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draculesmihawk · 4 months

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EYES LIKE SINKING SHIPS ON WATERS (I ALMOST JUMP IN)

Pairing: Dracule Mihawk x OFC

Summary: He’s a stranger. She’s an unusual assignment. He may be everything she’s looking for, but she’s a presence that grows more intriguing – and infuriating – by the moment.

CHAPTER SIX: and it's my whole heart (deemed and delivered a crime)

[AO3]

It happened in an instant.

She wasn’t within reach. Too far ahead of him, too angry at him, too far up the incline of the forest terrain when her steps seemed to stagger and her legs gave out from under her. She had hit the dirt roughly before his eyes, the side of her body crashing and taking the brunt of the damage against the hard woodland ground. Her body was unresponsive as she slumped down the dirt slope a few feet off from him.

Mihawk himself wasn’t sure what he had called out to her at that moment. It could have been her name. It could have been a command to stop. The words could have caught in his throat, leaving only a strangled noise passing his lips. Whatever sound he made, it didn’t matter. Not when he was rushing over to where Aurelia had stopped. Knees driving into the dirt beside her, Mihawk reached out to inspect her. She was breathing. That much he was relieved to know. What had caused her to stumble? He had no clue. He slowly turned her onto her back, taking note of the scrapes along her left side that she sustained from her fall. Hauling her up carefully, he kept one arm around her as he drew her onto his lap. Her body curled into his and her head came to rest on his shoulder as he sat with her on the forest floor. Mihawk brought his free hand to her cheek, brushing the dirt from her face. He took in the slow breathing, the furrowed brows, the way her eyes were moving behind closed lids.

His lips moved to brush along the crown of her head, dipping to her ear as he murmured whatever reassuring words he could think of to her. His hand moved to brush along her arm. Wrist to elbow, elbow to shoulder, then back down. A soft attempt at rousing her. He shifted in his position, pulling back to look at her face. A pinched, pain expression lingered, her mouth a set line as she tried to lift her head from his shoulder.

“Open your eyes for me, little dove.”

Need was apparent in his voice. There was no other way to describe it. Mihawk simply needed the sight of her eyes upon his own. Those incredible warm eyes, the narrowed gaze, looks that were lit with amusement usually at his expense… Whatever she could give him, he would accept at that moment. His hand moved to trace the swell of her cheek, the line of her jaw. It wasn’t until he reached to brush her brow that Aurelia’s hand reached up, fingers curling over his. The soft hum in response from her had Mihawk’s breath catching in his throat. His hand turned, fingers taking hold of her own. He pressed a kiss to her hand, thumb brushing over her knuckle as he did.

“Mihawk.”

Her voice came out in a shaky sigh.

“I’m here. I've got you.”

Mihawk shifted, legs parting as she tried to sit up. It took longer than usual, a hiss of pain on her lips as she ended up sitting between his legs. He kept a knee propped behind her, and remained at her back for stability. His hand remained in hers, his eyes still searching for her own. She brought her free hand up to her face, fingers tenderly pressing against her temple. It wasn’t until the discomfort subsided that her eyes fluttered open. She winced at the light, blinking repeatedly as she tried to get her bearings.

"There we are," Mihawk said, as Aurelia's eyes set up on his, "You took quite the tumble, darling."

Darling.

That was a new one.

It sat with Aurelia when Mihawk assisted her back to camp. At his insistence, of course. His very frustrating, very handsome insistence. They moved in silence after the ordeal. The fall, what they spoke of before the accident, what they were doing before all of that… Awkward silence seemed like the best option to go with at the moment. One hand gripping the bag of fruits, he led them down the sloped forest grounds. His other hand was kept at her hip, her hand resting atop his as he guided them through the thicket and onto the sandy beach. She assumed she looked positively dreadful, as the smile Shanks had on his face disappeared at the sight of her. It had been enough to alarm the others, then there was no stopping the swarm of worried faces.

“Sweetheart, what happened?” Shanks asked immediately.

“This better not be your doing,” Benn spoke over her head to Mihawk.

“I’m gonna fix you up a drink,” Roux offered.

“You tried to brawl the Warlord in the woods, didn’t you?” Yasopp whispered to her.

They all seemed to speak at once. At her, at each other, to themselves. A mix of voices messily moving through the air around them. It wasn’t Mihawk’s hand on her hip anymore, but rather Shanks’s hand. Aurelia didn’t even notice the change of hands until Shanks began to lead her further towards camp, orders being sent out to the other men to give Aurelia some room to breathe. Shanks led her to a makeshift seat, sitting her down before he moved to crouch down in front of her. Her head swiveled slightly, unable to find the familiar glint of yellow eyes in the small group.

He was just there a moment ago.

“Are you okay?”

Surely he wouldn’t leave now.

“Aurelia…”

Would he?

“Sweetheart.”

Darling .

Aurelia’s attention snapped to Shanks when she felt his hand touch her shoulder, rousing her from her thoughts. Curious eyes watched her as her mind seemed to catch up to the situation. She looked down at herself, taking in the new tear along the right side of her dress with a sigh. This skirt seemed doomed to be torn up. Her right forearm seemed to have gotten scratched up as well, minor scrapes and cuts on her arm and her leg where the dress was torn. Seeing her discomfort at the sight before her, Shanks unhooked the clasp of his black cape. He draped it over Aurelia’s lap, covering the skirt of her dress.

“This is all very unnecessary,” she said, even as Roux pushed a cup into her hand.

“This is nothing,” Roux replied back with a grin, “Just something to warm up the stiff bones.”

“And we take care of our own,” Shanks assured her.

Despite her words, Aurelia flashed the two men a thankful smile. It was that. Right there. That desire to aid those considered part of the team, the crew … It felt like a family being with Shanks and the other men. Aurelia had a family in blood. With all the requirements that seemed to follow that kind of bond. This felt like the type of family that took care of their own not out of obligation, but because they chose to. Because they wanted to. Because it felt right to do so.

“Thank you,” Aurelia said, before taking a sip from her drink.

Shanks slowly smiled as he watched Aurelia keep the sip in her mouth, refusing to swallow it. She flashed Roux a thankful smile, which screwed into a look of distaste once the other man turned to leave. Shanks laughed as Aurelia’s face twisted at the taste. Some sort of spiced alcohol. Very strong, very hard to drink down. Because it was Roux that gave it to her, she wouldn't spit out the drink, taking her time instead swallowing down the liquid. Shanks took pity once she did, taking the cup from her hand and drinking down the contents of the cup.

"Were you feeling unwell again?" Shanks inquired, as Benn came around with a rag and a bowl of water.

"No," she said, though her voice was distant as she spoke, "My foot must've lost its balance. I slipped and fell."

Shanks eyed her carefully as he dipped the rag into the water. She wasn't being truthful with him. Not completely.

"It's unlike you to be so uneasy on your feet," Shanks told her, as he ran the damp rag over her arm, cleaning off whatever dirt and grime had stayed with her following her spill.

"I must have become less graceful at sea," Aurelia replied, trying to keep the tone light.

"Well, graceful or not, we'll get you cleaned up," Shanks said, "We’ll figure out a replacement for your dress. At least until we can get you a proper one in the next town.”

Ever the gentleman, Shanks lifted the cape draped on Aurelia’s lap just high enough to gain access to her scraped leg. He kept his eyes at a respectable level and worked quickly. Under a lesser man’s care, Aurelia would be concerned for her honor. Shanks was not a lesser man, nor did he seem the type to forget himself when it came to a woman.

“You won’t scar,” Shanks offered, “Just a few scratches. They’ll be uncomfortable, but nothing life-ending. Though I’d suggest a rest.”

"I'm not the least bit sleepy," she challenged.

“Your eyes would say otherwise, sweetheart.”

Shanks dropped the rag into the bowl, motioning to her face before wiping damp fingers against the pant of his leg. When Aurelia tried to look away, Shanks lightly tapped her chin. It was tired eyes that met him when she looked back. Though she wouldn’t say it, Shanks knew whatever happened with her had stolen away some of that liveliness he had gotten used to seeing when it came to the woman who sat before him.

"It's just an accident,” Aurelia told him, “I don’t need to be ushered to bed at the first inkling of danger. I’m not made of glass. Just flesh and bone. Both of which are tougher than you think. It’s not in my nature to shatter under pressure, Shanks."

Aurelia watched as Shanks’s expression seemed to soften. He looked at her differently, eyes viewing her in a different light. The hand that had touched her chin slowly moved to comb the hair in her face back, tucking it neatly behind her ear. The expression he wore had Aurelia looking back at him curiously. There was a devotion in his eyes. A different form of adoration. She hadn’t seen such a look before when it came to this pirate. Not in the usual way he would meet her gaze.

“What?” she prodded with a laugh, lighty swatting his hand away as she spoke.

Her voice seemed to pull Shanks from his thoughts. He rose from where he squatted in front of her, held out his hand to help her up from her seat. She accepted his hand, even hooked her arm with his as he led her further into the campgrounds.

“Nothing," Shanks insisted, a shake of his head as they walked, “You just reminded me of someone.”

“Someone special to you,” Aurelia guessed.

She assumed it was correct from the coy smile that was drawn out of the man beside her.

“Someone quite dear, yes,” Shanks nodded, voice full of fondness.

Though he was set on leaving it at that, the impatient squeeze of Aurelia’s hand on his arm was enough to draw out a laugh from the pirate.

“I see flashes of her in you, you see,” Shanks continued, “In certain lights and specific angles. The small divot in your cheek when you smile. It’s your spirit though. The unwillingness to back down, even in times when you probably should … That more than anything gives me those happy, most welcomed glimpses.”

A smile came to Aurelia’s lips as she looked up at Shanks. He seemed to take a beat to close his eyes. He was visualizing the woman in that second. She was sure of it. From the looks of him, Aurelia knew Shanks savored the image of this mysterious lady in his mind. When he opened his eyes, Shanks sighed. Pleased. Content. The breath of a man who was touched by peace, if only for a moment.

“You loved her.”

A statement. No question lingering there.

“I did.” The words flowed from him. The easiest confirmation in the world. “I still do.”

“Well, where is she then?” Aurelia asked, as they slowed to a stop outside of her tent, “If I’ve a fraction of her spirit, I’d expect her whipping you all into shape by now.”

“Oh, she absolutely could’ve,” Shanks grinned, “And it would’ve been a sight to behold, sweetheart.”

Aurelia watched as Shanks’s joyful expression gave way to a faint sadness. His mind seemed to go back in time, replaying the flashes in his mind.

“Our paths crossed a time or ten. Perhaps, for a moment, our destinies even ran parallel to one another. However, I have only ever known the sea… and that was the one place she could not make her home.”

“I’m sorry.”

Shanks felt Aurelia’s hand lightly touch his. Her fingers wrapped around his, squeezed them in a way he could only describe as comforting. A touch. A reminder that he was in good company. Not alone. It was then that Shanks placed a smile on his lips. Still faint, but there in appreciation.

“As am I,” he confessed, giving her hand a soft squeeze as he spoke, “But I consider myself quite lucky. To possess someone’s heart completely and to be able to grant them entire access to one’s heart in return. To love someone that freely and to feel the weight of that love returned to you tenfold. It doesn’t matter what length of time you’re in possession of it. It’s more terrifying than any sea monster imaginable, more captivating than any treasure.”

A breath caught in Shanks’s throat at the thought. He ducked his head slightly so that he could meet Aurelia’s gaze directly. There was a fierceness there. A fire that burned brilliantly in Shanks’s eyes. Aurelia knew he meant the words he spoke. Shanks meant it with every fiber of his being.

“To know the risks and choose to love still… It’s the bravest thing a person could do in this world.”

He watched as Aurelia turned his words over and over in her mind, letting the sentiment sit with her. Then, as he had hoped, her eyes shifted from his. Her face turned. Looking around. Searching. For another’s face. For the face of the man who entered her mind and seemingly found a home there.

“He needed a moment,” Shanks softly told her, a knowing smile on his lips, “I’ll let him know you’re resting once he returns.”

Shanks watched as Aurelia’s eyes moved back to his.

“I told you I wasn’t tired,” she replied, calculated in the way she didn’t acknowledge half of his words to her.

Shanks released her hand, bringing it up to cup her cheek in fondness. The pad of his thumb brushed faintly against the divot in her cheek as she smiled at him. His eyes locked with hers, held her gaze steadily. There was a kindness in those eyes, but also a power there she couldn’t quite place. It drew her in, kept her captivated.

“Rest,” he commanded, voice no higher than a whisper.

Aurelia felt a heaviness touch her eyelids at the word. The side of her head pressed against Shanks’s palm, head growing heavy with exhaustion. Fatigue crept in slowly. It lingered around her. Maybe Shanks was right… His hand dropped from her face, reached around to rub at her back in comfort before he moved to open the front of her tent. She stepped in without another word, settled in slowly atop the makeshift bedding they had provided her.

It was Shanks’s soft smile and warm eyes that she saw before her own eyes closed.

It was not Shanks at all she saw when she dreamed.

She dreamt of yellow orbs. Of lips that were soft, though they rarely turned upward. She dreamt of a feathered hat and the dark curls that escaped from beneath it. The scent of leather touched her senses. The feel of it along her fingertips, against her body. She dreamed of him . Different than any other thought of him that crossed her mind. Her body eased, rested completely.

It was Mihawk that she found in her dreams.

It was Mihawk that she found when she woke up.

He laid beside her atop the bedding, an arm tucked behind his head and his hat tipped over his eyes. Though he wore his coat and cross still, he had placed his massive sword at his other side, fingers of his free hand at the ready to grab hold of the hilt if needed. Head raising slightly, Aurelia looked at the man that laid beside her. It was as if she manifested him from her dreams. Not entirely convinced this was reality, she raised a hand, dragged her fingertips slowly along his bearded jaw. She smiled when he huffed in his sleep. Her fingers pulled back from his face as he reached up to absentmindedly brush at his cheek. Biting back a laugh, Aurelia was careful as she raised her hand to repeat the motion again. That threat of a laugh gave way to a gasp when Mihawk’s once sluggish hand shot out to take hold of her wrist.

“You’re risking a very small, very pretty hand waking me from a nap,” he murmured out his warning, “Most forfeit their existence when they do such a thing, little dove.”

He released her hand, pushing back the brim of his hat as tired eyes opened and blinked into focus. It was then that Aurelia spotted them. Those peculiar yellow eyes. Aurelia felt the tug of a smile at the corner of her lips at the sight.

“I’m lucky then,” she replied, lightheartedly, “That you’re willing to consider taking only my hand.”

“I’ll have that hand in time,” he said, voice touched with lingering slumber, “You’ll continue to vex me until I’ve no choice but to take it.”

There was humor in his voice, as if the words carried a different meaning on his tongue.

“But tonight we’ll call a truce,” he concluded, “I prefer to battle against opponents when they’re at their best.”

Aurelia watched as Mihawk slowly sat up and shifted, a feat she imagined was quite difficult to do within the confines of the tent for a man of his stature. She followed suit, sitting across from him and watching as he reached for something just off from where they sat. He placed a bowl by her knee, something she was sure Roux cooked up and shoved into his hand before Mihawk came to visit her. She must have needed it greatly, as she didn’t seem to waste time picking it up and enjoying the meal. Aurelia watched as Mihawk’s eyes seemed to run over her, taking stock of her wellness. She ate her meal in silence, allowing him to reach out and lightly push away the hair from the side of her face, inspecting the small scrapes that were present there. They had a truce. That was the reason she let the back of his fingers graze her cheek the way it did before dropping from her face.

She held out the empty bowl to him, which he took and replaced with another item without a word. Looking down at her hand, Aurelia felt the soft fabric that was placed there. This blouse was stark white, much cleaner than anything Shanks and his men wore. It was made of finer fabric, incredibly soft to the touch. Where had they been hiding this one? Her brow furrowed slightly in confusion. She felt Mihawk’s hand touch her face once more, his thumb smoothing the crease in her brow until she eased.

“Whose shirt is this?” she asked.

“ Mine. ”

Mihawk watched as she turned her gaze upward, cautiously meeting his eyes. He wondered if her mind traveled to the night before. To the last conversation they had when it came to donning a man’s clothes. She must have. He was certain of it. He watched as those cautious eyes seemed to melt away, replaced with a glimmer of amusement and a hum of acknowledgement.

“I doubt you found the time to sail to the nearest town and back in such a short time,” she said, tone light as she set the blouse on her lap.

Mihawk watched as her fingers softly touched the fabric, wondering if he’d ever be so lucky.

“I’ve a few items stored on my boat,” he informed her, nodding towards her torn dress, “You’ll find much better use out of it than myself for now.”

“Afraid Shanks will offer me another article of clothing?”

Ah, yes. Teasing. Mihawk was certain she was feeling much better now.

“If not him, it would be Beckman,” Mihawk said, “If not Beckman, it would be another man.”

Aurelia watched as Mihawk leaned in, spoke to her in a hushed tone meant for just her.

“I’ve not the time nor the patience to deal with such an annoyance,” he added, “Not when I know it’s my shirt you’ll be most comfortable wrapped in.”

Aurelia felt her heart quicken at the words. She was unable to contain the pleased expression that spread across her face. It simply couldn’t be prevented. Not with those words. Not with this man. Her hands continued to hold the blouse even as she leaned forward and brought her lips to Mihawk’s. A soft graze. A brush between two lips. He made no move forward, though his heavy sigh indicated how much he wished to. Aurelia smiled against his lips before placing a proper kiss there, satisfying in its simplicity. It was then that she felt Mihawk move, felt his hand rest along the side of her neck before deepening the kiss. He was convinced he could do this forever, though she pulled back before he could put such a thought to the test.

“Thank you,” she said, head tilting slightly as she smiled at him.

“Do you make it a habit of kissing those who bring you aid?”

Her eyes danced with warmth as she looked at him. The amusement in her eyes gave way to mischief.

“Not typically,” she confessed, as though she put much thought into her next words, “But I can try to do so with Shanks and the others going forward.”

“Don’t you dare.”

His words came quickly, as if the speed of them would put a stop to such nonsense.

“Why not?”

A half-hearted challenge meant to peeve him more than anything else.

“You know damn well why not, little dove.”

Mihawk’s hand slipped from the side of her neck, taking the hair at the base of her neck with a light grip. Her laugh was breathy as he pulled her forward, crashed his lips into hers. He felt her sigh into his mouth, felt her lips part with ease as his free hand snaked around her hip. His tongue dipped in and out of her mouth, a simulation of what he could only hope was future activities. He sat back slightly as Aurelia crowded his space. Her hands gripped at the skirt of her dress, hiking it up until she was able to straddle his hips with ease. It was then that her arms came to rest along his shoulders, hand reaching up to tug the feathered hat from Mihawk’s head. She wanted to feel the softness of his hair, and wanted to tangle the wild curls around her fingers.

Aurelia had felt so certain when she had told Mihawk things could not happen again.

Now all she wanted was the feeling of his hands upon her.

She felt those same hands run along her body, reach between them to take hold of the front of her dress. He was tolerant at first, skillful fingers attacking the buttons with ease. Impatience seemed to overcome him slowly. It was the buttons. Too many damn buttons. She felt his sharp breath as he dropped his head to her shoulder, nuzzling into the spot between her neck and shoulder in begrudging defeat. He had fought off eagerness valiantly, but hastiness inevitably won out in the end. She felt the quiet hiss of a curse against her neck before Mihawk’s hands gripped the front of her dress, tearing open the fabric the remainder of the way.

He had given her his shirt. She had no further need for the dress. It was the only thought that kept him from apologizing for such a barbarous act. An act that seemed to elicit quite the positive reaction from the woman before him. Aurelia shivered beneath his hands, her head dropping down to his shoulder as she bit back a rather enticing sound. Hm… Mihawk couldn’t help but store that particular move in the back of his mind. For future reference, of course. He was a man of skill. Attentive in all manners of learning. Honing such skills would take practice. Continual practice. Perhaps practice twice a day, if she was up for it. Aurelia swore she could feel Mihawk smirk against her neck.

His lips moved to place kisses against her neck, along her shoulder, across any inch of accessible skin not covered in fabric. It wasn’t until he felt her hands frame his face that he allowed her to drag his mouth back to hers. She wanted the feel of his tongue against her own, wanted the slow churning that grew low in her belly that came with it. Her hips moved against his, felt the growing firmness beneath her as she did. His hands slipped beneath her dress as he felt the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of her chemise. He felt her sigh against him as his thumb moved along the curve of her breast. That sigh sounded like a choir of angels to Mihawk’s ears as his hands dropped down, fingers gripping greedily at the swell of her hips.

It was then that he heard it.

The sharp intake of breath.

Not in pleasure, but pain.

She was still hurt from that afternoon. He cursed himself for forgetting so. Cursed himself for taking liberties with her wellbeing. She would let him continue. He knew that much. Could he do so? Could he allow himself to sink into the moment, into her, knowing her complete and utter satisfaction would be marred by discomfort? He knew the answer in his mind, even as his body screamed for him to ignore it all.

Mihawk kept a secure arm around her as he moved their bodies. Careful as he coaxed Aurelia onto her back, taking care not to put too much weight upon her. God, she was beautiful . The faint flutter of lashes as she blinked up at him, clearing the haze of lust from her eyes. She smiled gingerly up at him, settling comfortably beneath his body. The front of her dress lay open, forgotten as she reached up to comb fingers through his hair. It positively wrecked him. Mihawk had no clue such a small, delicate action could cause such devastation within him. He wanted her body. Desperately. He desired only to hear his name on her lips. He needed the feeling of her body as it gave in to his, surrendering to the ebb and flow before being overcome by the waves.

It was Aurelia’s voice that broke the silence, whispering softly to him.

“You prefer opponents when they’re at their best,” she repeated his words from earlier.

She watched him swallow down his disappointment, let her hand drop to rub at his arms as he did.

“That’ll teach me,” her lips curved in amusement, “Getting myself injured right before such an important battle.”

Aurelia bit down on her bottom lip, clearly attempting to keep her laughter from bubbling to the surface. She seemed more at ease in that moment than any other they had shared before. He couldn’t quite believe the sight. Bracing a forearm above her head, Mihawk used his other hand to caress her cheek. She hummed at the sensation, eyes closing peacefully as she did.

“You’re different than earlier,” he couldn’t stop himself from quietly wondering aloud.

Her eyes opened and met his. She tilted her head into his hand, nodding at his words. She was a far, far cry from the words she spoke to him earlier that afternoon. There had been a shift. A significant one. Aurelia turned her head to the side, pressing a soft kiss to his inner wrist.

“It’ll be more than my hand at risk now,” she whispered to him, “I’m choosing to trust you, Warlord.”

Mihawk lightly touched her chin, turned her face as he moved to lower his kiss to her lips. The tenderness there would linger long after the kiss ended and haunt them in the waking hours. A secret reminder between the two of them.

Of what they shared just then.

Of what they’ll share more in the future.

“Get back to sleep, little dove,” he murmured against her lips.

“Back to bossing me around again,” she grinned, despite the loss of his weight atop her as Mihawk carefully untangled himself from her arms, “It seems our truce has reached its conclusion.”

“That means you’ll go back to being impossibly troublesome. What horror have I unleashed upon me now?”

Aurelia heard the humor in his voice and -- for the briefest moment -- she was certain she saw a ghost of a smile on his lips as he collected his sword and hat before he left the tent. She shifted onto her side, her hand lightly touching her lips as she hid her smile behind the length of her fingers. Eyes closing, lips widened into a silly grin. Reaching out, Aurelia took hold of the shirt Mihawk had gifted to her, dragging softness to her face as a breath of a laugh escaped her lips. She would fall asleep like that, face pressed to the fabric and a content smile on her face.

As Mihawk adjusted the large brimmed hat on his head, he surveyed the area as he left the tent. The others at the camp were scattered, sleeping beneath the stars under trees and hammocks. He had hoped everyone would have slipped into slumber, especially considering their preference towards ending their evenings downing cup after cup of whatever liquor they were able to obtain in their travels. It was the faint glow of the campfire that drew his attention. That and the lone man who sat by the fire.

Shanks.

The other man sat by the flames, back propped against a log and a nearly empty bottle leaning against his bent leg. Shanks’s thumb ran along the neck of the bottle as his eyes looked over the flames. A lopsided smile touched the pirate captain’s lips as they met Mihawk’s eyes. He beckoned the Warlord over, though he made no move to sit up from his comfortable position as Mihawk neared.

“You look positively aglow, friend,” Shanks said, all smiles and good nature as Mihawk took a seat beside him, “I take it things went then?”

Mihawk was silent, instead choosing to pick up the bottle from beside Shanks. He remained quiet as he took a slow swig from the bottle. It was a far cry from his nightly glass of wine. That’s for sure. Still, it was something and Mihawk was certain he’d need it if this conversation with Shanks were to continue.

“It’s unbecoming to speak on such matters,” Mihawk finally replied, earning a bored groan from his friend.

“You’re no fun,” Shanks sighed, “It’s no matter. I’ll extract the truth from Aurelia in the morning. She’s much better company anyway.”

Mihawk watched as Shanks yawned, stretched out lazily without a care in the world. He envied the man in that regard. Yes, Mihawk lived quite the lavish lifestyle himself. That much was true. He could sail wherever he wanted and did whatever he wanted without the curse of ties to the world. He terrorized every and any pirate crew that dared to cross his shadow. His name held sheer power. His exploits crossed countless seas. He achieved the only thing he had desired in life. By all regards, Dracule Mihawk was a great man. Yet he couldn’t do what Shanks does. To simply exist in the world, surrounded by those around him, and think of nothing but whatever joy happened to come upon him in that moment. That type of peacefulness escaped him completely.

The woman he left in her tent trusted him now. With her body. Perhaps even with her heart. The affection she bestowed upon him twisted at his insides. Made him happy, made him concerned. Shanks was not wrong. Between the two men, it was Mihawk who was tasked with the assignment from the Vice Admiral. It was Mihawk who had sent her running. It was Mihawk expected to bring her in. Would he be able to do it? To take her from where she stood and delivered her at the feet of whoever demanded her? He was unbending before he knew her. He was wavering even before his lips touched hers. He was certain he couldn’t go through with it after tonight. Furthermore, he felt the desire to tear into the flesh of anyone who dared try and take her from him. No. He could not do what he was tasked. That did not mean he was truly free of concern though.

The hand not holding the bottle found its way to the front of his coat, fingers lightly brushing over the spot he kept Aurelia’s book. The weight of it -- of the contents inside -- felt heavier with each passing moment.

That he could not ignore.

“Hawk-Eye,” Shanks’s voice tore through his thoughts.

Mihawk blinked, turned his head towards the man with the red hair.

“What’s plaguing your mind, you remarkably somber son of a gun?”

Shanks didn’t just look at him. He seemed to be looking inside of him, studying the Warlord by the light of the campfire beside them. There would be no hiding from Shanks. The man was far too perceptive for a drunk.

“There’s something we must discuss.”

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