Hello everybody,

so this is actually quite an old extra chapter, but I thought now would be the right time to post it ;-)
Have fun!

Bedtime stories

-Mihawk-

He opened his eyes and let his gaze drift to the side. Roronoa next to him pressed his head into the pillow with a tortured face, his eyelids fluttering, his hands clawing at the blanket. He was obviously having a nightmare. Another nightmare.

"Roronoa," Mihawk murmured, reaching out to him, "wake up."

Before he could even touch Roronoa, he was pressed into his pillow, two hands squeezing his throat while the other knelt on top of him, wild eyes staring at him. Then Roronoa let go of him, flinched back, and rubbed his left hand over his eye and temple.

"Bad dream?" Mihawk asked into the darkness, watching Roronoa continue to rub his temple, his scarred eyelid closed again.

"Sorry," he murmured.

"No, no. It may not be my preference, but if you want to try something new in bed, go ahead."

Now Roronoa gave him an obviously surprised look and despite the warm cheeks, Mihawk had to smile at it.

"Did you just make a joke? About sex?"

"Why so surprised? I can be funny."

This elicited a grin from both of them and it seemed like Roronoa was finally relaxing a bit. Mihawk put one hand on Roronoa's neck and stroked his cheek with his thumb while the other was still perched on top of him.

"Last night you had nightmares, too. What troubles your mind?"

Roronoa rarely tormented himself in his sleep, rather he slept soundly like a log or snored so loudly that Mihawk could not fall asleep.

"Nothing important," he replied, and fell back into bed next to Mihawk. "Just slept badly."

He tilted his head in Mihawk's direction, yawned widely, and then closed his unharmed eye before pulling the blanket back over them.

"It's the middle of the night, let's sleep."

"No, you cannot go back to sleep just like that," he replied softly, and Roronoa half-opened his eye again.

"If you don't want me to stay..."

"Roronoa, believe me, I've already woken up to much worse sights than you on me with your hands on my neck, so much worse. There was almost something erotic about it." As expected, the other rolled his eye over it. "But I do not like to see you so restless with the knowledge that you will continue your journey tomorrow."

Roronoa yawned again before finally crossing his arms under the back of his head and turning to Mihawk, the small gold chain and three earrings glistening in the pale moonlight that fell through the porthole at the headboard.

"It's nothing serious," he murmured with another yawn. "Sometimes I don't sleep well at night. Nothing to worry about, there's still plenty of time to sleep during the day."

That explained at least some of it. After all, Roronoa rarely slept at night, at least not on board with his crew, where he usually went to bed in the early hours of the morning and made up for the missing sleep by taking naps throughout the day.

Mihawk lay on his side to get a better look at Roronoa, who was now looking up at the ceiling again. But out of the corner of his eye, he met Mihawk's gaze every now and then.

"It's his memories," he finally spoke softly after a few long seconds, and Mihawk knew who he was talking about. "Sometimes I forget that I dreamed it again, sometimes I don't."

"And they are bad memories?"

"They're not mine, that's bad enough," Roronoa replied with a soft shrug. "I'm not necessarily a fan of seeing his memories over and over again, but it's more like an annoying book that I can't just close; I'm not particularly interested in it, but it's nothing dramatic, rather boring or pathetic."

"And today?"

Now Roronoa just looked at him, did not say anything, and it was not necessary. Mihawk surveyed him thoughtfully, while Roronoa rolled onto his side to get a better look.

"Maybe he wants to tell you that it is time to face your past. Did you talk to your crew about those memories?"

Roronoa shook his head.

"No, that's not what it's all about..."

"Roronoa, you cannot just ignore what you..."

"Listen to me." For a moment they were both silent, even in the soft whispers of the night they could interrupt each other quite wonderfully. "This has nothing to do with Oarnos, so we don't have to worry about that just yet."

Mihawk obviously disagreed, but he was willing to neglect Oarnos for a moment, because these dreams had to have something to do with it, and if he wanted to get to the bottom of it, it was best not to irritate Roronoa unnecessarily, especially when he was not well-rested.

"Fine, I give in, but what about your crew? What about those memories? You cannot just ignore them."

"And I don't," Roronoa muttered defensively. "Don't worry, I'm not ignoring them."

"Still, it might be smart to at least let your crew in," he asked doubtfully.

"No, it wouldn't help," Roronoa objected with a serene determination that only made Mihawk more vigilant. "You're too worried about this stuff. I know what I'm doing, and telling the others about these dreams wouldn't do anyone any good."

"Do you not worry the past might catch up with you eventually?"

Roronoa groaned softly, obviously annoyed that Mihawk did not want to leave the subject alone.

"Honestly? No. Eventually, when the time comes, we'll take care of Oarnos and all that crap if we have to. But definitely not tonight and not tomorrow, so stop worrying about bridges we don't have to cross yet and let's finally sleep."

Mihawk was far from satisfied with this answer.

"Roronoa, as you know, I worry about anything that might be relevant. And the fact that you are tormented by the memories of a stranger night after night worries me." The other was about to reply, but Mihawk continued, "Besides, you are someone who likes to ignore problems until you cannot avoid them anymore. Therefore, my concern is probably justified. You say there is no need for action and that it would be unnecessary to let your crewmembers in. But at the time, you also thought you could ignore Eizen and you had long intended to leave your crew out, even at the cost of your own life. So please understand my motives."

Roronoa looked at him for a long time, seeming to think seriously about his words, then sighed again.

"You're really annoying," he grumbled softly, but showed his small grin for the first time. "I'm not the idiot I used to be. If I have a problem, I'll bring it up, don't worry, I'll talk to you, Luffy, or the others, I promise."

He sounded so honest; did he really mean those words? Would he really act like that? Mihawk decided to interpret his doubts in Roronoa's favor and gave him the benefit of the doubt for the night.

"Fine, I admit defeat. If you say that I do not need to worry and that you will seek help as soon as you face a problem, then I believe you. I trust your judgment, Roronoa." He allowed himself to run his hand through Roronoa's hair and stroke his cheek, which Roronoa did not object for once. "All right, my little frog, let's get some sleep." He withdrew his hand and closed his eyes, felt Roronoa move and then it was calm, so pleasantly calm, just their breathing, the pleasant humming of the swords, and the whisper of the waves.

"Tell me?"

"Hmm?"

"What do you know about the past?"

He opened his eyes. Roronoa had folded his arms behind his head again and looked up at the ceiling, on which the moonlight reflected in the sea was refracting, obviously not ready to fall asleep, which was unusual for him. Whatever he had dreamed, he was unusually heavy minded that night. Was it a sign of concern after all? Instantly, his trust crumbled.

"More than I am really interested - because I have always found the forgotten century rather boring - and yet probably less than I should, especially considering who you are."

Now Roronoa's gaze fell on him, without the other changing his posture.

"Who I am?" he repeated. "Or who we are?"

For a long moment, Mihawk thought about these words, not because he did not understand them, but because he knew that it would now depend on his choice of words whether Roronoa would tell him at least a little more.

"So, you are my destiny after all."

"I don't believe in stuff like that."

"And yet you saw me in his memories," he concluded from the other's words.

"I've only seen someone with hawk eyes, not you. I've seen someone with eyes like yours kill the Guardian at his request."

"So is this how our time together will end? You are going to ask me to kill you someday?"

Now Roronoa rolled his eye.

"Why do you think that?" he grumbled dismissively. "Why do you think we need to repeat what they did?"

"Why else would the Dracule family strive to create the perfect swordsman? Why else would my father have set Nataku on you? Why else would he have warned me not to get involved with a Roronoa? It is predestined for us, one day we will..."

"East Blue."

"Excuse me?"

Roronoa looked up at the wooden sky again.

"You spared me – something that, according to everyone who knows you in any way, was really out of character for you – even though I didn't even ask you for it, in fact, I even offered my life for this fight. The actions of the past do not bind our decisions in the present, didn't you tell me so?"

Oh, he really was not used to this argumentative Roronoa, at least not when he wanted to use Mihawk's own words against him.

"That was in a completely different context, my dear companion, and I..."

"Mihawk." The other turned to him. "Kill me!"

...

He forgot to breathe.

It was no stupid joke, no brazen game. Roronoa sounded cool and matter-of-factly, it was not a request, it was an order. He had just ordered Mihawk to kill him.

Here, in their bed.

"Wha... What is your point?!"

"If I command you, if I ask you, if I beg you, will you kill me?" He still sounded so matter-of-factly, so utterly unflinching. "If my monster were to overpower me, if I were to jeopardize everything I care about, will you stop me, knowing that I'd rather die than kill just one of them? Mihawk, should it ever be, can I count on you to kill me if you must? That you put your own emotions behind mine? Even if you hate yourself for it? That you'll stop me, even if it destroys you? Can you kill me?"

Such situations were rare, for Mihawk was speechless, while Roronoa seemed to have no difficulty finding the words.

"You can't," Roronoa answered. "You never could. Not even back then in the East Blue, but also not when you were drunk. Not, when you slammed me to the ground and I offered it to you. You couldn't do it on Marijoa when I provoked your bloodlust, and you couldn't even do it when we were finally fighting, and I pushed you to your limits. You're afraid that the deeds of some dead guys centuries ago will determine your decisions in the present, yet you've had the opportunity so many times and haven't done it once."

Still Mihawk could not find the words. He had never liked it when someone analyzed him, but he disliked it much more when others thought they had to recognize things about him that he himself was not aware of. His companion was no exception in this regard.

"Your reasoning is incomplete. You know I would have killed you if Jiroushin had not been there."

Roronoa shrugged.

"Maybe, or maybe not. To speculate about what ifs is useless. Jiroushin stopped you and you didn't kill me, these are the facts. Facts that refute your stupid fate."

"Do you really think I misjudged my own abilities so badly that I...?"

"I think it's easier for you to be afraid of losing control and killing someone unintentionally than the idea that you can't kill someone even if you wanted to, even if you gave up control to do so."

Roronoa did not grin, he spoke absolutely calmly and earnestly, did not try to tease or mock Mihawk. Still, Mihawk felt an underlying anger that he rarely felt when he spoke to Roronoa.

"You are quite brazen. You are the man who can hardly put his own thoughts and feelings into words, and now you want to give me..."

"I don't want to argue," he interrupted Mihawk directly, without getting cold at all. "But if you don't agree with me, just answer my question. Is there even a single scenario, however impossible and unrealistic it may be, in which you would be willing to give me the deathblow?"

There was silence between them as he looked at Roronoa, who looked back so calmly. Images and words of the past years echoed within him as he looked at the man who had become more than his disciple, more than his successor, more than his rival. Even though he had never thought he would ever have to think such cheesy thoughts — and he certainly would not say them — it was Roronoa, who gave meaning to his life. It might have been that Mihawk was almost pathologically possessive, and yet he had always been willing to be selfless, generous, even kind for Roronoa. For Roronoa, Mihawk had rediscovered his humanity, abandoned his selfishness.

"No," he replied calmly. "No matter what, and if it tears me apart, and if it tears you apart, and if it tears apart everything you hold dear. Even if it is in vain, or would be more merciful to you, even if death is only delayed and it will give you only minutes of agony, I will not kill you, Roronoa; I cannot be that selfless. I am the one person you would survive for, and you are the one person I would not kill. But not because I cannot, but because I do not want to. I am far too selfish to do that."

Now a dangerous grin crossed Roronoa's features.

"But you are aware that then you have to betray your sacred fate? After all, that's exactly what happened in those memories."

"Then I guess I will have to betray my own fate." He pulled the other towards him, holding him close. "But tell me, Roronoa, would you kill me?"

"Yes," he replied without hesitation. "Before you become something you don't want to be, before you do something you never wanted to do, I'll stop you, come what may. And because I promised you to survive, to survive you, and because you won't kill me, I'll kill you if I have to."

Mihawk could not help but smile.

"This is probably the most beautiful declaration of love I have ever received," he whispered, one hand still on Roronoa's cheek, who then snorted and showed him a grin again, masking his embarrassment, as so often when Mihawk put their feelings into words.

"Oh gosh, how low your bar must be," he smirked softly, though he blushed in the pale moonlight.

"Make fun of it all you want, but for me, the certainty of having a fulfilled life and dying of either old age or your sword is actually very liberating," he honestly admitted. "After Sharak... I could not live in a world where you died, my naïve little frog. Maybe this person from the past was stronger than me, maybe you are so much stronger than me, but I..."

He paused as Roronoa lifted his head slightly.

"Excuse me, that was a bit too morbid and theatrical, even by my standards, wasn't it?"

Roronoa just looked at him for a moment, then tilted his head back, more against Mihawk's hand, and closed his eye.

"I'm strong, Mihawk. I'm strong enough that you can be weak." Then he looked at Mihawk again threateningly. "But I expect a challenge from you. Don't make it too easy for me to outlive you, understood? I want it to be like all our fights, until the first one falls, anyone could have won."

Now Mihawk laughed softly.

"As you know, I like interesting competitions, my dear companion. Alright, let's make a bet." Roronoa's eye widened, but then his grin grew into curiosity. "What wins, my fate or your decision, my destiny or your luck? If you are mistaken, you will break your promise and I will hold it against you forever. But if you are right..."

Whatever he was about to say, Roronoa interrupted, coming close to him and, without breaking eye contact, pressed his forehead against Mihawks, a gesture he could not place, for it was certainly not meant to be tender, perhaps rather rebellious, combative.

"Deal," Roronoa whispered with a playful undertone, "but don't worry, I always win."

"You should not underestimate me," Mihawk remarked with a feigned roll of his eyes, "as you know, I hate losing."

"But oh, how much you love the winner," Roronoa laughed and dropped back onto his pillow.

"You do enjoy making fun of me."

"Oh, I do," but he did not sound so mischievous anymore as he stared at the ceiling almost thoughtfully, still a soft smile on his lips. "So it's a life-and-death bet. Huh, never thought that a relationship would be so exciting."

"Tze, you really are a strange man, Roronoa. Believe me, this conversation is probably far from the norm."

Now Roronoa looked at him, almost surprised.

"You forget who we are. You are a bit insane, my dear, and I have always been cruel to those I care about. I do not think you would find such a conversation in the tearjerkers of the Chef."

"Mhm," Roronoa nodded in agreement, as if he had actually considered it. Then he sighed aloud. "Damn, even though I'm really tired, I'm honestly in the mood to fight right now. What do you say? Let's get started at sunrise?"

"I applaud your enthusiasm, but that will hardly be possible. We are on the open sea and there is no suitable island in the area." The other sighed again, and his childish reaction to all these wise and serious topics elicited another smile from Mihawk. "But we could do something else, very intimate, to satisfy your greed."

Roronoa just raised an eyebrow unimpressed.

"Don't wanna," he grumbled coldly.

"You are so cruel."

"No, you're cruel, I'm a bit insane." Now Roronoa looked over at him out of the corner of his eye and his smile faded. There were moments like this, when Mihawk could not tell what the other was thinking, and yet his neck muscles got tense.

"What is the matter, Roronoa? You seem so serious all of a sudden."

The younger man was silent for a much too long moment.

"So you can't remember?" he asked.

"Someone else's memories?" Mihawk asked, leaning on his forearm to straighten up a bit, and looking at Roronoa. "No, certainly not."

"That's good."

He watched as Roronoa closed his eye, now much more satisfied than before, and this unknown tension seemed to dissipate, but not for Mihawk.

"Why?"

"Mhmh," he just shook his head.

"Roronoa," he grumbled, "you cannot just bring this subject up again and then not give me an answer. Once I may have admitted defeat, but a second time I will not let it rest, and as you know, I can be very obstinate."

Obviously annoyed with himself for bringing up the subject again, Roronoa groaned with a low growl. But Mihawk kept his eyes on him, did not allow Roronoa to elude him again, and he could see Roronoa giving in.

"This person in these memories killed the Guardian," he spoke into silence. "Didn't want to; I could see it, that desperation in those eyes. Pleading, begging, crying, but ended up doing it and then continued to live, for who knows how long."

For a long time, it was quiet between them.

"I wish I could take the burden of those memories off your shoulders, Roronoa. Some are certainly not worth paying attention to."

"Do you want me to tell you the truth?" Roronoa did not move, lying still for a long time, his eyes closed as Mihawk watched him. "I don't care for this memory, it's annoying – especially because I know it by heart now – but I don't get nightmares about it."

Mihawk made no reply, just listened.

"But sometimes... it's not that memory. It... It's a dream, I hear you saying these words. You stand before me, like this Wanderer before the Guardian, and you look at me with those eyes. It's this look, almost like back then on Marijoa, only..." He hesitated. "And I swore to myself that I would never let that dream turn into reality. I won't let you ever look at me like that, even if it means strangling you with my own bare hands."

Slowly, Mihawk lowered himself back onto his pillow and surveyed the dark wooden ceiling above them. He remembered that moment when he had looked down at Roronoa, his greed so much stronger than his reason. He remembered that pain when his greed had seen no other way than to kill Roronoa before Jiroushin had stopped him.

"You do not have these dreams because it is night," he concluded, "but because you only sleep at night when I am there. You have these dreams when I am close to you."

"Maybe," Roronoa agreed, without reproach, without shame.

"Then I better leave today than tomorrow," he said matter-of-factly. "Maybe it is a good thing that I wanted to leave at noon either way. Then you will finally be able to catch some good sleep."

There was silence between them for a while as Mihawk realized that Roronoa had once again carried a burden that they could have avoided if only he had said it sooner. At the same time, it hurt. The knowledge that his presence gave his little frog such dreams pained him. The knowledge that the simple solution meant that he would see the other even less often pained him.

"Stay one more night." These words were gentle, clear, without any hesitation.

"But Roronoa..." He looked over at the other, who yawned loudly again, completely relaxed.

"I'm sure I'll get a good night's sleep tomorrow night, so stay for a little longer."

Mihawk looked at him doubtfully. "Are you sure?"

"No," Roronoa replied with a casual shrug. "But either way, I want you to stay another night. I want you to show me again how to take care of Josei; I have the feeling that something still doesn't quite fit."

Then, leaning on his forearm with a ponderous grunt, he simply flopped down on Mihawk's chest in an awkward attempt of affection that Mihawk had grown to cherish over time.

For a moment he looked at Roronoa with a soft sigh, wondering how he could justify another day with a task of a few minutes. Lost in thoughts, his fingers slid almost automatically through Roronoa's hair, this being the only place and the only time Roronoa let him. Mihawk then finally closed his eyes with a soft smile.

"All right, my spoiled little frog. I am going to stay another night."