Chapter Text
Aye ~ flashback (16 years ago)
Aye should have listened to Mama.
If he hadn’t had that slushie for breakfast, he wouldn’t be squirming in his seat right now, legs pressed together, trying very hard not to pee.
But choco-cocoa slushies are his favourite… he loves the taste it leaves on his tongue in the end; strong, instead of baby sweet. Candy-flavoured drinks make him want to puke. Obviously, he can't have the grown-up drink yet—— coffee—— but Mama says cocoa is also a big kid drink. And it’s Aye’s favourite thing in the world.
Aye decides he will never give up on his favourite slushie!
When Aye can’t hold the pee in anymore, he stands up and runs to the classroom door, without asking anyone anything. Someone calls his name, loud and insistent, but Aye ignores it.
Pee is more important.
A few minutes later, when he comes out of the bathroom, a small boy is blocking his way. Aye, almost bumps into him.
It’s Akk. Aye’s new desk mate.
Akk is very tiny and very angry.
…he actually looks funny.
Aye moved here a month ago, after Mama came to live with Uncle Dika. Today is his first day of grade 3 at the school Uncle Dika teaches. It’s the kind of big-city school with strict rules and straight lines and ghost stories and teachers who look like they mean business.
Aye thinks it’s silly.
“Why did you leave class without asking my permission?” Tiny-Akk asks in a very serious voice.
“Because I had to pee,” Aye says easily.
“But you still have to ask my permission.”
Aye tilts his head. “And if I ask for your permission, I can do anything…?”
Akk thinks very hard. Then he nods. He looks happy about it. “Yes.”
That makes everything easy… and a whole lot fun. Aye loves fun.
“Okay,” Aye says. “You’re nice, even if a little bossy.”
Akk stands up straighter, like he’s trying to be taller, but he’s still shorter than Aye. “It’s because I’m the class monitor.”
“Oh.” Aye pauses. Then he giggles. “But you’re so little.”
Akk’s face scrunches up. “I’m eight years old. And Mommy says I’m still growing.”
Aye smiles. “I saw a movie once. I liked it, it was funny. There was a tiny boy in it, and everyone called him Shortstop.” He thinks for a second. “Can I call you Shortstop? Permission, please.”
Akk’s face turns red. Now he’s angry and red! Akk’s an Angry Bird!
“...no?”
Aye blinks, “But you said I could do anything if I ask your permission.”
“I, um, that’s… not fair. You’re cheating!” Akk claims.
“I am not cheating. You made the rules,” Aye tries the term carefully, “…Shortstop.” He likes it.
Akk frowns, looking worried. “But ummm, I’m going to grow tall. I promise. My mommy promised.”
Aye beams. “Okay. I’ll stop when you’re tall.”
“I’m sure I’ll be even taller than you someday!” Akk adds. He doesn’t sound sure.
“Okay,” Aye says, nodding seriously. “If someday you’re taller than me, I’ll let you call me Shortstop.” His smile widens. “But now, you’re Akk the Shortstop.”
“Nooo,” Akk whines.
Aye leans closer. “Can I pull your hair, Shortstop? Permission, please.”
“What?” Akk gasps, covering his head. “Why?”
“Because it looks like choco mousse.” Aye really likes the ones his Mama makes.
“Huh?!”
“I asked for your permission,” Aye hesitates —just for a second— then reaches out, giving Akk’s hair a quick tug.
Wow, it’s even softer than the mousse!
Akk yelps. “I’ll tell the teacher!”
“Okay, Shortstop! But first…” Aye runs down the hallway, laughing as fast as his legs will take him. “Catch me if you can!”
Akk ~ present (24 years old again)
“I caught you,” Akk is fuming. “Fucking finally. Red-handed!”
“Geez, you’re such a stuck-up!”
“At least I’m not a cheater!” Akk snaps, his patience hanging by a thread. He’s either going to storm out of Aye’s room or pull his own hair out.
“No, you’re an Angry Bird.” Aye tries to pinch Akk’s cheek, who swats his hand away.
Then Akk glares… kinda proving the point.
“You know I don’t cheat,” Aye continues, infuriatingly casual. “I just bend the rules in my favor.”
“Excuse me, don’t make yourself look innocent!” Akk throws his hands up in exasperation. “You don’t bend shit, you ignore the rules!”
“No, Bigfoot,” Aye says like he’s talking to an eight-year-old. “I find perfect loopholes.”
“Still. Cheating.”
“Oh, says who?”
“I don’t know, the people who designed the game?!”
“Yeah? I don’t see them here,” Aye quips.
“Well, I’m here! And what you’re doing is not right.”
“Get the giant stick out of your pretty ass,” Aye drawls, leveling him with a cheeky look. Akk’s face flames. “We’re not in school anymore, Bigfoot.”
“Someone needs to keep you in line!”
“You’re not the prefect of our home.” Aye continues, his grin widening.
Akk was always the class monitor. Then, to nobody’s surprise, was the quintessential School Prefect —the kind who wore the badge with pride, followed every rule to the letter, and took his responsibilities with the utmost seriousness. When the opportunity arose, he’d practically begged Aye to join the Prefect Club with him, insisting it would be fun to work together.
But Aye, ever true to himself, had flat-out refused.
“A Prefect?” He had laughed. “Bigfoot, that’s always been your vibe, not mine.”
And, as usual, Aye had been right. He was far too much of a free spirit for rules and authority, always jumping headfirst into every protest, rally, or vaguely rebellious activity the school had to offer. Yet, no matter how often Aye landed himself in hot water, Akk was always there to pull him out—saving his ass every single time, without fail.
“Admit that you just suck at board games,” Akk fires back, his voice rising.
“No. I just like to make sure I win,” Aye shrugs unapologetically.
“And you might win, fair and square… if you’d just play by the rules!”
“I don’t want to.”
“Why?!” Akk might or might be petty whining now.
They’d been having these fights since they were kids, their competitive streaks colliding in a mix of banter, frustration, and laughter. But this time, something was different.
Akk felt an edge of excitement coursing through him, sharp and undeniable. The raised heartbeat, the heavy breathing, the rush of adrenaline pumping through his veins; these were symptoms he’d felt during fights with Aye. Yet now… now they felt like something else entirely.
The same reactions that once meant frustration had shifted into something more electric.
“Oh, let’s see,” The shorter man hums, “Because that’s no fun!”
“That’s all the fun! Playing by the rules is fun!”
“Playing by the rules is fun!” Aye mimics in a mocking, sing-song tone, sticking his tongue out like a petulant child.
“Why do you always have to ruin game night?”
“Because I can!” Aye’s voice is sharp, his grin brimming with defiance as he leans in close… too close.
The proximity makes Akk’s head spin, a hazy dizziness settling in. But Akk tries to cling to his composure, not backing down. “You’re hopeless!”
“Yet you’re still here,” Aye shoots back with a pout that somehow manages to look both ridiculous and… distracting. Akk’s eyes drop, unbidden, to his lips—soft, inviting, maddeningly close. He can feel the warmth of Aye’s breath, the bitter tang of coffee almost tangible. Just a couple more inches and he’ll be able to taste—
What the hell is wrong with me? Akk wonders, his heart pounding erratically in his chest. He’s losing his damn mind. He’s turned on. So turned on.
“I can’t believe how annoying you are!”
“...I can’t believe I’m kinda turned on right now!” Aye blurts, his own voice betraying equal parts exasperation and heat.
Oh.
OH!
Akk’s not the only one affected!
“Thank God,” Akk breathes, and before he can second-guess himself, he closes the gap, capturing Aye’s lips in a heated kiss.
It’s nothing like the kisses they’d shared over the past few days. This one is something new—rougher around the edges, seamlessly raw. Aye kisses him back with just as much fervor, and for a hot minute, the fight is forgotten in the haze of adrenaline and longing.
Aye tastes like chaos and victory—bitter coffee—and Akk wants all of it.
He pushes Akk onto the bed, his lips curving as he pulls back just enough to whisper, “I think I might be the ‘angry make-up sex’ kind of guy.”
You and me both, boyfriend!
“And to think, if you weren’t such an idiot, we could have had the best game nights for years?” Akk says instead. Even with the shorter pinning him, Akk’s not accepting defeat.
“Seriously, how is it always my fault?” Aye captures Akk’s lower lip between his teeth, tugging just enough to draw a startled gasp. It adds on to Akk’s insanity.
Holy Sukkhapissit!
“Because you’re insufferable,” Akk’s breath comes quick and uneven. “And you cheat at games.”
Aye snorts, their noses brushing. “Oh, please. You’re just bitter because you always lose.”
“I lose because you cheat!” Akk shifts his weight, catching Aye off guard and flipping them over. He grins down at him triumphantly, his hands braced on either side of Aye’s head. “See? Quit overestimating yourself, Shortstop.”
Aye’s not the least bit fazed by Akk’s sudden dominance. “You win this round. But,” he adds with a sly smile, “I’m still better than you at Exploding Kittens.”
“No. You’re not.”
“Come on, Bigfoot.” Aye’s hands slide down to rest on Akk’s waist in a slow, teasing way. “Say it. I know you want to.”
“Nope!” Akk’s giddy with bubbling laughter.
Not a second is wasted. With a well-placed shift, one Aye’s mastered over the years, he flips them again, pinning Akk beneath him. “Come again?”
“Aye, you—”
The little shit doesn’t even let Akk finish, swallowing his words with another kiss—rough, insistent, and utterly shameless.
More often than not, their arguments ended in some form of wrestling… grappling, pinning, or shoving each other around like it was a sport they’d invented. Practicing judo together in high school only made it worse.
Aye had a knack for twisting every training session into something playful, pushing Akk’s patience to its limits. He’d constantly toe the line between serious practice and outright chaos. And no matter how much Akk tried to stay composed, Aye always managed to disarm him, both figuratively and literally.
Akk couldn’t even count how many times he’d ended up pinned beneath the shorter, while Aye grinned down at him with that infuriatingly smug look. Or how often Aye would fake a move just to throw Akk off balance, his laughter echoing through the gym.
Aye really was annoyingly good at bending rules in his favor, even on the mat. And somehow, Akk could never stay mad. Not when Aye was having the time of his life.
Akk loses himself in the kiss, the retort dissolving from his mind, though he’s sure it was brilliant. Trust.
The kiss deepens, the playful energy between them now gone. Aye’s fingers tangle in Akk’s hair, pulling him closer, and Akk can’t help the soft sound that escapes his throat.
Their clothes needed to go. Pronto.
Akk whispers breathlessly, “Aye…”
“Clothes,” Aye finishes the thought for him.
“All of it,” Akk demands, his voice low and sure, and Aye’s hands are already at work on his shirt.
In mere seconds, almost with an expertise Akk didn’t know Aye possessed, most of his clothes are gone. But then—
“—Wait. Not the socks.”
Aye freezes mid-action, his fingers curled around the hem of Akk’s sock, ready to tug it off. He raises a brow as he looks at Akk, hair deliciously messy, eyes dark with amusement. “Sorry to break it to you, but these aren’t exactly going to save much of your dignity, Bigfoot.”
Akk kicks him lightly in the arm, “It’s not that. My feet tend to get extra cold, and I just don’t want to freeze.”
“You won’t,” Aye promises, his voice dropping an octave. “I’ve got better ways to keep you warm.”
“Ai’Aye,” Akk groans. It’s hard to tell if it’s exasperation or affection… or both. “Just let me be.”
Aye chuckles, then pulls one of Akk’s socks down just enough to press a soft kiss to his ankle. Akk’s heart stutters in his chest, dangerously close to bursting, but before he can say a word, Aye pulls the sock back up securely.
“But what if I have a foot fetish?” Aye teases with a wicked pout, one only he could pull off. Aye has a hundred different pouts for every occasion, and Akk, of course, is well-versed in reading each and every one. “How am I supposed to explore my kinks?”
“You don’t have a foot fetish, Shortstop. I can assure you.” Akk shakes his head, though his smile betrays him.
Gosh, am I already so smitten?! Akk’s hopelessly gone for every ridiculous word coming out of Aye’s mouth. Although, to be fair… he always was.
“Can you really?” Aye asks, crawling back up until their faces are inches apart. The action makes Akk shudder like a leaf.
“Yes. We’re best friends first, boyfriends second.”
“Mmhmm,” He places a feather-light kiss on Akk’s lips, which curve into a smile beneath his.
Akk continues, voice playfully warm. “There are things that I just know about you.”
“Well then, my best friend turned boyfriend, give me a refresher on everything you know about me. ” There’s a gleam in Aye’s eye that’s equal parts amusement and mischief. “I am ready to get acquainted with my kinks.”
What happens next is Akk and Aye’s business alone. Shoooo.
Aye
“Akk,” Aye murmurs, resting his chin on his boyfriend’s chest.
“Mm?” Akk hums, voice low and lazy. He sounds boneless. Happy.
Aye presses a kiss to Akk’s shoulder. Then another. Then one more, just because he can. Akk sighs—content—and Aye smiles into his skin.
An idea sparks. A silly one. The best kind. The kind Aye gets often. And once he’s locked in, there’s no talking him out of it. All that’s left is convincing his partner in crime to join him. “Let’s play house.”
Akk chuckles, eyes still closed. “My limbs are pool noodles, Aye. I don’t—”
“—You’re welcome,” Aye interrupts, kissing Akk’s mouth quickly. It’s sweet, brief, and weaponized.
“Let me finish for the—”
“—Oh, I let you finish,” Aye says solemnly. “Very impressively, if I might add.”
“Ai’Ayeeee,” Akk groans, dragging out the name like a warning siren.
Aye laughs and relents, lifting his head. “Okay, okay. Say it.”
“I don’t think I can survive any more foreplay tonight.”
And for once—for once—Aye isn’t even being horny.
“That’s not what I meant!” Aye says quickly. “I mean… playing house. Like when we were kids. Nothing sexual. Scout’s honour.”
That gets Akk to open his eyes.
He blinks up at Aye, searching his face. “You’re serious.”
“Dead serious.”
Akk studies him for a beat, then huffs a quiet laugh. “What got into you?”
“Well, since you’re asking—”
Akk clamps a hand over Aye’s mouth. “I’m not. Don’t answer that.”
Aye laughs into his palm, kissing it.
Once Akk drops his hand, Aye immediately deploys his most dramatic pout. “C’mon,” he says. “Play with me. You used to beg me to play house.”
“That was when we were eight,” Akk says, incredulous.
“So?” Aye grins, undeterred. “We can be eight again. And ten, and eleven, and sixteen, and twenty… whatever age we want. Like time travelers, visiting different versions of ourselves whenever we feel like it.”
Akk rolls his eyes. “You’re ridiculous.” But he’s smiling.
And that’s already worth it. Worth everything.
Lately, Aye has been thinking about how strange it is—loving someone quietly for so long, and then suddenly loving them out loud. About how easy it feels. And how frightening, in a way that isn’t fear so much as awareness. About how he doesn’t want to lose anything they used to be just because they’re becoming something new.
Because he loves this, God, he really loves being boyfriends. He’s wanted it for so long it feels less like a change and more like muscle memory… like something his body always knew before his brain caught up.
But he loves who they were, too. He’s loved that even longer. The loud, messy kids. The teenagers who figured things out side by side. The angsty almost-adults who felt too much and didn’t yet have the words for it.
Aye grew up with every version of them.
And maybe that’s why this feels delicate. Not because Aye is afraid of loving Akk, but because he knows how much he wants to keep. He doesn’t want loving Akk differently, to sand down the edges. To make them quieter. Less ridiculous. Less… them.
So Aye does what he’s always done.
He tests.
Not to break things—never that—but to learn their shape. To press gently at the edges and see what holds. Akk has always given him the space to do that, has always promised him stability, even when everything else felt uncertain.
And over the past few days, Aye’s already been given plenty of proof. In every shared smile, every easy bit of banter, every small routine quietly slips back into place until it all starts to feel steady again.
So, this ridiculous thing Aye is suggesting isn’t so much a doubt.
It’s just one last, familiar habit. One last press of his hand against something good, listening for the sound it makes, and smiling when it rings true.
“There’s still an eight-year-old Shortstop in there,” Aye says lightly, poking Akk’s side. “And eight-year-old me adored him.”
“Eight-year-old you was a menace,” Akk replies, narrowing his eyes. “And absolutely did not adore me.”
Aye gasps. “Lies.”
“You were always messing with me!”
“Oh, Bigfoot.” Aye cups Akk’s cheeks, giving them a gentle squeeze. “And I always will. It’s how I love you.”
Akk very visibly melts. But Akk, being Akk, rallies. “You pulled my hair. Constantly.”
“They reminded me of my favourite mousse,” Aye says, perfectly serious.
He’s never admitted that before. It started as curiosity, and grew into his love language.
He slips his fingers into Akk’s hair now… soft, slightly damp from earlier, familiar enough that Akk leans into the touch without thinking. Like always. There’s sweat there, sure, but underneath it, something warm and sweet. Chocolate.
Akk still uses the shampoo Aye got him all those years ago for Christmas. Chocolate scented.
When Aye settles back, Akk is staring at him like he’s forgotten what words are supposed to do.
“And,” Akk tries again, valiantly, “you— you called me names.”
“I name everything I like,” Aye says easily. “Every toy I owned had a ridiculous, made-up name. It’s only fair if you get at least a dozen a year.”
“C’mon! Chicken Crown Droll King is what you’re defending right now!”
“How dare you?” Aye says, clutching his chest. “That’s a cult classic.”
“…No,” Akk says, fighting a smile. “Bigfoot and Shortstop are cult classics.”
“I concede.” Aye raises his hands in mock surrender, scrunching his nose for dramatic effect.
Akk sighs—the long-suffering, fond kind. “Fine. I’m in. We’ll play house. But first, you cuddle with me for, like, twenty minutes.”
He tightens his arms, pulling Aye in.
Aye goes easily. Like always.
“Okay,” he says, smiling against Akk’s chest. “Thirty minutes. Because I am nice.”
“Wishful thinking.” Akk says, not meaning the statement one bit.
“But then,” Aye adds, grinning, “get ready. Eight-year-old me was a charmer.”
“And a headache,” Akk says, smiling anyway. Steady and familiar. Grounding him like he always does.
He kisses Akk’s nose… soft. Certain. Then he closes his eyes, already feeling it.
Same Akk. Same them. Just… more.
Akk
As Aye scavenged for props, Akk stayed seated on the floor, his heart swelling in a way that still caught him off guard. Akk would do anything for Aye…. everything. Because no matter how old they were, or who they were pretending to be, one thing had never changed: Aye would always be the boy who made Akk feel adored.
Sometimes so adored, Akk didn’t quite know what to do with it.
Two minutes later, Aye reemerged with a dish towel tied around his waist as an apron and a spatula held aloft like a magic wand.
“Okay, Akk,” Aye declared, his voice pitching high and sing-song. “I’m the hardworking parent who just got home from a long day of work. Dinner is almost ready. How was school today?”
“School?” Akk repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Am I the kid in this scenario?”
“Obviously!” Aye exclaimed, planting the spatula on his hip. “How else do you play house?”
Akk rolled his eyes, though the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. “Fine. School was… fine, I guess. I got an A on my math test.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Aye gushed, clapping his hands together. “We should celebrate! I’ll bake a cake after dinner.”
“You’re baking now?” Akk teased, shifting to sit cross-legged. “You don’t even know where we keep the flour.” Aye was a good cook. He was also a catastrophic baker. They’d learned that lesson the hard way during their first weekend in the apartment.
“Excuse me, child,” Aye said in mock offense, wagging the spatula. “You’re grounded for that sass. No dessert.”
“Grounded?” Akk laughed, throwing his hands up. “Wow. Overbearing much?”
Aye gasped, eyes wide with exaggerated betrayal. “I work so hard to provide for this family, and this is the respect I get?”
Akk couldn’t help himself. He stood, crossed the room, and slid his hands around Aye’s waist, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Okay, okay. I take it back. You’re an excellent parent.”
“Hey!” Aye laughed, pushing him away gently. “You can’t break character like that. You’re terrible at playing house.”
“Sorry,” Akk said, dropping back to the floor and crossing his legs again. “It’s been over a decade. And I hate being the kid during house.”
Aye chuckled, something softer slipping into his voice. “You always hated it.”
“I did,” Akk admitted, smiling.
“Okay,” Aye said. “What do you want to be, then?”
“I want to be the family dog.”
“The dog?” Aye snorted. “So… Bigfoot the golden retriever?”
“Woof,” Akk deadpanned, crawling a few inches forward with a perfectly blank expression.
Aye collapsed into laughter, clutching his stomach. “Nope. Absolutely not.”
“What do you suggest?” Akk asked.
Aye hummed thoughtfully, then hopped up. “I think I have an idea.”
He draped a blanket over a chair to make a fort and lined up a few stuffed animals beneath it.
“Okay,” Aye announced, surveying his work with pride. “We’re all set.”
Akk watched him, fondness blooming warm in his chest. “Fill me in.”
“These are the kids,” Aye said, plopping down beside him and gesturing at the stuffed animals. “And we’re partners. You’re the co-parent.”
“Co-parent?” Akk repeated, sitting up a little straighter.
Aye’s grin widened, eyes bright with mischief. “I mean. We did get married.”
Akk groaned. “You need to stop bringing that up.”
“It’s hilarious! You wanted not to play the kid so badly, you married me.”
“I was ten!”
“You were cute.”
“I am not cute!”
Aye pinched his cheeks, cooing at him. “Awwww, cutie patootie.”
“I will walk away, Aye,” Akk pretended to stand, but he was laughing.
“Okay, okay—sowwy!”
Akk settled back down with a huff. “Fine. I’m the co-parent. Which means I get to make rules too.”
“Of course,” Aye says, nodding solemnly. “We’re equals in this household.”
“Good,” Akk says, leaning forward. “Rule number one: we share chores equally. No one slacks while the other picks up the pieces.”
Aye nods, mock-serious. “Agreed. Rule number two: we always taste-test each other’s cooking. Even if it’s potentially disastrous.”
Akk smirks. “So I’m signing up for food poisoning?”
“It’s about trust,” Aye says, grinning.
“How about I teach you baking,” Akk countered, “but until then, I’m the chef.”
“I agree to those terms.”
“Perfect. Rule number three: we consult each other before making big decisions. Like buying furniture. Or adopting a dog.”
Aye beams. “Oh oh, can we adopt a dog?”
“Focus, Aye,” Akk says, shaking his head, amused.
“Right, right,” Aye says, tapping his chin dramatically. “Rule number four: if one of us is having a bad day, the other is responsible for emergency cuddles and comfort snacks.”
Akk’s smile softens. “That’s actually sweet. And completely valid.”
“Of course it is,” Aye said smugly. “Your turn.”
Akk thought for a moment, eyes warm. “Rule number five: no going to bed angry. Even if we’re fighting, we talk it out. Or at least hug it out before sleeping.”
Aye leaned back, impressed. “That one’s a keeper. We’re really building the perfect house.”
“Obviously,” Akk said, nudging his shoulder. “We’re a great team.”
Aye grinned, pulling him into a side hug. “Great co-parents.”
Then Aye leaned closer, voice dropping into a teasing lilt. “But if you’re the chef, I’ll manage the finances. Someone has to stop you from spending our life savings on honey and Legos.”
Akk raised an eyebrow. “Honey and Legos are essential to my happiness.”
“Exactly why I’m taking charge,” Aye shot back.
“Fine,” Akk said, smirking. “Rule number six: whoever makes the mess cleans it up. No exceptions. Even burnt cake disasters.”
“Hey—low blow!” Aye protested, laughing. “Counter-proposal: we clean messes together.”
Akk considered it. “Deal.”
“Rule number seven,” Aye continued, “mandatory monthly date nights. No excuses.”
Akk tilted his head. “Counter-proposal. Weekly.”
Aye’s eyes lit up. “Accepted!”
Akk smiles, “Rule number eight: morning check-ins on the other’s energies.”
“Alright,” Aye said, mischief flickering. “Rule number nine: snacks are sacred. Taking the last bite without asking is a betrayal of the highest order.”
Akk rolls his eyes. “I don’t do that.”
“Just protecting myself,” Aye laughs.
“Okay, last one,” Akk said thoughtfully. He leaned in, eyes bright. “Rule number ten: we kiss everyday.”
“At least twice a day, including my full face kisses. That’s the minimum.” Aye announces.
“What’s the maximum?” Akk asked.
“Until our lips fall off,” Aye said, stealing a kiss.
Akk laughed softly. “Weren’t you the one who said lips don’t fall off from kissing?”
“I’m giving you a chance to prove me wrong,” Aye replied, kissing him again—deeper this time. Akk melted into it.
“Wait—no,” Akk laughed, pulling back as Aye chased his lips. “We’re playing house. Nothing sexual, remember?”
“Mmhmm,” Aye said, leaning back, eyes full of affection. “So let’s get back to that.”
They slipped into it easily after that. Aye pretended to balance an imaginary checkbook while Akk “cooked” dinner, clanging real pots and pans together for dramatic effect. The stuffed animals were their children, and Aye spent five full minutes lecturing one about the importance of finishing imaginary homework.
“Dinner’s ready,” Akk announced eventually, wiping his hands on an invisible towel. “Come eat before it gets cold.”
Aye sat cross-legged by the fort, patting the floor beside him. “Looks amazing, partner. What’s on the menu?”
“Wanton soup with meatballs,” Akk said, ladling imaginary soup. “Your favorite.”
Aye sighed happily. “You really are the best partner. What did I do to deserve you?”
“You bribed me with pancakes,” Akk said.
“Right,” Aye laughed. “Smartest decision I ever made.”
They spent the rest of the evening bickering over chores, tucking in stuffed animals, and arguing about whose turn it was to take out the imaginary trash.
“I wish real life was like this,” Aye murmured, head resting on Akk’s chest. “We’d never have to stop playing house.”
Akk’s arm tightened around him. “Real life is like this,” he said. “Just with fewer stuffed animals. And more laundry.”
“You’re right.” Aye huffed a laugh, then went quiet for a second. “Everything just… clicked,” he said finally. “Still feels like us. I think that’s what I needed to know.”
Akk tilted his head, brushing his thumb along Aye’s arm. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Aye said. “Same chaos. Same noise. Just… closer now.”
Akk smiled, soft and easy—not surprised. Just sure. “It was never going to be anything else,” he said gently. “We didn’t change the rules. We just kept going.”
Aye let out a slow breath, something unknotted at last. “Good,” he said, curling in tighter. “Because I really like this version.”
“Me too,” Akk said, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I’ve always liked every version.”
“Me too,” Aye murmurs, eyes drifting shut. “I can’t wait to see more versions.”
“GUH,” Akk says immediately, laughing and shuddering. “Enough. Goosebumps.”
“I wuv you.” Aye says in a sing-song.
“Okay, I get it.” Akk chuckles. It’s so stupid. They’re so stupid.
Aye grins against his chest, eyes challenging. Here comes the silly. “I love you to the end of the galaxy. And since it’s ever-expanding, so is my love.” He pitches his voice higher on purpose.
“Oh my god, stop,” Akk groans, but he tightens his arm around him anyway. “You’re stuuupid.”
“No, you’re stuuupid.” Aye kickoffs back.
“Solid comeback.” Akk kicks his boyfriend lightly in the shin. It’s hard with their legs intertwined but Akk is skilled like that.
Aye announces, “Kick me again and I will sex you up!”
Akk makes a face. “What?”
“It’s an upgrade to the ‘you punch, I kiss’ rule!” Aye says, playfully straddling Akk.
Akk laughs until he’s out of breath.
Same Aye. Same them. Just… more.