to contain his stupid feelings.

“Yeah, right.” Shanks’ voice did manage to take him away from his thoughts, but as soon as Mihawk looked towards him he regretted it. Because despite the wrinkles in his clothes and the state of his hair, despite the grimace so uncharacteristic of him, despite the darkness that clouded his eyes… Even with all that, Shanks looked absolutely alluring standing there under the morning sun. “I’ll be out of your hair now.”

By the time Mihawk managed to regain some sort of control over himself Shanks had already disappeared from view, surely already boarding his own ship so he could get to bed. And even if for a single second Mihawk envisioned himself doing exactly the same, joining him in a soft bed where they could cling once again to each other; he didn’t let those thoughts linger. 

He had to get out of that island. Now.

For the first time in his life, he thought remorsefully, his instinct had failed him. Because as he sailed past the Red Force and under the curious eyes of two of Shanks’ men that followed him on his way out, he knew that staying that last day had been a mistake.

Mihawk was furious. With Shanks, sure. But mostly with himself.

It had been years, long and painful years in which he had learned to let go of those memories. Or so he had thought. It was pathetic. He had managed to avoid thinking about Shanks for over a decade, but then that damn boy came and he was so much like Shanks, and once again, Mihawk was a goner.

“Answer me!” Hearing Shanks scream like that was a first. He was always so happy and easygoing, Shanks was all good faces and happy actions, no screams and throwing himself at others. It wasn’t like Shanks to act that way. At least not towards him.

It wasn’t either like Mihawk to allow himself to be pinned down on the floor. He was the best swordsman, and one of the best fighters out there. He definitely should be better than Shanks, especially taking into consideration the other’s hangover and alcohol to blood ratio.

Bracing himself with one arm, Mihawk finally managed to turn over, grappling Shanks by the front of his shirt and forcefully throwing him against the hard sand under their feets.

“What the hell is wrong with you today? Cut the crap!” His words seemed to pain Shanks, who threw one leg around Mihawk’s waist and managed to gain enough momentum to turn them over again.

This time Mihawk was laying on his back, Shanks sitting on his stomach and using his hand to shake him by the lapel. “With me? With me you say, you asshole? I’m not the one acting all weird and being all annoying and idiotic!”

And honestly, Shanks was right. Mihawk was the one with the problem. He was the one that had made his way to this island unannounced and uninvited. He’s the one who decided to stay for that stupid drink and the one that took the offer for a night walk alone with Shanks. He had known along the way that each one of those decisions had been a mistake, that he was not as strong as he wished he was and that he was going to fall to Shanks once again.

But Mihawk just couldn’t stay away. No matter how much he wanted to.

“I’m not doing that! I’m just- I was going to…” Mihawk couldn’t really come up with an excuse.

Sure, he could probably say whatever, and any other day Shanks would’ve probably let him go with that, like so many other times before. But not that night. Mihawk saw it in Shanks’ eyes, he was done with the excuses and the lies. He was beyond angry and hurt. And Mihawk didn’t know how to deal with that.

“Get off me, Shanks.” His voice was now low, kind of defeated. Mihawk simply didn’t feel like fighting the younger one any more. He just wanted to get to his ship and, like so many times before, put as much land between them as possible. 

“No! Not until you answer me! This is getting ridiculous. These last years you’ve just… just… Tell me, fuck.”

Shanks was shaking Mihawk as much as he was able. The movement as destructive as the red-haired man had always been. Under Mihawk the rocks and heaps of sand uncomfortably pressed against his back with each movement. Mihawk only wanted him to stop. Only wanted to be allowed to leave that island and return home. He wanted to push Shanks away and made sure his actions stopped.

Mihawk acted on instinct, and probably that was the mistake.

His plan was to grab the other by the elbows. Restrict his movement and get up and leave. But with everything that was happening his instincts didn’t take into account who was sitting atop him. Sure, one of his hands closed around Shanks elbow, forcing the arm to straighten and impeding any more movement. But not the other hand. The other passed the place where the other elbow should have been and instead collided against Shanks’ waist.

The harm was done, even as Mihawk took his hand away as fast as possible he saw it in Shanks’ eyes. Even in the dim light and with Shanks’ bangs cloaking his eyes. It wasn’t enough to cover the pained expression and the way his lips tugged down.

“Look, red, just…” Mihawn never got to finish his sentence, never got to ask Shanks to let him go. Because before he could, the other’s hand got away from his grasp and then fell down against his chest, punching with barely enough force to damage.

“That’s it? The drama? Do you care so fucking much?” He sounded broken, tired and hurt. He didn’t sound like Shanks. Not the Shanks that Mihawk knew and cared about. He sounded like another Shanks, the one that hurt and suffered.

Even if he couldn’t remember it, he sounded like the Shanks that broke Mihawk’s heart.

It took Mihawk two years and a lot of sleepless nights, but he had finally come to a conclusion relating his feelings. God, did he hate that word… Well, as little as he liked it, he had them. He had feelings for none other than Shanks. So, even if at first he decided to ignore them and not act on them, it did come to the point where he had to tell him.

Mihawk had decided to tell Shanks the next time they crossed paths. Something he didn’t expect to be so hard.

Like sure, he expected one kind of difficulty: the one that came in the form of a rejection and lots and lots of shame; but not the kind of difficulty that was finding the pirates. 

Last time Mihawk saw their names in the news it stated that they were in the East Blue, something that actually managed to surprise Mihawk. But even that wasn’t enough to enclose a particular island or area. So Mihawk and his stupid thoughts navigated for months before the long awaited meeting.

It was annoying, because every single day his resolution wavered. One second he was sure about his feelings and was ready to go and have his heart stomp over. The next he was taking any excuse that granted him a little time away from Shanks.

On the nights, while he layed alone and cold on the crow’s nest he could only remember the one night they shared there. It was kind of blurry, too much alcohol and too many feelings. At first there weren't that many details, but as months went by Mihawk started to remember more and more.

Now he could draw from memory the position in which they had slept. Embarrassingly, and being something he would never admit, he had given a lot of thought about the schematics. He could almost see them laying there, he knew how their bodies had pressed together, the way that long coat had barely managed to cover them both, the place Shanks’ hand had rested against his hip. Right over a small piece of skin that still almost felt the warmth of the touch. That was definitely false. Like sure, he now remembered that Shanks’ hand had crawled his way under Mihak’s shirt and that all through the night their skins had been in contact. But Mihawk did not feel that now, so much time after. It was only a wish, or something aching to one.

But he did. The same way he also felt Shanks’ breath on his nape when the wind was at his back, when his hair was ruffled and pushed out of the way.

That stupid night had turned Mihawk’s live and nights into some kind of torture. One he was hoping to get away from as soon as he met with Shanks.

A torture he was sure would come to an end in a matter of hours as the current took him closer to an island, where he could see the Red Force docked.

Anticipation and nervousness crept under his skin as wind and waves took him to shore. It took Mihawk grasping all his pride and shyness (although he hated calling it that), in order to avoid running down the dock to where the other’s ship was.

That, and also the wary eyes over him and the not so subtle whispers.

It did surprise him how so many of Shanks’ men ran in the opposite direction. Hiding from him. And sure, Mihawk was all about his reputation, but two years prior they weren’t so scaredy. It was true two years prior he wasn’t under a contract with the marines. But still.

Very few of the crew members actually stood their ground, one of them being a blond guy that stood on the way, blocking his way aboard.

Mihawk didn’t really have the patience for that that day. “Where’s your captain?”

“Like I’ll tell you.” The guy was brave, Mihawk had to give him that; even if he did take a step back as Mihawk started to climb aboard. “I mean it. Give it to the marines to take this chance so quickly, annoyi-”

“I’m not here on their behalf. Or to chat with you. I asked you a question, so now answer me or turn around and go tell your captain I need to talk to him. Seems easy enough even for you.”

“Don’t act so high and mighty. I don’t have to do anything you say. And the captain’s not receiving visitors. So leave.”

Shanks not receiving visitors? That sounded like a lie. But that did put Mihawk’s brain to work. Shanks was always the first one to jump at the occasion to be with people, to chat away and annoy whomever happened to cross him. So his absence in the deck was weird. Even more weird was the absence of any of the officials. None of the men Mihawk had come to know over the years on sight.

For a whole second he questioned himself, almost going to check again the ship’s name. But no. That was Shanks’ vessel. He could recognize it. So what was going on?

To answer his question the door to the captain's quarters opened, revealing Benn and one of the men Mihawk had seen running from him standing under the frame. Benn only gave him a short look before he was yelling that Mihawk was aloud to board.

With tentative steps and feeling everybody's eyes over him, Mihawk climbed the stairs. Benn looked older, much more than what two years pertained. There were dark bags under his eyes, and to Mihawk’s surprise he wasn’t even smoking.

“Surprised you heard so fast.”

“Heard what?”

A dreadful feeling set in Mihawk’s stomach when Benn didn’t answer immediately. There was something in his posture, in the way he rubbed his eyes and mumbled a curse under his breath. “Fuck, you don’t know?”

Mihawk kept silent, because there was something inside him that told him not to ask. Whatever was going on, if that was Benn’s state, clearly had to be bad. But, just as that realization dawned on him, so did the fact that it was Benn talking to him. Not Shanks. And sure, out of all them Benn was the most normal one, the one Mihawk didn’t mind dealing with whenever their captain was bussy. But Shanks was never too far behind.

“What’s going on?”

To Benn’s credit he didn’t waiver under the pressure of Mihawk’s tone, but his shoulders did fall on defeat. Their eyes were locked on one another, a small wordless battle between the two. One that only ended when Benn finally reopened the door, “It was an accident. Well, kinda. He… he was trying to save this boy…”

Benn did make a longer and detailed account of what had happened. But as the door was opened and Mihawk was led inside he stopped listening. The older’s voice was barely a background noise, because all Mihawk could focus on was the bed. It was like his vision got tunneled over Shanks’ body. 

Once before, so many moons ago, Mihawk had imagined himself entering that same cabin. Had made a mental picture of what Shank’s personal space might look like. And some of it was exactly that way, there was zero surprise over the fact that there were glasses and an half empty bottle of rum over a squared table on the corner; or over the fact that Shanks’ bedsheets and curtains were both from different shades of red, making the room both horrible and cute at the same time. As Mihawk had expected there were clothes in the corner, messily kept in the form of a pile. And there was no surprise over the fact that most of the room was one large bed, something Mihawk would never admit to having not only thought about, but kind of fantasized about.

And just like in his fantasies, Shanks was on that bed.

There was where the resemblances stopped, though. Shanks was not smiling brightly or winking with the confidence of a thousand men; he wasn’t laughing or chatting their head out about some or other anecdote or whatever came to his mind. Instead Shanks looked to be sleeping, but in the worst way possible.

He looked distraught, eyebrows furrowed even if he wasn’t conscious. His chest was coming up and down in fast movements, having a hard time breathing with the way it was constricted with so many bandages. The worst part was the red taints splattering where the bandages ended.

Ended too soon, leaving an empty space where there shouldn’t be. 

Mihawk moved unaware of what he was doing. He was suddenly standing right by Shanks’ bed, looking down on his body. One of his hands fell to the place where Shanks’ arm should be, because if he was lucky this could only be his imagination. Maybe it was something like a light game, or a prank, or something. Anything but the truth.

Sadly, Mihawk wasn’t lucky, because all he touched was the soft fabric of the bedsheets.

He felt out of his body, transfixed to another universe. Because there was no way that Shanks had lost something as important as a limb. Couldn’t be.

Benn’s hand on his shoulder definitely startled him, he had forgotten about the older man. Couldn’t care less about his presence there.

“Hey, I know…” Even if Mihawk doubted it at first, he did see the same pain in his eyes. Benn couldn’t believe it anymore than him. He was just as unable to make peace with the idea. Because just like Mihawk, Benn had placed his trust, his hopes and faith in the men laying on that bed. And he was taking the news about as good as him.

“Who?”

“What?”

“Who did it?” Mihawk saw Benn look at him in utter confusion, before letting a sad small smile appear in his lips, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You weren’t listening to me, were you? It was a sea king. Captain jumped to save this kid he’s kinda fond of. Managed to scare it away, but not before…”

“Before the thing got its meal?” Hell, that felt so wrong to say. Hurted all the way up his throat and out of his lips. But at the same time he could feel a little bit of the tension running away from his shoulders. It felt so dumb, so surreal. Shanks, the man who was able to put up a fight against Mihawk, the one who held the title of Emperor and commanded one of the most renowned crews in the world. Shanks, that Shanks, was defeated by a damn oversized fish.

“Yeah…” Benn pushed one of the chairs towards Mihawk, urging him to sit down with a gesture. Even got to the point to push him down to it when Mihawk didn’t move. “Look, I got things to do, seeing I’m the one left in charge now. But I don’t want him to be alone if he wakes up. He’s been in and out of sleep for the past two days, Hongo’s given him some potent shit, taking his reaction to it. Just stay here, hawkeyes, and call if anything happens.”

Mihawk didn’t get even a word out before Benn was closing the door behind himself.

The quiet of the room suddenly was even more annoying than before. All he could hear was Shanks’ heavy breathing, and an incessant tapping that was probably originating from his foot. There was something about that silence, something that got under his skin and itched. Shanks was never quiet, not even in his sleep (taking as a norm the one night they slept next to the other), so seeing him now, mouth barely hanging open and no noise coming out, felt awful. 

Mihawk had always considered Shanks to be life. A kind of manifestation of the concept, at least. Shanks was color, and noise. Shanks was smiles and barely kept back insults and jabs. Shanks was that pain in his chest that tried to press his way out…

Mihawk was starting to feel like he was the one covered in bandages and kept put in order to heal.

Minutes went by, maybe even hours; but Shanks didn’t wake up, and Mihawk didn’t move. From time to time he heard yelling from beyond the door and the sound of wood being dragged over wood. They were probably restocking in order to make their way back home. So Shanks could heal in a good place.

Fuck, after so many years Mihawk was not going to be able to say anything. Considering Shanks current state it was definitely not the moment. Well, maybe he could confess his feelings in a novel level scene when Shanks finally opened his eyes. Maybe he could take the opportunity to swoon him and stay by his side as he healed.

The idea was discarded just as fast as it came to him.

He couldn’t do that. Couldn’t take advantage of him like that.

Mihawk was feeling pathetic by the second. What was he doing there? He should leave. Had to leave. No matter what Benn had said. There were so many more men on the ship. Some of whom would never doubt to take care of their captain. So why was he, an intruder, being the one tasked with that?

Probably because Benn was a little shit that knew. Because even if it took longer for Mihawk to realize what he felt, he remembered Benn’s stare over him in that stupid party; and he knew Benn was way more insightful than him.

“Damned old man…”

With a sigh he placed his hand right over Shanks’ sleeping form. It was shaking, that wasn’t normal. No. He couldn’t be shaking. Why was he? Probably because he was leaning over Shanks, and because his hand was now softly caressing his cheek. The scars under his fingers were rough, even more so than his skin, which was already pretty gritty. Shanks’ skin was cold, something surprising because Mihawk remembered that it had burned him last time.

Carefully Mihawk pushed the few loose hairs that covered his face away, and almost screamed, surprised when dark eyes fixed over him.

“Fuck, am I dead?” Shanks’ voice was hoarse, rough from not being used for days and probably from a dry mouth. But he was almost smiling, and Mihawk did the same, too focused on the other to fight his face muscles.

“Not yet, you moron. Though I heard you tried really hard.” For the first time in hours Mihawk got up from that chair, only to be back a second later holding a glass of water to Shanks’ lips.

“You sure? Think I‘m seeing an angel.” At that Mihawk actually laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “So, not dead. Good. Come to see me on my deathbed? So generous of you, charming. ”

“You’re an idiot, Shanks.” Mihawk now couldn’t even contain his laugh. He knew he was supposed to go tell Benn his captain was awake, probably look for the doctor so he could check the wound and make sure everything was fine. But he couldn’t get away from Shanks. Not when he was looking at Mihawk like he was some kind of gift.

“Yeah, that’s right. The biggest idiot.” After a heartbeat and with a pained expression he finally took Mihawk’s hand with his, bringing it towards his lips. “Course you’re not real, charming. Mihawk’s never liked me back, you know?”

At that, Mihawk’s breath caught in his throat. What was he supposed to say to that? What did Shanks mean? How could that idiot think Mihawk didn’t like him?

“You should’ve studied your part better, angel, delirium or whatever. Fuck, love the simple idea; but you’re not really playing him.”

“What?”

“Mihawk’s never soft. He doesn’t care that much for me. You know, he’s not into making friends, he told me himself. So probably only sees me as an acquaintance or some fancy word like that. Fuck, you know how much it hurts? Do angels have feelings? Or friends? Not sure how much should I explain.”

Mihawk was lost for words. Nothing coming to his mind except for an annoying buzzing. Shanks was acting so weird he was having a hard time following his words. He sounded so small, so hurt. Like a kid or a wounded animal. Shanks was being honest with his words, he at least thought what he was saying was true. But no, it wasn’t. 

That didn’t stop his babble, “You’ve at least nailed the appearance. Like, fuck, you’re just was breathtaking as him. Wouldn’t mind having this sight as my last, eh? “

“Hey, red, stop it. You’ve got it wrong.”

“No, no. Call me by my name again. That’s another reason I know you’re not him. Mihawk very, very rarely uses real names. He’s really into nicknames for someone who doesn’t make friends. But it feels nice, having his voice call my name. At least let me enjoy that now. I already know you’re pretending to be him, there’s no harm in that, right?”

“...Shanks, you’ve got it all wrong.”

“Wrong? Absolutely not. Now I could die happy. Even if it’s fake or my imagination or whatever. I’m fine with it.”

Shanks was so out of it, something Mihawk could’ve never expected. He had imagined how that conversation would go a million times. This meeting after so long was both dreaded and anticipated. He had gone through every scenario imaginable, but Shanks high in painkillers and talking about hallucinations never made the list.

“What the hell did your doctor give you?”

“Don’t know, don’t care. At least it doesn’t hurt now. Not the wound. But my… my…”

Shanks got quiet for a second, looking to where his hand was still clinging to Mihawk’s. His movements were lazy and harsh, probably having a hard time performing the actions he wanted. With a kind of delay that came from drowsiness, Shanks placed their hands over his heart, and Mihawk could feel the rapid beating even through the bandages.

“I guess I could tell you, you’re not real… It’s my heart, it hurts, aches. Benny said it’s longing, whatever the fuck that means. I think it’s just heartbreak. I guess I should be used to losing what I love, not like I don’t do that a lot. But it got worse when he left. I thought… I actually thought I wasn’t alone there.”

“Alone?”

“That night… I honestly thought he liked me back, you know? He even let me sleep by his side. And, and he’s pretty cold to the touch, like you, yeah. But, but it burned. Like ice. Not that he’s that cold, way less. But the feeling’s the same. I’ll… You know what ice is, right? Well, maybe angels can’t get burnt, but when you touch ice sometimes it does that, like I don’t get it, ‘cause it should be the other way around, ice is cold, it can’t burn. But, but sometimes it does. And your skin gets a little stuck to it. That’s, that’s Mihawk, yeah? He’s cold, but he makes me feel like I’m burning; and fuck if I don’t feel stuck to him.”

There was a part of Mihawk, probably the nice side of him, that knew he should stop Shanks, because he wasn’t in his right mind, and he didn’t mean to say all that. But the other, the greedy and slightly desperate side of him needed to hear that. Wanted to hear so much more. 

Because sure, Shanks was not really talking to him. But all this meant Mihawk had some kind of reason for hope. Meant he could just talk to Shanks and not be rejected as he had feared for years.

“But he doesn’t like me…” Shanks looked sad when he said so, somehow he actually thought that was the truth. “I think I overstepped back then. He couldn’t even look in my direction when morning came. He regretted it. Not like anything happened, but he regretted it altogether.”

The more Shanks said, the more Mihawk knew he had to apologize. 

“But it’s okay… it’s for the best.” Shanks looked so sad when he said that, his eyes focused on their intertwined hands and pain painting his expression. “Because if he doesn’t like me back then it doesn’t hurt as much. Knowing we can’t be together.”

“You… can’t?” That conclusion burned in his tongue. Maybe he was stupid for it, but Mihawk had been getting his hopes up with the things Shanks was saying. He had claimed he liked Mihawk, had said so many things that almost sounded like confessions, even if not addressed to Mihawk. But just as quickly as he had said all that, he crushed Mihawk’s hopes.

“No. At first I thought that we could. But we, we can’t, really. He has his dreams, and his title, and a job now. And I have mine, you know? My dream and my crew and all we have set into motion. I can’t just abandon that for my own selfish reasons. And, and Mihawk deserves better. Someone that can be with him, not a crippled pirate that had lost his best asset in combat. He deserves better than a man that just wants to sail, roaming the seas without a clear goal half the time.”

Shanks’ reasons were valid, not something Mihawk himself hadn’t thought before; but hearing them in the others' lips was not something he was ready for.

“But, it’s nothing. ‘Cause he’s not into me. I don’t even think he thinks we’re friends, not really. More like rivals or, or someone he knows. But, that…”

That.

One simple word that managed on its own to finally break Mihawk’s heart. 

Shanks was still talking, his hand was still clinging to Mihawk’s and there was a sad smile on his face. But after that point the older could only answer with monosyllables or grunts. There was a kind of white noise in his head that didn’t let him understand.

It had been so fast, the small hope and the crushing despair.

Some time later Shanks fell asleep again, not letting go of Mihawk’s hand and once again allowing all his pain to be displayed over his face. But not even that propelled Mihawk into motion. He just stood there, not able to even free his hand.

Right there found him Benn some time later, and only then did Mihawk let go of the younger’s hand. Only then did he get up and rush past him out of the room. Making a truly valiant effort in order to ignore the knowing smile and the commentary. He managed to inform the other man about Shanks briefly waking up, but that he was back asleep soon after and chose to not call for him.

The way to his own ship was quick, almost missing Benn’s offer to stay aboard. But he couldn’t, he needed to put as much land between him and Shanks as possible. He even thought for a second about sailing that very instant, but chose not to. Not only because he knew better than to, but also because he still wanted to talk to Shanks, even if not for what had brought him to that island in the first place.

He wanted to make sure Shanks was a little better before leaving. 

The night was long, Mihawk unable to sleep properly with his mind too focused and busy with Shanks. Him laying in that bed, him so pale and frail looking. That image managed to keep Mihawk awake, and will keep him awake for some nights after.

So when the morning sun got in his eyes he decided that it was time to get out of bed, even if he didn’t feel remotely close to rested.

As he boarded the Red Force once again, he could see the blonde guy standing to the side, following his every movement towards the captain's quarters, but chose to ignore him. By the door he crossed Hongo, who was now leaving to get back to bed, after apparently spending most of the night awake working.

This time around Shanks wasn’t laying down, but sitting with his back to the headboard and Benn by his side, sitting on the very same chair Mihawk had spent the previous day at.

“Damn, charming, when did you arrive?” His smile was as big as always, although it didn’t reach his eyes; and Mihawk saw him trying to turn enough to cover his arm. Something he only stopped when the movement got too much for him and hurt.

Mihawk stood by the door taken back for the question, because he wasn’t sure if he meant it or not. Because on one hand Shanks looked actually surprised over the fact that he was there; but on the other, how could have he forgotten their conversation?

“I… got here yesterday.”

“Oh, crap. Was sleeping the whole day, right? Benny told me I’ve been out for some days now. Bummer.” The amusement mixed with annoyance in his eyes told Mihawk he was being honest, he really thought he had been sleeping and couldn’t remember anything. And he wasn’t sure if that was good or not.

“Yeah, sleeping. I just… wanted to check on your state. But seeing that you’re well I will take my leave. I have been informed I have places to be. So, see you around, I guess.”

There was something burning inside Mihawk as he spoke. The lie mixed with the remorse and the hollow feeling of loss that was catching up to him. It was something that hurt from the inside, but couldn’t make it to the surface. Something he felt like he had to hide, because he remembered Shanks’ pained expression while talking to him. And he knew that this was for the best.

Ignoring Shanks complaints he turned and walked out the door with nothing more than a tilt of his head and a look towards Benn. One that assured him that he wouldn’t say anything about the day before. That, even if there was nothing to tell, he would keep quiet about what he had seen. And at that point, that was all Mihawk could ask for.

There was something about the way out that day that stuck to Mihawk. It wasn’t only the eyes on his back, or the couple farewells he tried to mute. It was also the fact that Mihawk didn’t walk out of that ship complete. That he left a pretty big part of his heart on that cabin, hurt and turned into pieces but also knowing that this was probably the best outcome. 

This way they both were still able to go on with their lives. And if that was what Shanks wanted, then Mihawk guessed he was okay with it too. This time around he did at least have a reason to get over the other man, so surely he would be able. This time he will bury his feelings and forget all about them. No more memories, no more pain and no more sleepless nights. That was both a resolution and a hope. 

So he could only wait for time to tell.

As it appeared, time was an absolute asshole.

Because it had been almost a decade, and he was still suffering the same damned heartbreak. Nothing had changed. Not his feelings, not the pain, not the weakness in his stomach when he looked at Shanks. It was all the same.

And that’s why he couldn’t answer Shanks. Why he couldn’t force any single word out of his mouth. So he kept silent. Looking up at the one man that had once broken his heart. Simply staring into those eyes that looked out of place without Shanks’ perpetual smile.

Even if Mihawk didn’t care that much about the arm thing, it had been what propelled Shanks to break his heart. It was something that had hurt the other so much he had let his fear show, even if only because of the medicines. Maybe Shanks had made the effort to ignore it, and had learned how to live his life without it affecting him. But once he was as concerned and worried as he accused Mihawk of being now.

It was too much, so many emotions Mihawk had forced himself to bury and forget, all of them coming back in an instant. He couldn’t take it. He only wanted to leave and return to his quiet and lonely life, where he didn’t hurt as much.

So he turned his face, hiding from Shanks’ eyes. No, he couldn’t do it again. He didn’t want to talk or keep remembering. He didn’t want to go through the heartbreak again. He pushed Shanks away, but could only grasp enough force for a soft push. In reality he didn’t want to let him go, even if he should.

“I’m not going anywhere.” The hardest part was hearing Shanks’ voice, as pained and broken as his. “Answer me…”

“I don’t have anything to say. Let me go, red.”

“Yes. Yes you do. You have so many fucking things to explain.”

”Look, red, honestly. I don’t know what you want me to say.” yeah, you do, said an annoying little voice in his head, one he had to ignore. “I think you’re just confused and tired; we’re both tired and drunk at the very least.” 

“Yeah, you’re fucking right. I’m tired. So fucking tired of pretending, of letting you get away with whatever the fuck you want. I’m fucking tired of pretending there’s nothing going on. Well, I’m done with that. You’ve been giving me the fucking cold shoulder for a fucking decade. I won’t take it anymore, okay? So just fucking tell me what the hell’s wrong here!”

Mihawk wasn’t expecting such an outburst, that Shanks would actually leash against him so hard and loud. Sure, the red haired man didn't remember their talk, and was probably confused as to why he had gotten away from him. But Shanks was the first one to pull back, so he had no right to get so angry. He had no right to make Mihawk feel so bad about it. It was his fault. His decision, his idea.

Any other day Mihawk would’ve told him so. Would’ve spoken his mind and stop the other from walking all over him and his stupid feelings. 

But not that day. That night he could only keep his eyes locked at the trees to their side, could only take in deep breaths trying to control himself. 

Not being able to answer was painful. Because there was nothing that Mihawk wanted more than to tell Shanks what he wanted to know, to take him away from all that anger and just give him what he wanted. But somehow not answering him was exactly what he wanted. What he, inadvertently, had asked of him so many years ago. What, even if he couldn’t remember it, had told Mihawk to do.

So this one he was going to let Shanks have it. Just take his anger out on him and wait for the rage and confusion to be washed away by the hours and the alcohol. He would just allow the distance that would come with the morning to mull once again his feelings and his pain. And Shanks’ along.

As it began raining Mihawk could only think how fitting that was. Because no matter what, it almost felt like destiny or some other fucking sappy thing like that. Because he couldn’t bring himself to let out the itch he felt behind his eyes, but those droplets almost felt like his own tears with the way they fell into his cheeks.

Only it wasn’t rain. It was something so much worse.

Looking up he found there were tears coming out of Shanks’ eyes. Eyes that were focused on him with deadly intent, his jaw clenched and his nostrils flaring with wide long breaths. “Fine. Fucking fine…”

He got up from Mihawk quickly, turning away to hide his pain, but it was too late. Not like it wasn’t already obvious in his posture, but also because he had seen it. And even if Mihawk’s first instinct was to comfort him, the anger burned stronger.

Sure, it made sense. Between the two of them Shanks had always been the one to wave his emotions around like they were some kind of flag or something that concerned everyone. So him being the one to display pain in a situation like that made sense. But it was so unfair. He was the one to cause this, it was his words and his choice. So it wasn’t fair that Mihawk was the one suffering the blow.

“The hell are you-”

“Just leave already, hawkeyes. I’m done talking to you.” 

Those words made him see red. Mihawk was always calm and collected, had mastered his emotions so many years ago and had turned them into nothing but background noise in his head. Only that didn’t work when it was about Shanks. So he finally got up from the floor, cold deadly anger filling every fiber of his body. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

Fine, if Shanks wanted so badly to hear his thoughts then he would. Mihawk was done keeping quiet and letting this consume him.

“Don’t you dare make this my fault. It was you. Your fucking choices and your fucking words. You’re the one that told me to back the fuck up. You dare turn this into something I’m to blame about? Absolutely fucking not. I’m done playing nice, I’m done listening and letting you do whatever you want! I’m not gonna stay here and let you blame me for your own mistakes. You wanted this, didn’t you? You were so fucking happy to let me know how much of a bad idea it was to remain closer, you were more than fucking happy to break my stupid heart and walk all over the damned pieces with a fucking smile on your face. And now you want me to play nice to you? To once again bend to your whims and whatnots? Well, fucking not.”

“What are yo-”

“I’m not done talking. You wanted me to answer? Then fucking shut up and listen. I’m the one who risked everything going to you, I’m the one that had to remain silent and let you do you. I’m the one that’s been mourning. You want this, so stop pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“Well, I don’t! I don’t understand a fucking thing you’re saying. You’ve lost it. I’ve never said…”

“You not remembering your own words doesn’t make them any less true. You want to know what you said, huh? Want me to repeat how horrible you thought being together would be? How relieved were you that we hadn't seen each other in years?”

And perhaps Mihawk was exaggerating about what had been truly said. But the message had been that one. He only was more direct when saying it.

“Stop! That’s not true! I’ve never-”

“Granted, you were pretty fucking out of it. But that doesn’t make it any less true.”

“You’re confused, I never meant that, not-”

“You were plenty clear, thank you. You made this happen. Intentional or not. Now let me live with this broken heart in peace.” 

Mihawk turned to leave, too tired to keep up with the conversation. The toll it was taking on him was too great. He didn’t even take a step before he was turning again when he heard Shanks talk: “Broken heart… You, you’re into me?”

“...well, I was.”

“Not anymore?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Shanks was looking at him with intent. Eyes big and shiny for the recently spilled tears. But he looked smaller now, he looked vulnerable and hurt. His hand was clinging to his cape, pulling it over his chest in a clear effort to hide from Mihawk’s gaze. But it was firmer, it wasn’t shaking anymore.

Nor was the rest of his body as he took a tentative step forward. It was slow, and Mihawk almost took the opportunity to turn and leave once again. He had already spoken his mind, something already so far out of his comfort zone he couldn’t recognize himself. He didn’t need to stay any longer, just wanted to get back to his house and ( hide ) stay there alone. Without any people around him.

But he just stood there, watching Shanks take one small step after the other until he was standing right infront of him. The longest seconds of his life stretched before his eyes. They just stood there, one before the other waiting for something none of them were brave enough to take.

“I’m sorry…” Shanks’ words were soft, but his hand definitely wasn’t. 

At first Mihawk thought he was going to get punched. That it was only Shanks letting his anger out against him. But it was worse. Because the hand didn’t hurt him, but rather took him by the coat and pulled until he was flat against Shanks. 

And their lips had found one another.

Shanks was fucking barely taller than him, but being so close that minuscule difference had Mihawk tilting his head back with a groan. It was annoyance, definitely not him enjoying the kiss so much he couldn’t hold back a moan. Still, Shanks did take it as permission to deepen the kiss and let his tongue roam.

He tasted like rum, and something salty that could’ve been ocean breeze clinging to his skin, but was probably tears. His stubble tickled Mihawk under his nose, but that was of no importance, not when Shanks’ tongue found his and trailed it softly.

It didn’t matter when his hand made his way around Mihawk and pulled on his hair, making him grumble (definitely not moan) again. It didn’t matter because Mihawk realized with each movement of his lips that he wasn’t drunk before. But he was now. Drunk in Shanks. In his smell and the soft caress of his fingers.

It was that drunkenness what had him kissing back. What made his tongue push forward and take every single one of Shanks’ moans directly into his mouth. It was some kind of fantasy he’d been delaying for years. One that begged him to indulge and take as much from Shanks as the other was willing to give. Because no matter what, it would never be enough.

But he couldn’t.

He couldn’t take what he wanted. And definitely couldn’t take back all that pain again.

So he took a step back. The hardest step of his life. Not only because he didn’t want to. But also because of Shanks, who couldn’t just let him go easy, couldn’t just take his hand away and keep quiet.

“No. Don’t. Don’t do this to me, Shanks. I can’t. Not again.”

“No, no. Don’t go…” His eyes looked panicked, tears almost coming back. “Look, I… I’m... It’s up to you, Mihawk. If you can only give me this night I’ll take it; one instant? I’ll be okay with it. Whatever you want. No more, no less. Just, just don’t go.”

It sounded almost too good. An offer no man could turn back. And maybe another man would have given into Shanks. And maybe another day he would have joined them and simply blamed it later on the alcohol. But not that night, not after everything he had said and remembered.

“...after all this time. Don’t, don’t do this to me. I can’t go back to that fucking heartache. Don’t play with me like that. You’re the one who turned me away and left me suffering. I… I loved you, Shanks. And it took me years to accept that this was it. Don’t make me fall again only to turn me away when morning arrives.”

“Good. Better. Then I won't. I won’t let you get away. Don’t leave. Not when morning comes. Not tomorrow or the day after, or in, in a week, or a month or ever. Stay with me, as long as you want. I, I love you, Mihawk. Now, and before, and always will. I’m fucking yours. For as long as you’ll have me.”

Mihawk couldn't speak, the only thing coming out of him being the tears on his cheeks. It was so much to take in, so good he was having a hard time believing it was true. And maybe it wasn’t, and this was only a dream. But either way, those words were sincere enough for him to take the offer.

They moved at the same time. Shanks to get closer again; Mihawk, taking his face between his hands and letting himself kiss Shanks again. A kiss that was even better than the last. They were both crying, barely able to breath and trembling like fucking leaves. But it was the best kiss of his life.

A kiss so full of sentiment and regrets. From both of them. And Mihawk only showed it by letting his hands pet softly the red hair and pushing their chest together so he could feel his heartbeat. But Shanks was more direct in his regret. He kept apologizing, once and again, promising Mihawk everything he yearned to hear.

“I love you. I’m sorry.” He said once and again, his lips making a way over Mihawk’s jaw and towards his ear. “This, this’ as far as I wanna be from you from now on. Yeah?”

The moan (this time it couldn’t be fucking denied it was a moan) those words reaped out of him was so loud he could hear Shanks laughin breathlessly and asking, a smile obvious against his skin, if Mihawk was doing okay. 

“Fantastic. Keep going…”

It had been so long. Not only from when the desire had begun building inside of Mihawk; but also from the last time he was with someone. Every touch was like a blaze, leaving him panting in the cold air and hopping for more. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you so out of breath, charming. Not even after a duel…”

Of-fucking-course Shanks had to talk all through out the process. He was never before able to keep his mouth shut, so why would he now? Why would he spare Mihawk the shivers that run down his spine and had every nerve of his body wanting more.

Shanks kept talking, and he also kept kissing his way down his neck and across his collarbones. His lips made way for a tongue and teeths that marked all the skin they could reach. It was so much Mihawk could only let his head fall back, eyes closed and hands clinging to Shanks’ shoulders to stay standing.

It was so much, his skin answering with a fire to each brush. His back, arching as Shanks’ hand traveled down his spine. His gut, clenching when that very hand kept moving down and grabbed his butt with enough force to make him moan again.

It was so much, yes. But he wanted so much more. So with one hand he grabbed Shanks’ soft hair and pulled until his mouth was away from his skin: “Bed.”

“Huh?” Shanks looked so confused, so lost to his surroundings that it was almost comical.

“We’re not doing this here, you moron. Take me to a bed.”

“Fuck. Yes. That. That sounds like an amazing idea, charming. Well thought.”

And he was kissing Mihawk again, a smile so big and obvious in his lips it almost made the older laugh. As Shanks’ strong arm circled him, Mihawk thought they were beginning to move, finally leaving for a more comfortable place like he had asked. But only found himself being pressed against a firm chest. That did surprise him, because not even a second before Shanks seemed as desperate as him to keep going, but was now standing still, eyes closed and stupid smile on his lips.

“Ey, charming, do me a favor: don’t wake me up if I’m dreaming.”

Damn, he was an idiot. But sadly Mihawk was in love with said idiot, so he only shook his head when he heard him, fighting a smile himself. “Don’t fool yourself, Shanks. This is not a dream, and you’re not getting much sleep tonight…”

He felt so weird saying something like that. No. It was so weird to say that. He could already feel his pride leave his body, abandoning him for being so weak and pathetic. It was worth it, though, if only for the way Shanks choked on his own spit.

“Fuck. Since when do you have game?”

Yeah, Mihawk wouldn’t definitely call that game; but he could only push him a little, feeling that the warmth in his cheeks could now compete with Shanks’ hair color. “Shut up and start moving before I regret this…”

Not even a second later, Mihawk was being pulled by a laughing Shanks. He seemed perfectly sure of the way he was taking, even in the darkness, so they probably stopped on that island from time to time. Every few steps he stopped in his tracks, turned to Mihawk and kissed him swiftly before running once again.

He was being so ridiculous, acting like an over excited kid that had just gotten something he’ve been wanting for a long time now. And on one hand Mihawk felt the same way, but was way more composed and almost able to hide it behind a perfectly practiced mask of indifference. Only it wasn’t perfect, falling a little every time their lips touched and leaving what could be considered almost a smile.

Their steps finally led them to the improvised dock the Red Force was at, Mihawk’s own vessel also waiting for him not that far away. And to Mihawk’s surprise there was no man on sight. “No one keeping an eye on your ship?”

“Nah, no one lives on this island, and on this part of the seas people already know better than to try. We stop by a lot.” Shanks led them through the deck without even bothering to light up any light, just barely dodging crates and barrels on his way towards the captain's cabin.

The door was both opened and closed quickly behind them, and as soon as they were inside Mihawk found himself trapped between it and Shanks’ chest. One warm hand fell on his nape, pushing lightly until their foreheads were pressed together, eyes locked into the others’. They both kept quiet for a second, only staring at each other and waiting for a kind of dam to break and allow them to move again.

For Mihawk, that dam came in the form of Shanks’ lazy smile, an expression he couldn’t stop himself from taking away from him with a kiss. The quiet of the room, only broken before by the low murmur of the waves, was now replaced by Shanks’ high moans as Mihawk’s lips started a way down his neck nibbling on the sensitive skin; his fingers making a way down his chest, unbuttoning Shanks’ shirt.

“Look, is not that I’m surprised you’re as loud as possible, as always; but c’mon…” As Shanks’ shirt fell to the floor behind them, Mihawk straightened up and tried to clear his mind a little bit. Right in front of him Shanks was now laughing, playing with Mihawk’s coat lapel; and even if he couldn’t see it in the dark of the room, it was obvious he was making a proud face, as if being loud was something good. 

Smiling, Mihawk pushed him softly, both in order to admonish him and to make him walk towards the place where he wanted him at. He could still remember where Shanks’ bed was situated, the layout of that cabin was not something he would ever fully forget. Even less after that night.

On his way to the bed, Shanks turned on a light, the yellow colors shining against his skin as he sat down. It was a hell of an image, somehow both absolutely sinful and almost spiritual. He looked like something that belonged more in a place like a museum or between the walls of a palace, not in an only semi-tidy cabin in a pirate ship. But the scars on his skin told a different story. The rough muscles and the tan could only be from someone that had spent his whole life on a boat.

Fuck, he was down bad.

Mihawk took off his coat, leaving it on the chair that was in the corner and then placed his hat over it; he let his boots follow the other clothes, and turned to Shanks, raising an eyebrow at his staring. They were both silent, lost in each other's eyes as Mihawk made a slow way that ended up with him standing right infront of Shanks, right between his open legs. ”Ey, aren’t your men going to come back?”

“Nop. They’ll just drink until they fall asleep there. And those who might be sensible enough to wanna retire to bed, are also sensible enough to know that If I haven’t come back and I managed to go missing with you, they'll be better anywhere else. You know, they’ll let me get luckiest.” He said with a wink.

“...god, you’re a moron.” Shanks was smiling pretty big, proud of what he had said and probably already thinking of something more to say on the same line. It was kind of weird, how even with it being kind of annoying it was also kind of nice and it made Mihawk feel something warm inside him. “Anyway, they know?”

“Charming, there’s no one person in this world that knows me and doesn’t know I’m fucking smitten with you. Granted, no one knows about you, but they’ll let me have it.”

In his eyes there was a kind of smile, something that shone with mischief and poorly contained eagerness. Still, he looked too composed for what Mihawk felt himself; and there was something inside him saying that it wasn’t enough, that he could break him, ruin him for whomever might come after, just in case.

So, as he sat on his lap, one leg on each side of Shanks and his knees resting on the bed, he decided to go for a little teasing: “...Benn knew.”

First came Shanks’ hand, falling to his hip and pulling their bodies closer together. Only then, after a couple more seconds he actually needed to register that Mihawk had said something, the question: “What?”

“Benn. He knew. I’m crazy grateful he didn’t tell you…” Ignoring Mihawk’s smile, Shanks let out a barely audible ‘Damned traitor’ that had that fire in his stomach burning higher. As his lips fell over the skin of Shanks’ neck, he kept talking in a low voice that almost couldn’t be heard over Shanks’ groans: “...but he knew, even went as far as almost making fun of me once.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Of course not.” As he was speaking, Mihawk let his hand roam over Shanks’ chest, slowly making a way down that had Shanks clearly tensing under him, moving so their groins would rub against the other until he heard Mihawk moaning in return. “Sure, he, he never told you, but I spent a whole day here. Right by you, holding your hand as, as you said, you were dying.”

There were more things Mihawk was getting ready to say, he could feel something aching to a different version of himself burning inside and wanting him to have Shanks listen to every word. The dark eyes focused over him were trying to pull it out of him, prying so deep inside him that he simply couldn’t contain the words.

But Shanks’ strong arm curled right under Mihawk’s butt, pushing his body until it laid flat against his chest and he could take the chance to turn them over. The swordsman fell on the bed with a barely contained yelp. Under Shanks’ intense staring he moved until his head was resting in soft pillows, and he could feel himself smiling softly as Shanks’ hand made a way up his torso. His mouth not far behind. Adventurous fingers trailing a path for shameless lips. Each press and bite earned itself a soft poorly contained moan, and Mihawk can only pay half a mind to the fact that he was being covered in marks he didn’t have a shirt to cover.

“Hey, stop. How many marks do you intend on leaving?”

“Hum? Yes. Yes I will.” His smirk tells Mihawk he’s not going to get any other answer out of him, not when Shanks discovers the sensitive skin of his collarbones and the music he could hear with each nibble. And Mihawk didn’t had the heart to take that away from him. Also because he was enjoying it very much himself, thank you.

As Shanks’ lips finally found Mihawk’s once again, so did his hand found his belt. It was kind of surprising how skilful he was with only one hand, managing to undo it and his pants button in the blink of an eye. With a little help, they managed to take them off, and, to Mihawk’s displeasure, Shanks threw the clothes to the floor without even looking where they landed.

As he opened his mouth to complain, his eyes met and Mihawk froze in place. There was something in them. Something Mihawk had been too afraid to name for years, something that probably also shone in his. And it hurt: the years apart, the words he used to find both closure and pain in, all those excuses and lies he told himself. 

Shanks’ eyes said something different. Promised something he wished was real.

And, could Mihawk really doubt? Can what he sees behind Shanks’ eyes be false? No. No it can’t. For almost a decade he’d been denying himself of this, of the feather soft touches and the bright eyes. But not anymore.

As the rest of their clothes were dropped on the floor and Shanks came back to lay over Mihawk once again, this time skin on skin, the older realized his desperation was lost to the wind. It almost felt like that first duel of theirs, something so anticipated it seemed wrong to take it quickly. It was something to be enjoyed, to be drawn out in time and space. 

With his hands he framed Shanks’ face, pulling until they were standing eye to eye, only their rapid breaths standing between them. All the teasing and desperation he had felt before were gone, replaced now with a soft sentiment Mihawk couldn’t force himself to put into words. It burned inside him, his skin yearning for the man in front of him. But he simply couldn’t bring himself to let it out.

Not that it was necessary, he saw in Shanks’ eyes that he knew, that he was right there with him. No words were needed, no doubt was left in Shanks. He nuzzled his nose against Mihawk’s, soft smile spreading on his lips and almost making a way to Mihawk’s own. “I know, hawky. I know. Me too.”

It was almost too much, somehow that handful of words making him tremble all over and whine pathetically under the intense gaze. Shanks was ogling, taking in the exposed skin and softly trailing the scarred marks that covered it. Shanks wasn’t touching him like he was a lover, but as if Mihawk was something else, something to be looked after and revered.

The glint in his eyes made Mihawk know that something sappy was coming, but nothing prepared him for Shanks’ next words: “I’m not sure what kind of saint I was in my last life. But dam, I must’ve been fucking good to have you in this one.”

“Don’t fool yourself, red; I doubt you’ve ever been anything more than a filthy pirate.” His voice was breathy, taken away by the comment and finally lost to that disarming smile.

“Then I was a fucking good one. If you’re the prize I hid for myself to be found when I came back.”

“...you’re disgustingly sappy.”

“And you’re blushing, must’ve liked it, charming.” The silence must’ve been enough to answer Shanks, who laughed at it. And okay, maybe he was right and Mihawk was feeling those words in his core and just knowing that Shanks had thought them made him feel good. But the other man didn’t need to know it. 

“Shanks, do you ever shut it?”

As he opened his mouth to answer, Mihawk decided he’s had enough. His hand, fast and sure, closed around Shanks dick, giving it only one slow long stroke before his fingers were closing over its head with a little bit more force than necessary. Any words Shanks was going to let out were replaced by a groan and a jerking of hips. Even if those were not coherent words now, Shanks mouth was still babbling, his dark eyes completely covered with black blown up pupils. Mihawk can barely make out the words lube and drawer before Shanks is throwing himself towards the bedside table.

Shanks seemed to be out of it, pulling his hand from under his body to get the bottle he must have there, only staying in the bed and not planting face first to the floor because Mihawk manages to support him with a hand to his chest. With minimal effort, Shanks straightens back up, knees on the bed and places the jar against Mihawk’s hip before opening it.

“How d’you wanna do this?”

Mihawk’s mind fills suddenly with options. Positions he wished they could try and images that caught even him by surprise. There’s Shanks, laying down, head thrown back and legs curled around Mihawk’s back; there’s also him, standing on his hands and knees as Shanks pounds into him restlessly; the two of them, barely managing to stay standing against a wall; or maybe he could ride him, strain his legs until he’s cuming all over Shanks’ chest. So many options, so many things he would love to do.

He simply couldn’t choose. Anything was good for him. “Don’t care… As long I can look at you.”

Shanks' fingers dipped into the little jar and used his knee to push Mihawk’s legs apart. He lets him do just that with minimal resistance, bending his own knee in order to give the other man more room to work him open. The liquid was cold, but as one finger slowly pressed inside it turned to warmth. His breath was turned short as the feeling started to spread from his inside and towards every corner of his body.

Somehow, as a second finger slid inside him and started working him open, Shanks’ mouth found his neck once again, nibbling and sucking to his heart’s content. There were so many feelings at the same time, so many fucking waves of pleasure going through his body at the same damned time.

He could hear Shanks still murmuring soft words against his skin, but at that point Mihawk was too lost to his own thoughts. They were all mushy and kinda disconnected from one another. It was so hard to simply focus on one thing, his body and brain simply unable to decide what part of it was more important, what was the thing they should place their attention at. Was it at Shanks’ fingers, those that were caressing all they could reach in search for what would make Mihawk scream in pleasure? Was it at his mouth, at the daring tongue and the fact that his skin was no longer to be white morning came? Was it at his voice and the complete nonsense he was spitting out and the fact that it alone could make Mihawk’s inside’s twist and turn? Or maybe it was at the way Shanks’ muscles were tightening under his hands. Maybe at the hardness that was pressing against his hip and the warmth it spread.

No, he decided finally, his eyes falling close in an effort to focus. He should pay attention to his own voice, to the damned fact that he was being too loud. Nothing could have prepared to what laying in bed with Shanks would feel, but he needed to recover some sense of composure despite everything.

Yeah, he should probably take care of that as soon as possible, because it was getting kind of embarrassing. But apparently Shanks knew what he was doing and looking for, and soon biting his lips was not enough to keep quiet, at least not if he wanted to avoid drawing blood. So he used his hand to cover his mouth, pressing down in time with Shanks’ skillful grazings on his prostate.

“Fuck. Just let it out. Not fair.” He was softly kissing his hand, the fingers inside him completely still and a stupid smile on his eyes. “Don’t hold back, wanna hear.” As time passed and Mihawk didn’t do as requested, Shanks bit down on the hand, trying to push it away with his head. “This is hard enough as it is with one hand, charming; don’t make it worse for me. Next fucking time Imma tie you up, see how you take it then…” It was added as an afterthought, as if he wasn’t completely sure how it would be received, but truth be told, Mihawk found himself actually considering it and moaning softly.

“Honestly think you can pull that? Not sure you have what it takes to pin me down and tie me up…”

“Oh, don’t worry, I have my ways. I’m incredibly skilled in tying knots with my mouth. Well, I’m incredibly skilled with my mouth in general. I’ll show you next time.”

Fuck, that was an image, and Mihawk’s brain managed to shut down and flood with want, both at the same time. The simple idea was too much for his poor heart and his too horny mind.

It was also proven too much for it, when Shanks started to move his fingers again, scissoring and prodding,  in the look for something Mihawk couldn’t wait to be found again. 

Well, if Shanks wanted to hear, to rip out of him an actual reaction, then Mihawk decided it was going to be a little performative. With a hand on his hair and the other gripping tightly his hip, Mihawk pulled a little, so Shanks had no other option but to look at him.

It was done at the same time as Shanks finally found that spot, and goodness didn’t it feel good. 

Mihawk let his mouth fall open, and with all his self control, managed to keep his eyes staring straight at Shanks as he let out a long breathy moan. It seemed to be making them both lose their heads. Pleasure too high and potent in both their bodies not one of them was fully able to think and control themselves.

One more finger broke inside of him, stretching the hole even further and efficiently turning Mihawk’s mind off. He didn’t need thoughts or control, he didn’t need to keep quiet or avoid having his body react to each graze. There was no real reason for that. Not when Shanks looked at him with so much fire and lust in his eyes.

All Mihawk needed was more of him, more of it.

The digits leaving his body were met with an unhappy sound. Something that made Shanks laugh and coo at him. Which, honestly: rude. Although, Mihawk didn’t get a chance to complain, because before that Shanks mouth was on his, and the tip of his cock pressed softly to his ass.

It was so much, and so slow. Shanks was either being too careful, something Mihawk didn’t really need, what he needed was to be fucked into fucking oblivion; or was having a really hard time holding himself together. And even if the idea was kind of endearing, Mihawk decided he was not going to have it that way. He needed more.

One of his legs found its way around Shanks waist, and pushed forcefully, making Shanks’ hips slam forward in one single fast thrust

Their mouths were still locked together, but it couldn’t be called a kiss any longer, both too busy letting out grunts and moans. The few seconds Mihawk needed to get used to the intrusion and push away the slight discomfort in his ass, were enough to have Shanks regain some of his composure, so by the time Mihawk gave him a short nod the younger one was ready to start moving instantly.

It was so much. Time and space lost any meaning they could have, the only thing important in Mihawk’s mind being Shanks. His pants, his half-lidded eyes and the force he imprinted on every swing of his hips. 

Mihawk kept one of his hands tangled in the red hair, pulling softly whenever he felt like holding back was too hard. His gut was burning, begging for release. The idea of letting this be over was hard on him, he just wanted to stay there forever; but at the same time he wanted to finish and let go of all that tension and want he had been building for years.

“Mi-hawk. Fuck. I’m… fuck, charming. So good, yeah. Close. Gonna finish…”

“Yeah, yeah… Same.” The feeling in his stomach was like a knot, and with some words that were far from coherent, Shanks finally managed to untangle it. Mihawk came hard with Shanks’ name on his lips so loud he could almost hear the echo screaming it back. His body tensed and pulled, throwing Shanks right over the edge with him.

With heavy breaths and tired bodies, they finally laid side by side on Shanks’ bed, covered in so many fluids and marks it was ridiculous, but feeling too happy and satisfied to really care. It wasn’t long before Mihawk felt Shanks curl around him, pushing the tired bodies until there was no space left between them.

The bed was barely big enough to accommodate the two grown men, but with Shanks clinging to him like a touch starved octopus, fitting was way easier. The younger let his head fall over Mihawk’s shoulder, his soft hair slightly tickling the sensitive skin. And Mihawk only had a couple seconds to wonder if he should push him away before his body succumbs to tiredness and loses consciousness as his arm finds a way around Shanks to pull him closer.

Morning came in a confusing way. He was way too hot, and with each breath his mouth was filled with hair. His body hurt in the most unexpected places, and it was way more tired than it had felt in years. But he could smell Shanks all around him, so he knew it was alright. Even better than that.

He also knew he was going to have to cut that visit short.

Carefully, he rolled the other man over and pushed himself up, leaving the bed before he could really give in to temptation. His body was gross and sticky, but with tired eyes he located a basin filled with water in a corner and walked to it.

It was cold, something that helped him wake up fully. Mihawk dropped the rag he had used to clean himself to the side, and as quietly as he was able, picked his clothes back up and started getting dressed. His pants were ruined, after so many hours of laying creased and turned inside out. But they would have to be enough until he made it to his own boat, he will change then.

Mihawk only stopped when he turned to pick up his coat. It wouldn’t be enough to cover all the marks, and he didn’t have any shirts even in the boat. Maybe back at home, but he was too far and already sailing late to turn all the way there and look for one. Sure, him being late or even not showing up to this meeting wouldn’t be unprecedented, but he was close, people must have seen him sail over there already. And if he didn’t show up now it would be suspicious. Last thing he needed was people meddling in his life and realizing Shanks was also in the area. And that it might mean something.

Shanks. Yes, that was the answer.

The pile of clothes made him pull a disgusted face, the clothes were all wrinkles and heaps. But he guessed it was better than nothing. It wouldn’t cover his neck and the bigger part of his collarbones, considering it was going to hang low from his slightly smaller shoulders. But it was better than nothing, And surely he could improvise something to turn it into a tighter fit.

He didn’t have time to pick up his coat before a sad voice made him turn in place: “Not that you don’t look hot as hell on my clothes. But, that looks a lot like stealing… Leaving already?” Shanks sounded more and more awake by the second, sitting up on the bed in all his naked glory.

Mihawk patted himself mentally for resisting the urge to go back to him. He looked too damn alluring. “Yes. I have a previous appointment. Didn’t count with… spending the night.”

“Spending the night, what a cute way to put it, charming.”

His heart was going a mile an hour. Fuck, he wasn’t expecting the aftermath, the way his body was screaming to go back to Shanks and get in bed with him. The sun wasn’t that high yet, maybe he could.

No, no. Mihawk, control yourself. The shiteating grin on Shanks’ face told him his thoughts were not as discrete as he wished, and that he knew what Mihawk was thinking. He willed his body to sit down on the chair, and picked up his boots. If he was not looking at that body it was easier to control his thoughts.

“You know, I was hoping you would stay for a bit…”

“For once, I would actually take that offer without a fight.” He admitted, surprising even himself, “but I don’t want to raise suspicions about… this. It would be pretty bad for both of us.”

“Is this because of the warlord thing?” Mihawk didn’t see the need to actually give an answer. He couldn’t even think of any other reasons, so confirming that was the one was pointless. “Can I convince you to leave the marines?”

“I’m not a fucking marine.” Shanks' raised eyebrow told Mihawk they didn’t have the same opinion on the matter. And okay, maybe he was technically working for the marines, but he wasn’t one of them. No way. “Whatever, either way I’m not leaving the program. It comes with some pretty good perks. For instance,” he added, over Shanks protests, “the person I’m repeatedly told to chase and keep under control…”

“Me? That’s cute.” Shanks got up from the bed with a loud laugh, and made his way to the basin and cleaned himself up with a disgusted face and mumbling under his breath about feeling dirty and sticky.

With his boots finally laced, Mihawk got up ready to go. He didn’t even had time to pick up his hat before it was snatched away by Shanks, who set it on his own head with a smile. Well, fuck. That was one image Mihawk was going to return to in the loneliness of his own bed for quite a while: Shanks, completely naked save for his hat, was definitely fantasy material.

“I kind of need that, red.”

“No Shanks in this beautiful morning?”

They stayed silent for some long seconds, before Mihawk decided that he didn’t really have that much pride left after the previous night either way, so he took one step forward, placing a hand in Shanks cheek with a soft caress that had the other shutting his eyes in content.

Even if it wasn’t his original intention, Mihawk did take the opportunity to snatch his hat and place it atop his own head despite Shanks’ complaints. “Stop complaining, Shanks. I just have to go.”

Had he known the younger one shutted down so quickly with only his name, Mihawk would have started using it eons ago. That was one good thing to be aware of. It took him some long seconds of staring with a dope smile on his face before he was able to speak again: “Fine. Will you come back after? We’re gonna stay in the area for a while.”

In a pretty uncharacteristic gesture, Shanks picked up a pair of shorts and pulled them up before going to Mihawk. He couldn’t help but notice that he hadn’t bothered with underwear, and briefly wondered if he had worn some the night before. His mind too hazy to actually remember and be sure.

Either way, he didn’t have that much time to think before Shanks was stepping up in his personal space. He looked kind of scared, unsure in a way that almost had Mihawk smiling. It was uncertainty, fear of not knowing how to act or what to say now. It was endearing, because Shanks never doubted, never questioned himself -either because he was too sure of his actions for that or because he just couldn’t take the consequences into consideration-, but not that time. Maybe he wasn’t shying away from Mihawk physically, but he was still trying to shield his emotions in a sense.

And Mihawk couldn’t help but think how cute that was.

Mihawk let him go at his own pace, waited patiently as Shanks’ hand rose and got closer, until it was resting in the neckline, right over one of the many, many, marks. Also, too close to his rapid beating heart for Mihawk to feel truly comfortable. Even if he was willing the traitorous organ to calm down, it wasn’t working as well as he hoped.

Not that he really cared, as Shanks hand trailed his skin until it could rest on his nape. Mihawk found himself being pushed forward and one second they were just staring into each other's eyes, and the next they were kissing.

Morning breath and all that shit be damned, nothing in the world could ever make a kiss delivered by Shanks become not absolutely blissful and addicting. Skilful lips and a daring tongue taking his breath away in mere seconds. It felt so good Mihawk was having trouble keeping his head leveled. A moan was trying to crawl its way out of his mouth, and it took every grasp of control he could have to hold it back.

Although, maybe he should just let go. They could climb back into the bed. He was in no way obliged to go anywhere. No one could force him, really. No one could blame him either, if someone knew, that’s it. But like, who could have red-haired Shanks kissing them and simply turn away? Definitely not him, that sounded impossible.

Maybe not completely impossible, for he actually managed to push Shanks away as soon as they got away for breathing. With one hand to his chest, Mihawk pushed him away, and sent the younger some steps back to regain his balance.

That fucking smile of his was going to be Mihawk’s downfall. Because if nothing else, it was too bright and alluring, and it was proving to be a test for his resolve of leaving. Has Shanks always smiled like that? Was Mihawk simply getting old and sappy or was it really making the other look bright and shining?

“So?” It took him some long seconds to remember Shanks’ question about coming back, distracted as he was with the way those swollen lips were moving.

“No. I would prefer,” he continued, upon seeing Shanks’ absolutely heartbroken face, “if I didn’t have to trail you. You are perfectly aware of where my residence is, though. And well, my doors will always be open for you.”

“Oho, you talking ‘bout that little palace of yours? Or the ones to your body? ‘Cause I’m kinda interested in both…”

“Okay. You have officially ruined it. I take my offer back.”

“No! No. You can’t.” He pulled Mihawk back towards himself, embracing him with a dopey smile and holding him tight. “There’s no room for takebacks, charming. You’re trapped with me.