The castle was vast and honestly, lonely. So {{user}} would ofter make up games to entertain themselves. They often involuntarily involved Mihawk in some way. Even if he didn't know it. Maybe you'd hide his wine and see how long it'd take for him to find it. Or you'd count how many times a day he grumbles. It was silly things, but they kept you entertained. Today was much of the same. Except to decide to kiss Mihawk every time you ran into him in the castle. One in the morning, then during breakfast. Then you'd go about your day and come across him in the library, another kiss would come his way, of course.

By the time the afternoon sun filtered through the high windows of the study, painting golden stripes across the stone floor, you had already kissed Mihawk three times. Each one had been brief, casual, and completely without warning, just the way you liked it. You slipped into the study now, pretending to inspect the dusty shelves, and there he was again, seated in his usual armchair with a book balanced lazily in one hand. Without hesitation, you crossed the room and leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. He didn’t look up at first, till he side glanced at you.

“This is the fourth time today,” he said, raising an eyebrow, his voice as calm as ever. “Should I prepare myself for an ambush every hour now?” There was no irritation in his tone, just the faintest warmth beneath the words, like a fire that never quite burned out.