This was completely inspired by Boolsajo's 'Cheers to the End of an Era' picture on deviantart! Check it out: It's an amazing piece of artwork!

I saw it, and thought about how fun it would be to write a bit of a back story (since none is given) of how Shanks and Mihawk came to be on friendly terms! I hope you enjoy. As always, I free-wrote this without planning beforehand, so I hope it makes logical sense. Reviews wanted! Thanks so much!

----Wikki

He opened the pub's creaky wooden doors, pressing forward into the dingy room. Chester's --the bar was called-- has a rustic appearance; dark creaky wooden floors, tiny windows dotting the walls, with a wooden bar toward the far end of the room and kitchen in the back. The bartender, a man of few words, with broad shoulders, loomed over the counter wiping dishes. He wasn't much of a conversationalist and that suited Mihawk just fine. He walked to the counter, ordered a mug of rum, and sat at a small, circular table toward the corner.

His piercing golden eyes stared at the contents of his cup. He sipped in contented silence and sighed. He came here after a day of training, yearning for a brief moment of relaxation. Being a young man of twenty and aiming to be the world's greatest swordsman was a big task, and required some downtime to ensure sanity. He enjoyed Chester's; little visitors, good drink and food, and most importantly, silence. That was, of course, until a band of rowdy, loud men came clambering in, boisterously laughing and talking, filling almost each and every table.

Pirates. He could sense it. His eyes darted around, quickly taking in their appearances. But, it didn't take long to notice that many, on the backs of their coats or tattooed to their backs or chests had the Jolly Roger's of a fearsome pirate indeed: Gold Roger. He was currently accumulating a lot of power and appearing quite frequently in the news. Yet, Mihawk didn't feel like leaving from his seat. He was comfortable, and even with the noise, he was becoming a bit sleepy, so placing down his drink and running his hand through his short-cropped jet black hair, he tipped back in his seat and closed his eyes.

His relaxation moment was short-lived however. He felt like he had two pairs of eyes burning into his cheeks, and opened one of his eyes to see what was giving him this worrisome feeling. Sure enough, two young men, approximately his same age, were looking him over. One has stunning sweepy red hair, and on top of his head, he wore a straw hat with a red ribbon wrapped around the base. The other had blue hair tightly tied back under a hat. His most prominent feature was his glaring red clown nose.

"Getta look of his sideburns. They might even make your nose look sane in comparison." Said the red-head.

"Shut up, you baka! WHO ARE YOU CALLING A BIG NOSE?" Screeched the clown-nose.

The first boy to comment just laughed. Mihawk noted he possessed one of the biggest grins he had ever come across.

"Sorry to wake you, but all the tables are full. Can we sit here?"

Mihawk stared him down, making sure to flash his eyes dangerously. Yet, the man with the stunning red hair's gaze didn't even waver. Inwardly, Mihawk was surprised. Most people, once seeing his eyes, become scared, but this man's grin didn't falter an inch.

"If my sideburns don't offend you." He replied tartly, and instinctually rubbed his hand on his cheek.

The red-head just laughed, and pulled over a chair. "No, I'm sure when they grow out all the way, they'll look cooler." The man laughed. "I'm Shanks by the way, and this guy is Buggy. We're apprentices on Roger's ship. And, you are...? Oh! Your eyes... You're that swordsman, Mihawk right."

Mihawk faintly smiled. He was happy to know that even on such a prestigious pirate crew, his name had been heard.

"Yes. Dracule Mihawk. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance."

Both Shanks and Buggy smiled and sat down. Normally, Mihawk would feel uncomfortable having to engage in conversation with two strangers, but something about them, especially Shanks, seemed almost enticing, and within minutes the three of them were talking. He even smiled a bit over some parts of conversation, something quite rare for him to do.

Before he even realized it, the sun had sunk and night has swept its streaks of navy, fuchsia and black across the sky. The boys' table was scattered with once-filled mugs, empty plates, playing cards, and used silverware. The whole bar smelled pleasantly like rum and roasted meat. At this moment though, the pirates all began to rise from their tables, pay their expenses, and began to leave the bar, to return to their ship for the night. Seeing this, Shanks and Buggy rose from their seats. Though he would never say it, Mihawk was a tad disappointed to see them go. The path he travels is a lonely one, and finding good conversation can be tough.

"It was great meeting you, sideburn-kun" Shanks said, as he flashed his winning grin.

"And you as well, straw-hat, and you too red-nose."

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING A RED NOSE?!" Buggy screeched.

All three laughed. With that, Buggy left in a huff, leaving Shanks and Mihawk alone. Shanks put out his hand.

"Meet me again in the open sea, you a grand swordsman, and me a great pirate. You'll always be a friend of mine."

Mihawk stared at the outstretched hand. What a bold statement for this man to say, after just one day of knowing him! Yet, his heart secretly swelled. Truth be told, he had no friends on the sea, or the chance to make any. Even if some weren't scared away by his austere appearance, his frequent traveling made it difficult to keep in touch with someone on land. Keeping his face straight, and staring Shanks right in the eyes, he grasped his hand and shook it.

"See you at sea."

Shanks grinned once more before turning and leaving the bar. Mihawk sat there for a bit, reveling in the moment. After the faint sounds of drunken laughing and singing and talking faded away, he stood up, paid his bill, nodded to the bar keeper, and headed out to his ship for the night.

He was bored. The sea was calm, the sky was blue, the gulls sang and soared in the wind, and there was absolutely nothing to occupy his time. He laced his fingers and placed them over his lap, pulling his hat downward to block the blazing sun. After dozing off for a bit, he awoke to the nostalgic smell of roasting meat and rum, and cheerful sounds of men. He was approaching an inhabited island. What caught his attention though was the ship already docked at A black flag with a familiar marking was situated at the top of the main mast. A white skull with two swords crossed in the back and three red stripes across one eye was painted on the flag. Mihawk smiled to himself, and sailed on toward the island.

Upon reaching shore, he jumped off his coffin-raft, and strutted up the sandy beach, approaching the congregation of men up the hill. He could feel their curious stares, and hear the hushed exclamations of men he passed.

'That's Hawkeyes Mihawk! He's a Shichibukai! And the strongest swordsman in the world!"

"Do you think he's coming for Okashira's head?!"

"That hat is huge! He would surely drown is he fell in the water!"

"Don't mind the hat, baka, mind the sword! That sword is the strongest in the universe!"

Mihawk smirked to himself. He approached the main group of men, and raised his head, letting the sun shine off his piercing eyes, not saying a word, keeping his face still as stone.

Shanks began to laugh, and cracked the familiar grin that Mihawk had grown fond of.

"Welcome, Hawkeyes! You can choose. Do you want to duel first, or drink first?" And Shanks began to laugh.

"You haven't changed a bit, have you?" Mihawk replied. To any onlooker, they would say Mihawk's face was cold and hard. Shanks was able to tell though, that on the inside, Mihawk was smiling.