a/n: On a side note, my twin, who types everything for me, suggested the following as the title: L'Orgueil. For some reason, we both associate Mihawk with french (it couldn't have ANYTHING to do with 4Kids -coughs-). "L'orgueil" means "pride". I found the "alternative" title worth mentioning.

Enjoy!

He has this one awful habit.

"It wasn't about me, was it?"

Of all the awful habits, there is just this one that I cannot stand.

"What?"

"What you said earlier - about me arm - all that's not really about me, is it?"

I can only put up with so much. I am not a god - and no one knows it better.

"No," I pull him down again and feel that awful, even smile on my shoulder. "No, it's not about you. Nothing ever is."

But he wasn't done and he never listens to me. The way he just sits up in the middle of things: I cannot stand it.

"It's about you, isn't it?"

"I'm cold when you lift up, you know."

"You're trying to cover for yourself."

"Are we making love or solving mysteries? I leave it to you."

"You always do that. Make it sound like a go at me when all you're really trying to do is tell me something."

"I am considering quite heavily the idea of leaving you this very instant."

"You're getting old."

He never listens to me. I sit so we are face to face and force my eyes into his, but his smile does not flinch.

"Are you listening?"

He laughs. That alone would be asking for an excess of the patience I do not possess, but on top of this worst of his worse habits...I could kill the shameless creature where he sits. Then, at last, perhaps he would lay against me as he is supposed to.

"Of course I am. Are you?"

Here is the truth: what I said before, I lied.

I have never thought once of leaving - there is no where I would rather be. We are most decidedly solving mysteries by making love - there never was a choice, and if there had been, it would have been mine to make. The last time I felt cold beneath you was the first night you wasted with me - it was because it was the first night you wasted with anybody.

I will not fight a man with one arm because I could not stand to lose.

I could not stand to draw.

It is not easy to take my eyes from his without seeming the coward, but there is nothing left to say so I, at least, am laying down.

This awful habit.

"Of course I am."

That awful, even smile on my shoulder.

"And I am not the only one, you know."

"Getting old, you mean? I should say not! Did you see Beckman's hair?"

I pull that famous hair of his - he never listens to me.

But there is nothing left to say. I could not stand to win.

a/n: On another side note, Shanks' bad habit is somewhat of a staple in my twin and I's little sub-fandom. XD Again, for unknown reasons, it just stuck in our minds that Shanks would constantly sit up in the middle of sex and try to start a conversation about some random, unrelated subject. Beckman, naturally, would totally be able to handle this, but Mihawk...well, that's a different story. XD

Anyway, thanks for reading! :)