Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The waves are calm on the Grand Line by the time Drake leaves Wano. He is grateful, otherwise an escape would have been difficult.

Preparing the small sloop for sailing is an easy, mechanical motion.

Climb the rigging, take off Kaido’s flag. It wouldn’t do good to be seen after the Emperor’s defeat.

Raise the anchor.

Raise the sails.

Catch the wind.

Leave.

He doesn't take much. Food and medical supplies are most important. The latter of the two being very sparse with the amount of people who got hurt in the battle but he is a former officer. He has access to exclusive sources others might not know about. Food is easier, seeing as it isn’t hoarded anymore. He takes enough for two people.

A log pose is absolutely necessary.

As is an eternal pose to Renegade Reef. A pirates’ haven.

He doesn’t know how far the rumours of him being a Marine have spread. It’s unlikely anyone outside of Wano knows about them but he can’t be too careful.

The storm around Wano country has long since settled and the boat soon catches a strong wind in the sail.

He takes off.

He looks straight ahead and pretends he doesn’t see the other ships and boats sailing away. Kaido’s lackeys are running away now that their captain has been defeated. They all send fearful looks his way but he has other things to worry about.

He hopes the marine-issued Transponder Snail he purposefully left on the island wouldn’t ring for a couple more days at least…

Three days pass easily.

Drake is lucky. He has only encountered two storms and none of them were too harsh. The morning is cold and fog has settled everywhere but he trusts the eternal pose to lead him to his destination.

By noon the sun is scorching above his head and he shifts uncomfortably in his leather jacket. The Wano weather has been much kinder to him. A northerner like him has never been able to handle so much heat but he bears it just fine.

Luckily, there is a distraction. He senses the feeling of another person’s presence below deck before anything else, then soft sounds of swishing fabric reach his ears in between the waves hitting the sides of the hull. Drake exhales in relief and makes his way below, gripping in his hand a small silk satchel.

“You’re awake.”

Hawkins closes his eyes and puts down the glass of water he has been drinking from. His hair is bloodied as they were on the battlefield earlier, the tips looking more brown than blonde now. It’s tangled, and quite a mess really, Hawkins would never present himself in this way, but Drake couldn’t bring himself to brush his hair or wash it while Hawkins was unconscious. He knew how Hawkins would feel about it once he woke up. His face, however, is still fair and pleasant, masking away the pain he must undoubtedly be feeling.

“You shouldn’t move around too much,” Drake speaks before approaching him. “Let me change your bandages.”

“Stay away.” Hawkins’ tone is muted, defeated. He probably loathes to appear so weak in front of another person, a Marine of all things, Drake understands that. But there are matters far more important than that right now.

Without listening to his request Drake kneels beside him. He puts the satchel in his pocket and he picks up the medical kit, rummaging for some clean bandages and pain-killers. Hawkins is obivously trying to hide it but the clench of his teeth and the paleness on his cheeks are more than enough to give him away. It’s difficult to ignore it and it’s even more difficult to not show concern, but Drake knows it’s for the best that he keeps his distance for now.

He takes in a harsh breath and glances back at Drake. “What is your problem? I told you to leave. You already won, you’re already getting that prestige at Marine Headquarters, so just leave me with my dignity while I still have it.”

Drake hardly ever saw him get angry and even now he only seems frustrated while his voice remained even and calm. Hawkins never showed too many emotions in general, so him losing his composure even to this small extent meant he had to be suffering a great amount.

He reaches for Hawkins’s head and cuts off the bandage with scissors. “We’re not going to Marine Headquarters.”

Hawkins huffs. "Of course not. You're taking me to Impel Down." He finally seems to relax while Drake reapplies his bandages, probably realising he has no choice in the matter.

Once he is done, Hawkins meets his gaze. It is harsh and unforgiving, red eyes filled with contempt, void of any affection they might have shown a long time ago.

"You should've just let me die."

Drake doesn’t react and calmly moves onto his left arm. He continues changing the bandages around the stump, as he pretends he doesn’t hear Hawkins' grunts of pain. His touches are gentle and he tries to hurry in order to give Hawkins the space he’s craving.

"We're not going to Impel Down either,” he finally says once the bandages are safely secured around the other man's arm. He grabs a pill and hands it to Hawkins. It’s the strongest one he has, but if it’s not enough he will give him another later.

Hawkins holds it dumbly in his palm as he stares at Drake with shock. "Then where? Aren't you a Marine?"

What point is there in denying anymore? Hawkins already holds nothing but contempt for him, Drake’s made his peace with that. Plus, it’s just the two of them here and despite everything, Drake still trusts him. Perhaps now more than ever, after his secrets have come to light.

“I am, but I’m not arresting you. We’re going to Renegade Reef.” He nods towards the glass of water. “Take the pill.”

Hawkins seems to have no intention in obeying as he clenches his fist and looks straight at Drake with his eyebrows furrowed. “Why did you save me?”

Without hesitation, Drake replies, “You know why.”

Hawkins laughs soullessly and leans back slightly. “Quite the short replies today, huh?” He finally throws the pill in his mouth and swallows it without water. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Once we get to Renegade Reef, I’m leaving.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Drake leans on the mast. He knows well the look in Hawkins’s eyes, the same look he gives to enemies that he is chasing down. It is a look that promises pain and punishment and Drake is more disheartened than he’d like to admit seeing as that look is now directed towards him. “You won’t last a day, you can’t even kill a fly as you are.”

“And that’s none of your business. Not anymore, …” He puts a finger to his chin. “What’s your Marine rank? Captain? Probably not. Commodore? Could be. Vice-admiral? I can’t give you that much credit.”

Drake looks away. “I won’t even have a rank after this, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Traitorous to the bitter end, can’t say I’m surprised.”

Hawkins knows how to hit where it hurts, Drake has had enough time to learn that about him. For once, he deserves it. He reaches into his pocket and throws the satchel into Hawkins’s lap.

Without saying a word, he picks it up and spills the contents on the floor next to him.

“These are…”

“Your cards.”

Hawkins glances at him, confused, before he picks up the deck to look through the cards. Some are stained with blood, Drake didn’t have enough time to clean them, but Hawkins doesn’t seem to mind. He is unable to shuffle them with only one hand but he soon summons his straws to his aid. His expression is not pained or angry anymore, he’s simply reading his cards as he usually does.

The sight is one that Drake is well accustomed to but this time it feels way more bitter than before.

“They predicted your death, how can you continue to handle them so easily?”

Hawkins raises his gaze. “I’m not dead, am I?”

And yet as he speaks one card falls from the deck. It lays on the wooden floor facing downwards. He picks it up and almost as if on cue, he reveals the death card. Hawkins chuckles.

Drake shakes his head. “Just toss them away.”

Raising a tattooed eyebrow in his direction, Hawkins places the card on one of his straws. “The death card rarely means anyone will die. It shows the end of a phase in someone’s life. Fitting, I would say. Don’t you?”

The conversation seems reminiscent of the many they used to have in the past. Maybe Hawkins’s patient explanation is his way of showing gratitude to Drake for returning his cards. He knows that gratitude would be short-lived but he also knows how much the cards ease Hawkins’s mind. That is something he learned over the past months… He couldn’t ever think of taking that away from him.

So he risked his life gathering all the damn 78 cards from the floor (yes, he counted) because he knew it would make it easier for Hawkins later. At that point he realised that he was too far gone, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“And yet some things remain the same…” He muses out loud, almost like he didn’t mean to.

Without looking up from his cards, Hawkins continues, “More things changed than you realise.”

Drake doesn’t doubt that, although the way Hawkins says it… It’s as if he’s trying to make Drake accept something. Something that he had long come to terms with.

Picking up the medical kit, he turns his back and opens the door.

“I’ll come back later with lunch. Let me know if you need anything.”

There is no response and Drake has to suppress a sigh. He moves to take a step forward when…

A razor sharp straw pierces the wall, missing his ear by mere centimetres. He turns around abruptly to look at the man behind him.

Without missing a beat and without looking up he replies, “There was a fly.”

As Drake turns to look back at the straw, true enough there is a fly stabbed perfectly in the middle. Holding back a smile, he just shakes his head and walks through the door.

Maybe it isn’t perfect… but after that exchange, Drake thinks that maybe it’s fixable.

Chapter Text

It’s painful.

It fucking hurts and none of the painkillers help in any way.

It’s like he is dragging his body as he walks, there is something wrong with his leg that Drake missed while treating him, but it doesn’t matter, Hawkins will do it himself.

He just needs to get as far away as possible. He won’t go back there again.

Hawkins sort of expected Drake to follow, but thankfully he didn’t. He helped him onto the dock and kept his distance after. Of course, Hawkins didn’t actually accept the help, but it was given without a choice for refusal.

Now all Hawkins has on him is the medical kit, a pouch of gold and his cards. Drake insisted on giving him the first two items but what he doesn’t know is that Hawkins has only ever needed one thing no matter the situation.

His card satchel hangs by his waist, swaying with each movement.

For now he finds an inn. He needs a real bed to sleep in.

₊⋆✦⋆₊

“Are you absolutely sure?”

Hawkins raises an eyebrow.

“Yes.”

“But…”

He shuffles the deck once more. The girl started off unsettled by the use of his Devil Fruit power but she doesn’t budge now.

Hawkins puts the Seven of Swords in front of her. Then another, Queen of Pentacles reversed.

“He’s lying to you. He didn’t give up on her.”

Her lip quivers.

“But why not?”

Another card. Nine of Swords. So many swords in this reading…

“He’s afraid there is someone else for you. I assume he wants to hurt you before you can hurt him.”

She shakes her head. “But there is no one else! Only him. I left everything behind to marry him…”

He continues shuffling the cards.

“I’m not the one you have to tell that to…”

Picking up the rest of the cards, he arranges the deck neatly in front of him. “There is a lot of insecurity and jealousy in this relationship. Unless you work it out, separation will follow.”

It’s clear she’s thinking about it deeply. Hesitantly, she nods. She hands him 10.000 berries.

“Thank you… Thank you. I’ll be back soon!”

He takes the money. Oh, he doesn’t doubt she’ll be back soon, but once she’s out of sight he sighs deeply.

Hawkins hates reading for other people. It’s draining and they never seem to understand no matter how clear he makes it to them.

At least they pay for his bed and dinner… He thinks bitterly after stuffing the money in his pocket. His prices are way above average but everyone on the island seems to know by now that his readings are most accurate.

Hawkins gets ready for the next customer. He straightens up the rug in front of him and places the cards neatly. The sun is scorching hot above his head, he even had to leave behind his signature cape, deciding to only wear his white shirt. It’s fine to wear it as it is, because he managed to mostly get out the blood stains, even if it’s still noticeable in some parts. It will have to do anyway as Hawkins can’t afford the luxury of new clothes yet. For the time being he can only focus on his survival, while stuck on a street corner on some old, dusty mat he took from the inn.

It’s barely been a week since he arrived on this island and the money Drake left him with didn’t last him nearly as long as Hawkins had hoped. He was forced to get on the streets and work, unless he wanted to be kicked out for not paying his room. Everything hurts, it hurts when he is sleeping and when he is awake, when he is laying down and when he is reading his cards. If he is going to be in pain anyway he might as well do something worth his time.

Hawkins focuses back on the crowd, waiting for new customers to approach. It’s quiet for a bit, as the passerbys move along without even sparing him a glance, but then someone approaches him. At first he feels that presence more than anything else. Unfamiliar, but powerful all the same, not trying to hide it as it makes its way through the crowd straight towards him. Normally, he would be concerned but there is no malice.

“So kid, tell me what I want to know.”

An old woman sits in front of him. Hawkins takes a look at her, she’s beautiful at her old age, even with the wrinkles adorning her face. Her hair, turning grey over time, rests on her shoulder, braided. Her colorful attire stands out in the crowd. It’s clear she is not a pirate nor a regular citizen and her hands are clean and well taken care of, like she’s never done heavy work. Her stance is relaxed, different than all the other nervous customers that come to him so that a former pirate can read their fortunes.

“I doubt you’ll find novelty in whatever I tell you.”

She grins. One of her teeth is crooked.

“Good eye. I’m here to see the brat stealing my business.”

Hawkins raises an eyebrow, amused. “Stealing? All of your customers came to me out of curiosity, they stayed because they liked my services. It’s honest work.”

“Honest? That’s rich coming from a pirate.”

Somehow, she found his wanted poster. She took it out of her pocket, all crumpled up and put it at his feet. Hawkins finds it hard to recognise the person in that picture.

“It’s the most honest work I’ve done in a while…” he murmurs but it’s not like she needs to know that. “So? This entire island is overrun by pirates. Most of them are your customers, right?”

Her face sours. “Exactly, that’s it. I can’t stand pirates, I’m willing to, of course, to keep a living, but I especially can’t stand it when pirates steal my business.”

“Not my problem.”

Hawkins is ready to leave, he can stop for today as long as he can be anywhere but here. He hasn’t been in the mood for conversation lately. He stands and picks up his things, but he’s interrupted.

“Why don’t you come over for tea?”

₊⋆✦⋆₊

Her little fortune-telling shop is quite what one would expect. Intricate, but beautiful with curtains draped all over the place, various trinkets scattered around the area and lots of lights hanging on the walls. It’s a perfect combination between neat and colorful and Hawkins can’t help but appreciate the balance. It definitely fits his tastes. Perhaps with a different couch in that corner and a table by the entrance… Ah! He got carried away. He quickly hurries to catch up to the old lady.

The thin smell of incense is comforting and there is even a magnificent crystal ball in the centre of the room. Hawkins stops to stare at it for a moment.

“I don't know about you, kid, but I have more than one string to my bow. Plus, it keeps the customers coming,” is the only thing she says before she leads him into a backroom. It’s a cosy little space with plenty of places to sit.

He makes himself comfortable on a sofa in the corner, grateful for the rest. The short walk over was enough to tire him out. He still needs a lot of time to heal before he can set sail to find his crew.

The lady disappears behind a door and doesn’t return for a few minutes. He wonders if there is a chance she will try to poison him, but after shuffling his cards the conclusion is that she won’t.

She comes back eventually with a tray. The porcelain is beautiful and very high quality - she must take great pride in it.

“Is there a particular reason you called me here?” Hawkins asks.

She pours the tea. “I’m just scouting the competition.”

The tea smells aromatic and pleasant. It tastes good too, and it warms up his body.

“Fair enough.”

He gets a nice hot drink for free, he won’t complain.

“But I also have an offer.”

Of course it was too good to be true.

“I don’t care about any offers. I won’t move.” It’s a good spot for business and it’s close enough to both the inn and different restaurants and stores. And it’s a huge bonus that he hasn’t seen Drake in the area.

“Not even if it benefits you?”

She pushes the tray of biscuits towards him. He takes one. It easily crumbles in his mouth.

Hawkins continues to drink his tea so he can leave as soon as possible. “I have all that I need, how would it benefit me?”

“I could give you a permanent place to stay, in exchange for a small amount of your profits.”

“Small amount?”

“Fifty percent, but you will use my prices.”

He scoffs. Control freak… “There is no way that benefits me.” Putting down the cup of tea, he stands. He’s heard enough. He might be weak but he won’t let anyone take advantage of him.

The lady makes no move to stop him, she just leans back in her seat and watches.

“You’re good at what you do, kid, and I can tell you’re not in peak condition yet. I’ll give you a place to stay and customers coming to you daily, with zero effort from your side. I’ll even throw in lunch, how about that?”

He stops and considers… It’s true the inn is inconvenient, people are always coming and going and the walls are thin, causing constant noise even at the most ungodly hours of the morning. He has to deal with drunks and aggressive idiots every single day and he doesn’t trust the food at all, which is why he has to frequent a lot of different restaurants in the area. It’s all very tiring for a recovering man.

Hawkins looks at her and she raises an eyebrow, waiting.

“Thirty percent, but I keep my prices.”

Her face twitches, but she smiles.

“Fine. Now sit down, will you? You didn’t finish your tea.” He sits and proceeds to listen to her mumbling something about this entitled new generation.

Hawkins smiles in his cup of tea.

Chapter Text

“It’s the freak again, ew…”

Hawkins is reading by his window when his peace is broken by those kids coming to upset him again. He looks up, giving them all a sharp glare.

“Careful, he’s gonna curse you!” Another one says, then immediately hides behind his leader as Hawkins glances at him.

“He won’t, that ain’t true.”

“It’s true! Leslie picked on him last week and then he fell down the stairs in the town square.”

“So what! That couldn’t have been him.” He points at Hawkins again. They’re so damn noisy…

The first kid is right, though. It was Hawkins, but he doesn’t need curses to scare them off.

Tap, tap, tap.

The leader tries to shake off the hand tapping his shoulder repeatedly. “Leave me alone, I told you I don’t care if I get cursed.”

Tap, tap, tap.

“I don’t care, I said!”

He picks up a rock and throws it at Hawkins’s window. It misses his head but it does leave an ugly dent in the wall behind him.

“Uhm, boss…?”

He throws another rock. This one clangs loudly against the window. It leaves a scratch. Hawkins frowns, how troublesome. He might have been inclined to just give them a little scare, but after that he’ll make sure they remember him.

The “boss” looks back and ends up face to face with one of his straw puppets. He screams, frightened.

“W-what is this thing?”

The little puppet raises a tiny hand and waves.

“Hey, freak, what the hell is this thing?”

As he speaks, dozens of small straw puppets pop out from different hiding spots. They all step awkwardly towards the boys. Hawkins doesn’t respond to the questioning, however he smirks into his book.

All of the kids take off running as the little puppets follow them closely. They’ll be out of range soon, but Hawkins keeps the pursuit until the last second. And if he made sure to hide some of those puppets in their hoods and pockets for them to find later, that’s his business.

Once he follows them as far as he can reach, he calls some his little puppets back and watches as they hop back inside the house. He gets up and closes the window, putting his book neatly on his desk and leaving his room to check on his mother.

Unsurprisingly, she is still in her work room, giving readings. He quietly enters and sits somewhere on the side, in his usual spot. Hawkins has a good view from here and he can learn all of the tricks of the trade just by watching. Although there is very little he doesn’t know already and he has been promised that he will work in this shop himself very soon.

“Will you pour us some tea, honey?”

His mother smiles at him. She has always had this certain grace about her. Her hair is golden and long and reaches her waist in elegant waves. Even the face tattoos that many showed contempt for, only accentuate her features and she smiles a lot more than Hawkins does.

It’s only then that he notices the person she’s talking with. It’s not one of their usual customers, it’s a Marine officer. His rank has to be quite high.

He doesn’t comment on it, however and just goes and gets the tea. He can only hear their conversation once he is close enough to pour it in their cups.

“I’m not asking you. This is for your own good.”

His mother keeps a polite and pleasant expression the whole time and thanks Hawkins once he gets them the tea.

“How is it for my own good? I’ll lose all my customers.”

“For the time being… But the Marines will be more than happy to help.”

She stands up.

“Thank you for the visit, Lieutenant, but I’ll have to decline.”

He glares at her. It’s such an ugly stare that Hawkins gets protective. He doesn’t leave his mother’s side.

The Marine tries to stare them down but neither of them budge. In a fit of anger, the table is flipped and his mother’s expensive tea set smashes to the ground. The Marine officer stomps away. His mother sighs and crouches to pick up the pieces.

“What did he want, mother?”

He moves to help her, but she immediately puts a hand on his shoulder and catches his gaze. “Listen to me, Hawkins. You have a pirate’s blood in your veins. Never trust a Marine no matter what they offer you. And never turn your back on your fellow pirates for a Marine, either.”

He nods, listening to her every word. It’s nothing she hasn’t said before but she seems like she needs him to understand at this moment.

“We’ll pay the price for this, but there’s always the chance their plan will fail…” She relaxes again and continues cleaning up the broken tea set. “No matter what, you have to survive, my dear.”

“I will.”

He will definitely survive, no matter what it takes.

₊⋆✦⋆₊

Eventually the incident doesn’t cross his mind anymore. Nothing happens, not even the consequences that his mother mentioned.

It’s now his turn to sit at the divination table with a customer. He’s spent the whole day here, his mother by his side ready to help him out or intervene when necessary. Hawkins is very proud of himself when it’s proven she doesn’t need to intervene at all. Eventually she even leaves him by himself and his focus only increases.

The last customers of the day stand up and politely thank him for the read. This time he follows them to his mother where they pay and talk about different matters. Most of their customers have ended up befriending his mother. She has always been a lot more social than he was and Hawkins knew she secretly hoped it would rub off on him. Unfortunately for her, he was more than happy to keep to himself as that has always been his nature.

Perhaps he has been taking after his father but he has no way of knowing for sure.

Soon enough, the customer leaves the shop and his mother hurries to close it for the day before someone shows up last minute.

“Did I do good, mother?”

She smiles and gently combs his hair with her fingers.

“Better than I could have imagined.”

“Then… May I have your deck of cards?”

She doesn’t respond and instead leads him to the couch. He leans into her side.

“That’s a difficult question.” She keeps combing his hair.

Hawkins frowns. “Is it? Don’t I deserve them?” Maybe he needs to work harder.

“Of course you do, but I’ve told you, they were a gift from my own mother. She’s always told me, I would get my hands on those cards after she has passed away.” She laughs. “Maybe I’m being selfish, but I want to keep them for a while longer.”

Hm. That’s difficult to accept. He feels that if he deserves them he should simply have them, but it’s his own selfishness clashing with his mother’s.

“Cheer up, you’ll get your hands on them after I’m gone. They’ll be my last gift to you.”

“It’s hard to cheer up after hearing that.”

Can’t he have both his mother and that deck of cards? He always reads better with them, no other deck from their collection matches their accuracy.

“I’m glad to hear you speak those words. I know you understand, you're a smart kid.”

He nods and his mother kisses his forehead.

“Off to bed now, we have a long day tomorrow.”

₊⋆✦⋆₊

Perhaps that conversation was fated. Perhaps it was meant for it to happen between the two of them at that point in time and as Hawkins has come to learn, changing fates is impossible. Perhaps his mother knew it, too.

The attack came in the middle of the night.

He was sleeping, then suddenly the cannonballs and gunshots woke him up from his slumber. It reminds him of a similar night years ago, one of his earliest memories. It was his mother running and him in her arms, but that time they were safe he knew that much. Now? He wasn’t so sure.

Jumping out of bed, he doesn’t even bother changing out of his pajamas. He’s only wearing his slippers on his feet as he runs to his mother’s bedroom, but it’s empty. That’s when he hears the screams.

It’s coming from the work room and he runs there only to see that same Marine from a few weeks prior. His sword is deeply buried in his mother’s stomach and there is a trickle of blood by her mouth. Her body hits the floor with a resounding thud as the Marine shakes his sword of the blood. Hawkins stands still in the doorway, not even trying to hide himself.

The Marine takes notice of him but he makes no move against him. Looks like his principles are above him killing a child. Hawkins just stares with blank eyes as the Marine turns his back, ready to leave the shop.

However, Hawkins is prepared. His straws have slithered across the floor and have now formed a giant, terrifying scarecrow that stands right in front of the Marine.

“What the hell is this?!”

He attempts to cut through its body with fast, relentless attacks but Hawkins is faster than him regenerating each straw again and again. Before the Marine could even comprehend the entire situation, his legs are bound and his arms immediately follow.

He is at Hawkins’ mercy now.

His steps are slow and light as he makes his way to the shotgun on the wall. Living on a pirate island is dangerous and his mother liked to be prepared. Looks like this attack was too sudden even for her to anticipate.

“You brat! You’ll be hunted down for the rest of your life if you do this! You’ll die! You’ll meet your mother’s fate.”

The words of a dying man.

“Fate? Funny you say that…”

He unlocks the safety and points the shotgun at the man’s head.

“Death is the one fate that we all share. Looks like you’ll meet it way before I do.”

Pulling the trigger comes easy and soon enough his straws untangle themselves and fall to the floor along with the heavy body.

Straw and blood mixing is a sight that Hawkins will soon get used to.

For now, he sits next to his mother’s body. Her eyes have lost their shine, perhaps she was looking for him in her last moments? He gently closes them.

Hawkins is trying to ignore the tears in his own eyes as he reaches for the object in her hands.

Did she know the whole time that she would meet her end here?

It’s a silk satchel, purple in colour and soft to the touch. He knows what it contains.

“Goodbye, mother.”

He stands up and leaves the shotgun on the floor.

With nothing but his deck of cards he leaves his childhood home. He makes use of the commotion and sneaks past the Marine ships until he finds a small dinghy suited to his needs.

The night is cold as they tend to be in the North Blue.

Hawkins sets sail and doesn’t look back.

₊⋆✦⋆₊

When he wakes up, sunshine is passing through the blinds. The incense smell is thicker than usual and it strangely reminds him of his mother’s shop.

Those are memories that Hawkins doesn’t visit often but now it’s somewhat comforting.

“Get up, it’s your shift, pirate scum.”

That voice… She’s yelling from the kitchen.

It’s been almost a week since he started working in the old lady’s shop. He’d be lying if he said he’s not grown fond of her and he can tell the feeling is reciprocated despite the harsh words she sometimes throws his way.

He gets out of bed and does his morning routine until he enters the work room. His first customer is already in the chair, sobbing in her hands.

Hawkins sighs and gets his cards ready.

Another day, here he goes.

Chapter Text

Being one of Kaido’s lackeys isn’t as bad as Hawkins initially thought.

He’s got certain privileges compared to the citizens of Wano country and the price he has to pay for them is nothing compared to the torture and enslavement he would have had to endure if he chose to disobey Kaido. It was the most simple choice, and the right one. He saw what happened to Kidd and his crew and he did not want that for himself. Collaborating is his only chance at eventually leaving this place.

Of course, it’s not easy. He can’t trust anyone around here and he has to watch his back constantly for any threats. The assignments are either dreadfully boring or too tiring, while all his partners are annoying.

Most of all, he misses his crew.

Despite all this… he’s doing well. Until he finds an opening to escape, at the very least.

Hawkins downs the whiskey in his glass and gets back to his cards. They help, as they always have, but he has found himself checking them way more often than he used to, and he is not happy about forming that particular habit. It just proves how uneasy he is here. Lately, he’s been studying them closely, looking for any loopholes or opportunities. So far, there is nothing.

He is a patient man but even he is getting restless after so long. No matter how hard he tries he can’t find a way out. Of course, he’s thought about simply running away, but he’s done his research and Kaido doesn’t allow that. He’s stuck.

The seat next to him is suddenly occupied, but Hawkins doesn’t pay it any mind. No matter how hard he tries he can’t figure it out and it’s driving him crazy. Not knowing is driving him crazy.

He takes out a card from the deck and places it on the counter. It’s the Sun but he can’t even take it in properly because a gloved hand unexpectedly rests right on top of it.

“Will you read my palm?”

Hawkins closes his eyes for a moment. Really? All these idiots here have been asking him to tell them their future. It’s been weeks and all sorts of ignorant assholes haven't stopped coming to him, from bottom-of-the-barrel nobodies to even higher ranking officials, he hasn’t been able to catch a break since he arrived.

He takes a look at the person.

“X Drake.”

Seeing him is unexpected to say the least. He usually hangs out in different areas with the other Tobiroppo, his missions holding way more significance to Kaido and the top officers than whatever Hawkins is usually assigned to. He has considered seeking him out before but it’s unlikely Drake would help him in any way as they never had anything in common other than their Supernova status.

“And you’re Basil Hawkins.” His voice is deep and has a certain gruff to it, taking Hawkins by surprise.

But it doesn’t last long at all. “We know each other’s names. Great.”

He goes back to his cards. Drake orders two drinks, one for Hawkins and one for himself.

“I was just curious to meet you, that’s all.” He slides the glass across the counter until it stops in front of Hawkins.

“What’s there to be curious about?” He takes a sip of the drink. It’s something different than what he had before, but it’s not really bad. He doesn’t bring himself to look at Drake and even if he has been staring at the Sun card for some time he wasn’t able to focus enough to make any sense of it. The fact that Drake still has his hand over it doesn’t help either.

“I’m curious about the Worst Generation, although I think there’s many things about you specifically that would make one curious.” There is a strange tone to his voice, but Hawkins doesn’t waste energy trying to figure it out.

He huffs. “Are you not part of the Worst Generation?”

“I am, but I can still be curious.”

Hawkins hums. The Sun… Maybe if it was reversed it would make sense, right? But it’s not and it can’t be a mistake. Maybe something good is coming? Or maybe it’s a sign that he should enjoy the current moment? But what is there to currently enjoy? This bland conversation surely can’t be it. He closes his eyes, trying to picture the card in his mind, a card he knows well; he thinks about the imagery, or any details that stand out in this situation, or anything that would make sense, but nothing does.

Fine. He looks back up at Drake who is simply enjoying his drink.

“What exactly are you curious about?”

Their eyes meet and Hawkins is surprised by the color of Drake’s eyes. A soft blue, a gentle gaze, not at all the eyes of a ruthless pirate or a merciless killer.

Drake shrugs and just asks a simple question. “Why are you here?”

It takes Hawkins by surprise because he can only let out an unintended scoff, followed by a chuckle. “Are you kidding? Same as almost everyone else in this goddammed crew. I don’t have a choice.”

He’s not scared about being labelled unloyal and having his privileges taken away. By now, Hawkins has learned that Kaido operates on fear more than loyalty and Drake doesn’t seem like a snitch either.

“Everyone else? I don’t know about that, joining Kaido’s crew was my own choice.”

That gets Hawkins’s attention. Before this, it was clear that Drake was not some lapdog to follow mindless orders. He must have left the Marines for a reason, right? Joining another tyrannical organisation after going through all the trouble of leaving one is simply odd, to say the least. Raising a tattooed eyebrow, he speaks, “Why would you do that? Other than losing all self-respect as a pirate captain?”

Drake is not meeting his gaze, just looking at the crystal glass in front of him. It’s almost empty now. “It’s not about that. It’s about strength.”

“You don’t seem like the type of man to care about those sorts of things.”

Tearing his gaze away from the other pirate, he looks down at the desk again. Another card. It’s the Knight of Pentacles and he almost rolls his eyes. No way this is it, but the cards don’t lie.

"How do you know what things I care about?" Drake's tone is not challenging, nor is it aggressive in any way, just curious. He still hasn't moved his hand from the Sun card.

Hawkins can't tell yet what Drake’s motive is, it’s a bit unnerving.

"I don't, just call it a hunch."

There's a pause, and Hawkins puts down his cards. He has a feeling he won't be able to read in peace tonight. Of course, that’s the true reason and it has nothing to do with the fact that he doesn’t like where the reading is going.

"If you work on hunches then that are those things for?" He nods to the cards.

Hawkins smiles and runs his hand over them, spreading them out over the counter. “Don’t you worry about that..."

Drake watches him, he looks interested but he doesn’t speak on it. Instead, he waves his hand in front of Hawkins, finally freeing the Sun card. Hawkins picks it up and adds it back to the deck.

"So you won't read my palm, then?" Drake asks, as if the previous conversation didn’t happen.

This again? He didn’t think Drake was actually serious about that.

"I don't do palm reading."

Drake raises an eyebrow. "You don't know how?"

Hawkins clicks his tongue. "I know how, I just don't do it."

It has never been his preferred form of divination. There are other, more consistent and reliable ways.

"Then humour me."

Hawkins sighs. Maybe he'll be left alone if he does this.

Leaning forward in his seat, he takes Drake's hand in his own; it's the left one and he makes a mental note. Hawkins pulls on that heavy leather glove, taking it off swiftly, immediately noticing how unusually cold Drake’s hand is, but he attributes it to his Zoan reptile blood. His touch is feather light as he traces the lines on his palm and he unconsciously takes note of the rough skin that he is brushing over, proof of Drake’s swordsmanship. Even without looking up, Hawkins can feel a heavy gaze on him.

Suddenly, he lets go of the hand. That was enough…

"Long life, good health, you'll encounter career setbacks. Congratulations, you might be a shitty pirate but at least you'll live longer than most of them."

Drake laughs, that must be an unusual sight. "Is that what you tell all your customers?"

"You're not my customer. Customers pay." His reply is simple and to the point.

"But I bought you a drink," Drake counters. "Doesn't that count?"

"Not really."

"It must count for something."

Why is he so insistent? It’s plain annoying, Drake must know that too. However, if he thinks about it, it does make sense, in a way. From Hawkins’ side, Drake seems to be a familiar face that can bring him some semblance of comfort and clever conversation until he's reunited with his crew. Perhaps he feels the same way about Hawkins, but then why did he talk about joining Kaido by his own choice?

"I'll buy you another drink sometime and we'll be even," Hawkins says. He can't deny the company is nice.

Drake seems pleased with that arrangement.

"Sounds good." He pauses, leaning a bit forward in his seat. "What about payment for the reading?"

"That was hardly a reading."

Drake extends his hand again. "Then keep going. Make it a reading."

Hawkins looks at his hand then glances back up at him. His hair is more brown than red in this light and his expression is difficult to decipher, it's a combination between eager and tentative. The mask that Hawkins has always found rather silly, looks somewhat charming now.

He takes Drake’s hand again. This time the touch is different. Before, he just wanted to get it over with and to have his peace, but now he's taking his time carefully studying each line, turning his hand over to the sides, taking note of each crease and fold. There is no warmth to the touch, both of their hands are cold, but there is firmness and certainty and something else too.

Eventually, he lets go. Drake looks at him, waiting for the verdict.

“Other than what I’ve mentioned already. You’re devoted and loyal and you don’t take well to separation. At one point you have taken or in the future, you will take a significant decision that will impact the entire course of your life…” As he speaks he traces each of the lines with his fingers again, as if to prove his point.

“What type of decision?”

Hawkins takes his hand back. “It’s not that precise.”

“Is this stuff even real?” It’s a genuine question, no mockery or anything of the sort. Hawkins can’t help but smile a little.

“Of course it is.”

“Hm.” Drake pulls his hand back and returns to his drink. “Sure, I believe it.”

“Not many people do,” Hawkins says, pleasantly surprised. He shuffles his cards.

“I heard about what you do with those things. It’s freaky to put it simply, but there are weirder things out there. Why wouldn’t I believe something so straight-forward?”

“I agree. It’s more plausible than turning into a dinosaur at will, right?” He smirks.

This is light, this is easy. Hawkins enjoys this. Maybe he could even get used to it. He could get used to Drake’s smile as well, but that’s more difficult to think about.

“You got that right,” Drake says, once again giving Hawkins his full attention. “Maybe you could tell me about those cards of yours.”

Without missing a beat, he responds, “Perhaps if you tell me about your fruit.”

“I’ll tell you next time we meet.”

Next time, huh… He doesn’t mind that.

He stands and Drake does, too. Hawkins picks up the other man’s glove for a reason he doesn’t know himself and when Drake reaches over to take it back, Hawkins just slips it back on Drake’s hand without saying anything. It’s unexpected but he lingers longer than necessary.

They head outside.

The current weather in Wano is pleasant and the moon is shining brightly in the sky, lighting a path back to his cabin. He knows Drake must be living farther away.

“Until next time then, X Drake.”

Hawkins turns his back and leaves, feeling the heavy gaze of the man behind him.

Somehow, he doesnt even mind that he forgot about that payment.

Chapter Text

Sometimes he thinks people are staring.

And by sometimes he means all the time.

They’re all staring.

All the time.

Drake sighs and puts down the beer mug. He sends a glare across the tavern towards that one idiot that won’t stop looking at him. but unfortunately for him, the man isn’t deterred by his glare. Instead he seems to take it as an invitation, as he walks over and sits down next to him.

“Don’t I know you?”

Ignoring him completely, Drake drinks his beer. His injuries are still painful and he feels them every time he moves. There is only one respectable doctor on this island that Drake knows about, but his fares are too expensive for what Drake can afford right now. He had to settle for a quack doctor, who did an alright job of patching him up properly and providing him with medication that would help him heal faster. He knows he should be resting in bed, dutifully taking his medicine and changing his bandages, but he prefers the best medicine he knows instead. Alcohol.

The man’s appearance isn’t in any way outstanding, just a regular man in a bar that could blend in with any crowd. There’s no way Drake could remember ever seeing someone like that especially since for the past two years he’s been commanding entire armies. Who would expect him to remember every random goon in Kaido’s crew? He just hopes the man won’t remember him either.

“Come on, man, I know you from somewhere, work with me here.”

He slams the beer on the counter. He needs to get this guy off his back before it messes everything up. A lone Marine on this pirate island? He can’t deal with all the trouble that would come with that particular reveal.

“Maybe you know me, I’m a pirate like everyone else here. Pirates end up in the paper. Now let me have my drink, will you?” Drake needs him to leave.

“No, no…” The bastard just makes himself comfortable and stares at him again.

“It’s not that…”

He tilts his head. Drake can now tell, the man is drunk. Beyond drunk, if the way he is babbling without making sense is any indication.

“I know you! You were with Kaido’s guys! I was there, too! But way lower on the ladder, obviously…” The man huffs and finally turns his gaze elsewhere. “Man, I just got there, too and it went to shit. Didn’t have a chance to prove myself.”

Drake closes his eyes. He’ll just ignore him and once he finishes his beer, he’s out of here. If he was just a new guy, it's unlikely that he knows much about Drake. For now he’ll wait and see how this situation will develop

“Wait… Weren’t you the guy… they questioned?”

Dammit.

He knows for a fact this place has been crawling with Kaido’s lackeys but he just had to end up in a tavern with the one guy that recognises him. Just his luck.

Drake looks at the drunkard, glaring at him both out of frustration but also in an attempt to threaten him. “Be careful about what you’re going to say next.”

“No, no, it’s you… you’re the M-”

The man gets cut off suddenly as he’s sent flying across the room, smashing into a nearby wall. Drake is left standing and after shaking off the blood from his fist, he makes sure to finish his beer. He sends an apologetic look to the bartender before leaving some money on the counter, that’s an ugly dent that he left in the wall.

“I’ll get you out of here,” he whispers to the now unconscious man and picks him up by the collar, dragging him out of the bar. Looks like he can’t come here anymore… Damn, stupid drunkard.

He walks into an alleyway, not far from the tavern and Drake drops the guy off nearby some crates. He sits on one and rummages through his bag until he finds the Baby Transponder Snail he stashed in there some time ago. The little snail wakes up and stares at Drake with its tiny, beady eyes, waiting for him to input the number.

At first he’s hesitant about making the call, but it’s been a couple weeks since Kaido’s downfall, weeks that he has spent by himself on this pirate island. Sure, he had to recover his injuries, but even that is not a good enough excuse to please the higher-ups who have undoubtedly tried to contact him. He’s not even sure what he is going to say, he hasn't decided yet if he wants to go back or remain here. At the very least he knows he needs more time to put his thoughts in order.

It rings for a some time, perhaps it is a bad time to call, but-

“Hello? This is the Marine Headquarters. Captain Koby is speaking.”

“It took you a while…”

There is some shuffling on the other line, some murmured chatting before finally Koby’s voice is heard again.

“Rear-Admiral Drake, is that you???” There is urgency in his tone.

“Yes, it’s me. Keep your voice down, I’m out in the open.” He can’t help but look around for a bit to make sure no one has heard him. Thankfully other than the passed out drunk, the area is clear.

Koby is as energetic as ever and the tiny snail does a good job in showing his desperate expression.

“Yes, of course… I’m sorry, but we tried to contact you! For days.”

There’s even more shuffling and more voices. He can probably make out Helmeppo and some other officers.

“Are you in trouble?” Koby probes.

Drake’s trying to think of the best way to describe his situation. “I wouldn’t say that…” Maybe he can trust Koby with the truth but if any higher-ups get wind of this? It’s all over.

But Drake can’t stay here either, just stuck between two places. Most of the world still considers him a pirate and only the important people know about his true identity as a Marine. That used to be true a while ago, but now?

His cover was blown, it’s clear as day that he has to go back but he can’t stop wandering this stupid island. He’s had the Baby Transponder Snail for a while now, in fact he even purchased it the day he got here, but he didn’t touch it because he was incapable of deciding what he wants to do next. Is it worth staying? Is it worth giving it all up for…

When the drunkard recognised him he realised he can’t keep to himself anymore, almost hoping that someone else will make the decision for him. There’s a lot of things that he needs to do here and none of them include the Marines. After everything that happened, Drake feels comfortable enough with himself to admit that he needs closure. He’ll give it a shot and if it doesn’t work out? Then at least he tried.

It’s obvious Koby is waiting for him to speak, but Drake is trying to think of the best way to describe his situation.

Koby’s voice breaks Drake out of his thoughts. “Then what’s going on?”

Drake’s voice is serious as he speaks quietly into the shell. “Koby, I need to talk to you in private.”

There are some vague words of protest and the sound of movement, it takes a while, Drake knows well how nosy Marines tend to be, but soon enough it’s quiet again and Koby speaks once again.

“Alright, there’s no one else here now. But listen, I have to set sail soon, so we have to make it quick.”

Set sail? He didn’t get a chance to look at the newspapers lately, Drake makes a mental note, maybe that will give him some insight about what’s going on at Marine Headquarters.

“Listen, there’s been some complications. I can’t go back to Headquarters yet.”

“Are you hurt?” The little snail makes a concerned face.

“No. I mean, yes… but that’s not the issue, it’s just…” he trails off, unsure if he should continue. None of this made it out of the safety of his own thoughts before, but he trusts Koby. Out of all people, Koby would understand, right?

“I got attached to someone.” Drake barely whispers those words, it’s hard to admit it even to himself let alone to another Marine.

“Well, that’s not so bad. I assumed something terrible happened.”

“To a pirate.”

“Oh.” Now the snail makes a conflicted face.

“Exactly. He’s badly hurt right now, and I want to make sure he’s alright before I come back.” That’s all there is to it. He just wants to make sure Hakwins is fine, that’s the only reason he’s staying on this island and after he confirms that Hawkins doesn’t need any more help, he’ll get on his boat and sail away never to return again.

There is a pause, for a second he thinks the line cut off, but Koby speaks again. “I understand… Can I help somehow?”

Drake purses his lips. “Just tell the higher-ups I called, and make up an excuse about why I won’t be back for a while, you can tell them I’m hurt or anything you want. I know it’s a lot to ask but-”

“I’ll do it!” His tone is bright and open, Koby is the only Marine that Drake knows that still has that spark of passion in him. “I’ll help you and I trust you, just do what you need to do.”

Drake breathes out in relief and almost smiles. He nods his head even if Koby can’t see it. “Thank you, I owe you one.”

“Don’t worry about that.” He laughs. “Just return soon. We need you.”

That’s nice to hear, being needed, although he knows very well they’ll be just fine without him.

“I’ll do my best. Won’t you…” Drake pauses, wondering why he is even asking this but, “Won’t you ask who the pirate is?”

Koby laughs again. “You can tell me some other time. I got to go now, we’re setting sail. Take care.”

“Right. You, too.”

The Transponder Snail falls asleep. Drake stares at it for a few moments more, contemplating everything that was said, then he simply puts it in his bag and leans back on the wall. Did he do the right thing?

“I’ll ask who the pirate is.” A gruff and disoriented voice speaks up.

Oh, right. The other issue. He takes a few moments before he stands up.

Towering over the drunkard, he looks down at him, his expression serious. “I won’t tell you that, but I’ll tell you other things.”

He crouches in front of him and grabs his collar, tightly pulling him up to his eye level.

“You yap about any of this to anyone, you’ll answer to me. If anyone finds out, I’ll know it was you and I will find you, no matter where you are or where you are hiding.” His voice is deep and the glare sends a shiver down the man’s spine. He crawls back a little.

“I’m not scared of you!” Despite his words, his entire body is shaking.

“You said you worked for Kaido, then you know very well what I’m capable of.” There is a glint in his eye, something dark and yellow and primal. Definitely not the eyes of a human.

“Your death won’t be a kind one.”

The man nods, over and over.

“Okay! Okay, fine! I won’t say a word to anyone.” The man finally looks convinced.

“Good.”

Drake stands and makes his way out of the alley towards the nearest newspaper stand. He’s not any closer to figuring out the right thing to do but at least he’s taken one step forward.

The Marines will have to wait, he's got some decisions to make.

Chapter Text

“Eat it, Dorry.”

Drake looks at his father, his gaze frightened.

“B-but, it looks weird…” he trails off, turning over the bumpy, green fruit. It has a strange shape, almost like a pineapple, but with weirder colors.

“Don’t you trust your father?” His voice is deep and slightly slurry from the alcohol.

It’s been a year since they defected, a year since his father changed and Drake is now fifteen years old and a pirate. His body is weak at his age despite how hard he has been training and every time he tries to make his father proud, it always seems so much harder than the last. It's like nothing can impress him anymore.

But this? Eating this strange fruit? This devil fruit? The sea will curse him, he won’t ever swim again and water will make him weak. Of course, he’s never seen one before but he has read his father’s old Marine books, he learned so many things about these magical fruits. Especially how powerful one can become, but also how big the cost is. In the end, if Drake wants to be a sailor won’t something like this be very dangerous to him?

He’s also heard that some powers are incredibly difficult to master and some are outright useless. They don’t know anything about the fruit he is currently holding, other than the fact that it is very expensive. Is he ready to throw his life away?

Looking back at his father, Drake’s gaze is unsure. The man nods, opening his mouth to speak again, “Dorry… Don’t you want to be a strong pirate like your father? To finally be useful and make me proud?”

He wants that… Doesn’t he? If he does this, his father will look at him with pride again. Not with disgust or anger. He will be his father’s son again.

Drake takes a big bite from that fruit, chewing on the bland and rubbery fiber. He hates it, he hates it so much, but he continues to eat, until only the leaves are left. He looks back at his father.

“Well???” Barrels’s voice booms throughout the room. It’s only them in here now and Drake can’t help but flinch a bit.

“I-it tasted bad…” His voice is meek and low.

“I don’t give a shit about the taste! Do you feel any different?”

Oh, that. He tries to calm down in order to figure out how he feels. He concentrates, but the more he focuses, the clearer it becomes. A hunger deep inside him. A primal urge to spill blood. Something old and ancient simmering under his skin.

Drake nods as the feeling becomes almost overwhelming.

“What is it???” His father yells, but this time Drake doesn’t flinch. Only the tip of his fingers shake slightly as he thinks about exterioring that feeling. He can’t keep it in, he will tear up from inside if he does.

His throat is painful with a silent scream, but he lets it out. He lets it all out.

Drake’s body shifts, his dull ape teeth turn sharp, his nails grow into claws, everything changes and in his place stands a creature older than written history, letting out a powerful roar that shakes the very building they reside in.

Barrels widens his eyes and his face pales at the sight. However, instead of fearful, his expression becomes triumphant.

If he can control this beast, he will truly become powerful.

₊‧ X ‧₊

The wind is blowing in his face, cold and unforgiving leaving a red hue on the tip of his nose and around his cheeks. Drake is in the crow’s nest, checking the horizon for any hostile ships. When he sees none, he climbs down, back onto the safety of the deck.

But his work is not done! No way. He still has to check the currents, the direction of the wind, their speed, the condition of the sails and the route, all to make sure that everything is in order before they can set sail. It’s his duty to do all this, despite the other dozens crew members, but it’s one of the duties that he doesn’t mind fulfilling. Navigation is a skill he will need in the future, whether he will keep his status as a pirate or if he’ll join the Marines. Drake enjoys it as well.

The compass is pointing them towards their destination and he furls up the map of the North Blue, immediately putting it in its holder to protect it from the harsh elements. He approaches his father.

“All is set for sailing, father.”

The man nods, waving his empty cup for more booze and Drake picks up the flagon in order to pour it for his father. Barrels drinks some more, then slams the cup on the deck and stands.

“Men! We are setting sail! Bring me back a great haul!”

Cheering erupts as everyone starts running around to do their jobs. Drake hurries to help them. He does not want to be caught lacking.

Thankfully, the journey is uneventful. They have a steady wind moving them forward and after lunch it’s not even that cold anymore! Drake works hard to keep the ship on course, giving orders and checking the map while his father is in his office doing his own work.

“Hey, kid!” Someone calls out to him and Drake turns around to see his father’s first mate approaching. “Your father’s looking for you.”

Drake nods and stops what he is doing to head below deck. His father is sitting at his desk, smoking and looking over a map.

“Dorry, come closer.”

“What is it, father?”

On the table there is a large and magnificent map spread out, very detailed and with some places that they haven’t travelled to, yet.

“See this map?” Drake nods. “This… this is our way to ultimate fortune.”

Barrels points to an island on the map. “There. We’ll find a Devil Fruit so expensive, we won’t have to work another day in our lives.”

Drake’s eyes widen… Is that possible?

“But look here.” He points to more islands nearby. “All Marine settlements. We’ll need to go around them, take the fruit out and disappear. I’m expecting you to plan a route that will help us succeed.”

Oh. That is such a big task, he’s surprised that his father trusts him with something like this. “Unfortunately, useless as you are, you’re the best at navigation in my even more useless crew. So get to work. You’ve got three days.”

“Y-yes, sir,” Drake says, his voice shaking slightly. He reaches over for the map and furls it up, hurrying as much as he can. His father never really liked it when he took a long time to fulfil orders.

Once above deck again, Drake checks the course and finds a quiet corner to work in.

₊‧ X ‧₊

“Dorry!”

Dorry this and Dorry that. He can’t fucking stand it anymore.

Dorry bring me some booze, Dorry take out that enemy for me, Dorry, you’re never here when I need you, Dorry, Dorry, Dorry.

“Dorry, punish this traitor.”

And so he did. Drake shifted forms and did just that. His father’s laugh was cold and his gaze even colder, maybe Drake obeyed simply because he didn’t want that gaze directed at him. Who could fault him for that? But Drake liked Bennie. Sometimes he’d give Drake his lunch leftovers when his dad wanted to punish him, but now Bennie is…

He deserved it, didn’t he? Bennie revealed their plans and made them lose the fruit again. They’ve been chasing it for months, but so have other crews. They might have even stood a chance if Bennie kept his mouth shut. Now it’s too late to catch up to that pirate crew and it’s too late for Bennie to redeem himself.

Drake changes back into human, the metallic taste of blood lingering in his mouth as he wipes away at his lips. His clothes are all bloodied too, his right sleeve, his shoes. He really needs to change.

His father calls out after him, something about earning himself a drink, but he can’t bring himself to care about alcohol right now. Drake storms to his room and locks the door behind him, immediately hurrying to take off those bloody clothes, then rummaging through his closet for anything clean and warm enough. The wardrobe is quite a mess really, he’s never had the patience for tidying up after himself. Wasn’t it enough that he had to clean up after his dad every single day?

He quickly finds some pants and a hoodie, but… What is that piece of white fabric? He never wears anything quite so light in color, it’s too hard to wash out the blood. Even the fabric looks more expensive than what he usually wears. He pulls on it, seeing a large coat with blue trimmings and golden buttons. The buttons are extremely shiny, with a familiar emblem engraved onto them.

Right, he forgot about it.

His father’s old uniform, now wrinkled and dusty. He remembers stashing it in his closet years ago, when his father asked him to burn it. Back then, he was too young to understand the magnitude of his father’s request, but somehow he disobeyed him anyway.

Drake runs his hands over the seams, the embroidered marine emblem, the sturdy fabric. He almost forgot what the uniform looked like. At first, he’s hesitant, but he pulls the coat over his shoulders and fastens the buttons. Of course, it’s way too big on him, the epaulettes hanging off his too narrow shoulders with some of the details missing or broken off. The pants are much the same, but the belt helps them stay on. Drake has no clue how to tie the scarf around his neck, but it should be fine with a simple knot, right? All that’s left is the hat and he puts it on.

Somehow, it fits perfectly. It used to be too big, once, a long time ago when he was a young child. He would wait with his mother every day until his father would return home, then he’d jump in his arms to be carried around on his father’s shoulders. Once he finally came down, his father would drop his hat on Drake’s head even if it would always cover his eyes. Still, he wore it until he went to bed at night.

His mother kept his father sane, Drake learned that after she was gone. Maybe it was her gentle voice, her caring hands or sweet eyes. He was too young to understand why his father changed… He only remembers how he came home one night with his uniform bloodied. He ordered Drake to pack their bags and they set sail, soon settling on a different island where they became pirates.

After that, he has been living a pirate’s life, having to endure his father’s hostile behaviour towards him. He wants to leave, he even tried to leave a couple times, but he was caught every single time so he stopped trying.

The uniform looks dumb on him anyway.

He just takes it off. It would make a lot more sense to throw it out, but instead he folds it neatly and puts it in the back of his wardrobe.

Whatever, he should just sleep. Maybe by morning his father will be too hungover to remember him leaving the party.

₊‧ X ‧₊

The smoke and dust are suffocating. His father is yelling, but for once not at him. The cold blizzard is entering the room, covering everything in a thin layer of snow.

The Op-Op Fruit is gone. The object that would bring them their greatest fortune has been stolen. He knows where his father’s anger will be directed towards, but Drake is too overwhelmed to do anything about it. Some of their crewmembers are injured and the fire is spreading, how can he worry about a fucking fruit now???

Someone else walks in.

“Captain! Captain!”

“What is it, you idiot??? Can’t you see we’re busy here?”

The man wobbles and shivers as he struggles to make the words come out of his mouth. “The-the M-marines! They’re here! And… and the DonQuixote pirates!”

“What?!”

The Marines… Drake can’t believe it. He looks around him, watching the chaos. Only someone very powerful could cause this mess without even making a sound. A DonQuixote pirate maybe? Does he truly want to remain here and be caught in the crossfire? Especially since he knows his father won’t back down until he retrieves the fruit.

Drake runs towards the messenger and after making sure his father is not watching, he grabs the man's collar. “Where are the Marines going to lay anchor?”

“T-the north side.”

North… He thinks he can make his way there without being seen and then ask for help from an officer. Surely, this must be it for his father’s crew.

Drake glances back at the crew, scrambling about trying to put out the fire while also devising a plan for getting the Op-Op fruit back. His father is distracted, he won’t notice, Drake knows his father doesn’t notice him until he needs something from him. That is usually during a party or during a battle, neither are taking place right now.

Taking a deep breath, Drake turns his back and walks out. As soon as it becomes unlikely for any of his old crew members to see him, he breaks into a sprint running as fast as his legs will take him north.

Until the fluttering white flag with a seagull appears on the horizon, until his throat burns from the cold winter air and his toes almost freeze.

Until the man o’ war stretches tall right in front of his eyes and cannonballs blaze through the air.

Finally, his dream is within reach.

Chapter Text

Three AM.

Drake is exhausted, his heavy eyes staring at the ceiling above. He has not been able to sleep properly in some time, either because of the pain or because of the thoughts that have been plaguing his mind.

It’s been a few weeks since Drake last saw Hawkins and with each passing hour he starts getting more and more restless. Even now, despite the fact that it’s night time and the window is wide open, the air is not comfortable enough to even breathe, let alone sleep. It doesn’t help that every time he closes his eyes he sees people and moments he’d rather forget about. It’s clear, this island is not suited for him. The weather is too hot, the energy too pleasant and his body too relaxed.

It’s been years, if not decades since he let his guard down. Now he doesn’t train every day anymore and he spends most of his evenings drinking cheap liquor in bars. There are no missions to drive him forward and he is stalling for time every day, to avoid receiving one. He is sure his absence has been noticed at Headquarters by now and he doesn’t know how much longer he can keep this going. He doesn’t want to desert the Marines, it’s the last thing on his mind, but he can’t bring himself to leave this island.

So instead he walks around every day, turning his head every time someone with long, blond hair passes by, but it’s never the person he is looking for. Every single time, he feels like an idiot because he didn’t use to be like this. He has always had a clear vision of his future and knew exactly what he was supposed to do to get there. Before,his only interactions with people were either with equals that were serving under way more powerful superiors or with his own subordinates that he was responsible for. Never once did he feel the need to open up and get attached out of all things. So why now and why a pirate?

No explanation he can think of makes sense. There is nothing that Hawkins has that he can’t find in a Marine soldier or a civilian somewhere, he’s pretty sure of that. It must simply be the closeness they have built over the months they had spent together. Just a habit that’s hard to break, nothing more.

And yet, his ship sways softly in the harbor, still and unmoving.

Drake glances at the clock on the wall. Three forty-three in the morning and he could not close his eyes once. Or perhaps he dozed off at one point? Time shouldn’t pass so fast…

Turning his head, he glances somewhere else, towards the newspaper on the nightstand. The main headline is announcing the abolishment of the Seven Warlords and he knows the Marines must be in chaos right now, trying to cover the territories that the Warlords once protected as well as chasing them all down. His power and leadership could come in useful as even the SWORD members seem to have their hands full with missions he could easily take part in himself. Another time he would have been the first to request the most difficult assignment in order to prove himself. And after he proved himself he still needed to maintain his reputation and so he had gotten used to always working hard without break.

He should be on a boat and returning to Headquarters right at that moment and yet, he continues to lay in bed.

Through the open window, some warm wind comes in. Way too warm. This island is way too warm and it seems he would always feel suffocated by this heat while here. Some would think that with his cold lizard blood, the heat would be pleasant and yes, he enjoys sitting by the fire or huddling with someone under a warm blanket, he enjoys the heat of burning liquor down his throat, but the sun and hot weather? He cannot stand it. He’s way better in below freezing temperatures and thick clothing. Perhaps it’s just the way he’s been raised, yet another hard to break habit.

Unintentionally, his mind strays to his time in the North. Summers were mild, winters were harsh and he always wore thick fur or wool under his leather coat. It’s easy to remember the first Marine troops he captained. They were sailing an icebreaker, not very uncommon in the North Blue, but a blizzard slowed them down from catching a particularly stubborn pirate crew. They were nobodies, but pirates nonetheless. Damn resilient ones too.

Drake was 22 years old at the time, barely 3 years into his service and despite his spotless track record and constant praise that he received, he knew that he could not mess this up. He stood his ground even as his subordinates begged him to turn tail and forget about the pirates. Yes, he might have reported them for cowardice later on, but he was in his right to do so. After all there is no place for weakness in the North Blue, those who want to survive must move forward at all costs. In the end, all that mattered was that they caught up to the pirates and they waited out the blizzard with a dozen frozen outlaws on their deck.

North Blue… His home was there. Hawkins’s home was there as well, they bonded over that a lot, sometimes even talking about going back once Kaido would free them. Drake always knew that would never happen, yet he entertained those thoughts. Was it because he wanted to keep his cover? Or because he believed it himself? Sometimes he wonders if Hawkins knew the same things he did and decided to just pretend as well.

His eyes slip to the clock again. Three fifty-seven. Outside some birds start chirping. He gives up on the idea of sleep so he stands up.

Throwing on his jacket, he leaves the inn, making sure to lock up behind him as many sketchy people frequent this area. Once outside, he notices the local baker getting his wares ready for the day. Dawn would not break for some time and the streets are completely empty, save for some drunks passed out on the concrete. He makes his way to the docks.

Stopping out in front of his own dinghy, he gazes out at the dark ocean ahead. The black clouds in the distance promise rain, a terrible storm most likely. The wind picks up and the air cools down somewhat. Drake can’t help but think about how easy it would be to get on his boat and leave the island right now, storm be damned. No one would stop him, no one would feel his absence. He could head back to Headquarters and request a transfer to North Blue and live quietly and simply for a while until he was ready to come back to the Grand Line.

It would all be so easy and yet his feet won’t move.

Looking out at the deep water he wishes he could just jump in and swim away. He thinks of the last time he swam in the sea, must have been what… fifteen? Twenty years ago? The last time he went home with salty, tangled hair, the last time he floated on the water’s surface with the sun’s tender rays beating down on him. Sure, he can always swim in shallow waters but every Devil Fruit user knows how uneasy and apprehensive one will be around the ocean. It’s a sort of anxiety that never leaves, always sticking around even to the most experienced sailors. A curse.

So he simply watches. Drake stands there until the sun rises behind the grey clouds and the fishermen head out on the water with their nets and fishing rods, the coming storm proving to be a good time to catch some elusive fish. Some pirates set off, while others are barely disembarking. A little crab makes its way around the rocky shores, oblivious to any internal ruminations that Drake is dealing with.

Something makes his feet move. Perhaps it’s just the fact that he's tired of how indecisive he is. Even if Hawkins did take him back, how could he be with him and be a Marine at the same time? It's impossible no matter how he looks at it. These are two separate worlds and somehow during his brief time as a Beast Pirate, he became attached to both. Now that he is at crossroads he can’t pick one either one way, so he is stuck in the same spot, unmoving. Perhaps he should be the one to create a third path, but such a thing surely can’t be possible.

And yet, he’s moving even if the direction in which he is walking is not at all towards the boat in front of him. He just walks back into the city and instead of heading straight back to the inn, he takes a detour, hoping that maybe a walk will help him clear his head.

Many people are out at this time, vendors and pirates and citizens. The sun, despite being hidden by the clouds, warms up the ground in a way that isn’t completely unpleasant, while the hustle and bustle of the streets distract him somewhat. It's only when he feels that scent that he stops.

It's familiar and warm, in a nice way. He looks around, his eyes landing on an old lady who is opening her shop, placing a door stopper at the entrance and turning the sign over to ‘Open’.

Her shop is… a fortune telling shop. Of course.

Drake almost laughs out loud at the irony. He watches as she smokes in front of her shop, his mind racing with the same thoughts, spinning over and over like a broken wheel, trying to move but remaining stuck in place.

Oh, what the hell…

He walks towards her and she smiles.

“Welcome, welcome. Come in.” She puts the cigarette in the ashtray she keeps outside her shop and leads him in.

The place is cozy and the familiar smell turned out to be incense, quietly smoking on a table nearby. It’s similar to the one Hawkins would sometimes burn. Still, he feels very silly for being here. Is he going to pay for some random woman's overpriced and fake fortune telling services? He knows not everyone is as gifted as Hawkins is.

“What do you need, kid?”

Oh. “Uhm.” He clears his throat. “The cards, please?” What is he supposed to ask for?

“Sure thing, sure thing. Come.”

She leads him to a table with a flowy, purple tablecloth. Drake sees a few cards spread out on it, but one in particular catches his eye, even if it’s a different design than Hawkins’s own cards.

Knight of Pentacles.

“Hey, what does that one mean?”

He's seen Hawkins get it in many readings, but he always refused to explain to Drake what it meant.

“That one's not for you.”

Tsk. Not this again.

“Sit down and ask me your questions.”

He sits, looking at her as she gathers up all the cards and shuffles them. Is he really doing this?

“I don't know… There’s a decision I have to make.” Looks like he is.

She nods, her gaze quite intense for the kind of activity they are doing, although now that he thinks about it Hawkins’s eyes were very similar when he was handling his cards. After she is satisfied with the shuffling, she puts the deck on her palm and brings it forward.

“Draw three cards.” Drake furrows his brows, Hawkins never let him touch the cards.

Just as he is about to reach toward it, a terrible crashing sound startles them. The old lady looks around her shop to see a child, no older than ten, hunched over an expensive looking trinket, now shattered on the floor.

“Ugh! What the hell do you think you are doing???” she yells, jumping up from her seat and towards the kid.

“Brat! You take care of this customer,” she screeches some more, almost making Drake cover his ears. He assumes she is talking about another employee in her shop.

For some time, he simply watches the child get scolded, apparently the trinket was very rare, shipped all the way from South Blue. The kid will have to pay a fortune. He's entertained, until he hears the curtain next to him being pulled to the side.

“This is not my shift, I'm not giving you a cut for this one, hag.”

Drake's stomach drops.

Chapter Text

“GET HIM!”

“Shut up, I’m doing it!”

Hawkins is chasing the man in front of them, he’s fast and well-trained but Drake and him are better. Drake makes a sharp turn in an alley, while Hawkins orders his straw puppet to gain more speed. It doesn’t take long, a few more paces and Drake jumps in front of the man, cutting him off, while the puppet catches him from behind, effectively immobilising him. He keeps struggling and cursing at them but he's been caught and there’s no escape from Hawkins’ puppets.

Drake returns to his human form and wipes away the dirt from his face.

Hawkins chuckles. “Nice fall.”

“Your straws were in my way…” He mumbles as a blush appears up on his face. He doesn’t take well to his mistakes being pointed out to him.

“Maybe if you watched where you were going…”

The puppet dissipates, until only a few straws remain binding the prisoner’s hands and legs tightly. Hawkins hands him to another Headlister whose job is to deal with the imprisonments. He’s more than ready to head home for the day when Drake speaks up.

“Are you in the mood for a drink?”

He glances over at him. Although their meeting at the bar had been pleasant and they’ve made promises to talk about certain things next time they saw each other, it’s been a busy period on Wano Island with riots and prison breakouts and more and more pirates being brought back to the island to join Kaido’s crew. There has been no time for them to properly speak again.

“If you’re paying,” Hawkins says with a smirk.

“I thought it was your turn.”

“I don’t remember agreeing to that.”

“Well, neither did I!”

Hawkins lets out a huff as he begins walking in the direction of the bar. Drake is right. “Fine, it’s on me today.”

Drake doesn’t look like he smiles often but this time something tugs at his lips as he follows along. For some reason it makes Hawkins happy.

₊⋆✦⋆₊

The bar is quite packed at this time of the evening. Most of the people here are pirates but a few of the wealthy Wano citizens seem to mingle between them, speaking sweet words to look good in front of the important officers of Kaido’s crew.

There is some space at the counter where they last sat but Drake seems to prefer something more private this time as he finds an open table in the corner. Hawkins gets them their drinks and sits down across from him.

“We’re changing the bar next time.”

Drake raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

“What’s that puddle at your feet?” Hawkins touches his shin with the pointy end of his shoe. Drake looks down and there really is a puddle. He looks like he’s not sure about what it is and doesn’t want to find out either.

“Good point…” He takes a sip of his drink. “We don’t have to be here long.”

“No?”

“Have you ever seen the Tobiroppo suite?”

Hawkins leans back in his chair and has some of his drink. “Of course not.”

Drake bends over the table slightly and whispers as if he’s sharing some important secret. “I have some booze there. The North Blue kind…”

That does sound appetising. He hasn’t had any in ages, he’d do anything to return to North Blue right now. What did he need the Grand Line for?

Drake can probably read the sour expression on his face because he starts backtracking. “We can just stay here. I can bring over the booze another time, you know?”

Hawkins downs his drink. “Is the offer not on the table anymore?”

“Of course it is.” He looks confused.

“Then let’s go.” Standing up sharply, he quickly makes his way out of the establishment, hardly waiting for Drake to follow.

₊⋆✦⋆₊

“It’s been so long since I’ve actually been drunk…”

Hawkins is pleasantly buzzed and his body is warm. He’s had a lot of missions in Ringo lately and this feeling of being warmed up by northern liquor after a long day in the snow makes him nostalgic.

“Nothing else really compares, I know.”

“Where do you even get it from?” Hawkins’s speech is slurred. Should he be concerned about letting his guard down…?

“Secret.”

Drake seems to be in the same state as him. He even took off that stupid mask of his and he’s leaning his head on his hand while lounging in his leather armchair.

Everything about this guy seems to come down to leather, he thinks idly.

Somehow, he doesn’t remember what they were talking about, but he remembers what they were supposed to talk about. Barely.

“So… why do you wear so much leather?”

Drake opens his eyes and looks at him. “I just like it, I guess.”

Hawkins hums. “Maybe you like it because you’re a lizard.”

He sees the way Drake tries hard to not roll his eyes and it makes him smile. This is funny. “I thought you were going to tell me about your lizard fruit.”

“I won’t tell you anything if you call it a lizard fruit,” Drake says, obviously annoyed.

“Fine. Then tell me about your not-lizard Devil Fruit.”

This time Drake rolls his eyes properly and the action amuses him even more. “My father gave it to me,” is all he says.

“Go on.” There has to be more to it.

Drake levels him with a look, this seems like something that he's not happy talking about. The hesitance only makes Hawkins more curious, and he's ready to push as much as it takes.

Perhaps, Drake senses this, because he continues his explanation. “We ran a business,” he begins, “Finding or buying Devil Fruits and selling them for double their worth. The first one we found was my fruit and he wanted me to have it and that was that.”

“How old were you?”

“Fourteen or fifteen, I don’t remember exactly.” The way he’s speaking indicates that he wants to be done talking about this as soon as possible.

“I was younger when I ate my fruit,” Hawkins says, plainly.

Drake glances at him and takes another sip of his drink. When he’s done he speaks up, his voice monotone. “Congratulations.”

What a grumpy drunk… Whatever, they don’t have to talk.

Seemingly sensing the awkwardness, Drake looks at Hawkins again. “And? Your cards, what’s with them?”

Oh, so that’s what Drake would rather talk about. Clearly there is something more to the story about his father, but Hawkins keeps that for a later date. Drake must be noticing his hesitance because he keeps going, “You promised, remember?”

Hawkins remembers. “There’s nothing special about them. A family heirloom. I got them from my mother, who got them from her mother before her and so on for around ten generations.”

“That’s a lot of generations…” Drake mumbles. “Did they all know how to read them like you do?”

Hawkins contemplates the answer to that question and through his fuzzy mind, he concludes that he doesn’t actually remember much of what his mother told him about his family. When he’s sober that sort of thing barely crosses his mind. “My mother used the cards very accurately, but even if our techniques were similar I developed my own over the years. I pair them with my Devil Fruit.”

After that explanation, Drake just nods. Hawkins only scrunches up his nose in annoyance. A grumpy and quiet drunk. If they meet again, Hawkins won’t let Drake get drunk again.

But then, unexpectedly he says, “You did a good job of it.”

That’s… surprisingly nice. Hawkins nods. “Thank you.”

He reaches his hand out to that coffee table to get back his glass. In his distraction, he misses and just spills it over.

He looks down, Drake does too…

Fuck, that was some expensive booze.

“I’m sorry.”

Thankfully, the glass didn’t break, but the fluffy rug on the floor got stained. Perhaps, he should get a napkin?

“It’s fine.” Drake doesn’t seem to care about the rug.

Still, Hawkins picks up the glass and stands. He goes to look for a napkin, or he would have, if Drake didn’t grab his arm to stop him.

“It’s fine,” he repeats, his hold on Hawkins’ arm firm. He tugs on it lightly, as if he wants Hawkins closer. Or maybe just to guide him back to his seat.

They just look at each other for a few moments. The light in the room is dim, only the fire in the hearth flickering softly and Hawkins realises everything is warm. His throat is burning from the liquor, his cheeks feel red and his chest is full and unspeakably hot, but nothing compares to how searing Drake’s touch feels.

He’s not sure when or how he moved, but in a split second he’s seated in Drake’s lap, straddling his legs, holding his jaw and kissing him.

Just like that, no cards, no forethought, Hawkins kissed Drake.

Drake is surprised but he doesn’t waste any time. He grabs onto Hawkins coat and kisses him back with ferocity. Hawkins has never been kissed like this and it’s difficult to focus on anything that isn’t the man holding him at this moment.

All anxieties of the future dissipate.

When they pull back, Hawkins is panting lightly. They’re so close that he can feel Drake’s breath on his mouth. He’s holding onto Hawkins’s shoulders, a strong and tight grip, one that wouldn’t allow Hawkins to move if he wanted to.

Drake looks up at him, eyes wide. “You kissed me.”

“I did.” Hawkins nods, resting one hand on Drake’s chest. It’s scorching under his palm. “And it seemed to me that you liked it.”

Hawkins’ hair hangs like a curtain around them and Drake brings up a hand to push some of it away from his face. “I did.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.” He leans in and kisses him again. His hands fiddle with Drake’s leather jacket, pulling on it until he sits up and Hawkins can slip it off his shoulders. He runs his fingers down his wide arms, then moves on to his back. His large, broad back is riddled with scars that Hawkins knows nothing about. Not yet at the very least.

Hawkins makes a surprised sound as Drake tugs on his hair, perhaps in his attempt to pull off his shirt too. Hawkins has to pull back and keeping his eyes on Drake, he unclasps his cape, letting it fall to the floor. It makes a soft thud as it pools at Drake’s feet, but they don’t even notice it.

Moving his hair to the side, Hawkins slowly unbuttons his shirt, revelling in the way Drake is watching his long fingers work. After he is done, he simply lets it slip down his shoulders, smiling when he sees the way Drake’s mouth parts slightly and his cheeks become pink.

Drake reaches over to run his hand all the way from his chest, to his abdomen and lower belly. Then it rests on Hawkins’s thigh, holding it almost as if to ground himself.

Even after all that, Hawkins remains quite tipsy, his cheeks red and his mind fuzzy but he is fully present in the moment. He has wanted this… Without fully admitting to himself he has wanted this since Drake first asked for a palm reading in that bar. Now he has Drake all to himself, red hair messy and expression soft, maybe way too soft for what Hawkins is ready for.

He averts his gaze so he does not have to look at it anymore and instead glances at his chest. It has a lot of scars that are usually hidden behind his coat. He runs his hand over his tattoo and thin red hairs. Hawkins had always found that tattoo rather stupid, but now he kind of gets the appeal. He wonders if that’s how it’s going to be from now on.

Without warning he feels Drake cup his cheek and guide his gaze back to his eyes. “Your mind is straying.”

Hawkins smiles. “I assure you, it is not.”

“Oh, yeah? Then what were you thinking about?” His voice is low, perhaps if they were any further apart Hawkins would have not heard him at all. But he does hear him clearly.

“You…” he whispers, almost like a secret. Drake’s eyes get too gentle again, so Hawkins just kisses him so he does not have to see them.

Everything is warm, but most of all, his soul burns.

Chapter Text

Drake is in his shop.

Drake is sitting across from him at the reading table, watching him. In his shop.

Hawkins is holding his Tarot deck on his palm, thinking about any hints that he might have missed. Why didn’t he see this coming? Did Drake know where to find him or was it merely a coincidence?

Instead of asking the man himself, Hawkins decides to just ask the cards. He puts aside the old lady's deck and starts shuffling his own, avoiding Drake's gaze completely as he turns card after card, looking for answers. Usually, the cards are way more reliable than anything Drake or anyone could tell him, but at this time it seems that they are also unhelpful as no insights come to him while reading.

He’s ready to give up when…

Temperance, laying on his table. Hawkins scoffs. Yeah, right…

Drake, to his credit, stays quiet the whole time, simply watching. In the end, Hawkins decides to stop this stupid game and just speak up.

“So? What do you want?”

At first, Drake just shrugs, glancing past Hawkins and presumably out the window. There are deep, dark circles under his eyes and his leg keeps bouncing up and down, proof of his restlessness.

“Nothing… I passed by and saw the old lady and wanted her to read the cards for me.”

Hawkins raises an eyebrow. A strange wave of jealousy and possessiveness washes over him. “You never asked me to do that.”

“I never needed it before!”

“So now you need it.” Hawkins doesn’t know if he believes him. Though Drake would have no reason to lie, it’s entirely possible that he stumbled upon this shop by pure chance as the island is not that big. But on the off chance that Drake did seek him out specifically, he’s not sure how he feels about that. Mostly, he’s worried that Drake hasn't been able to let go of the moments they have shared back in Wano. Hawkins has had enough time to learn about Drake that he can be the sentimental type.

“Not really, but a fresh perspective would have been nice.” His voice is low and he looks like he doesn’t want to be here almost as much as Hawkins doesn’t want him here. At least they have that in common.

“A fresh perspective on…” he waits for Drake to continue.

“Doesn't matter.”

Right. Of course Drake is cagey and uncommunicative, why would he expect something different from him. He has had to deal with him for a while now, but Hawkins never could stand him when he was being so difficult. Sometimes he feels that it’s on purpose too.

“It doesn’t matter,” Drake repeats. “Forget about it.”

Suddenly, he reaches over the table and takes Hawkins’s hand. They are both wearing gloves today, there are two layers of fabric between them, but Hawkins already feels uncomfortable with the touch.

“Come to North Blue with me,” Drake says, squeezing Hawkins’s hand slightly.

Despite being uncomfortable, Hawkins doesn’t pull his hand away and instead tries to unsuccessfully read Drake’s blank face.

“North Blue,” he parrots.

Drake nods. Finally, something on his face changes because his cheeks turn pink briefly, perhaps what he was saying finally caught up to him.

“I mean…” He lets go of Hawkins’s hand. “North Blue… we can go back and spend some time there.”

“What are you talking about?” Hawkins is completely baffled.

Drake looks down. “I’ll make it up to you. We’ll go to North Blue and figure this out.”

Hawkins huffs and leans back. “You really think you can make it up to me?”

The other man nods, his expression uncharacteristically hopeful. “I can try.”

“You must be joking. I already told you I’m not going anywhere with you.” Maybe the way Hawkins says that is too harsh, but it’s exactly how he feels.

No one talks after that for some time. They both just sit across from one another, with no words to speak and no feelings to show, because neither of them are betraying any emotions through the empty expressions on their face. Hawkins goes back to his cards, shuffling them and wondering if he is going to regret his next words.

“You got one question.”

“Huh?”

“You got one question to ask and I’ll read the cards for you and then you leave.”

Drake once again avoids his gaze and decides to look at the table instead. “I don’t know what to ask.”

“Well, think about it.”

Hawkins continues shuffling, at this point a nervous habit but also practice in order to manoeuvre the cards with one hand better. He watches Drake’s face and briefly wonders how it got to this. Back in Wano, for a short, short time, Hawkins really believed the two of them could be happy together. But then came the lies and the deceit and all the unspoken things that even today remain unsaid. It’s hard to believe that it’s for the best when Drake looks so worn out right in front of him. It’s hard to believe that he has made the right choice when what’s left of his arm continues to hurt like hell and his heart even more so. And it’s even harder to admit that he is lonely.

North Blue… He’d truly love to go back. Maybe once he is healed and Drake is no longer walking around this island. For a moment, he considers it, trying to convince himself that he plans to return on his own and not with Drake by his side.

Unconsciously, he turns over the first card in his deck. Three of Wands. To North Blue, or anywhere else, maybe it is finally time to leave soon. However… Two of Swords follows after, a card he’s come to know well since his time in Wano.

There’s work left to do here, it seems, Hawkins thinks idly.

Looking up, he notices Drake didn't stop staring into the distance, possibly trying to come up with something he could ask Hawkins.

“Is there any way I could fix this?” comes unexpectedly.

Hawkins’s movements stutter and the cards almost spill all over the table. Even if he has been trying hard to control his expressions until now, he fears that his distress is currently written all over his face.

He swallows and avoids Drake’s gaze. “That’s not a question I can answer using the cards,” he responds professionally as he would to any other customer.

“I don’t give a damn about the cards, I’m asking you, Hawkins!” Drake raises his voice, either out of frustration or because he wants to make sure that Hawkins can hear him. However, it doesn't make Hawkins look up at him.

His shoulders hang low and for some time he considers not responding at all, but Drake is patient, waiting without pushing.

“I don’t know…” he finally replies.

Drake leans back in his seat. “That’s better than `no`.”

He’s right and Hawkins hates that. He should have just said no even if it’s not the entire truth. They can both figure themselves out separately because Hawkins does not want Drake near him anymore, no matter how lonely he is.

“Even if it’s not a `no`, it still doesn’t matter. I don’t want you to try and fix it.” His voice is calm, despite the inner turmoil he is experiencing. “We are done. Once I have enough money I will set sail and go find my crew. You should stop wasting your time here.”

“Fine, then I’ll ask you something else.” Hawkins finally looks up and their eyes meet. “Would it have made a difference if I told you the truth when you first asked me?”

Hawkins doesn’t have to think about the answer because he knows it well. “Yes, it would have made a difference if you were honest from the beginning instead of lying to my face over and over again.”

For a few moments, Drake is quiet and Hawkins can’t tell by his expression if he expected that reply or not. Then, surprisingly, he nods. “Thank you for answering. I’ll go.”

He stands up, the chair making an awful screeching sound behind him. Drake looks exhausted both physically and emotionally and Hawkins thinks he has never understood him more than he does in that moment. Even so, whatever they used to have is over now. They both have to get used to that thought.

Hawkins stands too, leading him to the door.

The wind is blowing way harder than before and some vendors are hurrying to pick up their produce before the wind takes it away. As soon as the two of them step in front of the door, it starts raining.

Drake doesn't hesitate and just walks out as the wind picks up more. Hawkins should let him go, but something possesses him and he grabs Drake's shoulder.

“Wait.”

Pull him back in.

Drake looks equally baffled and irritated.

“It's raining… You can stay until it lets up.”

“You're kidding,” Drake says.

“I'm not. I mean it.”

Hawkins locks the door behind Drake so that water doesn't get in and he walks away, towards his room. He hears Drake hesitating before he follows.

He closes his window and pulls aside the curtains to let some light in, while telling himself he's doing all this work because rain is getting in and not because he wants to avoid looking at Drake. Why did he bring him back in anyway? A little rain never hurt anyone.

“Hawkins.”

He looks back. Drake is standing in the doorway, looking tall and handsome, the way Hawkins knows him best. Despite his tired, slouched shoulders he looks the same as he did in Wano, the very image of composure and strength. It is what attracted Hawkins to him in the first place.

“You… can sit down.” Hawkins coughs to clear the knot in his throat.

“I’m fine here.”

“Right…”

He needs to do something else, but there's nothing else to do. The storm thunders outside and he has a feeling it won't pass as fast as he first hoped.

Suddenly it dawns on him. That Temperance, before he assumed it was advice about him keeping calm in front of Drake but now he realises, it's not patience that he needs to exercise, but restraint. If Hawkins looks at him one more time he fears that he will forget all about the past and ask for that comfort he's been craving.

Turning around, he leans his hand on his desk. He knows he must look weak and pathetic right now and it bothers him that he can't bring himself to care about the fact that Drake can see him. After everything Hawkins feels completely safe under his gaze.

Of course, Drake notices his distress because he walks over and touches his shoulder gently.

“Hey…” His voice is soft and his touch is grounding. ”I don't like seeing you like this. I don't care about the rain, if my presence is causing this I'll leave.”

Hawkins shakes his head. “No. Please stay.”

Drake wraps an arm around him and pulls him to his chest, in a gentle and sweet hug. Hawkins simply leans on him, enjoying the familiar gesture.

Still, it hurts more than anything.

At the very least, his mind is quiet and the only thing heard in this room is their soft breaths mingling along with the quiet pitter-patter of the rain.

But suddenly, he feels Drake press a kiss to the top of his head and it becomes too much. He steps back, keeping his eyes on the ground.

Hawkins knows Drake must be looking at him in confusion, but he simply walks up to his nightstand and pulls off his glove. He turns, meeting Drake's eyes and beckoning him over with only his gaze.

Of course, Drake understands, they always seemed to have shared this deep understanding beyond words. Even now, he is aware that Drake knows what Hawkins is thinking about. Despite how selfish it is, he can only hope that Drake agrees.

For a few moments, Hawkins looks out the window, watching as the rain pours. He makes a decision.

Until the rain stops they can be together. They can pretend that nothing has changed and it's just another night in Wano. They can keep each other company, speak quietly to each other and love each other wordlessly as they have done numerous times before.

Drake approaches, looking both confused and conflicted but all his hesitation flies out the window when Hawkins kisses him. He responds the same way as he has always done, forgetting about everything that might be awaiting on the outside.

And despite the betrayal, the heartache and the sleepless nights, Hawkins wishes that the rain would never end.

Chapter Text

“What about this one?” Hawkins asks, his finger resting on Drake’s chin.

His gaze is curious, but Drake can’t help but look to the side. The hot water steams around them, making it difficult to see further away into the bathhouse, but thankfully no one else is here. It’s just the two of them in the hot spring reserved for Kaido’s executives.

“That one? It’s not the same as the others.”

Hawkins leans back slightly, his eyes no less questioning. They have spent the better part of the evening talking about a lot of trivial things, like interests or books they have read, or scars. Drake has many, on different parts of his body, but Hawkins asked about the one he never talked about even if it was one of his most prominent features. When others asked they would get ignored, unfortunately he has learned that he can’t ignore Hawkins.

“Why do you say that?” He didn’t tie his hair before getting in the bath and now his locks gently float on the water’s surface, a slight curl to them.

“I was way younger…” he trails off, unsure. Maybe this is not a story to tell Hawkins. Still, he does it anyway. “It was my father.”

The surprise is evident on Hawkins’s face. “Your father?”

Drake nods, his expression serious. “Yes, right after he defected, it was meant to be a reminder. A reminder about our family. Diez marked on my skin. He wasn’t too stable at that time and he took out a lot of his anger on me.”

There is a hum, low and thoughtful. “Sounds like an asshole.”

“Yeah, he was.” Anything more than that and Drake would have become extremely uncomfortable, perhaps it’s a good thing that Hawkins seems to read him so well.

Hawkins reaches over and slowly and purposefully traces the shape of the X tattoo on Drake’s chest. His touch leaves goosebumps on Drake's skin. “What about this then?”

Drake has to suppress a shiver, he somehow expected that question. “It was me trying to… make it my own. I’m X Drake, I can’t change that so I should be comfortable in my own skin at the very least.”

For the better part of this conversation, Drake didn’t meet Hawkins’s eyes at all. It’s not something he ever told anyone. It’s something he has kept close to himself, without ever planning to reveal to another person. It’s funny how his plans have changed.

It does come as a surprise when Hawkins grabs Drake’s chin and forces his gaze back upon his own. Shortly after they got together, Drake noticed how much Hawkins tended to look away from him and in a way he understands how difficult it must be to accept that terrifying intimacy of looking into someone’s eyes. However, Drake found it hard to not look at Hawkins any chance he got.

“You know, the Wheel of Fortune in my deck is the tenth card. It’s marked with an X. I can’t help but think of you each time I see it.”

Hawkins rarely says sweet things, but that might just be the most caring thing he has said to Drake. Not knowing what to do, he just nods.

“I don’t think I’ll ever see it as anything else.” His voice is low, barely a murmur heard over the distant chatter from beyond the bathhouse wall.

His hand cups Drake’s cheek and he closes his eyes, leaning into it. It’s not often that his hands are warm, but now he feels it hot against his cheek, a touch that he too easily accepted. His soft lips press against Drake and Drake doesn't hesitate to grab his waist firmly. It doesn’t last long and Hawkins pulls back, resting their foreheads together.

Drake glances down at Hawkins’s collarbone. If they’re talking about tattoos, he might as well ask his questions too.

“And you? You believe in God?” He’s clearly looking at the cross tattoo at the base of his neck.

Hawkins doesn’t pause as he replies, “Of course. Don’t you?”

“I’ve seen too much of this world to believe in something like that.”

There is a smile on Hawkins’s lips. “It’s exactly because I’ve seen the world that I believe.” He traces his finger along the sideburns on Drake’s face and over his jaw.

“I don’t know about that,” Drake mutters, too enchanted by the feeling of Hawkins’s hands on him to care about some god.

Hawkins smiles and lets go. “Come on… we’ll have a long day tomorrow.”

Drake can only nod softly as Hawkins stands up. He gets out of the water and Drake leans on the edge, watching the shape of Hawkins's back, how his muscles contract with each step, and how the water from his hair drips onto the floor.

Drake watches for some time, his mind quiet, then he gets up himself, following Hawkins inside.

₊‧ X ‧₊

Days pass and weeks pass and they fall into routine. They do their missions and in the evening one of them stumbles in the other’s room. They talk about everything and nothing at all and somehow never run out of things to talk about. Hawkins continues to spend a lot of time with his cards, asking questions that Drake doesn’t know and doesn’t want to know, but sometimes he asks questions too. Questions about mystical things he wouldn’t ever learn about otherwise. About cards and crystals and teas and stars.

Drake knows stars well, but not in the way Hawkins knows them. They exchange information and on clear nights like this one they find a quiet elevated spot away from the city lights where they just lay on their backs and watch those stars.

Hawkins knows those constellations and what they mean and how their position in the sky affects the people on earth and Drake who has studied the celestial bodies from a scientific point of view simply can't wrap his head around it.

“No, it's just… not how it works, I don't believe it.”

Hawkins smiles. He is holding Drake's wrist as they're laying on their backs, his thumb softly rubbing the back of his hand in a sweet, affectionate gesture that Drake hasn't yet gotten used to receiving.

“Skepticism isn't a good look on you, but I’m surprised it took this long for you to disagree with me.”

“Before meeting you I didn't know anything about Tarot cards or fortune telling, I can't argue about something I don't know anything about.” His voice is low, it's unlikely that anyone would care to look for them here, but his words are only meant for Hawkins to hear at this time.

There's a soft hum, “So you know about stars? That's new.”

“I studied all forms of navigation when I was young. Before modern technology, celestial navigation was very common.”

He senses Hawkins's gaze on him, but he doesn't turn to look. “I know that, I'm a sailor too, you know?” His tone is teasing. “But astrology and celestial navigation are quite apart from each other.”

“Yeah… but after that, I picked up astronomy and astrophysics, both of which disagree completely with zodiacs and all that other stuff.”

Hawkins looks back up at the sky again. “I think they can coexist.”

“So you really think that the positions of the planets and stars influence your personality and actions and the people you interact with? You do know that our planet spins on its own axis and around the sun, the other planets too. That’s all you’re seeing!” He’s getting a bit heated up now.

“Scientifically, everything that we are comes from stars. We are made of stardust.” Hawkins counters, his tone calm.

Drake can’t help himself and he just huffs. “That’s too broad of an argument.”

“I’m not making an argument. Believe what you want.” Hawkins sounds annoyed too.

Maybe the two of them simply shouldn’t disagree on things.

Drake shifts his hand slightly, so they are properly holding hands now. Hawkins’s fingers are way longer than his own and as usual, their hands are cold.

Despite not wanting to continue annoying him, Drake keeps going. “Stars shift around, they burn out… These constellations won’t exist anymore someday.”

“I think that is too far out into the future for us to worry about.”

There’s a pause and for a while Drake feels like the conversation ended, but something urges him to stay quiet. He continues looking up at the sky, taking mental notes of interesting things that he can observe at this time of year. Eventually, Hawkins looks back at Drake and this time, Drake meets his gaze. Then he continues speaking, “Stars burning out…Supernovas.”

Drake nods as a confirmation.

“Do you think… we are meant to burn out as well?” Hawkins asks.

For the first time since Drake has met him, he looks completely vulnerable. His eyes are soft and there is a slight furrow between his eyebrows while the grip he has on Drake’s hand is unusually tight.

“No.” His voice is certain. “I won’t let that happen.”

And maybe it’s the right thing to say, because Hawkins nods and gazes back up at the sky again. Although it is clear from the look on his face that he didn’t stop thinking deeply about something.

Drake closes his eyes. He’s got an inkling of whatever it could be, so he simply holds onto Hawkins’s hand, hoping the touch is just as grounding for him as it is for Drake.

₊‧ X ‧₊

Drake walks on the sand, his boots sinking with every step he takes. It’s a hot, uncomfortable day and he doesn’t understand why Hawkins is out here at this time. At the very least he is thankful that the beach is currently empty and he easily spots Hawkins sitting on the sand near a large, rocky pier.

He approaches, trying to figure out what Hawkins is up to but he seems to just be … staring into the distance? That’s odd.

“Hey,” Drake greets, while he is close enough.

Hawkins doesn’t look up, but Drake is used to these sorts of greetings. Usually, Hawkins is busy doing one thing or another, but he always stops to acknowledge him which makes this even more of an odd situation.

“Shhh.”

“What?” Drake asks, confused. He looks around, is there anyone?

“You’re breaking my concentration,” Hawkins says and his gaze remains unmoving.

Huh? Alright then. Drake sits next to him. He stares into the direction that Hawkins is looking towards trying to figure out exactly what has gotten him so captivated. However, he only sees rocks and nothing else. “Are you meditating?”

Drake immediately notices the small frown on Hawkins’s face as he glances back at him. “No. Thank you for listening to my very clear request.”

That seems like an exaggerated reaction. Drake raises his hands in surrender. “Sorry, I guess. What are you doing?”

Finally, Hawkins looks at him. He is different than usual as he has tied his hair in a half-up style, probably to bear the heat better. “Water gazing.”

That seems rather obvious but it doesn't make Drake any less confused. “Is that supposed to mean something?”

Hawkins smiles an odd smile and grabs Drake’s face with one hand, pulling him in to peck his lips.

“You infuriate me so much.” But his amused expression does not match his words.

“I could say the same about you,” Drake continues, no less confused than before.

Despite how hot it is, Hawkins leans into his side and returns his gaze to those rocks up ahead. “It’s a form of divination… Water gazing.”

Wrapping his arm around Hawkins’s waist, Drake looks in that direction too. “How am I supposed to know that?”

“I guess you’re not… that’s why I told you.”

“You got annoyed,” Drake reminds him.

“Just for a moment because you interrupted me. It takes a lot of concentration.”

Drake nods. “Did you see anything?”

“Not yet…” He seems disappointed about that. “You should try.”

After hearing that, Drake almost laughs. “Me? No way, I don’t know anything about this stuff.”

“Try it anyway…” It’s hard to resist when Hawkins turns towards him and whispers those words right by his ear.

He nods. “But how?”

“See the reflection of the water?” Drake nods again, but it’s very hard to focus with Hawkins so very close to him. “Try to make out an image.”

An image? That’s impossible, there is no image anywhere, just the ripples of the water reflecting on the rocks and the sunlight hitting the waves. What is Hawkins even talking about?

“Relax…” Hawkins reaches over to smooth the frown that has formed between Drake’s eyebrows. “You can’t force it… Just gaze upon the water and tell me what you see.”

“I don’t see anything, I’m not like you, Hawkins.” His tone is even and his voice grave.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t see… You can still work on your intuition.” Hawkins looks again and maybe he sees something this time because his eyes change. “I saw… a seagull.”

Drake doesn’t see any seagulls anywhere. “What, where?”

When he glances back at Hawkins, he has a finger on his chin, thinking deeply about something. “In the water, Drake…” His tone is patient. “But I’m not sure what it means.”

There is a pause and for a few minutes the only thing they can hear is the sound of the waves washing up on the shore. It’s peaceful.

“Do you think that what you are doing is a form of Observation Haki?” Drake doesn't mean to break the peace but this is something he has been thinking about.

Hawkins is quiet, taking his time to respond but judging by the slight change in his expression he is considering his words. “I… haven't thought of it like that.”

“You know Observation Haki, right?”

“Of course.” Hawkins nods. “I picked it up quite effortlessly too.”

“Then… that must be it. Your strong intuition is based on years of honing your Haki in that direction.”

Drake has always been a pragmatic man. Witnessing the extent of Hawkins’s unexplained mysticism always unsettled him and he often tried to come up with explanations, even if he mostly kept them to himself. Being right for once filled him with a sort of strange satisfaction.

“Probably,” Hawkins replies, absently. “I never thought too much about it.

His mind clearly isn't here though. It's a look he gets often when he is thinking about something intensely and whether it is the seagull image or the Haki revelation, Drake doesn't know. All he knows is that, selfishly, he doesn’t like that Hawkins’s attention isn't on him anymore.

Before he can stop himself, he reaches over and grabs the hair tie around Hawkins’s hair, pulling it off smoothly and watching as those golden waves wrap around his body again. The result is almost instantaneous because Hawkins turns to glare at him.

“Was that really necessary?”

There's a sort of odd beauty about the look in his eyes, irritated but focused entirely on Drake.

“Yes,” he replies, pushing on Hawkins's shoulder until he is lying down. Later he will be upset about getting sand in his hair but for now it looks like that thought doesn't cross his mind.

Drake leans over him, his hand slowly trailing down his chest. If Hawkins will be annoyed later, then it is worth it because he wraps his arms around Drake’s neck and pulls him down into a searing kiss.

The sand is warm, the sun is beating down on them and the ocean continues its ancient dance. They kiss until they are out of breath and when they pull apart, they don't speak at all, as their eyes tell enough.

Drake carefully lays his head on Hawkins’s chest, listening to his heartbeat.

Even if it's brief, he will enjoy this moment.

Chapter Text

Drake opens his eyes.

He sees Hawkins laying down next to him, his chest heaving softly with harsh breaths. He didn't register him moving, but he's too exhausted to notice much of anything right now. Drake is in a similar situation as Hawkins, and he wipes the sweat from his brow as he tries to catch his breath.

In the meantime, he continues looking at Hawkins, studying him and etching his features into memory, after all there is no gurantee that he will ever be able to do that again. He takes note of the way his mouth is parted so that he can breathe better, of the way his sharp nose glints slightly under a thin sheet of sweat, of the way his eyes refuse to meet Drake’s own. 

It’s not something new, Hawkins often had an aversion towards looking him in the eye, even before Drake’s true identity was revealed to him. However, Drake enjoyed seeing him and he enjoyed feeling seen. Whenever he could, he would remind Hawkins in different ways that he's not supposed to look away. Despite the familiarity, he doesn’t like how Hawkins hasn’t looked into his eyes once after their kiss and he’s not sure what it means. If Hawkins has truly moved on he would have no problem looking at Drake, right? He would just treat this like another fling and not even worry about something like that, but maybe he’s reading too much into it. He knows that Hawkins will always be unpredictable.

For now, it’s quiet and Drake enjoys this rare moment of peace. Perhaps it’s the first time since he had left Wano that he could experience a truly blissful tranquility like this one. The familiar figure next to him continues to ease his worries despite the tension that exists between them. He likes it, he concludes. He likes being here with Hawkins and just his presence makes it feel like the time wasted on this island was all worth it. Maybe he should just admit to himself the truth…

Drake reaches for him and he tenderly touches his cheek in order to change the trajectory of his gaze. Their eyes meet, finally and for once he doesn’t see hostility or pain there. It doesn’t last more than a few moments, before Hawkins rips his head away and sits up.

Shit, Drake ruined it.

If he had just kept his hands to himself, Hawkins would have remained laying there. Probably.

Now he’s scooting away until he’s sitting on the side of the bed. Drake sees the grey light from the window bouncing off his back, his hair acting as a covering for his body. His skin is so pale in this light, it almost makes him look lifeless. 

“Wait,” Drake says, as a last attempt, but Hawkins only glances back at him for a brief moment.

“Why would I wait? This was a mistake.”

Still, he doesn’t move from the side of the bed.

“It was not a mistake.”

It’s quiet again and Drake flattens the silk sheets under him, only to have something to do with his hands. No matter how hard Hawkins tries to convince him, Drake can’t believe that it was a mistake when for the first time in decades Drake has felt at home whenever Hawkins was with him in a tiny room like this one. Home, a place he left behind a long time ago, but a place he has found right here in this bed.

“You shouldn’t have come.” Hawkins’s voice is grave, holding a lot of unspoken emotions.

“I’m sorry…” he murmurs, uncertainty laced in the volume of his words.

“You’re not.” Hawkins is right, Drake is not sorry.

Even if he didn’t know what he was waiting for, he is glad that he waited and he is thankful to whatever it is that made him walk towards the old lady’s fortune telling shop. He wouldn’t change it for anything. Even if the beginning of their meeting was rocky, Drake got to see Hawkins again and feel him again. Experiencing that closeness and that warmth for the first time since he had left Wano made him certain of his choice.

However, Hawkins’s indifference frustrates him, he knows it’s nothing but an act. “You’re the one who took me here!” Drake raises his tone slightly.

“Well, I shouldn’t have! That was my mistake. Not moving on is yours.”

Now that’s rich coming from him. Drake knows Hawkins must have felt it too, that connection and attachment. It’s impossible to let go of something like that and Drake knows for sure that he saw it in his eyes too, today in this very room.

Drake sits up and scoots over too, lingering at his back. His hand grazes his shoulder, a mere feather of a touch and he pulls aside that long, blonde hair. Hawkins doesn’t turn to look at him, but he doesn’t move away from his touch either. Instead, he stays still.

Leaning in, he presses a gentle kiss to his shoulder. It’s the purest form of affection he has shown him since they have reunited. Then he just rests his cheek on his back, and stays there for a while. Through it all, Hawkins doesn't stir or say anything, and just remains unmoving, his body relaxed and comfortable.

In this position, Drake can feel the scent of Hawkins’s hair.

“Your hair… smells different,” he says, simply. An observation.

Hawkins nods. “Yes, I don’t have the same shampoo here.” A simple reply.

Right, it’s different… Everything is different now, but Drake is still stuck in the past. He knows Hawkins is right, that he should get up and leave without looking back, but isn’t it easier to stay here for just a moment longer? Isn’t this what he has wanted for so long? This warmth?

He picks up a few wisps of Hawkins’s hair and holds them between his fingers. He notices one or two grey strands that make his heart ache in a strange way. He brings them closer to his lips, this time it is a kiss for himself, as Hawkins cannot even feel it, but Drake takes great comfort in it.

“You need to give up, Drake. You need to go back to Marine Headquarters and we need to live our separate lives away from each other. In a year we won’t even remember this anymore.” His tone almost fools Drake.

For a few seconds, he doesn’t speak, but he lets the hair slip past his fingers. He pulls away from Hawkins’s back just enough to watch the parts of his face that he can see.

“Maybe, I don’t want to forget…” he whispers.

He sees the way Hawkins looks at the floor after hearing his words. “You have to. It’s over.”

Drake nods. Maybe Hawkins is right. He can’t force him to be with him anyway. “Then, I’ll get going.”

Climbing out of bed, he gathers his clothes and puts them back on. He glances at Hawkins who is doing the same. He must go now, but his feet remain stuck in place. Now Hawkins looks up at him, his expression unreadable.

He simply stands, approaching him at a steady pace and stopping once they are a breath’s width apart.

“You tell me to leave, but then you come to me? What am I supposed to understand?” Drake clenches his teeth, this is too much. Is Hawkins just toying with him?

Hawkins has to look up to meet his gaze, but he does. Properly and out of his own volition, their eyes meet and no more words are spoken until… “You forgot your hat.”

Drake barely registers it, but Hawkins plops his hat back on his head, adjusting it until it sits the way it’s supposed to, then he rests his hand on Drake’s chest.

Dammit, Drake grabs the sides of Hawkins head and pulls him into a kiss. It’s not different from the brief one they shared earlier, as he tried to convey both desperation and desire in equal measure. Would one kiss make Hawkins let him stay? If that was the case, he wouldn’t have been kicked out. A kiss won’t fix anything.

Pulling back, Drake can only whisper against Hawkins’s lips. “I’m sorry.” This time he means it wholeheartedly.

Hawkins did not push him away and he responded vehemently to the kiss, but this? This seems like way more than he can handle, because he tears his gaze away one more time.

“It doesn’t matter.”

He pushes on Drake’s chest and Drake has to step back. Of course, it doesn’t matter. Why would it?

“I don’t understand… We both had secrets. You can’t expect me to believe that you’ve told me all there is to know about you.”

“No, Drake. I did not have any secrets and even now I do not have any secrets that I am keeping from you. From our very first meeting I was completely and utterly honest with you. When I wanted you, I showed that to you. When you betrayed me, I pushed you away as any sane person would have done. I am a pirate, you hunt my kind for a living, I don’t see why this is so difficult for you to understand.”

After snapping, Hawkins pants softly and his angry expression is not one that Drake saw often, if ever. His fist is clenched tightly and he turns around, not looking at Drake anymore. Maybe this way he can calm down faster.

“Go home, Drake. Go back to North Blue, Marine Headquarters, wherever you want. Just go.”

His tone is levelled and calm once again and he simply steps away from him. He pulls back the chair at his desk and uses some matches to light a yellow candle. The wick burns quickly, illuminating Hawkins's features in a dim, warm hue.

Drake watches as Hawkins opens a book and starts reading, pretending that Drake isn't even there anymore. Meanwhile, Drake is stuck unmoving, stunned by the outburst. At one point, the shirt that Hawkins is wearing slips down his shoulder and Drake continues to watch, until Hawkins reaches over and slowly fixes it. It’s obvious that despite the earlier uncertainty, Hawkins has made his choice and he probably won’t even acknowledge Drake’s presence anymore.

Until now, his feet were frozen in place, refusing to move, but it's all clear. No matter how little he wants to, Drake has to go.

Even if some months ago during a similar quiet moment, Hawkins would read by himself at his desk while Drake would sharpen his swords, just basking together in a pleasant silence. Now Drake has to leave. There are a few more things he wishes he could say, but at a time like this they would not be well received. He can only hang his head low in defeat and leave the room.

He exits the old lady's shop and finds her leaning on a wall outside, smoking a cigarette. She raises an eyebrow in his direction and Drake can't help but note the knowing look in her eyes. He has no comment to make on it and instead, Drake decides to take advantage of the rain ending to return to the inn.

“Hey, kid!” It’s the old lady’s voice.

Drake debates not stopping, but she might want to tell him something important. He turns to look at her.

“I drew a card for you.”

“I’m not interested in that anymore,” he replies. Even if he’s not feeling well, it doesn’t hurt to be polite.

“Come on, it’s free, you can just go on your way after.”

So insistent... Drake isn't in the mood for this but if he gets it over with quickly, he never has to return here again. He walks up to her. “Alright then. What did you get?”

“It’s a warning.” She puts out the cigarette and leans on the wall, crossing her arms over her chest. “You need to watch your back.”

Drake raises his eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

“Someone, somewhere is working against you, trying to set you up.”

Squinting slightly at her, Drake straightens his back. “What do you mean? How do you know this?”

“I saw it, kid. I wouldn’t normally bother telling you, but I got a really bad feeling. It’s serious.” Her voice is heavy with concern. “That other brat in there seemed attached to you.” Drake winces at that. “I need him to do his best work, so I had to tell you to watch out for yourself.”

“Don’t you know who it is?”

She shakes her head. “No, just be careful.”

Drake nods, as a deep pit forms in his stomach. He shouldn’t stick around anymore.

“Thank you, madam. Goodbye.”

He leaves without awaiting her reply and once again, defeated, unhappy and anxious, he truly considers all that was said today.

Perhaps it’s finally time to go home.

Chapter Text

Baxi has always been a simple man.

Sure, a little ambitious but it’s hard not to be after growing up on an island in the New World where all sorts of pirates lay anchor every day. Despite all that, he had simple goals, even if it was difficult to live on the sidelines and hold down a normal job when he saw all the free men of the sea doing whatever they pleased, whenever they pleased, with only stupid and incompetent Marines trying to hold them back.

Baxi had to admit that having a government job definitely had its perks, he had money and information and status, but he couldn’t help his thoughts wandering to something else whenever a pirate crew was in town. He often considered leaving it all behind to join a life at sea. However, he knew that in order to be able to live like those monsters he had to be as strong as they are and with only his mind he wouldn’t get far on the sea. In the end, he decided that it would not be worth it, dying an early death and being forgotten in a watery grave.

For a long time he kept working diligently, following orders and climbing up the ladder until his influence and power could not be contested anymore. Still, it felt unfulfilling. It was not freedom, it was a simple illusion of being comfortable and nothing else.

Maybe it was that stump he had fallen in that caused that moment of uncertainty, that moment that changed anything. Sneaking on the newly anchored pirate ship and stealing the treasure onboard was the most alive he had felt in years, even if the chest was quite very small. He didn’t know what came over him when he risked his life and his job for a few moments of adrenaline, but when he opened the box to reveal a Devil Fruit of his very own, it was like things had finally fallen into place.

Baxi didn’t hesitate when he took that bite and he didn’t regret it, not for one moment. He was ecstatic when he used his newly-acquired power to fake his own death and set out to sea. For a few months he was alone, working hard to get stronger and learn everything that a pirate needed to know and once he joined Kaido, he could finally say that he was ready to experience that freedom and glory he had been dreaming about since he was a child. It was about time that he had a real chance to prove himself in a place that really mattered.

Perhaps he should have known that the universe’s intent of taking away his happiness was a bigger curse than any Devil Fruit could ever be.

Kaido fell mere weeks after Baxi joined him.

He did consider giving up and going back to his home island and pretend he miraculously survived the fall that he illusioned in order to trick people into believing he died, but how could he do that and remain true to himself? It’s impossible to live a normal life after he caught a taste of true pirate freedom.

So he did what all of Kaido’s leftover waiters did. He ran.

Running is an honourable strategy for a pirate, especially when there are no other alternatives. He can accept the idea that he has to start over, it’s not a big deal. Maybe if he prepares better he can even get a crew of his own together and make his own name known across the seas.

What he can’t accept, however, is being looked down on. Especially by a filthy, lying Marine.

“I’ll ask who the pirate is,” Baxi speaks up as soon as X Drake hangs up the Baby Transponder Snail. A Marine loving a pirate? That’s quite the scandal. He might have gotten punched in the face earlier, but he won’t let this man make a fool out of him.

X Drake seems annoyed as he crouches down in front of Baxi. “I won’t tell you that, but I’ll tell you other things.” He grabs onto Baxi’s collar and effortlessly pulls him up.

Fuck. Baxi grabs the Marine’s wrist trying to pry his hand away but it’s no use. Brute strength was never his forte. “You yap about any of this to anyone, you’ll answer to me. If anyone finds out, I’ll know it was you and I will find you, no matter where you are or where you are hiding.”

Baxi shakes in his boots, but he tries to steel his gaze. He can’t show weakness. This man is terrifying, his voice chilling him to the very bone but he will not show that.

“I’m not scared of you!” He tries hard to appear unphased but Baxi’s voice cracks and he silently curses himself.

“You said you worked for Kaido, then you know very well what I’m capable of. Your death won’t be a kind one.” X Drake’s eyes change and Baxi is suddenly brought back to Wano where most of the higher ups often had that animalistic look that sent shivers down his spine.

He needs to get out of here. “Okay! Okay, fine! I won’t say a word to anyone.”

“Good.”

Baxi gets dropped to the ground and he watches the retreating back of X Drake, Marine and former Tobbiroppo, as an ugly hate builds up inside him. He can’t believe that he let himself be intimidated by someone like him.

Standing up, he brushes off the dust from his clothes and the blood from his face.

“Stupid Marine… You’ll regret messing with me.”

~~~

Coming up with a plan is easy, Baxi has always been clever enough to hold down an annoying government job but he has found that as a pirate he could be quite cunning too. Maybe it’s all the books he has read or a natural affinity —he likes to think that it’s the latter— but he’s proud of all the schemes he has come up with over the years. Some were less important and significant while others allowed him to join Kaido’s crew despite not possessing a Zoan type Devil Fruit. It’s a shame that his talents could not be better utilised.

After some time he also realised that with the help of his Devil Fruit powers, all his plans could be put in practice a lot more efficiently and the use of his Devil Fruit in carrying out his ideas eventually changed his way of thinking entirely. He’s grateful for that.

Baxi is confident enough in this particular plan and even if it won’t ruin X Drake’s life completely it could still potentially stain his reputation and provide great annoyance to him for a few months at least. That’s enough for Baxi.

“Who are you again?”

The pirate captain watches Baxi with disinterest, like this conversation is beneath him. It was annoying, waiting so long for an audience but now that he’s here he won’t let this moment go to waste, even if this asshole is disrespectful.

“I’m the Illusioner Baxi, at your service.” He bows low, theatrically. It’s important to make a good first impression.

Captain Radin isn’t impressed in the slightest. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

Tsk. Whatever, he needs to keep his cool. “Whether or not it does, I have a business proposition for you.”

“Right… Let’s hear it then.”

“Well…” Baxi begins, feeling just a sliver of a doubt creeping up inside him. “I heard there’s a rat on this island… A Marine rat.”

Radin raises an intrigued eyebrow and Baxi cheers internally. This is it. “I want to get rid of him and I know for a fact you enjoy pounding Marines more than anyone, isn’t that right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” The captain leans forward in his seat, watching him carefully.

“Then what if I told you I could bring him to you tomorrow?” Baxi smiles.

The captain smirks. “Go on.”

It’s not for nothing that they say, revenge is a dish best served cold.

~~~

Setting everything up is a breeze and he does have to admit that he’s been having perhaps way too much fun fabricating proof of X Drake’s alleged crimes and petty offences. Even if he did get carried away in the end he ends up with an entire file filled with photographs, proof of time well spent.

On his way to Marine Headquarters he even contacts a News Coo representative that will make the story public, ensuring the World Government cannot sweep this under the rug. It’s too easy and too fun and Baxi chuckles to himself as he stares at the picture of X Drake strangling a lone Marine officer that shipwrecked on Renegade Reef.

Did he go too far? Perhaps… However, it was an amazing moment where he learned so much more about himself and his own powers and he couldn’t pass up the opportunity when he saw that officer sneaking around. By that point he already perfected the form of X Drake’s body even if his voice was quite off. Baxi found that it didn’t really matter and that most people don’t bother to notice the difference in someone’s voice when they are being attacked, especially when there’s no familiarity between the two people. It was even better when Baxi could swoop in as the hero and convince the Marine to go back to Headquarters together and present their case to the superiors.

Now they’re waiting in front of a closed office door until the base commander is ready to see them. He’s nervous but his plan is too foolproof to fail.

After what seems like forever the door opens and they’re invited inside, watching the intimidating Commodore inspect them with way too knowing eyes.

“Your name?”

“Willford Baxi, sir.” The man writes it down while the Marine presents himself. His heart is pounding in his ears too loud for him to hear it.

“I hear you have a report to make?”

“Y-yes.” Baxi steps forward and places the bag with the photographs in front of the Commodore. He takes them out and looks over them, an eyebrow raised in interest.

“I believe that’s X Drake, former Marine turned pirate, right? However, I have information that he was actually a Marine undercover this whole time. Perhaps you can check it with Marine Headquarters.”

“There’s no need, I’m well aware of it.”

Baxi nods, swallowing the knot in his throat. “Well, something must have happened because I saw him convening with pirates and wreaking mayhem on Renegade Reef, I even heard that he took a pirate lover… Sir!”

“Yes, this is definitely concerning… But my question is what were you doing on Renegade Reef?”

Shit.

“Sir! I was kidnapped from my home island by a band of pirates. It’s only recently that I was able to escape and I’m thankful I ran into this brave hero…” He pats the back of the random soldier that brought him here. What was his name again?

“I had a respectable job and I served the World Government, all I want is to continue doing that.”

The Commodore looks suspicious but he relents. “Fine, I’ll have someone look into this and also… into your history if you don’t mind.”

“Of course! Of course, I don’t mind.” He definitely minds but does he have a choice? “Do whatever you need to do.”

“You must understand these photographs might not hold in court.”

Baxi nods… That’s troublesome. “But are they enough to make a case?”

“Might be,” the Commodore continues to shuffle through them. “How did you get these?”

“I just… saw him doing something suspicious once and I took a picture. After that I decided to follow him and take more pictures. I was hoping it would be enough to gain the World Government’s trust again and get my job back.” He makes sure his expression conveys hopefulness but also hesitance.

The Commodore nods again and forms a number on the Transponder Snail. That’s their cue to leave and they make their way out.

Baxi is risking a lot while doing this. One mistake could be enough to ruin everything, but he’s ready for whatever it takes. If he can pull this off, it will be proof that he is ready for anything the sea will throw at him.

Chapter Text

Unsurprisingly, Basil Hawkins is a superstitious man with many, many tricks up his sleeve.

It’s simply how he was raised and his mother’s lessons stuck to him throughout his entire life long after he had left his home island. It has always been the simplest way to do things, even if others would consider all his habits silly and time-consuming.

Maybe he simply didn’t know another way to live. If someone at the dinner table spilled salt, he’d have to throw salt over his left shoulder, whistling on the ship was a worse offence than quarrels between crewmembers and unfortunately whoever broke a mirror would be kicked out of the crew. Black cats crossing his path? He had stopped worrying about that one as soon as Faust joined his crew.

Most people know him for his cards, but those close enough know of his dozens other particular and peculiar rituals that he simply can’t let go off. Back in Wano, he did his best to follow through on his little traditions, but such a secluded country did not have all the materials he had grown accustomed to and he never spent enough time with the locals to learn of their own customs.

Perhaps his lack of a routine was the reason he held his cards so close at that time. Nothing else was familiar to him and for a time he hoped that his cards would show a path towards freedom. He hated how wrong he was.

Thankfully, Renegade Reef was different and the old lady followed a lot of the same practice as he did. During his stay, he’d often wonder of her origins, but he never asked her, even if he did notice a slight Northern drawl in her words at times. They never bonded over anything, not their card reading, nor their hometowns or their practice, they barely spoke to each other but Hawkins felt oddly at peace in her presence. Perhaps it was the understanding that they shared that made it so they don’t need any words.

If asked, she would definitely say that her eyes weren’t misty at all when Hawkins set sail earlier that morning. Still, Hawkins saw it anyway and was grateful to receive the supplies she had ready for him. Once a long way from the island, Hawkins opened the bag to find food and other items that could come in useful with time, including a small trinket from her collection that Hawkins remarked once that he liked. Seeing it in his supply bag made him smile and he hoped this gift would make the journey easier.

Hours after setting off, the sun is very hot even if he’s miles away from the island. He’s not sure if he wants to encounter a winter island soon but he’s happy to be away from the heat for a while.

Hawkins knows that out here, in the great expanse of the ocean, on his own and with no guidance, no amount of tricks will help him. Even if he’s not in a hurry to get away from his memories in this time of boredom, he’s not sure what brought on the reminiscing, it’s not often that he thinks about these things since most of his memories are very fuzzy, especially those from his childhood.

After so long, he hardly even remembers his childhood home, but he does remember the divination shop and his mother at her working table. He remembers her voice and the stories she told him, stories of his pirate father and his many adventures on the seas; adventures that his mother eventually joined in too. Hawkins has never been an adventurous man but he does thrive in dangerous situations. Could he really be a member of the Worst Generation otherwise?

Similarly, Hawkins is not a romantic man and he never shuffled his cards to get insight on when or how his great love will appear in his life. But as a teenager and even as a young adult he made a habit of putting basil under his pillow once a year on an auspicious night. Perhaps he was simply inspired by his mother who used this trick to dream of his father long before they have met. Unfortunately, he was never quite as gifted as his mother was in prophetic dreams and every time he tried he would never get a clear image of who is meant to be his lover. Just strange glimpses of a broad back, an ice-like gaze or the hilt of a sword. Now, despite remembering it clearly, he does not try to reinvision those images.

Other things are simpler and he has continued doing them well into adulthood. Hawkins has gotten used to hanging yellow bedstraw at his belt every midsummer night, there was always mistletoe hung on the main mast and he always kept a steady supply of blackthorn for whenever he and his crew needed to eliminate someone quietly. When the winds were weak he would simply untie knots and when his crew members were not feeling well, he had many ways of aiding their issues.

Hopefully, they’ll remember all those times and take him back once he returns to his ship.

The sun disappears in the clouds and the sudden lighting change springs Hawkins out of his thoughts. He quietly glances at his pocket watch, almost an entire day has passed. Perhaps he’ll try to contact Faust again, but it’s likely he won’t pick up if he hasn't already.

Tricks can’t help him out here. He’s alone at sea without a single soul in sight. When people are around it’s easy to read them and manipulate them, using his talents and assets in order to get what he wants is like second nature at this point. But here? Here all those things are useless when he is hurrying towards a destination that he himself does not know about.

Of course, that doesn't mean he can't try.

Hawkins looks down at his day’s handiwork. A rough, whittled boat sits dully on his palm. Definitely not one of his usual tricks, but he did watch Ramon carve wood enough times that he managed to create something that at least resembles a floating vessel. It looks the part, but does it do its job?

Leaning over the starboard, he places the small boat onto the waves. He’s happy to see that it doesn’t tip over and actually stays afloat!

For the next part of his plan, he uses his straws for a very familiar creation and soon a small straw puppet waves at him from his hand. He takes out a small piece of paper from his pocket upon which the Transponder Snail number is written, and he tucks it under the waistband he created for the puppet. He gently lowers it onto the wooden boat, whispering a quiet command towards it.

“Go find them.”

The puppet nods, determined and sails off into the distance.

A new trick. Unconventional? Perhaps. Will it work? Maybe not. However, Hawkins is nothing if not resourceful and he’ll try as many times as he needs until he will find what he’s looking for.

The journey ahead is long and uncertain, but Hawkins continues to sail forward.

₊⋆✦⋆₊

On his first island he meets a bounty hunter.

Sometimes he despises his own luck.

Fortunately, the man now lays on the ground, bloodied and barely hanging onto consciousness while Hawkins tries to catch his breath. He is not yet strong enough to get into fights, but this time it was unavoidable. He has a distinct appearance that he knows people tend to remember which is why bounty hunters have always been a pain in the ass. Taking after Kidd, Hawkins used his Devil Fruit power to create an arm that can help him in times of need as well as keep his new weakness hidden. Even if he can't control it very well, he has a feeling that hiding his new disability helped him out greatly. Enemies fight differently when they know there is a weak spot to aim for. 

Thankfully, he is safe for now.

“Basil Hawkins?”

Not this again.

He unsheathes his sword and turns around, ready to take on yet another bounty hunter. However, this time it's clear that the person in front of him is just a pirate. Hawkins doesn’t let his guard down.

“Who's asking?”

It's a woman with long black hair and a beauty mark on her upper lip. She keeps a sword at her waist, but she doesn't take it out when addressing Hawkins.

“I’m Black Raven Sayda and I need your help.”

“My help?”

Hm. He sheathes his blade for now and approaches her. “I don't see how I can help you.”

“I heard you do that magical shit? My brother is in danger and you can help him.”

He looks her up and down, trying to figure out a deeper motive. When finding nothing suspicious in her body language, he concludes that she must be honest. Hawkins will have to refuse her, he doesn't have time to help random nobodies.

“I don't know what you heard, but most rumours on these seas aren't true,” he says, his tone levelled.

“I don't care, come take a look at him and we can decide after.” She walks over to the passed out bounty hunter and rummages through his clothes. “This guy is the reason my brother is like that. I came to take care of him, but you beat me to it.”

Hawkins hums. “Then your issue seems to be solved.”

Finally she seems to find what she is looking for because she raises her hand and shows him two small vials. “Poison,” she says. “He coats his blade with them. You need to tell me what they are and what antidote to use.”

Yeah, right. Sure, he knows about most poisonous plants, but… “I don’t know anything about chemical poisons.”

“Great. Then you’ll tell me if this one is chemical or not.”

“No, I will not.” He starts walking past her. “This isn’t any of my business, I have better things to do.”

Sayda grabs his arm when he passes by her. “Come on, we’ll help you out too, just name your price.”

“I have enough money.”

“Then… not money! Anything else, just help me out here. Our doctor left ages ago and no one knows squat about this stuff.”

Hawkins is not interested but a thought does surface in his mind. He thinks about how difficult it is to sail by himself and how deadly any kind of storm could be while on his small, unprepared dinghy.

“Do you have a ship?” he asks.

“Of course we do. Do you need a ride somewhere? If my brother survives we’ll take you wherever you want.”

That’s all he needed to hear.

“Alright then.” He walks back and crouches next to the passed out bounty hunter. He runs his hand over his pockets and looks through his pouch until he finds some pills.

“You know, if he works with poison then he must keep the antidote on him at all times, otherwise if an accident occurs he could put his own life in danger.”

“You’re joking.” Sayda doesn’t look happy. “All this time you knew and didn’t tell me? What an asshole.”

Hawkins smirks to himself, he just knows how to get what he wants, that's all. There’s nothing wrong with that and it’s not his fault that most of these no-name pirates are utterly incompetent.

He tosses the pills to her and follows her back to the ship.

They find her brother, Pierce, his sister introduces him. He’s in a really bad shape and despite drinking the pills immediately, he’ll probably need a few days to recover. Hawkins receives a hammock of his very own in the barracks and the next day at dawn, they set sail.

Turns out the bunch don’t make the most terrible companions. They’re not the brightest but they’re definitely an entertaining and rowdy group that remind Hawkins of his own crew that he didn't stop trying to reach via Transponder Snail. For now he feels comfortable here, content with his situation, only checking the cards when he needs insight towards his destination and slowly starting to undo his anxious habit of always having them near. He even gets back into his old routine that earned him his moniker and despite freaking out most of Sayda’s and Pierce’s crew with his practice, he feels at ease.

Until one morning right before he tries to type in that familiar number into the Transponder Snail, it rings all by itself. Only one person could have access to this number and Hawkins smiles to himself. It looks like his unconventional trick worked just fine.

He picks up, unsurprised when he hears a voice that he knows well, his first mate. “Captain Hawkins? Is that you?”

Chapter Text

The cards never lie. That is one of the first things that Hawkins has learned about this particular tarot deck. He was perhaps four or five years old when he figured it out and that lesson did not fail him once in his entire life.

The cards never lie, always communicating clearly all the important things that he must know. Now it is like they are screaming at him. They are screaming at him and he can’t figure out what they are saying. It’s been going on for months, ever since he and Drake began spending more quality time in each other’s presence. It’s mildly infuriating seeing the same cards over and over, the same combinations, the same images glaring at him like a curse he can't shake off. Worst of all, he doesn’t understand. They all point to lying, betrayal and opposing values.

One thing he knows is that all these clues have to be about Drake, but what confuses Hawkins is that he can’t figure out what Drake is lying about. At first, he simply assumes that Drake has another lover, but the more he thinks about it the less sense it makes. Drake is a serious man and loyal, that much is clear about him. What’s more, would the cards really point to infidelity when the relationship between Hawkins and Drake isn’t even defined yet? Sure, they spend a lot of time together and some of the looks that Drake gives Hawkins are too sickeningly fond, but neither Drake nor Hawkins have openly expressed the desire to close off their relationship. Drake is in his right to meet with whoever he likes.

Still… Hawkins looks down. Drake is in his hybrid form, laying on the couch with his head resting in Hawkins’s lap. There is a content and relaxed look on his face and his eyes are closed, almost like he’s sleeping. The couch is barely large enough to fit this form, but Hawkins did not have the heart to tell him that after Drake stumbled into his cabin looking all bloodied and exhausted. Drake had simply just laid on the couch before Hawkins could even stand up and greet him and he nestled himself right on Hawkins’s thigh.

Maybe Hawkins protested, maybe he didn’t, does it matter? Even when all that blood began pooling on Hawkins’s expensive and purple throw blanket, he remained quiet. Now he’s just looking at Drake’s face, hesitant to break the silence. Instead, he reaches down, touching the few strands of hair that remain while Drake is transformed and just absently brushes them with his fingers.

“That’s nice…” Drake mumbles and shifts just slightly to be more comfortable.

“The blood is getting everywhere.” It’s dripping on the floor now, Hawkins eyes it with clear annoyance. That rug might be black, but it doesn't mean it will be any easier to clean.

“It’s fine, it’s not my blood,” he says like that is supposed to make everything better.

Hawkins huffs. “It’s still staining my floor.”

“Stop worrying so much, I’ll clean it.” Drake moves again, this time to turn around and bury his face in Hawkins’s stomach clearly showing he doesn’t want to speak anymore. He does look peaceful and Hawkins can't say he doesn't enjoy providing Drake with comfort when he needs it. It feels natural and pleasant and on a normal day Hawkins would simply return to his book and allow Drake to sleep.

Unfortunately, today is not a normal day as Hawkins still has some things he’d like to ask. It’s odd how the words won’t come out. Maybe he’s afraid of looking like a desperate and obsessive girlfriend, but it’s been so long already and if he doesn’t figure it out he’ll definitely go crazy.

“Are you seeing anyone?”

For a moment, he thinks Drake doesn't hear him, but then he opens his eyes and looks up at him. “What do you mean?”

Hawkins is aware that Drake knows exactly what he means, which only makes this conversation more uncomfortable. “Are you seeing anyone? Dating anyone? Sleeping with anyone? Are you in a relationship with anyone?” He doesn’t know how to make it clearer than this.

Drake gives him a blank look and blinks. “Uhh… you?”

Ugh. Hawkins rolls his eyes and slightly lifts Drake’s head so he can stand up from the couch. He doesn’t have to look at Drake to know he has a puzzled expression on his face.

He just makes his way to his desk and picks up the wine bottle, emptying the contents in a crystal glass he keeps nearby. Unfortunately it’s not even enough to fill half. He drinks it anyway, feeling completely ridiculous; why did he have to go and ask Drake something like that?

Briefly he looks behind him and sees Drake in his human form now, carefully wiping the blood with the blanket before bunching it up and dropping it on the floor, somewhere out of the way.

Hawkins looks back at his desk, still sipping his wine. Predictably, he feels Drake's arms wrap around his waist, but despite the tension between them, Hawkins doesn't move away and instead, simply leans into him.

“I do hope you'll be cleaning that and returning it.” He doesn't appreciate Drake being careless with his belongings.

Drake presses a kiss to his neck and Hawkins can't help but tilt his head back to give him more room. “I said I'd clean it, didn’t I?”

Hawkins nods, his gaze glued to the flame of the candle he keeps burning on his desk.

“Are you going to tell me what that was about?” Drake continues.

“Nothing.”

“It didn't sound like nothing.” He pauses, but when he speaks again his voice is very low and deep and Hawkins hears it right by his ear. It almost makes him shiver. “What brought it on? There's no one but you.”

Hawkins feels another kiss to his pulse point and he closes his eyes. “It doesn't matter if there is someone else, I just had to know.”

He feels Drake tense up behind him. “It doesn't matter?”

“No, of course not.”

Maybe that's not what Drake wants to hear but it's the truth.

Isn't it?

“I don't understand…”

Hawkins sighs and brings up a hand to rest it against Drake’s cheek. “Isn’t what we have just a convenience?”

Drake opens his mouth to respond, but he doesn’t say anything. Maybe he wanted to argue but he couldn’t once he realised that Hawkins is right.

“I wish it wasn’t…” he finally says.

Silence settles over them once again and Hawkins finishes his drink while Drake simply holds onto him loosely. A lot of thoughts are going through both their mindsm until finally, Hawkins speaks up again.

“If there’s no one else, what are you hiding?”

It didn’t come as a surprise when Drake didn’t answer. Hawkins turns around to look at him.

“Why do you think I’m hiding something?”

That’s all he needs. Whatever… He steps out of Drake’s embrace and goes back to the couch, picking up his book again. Drake is clearly baffled by his behaviour, but Hawkins doesn’t pay attention to him anymore. He’s not sure how to proceed from here. A break-up would be most logical, right? If it was something insignificant surely he wouldn’t have received so many warnings.

“Should I leave?” Drake’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts.

“Do what you please,” Hawkins replies, turning over the page in his book. Still, he might have to go back and reread, he didn’t register a single word on that page.

Drake turns around to leave and Hawkins almost regrets it.

₊⋆✦⋆₊

It gets worse after that.

Maybe it would have been better if Hawkins could pretend that Drake spent his free time with someone else. That way he wouldn't have spent his own making up hundreds of scenarios in which Drake stabs him in the back, either metaphorically or literally.

They get another assignment together, and things go smoothly but as Drake rips apart the unfortunate pirate who rebelled against Kaido, Hawkins can't help but wonder if that will be him one day.

And Drake notices, it would be strange if he didn't notice the coldness and indifference he keeps receiving from Hawkins. Even now as he changes forms and wipes the blood from his hands and mouth, his eyes search the crowd for Hawkins. It feels easier than it should have when Hawkins turns around and starts walking away, but Drake following him doesn't come as a surprise.

Drake stops him by placing a hand on his shoulder. They're out in public, he can't do more than that, but he gently squeezes Hawkins's shoulder too.

“The assignment has been completed. I'm heading home,” Hawkins says with his back turned.

“You can come over tonight.” Drake's voice is soft.

“I'd rather not.”

There is a pause, but Drake still doesn't remove his hand from Hawkins's shoulder. “We should talk.”

Hawkins glances at him. “I said what I had to say. It's your turn.”

Drake looks around. People are passing by them without sparing them a glance, but still Hawkins knows they are too out in the open for any sort of deep conversation.

Hawkins relents and turns around. “Fine. Your place.”

₊⋆✦⋆₊

The walk there is silent and uneventful, they don't even look at each other once until they are finally inside Drake's room. Hawkins removes his sword from his belt and leans it on the wall by the door, perhaps to stall for just another moment.

Drake is not facing him now and is simply looking out the window. The view can't be too interesting at this time.

Well, maybe he should simply wait for Drake to gather his thoughts. Hawkins helps himself to some of Drake's whiskey, pouring it two glasses. Walking up to Drake, he offers him one.

“Thanks.”

Hawkins was right, the view is not different or new in any way, same old cherry tree in the interior garden. Of course, it is beautiful but not noteworthy right now.

However… Drake's thoughtful expression is way more interesting. Although he wonders what can be so difficult to confess. That wondering is what brought them here as Hawkins always had a sort of obsession with knowing things, even to an unhealthy degree and he was aware that the use of his cards did not help him in this regard. He has to know and when he doesn't, all those around him end up suffering in his pursuit of knowledge.

It seems like it's Drake's turn now, however none of that suffering is even necessary because Drake holds the information that Hawkins is craving, simplying refusing to share.

“Can't you trust me on this?”

Huh? Trust? Hawkins frowns and looks away from Drake’s face, glancing at the garden once again. He doesn’t understand how Drake has the guts to ask something like that. If it’s grave enough to not be told, it’s grave enough to break trust too. It must be something that poses a danger to Hawkins as well, because they’re both pirates unphased by dark pasts or harm they’ve inflicted upon others, Drake shouldn’t feel like he can’t share something like that.

“I did once, but since you can't share it with me, I cannot. I don’t plan on getting burned. I’m lucky that I figured it out in time.” And maybe he is right because Drake doesn’t have an argument for that.

“So this is it then?” Drake asks.

A breeze blows softly through the open window, the tranquility a sharp contrast to the tension inside. Normally Hawkins would have decided to just leave. This is it, there’s nothing else they have to talk about, not now, not ever. But… “I don’t know.”

Drake nods. “It would be over if you knew.” Maybe he thinks that will help, but it doesn’t.

“That’s supposed to make me stay?” Hawkins looks at him again and Drake meets his eyes.

“Yes. Despite everything, we can continue keeping each other company.” He takes Hawkins’s hand. “If it matters, I could never drem of hurting you.”

He sounds and looks sincere and for a moment Hawkins believes him. For a single moment, he decides to trust him and believe his words. Maybe Drake senses it because he gently lifts Hawkins’s hand to kiss it tenderly. And maybe Hawkins is a weak and lonely man, because he simply nods, while the relief that soon washes over Drake makes him feel at ease too.

“It won’t be the same as before, you know that, right?” Hawkins’s voice is so low, barely heard above the breeze.

“Yes…” It looks like there are more things that Drake wishes to say, but he stops himself from doing so.

Hawkins leans on Drake’s side and continues to look out into the garden. His thoughts are still jumbled, a mess of anxieties and calculations for the future while the drink in his hand does nothing to offer him relief. And if once, Drake’s steady arm around him would provide comfort, now it only makes Hawkins’s stomach churn with deep, unpleasant emotions.

₊⋆✦⋆₊

Straw Hat’s presence in Wano proves a challenge, a challenge he is more than happy to welcome after he had to fight so many weaklings. It’s distracting enough that he forgets about Drake and their conversations and the thing he just can’t bring himself to confess to Hawkins.

But then Trafalgar Law escapes prison and despite the million of more important things that he has to be dealing with, Hawkins realises that he’s got it all figured out.

And he thinks, worn out and bloodied, if Drake was less of a coward none of this would have happened.

Still, it's alright, he carefully puts himself back together and he continues on through the Flower Capital.

Drake has made his choice, it's time that Hawkins makes his own.

Chapter Text

Drake doesn’t waste any time hesitating, not even to consider his next actions. He has known what he has to do for ages, but dumb hope didn’t let him go forward.

It’s time to leave.

He has humiliated himself enough in front of Hawkins on this island, it’s embarrassing how much time he spent wandering and contemplating without doing anything to improve his situation. If he would have heard Hawkins’s words a month or two ago, he would be at Marine Headquarters by now doing his job and most likely forgetting the meaningless affair he had in Wano.

Because that’s all it was. A foolish adventure, meant to distract him and jeopardise his mission and he was an idiot for falling into a trap like that. Even more so for staying and begging his former lover for another chance. Another chance at what? Being hurt by Hawkins’s sadism and savageness? No way. He’s had enough of that.

Hawkins’s expression keeps replaying in his mind over and over, how he looked after he pushed Drake away. At that moment, Drake could only feel misery, but now he understands what it all meant and he’s had enough of it. If Hawkins is undecided then so be it, Drake has no intention of being played continuously until Hawkins concludes he has no need for him anymore. He’s waited so long for just a few hours together and a farewell kiss. He could have skipped all that and the heartache that followed if he had first listened to Hawkins when they arrived.

Deep down, he hoped that his words were merely a facade he put up in order to protect himself and that, with time, Drake could prove that his intentions are nothing but pure and that he truly does lo-

He truly does respect Hawkins, care for him. They were a good fit for each other and all the time they have spent together was fulfilling to the point where Drake didn’t mind the dreadful, undercover mission he had to carry out in Wano. He even ended up looking forward to completing assignments in order to see Hawkins again.

For the longest time, he believed that all those feelings were reciprocated and that by trying hard enough to prove his honesty, Hawkins would eventually forgive him for his lies and they could find a way to make it work. It seems like what they had didn’t warrant work in Hawkins’s eyes.

Pirates will be pirates, and unfortunately for him, Drake has long forgotten that while mingling with them so closely.

He’s not even paying attention to the items he is stuffing in his bag. Some clothes and other objects he has acquired while staying on Renegade Reef. In his anger, he almost smashes the Log Pose which is the only thing that forces him to slow down and calm himself.

The old lady’s words continue to ring in his ears, even though he knows that they most likely don’t mean anything. However, if there is even the smallest chance that she is right and someone is trying to sabotage him, then he should make his way out before that mysterious individual gets such a chance.

Drake throws the little backpack over his shoulder and makes his way out of the inn, making sure to pay all his fares. There will be nothing holding him here anymore. The walk to the port is quick and easy as Drake takes long strides through the streets. His body is shaking with unrest that he has long stopped noticing. He must get out of here and make good progress on the seas before the sun sets, even if that means that he will continue to be sleep deprived for some time.

Stepping onto the sloop, his heavy boots thump over the deck as he raises the anchor and gets the rigging ready for sailing, nothing breaking his focus. However, just as Drake is about to set sail, something distracts him further away in the port.

“Leave me alone!” A woman is screaming as she runs, looking for a place or a person that can provide protection from whatever is chasing her.

Hot on her tails is a man, larger and stronger and grinning as he chases her.

Drake breaks into a sprint before he even realises it. He passes by the woman and tackles the man to the ground, pushing him into the concrete and punching him with all he has. He strikes the man over and over, the tension in his body finally clearing with the exerted violence.

And as he’s punching, he notices that he’s wearing heavy, red gloves on his hands, and his fists hurt and his joints ache with each swing. Drake wonders why? A punch or two shouldn’t hurt that much. Then, as he breaks out of the trance he understands that the man under him has long since stopped moving, and his gloves were not red when he put them on this morning. He stops himself and pants heavily.

As he turns around, he sees the woman watching him from behind, beyond startled. Wanting to reassure her, he stands and takes off his gloves, turning them inside out and stuffing them in his pocket. He wants to approach but…

“You shouldn’t have done that…” a gruff voice speaks from behind.

Who is it? Drake looks and notices a large man, with scars running down his face and body. He’s wearing the typical attire of a pirate.

“Maybe you should have taught your crewmate how to behave around women.”

Before the pirate can respond, the woman behind him speaks up, “And maybe you should grow out of your hero complex, Mr. Marine…”

She has no more fear in her voice and Drake realises immediately that he’s been set up. However, he doesn’t understand the purpose.

“What do you want from me?” The tips of his fingers tingle and he knows that he might change shape soon if this continues. Even unwillingly.

The pirate approaches him and Drake gets ready for a fight. He wants. “I just wanted to mess with you but now you’ve killed my crewmate. We’re going to have a problem.”

Drake is more than ready for a problem. In fact he’s been itching for a problem since he stepped foot on this damn island. He gets ready to swing another punch, but the guy’s crew seems to notice that because about a dozen guns get pointed at him.

“Do you know what we do to lost Marines on this island?” The guy looks like he’s ready to show him, but he suddenly loses all his bravado when he sees something behind Drake.

“Halt!” A strong voice rings out and some of the guys with the guns shake slightly.

A Marine squad has approached.

It seems like Drake was too tired and tunnelvisioned before to notice how uneasy the pirates around the island are, all of them looking behind their shoulder and pretending quietly that they have nothing to do with piracy at all. He was too distracted to notice the Marine ship approaching or the stark white uniforms patrolling all around him.

Interruption after interruption, Drake would have been better off if he had set sail when he first set his mind to it. Perhaps this pirate crew was the danger that the old lady has warned him about, but he knows that this gang of asshole will never pose any real trouble for it. Maybe it's for the best that the Marines have interrupted a useless encounter.

Perhaps Drake’s luck has improved after so much hardship.

Still, he would have loved a good fight.

He takes a look at them and sees a squadron aligned in front of a Marine ship, all standing straight holding their weapons, ready for orders.

The pirate captain regards them all with a calculating look before his gaze catches onto one of the soldiers. He’s clearly enraged and he send a chilling glare his way. If looks could kill that poor man wouldn’t be standing anymore. Drake wishes he could understand what's unfolding here, but something in him knows this can't be a coincidence. In the end, it seems like the pirate captain decides that it’s not worth getting captured today. He makes a signal with his hand and all the pirates retreat.

“I was not the one to cause trouble today, officers. This man right here has killed someone from my crew. We’ll leave now.” Once they are all out of sight, he leaves too and no one protests.

Drake is stunned when the squad makes no move to chase after them and the Marine Captain issues no order to follow. Walking up to the Captain, he digs in his bag for his identification, but all the men point their weapons at him.

“Keep your hands where I can see them!”

Drake takes his hands out of the bag and raises them to show that he is harmless. The Marine soldiers take a good look at him and he can sense recognition in some of them.

“Good evening, Captain. I am Rear-Admiral Drake and I would like to request safe passage on your ship.” He shows the Captain his badge.

“I know very well who you are,” the Captain says, his tone too grim from Drake’s liking. Perhaps the situation here on this island is more dire than he has imagined. How could he have missed it all this time?

“Then I will help you with your mission and I will leave with you and your squad-”

“Diez Drake, you are under arrest for treason against the Marines and the World Government as well as piracy, assault against an officer and conspiracy. Come with us quietly.”

For a moment, he doesn’t understand. Even as the soldiers close in on him and grab his arms to put the seastone cuffs on him, he’s completely baffled. The only explanation is that they’ve got it all wrong and he just needs to explain himself. That’s the reason he doesn’t fight back at all even though he could easily take out all of these rookie soldiers even in sea cuffs with his hands tied behind his back. Perhaps they know it too, if the way they are watching him is any indication.

“Captain, sir, this is a misunderstanding. Let me go so we can talk about this.” He tries to be amicable and he speaks formally and respectfully, even with the difference in rank. Being conflictual will get him nowhere.

“I’m afraid that is not possible. Bring him in.”

Someone pushes him from behind and he has to resist the urge to fight back. The influence of his Devil Fruit becomes hard to ignore in moments of injustice like this. Even when the injustice is directed towards himself.

Drake forces himself to go along quietly, even when they throw him in a damp cell under the deck. He knows the layout of this ship like the back of his hand. They’re standard, all of them. He knows the layout of each hold and each room and all the provisions offered by the Marines for voyages. He also knows that with his new prisoner status he may be offered none of them. Hopefully the respect they once would have held for him will convince them to not let him starve. Drake can’t afford to be weakened here. The corridors he passes through are very familiar, even though it’s the first time he threads them. The creaking of the wood he knows well. He knows everything there is to know about this ship, including how many bars there are between each prisoner and their freedom and he knows that they’re all made of seastone. Despite this, the soldiers don’t take off the cuffs from his wrists. It’s procedure but it pisses Drake off terribly.

Once they lock him in, Drake turns around and looks at the Captain. He’s got a triumphant smile on, one that he is trying his best to hide.

“Do you have any proof of your accusations?” He tries to keep his tone levelled and calm.

“I’m just following orders. I’m not responsible for what happens next.”

Tsk. “Is this really necessary? Have I not proved my compliance?”

The Captain looks him up and down as if he’s assessing how dangerous Drake is. “Yes. I don’t want to put my crew in danger. We were briefed to be extremely careful with you.”

“What about the cuffs?” He keeps pushing. “If I wanted to escape I would have done so before you put the things on me. After you set sail, there’s nowhere I can go.”

The other man sneers. “Fine. After we set sail, we’ll take the cuffs off out of respect for the organisation you used to represent. Until then, be quiet.”

Used to represent, That hurts Drake more than he'd like to admit. The Captain turns around and exits the room followed by most of the soldiers. One of them remains to guard him and Drake sits down.

Goddammit, he should have just set sail when he first get the chance. Now he's stuck here and for what? Without realising, his mind goes back to the old lady’s words. someone, somewhere is working against you.

That sentence rings in his mind. How could he let this happen? At first he assumed it was that lowlife pirate crew, but as he watched the retrieting back of that Captain another idea came to him. Never did he think the Marines would bring his downfall.

Unexpectedly, the ship starts swaying softly on the waves and someone is brought in to take off the sea cuffs as promised. Rubbing his wrists, he finally sits down and rests against the wall. As much as he’d like to do anything else to get out of this situation, he can only remaine here quietly. He knows that any kind of protest will make it worse for him so he must wait to prove his innocence. Hopefully they will take him to Headquarters where he still has many allies.

All these thoughts swarm his mind, but now that he's powerless and with nowhere to go, his body is overtaken by exhaustion. Willingly, Drake closes his eyes and slips into darkness.