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Halfway through unpacking their apartment, Kit starts to wonder how he and Mark have acquired this much stuff between them. It doesn’t seem possible that all of it will somehow fit neatly into their new space. Kit is trying to keep his cool about organizing while Mark flits about between the rooms unpacking boxes with no rhyme or reason and asking Kit a million questions in the process.
“Mark…” Kit calls during one of the spells where Mark has disappeared off to the bedroom to unpack some of his clothes. Meanwhile, Kit is stuck in the middle of the living room surrounded by a sea of open boxes and packing paper. He’s finally found the right cables for the television buried in a box alongside some of Mark’s graphic novels and two sets of haphazardly folded sheets.
Mark bounds into the room momentarily. He’s holding something long and thin in his hands, grinning like a maniac.
“Hey, Kit, look what I—“
“Help me get out of here first,” Kit says, stretching out a hand.
Mark props what he’s holding up against the arm of the couch and reaches for Kit, still grinning.
“Take these.” Kit loops the cables over Mark’s arm before taking his hand. He lets Mark brace him while he navigates the boxes and crumpled paper. “This is such a mess,” he grumbles. “We have to start cleaning some of it up.”
Mark pulls him free of the chaos. “We can do that later,” he says dismissively, tossing the cables in the direction of the television — which is still leaning against the entertainment center rather than being mounted on the wall. “Look at what I found!” He wraps both hands around Kit’s wrists and drags him over to the couch.
Kit stifles a groan. Already, living with Mark is a bit like living with a puppy; he gets excited about the smallest things, has very little sense of focus, and mostly just wants to cuddle with Kit at inopportune times. Kit shakes his head, but he’s suppressing a smile. At least, like a puppy, Mark is very cute while doing these things.
Mark picks up the long object he brought in from the bedroom and starts unwinding the plastic sheet that’s protected it during the moving process. “I didn’t know you brought this with you, Kit. You’re so sneaky.” Mark winks at him as he drops the plastic on the floor. He brandishes the object at Kit, opening it with a flourish: it’s the white parasol with the red heart painted on it that figured so prominently in Mark’s first serious attempt at asking Kit to be his boyfriend.
Kit flushes, but he takes a stab an equanimity. “Well, you went through so much trouble to give it to me in the first place. Of course I kept it.”
Mark twirls the parasol above him, then reaches for Kit and hauls him closer so that they’re crowded together beneath its canopy, the red heart dancing over their heads. Mark glances up at it with a sigh of satisfaction. He loops his arm around Kit’s shoulders and hugs him, then presses a kiss to Kit’s temple, a familiar love-drunk look on his face.
Kit quirks his mouth up into a little smile. He puts his arms around Mark’s waist to hug him back.
“I’ve always wanted to ask you,” he says hesitantly, tipping his chin up to meet Mark’s gaze. “What would you have done that day if I hadn’t left?”
Mark twirls the parasol some more, swaying Kit gently back and forth like they’re dancing. He looks thoughtful, but Kit knows there’s no chance he hasn’t considered this scenario for himself many times before. It remains one of his biggest regrets that he didn’t put Mark first that day, and he’s lain awake many nights wondering what would have happened if he had.
“I didn’t plan it that way,” Mark says seriously. He glances up at the parasol above them. “I’m not sure.”
Kit snorts. “I don’t believe you. You always have some kind of plan.”
Mark shrugs, but he’s smiling again. “Well, I thought all of our friends would be happy and cheer for us, but after they left…”
Kit’s heart skips a beat over the way Mark hesitates. Is he embarrassed about this?
“After they left… what?” Kit encourages gently.
“I thought maybe we’d do this,” Mark confesses. “What we’re going right now.”
Kit arches an eyebrow. “Moving in together? That was a lot to expect right off the bat.”
“No!” Mark loosens his grip on Kit for a moment so he can set the parasol aside. Then he faces Kit, taking his hands and setting one on Mark’s hip and the other on his shoulder. Mark mirrors him, and although his touch is warm, solid and comforting, Kit shivers. “I wanted to have you all to myself like this,” Mark says softly. “So we could just be together. Maybe dance together.” He moves Kit carefully in a little circle around the living room, avoiding the jumble of boxes and scattered belongings. Kit allows himself to be guided, unable to tear his gaze away from Mark’s face. “Then I could tell you how much I love you and always want to take care of you,” Mark goes on. “And when you started to get antsy — don’t look at me like that, you know you always do at some point — I’d dip you like this.”
Mark’s hand slides around to brace Kit’s back as he bends him backward. Kit goes breathless for a moment before Mark swings him upright again.
“And then?” Kit asks, sure that his face is red but suddenly not really caring.
Mark hums. “I’d kiss you, of course,” he says, eyes shining. “I’d kiss you until you had no more doubts about us being together.”
Kit shifts closer, moving himself back into the safe circle of Mark’s arms and tilting his face up in silent provocation. Of course, he adds the verbal provocation just because he can.
“I’m sort of a visual learner, Mark. You’d better show me.”
So Mark does.