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Deuce had never really considered himself a particularly tactile person, at least not since he'd gotten old enough that his father and brother had started to scorn signs of physical affection--or affection of any kind, really, not that it had really been very prevalent in Deuce's childhood either. Reaching adulthood, entering and abandoning medical school, setting off on his own, he figured things would remain the same. He would embark on solitary adventures, perhaps befriend the odd villager or sailor every once in a while as he traveled, write his book, and continue through life much the same as he had done before, but without the expectations and pressure that had weighed him down for most of his life.
Until he washed up on Sixis and met Ace, who was extremely tactile even in those early days, reaching out a hand to pull Deuce to his feet, clapping him on the back and shoulder when he got excited about something, gripping onto Deuce's shoulders and neck tightly when he wound up in the sea and needed to be fished out. The longer he spent with Ace, the more he craved those touches, casual physical contact provided by the Spades and later the Whitebeards as well as the soft physical affection offered so freely by Ace.
Gentle fingers pulling his mask away from his eyes when night fell before pulling him into bed. A hot hand in his palm, tugging him along to breakfast or whatever particularly interesting thing had caught his partner’s eye. A knee knocking against his own under the table, or an arm swung casually around his neck and over his shoulder when Ace came in to find him working at their desk.
And it became second nature to accept those gestures, and to return them without thought, to press snacks into Ace’s hand in passing if they were busy, to slide a palm down his tattooed arm or back as they dodged around each other in the bathroom when they overslept, to press a kiss and a grin to freckled cheeks when Ace’s eyes went stormy and he fell quiet for a moment too long, all in an effort to bring his own bright smile back.
Like now, sitting in a sunny spot on the Moby’s main deck, not far from Whitebeard’s seat and out of the way of the main activity of crewmates seeing to the ship’s smooth sailing through the New World. Ace, snuggled into his side and slumped ever so slightly to sit under his arm, head tilted to rest on Deuce’s shoulder, eyes closed but not quite asleep, not yet. Deuce was trying to work through a backlog of files, Ace’s own pile of paperwork lying abandoned and tucked under his knee so it wouldn’t be blown away in the sea breeze, though he’d still gotten a slightly disapproving look from Marco that he’d shrugged off easily enough as he slumped against Deuce’s shoulder.
Deuce shifted slightly, rolling his eyes but smiling fondly when Ace whined at the minor jostling, and lifted his hand away from where it’d been lying over Ace’s collarbone in favor of burying his fingers in soft black waves, combing through his hair lightly before letting his nails scratch gently at Ace’s scalp. The whining died down immediately, Ace seeming to slump a little lower, cheek pressed against Deuce’s chest as he hummed, apparently willing to forgive being nudged if it meant this sort of attention.
“Your hair’s getting long again,” he murmured, twirling a lock around one of his fingers before letting it slip away. Ace’s eyelashes fluttered, but he didn’t open his eyes completely, barely stirred at all. “Another month or two and I might be able to braid it.”
Ace’s lips curled up ever so slightly. “Could be fun. You’d make me look pretty, right Deu?”
“Sure,” he chuckled softly, turning his head to press a kiss on top of Ace’s head, combing through Ace’s hair again. “Can’t make any promises if Haruta gets his hands on you though.”
That got Ace’s eyebrow to twitch, though he made a valiant attempt at continuing to feign sleep. Deuce smirked, considering.
“Maybe he’d team up with the nurses, bet they have some fun clips and stuff to tangle in your hair.”
“You’re being mean to meee,” Ace whined, turning slightly to smush his face against Deuce’s chest, and he laughed, setting his pen down to hug Ace a little closer, dropping more kisses on his head and scratching through his hair again.
“Do you want me to cut it again sometime soon?” Deuce offered, once he’d caught his breath and Ace had shifted his face enough to breathe properly once more. What had once been one of his jobs on Spadille was now handled by several other pirates on the Moby, and Ace had gotten his hair cut by others more than once when Deuce hadn’t been able to find a free moment around other duties and Ace’s own schedule, but when their schedules did align Ace still seemed to prefer Deuce handling it himself.
He hummed again, finally blinking one eye open to look up at Deuce, considering the offer for a moment before shaking his head ever so slightly.
“Nah. Wanna see you teach yourself how to braid,” he said, lips curling in a smirk at Deuce.
“I’m sure Commander Izou or one of the nurses could find a minute to teach me,” Deuce replied drily, and Ace grinned, pressing his head back against Deuce’s hand in a silent demand for him to keep playing with his hair.
“No, teach yourself. Might get a laugh out of it.”
“It’s your hair,” Deuce reminded him, only to receive a casual shrug in response as Ace’s grin softened into a small, tired smile and he melted back against Deuce’s chest again. Guess that decided that, for now anyway.
He let his fingers twist through Ace’s hair again.