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The clang of the unlocked door first opening and then slamming shut alerted Ace out of the stupor he’d slid into, sitting upright with a jerk and a grunt. Kotatsu rolled gracelessly from his lap like a bag of potatoes, whining indignantly at the abrupt interruption – though he was quickly placated with a tickle under his chin and an apologetic coo from Ace.
“It’s me,” Deuce’s weary voice called from the front door of the small one-bedroom apartment, perfectly pointless yet wholly welcomed, bringing with him that unique sense of comfort and general fluffy, domestic feeling that Ace was quickly becoming both attached and used to. “Sorry I’m late,” he added when Ace didn’t reply, too caught up in sighing blissfully at the sound of his boyfriend, “did you already eat?”
Ah, another flutter of warmth in his belly, and another little smile across his face – but this time Ace cleared his throat, turning in his seat on the couch to look down the hallway for the source of his happiness.
“No, I hung on in there,” he said valiantly, knowing that his grin was translating into his tone. “I’ve kept the hunger at bay for you, my love; reward me with your tender kiss!”
And there he was a moment later, silhouetted against the low light still filtering in through the glass-fronted door; beautiful, tired, and totally, totally Ace's in all his wonder. What had he ever done to deserve this? This – Deuce pushing his hair back off his face as he bent over the back of the couch to kiss Ace, a smile pressed into a grin; the way he moved as they broke apart, licking his lips as if Ace were a flavor to savor and a delicacy to desire; how his eyes bore his smile also, betraying his own happiness to be back here, his home away from home, ready for a warmed-up late dinner of too much stew and potatoes that Ace definitely hadn't picked at when wrapping his bowl in Saran wrap.
“Now that's what I call a reward,” Ace whispered as their second kiss – slower, gentler, longer – came to a close, finding the curve of Deuce's jaw with his fingertips. “And I'm sorry, I lied – I did eat without you.”
“Then I retract that kiss and demand you pay me back twice over,” Deuce snorted, leaning back in to meet Ace's smile with a firmer kiss this time.
“Don't apologize for bein' late, babe, it's not your fault,” Ace chided gently a moment later, patting Deuce's cheeks affectionately, “but you know I would've dropped dead if I hadn't eaten on time.”
“Well, you're damn right it's not my fault,” Deuce sighed heavily as he straightened up with one last fleeting kiss and headed for the tiny kitchen, drumming his palms on his stomach as he went. “I can't wait until I've got my own desk in some cozy little community doctor's office rather than running around like my head's on fire on the hospital wards. I'll cover my wall with pictures of your face, and when patients say 'hey, who's the handsome freckled dude?' I'll be able to laugh carelessly and say 'him? Oh, he's my partner, the most gorgeous guy in the whole entire world,' and then they'll cry with jealousy.”
While still currently a junior doctor in his first year post-med school, it was encouraging to hear Deuce talking about life beyond his first two foundation years of grueling hard work at the behest of the more senior doctors around him. Whatever Deuce insisted, Ace couldn't help but worry that the next evening of unpaid overtime would be the tipping point, or a derogatory comment from a patient or another medic would be the final straw that broke him and he called it all off... so it was always something of a relief to hear him dreamily talk about what he hoped his future would hold when this stint finally passed.
But what was better than that was this new element that had never featured in Deuce's narration of prospective life as a primary care doctor – the one that had Ace's toes curling, his heart fluttering with a shot of adrenaline that made him sit a little more upright, alert, as Deuce noisily collected a spoon from one of the kitchen drawers.
“Photos of me, huh?” He said in his best attempt at a casual tone, holding out a hand for Deuce when he wandered back over a moment later, his dinner now warming up noisily in the microwave. “That'll be a nice touch for your office... real nice and homey...”
Deuce's smile was indulgent as he took the hand Ace offered, sitting beside him on the couch. There was something about the way he looked at Ace – or rather, couldn't quite seem to fully meet his eyes – that was acutely endearing, transparent understanding blooming in his small smile, the way he bit his lip to try to hide it.
“Yeah,” he said softly, leaning into Ace's side, “photos of you everywhere, completely covering the wall behind the computer screen... I'll need the comfort of your smile when the bad days roll round, as they will do...”
“Shame it's such a long way away,” Ace said, laying a cheek to Deuce's shoulder and nuzzling in, deciding to direct the conversation towards a confession. “We're talkin' another four years from now at least, aren't we? If I'm remembering that conversation right.”
“Four years,” Deuce confirmed, taking Ace's other hand in his own. A thumb was pressed gently into the center of Ace's palm, tracing the lines there back and forth, back and forth, as Deuce went quiet, his mind undoubtedly full of a mess of jumbled thoughts and feelings right now.
Then, without warning, Deuce slumped further downwards until he headbutted Ace’s lap with a loud, exaggerated groan that seemed to be pulled up from the very depths of his soul. Wriggling into position to get comfy, he buried his face into Ace's stomach and wound his arms around his waist, forcibly reminding Ace of Kotatsu when the cat felt entitled to every drop of attention that his human could muster.
“I want to be a cat,” Deuce's muffled voice declared, his hold on Ace tight. “A cat with no responsibilities or patients who just exists to be loved and told repeatedly that he's cute.”
Carding his fingers through Deuce's pale hair, Ace hummed in an attempt to stop himself from outright laughing at how adorable this turn of events was. It wasn't like Deuce to be this forthright about his needs or to openly complain about his job; opinions were a different matter entirely, Deuce never one to shy away from telling Ace exactly what he thought about other people or horrifying news stories that filled his social media feed... but this here was rare. Rare, but thoroughly enjoyed.
“You're already halfway there,” Ace said, scratching Deuce behind the ear like he would to Kotatsu; the shiver, groan, and the press of Deuce’s nose into his stomach this elicited were appreciated, loved, enjoyed. “You're the cutest doctor there ever was, and any patient you see will be thrilled to have you.”
Deuce's disbelieving little sound did, regrettably, remind Ace of the time when Deuce had had the misfortune of taking care of Roger, Ace's father, several months ago. Roger had been less than pleasant, taking personal offence at being assigned a junior doctor during his vulnerable state, and had proceeded to make his feelings on the matter as public as physically possible.
“Well,” Ace corrected himself delicately, “almost any patient.”
“At least we get on well enough now,” Deuce said thickly into Ace's shirt, confirming that he too had indeed been remembering Roger and his many colorful insults.
The beep from the microwave sounded, prompting Kotatsu – who had relocated to the arm of the couch – to startle, resettling with a chirp when Ace petted his back.
“Dinner's ready,” Ace said, nudging Deuce, “c'mon, up, go feed yourself, Doctor Cutey.”
Deuce's responding groan was long and suffering, and he made no attempt to pick himself up off the couch or indeed move at all. “Cats can't operate microwaves,” he said when Ace gave him an encouraging shake of his shoulder, “let me sleep here on you instead... I don't need feeding.”
“No cat has ever thought the words I don't need feeding,” Ace pointed out with a snort of laughter, “so if you're a cat tonight, Deu, you're gonna get up, eat, and then let me snuggle you until you fall asleep. And also...” Ace bent down just low enough to brush his lips to the shell of Deuce's ear, skimming it with deliberate intent before he said, “maybe we can talk more about this four-year plan of yours? The one that has me there with you through it?”
That did the trick. With alarming speed for someone apparently so close to falling asleep in his boyfriend's lap, Deuce snapped up to look at Ace all wide-eyed and bright, apparently too surprised to even react when Ace's lips met his in a chaste kiss.
“Talking in a good way?” Deuce asked quietly, his nerves clear in his expression.
“Obviously,” Ace grinned. “Do you see me freaking out right now? Yes, in a good way.” Cupping Deuce's face again, Ace was pleased to find he responded to the next kiss with such enthusiasm that Ace's heart skipped a beat, felt like it was swelling to three times its usual size.
Yes, in a good way. The best way. The way that Ace had wanted ever since their first kiss; ever since their first fateful meeting, perhaps.
And as Deuce extracted himself from the couch and headed for the kitchen with a brand-new spring in his step, Ace used the interruption to fumble in his pockets for the newly cut front door key he had arranged earlier that day during his lunch break. His life-changing question didn't have to wait until their next day off together; Deuce would be asked to move in properly tonight, after all.