Work Text:
Dracule Mihawk isn’t very surprised to see Roronoa Zoro inside his castle, along with a strange pink-haired girl who seems to be floating above the ground. The young Swordsman is wounded and covered in a multitude of bandages that are soaking through and coloring red slowly. The young man looks at him with a pained expression, yet Mihawk only sees determination and anger. Something has happened for Roronoa to be here and Mihawk is curious, but he’s not going to pry.
“What are you doing here?” Roronoa asks in a growl, one trembling hand on his sword.
Mihawk brushes past him with little effort and takes the small flight of stairs up to his front door. Roronoa turns with him and the pink-haired girl follows his movements, hiding behind him with a neutral expression on her face. She knows who he is, he can see it in the way she holds herself. She’s scared, but not scared enough to grovel for mercy at his feet.
He’d honestly hate that. He would probably slice her in half if she tries.
“Answer me!” Roronoa snarls, taking a step forward and wincing violently.
He catches himself before he falls, sword drawn just a little to show he means business. Mihawk rolls his eyes and opens the door, standing there for a moment, contemplating if he should answer. Roronoa got here in some way, he doesn’t know how, but it isn’t like the boy can leave now.
“This is my house,” Mihawk finally replies.
He moves through the door and leaves it open, watching from the corner of his eyes as Roronoa and the girl follow him inside slowly. The girl closes the door behind them and Roronoa leans heavily against the wall, glaring at him as he disappears around the corner.
Mihawk sighs. This is going to be troublesome.
OOO
Mihawk sits on his lush chair with his wine and his paper when Roronoa and the girl come into the living room. The girl looks extremely annoyed and immediately flies toward the kitchen when she spots it. Roronoa stands in the doorway for a moment, unsure about his next action. Mihawk sips his wine, silently amused, but unwilling to show it.
Roronoa eventually moves toward the couch, falling on it and wincing again. His wounds must be serious if he shows discomfort outwardly. Mihawk is curious, once again, but he won’t ask. It is not his place and he also doesn’t really want a long-drawn explanation about what happened to the green-haired youth.
“You’re not going to say anything?” Roronoa softly asks after a few more minutes of silence.
Mihawk doesn’t look up from his paper and sips his wine again. He contemplates his answer. He knows it’ll be impossible for Roronoa to leave the island, not with all the monkeys roaming around. And certainly not with his injuries. He is far too weak to defeat the King and Mihawk isn’t going to let him try. Roronoa has the potential to become a worthy opponent, and he doesn’t want to lose a sparring partner if he’s honest with himself.
“If you wish to leave, go ahead. I won’t stop you,” he says.
Roronoa scowls and crosses his arms, falling over on the couch and closing his eyes. He looks annoyed and Mihawk understands him, but he doesn’t much care to fix the problem. The ghost girl comes back from the kitchen with some sort of pink-colored drink. Mihawk has no idea where she got it or what she used to make it. He watches her for a moment as she flies toward Roronoa and hands the drink to him, demanding he finish it.
Roronoa reluctantly does what she tells him.
Then the girl turns around to look at him and Mihawk sees the cogs in her brain working. She’s thinking. He doesn’t know her, but he can see she is smart. She may look annoying and strange, but she is clever and cunning.
“You are Hawkeye Mihawk, correct?” she asks.
“Yes,” he answers. “What is it to you, ghost girl?”
She draws her brows up and crosses her arms, floating over to him to look into his yellow eyes. She has deep brown eyes and her makeup makes them look round and comically big, but they’re finely shaped with long lashes. Her face has no imperfections and if she changed up her look, she could be very pretty.
“My name is Perona, not ghost girl,” she replies, obviously annoyed. “Why do you live here?”
“Because it is secluded and doesn’t include annoying people,” he answers, side-eyeing her to see if she gets what he’s trying to say.
She looks appalled and annoyed, huffing and floating to another chair to fall into it. She crosses her legs and wipes her pink hair out of her face. It falls over her shoulder in ringlets and Mihawk watches as gravity takes it.
“I request to live here,” the girl says.
“Why is that?” Mihawk asks, sipping his wine.
The paper is not interesting today so he lays it aside, gazing at Roronoa instead of the girl as he waits for her to answer. Roronoa isn’t looking at him, an arm over his eyes as he tries to breathe evenly. Mihawk can see he is in pain.
“We are stuck here,” the girl replies. “I want to live comfortably so I ask to stay here. Since it is your castle I’d need your permission to remain here.”
Mihawk almost wants to laugh. Of course, they are stuck. This island is a prison for anyone who isn’t strong enough to defeat the monkeys. Luckily, Mihawk does not have that problem. He compliments the girl on asking and takes another sip of wine.
“If you are not as annoying as you look-” he begins. “-you can stay.”
Perona all but gasps, whipping her head around in anger, but quickly realizes what he says and thanks him. She cheers softly to herself, wiggling her legs like a little girl in the chair. Mihawk rolls his eyes and sips his wine, crossing his legs and watching as Roronoa’s breath finally evens out. He’s asleep.
He fell asleep in the presence of someone more powerful than him. Mihawk wonders why but realizes he only fell asleep once Mihawk agreed to let Perona stay. A small smile quirks his lips upward and he quickly downs his wine to hide it.
This might become interesting after all.
OOO
Roronoa is angry. Mihawk can clearly see it. The young man is trying to leave the castle to go back to his Captain. He isn’t going to last against the monkeys, though. Mihawk knows it. He watches from where he leans against the wall as Perona tries to stop Roronoa, but the Swordsman refuses and is out the door within seconds, sword drawn in a trembling hand. Perona looks defeated. She turns to him and asks if he’s going to stop Roronoa, but Mihawk shakes his head.
“He will need to learn,” Mihawk only replies.
“But he’ll die,” Perona disagrees.
“Then you’d better keep an eye on him,” Mihawk comments as he walks away.
Perona’s face falls and she’s out the door after Roronoa before he can say anything else to her.
OOO
Roronoa’s unconscious body isn’t heavy and Mihawk hefts the young man higher, glaring down the monkeys until they scatter into the forest. He beckons Perona to follow him and they head back to the castle. Roronoa’s wounds have worsened and he breathes shallowly. Mihawk sighs. This young man is going to cause grey hair growth. He knows it.
They get back to the castle quickly and Mihawk instructs Perona to draw a hot bath. He follows her as she floats up the stairs far quicker than he can walk and disappears into the bathroom. He can hear water running and Mihawk kicks open the door to his bedroom, placing Roronoa down on the dust-covered sheets.
He tears off the boy’s horrid shirt and lifts him to do the same to the belly warmer. Next come his pants and not long after that Roronoa is buck-ass naked. Mihawk picks him back up and maneuvers to the bathroom, shooing Perona away. She glances at Roronoa with a worried look once before scampering from the room.
Mihawk drops Roronoa into the bath, uncaring about the hot water and the yelp that comes from the young man as he is startled awake quite violently. The Swordsman flails in the tub and Mihawk grabs his wrists tightly to keep him from smacking himself.
“Calm down,” Mihawk says gently.
“Hawkeye?” Roronoa says breathlessly, looking at him but not seeing him.
An aftereffect from the hit he received to the head, Mihawk thinks. He looks the boy over and knows that the blindness will fade in a few days if he rests well. There are several wounds on his body, but the one that draws Mihawk’s attention is the wound that slices over his chest. It has been reopened. It is the wound that he gave the young man, and for some reason, even though it was healed, the wound has been renewed.
Mihawk has no idea why, but this young man should not be alive.
“Wash yourself. I will dress your wounds when you are done,” Mihawk says to Roronoa.
The green-haired man nods slowly and Mihawk lets go of his wrists, watching him quietly for a moment before turning away. The older man moves to get the first-aid kit and opens it. He pulls out bandages, needles and thread, and a lot of gauze.
Mihawk glances at Roronoa and sees him slowly washing away the blood. His hair is coated in red secretion, which the young man doesn’t know about. Mihawk sighs and walks back to the tub, leaving the first-aid kit on the sink. He announces his presence softly and Roronoa drops his hands into the water, surrendering his motions to Mihawk.
The Greatest Swordsman in the World never thought he’d wash some boy’s hair, but here he is, doing that exactly. He rolls his eyes and rubs his fingers through green hair, massaging the shampoo into the strands and washing away the blood and grime.
“Thank you,” Roronoa says eventually.
“Don’t thank me,” Mihawk says. “Just don’t die.”
Roronoa huffs in quiet laughter and shakes his head in disbelief. Mihawk understands, deciding not to comment on it. He finishes washing the boy’s hair and leaves him to do the rest on his own. He gathers a large towel and helps the young man out of the bath when Roronoa is done.
The young Swordsman dries himself off and ties the towel around his hips, rubbing his temples with a trembling hand. He looks exhausted and Mihawk sees the tension in his muscles. He fought well, but he still lost his battle.
They’re both silent as Mihawk dresses Roronoa’s wounds and stitches some of his deeper gashes. Roronoa doesn’t flinch away, but he does wince when Mihawk pulls the skin together. The Swordsman says nothing as Mihawk leads him to a spare bedroom and throws him a pair of pants and a shirt. He’ll have to adjust some clothes to fit the young man, but he doesn’t want to do that now.
Roronoa sits down on the bed and falls backward, placing an arm over his eyes again. Mihawk watches him for a moment and then takes his leave, closing the door softly. They’ll talk later and it’ll take a while for Roronoa to warm up to him, but Mihawk likes to think they’re taking steps in the right direction.
OOO
Roronoa Zoro’s face falls and pales incredibly as Mihawk lets him read the newspaper. He can see the way his entire world falls away from under his feet and Mihawk feels sorry for the young man, but there is nothing they can do. Roronoa’s hands grip the paper so hard it crumples and his eyes take on a far-away look.
“I wasn’t there for him,” he whispers.
Mihawk places a hand on his shoulder and takes the newspaper back. Roronoa looks at him with a pained expression and Mihawk sighs. It is time to tell Roronoa of his solution to their problem. Roronoa won’t like it, but it’s the only way for him to return to his Captain eventually.
“Train here,” Mihawk says.
“What?” Roronoa asks. “Why?”
“You need to stay here, right?” Mihawk asks. “He asks you to meet him later,” he states, pointing at the picture on the front cover. “You will reunite with him two years from now. Train here to grow stronger. Your goal is standing in front of your face, Roronoa. Take a chance and become worthy.”
Roronoa’s eyes widen and then he nods, determination coming over his features. Mihawk smiles tiny, a sense of pride filling him. From behind them, Perona smiles, too, as she slams her scythe into the dirt of Mihawk’s little garden.
OOO
Perona stirs the stew around and Mihawk drops the vegetables into the broth. She smiles at him and he nods, preparing to cut more vegetables. Roronoa is behind them, peeling potatoes on a small stool. His legs are kicked up, his head is bandaged after the last battle against the monkeys.
He is steadily getting better, but it is taking time. Mihawk wants him to become stronger quickly. It’s only been a month and there is little progress. Sure, Roronoa grows stronger, but that doesn’t mean he will be strong enough at this rate. They only have two years.
“We start meditation tomorrow,” Mihawk says as he drops more vegetables into the broth.
“I know how to do that,” Roronoa shoots back, throwing a potato at him.
“You will learn it anew,” Mihawk decides.
Roronoa rolls his eyes but accepts, throwing him more potatoes which he all catches. Mihawk dices them and drops them in boiling water. Perona flits around the kitchen, dropping spices and sauces into the stew. The kitchen smells divine and when she deems the stew good enough, she leaves to set the table. Mihawk takes over the stew and Roronoa washes his hands, getting plates out of the cabinet to help Perona set the table. Outside, a storm is raging, and the rain patters loudly against the windows.
Mihawk finishes up the stew and brings the pot to the dining room. He puts it on the table and takes his seat. Perona disappears into the kitchen and comes back with glasses for his wine and other drinks. Roronoa takes his seat and Perona does, too.
They eat in pleasant silence and then Perona is the first to start up a conversation. She talks about growing flowers and though Mihawk isn’t in agreement with using his garden as a flower patch, he does get where she is coming from. Flowers on the dinner table would make for a lovely scene.
He finally relents and Perona cheers, floating from her chair to peck him on the cheek. Mihawk isn’t entirely surprised by the action, but Roronoa’s face goes slack in utter surprise. Perona doesn’t seem to see it. Mihawk is entirely amused. Roronoa is by far the most innocent young man he has ever met.
He’s so focused on his swords that he never took the time to explore other things and has no need for physical pleasure. Mihawk understands that. He used to be the same until he met a certain redhead, but that’s long since passed.
He doesn’t comment on the kiss and the meal continues, though there is an air of uncertainty that fills the silence. Roronoa shoots him and Perona glances and they say many things. Mihawk decides not to linger on them and finishes his meal.
Perhaps he clears the table with a small smile and brushes his hand against Roronoa’s on purpose when he takes his plate, but nobody can fault him for it.
OOO
Perona’s flowers bloom beautifully in the next few months and Roronoa’s training progresses wonderfully. His meditation is strong and his feel for the sword is impeccable. He swings it with grace and each practice match is a thrill. Mihawk can’t say he’s had this much fun in ages.
Each swing of his blade is calculated and has all his strength behind it. Roronoa is not joking around. Mihawk knows it in the way he stands and in the way he grips his blade. There is conviction behind his every move and each strike is hard and fast. Roronoa has become stronger and cleverer. Mihawk might be a little bit impressed.
Roronoa’s Armament Haki is coming along great as well. He’s very adept at it though it might take a little longer to fully master it. Mihawk teaches him Observation Haki almost every other day, blindfolding Roronoa and striking him with a Bokken to teach him awareness.
He’s bruised and battered, but his determination is sky-high.
Mihawk knows he will become a worthy opponent in time. He will be worthy of his Captain’s acceptance and he will certainly one day defeat Mihawk and claim the title of the World’s Greatest Swordsman. He’s so certain of it that he feels it in his bones.
It also helps that Roronoa is more inclined to his advances each day, though not as much as Perona. Perona actively pursues him and though he doesn’t mind, he’s not entirely attracted to her as much as he is to Roronoa. Mihawk is far more inclined to chase power than fragility.
Perona is by no means fragile, but in comparison to Roronoa, she is but a weak lamb while he is a bull with sharp horns and a sharper attitude. Mihawk likes that. He adores it, to be honest. He’s drawn to Roronoa in some way he cannot explain and he wants more of it. More of the tingling in his underbelly and more of the shy gazes he receives.
He wants everything.
But he denies himself because Mihawk is uncertain if Roronoa feels the same way. He’s not in love, Mihawk is never in love. He doesn’t do love. But he does do attraction and sex. And he has abstained for too long. Perona knows it, she can see it in the way he gazes at her. She gazes at him the same way, hunger in her eyes and in the way she moves. They chase each other in a game of cat and mouse.
They might have fooled around, but not enough to satisfy. Mihawk wants more. He needs it like he needs air. It’s stifling.
But Roronoa is not like that and he doesn’t want to force anything on the young Swordsman. He doesn’t want to ruin the image Roronoa has of him with something less and shatter the respect the green-haired Pirate has for him. He wants that least of all.
So, he abstains from Roronoa, indulging with Perona instead. Roronoa isn’t stupid and can clearly see what they are doing. He blushes more and shies away from them more, but becomes bolder over time, staying in the same room as them for longer even when they’re practically igniting the other with their eyeballs alone. He scampers when they actually get into it but Mihawk sees his interest. However, he is unsure if it is for him or Perona.
Mihawk does not much care. As long as Roronoa becomes interested in their more adventurous sides, then that is all that matters to him.
OOO
Roronoa breathes. Mihawk watches him as he shifts his feet and plants them securely on the cobblestone, squaring up with the next strong monkey. He observes from the side as the young Swordsman flies from his spot and cracks the ground beneath his feet, slamming his sword against the monkey’s axe and pushing the animal back. There’s a screech from the monkeys around them, all eyeing Roronoa as their next victim, but they know they cannot attack. This is a one-on-one battle. Whoever is defeated doesn’t matter. The monkeys fight and they always will.
Perona is sitting in his lap, filing her nails and looking bored. She lifts her hand against the bleak sun that shines through the cloud cover, examining her work. She clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth and glances at the fight.
The air around them trembles with the force of each blow that Roronoa delivers. He is strong and willful, fighting with his heart in his hand, giving it freely so he may fight at the height of his powers. Mihawk envies him. He never fought like that. He still doesn’t. Roronoa has something that Mihawk never had; someone to care for, someone to fight for, someone to become stronger for. Perhaps even to die for. Mihawk has never had something like that. He doesn’t think he ever will. He became strong on his own. Roronoa has become strong on his own as well, but he has surpassed Mihawk in some way.
He has friends who make him stronger. Friends who care for him and will risk their lives for him. He will risk his life for them as well.
Mihawk has no such thing and the envy he feels might be real, but it might not be. Perhaps he is simply jealous that someone can be close to Roronoa in a way he never can. All they will ever be is rivals, mortal enemies that will one day fight a battle to the death. Mihawk knows it in his bones. He will fight this boy, and Roronoa will win eventually. He will die on this boy’s blade.
Excitement makes him giddy and a small smile graces his features, body tingling as he watches the green-haired Pirate fight. There is no one of his caliber, nobody on his level. The boredom is making him feel suicidal and he wants something – anything – to quell the ache of loneliness he feels. Fighting makes him feel better. He always fought with Red Hair, but since the loss of the man’s arm, it hasn’t been the same. He hasn’t been fighting at full strength and Mihawk is appalled. He wants a real fight, a real challenge. And this boy, Roronoa Zoro, might be his salvation.
“You’re making a weird face,” Perona comments, just loud enough for him to hear.
Mihawk snaps his gaze toward her and frowns. Has he been making a weird face? What kind of face has he been making, if it had been weird in and of itself? He doesn’t think he makes strange faces, but who knows, there is no mirror for him to see right now. He doesn’t look in the mirror nearly enough to know what he looks like when he feels giddy about his death.
“What kind of face?” he asks, wrapping an arm around her middle and pulling her into him.
She squeaks and braces herself against him, pouting as she looks away from him. She knows him well enough now that she can tell when he is thinking of something odd, but not well enough to know what it is he is thinking about.
“You looked strangely homicidal,” Perona mutters. “You’re not thinking of killing him, are you?” she asks, looking at Mihawk with a little bit of fear in her eyes.
“Of course not,” Mihawk says. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Then why are you looking like that?” the pinkette asks, obviously confused.
Mihawk sighs and drops his head onto her shoulder, watching from the corner of his yellow eyes as Roronoa defeats the monkey, beckoning a new one to challenge him. Roronoa is strong and powerful in ways Mihawk is not, but he has not yet surpassed him in total strength.
“I was thinking about my death on that boy’s sword,” Mihawk answers honestly.
“Your death on his sword?” Perona repeats blankly. “Why? Will he kill you?”
“He will, one day. But that day is not today. Nor next year. It will take longer for him to surpass me,” Mihawk tells her carefully. “But he will fight me, and he will defeat me, killing me to take my spot as the World’s Greatest Swordsman. That is how this goes.”
“Boys are stupid,” Perona says, but Mihawk knows she means something different.
He sees in her eyes that she doesn’t want them to fight, that she doesn’t want Mihawk to get killed. But it is not up to her. It is up to fate to decide whether Roronoa will one day take his place.
“Perhaps,” Mihawk says, nuzzling her neck and smiling into the flesh.
Perona shivers, clutching at his trousers until her knuckles turn white. Roronoa glances at them, distracted from his fight and clashing blades with his opponent. He skids back and Mihawk is instantly aware of the many enemies around them. He draws his blade the moment they swoop in, raining down on Roronoa as he loses focus. One slices his shirt to pieces, but Roronoa is quick enough to escape fatal injury.
Mihawk’s blade cuts through their forces and splits the ground under their feet. They flee in terror, their frightened screeches filling the sky.
Seconds later, the three of them are alone. Roronoa breathes heavily and Perona crosses her arms in annoyance. Mihawk sheathes his blade, scowling. He walks up to Roronoa and smacks him over the head. It isn’t a harsh smack, but Roronoa still glares at him.
“Do not get distracted while fighting an opponent,” Mihawk growls. “It’ll be your death.”
“Then don’t suck face where I can see,” Roronoa shoots back angrily, sheathing his blade and ripping the tatters of his shirt from his body.
Mihawk stops short. He wasn’t even kissing Perona, he was simply leaning against her. This boy was clearly getting the wrong idea- Or was he? Mihawk cocks his head to the side and feels a grin coming over his face. Roronoa’s expression becomes a little more neutral and uncertainty splays over his face. Mihawk leans toward him, towering over the boy with his additional height.
“Are you sad that you didn’t get to participate?” Mihawk asks teasingly.
Roronoa’s face flushes and he stammers out some words. Mihawk doesn’t understand any of them and he doesn’t care. He glances at Perona to see her smiling as well and he knows they’ve pulled him in, not on purpose, but not entirely accidentally either.
“I-I am not,” Roronoa protests, face red.
Mihawk smiles, “I’m sure you are.”
Roronoa becomes so red in the face that he looks like one of the tomatoes from Mihawk’s garden and the Swordsman laughs softly. Perona chuckles from behind them and floats toward Mihawk, draping herself over his back and placing her chin on his shoulder, gazing at Roronoa with lidded eyes.
Roronoa visibly swallows at her gaze and sweat gathers on his forehead. Mihawk finds it to be enough teasing for today and he places his hand on Perona’s head, disengaging the situation. Roronoa visibly relaxes at the gesture and gathers his things, shyly making his way in the wrong direction. Mihawk snatches his white sword and turns him around, causing Roronoa to flush red once more.
They make their way back to the castle and Mihawk swears he sees Roronoa looking at him more often than not.
OOO
Perona’s hand on his skin is icy cold. Her breath on his neck is warm, hot in comparison to her freezing body. Her ghost form is strange. She is still tangible, but not as much as a regular person. Mihawk threads a hand through her pink hair and strokes it out of her face, pressing his lips to her forehead and peppering her face with kisses. She sighs into them, rubbing her freezing hands over his skin.
Mihawk sighs, leaning back against his pillow as she drops by his side, hugging him and leeching off his warmth. She presses a kiss to his pectoral and he turns into her, wrapping his arms around her and hiding his face in her hair. The moon shines into the large windows of his bedroom and her naked skin is gleaming with sweat and pale as snow. She glows, all but ethereal.
Mihawk might have to admit that he has come to like her more than a little bit. But his main attraction still lies with Roronoa, who has grown taller, wider, and more handsome over the last year. Mihawk craves his attention, craves bronze skin on his tongue, and craves a pliant body beneath his own. Something to dominate, something that fights back and wants the upper hand, but knows it’ll never receive it.
Mihawk wants it like he wants good wine. It’s a necessity, a craving he can only satisfy when he’s had it.
Perona’s willingness doesn’t nearly come close enough, though he loves her dearly for indulging with him. They’re both lonely, separated from people they might have loved, and strange in a world that doesn’t entirely accept them for who they are or want to be. Roronoa isn’t the same. Has never been like them and never will be.
He has friends who accept him. He accepts himself and grows, moving forward throughout it all. Mihawk never did, and Perona never will. They are not like him. Roronoa is far away from them, having everything they cannot have and never will have. Mihawk might be jealous, but he can’t say he hated his life.
Perona doesn’t seem to hate her past either, and that makes Mihawk happy. He doesn’t want her to hate who she is because she has been shaped by her past. He has also been shaped, molded into a form that he barely recognizes from his childhood years, but it doesn’t matter. He cannot go back. He can try to change, but he knows he won’t.
Roronoa hates his past. He can tell. He hates it with vigor and tries to honor it at the same time. Mihawk does not know what happened to him, nor will he ever ask the young Swordsman. But Roronoa’s past has shaped him in some way, and his present is shaping him in another way, a way in which he is different.
His friends shape him in a way Mihawk and Perona never can. Roronoa still thinks of them, every day that he is awake he thinks of his friends and finds new ways to honor them, to bring them into his life. Mihawk has nobody like that. He lives in the present, not caring about his past or his future. Perona follows in his footsteps, and it takes them far away from Roronoa. So far they can never see eye to eye.
And yet-
OOO
Roronoa’s scream echoes in Mihawk’s head. Perona’s cry of fear and terror pierces his skull and the sound rings in his head, mixing with Roronoa’s screech to form an unbearable sound that hurts him. It drips from his ears and causes horror to drop his gut so far he feels like he’ll pass out.
Mihawk all but slices the monkey King in half upon the discovery of his ward on the floor, covered in so much blood he can barely see his green hair. Roronoa is breathing, but his breath is shallow and his body is bruised and battered.
The monkeys scatter when he injures their leader and Mihawk drops Yoru harshly to kneel by Roronoa’s side, lifting him and wiping blood from his face to see the damage. One of his eyes is gone, unsalvageable and the skin is red and angry, blood leaking everywhere. Mihawk curses and instructs Perona to fly to the castle to get the first-aid kit. She does so immediately.
When she is gone, Mihawk tears off his coat and rips off a piece of the soft cloth, tying it around Roronoa’s wound and applying as much pressure as he dares. He curses to himself and presses one hand to Roronoa’s neck, looking for his pulse. He finds it weak, but it beats, and he sags in utter relief.
“Don’t you die on me, Roronoa,” he whispers.
Perhaps he imagines it, but he thinks he sees Roronoa smile.
OOO
Roronoa’s eye is damaged beyond repair and he wears gauze over it, the bandages around his head keeping it in place. Mihawk stitches the wound closed, instructs him to keep it dry and clean, and has the young Swordsman rest. Perona is incredibly worried and cooks to keep her anxiety at bay. They are overflown with comfort food and though Mihawk doesn’t mind it, she is dwindling their supplies.
“I have to go,” he says a few days later.
Roronoa is out for the count on the couch, sweating and swatting at dreams that plague him like a disease. Perona worryingly bites her lip and daps at his forehead with a damp cloth. She looks over her shoulder at him and nods. She’ll keep Roronoa safe until he returns to the island with new supplies. They can farm a lot themselves, but some things still have to be bought.
Mihawk sets out and travels a few days over the Grand Line, sailing to the nearest town and buying all the supplies they need. He’s recognized by more people than he is comfortable with, but this is a peaceful town and they are good to him, so he is good to them.
“Aren’t you buying more things?” a kindly vendor woman comments.
“I have guests,” Mihawk supplies.
“Wonderful!” the old woman says, handing him two more loaves of bread for free and a bottle of her oldest wine.
“Thank you,” he says.
“Don’t be so modest, Hawkeye,” she says with a smile, swatting at him. “Now go, your guests must be worried.”
“If only you knew,” he mumbles, taking his leave quickly.
He returns to Kuraigana a week after he sets out and finds Roronoa back on his feet, swinging a Bokken around. Perona has apparently hidden his swords and kept him from getting lost. She even stopped him from fighting the monkeys before Mihawk came back. He’s grateful.
“I have returned,” he says when he enters the kitchen.
He finds Perona behind the stove, making cheese sandwiches. She greets him with a smile and a peck to his lips and rushes back to the food in the pan. She serves him and Roronoa the food and he tells them about his week-long travel. Roronoa is glad to have new supplies but he’s also anxious to get back to fighting. Mihawk sternly tells him not to until he is healed.
“Focus on other things,” the older says. “Focus on growing your Observation Haki,” he states.
Roronoa nods, though he is reluctant. He does what Mihawk says and trains until deep in the night, until exhaustion sets in and he falls on his bed and sleeps before he hits the pillow. Mihawk watches him closely, keeping him healthy by supplying food and drink when he needs it. Perona watches, too, for entertainment and because she is secretly worried but will never outright say it.
They’re both worried about Roronoa. But Roronoa is only worried about the fact that he can’t make out the distance between his sword and his target.
OOO
It is one-and-a-half years after he comes upon the island that Roronoa finally shows any real interest in sharing a bed with Mihawk and Perona. The two of them have been fooling around for about eight months now, and finally, Roronoa joins them.
He’s hesitant at first; extremely shy and obviously a virgin when it comes to sex, but Mihawk is very well prepared to show him the ropes. He won’t do anything that Roronoa doesn’t like and they’ll take it slow. First, he lets Roronoa and Perona explore each other. Perona is experienced and knows exactly how to make Mihawk feel good, so the older man has no doubt she’ll know how to help Roronoa with his problems.
He might be jealous, yes, but Mihawk is a patient man. He can wait for his turn.
Miraculously, after the first few times that Perona and Roronoa share a bed (no sex yet), he is allowed to watch them. Mihawk feels his blood rushing through his veins as he leans against the wall beside the door. He’s just out of sight of them, they can’t see him but he can see them clearly. A blush is furiously high on Roronoa’s cheeks. He knows Mihawk is watching and is incredibly tense.
Perona doesn’t seem to care one bit.
She bites into Roronoa’s neck and elicits a pleasant moan from him. Mihawk feels his gut stirring. He watches carefully as Perona shows him where Roronoa is sensitive and where he isn’t. The scar bisecting his chest – the one Mihawk gave him – isn’t as sensitive as the Swordsman had thought, but it still entices the younger man when Perona touches him there, barely brushing her fingers over the bumpy skin. She kisses her way down his chiseled chest and stomach, and makes her way down to his happy trail, biting him on the hip and making Roronoa’s hips buck.
The young man lets out a groan and shields his eyes with his arm, only to pull back with a hiss as he applies pressure on his injured eye. Mihawk jerks forward, wanting to kiss the soreness away, but he refrains and halts himself, crossing his legs so he won’t accidentally step in anyway. Roronoa wanted him to watch, not intervene.
Perona begins taking off the rest of his clothes, and her own, too. Soon they are both naked and Mihawk has to bite his lip to keep from making an obscene noise. Roronoa isn’t small and he certainly looks tantalizing. Mihawk wants a taste so bad he can feel his mouth watering. Perona seems to have the same thing in mind and she swallows the green-haired Pirate whole.
Roronoa all but howls and bucks off the bed, hand snatching Perona’s pink hair and yanking her head up.
Mihawk wants to lick the skin on his neck and bite a mark into the flesh. He feels it in his fingertips.
Perona smiles mischievously and continues her ministrations, pleasuring Roronoa in all the right places before promptly sitting on his cock in one go. Roronoa has obviously never had sex before, because he almost cums on the spot, shrieking and gripping Perona’s hips to keep her from moving.
His remaining eye is blown wide with want and pleasure and he falls back onto the bed, a wanton groan spilling from his lips. Mihawk all but breaks the skin of his palms with how hard he is clenching his fists.
Perona waits for Roronoa to gather his wits and then fucks him within an inch of his life, enjoying herself thoroughly. Mihawk can see the boy come undone and he wants to participate so badly that he has to physically stop himself. He leaves the room the moment Roronoa actually whites out and breathes deeply in the hallway, quickly walking away lest he does something he shouldn’t.
He can’t wait to be allowed to touch and knead that supple flesh under his fingers until it bruises.
OOO
Mihawk has never had such a serious test of wills. He presses kisses on Roronoa’s neck and wills himself not to bite the man underneath him, lest he scares him away. Roronoa swallows thickly, he can feel the bob of his Adam’s apple against his lips. Mihawk feels giddy, floating on a high he hasn’t had the pleasure of feeling for a long, long time. Perona sits on the bed by their side, discarding her clothes and pleasuring herself for them to see. Roronoa’s eyes are glued to her sex, her fingers moving steadily because she knows he is watching. Mihawk watches, too, and grazes his teeth over Roronoa’s collarbone. Roronoa’s breath hitches, but he doesn’t move away.
“How do you want this?” Mihawk asks, his voice a croak from excitement.
“What?” Roronoa manages, transfixed by Perona’s movements.
“I have a plan,” Perona says. “Wanna hear it?” she asks.
Mihawk nods his head subtly, giving her the go-ahead as he feels up Roronoa’s body with his cold fingers. The Swordsman shivers but doesn’t move away as Mihawk moves lower and lower, chasing the need he feels in the pit of his stomach. The need he knows Roronoa is also feeling.
“You fuck me,” Perona says, pointing at Mihawk. “And he fucks you.”
Mihawk stops to consider it for a moment and then nods. He can allow this young man to take him, that’ll be good. Roronoa won’t want to be the submissive one at this moment. He isn’t confident enough to accept that yet. Mihawk knows how hard it was for him the first time he was the bottom. He doesn’t want Roronoa to have a bad experience with the same sex the first time.
“Agreed,” Mihawk says.
“What?” Roronoa says again. “I’m gonna-?”
He cuts himself off when he realizes what they are saying and his entire face flushes a bright red. He quickly looks away from Mihawk and Perona, hiding his face in the sheets. His hands crumple the blanket under him and Mihawk smiles, biting into his skin softly. Roronoa hisses, tensing.
“Are you opposed?” Mihawk asks curiously.
“No,” Roronoa bites back. “Just-“
He frowns, contemplating his words and his actions. He sits up, dislodging Mihawk, keeping his eyes away from the both of them. Perona watches him quietly, still sitting with her legs wide, displaying herself for them in the most obscene way she can. It gives her a kick, showing herself off. She likes it. Mihawk does, too. But he won’t admit that. Roronoa might like it as well, but they’ll never know because he definitely won’t be telling them that.
“Are you sure?” Roronoa asks, finally looking at him.
Mihawk lifts his brow. Is Roronoa trying to be considerate of his feelings? Strange. He thought the younger man would like to be dominant over him. He’s always the one losing to Mihawk, so why not best him at something other than sword fighting?
“Yes?” Mihawk says, questioning his reply. “Are you not-? Do you not want to?” he asks. “You can say no if you really don’t want to. I thought you’d rather like to be the one winning this time.”
“Sex isn’t a competition,” Roronoa shoots back.
Mihawk’s brow lifts higher.
“Sex is something you do to pass the time or to feel good,” Roronoa continues, a blush high on his cheeks as he speaks slowly and clearly uncomfortably. “I don’t care who is on top or at the bottom. You do what makes you feel the best. That might mean I have to submit to you in this way, too.”
Mihawk is, to say the least, impressed and very much surprised. He smiles and presses a kiss to Roronoa’s inner thigh. Guess he’s getting what he wants. He didn’t even have to try and convince Roronoa this time. He looks at Perona and she nods. She will help him. He knows.
“Lay on your back,” Mihawk starts. “Perona will tell you what you need to know. I’ll get a towel.”
Roronoa’s face flushes brighter, but he nods. He scoots back on the bed and Perona all but deposits herself on top of him, slinking up to whisper in his ear. Mihawk watches her. She’s grown. She looks like a beautiful young woman. Her makeup and fashion have become more mature and she looks pretty. Her big eyes are deep and her figure is tantalizing. Mihawk licks his lips and quickly turns away to gather a towel.
He can just see Roronoa’s face go tomato red as he leaves the room.
OOO
Mihawk slowly sinks into blissful heat. He groans lowly and below him, Roronoa hisses, eye going wide. Perona obstructs his view of him, but he can still see the way the green-haired Pirate bites his lip to keep from making pleasurable noises. Perona quickly grasps Roronoa’s face and kisses him, prying the noises they both want to hear from the young man.
Roronoa shudders as Mihawk bottoms out. Mihawk feels like floating.
Perona sets the pace, slowly lifting herself off of Roronoa’s cock only to drop back down gently. Roronoa hisses as Mihawk moves at the same time. Slow and calculated, sweet and soft as they move together. Mihawk presses a kiss to the nape of Perona’s neck and wraps an arm around her middle, helping her set the pace. She moans into his mouth when he kisses her and Roronoa looks at them with a wide, lustful gaze.
Mihawk wants to kiss him, but Perona is in the way. He grumbles about it and Perona chuckles, reaching into his hair to pull him over her shoulder. She drops down on Roronoa and flattens herself against his chest, miraculously keeping her pace as she fucks herself on Roronoa’s cock. The young Swordsman hisses when Mihawk falls deeper into him and they come face to face, Perona squished between them.
“Kiss already,” the pinkette orders.
She has a big smile on her face and Mihawk rolls his eyes. He grabs Roronoa’s head and tilts him so he can slot their lips together, pressing a kiss there and slipping his tongue inside gently. Roronoa moans into the kiss when Perona moves and Mihawk follows her automatically.
They set a steady pace, and the room fills with warm air, slaps of flesh on flesh, moaning, and the shuffle of bodies on sheets. Mihawk feels lightheaded as he releases Roronoa from their kiss and sees his ruined features. His eye is scarred over, gauze still firmly in place to let it heal as best as it can. He’ll never see out of it, but Mihawk has to admit it is sexy as Hell.
“More,” Perona squeaks at some point, and Mihawk automatically drives his hips down, eliciting a yelp from Roronoa and hoisting Perona upward.
The three of them move in tandem, helping each other and completing their actions in a synchronized way. It is as if they were made for each other, perfectly molded together and fitting. Mihawk feels his high swirl in his stomach and his head spins. He closes his eyes and bites into Perona’s shoulder. Perona moans and Mihawk feels the world tilting.
“Fuck,” Roronoa howls.
His hips buck and he comes undone, shuddering under Mihawk and Perona as their touches become too much. Perona cries out as well and Mihawk feels his world white out. The pleasure gives him a high he hasn’t felt in so long his body doesn’t know how to handle it. He feels incredible, as if he could destroy a whole nation with one swing of Yoru and then swing it again just to stop before he bisects Roronoa’s chest again.
He comes to a few minutes later, laying on his stomach with Perona and Roronoa in his arms. He sighs deeply and nuzzles into green hair, watching the young Swordsman sleeping peacefully. Perona runs a hand over his arm and he looks at her, smiling. She smiles, too, but it’s not entirely a happy smile.
“What is it?” he asks her, lifting a brow.
“He will leave us,” Perona states.
“Yes,” Mihawk nods. “He will. Does it bother you?”
Perona is silent for a moment, running her fingers through green hair as she thinks. She sighs heavily and looks up at the canopy of the bed. This feeling is bittersweet, Mihawk thinks, and his gut twists and turns.
“Perhaps,” Perona says. “But we both knew the fun wouldn’t last forever. Two years.”
“Two years,” Mihawk agrees. “Six more months and then he will leave us. We might see him again, but that’ll be when he comes to take my place. What will you do, then?”
Perona looks at him, her eyes deep and brown and calculating. He sees love and frustration and adoration and annoyance in her eyes. But he sees amusement most of all.
“I’ll see that battle to the end,” she says. “And then I’ll dig you a grave wherever you wish it.”
“Wherever I wish it?” Mihawk laughs in astonishment.
“Yes,” Perona says, and he can see she means it.
Mihawk doesn’t know what to say. He glances at Roronoa, seeing his future death and knowing he will leave them behind with gaping hearts. He feels regret, but he also feels pride and accomplishment. Perhaps his meaningless life has some meaning, after all. Perhaps he does have something to care for.
Perhaps he, Perona, and Roronoa aren’t as different as he thought they were.
He looks up and smiles at Perona. He is grateful for her love and her compassion, for her annoyance and her worry, for her support and her thoughtfulness. He is grateful that she exists and that he has come to meet her. He is grateful she is in his life. He lifts his arm and pulls her into his side, kissing her deeply. When he pulls away, she still expects an answer. So, he gives her one.
“Do not bury me,” he says, and her eyes widen. “Carry me on your heart in a locket and never forget me.”