(Hey guys! It's been a while! Still loving this story, just haven't had time to write recently. 9: I unfortunately didn't get the chance to respond to all of your lovely reviews, and for that I apologize. I'm glad to hear you're liking the story so far, though, and I sincerely hope you continue to enjoy it. C:
This chapter takes place after chapter 1 by a week or two. (so before Marco and Ace get together)
Oh, reader input desired! So…Izou. Most writers use male pronouns but do you guys think I should use female? I don't know enough about this subject to make an informed decision, so please, if you have a recommendation drop it in a review! I made my best guess with this chapter, but if you feel I said something offensive please let me know so it can be properly addressed!
JUST A NOTE ON A WRITING THING I DID IN THIS CHAPTER SO YOU'RE NOT CONFUSED: I did A LOT of research on Chicago accents. But theoretical knowledge is different than actually experiencing it. But I just wanted to let you know I did my best to try to kind of…phonetically show Ace's accent, so bear with me. It's more pronounced because he's sleepy. I'm doing my best to show it without it looking ridiculous but I'm new to this so bear with me. I'M NOT TRYING TO MAKE FUN OF ANYONE'S ACCENT OR MAKE ACE SOUND EXTREMELY STEREOTYPICALLY CHICAGOAN AND HIS ACEENT ISN'T AS PRONOUNCED AS I'M SPELLING IT OUT IT'S JUST THE ONLY WAY I CAN THINK TO PHONETICALLY SPELL THESE THINGS AND I'M JUST TRYING TO MAKE IT OBVIOUS BUT AS I TYPE IT IT LOOKS RIDICULOUS I'M SORRY. If it really doesn't work out I'll take it out and not actually ever write like this again, I just thought it'd be a good thing to at least TRY. For a guide as to why I'm spelling these things these ways, please refer to these sources: (wikihow dot com slash Fake-a-Chicago-Accent) (wbez dot org slash series slash curious-city slash our-almost-last-word-chuh-kaw-go-accent-104459) (and this guy has literally the strongest Chicago accent I've ever heard: youtube dot com slash watch?v=DZ2wRSzQ2ws). If I get something wrong or if you feel like I'm making this almost offensively stereotypical I PROMISE IT'S NOT ON PURPOSE I JUST DON'T KNOW ANY BETTER! D: Final note: 'th' sound in a Chicago accent sounds closer to a 'd' sound, but the only way to imply that would be to write it as an actual 'd' and I feel like that's pushing into actual ridiculousness, so just kind of mentally sound out Ace's 'th' sounds as in between that sound and a 'd'.
This chapter contains LANGUAGE and MY OWN ATTEMPTS TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO WRITE IZOU)
Ring…
Ace stirred slightly, the telephone rousing him from sleep. He groaned and rolled over, trying to go back to sleep. Warm sunlight brushed his hair, and he lifted the covers a bit higher to shelter his eyes from the rays, sighing contentedly at the added warmth.
Ring…
"Shahddup…" Ace murmured, burrowing under the covers. Marco would answer it soon. Ace dozed, hanging on the very cusp of sleep-
Ring…
Oh but shit. Marco wasn't home right now. It was Tuesday. He'd be teaching classes until late. The thought crossed Ace's bleary, semi-conscious mind and nudged him into action. If he were more awake it probably would have occurred to him that whoever was calling wouldn't be aiming to talk to him and it'd be better to let it go to voicemail and have Marco call them back later, but Ace wasn't awake.
Ace slumped out of bed, intending to go answer the phone. He was wearing one of Marco's old shirts, the fabric soft and warm with age, hanging to his thigh, and underwear. His eyes were barely open as he stumbled towards the phone, the nearest one being in Marco's office. He bumped gently (he wasn't moving fast enough for anything else) into the right side of the door on his way into the hallway.
"Dammit 'erbert we've taukedabout this…" Ace mumbled sleepily as he pushed off from the doorframe. Yes he'd named the doorframe. All the doorframes in the house, in fact. It made cursing them out easier. Veronica, the door into the kitchen, was undoubtedly the biggest bitch of them all. She just loved to give Ace pretty, handle-shaped bruises on his forearms when she tried to swing shut as he walked through. Bitch.
Ace stumbled down the hallway, one hand trailing against the wall, the other rubbing sleepily at his eyes. Soon enough he came upon the door to the office, directly across from Marco's bedroom. Charlotte (the door to the office) was nicer than most of the others, for some reason. She never swung closed on him, and seemed to just get in his way less. He'd only ever gotten two bruises from her. He passed through with a friendly pat to her left beam, then slumped into the office chair.
Ri-
Ace picked up the phone midway through the fourth ring and felt drowsily bad for interrupting it. "'Ello?" he mumbled.
"…Marco?" The voice sounded confused. Ace, distracted by a shiny pen, took a moment to respond.
"…'s Tuesday." In his defense, the statement did make perfect sense, if you thought about it. It was Tuesday, at 9 AM, so obviously Marco would be teaching at the college right now and therefore not at home to answer the phone. His eyes drifted softly closed and he felt sleep pulling at him again.
"Who is this? Where's Marco?" the voice asked, sounding polite but wary.
"He's gone. He left…" Ace glanced at the clock, "about…'affan hour ago. Who's this?" Ace wasn't getting any closer to being conscious. He'd need caffeine for that at this time in the morning. He was not and never would be a morning person.
"What're you doing at Marco's house while he's not home?" The voice asked, jostling Ace out of staring blankly at the clock. The voice seemed to be growing more and more cautious, borderline aggressive. Ace leaned forward to rest his forehead on the desk, phone still held to his ear, too out of it to pick up on the tone.
"Well I wuas sleeping…" he mumbled. A long pause followed, and a more conscious Ace might have registered this as surprise. Half-asleep Ace took it as an opportunity to allow his eyelids to drift softly shut.
"…Sleeping?" the voice asked incredulously. Ace nodded, drowsily ignorant that the person on the phone couldn't see.
"Well yeah. Marco'ndI were up late lahst night." The quarter was almost over and Marco had to start writing the midterm as well as compiling each student's work and figuring out what their current grade was going into the test. Ace couldn't exactly write a law midterm, but he had been able to help by sorting out students' individual graded work and begin calculating their overall grades. He'd been up until about 4, but by the end he had finished each and every student for each of Marco's classes. Marco had only asked him to help, but it was the least Ace could do, he could tell how stressed Marco was.
Another long moment of silence followed from the phone. Ace couldn't even hear the breathing of the other person. The very faint buzzing of the phone itself was soothing, though, and Ace felt himself beginning to drift off again. After nearly thirty seconds of dead silence, the person on the other end spoke again.
"…What's your name again?" All former hostility was gone from the voice, replaced with keen interest, poorly disguised by warmth and sweetness.
"Portgahs D Ace. You?" Ace slumped further over the desk, turning his face sideways, laying the phone across the side of his face and letting his arm flop to the wooden surface.
"Izou. Tell me, Ace, how long have you known Marco?" Ace could hear movement on the other end of the line, as if this 'Izou' were walking. Ace's eyes drifted shut again, his brain trying desperately to succumb once more to slumber. His whole thought process was working at a snail's pace, and any caution or wariness he might have felt was still unconscious.
"I met'im…" Ace's brain struggled to count. It was…late February? Early March? Whatever, he could estimate. "…five mundsago." That was about right. It had been…what, late October? Early November? Exact dates were too hard to remember this early in the morning.
"Five months, huh? That seems acceptable enough," Izou murmured, quietly enough that Ace was certain he was more talking to himself than across the phone. Ace barely heard him at all. "Hey, Ace, you're from out of town, aren't you? Chicago?" Ace was practically asleep now.
"Mm," he said noncommittally. He wanted to sleep right then more than he ever had in his life. It was so tantalizingly close…
"What're you doing in New York? How long have you been-"
"Listen mistah," oh great even he could hear his accent getting thicker the closer sleep got, "I haven' 'ad enough sleep fer dhis-"
"Oh I bet you haven't," he heard Izou murmur to himself, sounding like he was grinning like a loon.
"-so caull bahck dhis ahftehnoon, yeah?" God. And he'd worked so hard to lose that accent over the years. His mouth parted in a huge yawn, eyes sleepy and half-lidded.
"Sure thing, Ace. I look forward to getting to know you better. Get some sleep." Izou still sounded like he was grinning, but after a moment Ace heard the click of the phone being hung up. Ace wearily reached up and replaced the phone from his face back into the little holder-thingy. He'd probably have a better word for that after another 4 hours of sleep.
With a groan of despair, Ace forced himself out of the chair. He was so damn tired. He shuffled down the hallway, collapsing face down on his bed. He wriggled under the covers once more, drawing them up over his head before promptly falling dead asleep.
(IMPORTANT: IN THIS NEXT SECTION PAY CLOSE ATTENTION TO WHO A TEXT IS FROM OR TO OR IT WILL BE VERY CONFUSING)
To: Marco (Mr. Grumpy Gills)
So…Anything you want to tell me about?
Izou stared at his phone, grinning, eagerly waiting response. Would Marco come out and say it or would he have to?
From: Marco (Mr. Grumpy Gills)
Um…no? Izou, I have a lecture starting in fifteen minutes.
Izou could practically picture Marco's confused frown. He couldn't help but wonder why Marco had kept this hidden. And for five months? Wow. Well, at least this explained why he'd been so disconnected for the last few weeks.
To: Marco (Mr. Grumpy Gills)
Are you SURE?
From: Marco (Mr. Grumpy Gills)
Izou either spit it out or leave me alone I have to work.
To: Marco (Mr. Grumpy Gills)
Wow. Grumpy from a sleepless night last night? ;)
From: Marco (Mr. Grumpy Gills)
…what?
To: Marco (Mr. Grumpy Gills)
I have it on good authority there's a certain sleepy Chicagoan in a certain SOMEONE'S bed.
There was a bit of a break. Izou clicked his nails against the arm of his chair. His first appointment wasn't until 10 o'clock. One of the models needed her hair restyled, and then he had to make sure the adjustments he'd made to her dress were correct. If not, he had to refit it. The show was in a few weeks, but he liked to have everything done at least 10 days in advance just so there was a buffer for emergencies.
From: Vista (Mustache Prince)
What did you do? Marco just spewed coffee. He looks like he's about to have heart failure.
Izou grinned, unlocking his phone and tapping out a response.
To: Vista (Mustache Prince)
Ask him who Ace is. Tell me what happens.
Another break, this one a bit shorter.
From: Vista (Mustache Prince)
…Deer in headlights doesn't begin to cover this. (Attachment: image_01)
The image had to have been taken sneakily, the angle wasn't quite perfect, Marco being slightly out of the center of the frame. He was bright red, staring at his phone with such intensity it really should have burst into flame, eyes wide.
From: Marco (Mr. Grumpy Gills)
WAS IT THATCH?
Izou's mouth dropped open.
To: Marco (Mr. Grumpy Gills)
WAIT THAT BITCH HAS ALREADY MET YOUR BOYFRIEND AND I HAVEN'T?
Izou's face morphed into a death glare.
To: Thatch (Pretend Elvis)
I WILL END YOU!
Marco's response was desperate in its haste.
From: Marco (Mr. Grumpy Gills)
WAIT SHIT NO LISTEN HE'S NOT MY BOYFRIEND
Izou almost shrieked.
To: Marco (Mr. Grumpy Gills)
IF YOU GOT ENGAGED WITHOUT TALKING TO ME I WILL DESTROY YOU
To: Marco (Mr. Grumpy Gills)
You know Marco I think I still have a set of your house keys. And an extra long lunch break today. I swear to God if he's wearing a ring I will burn this whole city to the ground.
From: Thatch (Pretend Elvis)
?
From: Vista (Mustache Prince)
…Is this something actually serious? Should I tell Pops? Who IS Ace?
Izou bit his lip. Should Pops be notified?
From: Thatch (Pretend Elvis)
What? What'd I do? TAT
From: Marco (Mr. Grumpy Gills)
IZOU DON'T YOU DARE GO TO MY HOUSE. This is actually serious, okay?! I have to go to class but we need to talk about this. DON'T TELL ANYONE ELSE ABOUT THIS UNTIL WE TALK.
The bell above the door tinkled, Izou's eyes shooting off the screen of his phone. He locked it, tucking it into his pocket and smiling at the girl in the doorway. The model was small, with large blue eyes and blonde hair.
"Christa! Lovely to see you again! You're a bit earlier than I was expecting!" Izou rose from his chair, coming around the counter.
"Oh, sorry! Is that going to be a problem? I'd like to be out of here before noon if possible-" Izou waved her apology aside, smiling.
"No, that's actually perfect, I have someplace important I need to be later, so this works out great. For today, I just want to practice how we're going to do your hair and see how the dress is fitting. If it's still too long I'll need to take off another few inches. Have you been practicing walking in the shoes?" Christa nodded eagerly, already heading towards the styling chair.
"Yeah! The heels are giving me a lot less trouble now!" She sat in the chair. She glanced curiously at Izou via the mirror. "What are you doing this afternoon?" Izou studied her hair critically before selecting various styling devices.
"My idiot brother may or may not have gotten engaged without consulting anyone in the family. So…I have to kind of check out the situation." He saw Christa's eyes widen immensely.
"Are you serious?! How do you know?!" She looked totally hooked. Izou loved Christa. She was so genuine and energetic. And damn fun to gossip with. Her insight on this might actually be helpful…
"I called his house this morning because I wanted to ask him if he's coming to the show. I need to reserve seats for whoever's capable of making it. But anyway, I couldn't remember his class schedule for today, so I called about 9. Turns out he'd already left the house by that point. But the phone was answered, by someone distinctly not Marco, no less." Christa gave the desired gasp of surprise. Izou met her eyes via the mirror.
"I know, right?"
"Are you sure it wasn't just some idiot burglar stupid enough to answer the phone?" she asked.
"That's what I thought at first too. But when I asked what he'd been doing there he said he'd been sleeping. And then, get this, he said he and Marco – and I quote! – were up late last night."
"Wow. That's…wow. Pretty obvious."
"And they've apparently known each other for five months! five months! And Marco never even mentions to anyone! I mean, I'm glad they've known each other for a while, I don't condone anonymous sex, but still! Why didn't he ever tell me he had a boyfriend?!"
"But what was the guy like? What did he sound like?" Christ was full on invested now, eyes fixed eagerly on Izou.
"Well he was clearly from out of town. He had an accent."
"Where from?!"
"Chicago. Definitely Chicago. He was practically asleep when we were on the phone, so I bet his accent came out a bit more. I asked him how long he'd been in town and why he was here, but the guy was tired and told me to call back later. Can't blame him. I mean…wow."
"Okay. So I understand where you're coming from saying they're in a relationship, but what makes you think they're engaged?" Izou sighed.
"Well I texted Marco about it after Ace – that's his name – and I stopped talking, and his answers were suspicious. Very suspicious." He paused in his styling of Christa's hair to withdraw his phone from his pocket, unlocking it and handing it to her to read the conversation. He watched her scroll through it over her shoulder, heard her gasp at all the right parts. She finally handed back the phone, staring at him wide-eyed through the mirror.
"What do you think?" Izou asked.
"I think you need to stop styling my hair and reschedule me for later this week."
Izou grinned. This was why Christa was his favorite.
To: Marco (Mr. Grumpy Gills)
Hey guess where I am. (Attachment: image_74)
Izou stared up at Marco's house, identical to the picture he'd just sent Marco.
To: Marco (Mr. Grumpy Gills)
It's time to tell your brother about your secret fiancée/boyfriend or else ding dong, bitch.
He glanced at his watch. Marco had an hour-long break between his first and second lecture, and his first lecture ended in about 20 minutes. There was a chance Marco didn't have access to his phone right now, but Izou had apparently waited five months for this information, so either he was getting it from Marco or he was getting it from that house. Now.
To: Marco (Mr. Grumpy Gills)
10
He waited about five seconds.
To: Marco (Mr. Grumpy Gills)
9
He waited another five seconds.
To: Marco (Mr. Grumpy Gills)
8
5, 4, 3, 2, 1.
To: Marco (Mr. Grumpy Gills)
7
5, 4, 3, 2, 1.
To: Marco (Mr. Grumpy Gills)
6
5, 4, 3, 2, 1.
To: Marco (Mr. Grumpy Gills)
5
Izou unlocked the doors of his car, turning off the ignition.
5, 4, 3, 2, 1.
To: Marco (Mr. Grumpy Gills)
4
5, 4, 3, 2, 1.
To: Marco (Mr. Grumpy Gills)
3
5, 4, 3, 2, 1.
To: Marco (Mr. Grumpy Gills)
2
5, 4, 3, 2, 1.
To: Marco (Mr. Grumpy Gills)
1
To: Marco (Mr. Grumpy Gills)
I really hope I don't have to burn down the city, Marco.
Izou stepped out of the car, shutting the door behind him and locking it. He looked up at each of the windows, wondering if he'd catch a glimpse of Ace in one of them. He wasn't quite sure what he expected Ace to look like. Marco had dated so few people in the past Izou hadn't pinned down what his 'type' was yet.
Izou approached the door, but hesitated. Should he open it with his key or ring the doorbell? He didn't want to freak Ace out by just walking in, but he didn't know if Ace would answer the door. After another moment's indecision, he raised a hand and rang the doorbell. He heard it ring inside the house and rocked back on his heels. He'd wait to see if Ace answered the door, and if not he'd use his key. But come hell or high water he was meeting this boy.
Ding dong.
Ace stirred, rousing slowly from deep sleep. He groaned, sitting up and slapping a hand over his eyes. Was that…? He replayed the sound in his head, trying to put the label on it.
Doorbell.
Ace slumped out of bed, hair askew. Answer it. It's polite. Just open it. It's probably a delivery. You're 18 now, you can legally sign for those. Well…technically it'd be a delivery for Marco but hey. What the hell. He's not home. And if the delivery guy has to come back again there might be a fee…
Ace stumbled down the stairs, gripping the railing to keep from falling. Upon reaching the entryway he stopped, pausing for a moment. Should he answer the door? Yeah why not? Drowsy, warm, and faintly hungry, all fear and caution was excluded from Ace's thought process. He unlocked then twisted the doorknob with his left hand, reaching up to rub at his right eye with his other hand.
Izou was in the process of pulling out his keys when the sound of the hinges faintly creaking drew his attention back to the door. He felt his eyebrows rising, but his thought process was completely paralyzed.
For one thing, the boy before him looked to be about 98% asleep and entirely unaware of the current situation.
And now there was literally no. way. Marco could convince him this wasn't his boyfriend.
His black hair was mussed, almost attractively tousled. His skin was fairly pale, like he hadn't seen much daylight in a while. Freckles dotted his cheeks, and intense grey eyes stared out of his face. He had his hand raised to rub at one almost childishly, the loose sleeve of the shirt hanging off his arm.
Oh, speaking of. That shirt. Was Marco's. Definitely. 100%. Marco's.
Izou knew because he'd made it for him a few years ago.
And it was seemingly the only thing Ace was wearing.
Izou was fairly sure his eyebrows were permanently embedded in his hairline.
"…I assume you're Ace?"
From: Izou
OH MY GOD CAN I HIRE YOUR BOYFRIEND. (Attachment: image_75)
Marco had just finished desperately scanning through Izou's last texts when the new one came in. If this message, plus the previous ones, weren't enough to make him freeze, the attached picture definitely was.
It was Ace.
He was standing in the kitchen, back to the camera. His head was turned to look at some oranges on the counter, his face left in semi-profile, still turned slightly away from the camera, clearly unaware of the photograph. The angle had the morning light from the window illuminating his face with a golden glow, his hair catching the light. As Marco took in the rest of the photograph he felt heat beginning to rise in his cheeks.
Ace was wearing one of his shirts.
And it only hung maybe a third of the way down his thigh.
To: Izou
Delete that. Now.
Marco sent the text then stuffed his phone in his pocket, hurriedly packing up all his stuff. If he really rushed he had time to get home and deal with this and get back in time for his next lecture. Unhesitatingly he stuffed his papers haphazardly into his briefcase, uncaring of their order or whether they got wrinkled.
From: Izou
Ooh, jealous of others looking at your boyfriend? Christ, what did you DO to get his hair like that?
Marco nearly dropped his phone with the ferocity of his typing. By this point he was speed walking across campus toward the faculty parking lot.
To: Izou
Oh my GOD IZOU. I didn't do anything, he just gets the most intense bed head of any person ever.
Marco blinked, thumb hesitating over the send button. When did he notice that? He shook his head, sending the text to Izou.
To: Izou
I'm getting in my car and I have to drive now. Don't send me anything that will cause me to get into a hideous accident please. And for the love of all that is good and holy BEHAVE YOURSELF. I'll be there in twenty or so minutes.
Well this was kind of a mess. Marco blinked, quickly shooting off another text.
To: Thatch
So tell me. Would you prefer to be stabbed or strangled to death?
From: Thatch
OMG WHY? WHY DOES EVERYONE HATE ME? QAQ
Ace rubbed at his right eye again, still warring for consciousness. The man at the door had introduced himself as Izou. Ace recognized his voice from the phone. He also made an appearance in a few of the photographs around the house, namely one in the office of some kind of party. In the photo, he was grinning widely and had an arm slung around Marco, also smiling. In the picture they were both maybe 17, so Ace deduced Izou was either a very old friend of Marco's or a member of his adoptive family.
Ace had let Izou into the house after introductions. Izou was seated at the kitchen table, a pot of tea brewing in the center. Ace had drowsily offered Izou something to eat, an offer politely declined. Ace had only shrugged, peeling an orange for himself.
Izou never stopped staring at Ace.
Even mostly asleep, Ace was starting to get unnerved. The observation wasn't critical or offensive, just…curious. It was probably the only reason Ace wasn't panicking yet. And the fact that he was careful to always keep Izou – largely stationary making it easier – on his left side, as well as eyeing the door at least once a minute. Ace hadn't instigated conversation. Even mostly asleep, some of the 'rules' he'd learned over the years were embedded so deeply in his conscious he still didn't dare break them. Speak only when spoken to. You don't have anything important or interesting to say. You are silent. You don't have anything worth saying.
"So, Ace. How'd you meet Marco?" Izou asked, mouth curving into a slight smile. Ace, realizing the tea (green tea. With caffeine. Yes.) was probably done steeping, poured it into their respective mugs. He took a long sip, begging for the caffeine to lend him clarity.
"…Police station. Marco wuas there fer work." Izou arched one carefully plucked eyebrow.
"And you?" Ace looked away, jaw clenching. Lie. Lie lie lie.
"…I'd...uh...had a bit of a misunderstanding with a cahp." Ace mentally slapped himself. Okay dumbfuck just don't tell him anything else, all right?! Ace took another long drink of tea, praying for the caffeine to kick in. Ace rubbed at his eyes again, trying to wake up. Change the subject. Change the subject. Change the subject.
"So, I've seen you 'na few of the pichures around the house. How long have you known Marco?" Ace asked. Part of his mind was panicking at the fact that he'd just had the audacity to ask a personal question to a clie- no Izou is not a client you don't have clients anymore. Ace closed his eyes for a moment, recollecting himself in the present. You're allowed to ask questions. You're allowed to talk. You're allowed to be an individual. The smile Izou gave him said he saw Ace was trying to change the subject, but he took it.
"Marco and I grew up together. Well…mostly. I didn't get here until I was about 7. Marco was already here, and a few months older than me. He and I got along from the onset, really." Izou smiled, eyes distant. "What a family. I think Pops knew from the beginning, but everybody else pretty much caught on when I started wearing dresses at 10." Izou's tone was laced with fondness. "God they were amazing. They nearly threw a coup when the principal of my high school said I couldn't wear a dress to homecoming or prom." Izou laughed to himself. "Marco and Thatch even wore high heels for two weeks in protest! Those idiots. Thatch almost killed himself on the stairs." Izou's talking gave Ace the time he needed to finally wake up. But that came with awareness and left Ace fidgeting with his hands.
"Sorry if this is kind of a forward question…" Ace started. Izou nodded, encouraging him to continue. "But…well, for future reference, is there a set of pronouns you'd prefer?" Izou smiled at him warmly.
"I'm glad you had the decency to ask, but male pronouns will be fine. It's not that I identify as female, I just don't think clothes should be gender exclusive. And I find makeup and jewelry beautiful." Ace nodded, relieved. He didn't remember if he'd used a pronoun to refer to Izou up to this point, but he would have probably automatically used male ones and was glad he hadn't caused any unintentional offense. Izou waved a hand dismissively.
"Anyway, they eventually raised enough of a ruckus that the principal was forced to change his policy. I think Pops threatening to get the governor involved was what finally swayed him. And then it was only a few weeks later that Marco finally came out." Ace's eyes widened, but Izou didn't notice, laughing in recollection. "Thatch, that big dork, called us Sherlock Homo and Gaymes Moriarty. Of course there were the usual number of close-minded teenage assholes at our school, but Marco kicked so much ass. I remember, this one absolute dickhead went up to him, and Marco warned him if he made any slurs about his sexuality he'd break his face. Guy didn't believe him. Big mistake. As soon as the 'f' word was out of his mouth Marco had him on the ground, arm twisted behind his back and his nose broken. And then he loudly announced to the whole hall – they were all staring in awe at this point, Marco was pretty thin as a kid – that the next person who said anything wouldn't get out of the hospital for at least a month. Suffice to say, nobody ever looked at him the wrong way again." Izou grinned.
"He even got a date to homecoming! I felt bad for the kid he went with. The guy had been bullied since forever, and I think Marco knew that. Now that people knew, or at least thought he was in a relationship with Marco, he was bulletproof. People were too scared of Marco to ever bother the kid again. I-"
"Wait, wait." Ace just needed to actually hear it. In exact words, just to kill the disbelief. "Marco's gay?" Izou looked at him in utter bafflement. A moment of silence passed, as if Izou was waiting to see if Ace were joking.
"…Um…yes…? Shouldn't you of all people kno-" The back door slammed open, startling Ace into jumping to his feet. He took an automatic several paces backwards, toward the entryway. Izou watched him curiously, almost concernedly.
Marco came striding around the corner, looking frazzled. Briefcase in one hand, hair askew, he took in the scene before focusing a near-glare on Izou.
"You know you've got some nerve," he gritted out.
"Marco! How nice of you to join us!" Marco didn't spare Izou another glance, coming more fully into the kitchen and shifting his attention to Ace. His expression had changed to one of gentle concern.
"Are you all right? He didn't scare you too badly by bursting in unannounced, did he?" Ace gave Marco a confused look.
"Um…no he didn't freak me out. He actually rang the doorbell. But what're you doing home?"
"Awww, the big dork was worried, wasn't he?" Izou was grinning. "That is too precious!" he cooed. Marco gave a long-suffering sigh, closing his eyes for a moment. But Ace did see an iota of tension leave his shoulders. He had been worried.
"Ace, in the top right drawer of my dresser you'll find pajamas. You can borrow a pair of pants." Ace blinked once. And then remembered exactly what he was currently wearing.
"Oh my God." He was up the stairs in the next millisecond, face burning with shame. Christ. He'd been down there talking to Izou for…what, fifteen minutes? Twenty? He could practically combust with embarrassment. It wasn't that he was ashamed of his body, he knew he was quite attractive, but Izou was a member of Marco's family. One of his brothers. Ace wanted Marco's family to like him. He'd seemingly done well enough with Thatch, but holy shit had he fucked up now. And not only had Izou seen him like that but Marco had too.
Izou chuckled, turning to Marco. "In his defense I'm pretty sure he was still asleep when he answered the door. And I also called this morning, so it wasn't entirely unannounced."
"You called?"
"Yeah. Ace answered." Izou laughed. "There seems to be direct correlation between how cognizant he is and how strong his accent is. But the call is what got me to text you. So. Ace says you met five months ago. But how long do I have to wait to get an answer about how long you've been dating?!"
Marco almost embedded the toaster in Izou's face. Almost.
From: Izou
So tell me. Does his accent come out when you're banging? ;P
To: Izou
OH MY FUCKING GOD HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO SAY IT.
To: Izou
HOW MANY
To: Izou
WE'RE NOT DATING
From: Izou
I know I know. You're just so fun to mess with.
Marco rolled his eyes, putting his phone on his nightstand. He was done dealing with Izou for the day. He needed more sleep before he could take any more of Izou's shit. He turned off the lamp on the nightstand, then crawled into bed. His phone buzzed again, and after a moment's deliberation and against his better judgment Marco reached over and unlocked it again.
From: Izou
You'd like to though, wouldn't you?
Marco face bent in confusion.
To: Izou
I'd like to what?
From: Izou
UGH. You'd like to date Ace, wouldn't you?
Marco froze, fingers hovering mutely over the keyboard. To be honest…he'd never really considered it. Did he like Ace in that way? He shook himself. Snap out of it. It doesn't matter. That's definitely not what Ace needs from you right now.
To: Izou
No.
From: Izou
Liar.
That gave Marco pause yet again. How did he respond to that?
To: Izou
No, I'm not lying.
From: Izou
You are and I can prove it.
That had Marco raising an eyebrow incredulously.
To: Izou
Oh really? How?
From: Izou
Because. You haven't deleted the picture I sent you.
Marco blinked at his phone in incomprehension for a moment, before flushing violently. Izou was right. He hadn't deleted the picture. His fingers flew over the keyboard.
To: Izou
No you're wrong I deleted it.
From: Izou
Liar. ;)
I hope you liked it! Again, Ace's accent wasn't deliberately stereotypical or over pronounced, I actually did research it's just very hard to imply via writing. I hope the texting stuff made sense too! And I hope the way I described Izou is acceptable and inoffensive! But if I got something wrong and you feel it needs changing, then please do message me! This story isn't here to offend anyone!
You will never convince me Thatch doesn't use emoticons. You will never convince me. You will also never convince me the winky face isn't Izou's lifeblood.
Oh, also, did you like the kind of backstory that made an appearance in this chapter? I'll admit I didn't have it planned but it kind of worked out. Ace still isn't really comfortable talking to strangers, but he's better at listening and that was easier to convey by having Izou be kind of a chatterbox. :) So…yeah. Hope you liked the chapter!
Oh also: IF ANYONE DRAWS ANY OF THE PICTURES (except image_74 cuz that's kinda boring) IN THIS CHAPTER I WILL WRITE YOU A ONE SHOT NO LESS THAN 4000 WORDS. Yes I've succumbed to bribery in my quest to get fan art for one of my stories. So have at it guys!
Well, hope you enjoyed and I'll see you all next time!
~Stuff'nStuff)