Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It really didn’t come as a surprise to those on the Oro Jackson when Shanks presented as an alpha at the tender age of 12. He showed the signs, had the prowess of an alpha in the making, but even more than that, he had the tells of a king: the breath of a conqueror laced in his veins. His blood ran as hot as the red of his hair, his smile as wide as the sea itself, and as Shanks woke up one morning with a settlement in his stomach, a new note to his scent and the confidence to match his emerging dynamic, there was little doubt in the mind of the Roger Pirates that Shanks would be a great man. Roger settled his straw hat on the boy’s hair, watched as Shanks' beaming smile stretched even wider, and knew that even in his absence, the world would be in good hands so long as Shanks was there to take care of it. 

At the even more ripe age of 15, Shanks watched his father die with a smile as the world was thrust into a new era of adventure and discovery. The straw hat atop his head was the only comfort for the young alpha, and he used it to hide his tears, trying to remember all of what Roger used to tell him, clinging to the dreams of a dead man to see him through his grief. Back then, he didn’t know that hidden amidst the crowd of onlookers, there was another not dissimilar to Shanks watching the execution of the greatest man to ever live unfold. A teen on the cusp of being a fully fledged man with a destiny as great as the red-head’s own observed with yellow eyes as one age was brought to an end, and another signaling its beginning as a head rolled. 

Two paths neared but did not intersect. They wouldn’t until a week later when Shanks was on the run from a couple of persistent bounty hunters gunning for the berries on his head. Usually, Shanks would love nothing more than to fight back, but he was drunk, grieving, and broken from a pack that had left his side without really looking back. Granted, they were all grieving in their own way, all mourning a loss of the glue that kept them together, but it still left him bitter, left him aching as he drank and tried to pass the time with the burn of alcohol. 

The bounty hunters, drawn to Loguetown due to the execution of the Pirate King, spotted Shanks at the bar. Usually, a boy like him with a 20 million berry bounty on his head would make people think twice about attacking, but he looked like an easy target. Probably smelled of grief and hardship, scenting with anxiety and sorrow felt so deep even his bones ached. When Shanks’ hand stumbled to grab his blade, Gryphon heavy and limp between his fingers, that must have been invitation enough for the hunters to attack. The young alpha cursed, his legs carrying him on instinct as he fled into the crowded, raining streets of Loguetown. 

It hadn’t stopped raining since Roger died, but perhaps that was fitting. Perhaps, even the world was mourning, struck with a sadness most couldn’t comprehend. 

Shanks’ feet stumbled through puddles on rain-slicked cobblestone, his mind foggy, his legs and hands refusing to cooperate as he escaped arrows and knives being thrown at him by the skin of his teeth. He was exhausted—drained from the emotional turmoil of the past few months, and it was all he could do to find the willpower to keep moving. The hunters shouted from behind, closing in on him as Shanks found himself cornered in a dead end. It was pathetic. As the young Alpha turned to face the group determined to kill him, he couldn’t think up of a worse way to die. To be so pitiful after sailing on the pirate king’s ship—how did Roger ever have faith in him? 

With Gryphon still sloppily clasped between his fingers, Shanks managed to stab one bastard through the stomach, but another closed in from his left and he was forced to brawl with teeth and nails as he scented like a rabid, wounded animal. There was the taste of desperate Haki in the air, not enough to halt the attacks on him, but just enough to pique the interest of someone passing nearby. 

With a hand on his throat, squeezing and squeezing until Shanks thought his neck might be crushed, relief came in the form of a sword severing a man in half with all the grace and ease one might use in cutting paper. Shanks gasped in lungfuls of air, falling to his knees as the rain continued to soak him, his chest heaving as his vision blackened and his throat burned. Distantly, he could hear the screams of his would-be attackers being cut short, their lives ending as abruptly as the rain. Above, the clouds parted as easily as Rayleigh could cut the sea with his Haki, the weather flipping on a dime in a way that reminded Shanks of the Grand Line. The sudden appearance of the sun had him wincing, glancing up and up with a squint until a shadow of someone fell over him. 

Shanks blinked, red eyes taking in the silhouette of a man? A boy? It was hard to tell from this angle, but Shanks knew regardless of the other’s age, he was young. 

“I would have expected more from a pirate with a 20 million bounty on his head.” A smooth voice noted. The tone hinted at adolescence, but had a depth that spoke of puberty and age. So, young enough to not be a fully fledged man, but old enough to be older than Shanks. 

Despite the obvious insult being thrown at him, Shanks couldn’t help but laugh in relief. He thought he was going to die, was even a bit accepting of it at his lowest point, but here he was with the sun shining on his face and a stranger to thank for his life. 

“Cap’n always said I should thank a man with a drink,” A smile stretched on his lips, familiar in practice as Shanks grabbed at his straw hat, “So whaddya say?” 

It only took a moment for Shanks to receive his answer, “I think you’re much too young to be offering to buy anyone a drink. You don’t even look like you have the money.” 

Shanks, unperturbed by the other’s cold response, opened his eyes fully to inspect the newcomer. Since they were now adjusted to the sun, he could make out a few finer details of his savior. Most notably was the piercing glare of unfathomably yellow eyes, so strange in color that Shanks couldn’t help but be struck by their enigmatic beauty. They were almost unnerving in a way, sharp as if Shanks were being examined by a predator, and yet, when he met those yellow eyes with the bright red warmth of his own, he couldn’t help but feel the flicker of intrigue in his stomach. 

Patting his pockets in a telling way, Shanks said, “I’ve got change if you’ve got the time. Least I can do.” 

Ray always said Shanks had the grin of a Casanova, a future lady (or man) killer in the making. Shanks hoped that was true, because he could only rely on his charm and his wit to entice his savior into joining him. Shanks could use the company, and he thought the shining sun above the other’s head was a clear sign. A gift from Roger, perhaps. Or maybe Shanks was just reading too much into things. He was known to do that from time to time. 

Yellow eyes glanced at Shanks’ discarded sword, “Are you a swordsman?” 

The young alpha smirked, cocky as he picked Gryphon up and sheathed the blade back on his hip, “Join me for a drink and you’ll find out.”

“You’re not going to quit, are you?”

“Not until you say yes.” Shanks quipped back, as determined as the other boy was stubborn. 

There was a noise that emanated from the other teen. A notably heavy breath that was both a sigh of acceptance and a whoosh of reluctant amusement, “Very well. If it is to thank me for my services, I suppose I can oblige.” 

Shanks scrunched his nose at the formal tone, finding the way the newcomer talked kind of funny. It wasn’t like he was trying to sound purposefully fancy like the occasional nobles Shanks overheard. The other guy just…talked strange. Shanks didn’t mind. He grew up with strange things all his life, and it was actually a bit comforting to find the abnormal amongst the ordinary again. 

“Great. Mind helping me up?” Shanks extended his hand out, still seated in a gradually warming puddle of rainwater. 

There was a snort from above, yellow eyes rolling skyward as a hand slotted into Shanks’ own and yanked him onto his feet. There was strength behind that hand, calluses Shanks recognized as ones earned from living a life dedicated to the blade. More intrigued now than ever, Shanks finally managed to get a good look at his savior once he was eye level with the other’s chest. He’d been right in his assumption that the other was older by a couple of years, but still young enough that he hadn’t lost the softness to his otherwise cutting features. 

Shanks had yet to hit his growth spurt, a fact that meant he was a near head shorter than his counterpart, not that the fifteen year old came to mind. There was a fine chest displayed to him, unabashedly flaunted beneath an open and billowing coat so that rippling muscles could be both seen and marveled at. Shanks’ gaze trailed down the flex of an obscenely toned stomach, then farther south to where pants slung low on hips that hadn’t quite shed the last vestiges of youth. There was a defined ‘V’ of muscle sinking beneath a black belt, and after letting his stare linger, Shanks leisurely brought his eyes back up until he was met with yellow-gold once again. 

A finely plucked eyebrow arched in silent question, the stranger not missing Shanks’ casual ogling of the other’s figure. 

Shanks licked his lips, and with all of the swagger of a boy raised by dastardly pirates, he winked , “The name’s Shanks, but you can call me yours if you’d like.” 

There was a breath of amusement smothered behind a determination to continue frowning. 

“Do you proposition all of your heroes like this?” 

Shanks hooked a thumb through the belt loop of his pants and jutted his hip to the side, still cocksure as he promised, “Only the pretty ones.” 

“There’s no doubt about it,” Treasure eyes mused, “You were definitely raised by pirates.” 

“Since before I can remember,” Shanks agreed, still grinning and still feeling the heat of the sun bearing down on the rim of his straw hat, “Now, you going to tell me your name gorgeous or are you keepin’ me in suspense?” 

“I will if you cease with this paltry attempt to fornicate. What are you? 12?” 

“15.” Shanks was proud to declare, because that was a coming of age among pirates. He was a proper man now in the eyes of outlaws, even if he struggled to grow the barest hint of facial hair despite his best efforts. 

“A child.” Came the retort, sneered ever so slightly with taunting disdain. 

Shanks wouldn’t rise to the insult, but he did feel his smile wane as he pointed out, “You’re not much older.” 

“Still old enough.” 

“And so am I.” Shanks insisted, “Now your name? It’s rude not to introduce yourself.” 

The redheaded Alpha waited in suspense as he stared at a youth-fully handsome face. A face like that would one day mature into something breathtakingly beautiful, Shanks was sure of it. The soft notes of his cheeks and jawline would carve around sharpened edges until they were fine cut and precise. The delicate shape to yellow eyes would harden and turn severe, narrowed with lethal beauty. It was only a matter of time, a handful of years before this stranger shed the last elements of his childhood. He was pretty now, but Shanks knew the other would be stunning then. 

Finally, after a moment of pointed deliberation, the other boy revealed, “Dracule Mihawk.”

“Mihawk, huh? I think I’ve heard of you.” Shanks tapped his chin as he recalled a wanted poster he spied a few times with increasing frequency over the last year. Soon enough, it dawned on him, and the yellow eyes really should have been a dead give away, “ Hawk-eyes !” 

“Yes, that is the epithet given to me.” Mihawk agreed plainly, though there was a hint of a smirk on his face, a mild pride taken in the fact that his reputation was becoming so far reaching. 

Shanks, thrilled by the knowledge, made a point of smoothing his hands down the front of his shirt, muddy and worn for several days too long. In the back of his mind, Shanks could imagine Rayleigh scolding him and wrestling him into the bath. Roger would laugh in the background, bright and airy and—

“My drink, Red? I do believe I was promised one.” Mihawk’s calm voice cut in smoothly, effectively ending the sharp and sour note in Shanks’ scent before it could properly build. 

Shanks shook his head and brought a smile back to his own lips, striving for an air of levity as he laughed, “Course! If you’ll follow me, I’d be more than happy to treat you darlin’.” 

Mihawk’s nose crinkled in a mild showing of dislike towards the continued use of pet names, which meant Shanks was only further encouraged to employ them. They settled in a bar tucked away in the farthest and hardest to reach places of Loguetown, a tavern where only the rowdy and the lawless frequented. A suiting establishment for two boys like them—boys who only knew of a life in constant rebellion of the status quo. 

The redhead alpha gestured for Mihawk to take a seat wherever he liked while he ambled up to the counter. His baby-face barely made the bartender blink in second guessing before sliding Shanks the requested pints of beer. Shanks thanked him with the appropriate cash as he waded through the rambunctious crowd to Hawk-eye seated in the far corner of the room. 

Mihawk thanked him quietly for the drink, and sipped nobly along the rim when he tilted it back. Shanks was more content to watch him than drink himself, eyeing the long, slender line of Mihawk’s neck and the way his throat bobbed along each swallow. Even in the half hearted lighting of the bar, he was rather pretty, which begged the question—

“You an omega?” 

The abrupt and rather forward question barely made Mihawk falter. Yellow eyes slotted to Shanks, calculating in their golden hue, “Yes. Though, do not mistake my dynamic for me being weak.” 

Shanks grinned like a rogue, “Wouldn’t dream of it, considering you just saved my ass.” 

Mihawk looked content by Shanks’ answer and resumed drinking. 

The redhead alpha wasn’t lying either. He knew Mihawk was strong. Could sense it in the way he carried himself. Like Rayleigh, though maybe not as experienced. Mihawk was confident enough in his skills not to falter even in the face of overwhelming odds, and that sword he carried on his back—well, Shanks knew well enough the type of man required to wield a blade of that caliber. 

It was exciting in a way that made Shanks giddy for the first time since the shadow of death started to weigh on his still too-young shoulders. Mihawk was interesting. He was an omega traveling alone from what Shanks could tell, only a handful of years older than the young alpha himself, and he already had a bounty well over 100 million with the fearsome reputation to match. Maybe Shanks was just exceptionally lonely in the wake of losing…well, everything, but he was happy Mihawk agreed to join him. Well, humoring Shanks was more along the lines of what the omega swordsman was doing, but Shanks would take the victory where he could get it. 

Grinning at the thought, Shanks finally tasted his drink. It was horrible, but drinking reminded him of his crew and the endless parties, and so he finished it as quickly as he could, guzzling like Ray and Gaban whenever they were drawn into competition with one another. Afterwards, he slammed the mug back on the table, wiped the corner of his lips with the back of his hands, and kicked his feet up, lounging like a boy without a care in that pretty head of his. The barmaid stopped by to give him a refill, to which Shanks thanked her with a wink and a toothy smirk. Mihawk was less than impressed, but he hardly made the effort to say anything as he drank quietly. 

“Say, Hawky,” Shanks tilted the brim of his hat up, curious as he watched Mihawk drink in cadence. Sip. Pause. Sip, sip. Pause again. Set the mug down. Pick it back up, idly hold the cup, sip again, and repeat, “I’m thinking ‘bout traveling around for a while. Want to join me?” 

“Not particularly.” Mihawk responded without a hint of hesitation, something that made Shanks laugh rather than offend him as it would others. 

“Aw, come on,” Shanks cajoled in a teasing way, “I make for great company!” 

The alpha spread his arms out wide in a gesture of welcoming and friendliness, striving for charming as he tilted too far back in his chair and nearly toppled over. 

Mihawk watched him scramble to balance himself with another arched brow, lips tugging into the barest hint of amusement before it was smothered by another deliberate sip of his beer. Shanks’ cheeks warmed, marginally embarrassed in the face of the other’s mild expressions and undertone of mirth. 

“I travel alone, Red.” Mihawk revealed, carefully neutral though not necessarily hostile, “That won’t change in the foreseeable future.” 

Shanks pouted, his demeanor exaggerated as he propped his chin up in his hands, squishing his cheeks in the process, “But we could have fun! Loads of it!” 

So much fun they’d probably be declared the worst sort of menaces to society, the marines hot on their heels while they went out and conquered the seas. Shanks imagined it. Picturing the two of them sailing on the wide open blue, no destination in mind except to go wherever they wanted. 

“Come on,” he pestered one final time, batting his eyelashes and striving for cute as he blinked up at the other boy, “Come with me.” 

His voice dipped with the onset of puberty, hinting at the fact that, given a few years, his tone would be rich with deep color, rumbling with husky temptation. 

Mihawk arched another one of those prim eyebrows at him, the only form of expression the other boy seemed inclined to bestow on the redhead. He really was pretty, Shanks thought. Some might be unnerved by the ferocity in those yellow eyes, the chilled plainness to his perma-frown, but shanks thought he looked refined—or something like that anyway. Dignified also came to mind. Sculpted like one of them angels Ray used to pray too whenever they came across a town with a proper church. 

“And what would I get out of it?” Mihawk dared to ask. 

Shanks shrugged, “Not much. I don’t have a ship, or a crew, or much money, but, I’ve been told I have a penchant for trouble and the mind for adventure.” 

Roger used to tell him that all the time, beaming with pride as he said it before following with a gut provoked laugh. 

Mihawk’s gaze momentarily softened. If Shanks knew better, he would think the omega was the slightest bit charmed, “It won’t be permanent. I have no intention of joining a crew, but I suppose you could tag along with me until you find better accommodations.” 

Red eyes brightened, “Really? You mean it ?” 

“Just don’t make me regret it.” Mihawk said as he went to drink some more, but realized his cup was empty, “And buy me another drink.” 

Shanks came to hilariously discover that Mihawk traveled in a glorified raft, refused to navigate properly, and simply coasted on the currents until he got where he wanted to go. Somehow, he had crossed the calm belt and the seas, simply by believing that he was drifting where he was needed. If Mihawk set his mind to a specific destination, he appeared there as if guided by unseen forces. It was fascinating. It was also ridiculous when Shanks thought about it. 

“You’re like a human log pose!” Shanks exclaimed when Mihawk explained the nuances of his supposed navigational techniques. 

“I don’t know what that is, but I’ll permit the comparison if that is the connection you’d prefer to make.” Mihawk unfurled his single sail, his raft bobbing in the lapping waves close to shore. It was with practiced ease that the omega swordsman untied their ropes and cast them adrift in the sea, sailing at a leisurely pace occasionally quickened by Mihawk swinging his sword to generate a gust of wind. 

It was such a strange way of existing, especially on the sea, that Shanks couldn’t help but double over in laughter again, “It’s a miracle you haven’t gotten swallowed by a sea king yet!” 

“Not a miracle.” Mihawk snipped back, “Those overgrown fish are hardly anything to be intimidated by.” 

“Sure, yeah.” Shanks mused as he settled into a cramped spot towards the front of the raft. There was little shade, but Shanks didn’t mind that much. His skin was used to the blistering heat of the sun, bronzed from years of sailing salted seas beneath the guiding light of the unreachable heavens. 

The alpha relaxed, straw hat sitting lopsided atop his red hair as he made a grab for the bottle of liquor rolling around by his hip. There weren’t many supplies on the ship—though ship was a term Shanks used very loosely—and yet he wasn’t concerned in the slightest. If Mihawk was telling him the truth and always appeared where he needed to be, then they would find an island to restock on soon enough. 

“You never answered my question, by the way.” Mihawk pointed out, startling Shanks because the omega was the one to converse first as opposed to the other way around. 

Shanks peered at the older through the brim of his hat in silent questioning. 

Mihawk deliberately glanced at Gryphon strapped to Shanks’ hip, “That blade has a voice. It’s strong. I’m curious if its current master is equally as strong.” 

“Hm? Oh yeah,” Shanks’ hand fell to his hip to feel the weight of his sword’s pommel in his left hand, “I found him when we were on an island hunting for treasure. Ray says sometimes a sword chooses its master, and Gryphon chose me. He’s my partner.” Shanks’ fingers drifted down the length of the threaded handle. He and Gryphon had only been together for two years, but it felt like a lifetime at this point. Shanks was rarely without his sword, often feeling empty without its weight hooked to his belt. 

“Haven't mastered him yet, but I will.” He determined aloud, meeting Mihawk’s bold gaze. His own red eyes flit to the cruciform latched to Mihawk’s back, “What about you? That sword’s cursed, ain’t it? Can hear it screaming all the way over here.” 

That sword sounded as if it were forged by divine smithing hands, as if it had slayed the heavens and conquered the world, painting the earth red in blood while also evoking a sense of salvation in its curved edge. Its hue was darkened. Not quite the obsidian black of legend, but it was getting there. 

“Yoru.” Mihawk said in reference to the blade’s name, “She will be mine fully soon enough.” 

Shanks couldn’t help but marvel at Mihawk’s determination, the assurance in his own voice as if he knew there was no other future than one where he mastered his blade. That was the type of single mindedness that often landed Shanks into heaps of trouble. The type where Ray and Roger had to sit him down for a long conversation about wills and dreams, and how some people were just born with the ambition to rival gods. 

The young alpha licked his lips. There was not a single doubt in his mind that the omega seated opposite to him was one of those rare and increasingly infrequent men. A legend in the making—perhaps, even a legend already in his own right. Certainly, Mihawk was more infamous than Shanks himself. From what the redhead knew of Mihawk’s reputation, he was not only called Hawk-eyes for his eerily yellow glare, but was also referred to as the marine hunter. A title bestowed to him due to his efforts to provoke the navy rather than run away from them like most pirates. Shanks had a feeling Mihawk wasn’t more or less provoking the world government as he was in search of something. 

Maybe he was chasing a dream. Men with wills like them often were. 

Silence fell between them, but Shanks didn’t seek the need to fill it. If anything, there was a certain peace to be enjoyed in Mihawk’s quiet presence. It was vastly different from the cacophony of noise experienced on Roger’s ship, but contrary to what Shanks initially believed, the silence didn’t make him feel lonely in the slightest. Mihawk took to cleaning his blade, and truly Yoru was as pretty as her wielder with her gem encrusted pommel and intricate detail. He shamelessly ogled from where he was splayed out. Shanks, himself, was still too young to truly be handsome, but old enough now to have a bit of that wolfish appeal emerging with each passing day. 

They drifted for days. At points, they would be drawn into conversation, with Mihawk proving to be as interesting as Shanks thought he was. It wasn’t so much that Mihawk was especially personable, but he had interesting perspectives and a rather macabre sense of humor, dry and dark, but in a way Shanks also found endlessly funny. They drank. A lot. Mihawk revealed a day into their travels that he had an entire barrel dedicated to booze, a surprising delight Shanks was only too eager to partake in with his newly acquired companion. 

At night, when the skies were clear and the stars brilliantly bright, they would lay out, cramming into whatever space the little craft afforded him. Shanks knew all about the stars and the constellations. Roger liked to talk about them, making up his own stories about how they all came to be and what the stars represented. Shanks knew Roger was at home with the stars now, joining the twinkling flickers as he watched Shanks from above. The redhead said as much to a contemplative Mihawk, uttering the sincere and hopeful wish that he could make Roger proud one day. Mihawk had taken a sip of his wine, bathed in ivory starlight, and promised that Shanks undoubtedly would. 

The omega was unlike anyone Shanks ever met, a fact that continued to prove itself the first time he saw Mihawk actually kill, and not just heard it over the deafening sounds of him trying to catch his breath. They were docked at an island after nearly a week drifting along to the currents, and just when Shanks was getting concerned about their supplies, they arrived at a harbor with a sprawling town and everything that they would ever need. Shanks laughed upon realizing Mihawk wasn’t lying when he said he always arrived where he needed to go. 

It was at that port when they were walking around the markets with leisure intention that a man emerged from the shadows of an alley, sword drawn and eyes determined to cross steel with Mihawk. 

“You’re that Hawk-eyes boy, ain’t ya?” The newcomer drawled, shoulders stiff and riddled with tension. He scented of alpha, posturing with an air of forced dominance, “They say you’re vying to be the best. An omega like you—well, that’d bring shame to all swordsmen around the world.” 

Immediately upon hearing the insult thrown at his companion, Shanks’ hand reached for Gryphon, a growl in his throat and a fierce swell of protectiveness scorching in his belly and scuttling up through his chest. His teeth were bared, eyes narrowed into red slits, a hint of unmastered haki hackling the hairs on the back of his neck. 

However, before he could so much as unsheath his weapon, Mihawk held out a hand to stop him, the flat of his palm hovering over Shanks’ own, “There’s no need, Red.” Mihawk declared, steady and unbothered by the stranger, “This will be quick.” 

Shanks, not quelled in the slightest when he sensed the malicious intent in the other man, could only stand back and watch as Mihawk inclined his head towards the beach, “We’ll hold a proper duel on the outskirts of town.”

“A whore doesn’t get to choose where he dies!” The alpha sneered. 

Mihawk breathed as if annoyed, his eyes rolling with an air of impatience, “At least have some form of proper manners if you’re running around claiming to be a swordsman.” 

The alpha’s eyes widened in fury as he grabbed for his weapons, “Don’t you dare look down on me—!” 

A flash of movement preceded the alpha lunging for Mihawk, his stench running wild with anger and hostility. Shanks was ready to jump in at any given moment, pissed off that the stranger was talking down to Mihawk in such an insulting way, yet before Shanks could really even consider how he could skewer the man in the stomach, Yoru had already cut her way clean through the other’s body. Mihawk stepped past the alpha with an air of ease, unbothered as he returned Yoru to her strap along Mihawk’s back. 

The aggressive alpha stilled, eyes widening in disbelief as he simply froze where he intended to attack. Shanks stared, his own mouth agape as blood started to darken the man’s front before he slid apart, darkening the streets with red gore as the nearby citizens screamed at the gruesome sight. 

“What a shame,” Mihawk remarked over his shoulder, cold yellow eyes narrowed as his upper lip bled into a partial sneer, “He didn’t even wet my appetite.” 

Shanks stood over the body of the deceased, still struck with an air of shock. He’d seen death plenty of times. He was a pirate after all. He even killed himself sometimes when necessity called for it, but never before had he seen it done so…casually. Roger and the others were always careful about killing, often choosing to spare their opponents rather than end them, but Mihawk hadn’t thought twice about it. He killed as seamlessly as he drank an entire bottle of wine, barely reacting in a way that hinted at how common an occurrence this violence was. 

If Shanks were anyone else, he would have high-tailed it out of that city in the next second. Would have turned his back on the fascinating omega in clear self-preservation, but he didn’t. Instead, as Mihawk asked if the redhead was going to move anytime soon, Shanks fell into step next to the other. 

“Does it bother you?” Mihawk asked, voice a touch quieter, maybe even concerned when they walked away from the bloody scene. 

Shanks found himself shaking his head, “Not as much as it probably should.” 

He realized then what Mihawk was out there searching for, why his dream took him anywhere and everywhere, why he always seemed to have a destination in mind, but no concrete way of getting there. He was aiming to be the best, the greatest, and a path like that was not a bloodless one. 

“Do they always talk to you like that?” Shanks questioned next, hands tucked into his pockets as he glared straight ahead, “Do they always mock you?” 

“It happens more often than it doesn’t.” Mihawk revealed, and Shanks’ stomach twisted at the knowledge. 

“That’s stupid.” He declared, angry on Mihawk’s behalf even if the omega didn’t seem all that bothered, “What does it matter if you’re an omega if you’re strong?”

Mihawk breathed in a way that belied his amusement with Shanks. He never outright laughed, and instead tended to exhale heavily through his nose when he found something particularly entertaining. 

“Many of the traditional mindset believe omegas are meant for breeding and homemaking only. I’m afraid you’ll find yourself mostly alone with your way of thinking, Red.” 

Well that didn’t make Shanks feel any better, and he grumbled as such, grouchy and testy at the mere thought that anyone could ever reduce someone like Mihawk to being a mere whore or housewife. He knew people didn’t often share the same notions as he did—notions he learned from Roger, who thought anyone or anything could be what they wanted so long as they set out to achieve their dream. Alpha, beta, omega—it didn’t matter. All dynamics were good for was making people smell nice or gross, and adding an interesting component to sex. Not that Shanks knew enough about sex personally, but he heard enough from the Roger crewmates to get a strong grasp of the processes involved. 

Again, Shanks heard Mihawk breathe with another air of amusement, something which made the young alpha pout, “Don't laugh at me! You should have let me cut him! Talking to you like that… so stupid. If Roger were here, he would have beat that guy up.” 

“I hardly need anyone to fight for me.” Mihawk reasonably pointed out. 

Shanks shook his head regardless of that logic, “Don’t care. Next time, I call dibs on kicking the ass of anyone who talks to you like that again!” 

“Oh really?” Mihawk mused, and there was a chuckle in the back of his throat, “And what if they’re stronger than you?” 

Shanks, crossing his arms in a huff, declared purposefully, “They won’t be, because I’ll get stronger than everyone.” 

“Even me?” The omega proposed, sounding thoughtful. 

Shanks pursed his lips, considering the older with an air of determination, “If needed.” 

Mihawk arched a brow, a grin flattering his lips with a hint of a fanged challenge, “Bold of you to claim you could ever rival me.” 

“Bold of you to think that I can’t.” Shanks shot back, but he was smiling himself now, feeling marginally better than he did moments before, “I can catch up to you if I put my mind to it.” 

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Mihawk tittered back smugly, “For now though, I’m clearly your better.” 

Shanks couldn’t deny that as much as he wished he were able to. Still, for the difference in their current skill levels now, Shanks knew he could bridge that gap if he threw his all into the effort. He could get stronger—no, he would , if only so he could impress those wicked yellow eyes and shut up anyone who dared to talk bad about them. 

“Just you wait.” Shanks pointed at the omega with a light-hearted warning, “I’ll be your greatest rival yet.” 

The omega eased into a full blown smile now, an expression Shanks had yet to see, and one that left him completely breathless when he realized how beautiful Mihawk was when his yellow eyes brightened and his face turned soft with affection, “I’ll look forward to that day, Red.” 

There was a stutter in Shanks’ heart, a beat unlike any other he had ever felt. It felt like his stomach was fluttering, but his chest was also squeezing tightly, as if it wanted nothing more than to burst in the wake of that damning smile. Honestly, Shanks didn’t even think the omega capable of making such a serene expression, yet it lightened Mihawk’s face nevertheless, prettying an already gorgeous man. 

Shanks drew in his bottom lip, suddenly nervous. His cheeks felt warm, and before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “You’re cute when you smile.” 

Unlike his previous flirtations which were mostly done because he was a cocky shit raised by idiot pirates, this compliment was vastly more genuine and was pulled from the young alpha involuntarily. His cheeks only turned redder as a result, matching the color of his hair as he nervously seated his straw hat firmer on his head and looked away. Seeking a need to distract himself (and Mihawk) from his slip up, Shanks pointed out a cart loaded with all sorts of trinkets to ogle in a half hearted attempt to get those wicked yellow eyes to fix elsewhere. 

Mihawk obliged him, if only because his own ears had turned a tell-tale pink that even the dark of his hair couldn’t conceal. 

Later that night, when they settled back into their little boat, supplies restocked and already adrift at sea, Shanks couldn’t help but cast furtive glances at his companion. Red eyes darted back and forth between the dark ocean and the silhouette of Mihawk next to him. He opened his mouth several times to say something, but ended up closing it again when nothing came to mind. Shanks’ belly felt warm, his chest still tight, and he wondered if Mihawk could feel it too. 

Probably not. The omega didn’t seem like the type to feel much of anything, let alone this twisting nervousness that suspended Shanks in a near constant state of anticipation. No, Shanks was probably alone in his emotions, but he wouldn’t let it bother him. First and foremost, Mihawk was a friend. His temporary companion at sea, and a man Shanks aimed to best one day in a proper duel. That was all that mattered—everything else, including the blossoming crush Shanks was sporting for the yellow-eyed omega, was insignificant. 

Resolving that with himself, Shanks managed to relax enough to fall asleep. Come morning, he’d welcome the bright sun and the sparse white clouds in a blue sky, and wait for his next adventure. Between now and then, however, he would slumber, content to imagine a place in his dreams where his spot at Mihawk’s side wasn’t temporary, and the young alpha could stay with the omega for as long as he wanted. 

They made it to the West Blue two months later, and it was there that Shanks met an older beta in a bar, quietly watching the world in contented solitude. Mihawk was on the hunt to restock his wine, leaving Shanks alone to dally at the tavern. He ended up gambling away half his fortune, something Mihawk would undoubtedly be disapproving of when he found out, but Shanks had fun. He smiled, he laughed, and he drank, and when his curiosity could no longer be ignored, he plopped himself in a chair at the beta’s table and introduced himself. 

“The name is Red-Haired Shanks! Let me buy you a drink!” 

The beta eyeballed him with steel gray eyes, “Not interested. You’re too young for me and I won’t bend over for an alpha.” 

Shanks tilted his head back and laughed, “I’m not askin’ so I can screw you!” He blurted louder than he should blurt something like that out, “I can tell you’re strong, just by lookin’ at ya.” 

Steel eyes darkened further, “So this is a recruitment tactic.” 

“Sort of.” Shanks continued to grin, rocking in his seat with all the carefree impropriety of a boy born to the wilds of the sea, “Don’t know if I want to recruit you yet. Just know that I want to buy you a drink.” 

Rayleigh always said the best way to get to know a man was over shared booze. Apparently, that’s how he and Roger got along after the captain propositioned Ray for his boat and a lifetime together. 

The beta considered Shanks carefully before his glare shot over Shanks’ shoulder. The red head didn’t need to look to know who the beta was watching. Though Shanks couldn’t smell him, he always knew when Mihawk was near. Could feel the omega like a prickle beneath his skin. It was no work of observation Haki either. It was just knowing—knowing that the other was there, even if entirely silent, even if Mihawk didn’t want to be known. 

“He one of yours?” The beta asked. 

Shanks smiled. He could only wish, “Nah. He turned me down, but it’s better that way since I’m gunning to kick his ass.” 

Dark brows furrowed. They were a lot messier than Mihawk’s. Lighter too, almost charcoal in color as opposed to the onyx of Mihawk’s. 

Seeing the other’s confusion, Shanks kicked back and tossed playfully over his shoulder, “Oi! Hawky!” 

The man in question turned to Shanks from where he was vibrantly quizzing the bartender on what sort of wine selections he had in stock. Yellow eyes fixed to the red head, curious and perhaps a bit annoyed when Shanks freely interrupted his conversation. 

“Want to have a duel?” Shanks asked, the question as teasing as his smile. 

The omega’s glare rolled skyward, “You need to be a better challenger before I waste my breath on you.” 

“Aye,” Shanks breathed fondly, “I’m workin’ on it.” 

Mihawk waved him off dismissively before resuming his interrogation with the poor barkeep. Shanks turned back to the beta, cheeks warmed by the banter shared between him and the omega. 

“We’re traveling together,” the redhead explained, “But it’s not permanent.” 

Though a part of him wished it would be. 

“So what?” The beta grunted, “The omega not good enough company for you?” 

Shanks’ grin fell a fraction at the edges. If the beta noticed, he didn’t bother to retract his vaguely challenging statement as he reached into his breast pocket for a smoke. 

“What does that matter? Mihawk’s a friend. He’s an equal .” The young alpha declared back, making it clear what his stance was on the matter of dynamics and defining a person by them, “Or will be when I manage to catch up to him.” He then tacked on as an afterthought, realizing that Mihawk was still way out of his league. 

The beta regarded Shanks with an air of scrutiny, smoke pillowed between his lips before he released it all in a single exhale, “Alright then. You can buy me a drink, but only one.” The beta emphasized.

Shanks’ smile was back in full force, and with an air of eager delight, he called over towards Mihawk who was still grilling the bartender about his assortment of wines, “Hey Hawky! Forget the wine and bring the rum! It’s better than your fancy shit anyway!” 

“It’s not, you tasteless brute,” came the peeved response, but Shanks watched as Mihawk ordered Shanks’ request anyway as it was much easier than picking a specific wine tailored to Mihawk’s tastes. 

The omega joined them at their table, dragging up a chair as he set Yoru aside and tossed Shanks the bottle in his hands, “Just because you have the palette of a delinquent doesn’t mean all of us share in your abhorrent preferences.” 

“Ah, you’re using big words again,” Shanks teased as he greedily went to work at the bottle’s cork, “You know I’m illiterate, angel.” 

“You know how to read, Red. You aren’t illiterate. You’re just not well-learned.” 

Shanks pointed the now opened bottle of rum at his companion and laughed, “That’s your fancy way of calling me an idiot, isn’t it?” 

Mihawk answered him with a telling smirk before finally acknowledging the third member at their table, “Pardon the redhead’s lack of manners. He was raised by brutes.” 

The beta shrugged as if he didn’t care much either way, “He ain’t all bad. Just chatty.” 

Shanks watched as Mihawk snorted under his breath, “ Tell me about it. ”

Shanks eventually learned the beta’s name was Beckmann. Ben Beckmann. A guy both older than Mihawk and Shanks, with no real aim in life other than ghost around until he found something interesting. He was smart, a lot smarter than he let on, and he kept up with Mihawk effortlessly when it came to conversation. Shanks wasn’t necessarily jealous, but he did feel a bit lost whenever the two drifted into a topic of theories and philosophies Shanks could only vaguely grasp the concept of. 

It was well into the middle of the night when Beck finally realized that he had not only let Shanks buy him more than one drink, but he must’ve enjoyed the company well enough not to follow the crowd in leaving when the late hours turned early. 

Shanks was stuck between dozing off and occasionally taking another swig of the rum. He had his head pillowed into his arms, straw hat dangled by the tie around his neck as he groaned sleepily. Mihawk and Beckmann were still talking, but their voices were much quieter now—too soft for Shanks to really make an effort to figure out what they were saying. 

Suddenly, a hand fell to the red of his hair, gentle and coaxing as fingers soothed through the soft strands. Shanks all but purred, knowing who the hand belonged to without having to look. He leaned subtly into it, pressing like a pup begging for more attention. The hand settled at his nape, massaging gently, and that was all it took for Shanks to surrender to the creeping urge of sleep. Mihawk’s hand was cool against the constant warmth of Shanks’ skin, the other’s presence like a balm made to specifically relax him. The alpha knew it was alright to rest because Mihawk was there, and so with a final sleepy grumble akin to ‘good night’, the redhead teen drifted off. 

Come morning, he stirred just as the sun rose. He was still in his same spot from the night before. Beckmann was there too, idly smoking as he perused the newspaper with two steaming cups of coffee seated in front of him. Shanks sat up with a yawn, back stiff and joints cracking from an entire night spent slouched over in his chair. 

Scratching at his chest with sleep still thick in his eyes, Shanks glanced to Mihawk’s seat expecting to find the omega slumped up and asleep, but he wasn’t there. 

Curious, Shanks shot the beta a look, “Where’s Hawky? Taking a piss or something?” 

Beckman didn’t look up from his reading. Instead, he simply said, “He’s gone.” 

The way he said it gave Shanks pause. The alpha stiffened, the fog of exhaustion gone from him in an instant as his red eyes sharpened, “What do you mean ?” 

He had a feeling he knew what Ben meant, but no—no. Mihawk wouldn’t…he wouldn’t leave just like that. Not without even saying a proper goodbye. Right?

Beckmann still didn’t look up as he tapped his cigarette free from a gathering of loose ash, “He told me to take care of you. Said you’ll see him again when you’re strong enough to properly face him.” 

“So that’s it?!” Shanks snapped, uncaring to the fact that his head was pounding and it was far too early to be raising his voice, “He left?! Without even—“ 

The young alpha sucked in a harsh breath as his chest gave a painful squeeze. Suddenly, he was reminded of everyone else in his life who left him too. One by one they had all turned their backs and abandoned him. Not even his sworn brother stayed behind. He guessed Mihawk wasn’t any different then them, huh? Because even he had up and left with no regard to Shanks’ feelings in the slightest—

Shanks’ thoughts were cut off when Beckmann reached into his breast pocket, but instead of retrieving more smokes, he slid the redhead a piece of paper. Shanks recognized it immediately and his eyes widened with disbelief. 

“He also said you’d probably overreact,” Ben mused, “So he thought this might make up for any ill will.” 

With tentative fingers, Shanks reached out and picked up the piece of paper. It was fairly large for a gifted Vivre card, almost as if Mihawk had given him an entire half instead of a small section that was usually given to allies and friends. Then again, Mihawk probably didn’t think he would have much need to go around giving out his Vivre card, hence why he’d been so generous in presenting Shanks such a large part of it. 

The redhead’s chest still ached, but for an entirely different reason than before. 

On the back of the card scribbled in elegant handwriting was a simple note, short and to the point much like anything else Mihawk did. 

To sooner rather than later. 

-Dracule Mihawk

Shanks sniffed, feeling a swell of tight emotion in the back of his throat. He quickly swallowed it, determined not to cry over something that wasn’t even really a goodbye. If anything, their sailing together was always going to be temporary until Shanks found what he was looking for. He guessed…he guessed he must have found it, or that Mihawk believed he would find it in the form of the beta sitting across from him, quiet and patient as he let Shanks sort out his thoughts. Briefly, Shanks wondered if the quiet conversation the two shared last night was about this very moment, if they had planned this in hush-hush whispers as Shanks was soothed into a pleasant sleep. It would be just like Mihawk not to make a grand spectacle out of them parting ways. Really, Shanks shouldn’t have expected anything less. 

Folding the Vivre card, Shanks tucked it into the inside band of his straw hat where he knew it would always be safe. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, and simply dwelled in the quiet Mihawk’s absence left behind. Shanks didn’t think much would be able to fill the sudden void he felt in knowing that he wouldn’t be joining Mihawk on his little boat and setting out to sea again. They were parting ways. Not for good, if Mihawk’s gift was any indication, but their paths would take them on their own adventures. Shanks was expected to get stronger, just as Mihawk would continue to be, and then when the time was right they would meet again. 

“So,” Shanks reached for the coffee that had long since cooled and took a long sip, “This mean you’re going to join me?” 

Ben shrugged and flipped another page in the newspaper. And god, he was such an old man already, “Got nothing better to do.” 

Shanks’ smile returned as the young alpha cheered, “That’s great! I promise you won’t regret it!” 

“We’ll see about that, Captain.” Beckmann huffed, and Shanks went a little bit dizzy at the title. It was strange. Strange to be the one being called such when the only man he knew as captain had conquered the world and died on a pedestal. 

Still, it didn’t feel wrong. If anything, it felt like an invitation, like a door was opening and all Shanks had to do was seize the opportunity. 

As impulsive and unpredictable as the sea, the young alpha couldn’t imagine doing anything else. He was young, still inexperienced in many ways, but that’s why Ben was just right for him: he was old and boring, with a wealth of knowledge in that brain of his. Mihawk had been right—Shanks found exactly who he was looking for. Maybe the omega’s remarkable navigational ability rubbed off on Shanks, or perhaps they were both simply blessed to wind up always where they wanted. If that was the case, Shanks definitely knew then that their paths would cross again and again. 

Because, almost as much as Shanks wanted to taste adventure and live his life freely, he also wanted to match Mihawk in every aspect of their lives. So fate would bring them together again, Shanks was sure of it. 

And if it didn’t, well…

Shanks smiled and eased the straw hat back on his head where a certain Vivre card was nestled safely. 

If it didn’t, then Shanks could always remedy that issue himself. 

Chapter Text

In a span of three years, Shanks’ crew grew from one to eleven, he had a ship, a budding reputation, and was a fully fledged pirate conquering the seas at a speed that attracted attention from all sorts of adversaries. The government, as soon as they made the connection to the red-hair pirates being captained by the once-apprentice on Roger’s ship, elevated Shanks’ bounty to 250 million in conjunction with his already incredible feats. At the young age of 18, a bounty like his was extraordinary, and it provoked both the marines and criminals into coming after him with vigor. 

Luckily, Shanks’ strength matched his bounty. He was no longer a scrawny, fifteen year old boy struggling to swing Gryphon and make a name for himself. He hit a growth spurt, lost the chubbiness of youth in his cheeks, and broadened up enough to attract a plethora of women and men vying for his physical attention. He grew up as handsome as his old crew used to think he would, perhaps even more so. He was arrogant, but charming. A swashbuckling pirate with the face of a dashing prince. Beckmann liked to call him a pretty boy as if it were an insult. Shanks would merely flex his muscles and beam back a smile in response. 

Three years. 

It’d been three years since Roger’s death and since the world was thrown into a resurgence of the Great Pirate Era. The seas were littered with rookies, Shanks often encountering a crew or two at least once a day on the open ocean. Some were nothing more than petty men playing pirates in hopes of scoring enough gold to scrape by. Others, like Shanks himself, envisioned a much greater and far more difficult dream to obtain. The One Piece was always a thought in the back of his mind, but not in the same way it was for others. As Shanks grew older and wiser (despite Beckmann denying that latter), the red-haired man started to see the world with his own unique perspective, and not just through the lenses of admiration he held for his now deceased captain. He still greatly honored Roger, and would never do anything to disrupt his legacy, but it wouldn’t be Shanks becoming king of the pirates one day as Roger probably hoped. 

No, that was not the path Shanks wanted for himself. He also knew, despite wearing Roger’s hat and thus being entrusted with his legacy, that he was not the man born to succeed Roger’s dream. Instead, he was the keeper of that legacy. Someone entrusted with ensuring that Roger did not die in vain. Roger’s will would be passed on, Shanks was sure of it, but in the meantime he would do what he wanted at the pace he wanted it to be done. 

Which mostly consisted of drinking, partying, and seeing all that the world had to offer. There were so many islands, so many things to see that not even the Roger pirates were able to find in their hay day. The world was a vastly enormous place, riddled with riches and treasures not just gold or material in nature. Shanks wanted to see it all. He wanted to love this world despite some of the horrors he’d been exposed to. He wanted to protect all that Roger once loved, and learn for himself why his dearest captain had found the One Piece, but instead of claiming it for himself, left it for another to find. 

Beckmann didn’t quite grasp all of what Shanks’ dream was, as it wasn’t so much explainable in words as it was an actual feeling. He wasn’t like Yasopp, who simply wanted to be the best sniper on the seas, or like Ben who only wanted to retire with his limbs mostly intact. Shanks didn’t have concrete rooting him to a specific path. Much like the nature of his previous captain, Shanks went wherever the world and his instincts led him. 

Currently, those instincts had him holed up on an island somewhere in the North Blue not under any jurisdiction by the World Government, thus making it a semi-lawless nation state ruled by the mostly corrupt. The people were about as bad as their leaders, but hey, at least they knew how to throw a party. 

The red haired alpha had his feet kicked up, his shirt loose, and was already three bottles deep by the time the night settled on the chaotic island. Citizens, if they could really be called such, took to the bars in droves, bringing with them a cacophony of rambunctious energy. Fights broke out every handful of minutes, laughter echoed through the streets, there was distant gunfire somewhere in the background, and Shanks thought that might have been the sound of a cannonball crashing into the deck of a ship. 

Certainly a lively island, that was for sure. 

“Oi, Captain.” Beckmann called from across the bar. 

Shanks turned to him with a flippant nod, tilting back on the hind legs of his chair to get a better look at his vice captain. The beta had two women under each of his arms, and a glassy look in his eyes that meant the cigarette between his lips wasn’t his usual tobacco. 

Ben, seeing that he had the alpha’s attention, bobbed his head towards the window where a glow akin to a distant fire raged on the horizon, “You wanna take care of that or me?” 

Shanks considered him, and while the captain was certainly enjoying his poker game (even if he was losing), Ben was obviously getting a bit handsy with the two women vying for his attention. It’d be a shame to ruin Beckmann’s chances to get laid. The gods knew the old man needed it with how grouchy he always got when he hadn’t a good fuck in a while. 

“Nah, I got it.” Shanks shook his head and turned back to his game, “Sorry fellas. M’gonna have to tap out here.” 

There was a chorus of boos, mostly because the vagrants Shanks played against were a bunch of cheaters eager to pilfer every penny Shanks had on his person. The redhead smiled apologetically before righting the straw hat on his head and standing up. With Gryphon heavy on his hip, he swaggered outside, casual as he took a good long look at the orange glow getting brighter by the minute. Shanks wondered if it was caused by a fight breaking out between crews, or if something else had been the cause. He figured he’d find out soon enough, and with his sandals slapping against the precariously stoned roads, Shanks wandered the streets until he could feel the heat of flames on his skin. 

“Phew, that’s definitely burning.” The captain admired aloud to no one except himself. 

He took to the rooftops, hoping the vantage would give him a better view of the cause of the fire. At first, nothing could really be seen save for smoke and the yellow lick of flames, but then, just in the center of the raging inferno, there stood a singular man. Gauging by the body lying at the man’s feet, a fight had broken out—one that resulted in the consuming fire that now threatened to take the city. 

Shanks went to grab Gryphon with the intent to use a flame rend to put out the fires, but before he could, a sword glinted—a cruciform, one encrusted in jewels that the alpha often saw in his dreams. 

With the shine of a blade darkened as it encroached on black, a large sword hovered in the air before swiping down with a whooshing gust of wind. The force generated completely smothered the flames, leaving only burning embers and thin veils of smoke in their wake. Shanks’ body stood unwavering against the force of that swing, but his blood was hot and burning beneath his skin nonetheless. 

He was smiling before he even realized that he was, probably easily mistaken for a madman with the wild look on his face. 

Oh, he knew that sword alright. 

Bringing his fingers to his lips, Shanks let out a piercing wolf whistle, the tones and pitches of it carrying across the decimated clearing of an intense battle. Of course, that whistle was enough to garner the attention of the lone man standing amidst the rubble, his feathered hat tilting in Shanks’ direction. 

“Hey there gorgeous!” Shanks called out with no small amount of excited glee as he stood on the rooftop, “You looking for a good time? Cause if so, I think I can give you one!” 

From beneath the brim of a wide hat, yellow eyes stared up at him in mild offense before they bled into an expression of shock, before finally settling on friendly recognition. 

“Still as mannerless as ever, aren’t you Red?” 

“Aye,” Shanks laughed, thrilled in a way he couldn’t explain, “The hat’s new.” 

The hat looked fucking good , if Shanks had to offer an opinion about it. 

Shanks caught the hint of a smirk on a face that, just as Shanks predicted in his youth, had only grown more stunning with age, “Come to challenge me then?” Mihawk proposed. 

The captain shook his head and instead waved the bottle of rum he had loosely clutched in his fingers, “Came for a party actually. You’re just a bonus.” 

“A wanted one?” Mihawk asked, as if it really needed to be said. 

Shanks felt something ease through his chest, warm and delighted, “More than wanted. Now get up here angel, haven’t seen you in three years and I’m itching to get a good look.” 

Realistically, most wouldn’t dare to boss a man like Dracule Mihawk around without the expectation of meeting a quick and violent death, yet Shanks couldn’t have given more of a damn as he threw caution to the side. For however long they’d been apart, and even despite the short term of knowing each other before they separated, Shanks knew beyond a measure of doubt that Mihawk wouldn’t raise Yoru to him unless in a formal duel. If anything, judging by the way Mihawk acquiesced to his demand and met him on the roof, the omega was just as delighted to see the redhead as Shanks was to see him. 

“There ya are,” Shanks breathed as soon as Mihawk was close enough to reach , “God, you’re even prettier than the last time I saw you.” 

Lips quirked up into a dignified smirk, “And you’re still keen on baseless flattery.” 

“It’s not baseless!” Shanks justified with a laugh, bright and airy, “Come on, come on. Take off the hat. Charming as it is, I want to see .” 

With a wild gesture made with his hands, Shanks motioned towards the elegant hat seated on Mihawk’s hair, and with a quiet snort, Mihawk’s slender fingers plucked the accessory from his head smoothly and let Shanks see as he so eagerly requested. 

Shanks’ bubbling laughter abruptly faltered, his mind stuttering to a skidding halt as he was greeted with the full vision of a Dracule Mihawk after three years of separation. 

And wow, no, the wanted posters did not do him justice. Heck, even Shanks’ eyes felt like they weren’t good enough to capture the true essence of the beauty he was looking at. The alpha knew Mihawk was going to grow up pretty, stunning even. Wasn’t a doubt in his mind that the glorious young man he met so long ago would age like fine wine, and come into his own as the years refined the awkward remnants of youth. Yet, Shanks couldn’t have predicted just how underestimating he’d been. Mihawk didn’t grow up just to be gorgeous or breathtaking. He grew up to be a literal dream, a picture of the divine grace of gods, proof that even the heavens still favored the few and far inbetween. 

Mihawk’s jawline divested itself of teenage softness, and sharpened as if cut from a diamond and shaped with graded steel. The lines of his face were elegant, sculpted like an aristocrat’s, but with an undertone of ferocity that usurped a mere notion of nobility. There was a meticulously maintained patch of pristine black hairs stretching from his sideburns and ending at his goatee, a beard that was not like the scraggly and unkempt ones Shanks was used to seeing. No, this was a proper beard, one only a gentleman with poise would endeavor to groom. Short, well-kept, and flattering of Mihawk’s near porcelain complexion. 

Shanks was drawn to Mihawk’s mouth next. It was thin but with a swell of suppleness to the bottom lip, a temptation that was exemplified by a faint pink color shined by a lick of Mihawk’s tongue. Those lips concealed the white of straight teeth, slightly fanged on the canines as if Mihawk were born to be sharp everywhere. Shanks knew that when Mihawk quirked his mouth in a certain way, a hint of those canines would reveal themselves, giving off an air of wickedness and seductive danger. 

From Mihawk’s mouth, Shanks trailed up, taking in the narrow point of a nose and the slanted shape of unfathomably enigmatic eyes. They were, if possible, brighter than three years ago. Practically glowing as they fixed on Shanks in quiet expectation. They were no longer soft with the kiss of adolescence, but sleek and sultry instead, narrowed in such a way that Shanks could only feel enchanted by their predatory gleam. It felt as if he were caught in a demon’s stare, but by one of those demons that looked like an angel. Rayleigh used to warn him about devils in disguise when Shanks was a kid, but Ray never mentioned that those devils would be so unbelievably ravishing. 

“Your hair got longer.” Came Shanks’ quietly muttered remark, overwhelmed by the enrapturing omega standing but a mere arm’s length away. He diverted his red eyes, suddenly overcome with a rare feeling of bashfulness. 

Out of all the things he could have said, he mentioned Mihawk’s hair, and while it had gotten longer and looked impossibly soft with its delicate wave, that comment was not near enough to encompass the reason why Shanks was rendered speechless. 

As if to devastate Shanks further, Mihawk ran his debonair fingers through the ink-black of his silky hair, musing the soft locks in a way Shanks wished he could do instead. 

“Yes, I suppose it has. Yours too,” Mihawk pointed out, indicating towards Shanks’ own hair from where it was exposed after his straw hat had fallen back behind his head, “Looks like you’ve actually learned to wash it properly.” 

“Hey now!” Shanks stuttered out a false gasp of offense, “I always knew how to wash it, but your raft didn’t have a bath!” 

The teasing pull to Mihawk’s lips was spellbinding, and Shanks went a bit dumb when he looked at it. 

Then, as if catching himself drooling, the alpha exhaled heavily, not really knowing how he should process the fact that his long ago friend was quite literally the most beautiful thing Shanks’ ever had the honor to see. Beckmann would laugh at him right about now. Probably tease him about being shy and shit. And Shanks wasn’t shy, he just didn’t think he would ever get used to how his heart burned whenever he caught Mihawk’s stare. 

Right then. 

Shanks cleared his throat and shook the rum in his fingers deliberately, “Got time to spare for a drink? I want to introduce you to my crew! They’re a bit rowdy, but I think you’ll like them.” 

“I wouldn’t expect anything less than rowdy when dealing with you, Red.” Mihawk quipped back easily enough, and it was as if nothing had changed in their time apart. “And yes, I’ll accept your invitation under the condition that you’re paying for any expenses I incur.” 

At the familiar tone of banter passing between them, Shanks’ nerves ebbed just enough for him to regain his right of mind. He reached back and righted the straw hat back on his hair, grinning in a way he knew often made those looking at him swoon. 

“Wouldn’t let a treasure like you pay for a thing anyway, sweetheart.” Shanks teased playfully, capitalizing his declaration with a daring wink as he looped an arm over Mihawk’s shoulders, now tall enough to do so.

And wow, it really had been too long since they last saw each other. 

Mihawk let him get away with the jostling affection, though there was a hint of amused exasperation belying his demeanor as if he wasn’t surprised in the slightest by Shanks’ handsiness, but still hoped the alpha might have learned a thing or two about manners in the time he was away. Shanks merely gave the other a wolfish grin and pulled him along back towards the bar. On their way, Shanks dove headfirst into everything Mihawk missed after he left, carefree and expressive as he told Mihawk how he went to the sky again, and fell so far into the core of the earth it took him weeks to find his way back out. 

Mihawk listened with all the quiet diligence he used to cater to Shanks with, attentive and prompting with his micro expressions and huffing breaths akin to Mihawk’s version of a laugh. Shanks was over the moon, ecstatic to reunite with the omega after three years. 

“And then Beckmann had to piss on my leg— and oh, we’re here!” Shanks beamed at Mihawk as he pointed towards the bar, music and a cluster of laughter spilling from the brightly lit windows. Shanks could hear the notes of his own crew mixed in with the ruckus, and he was only too eager to drag Mihawk inside and show him off. 

“The crew’s great!” Shanks promised as he steered an acquiescing Mihawk towards the tavern doors, “They’ll love you—“ 

The captain’s words faltered on his tongue when instead of being greeted by warmth and friendly cheer as he stepped through the doors with Mihawk looped under his arm, Shanks was greeted with abrupt silence instead. The party stilled to a shocking halt, the music dying on an off note as a glass clattered and crashed to the floor a second later. The various patrons of the establishment all turned their attention to Shanks and Mihawk, his crew included. There was a tension now that wasn’t present just a few seconds before, a scenting of fear souring the jovial fun with its poignant odor. 

Shanks looked around confused, the alpha unsure as to what had the party stopping when it was really only getting started. 

“Uh…captain?” Yasopp chimed up from where he lost his pants during a game of strip poker. The beta’s eyes flickered to Shanks and then to the man standing beside Shanks, before returning to the alpha in question. 

“What?” Shanks asked, completely baffled by the reactions he was receiving, “Why’d the music stop?! I only just got back!” 

The alpha shot his gaze around the room, taking in the myriad of apprehensive and straight up terrified expressions of most of the people present. Shanks didn’t understand what the hell everyone was so afraid of. Certainly it wasn’t because of him— 

“Ah. I see.” Mihawk acknowledged in a knowing tone. 

Shanks turned his eyes back to the omega, “See what? Come on guys, start up the music again and get me a new bottle of rum. We’re celebrating tonight!” 

He thought that might be enough to provoke his crew at least, but they just stared at him, cautious and unsure what to say. 

Getting a bit ticked off, Shanks went to demand where the hell Beckmann was at, because at least his vice captain would tell him what was going on, but before he could say anything, Mihawk slipped out from beneath Shanks’ friendly arm. 

And no—no! Why was Mihawk doing that? 

“I think you’ve miscalculated, Red,” Mihawk told him, “I’m afraid I might not be as welcomed here as you thought I would be.” 

“Now that’s just ridiculous—“ 

“It’s not,” Mihawk cut in smoothly, lacking the previous warmth he regarded Shanks with, “It appears my reputation is ruining the mood.” 

Again, Shanks went to deny that sentiment, yet Mihawk interrupted the alpha as he firmly declared, “I’m not wanted here, Shanks.” 

“ I want you here.” Shanks insisted because it had been three years since he last saw his friend, “What the fuck does everyone have to be afraid of? We’re all outlaws here!” 

He could tell that his hackles were rising, his scent growing heavier as his frustration increased. 

“He ain’t no outlaw,” one of the patrons finally spoke, finding his voice amongst the sea of silent expressions, “He’s a monster .” 

“What did you just say— “ Shanks went to take an intimidating step in that man’s direction, but was kept at bay by Mihawk’s hand on his bicep. 

“It’s not worth it.” Mihawk told him. 

Shanks shrugged him off, “They’re being dickheads.” 

“They’re right.” Mihawk affirmed, taking a deep breath as if his own patience was wearing thin, “I’m hardly a pirate by any standard. Let it go , Red.” 

Shanks didn’t want to let it go. He wanted to party and have fun with his friend. He wanted to show Mihawk off and tell him even more stories about his adventures. He wanted to know about Mihawk’s fights, and how he managed to infiltrate Enies Lobby and make it back out alive (because that had made front page news for a week and Shanks was dying to know why Mihawk went there in the first place). He wanted to enjoy the moment, to have fun , but everyone else was killing the mood. 

As if taking pity on the redhead, Mihawk offered him a slight smile before he took his hat and placed it back on his head. Shanks’ eyes widened, because no, Mihawk couldn’t leave, not again—

“I’ll see you around, Red. Enjoy the rest of your night.”  

“No,” Shanks refused, “We just—“ 

Mihawk turned away brusquely and left through the same door they came in before Shanks could even process what the hell just happened. The alpha stood for a moment in complete disbelief, and once it dawned on him how empty the space was that Mihawk occupied just a moment ago, his face twisted into rage. He shot one scathing look at the room full of pansies before running after the omega. 

“Mihawk—Wait! Come on! Don’t just leave like that!” Shanks yelled, scrambling to catch up with Mihawk’s purposeful and long strides, “Screw everyone else! We’ll have a party on our own.” 

The omega came to an abrupt halt in the street, his shoulders riddled with tension as he whirled on the alpha. There was an edge of ferocity to the movement, a tempered intensity only just barely restrained. 

“Why?” Mihawk demanded, and although he might perfectly hide his thoughts behind the stone of his expressions to others, Shanks could see the burn of his own frustration mirrored in Mihawk’s glare. 

Shanks threw his hands up at the frankly stupid question, “Because I missed you!” He confessed as if it were perfectly obvious and a reasonable feeling to have, “And you didn’t even say goodbye last time, you asshole!” 

Mihawk’s eyes rolled, “It was always going to be a temporary arrangement between us. There was no need to make such a spectacle.” 

“Still an asshole thing to do.” Shanks countered back, “You’re my friend. It’s been three years. I missed you, and I just want to catch up.” 

“You barely even knew me. You don't know me.” 

Shanks, irritated that this was even a debate, argued heatedly, “I know you snore.” 

“What the—? What does that have to do with anything? And I don’t snore!” Mihawk growled, a blush creeping down the length of his slender neck. 

“Yes you do.” Shanks confirmed, because he remembered spending hours laughing under his breath whenever the soft little sounds started as soon as Mihawk fell into a deep slumber. 

Mihawk’s tongue clicked in annoyance as he sucked on his teeth harshly, “Again, I don’t see the correlation between that statement and my earlier sentiment.” 

“ I don’t see the correlation blah blah blah .” Shanks mocked in a snooty imitation of Mihawk’s strict manner of speech. 

When Mihawk appeared appropriately affronted by his taunting, the alpha moved in with his killing blow, “If we weren’t friends, then why’d you only leave after you knew I’d be looked after? Why’d you give me your card? And don't you dare say it was so we can duel because we both know if that was your purpose, you would have found me with your freaky internal compass and not given me another option.” 

“I—“ Mihawk seemed actually caught off guard by Shanks, a fragile moment of uncertainty passing across the omega’s features. 

Shanks, knowing he had the advantage, secured his win with one final declaration, “I know you’re as happy to see me as I am to see you, so cut the bullshit before you run off all needlessly dramatic over something stupid.” 

Silence fell between the two men as Shanks waited for Mihawk to either fight back or give in. He didn’t really do much of either as he averted his eyes. 

“I’m not—I’m not dramatic .” 

The alpha reluctantly snorted, “Hate to break it to you darling, but swooping your hat on and fleeing before I even get a chance to tell you to stop is very, very dramatic. A scene fit for a play, really. Actors would be envious of your flare.” 

Mihawk frowned at him, but the gesture wasn’t serious, “I should cut you for insulting me.” 

“Go ahead and try,” Shanks offered, “You’ll probably succeed, but I’ll give you a hell of a fight first.” 

He was stronger now than he was back then. He’s fought his battles, trained his mind and his sword. He could still sense the distance between him and Mihawk, but the gap was much smaller than it was before. 

Mihawk was seemingly considering the same as he let his eyes drift the length of Shanks’ body. It was strange not only being eye level with Mihawk, but an inch taller than the omega now too. He’d grown in every way since Mihawk left him, and it appeared Mihawk was just now realizing the extent in which the red haired alpha had changed. 

When the omega licked his lips, it wasn’t an action triggered by lust, but rather the want for a challenge. Nevertheless, Shanks’ skin warmed when he caught sight of that tongue trailing the length of Mihawk’s bottom lip before catching thoughtfully on the point of his canine tooth. His mind couldn’t help but think the action was lewd in nature, done solely to entice the redhead. That wasn’t the case, but it made Shanks yearn anyway. 

“Mm, I’ll let you mature a bit more,” Mihawk said, coming to his conclusion with a sigh as if he wanted nothing more than to test the metal of Shanks’ blade now , “Make it worth the wait, and all that.” 

Shanks shook himself from his stupor, forcing his mind not to interpret Mihawk’s words in any other way than how they were actually intended. The omega wasn’t flirting with him. Mihawk wanted to fight, and fight only when Shanks reached his peak or was near enough to it. What was going through the alpha’s brain at present certainly wasn’t the type of battle Mihawk was keen on engaging in. Though, a very large part of Shanks wished that it was. 

Swallowing those troubling urges, Shanks cleared his throat and asked, “So are we good now? We can still have that drink, right? I’ll take you back to my ship. No one to bother us there.” 

Mihawk considered him with his shrewd yellow eyes before finally agreeing with a short nod. Shanks, relieved that he won their little standoff, made a big show of his victory by looping his arm back over Mihawk’s shoulder. 

“Great. Glad you made the right decision.” 

“Don’t make me regret it.” Mihawk warned, but the threat lacked any and all conviction as the omega let himself be steered through the streets and towards the harbor. 

By the bay, it was much quieter, everyone else more inclined to party in the bars and brothels than on their ships. Shanks pointed towards his own boat, a fine Galleon with the red-haired pirates Jolly Roger flying proudly on the center mast. 

“Bit bigger than your raft, yeah?” Shanks prompted. 

Mihawk nodded obligingly, “Just a smidgen.” 

His coy remark was met with a chuckle by Shanks as he eagerly tugged Mihawk aboard and guided him towards the galley. 

“We got loads of booze.” Shanks said from where he was rummaging through the kitchens, “And we’ve got wine around here somewhere. Beck likes to indulge when he reads. He’s such an old man.” 

From where he was seated at a simple wooden table, Mihawk argued, “There’s nothing wrong with a bit of reading and wine. Though I’m not surprised someone of your temperament lacks the ability to enjoy life’s simplicities.” 

Shanks’ poked his head up, narrowing his eyes on Mihawk through the window between the kitchens and the dining hall, “I enjoy simplicities just fine, thank you very much. Nothin’ simpler than tossing back a drink while watching the day go by.” 

Mihawk merely gave him a provoking look before Shanks went back to his rummaging. When the captain finally got his hands on what he was looking for, he snagged himself two of Ben’s wine glasses before rejoining Mihawk. 

“Drink here or outside? Personally I’m partial to the crow’s nest.” The alpha said, the picture of charming levity as he awaited Mihawk’s answer. 

“The nest,” came the omega’s reply, “It smells like unwashed pirates in here.” 

Shanks let another laugh tickle his throat before he was guiding Mihawk outside. The omega took to the ladder first, climbing up and giving Shanks the blessed view of seeing his ass framed in the fitted leather of his trousers. Feeling flush when he spied Mihawk’s shapely backside, Shanks willed himself to calm the fuck down as he clutched the thin neck of the wine glasses with his teeth and set to climbing. 

The omega was already settled in a spot by the time Shanks lifted himself through the hatch. Mihawk was overlooking the darkened sea with his hair—now free from its hat—billowing in the soft ocean breeze. The dim glow of the port city cast gentle shadows on the design of Mihawk’s face, illuminating him just enough for Shanks to be able to admire without having to squint. 

It was quiet between the two of them, but Shanks didn’t mind so much as the alpha worked to bust open the wine and pour them each a glass. Mihawk idly watched Shanks’ hurried hands before accepting his proffered beverage with a polite ‘thank you’. 

The redhead watched and waited for Mihawk to take his first sip, and when the omega seemed approving of the taste, Shanks followed with his own. He downed the glass in a way that often made Beckmann scold him about proper drinking etiquette. Wine was meant to be savored not chugged, and yet Shanks never gave a damn about all that. Mihawk must have known the futility of voicing those thoughts, because while the space between his brows pinched upon witnessing Shanks’ abhorrent manners, he uttered not a word as he primly sipped on his own glass. 

“So…” Shanks finally broke the silence when it continued to stretch leisurely, “What’ve you been up to?” 

“I’m sure if you kept up with the papers, you’d know.” 

“Ben mostly reads them.” Shanks admitted, “He tells me when you’ve gone and done something to get on the front page, but I don’t want to read about it. I want to hear it from you. So…” Shanks prompted again as he nudged Mihawk with his elbow, “Don’t be shy.” 

Mihawk shot him a side-long look, but he didn’t put up much of a fight in the end as he sighed, “Not really much to say. I’ve fought a lot. Haven’t lost yet. Don’t plan on losing anytime soon.” 

“Yoru’s darker than what she was.” Shanks noted, eyeing the darkening blade, but not being presumptuous enough to touch, “You must’ve encountered some intense battles.” 

Mihawk nodded slowly. If he was surprised at Shanks knowing how black blades were forged, he didn’t mention it, “Yes…there were some that left impressions.” 

By Mihawk’s standards, ‘left impressions’ meant that he had been forced to fight tooth and nail, and scrape by through willpower and determination alone in order to win. That was the type of fight Shanks wanted to give Mihawk one day. He didn’t want to just ‘leave an impression’ though.  He wanted to be seared into the omega’s memory, never to be forgotten and acknowledged as a proper rival. He wanted Mihawk to see him as an equal, as a man he could always search out when he was in need of letting off a little steam. 

And Shanks was getting there, even if he wasn’t quite at that point yet. 

“Tell me about them.” Shanks urged, gentle and curious as he scooted just a little closer to the omega, “Please?” 

Mihawk regarded Shanks with the stunning hue of his eyes, and it was all Shanks could do not to swoon in the face of the other’s attention. The omega, probably unaware of the rabid effect he had on Shanks, took another practiced sip of his drink. There was a hint of red on his lips when he was done. A taste of wine left over that Shanks wished—no. Shanks pushed the thought away and listened avidly as Mihawk started to tell his stories. 

Listening to the omega, Shanks realized he could do so forever. Once Mihawk got into the rhythm of relaying the events of his life for the past three years, his posture softened and his tone smoothed over with a velvety component. His inflections were mild yet engaging, the details he provided as he relived his most memorable battles were straight out of a novel. Before long, they finished off the bottles of wine Shanks procured, but that didn’t keep Mihawk from regaling Shanks with a fascinating tale about a Fishman who’s swordsmanship was so refined he could bend the way of the water. From him, Mihawk learned how to alter currents, a talent that had come in handy when raging storms threatened to capsize his boat. 

The alpha, perfectly content to hear Mihawk talk for the rest of his life, had settled himself comfortably in the other’s lap, pillowing his head on the muscle of Mihawk’s thighs while the omega spoke. If the swordsman minded Shanks’ forwardness, he didn’t do a thing to stop the alpha. Instead, he placed an idle hand on Shanks’ head, fingers scratching absently at red hair in a manner that almost, almost had Shanks purring with delight. He knew he missed this, missed Mihawk , but didn’t realize by how much until he was reliving their time together at sea all over again. Although too short for some to truly form a bond, Shanks had always been the type to latch onto people quickly and passionately, and Mihawk had been one of those where Shanks just liked him from the first look. 

Liked him a whole lot without needing a reason, and since Mihawk didn’t push Shanks away even when he was being obnoxious, the feeling must’ve been mutual to some extent. 

“…and that’s where I learned to combat flames. The Wano samurai certainly held a vast wealth of knowledge when it came to obscure techniques.” 

Smiling, Shanks agreed, “We had a guy from Wano on our crew when I was back with Roger. He taught me the flame rend. Didn’t really master it until after we all parted ways.” 

From what Shanks knew, Oden was dead now. 

Like Roger, he’d gone out with a smile, a legend passing before another could take his place. 

“I would have liked to meet him.” Mihawk said, not missing the note of sorrow in Shanks’ scent.

“To test your metal, right?” 

“Yes,” Mihawk conceded shamelessly, “But also to learn. Not every battle I fight ends in death.” 

“Hm,” Shanks hummed as he pressed into Mihawk’s hand, urging the omega to continue with his petting, “When we fight, do you think you’ll kill me?” 

Mihawk snorted fondly, “Hopefully you prove challenging enough that doing so will be difficult.” 

“If it’s a draw, that means you’ll just have to keep coming back to spar again.” 

Yellow eyes gleamed in the dark of night, a half moon shining behind the silhouette of Mihawk leaning above him. Shanks marveled at beauty in its truest form, his heart tender when Mihawk gave him a full smile, “I suppose it does.” 

Overwhelmed by how sublime the omega was, Shanks hid his face into the other’s stomach, his cheeks coloring as he couldn’t help but giddily laugh, “You’re still cute when you smile like that,” He confessed into Mihawk’s belly, too shy to say the words while looking directly at the other, “You should smile more often for me, angel.” 

“So long as you continue to give me a reason too.” 

“Yeah?” Shanks peered up, half his face still hidden in the white of Mihawk’s soft shirt. 

In answer to his question, the alpha was gifted with yet another breathtaking grin. He thought it was a privilege to be given that. An honor he didn’t think he’d ever grow accustomed to, but would treasure for as long as he had it. 

Getting even more comfortable, Shanks sighed contentedly, nuzzling into the omega like a happy dog, “I really did miss you, Hawky.” 

Mihawk didn’t answer back with words, but Shanks didn’t need to hear them anyway. For a quick and fleeting moment, Shanks was allowed perhaps the greatest admittance of them all: Mihawk scented briefly, the smell of him serene and crisp. The alpha couldn’t help but envision calm arctic waters and the refreshing caress of sunshine after a frigid winter storm. He thought of that initial breath one took when the blizzard passed, when the skies were perfectly clear, the snow untouched, and the world thrust into tranquil quiet. Mihawk scented like peace, like a place capable of easing even the worst form of worries. 

It lulled Shanks into a state of perfect relaxation, the alpha’s own scent steadily rising to mingle with Mihawk’s own. Whereas Mihawk was cold serenity, Shanks met him with passionate warmth, the two of them blending in a way only two complementary opposites could. He fell asleep like that, and couldn’t really be blamed for it. He was at peace, grounded in a way he so rarely was. Fingers soothed through his hair, and knowing that Mihawk was here , Shanks drifted off with a smile light on his lips and dreams full of an omega more stunning than he could even comprehend. 

In the morning, Mihawk was gone. The only evidence that he was even there was the wine bottles and glasses left discarded in the crow’s nest. Shanks, a bit disheartened that the omega left without saying goodbye again, took solace in the fact that he could still smell the lingering of Mihawk’s scent. The smell of the omega mildly clung to Shanks’ shirt, as if Mihawk had purposefully left a part of him behind in his own form of farewell. Much like the Vivre card from before, Mihawk did not abandon Shanks with nothing. There was a promise in his scent. A ‘until next time’ the alpha wanted to cling to. 

Pressing the shirt to his nose, Shanks breathed in deeply, surprised by the ache in his chest, but also eased by the arctic aroma of the omega. He wished Mihawk could have at least given him another day at least, but Shanks knew he couldn’t be too greedy. He was a pirate, yes, but he could be thankful for what he did have rather than what he was without. 

Sighing, Shanks let his shirt fall back against his chest as he ambled down the hatch and ladder leading to the deck below. His men were already working on getting the ship in order, as it was well into the morning before Shanks finally roused from his slumber. When they saw him, they kept a wide berth, obviously still feeling awkward over the events of last night. Shanks wasn’t too excited to talk with them either and instead shut himself up in the captain’s quarters where he lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking of absolutely nothing. Mihawk’s scent was still attached to the fabric of his shirt, and desiring it more than he was willing to admit, Shanks took off the article of clothing and smothered his face with it. He sucked in deep breaths, sensing the inherent calm in Mihawk’s essence and needing it to soothe him. It did, but it also made him yearn, a painful contrast in which he was both relieved and suffering. 

By the late afternoon, his rut set in. Sudden and unexpected, the fever took him in a mindless haze. He barely had the right of mind to lock his door before he was gasping, struck with pain and arousal that fluctuated between too much and not nearly enough. He scented of anguish and need, muffling his howling in the stitches of the fabric that smelled of Mihawk, and Mihawk , he needed Mihawk—

The rut, for as random as it appeared, left him just as rapidly. By the next morning his hormones had settled enough not to leave him in a total rage, and by noon he emerged from his room, exhausted and worn as he shuffled to the bath like a rotted corpse come to life. The bath helped with the soreness of his muscles, but also managed to awaken the horrendous hunger gnawing in his stomach. Feeling weak from the starvation, it was all Shanks could manage to actually make it to the galley and slump into the nearest seat he could find. As soon as he did, there was a plate of food in front of him accompanied by a glass of water. 

Shanks forewent the water as he went straight for the whiskey instead. 

No one said a word to him as he ate in silence, more focused on satiating the rumbling in his stomach than paying his crew any mind. It was probably weird for them to see him so quiet, but Shanks didn’t have much going on in his brain at the moment, and when he did he could only think about the ruined shirt laying in his bed, soaked with so much cum and sweat he couldn’t even smell Mihawk on it anymore. There was something about the whole affair he should probably acknowledge, but with a studious determination to avoid, avoid, avoid , Shanks denied any attempt by his brain to consider why Mihawk’s scent in particular had triggered a rut, even when no other omega or beta had done so before. 

He drowned out that question with another sip of his whiskey, and when he finally ate enough to feel full, Shanks shoved his plate away right as he tugged his hat over to conceal his eyes. He rocked back on his chair, hands folded behind his head as he refused to think. Don’t think. Don’t think . 

“Heard you ran into Hawk-eyes the other night,” Beckmann said as he settled in the chair opposite of Shanks with a smoke between his lips and a beer in his hand, “How’d it go?”

“Great.” Shanks answered, because that was the truth, “Would’ve been better if I could’ve introduced him to the crew without the guys being a bunch of dicks about it.” 

He made sure to project the jab loudly, just to remind his men he wasn’t going to forgive them so easily for the rudeness they showed Mihawk. 

Ben sighed heavily, and even without looking at the other man, Shanks knew Beckmann was tapping his cigarette free from a gathering of ash. 

“They didn’t know you and Hawk-eyes were friends.” 

“Uh-huh.” Shanks replied back half-heartedly, still refusing to remove his straw hat from where it concealed part of his face. 

“They’re real sorry.” The vice captain emphasized, “Especially when I told ‘em that Hawk-eyes is the reason I joined up with you.” 

The alpha snorted, “Don’t lie. You joined me because you were bored and knew I’d get you into all sorts of trouble.” 

“Yeah,” the beta acknowledged, “But I also figured if you could get a guy like Hawk-eyes to like you, there must’ve been somethin’ special about that runt of an alpha I met back in the day.” 

Still hidden beneath his hat, Shanks grumbled, “I wasn’t a runt.” 

“You were, and now you’re a hopeless pretty boy. Really, I don’t know what I was thinking.” Ben mused, knowing his words were just provoking enough to get a rise out of his captain. 

He was right, and with a petulant glare, Shanks lifted the straw hat from his eyes and scowled at his vice captain. 

Ben grinned at him, prompting Shanks to give in with a roll of his eyes. 

Head lolling back so that he could look at the rest of his crew gathered in the galley from an upside down angle, he saw that their faces were full of remorse, heads hanging and hands clasped in front of them. Perfect picture of innocence. Truly, they were little angels. 

Shanks snorted at the thought. 

“You boys got something to say?” 

It was funny calling his crew boys, considering Shanks was the youngest among them. 

Yasopp approached first with his head sorrowfully cowed, “We’re sorry cap,” he started off sincerely enough, and then, with a little smirk on his lips, he added on, “We didn’t realize he was your boyfriend.” 

“ Oi!!! ” Shanks yelled, startled by the term. His balance faltered from where he rocked in his chair, leading him to fall backwards as he crashed to the floor in a gaggle of wild limbs, “ He’s not my boyfriend!!! ” 

His clumsiness followed by his red-faced outburst had the whole crew in stitches in a matter of seconds. 

“Look at him!” Hongo wheezed, “He’s as red as his hair!” 

“The cap’s got a crush !!!” Rou crooned, provoking the men to wolf whistle and break out into an off-key song about young love. 

Shanks was going to kill them. 

“Knock it off!” He shouted, scrambling to his feet as he all but stomped and pouted like a child, “S’not funny!” 

“It’s a little funny.” Beckmann said from behind the captain, heavily amused as he continued to work through his cigarette. Undoubtedly, the antics of the men were all his doing, probably in an effort to pull Shanks out of whatever thoughts threatened to trouble the captain’s mind. 

Shanks fumed, but he was more embarrassed than anything else. He was suddenly brought back to when he was 13 on the Oro Jackson and suffering the light hearted teasing of the Roger Pirates, bearing it all with rosy red cheeks and whining for them to stop. This was like those times and not. For one, a marketable difference was that Shanks was a captain now and he was still being picked on. 

“You’re not cute, Ben,” Shanks shot at him, “You know Mihawk and I—we aren’t like that.” 

“Mm-hmm.” The vice captain nodded obligingly, “Just a bit of good fun cap, don’t take it to heart.” 

There was a telling glint in the gray of Beckmann's eyes, like he didn’t believe Shanks at all when he claimed he and Mihawk were just friends, but that was the truth. Even if the truth wasn’t what Shanks secretly wanted (though he told himself he should—being just friends with Mihawk was fine ), wants and wishes didn’t change fact. 

Huffing and puffing like a spoiled brat, Shanks made for the Galley door with his sandals slapping purposefully, “Just get the men ready to set sail. This island is stupid.” 

His comment, for whatever reason, only spurred his crew into laughing harder than before. Shanks’ cheeks burned as he fled from the Galley, cursing the boys for their dumb idea of having a good time (fun wasn’t fun if it was at his expense, damn it!). He knew they meant well enough, and a part of him was glad it wasn’t awkward anymore on the ship, but another part of him twisted into knots over Mihawk being called his boyfriend. His mate. 

Fuck, if he could only be so lucky. 

Chapter Text

Hunger Starves in the Stomach, Loves Yearns in the Heart

The next time he and Mihawk met, Shanks was different. 

The first change were the three scars over his eyes, the wounds still pink from being freshly scabbed over, the flesh still tender to touch. Being caught off guard wasn’t the worst of the injury, nor was the pain. It was the knowledge that it had been done by a friend, a man who he wrongfully assumed to be his ally that stung the most. 

The second was the unusually severe expression on his face, his previous smiles replaced by a knowledge only he seemed to understand. When he looked out at the sea, the horizon wasn’t so much welcoming as it was troubling. The time in which Shanks looked forward to what came next altered, and now he worried. Worried for the growing darkness he sensed dwelling in the world, in the men like Marshall D. Teach and the five elders who sat on their thrones. Shanks worried that he might not be able to find the right light to keep the darkness away, and that his captain’s legacy would be obscured by the very shadows that plagued his mind and took root in Shanks’ heart. 

The third and final change was the official captain’s cloak he now took to wearing, identifying himself as the man in charge, as a leader , after his bounty was thrust to 500 million. He started to gain respect not only with his allies, but with his enemies as well, recognized as a fully fledged pirate capable of claiming the seas for his own. He was only 19, but it felt like he had aged a lifetime in a span of a year. From all that he witnessed. From all that he had learned—truths he could never utter aloud for the sake of his and his crew’s safety…

His power grew exponentially in that timeframe, matching pace as he shed those last remnants of his naive mentality and recognized the world for what it was: a place without knowledge of peace and senseless in its violence. The old way needed to be burned to the ground, dismantled at its very foundations so that a new and better era could come to light. The time for that change wasn’t near, but Shanks recognized the necessity of it nonetheless. 

He still smiled. He still laughed. He still partied until his mind was a haze and he was vomiting over the railing of their ship the next morning, but now there was an undercurrent to his levity, a severity that belied his true nature as a man with kingly ambitions. 

There was news of Mihawk all over the papers as well. They started to claim he was well on his way to being the best and the greatest. Some slandered his name and called him a disgrace to the true nature of an omega. Other articles were eager to see how far he could go, to see if it was really true that an omega with no prominent history could become a greater legend than the alphas and betas that came before him. 

Shanks, never one to read the papers, took to reading them far more often whenever he spied Mihawk’s image in the news. His crew had quit making fun of him for it, and instead made sure that even if there was the smallest mention of the omega swordsman, the paper was delivered with Shanks’ breakfast as soon as he wandered into the Galley. Beckmann often remarked on how large of a reputation Mihawk made for himself, how large of a reputation they both had built, and secretly, Shanks couldn’t be any prouder. He knew, in the beating of his heart and the thrumming of his veins, that the day where he and Mihawk finally dueled was vastly approaching. 

“The papers are speculating he might be gunning for the Dark King next,” Ben said over coffee, the two of them seated with the rest of the crew as their ship headed for Sabaody, “You alright with that?” 

Shanks considered it and shrugged, “Not all of Mihawk’s duels end in death. Rayleigh can handle himself and so can Hawk-eyes.” 

The beta nodded, “Who do you think will win?” 

If Shanks had to leverage a guess, he figured it could go either way. Rayleigh was always unbeatable in Shanks’ mind, a man capable of rivaling any pirate emperor on the seas. He was Roger’s right hand, his most trusted and dependable. Feared almost as much as Whitebeard, the Dark King would be no easy obstacle for Mihawk to overcome. 

Yet, on the opposite end of that thought, Shanks knew Mihawk’s determination would carry him to the heights of success. Like Shanks, his will was unbreakable, his power only growing day by day. Even the most experienced and wise fell before Mihawk and his blade. Truly, the omega was more than gifted, and his dedication to rise above all others, to become a true master in a way that even Ray hadn’t managed, might be enough to best Shanks’ old man. 

“Guess we’ll have to wait and see.” Shanks surmised, because there was truly no telling, “How long until we reach Sabaody?” 

“Day or two at most.” Beckmann replied. 

It wasn’t his first time dropping by the archipelago, nor would this be Shanks’ first journey into the New World. However, it would be for most of his crew including Beckmann. There was a tension born from excitement and nerves. The boys didn’t know what to expect, and there was really nothing Shanks could say to prepare them for what lay ahead. The new world was nothing like the Grand Line they already sailed. It was far more dangerous, wildly unpredictable, and unbelievably mysterious. Most pirate crews didn’t make it beyond Sabaody. Some didn’t know how to bypass the Red Line, others met their end in Fishman Island, and for those that managed to cross, they were usually killed before making it to the first port. The New World had a reputation, and it was understandable that his men were nervous because of that. Still, Shanks’ instincts were telling him it was time to make the journey to the other side, and he was determined to follow that intuition. 

“Alright,” Shanks reached for his coffee and tossed it back like he would a bottle of rum, “Keep an eye out for bounty hunters and auctioneers. They’re prone to these waters.” 

Beckman nodded as Shanks stood and waded out of the galley to the open deck. The sky was cloudy, the sun fully obscured as the winds whipped with the promise of a storm. Shanks kept his hat from blowing with one hand on his head and the other on his hip, gazing up at the foreboding heavens with a narrowing of his red eyes. 

The alpha wouldn’t say he was worried about the upcoming battle between Rayleigh and Mihawk. Some intrinsic part of him knew neither man would die, but the heavens were preparing for a fight that would shake the oceans and tremble the earth. Whatever the outcome of the duel, Shanks knew it would be a turning point—the beginning of the old era stepping aside for a newer one to pave its way through. He could taste the changing in the air, but wasn’t convinced it would be a welcomed one. 

As Beckmann predicted, they reached Sabaody within a day, and long before Shanks even made it to shore, he could feel the power rippling in the air. The ocean seemed intent on keeping him from the harbor, the currents rerouting his ship every time they got near. It didn’t take long for the captain to figure out why, and as he stood at the front of his ship eyeing the distant archipelago, his entire being was enthralled by the electricity of conqueror’s Haki vibrantly altering the skies. He ordered his men to stop fighting the currents, realizing that unless he directly intervened, they wouldn’t make it to shore until the battle was over. 

Yasopp asked what battle he was talking about. The alpha answered him with only silence as he fixed his glare straight ahead. He watched the clouds. Watched as they split apart and twisted into each other, watched as the sea rippled and tossed, folding over itself as waves swelled and extinguished as soon as they reached alarming heights. The only reason his men kept calm was because Shanks himself wasn’t frightened. They knew how intense a battle of wills could get between men, but they had yet to experience the ferocity of true conquerors testing and surpassing their limits. They knew that their captain had a strange power, an ability that went beyond his natural alpha dominance, but they didn’t know that if Shanks wished it, he could part the seas and crack the earth. Just like the battle taking place on Sabaody, a true conqueror could alter the world. 

“Do you think it’s…?” Beckmann asked, his question unfinished as he snubbed out his cigarette. There was a sheen of sweat on his brow, the beta undoubtedly feeling the repercussions of the clashing of wills just ahead. 

Shanks gave a curt nod. There was no questioning just who was fighting. Shanks could recognize Rayleigh’s conqueror's almost as well as his own, and the second will he sensed was familiar to him in a way that, while he hadn’t experienced it first hand, he knew the notes of refined serenity were too akin to a certain omega’s scent not to belong to Mihawk. 

The battle went on for ten days. Shanks hardly slept, too engrossed in the changing of Hakis to catch more than an hour of rest at a time. His men stayed below deck, unable to withstand the brunt of unleashed power for a prolonged period of time. It even started to wear on Shanks after a while, but he couldn’t leave his post. Though he was not there to physically witness the fight, he knew this moment was too monumental to miss.  

When the battle finally ended, the victor’s conqeror’s Haki felt relieved, singing of accomplishment before it diminished with abrupt exhaustion. In the wake of the sudden quiet, the ocean calmed and the sky cleared up. The night was a beautiful one, as pristine as the Haki that had claimed victory over the Dark King. 

“Beckmann,” Shanks called as he stood up from where he’d been sitting on the figurehead, “Get the boys up. We’re setting sail again.” 

The beta obliged his captain, and in little time at all with the seas back in Shanks’ favor, they made it to shore. He wasn’t surprised to find that many of the citizens were all sound asleep and passed out. Even with control over one’s Haki, a clash like the one between Rayleigh and Mihawk would undoubtedly cause the weak-willed to faint. Shanks ordered his men to help out where they could before setting off to search on his own. 

He found the scene of the battle easily enough, mostly because the surroundings were destroyed, an entire grove nearly flattened as the remains of an intense fight left the land barren. Shanks easily spied two bodies lying face first in the dirt, their hearts beating even if exhausted. A flicker of relief eased through him, unwinding the tension he had felt for the last week and a half. He knew not all of Mihawk’s duels ended in death, and he was particularly glad that this was one of the ones that didn’t. 

“You two really made a mess, huh?” Shanks voiced to no one except himself, the alpha smiling at the picture of the passed out men, “Guess I should go ahead and get the both of you cleaned up then, yeah?” 

He started with Ray first because he was definitely the one more gravelly injured. He tossed the older beta over his shoulders, briefly overwhelmed with the knowledge that he was now big enough to carry Rayleigh with ease. He brought the blonde swordsman to Hongo, depositing the old man in an infirmary bed before going back for Mihawk. When he arrived, he found Mihawk already stirring, groaning with exhaustion and fatigue as he tried to sit up. Shanks was by his side in an instant, easing the omega up before letting the other settle against the alpha’s chest. 

“Easy there angel,” Shanks whispered soothingly, “I’ve got ya.” 

“Red?” Mihawk said, the yellow of his eyes confused and dazed as he blinked owlishly at the alpha. 

The corners of Shanks’ gaze softened as he gently butted his head against Mihawk’s own in greeting, “Yeah, it’s me. Congrats by the way.” 

Shanks wiped a smudge of dirt away from Mihawk’s cheek, letting his hand linger on the curve of the omega’s jaw, “You beat my old man.” 

Mihawk blinked, still confused until the memories of his battle started to filter through his thoughts. With a bit of a huff, Mihawk leaned into Shanks more firmly, and acknowledged, “It was not easy.” 

“I didn’t think it would be.” Shanks, seeing that Mihawk was more like himself even if clearly exhausted, lifted the omega carefully into his arms. The swordsman winced, clearly battered and beaten, but he didn’t deny Shanks’ efforts to care for him as he loosely hooked an arm around the alpha’s neck. 

“Is the old guy still alive?” Mihawk whispered into the skin of Shanks’ throat, his head heavy and limp from where it rested on Shanks’ shoulder. 

The alpha knelt and grabbed for Yoru, strong enough now to hold the weighted blade without fearing the intensity of her voice.

“He is,” Shanks revealed as he maneuvered Mihawk with a single arm, trying to balance the omega and his sword at the same time, “Got Hongo patching him up now.” 

“Good.” The omega breathed, “He’ll make for a good sparring partner.” 

Shanks laughed at that, “Oi, I thought that was supposed to be my job one day.” 

Mihawk’s breathy laugh was weak but warm against him, “Until you can exhaust me to the point I’m incapable of walking, the old man will have to occupy your place.” 

“I don’t know. I might be closer to that point than you think.” The alpha mused, but his mind had drifted, considering other ways beyond a duel in which he could thoroughly exhaust the omega. 

He shook those images from his mind, though he felt his arm squeeze tighter against Mihawk in response to his inappropriate thoughts. 

Mihawk passed out again before Shanks made it back to his ship, and he was boneless when the captain carefully laid him in bed. Shanks didn’t take the omega to the infirmary, but instead placed him in the captain’s room, figuring Mihawk would enjoy the privacy. Hongo dropped by to examine the extent of Mihawk’s injuries. When his shirt was peeled from his torso, his stomach and chest was littered with bloody gashes, his ribs darkened with bright bruising. Shanks turned his head away in an attempt to resist the urge to tend to Mihawk himself. He was no doctor, and Hongo was much better suited for this task, but that didn’t stop the alpha from wanting to reach out anyway. 

“He just needs some rest. A long one, but he’ll be fine in a couple of days.” Hongo told him after he had worked to bandage the omega up. 

Shanks thanked him sincerely and, figuring he shouldn’t hover like a creep while Mihawk slept, Shanks rejoined his crew out on the top deck. 

“This actually works out well for us,” Shanks said as he spotted Ben, “Ray’s the best when it comes to coating ships. Once he’s up and walking around, we can put him to work before heading down to Fishman island.” 

The vice captain nodded in response to Shanks’ declaration, “And what about Hawk-eyes?” 

“What about him?” The alpha asked. 

Ben gave him a hard look, one which Shanks returned with equal severity. Beckmann must have determined there was no use in saying whatever was on his mind, and with a sigh of agreement, he wandered off to have a smoke. Shanks was alone for only a moment before he was joined by Yasopp, the sniper sidling up to the captain’s side. 

With his rifle slung over his back, the beta nudged Shanks with his shoulder and offered the alpha a bottle of rum. Shanks graciously accepted as he leaned against his ship’s railing, grabbing the neck of the bottle before drinking from the lip. Yasopp crossed his arms and leaned right along with him, his brows drawn and lips pursed as if there was something on his mind.

Shanks, thinking he might know what was troubling his third in command, spoke up, “It won’t be like that in the New World. At least, not all the time.” He said, referencing the ten day battle that kept Shanks from even making it ashore. 

“Do you really think we’re ready, Captain?” 

Shanks considered Yasopp’s question before answering honestly, “No one is ever truly ready for the New World. The only way to make it is to believe that you can, but even then that’s not always enough. The best can easily meet their death if they’re not careful.” 

Yasopp frowned at him, “That’s not exactly comforting.” 

The alpha smiled despite his companion’s scowl, “S’not supposed to be.”

“Dickhead.” The sniper muttered with a snort, but the tension had eased somewhat from his shoulders as he snatched the bottle of rum back and finished off what was left. 

After wiping his lips of the remnant liquor, Yasopp idly gestured towards the captain’s quarters where a certain omega was resting peacefully, “So you’re really friends with that guy, huh?” 

“Yeah,” Shanks agreed as he tilted his head back to look up at the stars, “He saved my life. Then humored me enough to let my smartass buy him a drink.” 

The memory was a fond one. He really was a cheeky piece of shit back in the day, but by some miracle he’d been charming enough to weasel his way into Mihawk’s raft as they set out to sail together. Short as their time together was, it was some of the best times Shanks could remember having, especially considering the amount of grief he felt after losing Roger and the rest of his family. 

“I get why you’re all wary of him.” Shanks said and let his head fall to the side, fixing the sniper with a look of understanding. 

He realized over the last year that he was an exception to Mihawk, not the standard. To everyone else in the world, the omega swordsman was a monster to be feared. The fact that Shanks didn’t share in that sentiment was proof that he was one of a kind. It also made the crew’s reactions to first meeting Mihawk excusable, even if it only frustrated Shanks at the time. 

Yasopp drew in his bottom lip, a moment of uncertainty passing across his face, “He’s terrifying,” The beta confessed, “He’s like you—he’s so unbelievably strong. He’s got this power that none of us except you have, and it’s—it’s scary. He’s dangerous and could kill any of us if he wanted to. We wouldn’t even be able to put up a fight, not with the way we are now at least,” Yasopp frowned and looked off to the side, “And I know it’s probably hard for you to understand, but the way we see him—he may be your friend, but he's not our ally.”

“I get it.” Shanks said, because he did. 

Mihawk was at a caliber his men had yet to face. That even Shanks hadn’t gone head to head with, even if he knew he could hold his own now. Most wouldn’t fear an omega, but the fact that people did, that the world did, meant the swordsman Shanks knew as a dear friend was more frightening and powerful than many were capable of imagining. That strength was proven well enough in Mihawk’s defeat of Rayleigh. Mihawk was only climbing to greater heights, Shanks determined to keep up with him, and while the alpha thrilled in the competition, it was reasonable that others would fear it. Fear them . 

Because now, Shanks was someone to be feared. His name made men tremble, his Jolly Roger could spur entire armies into wavering and submitting in the face of him, unwilling to clash with an alpha of his ability. Shanks was setting himself apart as one of the greats—no longer a hotshot rookie, but a man with the strength and the wit to rise to the top. 

Shanks was 19, nearly 20, and already a monster in his own right. Like the omega resting in his room, Shanks’ name would undoubtedly go down in the history books as a proper legend. 

“Just know I wouldn’t let anything happen to my crew,” Shanks promised, “You don’t have to worry.” 

That at least lightened the sniper up a bit. 

“Cuz he’s your boyfriend, right?” Yasopp teased, and Shanks shot him a half hearted glare for his efforts. 

“ No ,” the captain frowned, “And unless you want to be on toilet duty for a month , you’ll keep from saying that when Mihawk wakes up.” 

Yasopp cooed, “Aw, afraid your little angel might get embarrassed?” 

The alpha growled and shoved his friend playfully, “Don't be an ass!” 

“Can’t help it. You’re too easy to tease, Captain,” Yasopp laughed from the belly, the sound much lighter than the grave mood he was in before, “But I don’t blame you. For as scary as he is, he sure is pretty.” 

Mihawk was fucking divine, but Yasopp didn’t need to go around saying that. 

Seeing the petulant look on his captain’s face, the sniper eased, “Oh relax. You know I ain’t interested like that. The crew knows he’s yours.” 

“He’s not —“ 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, cap.” Yasopp pushed off the railing and stretched his arms overhead with an interrupting yawn. 

Shanks growled again, a heat warming the back of his neck. He knew the sniper was just teasing, but that didn’t make it less irritating to deal with. Instead of continuously rising to the bait, however, Shanks turned away from his companion and glared out at sea. He tried not to think about how it felt to have Mihawk referred to as his, because he didn’t have the right to even pretend that was the case. Someone like Mihawk—Shanks didn’t think there was a person alive in this world, himself including, deserving of the omega. Let alone deserving enough to claim . 

He grunted, reminding himself that Yasopp was only messing with him. The sniper was prone to taunting, and Shanks really had to stop letting it get to him so much. 

With that thought in mind, Shanks figured he’d be better off passing the time by working with Gryphon. The sword would occupy his hands and his mind, an outcome that was greatly desired when he considered the temptation that was Mihawk sleeping in his room. 

By morning, Shanks had worked up enough of a sweat to discard his shirt, leaving him only in his loose pants as the sun bore down on the tanned expanse of his back. He only grew broader with age, packing on more and more muscle until he was thickly appealing. His shoulders were rounded, his pecs plump with hardened strength as his stomach flexed with each twist of movement and controlled breath filtering through his lungs. He slicked back his hair, letting his straw hat dangle behind his head as he worked through a series of movements with his blade. His eyes were focused, sweat dripped down past his navel, his feet shifted to balance out his stance, the fluidity of his body was graceful compared to the choppy movements of his youth, and with a whistle Gryphon cut through the air in a demonstration of lethal precision. 

As drawn into his swordplay as he was, he didn’t even realize he was being watched until a throat cleared to his left. 

“Well, you’ve certainly improved over the years, haven’t ya?” 

The familiar drawl of the man who raised him startled Shanks enough to break his concentration. His head snapped to the side, eyes taking in the blonde vice captain of the once-Roger pirates. 

“ Rayleigh .” He breathed, the name pulled from his lips with no other purpose than to simply say it. 

The pirate grinned at him, expression soft and warm in a way that made Shanks homesick . 

With a sound almost like a cry, Shanks sheathed Gryphon and barreled into his mentor, pulling Rayleigh into a desperate hug that made him feel like a small child all over again. Even though he was nearly as tall as the vice captain now, and almost as broad shouldered, he never felt more innocently small than when Rayleigh squeezed him back with equal affection. 

“It’s good to see ya, kid.” 

“It damn well better be.” Shanks grunted into the other’s neck, eyes traitorously wet, “Old man.” 

His jab earned him a pinch and a chuckle, Ray cuffing him on the back of his head like he was prone to do so many times during Shanks’ childhood, “Where are your manners? That’s no way to greet your father.” 

Right. His father . 

Shanks, biting back the tears up until this point, let them fall freely as he was overwhelmed with sudden emotion. The alpha scented with a mix of complicated feeling: anger, sorrow, happiness . This was Rayleigh. His dad . The man who left him to stand alone while he watched his other father get beheaded. Shanks should have been angry, and he was, but at the same time, he couldn’t blame Ray completely. For as much as Shanks hurt, Ray ached even more. Shanks lost his dad, but Rayleigh lost his partner. His mate. The man who was his other half, his equal , and Shanks couldn’t even begin to imagine that sort of pain. The anguish Rayleigh must have felt when Roger disbanded their crew, wanting Ray only to remember him as he was and not for the sickly man he was turning out to be, was incomprehensible. 

Yeah, it fucking sucked that Shanks’ pack abandoned him, but he couldn’t hate Rayleigh for it, not when he grew up and realized love sometimes isn’t enough to keep a family together. 

Sensing the extremes that Shanks was currently undergoing at present, Rayleigh eased him with a kiss pressed to his temple as he scented like home. Shanks had never openly sobbed so violently after Roger’s execution, but he blubbered like a baby, not realizing the extent of how much he missed his old man until Ray was calling him son again. 

“Come on now, you’re gettin’ your snot all over me,” Rayleigh chuckled, his own voice thick with tears, “I also can’t breathe and if you squeeze me any harder, I’m going to pass out.” 

At the reminder that Ray was still injured, Shanks loosened his grip immediately, even if he didn’t pull completely away, “Yeah,” Shanks sniffed, “Heard you got your ass kicked.” 

“It wasn’t an ass kicking.” Rayleigh grunted, “But that boy was downright insane .” 

Hearing Mihawk described as crazy provoked a laugh out of the alpha, “Yeah. I guess people might think that about him.” 

Finally lifting his head from where he had it burrowed in Ray’s neck, Shanks grinned a watery smile at the blonde, “But he’s not all bad. I promise.” 

Ray’s blue eyes squinted, “You know him?” 

“Yeah, he’s my friend—“ 

Suddenly, before Shanks could dive in and tell Rayleigh all about the wonderful omega Shanks had come to know, a commotion from near his bedroom pulled his attention away. 

“Hey! You can’t be moving around like that yet! You’re still heavily injured!” 

“Don’t touch me!” 

“Alright, I won’t, but you should seriously go back to bed—“ 

“I don’t need to go to bed. Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?! I’m not a pup that has to be coddled.” 

“Well you’re certainly acting like an unruly brat.” 

“ What was that—?! ” 

Spying the rather comical scene of Mihawk trying to escape Hongo’s fussing, Shanks supposed he should step in before the omega got violent. 

Easing his way past Rayleigh, Shanks found himself grinning widely as he called out, “Looking good there beautiful,” letting his voice carry across the ship, Shanks watched as Mihawk’s yellow eyes snapped to him almost instantly, “Did ya have a rough night?” 

Mihawk’s upper lip curled into a sneer of disdain, “What do you think, Red?” 

Shanks leaned against the center mast of his ship, heart warming at the sight of the omega, “I think you should heed the doctor’s orders and march your little ass back to bed.” 

At his declaration, there was a murmur among his crew, a stirring of interest as Shanks openly challenged one of the world’s leading swordsmen. 

Mihawk’s jaw ticked with clear offense, “I don’t take orders from you.” 

“So you need persuading?” Shanks teased as his smile turned from warm to wolfish, “I can be persuasive. Very persuasive . ”

When Shanks licked his lips deliberately, Mihawk’s glare narrowed even more as he exhaled heavily through his nose. Obviously peeved, the omega clearly didn’t want to waste his breath arguing with the alpha as he turned on his heel and stomped back into Shanks’ room, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the entire frame behind him. 

From there, Shanks could hear Mihawk’s muffled voice yell out, “ At least get me some wine! ”

The demand caused Shanks to double over in laughter when he heard it. Of course the only reason Mihawk had gotten out of bed was to hunt down a bottle of his preferred booze. What a brat. 

“You heard ‘em boys. Get the guy a bottle of red.” 

Hongo glared at Shanks, “He shouldn’t be drinking.” 

Shanks waved the doctor off, “Eh, it’ll be fine. He’ll be more cooperative with a glass or two in him anyway.” 

Hongo didn’t seem the slightest bit impressed, but refused to argue on the basis that it wouldn’t change a damn thing anyway. Lucky Rou came out of the kitchen with two bottles of red, to which Shanks graciously accepted before idling towards his quarters. 

With a knock on the door, the alpha beckoned, “Got your wine.” 

There was a shuffle from within the room before the lock clicked and the door cracked open. Yellow eyes glared at him from behind the safety of the door. 

Shanks, amused by Mihawk’s grumpy antics, held the bottles at eye level just to prove that he wasn’t lying, “Now will you listen to the doctor and stay in bed for a little longer?” 

“Your Dark King isn’t in bed.” Mihawk pointed out thinly, “And I nearly skewered him in half.” 

Shanks realized Rayleigh probably should be in bed too, but that was a battle for a different day, “Ray will do what he wants.” 

“And I can’t?” Came the arched brow and sneering retort. 

Shanks shook his head, still laughing under his breath, “Quit being a baby and let me take care of you, angel.” 

“Quit calling me angel and I might agree.” 

“Mm, we’re at an impasse then. Cause so long as you keep looking like an angel, I’m going to keep calling you one.” 

Mihawk glowered intently, but Shanks wasn’t giving an inch. Finally, the omega relented as his hand shot out to request the proffered wine, “You’re actually intolerable.” 

“I’m charming,” Shanks corrected, “Now be a doll and rest up.” 

The door slammed in his face for that teasing little remark, and the alpha was so hopelessly humored he couldn’t help but grin stupidly when he turned back to face his crew. Expectantly, they were watching him, not bothering to hide their curiosity as they were all unapologetically hopeless gossips. Rayleigh was observing the whole exchange lazily, the blue of his eyes knowing as Shanks told his men to get back to whatever the heck they were doing and leave Mihawk alone for the time being. 

“A friend , huh?” Ray provoked as soon as Shanks rejoined him. 

The alpha flushed noticeably, “Yes. A friend , and a stubborn one at that.” 

Judging by the dubious look on Rayleigh’s face, the old man didn’t buy Shanks’ explanation in the slightest. The alpha didn’t want him to go and get any ideas, so he clarified, “We met after Roger’s execution. He was there for me, so we’re friends.” 

His statement wasn’t meant to be shot at Rayleigh, but the blue of the beta’s eyes dimmed nonetheless, “Well, I guess I can’t be too put out that he nearly left me gutless.” 

Shanks’ gaze trailed to the bandages wrapped around Rayleigh’s torso. He didn’t get a good look at the wound when he brought Ray in last night, but gauging by the paleness to the blonde’s cheeks and the tremble in his hands, it’d been a lethal one. 

“You should be in bed too.” Shanks insisted, though he had a feeling his insistence wouldn’t be heeded. 

As expected, Ray waved him off, “I’m afraid you can’t flirt your way into getting me to rest. I’d be scarred for life if you employed the same method you used with that omega of yours, so don’t even try it.” 

“He’s not my—“ Shanks cut himself off with a heavy breath, “Whatever. You want breakfast or not? I’m starving.” 

“Yeah, I could go for a plate.” Rayleigh agreed, “Considering I haven’t eaten for well over ten days, I’m actually famished.” 

Shanks made a mental note to tell Lucky Rou to bring Mihawk a plate of food as he led Ray to the galley. Over breakfast, the two caught up on all that happened over the years. Apparently, Ray had only just settled in Sabaody a few months ago and was thinking about setting down roots. He was hesitant to admit, but he found someone. A woman that was good to him when he hadn’t been all that good to himself for the past few years. 

“I miss Roger every damn day, but she makes it better. She understands that I—that my heart will always fully belong to the captain but she’s…she’s a good woman. Strong. Doesn’t mind telling me when I’m being a fuck up. Gave me an earful when she found out I had a couple of sons wrecking havoc on the world that I hadn’t seen in years.” 

Shanks, around a mouthful of sausage, said, “I don’t blame you for it. Not anymore at least, and she sounds great. I’d like to meet her some day. S’not often someone is willing to put up with a crusty old pirate.” 

His taunt was met with food being thrown at him, to which the alpha caught expertly with a shit-eating grin. 

Rayleigh snorted and asked, “You heard about Buggy at all?” 

Shanks shrugged and shook his head, “What do I care about that idiot?” 

“He’s your brother.” 

The alpha rolled his eyes at the reminder, “Last I checked he settled in the East blue. Seems pretty content being at the bottom of the totem pole.” 

Ray frowned, “Don’t be mean. We all changed after Roger. If Buggy’s happy, then he’s happy. That’s all that matters.” 

“He’s still an idiot.” The alpha grumbled, because his rivalry with Buggy would never die. 

Ray chuckled at that, “I guess some things won’t change, but that’s not a bad thing. Anyway, how does it feel being a hotshot now? Mr. 500 million berry man.” 

Cocky and full of himself until the day he died, Shanks sprawled out in his chair and shot Ray the grin of an outlaw, “Be a billion berry man soon enough once I get into the New World. Speaking of, you’re gonna coat my ship, right?” 

Dark blonde eyebrows lifted, “What? You’re not even going to ask me nicely?” 

“No,” came Shanks’ bratty remark, “Come on dad, you owe me.” 

The blue of Rayleigh’s eyes shimmered upon hearing Shanks call him dad, and although he knew it was a low blow to prey on the old man’s sentimentality, Shanks was still a pirate at the end of the day, and pirates weren’t above playing dirty to get what they wanted. Ray was the one who taught him that, so fair was fair. 

“Fine,” Rayleigh agreed with a long-suffering sigh, “Some things really don’t ever change.” 

“Like the fact that you’re a sucker?” Shanks teased, earning him a reprimanding glare. 

The alpha tilted back with another laugh warmed by the pleasant feeling of familiarity. Sure, Shanks was older now. Stronger and aiming to take on the world, but he was still Ray’s son. A kid with a knack for trouble and the charm to talk his way out of it every time. 

By mid afternoon, Shanks figured he could check on Mihawk again. He ignored the whistles of his crew as he made for his room, dismissing them with a middle finger and a promise to kick their asses if they kept being dickheads. Inside his quarters, Mihawk was resting, soft snores carrying through the otherwise quiet stillness. There was an empty plate of food at his bedside, as well as two polished off bottles of wine to go with it. Shanks smiled fondly to himself thinking that, while Mihawk was only considered a pirate because it was difficult trying to label him anything else, he definitely could drink with the best of them. 

Sitting at the edge of the mattress, Shanks took a moment to study the omega in the throes of slumber. Mihawk, as always, was too beautiful to stare at, but also too stunning to look away from. His lips were parted softly, his expression smoothed with the pristine relaxation that sleep often afforded. He was shirtless, Hongo having cut away the fabric of his clothes to bind him in bandages instead, and while the bandages served to obscure most of Mihawk from view, Shanks still warmed at the thought of having the half naked swordsman in his bed. 

Unable to resist the temptation to reach out, Shanks let his touch ghost along the edges of Mihawk’s cheekbone before sweeping through his hair. The strands were soft to touch despite the grime that had built up from his battle, and as the ink black locks slipped through the thick of the alpha’s fingers, Shanks briefly wondered how it was possible for someone to be so enchanting even in their sleep. 

At his touch, Mihawk stirred, groaning softly as he sucked in a deep breath and leaned into Shanks’ affection. The alpha firmed his touch, finding the omega’s subconscious need to be pet utterly adorable. After a minute of soothing his hand through Mihawk’s hair, the other finally awoke, yellow eyes blinking open drowsily. 

“Mornin’ sunshine.” Shanks cooed, “Sleep alright?” 

Mihawk, not fully cognizant, nodded as his eyes fluttered shut again, “Bed smells like you,” came the sleepy and unfiltered grumble, the omega’s voice gravely with fatigue, “Smells good.” 

Shanks’ stomach jolted, his heart squeezing at how unfairly cute Mihawk sounded when he said that. 

“Yeah?” Shanks voiced, swallowing dryly when it started to register with him that Mihawk was in his bed . 

Mihawk, one of the most dangerous men in the world, was tangled in Shanks’ blankets, and that was—that was a lot. It was almost too much, but then Mihawk was slapping idly for Shanks’ hand, requesting it to resume its earlier ministrations of working through Mihawk’s hair. 

Chuckling at the silent demand, Shanks obliged the other man, keeping his cooing adoration to himself. 

“My head hurts,” Mihawk admitted, “Got knocked around pretty good.” 

“Concussed?” Shanks asked. 

Mihawk shrugged with minimal effort, which meant something along the lines of ‘probably’. 

Frowning, Shanks glanced at the door, “Want me to get Hongo again?” 

The omega shook his head, “God no. He’s so fussy.” 

“Coming from you, that’s rich.” Shanks quipped back, earning him a withering glare. 

“I’m not fussy. I just don’t like being bothered.” 

“Am I bothering you then?” Shanks inquired gently, feeling soft and drawn to the omega in a way that made him want to crawl into bed at Mihawk’s side and nap right along with him. 

Again, Mihawk shook his head. He must have had the same thought as Shanks, because with a languid sigh he reached out for the red head, tugging at Shanks’ arm in an insistent manner. The alpha resisted only for a moment, but gave in to the other’s wordless request as he settled in the unoccupied space next to Mihawk. They had laid next to each other before. Mihawk’s raft when they were younger did not provide for much space, but they had never laid like this . Perhaps Mihawk was truly feeling awful, because as soon as Shanks was splayed out, the omega curled into him, sighing again but with a much more contented note to the sound. 

Shanks’ pulse kicked into overdrive, his throat going dry as he stiffened. He wasn’t expecting the extent of affection Mihawk was giving him, but found that he didn’t have the strength to turn the omega away. Not when—not when it felt good to have the other’s body formed against his own, with Mihawk’s chest pressed into Shanks’ side as his nose settled in the crook of the alpha’s neck. Mihawk wasn’t small by any means, nearly just as tall as Shanks and riddled with striated muscle, but he felt small in Shanks’ arms. He felt perfect in a way that was too dangerous to give more than a passing moment of consideration for. 

“The scars are new.” Mihawk tiredly acknowledged into the heat of Shanks’ skin, “What happened?” 

Knowing the scars to which Mihawk was referring to, Shanks explained, “Trusted an enemy thinking they were a friend. Won’t be making that mistake again.” 

“You didn’t see them coming?” 

Understanding the hidden depth to that question, Shanks exhaled heavily, “No,” he confessed, “I didn’t.” 

It was a concern that continued to plague him. Shanks hadn’t seen or even suspected Teach. He didn’t think the other alpha was capable of raising a hand to Shanks, let alone nearly gouging out his eye with the full intent to murder . Whitebeard dismissed his concerns when it came down to it, telling Shanks that injuries were expected in fights between crews, but Shanks and Whitebeard weren’t even really fighting. Sure, Shanks was eager to test himself against some of Whitebeard’s stronger officers, but it’d all been friendly in nature until it wasn’t. 

Shanks remembered the flash of a cruel smile stretched too wide on a wicked face. Felt the tear of Teach’s clawed weapon slash across his eye, blood instantly blurring the alpha’s vision as all he saw was red. Beckmann had screamed from behind and his crew panicked when they saw Shanks stumble. Injury rarely befell their captain, and there the red-haired alpha was left with a nearly gouged out eye. Finally, above the sudden deafness Shanks experienced as his thoughts whirled to a halt, he heard Teach laugh. 

As if sensing the troubling path of his thoughts, Mihawk eased careful fingers down the plains of Shanks’ bare stomach, the touch flitting and tickling in a way that made the alpha’s muscles flex, “You seem different now, Red.” 

Shanks made an inquiring noise, “How so?” 

“Matured.” Mihawk answered back easily enough, “Despite your aggravating tendency to call me those insufferable pet names.” 

“Oh? Does it bother you when I call you gorgeous?” 

A nose crinkled against his neck, “It’s only irritating because I know you’re provoking me.” 

“Now where’d you go and get that idea, lovely?” Shanks drawled, “You could bring any man to his knees if you wanted.” 

He meant that, too. Truly, severely, and wholeheartedly meant those words. 

Mihawk, however, wasn’t inclined to believe him as he mused, “Perhaps if I use my sword, but most tend to avoid me like the plague. Not that I blame them or particularly mind the solitude. It spares me from dealing with the world’s ignorance.” 

“Yet here you are dealing with mine.” 

“I don’t think you’re ignorant, Red.” Mihawk countered, “Irritating and prone to taking liberty after liberty, but not ignorant.” 

Shanks didn’t know what to say in the face of Mihawk’s confession, so he said nothing and let the silence ease between them. It was comfortable and quiet, enough that Shanks was almost tempted to give in to a nap himself. With Mihawk in his arms, no one could really blame him for the way his eyes started to flutter shut. However, before he could get too cozy, there was a pounding on the door. 

“Captain, we got marines inbound.” 

That sounded like Bonk, and with a heavy groan Shanks threw an arm over his face in dismay, “Can’t you all handle it?” 

“Oi! Don’t get lazy!” That was Beckmann this time around, “Get your ass up, cap.” 

Shanks didn’t want to, but he also didn’t want to disturb Mihawk more than he probably already was. 

There was a breath of a laugh pressed against the alpha’s throat, “Seems you and Beckmann get along famously.” 

“He’s a grouchy old man.” Shanks grumbled back. 

Already, he heard the distant sounds of cannon fire and could sense the approaching navy ships through his field of observation Haki. He couldn’t linger for much longer, but the thought of pulling himself away was such a miserable one. 

Luckily, Mihawk gave him the nudge he needed, “The navy is giving me a headache. Take care of them for me, would you?” 

And well, if it was the omega’s request, then Shanks could only be obliged. 

“Of course sweetheart. I’ll make it quick.” 

Mihawk said nothing as he dragged the blanket over his head, blocking out the light as Shanks stood and made for the door. His crew were already preparing for a fight, Beckmann barking orders at them until Shanks finally emerged from his room. The vice captain shot the alpha a scrutinizing look, to which Shanks returned innocently enough before facing down the marine ships heading their way. 

There was more than what he was expecting, and certainly more than the navy would ever use to chase him down. 

Beckmann was the one to say, “Probably weren’t here for us initially. I’m sure Hawk-eyes and the Dark King’s battle attracted their attention.” 

The marines probably thought they could swoop in at the end of the exhausting fight and capture both Rayleigh and Mihawk in one go if one or both of them weren’t already dead. All things considered, it wasn’t a terrible plan, but it still annoyed the alpha nonetheless. 

“Where’s Ray?”

“Back in the infirmary. Looked pretty pale before Hongo forced him to go back to bed.” 

Shanks nodded, “Right then. Let’s make this quick. Mihawk has a headache, and the navy’s making it worse.” 

Beckmann rolled his eyes as he huffed, “So when I tell you to get up, I’m ignored, but if the omega asks you’re suddenly so eager to help out.”

“Oh don’t get your panties in a twist, Benny,” Shanks clapped a hand on his vice captain’s shoulder and squeezed, “At least I’m here now, yeah?” 

The beta didn’t grace Shanks with an answer, not that the captain really expected him to. He eyed the marine ships closing in on them, and figuring he shouldn’t dally for longer than necessary, he stepped up to the railing of his ship, holding onto the ropes as he leaned to get a better gauge on the distance between their ship and the navy. More cannonballs hurtled in droves towards them, but Shanks’ crew were able to combat the explosives easily enough. 

Water splashed and smoke filled the air, the navy was closing in, and right when they were within proper distance, calling out the futile demands for Shanks to surrender, the red haired alpha drew on the power itching beneath his veins. He focused his armament Haki in his legs, a trick he picked up on after battling a frustratingly quick man who often took to the high skies, and thus out of Shanks’ range. Once the alpha realized how his adversary seemingly jumped so high, it wasn’t hard for Shanks to mimic the trick and finish the battle quickly after that. 

He employed that same ability now, harnessing power into his legs before leaping off the deck of his ship with a gush of wind left in his wake. He was a blur in the skies, barely seen as he landed on the nearest navy battleship with enough force to splinter the wood beneath his feet. 

“ It’s the red-hair!!! ” Soldiers yelled, scrambling to fix their rifles on him, taking aim as their hands trembled and shook with nerves. 

Arrogantly, Shanks swaggered until he was standing at full height, flipping the red of his hair from his eyes as he seated his straw hat properly on his head. He cockily grinned at the marines, unbothered by the muzzles of their guns being pointed at his head. 

“Now, now , there’s no need for all of that.” He breathed, an easy grin working on his lips, “Guns aren’t for threats, so you better be prepared to use them.” 

“Of course we’re prepared to use them,” A man bellowed as he worked his way through the crowd of surrounding soldiers. Judging by his coat of arms, he was a vice admiral, “Bold of you to think you can waltz onto my ship and not face certain death, red-hair.” 

The man, towering well above Shanks with vibrant purple hair spiked up above his head like a porcupine, glared down his wide nose at the pirate alpha. He was thick and mean looking, covered in scars and intimidating tattoos that would make anyone naturally weary. Shanks didn’t budge in the face of him, still keeping that serene look on his face as he acknowledged the vice admiral. 

“This is a peace talk and nothing more than that. I’m a pacifist at heart, you know. I’m willing to let you turn around and head back to your base safe and sound, and without much fuss. Doesn’t that sound nice?” Shanks proposed, left hand resting loosely on Gryphon’s handle, prepared for a fight but not necessarily looking for one. 

The vice admiral sneered, “I don’t need no damn mercy from a filthy pirate. We know you’re housing the Dark King and Hawk-eyes on your ship. Hand them over, and maybe we’ll let you live.” 

“Ah,” Shanks voiced. The red of his eyes darkened even though his smile remained in place, “I’m afraid I can’t do that.” 

“Then prepare yourself, red-hair,” Came the sneered warning, “I’ll claim all three of your heads in the name of Justice.” 

Justice. That was a funny word coming from one of the most corrupt organizations Shanks could imagine. 

“Right then,” the alpha sighed as he unsheathed Gryphon and let the first notes of his Haki electrify the air, “I’m sorry about this in advance.” 

The vice admiral roared with anger, and the clash commenced with a pulse of Shanks’ conqueror's Haki followed by the meeting of swords. 

Not long after the battle started, it ended nearly as swiftly as it began. Usually, Shanks was inclined to take his time to test the metal of the men who would declare themselves his enemy, but Mihawk had asked him to handle the nuisance quickly, so Shanks obliged. When he returned to his ship, his crew was surprised that he had opted to take care of the warships on his own. The captain claimed it was just a warm up for him before entering the New World, but Beckmann scrutinized him from behind the others, fully aware of what propelled the alpha into settling the affair swiftly. 

More time passed, and by the eve of the fourth day on Shanks’ ship, both Rayleigh and Mihawk were recovered enough to wander about freely. Rayleigh took to working on coating the ship, still slow moving considering the extent of his injuries, but he was happy to help out his son. Shanks’ crew were exploring the archipelago, eagerly taking in the sights and attractions of Sabaody. For his part, Shanks stuck around the ship, partly to keep an eye on Ray and make sure he didn’t overwork himself, but also because a certain omega had stuck around, and Shanks didn’t want to miss such a brilliant opportunity. 

Speaking of aforementioned omega, Shanks was shamelessly ogling the swordsman as he worked on a series of stances and techniques on the wide open deck of Shanks’ ship, training even in spite of Hongo’s vehement demands for Mihawk to relax. The alpha knew there was no point trying to tell Mihawk no, especially after he managed to get the omega to stay in bed for as long as he had, so he watched the swordsman instead, idly drinking and grinning when Mihawk concentrated wholeheartedly on his movements. What made the view even better, in Shanks’ humble opinion, was the clothes draped on Mihawk’s figure. They were Shanks’ clothes to be exact, worn because the omega didn’t have any spares on hand with his ship on the opposite end of the archipelago. 

Naturally, when Mihawk appeared in the galley on day two of his stay donning a pair of Shanks’ loose pants and equally flimsy shirt, the young alpha nearly lost his ability to breathe. Shanks wasn’t known to wear well fitted clothing, opting for comfort over fashion, but somehow the omega made the loose rags look stylish and flattering. Like Shanks, he left the white cotton of his shirt mostly unbuttoned, choosing only to fasten the ends to keep the shirt from falling open completely. Unlike Shanks, however, Mihawk had the fabric tucked into the band of his trousers held up by a sash cinched high and tight around his slender waist. Since the alpha had a bit more girth than the lithe line of Mihawk’s figure, the pants were exceptionally baggy, but the effect of the band sitting like an improvised corset around his waist only further emphasized the omega’s muscular curves. 

Mihawk had glided into the chow hall, unaware how effortlessly he stole Shanks’ breath just by simply existing. A raw, instinctual part of Shanks relished at the picture of Mihawk in his clothes, practically over-the-moon as his mind perceived that as a claim of sorts. There the omega was wrapped in Shanks’ scent, and the alpha’s mouth watered at the imagery. Mihawk was equal parts alluring as he was cute in the unusually frumpy attire, sweeping in to take a seat next to Shanks without a word being uttered. The omega unintentionally spellbound the entirety of Shanks’ crew, the vast majority of them thrown off by how utterly beautiful Mihawk was if one were to look beyond his frightening reputation. 

Shanks had smirked, feeling like he should gloat for some apparent reason, and draped his arm over the back of Mihawk’s chair like it belonged there. Beckmann snorted under his breath when he saw the captain preen, smothering the sound with a smoke between his lips as he resumed his normal morning routine. 

Even now, a few days later, Shanks still wasn’t used to seeing Mihawk dressed in his clothes. Didn’t think he could ever get used to how the sight made him feel all warm and content. Perhaps, Shanks was even a bit possessive as Mihawk moved around Shanks’ ship elegantly, attracting eyes but never more than an appreciative look. The men knew not to stare too long, not to let an ounce of yearning flit across their expressions because Mihawk was wearing the captain’s clothes and that in itself was a challenge they weren’t ready or willing to face. 

Sipping from a bottle of rum warmed by the sun, Shanks kicked back and continued to intently watch Mihawk work with Yoru. The other’s hair was soft, brushed but not styled, and the soft linen of Shanks’ shirt on his shoulders was a bit too big and threatened to slip down with every graceful swing of his arms. With Mihawk long since abandoning the bandages Hongo forced him to wear, his chest and stomach were freely exposed by the deep neckline of the blouse, his skin fair and already practically healed despite being battered and bruised just a handful of days before. 

Gods, Shanks could stare at the omega all day and be perfectly content. He was even willing to do so now as he lounged on the figurehead of his ship, his red eyes drinking Mihawk in just as he swallowed more of his rum. 

“You stare an awful lot at someone who’s ‘just your friend’.” Rayleigh must’ve been taking a break from the coating, because he settled next to Shanks comfortably and without need for invitation. His blonde hair was damp with sweat, body just a bit more careful sitting down when the fresh wounds on his chest threatened to split open. 

Shanks didn’t take his eyes off of watching the omega swordsman, “I can admire the beauty of my companion without it being weird.”  

Shanks was doing more than just admiring. He was thirsting, and could only quench the parched feeling in his throat by drinking in the vision of the other man. Not even the rum was doing much to deter Shanks’ dry swallowing, but the effect of Mihawk’s sweat slipping down the defined ridges of his abdominal muscles was satiating enough. 

From his periphery, Shanks could see that Ray was fixing him with a dubious look. However, Rayleigh refrained from pressing the matter as he snatched the rum out of Shanks’ hand and took a swig for himself. 

“Coating’s just about done.” The beta stated, “Should be finished by midday tomorrow.” 

“There’s no need to rush.” Shanks mused distractedly. 

As he watched Mihawk swipe a hand through his hair attractively Shanks drew in his bottom lip, sucking in a wanton breath as he envisioned himself doing something similar to the omega. 

“Oh, I’m sure you’d be more than happy to waste the rest of your days away here,” Ray chuckled, “But you’ve got to know by now that he’s probably not going to stay more than another night at most.” 

At the reminder, Shanks frowned subtly. Yes, he was aware that Mihawk would probably depart as soon as he felt well enough to do so. The fact that he was already training was proof that the time was rapidly nearing. Shanks didn’t want to think about it. He was enjoying having Mihawk around. There was something grounding about having the omega with him during the days, and laid next to him at night. Mihawk didn’t seem to care all that much about having to share a bed with Shanks, probably because the alternative was camping out in the infirmary with Ray and Hongo. Either way, Shanks had already grown accustomed to the space next to him being filled with the steady calmness of the swordsman. Waking up to see Mihawk pressed against him, snoring softly into the crook of Shanks’ neck—

Clearing his throat, Shanks reached out and took his rum back, “I know. No need to rub it in and ruin my good mood.”

“I’m not rubbing it in,” Came Ray’s exasperated grunt, “Sheesh, you really are gone on him, aren’t you?” 

“I’m not!” Shanks refuted, turning to glare at his old vice captain, “He’s a friend.” 

“Sure, sure.” Rayleigh waved him off, “Because it’s totally normal to stare at your friend like you want nothing more than to fuc—“ 

“I don’t have to listen to this.” Shanks growled, a flare of irritation blotting his cheeks red as he stood up abruptly. 

He didn’t make it very far before Ray was snagging him by the dark sleeve of his coat, forcing the young alpha back down, “Don’t get pissy.” 

“You’re making me pissy.” Shanks countered back angrily. 

He knew Rayleigh was only messing with him because he could. Ray always messed with him. It was his job as a father to poke and tease, but everyone else had been poking and teasing too. Shanks didn’t miss the little smart remarks and knowing whispers divulged between his crewmates. They shot him leering looks, barely managing to smother their grins every time they caught Shanks staring, and it was wearing on him steadily. The alpha knew he was being obvious. That he—that he, maybe, was interested in Mihawk in more than a friendly way, but that didn’t take away from the fact that he shouldn’t be. 

Mihawk was something special, that much Shanks couldn’t deny, but there wasn’t a place for Shanks to fit into Mihawk’s world in the way the alpha secretly craved. Mihawk was a lone wolf. Always had been. His dream would take him to every corner of the world, and more often than not, that dream would take him away from Shanks. Their paths crossed and intersected, but they never ran parallel. They were never more than two people bypassing one another on the way to fulfilling their own convictions. Mihawk was glorious and unfathomable, but he wasn’t Shanks’ and never would be. 

That’s why he was going to treasure moments like this. These infrequent days in which the alpha could pretend, could trick himself into believing that waking up to see Mihawk at his side was normal and not a rare exception. That’s why he didn’t want to think about Mihawk inevitably leaving, because when he did then this lovely dream would shatter into a sobering reality, and that was too cruel for him to handle at present. 

“Oh.” Rayleigh uttered softly after watching Shanks seethe to himself. The sound was said as if Ray realized something tender and profound. Something a little too personal to be teased about. 

Shanks had a feeling he knew what that realization was, but he didn’t want to acknowledge it. At this point, denial was his only salvation, especially when he longed to reach out and slip his shirt from Mihawk’s shoulder, and kiss the soft skin that would be revealed to him. At night, he ached. In the mornings he longed, and if Shanks didn’t cling to the mantra of Mihawk being just a friend, he didn’t know if he would be capable of letting the omega go. 

“I’m sorry.” Rayleigh apologized sincerely. 

It did little to brush away Shanks’ irritation, but he settled himself back on the figurehead regardless. 

“It’s fine. I know…I know it’s difficult to believe, but he is a friend. He has to be.” 

Because if Mihawk wasn’t a friend, then he couldn’t be anything else to Shanks, and the redhead was selfish enough to still want something from the omega, even if he couldn’t have all of what he desired. 

Shanks drank again, because it was easier to drink than it was to think. 

Rayleigh, seeing that he wasn’t going to get much else out of Shanks, went back to coating the ship after resting for a few more minutes. By the time the sun started to set, Mihawk finished with the last of his training. Damp with sweat and breathing uneven from exertion, the omega turned to Shanks, his steady yellow eyes finding the alpha easily enough. 

Mihawk didn’t say a word to him, but when their eyes met casually, drawn to one another as they so often were, Shanks’ chest squeezed with that increasingly familiar pressure. He was all out of rum now, but he somehow felt drunker off the steady glare in Mihawk’s eyes than any liquor he got his hands on. 

“How do you expect to rival me if you spend your days lazing about?” Mihawk asked from across the way, his voice carrying like the lilt of a song. 

Shanks gave a shrug, “I can learn by watching, can’t I?” 

Granted, learning hadn’t really been on his mind when he was studying Mihawk, but it didn’t hurt to pretend. 

Mihawk breathed in his quietly amused manner before approaching. Watching him walk was like watching some ethereal being glide across Shanks’ ship. The omega’s gait was long and smooth, almost floaty with how light and purposeful each of his steps were. He had a cadence to his movements and an understated sway to his hips. Shanks’ attention was naturally captured, and he couldn’t really resist letting his gaze drift the length of Mihawk from head to toe. 

When the omega came to a stop just at the foot of where Shanks began, the alpha belatedly realized he was just a bit drunk. Tipsy as his head swished whenever he moved a bit too quickly or suddenly. 

Perhaps that was why his tongue was so loose when he offered, “Come to join me angel? I think I got room on my lap if you’re inclined.” He made a sweeping gesture with his hand, only for him to use too much momentum in the motion as he wobbled where he sat. He very nearly teetered over the edge and into the dark waters below if it weren’t for him catching himself at the last second. 

Not just tipsy then. Damn, how much did he drink? 

The omega arched an eyebrow, and it was such a familiar expression that Shanks couldn’t help but smile in the face of it. 

With a pointed look, Mihawk glanced at the strewn about bottles of rum at his feet, each of them emptied of even a single drop, “Your drinking habits leave much to be desired, Red.” 

“I drink just fine.” Shanks protested. 

“You drank too much .” Mihawk countered back. He sounded genuinely irritated, which provoked the smile on Shanks’ lips to falter into a frown. 

“What’s it matter?” He grunted as he dragged a knee to his chest and looped his arm over it loosely. 

The omega eyed him, scowl piercing as he revealed, “It’s my last night on the ship. I thought it would be better spent in good company, but I doubt you’d be more than an annoyance at present.” 

Bitter at the unwanted reminder of Mihawk’s impending departure, Shanks glared off to the side, eyeing the ocean with a petulant frown. However, he realized quickly that the omega turned away from him, intent on leaving Shanks to wallow in his drunkenness alone. 

Scrambling for a way to keep Mihawk from leaving, Shanks asked, “Where are you going?” 

“To eat.” Mihawk shot back over his shoulder, pausing long enough only to answer before resuming his walk. 

Shanks hurried from his spot on the figurehead, tumbling over his feet and the empty rum bottles as he hastily reached out and snagged Mihawk by his (Shanks’) shirt. 

“Don’t be mad at me,” He blurted out, “I really—I really didn’t think I drank that much.” His words sounded slurred even to his own ears, and he grimaced at the heavy weight of liquor in his stomach. 

Mihawk didn’t turn to look at him, but Shanks felt the omega stiffen nevertheless, “It’s not like I have any say over what you do or don’t do, Red.” 

“Sure, but I—“ Shanks hesitated to say anything else, mostly because his head was swimming and he was afraid what came out of his mouth would be too close to truths better left unsaid, “—I don’t want you to leave. I’m sorry. I can sober up in a jiffy, I promise.” 

That, at least, provoked Mihawk into eyeing the redhead doubtfully, “How?” He asked, but sounded unsure, almost as if he wasn’t positive he wanted to know Shanks’ methods. 

“Easy,” the alpha grinned, “Like this!” 

And before Mihawk could even hope to stop him, Shanks stumbled backwards towards the ship’s railing and once his knees pressed against the groaning wood, he toppled over the ledge in a clumsy toss. The embrace of the sea was frigid and slapped against him forcefully, quickly sucking him below the surface until he was fully encased in freezing water. As he predicted, the effect was sobering, mostly because he realized that his arms and legs weren’t quite working the way he needed them to, and it was harder than it should have been to kick back up to the ocean’s surface. 

Just when his lungs started to burn and his vision blurred, hands forcibly grabbed him by his shirt and yanked him up. 

“What the hell were you thinking, Red?!” 

Shanks sputtered as he sucked in as much air as he could. Mihawk had them both treading above the surface, kicking his feet to keep them afloat as the alpha wheezed from both the icy waters and the distinct lack of air in his chest. 

When he finally managed to catch his breath, Shanks could only offer a semi-apologetic smile, “Just sobering up for you darlin’. It worked.” 

Shanks was met with thin silence, and just when he was about to make a genuine apology, a sound interrupted him before he could. It came from Mihawk, bubbling up from his chest like a rumble he couldn’t quite contain, and then right as Shanks really got a good look at him, the omega tilted his head back and laughed . 

Not one of his quiet breaths of fond amusement, or even the easy going hums he did when he found something truly funny. This was a full blown and unrestrained laugh. A sound Shanks had never heard originate from the omega despite his most valiant attempts. 

Shanks was starstruck as he watched and listened, his eyes going wide as the sun bled the rest of the way into night, casting the omega in the ivory embrace of a gentle moon. Mihawk laughed brightly and freely. The sound reminded Shanks of the wind, breathless and wild as it whipped across an open plane. It was louder than what Shanks always thought it would be, and Mihawk’s entire body shook with the force of his laughter, shoulders vibrating as his eyes squeezed shut. Tears cornered at the edges, threatening to spill as the omega struggled to keep them swimming. He didn’t seem keen on stopping anytime soon either, for each time his laughter ebbed into chuckles, Mihawk would take a look at the pathetically soaked alpha, snort, and peel into another wave of laughter all over again. 

It was an awe-inspiring sight. Truly. Shanks knew this was a privilege, and wouldn’t be surprised if this was the first time Mihawk laughed aloud ever, let alone with someone else. He was captivated. Ensnared. Trapped in the dizzyingly charming sound that was Mihawk’s unrestrained joy. The alpha didn’t even realize he had pressed close, taking over the effort of treading water as his hands settled on Mihawk’s waist to keep him steady. 

Brilliant yellow-gold eyes opened, wet with giggly tears, and the shine of them caught in the moonlight reflected off the water. The pale of Mihawk’s cheeks flushed pink, his lips plush from where he tried to stifle his giggles with his teeth, only to erupt into another fit all over again. He was still chuckling even now, snickering as Shanks pressed his forehead against Mihawk’s own in an effort to soak up the lovely sounds the omega made. 

“You’re actually an idiot, aren’t you Red?” Mihawk managed breathlessly, still hopelessly tickled by the image of Shanks casting himself into the water like a drunken buffoon, “A charming idiot. But still an idiot.” 

“I’ve never claimed to be a genius,” Shanks smiled back, his tone reaching depths of affection and fondness he couldn’t hope to hide, “But I’m glad to hear you think I’m charming.” 

Mihawk snorted inelegantly again. It was such an uncontrolled expression that it was difficult to believe it was Mihawk making it, but when yellow eyes rolled skyward, Shanks knew it was definitely the swordsman the alpha held in his arms. 

“The whole world knows you’re charming,” The omega pointed out as if it were a fact and not an opinion, “They call you a princely pirate. The era’s top bachelor alpha. T- They —“ Mihawk cut himself off with another laugh as he squeezed the rest of his words out, “They’ve no clue that you’re ridiculous !” 

“Ridiculous? Don’t be mean.” Shanks teased back deeply, his hands settling more firmly on this delight he couldn’t seem to get enough of, “I went through all this effort to be good for you, and you have the audacity to laugh at me.” 

Mihawk made a valiant effort to keep from smiling, but it proved an impossible feat even for him, “You almost drowned!” 

“And you seem to find that hopelessly funny don’t you?” 

The omega couldn’t even attempt to hide the fact that he did. Then again, Mihawk always did have a strange sense of humor that often bordered the morbid. Mihawk thought it was hilarious how Shanks would have died in an effort to do something as mundane as sobering up, and now that Shanks considered it, that was perfectly in character with the omega. Only he would deem something like this worthy of being humorous. Most would have yelled and scolded Shanks’ recklessness and for good reason, but Mihawk simply laughed. 

Beautifully, Shanks might add.  

“It’s cold.” Mihawk acknowledged after he managed to calm down enough not to be interrupted by his own mischievous snickering. 

They were still bobbing in the water so being cold was understandable, but Shanks didn’t think he had the willpower to move. 

“It is.” The alpha agreed, softer than he probably should when they were so, so close. 

Yellow eyes bore into the alpha, so unfairly pretty in the haze of night. With Mihawk molded against him, it was easy to imagine giving in. To close that breath of space between them and just have a taste. A small one. Just a tiny moment of respite from the constant restraint Shanks employed whenever he was around the other. Judging by Mihawk’s good mood he might get away with it. Might be able to write the entire incident off as a fluke. 

If he could just…

The omega’s gaze dropped to Shanks’ mouth, narrowing on the alpha’s lips intently. Instinctively, Shanks licked them and watched with crumbling control as Mihawk’s pupils dilated ever so slightly. There was a want buried somewhere beneath that impenetrable shield of yellow. Perhaps it was the mood, or the frigid waters enticing them to gravitate closer, but the omega’s face started to inch towards his, drawn by the way Shanks aimed to meet him halfway. 

“Oi!” The sudden interruption came from above, startling the pair as they shot apart, “What the hell are you doing in the water? Ain’t it cold?” 

Shanks exhaled severely, peeved in a way he couldn’t explain, “ Yes , Lime. It’s very cold.” 

Limejuice, unaware of what he interrupted or maybe just pretending to be, threw down a rope and said, “Well climb back up captain. You can’t get sick before going to the New World.” 

“…Right.” Shanks sighed. He glanced at Mihawk and saw that the omega had smoothed over his expression into one of the casual indifference he wore around Shanks’ crew. Seeing that, the alpha swam over to the ropes and started the laborious effort to climb back over the railing of his ship. He sloshed a heavy amount of water when he pulled himself up, his boots sopping wet as Mihawk followed from behind to do the same. 

Limejuice had a couple of towels and blankets waiting for them, to which Shanks expressed his gratitude at receiving before walking off towards his quarters. He knew Mihawk wouldn’t follow him, but he half wished the omega would. In the silence of his bedroom, the alpha worked to peel off the layers of his clothes, chucking his boots into the corner and setting Gryphon aside to lean against the desk. There were a myriad of passing thoughts in Shanks’ head, none of which he made an effort to sort as he toweled off his hair. 

Pointedly, he avoided thinking about the moment Limejuice had stumbled upon. Though Shanks had been annoyed at the time, it was for the better that his crew had shown up. If Lime hadn’t than—

No, best not to think about what ifs. 

Slipping on a new pair of shirt and trousers, Shanks scooted his feet into a pair of sandals before ambling back out onto the deck. More of his crew had arrived probably in an effort to pester Rou into making them dinner. The chef obliged them, and with a chorus of cheers the red-haired pirates piled into the galley to drink and play cards while the food cooked. 

Shanks joined them, albeit more quiet than usual. 

“Something on your mind, cap?” Ben asked, keeping his voice low as he nudged the alpha with his knee. 

Over by the door, Shanks caught a glimpse of Mihawk slipping into the galley quietly, before disappearing just as quickly with a plate of food in hand. 

“No,” Shanks shook his head and forced himself to focus on the poker game, “Best not to think about it.” 

As was becoming the norm, Mihawk was gone before Shanks woke up, slipping as quietly from his life as abruptly as he usually entered it. The stark cold his absence left in Shanks’ bed was a dead give away, and before the alpha even opened his eyes, he knew he was alone. Where for the past few nights the omega was a weighted comfort held in Shanks’ arms, now the alpha felt decidedly empty. He told himself not to be surprised or hurt. It was just the way of things, and he needed to deal with it. He and Mihawk would always live their own separate lives. They would intersect, but never coexist, and Shanks should just be grateful for the fact that they even had a chance to meet. 

With the coating of his ship finished and his crew waiting for his orders to leave, Shanks gave a fond farewell to Rayleigh, promising his father that he would visit as soon as he got the chance. Ray pressed a familial kiss to his forehead, telling Shanks to keep safe in whispered words of paternal affection. The alpha swore that he’d do his best, and with the Dark King departed from the red-hair’s ship, there was nothing holding Shanks back from forging a trail ahead. 

He projected his commands and ordered his men to set sail. They heeded his words quickly, and as the crew sank deep beneath the ocean’s surface until the last vestiges of sunlight were blocked from view, Shanks shook his mind of all lingering thoughts that weren’t focused on the trials soon to be faced. They were entering the New World, a place riddled with untold dangers. His crew was going to depend on him for his guidance, and he needed to make sure he was worth depending on. 

He and Mihawk would meet again, someway or somehow. Above anything else, Mihawk was a cherished friend, and they still had a duel to settle. The fight was sure to be a legendary one, if Shanks had to leverage a guess. 

Yes, Shanks resolved as he settled a hand on his straw hat and breathed easy. The next time they met the alpha would prove himself the worthiest of rivals to Mihawk. There weren't many spots Shanks could take in Mihawk’s life, but he sure as hell could claim that one for himself. Perhaps it was selfish of him, but at the same token, it was selfless not to demand more. 

A pirate would always be a pirate, but Shanks would never have anything but Mihawk’s best interest in mind. 

Chapter Text

Fractures of Glass, Splinters in the Fray

It was two very long years before Shanks caught wind of Mihawk once more. Two long and arduous years sailing in the New World and learning things that he probably shouldn’t have. At the age of 21, Shanks had seen what truly made the world tick. He knew of a king when there shouldn’t have been one, met the stirrings of a revolution led by an unexpected hero, and tested both his wit and his ability against a variety of foes seeking to claim his head. There were truths laid bare to Shanks that made his late captain’s dreams make just a little more sense, and as the red-haired captain propelled his name to even greater heights of infamy, his role in this world and the part he meant to play formed into something concrete. His eyes were always searching the horizon, a future lying beyond that not even Yasopp’s skilled foresight could see. 

Ben asked him to put it into words for him once, what exactly it was that Shanks wanted. 

The alpha thought of bloodshed, violence, and the horror staining a once beautiful world. He thought of a history hidden from the people, the injustice wrought by those of greed usurping those who were righteous. He thought of an 800 year wound cut across the people’s hearts—a wound they weren’t even aware they suffered. 

“Peace,” He answered simply, because that was his ambition in its simplest form, “I want the senselessness to end.” 

At 21, Shanks set out on his mission to find the key to peace, knowing it would not come without one or both sides losing far too much. His men grew stronger, his crew larger than before. Pirate captains began swearing fealty to him, a responsibility that Shanks wasn’t sure he was prepared to handle, but accepted with unwavering resolve nonetheless. Islands around the New World opted to fly his flag above all others, and in the midst of all the change that was coming into Shanks’ life, he never stopped thinking and wondering when it would be time . 

Time to prove his worth. Time to clash the steel of Gryphon against Yoru’s darkened hue. 

The time, as it would appear to be, came shortly before Shanks’ 22nd birthday. They docked on an uninhabited island, Shanks affording his men a moment’s respite from the constant challenges they faced on the feral seas of the New World. They were already three sheets to the wind, but for some inexplicable reason, Shanks hadn’t partook in the fun. There was a knot in his stomach, a twist of anticipation that had the alpha chasing the darkening horizon with his eyes. Ben sensed his unease, the beta far more perceptive of Shanks’ moods now that they had spent well over two years conquering the New World together. Shanks waved him off when his vice captain went to ask what was wrong, because there wasn’t a good enough answer the captain could give him that’d satisfy them both. 

Instead, Shanks waited on the shore, letting the sea lap at his ankles as his straw hat dangled behind his head. 

Finally, as the night fully settled, there was a glow of green flickering in the distance, and Shanks’ stomach seized . 

He knew, without even having to really know , just who approached the island he settled on. 

Still seated on the beach, Shanks waited for the first wave of Haki to barrel into him. It came with full force and full intention to fight, flooding him with adrenaline as the tide rushed in. His men were at his side in an instant, ready and willing to throw down despite their inebriation, but Shanks held up his hand to keep them at bay. 

“Ain’t that Hawk-eyes’ ship?” Bonk Punch asked just as another swell of conqueror's Haki slammed into the island. 

“I thought him and the cap were friendly, so why the hell does it seem like he’s itchin’ to fight?” 

“Because he is,” Shanks said with a lick of a smile on his lips, “I was starting to wonder how long he’d wait.” 

Some of his men scented with confusion, uncertain in the face of the threat wading towards the island. Shanks rose to his feet, the alpha brushing the sand from his pants as he felt heat burn beneath his skin. 

Beckmann grunted from Shanks’ left, “This doesn’t involve us boys. Go back to the ship.” 

“But captain’s—“

“That’s an order,” Ben barked, “You’ll just be in the way, so get moving.” 

The crew still hesitated to leave, but when a flicker of Shanks’ own conqueror's Haki started to swell in response to Mihawk’s blatant challenge, the men wisely backed away. Mihawk’s little coffin boat wasn’t too far from shore now, and figuring he should give the omega a proper welcome, Shanks met the brunt of Mihawk’s Haki with the full force of his own. The ensuing clash shook the entirety of the earth and sky, the ocean becoming a tumult of rabid energy as the palm trees behind Shanks bent to the force of his will, and the currents churned in the wake of Mihawk’s. 

With the sea in such disarray, Mihawk’s raft wouldn’t be able to make it fully to shore, a fact that didn’t slow the omega in the slightest. Even from this distance, Shanks’ could spy the glint of Yoru’s jewel encrusted pommel shining beneath moonlight, and with one devastating slash, Mihawk easily parted the sea in a grand display of his might. A temporary path gave way between Mihawk and the beach, the sea suspended by the force of his attack. Water framed Mihawk on all sides in a partial cradle as he stepped down from his ship, taking his time to traverse the trail he blazed for himself. Illuminated by iridescent light, the shadows cast over the omega’s hat and his sword were thematically intimidating. 

Shanks couldn’t help but maddeningly smile. 

“And he says he isn’t dramatic.” The alpha muttered to himself as he worked to shed his captain’s cloak and deposit it off to the side. Mihawk took his time coming to shore, the omega shrouded in an aura of intensity and bloodlust. He did not seek Shanks out for a friendly drink or playful banter. He had come to see if Shanks was worthy to be considered the swordsman’s greatest rival. 

The redhead would undoubtedly prove that he was. 

When Mihawk’s leathered boot stepped onto the wet sand of the beach, the power that had kept the sea parted for him went away, propelling the ocean to crash back into itself with frightening force. Yellow eyes glared from beneath the rim of Mihawk’s feathered hat, cold and challenging when they fixed on the red-haired alpha. 

“I’ve come for a duel,” Mihawk revealed, not bothering with the pleasantries as he took a stance in opposition to Shanks, “Do you accept my challenge?” 

Their haki’s continued to battle, impressing their wills and ambitions upon one another, devastating the surrounding landscape without either of them reaching for their swords. 

Shanks hungered for the battle to come, having known the time for it was close at hand, “I accept. Let the best swordsman win.” 

Yellow eyes flashed. They were monstrous. Lethal. They were the eyes of the leading swordsman in the world at present, soon to be the undisputed greatest. The omega standing before Shanks had conquered foe after foe, had claimed countless victories even over the mightiest of warriors. Now, it was Shanks that stood against him. Shanks, who had promised to be a man worthy of a fight. Shanks, who was determined to prove himself Mihawk’s equal. 

As soon as Mihawk reached for Yoru, and Shanks’ hand settled on Gryphon, the fight commenced, and the ensuing battle would be felt up and down the grandline, causing tremors even as far as Reverse Mountain. Some would call this legendary clashing the first of many, the start of a series of ensuing duels that hadn’t been experienced on the seas since the days of Roger and Whitebeard’s rivalry. 

Shanks quickly realized upon the first clang of sword against sword that Mihawk was clearly the better in technicality, yet Shanks had his own edges and advantages. Whereas Mihawk was swifter and more precise with the blade, Shanks was overpowering with his Haki and force. They countered and balanced each other beautifully, falling almost into a dance of give and take, of push and pull as they pressed where the other gave, and gave when the other pressed. Shanks could see glimpses of outcomes of their fight, and very quickly realized that the futures he was seeing were not ones gleaned from his own observation Haki, but were visions being impressed upon him. Mihawk was revealing the courses the battle could take as if taunting Shanks, demonstrating that there was no future in which he could break Mihawk’s guard. It was a fascinating ability, arrogant yet effective. He was shown his death a hundred times over, and couldn’t help but maniacally smile in the face of Mihawk’s bold imagery. 

In a counter to the swordsman's ability, Shanks revealed his own sleight of hand. With a skill set learned from battling with a woman who’s future sight was greater than even Yasopp’s, Shanks used a gathering of conqueror's Haki to overwhelm . The ability worked only because Shanks’ haki had grown as strong as he had, and the effect was simple if not boggling. 

Yellow eyes momentarily widened in realization of what had been done, before a smile curved beautifully on the omega’s lips. 

“ Delightful .” Mihawk breathed, wild with intensity as his observation Haki was countered with Shanks’ ability to negate it. 

The ferocity of their battle only increased, because while Mihawk couldn’t use his Haki to predict or show what came next, neither could Shanks. Thus, they could only rely on experience and sheer talent to see who would come out as the victor. The alpha had never had his limits tested to such great lengths before, never had his muscles exhausted and his lungs wheeze with exertion. But hours, no, days into the duel and they had long since started to shatter the uninhabited island, neither man giving an inch. It was exhilarating. It was thrilling. Shanks didn’t think he was ever more on edge, yet more in sync with someone else. Their rhythm of battle was almost otherworldly, as if they overlapped on a plain beyond the physical. Their spirits were no longer clashing, but intertwining, their hakis not so much battling as they were blending until conjoined and stitched into one. 

This was what Shanks wanted to be to Mihawk. This was a place only the alpha could fill. No one could compliment Mihawk in such a way, could equal him so perfectly. Only Shanks could have this. Only Shanks could be the one to complete the omega. 

The duel ended in a near draw, with the victory tipping in Mihawk’s favor. It was slight, but the omega had managed to anticipate Shanks’ sword, having become so intune with the alpha’s movements it was as if they were one in the same. When Mihawk countered, he was a breath of a second too fast for Shanks to combat, and the ensuing exchange ended with Yoru pointed at Shanks’ throat while Gryphon pressed to Mihawk’s abdomen. The more lethal of the positions was the omega’s, thus making him the victor of their standoff. 

Nothing was said as they both registered the outcome. Their chests were heaving, clothes battered and torn. Not a single mark or gash had been made on either of their skins, but their flesh was primed with sweat, limbs shaking with fatigue. Shanks stared at his counterpart, meeting the wild yellow of the omega’s eyes. There was a clawing emotion in the back of his throat, a hunger he hadn’t expected to feel after days spent pushing and surpassing his limits. It hollowed his stomach not from a lack of food, but from a need he would not dare name aloud. Mihawk continued to behold him, Yoru just barely pressed to the bob of Shanks’ Adam's apple. 

The alpha scented briefly, projecting a mix of feelings: longing, excitement, fulfillment, but more than that was the satisfaction of having met his match in the omega. 

“You…” Mihawk spoke steadily, the first word said between the two of them since Shanks revealed his ability to null the use of observation Haki, “You are exactly what I’ve been looking for.” 

Red eyes darkened with pleasure, “I’ve worked hard to become what you need.” 

The smile on Mihawk’s face was wild with glee, perhaps even a touch insane as he finally lowered Yoru from where it was ready to split Shanks’ throat. The alpha did the same, letting Gryphon fall to his side as he simply stared at his companion. 

Two years. Two years and Shanks proved himself good enough. 

With the tension eased by their swords falling away, Shanks realized just how exhausted he was as he stumbled forward. His vision was already starting to blur, his body failing him as he fell to a knee and then face planted in the warm sand. There was a thump next to him, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that Mihawk had fallen as well. 

They were beside each other, and when Shanks managed to open his eyes, it was to find that Mihawk’s stare was level with his own. They had collapsed within inches of each other, close enough that Shanks could reach out if he had the energy to do so. 

The alpha worked for a smile, his mouth filling with sand in reward for his exhausting effort, “Hey there angel. Lookin’ good.” 

Shanks was met with a half hearted snort, a note of fondness deepening Mihawk’s tone as the omega dragged himself nearer, closing that last inch of space between them to rest his forehead against Shanks’ own. The alpha soaked the other in, breathing in the crisp serenity that was Mihawk’s scent solely reserved for the red-hair to bask in. 

“It’s been a while, Red,” came the tired grumble of the omega, barely heard over the sound of the calming ocean waters, “I might have even missed you.” 

A warmth eased through the alpha, one he associated with a feeling only Mihawk could evoke, “At least now you have an excuse to keep coming back.” 

A small laugh accompanied another fatigued groan, “Yes, I suppose I do.” 

Shanks wasn’t sure who the first one to pass out was. Potentially, it was both of them at the same time. Either way, they fell asleep in the itchy sand, their skin turning red beneath the sun shining above, and their foreheads still pressed to one another in the only affection they would allow themselves. The next day, a paper would find the both of them as they recovered, drinking in celebration of the first in many duels between the two of them to come. On the front page was an article detailing the strange tremors felt all across the grand line, and noted the congruent phenomenon of people on nearby islands inexplicably passing out. 

Shanks found humor in the fact that their battle had been felt a world over, Mihawk told him not to let it go to his head. Shanks still lost, after all, even if Mihawk would have been severely wounded if they let their swords cut flesh. Shanks simply promised him that next time, the outcome would be different. The omega claimed he was looking forward to it, reserving a secret smile for Shanks when no one else was looking. 

The alpha beamed, and Beckmann, who was privy to the whole affair, claimed it was the strangest mating dance he had ever seen. Shanks threw his boot at him for that comment as the crew dissolved into peels of laughter. Then they drank, ate, and laughed well into the night. Afterwards, Mihawk shared Shanks’ hammock, the netting precariously strung up haphazardly between two palm trees. The two of them crammed within and in a way that wasn’t particularly comfortable, but inevitably gave the excuse of being able to touch however they pleased. When everyone else had fallen asleep or passed out drunk, the two stayed awake, watching the skies and filling the gaps of their two years apart with stories whispered quietly in the space between them. 

If, by the end of the night and into the early morning, Mihawk ended up sprawled across Shanks’ chest, snoring softly as he clung to the alpha in the deep of sleep, then no one said a word about it. Beckmann awoke first, glimpsed the two tangled up together, and quietly encouraged the crew to mind their own business and head to the ship. When Shanks ambled back to join them hours later, lighter than they’ve seen him in years, it finally registered with the red-haired pirates the depth of the relation between the omega and alpha. For as much as their captain would claim to deny it and hide himself behind declarations of friendship and now rivals, it was obvious to anyone with eyes to see. 

Their captain was in love. 

And for some reason, Shanks wasn’t doing a damn thing about it. 

The frequency of Shanks’ encounters with Mihawk after their first duel rapidly increased. Where before the red haired alpha would be lucky to see Mihawk in a year, now he was graced with the omega’s presence sometimes as often as a few times a month. Mihawk would seek him out, unrestrained in his desire to cross swords, and after the two shook the shy and rumbled the earth, they would settle wherever Shanks’ crew made camp and drink until the morning rose. 

Shanks couldn’t have been happier whenever Mihawk was around, laughing joyfully as he filled Mihawk’s glass with whatever fine wine the alpha managed to procure during his travels as he regaled tales of their adventures. Sometimes the two of them would even sneak off on their own, quiet in their companionship as they walked the beaches or wandered the many strange wonders the New World had to offer. Those instances were precious to Shanks and far too sentimental for the alpha to describe with adequate words. The image of Mihawk at his side, soft and receptive to the redhead’s company, spurred such a fearsomely delicate emotion in Shanks’ heart that he could only be left to ache beautifully in the wake of it. 

Sometimes they would talk, and other times they would linger in comfortable silence. Every time, though, Shanks could only feel at peace, and peace, for him, was such a nigh impossible feeling to come by. 

In conjunction with the omega’s visits, Mihawk grew slightly more receptive to the red-haired pirates during the year of their duels. He wasn’t friendly with them to the degree he was with Shanks, or tolerant in the manner he bestowed Beckmann, but he was relaxed enough not to be totally repulsed by the carefree behavior characteristic of Shanks’ crew. His frigid indifference would soften, the mask of careful intolerance easing to one of reluctant endearment, especially when Shanks threw an arm over the swordsman’s shoulders and dragged him into either a dance or jolly song. Mihawk’s presence was often enough now that it wasn’t eye-raising whenever they spied his Hitsugibune in the horizon, nor did the officers fret whenever they encountered the omega on some obscure island they thought was once uninhabited. Mihawk, for as terrifying as he was, was not the threat they once perceived him to be. Dangerous and certainly one of the most lethal men in the world at present, but he was, for the most part, an ally. 

At the very least, he was the treasured companion of their captain, and any reservations they held for the omega swordsman were swept away by the genuine joy Mihawk seemed to evoke in their leader—a joy that was so very rare for their captain to experience as of late. 

A year came and went rapidly enough. As the parties and adventures continued, the duration of Mihawk’s visits spanned greater lengths of time. His sporadic appearances became elongated stays. There were days spent with Shanks and his men, a notable change from where Mihawk would once leave after a single night. More often than not, the red-haired pirates would wake up after a night of celebration, and find that the omega and alpha were, yet again, tangled into one another as they slept. 

In fact, the occurrence had become such an increasingly frequent sight that the crew knew well enough to leave the two of them alone, choosing to retreat back to the ship before the pair awakened. If it was strange for them to see a man of Dracule Mihawk’s reputation sleep and snore, they dared not say a word about it. They all knew well enough that there were considerable exceptions Hawk-eyes made for a certain red-haired Captain. Exceptions he would not willingly make for them if they tested his patience. 

It was on one of those nights after another close draw between Shanks and Mihawk during their regularly scheduled duel, that the alpha found himself laid out by a waterfall, listening to the roar of the currents as they rushed over the edge of a cliff to the winding river just below. Oddly enough, he didn’t have a drink in his hand, but that didn’t stop him from feeling a sensation akin to being pleasantly buzzed when a weight settled next to him, freely pressing into the alpha with confident familiarity. 

“Watcha got there gorgeous?” Shanks drawled with a lazy grin as he spied an item clasped between Mihawk’s nimble fingers, “Don’t tell me you went and got me a birthday present?” 

He’d be 23 in the morning right as Mihawk would turn 25. Yet another phenomenon that connected the two together in a way too coincidental not to be the workings of fate. 

Mihawk breathed amusedly as he handed the alpha the box cradled within his hands. Curious, Shanks propped his chin up on the omega’s shoulders and worked to open what Mihawk held. The night was a darker one, but that didn’t prevent Shanks from spying what was nestled between padded velvet. 

His eyes widened, the quiet of the moment disrupted only by the steady rumble of the waterfall. 

“I came across this piece when I challenged the master of a monastery in the south blue. As a token for my victory over him, he bestowed me with their protected treasure. Personally, I have no use for much jewelry given my Kogatana is more than enough, but,” Mihawk reached into the small box and retrieved the lone, jeweled earring nestled within, “This is the only ruby of its kind. The Bleeding Heart is said to have the most breathtaking hue of red in its shine. Its worth is considered priceless simply because its beauty cannot be stated with a price tag. At the time I received it, I found it funny how the gem matched your hair color so perfectly, and I thought since I am in no want of it, it’d be a shame to let such a delicate work of craftsmanship go unworn.” 

“You…” Shanks whispered softly, unsure what to say when Mihawk held up the earring closer for Shanks to see. 

Made from one of the rarest gems ever to be found, the dragon design of the piece shined as if there was a light shimmering from within the crimson red of its color. The shape was delicate, yet masculine, small in the palm of Mihawk’s hand, but with an air of prestige that only works of true art could evoke. 

Seeing that the alpha was at a loss for words, the omega took the initiative to brush aside Shanks’ hair with a soft smile, exposing the shell of his ear with a skimming touch. From there, Mihawk positioned the cuff earring along the outer curve, molding the winding dragon against the shape of Shanks’ cartilage. Once he pinned it in place, he let his fingers linger, drifting along the slender twisting of the red dragon now adorning Shanks’ left ear. 

“I knew it would match,” The omega purred, entirely pleased with himself, “It suits you, Red.” 

“I…” Shanks’ heart hammered within the confines of his chest, squeezing and fluttering in a way that made his cheeks bleed as red as the gift Mihawk presented him with. 

He was touched and more than endeared by the treasure sitting on his ear. The jewel was weighted, but in a way that was comforting. Perhaps, that was because it was given to him by someone he deeply cherished, and the thought made him warm as a heartfelt smile flattered his tender expression. 

“Thank you, Mihawk. Truly.” He bumped his nose against the omega’s own in a gentle show of affection, reveling in the sweet scent exuding from Mihawk as their foreheads met and pressed together. 

“Hm,” Mihawk hummed, the sound akin to a purr as he shut his eyes and breathed in deeply, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say my name like that before.” 

Shanks let out a small laugh, “I’ve definitely called you Mihawk.” 

“Yes,” came the easy agreement, “But you’ve never said it so sweetly.” 

Shanks drew his bottom lip between his teeth in an effort to smother another smile, “I’ll have to rectify that then. An angel like you should only have his name uttered like a treasure.” 

Mihawk snorted, “You never run out of baseless flirtations, do you?” 

Shanks didn’t bother to argue the point that they were not baseless, and instead let his head fall to rest in the crook of Mihawk’s neck. He inhaled deeply, soaking the omega in as Mihawk’s fingers drifted along the back of the alpha’s neck, playing with the soft red hairs as they simply existed. It was one of the few pleasures Shanks afforded himself. An easy affection that he could write off in the morning as simply sharing in a good mood, but for now he let himself touch and feel how he wanted, knowing that Mihawk would permit him these liberties without protest. 

And Mihawk more than permitted him. It was as if the omega was almost eager to take in any attention Shanks gave him. There was a softness to Mihawk’s demeanor that usually wasn’t there, a wordless invitation in his body that Shanks could feel beneath his fingertips. There was just something about the moment. Something about Mihawk’s scent, his warmth, and his presence at Shanks’ side. Shanks suddenly couldn’t get enough of him, didn’t think he could ever get enough, and without really registering how they got into the position, the red head was suddenly seated between Mihawk’s thighs as he scented the omega properly. 

Beneath him, Mihawk let his head roll to the left, throat submissively displayed as Shanks nestled more insistently into the other’s neck. The alpha didn’t consider why he shouldn’t be doing this. He just knew that Mihawk was granting him an allowance, and Shanks couldn’t resist the temptation of rewarding Mihawk’s sweet gift with a proper show of his appreciation. 

Shanks was panting against Mihawk’s skin, and was a bit dazed when he felt Mihawk’s thighs squeeze around him, a soft little sigh of contentment easing out of the omega as Shanks nosed against him. Every time the alpha brushed against the swordsman's scenting glands, he was privy to the refined tranquility that was the tempered cold of Mihawk’s scent. It was intoxicating in a way Shanks knew he shouldn’t perceive it to be, but Mihawk was surprisingly pliable to the ministrations. He had also given the alpha such a precious gift, so why shouldn’t Shanks at least do this much for Mihawk? He knew well enough that the omega liked the alpha’s scent. Wouldn’t be around him if he didn’t, so maybe it wasn’t wrong of Shanks to let Mihawk have it. 

To let Mihawk have him , if only for a fleeting moment. 

His thoughts dizzying, Shanks grazed his teeth along the line of Mihawk’s throat, pressing into the skin with a teasing nip right in the hollow beneath the omega’s jaw. Mihawk’s breath hitched as his body tensed, and Shanks—positively relishing in the audible reaction—did it again. 

“You smell lovely, angel.” Shanks murmured deeply, his voice a baritone rumble as his teeth drew an even heavier mix of Mihawk’s pheromone-laden aroma. 

There was another tiny gasp that Mihawk attempted to restrain by biting his lip. Shanks grinned when he saw the omega’s nose scrunch cutely and how his eyes squeezed in enjoyment. The alpha wondered if Mihawk had ever been properly scented before, or if this was the first time. Shanks didn’t think the swordsman would be keen on letting anyone so close to the vital parts of his throat, which made it all the more amazing that Shanks was admitted this privilege. He wanted to do it right. Wanted to make it enjoyable for the man in his arms, so when he grazed his teeth next he followed with a lick, his tongue flattening against sweet tasting skin. 

Mihawk’s fingers tightened from where they latched onto Shanks’ biceps, nearly painful in their grip as the omega did something so damning to Shanks’ self control it was difficult for the alpha not to let himself go and take . 

Mihawk, for as stern and unflappable as he’d always been, for as immovable and put together and so unlike any omega Shanks had ever come across—unlike any man really—made a sound that tested Shanks’ limits. The omega whined high in the back of his throat, a whimper that was devastatingly honeyed, sweet and inviting as Shanks’ tongue pressed to the older’s scenting gland. 

Shanks’ instant reaction was to let his own scent flood the surrounding area, soaking Mihawk in everything that was the alpha’s essence. The warmer notes to his smell blended with Mihawk’s, encasing the darling swordsman in the heat of the alpha’s unleashed existence. Mihawk mewled again at that, and Shanks could only answer with a pleased growl as his lips latched onto the omega’s throat and suckled until the other’s scenting glands were swollen from attention. 

“ S-Shanks—“ Mihawk stuttered, clearly overwhelmed as he squirmed in the alpha’s embrace, “It’s too much—“

“Sh, darlin’,” Shanks barely recognized the depths of his own voice as he eased a hand down Mihawk’s side to settle on his waist, “Let me thank you for your gift. I gotta…” the alpha panted heavily, delirious as he scorched hot breaths into the miniscule space between his lips and Mihawk’s body, “I gotta do it properly.” 

When Mihawk’s bottom lip trembled, Shanks mused aloud, “You’ve never been scented before right?” 

The omega shook his head, yellow eyes wide and a touch vulnerable in a way Shanks knew he was the only one allowed to see. 

Grinning ferally, Shanks took such wicked pleasure in the idea, “I’ll guide you through it then. You can trust me sweetheart.” 

“I—“ Mihawk opened his mouth, his lips shiny as his eyes darted all over Shanks’ face. The alpha wouldn’t say the other was necessarily skittish, but he was clearly weary about this unknown he was currently experiencing. To soothe him, Shanks nosed the other along his cheek, skimming the touch until he angled towards Mihawk’s ear. 

Letting his breath trail over the omega’s skin until the older shivered, Shanks promised, “You have to know by now I wouldn’t do anything you wouldn’t like.” 

At his oath, he could feel the last remnants of tension bleed from Mihawk, and with a bit more certainty flashing in the yellow-gold of his pretty eyes, the omega gave a short nod of permission. 

It was selfish of Shanks, he knew. Because while he certainly had the intention of thanking Mihawk and letting the omega experience the special intimacy of scenting with someone you trusted, Shanks knew he was mostly just itching to claim some other part of the older swordsman. Like the pirate he was, Shanks wanted to steal another piece of the puzzle. Even if he couldn’t have all of the other, Shanks was still greedy enough to long for it. He was still allowed to make concessions. To—to satisfy, if only for a moment, the constant state of starvation he was suspended in whenever Mihawk was near. 

“That’s a good omega,” Shanks cooed, red eyes dark as he fit himself more firmly in between Mihawk’s legs, “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever had the pleasure to scent, you know that?” 

Mihawk shook his head, “I’m not—I’m not pretty, Red.” He sounded breathless already, and judging by the rapid rise and fall of his chest, he was. 

Annoyed at Mihawk’s continued declarations that he wasn’t as beautiful as Shanks often voiced that he was, the red haired alpha lifted his head so that the red of his eyes were boring into the yellow of Mihawk’s own. The alpha was deadly serious, having wanted to correct the omega each time prior when he dismissed Shanks’ compliments as baseless or empty. 

“You should be careful, Mihawk,” Shanks warned as he exhaled heavily through his nose, “Don’t deny me the pleasure of calling you the most divine creature to ever walk this earth.” 

Boldly, Mihawk met Shanks’ glare, his brows furrowed as he ticked with annoyance, “I don’t understand.” 

“Then let me make it simple,” Shanks brought his hand to Mihawk’s chin and guided his head back to the left, revealing the reddened glands at the point where the hollow of Mihawk’s jaw met the pulse point on his neck, “I have never uttered a single compliment about you that hasn’t been wholeheartedly believed.” 

Mihawk tensed again as his expression pinched with disbelief, “You’re easy to please, so that doesn’t mean much.” 

The alpha growled, the sound hinging on a snarl that only had Mihawk tensing up further, “You think I would lie to you?” 

The omega shrugged half heartedly, “I don’t think you have high enough standards. I don’t get what the hell you think is so beautiful about me,” Mihawk seethed his next words in a way that shattered Shanks’ heart, “People only see me as a monster, Red. I don’t mind it. I never set out to win a pageant or be seen as the pinnacle of omegan allure. I’m a swordsman, and that’s all that matters—” 

“ No ,” the word was pulled from Shanks’ throat, laced with such severity that it evoked a ripple of his Haki when he uttered it, “God you’re so fucking wrong I can’t stand to listen to another word.” 

Naturally, Mihawk was provoked by the insult as his eyes snapped back to scowl at Shanks, but the alpha was already pressing back into the older’s neck, teeth latching in reprimand as he pinned Mihawk still with his hips. When Mihawk instinctively reacted to the bite with a startled cry, Shanks soothed him with his tongue, projecting a heavy scent so that Mihawk couldn’t mistake his sincerity. 

“I’ll prove it to you,” Shanks confessed with genuine conviction, “No one is worthy of your attention, Mihawk. You’re completely unfathomable. You’re devastating . Can’t ever look at you without believing in the gods, because only god could have made someone so perfect. So fucking heavenly. You don’t understand how much I—“ 

Shanks cut himself off, realizing he probably already said too much already, and decided showing Mihawk was so much easier than telling him. So, he scented the omega as if worshiping him at an altar. As if Shanks wanted nothing more than to prostrate himself at Mihawk’s feet and beg for his divine attention. He was crossing a line and he knew it, but he couldn’t stand the thought of Mihawk thinking so little of himself when this world wasn’t good enough for him . 

It didn’t take long for Mihawk to cry pretty, overwhelmed with how ravenously and devotedly the alpha scented him. Scenting was often considered to be fairly intimate and reserved only between those considered pack. There were levels of it, types determined by the relation one shared with someone else. For Mihawk, someone Shanks often declared his friend and little else, he should have kept it simple and innocent. He should have avoided the use of his tongue and teeth. He should not have scented as if he couldn’t go a day, a single second , without having Mihawk in his arms. He certainly shouldn’t have relished in the whines. In the shine of Mihawk’s reluctant tears, pried from the corner of his eyes as Shanks nipped unsaid emotions into the reddened skin of the older swordsman. 

A normal scenting wasn’t done with the sheer intensity Shanks bestowed on his cherished omega. What Shanks took to doing was raw and primal. It was possessive and claiming in a way Shanks had no right to be, but he couldn’t permit Mihawk’s continued misconceptions that he wasn’t worthy of moving hell and heaven for. Shanks often yearned so vibrantly for Mihawk, and to hear the other’s genuine belief that he wasn’t beautiful, that he wasn’t someone worthy of endless praise—Shanks couldn’t stand it. He wouldn’t stand for it, and he conveyed as much with no words needed as he brought Mihawk to a near-point of sobbing with his passionate reverence. 

Afterwards, Shanks caught the other’s tears with his lips and fingers, kissing and brushing them away as Mihawk settled from the high Shanks brought him to. 

“Do you understand now, gorgeous?” The alpha whispered as he soothed Mihawk with coaxing touches, touches he had no right to give, “People should be honored to be in your presence. I know I am.” 

He was answered with silence. Pointed and thick, the air still laced with a variety of scents and heightened emotions that were too cloying to sort through properly. 

Shanks prayed he hadn’t made a mistake. Hoped that he hadn’t pushed Mihawk too far too suddenly. It was the omega’s first scenting and it had been…intense to say the least. Certainly not the type of intimacy shared between pack members regardless of how close they might be. Nervously, Shanks awaited for Mihawk to open his eyes, to gauge for himself if he had irreparably ruined them. However, where he expected to be faced with anger, potentially even a flicker of betrayal of trust, Mihawk clung to him instead, surging up to press his own nose into Shanks neck. It wasn’t quite a full attempt to scent, because Mihawk was still reeling from an influx of sensations he probably wasn’t equipped to handle, but the effort was there. 

Shanks stiffened, not knowing how to interpret the other’s actions until Mihawk murmured against him, “Don’t ever do this with anyone else, Shanks.” 

“Huh?” Came his eloquent reply, breathless as Mihawk pressed into him more firmly. 

“I mean,” the omega repeated, words muffled from where he hid his face, “Don’t scent anyone like you would scent me.” 

It wasn’t an ask on Mihawk’s behalf, but a demand. The omega wasn’t leaving Shanks much of an option in the matter, but it wasn’t like the redhead really had the ability to refuse at present either. 

Letting his hand come to rest in the soft of Mihawk’s hair, the alpha promised sincerely, “I won’t.” 

“Good.” Mihawk said, sounding relieved. 

Shanks didn’t ask why Mihawk forbid him from doing to others what he had just done to Mihawk. A part of the alpha already knew the answer, and didn’t need to have it acknowledged lest that open a door Shanks wasn’t prepared to walk through. So he left the matter alone, and instead simply held Mihawk until the other was calm enough to pull away. 

Yellow-eyes shadowed with more emotion than Shanks was used to seeing, Mihawk stretched out beside the alpha, seemingly determined to lay there and fall asleep by the waterfall rather than make their way back to camp. Maybe he wanted to avoid seeming vulnerable in front of the others. Perhaps, if they returned right now, it would be too obvious to them what Shanks had done. It felt like a crime in a way, an overstep he couldn’t help but make even when he knew it might take him to a point of no return. 

Without any blankets, sleeping away from the fire like this would be chilly, but Mihawk was already rolled over onto his side, wordlessly inviting Shanks to take up the space behind him. 

So he did. 

The alpha moved to settle his weight at Mihawk’s back, looping an arm around the other’s waist as he moved his captain’s coat to cover the both of them. The omega sighed in a way that showed his current exhaustion—not only from the duel they fought earlier that morning, but also from the toll of what Shanks did to him. Mihawk’s neck was swollen, the glands bitten and suckled red until tender. It was likely that in the morning there would be bruising, a fact that shouldn’t have pleased Shanks as much as it did. 

Before the omega fell asleep completely, he did manage to mumble one last thing, “Glad you liked your gift.” 

Despite himself, Shanks huffed out a laugh from where his face was nestled at the nape of Mihawk’s neck, “Aye. I won’t ever take it off.” 

“Well I’d hope not,” came Mihawk’s tired reply, “It’s one of a kind.” 

Just like you , Shanks thought silently, holding Mihawk just a little bit tighter. 

“It’s a precious gift from my dearest friend,” Shanks whispered back, hating how the word sounded on his tongue when he wanted to call Mihawk his instead, “I’ll treasure it.”

I want to treasure you. 

The omega stiffened, the gesture so subtle the only reason Shanks felt it was because of how closely they were pressed together. Something sour lodged in the back of Shanks’ throat, and he realized it was the taste of Mihawk’s brief flicker of bitter disappointment. 

The omega stifled the darkened note to his scent, muttering out a final, “Right. A friend ,” before settling into a restless doze. 

His tone wasn’t angry, nor was it happy. Just tired. Worn, perhaps. Shanks thought he understood the feeling completely. He was worn out too, and left wondering when his threads would fray enough to finally snap. 

In the morning Mihawk was gone, and Shanks felt another splinter fracture him from within. He sat up, glanced at the horizon where Mihawk’s ship was sailing away, and wondered why watching him go never got any easier. Instead of searching for the answer, Shanks settled his hat on his hair instead, fingers grazing along the earring Mihawk gifted him. It was a comfort despite the gnawing in his stomach, a reminder that Shanks was afforded many concessions when it came to Mihawk, and he should be grateful for that. He was grateful, even if he always wanted to take just a little more. He wanted to take it all, but his ship was ready to go, the next enemy in the New World waiting to be faced and taken down. 

Their dreams, as always, pulled them apart once more. 

Shanks could only look forward to the day they came together again. 

Ben was glaring at him. To be fair, such an occurrence wasn’t unusual, but off the top of his head Shanks couldn’t name a place in recent memory in which he would have done something to piss the beta off. Then again, Beckmann could just be grouchy. He was an old man after all, often worn out when the majority of his days were spent wrangling a crew with a penchant for trouble and a captain who often encouraged that mischief. 

Awkwardly, Shanks shifted beneath the piercing gray gaze of his counterpart. He itched to pry, but knew that sometimes it was better to just let Beckmann glare it out of his system rather than poke the metaphorical bear. 

The scowling, however, was quite persistent. Focused on Shanks for nearly the entire day as the captain fished off the railing of the ship, or relaxed in a hammock strung up near the helm, or even indulged Yasopp and the others in a game of rolling dice. The crew took note of it. They were always aware when there was tension between the two leaders of the ship, but they wisely kept mum and were content to let the two of them handle it. 

Shanks didn’t know how to handle it though, mostly because the alpha wasn’t even sure what there even was to handle, or why Ben was giving him the cold shoulder. 

Eventually, it all came to a head at dinner when Beckmann pointedly sat in the chair opposite of Shanks, bristling with an irritation that felt undeserved. Finally, Shanks had enough tip toeing around. In an effort to extend some sort of olive branch, the alpha slammed two empty glasses down on the table, popping the cork to his whiskey as he filled both their respective drinks to the brim. From there, he slid Ben’s over while grabbing for his own, silently toasting before downing half the glass in a single gulp. 

“Alright then,” Shanks said after he wiped a bead of liquor from the corner of his mouth, “Let me hear it.” 

Everyone was watching them, eyeing the pair with weary curiosity. Disagreements between Captain and vice captain weren’t rare, but they were usually settled quickly and calmly. However, gauging by the dark look on Ben’s face, this wasn’t going to be one of those times. 

Taking his own glass and drinking it to the same degree as Shanks, the beta pinned the captain with a hard look as he indicated towards the newly acquired jewelry piece on Shanks’ ear. 

“Mind telling me where you got that, Captain? Looks pretty fancy.” 

“It is,” Shanks agreed smoothly, concealing his scrutiny with another practiced sip of his whiskey, “Mihawk gave it to me.” 

“Yeah?” Ben inquired, forcibly polite, “It’s nice.” 

“Thank you.” Shanks replied, equally perfunctory. 

Silence fell between them again, but the tension was now so much worse than it was before. 

Ben was the one to break it first, the gray of his eyes darkening to an alarming degree as he revealed the source of his anger, “Hawk-eyes is my friend too, and you’re being unfair to him.” 

Shanks stiffened in his seat and felt his neutral expression falter. 

The beta, for his part, didn’t bother to mince his words as he barreled on, “I saw him the other morning before he left. I saw his fucking neck. Could smell you all over him, but when I asked if something happened, all he told me was that it was none of my business.” 

“Because it isn’t any of your business.” Shanks asserted, whiskey glass left forgotten as his expression pinched with a notion of jealousy, “Mihawk was my friend before he was ever yours.” 

“Therein lies the problem.” Beckmann’s hands clenched from where they were resting on top of the table, fisting until his knuckles bled white, “He doesn’t think of you as a friend , and whatever you did to him the other night was cruel . It was thoughtless.” 

The alpha, faced with Ben’s condemnation, rose to the occasion with a lick of white hot anger. He bristled, furious at the implication that he had done something to hurt Mihawk when that wasn't the case. What the hell did Ben know about it? Sure, maybe Shanks took it a bit too far. Maybe he pressed and pried and stole more than what should be allowed, but Mihawk hadn’t refuted him. They were fine. They were still friends, and it was better that way. 

Voice laced with venom, Shanks sneered, “Don’t talk to me as if you know anything. What happens between Mihawk and I is my worry, not yours.” 

“So I’m just supposed to sit back and say nothing?” Ben countered scathingly because he was never one to hold back when it came to voicing his opinions, “Let you string Hawk-eyes along? He doesn’t know any better. For fuck sakes, Shanks. You gotta know that he’s—he’s probably never done anything with anyone that doesn’t involve fighting with swords, and you took advantage of that.” 

“Mihawk is more than capable of making his own decisions.” Shanks growled, because Beckmann was insinuating that Mihawk was naive and he wasn’t . 

Yes, Shanks knew and he suspected Mihawk had never been intimate with anyone; could smell the purity on him like an enticing spell meant to ruin Shanks’ self-control. The omega never had much of a mind for sex or anything of the sort. Romance and anything akin to it was as foreign to the swordsman as sobriety was to Shanks. That didn’t—that didn’t make Mihawk naive though. That didn’t make him clueless like Beckmann implied. 

The beta, still not backing down, finished the last of his whiskey and slid the glass back harshly towards the center of the table, a subtle gesture that refused Shanks’ attempt to make peace. 

“I hold nothing but the greatest of respect for Mihawk,” Ben affirmed, “But he’s never in the right of mind whenever he’s around you.” 

Shanks was on his feet before he even realized it, lunging across the table to rip Ben up by the front of his shirt. There was a fury in the alpha’s red eyes, his dominance mixing with his Haki as he crowded the beta’s space, “Don’t talk down about him like that!” 

“I’m not talking down about him, damn it!” Ben tried to wrestle Shanks’ grip from his shirt, and when the effort proved futile the pair ended up falling back, wrestling on the ground as the tables and chairs clattered away from them noisily. 

Beckmann managed to shove Shanks away enough to pry the captain off of him, and when he did he angled his head up and drove his forehead into the bridge of the captain’s nose. A crack splintered the bone, blood immediately gushing as Shanks momentarily reeled from the unexpected pain. 

“I’m trying to protect him!” Ben justified as Shanks scrambled back to clutch at his face. 

When he caught sight of the blood coating his fingers, Shanks’ red eyes furiously bore into his vice captain, “He doesn’t need your protection! He’s not yours to protect. He’s mine . He’s my omega—“ 

Ben punched him hard enough to break his jaw. He probably would have if Shanks hadn’t used armament at the last second, coating himself in a flimsy defense as Ben’s punch knocked him into the far end of the galley wall. 

Dizzy and stunned, Shanks took a moment to gather his senses. He was in disbelief, eyes wide as Beckmann got to his feet, chest heaving as his knuckles bled. There was hurt in his expression, but more than that was untold frustration. This wasn’t Ben Beckmann, his trusted and dependable vice captain who would always follow an order if it was what Shanks commanded of him. This was the Ben Beckmann that was his friend, the one that wouldn’t hesitate to call Shanks out on his bullshit, that would brawl and yell and scream at Shanks to get his own head out of his ass without fear of the consequences. This was the guy who took a scrappy young alpha at the tender age of 15 under his wing to show him more of what the Roger pirates hadn’t gotten a chance to—that raised Shanks like a brother when the alpha felt like he barely had anyone left in the wide open world. 

Shanks raised a hand to his jaw, already feeling the bruising swell as his teeth ached something fierce. 

“Don’t claim him as yours when you always insist that he isn’t. Stop being unfair to him.” Beckmann ran a hand through his dark hair as he glanced around the galley. The crew were still looking, faces somber as they let their leaders hash it out. 

With a sigh, the beta continued heavily, “We all know you love him, Shanks. You couldn’t make it more obvious if you tried, and we were alright with letting you handle it how you wanted. We never understood why you were so intent on saying he was just a friend, but it wasn’t our place to ask because, for the most part, you never took it too far. You never—“ 

Ben collapsed into a chair with an exaggerated huff and hung his head in his hands, and what he said next broke Shanks into a million pieces, “Mihawk couldn’t hide it completely. He tried, but I saw it, Shanks. Never seen that man’s eyes look so haunted, but the pain was there and it didn’t take a genius to figure out you were the cause. You and your—your determination to keep him at an arm’s length, and if that’s what you want then that’s fine. Keep being his friend, but you cant’t—you can’t cross a line and then retract two steps back. You can’t just take and expect that there wouldn’t be consequences. You can’t have him halfway.” 

Beckmann looked Shanks in the eyes pleadingly, “Pick one or the other, but don’t give him hope just to pull it right back out from under his feet. If you can’t be his friend, and you won’t be his lover, then don’t be anything to him.” 

“I…” Shanks didn’t know what to say. 

What could he say in the face of Ben’s reveal? 

In pain? Mihawk? The thought was absurd, but there was truth in Beckmann’s face. The beta wasn’t lying, and he was upset. Rightfully so. Shanks knew, he’d known especially in the recent increase of Mihawk’s visits that the omega didn’t solely come for the purpose of their duels. There was always a tenderness to the swordsman when they reunited, an undercurrent of feeling neither were willingly acknowledging, but just because it went ignored didn’t mean that it wasn’t there. 

And it hurt. 

Everything just hurt and it ached , and before Shanks could even hope to hide himself away in his room, he fell to his knees with a loud curse. He punched at the floor, the skin on his knuckles splitting as the wood cracked, and despite his best efforts to keep it from happening, a traitorous burn wet his eyes until his vision blurred. It was shameful for a captain to break down in front of his crew, but Shanks couldn’t help but shatter as the final threads holding him together snapped. He brought a hand to his face, quietly mourning to himself as the pressure in his lungs and his chest pressed so tightly it felt like he couldn’t breathe. 

In the background, Ben dismissed the crew, telling them to leave him and the captain alone as the older man stepped up to Shanks. There was a moment of hesitance from the vice captain as the alpha began to crumble, but Ben crouched down soon enough and brought the younger into an embrace. The action did little to console Shanks, but he clung to Ben nonetheless, feeling so much that it was difficult—no, impossible—to express any of it with words. 

Beckmann hushed him, rocking him gently, and as the alpha’s tears wet the front of Ben’s shirt, the captain couldn’t help but apologize. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He repeated the words over and over again, not really sure what he was sorry about, just that he was. 

The beta, never one for sentimental affection, did his best to ease the sobbing alpha, mimicking a gesture Rayleigh often used to soothe as Ben pressed a kiss to Shanks’ temple in brotherly affection. The older man scented with forgiveness and worry, but more than that was a hint of anguish that couldn’t be missed. 

“Help me understand.” Ben whispered. 

Shanks didn’t need clarification to know what the beta was asking. He wanted to know why Shanks insisted on Mihawk being his friend and nothing else. Why the captain, for as obvious as he was in love and loved in return, never took as he wanted. He was a pirate after all, and what was a pirate if he wasn’t a man that seized the future he wanted? 

The alpha shook his head, because how could he explain it? How could he put it into words? 

He thought of Mihawk, and how beautiful he was, and how much he deserved to be cherished, but what if Shanks wasn’t good enough? What if Shanks couldn’t be what Mihawk needed? Mihawk was as free as a bird taking to the skies, wandering the world in chase of his own dreams and ambitions. What part could Shanks play in that? He was afraid, mostly. Afraid that he would somehow stand in the way of Mihawk reaching the greatest heights of success. Afraid that Shanks, himself, might not be able to herald in a new era if all he could think about, if the only thing he craved, was to have Mihawk in his bed and never leave. 

But more than that, however, was the fear that Shanks would put his dream first, and in doing so would irreparably break Mihawk because, for as much as he treasured and loved and wanted to devote himself to the omega, Shanks wasn’t sure that he could . There were so many dreams on his shoulders now. Weights and responsibilities, a depth of knowledge that darkened his mind and heavied his heart. The legacy of Roger haunted his shadow, nearly as dark as the black-hearted men corrupting this world. How could Shanks willingly bring Mihawk into something like that? How could he, in good conscience, drag Mihawk from the heavens in which he soared and chain him to the undeserving earth? 

He wanted. He wanted so badly he knew he would never go without wanting, but Shanks knew well enough that love wasn’t the immovable force many thought it was. He had seen love at its best, saw it shared between Roger and Rayleigh who were, perhaps, the most in love anyone could ever be, and it still wasn’t enough. It broke Rayleigh. Shattered a seemingly unbreakable man because Roger had put a vision of the future first , and Shanks feared that he might one day do the same. He didn’t fully expect to survive the changing of the eras. Was prepared to meet his end if it came down to it, and where would that leave Mihawk then? Wasn’t it more cruel to have and to hold, and then to lose it all? Wasn’t it more cruel to promise to give himself completely, but with no guarantee that he even could ? 

Shanks had managed what he could say aloud while sobbing. His broken words might not have made much sense, but he tried to convey to Ben how this dilemma tore him apart from the inside out, how he never went a day without being pulled in too many directions, stretched thin as he silently endured the burden of it all. He tried to voice the indescribable fear he lived with, the anxiety that only increased as he got older. He spoke on how he only ever felt like he was crumbling just as fast as he tried to put himself back together. He burned and he wanted, but how could he want and not give in return? 

He loved Mihawk. He loved him, and it was just a bit too much, too tender and raw for him to cope with. 

Ben might’ve been crying too at the end of Shanks’ confessions. He held Shanks tighter, cursing the alpha for being the world’s most selflessly selfish man. 

“Why do you think you have to do it all alone?” Beckmann asked, his voice thick with uncharacteristic emotion as he ran a hand through Shanks’ hair, “Since when have you ever been alone?” 

When he saw Roger die, he was alone then. 

He was alone, and broken, and too young to feel that way, and yet…

…and yet salvation had come in the form of an omega striving to be the best, a gift from the heavens, from Roger no doubt, to make the pain just a little more bearable. 

“I think,” Ben said as Shanks grew exhausted from the tears, “That you and Mihawk should talk. You should be honest with him and maybe ask what he wants for a change.” 

Shanks shook his head, “I don’t know if I can. ” 

Beckmann pressed another kiss to the crown of his hair, more gentle than he had ever been in raising Shanks, “Well, you can’t go on much longer as you are. You won’t even make it past 25, let alone to see this new era you go on about.” 

Shanks was tired, fatigued down to the bone. 

Ben, sensing this, didn’t press anymore, “We’ll figure it out in the morning.” The beta promised, allowing Shanks a moment of respite, even if temporary, “ Together .” Beckmann emphasized, making it clear he was having none of Shanks’ stubbornness on the matter. 

The alpha managed a watery-eyed grin, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Also, sorry for breaking your nose.” 

And that, at least, eased just a bit of an ache as Shanks couldn’t help but snort and then groan when both his jaw and nose festered with pain. He leaned into Beckmann, allowing the vice captain, his brother , to take care of him. It didn’t feel like it would be easy, but it did feel better knowing Shanks could fall, and still not hit rock bottom. 

“Thanks Beck.” 

“Aye,” the beta agreed softly, “It’s what I’m here for, Captain.”

Over the next couple of days, the crew were careful around Shanks, giving him the time and space he needed to get his thoughts in order. He kept away from the liquor, knowing the alcohol would only burden him more than it would help. Ben was by his side more often than he wasn’t, a silent rock to depend on as Shanks stared out the window of his quarters, watching the sea and wishing it could give him all the answers. 

Finally, the day arrived when Shanks came to his decision. He took the straw hat from his head, lifting it and flipping it upside down so he could retrieve the Vivre card tucked carefully within. The words ‘ To sooner rather than later’ , were still scrawled neatly on the paper. Shanks couldn’t count the number of times he read those words. They were more of a promise than anything else, and even now Shanks could feel the weight of them as the Vivre card in his hand tugged towards the direction of its owner. 

“I’ll need a small boat,” Shanks told Ben quietly, resolving himself to whatever came about in the future, “I don’t know when I’ll be back.” 

Beckmann, for his part, didn’t seem all that surprised, “I’ll keep the boys together while you’re gone, so take your time.” 

It was Ben’s way of saying he had no expectations or demands. Shanks would return when he was sorted out, and the crew would gladly await him for however long that took. 

“Thank you,” Shanks revealed sincerely, “I’ll be better when I return.” 

He needed to be better. For his crew. For the future. But most importantly, for himself. 

Ben laid a heavy hand of understanding on his shoulder before ambling towards the door. He departed with a fond, “Take care of yourself, brother,” and left Shanks to gather the few belongings he intended to take with him on his journey. 

By the time he finished and stepped out onto the deck, his small boat was waiting for him as his crew lined up to see him off. If they knew the significance of Shanks’ journey, they kept their thoughts hidden behind masks of respect. Shanks knew he should probably say something, but words felt like they would fall short of expressing the love he had in his heart for the pack he built. So instead, the captain brought his forehead to rest affectionately against each of his crew mates, scenting them in a fond farewell. 

“Til next time, boys.” He promised, “Don’t give Beckmann too much of a headache.” 

Yasopp was crying. That big ol’ baby. 

“You be careful out there, Captain,” Ben said, working at the ropes keeping Shanks’ dinghy tied to the ship, “And come home safe.” 

Home . God, what a sentimental word. 

Shanks sniffled, and no he wasn’t crying. 

Beckmann smiled as if he knew exactly what Shanks was thinking, and then cast him off without another word. The Vivre card sitting in Shanks’ palm would see him to where he needed to go, would lead him to the possibility of a future he wanted, but wasn’t sure it was his right to have. 

Regardless, Shanks needed this settled. He needed—he needed Mihawk. However the omega would have him, in whichever way, he would take only what Mihawk gave. So, with that determination in mind, Shanks looked towards the horizon, straw hat sat on his head and red hair billowing in the hopeful sea breeze. He followed the Vivre card to where it would go. To his other half. To a man who meant more than he could ever possibly define. It was time to stop running. Time, in Shanks’ mind, to stop hiding from what had been glaringly obvious since the day he was saved by a boy not much older than him, but with an equally profound destiny resting on his shoulders. 

Come what may, whenever it came, Shanks endeavored to face it head on with the dignity befitting of an alpha. 

Chapter Text

The Heart’s Deadly Wound is that of Fearing Love

He found Mihawk in the West Blue a month later. After nearly capsizing during vicious storms, having to find a path back over the Red Line, fending off pirates and would-be bounty hunters, and evading the marines, Shanks managed to pull ashore on an island not far from where he had first met Beckmann all those years ago. The city was a quaint one and perfectly unassuming. 

The criminal underground, however, was not. 

Shanks tied his ropes to the dock and stepped off his dinghy. He kept his hat pulled low over his hair, not wanting to be recognized as he made his way through the harbor with the intent to find an inn to wash up in. The innkeeper took one look at his ragged clothes and scented his unwashed ass, and nearly turned him away, but when he flashed the coin in his pocket, the man made a concession and handed him a key for a room. Shanks, exhausted from his nonstop travels over the last month, very nearly collapsed in bed for a much needed rest, but if there was one thing he had learned about Mihawk after chasing him all over hell’s creation for the last month, it was that the omega was consistently on the move. 

At the very least, Shanks should be grateful enough that he had time to shower, and with a groan as the spray of cool water washed the salt and grime off his skin, the alpha took meticulous care to cleanse the filth from his body. He made sure to brush his hair and shave his face afterwards, ensuring that he looked like he tried rather than just crawled out from the city’s sewer. 

When he stepped out of the bath, it was to find that the innkeeper had dropped by with a set of fresh clothes. The linen was soft and fitted when Shanks slipped into the trousers and shirt. He tightened a belt around his hips, fitting Gryphon’s sheathe along his waist, and when he had prettied up as much as he could given the circumstances, Shanks journeyed out of the inn and back into the city streets. 

Beneath his feet he could sense a gathering of people, and from what Shanks could glean, there was a rather lively underground hideout hidden beneath this peaceful looking town. He surmised that the town itself was more of a cover up than anything else, and the real life of the party existed down below. His assumption was proven true when he found his way underground, only to be greeted with the sight of a moderately sized city more sprawling and active than the small town above. The subterranean streets were brimming with criminals of all types: thieves, bandits, mercenaries, pirates—there was not a group present that Shanks didn’t recognize. 

There was a ruckus on every corner, fights breaking out, guns going off, challenges being issued, and an excess of seedy debauchery that only the immoral and unethical would indulge in. Certainly, it wasn’t the type of hovel he expected to find Mihawk in, mostly because it smelt of shit, piss, and the awful stench of death, but the reason for Mihawk’s attendance revealed itself soon enough. In the center of the underground hideout, a tournament—of sorts, because things like this were very loosely organized—was taking place. From what Shanks could see as he kept to the outskirts, it was a battle of swordsmen. No one particularly noteworthy was fighting, but Shanks wouldn’t put it past Mihawk to spectate simply in a fit of boredom. 

Again, his guess was proven correct when from among the growing crowd of rowdy spectators, there was a lone man perched on a rooftop, seated casually with an elegant hat poised atop his head as he leisurely observed the ongoings happening down below. Shanks would recognize that fine silhouette from anywhere, and with no small amount of nerves buzzing beneath his skin, the alpha set to climbing the roof and meeting the man he’d been in search of. 

No sooner did he arrive, boots taking their first step against the paneled roof, did Mihawk call from where he sat over by the edge of the building, a bottle of wine looped nobly between his fingers as he greeted plainly, “Well this is an unexpected surprise.” 

At the dull note to the omega’s voice, Shanks stilled, once more overcome with a swell of emotion as he hovered by the ladder he just trailed up. He scented with uncertainty, not sure if he would be welcomed or turned away. If Beckmann was to be believed, the last time he and Mihawk parted ways, it hadn’t been on the positive note that Shanks thought them to be. Granted, when he recalled all that happened that night, it was astonishing how the alpha convinced himself that it—that they— would be alright. Mihawk had been vulnerable. Shanks saw that vulnerability and promptly pushed it to the side, hiding behind his usual spiel of friendship as if it were enough to excuse his behavior. It wasn’t, and Ben made the degree of Shanks’s transgression perfectly clear to him after all was said and down. 

Now, Shanks didn’t know how to approach or if he even could. Yoru was laid at Mihawk’s side, her obsidian hue glistening in warning. She was darker than the last time Shanks saw her, as black as the night she was named after. She was mastered, and Shanks didn’t know how to feel when he realized that Mihawk had achieved the pinnacle of swordsmanship. Mihawk had reached his dream, and Shanks wasn’t there to see it—wasn’t there to share in the triumph of such a grand achievement. 

His stomach twisted again, and his knees felt oddly weak. Maybe it was because he hadn’t had stable meals in a month, or perhaps he was just overwhelmed. Either way, he didn’t know how to bridge this gap between him and the omega. It was only ten steps at most, but it felt so much wider than that. 

Trying to steel himself against his own inner turmoil, Shanks clung to his purpose in being here, depending on that to give him the strength to find his words and speak. 

“I’ve been looking for you.” Shanks started off, voice soft and barely even heard. He sounded meek even to his own ears, and judging by Mihawk’s returning scoff, the other hadn’t missed the pitiful note to his tone. 

“Out with it then,” Mihawk waved his half emptied bottle of wine, not bothering to look back at the alpha as he lazily gestured for Shanks to say what was on his mind, “If you’ve put the effort into locating me, you might as well tell me why you’re here.” 

“I—“ Shanks opened his mouth only to close it again when he couldn’t find the words. 

He drew in his bottom lip, grimacing as he struggled in vain to say something, or anything , that might get Mihawk to look at him. 

God, he hated how troubled he felt. How—how frustrating his lack of ability appeared to be. Usually, Shanks was never without words, and yet he was at a loss for them now. They evaded him, mere phantoms as he continued to stand by the ladder like an idiot, unwilling—or maybe too cowardly—to face Mihawk head on. 

“Well?” Mihawk prompted once more, tone clipped and harsh, “Are you going to say anything or have you finally gone mute?” 

Flinching, Shanks visibly recoiled from the lacerations in Mihawk’s words. His demeanor was cold, his posture stiffened as if ready to bolt or fight at any given moment. He wasn’t receptive to Shanks, not like he used to be. No, the omega was angry. He was hurt, and Shanks had been the cause. 

And for that, he could really only say one thing. 

“I’m sorry.” 

It wasn’t enough. Would never be enough to atone for the pain he’d been putting the both of them through. Seeking sanctuary behind facades, claiming to be ‘just friends’ even when he knew the labeling was a sham, a lie he depended on to keep his own hands from reaching out and taking, taking, taking . Yet he still took regardless of knowing better. He went and claimed parts of Mihawk he shouldn’t have unless he was prepared to be there for him in the way Shanks’ actions implied. All the alpha ever did was assume liberties. He flaunted Mihawk as if he were his, flirted and held him like the omega belonged to him, and yet at the end of the day he would shove everything aside, throw the curtain back over the truth, and pretend. Pretend like he wasn’t in love. Pretend like he didn’t know Mihawk felt the same. Pretend and pretend, deny and deny. Repeating the cycle until both of them were exhausted because of it. 

“Sorry?” Mihawk repeated the word with a derisive air, “Enlighten me, what do you have to be sorry for, Shanks ?” 

With his name hissed like a curse, Shanks bowed his head, hanging it in shame as his hands clenched at his sides, “I’ve got a lot of things to be sorry for,” He confessed, “I’m just asking for the chance to apologize.” 

Mihawk snorted again as he drank and drank, forgoing his usual propriety when it came to his wine as he guzzled straight from the lip of the bottle. After it was empty, he threw it to the ground below. The glass shattered on impact, but Mihawk seemingly didn’t give a damn about the mess he made. 

“Suppose as your friend you think I’ll just listen to you because you’ve asked for it?” The bitterness in Mihawk’s voice was tangible, and he spit over the title of ‘friend’ as if he loathed its very existence. 

Shanks, knowing he deserved every little bit of attitude he was given, couldn’t help but correct the omega firmly, “Not a friend,” He declared gruffly, but soon softened with a pleading wince, “Mihawk, please… ” 

“Not a friend?” Mihawk challenged, “So what am I then? A stranger? A rival? An  enemy ?” 

Mihawk still wasn’t looking at him, and Shanks couldn’t help but feel that as the conversation continued, the omega was only pulling further and further away. 

A bit desperate, Shanks finally took a step forward, “Of course you’re not an enemy! Why would you even think that?!” 

Mihawk, finally at his threshold of patience, whirled on Shanks with all the fury he’d been holding back up until this point as he seethed, “What am I supposed to think?! You—“ Mihawk’s yellow eyes narrowed as he rose to his feet and stomped forward with a wild notion of anger, “—You have completely bested me Shanks. You have pulled me along. You have dangled yourself like a reward and enticed me into following a man I thought, for a brief moment, that I could have . You took me for a fool, and now you have the audacity to show up after a month and say you’re sorry ?!” 

Mihawk grabbed Shanks by the front of his shirt, yanking him until they were nose to nose. Shanks had never seen the omega look so crazed before, so furious, and it was all his fault.

“You don’t know what you did to me that night, what I gave to you. I have never—I’ve never let anyone so close to me. I have never wanted nor needed intimacy until you—“ Mihawk didn’t seem inclined to finish his sentence as he shook the alpha, face pinched with pain and hurt and everything that made him beautiful, “Sorry doesn’t cut it, Shanks. It doesn’t even come close .” 

Mihawk’s chest heaved with rabid emotions, and his eyes were righteously burning. They bore into Shanks, cursing and damning him. They wanted to set Shanks ablaze, to make the alpha hurt , and yet it wasn’t pain Shanks felt when Mihawk looked at him. 

It was hope. 

“I know.” Shanks agreed, his voice so soft in the face of Mihawk’s scorn. 

The alpha eased his hands over the omega’s, moving slowly and cautiously as Mihawk continued to scowl and glare at him. For a moment, Shanks worried Mihawk might fight. The other was riddled with tension as if he wanted nothing more than to cross blades, but instead of turning back for Yoru, Mihawk simply let his fingers be loosened. 

“Let’s talk. Please .” Shanks begged, because if he had gotten Mihawk to look at him, then there was still a chance to make things right. 

Mihawk considered him, lips thinned and his body poised like he was ready to tell Shanks to fuck right off with his pleading. 

The alpha, wanting Mihawk to understand his sincerity, promised tenderly, “At the very least I can start with an explanation.” 

The omega wasn’t won over, and he certainly looked one wrong word away from skewering the alpha on Yoru, but after giving it more thought, Mihawk acquiesced. Stiffly, he pulled back from Shanks, drawing his shoulders in a dignified manner as he glared down his pointed nose at the alpha. 

“Very well,” He agreed, “I will hear you out, but I will not promise anything more than that.” 

Relieved to have even been given that much, Shanks nodded and took a step back, “Thank you.” 

Mihawk scoffed and turned his back to retrieve Yoru, “Do not thank me yet,” came the omega’s thinly veiled warning, “I’m still very tempted to cut you.” 

The journey to Shanks’ room at the inn was an incredibly silent one. Mihawk chose to keep his distance, and Shanks didn’t press or attempt to bridge it. He was stewing in his own thoughts, his mind running rampant with what to do next as the inn came into view. They trekked the path upstairs to the alpha’s door, and once inside, Mihawk strode over to the window, seeming keen to maintain his escape route if negotiations went south. 

Shanks, despite the tense atmosphere, couldn’t help but laugh a little at Mihawk’s pointed attempts to maintain his animosity. However, when his quiet chuckle was met with withering disdain, he wisely sobered up. 

Awkward and out of his depth, Shanks fidgeted by the door, glancing back and forth between Mihawk and the walls. 

Mihawk was the one to break the quiet first, “Who broke your nose?” 

Startled, Shanks only belatedly realized that his nose was still lightly bruised from when he and Beckmann fought. The alpha brought his fingers to the scabbed over cut and said, “Beckmann. We had a disagreement.” 

“Who was in the wrong?” Mihawk asked, unwillingly curious. 

Shanks shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged, “Me. No surprise there.” 

If the omega pieced together why Shanks and Beckmann argued, he didn’t voice it aloud. Instead, he silently awaited Shanks to get on with his promised explanations. From where he stood by the window, Mihawk was cast in shadows from the outside, his yellow eyes gleaming in the darkness even as his body was shrouded in dim lighting. With his arms crossed and Yoru strapped to his back, Mihawk looked every part the lethal swordsman that he was. Being on the receiving end of the other’s hostility sent shivers down Shanks’ spine, and it made sense why the world quivered in fear of the omega. 

Needing something to occupy his hands, Shanks went over to his nightstand where there sat a bottle of whiskey, courtesy of the innkeeper. He really had no intention of drinking, but he poured himself a glass regardless, hands shaking as he searched and searched for what to say. 

“I don’t…” he spoke up hesitantly, “I don’t know where to start.” 

“Typical.” 

Shanks shot the other a flat look before realizing he was completely deserving of the insult, “Alright, fair enough.” 

The alpha sighed and placed his hands on the nightstand, rocking a little as he studied the old wood of the furniture in hopes that it might bestow the elusive answers he sought. It didn’t, but Shanks knew he couldn’t put off the conversation any longer than he already had. 

So, with what little courage remained in his battered heart, Shanks confessed, “I’m a celestial dragon.” 

One might be able to hear a pin drop from a mile away with how deadly silent the room fell. 

Shanks grimaced. That wasn’t really what he intended on blurting out, but with his unwillingness to broach far more sensitive topics from the start, he supposed beginning with the outliers was better than starting nowhere. 

When Mihawk said nothing, Shanks shifted his gaze to the ceiling next as he revealed, “I mean, it’s not like I want to be or that I’ve lived my life like one. I’m a pirate and I was raised to be a pirate. Roger and Ray found me when I was a baby, so the only thing noble about me is my blood, but I suppose that’s all that really matters in the eyes of the government. It was a real shock, you know?” Shanks laughed dryly as he recalled uncovering the truth when he came across Vice Admiral Garp, Roger’s old rival and the man who helped defeat Rocks D Xebec at the God Valley incident.  

The hero of the navy had chased after him in the grand line, but as was always the case when it came to that old bastard, the fight ended with him and Garp sharing drinks as they reminisced about the days in which the admiral and Roger tried to kill each other. Somehow, the topic drifted to God Valley, and as the vice admiral picked his nose in that disgusting way of his, he made an off handed remark about Shanks being found in the loot Roger ran away with, and thought it was ironic how a great world noble was becoming a notorious pirate after being raised by the greatest enemies of the government. Then, as if he realized he shouldn’t have said anything aloud, Garp tried to laugh off the whole matter as if he hadn’t just casually shattered the very ground beneath Shanks’ feet. 

Shanks had sat in muted shock, because for as much as Garp could be an idiot, he was never a liar. It was half the reason Roger liked him so much. That, and Garp was just ridiculously strong. 

“I despise the world government. I hate what they condone. I hate their false ideals of Justice. They’re nothing but hypocrites, and I hate that they sit in their pretty little center of the world and watch as everyone else around them suffers. More than that, though, I hate that they even consider me one of them. That they look at me, and although they’re disgusted by me being a pirate, they still offered me a place to be among them. They,” Shanks ran a hand through his hair at the incredulity of the idea, “They invited me to Marie Geosie, fucking sat me down at a—at a fucking conference table for world leaders and said they’d pardon me. Me? My whole plan for the future is a world in which they cease to exist, and they had the audacity to look me in the eyes and tell me to come home . Can you imagine that?” Shanks asked as he finally turned to look at Mihawk, “I’d look stupid in their air bubbles.” 

He told the Gorosei as much. He was 18 and arrogant. He thought he could look the world leaders in the eyes and deny everything they stood for. He vehemently refused them, declaring himself an enemy of the World Government and proud to be one. Sitting across from those five old men, the prestigious leaders of the world nobles, Shanks was fully prepared to fight bitterly or get arrested. It wouldn’t have mattered to him if they ordered his execution, as long as he could curse their name and everything they stood for, he could die happy. 

But that was before they sighed as if chatting with an unruly brat. That was before they dismissed him as a threat, and claimed that he would ‘come around’ in due time. It was like a slap in the face. Up until that point, Shanks had been making quite the name for himself, and yet his reputation mattered little because his bloodline was far more important in their eyes. He was the son of someone more prestigious than even themselves, a king that puppeteered from behind the scenes, as old as the government itself. So, in the eyes of the gorosei, it didn’t matter that Shanks denied them then, because they were so sure he would come to them eventually . 

The year from when he turned 18 to 19 had been eye opening. It was sobering. Humbling to a cocksure rookie setting out to conquer the Great Pirate Era. Not only did he learn that he could not trust even his oldest of allies courtesy of Marshall D. Teach, but he’d been firmly put in his place by five old men with bored looks who treated his attitude as if it were a trivial rebellious phase. He wasn’t a threat in their eyes. He was their prince, and all princes had to succeed the throne eventually regardless of whether they wanted to or not. 

“The only other one who knows is Beckmann. Well and Garp since he was the one who let the cat out of the bag. That damn geezer,” Shanks drank that whiskey now, lips trembling as he then went on to say, “And it just gets more complicated from there, you know? Because I’m a pirate that was raised by the pirate king, and I’m responsible for his legacy. This strawhat? It’s not just a hat. It’s a promise. It’s an oath to herald in a world where my dad’s dying wish can come true. Roger entrusted me to help finish where he left off. When he died, he died smiling because he knew it wasn’t an ending, but how can—how can I be the one to help bring his dream to fruition, if I’m the very enemy he’d been fighting against?” 

Again, Shanks drank from the glass. The burn didn’t chase away his emotions, so he set to pacing instead. Back and forth he trailed a path around the room as the gates to his thoughts were pried opened, and all he could do was voice whatever came to mind. 

“There’s so much wrong with this world. I know you’ve seen it. Everyone is suffering in some way, and the only ones who aren’t are the cause of the suffering. We’re all pitted against one another with no peace or end to the violence in sight. Men like—men like Teach are allowed to scheme and hurt, with no consequences at all to their actions. The world nobles own slaves , and most countries are either too poor to risk standing against the world government, or they’re just as corrupt! Our histories have been concealed, and people die everyday simply to know the truth. Freedom has been robbed from those who desperately need it, and I can’t help but think—I can’t help but believe that I’m part of the problem because—because of this filth in my blood!” 

Shanks was itching, pulling apart at the seams as he continued. 

“People put their faith in me. I have a crew who has no idea how I’ve lied to them. How I’ve betrayed them in the most horrific of ways. The very islands that ask me for protection don’t even realize that I’m associated with the very people they need protection from ! And if that isn’t the worst of it, the fact that—that—“ Shanks stopped suddenly, scenting ominously as he squeezed his eyes shut, “The fact that I understand the necessity of the government at present, that I’m willing to condone their existence for just a little while longer, makes me sick . Because without them, as the world is now, everyone would be worse off than they already are. Because despite how cruel and disgusting the government is, there’s a balance. Tentative, but it’s there, and that balance is the only thing keeping everything from falling apart, and I hate that I think that, because it feels wrong . It feels like I’m going back on my word to Roger, but I’m not. I just need—I just need time to find a better solution. To find a way to peace, but I’ve got nothing!” 

Shanks threw up his hands, not even sure where he was going with his word vomit, just that it had to be said. All of it needed to be laid out on the table. Every last card he had stocked in his arsenal, he wanted it revealed to the omega standing silently in the corner of the room. Maybe then Mihawk might know. Maybe then he might understand why Shanks always thought it better to keep him at an arm's length. Why Shanks hid behind his own lies to keep from dragging Mihawk into his own shit. There wasn’t any good that was going to come out of being with Shanks. He wasn’t—he wasn’t the dashing hero people made him out to be. He wasn’t the cleverly handsome pirate that would one day be the pirate king. He was a fraud and as of lately, he felt like a fucking joke. 

“I just…I never know what I’m doing anymore, and everyone expects me to have the answers. They look at me from all sides, and they see me as some divine intervention. The nobles want me because I’m their fucking prince or whatever. The pirates think I’m their next king. Even the damn revolutionaries have demands and—and how can I have anything left after that?” Shanks turned back to Mihawk, his eyes blurred with tears that refused to fall as he begged the question, “How can I have anything left of me to give to you ?” 

His question was met with poignant silence, Mihawk not uttering a single word. 

Shanks smiled wryly, “Yeah. Therein lies the whole problem, right? I’ve always thought you deserved all of me. I’ve always believed that, if there was anyone in this world I wanted to give my all to, it would be you , and yet—“ his throat tightened, and the tears that wouldn’t fall before threatened to do so now, “And yet I fear that even if I tried, even if I wanted it more than anything in the world, one day I’ll end up being a disappointment to you. One day, you’ll look at me and realize I was never worth it, that I wasn’t enough —“ 

Shanks couldn’t finish. Like a coward, he held himself back as he couldn’t bear to look at Mihawk anymore. He had probably said enough anyway. The omega would get it now if he didn’t already, and with nothing more left to be done on his part, Shanks waited for the inevitable to come. 

What he expected was something along the lines of anger, disgust, or even betrayal. Maybe he would be screamed at. Maybe Mihawk would storm off without another word. Maybe Shanks couldn’t do anything to atone. Maybe he didn’t even deserve it. Maybe—maybe this was it for them. The end of the road. If that was the case, Shanks would accept it. He would endure, suffering silently if need be, and continue moving forward as if it were the only thing left to do. 

He just wanted Mihawk to say something at this point, because the omega was still quiet, still unmoving, and Shanks couldn’t bear the anticipation a moment longer. 

Finally, after what felt like ages being kept in suspense, Mihawk gave a long-suffering sigh, “That was the most roundabout way of saying you’re too selfless for your own good, and that you have a very concerning hero complex.” 

Shanks blinked. 

Mihawk sighed again as he rolled his eyes in such a painfully familiar way, “Then again I shouldn’t be surprised considering who raised you. I swear those pirates did more harm to you than good.” 

“Hey…” Shanks said weakly, naturally propelled into coming to the defense of his parents. 

The omega arched a brow as if daring Shanks to give him a credible argument in counter to his statement, but the alpha was a bit too emotional at present to really think rationally enough to debate Mihawk’s sharp mind. 

Shanks watched as Mihawk kicked off from the wall he was leaning on, taking strides to close the distance between them. When he came to a stop mere inches away from the alpha, Shanks wasn’t sure what to expect. 

…it certainly wasn’t Mihawk reaching out and pulling him into a squeezing embrace. 

“Mi…hawk…?” 

“I’m still frustrated with you.” The omega confessed as his face pressed into the alpha’s shoulders, “But I understand why you’ve been unbearably difficult, even if I don’t agree with your reasoning. You seriously need to learn to communicate better.” 

“I—“ 

“I’m not finished.” Mihawk cut in, “You’ve said your piece, now let me say mine.” 

Shanks, unable to deny the request, nodded obligingly. 

Still holding onto the alpha, Mihawk sighed again, “First and foremost, I continue to stand by my initial impression of you when we first met: you are an idiot. A charming one, but an idiot.” 

Okay, well that was deserved, but not entirely appreciated as Shanks pouted. 

“Secondly, for as selfless as all of your intentions have been thus far, they were misplaced and unfair. Both to me and to you. The fact that you decided all on your own to keep me as a ‘friend’ and nothing else simply because you thought you were doing me a favor, is unfair .” 

The omega sucked in a trembling breath, and from where Mihawk’s fingers dug into the skin of Shanks’ sides, the alpha could feel the other’s grip shake as if he was overcome with emotion. Despite the relative levelness of the omega’s tone, Mihawk’s body was riddled with tension, and it was the only outward sign he showed that revealed how affected he was by Shanks’ explanation. 

However, with a steady-mindedness and articulation of thought that Shanks did not possess, Mihawk continued evenly, “I have never asked for your protection and as someone you consider your equal in everything, I should have been consulted on matters regarding our relationship instead of kept in the dark as I was. We may understand each other perfectly in battle, and in many ways outside of it, but I cannot read your mind. Having you consistently push me away and shove me into your box of shams hurt. It hurt repeatedly, and it was wrong of you to never explain why you were hurting me.” 

Shanks opened his mouth, an urge to apologize bubbling up inside of him again, but as if sensing his intention, the omega squeezed the alpha warningly to keep him quiet. 

“Thirdly, I recognize I am not entirely without blame.” Mihawk confessed, admitting his own faults as openly as he had called Shanks out on his, “Instead of keeping silent myself, I should have pressed for an explanation, but I’ll admit that I was…hesitant. Afraid that if I did, you might cut me out of your life completely.” 

“I wouldn’t have done that.” Shanks insisted, because Mihawk needed to know that.

In reprimand to his outburst, Mihawk pinched him, sharp and painful. The alpha jumped, flinching as the omega’s blunt nails twisted the skin on his hip. 

With a chiding tone, Mihawk scolded, “I told you to let me say my piece.” 

Shanks’ cheeks colored red in embarrassment, “Right. Sorry.” 

There was a breath against Shanks’ skin, and the alpha realized with a jolt that it was Mihawk’s signature breath-laugh. 

“Anyway, as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted.” Mihawk teased, and Shanks was dizzy from the—the warmth? Was that warmth in Mihawk’s voice? Fondness, even?  

“I realize that we haven’t been the most forthcoming with each other. It was an oversight on my part, and something I shouldn’t have let go on for as long as it did. Either way, I’ll make myself clear now to save us both the difficulty of trying to do so later,” Mihawk pulled back and lifted his head so that the yellow of his eyes met the alpha’s red ones. There was a sincerity in them, one that could not be missed even in the dark of the room, “For as close to murdering you as I was minutes ago, it’s very clear to me that my anger was misplaced, and that, for as boggling as your word vomit of an explanation was, I know you were truly doing what you thought was best given your circumstances. You were hurting, perhaps hurting even more than I was, and I am sorry you thought it necessary to bear the burden of pain all on your own. I’m sorry for how alone you must have felt.” 

Shanks’ breath hitched, another tight knot of emotion making it difficult for him to breathe as the omega’s expression softened with genuine sincerity. Mihawk truly looked apologetic and troubled by all that Shanks revealed. The alpha ached in response. He didn’t want Mihawk to take any of the blame—that was the last thing he wanted, yet before he could try to ease Mihawk with assurances and promises that none of this, any of this, was his fault, the omega surprised him by declaring, “However, in regards to your convoluted history and current predicament, I don’t really give a damn about your politics.” 

When Shanks blinked in evident confusion to Mihawk’s meaning, the omega revealed with unquestionable certainty, “I will not define you as a man, as an alpha , based on anything except your personal character. World noble or not. Pirate king or not, I have only ever seen you as Shanks. A man with an irritating surplus of sickeningly sweet pet names and with the bedside manner of an untrained dog.” 

Shanks would have vehemently protested being called a dog if, in the next few moments, Mihawk hadn’t made the alpha fall in love with him all over again. 

As if swearing an oath to Shanks, Mihawk declared, “This farce of a world and the hypocrisy of it does not even register as a concern to me. I respect the value of your dream and know that what you strive for is honorable, but the things in which you fear, I do not. I am not scared, Shanks. I am not scared of the government, or of pirates, or even the worst the world has to offer. The cost of your dream does not frighten me. If anything, the fact that you are the one aiming for peace, only makes me certain that I have nothing to worry about.” 

Mihawk threaded their hands together, and the strength of his unwavering character in the face of things that would break any normal man was a thing to envy, “I won’t let anything get in the way of what I want, including this need you have to shield me from things you think could bring me harm. Sweet as your protectiveness is, it is entirely unnecessary. I am strong, the strongest in the world, so what do I have to fear in the face of what I deem worthy?”

Pressing his forehead against Shanks’ own, the omega let a rueful smile drift to his lips, “You have to know enough about me by now to realize there are very few things I’ll endeavor to care about. Among those are swords, wine, sleep, and of course,” Yellow eyes softened with untold affection, “ You .” 

“Me?” Shanks whispered, and when Mihawk nodded, the alpha looked stricken with agony, “But I don’t know if I can give you me.” Because how could he, when he always felt spread so thin?

In response to Shanks’ concern, the omega looked unreasonably serene, “Haven't you already?” 

When Shanks’ expression bled into disbelief, Mihawk made a point of laying a hand over Shanks’ heart, “Tell me, Red. Who does this beat for?” 

The alpha visibly shuddered as his pulse quickened, and when the redhead failed to answer, Mihawk’s fingertips pressed into the muscle of his chest demandingly, “Shanks. Answer me honestly. Who does this beat for? Who is it that has laid claim to your heart?” 

The harsh gasping of Shanks’ breath came in rapid succession as the answer was pulled from him, the veracity of the situation dragged out from the depths of his core and thrust into the space between them. There was no questioning who it was that occupied the space of his heart, who held it cradled within the palm of his pale and calloused hands. With a desperation he couldn’t hope to conceal, Shanks finally let the dam crumble as the truth spilled out in a flood of devoted confession, “ You . Of course it’s yours.” 

A heartfelt smile graced the beauty of the omega’s face as he scented with satisfaction, “And that is all I'll ever ask for.”

“But is it enough? Am I enough ?” Shanks voiced, because how could he be? How could he ever be when there were too many things taking a bite out of him until there was barely anything left? 

Mihawk met him head on, not wavering an inch in the face of the last remaining obstacle between them, “Your heart is all that I will ever need. In comparison, the rest is insignificant.” 

Shanks surged forward, unable to hold back when the undeniable was laid bare. He met Mihawk’s mouth with a near sob, breathing the omega in as he slotted their lips together and finally took just as much as he was willing to give . When Mihawk met him willingly, wantoningly , it was all Shanks could do not to break down. He wanted to fall to his knees and pray. He was never much of a religious man, but he thought there must be a benevolent being somewhere out there if they were able to grant him this . 

“I love you,” He gasped against Mihawk’s mouth, his face wet with tears as he crashed into the omega all over again, “I love you more than anything. I have never loved as much as I love you. You are everything to me. You mean everything.” He scented potently, an overwhelming mix of devotion and anguish, relief and desperation all cloying together. The kisses were difficult to manage between Shanks’ verbal reverence, but he couldn’t go without tasting. Even if Mihawk could barely follow along, inexperience making it harder to match Shanks’ intensity, it was enough. It was more than enough. It was more than what Shanks thought he would ever have. 

“You…” Mihawk strived to say in between Shanks swallowing his breaths, “You are very chatty.” 

The laugh bubbled up out of the alpha unwillingly, and he must have been an awful sight. Tear stricken, laughing, and still trying to kiss Mihawk throughout all of it. God, whoever said he was a suave man must have been blind, because he was stumbling through this entire ordeal, only keeping afloat because Mihawk’s lips were his lifeline.

The omega tried valiantly to get him to calm, but Shanks had been pried open. He was raw and exposed, and he was relieved and blessed . A part of him didn’t think any of this was real—hoped and prayed that it was, but it must’ve been a dream. It was all too good to be true, and yet Mihawk promised him it was real. He soothed his fingers through Shanks’ hair, met him for each kiss Shanks was frantic to claim, and when the alpha grew exhausted from the emotional efforts, when his legs gave out and he slumped to the floor, Mihawk fell with him. He brought Shanks to his chest, letting the alpha’s head rest over the spot where the omega’s heart beat in tune with the redhead’s own. 

“You won’t be gone in the morning, right?” Shanks asked vulnerably, too unraveled to be anything but as Mihawk scented him lightly and lovingly. 

“I’ll be here, Red.” Came the oath and the promise, “I do believe my days of running before the sun comes up are over.” 

The alpha sniffled, his nose swollen and achy, his eyes red and puffy. Maybe tomorrow he would be embarrassed by how easily he came undone, but if anyone was allowed to see it, if anyone was permitted the right to have Shanks at his most defenseless, then it was the omega currently trying to pull them both into the inn’s rickety bed. 

As they settled in for the night, tired but too amped up to sleep, Shanks held onto Mihawk as tight as he reasonably could without crushing the omega. If Mihawk understood that the action was subconsciously done on Shanks’ part to ensure the swordsman couldn’t leave, he didn’t bother to protest. Instead, he curled even deeper into the alpha’s embrace, sighing contentedly from where his nose pressed against the glands of Shanks’ neck.  

“Also, I’m in agreement.” Came Mihawk’s randomly muttered declaration right before they might have been coaxed into slumber.

Shanks roused tiredly, “Hm?”

There was a grin against his neck as the omega confessed, “You would look terrible in those air bubbles.” 

Shanks abruptly laughed, surprised that he even had the energy to do so, and soon enough Mihawk joined him, his own chuckles warm against Shanks’ front, his body even hotter next to the alpha’s. They spent however long laughing, maybe a bit crazed in the wake of their emotional turmoil. Either way, Shanks went to sleep smiling, his mind better at ease, and his heart beating unashamedly for the sweet, sweet omega held lovingly in his arms. 

Tomorrow he would work to ensure Mihawk never went another day without knowing how much Shanks loved him, but for now he needed the rest, and judging by Mihawk’s soft and familiar snores, so did he. The alpha shut his eyes, never more content than he was that night, and he hoped with everything within his power, that the contentment would last for as long as Mihawk believed that Red-Haired Shanks was an alpha worth loving. 

If Shanks was lucky, he would continue to be worthy for the rest of their lives.  

Come morning, Shanks awoke with a jolt, and the first thought on his mind was: please still be here . More panicked than he cared to admit, Shanks’ eyes opened and slotted to his left, vision blurred from newly awakened sleep, but even with his hazy eyesight the alpha was able to make out the shape of the dark haired figure lying next him. The gentle rise and fall of Mihawk’s chest was indication that the omega was still sound asleep, lips softly parted as his head pillowed against the padded muscle of Shanks’ shoulder. 

Relieved, the alpha forced himself to relax and ease back into the pillows, taking care to pull the blankets back up and over their shoulders from where he accidentally knocked them away in his fit of worry. He subtly wrapped his arm tighter around Mihawk, pulling the slumbering swordsman firmer against him as a reminder that he was here . Everything that happened last night, everything that was said and shared, hadn’t been a dream after all. 

For the first time in many years Shanks didn’t feel like he had horribly messed something up, and while he was still nervous for the future, that apprehension was lessened by the presence at his side. There was nothing Mihawk wouldn’t know about him anymore, but even after Shanks laid it all bare with full expectation that it wouldn’t be enough, Mihawk held him tenderly and said that it was . Whether or not Shanks deserved that sort of privilege wasn’t even a question anymore, because so long as the omega thought he did, then that would be more than enough for the alpha. 

Skimming his fingers along any portion of Mihawk Shanks could reach as he lay in thoughtful silence, the alpha didn’t know how much time passed before Mihawk started to stir. Early morning light bled in full through the window, brightening the otherwise darkened room and bathing the pair in the soft glow of sensual reds and pinks. The omega’s fair skin blushed delicately, a temptation Shanks would once be hesitant to fully appreciate, but that he now marveled at with unabashed adoration. 

There was a tiny, sleep-induced groan pressed into Shanks’ neck as the older man roused from whatever occupied his dreams. He was lazy and slow to awaken as he stretched leisurely, fingers flexing before they splayed across the plains of Shanks’ stomach. Blunt, yet cared for nails subtly scratched against the alpha’s skin, provoking a sensation akin to a tickle as another sigh exhaled heavily from the omega. Mihawk’s legs shifted, intertwining more firmly with Shanks’ own, and like an adorably cuddly cat the omega nuzzled into Shanks, mumbling the most exhaustedly cute ‘good morning’ Shanks ever heard. 

A smile drawn to the alpha’s lips, Shanks settled a hand in the dark of Mihawk’s hair as he gravitated his mouth to the crown of the omega’s head. Pressing a kiss there, Shanks murmured back warmly, “Good morning to you too, beautiful.” 

With another stretch, Mihawk spent the next few minutes drifting in and out of a doze. He was weak to sleep and unbearably fond of a good one. That, coupled with the enticing warmth Shanks exuded and Mihawk was a bit helpless but to keep giving into the urge to let his eyes drift shut. Shanks didn’t mind. If anything, he felt terribly fond at present, filled with such striking sentimentality that the burning warmth in his chest rumbled into the makings of a soft purr. The sound vibrated out of him quietly, only further coaxing Mihawk into a state of boneless relaxation as the omega pressed his face to Shanks’ rumbling chest and breathed him in. 

After what could have been hours spent lazing in bed together, Mihawk finally lifted his head to blink those striking treasure-gold eyes at the alpha. They were still soft with sleep, but more cognizant than before as the omega propped his chin up on the sternum of Shanks’ chest. Shanks was struck with the glorious image of Mihawk not only in his bed, but lying on top of him while cast in the alluring gleam of a cloudless sunrise. The omega’s hair was ruffled, mused from all his previous nuzzling and burrowing, and it was cute . Too cute that Shanks really didn’t think he could feel anymore endeared, but that was before an early-morning smile worked to the pink of Mihawk’s lips to grin at the alpha serenely. 

“You have a nice purr,” The omega pointed out simply, voice warmed and husky as he trailed a hand up Shanks’ arm to settle on his shoulder, “Never heard it until now, but it’s nice.” 

Shanks swallowed dryly, “Yeah?” He sounded hoarse to his own ears, still worn from the toll last night took on him. 

If Mihawk noticed, he didn’t mind. In fact, he nodded against Shanks before pulling himself up, close enough now that their noses could touch as Mihawk slithered up the alpha’s torso. Red eyes stared up enchanted at the vision of a soft Mihawk. For as sharp and sublime as he was when he scowled and fought, there was something equally enticing about his gentleness. He was surprisingly affectionate, and maybe it was the quiet of the morning that spurred him into being so, or perhaps it was the freeing knowledge that he could . Mihawk could settle against Shanks, and instead of being rebuffed or being cornered back into that too-small box Shanks once strove to contain him in, the alpha would accept anything the omega gave. 

So, when Mihawk dipped down to brush a kiss against Shanks’ mouth, Shanks met him. The omega didn’t deepen the affection more than a peck. He rested against Shanks’ mouth, closed lip and still, and it only took Shanks a moment to realize that Mihawk might not know what to do next. 

Breaking away to tuck Mihawk’s dark hair behind the point of his ears, Shanks asked, “You’ve never kissed before, right?” 

The alpha felt Mihawk’s ears warm. The omega wasn’t bashful per say, but he did glance off to the side in a show of uncertainty. 

“I thought my experience level would have been obvious last night.” 

Aiming to ease any insecurities Mihawk might have had, Shanks cupped the omega’s jaw, urging the older to look back at him. Grinning in encouragement, Shanks nosed against Mihawk once more, pressing another chaste kiss to the omega’s lips and watched in delight as Mihawk’s eyes fluttered shut as a result. 

“To be honest,” Shanks confessed, “I wasn’t really in the right of mind last night. Probably didn’t make for the best kisser myself.” He had been snotty and wet with tears. He was probably a mess , and Mihawk loathed messes with a passion. 

As if sensing that line of thought, Mihawk skirted his own fingers into Shanks’ hair, straddling the alpha fully as he promised, “For a first kiss I couldn’t complain, and considering I don’t have much to compare it too…” 

Seeing the invitation in that remark, Shanks chuckled in a charmed manner, “Suppose I can remedy that for you, if you’d like.” 

A returning coy smile thrilled Shanks from the inside out, “Only if you’re equally inclined.” 

With his permission given, Shanks took it slow, working his way towards Mihawk’s mouth with deliberate intention. Like before, he kept the affection chaste at first, knowing that the mood didn’t call for the same level of passion he felt last night. When he felt Mihawk breathe against him, tilting his head in a show of inquisitiveness, Shanks met that curiosity by pressing a bit firmer as he guided Mihawk with easy coaxing. Mihawk’s mouth naturally parted when Shanks did the same, following the alpha’s lead until they were kissing properly. 

A shiver of excitement shot like lightning down Shanks’ spine, prickling beneath his skin as he was enticed into breaking away, then kissing Mihawk squarely on the mouth again. Mihawk met him, a little more confident this time as he fell into the rhythm Shanks set. They came together over and over, taking the affection a little deeper each time, their fingers holding on just a bit tighter, their flesh warming with an aroused blush as Shanks drew his first moan from the omega. It was a soft and delicate sound, barely heard from where it nestled in the back of Mihawk’s throat, but it was more than enough to spur Shanks as he threaded his fingers in Mihawk’s hair and let his tongue drift along Mihawk’s bottom lip. The omega, uncertain with how to meet the silent request, simply let his lip be drawn between Shanks’ teeth. As the alpha gently nipped, following the bite with a teasing suckle, Mihawk groaned again, louder and more demanding as he tried to mimic Shanks with his own tongue. 

Shanks felt the dart of the muscle against his lips, and eager to taste properly, the alpha opened to Mihawk with a welcomingly parted mouth as he let their tongues touch for the first time. 

And oh—oh that was nice . 

Diligent in everything that he did, Mihawk was an exceedingly fast learner, and it didn’t take him long at all to discover all the little nuances that came with making out. Within minutes he was an expert, working his tongue against Shanks’ in taunting delight as his nails dragged against the younger’s scalp, tugging at his red hairs in a way that had the alpha gasping. When Shanks sucked in that wild intake of breath, Mihawk burrowed into him with renewed fervor, encouraged by the positive reactions Shanks was showing as he kissed the alpha senseless. With the omega straddling his hips, it was all Shanks could do not to grind up, to take this little session of theirs and turn it into something more . He knew he must’ve been scenting with arousal, the heady notes of his desire weighing on the air, but Shanks didn’t dare do more than meet Mihawk kiss for kiss. He grew dizzy from it, dumb as the omega appeared intent on learning all there was about the art of kissing. 

And of course Mihawk would want to. He was the type to be the best at everything, and driving Shanks wild with his affection wouldn’t be an exception to the rule. 

Still, if Mihawk kept kissing him like this, the desire coursing through Shanks’ veins wouldn’t be ignored for much longer, and while the thought of taking this a step further was one that had him verbally moaning at the idea, it was just a bit too soon to indulge in something like that. 

Breaking away with a wanton gasp, Shanks eased Mihawk with firm hands on the other’s hips, taking a moment to catch his breath as he focused on taming his own lustful excitement. 

“Easy there gorgeous,” Shanks panted, striving not to press Mihawk against him in search of delicious friction, “For as fantastic as kissing you is, if you keep going like that, kissing isn’t going to be the only thing on my mind.” 

It wasn’t the only thing on his mind now, but rather than voice the wants he was imagining when looking up at Mihawk astride him, Shanks reached for that last thread of self-control and clung to it. 

Lips kissed a tempting red, Mihawk stared at Shanks with thoughtful consideration. The yellow of his eyes narrowed with scrutiny, and with a sort of mischievous lilt to his smirk, the omega adjusted on Shanks, pressing against the alpha’s rather obvious intrigue. The redhead groaned deeply, eyes squeezed shut as he involuntarily bucked upwards, driving his clothed cock against Mihawk’s backside with wavering restraint. 

There was a chuckle from above him, a self-satisfied little laugh that undoubtedly spelled trouble for Shanks. 

“What? A little bit of kissing is all it takes to get you worked up? I expected more from an alpha of your renown.” The tease was accompanied by fingers settling on Shanks’ pecs, curious and fleeting as they trailed a wayward path wherever they pleased. 

Shanks exhaled heavily as his darkened red eyes scowled half-heartedly at the omega, “It’s been awhile.” He grumpily admitted. 

Mihawk, clearly amused, demanded lightly, “Oh? How long has it been then?” 

The alpha gave a little shrug, “I dunno. Maybe four, no five years? I stopped caring a while ago.” 

On top of him, Shanks felt Mihawk stiffen. The gold glimmer of his stare lost its teasing spark only to bleed into genuine disbelief instead, “You haven’t—not even during a rut?” 

Shanks shook his head, “No. It…it didn’t feel right.” He confessed, cheeks warming as he looked off to the side, “Anytime I tried, it just wasn’t what I wanted, or rather who I wanted.” 

Shanks had been mortified when he tried to get frisky with a pretty beta woman before setting off to the New World, only to discover that he couldn’t even get it up past half mast. Back then, Shanks chalked it up to stress and nerves about his upcoming adventures, but he remembered thinking throughout the entire ordeal how she smelled too sweet, and her hair wasn’t dark enough, or her eyes not bright enough. She didn't have the right muscles or a flare for dramatics, and she—she wasn’t Mihawk, and ever since the omega had triggered Shanks’ rut all those years ago by leaving his scent on Shanks’ shirt, his dick decided it didn’t want to work for anyone that wasn’t the omega straddling him now. 

Which was ridiculous and embarrassing to admit. Shanks wasn’t unaware of the rumors that surrounded him. People thought he was a hotshot, a pretty boy that left a trail of broken hearts in his wake. Surely an alpha of his caliber must have fucked his way through the entirety of the grand line, and while he’d been working on that prior to reuniting with Mihawk during their initial three year separation, after he saw the fully grown swordsman again, the sex with random and nameless faces became lonely and unfulfilling. He ended up abstaining and enduring his ruts with only his hand and the memories of Mihawk’s scent to keep him occupied. It wasn’t great, but it was better than continuously going flaccid every time someone didn’t moan in the tone he imagined Mihawk might, or didn’t laugh in that breathy and amused way the omega so often did. 

Yeah, Shanks had been gone on Mihawk for awhile, and it was honestly a miracle he hadn’t done something about it until years after the fact. 

“You…” 

Shanks chanced a glance at his counterpart, and watched in disbelief as pink started to color Mihawk’s cheeks. It was a rarity—no, Shanks was pretty sure he had never seen Mihawk blush so obviously before, but there was no denying the redness brightening the omega’s nose until his whole face was a hue of bashfulness. 

And oh, that was adorable . 

With a clever thought in the back of his mind, Shanks did away with his own embarrassment as he charmingly asked, “Does that please you?” 

Mihawk’s face colored even more as he struggled to formulate a proper answer. 

Smirking, Shanks eased the palms of his hands up Mihawk’s sides, taking in the feel of his rigid and lithe muscles, “Does it make you happy knowing that I haven’t been touched in years?” 

“I—“ Mihawk visibly struggled to wrap his mind around the reveal as he scented with a myriad of feelings. The most prominent among those was arousal. Not only was the omega pleased, he was enticed . 

Adjusting their position so that Shanks could lean up and press his chest against Mihawk’s own, the alpha purred soothingly as he let his smile curve into the omega’s neck, “You’re so sweet,” Shanks praised, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you blush like this.” 

“I’m not—I’m not blushing!” Mihawk argued, “And no one in their right mind would call the world’s greatest swordsman sweet .” 

Shanks chuckled again as he said, “I beg to differ.” 

Letting a kiss linger against Mihawk’s scenting glands, the alpha relished in the tiny hitch of breath that action provoked, “Oh you really are a delight, aren’t you angel?” 

Mihawk sputtered with embarrassment, “Don’t call me that.” 

“Why not? Because you like it?” The alpha proposed as he peppered another kiss to the omega’s throat, “I thought I already told you: a treasure like you should never go a day without being told how lovely you are.” 

“Your flattery isn’t swaying me.” The omega grumbled, but it certainly sounded like he was being swayed, especially when Shanks grazed his teeth along unblemished skin, his canines catching on a gland until Mihawk scented wonderfully. 

Mihawk mewled a bit, unwillingly leaning into the impromptu scenting, and Shanks could feel his arousal slam back into him in full force. He knew he needed to pull back lest he get carried away again, but it proved difficult when Mihawk threaded his fingers in Shanks’ hair to keep him rooted in place. The alpha trembled with restraint, shoulders visibly shaking as he suckled one last kiss to Mihawk’s neck. It was tempting just to give in, but Mihawk deserved to be courted properly first. He deserved much more than a random indulgence, especially if it would be his first time ever taking a knot, let alone being intimate with someone else. 

With a show of self control Beckmann would commend him for, Shanks sucked in a wavering breath and nudged the omega off his lap. If Mihawk kept sitting there, pressed against the alpha’s cock like he was born to be in Shanks’ lap, then that self control he was priding himself on at present would fly right out the window. 

The alpha was embarrassingly hard, basically leaking within the trousers that kept him contained, and with an arm thrown over his face, Shanks fell back into the bed with the full intention of spending the next few minutes calming down. 

“Yeah, you’re definitely going to be the death of me,” Shanks grunted, “Sorry about that.” 

“What are you sorry for?” Mihawk sounded a bit unraveled, the perfect poise he usually spoke with tempered with a kick of lust. 

Shanks chanced a glance at him, but discovered that was a bad idea. Mihawk was fucking beautiful sitting in bed, his shirt slipping from his shoulders and his yellow eyes still wild with emotion. Shanks quickly covered his face back up with a groan as he rolled over onto his belly. 

“You’re being unfair.” 

The omega scoffed in disbelief, “How am I being unfair ?” 

Shanks smothered himself with a pillow, hoping that might lessen the allure of Mihawk’s scent, “I’m going to need a few minutes, love. Alone .” 

His meaning wasn’t missed. The dawning comprehension of Shanks’ current dilemma had Mihawk clearing his throat as he shifted, “I—I could help…” he offered with an air of uncertainty, sounding so unbearably shy about the whole affair Shanks thought he might cum then and there. 

“ So unfair.” The alpha whined. 

“Again, I’m not seeing how I’m being unfair when I just offered to—to assist —“

“Angel. Darling. Sweetheart. Dear , please ,” Shanks practically begged, “I am trying really, really hard to court you properly, and while I am heavily tempted to accept your irresistible offer, please let me do right by you this time. I’ll just—I’ll only be a few moments.” 

It would probably only take seconds to knot his hand like a hormonal teenager all over again, but he refrained from revealing the extent of his current suffering. 

Mihawk scented with potent arousal, seemingly only further intrigued by Shanks’ begging, and the alpha’s hand unwillingly shot to his dick as he whimpered. The omega, thankfully, allowed Shanks those few moments of privacy as he hurried from the room, and as soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Shanks rabidly tugged on his cock. With his face pressed into the blankets and sucking in every remnant of scent Mihawk left behind, he came humiliatingly fast. He knotted in seconds , the guttural moan torn from him as he pictured—imagined sinking deep into his omega and just—oh, oh—

Clarity came back to Shanks as soon as his knot started to go down. He blinked the haze of arousal from his mind, a little startled by the intensity of his own desire as he glanced at his cum-soaked hand. Then again, he shouldn’t have been all that surprised. Mihawk was always an itch underneath his skin, and now that Shanks could scratch it without feeling horribly guilty, it was no wonder he was having an impossible time keeping himself at bay. 

Feeling better and a little less on edge, Shanks worked to clean himself up. In the mirror, he looked every bit of the mess he felt like. His eyes were still swollen from last night, his cheeks flushed with clear evidence of what he just did in bed, and his hair was wild from where Mihawk had pulled and tugged and coerced Shanks into a fit that left him so desperate that the only way to keep himself from burrowing into Mihawk was to rut into his own hand instead. Sighing heavily, Shanks slapped himself lightly on the cheeks, telling himself to pull it together. Now that he experienced first hand just how exquisite his omega was, maybe he could be better prepared next time Mihawk sought to touch and kiss and tongue—

And oh —that imagery was going to take some getting used. Shanks didn’t think he would ever get used to it, but one could try. 

Making himself presentable, Shanks finally left his room still shrouded in the scent of hormones and sex, but capable of masking it enough not to be completely obvious about it. He found Mihawk downstairs seated at a table, a plate of breakfast in front of him as he idly stared at the steaming cup of coffee in his hands. Upon seeing him, Shanks paused at the base of the steps, taking a moment just to appreciate the omega in all his fine glory before closing the last bit of distance between the two. 

“Sorry about that,” Shanks greeted as he dipped down and pressed a kiss to Mihawk’s cheeks before settling into his own chair, “Got a bit carried away.” 

The alpha grinned cheekily, more at ease now that he wasn’t thirsting to lick between the crevice of Mihawk’s ass and—

Shanks reached for the second cup of coffee resting on the table and took a hearty gulp. The tips of Mihawk’s ears were still tellingly red, but the omega had managed to school his expression back into its usual neutrality for the most part. 

With a deliberate effort to keep himself completely stoic, Mihawk said, “It’s fine, Red. It's only natural, isn’t it?” 

His inquiry was rhetorical, the yellow of his eyes darting off to the side as he refused to look Shanks in the face. The alpha grinned softly, surprised at how shy Mihawk could be. Granted, it was understandable. The omega had never been in a relationship before, had never done anything with anyone beyond mostly fighting, and it could be overwhelming. It was overwhelming, even for Shanks who was experienced—at least more than Mihawk—in the art of sex and romance. 

“So…” Shanks started off in search of a topic to divert away from the fact he just came viciously in his hand not but ten minutes ago, “Watcha doin in a small town like this?” 

Seemingly grateful for the alpha’s valiant effort to diffuse the tension, Mihawk replied, “I was bored and heard there would be a tournament for swordsmen. I figured I could stop by and see if any were worth their salt and my time.” 

“And I’m guessing they weren’t?” Shanks surmised, head leaning into his hand as he gazed adoringly at the omega. 

Mihawk’s lips twitched when he caught Shanks’ stare before he determinedly focused on his coffee, “No. Well, I suppose I didn’t see the final rounds before you—and we—“ 

The omega drank his coffee, cutting off his stammer before it could worsen. 

Shanks warmed, utterly charmed. It was the rarest of privileges to see Dracule Mihawk so flustered. The omega was clearly having a difficult time maintaining that placid mask of indifference. Whether it was caused by the kissing, or Shanks’ subsequent lust that came after, or even the heartfelt conversation that occurred last night—regardless, Mihawk was affected by the entire ordeal. Mihawk’s emotions were getting the better of him, and it was a fight Shanks never thought the unflappable omega would ever lose. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” Mihawk grumbled, striving for irritation as he set his finished coffee back on the table. 

“Like what?” Shanks innocently inquired, knowing damn well how he was looking at the omega. His omega. 

Another twitch flitted across the swordsman's lips, “Just quit staring. It’s mannerless.” 

“I was raised by pirates. Pirates don’t often have manners.” 

Mihawk frowned, and this time his annoyance was semi-genuine, “Don’t remind me. It’s bad enough I’m attracted to a classless idiot, I don’t need it flaunted in my face.” 

“Hey!” Shanks barked out a loud laugh, “I’m not that bad!” 

“You chug wine like you’re drinking booze from a barrel. It’s tasteless .” Mihawk snootily pointed out, and ah , there was the bratty man Shanks was so used to dealing with. 

Lifting his hands in surrender, Shanks conceded, “I’ll give you that, but to be fair, you and Beckmann are about the only pirates I ever met who care about drinking etiquette. Unless we’re swearing allegiances and forming alliances, booze is booze, ain’t it?” 

Mihawk looked utterly appalled by the sentiment. Shanks dared to loop his coveted wine in the same class as other alcohol, which undoubtedly was one of the most offensive things Mihawk probably ever heard Shanks say. 

Smiling in the face of Mihawk’s disgusted scoff, Shanks reached over and snatched a piece of toast off the omega’s breakfast place, grinning around a mouthful of bread after he took a large bite. The swordsman glared for a moment, but the expression lightened with a roll of his eyes as the omega scooted the rest of his breakfast in the alpha’s direction. 

“Help yourself.” 

“Thanks angel,” Shanks breathed as he greedily went for the bacon next, “I’m starvin’.” 

Yellow eyes took in the alpha shrewdly, “You haven’t been eating properly.” He observed knowingly, “You’ve lost weight.” 

“Still handsome though, right?” Came the alpha’s cheeky response. 

Mihawk arched a brow, not moved by the other’s charm in the slightest. 

Shanks pursed his lips and shrugged, “Was more focused on catching up to you than getting stable meals. You’re a hard man to find, even with that nifty little card you gave me.” 

A pinch developed between the older’s brows, a little furrow of concern he didn’t bother trying to hide, “I see…” 

“I didn’t expect it would be easy.” Shanks tried to justify. 

When he set out from his crew in search of Mihawk, and perhaps in search of himself as well, he went in full knowing that he might face countless obstacles along the way. Truthfully, he was lucky to have made it this far without a major incident. He wouldn’t take for granted this opportunity he was given, and he certainly didn’t want Mihawk to feel guilty over something as meaningless as being difficult to pin down. With his profession and reputation, it was actually a good thing that he wasn’t easy to locate. 

Upon seeing that the alpha wasn’t largely concerned over the details, Mihawk’s concern lessened, but he did make a point to order another plate of food for the alpha’s enjoyment. 

“I assume that it’s just you then?” Mihawk gauged carefully, “I do not sense your crew on or near the island.” 

“Yeah, it’s just me.” Shanks said, “The boys are…somewhere, probably. They’ll be fine with Beckmann taking over the reins for a while.” 

The omega tilted his head curiously, “How long is a ‘while’?” 

The alpha slowed in his rabid consumption of his breakfast. His neck warmed, and if his hands itched for the comfort of his straw hat, Mihawk didn’t make a mention of it. 

Shanks, as steadily as he could manage, answered honestly, “Indefinitely.” 

There was a flicker of surprise in the depth of Mihawk’s stare as the alpha went on to explain, “I just…I’ve got to get some things sorted. I’m not where I need to be with how I am now, and…” Shanks hesitated to say more, but he had already laid his heart out on the table between the two of them, so there was no use trying to hide it away now, “And I want to do right by us. I want to focus on you for as…as long as I can get away with it, really.” 

Because he knew that at some point, he would go back to where he left off. That the call of the sea and the necessity of his dream would inevitably request his return, but until that summons came, he wanted to spend every moment of the foreseeable future dedicating himself to Mihawk. He wanted to prove to the omega that he was serious about this, about them , and that whatever the future held in store, he wanted to face it together. Up until this point, the alpha was determined to keep his dream from intermixing with Mihawk’s life. He was afraid that it would be unfair of him to bring the omega into something that he wasn’t necessarily a part of, but Mihawk made it clear that while Shanks’ intentions were noble in nature, if the alpha wanted this—if he wanted Mihawk —than they had to share all parts of their lives. 

But before any of that—before he focused too much on the future—he wanted to dedicate himself to the present. He wanted to build a proper relationship with Mihawk. He wanted to lay unshakable foundations so that, even in the insurmountable trials that might lay ahead, they would be unwavering in the face of them. 

Chancing a glance at the omega, Shanks discovered that Mihawk was watching him, his lips curved into a subtly tender smile of affection. The omega looked pristine, a picture of the tranquility he often scented as he nodded in acceptance of Shanks’ answer. 

“I’d like that. Though, I suppose we might need a bigger ship. My Hitsugibune is not amenable to two fully grown men.” 

Tension eased out of Shanks as he smiled genuinely, “But the coffin boat is funny! It fits your whole aesthetic.” The alpha made a wayward gesture at Mihawk’s whole vibe as he resumed his eating, “And we have such great memories on that raft. You remember, don't you?” 

Mihawk snorted, “I remember you kicking me in your sleep every night.” 

“At least I don’t snore.” Shanks shot back, and watched with nothing short of glee as Mihawk vehemently denied doing anything of the sort. “Well how would you know? You’re asleep.” 

“Because, it doesn’t fit my aesthetic as you so eloquently put it.” Mihawk insisted, leaving no room for argument on the matter. 

Shanks grinned lazy and happy, and as Mihawk groused in his chair like a petulant child, the alpha knew he was in love. The most in love someone could really be with another person, and it still ached in a way. It scared him. Terrified him, actually, but he was willing to set that fear aside in favor of embracing that love with open arms. It was high time that he stopped hurting himself and the ones he claimed to cherish. 

With that thought in mind, Shanks reached over the table, conquering the space between them to grab Mihawk's hand. The omega gave him a mild look of surprise with just a hint of confusion, but when the alpha threaded their fingers together and coupled the action with a kiss to Mihawk’s knuckles, the confusion turned into warm affection. 

Mihawk softened, “I suppose I can endure your false claims in regards to my sleeping habits for however long you make them.” 

Shanks huffed out a loving laugh as emotion swelled and stirred at the core of him, “Thank you,” he whispered sincerely, “I appreciate it.” 

He loved Mihawk, and wanted to build everything with him. Mihawk already occupied the space in Shanks’ heart, and it was about time that the red-haired alpha allowed him the space in his life as well. It was frightening, but when the omega’s hand subtly squeezed Shanks’ back, the alpha found he was more thrilled than anything else. Like the exhilaration experienced in their duels, and the tenderness that came afterwards, Mihawk made him feel all heights of emotions, and brought him to depths of feelings difficult to comprehend. 

Mihawk would become Shanks’ omega, and the alpha couldn’t think of a greater honor than that. 

Chapter Text

Absolution by Divine Grace

“So what constitutes courting in your opinion? I’ve read journals from historians, but I find it difficult to believe you have anything that traditional in mind.” 

With a ship only marginally bigger than a raft procured, the pair had set sail not long after their breakfast, and now, two days later, they fell into an easy rhythm that was so very similar to those precious first days of knowing each other in their youth. 

Shanks was working at the sail, making repairs to the stitching where he saw fit. It wasn’t the most impressive ship, or the most well made. The alpha gave it six months tops before they had to hunt for a new one. 

“I can be a traditional man if I want to.” Shanks claimed, glancing over his shoulder at where the omega was strewn on the deck, hat pulled partially over his face to conceal the sun from his eyes. He was shirtless, a fact Shanks couldn’t help but lewdly appreciate when he eyed the toned and refined definition of the swordsman's blemishless torso. 

Mihawk lazily reached for the bottle of wine—a staple supply product on any ship the omega traveled on, apparently, “Maybe traditional in the pirating sense, but I doubt you’d want to wait a full year before knotting me as the old ways demand.” 

Shanks’ face pinched, “Uh…yeah. Definitely not.” 

He didn’t think he could last a year, truthfully. Especially with how the mere mention of ‘knotting’ passing between Mihawk’s disastrously beautiful lips already had him hot beneath the flimsy neckline of his shirt. 

Going back to his stitching (and really he was quite awful at it, but he did his best), Shanks said, “I mean, I’ve never courted anyone before so I guess I’m just going to wing it? Do what feels right, you know?” 

He’d probably buy Mihawk loads of flowers because he’d always like the romanticism and the symbolism of it, and perhaps they could take a stroll by the seaside at sunset, or indulge in the fine cuisine on exotic islands, or attend a lantern lit festival as infectious music lulled them into joining together for a dance beneath the stars. 

Absorbed in his thoughts, he didn’t realize Mihawk was laughing until he heard the musical chuckles over the gusts of wind that blew by. 

Startled, the alpha turned to the omega, and watched in delight as Mihawk laughed easily at his answer, “I’d almost forgotten how carefree you could be with how serious you’ve become over the years.” 

Mihawk tilted his hat up, revealing the bright light of his enigmatic eyes, “You could say I’m charmed by your levity, Red.” 

The alpha’s cheeks colored and warmed, a hidden smile working on his lips as he refocused on the task at hand, “I have ideas okay? It’s just difficult to plan when I’ve no clue where we’re going and when we’ll get there.” 

An easy sound mused out of Mihawk as he returned to his earlier position, “If I recall, you take great amusement in my lack of navigating.” 

“You’re a human log pose.” Shanks asserted, “It’s as funny as it’s still unbelievable.” 

Even to this day, Mihawk relied on only his otherworldly luck to get him where he needed to be. It was baffling to Shanks, and he found it no less fascinating than he did as a teenager. 

Making the final sew on the sail about an hour later, Shanks observed his handiwork, deemed it suitable enough, and wandered over towards the omega. Bobbing along the sea like they were took him back to the time they spent sailing together. Except, unlike then Shanks was a fully grown adult now, and also unlike then, he could reach out and touch Mihawk without fear that the omega might cut him for his handsy ways. 

“Hey,” Shanks nudged the dozing swordsman with his toe, rousing the other from his easy nap, “Wanna duel?” 

“In the middle of the ocean? We’ll destroy the boat.” 

“Alright, no Haki then.” Shanks compromised, “Come on , I know you want to.” 

Mihawk eyed him from beneath the brim of his hat before conceding, “Very well, but we both know if Haki isn’t in play, I’m clearly you’re better when it comes to technique and skill.” 

Shanks gasped as if offended, his hand playfully coming to rest over his heart, “You wound me angel, and we haven’t even fought yet.” 

An amused smirk worked on Mihawk’s lips as he stood to full height, graceful even in the rocking of the ship. Shanks got a little distracted by the subtle flare to Mihawk’s movements, dramatic in a way the swordsman would never admit to being. He was fabulous and dangerous. His trousers sat low on his hips, dipping in a way that was almost obscene as he reached for where Yoru was resting against the single mast of their ship. Every movement the omega made flexed the delicious and hard-earned muscles of his figure, the striations so meticulously cultivated through decades of training that it was easy to believe Mihawk had been sculpted by the hands of god himself. With his wide-brimmed hat donned and the feather delicately quiffed, Mihawk was unfairly sexy. 

Suddenly, Shanks severely regretted asking for a duel, because suddenly his mind was filled with other thoughts not exactly appropriate for the clashing of swords between men. 

Hip cocked to the side in a show of arrogance, Mihawk taunted with his treasure-eyes for Shanks to make the first move. The alpha certainly had a few ideas on what moves he could be making at present, but instead of giving in to temptation, Shanks grabbed for Gryphon. 

They started out easily enough, merely testing the waters as they parried and stabbed, exchanging a few causal blows in an attempt to gauge the other’s ferocity. Mihawk’s sweeping movements with Yoru were bewitching, his mastery over both his body and his sword showing in his unrivaled fluidity when it came to technique and execution. He pivoted with honed instinct, his footwork akin to a dance as he side-stepped and countered. Shanks met him step for step, falling into the omega’s rhythm as he met Mihawk’s ethereal grace with red-hot passion. 

Without Haki, the duel felt considerably more intimate. Their actions were precise, more determined to test legitimate skill than raw power. Nothing was done without purpose, no breath or flex of the muscle wasted as Gryphon and Yoru clashed with a musical ringing. As focused as Shanks was in matching the omega, he couldn’t help but feel drawn in as if the duel was less of a fight and more of a summons. Mihawk was continuously dancing out of reach, almost playful as he evaded, only to slip through Shanks’ defenses with practiced ease. Shanks managed to counter those daring advances, but they left him breathless each time. They left him feeling as if he were being provoked or enticed, spellbound by the way Mihawk teased and tested him. 

The rhythm of their duel picked up pace as it went on. When they came close, they were mere inches apart, only to repel to opposite ends of the boat before indulging in another exchanging of blows. Shanks felt wild with exhilaration and could see that same feeling displayed in the thrill of Mihawk’s yellow eyes. Beckmann had once called their duels a mating dance, and Shanks thought the old beta might not have been too far off. He certainly felt as if he was being seduced, coerced into giving chase to the world’s most enticing omega. 

As their swordplay increased in intensity, Shanks started to scent Mihawk in the air. The breath of him was refreshing, yet tantalizing. His mouth watered without realizing it, his eyes darkening as Mihawk pulled away from him again. The omega was as fleeting as the wind, slipping between Shanks’ fingers each time he thought he might have succeeded in capturing him. Firmer in his stance, Shanks felt a prickle of instinct stir beneath his skin as it settled in the pit of his stomach. Mihawk had once again evaded the alpha with practiced ease, not even bothering much with his sword as he subverted all of Shanks’ attempts to gain leverage. The grin on his lips was both challenging and inviting, the scent of him rousing Shanks until he was less determined to best Mihawk with a sword, and more focused on getting his mouth on the other’s scent glands. 

With the tension undeniably sensual in nature, Shanks went after Mihawk with predatory determination. If this beautiful omega wanted to dangle himself as if he were coveted prey to a starving man, then Shanks would answer that beckoning with eager desire. A low growl tumbled out of the alpha, an action that merely spurred Mihawk’s playfulness. The omega scented more vibrantly, a sinewy siren as capable of killing Shanks as he was of captivating the alpha. More and more Shanks was drawn into the other’s web, helpless but to succumb to the inevitable want tethering between the two. He was pulled forward yet again, surging with barely contained intensity as he forwent the use of Gryphon to latch onto Mihawk with his hands instead. One hand moved to secure itself around the fingers clinging to Yoru, the other wrapped around Mihawk’s waist, pressing the omega close until he was molded against Shanks’ front. 

The easy lilt to Mihawk’s smile was provoking in its own right. His yellow eyes flashed as if he had let Shanks capture him. The alpha hadn’t earned his victory—he’d been given it, proving the point over and over again that there wasn’t anyone truly worthy of this divine creature Shanks now held within his grasp. Even so, the alpha had been chosen. Mihawk deemed him good enough at the very least. Shanks would worship him. He’d devote an entire religion dedicated to this glorious man, to this sublime being who was too good , too irresistible. 

Chest heaving, Shanks tried to see through the blur of his awakened instincts. He couldn’t, not when Mihawk scented again, not when he purred and pressed back into Shanks like he was eager and wanton. The omega’s neck was gracefully displayed, throat stretched in luring permission. Shanks merely had to give in, to take his reward. To claim and have and—

“What are you waiting for, alpha ?” Mihawk tempted in a sinful drawl, the depths of his voice reaching into the core of Shanks’ being and invigorating him, “Pirates don’t ask permission.” 

The sound that was coerced out of Shanks was neither a growl nor a cry, but something mixed between as he obeyed the omega’s given command and brought his teeth and his tongue to the pulse point of Mihawk’s neck. He was met with full allowance, Yoru slipping from Mihawk’s grasp as he chose to thread his fingers in the bright red of Shanks’ hair instead. The alpha moaned, heavy breaths panting hot on Mihawk’s skin as he dug his teeth into the give of his glands, spurring a plethora of scent for the alpha to indulge in. His entire body vibrated with possessive delight as he squeezed Mihawk close to him, thinking the other could not be close enough. He was moving them next, backing them up against the sleep cabin at the far end of their ship, pressing Mihawk heatedly against the worn wood as his tongue lavished and lips suckled to procure more of the omega’s taste. 

God, he was out of his mind, the single point of focus in his thoughts being Mihawk, Mihawk, and Mihawk . The words ‘omega’ and ‘mine’ made their appearance as well, and it was all Shanks could do not to rut between the swordsman’s legs like a dog in heat. 

Cold fingers slid beneath the collar of Shanks’ shirt, digging into the muscle of the alpha’s shoulders, coaxing and pulling the other closer. Catching the hint, Shanks yanked Mihawk up, forcibly guiding the omega’s legs around his waist as he crowded the swordsman, seating himself firmly between the older’s shapely legs. Mihawk’s thighs squeezed , tightening as a telling wetness dampened the bottom of his pants. Shanks could scent the other’s arousal, could taste the notes of it on his tongue as he gave another guttural groan, his chest rumbling with such deeply felt desire he didn’t think he could hold back. If Mihawk asked it of him, if he so much as begged, Shanks knew he would not be able to keep his hands from tearing at the omega’s trousers and knotting him good and perfect. He’d seat the fat of his cock in the older, relish in the tight and heat and Mihawk—

There was a slapping on the back of his head, the action strange considering Mihawk was just yanking on his hair with such wanton abandon not but moments before. 

“ Marines .” The swordsman gasped, and though it was not the word Shanks wished he would moan, the sound of his withering control was intoxicating . 

“Screw them,” Shanks grunted, sensing now the approaching ships not far off on the horizon, “If they come anywhere near you when you’re like this, I’ll kill them.” 

He didn’t sound like himself. He sounded feral and owning , and he felt much the same as he sucked a bruising kiss on Mihawk’s throat before determining that he needed to taste the omega’s mouth as well. With careless disregard for potential enemies, Shanks pulled Mihawk into a claiming kiss, drinking in the flavor of the swordsman as Mihawk keened high in the back of his throat. Yes, Shanks needed more of that sound. It was music to his ears. It was the song of the heavens if there ever was one. 

He savored it, milking it from Mihawk as he ground into the omega, dragging their hips together in a sinful roll that really let Shanks feel just how wet the omega was. Wet for him. Wet for his alpha— 

“D-Damn it, Red,” Mihawk pulled away with a gasp, his face flush with longing as he couldn’t help but flutter his eyes shut in drunken feeling, “It’s Garp’s flag, just—“ 

“I’ll kill him too.” Shanks promised, vowing the words as one of his hands skated behind Mihawk, teasing at the waistband of his pants, so very tempted to dip within and seek Mihawk’s pleasure. 

Mihawk seemed torn between wanting Shanks to do it, and wanting him to stop. He whined again, intrigued by the idea that Shanks would murder for him, but his hands still pressed as if needing to push the alpha away. Shanks snarled, burrowing his face in Mihawk’s neck as he sought soul-deep within himself to find a smidgen of willpower, just a small hint of it, to keep from ravishing his omega at this very moment. It was the hardest fought battle he was ever drawn into, the conflict clamoring as he so badly needed and yet knew he shouldn’t. He thought he might give in. He was but a second away from recklessly indulging himself, but by some miracle, some true test of his kingly ambition, Shanks reigned in his instincts, claiming a temporary victory over their visceral demands. 

“Fuck,” he cursed, “Go inside the cabin.” 

He was answered with an offended scoff, “Don’t command me—“ 

“Please, Mihawk,” Shanks all but begged, “I can’t let them see you like this. I physically can’t .” 

Because despite Mihawk having a seemingly better handle on his instincts than Shanks, he was still clearly overwhelmed by them. He was soaked in slick, his eyes blown wide and cheeks burning the most enticing pink Shanks could imagine. His neck was bitten and swollen red, scent glands leaking from where Shanks had drawn the oils from Mihawk’s skin. Shanks knew better than anyone that Mihawk was not a man to be bossed around, and yet Shanks couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else being privy to Mihawk in such a state. This was his privilege. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Shanks pressed his forehead to the omega’s desperately, “You can cut me or hit me later but I—I am not a man capable of letting others see my mate like this.” 

For some reason, his confession provoked Mihawk into kissing him. The swordsman’s hands cradled both sides of Shanks’ face, drawing the alpha into a toe curling embrace that left Shanks dizzy when they parted softly. 

“I’ll permit it,” Mihawk assured, “But do away with them quickly.” 

“Of course.” Shanks promised with the same severity he would over a blood oath. 

The omega kissed him again, indulging in one last little pleasure. Shanks held onto him tightly, thinking there could be no greater bliss than having Mihawk’s tongue eagerly twine with his own. 

“Alright,” Mihawk said as if he were talking more to himself than Shanks, “You’ll have to set me down, Red.” 

“I know.” Shanks grimaced, “S’bit difficult.” 

His hands weren’t working in his favor, and no matter how much he wanted to pry them off of Mihawk’s body, he couldn’t. The marines were getting closer, and really Shanks shouldn’t dawdle, but Mihawk was warm and wanting of him. He was wet and beautiful and kissed to perfection. It was only at the thought of others happening to see Mihawk in such a state that Shanks finally, finally pried his fingers off. He shot away in an instant, knowing that if he didn’t, he would be right back to square one. 

Mihawk slumped against the wall, his knees seemingly weak as he took a moment to catch his breath. Then, with his hands deliberately searching for the door handle, he hurried into the cabin, slamming and locking the door shut behind him. Shanks, as soon as the omega had a barrier between the two of them, scented potently, soaking the air and the ship in an alpha’s mark in order to override the lingering aroma of his omega’s arousal and ward off any who might still detect Mihawk on board. 

After that, Shanks took the few minutes he had before Garp’s ships inevitably came within firing range to get himself under control. He sucked in lungfuls of air, inhaling and exhaling in a purposeful effort to will his raging hard on to go away. His mind was still foggy, the clamor of ‘omega’ and ‘Mihawk’ still ringing loudly in his thoughts. His body told him that Mihawk was right there , separated only by a flimsy door, but Shanks forced himself to the opposing end of the ship regardless of his desire to do anything but. He paced back and forth, his scent and his haki flaring in conjunction with his rampant mood. Leave it to the damn Navy to interrupt. 

Fucking Garp. Shanks swore if that old geezer made one wrong comment he was going to shove Gryphon so far up his admiral ass—

The cannons started firing, but with the blatant force of Shanks’ conqueror's Haki in full effect, the cannonballs didn’t make it near enough to the ship before they were either repelled, or exploded due to the overwhelming nature of Shanks’ kingly ambitions. It didn’t take long for Garp to order his men to cease fire, probably realizing that Shanks was in no mood to play their usual game of cat and mouse. 

When Garp’s ship sailed up beside Shanks’ much smaller one, the alpha crossed his arms and glared up, catching sight of the Vice Admiral in his stupid dog hat as he leaned against the railing. 

“Keep it moving, geezer,” Shanks commanded, “I mean it.”

“You think I’m going to listen to a damn pirate?” The gravelly notes of Garp’s voice carried back to him, “Where’s the rest of your crew, eh boy?” 

“Vacationing.” Shanks replied dryly. 

The brown color of Garp’s eyes darkened in scrutiny, and Shanks knew what the man was thinking. Pirates didn’t go on vacations without their captain. Pirates really didn’t go on vacations in general, either. Their life was already a vacation enough, and there was really no reason to make a formal effort to relax. The lie was a flimsy one, easily picked apart by the hero of the navy who knew pirates probably better than they themselves did. Garp also happened to know Shanks, had seen the redhead grow on the seas over the years, and if the captain wasn’t with his crew at present, there was definitely more of a reason than taking a mere holiday. 

Knowingly, Garp’s eyes glanced at the sleep cabin. Naturally, Shanks interrupted that stare with a low growl, fitting himself between the vice admiral and where his attention had been pulled to. 

And now, if Garp didn’t have any suspicions as to why Shanks was sailing on his own at present, the alpha’s possessive posturing was probably a dead giveaway. 

“Who’s in that cabin, boy?” Garp asked. 

Shanks visibly seethed, “None of your damn business. Now get moving before I lose my patience.” 

His threat was met with Garp’s soldiers stirring into action, moving to point their guns and swords at him as if that were enough to take him down. Garp held his hand up and gestured for his men to back off. 

“That’s a nice looking sword you’ve got lying around.” Came the knowing remark followed by a pointed glare towards the blade in question. 

Shanks stiffened upon realizing that Mihawk hadn’t taken Yoru with him when he had gone into the cabin. To any man worth their salt, they would recognize Yoru’s blade and know well enough who the owner was. And if Garp was anything, it was a man of irritatingly salty proportions. The mere presence of Yoru on Shanks’ little ship was telling enough. Garp knew full well who was in that cabin. 

Alpha instinct lacerated Shanks from within, but before he could do so much as raise a hand against the vice admiral, Garp grinned, “Alright boys, let’s move along.” 

“But Vice Admiral Garp! This is an opportunity to catch red hair without interference from his crew—“ 

“I don’t need no damn handicap to catch that boy,” Garp dismissed, “And anyway, you’re asking for a headache if you go challenging an alpha when his omega’s around.” 

Shanks’ expression tightened with anger. Garp had no right to talk about Shanks’ omega. He had no right to stand there and smile at Shanks as if he was doing the alpha a favor by leaving. 

“If red-hair has a mate than that’s even more reason to—“ 

“Oh leave it alone would you?” Garp grumbled, “I said get the damn ship ready to leave. We’ve no business here. Who the brat screws has no impact on the government.” 

It could have an impact. It certainly had an impact if the one Shanks planned on screwing was Dracule Mihawk, the Greatest Swordsman in the World, but as always, Garp was either playing ignorant or was actually stupid. One could never tell with that man. 

Either way, the result was the same. Garp’s ship pulled away, the old man departing just as he arrived. Shanks watched him go until he was a speck on the horizon, and when their ship was cast in solitude on the sea once more, Shanks finally left his guarding post at the bow and made his way towards the cabin. 

“They’re gone.” He mumbled as he stood outside the door, knocking quietly. 

“I am aware.” Came the dry answer. “I need a moment.” 

“Need a moment?” Shanks’ brows furrowed, “What for—?”

Shanks cut himself off mid sentence as realization dawned on him. Ah and oh . Mihawk was…? 

A demand followed in the next second as Mihawk ordered, “Keep scenting. As obnoxious as your posturing is, it’s—it’s doing wonders.” There was a low moan in Mihawk’s voice, a breathy note to his words, and Shanks’ eyes widened because Mihawk was—he was—oh, oh .

Scenting prominently, Shanks pressed his forehead to the door as his hand went to the front of his pants in order to grasp himself firmly. He tugged his arousal free, panting in renewed desire as he let the smell of his want seep into the air. A full moan emanated from the room now, followed by prominent rustling as Mihawk adjusted his position. Shanks couldn’t help but wonder if Mihawk was on his knees, or if he was reclined on his back. Was the omega sinking his fingers into himself? Slipping the first digit between the wet ring of muscle, curling his finger with a slow drag? Or was he desperate with it? Hurried and needy as he worked at his cock and his slick hole, imagining it was Shanks taking the place of his hands instead? 

“Fuck, Mihawk ,” Shanks whimpered, “Come on sweetheart, I want to hear you.” 

The omega answered him with a pitching whine, and yes , that’s what Shanks wanted to hear, “Are you going to cum gorgeous? You're imagining my knot right now, aren’t you?” He snarled at the fact that he wasn’t giving the other his knot now, but at the very least he could promise how he would do it, “I’d give it to you angel. I’d make you fat with it. I’d sit you on my lap and let you ride. You would like being on top. It suits you, because every god needs his throne, right?”

Shanks worked viciously at his own dick, rutting into his hand as he pressed his nose to the door, desperate just to get a clearer picture of Mihawk’s scent. The swordsman was moaning unabashedly now. He was probably writhing in bed. Overwhelmed and maybe a touch too stimulated. Oh, if Shanks had Mihawk under him right now, the omega would squirm so pretty for him. He’d take Shanks’ cock so well. He’d fit right on it as the alpha sank deep and deeper until Mihawk felt Shanks in his stomach, and then after he left the omega weeping from being fucked to the point of tears , he’d pump his omega so full of cum that’d it be impossible not for it to take, for his seed to sow a pup and—

Shanks muffled his shout as best as he could, but it was still loud as it joined Mihawk’s singing cry and Shanks’ knot swelled. The omega scented blatantly in a show of his unrestrained pleasure. He sounded shocked from it, like he had never—and had he? Had Mihawk ever taken his own bliss or was this the first time? Was it instinct that drove him? A desire spurred by the scent of his alpha that guided his hands to bring him to the point of climax? Shanks hoped that was the case. God he hoped he affected Mihawk as much as Mihawk affected him. 

Panting heavily as his knot started to go down, Shanks continued to lean against the door, his body too weak to find the ability to move. It took everything within him not to barge into the cabin. He could go in and lick Mihawk clean, show him what it was like to be cared for and tended to by an alpha. He humored the thought for only a spare moment, but quickly thrust it away before he could actually commit to the idea. 

Tucking himself back into his pants, Shanks looked around for something to wipe his hand on, but with everything they owned locked in the cabin with Mihawk, Shanks rinsed off his hands in the sea water and figured that would be good enough. He just finished patting his hands dry on his shirt when the cabin door unlocked and swung inward, revealing a very un-put-together Mihawk slumped up in the doorway. 

“Is it always so demanding?” The omega asked, voice scratchy with the remnants of his desire. 

Shanks swallowed dryly, “Is what demanding?” 

“The urges,” Mihawk clarified, expression pinched as his fingers subconsciously tightened from where they were rooted to the wooden threshold, “The need to—to—“ he made a flippant gesture, unable to verbally announce what he had just done to himself. 

Shanks caught on easily enough, “Oh.” He blinked, “Guessin’ you’ve never jacked it? Not even for a heat?” 

Mihawk scowled, “I don’t have heats, Red. Or at least, I don’t ever recall a time in which I would have experienced something similar to one.” 

Shanks blinked again. That was news to him. 

“Mihawk,” he called out, beckoning the omega to emerge fully from the cabin, “Come here for a moment.” 

“What is with you and bossing me around all the time?” 

“Not bossing,” Shanks amended, “Just asking.” 

The swordsman hesitated for a moment, but to avoid an awkward standoff, the omega caved and shuffled towards the red-haired alpha. 

“What do you want?” Mihawk mumbled grouchily, looking off to the side when he was within arm’s reach. 

Shanks sighed a little as he soothed his hands down Mihawk’s arms. The omega didn’t flinch, but his eyes did narrow, a fester of annoyance curling his lip upward. 

“I gotta ask just so I know,” the alpha warned lightly, “But—But have you ever…” Shanks fished for the right words to say, but when he couldn’t come up with a sensitive way to broach the topic, he decided barreling forward was the best way through, “Have you ever felt attraction to anyone besides me? Have you ever been aroused or—or felt an urge like today?” 

Mihawk sniffed delicately, “No. Physical satisfaction has never been a consideration for me, so perhaps that might help you understand why I’m a little concerned by the sheer intensity of this—this feeling .” 

The omega laid a hand over his stomach as if to show where the sensation was sourcing from, “Everytime in the past I might have—I might have become aroused was always at the thought of you, but I never acted on the urges because there was no need to. They were never felt to such a degree as I experienced today, so it was easier to cope and brush it aside, but,” Mihawk grimaced as he stepped forward and laid his head on Shanks’ shoulder, seeking comfort in the red-haired man, “But I have never felt so empty and incapacitated by my own body. It’s baffling. How does one deal with this nonsense? I have only ever been an omega in name only, but now I feel as if some—some part of me has awakened ever since you scented me at the waterfall and I—“ Sucking in a harsh breath, Mihawk breathed his next words against the alpha’s skin as if intending to engrave them, “Now that I have you, it’s like a flip has switched and I need you. It’s insufferable.” 

“Yeah, I suppose you might think it is.” Shanks mused even as his gut clenched at Mihawk’s confession. It was clear that the swordsman was struggling, and that he felt out of his depth—a feeling that the usually adaptable swordsman had probably never felt until this day. Despite the other’s clear turmoil, however, the alpha couldn’t help but be pleased. There was something possessive in his heart, something that purred with the knowledge that he was the only one in the entirety of the world to evoke such emotions in the omega. Mihawk felt so strongly for Shanks that even he couldn’t resist the call of nature, the lust for the pleasures to be had in a joining like theirs. To the omega, he most likely viewed it as an inconvenience. To Shanks, he couldn’t help but marvel at how truly blessed he was. 

“Of course you would find this pleasing,” Mihawk muttered as he scented Shanks’ satisfaction, “I feel like I’m in a constant state of stress with no form of relief.” 

The alpha chuckled, “You’re horny, love. It happens.” 

“It does not happen to me! ” Mihawk exclaimed, “And don’t be crass!” 

When the omega went to pull away, Shanks choked back his laugh and kept the other close, “Alright, I’m sorry,” the alpha smiled into Mihawk’s hair, “I promise I’m not teasing. I’m just…of course I’m happy to hear that I’m the only one who gets you wet.” 

“ Shanks!” Mihawk scolded, exasperated by the alpha’s vulgarity. The alpha could physically feel how red the omega turned from his remark. 

“Aw, come on! I’m a pirate!” Shanks countered, “I’ve said much, much worse. Trust me.” 

From where his face was hidden against Shanks’ chest, the omega huffed, “I don’t doubt that. You’ve always been mannerless.” 

“Either way,” Shanks placed a chaste kiss on the side of Mihawk’s head, “If it makes you feel any better, I’m in the same boat you are, angel.” 

“Yes, I’m aware we are on the same ship.” 

“ Pfft—no not, not literally .” Shanks laughed brightly, “I meant—I mean yes we’re physically in the same boat, but we’re also in the same boat, you know what I mean?” He wiggled his body for emphasis, trying to silently allude to his situation, “What I’m trying to say is that I understand. Well, not the part where I’ve never, you know, not done things. I mean, I think I started jacking off as soon as I presented but—anyway. That’s not the point. The point is that you’re not alone in your suffering, angel. I mean, I don’t know if it’s normal, but I haven’t been this eager to cum in like, ages , and it’s because you’re fucking gorgeous and I love you so it’s—it’s really intense for me to.” 

Shanks felt Mihawk’s eyebrows twitch against him, “Truly you have an unrivaled way with words.” Came the dryly noted assessment, and even though the omega’s sarcasm was palpable, he did relax into Shanks embrace fully now, sighing as he let himself be wrapped up in the alpha’s arms. 

Kissing Mihawk on the crown of his head again (because he didn’t think he could ever stop), Shanks couldn’t help but ask, “So did you think of me when you came— oof !”

Ruthlessly, Mihawk elbowed him in the stomach, and when Shanks doubled over as the air was knocked from his lungs, Mihawk stepped away with a haughty air and went to retrieve Yoru. Shanks’ face strained red and, while well deserved, Mihawk could have held back at least a little . 

“You’re insufferable, Red.” 

“Am I?” The alpha wheezed, “I thought I was charming.” 

Mihawk’s lips flattened at him, but there was a spark of amusement in the yellow of his eyes. At the very least, he looked like he was feeling marginally better than the crisis he was embroiled in just moments before. Shanks figured he could suffer a bruised sternum for the chance to ease Mihawk’s anxieties, and so with the return of his lazy and carefree grin, Shanks seated his straw hat on his hair and laughed. 

Mihawk met him with a quiet chuckle, and it was incredible how everything just felt so right . Mihawk was his just as much as Shanks was Mihawk’s, and that alone was enough reason to love the life he was living. He didn’t know how long he would be away from his crew, or what the future might hold in store, but for now Shanks could enjoy everything that the present had to offer. 

And when Mihawk started working with Yoru out of sheer boredom, sweaty and glorious beneath a late afternoon sky, Shanks knew for a fact the present couldn’t get any better than this. 

They were only at sea for another couple of days when Mihawk had his first challenger, a too young and too cocky alpha sailing on a ship that was clearly overcompensating for something he lacked. The pirate crew had spotted them idly following the currents, sunbathing in complete leisure, and when they recognized Mihawk’s feathered hat and the gem encrusted Yoru, the captain of the crew insisted on having a duel. 

Shanks lifted his straw hat just enough to shoot Mihawk a raised-eyebrow kind of look. The omega sighed, clearly unwilling to move from his napping spot, but the pirates were loud and they didn’t appear to be going away anytime soon. 

“I can handle it if you want,” Shanks offered from where he was strewn out on top of the cabin, “Won’t take me but a minute to scare ‘em off.” 

They weren’t even in the Grand Line, and while pirates in the West Blue tended to be notorious for their brutality, these guys weren’t anything to be concerned about. The fact they so brazenly challenged the world’s leading swordsman without recognizing the sheer difference in their skill levels was telling enough. 

“No. At the very least it’s a way to kill time.” 

Shanks playfully pouted, “Aw, am I not good enough company sweetheart?” 

Mihawk didn’t grace him with an answer as the omega stood to full height. He swept his hat onto his head in that utterly fabulous manner of his, sitting it just right so that it enigmatically concealed a portion of his lethal yellow-eyed glare. 

Shanks bit his lip, shamelessly eyeing the length of his omega with unapologetic appreciation. Mihawk cast him a warning look to not utter a single lewd remark before he leapt off their small ship to board the galleon next to them. The alpha realized Mihawk had left Yoru behind, deeming his challenger unworthy of her blade. His sassy disrespect never failed to horribly amuse Shanks, and with a laid back air about him, Shanks watched from below as the pirate captain warned Mihawk not to underestimate him. 

“Heard you were an omega,” The man spit, “Maybe after I cut you down, I could put that pretty face of yours to use.” 

Shanks stiffened and only barely restrained his instinctual reaction to audibly growl at the captain’s taunting. He had forgotten that many around the world, despite Mihawk’s undefeated record, still only saw the swordsman as an omega and nothing else. They harbored the belief that he should be bred and kept at home, put to work in service of an alpha to spend his life living on his knees. Just the mere thought of such ignorant ideals existing drove Shanks mad, but he kept his rage in check. He knew Mihawk well enough not to get involved in a proper duel between swordsmen, even if the omega’s adversary was a piece of shit who didn’t deserve the slightest bit of respect. 

Mihawk, for his part, didn’t react much when faced with the belittling taunts. Like he did in their youth, the swordsman simply dismissed the insults with no more than a passing concern, “If you’re finished with your petty attempts to feel superior, I’d like to commence our duel some time today. I may have an abundance of free time, but I’d rather not waste it on insects unworthy of my attention.” 

There was a growl that rippled from the pirate captain in response to Mihawk’s mockery. Shanks felt his own hackles rise in turn, but he contained his reaction once more as he watched the duel commence. Calling it a fight was an overestimation. With only his Kogatana on hand, Mihawk was so ridiculously far above his adversary it was laughable. The omega looked terribly bored , as if he couldn’t believe there was nothing more the pirate had to offer. 

“I can’t tell if the swordsmen of the world are severely lacking, or if I’ve simply become too strong for my own good.” Mihawk sighed as he deflected the ferocious swords aiming for his head with barely an effort made. 

“Take this seriously!” The pirate roared, scenting with lethal hostility. 

Shanks watched as Mihawk’s eyes rolled skyward, “Give me something to be serious about, and I might.” 

“Omegan whore—“ 

Mihawk, seemingly losing his patience with the sham of a duel, thrusted his Kogatana forward, lodging the three inch blade directly into the captain’s chest. The alpha gasped, eyes wild with fear and anger. With a flippant gesture Mihawk removed his knife, and proceeded to clean the blood with a handkerchief he kept in his pant’s pocket. After that, he resheathed the necklace, settling it back on the plains of his smooth chest as he declared the duel over. 

“Accept your defeat and leave with your life. I’ve no desire to humor this pathetic display any further.” 

“Y-You’d grant me mercy?” The opposing alpha sneered hatefully as the blood darkened the front of his shirt, “You don’t have what it takes t-to be the b-best.” 

Without missing a beat, Mihawk looked so far down his nose at his opponent it was as if the other had truly been reduced to an insignificant insect , “I already am the best, not that you have any right to dictate otherwise,” With a confident flourish, Mihawk swept towards the railing of the pirate ship and announced firmly, “We’re done here.” 

Shanks foresaw the moment the other alpha decided that he would not let the fight end with his utter disgrace. Even with the stab wound to his chest, the pirate captain managed a growl that was ferocious and enraged in nature. Mihawk didn’t spare the man a singular glance. If anything, the omega appeared to fully expect the challenge, and with his enhanced observation Haki that was likely the case. 

In Shanks’ mind, he saw seconds into the future, and witnessed the other alpha trying to rush Mihawk from behind, determined to drive his blades through the swordsman's back. He also saw how Mihawk would effortlessly side-step before he slit the man’s throat with unhesitating ease. The alpha’s neck would be finely cut, the life extinguished from his eyes in an instant. His crew would be in disarray and panicked, seeking to avenge their captain by attacking Mihawk next. There would be a bloodbath—an unnecessary one in Shanks’ humble opinion.

Wanting to prevent the gory outcome, Shanks figured he could take matters into his own hands. Now that the duel was finished Shanks didn’t have to remain idle, and without putting much of an effort into the endeavor, Shanks released his own warning for the other pirates to hear. He let the growl ripple from him lowly, the threat reverberating deeply in the air as he laced his own Haki as an undertone to the sound. His dominance was stifling, instantly paralyzing the opposing captain before he could so much as take up arms. 

For the first time since the pirates showed up, they finally took full notice of Shanks. Their faces paled in fear not only because his alpha nature was clearly superior to their captain’s own, but because the bright red of his hair from underneath his straw hat was unmistakable. Their scents were sour with terror, and the stench of them caused Mihawk to wrinkle his nose in distaste. 

Shanks, still laid back on their smaller ship, made it clear with a single glare that he was not keen on letting these pirates disrespect Mihawk further. He had patience enough to deal with formal duels, could even endure the jeering insults they threw at the omega, but Shanks wouldn’t stand for them trying to attack a man from behind. To debase themselves after suffering a clear defeat was low even by pirate standards. Though, Shanks could hardly say he was surprised. The standard for men nowadays was severely lacking. Pride and honor were often abandoned in the search of material glory, and encountering gutless cowards like these pirates was becoming more frequent than not as of late. 

Shanks detested the thought, but more than that he couldn’t help the stirring of anger bubbling up inside him at the mere intention from the other pirates to raise a hand to his omega. After Mihawk so clearly proved himself their unquestioned better, they dared to still show their faces around him. It was unforgivable. 

“If you value your lives, you’ll wisely stand down.” Shanks declared plainly. He didn’t overtly impress his will, but he made it apparent enough that one wrong move meant blood would be spilt, and it wouldn’t belong to the duo sailing in the glorified dinghy. 

Wisely, no one moved a muscle. Barely anyone had the thought to breathe as Mihawk scoffed under his breath and jumped back down to their shared ship. Shanks, seeing that his omega returned, let his hat fall back over his eyes as he resumed his earlier sunbathing. He could hear the pirates scramble to gather their wits about them and leave, hasty to get as far away from the pair as quickly as possible. 

Once they were gone, Shanks said, “Sorry about intervening. I didn’t want you to get that lovely coat of yours stained.” Making a reference to the fine material draped over Mihawk’s bare shoulders, Shanks knew the omega was likely to see through his feigned cover up, but he hoped Mihawk wouldn’t be too angry with him regardless. 

As if sensing his concern, the omega shrugged, “You spared me from having to make an unnecessary effort, small as that effort would have been.” 

“So you’re not mad?” The alpha asked. 

This time, Mihawk shook his head, “Well, you refrained from interrupting my duel, and so long as you continue to respect those boundaries, feel free to posture as much as you like.” 

There was something in the note of Mihawk’s tone that had Shanks curious. The redhead peered at the swordsman from beneath his hat, and when he saw the barest hint of satisfaction on the older’s lips, Shanks realized with an abrupt laugh, “Don’t tell me you actually like it when I come to your defense?” 

“What?” Mihawk sputtered at the accusation, “No I don’t! Where the hell did you even come up with that?!” 

“Oi,” Shanks sat up with a knowing smile as he pinned the omega with a clever look, “I bet your ears are red beneath that hat of yours.” 

At the mention of his hat, Mihawk made a point to sink it further onto his hair, “They are not . Don’t be ridiculous. Why would I care for your protection? I am perfectly capable of handling myself.” 

“Oh, there’s no doubting that.” Shanks assured, cocky as he tilted his head, “But it’s for the same reason I would be immensely pleased if you went about decimating anyone who dared issue a challenge against me.” 

The alpha let his eyes drift up and down the length of Mihawk’s body until the other’s breath hitched with anticipation. 

“I’d relish knowing I’m yours to possess and protect. To have you flaunt the fact that only you are capable of being my equal, my mate . Yeah,” Shanks breathed profoundly as he licked his lips, “That really gets me going.” 

Mihawk didn’t have much to say in the face of Shanks’ declaration. He appeared to be at war with himself. On one hand, he probably wanted to vehemently deny any and all accusations that he was inclined to Shanks’ possessiveness. Yet on the opposing end of the spectrum, Shanks knew the omega enjoyed seeing the alpha display his strength. Not only would it appeal to Mihawk’s baser instincts, but the omega had always been drawn to strength, to power , and Shanks boasted an abundance of both in absurd amounts. Just as Shanks loved to admire the sheer devastating effects of Mihawk’s abilities, it was no far stretch to assume the omega would feel the same. 

The only reason they could both lay claim to each other was because they were equally powerful, the only ones worthy enough to do so, and to occasionally remind those around them of that fact was harmless with all things considered. 

“I…” Mihawk sucked in an annoyed breath as he confessed, “I am not… opposed to your behavior.” 

“Mm,” Shanks hummed, “You’re cute when you’re shy.” 

“I’m not shy .” Mihawk groused as he turned away. 

The redhead would not let him escape so easily. Hopping down from where he was seated on top of the cabin, Shanks invited coaxingly, “Hey, come here for a moment.” 

A scathing glare was tossed at the Alpha from over Mihawk’s shoulder, “Don’t order me around.” 

“Why?” Shanks prompted easily enough, “Because you like it when I’m bossy?” 

When Mihawk didn’t grace him with another answer, Shanks postured, allowing a hint of his dominance to dampen the air as he scented like an alpha, “Mihawk, come here .” 

His command was uttered deeply, a hint of compulsion nestled somewhere deep within the tumultuous tones of Shanks’ baritone voice. He kept his physical demeanor relaxed as he leaned against the cabin, but his eyes spoke of severity. A part of him knew this interaction could go only one of two ways. The first would be a result of Shanks grossly miscalculating and ending up with his head severed or at least stabbed clean through with Yoru, and the second…

Well, the second would prove that Shanks knew Mihawk better than the omega knew himself, and that for as much as the bratty swordsman complained and griped, he was just as much enthralled by the alpha as Shanks was of his omega. 

With a verbal hiss of indignance, Mihawk spun around on his heel and stomped up to the alpha in question. The yellow of his eyes were wild and dangerous, hinging on lethal as he squared off against the redhead. 

“ Don’t .” The omega warned, “Don’t take that tone with me.” 

“Why?” Shanks pressed, though he already suspected the answer as he let another spark of his dominance ignite between them, “Worried you won’t be able to refuse me?” 

Mihawk stepped closer with a sneer on his lips, “Don’t presume that as an omega I am helpless but to obey your whims.” 

“I’d never think that,” Shanks assured, softening enough for Mihawk to see his sincerity, but then his smile returned as he snaked an arm around Mihawk’s waist and yanked the older closer, “But that doesn't mean we can’t enjoy playing the part.” 

He could see that his argument was getting through to the omega, because there was a light of interest in his pointed glare, an intrigue written beneath his fearsome scowl. 

However, before Mihawk gave in completely, he declared, “Remember that I am allowing this. At any point I can and I will refuse you if I so much as think you are taking advantage of me.” 

“Anything you give me is a privilege, angel. I know my place.” Shanks agreed, and with his permission to continue all but explicitly given, the redhead grinned ferally and really let the extent of his alpha nature show, “And I wouldn’t do anything to upset my precious omega. Not when he’s so beautiful and sweet.” 

Usually at this point, Mihawk would refute any notion that he was soft or delicate, but instead of denying Shanks’ point, the swordsman let his eyes flutter shut instead, seemingly giving in to the enchanting tones of the alpha’s voice beckoning him. An ache developed in Shanks’ teeth when he saw that subtle submissiveness, that willingness to give Shanks full control. For Mihawk to trust the alpha in such a way, to present himself like the greatest of rewards, Shanks could only hunger for more. 

Letting his hand softly cradle Mihawk’s cheeks, he watched in blatant fascination as the omega leaned into the touch, nuzzling with soft affection as he melted into his role.  

And oh, Mihawk really was playing the part, wasn’t he? 

Feeling a swelling mix of delight and possessiveness overcome him at once, Shanks yanked his omega forward into a territorial kiss as he scented with ownership, marking Mihawk thoroughly with the alpha’s obvious claim. The omega moaned sweetly, a high whimper of encouragement as Mihawk let himself be—be possessed . This strong and proud and independent man was letting Shanks have him. Mihawk, who could overtake a country all on his own. Mihawk, who never bowed before any man or woman, who rejected every stereotype pitted against him, was willing to submit to Shanks . 

“How’d I get so fucking lucky with you,” Shanks growled against the other’s kiss-swollen lips. Mihawk’s eyes were a bit dazed, the yellow of them soft and—and needy— and that was a lot to be on the receiving end of, “You must have been designed for me my love. You are everything and more, you know that? You’re so good to your alpha. You’re too good for me. ” 

Kissing Mihawk again, Shanks yearned vibrantly as he continued, “You know I’d burn the world for you right? Those—those bastards from before, those pathetic excuses for men didn’t even deserve to look at you, let alone challenge you. I should have made them pay for their disrespect. Should have sunk their ship and let the sea dictate their fate.” 

He had let them off easy , given them a mercy a large part of him didn’t think they deserved. 

Spiraling in his thoughts, Shanks mouthed at Mihawk’s neck as that was his place to mark. The omega let him of course, relishing in Shanks’ attention with soft sounds of appreciation that went straight to the alpha’s dick. He groaned, shivering with a mix of vibrant emotion—of desires and devotion and love and need. Mihawk was everything Shanks ever needed in life, would ever need from this day forward, and he was so, so good. 

Purring with appreciation, Shanks let his tongue flatten against Mihawk’s throat until he tasted his scent. Shanks had always treasured the idea of peace, of serenity, and Mihawk tasted like his dream. He tasted of balance and poise, of a soothing balm to the gunfire and smoke that was Shanks’ opposing nature. Whereas the alpha set Mihawk aflame in the heat of a vibrant sun, the omega calmed with his artic tranquility, tempering the sometimes overwhelming passions of the alpha with his steady heart. They truly were made for each other. They were two parts of the same coin, two halves that were only complete when at each other’s side. 

How could Shanks have ever convinced himself that they would be better off apart? How was he fooled into thinking their lives would always lead them down different paths, when it was the opposite that was the truth? The only one who had diverted their destiny for so long was Shanks. Fate pushed them together over and over, tempting Shanks with the part of himself that was always missing, and he ignored it out of fear. He spent too long being a coward, afraid that he might damage that which he found most beautiful, but Mihawk was strong. His omega was his equal, his counterpart, and the two of them together—what did Shanks have to fear of the future now? 

“I want to love you in all the right ways, Mihawk,” Shanks breathed against the omega’s neck, tattooing the words so that they would forever remain imprinted on the swordsman, “I will be an alpha worthy of you.” 

Breathless himself, Mihawk’s fingers tightened in the fabric of Shanks’ shirt from where he clinged to the redhead, seeking solace in the other’s presence as he said, “You already are, Red.” 

“Am I?” Shanks hummed, “I still find you incomprehensible.” 

“This pedestal you’ve put me on makes me think I'm your god. It’s unreasonable. I am no such thing.” 

The alpha grinned. Mihawk had no idea the depth of Shanks’ worship. Of course Mihawk wasn’t a god—god didn’t even begin to cover all of what the omega was. 

“Don’t talk back,” Shanks scolded lightly, “This is my time to adore you how I want.” 

“I—“ Mihawk went to argue because by nature he was argumentative, but Shanks silenced him with another kiss. 

Mihawk was competitive and impersonal. He held a blatant disregard for most of everything within the world, and could hardly be considered good company by the standard definition. Yet, where people saw an omega who was arrogant and rebellious, chilling in his demeanor and monstrous in his bloodlust, Shanks saw a divine being bored with the mundane. He perceived an angel who had fallen from the heavens, and was merely biding his time before he could return. Of course those who were ordinary would misunderstand, wouldn’t be able to grasp just how—just how mystifying the omega was. Mihawk didn’t fit the mold of normalcy, and it would be an insult to try and make him. 

You wouldn’t look at the gods and demand they be ordinary. To do so was sacrilegious. It was blasphemous . 

“Let me show you,” the alpha whispered against rosy lips, so sweet in their taste it was difficult to part from them, “How a man worships the divine.” 

Mihawk’s breath hitched, a sound that turned into a furtive moan when Shanks sank to his knees before his treasure, his angel . He could scent the omega’s wetness. Mihawk’s desire was an enticing temptation that only Shanks would be able to indulge in. The alpha pressed his nose against him, his mouth nestled in the crease of Mihawk’s groin as he breathed as if he had gone so very long without being able to do so. 

“Don’t move.” The Alpha ordered, his eyes dilated to a near black as he peered up at his omega. 

Mihawk drew his bottom lip between his teeth, bashful yet wanton as he gave a short nod of agreement. Shanks smiled against the swordsman, pleased by the other’s willingness to play along. 

“When in the presence of a heavenly being,” Shanks murmured as he let his eyes drift shut as the bliss of Mihawk’s scent washed over him, “You should kneel in reverence. A mortal man is unworthy. The only offering he can give is his veneration,” as the alpha spoke, he continued to nose along Mihawk’s front, his mouth pressing his words into the soft leather of the omega’s trousers, intent on proving his point, “But even that isn’t enough. The man must devote himself, must live only for his god,” Fingers worked at the button of Mihawk’s pants, his mind a haze as he thumbed the waistband down and down , “He must pray and prostrate himself. He must beg for forgiveness when he wavers. He must never do anything to insult or bring disgrace to his god’s honor,” Mihawk whimpered above him when he was pulled free from his restraints, his arousal leaked , bobbing as Shanks ignored it in favor of pressing a kiss to the other’s inner thigh, “When he worships, he must do so with a humble heart. He must be meticulous and loving. He must realize that it is a privilege not to be taken for granted.” 

Mihawk scented wildly, and from where Shanks had his face burrowed between the omega’s legs, he was bestowed the full intensity of his unhindered aroma. Shanks bathed in the smell of the swordsman, in the deliriously enticing notes of need and desperation . He was propelled by instinct, by his love for Mihawk, as he soothed his hands down the omega’s pale thighs, promising with his touch that he would take great care. Every move the Alpha made was deliberate. Every kiss he sewed into soft, muscled skin was devout. He breathed his very soul into Mihawk even as he left the most sensitive parts of the omega untouched. 

“A man is nothing before their god, and yet he is everything. God gives a man purpose, and a man gives God his love.” Shanks let his eyes drift upwards, and lost himself to the vision of perfection. Haloed by the sun high above their heads, Mihawk was everything Shanks always dreamed of. The omega was too good to be true, too right , and the alpha could only feel a pious appreciation. If he could rip his own heart out and present it to Mihawk, he would. All the other had to do was ask, and there was nothing Shanks didn’t think he couldn’t accomplish to please his omega. 

Mihawk must have seen the intensity of Shanks’ feelings blatantly portrayed in the crimson color of the alpha’s eyes. Must have felt that intensity as Shanks skirted his nose around the most beckoning part of Mihawk, panting the heat of his want as he scented like a man in need. 

“A man must always ask for permission,” Shanks murmured, almost pleading as he lingered just a hair’s breadth away, “And only the divine can grant it.” 

Mihawk’s eyes glowed an otherworldly yellow, brighter than the sun itself as his fingers latched onto Shanks’ hair and threaded firmly, “Prove your devotion then. Worship me , Alpha.” 

Shanks surrendered as he took the first hint of Mihawk in his mouth, lips stretching around the omega’s girth as he let the taste of him, the utter divinity of his existence, seep bone deep into the alpha. He moaned reverently, feeling utterly blessed, and when he was answered with Mihawk’s low whine of approval, Shanks set to lavishing the omega in the attention he deserved. Mihawk should not go a single moment without feeling wanted, without feeling adored, and Shanks expressed as much in the thoughtful and loving attention he bestowed. He worked his tongue along the thick of the omega’s arousal, pressing the diligent muscle firmly against the shaft until Mihawk’s hips bucked forward unwillingly. 

There was a flavor of him in Shanks’ throat, slick and intoxicating as the alpha sank deeply on the omega’s length. His nose nestled into the coarse hairs at Mihawk’s base, nuzzling with doting affection as he swallowed around the weeping head of Mihawk’s cock. That earned him a shout followed by a delirious whine. A cry high in sound, musical in note, and so fucking perfect . 

“S-Shanks— alpha—“ Mihawk sighed out in total bliss, the picture of glory as Shanks watched in fascination as the older’s expression pinched and slackened in tune to the alpha’s ministrations. Every time Shanks licked at the tip, Mihawk’s eyes would squeeze shut and his hips would involuntarily jerk, and when Shanks hollowed his cheeks and tightened his lips down the other’s length, slow and methodical to drag forth every sensation he could evoke, Mihawk would unwind, completely loose as he looked pristine . 

Shanks didn’t even need to touch himself to feel the clench and pull of desire in the lower end of his stomach. Just by bringing Mihawk to the heights of pleasure, Shanks could sense his own building. The alpha was enthralled, taking such vast enjoyment in hearing the other’s pitched cries and his wanton moans. To feel Mihawk twitch in his mouth, watch as his lips parted, and feel those fingers in Shanks’ hair tug and push, demand and beg . 

Oh, how Shanks loved this man. 

It didn’t take Mihawk long. With his inexperience coupled with the fact that he had never had a mouth on him in such a way, he tumbled quickly towards the edge. His whimpers turned rabid, his chest heaving as he begged and asked for things he wasn’t even sure he knew how to ask for. Shanks shut his eyes and reveled in the moment, taking great care to make this moment as enjoyable as he could for the omega. He could taste more of Mihawk’s precum in his throat and on his tongue, signaling that the omega wouldn’t last much longer as Shanks suckled and licked and mouthed at the head of Mihawk’s cock. 

“Shanks I—I think—“ Mihawk’s brows furrowed with concern, and it was cute. It was cute watching him struggle, watching him inevitably teeter closer and closer to a precipice only Shanks could bring him to. 

Purring deeply, Shanks eased down Mihawk’s cock one more time, feeling him slip into the back of the alpha’s throat. Red eyes searched out yellow ones, promising wordlessly that it was all okay. He encouraged Mihawk to let it all go. Wanted the omega to relinquish that last tethering of control he clung onto. 

The swordsman glanced down, and the sight of Shanks taking the omega fully into his mouth must have been too much, just enough , to spur Mihawk’s climax. The older jerked his hips forward, going deeper until Shanks choked, and when the alpha merely moaned his approval, Mihawk stiffened and let everything rush out of him. 

The first spurt of warm cum down the back of Shanks’ throat had the alpha shooting a hand to the front of his pants, feeling the swell of his own knot trigger as he watched in complete rapture as Mihawk achieved heavenly pleasure. To think that Mihawk could get anymore stunning was unfathomable, but that was before Shanks witnessed the serene vision of Mihawk when he came . Shanks wasn’t much of a poet, but he thought he could wax poetry for years on this single moment in time. To see the omega’s jaw slacken, to have such a close proximity to his flooding scent, to taste him in the most intimate of ways. Shanks was awe-struck. He wasn’t much of a religious man, but he thought he could be for Mihawk as his voice sang like an angel when he cried out Shanks’ name in a breathtaking symphony. 

Lips bitten red, treasure eyes shined with euphoria, cheeks blushing the most delicate and arousing of pinks. How could Shanks not think Mihawk divine? How could he even express just how much—how much he loved? Astonishingly enough, Shanks felt his eyes grow wet and not from his inability to breathe at present, but simply because he was overwhelmed. He was overcome. A part of him regretted, the dark of the feeling swarming in his chest, bitter that he had waited so long, that he had kept them unnecessarily apart for years. Yet Shanks was honored, privileged to be able to have this now at the very least. 

He let his thumbs drift over the hollow dips of Mihawk’s hips, still keeping the omega warm in his mouth as he continued his worship, as he expressed just how deeply he felt for this man standing above him. Mihawk, after regaining some sense of mind, soothed his fingers through Shanks’ hair, delicately sweet as the alpha soaked in the moment. His heart had never felt so at ease while it burned with anguish. There was a conflict in him, one that called him unworthy, that scathingly insisted that he could never, would never , be enough for the omega. However, those clamoring words were quieted by the balm of Mihawk’s fingers and of the love he so clearly scented. The omega conquered the regret and tempered the portion of Shanks that would always think himself inferior. As Shanks continued to let Mihawk’s softening cock rest on his tongue, he was reinvigorated by the omega’s care, by the soft smile Mihawk graced as he let those nimble hands trail and skirt wherever they pleased. 

Shanks wondered if this was what it felt like to be forgiven and absolved of all sin. If this was what it felt like to be cherished by a god. 

The alpha wasn’t sure for how long he knelt there, just that he had come to press his forehead against the lower portion of Mihawk’s stomach as if bowing his head for prayer. Mihawk allowed him his peace, seemingly wordlessly understanding the alpha’s current needs. He was gentle and appeasing, yet firm where he stood clear above Shanks. He was molded with muscle everywhere. Mihawk was deadly, one of the deadliest men in the world, and yet his cock was soft and warm on Shanks’ tongue, his scent a crisp breeze against the overheated sensations burning Shanks’ flesh. 

After what must have been minutes or hours—long enough for Shanks’s knees to grow sore and stiff—the alpha finally eased back and let Mihawk slip from his lips. The omega met him carefully and crouched down until they were eye level. From there, Mihawk cradled Shanks’ face, expression warm as he drew the alpha in for a saintly kiss. Shanks felt his eyes flutter shut, felt life breathe into his lungs and his blood sing. There was purpose beneath his skin, an assurance taking root in his heart as Mihawk broke away to nose softly against him. 

“That was very good of you, Shanks.” Mihawk whispered in a manner that was full of affection, “You did good , alpha.” 

Shanks didn’t really have words to say in the face of the treasured compliment. His throat was tight and sore, and he felt vulnerable. Exposed in a manner he didn’t think anyone except Mihawk could ever make him feel. So, instead of saying a word, he tucked himself into Mihawk’s embrace. He just…needed this. Needed his omega. His soft and lethal partner. His equal in everything. 

Mihawk cradled him close, accepting of Shanks even after everything the alpha put him through. 

“I love you.” Mihawk confessed in the breath of space between them, and for no other reason save for the immense relief he felt at hearing those words, Shanks hid his face in Mihawk’s neck and cried. He cried for forgiveness, and cried because he was forgiven. He was loved , and that in itself was purpose enough for a man who could never seem to find one. 

He cried and he cried and he cried, and not once did Mihawk turn him away. Not once did the swordsman call him weak or pathetic. Not once did he demand anything from the alpha. He was there, and he was the peace Shanks so often longed for. He was everything to the alpha, and Shanks, for the first time since they met, felt a stirring of hope that he might just be worthy of his beautiful omega. 

Maybe, despite everything, he was more than enough. 

Chapter Text

To Court the Heart 

“Flowers?” Mihawk asked with a teasing lilt, an easy-going smirk toying at the corner of his lips as he accepted the bouquet Shanks presented. 

Shanks laughed brightly, a hand going to the back of his head as he said, “Yeah. Think of it as your first courting gift.” 

“Mm,” the omega hummed as he studied the assortment of petals all bunched together, “And tell me, what are the associated meanings of the flowers?”

The alpha, still grinning ear to ear, suspected Mihawk knew well enough what the meanings of the flowers were. It sounded like something the omega would know. Perhaps it was one of those obscure hobbies Mihawk usually occupied his down time with. He did know an awful lot about tea and birds, so it wasn’t a stretch to think the omega dabbled in floriography. 

“Mm, let’s see,” Shanks mused as he glanced at the bouquet he had personally assembled. It wasn’t the most aesthetically pleasing, mostly because he had just grabbed every flower he thought suited what he was trying to convey. There were violets and hyacinths, red roses and peonies, deep red carnations and springs of Yarrow. Shanks even procured lavender and the blue iris as he finished the hog-posh bouquet with light pink tulips and yellow daffodils, “Little bit of everything. Devotion, new love, eternal love, apology, sincerity, congratulations for Yoru becoming a black blade, commitment…” 

He rambled off the various meanings and watched as Mihawk’s expression softened with satisfaction and approval. The omega listened intently as he lightly scented the floral fragrance of his bouquet, his ears turning a shade of flattered red. 

“I always thought about buying you flowers every time I saw ‘em.” The alpha confessed, “And now that we finally made it to an island I figured there was no better time like the present.” 

He all but sprinted from their little boat as soon as they docked in the harbor, leaving Mihawk with a fleeting kiss to his cheek and a promise that he would return soon. After locating a florist and spending an appropriate amount of time staring at flowers for the prettiest ones, he found Mihawk about half an hour later (unsurprisingly) restocking their inventory of wine and booze. Shanks presented the flowers with a cheesy and eager smile, uncaring to the fact that they were not alone as the merchant and passerbys watched on. 

“The gesture is much appreciated, Shanks,” Mihawk uttered fondly, “I love them.” 

The compliment made Shanks burn with happiness as he excitedly stepped in close to press another kiss to the omega’s cheek, “Yeah? Guess I’ll have to buy you more then.” 

With a breath of amusement, Mihawk afforded Shanks another adoring look before returning his attention back to the merchant. The old guy had been watching the two of them with a knowing grin, much in the way that all old people seemed to do when witnessing the blossoming of young love. 

“You can have the requested stock delivered to dock 17. We’ll load it ourselves from there.” Mihawk instructed neutrally as he paid the man the required amount of berries.  

Shanks came to stand slightly behind the swordsman, letting his hand rest freely on the lower end of Mihawk’s back, “Did you remember to get the rum?” 

The omega snorted quietly, “Yes, I remembered the rum.” 

“And the whiskey? What about Sake?” 

“Of course,” Mihawk shot a glance over his shoulder to pin the alpha with a bemused look, “I’m aware of your preferences Red, classless as they may be.” 

“I’m not classless. I’m a pirate!” Shanks announced with a smile to rival the brightness of the sun. 

Mihawk, only barely veiling the humor in the yellow of his eyes, put a hand to Shanks’ face and pushed him lightly away, “Perhaps you shouldn’t go announcing that so loudly unless you want to attract unwanted attention.” 

“Eh, it’ll be fine,” The alpha dismissed casually. He scratched at his chest exposed through his lazily buttoned shirt, as careless in dress as he was in demeanor, “There’s not much trouble in the world the two of us can’t handle.” 

Mihawk’s gaze drifted momentarily to the tanned skin of Shanks’ pecs before idly returning to meet red eyes, “I suppose you’re not wrong about that. Still, I’d like this to be a quiet visit. How can you court me properly if we’re constantly hounded by marines and bounty hunters alike?” 

“True.” Shanks compromised. He turned his attention back towards the merchant, and with a wink the redhead kindly asked, “Think you can keep this a secret for me?” 

For his part, the old man didn’t look as if he cared much about who Shanks and Mihawk were, so long as they were willing to pay for the goods they procured.

“You won’t hear a rumor about it out of me,” the beta promised, “I don’t want trouble in this town any more than you do.” 

“Mm, I apologize in advance then.” Mihawk said as he swept his hat onto his head before stepping back out into the sun, “Trouble finds this one wherever he goes.” 

Laughing at the gesture made in his direction, Shanks squeezed Mihawk’s hip lovingly, “Ah, but that’s what makes me so fun, right gorgeous?” 

“Debatable.” Mihawk countered back, but he was undoubtedly charmed as he let the alpha touch and hold him however Shanks pleased. The omega offered the merchant a slight nod of appreciation, and then let himself be led through the streets, Shanks guiding the pair wherever something interesting caught his eye. 

“They’ve got a show going on tonight.” Shanks mentioned after stopping to grab a bite to eat. The alpha had a beer in one hand, and his arm strewn over the back of Mihawk’s chair with the other. As he kicked his feet up on the table, he looked every bit the part of a flippant wanderer who didn’t have a care in the world. 

On his end, Mihawk sat in a much more dignified manner, though there was a relaxed air to his demeanor that loosened and softened his edges. His hat was set aside, hair combed through with his fingers as he sipped gingerly on his wine. His blouse, much like Shanks’, was loose and didn’t do much to conceal a majority of his torso, but as always Mihawk could make even the most inexpensive of rags look designer in nature. 

Shamelessly, Shanks eyed the pretty view. Let his gaze travel over every inch of fair skin unabashedly displayed. Mihawk was a drink Shanks didn’t think he would ever tire of savoring, and it certainly helped that no matter what Mihawk did, or how he did it, the omega was the embodiment of fabulous appeal. 

“Mm, what sort of show?” Mihawk inquired, his voice soft like velvet as he caught Shanks’ stare. 

“Whole bunch of stuff, apparently,” Shanks indicated towards a poster near the door of the cafe they were in, “Music, plays, dances. Looks like it’s an annual celebration. Could be, you know, nice to stop by or whatever.”  

The omega hummed, “You know, for someone said to be a suave bachelor, you have an interesting approach when it comes to dating.” 

Shanks narrowed his eyes as Mihawk watched him with an air of light humor. 

Tipping his beer towards the omega, the alpha said, “Look, I’ve never courted before, and that’s a hell of a lot different than flirting in a bar with no intention of ever seeing someone again.” 

“I suppose,” came the musing purr as Mihawk leaned his head delicately against his hand, “Go on and ask me properly then.” 

Shanks exhaled heavily, partially amused and also a little pouty at the omega’s teasing. Truthfully, the alpha didn’t think it would be so difficult to ask Mihawk out on a date. He’s already sucked the other off, so what was so hard about going to see a show together? Shanks figured it had something to do with the fact that he never really asked someone out before. When he was into his phase of endless one night stands, it was always a clever look shared in the bar, a teasing touch left to linger, and then he and whoever he chose disappeared wherever they could find privacy to do what needed to be done. Shanks never went out of his way to romance. There was no requirement for it, but obviously the situation with Mihawk was vastly different. 

More nervous than he cared to admit, Shanks resolved himself to look at Mihawk directly. He took the omega’s hand within his own, skimming his thumb along the other’s fair-skinned knuckles as he cleared his throat. It was with a great effort that Shanks opened his mouth determined to smoothly ask Mihawk to join him, but he had nothing. He froze up, embarrassment warming his cheeks, and then promptly groaned into his hand as he hid his face. 

“Why is this so hard ?!” He exclaimed, whining like a baby as Mihawk chuckled easily at his antics, “It’s just a date!” 

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, you started off in the right direction with the flowers from earlier.” Mihawk said, taking pity on the alpha as Shanks bumped his forehead against the table. 

Shanks’ stomach was all twisted into knots. Boy, if his crew could see him now they would be hysterical . 

Honestly the flowers had been the easy part, but a date—a real date—there were so many things Shanks could mess up. What if he didn’t dress up nice enough? What if he said the wrong thing, or didn’t do the right thing? What if he made it awkward? What if it wasn’t fun? What if Mihawk hated it and Shanks just ruined any future chances of taking Mihawk out on future dates? 

“Oh dear,” the omega observed with a note of sympathy, “You’re really having a difficult time, aren’t you?” 

Shanks, from where he hid his face in his arms, admitted freely, “It’s nerve wracking.”

A hand soothed through his hair, petting the alpha sweetly. Shanks was resolved for only a few moments before he melted into the touch. Like a dog in constant want of attention, he leaned into Mihawk’s hand to seek more and more comfort from it. 

“Just know I don’t have a very high standard or expectation for a date. You know, considering I’ve never been on one before,” Mihawk pointed out sincerely, “And isn’t half the charm of a relationship not always getting it right the first time? Or, at least that’s what I’ve come to understand about the whole process.” 

Shanks peeked an eye up at the older. Mihawk was grinning at him encouragingly, and it never failed to surprise the alpha just how warm the omega could be when the mood or feeling struck. How gentle and tender his actions and expressions were if he permitted them to show. Most only ever saw a Dracule Mihawk that didn’t blink in the face of a bloody massacre or who regarded the majority of the world and its happenings with frigid indifference, but this was the Mihawk Shanks had come to know. This was the omega who used to lay next to a teenage Shanks in a raft beneath the stars, avidly listening to the redhead as he spoke on everything and anything. This was the swordsman that didn’t mind being touched or kissed, who even sought out the affection whenever he was compelled into doing so. This was a Mihawk Shanks utterly adored, and one the alpha only wanted to show his appreciation for. 

Staring at the older for an unspecified amount of time, Shanks finally discovered his courage in the midst of all his internal squirming. Sitting up abruptly, Shanks retook Mihawk’s hand within his own and kissed the swordsman's calloused palm lovingly.  

“I would like to take you out tonight, Mihawk,” Shanks whispered the words against the delicate heat of the omega’s skin. He then brought Mihawk’s hand to his cheek so he could lean into it, and let the feel of his omega calm him, “If you’d have me angel, I want to show you off to the world.” 

Mihawk smiled serenely as he cheekily pointed out, “There’s that confidence I’ve always found irresistible.” 

“Yeah?” Shanks chuckled deeply and kissed Mihawk again, this time letting his lips linger on the softer inside of the omega’s wrist, “So what do you say then, love? Think you could give this alpha the privilege of keeping you company?” 

“I think that could be arranged,” Mihawk coyly replied, “But I’d like to shop around for a bit first. I'm in need of new clothes and I think the same can be said for you.” 

The omega darted his eyes down to the stained, partially frayed, and too-large ensemble Shanks had been wearing since they left their first island well over a week ago. Mihawk insisted on washing clothes nearly everyday, but even then Shanks’ outfit wouldn’t last more than a handful of weeks before it was unwearable. 

Thinking Mihawk had a point, the alpha agreed with a slow nod, “Alright, so where are we going?” 

“ We will not be going together.” Mihawk revealed. 

“What? But why not?” The alpha exclaimed. 

The omega smirked at Shanks as he took another sip from his wine glass, “Shouldn’t it be a surprise? At least, in the few novels I’ve endeavored to read regarding modern courtships, a prevalent theme is a dramatic entrance.” 

The redhead snorted, “And we all know you’re dramatic.” 

He earned himself a swift kick for that remark, but Shanks wasn’t exactly refuted by the omega. 

Still, he found himself grinning as he said, “So you’re going to get all dolled up for me then? How sweet.” 

Mihawk’s eyes narrowed, “Don’t make a big deal out of it, Red. I really am in need of new clothes.” 

“Well if that’s the case,” Shanks slapped around in his pockets for the pouch of coins and cash he always kept with him. Only keeping a bit for himself, he tossed Mihawk the rest, “Treat yourself angel. Whatever you want is on me.” 

Mihawk arched a brow at the weighted wallet in his hand before he chuckled lightly, “Are you spoiling me?” 

“As if I could do anything less,” Shanks replied with a wink as he went to stand. Stretching his arms overhead, the alpha seated his straw hat back on his hair and bent down ever so slightly to press a kiss to Mihawk’s hair, “Meet in the town square at sundown?” 

“I’ll be there,” the omega agreed as he tilted his head up just to get a better view of the redhead, “Try not to cause trouble while I’m away.” 

Shanks laughed easily, “No promises, sweetheart.” 

He ambled out of the cafe after that, taking his time to wander through the streets and take in everything the large port city had to offer. With no concrete destination in mind, the alpha was happy to let his feet take him wherever they ended up. The city was lively. Large and sprawling, but still with a feeling of close community as the townspeople greeted each other with warm, neighborly smiles. Drawn to people and life in the way that he was, it didn’t take long for Shanks to make friends with the locals, and he was quickly brought into their midst once an introduction was made. 

“Well, if you’re looking to impress, Ol’ Gilda’s got a shop around the corner.” Lady Lim, a beta that ran a printing shop, gestured down the way with her ink-stained fingers. 

Next to the graying woman, her husband nodded in agreement, “If you say you're there on our recommendation, she’ll get ya squared away real quick. Might even give ya a discount if you’re nice enough.” 

Shanks tipped his hat in a show of gratitude, “Much appreciated. You’re too kind.” 

Lady Lim shook her head at him, “It ain’t a hardship to show a bit of hospitality, especially to the type of good visitors like you.” 

Shanks brazenly smiled in the face of her declaration, knowing full well he was one of the most wanted men in the world at present. He was certain the aging couple in front of him wouldn’t be so eager to help if they realized the extent of his reputation. Still, he was happy for their assistance, and after offering another charming farewell, he wandered off towards the shop that was mentioned to him. 

Gilda’s was a quaint and unassuming type of shop wedged between two larger and newer boutiques. With the bright and attractive coloring of the buildings sandwiching on both sides, Gilda’s worn wooden structure was overshadowed and easy to miss if Shanks wasn’t looking for it. The crooked sign hanging out front threatened to come loose from the single nail keeping it pinned, and the door sat unevenly on the hinges, making it difficult to push open without giving a heavy shove. 

For most, they would have taken one look at the rundown shop and opted for the flashier ones next door, but never one to judge a book by its cover, Shanks dismissed any apprehensions he might’ve had and went inside. His first thought upon entering was that it smelled strongly of a certain musk that most older buildings seemed to have. A bit damp, a little dusty, but nostalgic in a way that seemed homely. Well-lived. Despite the strong scent, the shop itself was neat and tidy with not a trace of dirt left to scuff the floor. With the light flooding in from the two front windows, Shanks could make out the various fabrics and linens lining the walls, as well as shelves organized with sewing materials and accessories he assumed were meant for clothes. 

There didn’t seem to be anyone manning the shop, though. The longer Shanks looked around, the more he wondered if he stopped by at a bad time, but eventually a stirring of activity sounded from back behind the check-out counter. With a thump and a groan, it sounded as if someone had just fallen on the ground. Curious, Shanks peeked his head around and saw that an old woman was slumped over with her head held in her hands, a curse on her lips as she glared wickedly at the sleep cot Shanks presumed she had fallen out of. 

“Hello there,” He greeted abruptly, startling the lady as she yelped in surprise, “Bad time?” 

He wore his most disarming grin, innocent and friendly as he watched the woman blink the sleep from her eyes and stare up at him. Her face wrinkled deliberately, her eyes squinting with scrutiny as she pursed her lips into a dubious frown. 

“The hell do you want?” 

Slightly taken aback by the brusque welcome, Shanks accepted the attitude gracefully nevertheless as he leaned against the counter, “Was recommended this shop by the Townsens. Said you were the woman to go to if I wanted decent clothes for a half decent price.” 

“S’hell a damn pirate need from me that he can’t just go out and steal for himself?” 

“Ah,” Shanks’ red eyes flashed, “You know of me? I’m flattered.” 

Gilda didn’t look too amused by his levity as she continued to glare, “I don’t want any trouble,” She declared pointedly, “Especially from cocky alpha brats.” 

“I’ll give you cocky, but I’m no brat.” Shanks mused with a chuckle, “Brats don’t have a 1.1 billion bounty on their head.” 

“Guess I’d be rich if I turned you over to the marines.”

The alpha breathed out another laugh, “Suppose you would be.” 

Gilda glared at him for a moment longer, unabashedly judging him from head to toe. Clearly, she wasn’t much impressed, and perhaps it was Shanks’ sorry state of dress that had her getting to her feet with a long-suffering sigh. 

“The Townsens are good folk,” the old woman said, “If they sent you this way, I can’t turn you down. But,” she leveled a finger at the alpha in clear warning, “Don’t go thinkin’ I want to help you.” 

Shanks nodded in solemn understanding, “Wouldn’t dream of it ma’am.” 

She bared her teeth at him for his subtly sarcastic remark, but reigned in her irritation with another perusing glance over his figure. Shanks would have played coy beneath her attention if he didn’t suspect that would earn him a slap and a threat. 

“Well,” Gilda decided as she brought her eyes back up to meet Shanks’ own, “Ya’ look like shit.” 

Instead of being offended, Shanks could only agree, “Hence the reason I am in desperate need of your services. I’ve got a hot date tonight,” the alpha went on to explain, “And my counterpart is easily the most beautiful thing to ever walk this earth, and it’d be a shame not to look my best for him.” 

“You? Have a date?” Gilda seemed genuinely perturbed, “Who in their right mind would go out with a pirate? Especially one as notorious as you.” 

Shanks smiled serenely, “Only a man with a reputation equal to my own.” 

It was the only explanation he gave her, but it seemed to suffice enough. Gilda dismissed him with another well-worn huff. She was incredibly short, a fact Shanks realized blatantly when she stepped from around the counter and pointed to a podium for him to stand on. 

“I’ll need your measurements. Go stand over there. Shirt off. Boots off, and all the extras,” she pointed to Gryphon strapped to Shanks hip and the hat seated on his head, “You can sit ‘em on the chair.” 

“Aye aye, madam.” 

Following Gilda’s instructions, Shanks shed his shirt and boots, and after leaning Gryphon on the chair in the corner, he went to stand on the dress podium. A full-length mirror was positioned in front of him, allowing Shanks to get a good view of the slight smattering of thin white scars littering his torso, as well as the thick of a coppery happy trail sinking beneath the hem of his waistband. His face could use a shave, the scruff a bit patchy from where he still struggled to grow an even beard, but he wasn’t an eye sore to look at by any means. Riddled with muscle, his skin kissed by the sun, and his red hair the slightest bit wavy from where it framed his face and skimmed across the tops of his shoulders—Shanks was a roguish dream. A wily pirate with a bright grin and cleverly charming eyes, Shanks looked every bit as wild as an untamable sea. 

“At least you got a good figure on you,” Gilda muttered from behind as she dragged up a stool and started to take his measurements, “It’ll make it easier to dress ya.” 

Shanks didn’t say anything in response to the old woman’s comment, but he made sure to comply with all her requests on when to lift his arms or widen his stance. She caught a deliberate whiff of him and promptly declared he was in need of a shower, claiming the very sea was living in his skin at this point. Shanks didn’t necessarily think that was a bad thing, but he gave into her pushy demands to use the bathroom in the back to freshen up. 

“ I’ll not have you wearing my clothes smelling like the lowest of tides. ” 

Freshly washed, cleanly shaven, and with his hair properly brushed into place, Shanks met the woman back by the check-out counter where she already compiled a stack of clothes for him to try on. 

“These’ll probably need a bit of tailoring, but nothing I can’t finish before the morning. Now, if you’re done getting pretty, you can change behind that curtain over there.” 

Taking the first set of clothes set aside for him, Shanks followed careful instruction before stepping back out from behind the curtain. Gilda gestured for him to stand in front of the mirror again before she went and started to nitpick the fitting. Satisfied with what she had pinned for alterations later, she motioned for him to try on the next outfit, and the next, and the next until Shanks thought he might never escape the cycle. 

Eventually, he dwindled the pile down to its last. Out of all the ensembles Gilda selected for him, this was the most formal and finely made. Shanks could feel the expense between his fingers, the fabric soft yet thick as he trailed his touch over the sleeves of the shirt. 

“You’ve got a nice piece of jewelry on your ear,” Gilda observed from where she knelt near Shanks’ ankles to hem the ends of his trousers to the proper length, “Where’d you get it?” 

Glancing at the cuff earring in question, Shanks let his fingers drift upwards to trail along the gift Mihawk gave him. 

A soft smile flattered his lips as he admitted, “A gift. From my heart.” 

“Mm,” the old woman grunted, “Is your ‘heart’ the one  you’re going to see tonight? I won’t be wasting my time making you look nice for anything less.” 

Shanks nodded, “Of course! How could you think otherwise?” 

“Suppose even dastardly pirates can still fall in love,” Gilda said, grumbling as she stood back to full height with a groan and some precarious popping to her joints and muscles, “Though, I still can’t fathom what about you is so appealing.”

“Aw, don’t be like that,” the alpha playfully pouted, “I’m a catch when I put my mind to it.” 

Gilda didn’t seem convinced, “More like an overgrown brat if I had to offer an opinion about it, but hell, what do I know? I’m 73 and never married.” 

“Marriage doesn’t make the woman, Gilda.” 

“No, but it sure as hell helps pay the bills.” With one final pin placed in the sleeve of his waistcoat, Gilda stepped back and admired her handiwork, “Now, there ya go. Outta them clothes so I can make the final adjustments. You can wait in the back until I’m finished, and then we’ll get ya settled for your little date. I’ll have the rest of your wardrobe ready for pick up in the morning, but this fancy little thing will be yours before the evening comes.” 

Shanks gave a grin through the mirror, “You’re a dime, madam.” 

For his comment, he earned himself a half hearted slap and a nudge towards the dressing curtain, “I don’t want none of that flattery, boy. Save it for your ‘ heart’ when you show up to impress him tonight.” 

“From the sound of it, I’d think you’re rather invested in my love life.” Shanks accused with a laugh as he obliged her fussing. 

Gilda shamelessly shrugged in full confession, “What else do I have to gossip about in my old age? Pirates may make for trouble, but they’re interesting folk to have around to.” 

Poking his head out from behind the curtain, the redhead pinned the woman with a knowing look, “I knew you liked me.” 

Shaking the thick mane of gray, scraggly hair on her head, Gilda firmly asserted, “I like that coin in your pocket more than anything else.” 

Shanks gasped in offense, “You make it sound like I’m only good for my money!” 

Another mean look was cast in his direction, but it faltered into an unwillingly amused snort as Gilda collected the clothes Shanks had just taken off, “Pirate or no pirate, all paying customers are the same. So long as you don’t go running off before I get my berry out of you, I guess you’re not all bad.” 

“That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” Shanks cheesed as he shuffled back out of the curtain in only his trousers and sandals. Gilda had long since thrown his old shirt in the garbage, calling it the greatest offense to her sensibilities. 

As Gilda worked at her sewing machine, she provoked with a raised brow, “What? Is your heart not a sweet talker like you?” 

Shanks hummed thoughtfully as he watched the old gal work, “I wouldn’t say he’s the most verbally expressive with his affections, but that just makes his words mean so much more, right?” 

Gilda didn’t explicitly answer him, but the alpha could tell she was avidly listening anyway. 

“Go on and tell me about him then,” the old lady suggested, “I know you’ve been itching to.” 

“You don’t mind a brat like me talking your ear off?” Shanks asked. 

The hum of Gilda’s pedal-powered machine whirred to life as she settled back into her chair and set to work, “No,” she said, “I don’t mind it at all.” 

At her sincere answer, Shanks started his tale with the earliest days of he and Mihawk’s first meeting and how the omega had saved his life. He refrained from name-dropping the swordsman, but if the old woman figured out the omega’s identity by Shanks’ stories alone, then she didn’t make a fuss about it. 

With a smile that spoke of his utter adoration for his mate, the alpha detailed his first impression of his omega, how he’d seen a teenager only a few years older than him, but thought Mihawk had to be the prettiest thing in all of the seas combined. He told her about their month traveling together, and how Shanks had fallen for the omega fairly fast, developing a crush that would later blossom into something more when they reunited three years later. 

“After I saw him again for the first time after three years…” Shanks exhaled profoundly, recalling the image of Mihawk in all his glory, “He took my breath away, and I went a bit stupid looking at him. I’d always known he’d grow up pretty, but he was astounding . You ever felt like that about someone? Like looking at them hurts but at the same time it feels like a blessing?” 

Gilda snorted under her breath, “If I had, I would have married ‘em.” 

Shanks nodded in agreement, “I should have popped the question back then, all things considered,” he mused aloud, fingers thrumming on the countertop, “He probably would have skewered me alive, but it would have been worth it.” 

“Is that why you didn’t ask back then? Afraid he might’ve cut you?” 

The alpha frowned subtly, and with a dramatic sigh he revealed, “No. I had…things to take care of. Things I didn’t necessarily think he should get involved in, and he had his own ambitions, you know? I was afraid if I reached out for anything more than a friendship, I’d just be hurting us both in the end.” 

Shanks wasn’t sure why he was revealing so much information to the old woman, but he hardly thought she would go around spreading his gossip. That, and talking to Gilda was easy. She may have been full of vinegar, but she had an air about her that spoke of wisdom and underlying kindness. Though she clearly disliked him being a pirate, she wouldn’t turn Shanks away unless he gave her a reason to. 

“Sounds like it wasn’t easy getting to the point you’re at now.” Gilda gestured to the clothes she was altering in an elusion to Shanks’ upcoming date. 

“No,” Shanks agreed with a heavy heart, “And I can only really blame myself for our hardships.” 

The old woman hummed, “I wouldn’t dwell in the past if I were you,” she advised simply, “Live for the present. If you let your regrets haunt you, they’ll overshadow all the good that you’re experiencing now.” 

Leaning his head against his hand, Shanks peered at the old woman curiously, “You’ve got any regrets then? Anything you wish you could have done differently?”

“If I did, ain’t no point worrying about it now.” Gilda grunted, “Not like I have the ability to go and change back time. Probably wouldn’t even if I could,” she revealed thoughtfully, “We’re all on the path we’re meant to be on. Everything we’ve done and will do is just a part of life. Life wouldn’t be nearly as fun if we could go back and rewrite our mistakes.” 

The alpha grinned. He liked that answer. 

“Mm, my partner would like you,” Shanks said, “He has a very…simple approach to life. Straight forward, if you will.” 

Gilda’s lips thinned, “And you think you’re complicated then?” 

“Maybe.” Shanks admitted, “Or maybe I just make things complicated for myself.” 

“I’d vote on the latter.” 

Shanks gave a charmed laugh, “Aye, I’m sure you would.” 

It was only an hour later when Gilda finished with her alterations. Shanks filled up her time with stories of his adventures on the seas and all the unbelievable things he’d seen during his time as a captain. Once the old woman was finished, she sat Shanks down in a chair to give his hair a bit of a trim. She kept the length, but evened out the ends so that he didn’t look as ‘scraggly’ as she liked to call it. Then, she endured the arduous task of getting the alpha dressed and ensuring the clothing fit to the standard she was looking for. 

“You know,” Gilda said as she stepped back to give him another final once over, “For as smelly and awful looking as you were when you came in, you clean up nice enough I suppose.” 

“You think I’m handsome don’t you?” Shanks asked, clearly fishing for a compliment as he smoothed his hands down the front of his waistcoat. 

Gilda had tailored an outfit to compliment the red of Shanks’ earring and hair, ensuring the fabrics she used didn’t take away from the red shine of Mihawk’s gift. Dressed in semi-formal garb, Shanks donned a pair of fitted russet brown trousers accompanied by a matching waistcoat. Beneath the coat he wore a light colored dress shirt. The chiffon shade of the poplin material complemented the darker notes of Shanks’ tan, and contrasted the shiny ornament of his earring to make it, along with his hair, stand out brightly. For accessories, Gilda had given him a golden pocket watch (to make a statement, she explained while working on him), as well as two rings to adorn his right hand. From there, she fit him in a pair of dress shoes to match the brown of his trousers and coat, finishing off the simple yet elegant look by bestowing him with a pair of golden links for the cuffs of his sleeves. 

“You’ll ruin the look with that hat and sword of yours, just for your awareness.” 

Shanks grinned, “I believe I can go a night without them for the sake of exceeding my mate’s standards.” 

Gilda gave him another once over as she mumbled, “You don’t even look like a pirate anymore. Truly, I’m a miracle worker.” 

“I’m told being a pirate is half my charm!” Shanks protested lightly. 

Gilda waved him off before deliberately glancing out the window to view the oncoming sunset. It was just about time for Shanks to wrap up and leave, and with that thought in mind he gave whatever was left of his money to the old woman. She looked at the fairly hefty sum and then back at Shanks like he was an idiot. 

“It ain’t that goddamn much!” 

“Eh, don’t worry about it,” The alpha said as he waved her off, “I’m in no want of money.” 

Gilda eyed him with scrutiny, “First time I’ve ever seen a pirate give money rather than take it.” 

“Oh, I’m sure,” Shanks agreed, “But I pride myself on being one of a kind, you know?” He shot the old woman a flirty wink. 

Gilda rolled her eyes at him, unsurprised by his antics at this point. Shanks bid her a fond farewell, promising to drop by in the morning for the rest of his order and then set off towards he and Mihawk’s small ship. Once there, he stowed away Gryphon and his treasured hat, thinking Roger wouldn’t mind if Shanks went into his date alone this time. 

With a smile on his lips and an undeniable air of excitement, Shanks made for the town center next. As he walked, he could feel eyes drift and take him in, small whispers passed between the locals as they wondered who he was and what a man like him might’ve been doing in their city. Their curiosity was excusable. Not only was Shanks an alpha—a rarity in these parts of the seas, but Gilda had dressed him to look as important as a noble. His demeanor was firm and proud, but still friendly as he greeted the Townsens on his way back into town, thanking them again for referring him to the old woman. 

Right at sunset, Shanks made it to the town square where the celebration for the night was already stirring with activity. Little market tents and carts were erected around the center, selling off trinkets and food before the upcoming show. The crowd grew more and more by the minute, swelling with easy-going excitement as couples and families took to the streets. Shanks checked his pocket watch (which he still found so funny when he looked at it), and saw that the time was nearing for the play to begin. Scanning the crowd once more to see if he could catch sight of Mihawk, Shanks wondered if the omega had gotten held up somehow. 

However, all concerns and worries for Mihawk flew out the window when there was a distinct murmuring amongst the crowd. Naturally, Shanks sensed the shift as people’s attention was drawn to the far end of the square. The alpha followed their stares, and saw nothing particularly noteworthy until he suddenly caught a scent drifting in the air. Soft and delicate, but still so familiar as the cool notes and tones beckoned to Shanks like a sweet siren in the night. Instinctively, Shanks was ensnared, and with a step in the direction of that softly exuding aroma, Shanks finally laid his eyes on the most glorious sight to have ever and to ever exist. 

Mihawk, easily parting the crowd with his ethereal grace and otherworldly beauty, let the bright yellow of his eyes land on Shanks as soon as he spotted the alpha. A warm smile flattered the omega’s divine features, and Shanks’ breath abandoned him as his chest squeezed like he’d been sucker punched. The alpha had no thoughts to consider when Mihawk took the initiative to approach. All Shanks could do was take in his mate, his omega , and thank the gods a million times over for allowing him this enviable privilege. 

Draped in a satin blouse the red of Shanks’ hair, Mihawk gracefully started to close the distance between them. Shanks allowed his eyes to roam and take it all in, helpless but to want and appreciate all at once. Mihawk’s shirt had a high neckline wrapped snugly around the slender appeal of the omega’s throat, seated in such a way as if meant to tempt Shanks into putting his hand there instead. Though loose, the blouse was flattering, flowy in a manner that gave off whimsical appeal yet tapered where needed to accentuate the omega’s figure. It was slimmer around his chest, but billowy along the sleeves and cuffed at the ends to create a striking contrast between shape and fit. The color and the shine of the satin was what really drew Shanks’ attention, however. To see his omega wearing the alpha’s colors and in such a fine fabric appealed to Shanks in ways he couldn’t hope to verbalize. 

To make matters worse (or better—probably better), Mihawk donned a pair of straight-legged trousers of nearly the same russet brown as Shanks’. They sat high and tight on his waistline, and with the slightly wider pant-leg flaring softly from the waistband, it gave off the illusion of curves that made the omega appear slimmer than he already was. Not petite, because a man of Mihawk’s caliber would never pass for small, but slender in a way that made Shanks itch to fit his hands to the small of Mihawk’s waist and keep them there. 

Mouth going dry, Shanks could only stand dumbly as the love of his life continued to approach. With his hair soft and naturally curled the slightest bit, Mihawk was ravishing. He did not look like one of the world’s deadliest men, and yet one could not mistake him for anything except extraordinary. There was nobility in his walk, and elegance to the very air of him. One might mistake him for royalty, but Shanks knew better. Royalty didn’t even begin to encompass the grace of Shanks’ beloved angel. 

Even the crowd seemed to realize this, noticing the omega with awe-inspired looks and complete disbelief. Usually, most didn’t realize just how beautiful Mihawk was due to his frightful and lethal reputation, but having gone without Yoru and dressed in such fine attire, it was impossible to ignore him now. Shanks was warmed from the inside out, a smile of utter adoration gracing his lips as his omega was now near enough to reach out for. The scent of him was both relaxing and enticing, and the alpha was tempted to purr his delight. However, he settled for taking Mihawk’s hand into his own to kiss the omega’s knuckles in proper greeting. Letting his lips linger, the alpha’s red eyes sought out Mihawk’s, soft and full of affection as the other bestowed Shanks with a regal smile. 

Standing back upright, Shanks took a step closer to Mihawk, almost at a complete loss for words, “You look…” Shanks started to say, and yet whatever came to mind fell short of what the alpha wanted to express. 

So, the redhead settled his hands on Mihawk’s waist just as he’d been itching to do since he first spotted his omega. From there, he lightly pressed his forehead against the other’s own, soaking in the pure joy of just having his omega close. 

“Have I gone and left you speechless?” Mihawk mused softly, his voice as alluring as his looks, “To think Red-Haired Shanks would run out of flirty compliments. I never thought I would see the day.” 

“No words could even compare to what I’m feeling for you at present, love,” Shanks huffed out a small laugh, “And here I thought I might be the more impressive one for a change. I even have a pocket watch!” 

The omega’s eyes glanced downwards with a flicker of amusement, “I see that,” he said, his tone dipping low enough to send shivers down Shanks’ spine, “And trust me, I am very appreciative of whoever dressed you.” 

Mihawk breathed out the compliment as if it were a true test of his self control not to drag Shanks away to the nearest private corner and express his appreciation , and honestly, Shanks couldn’t have related more to that struggle at present. 

“Yeah?” Shanks arched a brow teasingly, but also a bit breathless as Mihawk skimmed his hand lightly across the fabric of Shanks’ waistcoat. 

Mihawk met the alpha’s eyes again with a smoldering look. It burned and enticed the alpha, and left him reeling as his hands subtly tightened on the omega’s hips. Shanks didn’t forget that they were still in public, but more than anything he wished that they weren’t so he could fall to his knees and lavish Mihawk however he desired. 

It was by some miracle that he didn’t give in to the urges, but he couldn’t resist dipping forward and stealing a quick kiss. 

“You’re going to be the death of me angel.” 

“Mm,” Mihawk hummed with a quiet laugh, “Maybe save that for after we finish our date? It’d be a shame to have put all this effort in just to let it all go to waste.” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” Shanks assured, “Plus, I’d really like to show you off.” 

At Mihawk’s intrigued look, Shanks explained with the cheekiest smiles, “Pirates like to boast about their treasure right? Well darling, you’re the finest damn treasure I’ve ever had the pleasure to see.” 

The omega’s amused snort was loud as he rolled his eyes, “Seriously? You really are the worst, Red.” 

Shanks stole another kiss, simply because he couldn’t resist the playful smirk on his lover’s lips. He kept the affection chaste and quick, innocent considering all the things Shanks wished he could be doing. When he pulled back, the alpha extended his arm for the omega to take, and then gestured towards the stage where a play was about to start. 

“Shall we?” Shanks asked, full of charisma and as gentlemanly as a man raised by pirates could be. 

Mihawk slipped his hand around the alpha’s bicep in wordless agreement. Eager for the night ahead, Shanks guided them to the start of the show. A crowd gathered around the stage, and at the beginning notes of soft music playing in the background, the crowd cheered. An announcer came to the center of the stage, and gave a bit of background on the reason for the celebration along with the order of events for the night. Shanks barely paid attention, a little too engrossed with the fact that he had the world’s most beautiful man at his side. Unlike the alpha, Mihawk was paying attention, and avidly watched as the play began. Shanks didn’t have a clue what it was about, but the omega seemed to enjoy it well enough as he watched the actors and actresses move across the stage. 

“You’re not even watching.” Mihawk accused him quietly when another act came to a close. 

There was a round of applause, one that Mihawk politely joined in on as he shot the alpha a coy look. 

Shanks shrugged unapologetically, “I know it's something about heroes and wars and whatever. I’m sure it’s great, but looking at you is better.” 

“It’s a tale about tragic lovers,” Mihawk explained simply, nudging Shanks quietly and indicating towards the stage. Shanks looked on as the omega softly continued, “The God of Love was envious of the pair’s pure affection for each other, as he desired the omega for himself. When he was rejected, in his fit of rage he cursed the pair to be enemies in each life they were to live, doomed to kill each other. Whenever one of them died, the one remaining would recover their memories of both the curse and their feelings of love. Often, the pain of loss drove them to their own death, and the cycle repeats.” 

Shanks made a face, “Well that’s…terrible. Why is it so sad?” 

Mihawk chuckled, “I predict it’ll have a happy ending, but of course, you won’t know unless you watch .” 

Getting the omega’s point, Shanks gave in and focused his attention towards the stage, and despite his earlier notion that watching Mihawk was better than anything else (and that was still true), the play was rather interesting. There was a convoluted undertone of politics and classism to the play itself, and a message Shanks suspected pertained to the unequal treatment between the dynamics of alpha, beta, and omega. Drawn into the story, Shanks found himself rooting for the leading couple, wanting them to defy all the odds set against them. He ended up cheering with the crowd when victory seemed to be on the horizon, and growing disheartened when yet another obstacle got in the way. From the corner of the alpha’s eyes, he could spy Mihawk occasionally glancing at him fondly, endeared by Shanks’ expressive following of the scenes. 

By the end of the show, it was a happy ending as Mihawk predicted, and triumph was felt throughout the crowd as everyone erupted into sounding applause. Shanks didn’t want to admit how thoroughly he enjoyed the play, but it was fulfilling seeing the good guys win for a change. 

Catching the knowing look Mihawk sent him, Shanks rolled his eyes with a laugh, “Fine, fine! It was worth the watch. You were right.” 

“I usually am.” Mihawk agreed, and upon hearing that effortless confidence, Shanks couldn’t help but laugh brightly again. 

“Aye,” he whispered into his omega’s ear, “So did you enjoy it then?” 

Mihawk nodded, “It was enjoyable, and there was more depth to the storyline than I initially imagined there would be. While the theme of love was certainly a focal point, the disparity between the gods and humans could be paralleled with the idea of inequality among social classes. Really, I wouldn’t mind reading the actual script if given the chance as I’m sure there was more to the message than what I was able to gather from—“ 

As the omega rambled on, he paused briefly when he noted the strange look on Shanks’ face. Mihawk hesitated, seemingly unsure if he should continue on his dissection of the play, and as soon as he saw that apprehension, Shanks was quick to interject, “No, no! Keep going!” The alpha assured, “You were voicing my thoughts exactly.” 

“Was I really?” Mihawk sounded skeptical, and while Shanks thought he should probably be a little offended that Mihawk doubted his comprehension abilities, the alpha couldn’t blame him either. 

Smiling, the redhead countered back, “Personally, I liked the  approach to dynamic inequality being the product of a higher power maintaining control over a population. You know, considering the world government pushes traditionalist mindsets to deter the masses from attempting to be more than what they’re told they can be.” 

If Mihawk was surprised by Shanks’ eloquent answer, he didn’t show it (and Ben had slaved for too many hours to count just to get Shanks to read something that wasn’t erotica for once—which inevitably led to the alpha reading willingly on his own out of simple intrigue more than anything else. It was deemed a miracle that a pirate such as Shanks could be educated properly despite never having much interest, and Ben liked to take the credit all for himself). 

Instead of showing his surprise, Mihawk took the alpha’s response as an invitation to continue the conversation as he deep-dived into the hidden philosophies of the play, and where the writer may have drawn inspiration from varying sources. Shanks softened to the way Mihawk’s eyes lit up with interest as the omega spoke. Shanks didn’t think he could possibly be more in love, and then as soon as he thought that, Mihawk would go and do something else that made the alpha fall even harder. The swordsman was intelligent and witty, thoughtful when he talked and even more deliberate with his actions. When the omega eased his hand into Shanks’ own, threading their fingers with a delicate blush to his ears as he fixed his eyes elsewhere, Shanks thought he might literally melt. If his crew saw him, they wouldn’t recognize their captain. Not with the obviously besotted look Shanks wore for the only man worthy of being viewed in such a way. 

The night carried on as the events of the evening went from a show to various bands taking to the stage to sing and string their music as the cart and shop owners set up games for the locals. Some couples took to dancing in the square, parents showed their kids how to play the festival games, and as soon as the booze was brought out, the celebration turned into a proper party. Swept up into the good mood, Shanks managed to convince Mihawk to humor a few games, issuing challenges he knew the omega could never refuse. It was debilitating seeing a man of Mihawk’s caliber roll up his sleeves in preparation to bob for apples, and even more earth shattering when Mihawk nailed it on his first try, his hair wet as he slicked it back to present Shanks with his prize. 

After that, the omega had lured Shanks into a dart throwing competition—an event which ended up drawing them a plethora of attention as both Shanks and Mihawk went toe-to-toe with bullseye after bullseye. They even went so far as to position themselves farther and farther from the target, the onlooking crowd taking sides and placing bets on who would come out the victor. In the end, Mihawk completely cheated—or rather, that was that story Shanks was sticking to. Right as the alpha had been about to throw his final dart, he caught sight of the omega from the corner of his eye. Mihawk looked sinful with his hair still wet and dampening the dark red satin of his shirt, and when the omega drew his bottom lip between his teeth in a provocative challenge, Shanks’ shot ended up going just wide of the center. 

“That was a dirty trick!” Shanks accused when the omega secured his victory. 

Mihawk accepted the plushy that he would never otherwise view as a prize with undeniable glee, his competitiveness making a rather strong appearance as he cockily posed, “How is a pirate going to whine about someone else playing dirty?” 

That was a fair point, but Shanks pouted visibly nonetheless. For his efforts, Mihawk ended up gifting the alpha the tiny stuffed wolf he won, and Shanks should not have been as delighted as he was upon receiving it. 

“Next round I’m totally winning.” Shanks asserted, because regardless of the gift, Mihawk still played dirty and it provoked Shanks’ own competitive nature in response. 

The omega didn’t seem the slightest bit threatened, and oh, he was such a little brat sometimes, wasn’t he? 

The next game ended up being a spin-off of a ball toss. Mihawk immediately recognized that the pins they were supposed to knock down were rigged not to fall, to which the omega interpreted as a blatant challenge to make them fall. They both probably threw their respective ammunition with more force than necessary, and gauging by the shop owner’s reactions to his pins going flying, he must’ve realized he wasn’t dealing with any normal set of customers. Once more, the duo were in a deadlocked tie until Shanks decided it was his turn to mess with his omega. 

Watching as Mihawk reared back his arm to toss his last ball, Shanks scented briefly yet prominently. His momentary release of his alpha nature was only noticed by the shop owner and Mihawk, mostly because Shanks reeled it back in as soon as he let the first notes of his scent exude without restraint. The effect, however, worked perfectly in his favor. There was the slightest moment of hesitance out of Mihawk, a flickering of intrigue and desire darkening his eyes before it was gone just as quickly as it appeared. Brief as the falter was, it still led to Mihawk missing one of the pins. He cursed, sucking on his teeth in a show of annoyance before casting the alpha a knowing glare. 

“I suppose fair is fair,” The omega noted tightly, “But that was a low blow.” 

“I’m a pirate, gorgeous. What’d you expect?” Shanks replied as he accepted his own winnings, and just as Mihawk did for him, Shanks gifted his fake sword to the omega. 

Mihawk eyed the prize in barely veiled disdain, clearly finding the plastic piece an insult to everything he stood for. Shanks merely laughed as he wrapped his arm around the older’s waist, tugging him in the direction of their next challenge. 

After idling at whatever stall they wandered off to, the narrator from the play took to the center stage again, tapping on the microphone as the music died down in the background. 

He went on to announce the next event for the celebration, revealing that it was a city wide scavenger hunt in which various items of decent worth were scattered and hidden in locations around the town. At this point in the night, a majority of the adults were already a few drinks in too many, but that didn’t stop their excited cheers as the items to be found were listed. Shanks thought the whole thing was a bit funny, but Mihawk merely saw another opportunity to face off against the alpha and prove himself better. 

“Aw, but if we participate then the townsfolk won’t get any of the prizes!” 

“We’ll give them away afterwards, it’s fine.” Mihawk said, “Or are you too scared to face me? My observation Haki is better than yours…” came the teasing remark. 

Shanks scoffed, “Not if I go and cancel it out.” 

The omega, instead of being offended, looked thoroughly interested in the idea, “Then you won’t be able to use yours, either.” 

Shanks knew well enough what that spark in Mihawk’s eyes meant, and he found himself answering the other’s call before he could think better of it, “Alright then. No observation Haki. Just good ol’ sense of direction and luck.” 

“I don’t need luck.” Mihawk countered, “But you probably will.” 

“Oh please, I could find…wait, what were we looking for again?” Shanks asked. He thought Mihawk would’ve at least been nice enough to answer him, but instead the gunshot signaling the start of the scavenger hunt sounded off in the background, triggering the crowd to spill into the streets of the city. Mihawk was gone before Shanks could even blink, and with a curse followed by a laugh, the alpha snagged himself a list of items to find and set off on his search. 

One thing became abundantly clear as soon as he started looking: he was terrible at finding treasure. 

And sure, there was definitely some irony to that statement considering he was a pirate , but treasure usually had a map or something to point the alpha in the right direction of where to go. The only thing Shanks had to go off was the defined area in which the items were hidden and that was it. 

Still, not one to give up easily, Shanks figured that the event organizers wouldn’t make it too difficult to find things, considering children were participants as well, so he started with all the obvious places. Taking to the rooftops, he subverted the crowds down below as he looked for landmarks that stood out above the rest. His first was a bell tower not too far from where he was at, and figuring something had to be there, Shanks went poking around until he spotted the glimmer of something shiny. 

“Aha! And this must be the…the…” Shanks looked at his list than back at the globe he was holding. 

“It’s the Astronomer's map, Red.” Suddenly, before Shanks could even register what happened, the globe was plucked from his fingers as a wily omega quickly made for the exit. 

“Hey!” The alpha startled as he gave chase, “Give that back! Finders keepers!” 

“You’re a pirate, Shanks!” Mihawk shot back with a laugh, “Start acting like one!” 

The omega, fast on his feet and obviously having planned this exact scenario, climbed back out of the window he entered through before Shanks could stop him. 

“That little…” Shanks huffed. 

Of course Mihawk wouldn’t play by the rules, and yes Shanks was again perfectly aware of the irony in his sentiment. Still, the alpha wasn’t really all that upset. If anything, it felt like Mihawk was teasing him, and knowing the omega, that was probably the case. The thought made the alpha grin like a madman, the itch of their rivalry burning hot under his skin. The game Mihawk played was an enticing one—one that Shanks didn’t bother refusing once that gauntlet was thrown. 

With a laugh, Shanks set out for the next item on the list and had a sneaky suspicion he knew where to find it. If the items were hidden near or in obvious landmarks of the city, then it wasn’t difficult to pinpoint where to go next. Setting his sights on the grand library—the second largest building in the city—Shanks was entirely unsurprised to discover a certain omega already there. Leaning arrogantly against the librarian’s desk, Mihawk idly tossed a palm-sized sapphire up in the air before catching it again, seemingly bored as he waited for Shanks to arrive. 

Yellow eyes fixed on the alpha as soon as Shanks stopped a few feet from his counterpart, “You’re rather slow today. If you don’t start moving faster, you’ve no chance of winning this, Red-hair.” 

Shanks smirked, “How about you just toss me that gem and we can call the stunt you pulled earlier fair and square?” 

Mihawk appeared to consider the option before shaking his head with a teasing smile, “No,” he dared to say, haughty and full himself, “Come and take it if you want it so badly.” 

Oh , Mihawk was really asking for it wasn’t he? 

Licking his lips, Shanks moved a step forward, keenly aware of bright eyes that didn’t miss a single twitch of movement the alpha made, “You sure you want to go challenging a pirate, love? We don’t play very fair.” 

“Mm, you haven’t been acting the part of a pirate the entire night. You’ve been so… gentlemanly .” Mihawk purred the word with sensual undertones, and still leaned against the desk, he looked far too inviting, too tempting to really resist. 

Shanks took another step, “And you, on the other hand, have been acting like a little criminal.” 

“Well considering I have a 1.2 billion bounty on my head, I’d say my behavior’s to be expected.” The omega didn't miss how close Shanks had gotten—merely two steps away from Mihawk at this point—and smiled amusedly, “So,” came the provoking taunt, “Are you going to make your move, or what?” 

Shanks lunged with a playful growl, dashing forward in a show of blinding speed as his hands went to latch onto the omega. Graceful as ever, Mihawk managed to slip from the alpha’s grasp as he rolled out of the way, still tossing the gem carelessly in his hands. Shanks, expecting it wouldn’t be so easy to win, took advantage of the fact that neither could use their observation Haki to throw a cup seated on the desk right as Mihawk tossed the sapphire into the air again. The cup knocked into the jewel, sending them both sprawling away from the duo as Shanks immediately forewent playing with Mihawk to diving for the sapphire instead. 

Unfortunately, he didn’t make it very far before an arm wrapped around his neck and pulled him back, the omega grabbing Shanks from behind in a mild choke. Instinct led him into stomping his foot down on top of Mihawk’s, and at the slight hiss of breath Mihawk exuded, his grip loosened just enough for Shanks to work his way out of it. Unapologetic, the alpha made for the gem again, but Mihawk reached out and snagged the alpha by his pant leg, pulling him off balance until the pirate captain smacked face-first into the floor. He gave a startled laugh as the action didn't so much as hurt but rather felt especially juvenile coming from Mihawk. 

It was a mad scramble after that with both the alpha and the omega vying to claim the sapphire for themselves. Shanks, once he saw that Mihawk was thoroughly distracted with the gem, made his final move. With his ultimate goal in sight, the alpha diverted away from the sapphire at the last minute and reached for the small globe that was hooked onto Mihawk’s waistband. Too engrossed in his current task to react, Mihawk could only watch in dismay as Shanks stole the astronomer's globe back for himself and ran off. 

“You can have the sapphire!” Shanks yelled over his shoulder as he sprinted for the exit, “This makes us even by the way!” 

The alpha didn’t get a chance to see Mihawk’s face, but he just knew the older man was stewing over the fact that he’d been bested. Thrilled in a way that was difficult to explain to outsiders, Shanks beelined for his next target fully aware that Mihawk would be heading for his own as well. There were only seven items to be found throughout the city, and there was no guarantee that the townspeople would find some before Shanks and Mihawk, so it was a race against time to find who could find the majority. The cemetary was a bit morbid, but Shanks came out with a diamond encrusted tiara. There were a few places that came up empty after that, but in a stroke of luck Shanks managed to get his hands on a hairpin before a beta woman could claim it for herself. 

“I promise I’ll give it to you after the winner’s announced!” Shanks said as he took off down the street again, “Sorry about this!” 

With three items down, Shanks wasn’t sure how many were left to find or how many Mihawk already had. However, just as he started to wonder where the competition stood, an announcement came over the transponder snails stationed around the city saying that six out of the seven items were located, and only one—the most difficult—was left. The alpha knew that if he got his hands on the last item it would tip the majority in his favor and declare him the victor. Undoubtedly, he knew Mihawk was in the same boat as him, and both were racing for the final item. 

It didn’t take a genius to figure out where it would be hidden. For the purpose of entertainment, Shanks suspected it was somewhere in the town square as the last place anyone would look would be right where they began. It was a clever thought, but not clever enough as Shanks arrived back at the starting point, just the slightest bit sweaty from having gone all over hell’s creation because of this damn scavenger hunt. 

Mihawk arrived at the same time as Shanks, and the announcer took to spectating the competition between the two. 

“And it looks like we have our first arrivals on scene. However, will they be the ones to find the lost Ring of Aldara? It’s no easy item to spot, but it looks like both our contestants are dead set on—“ 

Ignoring the spectators, Shanks dashed for the fountain erected at the center of the square. Mihawk matched him step for step, clearly having the same idea. The hiding places were predictable, and after discovering three items already, Shanks could spot the pattern easily enough. The ring would definitely be somewhere in the fountain, probably alongside the many coins that were tossed in for well-wishes. It would be a shame to get his pants wet, but he’d give Gilda the ring as an apology if he managed to get it first. Rolling up his sleeves, Shanks didn’t hesitate to kick off his dress shoes and get to searching. Mihawk was of the same determination, and Shanks would have laughed at the peculiar sight of Dracule Mihawk sloshing around in a wish-fountain if he wasn’t so focused on his task. 

It didn’t take long for the sabotage to start up, either. Ruthless as ever, Mihawk ‘accidentally’ bumped into Shanks from behind, knocking him forward until he was nearly fully submerged in the knee deep fountain. Soaked, the alpha retaliated by sloshing a load of water back at the omega, drenching him head to toe in a flurry of attacks before resuming his frantic search for the elusive ring. Mihawk started to search in Shanks’ area, knocking into the alpha until they both started outright wrestling each other for the prize. 

“And it looks like things are heating up! For a couple, these two certainly don’t hold back against each other…” 

Shanks managed to get a hold of Mihawk’s head and dunked him under water before making his escape to the opposite end of the fountain. The omega was hardly slowed as he leapt at the alpha’s back, pulling them both clumsily down to their knees. A laugh startled out of Shanks, both determined to win while also having the time of his life. He could faintly hear the omega’s own amusement, the notes of his chuckles softer than Shanks’ own, but no less genuine. Finally, after making more of a mess than what was probably anticipated, Shanks saw a shine unlike the coins sitting in the water. 

Mihawk followed his line of sight, and then they both jumped, clambering to get to the ring before the other could claim it for themselves. There were hands slapping, feet kicking, and Shanks was pretty sure Mihawk used his teeth at one point until Shanks felt his fingers secure around the jewelry piece. Mihawk’s hand was on it too, and in a last ditch effort to secure his victory, Shanks swept forward through water and mayhem and stole a furtive kiss from his omega. He probably swallowed about half the fountain water in the process, but at the initial brush of lips between them, Shanks parted his mouth and kissed Mihawk properly . It was a dirty trick, but as soon as he heard the other’s breath hitch in shock followed by an instinctual response to the affection, Shanks snatched the ring for himself and claimed total victory. 

“I’ve got it!” He proclaimed, shooting up with a shout as he tumbled out of the fountain and ran up to the announcer, “I’ve got…I’ve got four out of the seven items. There’s the—there’s the tiara, and the hair pin, the ring, and—“ Shanks pat around in his pockets for the astronomer's map. Damn it, where was it—?

“Hold on,” he smiled easily at the announcer, “It was here just a moment ago…”

“Looking for this, Red?” Came the snarky little inquiry from behind. 

Shanks froze. 

No. No way . 

“Oh, you bastard!” Shanks turned on Mihawk with an incredulous laugh, only to have his suspicions confirmed when he saw Mihawk idly tossing the small globe in hand, much like he’d been doing with the sapphire earlier. 

The omega grinned fully, satisfied with his triumph as he sauntered up to the podium and laid all four of his items out fully for the announcer to see, “And I do think that makes me the winner.” 

“You were distracting me the whole time!” Shanks surmised. Hell, Mihawk had used his own trick against him and it worked. It worked! And for some reason the alpha found that hopelessly funny. 

“You put up a good fight,” Mihawk commended in a false display of humility, “But don’t forget that I’m the best . Oh,” the omega turned back towards the announcer, “You can give the prizes away to whomever. We’re in no need of them.”

“Well,” Shanks interjected, “I did promise the hairpin away, and I’d like the ring to be delivered to Gilda’s if you don’t mind.” 

Blinking with wide eyes, the beta announcer nodded slowly before suddenly realizing that the scavenger hunt had come to a close. With a jolt, he took to the transponder snail and pronounced Mihawk the final winner of the hunt, and mentioned that the prizes had been generously donated and would be raffled off at the end of the night. There were several cheers from the crowd as those who were once searching for the items gradually returned to the town square. Activity started up once more, lively music and near endless amounts of booze keeping the spirits high as Shanks and Mihawk went off on their own. 

Both men were still dripping wet, but Shanks figured the mess was worth it for the lighthearted fun. He still couldn’t believe Mihawk had pulled one over on him like that, but he wasn’t bothered. If anything, he found the whole scenario ridiculously funny, and couldn’t stop chuckling about it for minutes after the fact. They probably both took the challenge a little too seriously, but they were rivals after all. Equal in power and ability. Their respective strengths were each other’s weaknesses and there was a profound joy to be had in testing his ability against Mihawk’s own—even if the test was a simple scavenger hunt. 

Dropping with a sigh on a bench nearby, Shanks giggled under his breath, still endlessly charmed. 

“You know,” Mihawk started as he sat beside the alpha, “For someone who just lost, you’re quite pleased.” 

With his arm laid on the back of the bench, Shanks let his head loll in Mihawk’s direction as he bestowed the omega with a blinding grin, “I had fun,” he admitted freely, his voice warm with good feeling, “It’s been a long time since having a good time was the only thing I cared about. No worries. No stress. Just me, you, and the fact that you’re a dirty little cheat—“

“Pirates, remember?” Mihawk quipped back, “And it’s not cheating. It’s called being an opportunist .” 

“Cheater.” Shanks asserted, earning himself a pinch to the side as the omega rolled his eyes. 

Soon enough, however, Mihawk relaxed into Shanks, leaning against him as they quietly watched the festivities continue. Shanks had taken to letting his fingers drift along the damp fabric of Mihawk’s shirt, content to finish the evening in comfortable agreeability. 

As the minutes drifted into an hour, and the clothes on their back went from soaked to halfway dry, Mihawk murmured into the delicate atmosphere surrounding them, “I had fun too. More than I really thought I was capable of having, but you always seem to bring out sides of me I wasn’t even aware I had.” 

Pressing a kiss to the crown of his omega’s head, Shanks breathed gently, “So I nailed it for a first date?” 

The older man rumbled with reluctant amusement, “Yes, you did.” 

“Well, at least I can claim one victory for myself.” 

“I’ll let you have it.” Mihawk agreed and he sounded so, so lovely when he spoke without attempting to hide his affection. 

Feeling his heart flutter and skip and twist, Shanks wasn’t capable of responding with words, so he simply held onto Mihawk tighter, hoping his touch would say more than he ever could. Judging by Mihawk’s hum of perfect contentment, Shanks’ wordless message was received loud and clear. 

Chapter Text

The Golden Fleece

Weeks came and went in rapid succession after that, and before Shanks even had a grasp on the time, well over a month passed since he and Mihawk started their journey together. During that time they sailed wherever they wanted to, happy to explore and content with having no concrete destination in mind. Shanks made a continuous effort to court Mihawk properly—whether that entailed whisking him away in elaborately planned excursions, or even a last minute inspired idea that had them getting lost in a supposedly haunted jungle. Mihawk found the entire ordeal strangely exciting since he seemingly harbored a morbid fascination with the undead and the idea of life after death. He was sorely disappointed when the haunting of the woods revealed itself to be a cranky old man who just wanted to be left alone, but the unexpected adventure had been fun while it lasted. 

Needless to say, Shanks was having the time of his life and he knew Mihawk was to. There were no obligations or responsibilities, nothing that immediately called for Shanks’ intervention, and it was liberating. To spend his days aimlessly drifting on the seas, his beloved omega at his side with only a world of possibilities ahead of him—yeah, life was good. 

They sparred often, and whenever they came across an uninhabited island, they would leave it decimated in the wake of their duels. Testing his strength against Mihawk again and again would never get old. He could feel himself get stronger, the both of them fine tuning their skills as they adapted and were forced to come up with new ways to beat the other. Afterwards, they were usually too exhausted to make it back to the ship, so they would lay wherever they ended up and stare up at the skies. If it was night, Shanks would point out any new constellations he could find, and if it was during the day, Mihawk would identify the many birds that flew overhead with more knowledge on the species than was healthy.  

Their connection with each other was only growing as the days passed, a foundation for a much stronger relationship laid brick by brick, stone by stone until they would have something unshakable. 

Of course, there were the kisses in addition to the dates, and when the mood struck (as it often did), Shanks and Mihawk would waste the hours of the day learning each other’s bodies. The alpha had yet to give Mihawk a proper knot, but that didn’t stop their hands and lips from wandering, from their breaths turning heated with passion as they discovered what made the other tick (and really Shanks liked anything Mihawk did to him). The alpha still vividly recalled the face Mihawk made when Shanks first went to eat him out. The omega had been struck with an image of horror at the idea, appalled that Shanks would put his mouth  there , but that was before the alpha let his tongue teasingly lap at Mihawk’s slick and watched as that revulsion turned into fervent demand for more . 

Shanks had been even more pleased when the following morning Mihawk woke him up by riding the alpha’s face, embarrassed at his own desperation but still shamelessly seeking that release nonetheless. The alpha was only too happy to oblige as he let his tongue sink deep into the swordsman, savoring and scenting the other’s wetness with a growing addiction for the flavor of Mihawk on his tongue. 

Things were great. Better than great. Shanks was happy . Truly and fully happy for the first time in years. He missed his crew of course, but he didn’t know how much he needed this break until it was just him and Mihawk and the entirety of the world at their fingertips. The worries could be saved for a later time. All that mattered at present was his omega’s happiness and seeing Mihawk’s face light up because of something Shanks did for him. 

During the weeks that they spent together, the swordsman grew more and more expressive. He was still poised and elegant in that characteristic way of his, but there was always an underlying excitement he approached even the simplest of things with. Shanks certainly never thought the day would come where he took Mihawk for being long-winded, but that was before the omega spent the better part of the day regaling Shanks with all the nuances that came with bird-watching. He was practically an encyclopedia on the matter, and the alpha couldn’t help but find something terribly funny about a man nicknamed Hawk-eyes passing his time at sea by watching birds. Mihawk didn’t get what was so amusing, but then again the omega had laughed hysterically the day before at a crooked gravestone for a full ten minutes while Shanks had tried valiantly to figure out just what the hell was so funny about a lopsided cross. He never came up with an answer, and Mihawk didn’t deign to enlighten him. 

So, Shanks was happy even in spite of the occasional skirmish with the marines and the endless parade of challengers determined to best Mihawk. If anything, the interruptions helped break up the monotony of sailing the seas, and Shanks even took to making internal bets with himself to see how long each of Mihawk’s opponents would last in a fight. The longest yet had been ten seconds, a record achieved merely because Mihawk was bored and wanted to drag the fight out a little longer. 

They were somewhere in the grandline now, having crossed over Reverse Mountain and passing through the twin capes a few days prior. As Shanks expected, their tiny little ship went to shit as soon as they made it over the crest of the mountain, but luckily enough there was a certain lighthouse keeper who had taken a modicum of pity on the red-haired pirate captain as their dinghy slowly started to take on more water than they could remove. 

“ Thought you were supposed to be in the new world?” Crockus had muttered, glancing at Shanks then at Mihawk, before turning back to the alpha again, “ Is this your honeymoon or something?” 

Shanks merely waved off the accusation with a laugh before begging his old ship’s doctor for a boat he could use, and since Crockus used to change his diapers at some point in time, the man obliged him. The ship was a marginal upgrade from their previous one. At the very least they had a kitchenette now and a full size bed large enough to accommodate both Mihawk and Shanks without having to squish together. 

Now, several days later the pair were wandering around the grandline. Shanks was much more familiar with this territory than the other seas, but there were still islands to discover and mysteries to be solved. Grand Tesoro’s casino was supposedly passing somewhere nearby at some point, and the alpha thought it might be fun to drop in on the city of gold to engage in a bit of harmless debauchery. 

Mihawk must’ve shared the same mindset, because from where he lounged near the helm of their little boat, chest bare and hat donned to shield him from the harsh sun, he mentioned, “I saw in the paper that Tesoro’s little party boat will be docked near Alabasta if you’re wanting to go.” 

Shanks looked over at his mate, grinning as he asked, “You asking me out on a date, love? I thought that was supposed to be my job.” 

“We can share the burden,” Mihawk dismissed easily, so incredibly used to deflecting Shanks’ jibes and lighthearted teases by now that he made it look effortless, “So? Is that a yes or a no?” 

“You ever been?” Shanks wondered. 

Mihawk shook his head, “There was never a need.” 

“Well then,” the alpha smiled, “I’ll take you up on that offer, angel.” 

Shanks saw the ghost of a smile curve on Mihawk’s lips from beneath the brim of his hat, and thinking the omega looked rather lonely by the helm, Shanks grabbed for a bottle of the other’s preferred wine and settled next to the swordsman. Pouring Mihawk a glass, Shanks sat in a way that allowed the omega to lean into him, and without need for prompting, Mihawk obliged. 

The mood was pleasant and comfortable. Shanks didn’t really expect Mihawk to interrupt it, but as always, the omega was capable of endless surprises when he muttered against the rim of his drink, “When we arrive, we should stay for a couple of days and pay for a room. A nice one.” 

“Well yeah,” Shanks agreed, completely missing Mihawk’s meaning, “Can’t go to Tesoro’s for only a day visit. You’d miss out on all the fun.”  

There was a tiny little sigh from the omega, and Shanks didn’t miss it this time. 

“That’s not what I—yes, I mean we should stay for a couple of days to enjoy all the attractions, but—“ Mihawk pursed his lips, clearly unwilling to say anything more as he deliberately drank his wine again. 

Shanks thought about it for a moment, finding it odd how the omega specifically mentioned renting a nice room (as if Mihawk would settle for anything less—he was surprisingly high maintenance for someone who traveled around on a raft ). Then it dawned on the alpha, the red of his eyes going wide as his cheeks colored in embarrassment. 

“Oh,” he uttered, “You mean a room for—“ Shanks cleared his throat and itched for a drink of his own. 

Mihawk shifted against him, “It was just a thought,” he said carefully, “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.” 

Despite himself, Shanks outright laughed at the second half of Mihawk’s statement, “Fucking hell gorgeous, of course I want to. I just didn’t know if you did.” 

In response to the alpha’s assumption, Mihawk shot him an incredulous look as his cheeks colored pink, “I’ve literally—“ he lowered his voice into a harsh whisper as if they weren’t the only two around for miles, “I’ve literally been riding your face nearly every morning for the last two weeks because I’ve wanted you to—to knot me.” 

Shanks licked his lips at the reminder, going a bit dizzy at hearing the omega speak in such a filthy way, even if it wasn’t his intention to rile the alpha up. 

Choking back his sudden desire, Shanks said, “And here I thought you just liked my tongue in your ass.” 

“I do,” Mihawk carelessly admitted, and oh that was so hot to hear him say, “But I’ve had ulterior motives. Though they’ve seemingly gone right over your head.” 

Turned on by this conversation when he probably shouldn’t be, Shanks eased the glass of wine out of Mihawk’s hands and took the liberty to coax the omega into his lap. Mihawk came without much of a fuss, mostly because (just as Shanks suspected) Mihawk rather enjoyed the notion of sitting astride the alpha like Shanks was his personal throne. 

Once the omega was in his lap, Shanks let his hands settle on the other’s toned waist where he gave the muscled skin a little squeeze of restraint. 

Looking up coyly, Shanks murmured deeply, “So what I’m hearing is that I’ve done a terrible injustice to you.” 

He purred his words, letting them rumble out of him in a way he knew Mihawk rather liked. Expectedly, the yellow of Mihawk’s eyes dilated ever so slightly as his lips parted in subtle invitation. 

Liking that expression on the swordsman, Shanks continued, “My omega’s been in desperate need for my knot, and I haven’t given it to him like I should have.” 

“No, you haven’t.” Mihawk agreed neutrally, and while his tone may have been clipped and cold (and that was so much hotter than it should be), the way he subtly ground against Shanks demonstrated just how accurate the alpha was in his declarations. 

Licking his lips again, Shanks leaned forward and nosed along the other’s throat, scenting him sweetly, “I’ll have to make it up to you at Tesoro’s then, won’t I? I should spread you out on one of those  ridiculously large beds and spend the days ravishing you, right? Give you my knot properly until you’re stuffed.” Shivering at the thought, the alpha darted his tongue out to tease Mihawk’s scent glands, “How does that sound, angel?” 

A tiny groan escaped Mihawk as he leaned into Shanks’ touches, “It sounds like you’ll have to tide me over until then. So I don’t get impatient, of course.” 

“Oh, I’d hate for that to happen.” Shanks agreed knowingly as he felt Mihawk’s slick dampen the layers of clothes between them. 

Already, the alpha’s mouth was watering for the taste of the omega. He could hardly wait to have the other completely and nearly gave into the urge now, but decided to hold off before the temptation became too much.

Still, he didn’t have to keep his hands completely to himself. 

With a growl and a searing kiss pressed to Mihawk’s lips, their clothes were pulled off and hands sought purchase wherever they could reach. The afternoon easily fell away after that, taken by the passion of their affection and the heat of their love. Shanks didn’t worry about changing their course to Tesoro’s, knowing Mihawk’s freaky ability to go where he wanted would get them where they needed soon enough. So, in the meantime Shanks satisfied their need with his dedicated devotion to the omega swordsman, only too happy to provide whatever his gorgeous mate demanded. 

“Everything is so…shiny. And gold. Very, very gold.” Mihawk observed as they approached the behemoth of Tesoro’s ship—ship being a massive understatement for the island size sailing casino that awaited their exploration. 

“Yeah,” Shanks agreed as he came to stand behind the swordsman, wrapping his arms loosely around the omega’s waist as he let his chin rest on Mihawk’s shoulder, “It’s kind of Tesoro’s thing. You grow numb to it after a while.” 

“Interesting.” Mihawk hummed as he leaned back into the alpha’s easy embrace. 

Shanks liked that Mihawk was an affectionate person, especially when it was just the two of them alone and Shanks had the freedom to touch and hold however he wished. It might have come as a surprise to most, to probably everyone except Shanks really, but the omega was actually quite fond of physical affection. Or rather, he was simply fond of Shanks’ touch specifically. All others would probably be severed in half if they so much as thought of reaching out for Mihawk, let alone what might happen if they acted on those impulses. 

Either way, the alpha tended to reap the rewards of Mihawk’s easy acceptance of his handsy tendencies. Shanks could never really go a moment without touching Mihawk in some way or another. Partly to assure himself that the omega was there, but mostly because Mihawk was simply too good to resist. To be fair, though, how could Shanks realistically be expected to keep his hands off when he had spent so many years keeping himself from doing just that? He had to make up for lost time, and since Mihawk didn’t seem to mind, Shanks took that as full permission to do whatever he wanted. 

Right now, what he wanted to do was kiss at Mihawk’s neck as Shanks gently swayed the two of them where they stood. It would be a few more minutes until they reached the dock for Tesoro’s, and in the meantime, Shanks couldn’t help but let his excitement for the upcoming trip show. 

There were many things to look forward to at Grand Tesoro’s Casino and Resort, but probably the most highly anticipated (in Shanks’ humble opinion) was getting Mihawk alone in a penthouse suite so he could slip the soft shirt from his shoulders followed by the drop of his pants, and then—well, he figured he could daydream about the details later. For now, his focus should probably center on not springing a massive boner in front of an island’s worth of people. 

Arriving at the loading dock, Shanks and Mihawk were greeted by a team of attendants in spite of their lackluster ship as they were recognized instantly when they came into port. With both men having their respective bounties over 1 billion, they would be treated as VIPs and were given the same preferential treatment as they would a highly esteemed guest. 

Upon seeing Mihawk’s mild look of concern in that regard, Shanks explained in a low whisper, “It’s a neutral territory here. The government gets a nice little tribute from Tesoro, and in turn they look away when it comes to any shady business. Pirates with high bounties are treated in the same regard as rich patrons or nobles would be, seeing as it’s assumed we have the money to spend.” 

“I see,” Mihawk nodded, “That’s convenient.” 

“It is,” Shanks smiled as he slipped an arm around the omega’s waist, “Plus I may have frequented the casino once or twice with my crew before, so I might have a bit of a reputation here.” 

Mihawk appeared entirely unsurprised by that reveal, “Oh? And what sort of reputation is that?” 

“Just that I’m a terrible gambler and lose more than I win.” 

The omega’s brows furrowed, “Then why bother coming here?” 

“For the fun of it!” Shanks answered, and as if perfectly timed for a dramatic reveal, the duo were escorted by the attendants through the receiving tunnel where the world of Tesoro’s grand casino opened up for them just moments later. A sprawling city of glittering gold, neon lights, amusement parks, and various brightly colored attractions spread out before the pair, demonstrating all that the roaming party country had to offer. An ostentatious limousine was parked at the end of a rolled out red carpet, awaiting the pair near a roped off walkway. Attendants posted themselves at the limousine doors and bowed deeply when Shanks and Mihawk stepped up to the elongated vehicle. 

Mihawk arched a prim brow in bemusement at the fanciful reception, casting Shanks a look as if to ask ‘are they actually serious?’. The alpha merely grinned as he motioned the attendant to step aside and opened the limousine door for Mihawk himself, “After you sweetheart.” 

The swordsman subtly rolled his eyes with a fond note before stepping into the vehicle. Shanks slipped the attendants a few bills as a tip before following after his omega. Once inside, he whistled in surprise at the sheer luxury of the private escort, thinking Tesoro was certainly outdoing himself compared to Shanks’ last visit. Granted, at that time Shanks was only worth 700 million or so, but now as a billion berry criminal, the red-haired pirate must have elevated himself to a new level of high-class treatment. 

“It’s nice, right?” Shanks asked as he pressed in close to Mihawk right as the omega took Yoru from his back and set her to lean against the window, “And look! They even have a fully stocked bar!” 

Mihawk followed Shanks’ gesture towards the line of liquor and wine bottles displayed in the center of the limousine. Shanks didn’t think it was really necessary to have a fully stocked liquor cabinet in a car, but he wasn’t opposed to breaking out a bottle for himself and a glass for his lovely mate. 

After ambling over to the counter and returning with drinks in both hands, Shanks resumed his spot at Mihawk’s side and gave a little cheers of excitement, “To us,” he toasted, still grinning widely. 

Mihawk met him with a softer smile as he clinked his glass against Shanks’ bottle of rum, “To us.” 

Watching the omega sip nobly on his wine with his legs crossed elegantly, Shanks couldn’t help but feel another stirring of excitement for what was to come. The thought of having Mihawk completely had the alpha scenting with the phantom aroma of arousal, his steady red eyes drinking his omega in as Shanks took another swig of his rum. 

Mihawk noticed of course. Shanks wasn’t really making that much of an effort to tamper back his growing interest, and with that clever smirk Shanks always found so enticing, Mihawk cradled his wine glass primly between his nimble fingers as he cast a sly yellow-eyed look at the alpha. 

“Something on your mind, Red?” The older teased, knowing full well that the only thought on Shanks’ mind was how eager he was to get Mihawk alone in a luxurious suite built for much needed privacy. 

Setting his rum aside, the alpha mused flirtatiously, “Oh, you know. Just appreciating the moment.” 

Letting his hand slide along Mihawk’s soft leather clad thighs, Shanks crowded his omega against the tinted windows and smiled when the omega easily allowed himself to be pinned. Wine still held with perfect poise, Mihawk used his free hand to scratch his blunt nails along the scruff on Shanks’ chin in a manner that had the alpha shivering with delight at the touch. The omega was rather fond of Shanks’ more rugged appearance, though he hardly confessed such thoughts aloud. 

As innocent as a tempting devil could be, Mihawk demurely declared, “I hope you know I expect to be wined and dined first. We both know if I let you have your way we wouldn’t ever leave the suite, and then how would I enjoy all the attractions this eyesore of a golden kingdom has to offer?” 

“Don’t worry about that love,” Shanks promised with a low purr, “You know I like to show you off more than anything else. Well, almost more than anything.” The alpha amended, alluding to the fact that his true favorite pastime actually consisted of him, Mihawk, a bed, and hours of time to do whatever the hell they wanted. 

Mihawk blinked up at Shanks from beneath the breathtaking view of his long eyelashes, a perfect mix between coquettish and daring, “Think you’ll be able to last that long?” Came the ask as the omega glanced briefly at the swelling bulge at the front of Shanks’ pants. 

The alpha let a deeply aroused chuckle rumble through him as he leaned in close, nosing along Mihawk’s cheek until his lips hovered just out of reach of the omega’s pink-tipped ear, “Darling, I promise I can last as long as you need me to.” 

His innuendo was not missed, and with a tiny hitch of a wanton breath, Mihawk threaded his fingers in red hair, tugged ever-so demandingly, and slotted their mouths together. Shanks met him happily, liberally slipping his tongue between parted lips to drink in the taste of red wine seated on the omega’s tongue. 

With the expectation of what awaited them later and the persistent tension growing and tightening between the two of them, the kiss didn’t take long to turn heated. Blindly, Mihawk set his glass down somewhere it wouldn’t break or tip over, and then pulled Shanks fully on top of him. With the excessive space the back seat of the limousine afforded them, Shanks was able to easily settle between Mihawk’s thighs. Naturally, the swordsman’s legs tightened around Shanks’ hips, familiar enough now with this bit to know what to do. The alpha groaned, pressing down tighter until they were molded together, separated only by the clothes they wore. 

Mihawk’s fingers dug into his back and tangled in the alpha’s hair, meeting Shanks kiss for kiss. The scent of the omega dampened the air, driving Shanks just a bit mad as he pulled Mihawk’s bottom lip between his teeth and nipped gently. He already had a hand working at the buttons of Mihawk’s blouse, eager to touch skin for as long as he would be permitted the luxury. His hurried actions drew a smile out of the omega, Mihawk’s mouth grinning against Shanks’ own as he playfully drew back to nip kisses along the underside of the alpha’s jaw. 

Shanks exhaled heavily, eyes fluttering shut when Mihawk made it to his scenting glands. The light and teasing suckle of lips pressing against his neck made Shanks rut forward unwillingly, grinding his clothed cock to Mihawk’s ass in a silent wish to be naked and tangled together already. 

Damningly enough, Mihawk chuckled against him, “The way you’re acting now, I don’t think you’ll last long at all.” 

“Fuck,” Shanks cursed, knowing the older was a 100% right, and yet he couldn’t stop himself from rubbing against the omega anyway, “You’re just—you’re just something I really have no defense against angel.” The alpha panted honestly, red eyes blown wide with lust and adoration all swirling and mixing together. 

He wanted to kiss Mihawk again, so he did. He wanted to touch, so he let his hand slip behind the omega and hoist him closer until they were chest to chest. He wanted to knot already, to burrow himself base deep in the older and relish in the feel of him, but he couldn’t. Not yet anyway, but soon. 

“You really are an impatient man, aren’t you?” Mihawk moaned softly as Shanks trailed his kisses to the other’s throat. 

Shanks paused long enough to huff out breathlessly, “I am a pirate, love. We’re not known for our patience.” 

“Well, considering you’ve held off on knotting me for over a month, I’d say you put in a valiant effort.” 

Shanks groaned at Mihawk’s mention of knotting. It just sounded so filthy coming from the otherwise polite man. Naughty in a way the alpha was weak against. Perhaps it was the smooth lilt to Mihawk’s voice that made everything sound sensual, or the daring depths of his tone that was like a murmur dipped in tantalizing sin. Either way, Shanks couldn’t handle the way the omega’s lips formed around the word ‘knotting’ or anything remotely sexual in nature. Dirty talk had never really done much for Shanks in the past, at least to be on the receiving end of it, but he thought he might cum embarrassingly fast if Mihawk endeavored to talk Shanks through to his filthy completion. 

“Easy there, Red,” Mihawk mused with another deliriously sexy chuckle as he pressed a hand to Shanks’ chest and eased him back, “You’ll have me soon enough.” 

Shanks wanted Mihawk now, but he supposed the omega was right. If the alpha was permitted to continue touching and kissing, he would undoubtedly take his affections further and beyond the point of no return. 

“Right.” Shanks agreed as he sat back on his heels, cheeks flushed as he breathed a bit unevenly. He tried to choke back the ever insistent need he associated with Mihawk, swallowing it down until he forced it to settle. His job wasn’t made any easier when he looked at the omega still laid out on his back, shirt ruffled and slipping from his shoulders, and his hair messy from where Shanks had pulled at it a bit. Those yellow eyes were sultry yet affectionate, provoking and endeared as Mihawk scented of a calm meant to appease the alpha. 

Softening to the image of his mate, Shanks couldn’t help but murmur with unabashed admiration, “You’re beautiful, Mihawk.”

Genuine delight at the compliment flattered the fairness of Mihawk’s cheeks until they were colored a soft pink. He’d grown a bit more accustomed to Shanks’ endless praise and no longer refuted the alpha’s claims that Mihawk was the most glorious man to ever exist. Instead, the omega learned to accept them, and even to revel in them whenever Shanks uttered his devotion with complete sincerity. Shanks adored seeing the expression of warmth lighten up Mihawk’s usually severe countenance, honored by the fact that he was probably the only man alive who could evoke such tender emotion in the omega. 

Sitting up, Mihawk straightened his shirt before taking the initiative to twine their fingers together, “Though I doubt you need the ego boost,” the omega started off simply, yet lovingly as he settled back into the comfort of the limousine’s seat, “Not even the sun can compare to you, Shanks.” 

Tenderly, Mihawk briefly nosed against the cuffed dragon earring he gifted the alpha before whispering affectionately, “You’re invigorating.” 

Shanks felt his heart squeeze and his blood sing. He shut his eyes, more than overwhelmed as a swell of emotion took root in the back of his throat, “And you’re my peace.” He returned equally as heartfelt, knowing Mihawk would understand the significance of such a claim. 

Gauging by the way Mihawk scented with another expression of delight, he understood perfectly. 

Minutes later, the limousine came to a stop outside of the grand resort centered in the middle of the island-sized ship. A brightly lit golden tower climbed to an unbelievable height, nearly touching the clouds as it shimmered brighter than the evening stars. Showgirls lined the front steps of the building, twirling in their feathered outfits in perfect synchronicity. A jazzy type of music blared throughout the streets, the lyrics of the songs painting a dazzling picture of uninhibited pleasures to be had. One could practically taste the money in the air and the ritzy vibe of over expense and needless indulgence. The streets of Tesoro’s city were flooded with tourists all dressed in finely designed clothes. The women wore glittering dresses and donned in shining jewels, while the men wore neatly tailored suits crafted from pricy fabrics, the occasional top hat and gem encrusted canes completing their noble looks. 

Stepping out of the limousine first, Shanks extended his hand for Mihawk to take. The omega certainly didn’t need the assistance in getting out of the vehicle, but he humored Shanks’ attempts to remain gentlemanly as he slipped Yoru into the thin sheath on his back and took the alpha’s hand. Sweeping his feathered hat back onto his hair, Mihawk’s identity was obvious and easy to guess for anyone who looked their way. Whispers broke out almost immediately as passerbys spotted the world’s greatest swordsman, and as Shanks let his own straw hat hang limply behind his neck to expose his recognizable bright red hair, those whispers turned into fervent murmurings of hot-topic gossip. 

This was the first time Red-Haired Shanks and Dracule Mihawk were making a public appearance in a place where they would undoubtedly be recognized, and rather than shy away from all the attention they were garnering, Shanks basked in it. 

Ridiculously enough, there was a flash of a camera followed by subsequent lenses shuttering as reporters started to take interest in the stir their presence caused. Shanks didn’t bother to smother his smile, more than amused at the fact that he and Mihawk were considered tabloid worthy. 

The omega, however, appeared thoroughly disturbed by the attention, “Why in god’s name are they taking our picture? ” 

Shanks laughed at his mate’s perturbed disdain as he slid an arm around the other’s waist, “Because apparently, Red-Haired Shanks and Dracule Mihawk being spotted together makes for quite the news headliner.” 

There were more flashes as a larger crowd started to gather. It wasn’t the first time Shanks had been on the receiving end of the paparazzi’s attention. After all, despite being a notorious pirate, he was usually listed in the tabloids as one of the world’s most desired alphas (a phenomenon his crew often made fun of Shanks for, calling him the pretty boy of all scalleywags). However, Shanks suspected this might have been Mihawk’s first ever run in with reporters that weren’t trying to sneak a picture to update his wanted poster. The appalled look the omega wore when someone from the crowd demanded the two of them pose was both impressively bewildered and hilarious to behold. Shanks chuckled again, finding the entire situation endlessly entertaining. 

“Should we give them a show?” Shanks whispered as he leaned in to mumble against Mihawk’s ear. 

A yellow stare side-eyed the alpha with scrutiny, suspicious of what entailed Shanks’ version of putting on a show. 

“It’s just a little bit of fun,” The alpha promised, using his charm in full force to ease that alarmed look off of Mihawk’s face, “Start a little trouble with me, angel.” 

Mihawk’s glare narrowed, but Shanks knew he had the other hook, line, and sinker. After all, Mihawk liked trouble, especially if Shanks was at the center of it. 

Knowing he had permission even without having it said aloud, the alpha grinned wickedly as he seated his arm firmer around Mihawk’s waist to pull the omega against his front with an exaggerated tug. The swordsman arched a brow in mild amusement, smothering his smirk into cold indifference, though from this proximity, Shanks could see that the older’s eyes were warm with affection and intrigue. 

Shooting his lover a suave little wink, Shanks swept forward and took Mihawk’s lips in a heated kiss, even going so far as to dip him back just a little to ensure the cameras captured the best angle. Predictably, the flashing and shuttering of lenses went into overdrive as questions started to pour out of the reporters in rapid fire requests. 

“Red-hair! Does this mean you’ve chosen to settle down with a mate?”

“Mihawk! Over here! Can we get a picture of you to feature in our segment on the hottest Omegas sailing the Grand Line?”

“How long have you two been together? Is this a serious relationship? Is it safe to assume you’re off the market, Red-Hair?” 

“Hawk-eyes! Does this mean you’ll retire from piracy to start a family—“

Shanks chuckled against Mihawk’s lips as he brought the two of them back up and broke away with a mischievous giggle. Mihawk looked torn between being offended at the questions thrown his way, and exasperated at the alpha’s antics as they both refrained from answering any of the demands asked of them. 

“See? Just a bit of fun.” Shanks said lightly. 

Mihawk shook his head, “Your bit of fun just let the entirety of the world know we’re together.” 

“So?” The alpha replied carelessly, “Maybe that’s a good thing.” 

“It was undoubtedly your intention, I’m sure.” Mihawk pointed out, though he wasn’t too annoyed by the reveal. If anything, he appeared the slightest bit pleased—as if the confident way in which Shanks announced their relationship only reaffirmed the fact that the red-haired pirate was more than serious about them. 

“At the very least,” Mihawk continued as he looped his arm through Shanks’ own and indicated towards the open doors of the casino, “The world government is going to have a meltdown in the morning when the news breaks.” 

“I almost wish I was there to see the look on Sengoku’s face.” Shanks said with a laugh as he started them up the carpeted steps. 

The attendants flanked them on all sides, guiding them through the busy lobby of the casino to the much quieter and private areas reserved for only those deemed important enough to enter. They were offered drinks and dinner, but Shanks refused the treats in favor of requesting they be brought to their room first instead. Mihawk shot him a coy little look, but the alpha assured the purpose of the room was mostly to shower and change. Nothing more or less, though the temptation was still there. 

As expected, the suite they were provided was more than what they would ever need. It was a fixture of luxury and indulgence finished in a glittering of gold. The space was equipped with a fully furnished kitchen, two receiving rooms, and a four poster bed frame that could have easily fit half of Shanks crew with room to spare. He balked audibly when he saw the size of the tub, as it was basically a small pool seated next to a shower with more showerheads than was explicitly necessary. Everything was grand and overly done, expensive in a way Shanks could never imagine himself being, but if only for a span of a few nights, the alpha figured the ostentatious suite was more than extravagant enough for the plans he had in mind. At the very least, the softness of the bed and the satin of the crimson sheets were promising. 

“Hm,” Mihawk hummed as he went about inspecting the floor, as the two of them had been given just that: a floor to themselves near the top of the casino tower, where only those of worldly renown were permitted to stay, “You were right—the gold does get a bit numbing to look at after awhile. The bath looks lovely, though.” 

Mihawk wandered back into the first of the receiving rooms (and why the hell did they need two?) to hang his hat on the rack near the entrance. An attendant stood by for further instruction, awaiting her dismissal before bowing out. The omega took the initiative to address her, mostly because Shanks got distracted in touching one of the many golden trinkets on decorative display, flicking the little spinning piece with a childlike curiosity unbefitting a man of his supposed stature. 

“When will our luggage be arriving?” 

The beta woman bowed partially as she answered, “We have taken the initiative to provide you with anything you or Captain Shanks might need during your stay. Our design team selected an arrangement of clothing items for your enjoyment and wear. Only the finest fabrics are used for our most esteemed guests, and we ensure that we remain consistent with fashion trends popular around the globe. All accessories have been staged in the dressing room, but if you require anything or if alterations need to be made, we would gladly assist with the demand.” 

Shanks glanced up from his tinkering and shot a smile at his omega, “Ya hear that Hawky? We even got fancy clothes to wear.” 

Yellow eyes narrowed, “Yes, and while the initiative is certainly forward , I’m curious to how your designers procured our measurements and prepared a selection of clothing ware between the span of our arrival on the island, and our arrival at this room.” 

The attendant didn’t answer Mihawk’s pointed question, but before the omega could press with less-than-friendly demand, Shanks wandered over to the swordsman and eased him with a kiss to the side of his head. 

“Relax, love.” He said before lowering his voice to a quiet whisper, “There’s a man who works for Tesoro with the Design Devil Fruit ability. It lets him measure and prepare clothes for anyone he catches a glimpse of. He probably spied us through the transponder snails, that’s all.” 

Mihawk accepted Shanks’ explanation with a short nod as he regarded the attendant coldly once more, “Very well then. Nothing else is required at present, so you may take your leave.” 

Shanks shot the attendant an easy going smile as she bowed deeply and slipped out of the suite quietly, leaving the two men alone in such a ridiculously large space. Seriously, there was so much that it was difficult to comprehend what they were supposed to do with all of it. 

“So,” Shanks started off casually with his hands placed on his hips, “You wanna…?” He waggled his eyebrows at his lover and watched as Mihawk rolled his eyes fondly. 

“We’re here only to get changed, remember ?” The omega kindly reminded. 

“Yeah, but,” Shanks eased his arms around the other’s slender waist, thinking there was no better place for him to fit his hands than on the curve of Mihawk’s hips, “Doesn’t hurt to have just a little bit of fun first, right?” 

The omega humored Shanks’ kisses for a few moments, delicately meeting the alpha without much resistance, but just when the redhead thought he might be able to push the affection a step further, a hand eased him back with unwavering persistence. 

“If I give into you now,” Mihawk warned with a light air and clever eyes, “We wouldn’t ever leave this room, darling .” 

The pet name was clearly a tease and paid homage to Shanks’ frequent use of them. Coming from the omega, the name sounded so foreign that Shanks couldn’t help but laugh in the face of it. Even so, the alpha found himself endeared and a little warmed by the idea that Mihawk was just as tempted as Shanks to do away with the rest of Tesoro’s attractions and simply occupy their time within this luxurious suite. 

Pressing his forehead lovingly to Mihawk’s own, Shanks agreed, “Alright, I’ll keep my hands to myself. For the most part, that is.” 

A wicked smirk flattered the fine lines of Mihawk’s lips as he countered back easily, “Truly a perilous test of your self control.” 

“With the way you look at me, love? Always.” 

With one final kiss pressed to the omega’s mouth, Shanks stepped away and wandered off towards the bedroom. Mihawk followed after a moment, and took to exploring the closet with the clear intent to ruthlessly judge the clothes that were provided to them. As Shanks worked to kick off his sandals and undo the flimsy buttons of his shirt, Mihawk returned seconds later with a reluctantly satisfied look on his face. 

The alpha asked, “Guessing the clothes are to your liking?” 

Mihawk’s mouth pinched, “They’re tolerable.” 

And by Mihawk’s standards, that meant they were damn near close to perfect. Grinning, Shanks shimmied out of his pants last and ambled into the bathroom where he eyed the many nozzles attached to the showerhead with a mildly dubious look. From there, he started twisting and turning until water sprayed out, trying to figure out how the showerhead contraption was meant to work. Eventually, the initially frigid water warmed to just the right temperature and with a sigh of relief, Shanks stepped beneath the spray and washed away the usual grime that came with spending days sailing the wide open seas. 

He wasn’t alone for long. Contrary to Mihawk’s earlier sentiments, he slipped in behind Shanks, joining him for the shower without caring about the fact that he looked like utter sin with water droplets soaking the fair expanse of his muscled chest and shoulders. With Mihawk’s hair wetly slicked back and little rivulets trailing the curve of his spine, Shanks couldn’t help but appreciate the view. As he took in the length of his lover’s body, he inevitably scented with the stirrings of arousal, unable to hide just how easily Mihawk affected him. 

“You’re killing me, Hawky,” The alpha mused as he worked to wash his own hair, “Having you wet and naked in the shower definitely isn’t helping my quest to keep my hands to myself.” 

“Mm,” Mihawk hummed lightly, completely unconcerned as he muttered a follow up, “You’ll live.” 

How cruel . 

Despite Shanks’ full expectation otherwise, the shower actually went off without a hitch. The redhead, by the grace of gods he often didn’t pray to, managed to focus on the task of actually washing up rather than lavishing his omega in an abundance of kisses. 

Afterwards, he finally took a look at the clothes Tesoro’s team thought best suited the duo, and was more than surprised to find rows of outfits selected and staged for Shanks to peruse and pick. No wonder Mihawk had emerged from the closet reluctantly impressed—they were given a literal store’s worth of items to choose from! 

Trying to figure out what the difference was between one pair of dark gray trousers and the other seemingly same pair of dark gray trousers, Shanks felt just a bit overwhelmed until Mihawk stepped up beside him and pointed to the pair held in Shanks’ left hand. 

“The charcoal color suits you better.” 

“There’s a difference in the colors?” Shanks asked, because he was at a loss for how Mihawk managed to easily spot the slight distinction between gray shades. 

A chuckle colored the omega’s voice as he pressed a fleeting kiss to Shanks’ bare shoulders, “Yes, there is a marginal difference. Pair it with the red button down. It’ll match your hair and your earring.” 

Glancing back at his mate, Shanks grinned softly, “You’re going to start dressing me now? How sweet.” 

“Or maybe I just know what I like,” Mihawk teased back. His yellow eyes flashed with mischief, and as he leaned in close, the omega whispered seductively into Shanks’ ear, “Maybe I know what’ll drive me crazy, and what will make it difficult to keep me off of you .” 

The alluring tease was accompanied by flitting fingertips skimming across the plains of Shanks’ naked stomach, causing the muscles to flex instinctively as the alpha’s breath caught in his throat. A throaty laugh rumbled out of the swordsman, the omega thoroughly amused by how easy it was to rile Shanks up. 

“So yes,” Mihawk said as he pulled back, dousing Shanks in the frigid cold of his absence, “The red shirt and the charcoal pants, if you don’t mind.” 

The alpha drew in his bottom lip as he nodded silently, a rare blush blotting his cheeks as Mihawk sauntered away to browse his own selection of attire. In his departure, Shanks took a deep, deep breath, hoping the action was enough to stifle the abrupt desire to fall to his knees and beg Mihawk to let Shanks suck him off. 

For an omega who didn’t have any sexual experience prior to Shanks, that man surely was a minxy little devil. 

Huffing out a little laugh, Shanks got dressed and even forewent his usual sandals or occasional well-worn boots for dress shoes that made his toes hurt. Obviously, there was stock in the term ‘beauty is pain’ because he knew damn well that by the end of the night he was going to have some killer blisters. 

Finishing up the laces from where he knelt down on one knee, Shanks glanced up at his omega in an effort to ask why the hell people wore shoes that made their feet hurt, only to have his inquiry fall short of being voiced when he caught sight of Mihawk primping in the mirror. 

It shouldn’t have been a shock that Mihawk stole his breath. Not anymore at least, and yet the omega managed to floor the alpha nonetheless. 

Mihawk was dressed smartly in a three piece suit, the fit of the jacket and trousers slim as they conformed to the muscled dimensions of the swordsman. In a color that complimented that of Shanks’ button down shirt, Mihawk donned a rather flashily wine-red ensemble, and while it was difficult to imagine the usually reserved swordsman in something not made with neutral tones, the deep crimson flattering Mihawk’s skin at present was utterly sinful. The fabric was rich in nature, and tailored with precise measurement to accent the slim portions of Mihawk while also framing the hard earned muscle of his shoulders and chest. A subtle shimmer of a floral rose pattern was etched in a darkened charcoal gray, and only noticeable if the light caught on the maroon in a certain way. 

The outfit felt like a perfect mix between noble elegance and Mihawk’s more gothic tastes in fashion and design. 

Either way, Shanks’ tongue went numb when he spied his mate, wondering just how the hell he got so damn lucky as Mihawk finished adjusting the matching gray button down he wore beneath his suit jacket and accompanying waistcoat. 

“You’re staring, Red. Something you want to say?” Mihawk inquired plainly, and despite the neutrality of his voice, the yellow of his eyes were burning with arrogant knowingness from where he met Shanks’ stare through the mirror. 

Shanks gulped, feeling like an unsuspecting man ensnared in a predator’s trap. 

“I…” he started off softly, weak to the way Mihawk looked at him. 

However, Shanks forcibly cleared his throat in an effort to sound less like an alpha at the mercy of his omega and more like someone capable of meeting the swordsman move for move, “You’re the devil, sweetheart.” 

“Oh? I thought I was your angel .” Mihawk countered, stepping away from the dressing mirror to turn and face Shanks fully. 

The front view was even better than the back view, and the alpha felt his body grow hot with desire as he let his gaze drift the full length of his lover. Haughtily, Mihawk stood in a picture of careless confidence, one hand tucked into the pocket of his trousers while the other ran through the soft wave of his ebony hair. 

Fuck, he was beautiful, and he was going to be the death of the alpha’s self control. 

Rising to his feet, Shanks invited himself into Mihawk’s space whilst trying to keep a lid on all the inappropriate thoughts and images racing through the forefront of his mind. Oh, how utterly delectable his omega looked. How sublimely divine Mihawk was donned in Shanks’ alpha colors. It was unfair how vulnerable Shanks was to the picture of Mihawk in any form of red, but could he be blamed? Mihawk was a vision of wine-red and scorching golden eyes aflame with a burning passion and an ambition that rivaled Shanks’ own. Why wouldn’t the alpha’s knees turn gelatinous and his fingers quake with the inexplicable need to devote, pray, and worship?

Mihawk must have noticed the intensity in Shanks’ glare, because there was a fraction of doubt that flit across his expression, a worry that Shanks might do away with their plans for a date and simply take what he wanted now . And while Shanks humored the thought, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he didn’t flaunt the greatest treasure known to mankind for the world to see and envy. Even greater than the One Piece itself, Mihawk was a prize unlike any other. 

Raising a hand to cradle the sharp edges of Mihawk’s jaw, Shanks whispered severely, “You’re more than my angel, Mihawk,” Shanks allowed his thumb the privilege to tease along the sensitive swell of Mihawk’s bottom lip, red eyes narrowing in intense focus when the omega parted his mouth in supple invitation, “If you asked it of me, there is not an inch of this world I wouldn’t conquer for you. They may call me the next king, but compared to you that doesn’t mean much. In my eyes, you’re the heavens incarnate.” 

A tell-tale blush took to Mihawk’s cheeks. His earlier swagger from before morphing into overwhelmed emotion as he darted his treasure-eyes off to the side. The alpha let a purr emanate from his chest, a mixture of delight and demand rumbling from the depths of his being as he smiled. 

“Why so shy?” He teased delicately, “You’re the one who started this.” 

The swordsman visibly strove to put a scowl back on his face, but it fell short of menacing when he sulked instead, “Your compliments are ridiculous.”

“They’re true to me,” Shanks countered, and just because he was a little shit, he snaked one of his hands around Mihawk’s waist and then dipped it deliberately down, “You should wear red every day. It looks sexy on you.” 

Mihawk snorted with a roll of his eyes, “And feed your possessive habits? Don’t be ridiculous.” 

Shanks growled playfully as he purposefully groped the other and pressed them chest to chest, “Course not darling, but seeing you in red really, really makes me want to…you know…” he winked in allusion to his unspoken desire. His meaning was not lost either as Mihawk drew his bottom lip between his teeth in heavy consideration. 

However, before the omega humored the alpha’s advances any more, he stepped out of Shanks’ hold, leaving the redhead high and dry as Mihawk resumed his usual air of cavalier elegance. He reached for Yoru, sliding her down the straps along the back of his suit—the designer even taking into account how Mihawk wore his weapon when making their clothes. Shanks took another moment to appreciate, because god damn , and then went about reaching for Gryphon. He glanced in the mirror and saw his straw hat dangling around his neck. While Shanks often felt naked without his hat tangled up with him in some way or another, he thought it was probably for the better that Roger’s spirit—that undoubtedly lived within the threaded straw—wasn’t witness to what Shanks planned to do to his omega later on tonight. 

“Alright old friend,” He told his hat severely as he went to set it down neatly, “Think you can handle being alone for the night?” 

If Mihawk questioned Shanks’ sanity as the alpha spoke to his hat like a sentient being, the omega said not a word about it aloud. He knew the significance of the straw hat to Shanks, all the history that it carried and the future that it would herald. The hat was not just a hat, and Shanks was immensely grateful for the fact that Mihawk seemed to wordlessly acknowledge this as well. 

“Ready to go?” Shanks asked as he came out of the closet, shifting the way Gryphon sat on his belt as he stopped just in front of Mihawk patiently awaiting him. 

Mihawk inclined his head towards the door, “After you, Red.” 

A different attendant was waiting for them in the hall. Seemingly, the man was somewhat important, as behind him stood a small gathering of servants that bowed slightly when Mihawk and Shanks appeared from their shared room. 

“It is truly an honor,” the man greeted with a subservient nod, “To accompany such prestigious guests. Master Tesoro is especially excited to be your host, and has asked that you are not in want of anything for the duration of your stay. It will be my duty to ensure that wish comes to fruition. If you are in need of anything, please do not hesitate to call upon us.” 

With another sweeping flourish, the accompaniment stood back to full height. Shanks was a bit thrown off by the dedication to cater to him, and feeling a bit awkward with the attention, Shanks chuckled easily, “Uh, there’s no need to be so formal.” 

Scratching at the back of his head, the alpha glanced at Mihawk for help, but saw that the other was intent on not uttering a word. Sighing a little at having to be the one to take the social lead, Shanks said, “We’re just looking to have a good time is all, but pass on my gratitude to Tesoro for the warm welcome.” 

The man bowed once more, “Of course, sir. Now, is there a specific attraction you and your mate would like to see first? If you are unsure where to begin, we would be delighted to offer you a tour of our most favored activities.” 

Shanks’ thoughts went quiet at the mention of Mihawk being acknowledged as Shanks’ mate. The two did not share a mark or rings on their fingers, and yet they must have presented themselves in such a way to be seen as such regardless. For obvious reasons, Shanks warmed at the thought. He cast a slight, yet heartfelt smile at Mihawk and delighted in the tender look he was given back. 

Spurred on by the good mood, Shanks settled a hand on Mihawk’s lower back, slipping between the gap of Yoru’s sheathe and the fabric of Mihawk’s jacket as he asked the omega brightly, “What do you say gorgeous? Want to kick this night off with a tour? I’m assuming booze is on the table, right?” He shot that last bit at the attendant, to which the man assured that whatever they wanted would be promptly provided. 

“It wouldn’t hurt to familiarize ourselves with the area.” Mihawk agreed. 

Sharp yellow eyes observed the faces of the attendants with an air of scrutiny, the omega determining whether the servants present should be deemed trustworthy enough to keep around. Or rather, trustworthy wasn’t quite the term Shanks would use. If anything, Mihawk was gauging their threat level with critical analysis. Though this getaway of theirs was meant to be all in good fun, Mihawk would not allow the both of them to be caught off guard. 

The subtle show of protectiveness only brightened Shanks further as he encouraged the attendant to lead the way. He urged Mihawk forward with a promising press to his back, and then they were off to take in the joys and sights Tesoro’s casino island had to offer. They were escorted around in a convertible vehicle, taken from the casino and showed the best features of the resort and accompanying city. The drive was leisurely and slow, allowing the mated pair to indulge in a few drinks and accompanying snacks as the tour guide talked them through specific features of the island that only VIPs like themselves had access to. 

During the entire ride, Shanks kept a heavy arm around Mihawk’s waist, keeping the omega close as he ensured the swordsman never went a moment without having his glass refilled as he listened intently to the tour guide. The alpha was, perhaps, just the slightest bit too handsy, but he didn’t miss the looks Mihawk was garnering. He was aware of the muffled gasps of awe from those they passed by, of the way the accompanying servants' eyes showed more interest than their expressions ever would. There were alphas among the attendants present, and though they were trained and instructed not to let an ounce of their scent loose, Shanks could still feel the quiet yearning they looked at Mihawk with. They watched him, were drawn to him, and even though Mihawk’s reputation made men weep, seeing him relaxed (or as relaxed as Mihwk could be in public) suddenly made the omega seem more approachable than ever before. 

But they couldn’t approach. Not with Shanks there. Not with Shanks letting his lips tease against Mihawk’s ear as he whispered something that made the omega chuckle under his breath. Not with Shanks letting his fingers flit wherever they desired, never being rejected or denied even if his touch danced in a way that was undeniably intimate. Mihawk undoubtedly nderstood exactly what Shanks’ intentions were. His expression voiced his opinions regardless of whether he uttered them with words or not, but the swordsman let Shanks have his way, giving in to the alpha’s posturing with a fondly exasperated sigh as he was flaunted for the world to long for but never have. Shanks was an object of envy, because here he was sitting next to the world’s most dangerous and beautiful man, and he was welcomed and permitted to do what he pleased. 

And oh, how Shanks relished being on top of the world. 

“The casino seems as good as any place to start,” Mihawk said, murmuring his words in a soft cadence that naturally had Shanks hanging off of every syllable uttered, “Though I’ve never gambled, so you may have to explain the rules to me beforehand.” 

Shanks, pleasantly buzzed from the alcohol, nodded supportively as he reached for another one of the little tea-cup sized sandwiches they were given and popped it into his mouth. 

“I mean, I suck at gambling,” The alpha confessed, “But I know how to play, so here’s to hoping you have more luck than I do.” 

As it turned out a little later on, Mihawk didn’t have just luck , he was a legitimate prodigy. 

Shanks stood gobsmacked as Mihawk revealed his hand, marking his second Royal Flush of the night, and they had only started making their way around the casino thirty minutes ago!

“This means I won, right?” Mihawk asked, glancing over his shoulder as Shanks’ eyes went wide with disbelief. 

When Shanks didn’t have the ability to answer, the omega turned his attention to the dealer who did her best to hide her note of surprise. 

“U-Uh, yes sir. The betting pool is yours.” 

A slew of gaming chips were passed to Mihawk who looked at the pile in consideration, “Mm, I want to try a different game, Red. That one,” he gestured towards the roulette table, “Seems simple enough, doesn’t it?” 

“Mihawk,” Shanks placed a hand on his lover’s shoulders with a note of severity, “Do you not realize how much money you just won?” 

The alpha glanced at the pile of casino chips. Each one of those were worth 1 million berries, and Mihawk had nearly 50 of them. He had a small fortune that was ten times the amount of what they started with, and this was only the third game of the night. 

When the omega merely arched his brow quizzically at the alpha, Shanks sighed in another showing of disbelief, “I can’t believe you’ve been a goddamn luck magnet this entire time. Though, I should have guessed it by how you manage to navigate the grand line unscathed without even trying .” 

“Are you…displeased?” Mihawk still didn’t understand just how impossible the odds of getting a Royal Flush in a poker game were, and how even more impossible it was to get two within the span of three games. 

And no, Shanks certainly wasn’t displeased. He just never realized Mihawk was a literal gold mine. 

“No,” the alpha managed a laugh, “It’s just ironic how I’ve never won a gambling game in my life, and you haven’t lost one yet.” 

Mihawk’s nose scrunched cutely, “I’ve only played three rounds. That’s hardly enough data to discern credible statistics off of.” 

Maybe that was true, but Shanks had a feeling that Mihawk was the type of lucky bastard who could bleed just about any casino dry. 

“I guess we’ll just have to see how the night goes.” Shanks promised with a note of warmth. He pressed a kiss to Mihawk’s head briefly before asking one of their attendants to grab their winnings as they headed for the roulette tables next. 

Mihawk seemingly enjoyed the simplicity of this game far more than cards, as the rules were as straightforward as they got. Shanks warned Mihawk briefly against using observation Haki to predict where the roulette ball would land, as they had security personnel trained to identify anyone who cheated the game. The omega actually looked offended at the accusation that he would cheat, to which Shanks politely reminded him about a certain scavenger hunt they participated in just a month before. If Shanks recalled correctly (which he did), Mihawk had cheated several times that night on the basis of being a dirty little pirate. 

“I suppose you have a point.” The omega grumbled reluctantly. 

Shanks laughed at the older’s pout before they started their game. 

As he expected, Mihawk didn’t even need to cheat. The man was just a master in nailing the odds of the game, apparently. Every guess he made, even down to the hardest guesses to bet, were spot on. So spot on, in fact, that they started drawing a crowd. The security guards were paying particularly close attention to Mihawk, but with no signs of him showing any usage of observation Haki, they could only watch as he got his tenth guess in a row much to the onlookers' varying levels of disbelief. 

“ Isn’t that Dracule Mihawk?”

“ Who else on the grand line carries a sword like that?” 

“Is he here with Red Hair? I didn’t take him for the type to settle down…”

Shanks heard the whispers, the murmurs passed between those that crowded the roulette table to watch Mihawk place another bet and win. They were fascinated by the omega, both in awe and weary of him. Mihawk paid them little heed, instead focusing on the game at hand. Their pool of gaming chips was growing at an exponential rate as Mihawk was not the type to be reserved in his bets. He was all in every time, undeterred by the fact that he might lose everything given one miscalculated guess. Granted, Mihawk hadn’t missed yet, and he seemed to be growing quite bored with his endless victories. 

“Would you like to place a bet, Red?” Mihawk ended up asking him, leaning slightly against the alpha as Shanks took a partial stance behind the swordsman. 

Shanks chuckled to himself, “It’s probably best if I keep my hands off that bankroll you’ve got going. We’d lose it all within minutes, and that’s with me trying .” 

“You can’t be that awful.” Mihawk pointed out with his eyes narrowed. 

Shanks shrugged and let his chin rest on Mihawk’s shoulder, “How about you try making a straight up bet? It’s the riskiest one in the game. Think you can get it?” 

Furious mutterings broke out when others caught wind of his challenge. On average, winning a straight up bet in roulette was a once in a lifetime feat, with the payout being obscene . Mihawk considered the alpha thoughtfully, before shrugging in careless agreement. 

“Sure, why not?” 

“ He’s really going to do it!”

“He’s seriously betting everything?” 

“I can’t tell if he’s serious or just clueless!” 

Mihawk turned back to the croupier of the game, and with a leisure guess, he placed his bet on, “Black, 28.” 

There was tension among those who watched, though for Mihawk’s part he didn’t really seem to care much for the outcome of the game beyond knowing if he was right or wrong. The croupier nodded before calling for any final bets. Shanks, even without the use of observation Haki, just had a feeling that Mihawk was going to win. At this point in the night, it would be more surprising if he didn’t. 

The roulette ball made its rounds, spinning and spinning before it finally started to slow. The crowd that was watching all held their breaths, and when the ball finally crawled to a stop, it landed squarely in black 28. 

“Fucking hell, darlin’.” Shanks barked out an incredulous laugh as the spectators shouted in baffled amazement, “You really are blessed by the gods, aren’t you?” 

“It’s just a game,” Mihawk countered back, not seeing the significance of his win, “I doubt the gods care about mere casino winnings.” 

“Mere casino—you know what? You’re exactly right.” Shanks agreed, deciding he wouldn’t enlighten Mihawk to how much money he just won them. Honestly, at this point Shanks wouldn’t be surprised if they were forbidden from playing any more games. The payout for a straight up bet was a 35:1 ratio, and Mihawk had bet all his earnings up until that point. Shanks didn’t even want to begin to calculate how much that added up to. Couldn’t even start to fathom it, actually. 

“ Mother of god, that man just won 3.5 billion berries !” 

Well, apparently Shanks didn’t have to do the math either way. 

As soon as it was announced just how much money Mihawk won, there was a shift in the crowd, one that went from awe to demand very quickly. Suddenly, everyone wanted to get chummy with the omega, clamoring over each other to introduce themselves and attempt to form an acquaintance. Shanks nearly stepped in when they were surrounded on all sides, but the security of Tesoro’s along with the pair’s personal attendants easily intercepted the money-hungry patrons of the casino. 

Mihawk eyed the crowd with no small amount of disdain, the yellow of his eyes pointed as he was propositioned by an endless stream of strangers.

The omega fixed his attention on one of the servants, and asked stiffly, “Is there a place we can go that’s quieter than out here?” 

The woman nodded obligingly, “Please, follow me sirs.” 

They were led through the casino floor and into another more private section of the building. Here, the flash and pizazz of the building was toned down and muted to create a more refined atmosphere. The lights were dimmed, the music from beyond the wide doors muffled to a barely heard backdrop. There were far fewer people present in this area of the resort than in others, and just by glancing at the faces of the few groups present, Shanks recognized many were either high officers in the navy, notorious underground criminals, and even noblemen of countries Shanks had visited during his adventures. 

All of them turned to acknowledge Shanks and Mihawk, quiet looks sizing the duo up from behind their golden glasses of liquor or heady clouds of cigar smoke. 

“For patrons of the casino who meet the benchmark of having more than a billion berries to spend, we offer them our most private gaming room. Here, minimum bets start off at 500 million, but the games are different from those you might find on the common floor. Specifically, there are higher stakes and greater rewards.” 

“How are the games different? And what are the stakes?” Mihawk asked, mildly curious as they were escorted to their own private booth flourished with various assortments of drinks, foods, and anything else they could ever want. 

The attendant stepped aside to allow them both to take a seat before explaining, “The games were specifically created by a team working directly under the guidance of Master Tesoro himself. While the concepts are similar to the normal lineup of casino games, stakes exceed mere monetary losses. If you plan on participating in the games, we humbly request that you sign a waiver.” 

“A waiver?” Shanks voiced, his brows drawing together, “Why would we need to do that?” 

“Some patrons do not take kindly to the losses they suffer and have attempted to retaliate against the casino in the past. The waiver is a contractual agreement recognized by the world government, and authorizes us to address any situation we deem dangerous or damaging to the island by any means we see fit to utilize.” 

Shanks’ brows raised, “That’s quite the liberal authorization.” 

The attendant met the alpha’s considering tone with a simple nod of acknowledgment, “Participation in the games is entirely voluntary, and we would be happy to provide you legal counseling if that is a concern.” 

The alpha settled back into the booth, mulling it over. The information they were provided up until this point was relatively vague, and knowing what sort of people frequented this section of the casino, Shanks wasn’t positive that he wanted to involve himself in anything too risky. However, a glance at the swordsman to his left had the alpha realizing that he might not have a choice in the matter. Mihawk looked intrigued, the omega thrilled by what he perceived as a challenge worthy to make a bet on. 

“And the stakes? Can they be life threatening?” 

Why Mihawk saw fit to ask that was honestly beyond Shanks’ comprehension. 

“Yes, in some instances, severe bodily harm has occurred.” 

At the delight that flashed in Mihawk’s yellow eyes, Shanks held up his hand to interrupt, “Hold on now, just what sort of games are we playing here?” 

“Does it matter?” The omega countered, “ This is far more entertaining than what we were doing before.” 

Shanks frowned at his mate, “Life threatening games? Seedy authorizations by the world government? Not to mention, half the people present are not exactly known for their integrity. This doesn’t sound like something we should involve ourselves in while on vacation , love.” 

“Oh?” There was a lighter note to Mihawk’s voice, and one that spelled obvious trouble for Shanks when the omega simpered, sliding in close until the alpha could make out every fine detail on the swordsman’s face, “Is that cowardice I’m hearing from you, red? That doesn’t sound like you at all.” 

The alpha narrowed his eyes on the older man, knowing exactly what Mihawk was trying to pull, “Mihawk…” he warned, but the omega dismissed the unsaid threat with flippant disregard as he placed a deliberate hand on Shanks’ thigh. 

“ Shanks .” Mihawk crooned back, excitement lighting his expression as he— oh , he was sliding his hand up now, a daringly intimate caress and one that had Shanks going a bit cross-eyed when the touch shot straight to his groin, “I want to have fun .” 

Mihawk scented lightly, letting notes of his omegan pheromones pick and pry at the alpha’s crumbling self control. It was humiliating how easy Shanks was unraveling, even if he was right about his overall concerns. Mihawk, the devil of a man that he was, seemingly didn’t give a damn about the risks, but then again, why would he? Mihawk was always chasing after some thrill or another. He thirsted for a challenge, yearned to have his limits tested again and again. It was why he hungered for their duels, why he delighted in Shanks’ strength. Mihawk, for as poised and elegant as he presented himself being, was still a troublemaker beneath all that indifferent nobility. 

The final nail in the coffin was the press of Mihawk’s mouth against Shanks’ ear, lips curving around a sinful offering no man in their right mind would be able to resist, “Play with me, alpha .” 

Upon hearing that invitation, Shanks angled his head towards the older and captured Mihawk in a brief, yet filthy kiss, groaning at the taste of his mate as Mihawk eagerly welcomed him. In spite of playing right into the omega’s hands, Shanks couldn’t help but froth at the mouth to please, and if it was what Mihawk wanted, who was Shanks to deny him? 

“You’re wicked, you know that?” Shanks murmured when they parted, the red of his eyes dazed and dark as Mihawk smirked knowingly. 

Fuck, that look of mischevious triumph on Mihawk’s face was unfairly hot. He was the picture of temptation pressed up against Shanks like this: dressed in wine-colored sin, golden eyes playful and daring as his fingers continued to skirt dangerously close to parts of Shanks that would drive the alpha absolutely mad if Mihawk grew bold enough to properly touch . Oh, for as innocent as his omega could be at points, Mihawk sure as hell knew how to play Shanks like a fiddle when it came down to it. 

Sighing in agreement, Shanks glanced at the attendant and motioned for whatever waivers they needed to sign, “Just hand me a damn pen, but just know,” he turned back to his swordsman, “If I lose a limb or anything of the sort, it’s your fault.” 

Mihawk merely grinned in the face of his threats, pleased with Shanks’ acquiescence. 

After they reviewed and signed their waivers, they were explained the rules of the so-called game they would be participating in. What constituted as a bet was decided between players themselves, and could range from anywhere between giving away territories to indentured servitude. The nature of the bets themselves was what made the game so risky, as an individual could even stake their life if they wanted. Now, more than ever, Shanks worried. The concern wasn’t for his own well being, but was directed at Mihawk who didn’t seem phased in the slightest as they were explained the rules. One could say that Mihawk gambled with his life everyday—that was the price paid for being the greatest, so of course he wouldn’t bat an eye at the thought of possibility of death. 

Shanks, on the other hand, thought the whole thing was absurd. Casual gambling he could get behind (even if all he ever did was lose), but staking entire lands on the role of a dice? It felt careless. It felt like the sort of flippant whimsy celestial dragons would partake in. A part of Shanks knew Mihawk would never take it so far as to bet something not worth the risk of losing, but that did little to lessen his nerves as they were brought to the center of the gambling room. A dice that stood nearly two stories tall awaited them, its figure imposing as five other players sat around for the game to commence. 

When Mihawk and Shanks arrived, it was clear that the other players were suddenly vastly more interested. Not only were they betting against the world’s leading swordsman at present, but also one of the greatest pirates stampeding in the New World. Both men had bounties well over a billion, were feared by the government, and recognized as top tiers in their respective era. Surely, a pair like them would have a lot to lose and even more to gain if luck was on their side. 

“Just do me a favor, angel,” Shanks said as Mihawk took his seat with all the subtle flourish he usually existed with, “No betting your life. I suppose everything else is fair game, but that’s off the table.” 

From where the omega lounged on a velvet futon, he turned his eyes to Shanks and upon seeing the genuine plea in the alpha’s expression, nodded his acceptance of the stipulation, “I promise. My life is yours.” 

Eased by Mihawk’s agreement, Shanks absorbed the space at his omega’s side and shot the older a cheeky little wink, “Alright then. Ready to raise a little hell?” 

“Only if you’ll join me.” 

“Wouldn’t plan on anything else, sweetheart.” He pressed a kiss to Mihawk’s temple as he let his arm splay behind the omega, content to let the older take the lead in this high stakes gamble. 

From across the way, an older man Shanks didn’t recognize spoke up, greeting the pair with a solemn, “Red-Haired Shanks and Dracule Mihawk. I certainly didn’t expect such renowned participants in tonight’s match.” 

“You know our names, but I’m afraid I don’t know yours. Any of you, actually.” Mihawk replied evenly, a chill to his words that would send most cowering in the face of his frigid regard. 

Shanks watched as the omega glanced at each player, haughty in a way that had Shanks struggling to stifle his laugh. He always forgot how utterly arrogant Mihawk could be. Granted, his confidence was not without reason, but it still amused the alpha to see just how condescending Mihawk often appeared. 

Naturally, the others in this little game bristled in offense. The wound to their pride was felt more deeply because it was an omega insulting them, and it was clear that even in spite of Mihawk’s worldly reputation, they wanted to look down on him solely based on his dynamic. Witnessing that baseless discrimination, Shanks was suddenly a little more eager to play, if only so he could watch the men present turn to despair when Mihawk took them for everything they were worth. 

The first man to address them chuckled dryly, a sharp scent of insult roiling off him in brief warning, “You should mind that sharp tongue of yours, omega. You’re speaking to a king.” 

“Oh?” Mihawk inquired in a way that was falsely innocent, “My mistake. I don't make much of an effort to know the names of men handed everything in life, rather than those who earn it based on their own merit.” 

The jab was blatant, and Shanks didn’t bother to hide his smile. Mihawk’s tongue was as sharp as Yoru’s obsidian edge, and it was more appealing than it should be to see the omega mock those who would dare claim to be above him. 

The eyes of the supposed king turned to regard Shanks next as they glared firmly, “You should teach your omega some proper manners, red-hair. Such blatant arrogance shouldn’t go unpunished from one of his dynamic.” 

Shanks met the glare aimed at him head on, not wavering an inch as he said, “He has every right to boast. If you’ve got a problem with it, then take it up with him yourself.” 

The alpha let his mouth curve provokingly as he trailed a finger over the silver-cross of Yoru’s hilt, hearing the blade sing to him in greeting. She was truly such a stunning weapon and so lovingly mastered. Her cursed song could make those without proper strength and willpower bleed from the eyes and ears, their flesh scorched from their bone from where they dared to lay a finger on her majesty, but to men like Shanks and Mihawk, her sound was angelic, the touch of her soothing. Yoru was Mihawk’s wholly, but Shanks was a rival to her strength. He was a man who challenged her own master until they were both exhausted and spent. So, when Shanks reached out to caress the sword testing at Mihawk’s side, Yoru welcomed him with a musical hum. At Shanks’ hip, Gryphon joined her in a symphony, calling out at the challenge Shanks wordlessly issued. 

Come at him if you’re brave enough , Shanks silently beckoned, But know you will not make it more than a step. 

If the king wanted Mihawk silenced, he would have to endeavor to do so himself, yet as the other alpha’s attention was inevitably drawn to the glint of Yoru’s ebony hue, Shanks knew the man wouldn’t lift a finger. Shanks’ mate was one of the strongest there was, and there was a pleasure to be had in brandishing Mihawk’s accolades as if they were the captain’s own. 

“Relax King Obi,” One of the other participants in the game spoke up next. He sounded mild mannered, but gauging by the rough look of him, he was no novice when it came to fighting. Littered with scars that mangled his body, the new individual calmly appealed to the supposed king, “How about we settle this like proper gentlemen, and move on with our game? I for one am excited to see what Dracule Mihawk is willing to bet in a game where the winner takes all.” 

King Obi huffed in clear dislike, but gave in to the pestering, “Aye, Mauld. If an alpha’s game is what the little omega wants to play, then by all means let him bite.” 

From personal experience, Shanks knew Mihawk bit hard enough to break bone, but he refrained from saying as such as the organizer of the game cleared his throat and went through an overview of the rules. 

The game, itself, was as simple as it got. Out of the six individuals participating, each one would choose a number they thought the dice would land on after it was tossed. The person who was allowed a chance to make the first guess was the one who placed the highest value bet. It was a winner takes all format, so the only winner was the one who guessed correctly on where the dice would land after it was tossed. Considering the behemoth of the dice in front of him, Shanks had to wonder how the hell it was supposed to be thrown, but his silent question was answered when a man with evident Giant lineage entered the game room. He was tethered to iron balls and chains, their weight dragging heavily as if to prevent him from running off on his own. The man was muzzled and covered head to toe in black tattoos. Shanks recognized the markings as ancient Elbafian Hieroglyphics, which not even the current giants of Elbaf were capable of reading anymore. 

Stomping into the room with a menacing tremble to each step he took, the partial giant glared at all the participants present before his beady black eyes setted on Shanks and Mihawk last. Due to his partly human nature, Shanks could scent the alpha in the other creature as the giant’s dominance stirred in response to Mihawk’s presence. 

With a gruff sounding grunt, thick fingers pointed at the yellow-eyed swordsman and declared, “What’s a ‘mega doing here?” 

Next to Shanks, Mihawk clicked his tongue in loud annoyance, “You lot seem overly fascinated with my dynamic,” he muttered before openly declaring, “I am here, giant , to play a game, and since I am assuming you are the roller of the dice, I’d suggest you stick to your designated job and kindly do me the favor of not addressing me again.” 

There was a warning in Mihawk’s statement, an undertone of threat that rippled with the barest hints of Haki—proof that the swordsman was lacking in patience at present. Shanks eased him by ghosting his fingertips subtly through the hair curled along Mihawk’s nape, soothing his touch against warm skin until the older man calmed. 

The giant man bristled at the defiance Mihawk showed, but was ushered by the coordinator of the game to take his spot by the dice. From there, the betting pool was opened with King Obi going first. 

“I’ll bet one of my private islands located in the south blue. It’s worth approximately 1 billion berries.” He threw a deed down into the middle of the betting pot, the parchment sealed with the crest of his kingdom. 

Mauld went next, and bet the possession of four high profile criminals whose bounties accumulated to 1.1 billion berries. Around the circle the bets were placed, until finally it was Mihawk’s turn to offer something of worth. 

Curious to what his omega had in mind to give, Shanks waited in silence as Mihawk deliberated, “Mm, how much is a celestial sanction by the world government prices at?” 

Shanks stilled, as did most of everyone in the room. 

“P-Pardon?” The organizer sputtered, unsure if he heard correctly. 

Mihawk, for his part, didn’t seem to understand the significance of his offer as he repeated casually, “A celestial sanction. Do you not know what that is?” 

Anyone worth their damn salt knew what a celestial sanction was, but that didn’t detract from the shock those present for the game were currently experiencing. 

Shanks, having never heard about this apparent sanction Mihawk received, sounded just a little bit troubled as he asked, “When the hell did you get your hands on that? And how? ”

Celestial sanctions were documents signed by a saint dragon, and were given to those a world noble recognized as an affiliate to their family. Though not a celestial dragon by blood or legal relation, someone that was sanctioned by a world noble would be treated with nearly the same respect as if they originated from one of the 20 founding families themselves. They were even permitted to live within the halls of Marie Geoise if they so desired. The civil and legal liberties that came with a celestial sanction were practically priceless, and the fact that Mihawk was in possession of one begged the question as to how the hell he obtained it. 

“Hm?” Mihawk tilted his head to the side as he thought about it, “From my understanding, The Abbess at the convent in which I was raised said it was with me when I arrived as a newborn. She gave me the document when I left their care, but I have no need or want of it.” 

Shanks blinked as he processed Mihawk’s casual admittance. He knew the omega grew up as an orphan, and that he left the care of nuns at the tender age of 10 due to a rather unseemly rumor spread among the villagers. They believed Mihawk, an omegan boy who presented too early and who took to swords more than chores, was born of the devil. His eyes, they said, were proof enough that he lived with a suffering curse, and that his presence on the island would only bring grave misfortune. Mihawk never spoke at great length about his childhood, and Shanks was never inclined to press, but a Celestial Sanction was news to him. 

The alpha was completely bewildered on why Mihawk never mentioned this before. Then again, Shanks knew Mihawk didn’t necessarily neglect to inform Shanks on purpose. If anything, Mihawk did not place any value in the title, and thus deemed it useless information to share. 

And only Mihawk would think having a Celestial Sanction was unimportant . 

“Could you provide proof that this document exists?” The organizer asked. 

Mihawk nodded, “It’s with my luggage back in my suite. I can request an attendant to fetch it if you would like to test for authenticity.” 

“There’s no way you have a sanction of that caliber!” King Obi roared. He slammed his hand down on the arm of his chair, his cheeks blotchy with red anger before scathingly accusing Mihawk of being a fraud. 

“The king has a point,” Mauld said, “It’s hard to believe that a man with a celestial sanction would be one of the world’s most wanted criminals.” 

“I had no use for the title,” Mihawk explained simply, “From my understanding, there is expectation tied to the sanction. Land and responsibilities I have no intention of caring for or adhering to. That, and I expect I wouldn’t be left alone as often as I am now if I was recognized to the same degree as a World Noble. Though, if you still doubt my integrity, I have no problem presenting the document for review.” 

Shanks watched as Mauld eyed Mihawk critically before surmising, “He’s not lying,” the man said with a sort of delirious laugh, “By the gods, he really has a signed sanction, doesn’t he?” 

“If the document comes back as authentic, then I’d estimate the worth is relative to 10 billion berries,” the organizer confessed, “And even then, that’s a conservative number. Once we have the title in hand, we can commence with choosing the rolling odds. Mr. Dracule, on the condition that the Celestial Sanction is legitimate, you will be permitted to choose first.” 

Mihawk nodded in agreement before requesting one of their attendants to retrieve his title. After instructing the beta woman on where to locate the item, she returned in record time. Her face was white with shock, and as she presented the document with trembling hands, Shanks knew that the sanction was authentic. Not that he doubted Mihawk, but after the organizer ran several tests on the parchment for signs of forgery, he openly declared that the document was valid, and Mihawk would be permitted to choose his odds first. 

“Well, well, well,” Mauld breathed as he sat back in his chair, “It seems this game just got a lot more interesting.” 

“I’d never be in want of anything with a title like that.” One of the other participants muttered to himself, scenting with potent excitement and just the barest wisps of greed. 

King Obi was still disbelievingly furious about the whole affair, but even he was hopelessly intrigued. After all, though he may be a king of his own country, the world nobles were still far superior to him in status, and since a sanction was a near equivalent to Celestial Dragon status, it came as no surprise that he would want the sanction for himself. 

“I’ll select six as my number.” Mihawk announced in clear dismissal of his opponents. 

From there, the order of odds went from the next highest bet and worked its way down. Finally, the last guess was made, and the time for rolling the dice came. When given the command, the giant stepped up to the black dice and settled his arms around its edges. From there, he hoisted the dice above his head with obvious strain, grunting as he then tossed it up with a tailspin. Around and around in the air the dice flipped, tumbling through the air before it crashed back down. The entire ground shook as the dice landed, then tumbled some more, before finally teetering to a slow stop. 

As the dust settled and cleared, the organizer climbed a ladder to see the top of the dice and the number it landed on. Everyone waited with bated breath, and even Shanks found himself intrigued, eagerly waiting for the result to be announced. The only one who appeared completely complacent about the entire affair was Mihawk, but that was most likely because there was nothing he found particularly interesting about the bets. Still, Mihawk did seem the slightest bit pleased when the winner was announced. 

“And the number lands on six. Dracule Mihawk takes the betting pool.” 

Shanks didn’t even have it in him anymore to appear shocked. Instead, he laughed loudly, throwing his head back in pure amusement, the sound of his bellowing guffaws echoing in the room as the other players cursed furiously. The victory tasted sweet, even if it wasn’t necessarily Shanks’ triumph. It felt good as the alpha watched the other men present learn not to underestimate Mihawk. It felt better than good to see their initial disdain morph into the realization that Mihawk was their better. In the beginning, they dared to look down on Mihawk, on Shanks’ mate , on someone who couldn’t even be fathomed for how glorious he was, and now they were understanding their place. They were recognizing their own inferiority, and Shanks couldn’t help but laugh like a maniac as he bore witness to the transition. 

Red eyes utterly delighted, Shanks kicked his feet up and reached for a drink, cocky as he leaned back and determined to keep watching the misery unfold. 

“Find something funny, Red?” Mihawk teased, his lips pulling into a playful smirk as he collected his winnings with uncaring grace. 

Shanks beamed back a smile as he shot his lover a wink, “Ah, don’t mind me sweetheart. Just happy to be here, that's all.” 

He was happy to watch Mihawk crush the egos of these superficial men—eager to see their confidence falter and their ignorance shatter. Perhaps it was the rebel in Shanks. Perhaps it was because Shanks was a man who loathed discrimination with his entire being, who hated when people were confined within the restrictive bars of societal expectation, but there was such pleasure to be gleaned in the way Mihawk so easily did away with stereotypical beliefs. It reminded Shanks yet again that he should feel honored to be the one chosen to stand at Mihawk’s side. It reminded Shanks that he had found his equal in life, his partner , and what a blessing that truly was. 

Mihawk was part of the divine, Shanks was absolutely sure of it, and while others may not notice it yet, one day they undoubtedly would. Until then, however, the alpha would be the first to lay at Mihawk’s feet and worship. He would be the first and the only to hold Mihawk’s treasured heart within the palm of his devoted hands, to be gifted a reward greater than even the One Piece itself. 

Mihawk was a man beyond comprehension, and he was all Shanks’ .

Chapter Text

Heaven’s Cup Upon Thy Tongue

Expectantly, Mihawk swept the competition when it came to the game, procuring himself a wealth of rewards that, for the most part, he cared very little about. He was immensely pleased to obtain a supreme grade spear, and as he tested the weight of the weapon in his hands and the power forged in its steel, there was a delighted smile on his lips Shanks adoringly appreciated. 

It became apparent to many present that if Mihawk decided to bet on a round, the likelihood of others winning was practically zero. Mihawk’s ungodly luck was a point of contention, with many claims flying around about him cheating and somehow rigging the system, but through several processes to determine if foul play was an issue, it was continuously ruled out. 

Mihawk was simply just that good, and after several rounds came and went with the omega continuously winning, the other participants wisely stopped placing any more bets. Shanks laughed brightly, finding the entire scenario too funny not to laugh hysterically at. If Mihawk was disappointed that he could no longer take the men present for more of what they had left, he didn’t make a show about it. For him, the supreme grade spear was enough of a prize to make the entire night worthwhile. 

“I do think you won’t get anything else out of the game, sweetheart,” Shanks pointed out, taking note of the angry and weary eyes watching them steadily, “What do you say we finish the evening with a fancy little dinner and some drinks? And after that…” Shanks let his eyes drift over Mihawk in lewd indication, hinting his unsaid meaning with heat in his eyes and desire curving along his smirk. 

The omega met him with casual agreement, figuring there was no point wasting his time further on men who were too afraid to bet against him. Shanks watched the older stand with unmatched grace, feeling a tug and a twist deep in the pit of his stomach as the alpha raked his attention over his omega’s sinful figure. Mihawk’s suit really did things to Shanks that were too filthy in nature to voice aloud, but hell if he wasn’t eternally grateful for how deviously seductive Mihawk looked draped in red. 

Yellow eyes turned to Shanks, an arched brow demanding Shanks hurry up and follow. The alpha grinned lazily, just the slightest bit inebriated as he rose to his feet. Standing until he was right above eye level with his omega, Shanks couldn't resist sweeping forward and sealing Mihawk’s mouth fleetingly with his own, staking a claim to all those present. While they were furious at Mihawk for making fools out of them, they would still be horrendously envious of Shanks. Shanks, who was permitted to kiss Mihawk without refusal. Shanks, who could taste the divine and bathe in the glory of Mihawk’s coveted attention for however long he wanted. 

Breaking away, Shanks nosed against Mihawk softly, evoking just the barest hint of scent to revel in. The omega, in a relatively good mood due to his winnings, allowed Shanks to do what he wished, permitting the alpha with more indulgences than Shanks ever thought he would be bestowed. 

From over the line of Mihawk’s shoulders, the alpha could see the others watching them. His red eyes gloated, flaunting his own tangible victory as he witnessed the frustrated hunger lurking beneath their defeated facades. 

“With all this posturing you’re doing, it really makes me wonder where you learned to boast so much,” Mihawk nudged Shanks lightly, indicating towards the exit, “I thought you were supposed to be a humble pirate.” 

“Mm,” Shanks hummed agreeingly, “Humble in a sense, but when it comes to you gorgeous, it’d be blasphemous not to brag.” 

Mihawk shot him a partially amused look before stepping away. Shanks trailed after him like a loyal dog, taking in the view of Mihawk’s subtly swaying hips with shameless reverence. The way the omega walked, how he carried himself not with false arrogance, but with earned confidence, had Shanks itching to get the two of them back to their suite. He hadn’t forgotten the end goal of tonight’s little outing, and at the thought of getting to spread Mihawk’s legs and feast until he was full, the alpha was only too eager to cater to every single one of Mihawk’s whims. 

Dinner was a lovely and private affair, with gourmet cuisine that even impressed Mihawk’s discerning palette and refined tastes. Seeing the swordsman bathed in romantic candlelight, sipping prettily from his half full glass of dark red wine, Shanks yearned to reach out and touch. He was edging on impatience, barely kept at bay because the image of Mihawk moaning quietly at the taste of perfectly seared steak was just enough to stave off the gnawing need rearing its head in the pit of the alpha’s stomach. 

He knew Mihawk wasn’t faring much better, either. Though the omega was an expert at concealing his thoughts behind porcelain expressions, his eyes told Shanks all he needed to know. Those fathomless yellow-gold beauties rarely left Shanks for a moment, fixing on the alpha with warming desire as Shanks’ inhibitions loosened the more he relaxed and drank. The captain didn’t bother to mince his charm, and with the full force of his irresistible charisma, he continuously captivated Mihawk with the seductive notes of his rumbling voice and the way he displayed himself like a treat to be had. Shanks was a good looking guy, and he knew that, and he was not above using his looks to entice and get what he wanted. As a pirate, it was in his nature to play dirty on occasion, so with a careless remark about how warm it was, Shanks reached up with expert fingers to loosen some of the buttons on his shirt. 

Of course, Mihawk basked in the image of Shanks, his eyes narrowing and his lips—temptingly darkened by the red wine—were licked by a tongue that hungered not for the taste of their meal, but for the salt on Shanks’ skin instead. The alpha grinned invitingly as he witnessed the unbidden flash of want that briefly flickered across Mihawk’s face, the need that was as potent as the one Shanks felt currently swimming and twisting inside of him. The tension between the pair was deliciously thick, and it reddened Shanks’ neck with a blush of excited desire. He wanted Mihawk, and he wanted him now . Didn’t think there was anything in this world that could keep him from knotting his omega until the older forgot his own name—until he was pumped so full of Shanks’ seed that he would inevitably leak from being overfilled. 

“Can I offer you gentlemen a dessert to close out the evening?” The waiter returned, polite even in the face of Shanks’ scent projecting the stirrings of his arousal. 

Mihawk, setting his glass of wine down primly, didn’t bother to look at the waiter as he said, “No, I think we’re quite alright,” the omega’s voice was a lovely purr, so unfairly sexy Shanks visibly resisted the urge not to launch across this table and have , “You can discuss payment with one of our attendants, and that is all.” 

The waiter bowed, and in his absence Mihawk crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair. Yoru was at his side, leaned against the table as she shined with glittering esteem. 

Shanks watched—no, he devoured this beautiful man with his eyes, unable to keep the yearning from his face as he desperately wanted to bury so deeply within the omega that the greatest forces of this world wouldn’t be able to pry them apart. 

It was building—the catalyst rapidly approaching, and in the end, it was Mihawk who boldly declared without a flicker of hesitation, “I want you.” 

The alpha breathed in deeply, feeling euphoric as he let those words carve into the essence of his very soul, “Then you shall have me, beloved.” 

Mihawk swiftly stood, the line of his figure riddled with tension as he returned Yoru to her sheathe. From over his shoulder, the omega commanded firmly, “Come,” and Shanks was eager to obey. 

He kept from touching by some miracle, knowing that if he did, they wouldn’t have a hope of making it back to their suite. When their envoy of attendants attempted to follow the pair, Mihawk dismissed them, requesting for the two of them to be left alone until otherwise summoned. Watching Mihawk take command, seeing the omega claim what he wanted when he wanted it—for the love of all that was holy in the world, how could Shanks not live for the sole purpose of seeing Mihawk exist ?

As the door to their suite approached, Mihawk made quick work of the lock before stepping inside. Shanks followed, still refraining from reaching out as the omega set Yoru aside and worked at the buttons of his suit jacket. From there, Mihawk slipped the sinful red from his shoulders and hung up his coat as he then turned to regard Shanks neutrally. The alpha hadn’t moved an inch, waiting in obedient suspense for permission. 

Mihawk took a moment to simply stand in the receiving room of their suite, tilting his head slightly to the left as he let his burning stare trail a path up and down Shanks’ body before settling to meet the longing in the alpha’s red-eyed glare. Then, with slow and purposeful steps, Mihawk approached, his touch considering as nimble fingers reached out to caress the expanse of skin exposed by Shanks’ teasing unbuttoning of his shirt. The touch sent tremors of excitement throughout the alpha’s body, and he visibly vibrated with the determination to stay completely still until told otherwise. 

“Did you notice?” Mihawk inquired pointedly, the cold depth of his tone so deliciously enticing Shanks shuddered delightfully in response, “How everyone looked at you tonight?” 

Without having realized he closed his eyes, Shanks opened them again to answer honestly, “Was too busy warding off everyone that looked at you , instead.” 

“Hm,” Mihawk hummed as he deftly undid another button of Shanks’ shirt, “You attract attention wherever you go, don’t you, Red?” 

One by one, Mihawk continued to work at the dress-shirt buttons, undoing them at a leisurely pace that drove Shanks mad. 

Mind a bit foggy, the alpha struggled to answer as he said, “I don’t know. Never really cared for anyone’s attention that wasn’t yours.” 

When Mihawk was finished, he left the shirt alone and open, and took to running his hands over the newly exposed skin of the alpha’s torso instead. He greedily mapped out the ridges and contours of Shanks’ fine muscles, fingertips dipping and pressing with teasing ministrations before skirting elsewhere. 

Shanks’ eyes fluttered shut again, a groan escaping him as Mihawk skimmed a featherlight touch over his drawn and pert chest. 

“They wanted you,” Mihawk confessed, still sounding cold and indifferent, even if his touch was searing into Shanks’ flesh, “They wanted you how I want you. They looked, and they wanted to touch. They wanted you to look back , but you didn’t, did you? You only ever look at me, and that—that is very good of you, alpha.” The omega breathed the last part like a lovely confession as warmth started to color his words. 

Shanks’ breathing escalated, leaving him in harsher rasps as Mihawk scented of want and satisfaction. The chilling aroma of the omega was subtle until it wasn’t, and it overcame Shanks suddenly, bathing him in the cool notes and tones of peace and winter, of tranquil evenings spent beneath a majestic moon and sailing the flat of the ocean tide on a windless night. 

“Even now, the only thing you can think about is me,” the omega mused, “I might get cocky with that sort of devotion, Shanks.” 

Managing to find his ability to speak, Shanks assured vehemently, “It’s not arrogance if you really are better than all the rest, angel.” 

Mihawk grinned, and the look in his eyes was alight with predatory glee, “I am the best,” He declared without remorse, “I am the best, and I will only ever have the best in return. And you, alpha,” the omega’s eyes softened with hooded pleasure as he stepped in closer than before, “You are worthy. You entice me like no other, tempt me in ways I have never been tempted. You rival my skill, you challenge me at every turn,” Speaking in a slow and soft cadence, the omega articulated each of his words with a rolling curl of his tongue, “I have never met an equal like you, and will never search for another. The thought of you makes me starve and seeing you,” Mihawk smirked wickedly as his hand splayed over Shanks’ heart, “ Touching you…Oh Shanks, you make me ache to be filled.” 

“Please,” Shanks begged, clearly at his limit as his eyes shimmered with untold love and lust and passion and—“Let me be the one to ease that ache.” 

Lips were on his in the next instant, the omega’s mouth covering Shanks’ own with a groan of want as Mihawk’s fingers tangled demandingly in the alpha’s hair. Shanks took that as all the permission he needed to meet Mihawk as fervently as the omega crashed into him. His hands settled on his greatest treasure as his tongue worked to part the omega’s lips and taste . Filthily, he kissed the older, the note of their embrace wet and sensual as Shanks drank and bathed and relished in all that Mihawk willingly gave him. 

“God, I love you.” Shanks growled as he broke away just long enough to breathe his affection in the fraction of space left between them. 

Mihawk didn’t answer him, but that might have been because Shanks didn’t give him the chance as he surged forward again, claiming the lips of an angel as he urged Mihawk closer. His demanding hands hoisted Mihawk up, pinning the omega to the nearest wall so he could nestle between the other’s legs. Mihawk gasped in delight at the show of roughness, at the evident need Shanks saturated the air with. He scented of a man driven mad, of a fiend that could only be satisfied by the touch of this—this unimaginable being he held cradled in his embrace. Mihawk was everything to Shanks. He was too much, and yet the alpha knew he could never get enough. No matter how often he touched or kissed or indulged , he would always be left feeling as if he needed more, more , more.  

“ Shanks .” Mihawk moaned beautifully, musical and angelic. He was the song of the heavens, a siren beckoning from the sea, and Shanks couldn’t think, couldn’t imagine trying to focus on anything other than evoking more of those sweet, sweet moans out of the omega. 

Fitting his hand on Mihawk’s waist, Shanks pressed even closer, molding the two of them together in perfect form. Mihawk was hot against him, his hands hurriedly shoving the alpha’s shirt off the rest of the way, eager to let his fingers dig into the thick of Shanks’ shoulders. 

“Use it.” The omega demanded, gasping against the alpha as Shanks took liberty to lap at Mihawk’s neck until the taste of him dampened the younger’s tongue.

Red eyes found Mihawk’s briefly, and though the swordsman refused to elaborate on his demand, Shanks understood well enough. 

With practiced ease, Shanks let the barest hints of his conqueror's Haki exude from him, mixing it with the natural dominance of an alpha as he ground against Mihawk in search of much needed friction. The prickle of his Haki electrified the very air, and as soon as the alpha projected that power onto Mihawk, the omega breathed out a gasping ‘ yes’ as his back arched off the wall. His nails dug harshly into Shanks’s skin until red-hot marks were left to fester, but even then Mihawk craved more. 

“Let me feel it,” yellow eyes were foggy with the effects of Shanks’ power, as the omega didn’t bother to put up much of a resistance in the face of it, “Give it to me proper, alpha .” 

Oh, and oh , how could Shanks refuse?

Without thinking twice about it, Shanks unleashed a greater amount of his Haki, feeling as the air shifted with the rolling vibration of his power. He could taste static in the air, the simmering smoke of a spark that burnt bright and fierce, that so often brought men to their knees and that left the sea quaking in the face of him. 

Mihawk threw his head back against the wall, throat bared as his eyes squeezed shut. A euphoric look slackened his jaw and parted his lips, a red-hot blush coloring his cheeks as he mewled, “ More .” 

From where his arm held Mihawk pinned and immobile, Shanks could feel how the other grew wet, how his slick soaked his pants as he bucked against the alpha in growing need. The omega scented wildly, his control unwinding thread by careful thread as Shanks left him speechless with another powerful wave of his Haki splintering the walls and making the ground tremble. 

“ You like that ?” Shanks murmured deeply, guttural and rumbling as Mihawk writhed against him. God, he was so pretty, so right for Shanks and it was—it wasn’t enough to have him against the wall now. He needed Mihawk in his bed. He needed his omega beneath him, needed to feel his skin and kiss between his legs until he brought the older man to the heights of pleasure. 

Stumbling blindly towards the bedroom, Shanks managed to get them to the foot of the bed without much incident. His mouth was on Mihawk’s again, the omega cradling the sides of Shanks’ face as he kissed the breath from the alpha’s lungs. With each step Shanks took, he could feel how his haki rippled, how the air visibly shimmered with the potency of his kingly ambition before he laid Mihawk down. 

The omega splayed out against crimson red bedsheets, the shine of the satin so complimentary to the fairness of Mihawk’s alabaster skin. Sadly, he was still far too dressed for what Shanks had in mind, and yet seeing how the front of the omega’s pants swelled with his arousal, how rumpled and wrecked Mihawk already look, it was just as enticing to see him clothed as it would be to have him naked. 

“You’re lovely just like that, you know?” Shanks said, licking his lips as Mihawk’s dark hair fanned out behind him. 

Yellow eyes slotted to Shanks in hooded desire, a summons in his stare as the omega reveled in the ongoing effects of Shanks impressing his dominance and Haki on the other man. 

“You can’t knot me with my pants on,” Mihawk pointed out, voice strained as he worked to get the words past the soft moans falling from his lips, “And I want it. I need it.” 

To emphasize his point, cleverly debonair fingers settled over the base of Mihawk’s stomach, alluding to where he wanted to feel Shanks and how deeply he wanted the alpha to go. 

Ruined before he even started, Shanks swiftly seated himself between the swordsman’s thighs, whimpering when he pressed his nose to the heat of Mihawk’s groin. He inhaled, taking in the full of the omega’s scent, and his stomach clenched . His teeth ached, an instinctual need to fit his jaw to the soft swell of Mihawk’s inner thigh driving him to do just that. He bit down, even through the fabric of the other’s pants, and earned himself a pitching whine for his efforts. 

Red eyes fluttered shut as Shanks mouthed at the most intimate parts of his lover. From here, the scent of the omega’s slick was far more potent, the pheromones tearing inhuman growls out of Shanks without him even noticing. He wanted to rip the other open, wanted to pry and pull and see all of what he could find, discover everything that made Mihawk tick . Possession was a companion to the desire that blazed from within. The thought of being the first to ever do this to Mihawk, of being the only one to have him in such a way— yes , that was what Shanks craved. 

He wanted, as always, to take from Mihawk. Take his attention, take his laughter, take his kisses and his love and his heart. Shanks never thought he could be so greedy, but that was before Mihawk clung to him with fingers twined in red hair and lips singing praise for how good the alpha was. That was before yellow eyes and smirking lips agreed to humor a brat of an alpha for a drink all those years ago. That was before Shanks talked his way onto a too-small raft with a boy who would become a legend among men, before he saw the grace of god in the divinity of an omega who existed to be better than all the rest. 

Shanks was once a selfless man, and in many ways he still was, but he would rather douse the world in the flame of his fury before ever sharing this privilege of Mihawk’s sacred love. 

Overcome, Shanks couldn’t wait any longer as he undid the fastenings of Mihawk’s pants and tore them off. The omega had worked at his own waistcoat and shirt, shirking them off and tossing them in a forgotten heap somewhere that didn’t matter. Once Mihawk was exposed, once he was bared to his alpha, Shanks had an epiphany, the sudden feeling in which all of his worries, all the responsibilities he might have had outside of this room, fell to unimportance. The thought of his future, of the government, of the hatred and division that rotted the world from its core—what was the ailment of humanity in comparison to the hitch of Mihawk’s breath? What was hardship, when the omega had blessings living in each of his fingertips, when even his kiss felt like a cure? 

There was nothing quite like Mihawk. No one who could be as cold as a frigid winter storm, yet as soothing as a healing balm to a ravaged heart. When specifically had Shanks become so entangled with the other man? Had their fates always been intertwined? Was Shanks born to live for Mihawk, just as Mihawk was born to spur Shanks to greater heights than even heaven itself? Were they made to complete one another, or had Shanks made it his mission to mold himself into Mihawk’s perfect fit? What would the alpha give? What left did Shanks have to lay at Mihawk’s feet in tribute? 

Everything. 

He would give Mihawk everything . 

“I am yours entirely, Mihawk,” Shanks confessed as he hovered over the older man, stripped down to his most vulnerable parts as he pressed his head against Mihawk’s own, “I am sorry it took me so long to get here.” 

A tender smile eased onto the omega’s lips, hands delicately brushing aside Shanks’ wayward hair until all of the alpha’s expression was revealed to him, “You’re here now, and that is all that matters. You are all that matters to me, Shanks.” 

The alpha placed a sweet kiss to Mihawk’s fingers. Emotion swelled like an oncoming tide in his chest, and it was both warm and cold. It was peaceful, and yet it sparked such vibrant passion in the alpha that he was buzzing with trembling excitement. He was at home and at ease, and yet he felt like he was bursting at the seams, itching to come apart beneath the deft touch of his omega. To feel such grand conflict—Shanks realized it was much like him and Mihawk. They were opposites, but in the way of reflection.  Shanks thought of the moon and the sun. He thought of the sky and the sea, and then he thought of him and Mihawk, of Mihawk and him, of them , and—

Mihawk leaned up to claim Shanks in a gentle kiss. It was a kiss that skimmed like a soft breeze on an island beach, that stirred the sand and rustled the leaves, and that Shanks felt down to his toes even if the affection was chaste and fleeting.  

From there, the alpha took it slow, intent on lovingly committing each moment to memory, of carving every sound Mihawk made, every touch he gave, into the very essence of Shanks’ core. When he dipped down to kiss Mihawk's chest, he did so with reverence. When his hands slipped down the curve of the other’s figure, they did so with deliberate conviction. The graze of his fingertips on the omega’s soft skin, the taste of Mihawk’s scent dampening the air, the sound of the other’s breathless sighs of want, and the heat of their intoxicating proximity—Shanks did not intend to let a single detail go unnoticed. 

Mihawk was art as he writhed, rising and falling to Shanks’ ministrations as if the alpha held the strings, and the omega was helpless but to follow along. Shanks breathed another kiss to Mihawk’s navel, let his tongue sweep down to the nest of coarse hairs at the omega’s base, and when Mihawk whispered a wanton ‘ please’— when he bucked and he whimpered, when his slick soaked the bed beneath him—Shanks appeased him with lips sinking deep on the omega’s length as a finger slipped between a giving ring of muscle and curled with expert precision. 

Mihawk’s eyes went wide as his moan was abruptly cut off, the dual sensations too sudden for the omega to adjust to. Shanks watched in rapture as his mate’s fingers twisted into the bedsheets until his knuckles bled white. The swordsman was framed in crimson red, and a fitting metaphor for the way Shanks wanted to entomb the other and never let him go. 

The alpha relished the taste of Mihawk on his tongue, his eyes drifting shut as he let the weight of Mihawk linger before he dragged his head up, lips suckling with doting worship, and then eased back down. The finger he had hooked into the omega matched the slow and steady pace Shanks set to lavishing Mihawk with, drawing on his instincts to dictate what to do and how to do it. Mihawk was so wet, and he was eagerly taking the first finger, yet Shanks took his time. He dragged it out, thinking there was no greater sight than watching Mihawk twist with want and loosen with pleasure. 

When the second finger joined the first, the swordsman came alive, a firecracker ignited by a spark as he suddenly became much more demanding. He was impatient, and since Dracule Mihawk would always be a man that got what he wanted when he wanted it, he glared at the alpha with sun-bright eyes and let a lick of his Haki command Shanks into giving in. 

“I can take it,” Mihawk swore, pressing down onto the two fingers spreading him, “I can take you.” 

Shanks went a little cross eyed at the promise, yet even as the pressure of the omega’s willpower bore down on his shoulders, the alpha did not give in. He swallowed around the older’s cock, pressing his tongue flat and firm to the underside, and when Mihawk’s expression pinched in bliss, Shanks added a third finger for good measure. 

“ S-Shanks…” Mihawk broke beautifully, going limp as the alpha continued to pleasure how he saw fit. 

Shanks took it all in: the easy glide of his fingers prying Mihawk apart, the shine of the omega’s slick as it wet his thighs and slipped down his legs, the red blush to his cock, the veins throbbing as Shanks lingered around the sensitive head until pre-cum coated his throat. Mihawk was squirming, pushing and pulling away, wanting more, yet having received so much already. The manner in which the omega’s chest heaved, his breaths hoarse and rabid as more moans and whines were drawn from the part of his spit-shined lips—all of it frayed the last vestiges of Shanks’ sanity, molding him into a man that simply lived to please this divine creature before him. 

Finally, he couldn’t take it any more. Their Hakis were fluctuating, their scents heavy like a thick fog, and when the first tear of oversensitivity slipped from the corner of beautiful eyes like fine treasure, Shanks could feel that it was time. He wanted to knot, and he wanted to make Mihawk his . He wanted to bond and sew them together so that they might never be apart. Even when challenged by the world’s greatest powers, even in the face of heaven and hell itself, Shanks needed to know that he and Mihawk could never be split again. He needed this one peace, this one permittancr of greed when all he ever did was give and give and give himself to a future still too far off to properly see. Shanks was an alpha that would always be in demand, there would always be need for him in some form or another, but for this spare second of time, he longed to be the one needing instead. 

He longed to belong to Mihawk. To this man who would never expect or demand anything more than Shanks being Shanks . Mihawk, his omega, the love of his life and the other half of his being—to love him completely and entirely was Shanks’ most fervent wish. 

Crawling back up the older’s body until they were face to face, Shanks hovering with only a breath of space between them, the alpha conveyed the intensity of his desires through look alone. He must have presented like a man devoted, like a man on the brink of being overcome, because Mihawk rose up to meet him halfway to grant him sweet mercy through his lips. Nimble fingers grazed along Shanks’ cheeks, soothing down his jaw until the younger’s face was cradled between loving hands capable of turning the ground to ash. There was affection in that single touch, a promise that so long as they were here, so long as they were one , there was nothing that could come between them. 

“How is it possible,” Shanks murmured as his eyes burned, “To love someone so much?” 

His breath shuddered, the pressure in his lungs exhilarating as Mihawk smiled at him, “Even your love burns as bright as the sun,” the omega said softly, voice tender as he scented with the cool embrace of a winter eclipse, “Luckily I am a man impervious to flames.” 

They kissed, and as they kissed, Shanks positioned himself at the core of Mihawk, aligning the head of his cock with the most giving part of the omega. It was already so wet, so welcoming, that Shanks feared he might not be able to last, but that concern was only minor when Mihawk broke away with a moan, yellow eyes shiny with nerves and love and a trust he would only ever give Shanks. 

“I—“ the omega started to say, only to falter when words failed him. 

The alpha knew regardless of it being said what Mihawk needed, and with a sweet assurance, Shanks promised reverently, “I will be gentle, my love.” 

Mihawk gave a short nod, and that was all Shanks needed before he slowly, so slowly , started to press in. He listened to every hitch of breath, noted every tensing of muscle, and let every twitch to the older’s facial expression guide the pace of his entry. At first, the only thoughts Shanks could process was tight and wet . Heat welcomed him on all sides, encasing the length of his arousal in a squeeze that was almost too much. Mihawk whined, his fingers seeking purchase on Shanks’ shoulders as he attempted to breathe through the intrusion. 

The alpha groaned, his head falling forward as sensation overrode his sensibilities, “Oh, Mihawk .” 

The glide was indescribable, the pleasure too much to put into words as Shanks sheathed himself fully. He bottomed out, sitting deep and still as he allowed the older to adjust. Mihawk gasped vibrantly beneath him, his eyes squeezed shut as a heavy blush worked from his cheeks, down his neck, until it spread across the fairness of his chest. Shanks worked kisses along the omega’s throat, partly to distract himself from the throb of Mihawk around him, and also to assure that he would not move until given explicit permission to do so. 

Finally, after another few passing moments, Mihawk made a sound of want and beckoned, “Shanks, please .” 

It was all the Alpha needed to draw himself back a little and grind into the heaven beneath him. His movement startled a whimper out of Mihawk, the omega’s lips parting softly in a gentle ‘oh’ as Shanks worked into him slow and easy at first. The only thing Shanks wanted to be was good for Mihawk. His own enjoyment was second to that simple desire, and yet even in spite of that thought, it felt as if electricity was shooting up the alpha’s spine every single time he thrusted. He was barely even moving, mostly just grinding deep to help Mihawk adjust, but it was so good. So good to hear the tiny little mewls Mihawk breathed into his ear. So good to feel the wet and the slick and the tightening of his omega when Shanks shifted his angle just so . 

Fingers tangled in the red of his hair, their ministrations teasing as Mihawk threw his head back and groaned deeply enough that the sound vibrated into a purr. A clear note of the omega’s scent encased Shanks fully, shrouding him in a cocoon where everything ended and began with Mihawk . 

“ More ,” the older said, thickly wanton as he arched into Shanks. His bare chest pressed eagerly to the alpha’s own, their hearts thrumming in tandem as Shanks grew feverish with the smell and sound of his omega, “ Shanks, I—“ 

Smothering the older’s demands with a profound kiss, Shanks changed the pace of his movements, dragging himself further out of his lover before easing back in. When he was welcomed with only eager demand and little else, he repeated the motion, driving deeper, testing the limits of how hard he could go, how much he could take before it was too much. 

Mihawk fell apart completely in his arms, so easily overwhelmed by the sensation of taking his alpha’s cock that he simply let himself be consumed. A broken noise left Shanks at the imagery Mihawk presented, a half-crazed snarl tapering off into a high whine as he fit his mouth to the hollow of Mihawk’s neck. His jaw ached, his teeth ached , and he yearned with everything in his being and beyond it to mark and have and hold and—

Mihawk’s yellow eyes shot wide open when the alpha slammed back into the body beneath him, pistoning his hips in a way he knew would make the older see stars, “Shanks! That—do that a-again!” 

Desperate hands slapped at Shanks back, trying to convey the severity of Mihawk’s demand. Despite his mindlessness, the alpha chuckled in reverberating desire, delighting in the burn Mihawk’s nails left in their wake as they dug into the muscles of the redhead’s back. 

“You always know what you want, don’t you?” Shanks said, the depth of his tone a near continuous growl as he obliged his lover’s demand. 

He listened in awe as Mihawk nearly shouted, the loudest he had ever been as he voiced his enjoyment for Shanks to hear. The alpha’s thrusts succeeded in driving Mihawk wild, in awakening a fiendish man intent on taking his pleasure in whatever way he desired. Suddenly, it was no longer Shanks in control as he was forcibly flipped and laid out on his back. The abrupt change drew a gasp from him, but it was smothered by lips as Mihawk frantically settled astride the alpha. Propelled by instinct, the omega seated himself fully on Shanks’cock with a lovely moan, taking up a rocking pace spurred by natural intuition. 

“O -Oh…” Shanks sighed out in bliss as Mihawk took to riding him. 

The omega was uncertain at first, but when Shanks’ hands settled on his waist, the older let his eyes drift shut and simply did what felt the best . It was a vision almost religious in its beauty. Every flex of Mihawk’s muscles, the way his skin blushed pink, how a sheen of sweat made him shine in the dim lighting of their room—god, he was glorious. He was grace and salvation, and Shanks wanted to weep from the intensity of sensations. From the slick glide of his arousal driving deep into the omega until he was seated in the stomach, from the way Shanks felt like crawling out of his skin because the physical pleasure was too much, how his spirit called out to Mihawk’s own, their hakis inevitably reaching and clinging to one another—how could Shanks not be driven mad? How could he ever be anything else than an alpha who lived and breathed and died for his mate? For Mihawk?  

And it was Mihawk he was marking up, Mihawk who he was claiming from the inside out. Mihawk who would take his knot, Mihawk who loved him, and that was reason enough for Shanks to weep. To feel eternally grateful to have found the part of his soul meant to complete him. 

The omega ground down in a particularly slow and drawn out way, coaxing Shanks into bucking upwards in an attempt to root himself so deeply that they could never be untangled. Yellow eyes found Shanks’ own, and the alpha had never seen Mihawk look so debauched and look as if he were also undergoing a religious experience of his own. What Shanks saw in the other’s expression was relief and pleasure felt to a scale nearly incomprehensible. The older was as taken with the alpha as Shanks was with him, and it was in that specific moment Shanks resolved with himself to never be the reason the tenderness in Mihawk’s eyes faded. The purity of Mihawk’s emotion was precious, and the alpha would cherish and protect it with reverent devotion until the day he died. 

“ Shanks… ” Mihawk summoned the alpha, wanting something he couldn’t voice through the haze of their coupling.

Luckily, Shanks suspected what it was the omega needed, what he longed for , and with another shift in their position, Shanks leaned up. He took Mihawk in another kiss, claimed his lips and his tongue as Shanks’ fingers threaded through dark hair. The omega kept pace as best as he could, rocking his hips in a slower rhythm than before as Shanks eased his other hand down and behind the older man to seat him more firmly on the alpha’s lap. 

When they broke their kiss, Shanks guided Mihawk’s head to the left, angling him in a way that exposed the smooth line of his throat. The alpha licked his lips, panting at the thought of what he was about to do. He felt a twist of nervous excitement and a certainty that this was right. His right . 

“There’s no going back after this,” Shanks promised, “I won’t ever let you go, Mihawk.” 

Mihawk’s pace faltered, another moan rippling from him as he leaned more heavily against Shanks. The strongest swordsman in the world, the greatest omega to ever exist, and he wanted Shanks—wanted him so badly he didn’t mind whining and begging for it. 

A wave of possessiveness overcame Shanks at once, and with the urge to stake his claim, the Alpha demanded, “Say it,” he drove up into Mihawk with expert precision, watching in rapture as the older’s expression went slack from the roughness, “Say that you will only ever be mine, omega.” 

Through harsh breaths and eyes that glimmered with otherworldly beauty, Mihawk smiled provokingly, “Only if you will say the same.” 

Mihawk was incredible. He was daring and sweet, challenging yet knowing enough to give Shanks exactly what he wanted. He knew how to work the alpha up, to drive him feral with near-obsession. Even when at the heights of bliss, even when Mihawk was so clearly on the verge of surrendering entirely, he still looked at Shanks with that spark of defiance and grandeur and oh—oh Shanks could never belong to anyone else. 

“I’d rather flay myself open than let another have me,” he vowed with utmost severity, sowing the words of his loyalty until he left no doubt of where it was his heart lied, “I am yours, Mihawk. Irrevocably .” 

Delight flattered the omega’s expression, and he purred out his next command without a flicker of hesitation, “Then you may have me. All of me .” 

Shanks drove forward, not needing another word of permission as he sank his teeth deep into the juncture of Mihawk’s neck right as he thrusted owningly into the body cradled within his arms. Blood flooded his mouth, but it was of no consequence as his eyes drifted shut and he claimed. He took the last bit of Mihawk, the final piece of the puzzle that remained untouched. With his teeth, he proclaimed to the world that Dracule Mihawk, the world’s greatest swordsman and most powerful omega, was all his . 

The sting of biting pain flared hot and burning on his own neck, the particular sharpness of Mihawk’s canines marking their own territory, settling deep into the flesh of Shanks’ throat until the bond took. It felt as if time slowed to a standstill, the point of Shanks’ focus zeroing in on only where his teeth latched into Mihawk, and Mihawk’s teeth did the same. A connection started to take root, bridging the final gap between alpha and omega, tethering two hearts and two souls into one. The alpha was overwhelmed with an ephemeral clarity and a deep understanding of not only himself, but of Mihawk. A flurry of images  passed through his mind, inconsequential as they blurred, but through the few distinct pictures he could decipher, he saw glimpses of Mihawk—memories of the older omega at varying stages in his life that Shanks was now privy to. 

Shanks had heard once, very long ago, that sometimes when a bond took strongly, when it was done with the desire to hold nothing back, when two hearts and souls were willingly bared in their most vulnerable states without apprehension, that the connection between mates could deepen to a degree difficult to fathom. 

That degree was what took Shanks by storm as the world fell quiet, and the alpha was drawn into memories of a past that were not his own. 

What Shanks was permitted to see was that of his mate, young and small, huddled in a dark corner of a convent so Mihawk could be blessedly alone. The young version of the omega read a book that was falling apart in his hands, even if his fingers were so, so careful in turning the pages. Still, no matter how ginger Mihawk’s touch was, the fragile paper crumbled beneath his thumb and index finger regardless. 

The next image was of the omega again, just a smidgen older, sneaking into an abandoned storage closet to practice with a blade. The sword was too heavy for his small arms, but the delighted smile on his face when he gripped the pommel was worth a million stars. Unlike the book, this weapon would not break. Unlike the book, Mihawk didn't have to hold back his power in fear that it might destroy. 

Then another image came to Shanks. Mihawk was older as faceless blurs of those around him scorned his very name in harsh whispers and disgusted sneers. They abhorred who he was without a proper reason, and ridiculed the omega who presented too young, who was dirty and smelled of metal, and who preferred the quiet solitude of a dusty library rather than the company of the villagers. Mihawk’s eyes were said to be the mark of the devil. The double rim of a yellow that saw too much meant doom to any who crossed Mihawk’s path. Clearly, he was the spawn of a beast and a blight created to spurn humanity. The omega was a miserable child, a boy born under foul omen, and there was nothing to do except spit at him whenever Mihawk’s cloud of misfortune darkened the skies. 

Mocking and jeering echoes of a long ago past reverberated throughout Shanks’ skull. The feelings those taunts evoked—feelings the alpha recognized as Mihawk’s—were that of resentment and of being alone . The villagers didn’t understand. They saw his strength and feared him. They felt his power, power an omega shouldn’t possess, and loathed him for it. 

Following the festering of negative emotions from those who would never understand him, came a frantic series of visions in which Mihawk stood over a dead woman, bloody dagger clutched between his fingers as his face was splattered with gore. He looked haunted, he looked terrified because— he didn’t do it, he didn’t kill her— and in the next memory that the alpha saw, the small omega was running. He was too young to fear for his life, and yet the villagers gave chase to him anyway, threatening to hang his body in the town square for the crime he committed. 

“Run little bird,” a woman of cloth whispered as she shoved a pack of belongings into Mihawk’s hands and begged for him to flee, “ You must .” 

Mihawk did flee, running at the pace of the wind as his tired legs carried him farther and farther away. He ran for as long as he could, until he inevitably collapsed, and even then he dragged himself into an alleyway, hiding because there was no safety in this world, no sanctuary for him to find. The only comfort was the blade he took with him—a blade that proved to be his only friend. 

Shanks was a bystander as Miahwk used that dagger to steal food and survive, depending on his natural affinity for fighting to quicken his strikes and hone his skill. Survival was always at the forefront of the omega’s mind, but more than that was the growing desire to be better than what he was the day before, to prove that he was not a curse, but a blessing. It was a simple ambition, but it drove Mihawk forward as he clung to the only dream he had ever known. He may have been alone, but there was purpose in his life, and as he grew taller, as he started his quest to become the greatest , the solitude became a sanctuary. When Mihawk was by himself, it was only him as he was. He was not an omega. He was not a devil-eyed child, nor was he a monster. He was Mihawk . Mihawk, the boy who aimed to be the greatest swordsman in the world. 

The memories shifted in Shanks’ mind, passing through more years in which he saw Mihawk grow taller and fiercer, as well as the day Mihawk first heard Yoru’s voice call out to him. When the omega had touched her handle for the first time, he’d been knocked unconscious for a week, but he had tried and tried again until he could hold her without passing out, until he could swing her without his arms feeling like they would break. Determination carried the omega into his teenage years, and suddenly Shanks saw that Mihawk was there, standing before an execution platform as a pirate king awaited his end. 

Through Mihawk’s eyes, Roger was a picture of defiance, he was the pinnacle of an old era, and the catalyst for the start of a new one. For the first time in the omega’s life, Mihawk had felt inspired, awed as the greatest pirate of a generation met his end with nothing but pride in all that he accomplished. 

And finally, in that same town of the pirate king’s birth, there was a memory of Mihawk walking the streets alone. Shanks experienced Mihawk’s feelings as if they were his own, and he could feel how Mihawk believed there was still something significant awaiting him in Loguetown. Mihawk tasted destiny in the air, felt the tug of fate as it led him to the start of an alley. Shanks witnessed everything through Mihawk’s eyes—and it was strange. Weird to be on the other end of this impending scenario, to see and feel all of what Mihawk thought during this coming encounter. 

In this tender memory, Mihawk stood at the threshold of the alley. There was undoubtedly a scuffle going on just out of sight, a common occurrence when bounty hunters took to the city in droves, and while Mihawk might have moved on at any other point in his life, something kept him rooted. For some reason, he thought of the pirate king, and how he had left the world of the living but didn’t truly feel gone. It was as if the old man’s spirit was nudging the omega from behind, spurring him into action when he felt the desperate clamor of a weakening Haki begging for salvation. 

Red hair, eyes of the same color, and a filthy teenager made for a rather pathetic picture when Mihawk had slain the last of the bounty hunters. Seated in a murky puddle, the boy with a 20 million bounty on his head looked reminiscent of a kicked puppy. Defeat scented heavily on the young alpha, grief woven into the very fabric of his existence. Spying the younger from where he stood, Mihawk couldn’t help but wonder why he was propelled into taking action for—for this? To save this boy? This scrawny, half-drunk and clumsy idiot who couldn’t properly hold his sword? 

For a moment, Shanks felt Mihawk‘s anger and his resentment towards whatever nudged the omega to intervene, and then— oh . Then this boy, this alpha, stood tall in the face of Mihawk while covered in mud and soaked in failure. He stood tall despite being at his lowest, and though it did little to salvage his first impression, the alpha teen met the omega with a genuine smile. 

That smile provoked the image of a dying king, the greatest man to ever live, and Mihawk saw a future take shape and form right before the all-seeing yellow eyes he was once scorned for. He saw achievement and liberation. He saw an alpha boy that would become a man, a pirate that would take the world by storm when given the chance. He saw power that could turn monstrous if left unchecked, or power that could propel the redhead into heights of heroism. Either way, the runt would be a legend, and Mihawk, a boy aiming to be a legend himself, thanked whatever higher power guided him towards that alley. 

Shanks— Mihawk learned, and the name would hardly leave his thoughts in the days, months, and years to follow this chance encounter. 

With an abrupt snap, the memories Shanks was privy to, the insight to Mihawk he never had before, ended with the conclusion of Shanks’ and Mihawk’s first meeting. He gasped, eyes going wide as he was mentally thrown off balance, reeling from all that he had seen, all that he now knew . 

“My love,” Mihawk whispered, his voice sewed with affection as an adoring echo while Shanks came back to his senses, “ Please .” 

Drawn back into reality, Shanks realized he had gone completely still, frozen while still burrowed deep in the omega. The bond had overtaken him, but now that he could hear the plea in his lover’s voice, the alpha was spurred into frantic action as he took to thrusting into his omega once more. There was a feeling stirring in his chest, an emotion that wasn’t like his own. It wasn’t his feelings, but rather the echo of Mihawk’s instead. Shanks did not know how he knew this, just that, when he felt the flutter and longing in his chest, the thought of Mihawk came to mind. 

Renewed in his desire and desperate now to bring them both to heights of pleasure, Shanks rolled them back over as he took refuge between Mihawk’s legs. He kissed the omega briefly before sitting up, his hands on either one of Mihawk’s thighs where he spread the omega wide to take more of what the alpha was willing to give. Shanks thrusted liberally now, driving into the older in a way that had Mihawk begging . The omega’s neck was red and bleeding, the stirring of his emotions fluttering like an afterthought in Shanks’ chest, and to see the way Mihawk took Shanks’ cock so perfectly had the alpha tumbling closer and closer to the edge. 

“S-Shanks— alpha… ” Mihawk sang beautifully, trying to meet Shanks every time the alpha sank deep into a heat that was specifically made for him. 

Shanks groaned, losing himself to it all. He scented wildly, passion thrumming through his veins, his lungs burning as if air was so difficult to come by. Sweat slicked both of their skins, the omega’s wetness seeping down his thighs in a way that made him shine lewdly. Mihawk was debauched and defiled, and yet Shanks worshiped him as if he were the epitome of purity. The omega felt so good, too good as he squeezed around the alpha as if wanting to keep Shanks fixed inside of him. Mihawk’s hands settled at the base of his stomach, pressing down, and when he undoubtedly felt Shanks driving into him, the omega mewled in a way that was perfectly submissive. 

Shanks was an inferno of love. He was so full of it he thought he might physically come apart. His groin tightened, his grunts hoarse and thick with bliss as Mihawk grew even wetter . The omega was unable to voice his demands, his ability to speak lost to the debilitating pace Shanks set. God, Shanks wanted to cum, and yet he never wanted this moment to end . 

“Mihawk, I—“ he started to swell, could feel the knot start to take and yes, oh yes , “M’gonna fill you up sweetheart. Gonna knot my m-mate. My gorgeous, lovely, divine omega—“ 

The alpha’s mind stuttered as he heard Mihawk let out a pitched cry, and there was this strange warmth that spread throughout Shanks in the direct aftermath. The redhead belatedly realized that the sensation originated from Mihawk and this connection the two of them now shared. Mihawk, who came to the promises Shanks swore. Mihawk, who painted the space between them white with his cum as gratuitous slick seeped from the hole Shanks now ravaged. Mihawk, who laid on his back, bathed in soft light and framed by the crimson of their bed, his expression serene as he scented of an enlightened peace that Shanks guided him to. 

And it was enough to send the alpha spiraling, to have him go as deep as he could reach and knot . He fixed into the omega as he swelled, his mind going blank, his ears falling deaf, and his eyes running blind as he spilled. He spilled and he spilled, pumping the older full of his seed until his knot fully took, and even then he came more , determined to leave Mihawk so full that he was left bloated because of it. 

Lips seeking purchase on the mark he left along Mihawk’s throat, Shanks rode out the waves of his climax. He was aware of himself yet not at the same time, suspended in a fog that felt as if he drifted into another realm. Mihawk tightened around him, breathing out the most satisfied encouragement as if the omega had finally gotten all that he ever wanted, and Shanks could feel that satisfaction as if it were his own, echoing right alongside his own feelings, filling up a space in the alpha’s heart he didn’t know was hollow until Mihawk took root there.  

After a few moments passed with Shanks still clinging to Mihawk desperately, the alpha caught the light murmurs of the other man whispering in his ear. The omega soothed fingers through red hair as he cooed filthy praises on how good Shanks’ knot felt, and how good Shanks did in claiming his omega.

“ You knotted me just right ,” Came Mihawk’s devoted adoration, “ I have never felt so loved, my dearest.”

All of what had just transpired—the bond, the memories, the passion— was overwhelming, but the quiet little compliments Mihawk bestowed did manage to quiet the rapid pounding of Shanks’ heart. As Mihawk scented of an ebbing tide, clarity finally returned to Shanks in full force, propelling him to loosen his jaw from where he had latched onto Mihawk’s bond mark just moments before. 

His instincts somewhat abated, Shanks managed to partially lift himself from Mihawk, just enough that he was able to see the yellow of his lover’s eyes. When all he saw reflected back at him was love and happiness, he smiled, the gesture heartfelt and sincere, before he leaned in to kiss the other softly. 

Mihawk hummed against him, pleased at the tender show. He was clearly exhausted, an exhaustion Shanks felt mirrored in his own bones as they broke apart. His knot still hadn’t gone down, and there was no telling when it would. Not that it really mattered, anyway. There was no place Shanks would rather be at present than tangled up with his omega to kiss the rest of the night away. 

“The knot’s bigger than I expected it would be.” Mihawk admitted, shifting his hips a little. 

Shanks chuckled, gloating mildly as he asked, “Do you still feel empty?” 

“Hm, not at all,” came the pleased confession, “I want to do it again.” 

Shanks blinked in surprise before he exclaimed, “Already?!” 

The alpha was met with a coy look as Mihawk arched his brow, “Oh, don’t tell me you’re already done for the night? Surely you have a bit more stamina than that, alpha .” 

The omega was evidently smug, his taunts provoking in nature as he wiggled his hips again, drawing a reluctant moan out of Shanks as his knot was played with. 

The alpha, not wanting to rise to the bait but knowing he would anyway, nipped reprimandingly at Mihawk’s neck, “You’re going to be insatiable, I can already tell.” 

Mihawk smiled as he welcomed the bite of teeth with fingers already digging into skin once again, “Would you have me any other way?” 

Shanks, in answer to that easy question, purposefully ground his knot until the omega’s breath caught with eager delight. 

Oh, this was going to be so much fun. 

“I wouldn’t accept anything less.” 

Chapter Text

It Takes Two to Tango 

“Hold on, we’re in a library you crazy bastard—“ 

“Oh, like you give a damn for the sanctity of knowledge .” 

“Okay, fair enough, but still— shit! ” Shanks yelped as he was pulled down, unwilling to truly fight back as he was pinned to the ground behind some dusty shelves full of archives that probably hadn’t been touched in decades. 

There was a rustling of clothes as eager fingers worked at Shanks’ sash and tugged at his pants. Wicked yellow eyes gleamed with dirty intention, so diabolically satisfied when Shanks was freed from his restraints. The alpha’s arousal was already proud and weeping for attention, an undeniable contradiction to the flimsy protests Shanks boasted earlier. 

Mihawk licked his lips, and Shanks twitched . 

“And would you look at that,” came the mischievous purr as Mihawk settled between the younger’s legs, “This cock certainly doesn’t look like it belongs to a man that was complaining just a second ago.” 

Shanks wasn’t ashamed to admit that he whimpered, because damn it all to hell, when Mihawk looked at him like that it completely did away with all of the alpha’s defenses. 

Earlier in the day when they came across a cathedral housing one of the largest collections of books in this portion of the sea, Shanks thought it would be nice to take Mihawk inside and have a look. Mihawk liked books, and Shanks liked Mihawk, so it was a no-brainer to tug the omega towards the grand double doors and take a peek inside. Except, as the duo wandered to less frequented areas of the library, there was a stirring in Shanks’ chest, a telling sensation he had come to recognize as his mate’s insatiable sexual appetite. 

Shanks barely had time to erect a proper counterattack before he was being manhandled behind dusty old stacks of tomes and book logs. Mihawk had that look in his eyes, sharp and dangerous as the alpha futilely attempted to be the voice of reason (which was truly ironic given their usual roles in the relationship). His legitimate reasons as to why they probably shouldn’t fuck like horny rabbits in a world sanctioned library fell on deaf ears, and now here he was, sprawled out on a cold stone floor as Mihawk sucked him off like a natural-born prodigy. 

When a moan inevitably escaped him, the omega pinched him in reprimand, reminding Shanks that unless he wanted to get caught with his dick in Mihawk’s mouth, then he needed to shut up . 

“You’re being unfair,” Shanks whined, inadvertently thrusting into the warm welcome of Mihawk’s mouth as the omega’s tongue swirled around the head of his cock, “You know I can’t refuse when you— oh ,” Shanks’ eyes rolled into the back of his head as Mihawk took him deep and swallowed , “ When you suck me like that. Oh, yes, fuck ,” Shanks thrusted again, going deeper as Mihawk eagerly took him, “Just like that angel.” 

Mihawk scented of tangible victory—the cocky bastard—and continued suckling on the alpha with alarming proficiency in the task. Granted, Mihawk had several months of practice now under his belt, and a rather studious approach to the art of sex. The omega, for as reserved and uncertain he had been in the beginning about all things carnal in nature, certainly didn’t harbor any of those reservations now . 

That fact was never proven more so than at present when a finger slipped under Shanks and massaged the alpha’s entrance. Shanks’ eyes went wide as he realized it was going to be one of those days, and though most alphas would have balked at the implication of those sneaky fingers, Shanks couldn’t complain. 

“You cheeky little shit,” Shanks grinned as he spread his legs wider in clear invitation, “You just want to fuck your alpha, is that it?” 

With his cheeks still stuffed, Mihawk had the audacity to wink before letting his finger breach the alpha completely. The sensation was always strange at first, but never unwelcomed when it was Mihawk doing it. The first time they had ever tried something like this had been a handful of weeks after they initially bonded. Mihawk had hinted at his curiosity, voicing idle thoughts every now and again about whether or not an alpha would enjoy getting taken. Shanks suspected what Mihawk’s intentions were, and delighted in frustrating the omega enough for him to finally say what he wanted. Of course, Shanks would never deny Mihawk anything in life, and so when the swordsman bluntly asked if he could fuck Shanks, the alpha fell into position eagerly. 

Since then, there were marked occasions when Mihawk indulged in the pleasure of being the one to take Shanks instead. He was enthralled by the idea that Shanks let him have him in such an intimate way, that the alpha would go against even his most basic of natures to let an omega dominate him. Shanks didn’t really give a damn about dominance, and he was certain no one else would if they experienced the utter gratification of having Mihawk’s cock in their ass. 

“You really are incredible,” Mihawk muttered as he worked more and more into Shanks. His expression was blatantly wanton while he watched his fingers disappear into the alpha, “You’re such a good alpha for submitting to his omega like this.” 

“A-Ah, wouldn’t dream of doing anything else,” Shanks groaned, squirming as he anticipated what would come next after Mihawk stretched him, “Come on. Get in me already.” 

A velvety chuckle left the omega as he kissed Shanks’ inner thigh, “And here you were trying to tell me no earlier . ”

“Yeah, well we both know I’m a whore.” The alpha shamelessly admitted, grinning in that charming way Mihawk had grown so soft towards. 

Shimmying again in demand, Shanks hiked his leg up on the swordsman's shoulders and wiggled his eyebrows, “Now come on gorgeous. Fuck me in the ass.” 

Mihawk snorted as he fondly called Shanks an idiot. However, there really wasn’t much time to draw out their impromptu coupling, because while they were mostly hidden away in the little nook Mihawk dragged them to, there was no guarantee that they wouldn’t be stumbled upon. The thought was inexplicably thrilling, made even more so when Shanks felt the blunt press of Mihawk’s arousal against his backside. The omega moaned sinfully in Shanks’ ear when he slid into him, stretching the alpha wide until the younger was stuffed to the brim. 

Shanks let his eyes flutter shut as he reveled in sensation. The burn was pleasant, and the heat of Mihawk inside of him would never, ever get old. God, his omega was so perfect. He had the perfect face. The perfect personality. The perfect body. The perfect cock—

“Oh!” Shanks startled as Mihawk drove into him without his usual flare of easing the alpha into it and taking it slow enough to drive Shanks mad with impatience. Apparently, the omega was in no mood to tease as Shanks felt the vibrant tug of Mihawk’s hunger in his chest. Oh, the omega wanted him desperately. He was practically drooling for it, almost mindless as he took his pleasure in the give of Shanks’ body. 

Threading his fingers through the older’s dark hair, Shanks cooed, “Someone’s a bit worked up, isn’t he?” 

His tease was met with a particularly brutal thrust that had Shanks seeing stars, and when Mihawk’s hand expertly wrapped around the length of Shanks’ cock, pumping in rhythm to his thrusts, those stars left Shanks dumbly dizzy. 

“God, that’s good,” Shanks moaned, tugging the omega closer as Mihawk panted harshly against his neck, “Mm, fuck, Mihawk— “

“Y-You’re always so damn…t-talkative,” Mihawk grunted, barely sounding like himself as he breathed in the scent of Shanks needingly, “ Alpha…”

At the wanton sigh, Shanks scented more potently, feeling the coil of a rather sudden orgasm start to stir, “Go ahead,” the alpha encouraged his lover, “Take what you need from me, sweetheart.” 

Mihawk took his words to heart as the force of his thrusts left Shanks breathless each time. It was like the air was being punched out of him as Mihawk fucked him crudely, reducing Shanks to a mere body to be used. 

It was so, so very good. 

“Mi— baby , I— ngh ,” Shanks squirmed, feeling that his climax was right there , a mere breath away. Mihawk silenced him with a snarl, biting down on the alpha’s lips to shut him up as the omega’s hand worked sloppily on the younger’s cock. The messy abandon of their coupling, the sinful nature of doing this in a place where they could easily get caught, and the utter ferocity of his omega was enough to spur Shanks’ knot. He came with a muffled shout, bucking into the omega’s hand as the older’s fingers gripped him firmly. Mihawk groaned against Shanks’ mouth, loving the fact that he made his alpha cum. The alpha could feel Mihawk’s satisfaction prickle beneath his skin, a distant sensation as he rode out the waves of his own high. 

Soon enough, the omega followed Shanks in his pleasure, stiffening as he drove deep into the alpha and released his desire. He all but collapsed directly after in an out-of-character display of fatigue, sprawling out on Shanks’ chest as the omega strove to catch his breath. 

“Oof,” Shanks gasped, “You’re heavy .” 

Mihawk gave a non-committal grunt, seemingly intent on staying where he was despite Shanks currently suffocating from a mixture of heat and sweat. 

The alpha frowned slightly, and while he would certainly prefer if he could get just a fraction of fresh air, there was a pinch of concern on his face as he studied the slack expression of his lover. 

Brushing aside some of the omega’s dark hair, Shanks asked softly, “Feeling alright there, darlin’?” 

Unlike Shanks who usually became a limp noodle after a strenuous round of sex, Mihawk was always alarmingly energized. At first, the alpha didn’t know if he should be offended by Mihawk’s ability to still vigorously train after taking a knot, but that was before he figured out that while sex relaxed Shanks and made him contendly lazy, sex revitalized the omega instead. 

That revitalization, however, was not present at the moment. Mihawk looked completely spent and worn out in a way he only got after they dueled seriously for hours on end. It was just a little bit worrisome considering how lively the omega was just minutes ago. 

“Just tired,” came the lethargic mumble, “Might just take a nap.” 

“Well don’t fall asleep with your dick still in me,” Shanks said. Then, when Mihawk didn’t even scold him for being crass, gently asked again, “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“M’fine.” Mihawk replied, voice muffled as he sighed. He made the taxing effort to pull out of Shanks, but even then he didn’t do much besides roll over and sprawl out on his back. 

After the alpha cleaned up what he could and tucked himself back into his pants, he moved in close to Mihawk, pressing a sweet kiss to the older’s lips as he cleaned Mihawk as well. 

“Mm,” Mihawk hummed as Shanks zipped the omega up, “Thank you, dear.” 

Shanks peppered another kiss along the older’s cheeks, “Are you really just going to keep laying there?” 

Idly, Mihawk reached for his infamous hat that was haphazardly discarded during their initial scuffle. He brought it to hover over his face, and without a hint of apology he set it down to block out the scattering of light from the nearby window, “Yes.” 

Shanks frowned mildly, but decided not to press the issue as Mihawk placed his hands behind his head and settled into a careless nap. As strange as the behavior was, Shanks didn’t think there was anything too alarming about Mihawk wanting to sleep. The man was almost as renowned for his naps as he was for his sword skill, and knowing he shouldn’t intervene with the omega’s coveted rest, Shanks occupied his time with browsing the shelves of dusty old books instead. 

There wasn’t anything of notable interest at first. Most of the scrolls and parchment in this area of the cathedral were financial records for the institution—certainly nothing that would capture the alpha’s attention for an indefinite amount of time. Still, the captain, bored out of his mind and with no telling when Mihawk would wake up, kept rooting around anyway. Dust plumed when he rustled through stacks of paper, tickling his nose with the threat of a sneeze as his eyes watered warningly. He smothered his coughs, determined not to be a nuisance to his slumbering mate as he kept poking his curious head in places he shouldn’t. 

He spied a few books overhead on a top shelf just out of reach, and thinking they looked more promising than anything else he uncovered so far, Shanks devised a means to get them. Unfortunately, there were no ladders or stepping stools present, which led the careless captain into trying to climb the shelves instead. Granted, it probably wasn’t his best idea, considering these wooden stacks were probably as old as the cathedral itself and were barely still standing. The moment he stepped up, placing his full weight on one leg as he stretched his fingers to the tippy top of the shelf, the wood beneath his sandal-clad foot splintered precariously. Before Shanks could react, the shelf gave way completely, cracking as his foot slipped and he fell back. 

His eyes wide, the alpha let out a small yelp of surprise as he went tumbling into the other shelves behind him. The ensuing clatter and crash was loud to say the least as dust smothered Shanks’ ability to breathe. Unsurprisingly, he made a mess with several shelves and books being the collateral damage to his careless disregard of proper library etiquette. 

Astonishingly, in the direct aftermath of his ‘whoopsie’ Mihawk didn’t stir from his nap. Not even a single twitch of annoyance was seen as the omega continued to snooze away. Shanks counted his lucky stars, but still frowned poutily at the mess he made knowing he would be alone in having to clean it up. 

Mourning the thought, Shanks started to stand up, dusting off his shorts in the process before his hands stilled. Out of the corner of his eyes, he caught a glimpse of a journal buried beneath broken shelving and discarded papers. It looked like an ordinary book with a simple red leather cover, but for some reason, as soon as Shanks spotted the out-of-place novel, his hands reached for it. He wiped the cover of debri, finding that the book was still in fairly good condition compared to everything else. It was relatively small as well, thin and not much larger than his hand. Realistically, there was nothing overtly interesting about the ordinary literature, but Shanks flipped it open anyway, turning to the first page with little to no expectation. 

…only for his hands to still as his eyes widened when he understood what he just stumbled across. 

Cradled in the palm of his hand with an unassuming outer appearance was a log dedicated to the study of devil fruits. Each page had an illustration along with details on the properties and abilities of the devil fruit ability. They were categorized by their type, Paramecia, Zoan, and Logia, but that was just in the first half of the book. As Shanks flipped through the latter portion, rarer forms of devil fruits, such as mythical Zoans, started to make an appearance. And even then, Shanks stumbled across something truly fascinating. Written in the margin of the book were notes with theories on how certain fruits might be replicated, if such a thing were even possible. 

Drawn into all that he was reading, Shanks completely forgot about the fact that he was supposed to be cleaning up as he sat down to read the journal thoroughly. He had no clue who the book belonged to, but whomever was its author was undoubtedly intelligent. Though Shanks had learned quite a lot under Ben’s relentless tutoring, he still struggled to grasp some of the more academic concepts that were discussed about devil fruits. However, he was able to mostly follow along, and when he came across a potential origin for devil fruits linked to the elusive Void Century, the alpha was inexplicably thrilled. 

Not only had he discovered a wealth of useful information in this catalog of devil fruits, but there were bits and pieces of information that were illegal to theorize about—which meant the author of this book either didn’t know the laws (doubtful) or simply didn’t care about them. That explained why the journal was hidden among archives no one in their right mind would care about. It almost seemed like an ironic twist of fate in a way. No one in their right mind would frequent this section of the cathedral, but Mihawk and Shanks did, and now here the alpha was, reading about things that could have him booked for immediate execution if he was discovered. 

After an undisclosed amount of time reading, Shanks neared the end of the journal and found that there was yet another type of devil fruit he had yet to come across. Mythical Zoan Human God Models. That sounded…dangerous, yet dangerously intriguing as Shanks went about reading about them anyway. 

His mind ended up stuttering to a halt when he came across a page dedicated to one of the four fruits classified as God Models. He saw the words Nika and Joyboy, scribbles of barely legible words about a sun god that once reigned over the Void Century. There were scattered thoughts regarding the will of the D and inheritors of freedom, all led by this Joyboy, this sun god that stood in opposition to the restrictive world order. 

And as Shanks processed all of what he learned, for the first time since he took to the seas to gather a crew, it felt like he had an answer, a potential solution as he recalled his days sailing with the Roger Pirates. Back then, he was too young to understand all of what Roger was doing and did prior to his death. He knew that his captain had obtained information the government didn’t want him to know, and culminated that information in the form of the One Piece for another to find. As Shanks grew older, he wisely suspected the One Piece was undoubtedly connected to the Void Century and that Roger had discovered the truth, yet instead of sharing it with the world, he kept that truth protected until the right person could come along to claim it. 

Like a legacy. A legacy which Shanks was expected to carry on, and now, for the first time since Roger’s execution, it felt like he had come across the means to protect and pass on that legacy. He still didn’t know enough, but he knew it in the depths of his soul that he had stumbled across the right path. Nika and Joyboy, the Will of D and the Void Century—all of what Shanks was previously missing, the information in which he lacked when he discovered a king that sat in an empty throne at the center of the world, now he had the start of some true answers. Now, it felt like he had a way to fight back, to herald in the era Roger gave his life for. 

This devil fruit would be the start. If Shanks could find it, if he could get his hands on it, then maybe the peace Shanks so often longed for wouldn’t be such a far off dream. 

Drawn into his thoughts as he was, the alpha didn’t realize Mihawk started to rouse from his nap until he felt a stirring of emotion in his chest. 

“Ugh,” the omega groaned, still sounding terribly exhausted despite sleeping for hours, “I am hungry.” 

Turning to his mate, Shanks tucked the book into his back pocket to mull over at a later time. His mind and his heart were still racing, but there wasn’t much he could do with his discoveries at present. He wanted to talk it over with Mihawk, because the omega was always an objective listener capable of putting things into perspective for Shanks, but judging by the grumpy scowl on his lover’s face, the swordsman was not in the greatest of moods at present. 

“I’d guess so,” Shanks said as he wandered over to the swordsman, “It’s night time already. You’ve slept for half the day.” 

Mihawk’s face pinched at that as he rolled over. He released a heavy sigh, as if he knew he needed to get up, but doing so was a labor too taxing to endure. 

Another prickle of concern worried through Shanks. It was so unlike Mihawk to be this lethargic. Sure, the omega liked his naps probably more than most, but sleeping was always a means to pass the time and not an actual need . However, the circles under Mihawk’s eyes were dark and his skin was paler than usual. When he dragged himself into a seated position, it was only to fall into Shanks’ arms in the next instant, the swordsman seeking comfort and warmth he could only glean from the alpha’s embrace. 

Brows furrowed, Shanks forgot all about his little book as he tried to get a better look at his mate, “Are you sick?” He asked, but he didn’t think that was the case. Not only had he never seen Mihawk sick a day in his life, but the omega wasn’t running a fever, and besides his current laziness, he wasn’t showing any other symptoms of being ill. 

“No,” Mihawk said, “I just want some food. I’m starving .” 

“Alright, alright,” Shanks acquiesced, sensing a bit of pout in the older man, “Someone woke up more demanding than usual.” 

“I’m not being demanding .” Mihawk snapped harsher than what was necessary. 

Shanks blinked, taken aback by the bite to the omega’s voice, and as if noticing how mean he unintentionally sounded, Mihawk pinched the space between his eyes and sighed heavily, “I’m sorry, just…food? Please?” 

Not wanting to test the swordsman's patience, Shanks helped the older man to his feet. Mihawk thanked him quietly before grabbing Yoru and sheathing her along his back. Tired hands then settled his hat back onto his hair, but the effect was done with less flare than Shanks was accustomed to. 

Now legitimately concerned, Shanks eased his hand into Mihawk’s own and guided him out of the cathedral. They stopped at the first place they spotted for food, the omega all but collapsing into a chair as he requested half of what was on the menu to be brought to them. The Alpha made a face at that, because while Mihawk certainly never skipped meals and ensured he always had decent proportions, he was never a glutton. That was always more of Shanks’ forte. 

“Do you want some wine?” Shanks asked, his voice soothing as Mihawk slumped in his seat—another note of concern upon witnessing the mannerless posture. 

To the alpha’s abject horror, Mihawk shook his head, “Not really.” 

“Sweetheart…” Shanks started off, but Mihawk ended up sighing dramatically as he cut him off.  

“I said I’m fine, Red. Now stop pestering me.” 

A tick of annoyance worked over Shanks’ jaw. He was sympathetic to the fact that Mihawk probably wasn’t in the best of moods at present, but there was no reason to take it out on him when Shanks was just (rightfully) worried. Huffing, Shanks figured if Mihawk wanted to be a brat and suffer in silence, then so be it. Crossing his arms, the alpha glared at nothing in particular as he waited for the food to arrive. When it did, he ate in pointed silence, perhaps acting just the slightest bit petty in the face of Mihawk’s sour attitude. 

However, his effort to remain quiet stopped when Mihawk took one look at the spread he ordered, and turned positively green in the face of it. 

“ Oh .” Mihawk hiccuped precariously, a hand shooting to cover his nose and mouth as he leaned away from the table. 

Shanks felt a sensation akin to disgust in his chest, a reflection of the feeling Mihawk was currently experiencing as the omega shot abruptly to his feet. 

The alpha opened his mouth to call out to his lover, “Mi—“

“I think I’m going to be sick .” The omega declared, and then no sooner than those words left his mouth, he turned to the nearby trash can, hovered over its opening, and vomited. The sound of his retching quieted everyone else in the restaurant, their conversations tapering off as the omega heaved the contents of his empty stomach. 

Shanks was on his feet in an instant, soothing a hand down his mate’s back as Mihawk continued to be sick. Now, more so than ever, Shanks was truly and rightfully worried. This wasn’t like Mihawk at all, and the fact that the swordsman was currently hurling in the middle of a restaurant was deeply concerning. Earlier, Shanks was okay with letting Mihawk sulk and mope by himself because he assumed the other was simply cranky, but the alpha knew it was time to intervene regardless of Mihawk’s thoughts on the matter. 

“I’m taking you to the doctor.” Shanks declared sternly, leaving no room for argument. 

Luckily, Mihawk didn’t have the strength to argue as he wiped his mouth exhaustively with a napkin Shanks gave him, “A-Alright,” he agreed shakily, pale as a ghost as he held onto the alpha tightly, “I’m sorry.” 

Why the omega saw fit to apologize was beyond Shanks, but the alpha assured Mihawk that it was okay as he pressed a kiss to the swordsman's temple. After leaving a few bills on the table to pay for the food they hardly touched, Shanks quickly located a doctor that would be working this time of the night. When he found one, he brought Mihawk inside, guiding the shaky swordsman to a seat as he discussed with a nurse what was going on. 

“We’ll take him back for an examination,” the beta woman promised kindly, “You can wait here until we have his results if you’d like. There are refreshments in the corner, so please feel free to help yourself.” 

“Thank you.” Shanks said softly as he rejoined his mate. 

Mihawk looked at the verge between either falling asleep or getting sick again, and feeling an ache in his heart for his omega’s suffering, Shanks drew the older into a partial embrace so that Mihawk could settle his head against Shanks’ shoulders. The alpha scented sweetly, trying to exude a dependable sense of calm despite the uneasiness swirling in his gut. Shanks never handled sickness well, and he supposed that was mostly because of what happened with Roger. Roger was a powerful man, he was the pirate king, but even he had succumbed to an inescapable sickness. Though Roger often put on a show and a brave face, Shanks still remembered seeing the rare glimpses of weakness. The sputtering of blood when Roger couldn’t choke back a cough any longer, the way he swayed when he got up too fast, dizzy enough to almost fall over if it weren’t for Rayleigh reaching out to catch him. Illness was what ultimately took Roger away from the world—not his execution as so many falsely believed. 

No, what had driven the Roger pirates to disband was the knowledge that their captain couldn’t be cured, and he would meet his terminal end sooner rather than later. 

Stewing in thoughts that did little to ease Shanks’ present anxiety, the alpha was roused when a doctor stepped into the waiting area and called out gently, “Mr. Dracule?” 

“That’s us.” Shanks needlessly said, as if the two of them weren’t already widely known up and down the grandline. They were also the only two present, which was probably a blessing now that Shanks gave it a bit more thought. 

It could be dangerous, he realized, for the public to see Mihawk in this weakened state. He was worth 1.5 billion, and a bounty like that could make just about anyone violent if they thought they had the slightest chance of cashing it in. With that in mind, Shanks ignored the polite request for him to wait in the lobby, claiming that as Mihawk’s mate, he had every right to be in the examination room. The doctor took one look at the stern-faced alpha and agreed without a fuss, knowing that it was a fight he was sure to lose if he argued back. 

“Alright then,” the old beta sighed as he brought them to a private room, “What seems to be the issue Mr. Dracule? I have it noted that you’re experiencing excessive fatigue and vomiting. Can you tell me when the symptoms started?” 

Mihawk slowly recounted how he’d been feeling a bit more tired than usual, and that certain foods made him nauseated at the sight of them. The occasional scent affected him in a similar manner as well, and because of that his mood was suffering. 

“My muscles ache when I’ve barely done anything. I feel as if I am constantly irritated, and when I’m not irritated I’m…” Mihawk cleared his throat with a faint blush, “I’m…in a state of arousal .” 

Neutrally, the doctor wrote down all of what Mihawk explained. Most of it was news to the red-haired alpha, who had only really started to notice Mihawk’s symptoms when they were at their worst today. It worried Shanks that this had been going on for over a week now, and it wasn’t even on his radar of things to worry about until his omega was vomiting into a trash can. 

“Well, I have an idea of what might be the cause of your symptoms, but before we get into all that and run a test for confirmation, I’m going to ask you a series of personal questions, so please bear with me.” The doctor warned. 

Mihawk gave his nod of approval, and Shanks squeezed the omega’s hand in a show of comfort. 

“First, do you mind telling me when you first presented?” 

“I believe I was nine.” The omega answered. 

The doctor appeared mildly concerned at that, “That’s a little early to present. Are you sure that was your age?” 

“Yes I am sure , doctor.” Mihawk snipped, and Shanks saw fit to remind the older that the doctor was only trying to help. 

The omega gave a long-suffering sigh before explaining, “From what I was told by the woman who was responsible for my care, I arrived at her convent very small and weak as an infant. She suspected I was a premature birth, and due to those complications, my dynamic might have been impacted and resulted in me presenting years before I should have.” 

“I see,” the doctor murmured, “And are your heats difficult? When was the last time you had one?” 

Mihawk offered a half-hearted shrug, “I don’t believe I’ve ever had one.” 

The doctor’s eyebrows raised at that, scenting of evident surprise before he stifled his reaction, “Alright then, I see that you’re mated. Have you had any issues during intercourse? Any excessive pain or inability to become aroused?” 

“I don’t see how the details of my intimate life have any bearing on the present issue.” The omega snapped, and Shanks valiantly strove to calm him once more. 

The doctor actually had the audacity to chuckle, “Oh, I think it has more bearing than you think. Now please, if you would,” he gestured for Mihawk to answer, and seeing that the omega was reluctant to, Shanks stepped in. 

“Our, uh, intimate relationship is good? Great? He’s never expressed pain even when, uh,” Shanks’ cheeks colored in a rare show of bashfulness, “When taking a—my— knot .” He finished meekly, averting his eyes to the side. 

Usually, the alpha wasn’t embarrassed when it came to discussing the sordid details of his sex life, but in a clinical setting with the doctor staring at the two of them behind his thin-framed glasses, it was so much harder getting the words out than it would be otherwise. 

The doctor turned back to Mihawk, “And would you agree with his assessment?” 

The omega sniffed haughtily before answering with a cold, “Yes.” 

Shanks slumped in his seat, unnecessarily awkward as the doctor ran through a few more questions. Finally, when Mihawk was at the last thread of his patience, the doctor ordered a nurse to take a sample of Mihawk’s blood. After vaguely alluding to the necessity of running a few tests, the beta promised to return shortly with the results. 

In his absence, Mihawk muttered darkly, “This is why I never go to the doctors. They’re all unbearably nosy.” 

Despite himself, Shanks laughed, “They’re supposed to be nosy,” he assured, “Otherwise how are they going to know what’s wrong with you?” 

Yellow eyes rolled, clearly not swayed in the slightest, but just as the doctor promised, he returned within a few minutes. Shanks straightened back up, eager to know what was going on with his omega. 

“So what is it?” The alpha pressed impatiently, “Is it the flu? Something worse? Will he need treatment—“

The doctor held up his hand, silencing Shanks before he could continue his demand for answers, “Settle down, please. Your mate isn’t ill, but he definitely has a condition.” 

Relief eased through the alpha at the news Mihawk wasn't sick, only to stiffen back up when the doctor alluded to some sort of ‘condition’ he failed to expand upon.

Next to Shanks, Mihawk’s glare narrowed acutely, “Please elaborate, doctor. What sort of condition are you referring to?”

“Well,” the beta began simply as he scratched at his bald head, and then, without any tact whatsoever he said, “You’re pregnant. Really pregnant. I’d estimate based on your hormone levels you’re just past the first trimester. Honestly, it’s baffling that you only just recently showed symptoms, though I suspect the abnormalities you voiced about your dynamic might have a part to play in that. Your diet probably isn’t providing the nutrients you need either, which would explain your recent increase in fatigue—“ 

“I-I’m sorry,” Shanks interrupted, his face whitened with disbelief as he stuttered out a quiet, “C-Can you repeat that?” 

“Hm?” The doctor paused mid-rant, and seeing the disbelieving looks on both the alpha’s and omega’s face, the beta explained once more, “Your mate is pregnant, Red-Hair. I’d estimate he’s approximately 15 weeks along.” 

15 weeks. Just under four months. That would mean— that would put them around their first—that was right around the time they bonded—so the timeline would make sense —and wait, what? 

Pregnant . 

Mihawk . 

Mihawk pregnant. 

Dracule Mihawk, world’s greatest swordsman and mate to Red-Haired Shanks, was pregnant. 

Shanks opened his mouth, only to close it again. Then, he went to open it once more, only to find that words completely abandoned him at present. Hell, even his thoughts were decidedly absent, and the alpha was just left to sit frozen dumb on an uncomfortably plastic chair trying to hopelessly process the fact that—that Mihawk was pregnant. Pregnant with their pup. Their child. 

And oh fuck . 

“Impossible!” Mihawk was the first to find his voice as he shot to his feet, “I can’t be—you’re lying . I can’t get pregnant! I’ve never even had a heat before!” 

The doctor, striving for a sense of calm, politely explained, “The absence of heat doesn’t necessarily imply that you are unable to conceive, it merely indicates that it would be more difficult to do so. It would probably take several tries, and even then it is a slim possibility, but I suppose you’re just one of the lucky ones.” 

It didn’t take several tries, though. If the doctor was right and Mihawk was just under four months into his pregnancy, then Shanks nailed it on his first attempt. 

Fucking hell. A slim chance, the doctor said. Mihawk's freakish luck when it came to low odds was certainly to blame for this. That, or Shanks’ seed had kingly ambition of its own and was determined to sow a pup in his omega’s womb regardless of how difficult that might be. 

Just, Shanks needed a moment, and Mihawk arguing with the doctor was not helping the alpha sort through the fucking crisis he was undergoing at present. 

With a groan, Shanks burrowed his face into his hands, trying to block out the sound of the swordsman vehemently denying that he was with child. He couldn’t wrap his head around it. Sure, there was always the possibility of having children. After all, he and Mihawk were mated now, so it was almost an expectation that, at some point, it might happen, but they never talked about it. Hell, Shanks never really gave it more than a passing thought, and mostly those passing thoughts were instinct-driven considerations of what Mihawk might look like pregnant with Shanks’ child. Even then, those were always lusty fantasies Shanks humored when he was about to make Mihawk fat with his knot and cum. It was just a thing , an idea , and now that fanciful whimsy was a sobering reality. 

Children were, well they were children . They were messy and demanding. They required attention and relentless care, and while Shanks liked kids well enough, he’d never been around them enough to have a handle on what to do with one. Hell, half the time he acted like a kid himself , so how was he expected to adjust to the fact that he was going to be a father? 

A father. 

A dad. 

God, what did that even mean ?

Against his wishes, Shanks’ eyes stung with the oncoming threat of tears. He couldn’t be a father. He’d make for a terrible dad. He was a pirate, a man who lived in constant threat of the world government, bounty hunters, and even other pirates aiming to kill him. He didn’t have a proper home—his home was the sea, on a ship that traversed the most dangerous parts of the world. And then—then there was Shanks’ dream. Shanks’ dream would not come easily. There would be wars and bloodshed, and there were powerful people who would stop at nothing to see him fail. He had only just adjusted to the fact that Mihawk was part of that future now, and even then he still worried for the omega’s safety in being associated with Shanks. Though, at least Mihawk was strong. Mihawk could take care of himself, but a child couldn’t. They were weak and vulnerable, and if something happened to them because of Shanks—

Hands cupped the alpha’s cheeks as a voice instructed firmly, “Shanks, breathe. You have to breathe, Red.” 

“I-I can’t—“ Shanks gasped, his chest heaving and burning as the panic, the anxiety, took over him all at once. 

Mihawk was crouched in front of him, the omega scenting with an attempt to calm the alpha, but the action did little to stave off the sudden terror gripping Shanks in an ice-like vice. 

Mihawk was pregnant. They were going to have a child , and rather than be happy about it, the alpha could only fear a potential future in which he would inevitably be the reason that harm befell his pup. 

“I am here,” Mihawk assured, “You are not alone in this Shanks. I am here, and I am with you, and we will deal with this together. Please,” the omega pleaded, “Take a breath. It’s going to be alright.” 

“ How is it going to be alright?” Shanks growled, his voice thick with emotion as he pulled at his hair, “We’re pirates , Mihawk. The kid, our child , will be in constant danger because of who its parents are. They’ll—they’ll be targeted and—“

“And we will not grant anyone mercy if they so much as think of harming our pup,” Mihawk snarled back, his hands tightening from where they pulled Shanks into a crushing embrace, “It doesn’t matter who or what . No one will lay a finger on our family.” 

“But you can’t know that!” Shanks argued, because it didn’t matter how strong they were, there was always the potential that there was someone stronger , that they could be caught off guard. Teach was proof that even those who were seemingly weak could still pull off the impossible if they were clever, and—

“I do know that,” Mihawk vehemently promised, “I know that you would rather watch the world burn than let anyone you care about get hurt. Shanks, alpha .” The omega reached for Shanks’ hand, and seeing the vulnerability in the alpha’s distraught expression, Mihawk brought the captain’s palm to rest over his stomach. Shanks’ fingers splayed over the area in which their child was growing, where Mihawk’s abdomen would eventually swell as time continued to pass. 

Shanks stilled, and he went numb at the image of where his hand rested on his omega. 

With a softer note to his voice, Mihawk said quietly, “…I should have noticed it before, but their heartbeat was so soft.” 

Shanks’ eyes, still watery with tears, went wide when he—when he felt it. Through his observation Haki, he discovered the smallest, faintest heartbeat thrumming away. Feeling it through his Haki for the first time, the alpha was left speechless. The moment felt so tender, so intimate as he followed the rhythm of his pup’s life. His pup, their pup. An unexpected change, and certainly one that would alter Shanks’ life forever, but it was there nonetheless. This heartbeat was tiny, yet already so fierce as it thrummed away. 

Mihawk’s hand settled over Shanks’ own, undoubtedly sensing the same life Shanks did. At the feel of his omega’s touch, the alpha realized Mihawk was right . Shanks would sooner tear the earth and sky apart before ever letting a single flicker of harm come to this life he helped to create. He would rise to the heavens themselves, challenge an army of gods, and rip out his own heart if necessary in defense of this family. 

His family. 

Finding Mihawk’s eyes, Shanks saw that his same level of protective ferocity dwelled within that yellow-eyed stare. Two of the most powerful men in the world at present, and they would give their lives without a second thought to ensure their child lived . 

While unexpected and definitely unplanned, the child was also a miracle. There would need to be lengthy discussions in regards to how the pup was raised and where to go from this point forward, but at present Shanks could allow himself the privilege to feel—to feel happy . 

Mihawk was pregnant . His beloved and cherished mate was going to have their kid . 

A childlike wonder passed over Shanks’ face as the alpha broke out into a wide smile. 

“Mihawk!” The alpha cheered suddenly, swooping forward and taking the omega into a lifting embrace. He spun the swordsman around, thrilled at the idea, at the sheer insanity of him and Mihawk getting to be fathers together.

“Ugh, I’m still nauseated—“ Mihawk complained, but there was a bright light to his voice as Shanks held him up by the waist, beaming at his mate with the joy he didn’t let himself feel earlier. 

“I nailed it on my first try, huh?” The alpha said warmly, alluding to the fact that the timeline of their pup’s conception fell right in line with their trip to Grand Tesoro’s, “That’s rather efficient, don’t you think?” 

The omega rolled his eyes, a bit exasperated by Shanks’ boasting, but he was grinning softly nonetheless, “Leave it to you to completely usurp my expectations. I really didn’t think I could get pregnant.” 

“But now you are,” Shanks giggled back, and he drew Mihawk close again to nuzzle against him sweetly, “My beautiful mate is going to get fat with our pup and— ow! Why’d you pinch me?!”

“Don’t call me fat.” Mihawk said, pulling away to glare at Shanks menacingly. 

The alpha gasped, “I didn’t say you were already fat, just that you would eventually— ow ! Quit that! It’s not like what I’m saying is wrong —“

Grabbing the alpha by the collar of his shirt, the omega warned threateningly, “Have a little bit of tact, dear . It’s not called getting fat, it’s just, I'll be a little rounder at some point and—oh I don’t even know why I’m explaining this to you.” Mihawk huffed before shoving Shanks’ charming face away from him, “I’m going to be miserable for the next five months, and it’s all your fault.” 

“Hey now, it takes two to tango—“ Shanks stopped short when he caught the withering glare Mihawk shot at him, and obliged with a placating gesture, “But I’ll happily be the one at fault in this case.” 

His attempt to appear at least the slightest bit remorseful lasted all of a minute before Shanks was back to pestering his mate again, “Aw, let me see your stomach. Maybe it’s already getting round.” 

“You saw it just a moment ago, and it was completely flat.” Mihawk smacked the younger's hands away unapologetically, “And just as a reminder, there is a doctor still present.” 

“Huh?” Shanks blinked, and then as if recalling the fact that they were still in a doctor’s office, he looked at the older beta patiently waiting for the couple to sort themselves out before continuing where he left off. 

Upon meeting the doctor’s mildly amused look, the alpha flushed in embarrassment, “Oh,” he muttered awkwardly, “Right.” 

The beta chuckled easily as he said, “Don’t mind me. Unplanned pregnancies can always be a bit of a shock, and it was my fault for not being more delicate with my delivery of the news. I simply assumed since the two of you were already mated, that you were trying for a child.” 

“Well, it was more than a bit of a shock,” Mihawk confessed as he exhaled profoundly, “It still is.” 

Shanks eased his hand into Mihawk’s own, squeezing in a show of solidarity and comfort. The omega shot him a brief smile of appreciation, to which Shanks returned with a reassuring grin of his own. 

The beta let them have another moment of quiet before asking softly, “Would you like to continue with the appointment? If you need time—“

“No, it’s alright,” Mihawk confirmed with more confidence than before, “Please continue.” 

The doctor took his time thoroughly explaining the nuances of pregnancy for an omega. Most of the information was general at first, but he soon deep dived into some concerns he had with Mihawk’s pregnancy in particular. He wanted to get the swordsman on supplements to help alleviate some of the exhaustion and aches Mihawk was enduring. Additionally, he wanted to do an additional examination for the baby to ensure that it was healthy and happy. He wasn’t sure how the abnormalities regarding Mihawk’s dynamic would affect the pregnancy, but he assured that for the most part, the omega was out of the timeframe of when miscarriages were most likely to occur—a reassurance that had Shanks and Mihawk both sagging with relief. After that, the beta went on to refer Mihawk to a doctor who specifically worked with omegas before finally giving the go ahead to leave. 

Shanks’ brain was a bit fried after they left, having absorbed too much information all at once. He felt reasonably overwhelmed, and as they booked a room in town for the night, it took Shanks a lot longer to settle down for bed than it usually would. His thoughts were running rampant, and while he was still happy to know that Mihawk was pregnant (and holy shit ), now that things had somewhat settled, the future of where they were supposed to go from here loomed like an impassable object. 

Mihawk was also quiet and took to cleaning Yoru as a way to occupy both his mind and his hands. It was insane to imagine that, in only a handful of weeks, the defined lines of Mihawk’s abs would soften with the swell of his belly. The thought was deliriously appealing, but at the same time, Shanks realized that sooner or later it would become obvious to the world that Dracule Mihawk was undoubtedly with child. There were many concerns to consider in that regard, all of which consumed Shanks’ thoughts as he started to endlessly worry. 

First and foremost, the most glaring issue was that of the world government. From word on the street, they hadn’t taken well when news broke out that Dracule Mihawk and Red-Haired Shanks were a pair. Shanks’ little stunt in front of the paparazzi back at Tesoro’s wasn’t well received at all among those in the navy or government. Not that Shanks necessarily expected it would be, but as soon as the article started circulating with Shanks and Mihawk’s images plastered on the front page, both men’s respective bounties jumped up even more. In addition to that, the marines became more persistent in chasing them. The mating between Shanks and Mihawk was seen as the equivalent to an alliance, and since both men were some of the biggest threats in the world at present, it was only reasonable that the navy sought to disrupt what they saw as a shift in the balance of power. 

Due to their already precarious apprehension, if the government discovered Mihawk was pregnant, Shanks didn’t doubt that they would employ far more resources into capturing one or both of them. They would see Mihawk’s pregnancy as an opportunity. They would think he was weak and vulnerable to attack, and they wouldn’t be entirely wrong in their belief, either. Though Mihawk was more than capable of defending himself now, could the same be said for 2 or 3 months down the road? Eventually, the pregnancy would slow Mihawk down. He was already experiencing some of those adverse effects now , which begged the question of how long it would be until the omega was too worn out to even lift his sword. 

There were problems with bounty hunters and other pirate crews as well, and even the near endless stream of challengers sent Mihawk’s way in an attempt to claim the omega’s swordsman title. What they needed, Shanks realized, was a place to lay low for a while. Somewhere no one could find them for the duration of Mihawk’s pregnancy and the first few months that came after. 

Shanks didn’t have a damn clue where that place might be. A few ideas came to mind but…

The alpha sighed as he felt the beginning onset of a headache. 

Seated on the bed with his back facing Mihawk, the alpha was only mildly startled when hands soothed over his shoulders, massaging the tension that stiffened them until he was loose and receptive. 

“We’ll figure it out in the morning, Shanks,” Mihawk promised as he nosed against the alpha’s neck, “You should rest.” 

The omega was right, but it was difficult for Shanks to relax. They had a new life to worry about. A small, fragile little being that would mean the world to them—that already meant the world to them as soon as Shanks learned of its existence. 

Taking Mihawk’s hand into his own, Shanks kissed at the other’s fingers gently before saying, “I should be the one worrying about you right now, angel. Not the other way around.” 

“I already know you’re going to be unbearably fussy about this whole thing,” Mihawk chuckled easily as he coaxed Shanks into laying down, “So before your coddling starts, how about I take care of you first?” 

From where Shanks was manhandled onto his back, the omega moved to hover over the alpha, using his arms to keep himself propped up as he bumped his nose against Shanks’ own affectionately. 

The alpha sighed and settled his hands on his omega’s waist. He still had so much to think about, but as usual, whenever Mihawk was close to him like this, all thoughts of anything else in the world fell to unimportance. His mate scented of serenity, of peace and a calm that was much needed at present. Shanks soaked it all in, let his nose burrow into Mihawk’s neck and breathe him in like the solution to all of life’s problems. 

Mihawk gave a little hum, purring softly in a manner meant to completely diffuse any tension left in the alpha. The little bastard knew exactly what he was doing, but Shanks didn’t have the heart to fight against him when all he felt was tired . 

“You’re unfair,” Shanks sighed out, his eyes drifting such as he felt more and more relaxed, soothed by a mix of Mihawk’s scent and a careful hand that drifted through his hair, “I’m—“ he cut himself off with a yawn, feeling like liquid mush as he sunk deeper into the bed beneath him. 

“I’m right here, Shanks,” Mihawk promised softly, his voice a distant rumble as the alpha slipped more and more into a state of sleep, “I’ll always be right here.” 

Shanks’ eyes closed, and he was dead to the world not even a second after that.

Chapter Text

An Unexpected Ally

When Mihawk went to see the doctor again a few days later, Shanks decided it was time for him to figure out where the heck he was supposed to go from here. In an attempt to get their affairs in order, the alpha sent a letter out the morning after they were given the pregnancy news. He fully expected the recipient to show up any day now—but whether that was good news or bad news was still up for debate. 

In the meantime, waiting around was nerve wracking. The person Shanks called upon in his time of need could either be a genius move or an awful mistake. There was really no telling, and in the frustration of remaining stagnant until his next move could be made, Shanks was clawed at by scraping nails of anxiety from the inside out until he was a buzzing ball of pent up stress.

That was why, instead of remaining in their rented room for the majority of the morning, Shanks opted to get some fresh air, which was how he wound up sitting on a lone bench in a busy park. Hunched over in solitude, the alpha wrung his hands over his straw hat, his knee bouncing rapidly as he scowled fiercely at the ground. 

Fresh air was doing very little to ease Shanks’ idle worries, but it was better than remaining cooped up at the inn in anticipation of Mihawk’s eventual return from the clinic. 

The reality that Mihawk was pregnant still startled Shanks whenever he thought about it. It hadn’t settled in yet that he would be (much sooner than he ever thought) a father. Whenever his mind latched onto that idea, he was as thrilled as he was terrified, unable to help but think about all the things that could go wrong, yet he was also undeniably tender whenever he spied Mihawk’s (still regrettably) flat stomach in the mornings or just before bed. 

Mihawk appeared to be taking everything in stride as best as he could given the circumstances. The random nausea hadn’t abated since they went to the doctor initially, and his moods fluctuated unpredictably, often catching them both off guard when the omega was either unashamedly sexually famished, or peeved beyond belief at the littlest things. There was a valiant effort made by Mihawk to control those rampant emotions, but they still slipped to the surface regardless of his impeccable self-control. He would get frustrated with himself whenever it happened, grumbling under his breath about the unnecessary existence of hormones while Shanks promised that it was all okay. 

Whether everything was actually okay or not was still up for debate. Shanks knew welcoming a child into their world would be no easy feat, and protecting said child would be just as perilous an effort, but in the alpha’s mind there was little choice except to continue blazing a path forward. Regardless of the fact that the baby was unplanned, it was still theirs . His and Mihawk’s. When Shanks thought about it like that, the fierce urge to protect and nurture eliminated any other option they might have otherwise considered. They would have this kid, and Shanks was going to do everything humanly possible to ensure his family remained happy and healthy. 

Absorbed in his internal musings, Shanks barely noticed the arrival of a newcomer until a body suddenly joined him on the bench, a mass that nearly doubled his own settling with a tired grunt as the wood of the bench frame groaned precariously under the newly added weight. 

The red-haired alpha stiffened, recognizing the girth of the other man next to him instantly. The sudden arrival left Shanks entirely unprepared for this interaction despite having been the one to request it. So, with bated breath, the pirate waited for the newcomer to speak up first, figuring he wasn’t in the right state of mind to take the lead as he would usually be prone to do. 

“You’ve got some balls on you, boy,” a gruff, gravely rumble exuded from the man next to Shanks, the voice more familiar to the alpha than it probably should be, “Marines and pirates don’t have casual meetups like this. You’re out of your damn mind sending me a letter like that, you know?” 

Shanks’ stomach twisted with a sharp note of nerves, “I appreciate you coming all this way to see me, Garp.” 

“Yeah, well I’m probably out of my damn mind to,” Garp the Fist, Hero of the navy and the strongest marine in history, rubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw as he glared out at the park scenery in front of him, “Must be going senile in my old age for actually showing up to talk instead of arresting you like I should be.” 

The older alpha sighed, heavy and resolved. Garp was an odd man. He’d always been a weirdo and different from the rest of the marines he served with. While an enemy of the Roger pirates, he wasn’t quite the ruthless adversary stories depicted him as being to Roger. Sure, the man was persistent in chasing them all over hell’s creation when the Roger pirates were at their peak, but there were also occasions when Garp had let them go without much fuss. When he took a look at Shanks’ too-pale captain barely struggling to walk and turned back around without a second thought. Roger respected Garp, and that spoke a lot about the old marine’s character even if he was on the wrong side of Justice. 

Of course, Garp didn’t make it easy to be around him, and he was more prone to talking with his fists than using his words, but he was also one of the very few who seemed to understand the world in a way the vast majority didn’t. He knew there was more to this world than just the marines fighting against pirates, that the current ‘peace’ was merely a sham and little else.  

That was why, when it came down to Shanks going over his options for what to do about his current predicament, Garp had stood out above the rest, even superseding Rayleigh. It was a stroke of genius, really. Who better to help Shanks and Mihawk hide from the government than a member of the government itself? Garp may be a simple man, and perhaps a bit of an idiot, but he was also the only marine truly capable of rivaling Roger at the height of his power. That counted for something in Shanks’ book. 

“So what is it ya want?” Garp asked as he reached into his jacket and fished out a bag of crackers to munch on, “You’ve got the government all in a tizzy recently. Sengoku thinks you’re plotting something with how you’ve been relatively quiet the past few months, and with that stunt you pulled at Tesoro’s,” Garp grunted as he referenced the kiss Shanks had playfully done in front of the paparazzi with full intention to cause trouble, “This really ain’t the best time for you to be requesting an audience with a marine, boy.” 

Shanks frowned, “I’m aware, and again, I’m grateful you came all this way. I…need your help.” Shanks confessed, the words difficult to admit. He had to remind himself that he was doing this for Mihawk, for their family , and that his pride ultimately didn’t matter in the face of his mate and child’s security. 

Running a hand through his hair, Shanks sighed and leaned back against the bench, looking up for the first time since he arrived. The park was lively today. The weather was lovely, and because of that families had taken to the walking paths and fishing pond in droves. The playground was overfilled with screeching and giggling children, while the parents huddled underneath the shade of grandeur trees to enjoy one another’s company. Shanks wondered if he and Mihawk would ever do something like this. If there would be days in their future in which they passed the time not by sailing the grand seas, or fighting large battles, or even dueling until islands were flattened, but instead spent the hours in domestic leisure, watching their pup make friends while he and Mihawk cuddled beneath the thick canopy of a shady tree. 

The image was absurdly appealing. So… peaceful . 

Softening as he watched the world pass by, Shanks finally admitted the reason he had called Garp here, “Mihawk’s pregnant,” the words still sounded so funny when he said them, and probably would for a little while longer, “And we need a place to lay low for a while. Somewhere no one can bother us. He…he’s fine right now, but sooner or later he’ll spend more time in bed than out of it.” 

The alpha didn’t look at the marine. He was taking a risk, a gamble he wasn’t sure would work out for him in the end. Shanks wasn’t a gambler—never had the poker face for it, or the patience to actually play seriously, but this wasn’t a hand he could afford losing. Garp may not have been his only hope, but he sure as hell was the young alpha’s best one. 

Garp, from where he idly munched on his crackers with all the mess of a small child, asked, “How far along is he?” 

“Just about four months,” Shanks answered, “He didn't show symptoms until recently, and—well it was a surprise, obviously.” 

“A surprise, huh?” Garp echoed, “I called it that day we ran into each other back in the West Blue.” 

Shanks sputtered as he recalled the brief encounter, “You couldn’t have called anything back then! We weren’t even officially mated yet—“

Garp countered the younger alpha by saying, “With all that damn posturing you were doing, I figured it was only going to be a matter of time before you had a little rugrat running around,” the older man continued to munch on his crackers, crumbs flying everywhere as he said, “Terrifying thought that is, to. God, a red-haired brat with hawk-eyes attitude? If Sengoku found out about this, there’d be a manhunt.” 

As soon as the words left Garp’s mouth, Shanks growled, an instant anger and instinctive protectiveness raising the hackles on the back of his neck as his hand itched towards his sword. If this was the old man’s way of saying he was going to tell the Navy about Mihawk’s condition, then to hell with their enemy-but-not-quite-enemy relationship. Shanks would kill Garp here and now without a second thought. 

As soon as the alpha had that thought, however, a fist suddenly drove down on top of Shanks’ head, eradicating his ability to think entirely. 

“Don’t start your shit, dumbass brat,” Garp scolded, momentarily forgetting all about his crackers as he rolled his eyes, “I ain’t babbling to Sengoku about this. It ain’t his business, anyway.” 

“You can’t honestly believe that,” Shanks said as he rubbed at his head, pouting at the throb that pounded in his skull, “You know who I am. Where I come from,” the younger alpha said, alluding to his celestial dragon lineage, “If—If the elders found out about this they would—“ 

They would undoubtedly want to get their hands on Mihawk, knowing it would be the easiest way to get to Shanks’ child. After all, this kid, his kid , would have celestial dragon blood, but not just—not just any blood either. They would have the blood of the being that stood even above the Gorosei, that wasn’t even supposed to exist, and yet sat on an empty throne in the center of the world nonetheless. 

Shanks rubbed at his face in order to massage the near constant ache throbbing between his eyes. 

From his periphery, Shanks spied a bag of crackers and realized Garp was offering him some to eat. The young alpha exhaled and reluctantly dug his hand into the bag, needing something other than his worries to occupy himself. 

“I can handle it once my kid is older, but the pregnancy is going to make both Mihawk and the baby vulnerable, and like you said, if news got out that the great Dracule Mihawk was pregnant with Red-Haired Shanks’ kid—there’d be a manhunt. Not just the government, but pirates and bounty hunters alike would be after us. I can’t take that risk, so our only option is to go off grid for a while, but I can’t do that without help.” 

He knew what he was asking of Garp was a lot. He was asking the man to betray his convictions as a marine to help a pirate, but somehow, Shanks had a feeling he could trust the old geezer. Something was telling him this was the right choice, that regardless of their history or current standing in the world order, Garp wouldn’t turn his back on Shanks, and more importantly, he wouldn’t let undue harm come to a child that wasn’t even born yet. 

“What is with these damn pirates and coming to me with their family problems…” Garp grumbled as he hunched over in thought. His big, burly brows furrowed, the barest hints of gray starting to pepper the darker hairs as his lips pursed, “And each time it happens, I get suckered all over again.” 

Shanks didn’t have a clue what Garp was mumbling about, and a part of him didn’t even want to ask. Instead, he sat in anxious silence, awaiting the other alpha’s answer to Shanks’ unspoken plea. 

It came with the world’s most long-suffering acquiescence as Garp reluctantly, very reluctantly , agreed to aid Shanks’ current plight.

“…Can I ask why?” Shanks wondered aloud, thankful—but still surprised that his hunch had actually worked out in his favor. 

Garp gave a half-hearted shrug, much older now than Shanks ever remembered him being. It suddenly struck Shanks that the other alpha had seen Shanks grow up on the seas, and perhaps there was a sentimentality in that notion. For as long as Shanks was with the Roger pirates, so too had Garp been chasing after them. How much time passed since then? Shanks was 23 now, and it was hard to believe when put into perspective. Not only was the pirate captain a full fledged adult, but he was well on his way to becoming a father. It didn’t feel that long ago that Shanks was singing sea shanties right alongside the Roger crewmates as they conquered the seas, but oh, the years really did fly by didn't they?

Garp never bothered to give Shanks a proper answer to Shanks’ question before he stood to leave. 

“Just have you and Hawk-Eyes meet me by the docks past sundown. I should have everything in order by then.” 

Shanks nodded as he raised to meet the marine halfway, “Thank you Garp. Really.”

The old man grumbled as he scratched at his chin, “Eh, don’t thank me. Feels wrong to have a pirate’s gratitude.” 

“And it feels wrong to give it,” Shanks smiled back, “But you have it anyway.” 

Garp eyed him skeptically before shoveling another fistful of crackers in his mouth and walking off without another word said. The younger alpha watched him go, feeling marginally better about his current predicament. 

Once the marine vice admiral was out of sight, that was Shanks' cue to turn around and head back to the inn. 

When Shanks returned, he found Mihawk sleeping in their bed, mouth slightly agape as he snored softly. His hair was askew on the pillows, and it looked like he only managed to get halfway undressed before all but collapsing onto the mattress and knocking out. Seeing his mate splayed out, Shanks’ heart squeezed and fluttered, choking him up as he took a moment to absorb the cute image Mihawk made. He was adorable, though Shanks knew better than to voice his thoughts aloud as he shuffled into the room. 

Kicking off his boots, the alpha sat at the edge of the bed, allowing himself to breathe easy for the first time today as he let his eyes drift over Mihawk’s sharp and softer edges. He could see the exhaustion in his omega’s sleep-slackened expression, the darkened circles under his eyes and the paleness that hollowed his cheeks. Mihawk was still gorgeous, obviously, but the weight of pregnancy was starting to affect him slowly but surely. It must’ve been difficult for the swordsman. The only weakness Mihawk ever showed was when he was beyond spent after a grueling duel with the red-haired alpha, and even then, that momentary lapse in his guard only occurred because he trusted Shanks enough not to take advantage of it. 

Now, however, vulnerability creeped up on Mihawk like a relentless fog, and it would only get worse from this point on. That’s why the necessity of Shanks’ personal quest this morning was so significant. Mihawk was strong—stronger than most, perhaps even arguably one of the strongest in the world as he was often looped into the tier of those like Whitebeard and Kaido—but sometimes even the mightiest needed protection. Sometimes, even the strong experienced moments of being weak. 

Shanks knew better than anyone how terrifying vulnerability was. He, also a pirate feared worldwide, had his fair share of moments being caught off guard. The scars on his eyes were a permanent reminder—a humbling memento that no matter how untouchable a man seemed, there would always be those capable of breaking through, of succeeding where everyone else failed. The alpha wouldn’t allow such a possibility to exist anywhere remotely near Mihawk and their child, and in order to ensure not an ounce of harm befell his precious family, Shanks knew disappearing was their only option. While his absence would undoubtedly disturb the waters on both the navy and pirating end, what choice did Shanks have? 

The only concern Shanks harbored was in regards to the state of his crew. Where were they at present? Were their territories still alright? How many of their enemies took notice of Shanks’ absence? These were worries the alpha was helpless but to toil over, but he also knew Beckmann wouldn’t let him down. For however long Shanks decided to take, the red-haired pirates would eagerly await his return, protected and led by their dependable vice captain until the time came to take the world by storm once more. Shanks almost couldn’t wait to see their faces when he came back. What would their expressions be when they spied not only Mihawk in tow behind their captain, but a pup held within Shanks’ arms as well? Ben would probably be the least surprised of them all, and for some reason the thought of the beta’s exasperation about having a toddler aboard a pirate ship was endlessly funny. 

Chuckling under his breath, Shanks recognized the tell-tale signs of Mihawk stirring awake when he felt a rousing flutter in his chest, an awakening of emotion that cemented the moment yellow eyes blinked open to glare at the far wall of their room. 

The nausea came not even a second after that. 

“Bucket. Now .” 

Shanks didn’t hesitate to secure a bin for his omega, presenting it like a gift as Mihawk accepted the offering and proceeded to yak over the side of the bed. 

Sympathizing with the older’s dilemma, the alpha rubbed soothing circles up and down Mihawk’s back, trying to ease Mihawk through the misery as the swordsman threw up what little food he managed to keep down from breakfast. 

“They gave me medicine to help with the vomiting,” Mihawk declared hoarsely, voice rough from bile and acid, “It’s on the table if you wouldn’t mind grabbing it for me.” 

“Of course, sweetheart.” Shanks promised sweetly.

The picture of a perfect and doting mate, Shanks left and quickly returned to Mihawk’s side with the requested medicine. The older took it gratefully, not even bothering for a glass of water as he dry swallowed his pill and went back to lying in bed. 

After the initial bout of nausea subsided, Mihawk turned to Shanks with tired yellow eyes, “Where were you? You weren’t here when I got back.” 

“I was at the park,” Shanks said as a way of explanation, “I met someone there that’s willing to help us disappear for a while.” 

“Oh really?” Mihawk breathed out, “And who might that be?”

The alpha grinned as he soothed his hand through the omega’s dark hair, “You’ll see. We’re skipping town later on tonight.” 

Mihawk didn’t appear thrilled at the idea of travel. In fact, he paled at the thought of it, already mourning the inevitability of cramped spaces and a rocking boat that would undoubtedly make him more sick than he already felt. 

Shanks felt that apprehension and reluctance stir in his chest, and understanding the source of the omega’s unwillingness, the alpha pressed a fleeting kiss to the older’s temple and promised sincerely, “After we get settled, I’ll make sure you spend these next few months in enviable comfort, angel. You and the pup will be in want of nothing.” 

Despite his evident exhaustion, the swordsman managed a soft but brief smile as he muttered a delicate, “You spoil me.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of anything else. Now, try to get some more rest while I grab us something to eat. I’ll be back in just a minute.”

Mihawk nodded and rolled onto his side to oblige Shanks’ gentle request. Meanwhile, the alpha stood, emptied the bucket Mihawk got sick in, fetched the omega a glass of water to keep by his bedside, and then trekked downstairs to request that the innkeeper warm up a meal that would be easy on a sensitive stomach. The beta woman set to work whisking up a rice porridge, and while Shanks waited at the bar, the door to the inn swung open with a loud bang, signaling the arrival of a rather rowdy group of—presumably—pirates. 

Spying the men from his periphery, Shanks made sure to keep his head down so as to not cause a stir. The last thing he wanted was for one of those pirates to recognize him, especially with Mihawk just up the stairs and down two doors to the left. The omega was already back asleep if the quiet in Shanks’ chest was anything to go by, and Shanks would prefer to keep it that way for as long as he was able. 

Like most pirate crews, the ones that rolled into the inn were loud and mannerless, demanding booze and food as soon as they slouched and sprawled out in some chairs like they owned the place. Realistically, Shanks knew his own behavior wasn’t often too different than theirs, but he liked to think he had a little more tact than the group currently wolf whistling the beta innkeeper as she went to take their order and get them settled. Clearly, she was flustered and annoyed by the attention she was receiving, and when a few hands dared to tug at her skirts and aprons, she slapped the presumptuous fingers away with increasing impatience. 

“If you boys are looking for womanly company, I’d suggest you try Madam Fleu’s just down the way,” The beta woman declared stiffly, “And I’d appreciate it if you would mind your manners when in my establishment.” 

“Aw, don’t mind us little lady,” An alpha piped up, and gauging by his fancy getup and the way the crew all seemed to defer to him, he must have been the captain, “We don’t mean to offend any.” 

There were a couple of snickers from among the crew mates, sneaky and mischievous noises that didn’t seem all that apologetic in nature. Shanks grit his teeth at the obvious mockery. These pirates saw a beta woman running a business by herself and thought she made for an easy target. It was incredibly insulting, and it took everything and more than Shanks had not to put those cocksure pirates in their place. If it were any other day, at any other point in time, the red-haired alpha wouldn’t hesitate to intervene, but trouble was the last thing he needed on his already-full plate. As much as he wished he could give the innkeeper a hand in keeping that riffraff under control, Shanks couldn’t, so when she returned to the counter several minutes later blushing a raging red as she handed Shanks the rice porridge he requested, the alpha offered her what little comfort he could through a polite and sympathetic smile. 

“Busy day?” He said as a means to make light conversation.

The beta woman blew a haggard strand of straw colored hair out of her eyes as she huffed in agreement, “Every now and again we get the unsavory folk that come through town. Not much to do about it except wait for them to leave. I apologize if that group ends up being a bother to ya. I know you’ve got an omega upstairs that looked like he needed a long rest, but I can’t promise I’ll be able to keep the peace.” 

“That’s quite alright, ma’am. I understand how it goes,” Shanks assured as he stood back up and paid the woman handsomely for her efforts to serve, “We’ll be leaving tonight as it is, so no need to worry.” 

A furrow of concern worked between the woman’s eyes as she asked, “Are you sure that mate of yours is up for travel? He came in this afternoon dog tired—looked on the verge of collapsing if you ask me.” 

Shanks’ chest tightened with a pang of sympathy for Mihawk, “He’s just a bit under the weather,” Shanks said as a way of explanation, “But I’m sure this delicious porridge will chipper him right on up.” 

Internally, the alpha chuckled at the idea of Mihawk being ‘chipper’. The usually reticent and reserved omega was capable of showing excitement, sure, but imagining Mihawk with a bubbly personality was almost disturbing in its oddity. 

The beta nodded, “Well, if you need anything else—“

“Oi! Woman!” One of the pirates beckoned as he slammed a hand down on the table, “Where the hell are our drinks?!” 

Shanks watched as the innkeeper sucked in a sharp breath, willing herself to have the patience to endure. The red-haired alpha attempted to grin through his own annoyance as he bid the beta woman farewell before heading back upstairs. Cheers and a cacophony of noise followed him as he made it back to his room, and as the Alpha opened the door to step inside, it was to find Mihawk rising from whatever brief nap he succumbed to. There was a glare in his yellow eyes, a flicker of peeved anger echoing in Shanks’ own heart as the omega fixed his scowl on the door. 

“What is all that ruckus downstairs? It is irritating .” 

Shanks forced a placating smile to his lips as he shut the door behind him and approached his mate, “Ah, just a few rowdy patrons is all. Try to ignore them, dear. I brought you something to eat—“

Down below, there was a clatter and a clang, followed by bellowing guffaws of laughter that could be heard clearly from their room upstairs. Shanks felt the darkening of Mihawk’s emotions as the other’s mood quickly soured. Sensitive to even the slightest changes in Mihawk’s attitude, the alpha quickly worked to hand Mihawk his porridge, hoping the smell of food would distract the omega from the pirates wreaking havoc and disturbing the peace. 

The omega glowered for another moment, but willed himself to focus on the steaming bowl in his hands instead. He thanked Shanks sincerely, softening his tone just a smidgen to let his true affection show before gently spooning the first helping of porridge into his mouth. 

Underneath them, a gunshot went off followed by the immediate shattering of a glass bottle. Shanks stiffened as the roar of more laughter and cheers swelled over the protests of the beta innkeeper. 

The smile the alpha strove to maintain started to fall, his private irritation mirroring the burn of Mihawk’s own. An urge to intervene was stirring, but Shanks kept himself firmly rooted in place. It wasn’t his business—didn’t need to be his business—and yet—

“If you don’t handle it, I will,” Mihawk warned, sounding lethal as he spooned more of his porridge, “I am not in the mood to listen to those rampaging buffoons, and I will not be held accountable for my actions if they continue to remain unchecked.” 

“I’m sure they’ll settle down soon enough—“ As soon as the words left Shanks’ mouth, another gunshot went off followed by the innkeeper’s screeching as more glass shattered and echoing jeers rang obnoxiously. 

The alpha visibly winced when fixed with the dead-eyed glare of his lover. Oh, he could feel Mihawk’s mood as if it were his. The sharp sting of impatience, the gnawing twist of an irritation that burned beneath the skin, and the vehement desire to silence the clowns down below permanently reared hot and ugly in Shanks’ chest. It wasn’t Mihawk’s hormones that were at fault for the vibrancy of emotion, either. The omega truly found the behavior down stairs utterly appalling, and wouldn’t sit idly by as it continued. 

Mihawk’s ultimatum was clear: Shanks either attempted to make peace with the pirates and convince them to settle down, or Mihawk would remind the world yet again as to why he was often considered a merciless monster. 

The alpha really didn’t want to go and make a fuss. Again, trouble was the last thing he wanted at present, but what would be worse? Doing nothing until Mihawk inevitably snapped and leveled half the city in his anger, or at least trying to settle things without bloodshed in hopes that it would all work out in Shanks’ favor? 

Sighing, the alpha’s shoulders hunched as he surrendered, “Fine. I’ll be back in just a moment.” 

Seemingly pleased with Shanks’ decision, Mihawk continued to eat his porridge without further fussing as he gave a short nod. Shanks rolled his eyes and started back towards the door—seriously, the things Shanks did to service his mate. Even against his better judgment, here the alpha was, complying to his omega’s requests anyway. Granted, the pirates were loud, and coupled with their blatant disrespect for the innkeeper, Shanks really didn’t have all that much sympathy for the band of rowdy criminals down below. It was alright to have fun and a good time. Certainly, Shanks knew a thing or two about throwing a party, but this wasn’t the sort of establishment one came to raise hell in. 

That, and they disturbed Mihawk. Mihawk who was pregnant and cranky, and deserved some quality rest before their upcoming travels later on tonight. The slight against his omega, even if minor and unintentional, was an unforgivable transgression if Shanks were to offer his humble opinion about it. 

Stomping his way downstairs, Shanks let his straw hat hang limp behind his head to reveal the bright red of his hair. He hoped his reputation would be enough to deter any want for a fight. If things went the alpha’s way, then the amatuer pirates would take one look at the red-haired captain and wisely listen to whatever he had to say. The less of a fuss they made, the better. Shanks wanted this little issue resolved as quickly and efficiently as possible, and he hoped that luck would favor him in that regard. 

Of course, Shanks was far from ever being lucky , so he went in with his expectations rather low to save himself the bitter disappointment in advance. 

Finally making his appearance downstairs, the captain marked his arrival with just the barest wisps of his Haki to ward off any initial antagonism. Many eyes turned to Shanks with mirroring looks of surprise and recognition, the pirate crew halting their rampant chaos the second the alpha cleared his throat to speak. 

“Good afternoon gentlemen.” Shanks greeted formally, taking in the mess the pirates made in the short time he was gone.

The beta innkeeper was in tears as she tried to clean up broken liquor bottles off the shelves and floor from behind the bar counter. The bullet holes in the wall suggested the bottles were shot—probably in protest for the innkeeper taking too long (in the Pirates’ opinions) when it came to giving them what they wanted. A few tables and chairs were upturned, and some pirates had taken to dancing on the tables as they sang loudly and smoked through enough cigars to put Ben to shame. Sometime between the sparse minutes of Shanks being upstairs, the pirates had dragged a few women inside from off the streets, their distressed looks indicating that they had been taken unwillingly as they were drawn into random laps and hugged tightly around the waist. 

All in all, it was almost impressive how quickly the situation turned from bad to worse, and seeing the extent of damage already done, Shanks supposed it wasn’t that bad of an idea to step in when he did. 

“I’m sorry about all the noise, sir,” The innkeeper quickly moved to intercept him at the base of the stairs, struggling to keep the tears of frustration from falling more than they already were, “I—“ 

Shanks placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder to calm her, “Easy now, it isn’t your fault.” 

The alpha glanced at the now-quiet pirates from over the beta’s shoulders and gently eased her aside so he could approach, “You fellas sound like you’re having fun,” he said casually, keeping his cool despite the rousing anger he felt on behalf of the innkeeper, “And while I’m no stranger to a good time, it just so happens that I came here for a bit of rest, and I just can’t seem to do that with everything going on. I’m sure you understand how it goes.” 

Coming to a stop in front of the presumed captain of the crew, Shanks smiled, the gesture cold and lacking any of his usual warmth, “So I thought I’d stop by and ask if you could keep it down, and if you can’t, then I suggest you find a different establishment to camp out in for the night.” 

“ Isn’t that red-haired Shanks?” One of the crew mates whispered to another in the background. 

“Shut up, idiot! He’ll hear you—“

The captain of the crew sat up straight in his chair, nudging a woman off his lap in the process. He was glaring at Shanks, evidently displeased by the other’s arrival. In the face of the blatant animosity, Shanks maintained his calm demeanor as best as he could manage, striving for easy-going as the other alpha took his time standing up. They would be face to face if the other man wasn’t a few inches taller and broader than Shanks—not that size meant much in the Grand Line, but still, it was irritating having to look up at a man that was clearly beneath him. 

“And what will you do if we don’t like your options?” The other Captain proposed, his crewmates echoing his sentiment with agreeing rumbles of discontent, “We like it here, and we’ve only just got the party started.” 

Red eyes narrowed, “I’m not looking for a fight,” Shanks promised, “Though I would highly advise you boys go somewhere else if you can’t keep it down.” 

“Think just because you got a large bounty on your head, means we’re scared of you?” 

Shanks sighed as if he were talking to a small child, “There’s no need to get all worked up—“ 

As soon as Shanks raised his hands to try to placate the rising tensions, several of the pirates surrounding him drew their guns. The beta innkeeper yelped, a hand coming to cover her mouth as she ducked behind the counter in fear. The red-haired alpha hardly reacted in the face of the barrels being pointed at his face. If anything, he only felt more annoyed. Couldn’t these idiots just catch the hint and leave? Shanks didn’t want any trouble, but if these rookies kept testing their luck, then trouble would inevitably find Shanks whether he liked it or not. 

“I always feel like I’m repeating myself when it comes to guns,” Shanks shook his head, “They’re not for threats . If you draw your weapon on me, don’t expect me to run away.” 

The other alpha sneered, “Thought you said you weren’t looking for a fight.” 

“I’m not,” Shanks answered honestly, “But when you’ve got these lovely things pointed at my face, you’re obviously asking for one.” Gesturing to the guns, Shanks made a point of flaring his Haki just a bit more in hopes that it would deter the more rambunctious pirates from testing their courage. 

Come on , he internally willed, stand down you idiots.  

Shanks wasn’t opposed to taking more drastic measures if it was necessary. If the pirates didn’t budge, the alpha could always knock them out with his Haki, but he would prefer to get the pirates to leave of their own accord so they weren’t as inclined to retaliate against the innkeeper later on. 

“Leave,” Shanks demanded again, dropping his smile and all pretense, “ Now .” 

“Boss, maybe we should—“ 

The opposing captain held up his hand to silence his subordinate, “The Merci Pirates don’t run away with our tail tucked between our legs.” 

Well that wasn’t what Shanks wanted to hear. 

“Doesn’t look like your crew is around red-hair. If that’s the case, we outnumber you. If anyone should leave, it’s you .” 

Losing his patience, Shanks tried one last time, “Look, I am trying to be lenient—“ 

The captain of the Merci Pirates drew his gun, demonstrating exactly what he thought about Shanks’ lenience . 

What a dumbass. 

Running a hand down his face with a groan, Shanks briefly turned to where the beta woman was hiding and requested kindly, “Madam, if you would be nice enough to go upstairs for a moment just in case things get a bit ugly. I’d hate for you to get caught in the cross-hairs.” 

“Oh, she’s not going anywhere,” the other alpha declared as he cocked his gun, “The only one leaving is you—either of your own will or in a body bag. Your choice.” 

If it were any other day, Shanks would have found this entire situation laughable, but he wasn’t in the mood to find any part of this tedious endeavor funny. Why couldn’t the pirates just go? Must things like this always turn into some sort of pissing contest? 

Mihawk asked him to handle this, or rather, gave him an ultimatum in between the bad option and a worse one, and Shanks just wanted to reach a resolution as quickly and peacefully as possible. The innkeeper didn’t deserve to be disrespected, Shanks’ mate upstairs would not remain idle if this situation continued for much longer, and the alpha was tired too, okay? 

Shanks barely slept for the past few days, and even when he was sleeping, most of his dreams were consumed with worries and thoughts of the future. The red-haired captain had larger concerns on his plate than having to deal with a rookie group of cocksure pirates who couldn’t even spot the difference in strength between Shanks and them. Mihawk was moody, exhausted, and sick more often than he wasn’t, and Shanks was feeling the repercussions of those emotions for himself. While the bond between him and Mihawk was lovely and made his heart flutter just thinking about it, it also meant that Mihawk was not alone in his emotional suffering, and every sensation he felt was shared to a moderate degree with Shanks. Shanks couldn’t complain, because at least he could understand and empathize with his omega’s experiences, but at the same time, trying to balance Mihawk’s emotions in conjunction with his own was exhausting. 

Then, there was the added stress of Shanks just having asked a marine vice admiral to help him and Mihawk hide away from the government and every other threat they might face in the coming months. That was a lot of trust he was putting in a man that spent the entirety of Shanks’ life being his enemy, and despite knowing that Garp wasn’t really the type of man to scheme and betray, it still twisted Shanks’ insides to have to rely on the older alpha for support. 

Needless to say, Shanks was just the slightest bit overwhelmed. He was a soon-to-be (and woefully unprepared) father juggling a handful of responsibilities at present, and the last thing he wanted was to deal with the arrogance of petty criminals. 

Nearing his wits end, Shanks had the gall to lay a hand on the other captain’s shoulders in what would otherwise seem like a friendly gesture, but the dark look in Shanks’ red eyes revealed that it was not—in fact—a gesture of kindness, “Look buddy,” the alpha started off simply enough, “I know how it is, alright? You gotta look good for your crew, have to show ‘em that their captain isn’t one to be messed with or whatever. Believe me, I get it, been there and done all that, but here’s the thing,” The grip Shanks had on the other man squeezed tightly, almost to the point of bruising pain as he leaned in close, “You have to be smart about these kinds of things. There’s politics in piracy—diplomacy if you will—and there’s no shame in agreeing to stand down and go separate ways. Take it from someone who’s been playing the game a lot longer than you: some fights just aren’t worth it.” 

Tapping the man’s cheek in a condescending pat, Shanks reached for the alpha’s gun, plucked it from his hands, and set it down on the table in a boldly insulting move. The brazen tactic had the Merci Pirates stiffening as they sensed the underlying and barely restrained danger thrumming beneath the cloak of Shanks’ skin. Though not showing any outward signs of malice, it was apparent that the redhead was in no mood to play further games. 

“The reason I’m not looking for a fight isn’t because I’m frightened,” Shanks continued plainly, “It’s because I’m lacking the patience necessary to prevent myself from killing you. I don’t like violence and I consider myself a fairly peaceful man, but right now, the image of driving my sword through your gullet is more tempting than it should be.” 

It was a temptation that was undoubtedly influenced by Mihawk’s irritation bubbling in Shanks’ chest. The alpha’s fingers continuously itched for Gryphon, and it was only through Shanks’ impeccable willpower that he didn’t succumb to his baser urges. 

“So you see,” the alpha finished casually, “I’m doing you a favor. Now, take my advice and my mercy, and get the fuck out of my sight.” 

Punctuating his command with both his dominance and his Haki, Shanks indicated towards the door in one final demonstration of his graciousness. If the other captain still refused him at this point, Shanks would not be held accountable for his actions, but by some divine light of the gods, the rookie pirate seemed to catch Shanks’ hint. 

“Lower your guns, boys.” The opposing captain grunted in a rough order, shame coloring the notes of his voice as he averted his glare from Shanks. 

“But cap—“ 

“Just do what I say!” The other man snapped, bristling in irritation as he scented with cowering disgrace, “Booze sucks here anyway. We’ll just go somewhere else.” 

When his crew was still slow to move, the Merci Captain snapped with a demanding ‘Now’ that kicked his men into overdrive. They holstered their guns and were cleared out of the inn in a matter of minutes, leaving Shanks, the beta innkeeper, and the other alpha alone in their absence. 

“Glad we could come to an agreement.” Shanks managed politely enough.

The taller man glared down at Shanks with evident animosity, but while the other’s hatred scented the air, the Merci captain never made a move for his gun. 

Instead, he stepped away from Shanks, cast one last scathing look over his shoulder, and left. The door slammed shut behind him, and with the situation successfully de-escalated, Shanks collapsed into a nearby chair with a relieved groan. 

“ Finally .” 

“I-Is it safe to come out now?” The beta woman asked, peeking her head up from over the counter as she stared at the emptied bar. 

Shanks waved her over as he reached for a leftover bottle of whiskey sitting on one of the tables, “It’s alright, miss. Those boys should keep their distance for the time being.” 

Shuffling out from behind her counter with an air of disbelief, the innkeeper asked, “Did you really scare ‘em off?” 

“Surprisingly enough, yeah.” Shanks huffed and took a sip of his newly acquired beverage, “Have to admit, for a moment there I didn’t think my attempts to talk it out would work, but I’m glad they did.” 

The woman was quiet for a moment, consumed in a myriad of thoughts before hesitantly voicing aloud, “…So you’re a pirate.” 

Shanks gave a short nod, “Afraid so. Hope you don’t mind.” 

The beta stopped a few feet away from Shanks, uncertain of what to make of the alpha and the situation, “They called you Red-haired Shanks. If that’s true, and you are who they said you were—then you have a bounty of over 1.5 billion berries.” 

The alpha didn’t answer her as he continued to drink instead. 

His silence was confirmation enough. 

“Then that omega upstairs…that’s…?” 

“ Dracule Mihawk .” A new voice supplied evenly. 

Shanks glanced up, his red eyes fixing on the new arrival. 

Mihawk stood at the base of the stairs with Yoru strapped to his back and his usual hat donned to enigmatically conceal a portion of his yellow-eyed glare. In his hands he had the emptied bowl of rice porridge which he neatly set on the bar counter before turning to approach Shanks. 

“Well hey there, darlin’,” Shanks greeted with a tilt of his glass, “Didn’t expect you to be out of bed yet.” 

“I’m not so incapacitated that I have to remain bedridden,” Mihawk came to a stop at the foot of Shanks’ chair and glared down at the alpha with his usual famed scowl, “Your Haki was fluctuating.” 

Shanks understood the hidden depth to Mihawk’s statement, recognizing the unsaid concern easily enough. 

Upon remembering that just as Shanks could feel Mihawk’s emotions, Mihawk could sense Shanks’ own to the same degree, the alpha softened his irritated look as he paused long enough in his drinking to apologize, “Sorry if I disturbed you, angel. It was nothing to worry about.” 

“Yes, I see you took care of the riff raff easily enough,” Mihawk observed, “Though I didn’t expect you to get so worked up in the process.” 

Again, the allusion was made to Shanks’ rising levels of anxiety, and though the omega didn’t make a large showing of it, it was clear that he was worried. 

The concern was valid. Shanks wasn’t feeling much like himself at present. He was irritable and impatient, with both emotions greatly exasperated by the brief yet frustrating encounter with the rookie pirates. There was this fester of negativity swarming inside of his chest, blistering and bloating until his lungs squeezed with heavy pressure. Shanks knew the major cause of his stress was born out of concern and a growing desire to get Mihawk (and by extension, their pup ) to a place Shanks felt they could be adequately protected. Perhaps it was instinct—visceral urges to protect and keep safe driving him to vibrantly react in the face of any perceived threat; or maybe Shanks was finally succumbing to the severity of their situation and how desperate it could become if he didn’t act quickly. Maybe, both reasons were at play, cooperating together to wear Shanks down gradually. 

Either way, the alpha didn’t want Mihawk to fret over Shanks when he should be worrying about himself instead, but the captain had to admit that he was just a little bit—the slightest bit—stressed. The urge to get his omega away from people, to get them both safely secured in a place no threat could reach them, was increasing by the minute. The more Mihawk felt miserable and the more tired he became, the more it wore on Shanks in turn. Shanks was trying his best to remain dependable and level-headed, to ensure he was someone Mihawk could lean on during the tougher aspects of his pregnancy, but in trying to take all the burden of worry unto himself, Shanks was quickly fraying at the seams. 

In reality, the alpha didn’t want Mihawk to lift a single finger. He wanted the omega to remain as comfortable and taken care of as possible, and while a noble effort in theory, already it was proving to be a bit much. It was only days since they found out about the pregnancy, but life had taken such a drastic turn since then. Perhaps it would be easier if Shanks wasn’t so in tune to Mihawk’s emotions, but the alpha would much rather share in Mihawk’s feelings as opposed to letting the omega deal with them alone. 

“I’ll feel better once when we’re out of the city and away from people,” Shanks said, “Just, with your condition , I feel like my instincts are going into hyperdrive and I—I just need to make sure everything goes smoothly. Though, given the circumstances, I doubt aiming for ‘smooth’ is feasible.” 

Realistically, Shanks should resign himself to the chaos now rather than expect anything less, but the hassle left a bitter taste in his mouth. 

“I’m sure I haven’t been making it easy on you, either,” Mihawk acknowledged, “I know I haven’t been…agreeable lately.” 

“It’s not your fault,” Shanks grumbled, “You’re trying your best to cope. If anything, I shouldn’t be adding onto your stress—“ 

Before Shanks could finish with a needless apology, Mihawk interrupted him with a small sigh as he turned to the innkeeper and asked, “Do you have any leftover porridge? Or anything else to eat?” 

The alpha blinked in surprise at the sudden change in topic, “You’re still hungry—?”

“No,” The omega answered simply, “But you haven’t eaten at all today, have you?” 

Shanks went to say that he did, but when he thought back to this morning and this afternoon, besides the handful of crackers he stole from Garp, the alpha couldn’t recall sitting down for a proper meal. Sure, he made sure Mihawk ate, but…

When Shanks remained silent, Mihawk nodded to himself, “That’s what I thought.” 

Pouting a little, the alpha tried to justify his actions by claiming he was too busy to eat, but his excuses fell on deaf ears as Mihawk requested the innkeeper bring Shanks something to eat. The woman glanced between the two of them, a brief moment of wariness flashing across her face, but she must have resolved herself against her own apprehension. Regardless if Mihawk and Shanks were two highly wanted men, Shanks had done her a favor in getting rid of the earlier band of pirates, and the duo hadn’t caused the woman any trouble since they arrived. Probably for those reasons, and those reasons alone, the beta whipped up a quick but hearty meal for Shanks to dig into. 

At the first hints of seared meat, a fat helping of whipped potatoes, and some garlicky bread to go on the side, the alpha’s mouth instantly watered. 

Mihawk took the seat opposite of the alpha, and watched neutrally as a suddenly famished Shanks dug into his meal and devoured it in seconds. 

“You haven’t been sleeping well, either.” Mihawk pointed out. 

“It’s just stress,” Shanks said, trying to dismiss the concern, “Like I said, once we’re—“ 

“Shanks,” Mihawk cut in, effectively ending whatever excuses the redhead had prepared to deflect the attention from himself, “We’re in this together. Do not forget that.” 

“I—“ Shanks opened his mouth, only to pause and let Mihawk’s words truly sink in.

The statement was simple and to the point, but it was a profound assurance on the omega’s part. There was a promise in the declaration, one that swore the alpha wasn’t alone and that he would never be expected to carry the burden of responsibility by himself. Sure, when Mihawk felt ill it was okay to take on a bit more weight than usual, but to try and shoulder it all wasn’t fair to Shanks. They were a pair, a mated pair, and they took care of each other . That was the promise they made when they decided to bond, and that was the promise Mihawk was working to uphold at present. 

The pregnancy wasn’t just hard on Mihawk—it was going to take its toll on both of them, and to avoid dealing with a potential fall out later on because Shanks or Mihawk couldn’t handle the stress of what went into being a parent and a mate, their expectations needed to be outlined now. They had to work together on this. It really did take two to make a child, and it would take two in order to get through the coming months and the subsequent years to follow without everything falling apart in the process. 

“You’re right,” Shanks admitted, “I’m sorry. It’s easy to fall back into old habits, I guess.” 

“Yes, you do have that nasty penchant for trying to shoulder the weight of the world,” though the comment could be perceived as an insult, Mihawk uttered his words in a way that was undeniably fond, “And while your shoulders are certainly broad , I’d rather you not wear yourself out. If you wish to be exhausted, I’m sure I could find more enjoyable ways to make that happen.” 

The flirtation was not lost on Shanks, and with a light chuckle, the alpha pointed his fork playfully at his mate and said, “That’s a promise I’ll gladly take you up on, sweetheart.” 

Mihawk returned his playful look with a soft grin of his own, “Count on me just as I will count on you,” he urged gently, “I cannot do this without you, Shanks, but the same can be said for you as well.” 

Soft to the sincerity in his lover’s voice, the alpha reached out to cradle Mihawk’s hand with his own. At the initial brush of their fingers, a calm eased through the alpha, soothing the wire of tension that had wound him so tightly just moments before. 

“You’re right. As always.” 

Yellow eyes flashed with a brief flicker of amusement, “Of course I am. So please, if you’re feeling overwhelmed, you can depend on me. I’ll even permit you telling me no once in a while if you need a break.”  

“I mourn the thought,” Shanks replied back with an easy chuckle, “Though it was probably for the better that I handled the pirates in your stead.”

Mihawk mirrored a considering expression before nodding in agreement, “Hm, I suppose my temper isn’t as enduring as yours is.” 

Upon hearing the understatement of the century, Shanks snorted audibly, “Sweetheart, you’ve got a mean streak a mile wide.” 

“I’ve never heard you complain about it before.” 

“That’s because I’m a masochist,” The alpha said, smiling broadly in the face of Mihawk’s coy look, “And I love everything about you, angel.”  

As an echo in his chest, Shanks felt the warming of Mihawk’s emotions in response to his declaration, noting the fondness of feeling taking root inside his heart. Feeling better in the wake of those loving emotions, Shanks leaned back in his chair, only to catch sight of the innkeeper working to clean up from his periphery. 

Remembering the mess that the other pirates left in their wake, Shanks was quick to stand up and start setting the tables and chairs back in order, but the woman waved him off before he could get too involved in his task, “Oh, don’t worry about it.”

“Ah, but I feel terrible—“

“No need, save that fussing for your mate,” With knowing and glittering eyes, the beta woman ushered him over back to his seat and offered the alpha another plate of food, “It just warms my heart to see a couple that’s expecting. Pups are always such a blessing.” 

At the mention of pups, Shanks’ eyes went wide, “Wait, how did you—?” 

The innkeeper shot the pair of them a funny look, “Ah, a woman can always tell these kinds of things, you know? But don’t worry, I won’t go around spreading the news. I’m sure you boys don’t want his condition to be a widely known thing.” 

Shanks’ cheeks colored with a red hue of embarrassment to match that of his hair. For some reason, he felt like he was being teased and he didn’t know why. 

“That is appreciated, Miss,” Mihawk said, “Also, the porridge from earlier was delicious. It helped immensely in settling my stomach.” 

“Oh, if you’ve been dealing with some nasty morning sickness, there are a couple home remedies I know off the top of my head to help with that. I also got a few balms for those back aches you’ll get when you start showing. Let me just grab a pen and paper and I can write down all the tips I know. I used to be a midwife before I opened up my own inn after my late husband passed, so I know all about how difficult a pregnancy can be. You just sit right there and don’t move a muscle, dear. I’ll be right back.” 

The beta woman ran off not a second later, leaving the duo alone in her wake. 

Shanks smiled over at his omega, propping his head up on his hand as he mused lovingly, “I think she likes you.” 

“Think so?” Mihawk inquired back as he lightly sipped on a glass of water. 

The alpha laughed quietly, the deeper notes of the sound rumbling fondly as he worked at the second plate of food he’d been given, “By the way…the person I went to see earlier…”

At Shanks’ note of hesitance, Mihawk arched a brow in a show of elegant curiosity. The alpha debated how he should reveal the news, but figured sugarcoating it would be worse than simply blurting it out. So, with a tiny breath of resolve, Shanks said, “…it was Garp.” 

“Pardon?” 

“Garp.” Shanks said again, a little louder this time, “I asked for his help, and he agreed to give it.” 

“You asked a marine officer for aid?” Mihawk clarified, carefully concealing his reaction on the matter as he worked through the news he was given. 

Having the other say it out loud did sound a bit crazy, but Shanks quickly moved to assure, “It makes sense if you think about it. Who better to hide us from the navy than a man who knows exactly where the marines will be when they’ll be there?” 

“Garp.” Mihawk repeated, his brows drawing together into a pinched scowl. “Of all people, Red.” 

Shanks sighed, “I know it’s bad form to depend on the navy—“

“Don’t misunderstand me,” Mihawk cut in smoothly, “I understand your logic on asking a naval officer for assistance. That is not an issue, but rather a rare stroke of genius on your part.”

“I wouldn’t say me being a genius is rare —“

“My complaint is with the individual himself. Garp is a classless idiot.” 

Though uttered with a straight face and not meant to be a joke, Shanks couldn’t stifle his laugh upon hearing the reason behind Mihawk’s thin expression. The omega didn’t find the same amount of humor in the situation as Shanks did apparently, because he continued to sit in baffled disgruntlement as the alpha snorted abruptly. 

“This is not funny, Shanks. Garp is mannerless and crude! I refuse to sail with him for any amount of time lest my sanity be greatly tested,” As Mihawk’s protests grew more fervent, Shanks’ laughter started to reach its peak, which only further incited the omega in return, “He has no shame! Have you not seen the way he picks his nose? It is revolting !” 

“Mi—“ Shanks choked on another laugh, wheezing as his stomach ached , “Angel—he’s not that bad—“ 

“I have only met that man a handful of times, and each encounter has left me physically ill .”