could you write some romantic marcoacethatch, maybe? i love how you write them and their dynamic!
Ace has always been counted on as a source of warmth on cold islands; wherever he is — should it be winter — the snow isn’t as heavy as it might’ve been before. Hell, it might not even be there at all.
Sunshine — that’s what they call him, teasingly.
But when Marco says it, there’s some undercurrent of truth there. Ace knows Marco gets stressed above all others, given the declining health of their father and the young rookies seeking to capitalize on this. Those headhunters are more common now than ever.
“You’re my sunshine,” he’ll say, hands at Ace’s hips, and the smile on his face is in his eyes, too, a little crinkled at the corners. Genuine.
Thatch, of course, makes it out to be something akin to a joke.
“Sunshiney angel boy, never did no wrong,” he’ll go.
The angel part makes Ace feel a pang, but it’s fond; he nearly wants to thank Thatch for that sentiment, and he’s not sure why. It feels like a lie, tumbling out of Thatch’s mouth, but it’s one he likes.
And now he finds himself between them both, on a bed much too spacious for how close they find themselves. Ace is in the middle, and they’re just a bundle of sleepiness and quiet, woes forgotten.
Thatch gets a bit restless as he often seems to, fingers drawing lines on Ace’s skin, above his navel.
“I like winter islands with you both.” he muses, “I think the cold used to put Marco to sleep, before you came around. We’d catch him in winter regions curled up in the weirdest places.”
“He probably wanted to migrate but couldn’t.” Ace goes, and Thatch laughs.
“Hey.”
“Am I wrong?”
“It just used to put me to sleep, can’t really explain why.” Marco sighs, moves closer still. His eyes are closed, and his voice does sound a little laden with sleep.
“What about now … ?” Ace asks.
“I’ll sleep when you do.” he says simply.
“Ace takes cat naps all the time, to be fair.” Thatch chimes.
“I mean at night. I always sleep last, haven’t you noticed?”
Now that Ace thinks about it, he personally does fall asleep first. Then Thatch presumably follows, and Marco thereafter. Huh.
“Why is that?”
Marco stays silent for a couple beats to Thatch’s question. In the quiet, Thatch laces their fingers together over Ace’s abdomen.
“… Dunno that either, really.” he murmurs, then continues, “I think I just like seeing that you guys are sound and sure, you know?”
Ah, that’s right; Marco has been here longer than anyone else, and he’s seen more nakama die than the other two have. Ace sees all this and finds it makes sense, finds he doesn’t need to say anything at all. He just kisses Marco’s forehead.
“I never want to leave this spot.” Ace goes.
“What, this exact bed?”
“No, I mean ...” Ace pauses, feels more heat well up in his center, his cheeks, out of embarrassment at the sudden emission. “... Figuratively. I don’t want to be with anyone else.”
It’s sobering, brings a couple beats of quiet. Thatch hums, a happy noise, kisses at Ace’s cheek and jaw.
“Good. ‘Cause we’re not going anywhere.”
Ace closes his eyes, and he knows he means it, knows he never has to doubt again. He’ll be their sunshine for as long as they’ll have him.
