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There were three things the world, from the Government to the Marines to Pirates, didn't know about the world's greatest swordsman, Dracule 'Hawkeyes' Mihawk.
The first thing was that he had an aversion to touch.
Hawkeyes wasn't tactile, ever. Not with his close entourage, not with his fellow Warlords, not with anyone. Hawkeyes was more tactile with Yoru and Kogatana, his sword and dagger, than with others of his kind. He just had difficulty putting his hand on someone he didn't know, usually a potential enemy, without knowing if that person had recently washed or not.
And on the other side of the spectrum, Hawkeyes hated beingtouched - which was even worse, in his opinion, than accidentally touching someone. As the best swordsman in the world, Hawkeyes could never exactly know if the person touching him had good intentions or not, observation haki or not. This feeling was reinforced as a person. Hawkeyes froze, his body tensing as if he had become a marble statue, whenever one of his previous lovers hugged him.
Hawkeyes didn't like those long, awkward hugs that seemed endless. He didn't know what to do in those moments, whether to return the hug or not, where to place his hands, or how to kindly tell the person to let go. Hugging was boring and awkward for Hawkeyes -unwelcome. He took no pleasure in giving or receiving a hug.
Fortunately, Perona and Zoro understood this quite well and, not being tactile themselves, never tried to enter Hawkeyes' living space if they could avoid it. Except for training, which, in essence, required physical proximity, Hawkeyes made a point of not touching the two teenagers under his care. Did he have any weird particular tastes in bed? Yes, Hawkeyes was no saint, but he drew the line on people who were ten years younger or older than him. He felt no attraction to the exuberant girl and stubborn boy, nor did he plan on giving them a goodbye hug at the end of the two years -ew.
Hawkeyes was like a cat who hated being touched and arched his back to avoid being petted when he didn't want to. And his enemies knew that Hawkeyes' claws were even sharper than a cat's. Not that anyone with common sense would want to touch someone with a sword that huge.
The second thing was that the powerful swordsman got cold easily. Hawkeyes had long since listed possible explanations for why he shivered frequently. First of all, his body had to have one weakness somewhise. Hawkeyes knew that he was asking a lot of his body between daily training and recurring duels. A sacrifice had to be made somewhise if he wanted to stay in shape to face the new generation and regulating his body heat was one of them.
Then, Kuraigana was isolated enough that Hawkeyes could enjoy his solitude in peace, but the island was prone to bad weather. It was raining a lot on Kuraigana, the island always being foggy and cold. The cold easily anchored inside the castle which was poorly insulated and too large for the heat from the hearth to spread everywhere.
Hawkeyes' final theory was that his idiot husband stole all the warmth from the island and from his heart every time he left.
The paradox was that as much as Hawkeyes had an aversion to being touched, Shanks' body was as hot as a small portable furnace.
Shanks was Hawkeyes' personal furnace.
The private sun of the swordsman who chased away the cold with strong arms and brilliant smiles.
Hawkeyes didn't want to admit it, except that he was shivering under the blanket as the stormy downpour beat down on the castle windows. He felt cold deep down, inside his bones, but the swordsman was just too stubborn to admit it or to retrieve an extra blanket from the closet. Either way, Hawkeyes was too cold to even think about going out of his little cocoon which was still far from being warm enough to save him from the coldness of the room.
Maybe Hawkeyes' plan was to look pitiful and miserable enough to convince his husband to come and snuggle under the covers with him. Usually, Shanks was the first of the two to want to snuggle and hug, but the redhead wasn't tired. Thus, the redhead settled on the chair to witness the race of drops of water on the window so as not to disturb Hawkeyes' sleep
Hawkeyes' new shiver caught the attention of Shanks who turned his burgundy gaze towards the bed. He chuckled in sympathy. The redhead's heart ached at the cute sight of the world's greatest swordsman curled up on his left side into a tight little ball. Well, as small as his size allowed. Only Hawkeyes' black hair was visible, the rest of his body being covered by the duvet.
Eventually, Shanks took pity on his clearly miserable husband. He stopped being stubborn and joined Hawkeyes in bed. Luckily, the shameless pirate wasn't afraid of losing his second arm as his bare chest pressed against Hawkeyes' back. Shanks' right arm snaked across his husband's body before resting possessively on his chest to pull him closer. There was no longer any space between them, their bodies fitted perfectly together, like two pieces of the same puzzle.
They both knew that the redhead was as privileged as he was lucky that Hawkeyes allowed him to be here in this position. Someone else would already be dead. No other Hawkeyes lover had the right to cuddle him after sex since the swordsman always left straight after. This sleepy cuddle was most certainly proof that Hawkeyes was getting old since two hours had already passed since they made love - that was what Shanks made a point of calling their rough and passionate fuck at the bottom of the stairs as if using this word would make their meeting a cute one.
Mihawk shrank in on himself even more, his body tensing briefly before relaxing completely in his husband's embrace. Just like cats did when they were happy and warm. Because, as the minutes passed, Shanks' naturally hot body warmed both the sheets and Hawkeyes' heart, who relaxed even more - if this was even possible; Hawkeyes felt like a puddle in Shanks's protective arm.
Because Shanks was the exception to the rule.
The worst part was that Hawkeyes felt good while he was locked in Shanks' arm. He knew he wasn't really locked up. First, Hawkeyes could get out of bed if he wanted using force but Shanks would step back at the first sign of discomfort - which happened less and less often as years passed.
Hawkeyes didn't hate it when it was Shanks who touched him with his warm, calloused hands. He wouldn't go so far as to become a tactile person around the redhead, Hawkeyes was too reserved for that, but he knew how to get what he wanted without having to ask. And, thankfully, Shanks was never the last one to give out free hugs.
Hawkeyes had found his home in Shanks's arm and hated when their embrace inevitably had to end because of their respective duties. Shanks always had to join his crew one day or another because they owned one part of his heart even if the second belonged to Hawkeyes.
Their legs intertwined under the duvet.
"Don't fight sleep, kitten," Shanks whispered in Hawkeyes' ear so as not to disturb the quiet of the room, but he had noticed that his husband had still not fallen asleep despite his presence.
The swordsman's eyelids opened and closed at irregular intervals. Hawkeyes was tired from being woken up early by Zoro and Perona's loud bickering, but he didn't want to waste time either. Shanks' presence on Kuraigana was always rare and fleeting, especially after Marineford, and Hawkeyes didn't want to waste a single second of their short reunion because of his fatigue.
Hawkeyes turned his head, his nose bumping against his husband's jaw which earned him a small laugh, before kissing Shanks tenderly. The kiss was soft, slow, and incredibly domestic. Their lips brushed lightly in the dark. The explosive need of earlier had given way to the affectionate calm of two husbands sharing one last kiss before falling asleep.
"Go to sleep, I'm not going anywhere tonight," Shanks promised, his voice slightly muffled as he buried his face in Hawkeyes' soft locks of black hair. He kissed the back of the swordsman's neck before adding, "Good night, kitten."
"Good night, love," Hawleyes replied, the words slightly unintelligible, as he drifted off to sleep; happy, warm, and safe in his husband's arm.
Because in the end, the third thing to know about Dracule 'Hawkeyes' Mihawk, the world's greatest swordsman and most untouchable Warlord, and that only a few people had discovered, could be summed up by this: Hawkeyes was a big softie for Akagami Shanks, Emperor of the Seas, his enemy and husband.