Work Text:
Almost instantaneously after arriving inside his castle on Kuraigana Island, the famed swordsman Dracule Mihawk notices that something is different, out of place even.
“Mi querida, what is the meaning of this?” Mihawk’s even-cadenced voice calls through the echoing hallways of the gloomy fortress he has built on the otherwise uninhabited island.
“Amor, you’re back,” his lover smiles widely, crossing the length of the living room in three quick strides.
She then moves to perch on the arm of Mihawk’s beloved chair that resides in front of the splendid, crackling fireplace. A playful smirk appears on her lips as she beckons the World’s Strongest Swordsman forward with her index finger as desire and want shines in her chocolate-colored eyes.
“Isa, you’re not going to distract me from that monstrosity, no matter how beguiling you may be,” the raven-haired man deadpans, settling himself into the massive armchair before he pulls Isabella into his lap, sensually pressing a kiss to the woman’s forehead and then doing the same to the hollow of her throat.
“Who’s attempting to be the distraction now?” Isa shudders, clenching a finger in Mihawk’s dark hair, slipping the feathered hat off the warlord’s head. “Also, I have no idea what monstrosity you’re referring to, as the only one I see are those hideous monkeys you keep outside,” she whispers, flames dancing in her eyes from the reflection of the fireplace.
Mihawk harrumphs, casting his hawkish gaze onto the coffee table mere inches away from his feet.
He quirks a brow at his love, rolling his eyes at the antics he’s found himself a part of.
“I do believe these flowers were not here when I left for that wretched meeting with the navy,” the words escape his lips with a dramatized, beleaguered sigh.
“Oh, those,” Isabella laughs, having known very well the entire time just what Mihawk was referring to upon his return home. “Well, it’s just always so dreary and morose in this castle, especially with you gone, tesoro” she continues, stroking one manicured finger down Mihawk’s cheek and beard until her hand rests at the base of his strong jaw. “So, I thought a pop of color could brighten the place up in your absence. Surely you cannot fault me for that?”
“Ah, but now that I have returned, you no longer need that revolting shade of yellow, mi corazón.”
“And if I said they reminded me of your eyes?”
“Then I’d insist we go to the nearest doctor to have your head examined, cariña,” Mihawk rolls his piercing eyes without any real malice behind it, grasping Isabella’s head lovingly in his hand before pulling her in for a kiss, soft and slow, their heartbeats syncing.