Author's Note: Basically set after the wonderful scene where Mihawk comes to show Shanks Luffy's bounty and ends up getting roped into a party with the assumption that said party goes late into the night and that perhaps he and Shanks do it in the bushes. XD Regardless of what you imagine goes down between the two in the afterglow of the celebrating, Beckie!fierce shall have none of this crap...please enjoy the blatant slash! :D
-bows-
-S
He wasn't looking forward to this, not in the least, but he couldn't ask for better circumstances and, besides, there was no telling when they would meet again. The stone he'd been leaning against had ceased to be comfortable about half an hour in and he'd long lost count of the hours since.
Beckman shifted his spine among the rock's ridges. It couldn't be too long now.
His dark eyes stole over the darkness they had already soundly conquered, zeroing in on a part in the endless rows of bushes that had been consuming the bulk of his brain space ever since his captain had disappeared beyond it.
But it wasn't the faint glow of Shanks' white shirt he was waiting for. It couldn't be long.
He heaved a sigh as quietly as possible, clenching and unclenching his hand where it lay flopped at his side. What he wouldn't give for a cigarette. Maybe he was a little early, though. These things took time, he knew, but still.
It could be any second now.
He hugged his musket closer, and looked up through the leafy canopy to the dusky sky. Was it morning already? Or were the last few hours of night still creeping by? These ponderings were cut short at the unmistakable rustle of leaves that instantly sucked his gaze back to the nondescript part.
Again he let a sigh pass through marginally parted lips and solidly clenched teeth. It must have been a bird or something else overhead. Unless the Shichibukai was escaping through the trees.
He couldn't suppress the huff of humor that rose in his throat, burying the small smile in another heavenward lift of the eyes. A second sudden peal of shaking leaves and protesting twigs broke the spell of waiting as he looked up to confirm his hopes and, sure enough, the ghostly pallor of Hawkeye's skin lit up the patch of foliage that had for so long been his focus.
With a contradictory mixture of relief and resistance, Beckman lit up, taking a much needed drag as he at last unfolded his unused limbs to stand. Rolling a stiff shoulder and leaning his neck in all directions with satisfying results, the first mate of the Red-Haired Pirate Crew widened his stance and prepared to hold his ground.
As much as he wasn't looking forward to this, the reprieve from slouching in his now thoroughly uninviting sleeping space was great enough to make it bearable.
Though Mihawk would have had to be completely devoid of at least two of what were actually some of his more acute senses in order to not notice Ben Beckman - even if the man wasn't such a massive figure - the perpetually scowling swordsman made absolutely no sign of acknowledgment as he donned the hat he'd been carrying and continued along the path that led out of camp and to the sea. When Mihawk walked past him, it became clear to Beckman that he was being forced to make the first move.
"I thought you said you had no interest in fighting a man with one arm."
The Shichibukai came to a stop just beyond the graying gunsman and took his time, allowing a smile to spread across his lips.
There really was nothing like a challenge.
Mihawk turned to face his opponent and addressed his back.
"Well said."
Beckman belatedly followed suit after the desired engagement, staring down his long features to study the faintly smirking speaker.
"You are not mistaken; those were my words. And, indeed, it was not much of a fight. though I must admit," he lifted fine-boned hands in a gesture he used to emphasize his pleased recognition of another's skills, "your captain is a surprise as ever." He met the taller man's stare with his piercing counterpart, losing none of his condemning pride in the marked difference between their statures.
"Right," Beckman removed his cigarette, taking the opportunity to tap the ash while he responded, "so it seems like you're still interested then."
Hawkeye's expression smoothed itself out to his usual austere frown. "It has been quite a while since we've crossed paths, Ben Beckman. You and your captain may have changed since then; I have not."
With a definitive cock of the head, Mihawk made an about face and continued on his way to Ben's chagrin.
Their duel was far from over.
"He missed you." The bluntly stated fact successfully froze the retreating swordsman. "And he still will."
He watched an inhale of irritation lift Hawkeye's shoulders, but the swordsman was still resisting the call back to battle, hoping to end it quickly and not bothering to turn again.
"It is only because he is always forgetting what I made very clear the first time. I have reminded him. It should no longer be a problem."
"No, that is the problem. He'll always want to forget, he'll always miss you; this is a human being we're talking about, Mihawk."
"I see you have indeed changed. To hear such emotional trash from the mouth of a pirate-"
"Don't toy with our captain!" Beckman snarled. All the Shichibukai's beating around the bush was starting to piss him off. Plus, he seemed to be dancing around an idea Beckman wasn't even ready to hear from himself, nevermind an irritating pet of the World Government.
Apparently, his last accusation had struck a nerve in the swordsman as he finally whirled around, delicate features arranged in the very picture of fury, and come to an aggressive halt only inches away.
"'Toy'? Do you dare insult me? I do not have time for play!" With an indignant sigh Mihawk drew himself back slightly, withdrawing his glare as he momentarily looked down and to the side in a struggle to calm himself and clear his temper enough to say what needed to be said.
When he returned his unusually piercing gaze to Beckman's, it was with dismissive distance. "If Red Hair wished to impart these feelings to me, he would have done so himself. You are out of line."
He answered the detached attempt to disengage by leaning back on his fling-lock and taking a slow drag on his smoke before responding with equal inattention to haste, "Have you really been off a crew for so long that you've forgotten what a first mate is supposed to do? I'm just seeing to my duties, Hawkeye."
"Hmm." The swordsman waved a hand in front of his face to clear the smoke, an unnecessary action Beckman correctly called as a sign of his acceptance of the most recent strike.
The descent of the deceptively thin appendage revealed the return of his haughty smile. This exchange of blows had not been as much as a waste of time as he had predicted.
"It seems I had quite forgotten them. I will do well to keep them in mind, yes?"
Beckman studied his open handed gesture from under lids made even heavier by the weight of a slight glare. Hawkeye was much more intimidating when you couldn't tell what he was thinking.
The playful grin did not falter as he met the inspecting stare, well aware that he was giving away nothing. "But it is late and you have not slept at all."
Privately relishing the drama, he made an elegant bow, sweeping off his hat in a sign of unidentifiable but sincere respect. This grandiose gesture was too much, even for Beckman, and a wide if still mildly suspicious smile surfaced.
He returned the display of courtesy with a deliberate nod, while countering, "Neither have you."
The corners of Mihawk's mouth slid up even further as he cocked his head in a much less sinister manner than before.
"Well said."
"Hm."
"But I am intruding on your morning now. It is well past time I was on my way."
The pensive pirate watched the sauntering Shichibukai depart for the third and final time, still unsure whether he had won or lost, and wondering if he should interrupt this last retreat or let him off in silence. Heart got the better of head due to sleeplessness and perhaps something else.
"Take care of him."
The Shichibukai's eyes narrowed with pleasure at impending triumph. This time he did not pause, stepping over slumbering crewmen and navigating around the remnants of a night of heavy drinking without missing a beat.
"That, I believe, is your job."