Work Text:
When most people lose a spouse, waking up in the morning can be the worst part. They blink open their eyes to an empty bed, the lack of a body wrapped around them, their arms itching to hold on to the one they’ve lost. For Deuce, the reminder doesn’t hit until he’s already out of bed and some days it’s not even until he stumbles out of the cabin for breakfast that he remembers. He would argue that it’s worse this way, that he never had the chance to get used to waking up to Ace in his bed. He has to mourn not only what he lost, but the opportunity to have had so much more.
He should be angry, or filled with sorrow, regret, hatred. Something should be filling his heart besides this aching, consuming cold resonating out from his core. He doesn’t even realize how numb he’s become until he hears commotion around him, people calling out that Sphinx is in sight.
“We’re here already?” He mumbles absently, staring out across the sea where he can just barely make out a lump of land in the distance. He isn’t sure who he’s talking to, who’s next to him at any given moment, but he can just about feel the hand on his shoulder as someone speaks.
“Deuce…” the voice says and he knows it sounds sad, hesitant, but he can’t make himself turn his head to look at them, can’t force himself to reassure them or offer any sort of acknowledgement that he’s listening. “It’s been two weeks. We…” The voice hesitates and Deuce still can’t look at them.
“We’re almost there.” Deuce says, and while he expects to feel the prickling of tears, he just feels nothing.
—
“We’re almost there.”
Ace didn’t startle from his position, seated on deck with his back against the railing of the ship. It reminded Deuce of their first few weeks here, when Ace had taken up almost this exact same position out of pure spite and willfulness, refusing to accept Whitebeard’s hospitality. He’d come such a long way since then, grown into this family like he was always meant to be there. And yet, that stubborn willfulness remained.
“You’re sure you want to do this? You’re going directly against orders.” Deuce said, resting his forearms on the railing and leaning forward, gaze drifting from the expanse of almost endless sea down to look at his husband.
Ace tilted his head back against the railing, posture loose and sprawling as he grinned up at his former first mate. Deuce’s eyes were still visible through the holes of his mask, but most people still had a hard time reading his expressions. To Ace, however, he’d somehow always been an open book. He could see the concern there, along with a resigned acceptance. It wasn’t surprising that Deuce had figured out what he’d planned to do. Something warm filled Ace at the thought, finding comfort once again in being known so well by someone he loved.
“What? Not gonna try and talk me out of it?” He asked, and Deuce had to roll his eyes.
“Like I’d ever be able to talk you out of anything.”
Ace’s grin softened and he looked away, eyes scanning over the empty deck. It was rare to catch a moment alone like this, the deck was usually occupied by at least a few crew members, even this late at night. He leaned to the side, his shoulder bumping against Deuce’s leg.
“That goes both ways, you know.” Ace said, trying to keep his voice light.
Deuce could hear the question in his words. He looked down at his left hand, flexing his fingers before bringing it up to grip softly through his shirt at the ring hanging from a chain around his neck. The symbol had been important to him, and he didn’t begrudge Ace’s decision not to wear one, choosing instead to get a simple earring in his left ear, a tradition he’d heard stories of from the bandits he was raised by. It was subtle enough that he hadn’t hidden the golden stud either.
“I thought you agreed with keeping it a secret,” He said, tilting his head down to frown at the top of Ace’s head. Like with most serious topics, this was probably something that should have been a long, hard discussion, weighing the pros and cons of sharing their relationship status with both their former and current crewmates, but Ace wasn’t really one for “should be’s”. For some reason, Deuce found it refreshing, endearing even, and found comfort in letting Ace take things easily.
“It was fun at first,” Ace finally responded with a huff, “I liked having something that was just our business. But now…” He trailed off with a shake of his head, “It feels more like lying than anything.”
With a deep sigh, Ace pushed himself up, leaning back against the railing with his elbows propped up behind him. Deuce couldn’t help but trail his eyes down Ace’s bare chest, lips quirked up at the fact that Ace was absolutely displaying himself on purpose.
“We’ll tell everyone when I get back.” Ace said definitively, eyes still fixed on the empty deck as Deuce turned to look at him with surprise.
“You’re sure?” Deuce asked, skeptically, “Nothing’s changed. It could still jeopardize your place on the crew. No fraternization, remember?”
It had been the only downside of joining the Whitebeards. Early on, there had been a nurse that had taken an overt interest in Deuce, flirting with him in ways that were starting to make him uncomfortable. Not that he blamed her, she wouldn’t have known that he was a married man. Still, he was grateful when Marco intervened, not that the phoenix knew Deuce had overheard him gently reprimanding her. He’d said something about remembering the rules and she had backed off after that. This hadn’t been until after Ace had made the final decision to join the Whitebeards and Deuce had the unfortunate job of telling him that their clandestine marriage would have to stay just that for a while longer.
The thing was, it really had been fun. So much of their lives were lived communally, if not outright publicly with the wanted posters and News Coo coverage. The two of them actually preferred the privacy that secrecy provided. It had definitely helped when Ace had been promoted to Second DIvision commander. Between his new private quarters and the fact that medical staff also had their own rooms, it made it easier to sneak away together and steal a few hours to themselves. Deuce had to agree though, that the secret was also starting to weigh on him. The last thing he wanted to do was jeopardize losing the home both of them had found here, but it was starting to feel less like something special between them, and more like something dirty they were trying to hide.
“It’s a stupid rule.” Ace said, voice laced with a familiar whine as he leaned in to drop his head against Deuce’s shoulder. “If Pops can accept my lineage I’m pretty sure he’ll make an exception to us being married.”
“What, he’ll grandfather us in?” Deuce teased and reached up to ruffle Ace’s hair. “Even after you’re disobeying him by going after Teech?’
Ace pulled away at that and turned to face Deuce more directly, trailing his hand down Deuce’s arm to grab his hand. “It’s something I have to do, Love. I’m sure he’ll forgive me.” Ace ducked his head and looked up at his husband through his lashes, suddenly serious and voice hushed. “Will you?”
Deuce took a breath and squeezed Ace’s hand, heart clenching at the pleading look on his face. Ace’s insecurities had eased somewhat at having the father figure he’d always longed for, but they still existed, often coming out at moments like this when he was doing something he knew Deuce didn’t fully approve of.
“Always, you big softy.” Deuce said with a soft smile, heart clenching again as Ace’s blinding grin took over his face and he leaned in for a kiss. Deuce pulled back quickly, a force of habit as his gaze swept across the empty deck, suddenly anxious.
“Not yet.” He said, concerned for what it might mean for him if he was kicked off the crew while Ace was away. “We’ll come clean after you get back, okay?”
Ace looked confused for a moment, but finally nodded and turned to look out to the sea. “It’s time, We’re close enough that I can make it to the next Island on Striker.”
“I’d tell you to be careful,” Deuce said, half heartedly punching Ace’s shoulder, “But I know it wouldn’t do any good.”
Ace shot a grin over his shoulder, giving Deuce a conspiratorial wink. “That’s why I married you. Who else knows me like you do.”
“Yeah and who else would put up with you being such a massive pain in the ass.” Deuce huffed out a weak laugh, trying to push down a suddenly anxious feeling rising in his gut as he shoved lightly at Ace’s shoulder. “Go on, get out of here, before someone catches you.”
“Fine.” Ace said with a laugh, turning fully and stepping away. “See you later, Deu.”
Deuce finally let his smile drop as he watched Ace walk away before looking down to try and steady his suddenly anxious breathing. Suddenly, Ace was back in front of him, one hand on Deuce’s waist, the other gently cupping the back of his head as he pulled him in for a deep kiss, not letting him get the chance to pull away. Deuce couldn’t help but let himself melt into his husband’s hold, breathing into the kiss and channeling everything he felt for the man he called his partner for life.
Ace pulled away, eyes sparking with mischief as he rested their foreheads together.
“No regrets, remember?” Ace said, squeezing Deuce’s waist softly. “I’d regret leaving without kissing you.”
“See you when you get back” Deuce said against Ace’s lips, giving him one last soft peck before reluctantly pulling away.
–
It had never even occurred to Deuce to change the “when” to an “if”.
That’s probably why he’d been unprepared for the eventuality that Ace would never come back and that they’d never have a chance to come clean, to face the world side by side and damn the consequences.
“Deu?” The person to his left speaks again. Actually, Deuce realizes they’ve been speaking for a while and even though he can’t recall exactly what’s been said, he has a feeling that it’s incredibly important. He briefly considers not responding, letting himself drift in the numb haze he’s found himself in as they drift closer to land, to the place they will say their final goodbyes.
That’s not what Ace would want for him. To retreat and hide away, no longer chasing his dreams of adventure. HIs husband seized life with both hands, refusing to live life with any regrets and he dragged Deuce kicking and screaming along with him. Slowly, Deuce turns his head, blinking until the person next to him comes into focus.
“Skull?” He says, voice raspy and sticking in his throat. He vaguely tries to remember if he’s spoken to anyone since Ace died. “Did… What did you say?”
The former spade pirate is staring at him, no doubt concerned at Deuce’s near catatonic state.
“Red Hair and Marco are talking about what to do for the burial.” Skull says. “Thought you’d want to know. Is there… is there anything you think Ace would have wanted?”
“Would have wanted?” Deuce repeats, frowning at the use of past tense. It feels wrong. Like Ace’s soul is too big to just not exist in the world anymore. It’s easier to focus on that than the context of Skull’s words, the wrongness of Ace being something in the past, something that would never happen again. Still, some of the meaning breaks through the haze, helping anchor him to the present. The shadow of an emotion flicks through him and he latches onto it, barely recognizing it as longing.
It’s a longing so deep and visceral that he doesn’t dare let any other emotion through, even though he can feel the strength of his walls crumbling, the numbness just beginning to recede. It’s going to hurt, making decisions, moving forward. It’s going to hurt so gods-damned much and he almost can’t stand the thought of it.
But he would regret not taking this moment and doing what needs to be done. He would regret not being there, not being the husband of the bravest man he’s ever known at such a pivotal time. He would regret not getting to tell Ace’s brother that he was there, that he took care of Ace to the very end.
So he takes a breath. Turns to face Skull and forces himself to meet his eyes, to focus on something outside of himself.
“Where are they?”
–
Usually this many guests on the Red Force would make Shanks feel ill at ease, but the voices surrounding the now former Whitebeard pirates are so broken and filled with sorrow that he has to clamp down on his observation haki just so he doesn’t get swept into it. He will have time to mourn the losses himself later, right now he needs to be their support system, to take care of the things that Marco and the others shouldn’t have to think about right now.
Still, Marco doesn't really seem to need much of his help, rallying his crewmates and keeping them afloat with an easy and quiet sense of leadership that Shanks had admired even as a boy. So Shanks mostly observes, making calls to order supplies, using favors for rush orders and the like.
He’s surprised when their planning session is interrupted by Ace’s former first mate marching himself across the deck and slamming both hands onto the table, leaning across to where Shanks and Marco have been discussing the burial site. The surprise gives way to no small amount of relief. Marco had shared his concerns with Shanks over the masked pirate’s emotional state.
“I think he was in love with him.” Marco had confided a few days into their voyage, “Gods know we tried to get them together so many times. Even locked them in a closet together once.” He had laughed and told Shanks the whole story, how they’d come back to the closet hours later to find Ace asleep, Deuce reading to him from his ever present journal. It had been sweet, but not the outcome he and Thatch had been hoping for. They’d even had a bet going as to when the two would get together and Marco had to step in when one of the nurses was trying to make Ace jealous by flirting with Deuce, reminding her of the rules about influencing the bet.
“Then there was the night Ace left.” Marco had continued, “I knew something was going on so I kept everyone off the deck. Sure enough the two of them talked for a while. I don’t know what was said but… He kissed him, Shanks. I thought that was it, that those two idiots would finally get together when Ace got back but…” He had trailed off with a sigh, not needing to remind Shanks of how everything had gone wrong.
Now it truly is a relief to see that life has returned to Deuce as he trains his eyes on the two of them. His Voice has been the worst one, nearly as silent as someone who was on death’s door, but it’s steadily growing louder now, some of the vitality and emotion returning.
“Skull said you were making plans.” Deuce says, looking between the two of them. “I want Ace’s burial rights to be a combination of Southern, Eastern, and Grand line traditions.”
Neither Shanks nor Marco make a sound as Deuce takes a breath, seeming to collect his thoughts. There’s a handful of people paying attention to them now, a few Whitebeard commanders among them. A lot of people had offered input into how both Newgate and Ace should be buried, but none had been this sure, this clear and demanding. Shanks is grateful for it, glad to have someone who was the closest to Ace care enough to intervene.
“And I want him buried with a headstone. Something people can visit.”” Deuce continues, the edge to his voice calming down as he straightens up, hands clenching at his side.
“It’s already ordered.” Marco says, standing up from where he’d been seated at the table. “Deuce, you don’t have to-”
“Well then call them back and tell them to change the epitaph from whatever you ordered.” Deuce interrupts, steel in his eyes daring anyone to argue with him. He pulls out his journal, flicking to a page and setting it down on the table, pushing it forward toward Marco who leans over to read it. Shanks sees the concern on Marco’s face morph into shock, a few people around them murmuring in curiosity as Shanks pulls the journal toward him to read what Deuce has written.
Portgas D Ace
Cherished Brother, Son, and Husband.
There are more words after that, something poetic and beautiful that no doubt fit Ace perfectly, but Shanks can’t focus on those at the moment.
“Husband?” Marco questions, face stricken as turns his gaze from the page up to the masked man in front of them. Shanks leans back in his chair, hoping that he’s reading the situation wrong. If he was right, and the two had been married, surely someone would have known, but looking around, he sees that everyone around them seems to be just as shocked.
“Yes.” Deuce finally responds, voice low and thick as he swallows around a lump in his throat. “I’m sorry. By the time we found out that relationships among the crew weren’t allowed, we’d already joined.”
Silence meets his declaration and he seems to realize for the first time that he has a small audience. He looks around at them nervously before turning his attention back to Marco.
“Please don’t think anything less of him. We planned to tell you when he got back, even if it meant one of us had to leave the crew. I-” He cuts himself off and glances over to Shanks briefly. “I guess it doesn’t matter all that much anymore. I just want to have a say in what happens now. As his husband.”
The silence persists, most Whitebeard pirates look to Marco, the pain in their faces reflected in that of their commander who seems completely lost. Shanks doesn’t want to interfere, is very aware of the pain his next words will cause. He glances over at Hongo who doesn’t need words to know what Shanks is saying and takes a few steps forward, ready to intercede if a doctor is needed.
“Marco.” Shanks says slowly and all eyes land on him, “I wasn’t aware that Newgate had that policy.” His own gaze is locked on Deuce, so he doesn’t miss the way his breath catches, pleading eyes turning to Marco.
“He…He didn’t.” Marco responds, slow and hesitant. “Deuce, I’m so sorry. We never had a rule against inter crew relationships.”
Deuce takes a step back and his breathing turns ragged. “What?’ He says, shaking his head vigorously. “That can’t be true. You… the nurse… You said….”
Marco’s face fills with horror as he realizes what happened. The misunderstanding that he unknowingly caused and the pieces fully click into place.
“We were talking about a bet.” Marco says, barely a whisper, and Shanks can practically see his heart breaking for the other doctor.
Deuce just keeps shaking his head, hands coming up to grip at his own hair “We didn’t have to hide?”
Shanks can see that he’s going to hyperventilate but doesn’t need to say anything, Marco is already moving around the table, Hongo stepping forward as well, the two of them on either side of Deuce as he collapses into their arms, great gasping sobs escaping him. It’s the first time since the battle that Shanks has seen him cry.
“I could have held him? I could have held him every night?”
And of all the horrors Shanks has seen, all the hate and desperation he’s heard from the mouths of sailors and gods, this is going to haunt him the most.
–
Somehow, Deuce makes it through the next few days. He has felt utterly ruined, not even able to write down what he’s feeling, but that horrible stifling numbness doesn’t return. Every emotion is electrified, zinging through him with a reminder that he gets to live on, that Ace’s love hasn’t died because Deuce is still here.
Everyone else has cleared out, the funeral was massive and heartfelt and the wake afterwards was warm, intimate and filled with support from all their friends.
Deuce is grateful for them as he looks at Ace’s grave, the ring on his left ring finger sparkling as he reaches up to brush against the golden stud in his newly pierced ear. The time might come that he won’t need these symbols anymore to feel close to his husband, but they are a comfort now and he will carry them as long as he needs them.
“I thought meeting Ace was a coincidence. He thought it was fate” He says out loud as he writes in his journal for the first time in days, a habit that Ace always said he found relaxing, “I don’t know which one it was, but I don’t regret any of it. Life isn’t really an adventure unless there’s pain, unless you learn from your losses and keep moving forward. Ace taught me that.”
He keeps writing, speaking his thoughts out loud to his husband one more time as the sun sets and the light fades. Finally, he closes the book and places his hand on the gravestone, letting the silence comfort him.