I would have made the first chapter longer but I was going to start moving towards Z/M pairing by the end of it. Instead I decided to divide the fic like this so the first chapter can be viewed as separate piece without any pairing. The rest of it will be Z/M.

Hawk's Nest

Chapter 1

The castle of Kuraigana had some rooms which offered escape from the island's gloomy atmosphere. The library was one of them. It was also one of the selected places which were being looked after - and it had comfy seats to nap in, as Zoro had noted previously. This time the green-haired man wasn't napping. He was contemplating on hawks.

When he had been a kid a hawk had suddenly appeared near the dojo. Most of the time it was seated on a small dent in a cliff. It didn't do much. Just sat and watched. Zoro had wondered why it stayed on the cliff and didn't make a nest like other birds. Someone had explained him that most hawks didn't build themselves nest but settled in abandoned ones.

"Stupid bird." he had thought, "Doesn't know how to build a home for itself." Weeks turned into months and the hawk remained. It had looked lonely. Zoro had been a bit scared of it, because of the eyes. At the smallest movement it would turn it's head and stare. Then one day the hawk wasn't at it's usual place. Zoro was really worried at first, but then he had spotted not one but two birds circling in the air. When he had told his master about it he had smiled and said that the hawk finally had a home.

The young man frowned on his seat, staring the decorated roof down as if it had answers for him. And indeed, if only roofs could talk, perhaps it would tell him something about the most devoted user of the library, and shed a little light on his behaviour.

Zoro hadn't really known what to expect from living with Hawk-Eyes Mihawk. For the past months he had followed the warlord's habits with growing interest. The man wasn't exactly talkative but he had learned to know the other swordsman better by watching him - and now Zoro knew that he enjoyed reading, classical music and playing traditional folk pieces from his homeland with a guitar. Sometimes he made spicy as hell food and looked curiously at Zoro and Perona turning red and trying to make the burning go away by pouring milk down their throats. It wasn't that the taste was bad - he actually enjoyed the older man's cooking now that he had adjusted the spiciness to a level bearable for human beings.

Then there was the training. Or the lack of it. Well not that Zoro didn't have anything to do, Hawk-Eyes had ordered him to start with basic physical exercise, and later they progressed into series of basic moves, and basic this and basic that... and Zoro had seen the reluctance in the other man and he had confronted him about it. It was after that event he had begun to really observe the other man more carefully.

As usual, he hadn't gotten much words out of Hawk-Eyes, but he had adamantly denied that he would have considered Zoro to be unworthy of his guidance as the younger man had presumed. There had been no conclusion, and Zoro had been puzzled. As the days and weeks went by he finally started picking up all those little things the warlord was doing. He would wake both of the youngsters up in the morning and shoo them out of the kitchen to 'make themselves presentable' while he prepared breakfast. While they ate he would sometimes make a snide sounding comment about their appearances. Eventhough he was a man of few words, he always seemed to find some to criticise things.

And one morning Zoro had realized it. He had been cursing under his breath, pissed off because he had been woken up and walking towards the bathroom. He passed the kitchen where Hawk-Eyes was was making breakfast. Or trying to, by the looks of it. The counters were messier then usual, and the master swordsman sat at the end of the table, reading a cookbook with a concentrated expression, flour sprinkled on his face and hair.

Something burning on the stove alerted the dark-haired man and he sprang up, book flying to the floor, to scrape on object resembling a very well done pancake off of the frying pan. Zoro could see other failed experiments on a plate next to the stove. The young swordsman's suspicious frown turned into a warm smile while he watched the devoted cook make a yet another attempt, apparently with a new batch of dough.

The green-haired man's smile turned into a grin as he left the doorway. Further down the hall he had to stifle his laughter. He was filled with warmth when he thought of the image of the intensely focused man, armed with a spatula and wearing a pink apron. Oh, he was so onto him. Zoro knew exactly what Hawk-Eyes was doing. He was mothering them.

He nagged at Zoro about his short-sleeved shirts because the place was freezing at times and he didn't want him to catch a cold. He kept making snarky remarks if Perona's hair was messy until she would brush it because it would be almost impossible to untangle if left unattended, like they had experienced before. When that had happened the man had patiently sorted out the knots while Perona cried and whined. He didn't want to move forward in Zoro's training because he was still worried about his injuries. And now he was making pancakes for them even when he hadn't made any before, just because it had come up the other day that both Zoro and Perona loved them.

That morning Zoro wolfed down all of the pancakes. He was glad that Perona was so slow in her morning routines, because even if the girl didn't necessarily mean it, she could blurt out something tactless. Hawk-Eyes had gone through so much trouble just to indulge the two of them, and that effort covered up the taste of the salty pancakes. They tasted horrible, his stomach ached for the rest of the day, and Perona's whining about him eating her share grated his ears - but the smile on Mihawk's face made it worth it.