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The night started out so well.
Shanks managed to lure Mihawk to the Red Force after their “duel” with the promise of cleaning up and eating dinner. They had showered, blown each other in the shower and Mihawk, while Shanks got to cooking in the galley, dressed himself in unworn clothes from the back of Shanks’ closet.
The trouble started when he got… distracted. Shanks was opening a bottle of the fanciest wine he could find when Mihawk walked in wearing a ruffled shirt and tight trousers- clothes that didn’t match Shanks’ casual aesthetic but fit the swordsman perfectly. And was it really his fault that Mihawk was so handsome in his trousers, his shirt with half the buttons undone to expose a chiseled chest? Leaving the pot on a high heat unattended to shove him against the galley door and kiss him senseless led to the first incident of burned rice. Mihawk’s “down, boy” nearly kept him from restarting the meal, but he eventually, heroically tore himself away.
The second incident wasn’t as serious. Mihawk smacked Shanks’ ass as he passed by him at the stove, causing him to jump and spill the wine. It wasn’t a big deal, there was always more, but his heart sank a little that he couldn’t give Mihawk the best.
The third incident occurred when a suggestive comment made Shanks grip the other man’s waist to pick him up onto the counter, devouring his mouth. Hands wrapped around his neck to tug at his red hair, making Shanks gasp as Mihawk sucked on his tongue and bit his bottom lip. Suffice to say, it was a team effort.
Shanks moved to Mihawk’s hickey-ridden neck, taking a deep sniff. He smelled his shampoo, the effervescent uniqueness of Mihawk, and… something burning?
“Shit, again?!” He left the comfortable cocoon of Mihawk’s limbs to turn off the heat, open the porthole, desperately trying to save his attempt at romance. But the blackened remains at the bottom of the pot proved he was too late. He slumped in defeat, returning to Mihawk’s embrace to sulk, hands returning to his waist seeking comfort. The other man indulged his childishness by wrapping his arms around his back in a hug, running fingers through his hair in a soothing rhythm, a pale imitation of their passionate groping just a few minutes earlier.
“We could go into town?”
“We always do that,” Shanks sighed into his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I wanted to do something nice. Take care of you.” He was about to call the whole thing off and keep his hunger at bay with the other man’s lips when—
The Red Hair Pirates walked through the galley door.
Everybody froze, staring at each other in shock. Shanks supposed it was obvious what they were up to, in this position, in these clothes. He wasn’t sure half of them knew there was anything between the two rivals until right now.
“Cap, not on the counter!”
They erupted into laughter and jeering, and any other time it would be appreciated. But he could feel Hawkeye stiffen in his arms, see him flushing brightly, closing himself up. This was a disaster.
“HOLD ON!” cried Lucky Roux, muscling his way to the front. He was serious- instead of eating, he waved his stick of meat to try and calm down the rowdy sailors. “Stop teasing! Can’t you lads see what this is? This is a date! Romance with a capital R! And we just killed the mood. But no worries cap,” he turned to face Shanks, hands on his hips with a determined look. “We’re gonna fix this.”
“You really don’t have to-”
“Bonk, Hongo, Gab, decorate the deck for a meal for two! Yasopp, get out the lights and tablecloth! Lime Juice, go pick flowers! Beck, get the accordion!”
“We don’t have-”
“Go!”
The crew jumped into action, leaving the kitchen to get prepared. Roux walked over to the stove, grabbing a spoon to taste what remained in the pot.
“This is terrible.”
“Yeah, it burned.”
“No, it was terrible before. What were you trying to make?”
“Risotto.” It was Mihawk’s favorite, and by the widening of his eyes he hadn’t realized what Shanks was making until now.
“We got some lobster this afternoon, we can fancy it up, save the wine for drinking. Plus,” he added, examining the spilled bottle, “this isn’t even the best vintage we have on board. I'll get cooking.”
“But-“
“No buts! A lover deserves the best, especially when they’re a fancy bloke like Hawkeyes! You can thank me later.” And with that, he left to fetch the vintage from the ship’s hold.
Finally alone, Shanks looked back up at Mihawk- his flush had tempered down to a simmer, his expression unreadable.
“Are you okay?”
“Hm.” Mihawk hopped off the counter. “I was horribly embarrassed, and still am. But your crew is surprisingly helpful, I'm hungry, and,” he added with a touch of humor, “I still want to hear your speech.”
He remembered ending their duel earlier in the day, his heart fluttering with plans of confessing his feelings during a candlelit dinner until Mihawk surprised him with an unexpected kiss. It was then he admitted to having a speech at all. “You remember that? I don’t have to.”
“You intended to woo me. Your meal has already not gone to plan. Do you think you can afford not to make up for it?”
When Roux came back from the hold, Shanks had never been so happy to be interrupted.
“Can I do anything to help?”
“Yeah, cut the onions. Hawkeyes, wanna stir the rice?”
“I would be delighted.”
-
The crew did a good job decorating. A small round table with a tablecloth sat in the center of the Red Force’s deck. A string of lights hung overhead, tied to the foremast and the right horn of their figurehead. They managed to find a matching pair of plates and almost-matching silverware. A beer mug was used in place of a vase for flowers and, as a finishing touch, Shanks brought out a candle.
The crew also tried, bless their souls, to sing something romantic, but they quickly stopped after realizing they were tone-deaf and only knew sea shanties.
Roux presented the risotto with a flourish, pouring them a glass of wine each before bowing and scampering off with the rest of the crew to god-knows-where, leaving them alone. After eating, Mihawk looked at him expectantly.
“Well?” He swirled the wine in his glass, mischief in his eyes. “Seduce me.”
The moment of truth. Shanks cleared his throat. “Hawkeyes,” he started, gesturing to the man in front of him.
“Yes, Akagami?”
“I’ve been thinking-”
“An awful habit.”
Shanks glared. Mihawk smirked and sipped his wine. It really was an excellent vintage.
“What? That's what I would have said.”
“Yes. Well. Mihawk, I’ve been thinking. About us.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, about our duels. We meet regularly, right?”
“Is that a problem?”
“No! No, not a problem. The opposite, in fact. I want to keep meeting.”
“To duel?”
“No. Well, yes. To duel, and other things.”
“What other things?”
Shanks blushed, his brain fizzling out. “Um-”
“This is a terrible speech.”
“You’re responding more than I thought you would, I had to improvise!”
Mihawk, sensing his genuine anguish, took pity on him and set the glass down to scoot his chair closer, holding Shanks’ hand in support. “Alright, I’ll stop teasing. Please continue.”
Shanks took a deep breath. Why was this so nerve-wracking? They had already spent most of the day exploring each other's bodies. But most of their time tonight had been physical, and, well, he wanted more than that. He just wasn’t sure Mihawk felt the same way.
“Mihawk, I’ve been thinking. About us. I’ve never told you this, but… our duels saved my life. When Roger died, I was completely alone. I felt helpless and weak. I had to build up my crew from scratch and I shoved away a lot of my feelings to be a proper captain. My crew is wonderful, but they’re not my equals. You are. When I met you, I felt like I finally had a reason to get up in the morning. You challenge me to grow stronger every day. When I want to drink myself silly, you encourage me not to wallow in sadness. Our duels give me something to focus on beyond the past."
"I’ve found strength I didn’t know I had because of you. You’re so smart, and interesting, and handsome. I feel like I can tell you anything, like I can talk to you for hours, and I do. You know more about me than anyone. You’re the remedy to my grief, my equal. My pretty bird."
“So. That’s how I feel. And I understand if you don’t feel the same way. But I need to ask, for my own sake, so I know for sure: Mihawk, can I kiss you?”
Mihawk stared long enough for Shanks to feel uncomfortable. Had he said too much? His fears were put to rest when Mihawk cupped his face and pressed their foreheads together, brushing a thumb against his lower lip.
“Of course you can.”
-
The Red Hair Pirates gathered around the galley porthole, letting out oo’s and ahh’s at the drama unfolding before them. Someone let out a whoop at the kiss.
“Cap’s getting some tonight!”
“Not if they see you standing around gawking.” They turned to see Beckman crossing his arms as Roux set up a large portion of lobster risotto on the galley table behind him. “Leave ‘em alone, would you? Besides, Roux’s made enough food and drink for the whole lot of us.”
They cheered as they grabbed and filled various plates and mugs, milling about the kitchen, standing, sitting and lying on the floor.
“Maybe if we’re loud enough we won’t hear them in the bedroom.”
“We’ll have to get wasted for that!”
“How terrible! Drink up, boys!”
“A toast!” Roux raised his glass. “To young love!”