Work Text:
Three flights of stairs.
Three!
One, continuous ascending crisscross pattern of doom that Doppio had to endure on his way up to his apartment, huffing and wheezing the entire time with no care in the world for how loud his frustration echoed through the vertical echo chamber.
Of course, the repairman couldn’t have bothered to fix the elevator on the one day the young man had desperately needed it. Oh, how he had dreamed all day of pressing the button to his designated floor, riding the cabled deathtrap with ease as he didn’t have to lift a single foot to get home. It was the one part of his day that was supposed to come without challenge. The one time Doppio was allowed to take it easy and just contemplate his existence— and he couldn’t even do that because the muscles in his god-forsaken legs were in so much pain, his thoughts were being overrun by pleas for mercy!
Another slew of curses—many targeted at the big-man upstairs —flew from Doppio’s mouth as he had gone to unlock the front door to his apartment, jamming the key into the lock the wrong way because sometimes the keyhole doesn’t spin back into its base position when locked. Another complaint on a long list of things Doppio hated about this horrid building he called home.
It was only when the key finally fit into the mangled lock was the young man able to turn the handle and promptly shove the door wide open, banging the back of it against the coat rack and knocking down several jackets and coats alike. Doppio didn’t register this, too busy stomping on the heels of his work shows in order to kick them off his feet, chucking the pair of footwear into the shoe rack with very little accuracy as his eyes remained glued to one specific furniture piece in the house.
The couch.
Correction.
Doppio’s couch.
Doppio’s fancy, dual recliner sofa with the cup holders matching throw pillow set that he not only got the best finance offer in the city for, but the couch that the young man was able to pay back in full a month prior to the due date because of the lucrative bonus he received at work. It was the best financial decision he ever made in his entire life.
And it was completely void of any object or person to stop Doppio from draping himself over the length of the sofa with one, heavy fall as the young man let his body become dead weight before he could even feel the impact of the soft cushions below. His left arm didn’t make it, hanging off the side of the seat as his fingers brushed against the battered carpet beneath him.
This mattered little to Doppio, as he had already given up any chance of repositioning himself. His body and mind was too tired to even fathom the thought of moving another muscle as long as he lived…
“You’re finally home from work. I’m glad you got here in… relative one piece?”
Oh, crap.
That voice. That deep, familiar voice hovering above him from behind the back of the sofa could only belong to…
Boyfriend.
Boyfriend required conversation. But Doppio was too tired, his mouth unable to pull itself together to even string along a coherent sentence as he made a… small effort to greet the tall goth behind him. Not that it did any good, as his slurring quickly devolved into frustrated crying, causing Doppio to shove his face further into the pillow and scream as loud as he could until he felt a tiny bit better.
Screaming was cathartic like that.
“That really bad of a day, huh?”
Doppio attempted to answer with “Work was shit and I want to die.” but even after he put in the effort to speak actual words this time, the pillow muffled his speech, requiring a very aggravated nod to accompany the young man’s woes.
Thankfully, Risotto was a master at interpreting Doppio’s cries of agony, understanding the message clearly. A hand reached out and patted Doppio’s left shoulder, as Risotto must have circled the couch to the shorter man’s side.
Doppio didn’t even need to turn his head to know that Risotto had taken a seat on the coffee table beside him, defying every precious protest Doppio had made against it. The pink-haired man couldn’t be upset though, he was too busy being literally upset at everything else that a small thing like this shouldn’t irk him in the slightest.
Then Doppio shifted his head a bit and opened his eyes.
Goddammit.
It bothered him.
“Get off the table.” Doppio huffed, with enough of his lips sticking out that the sound of his lips could reach his partner’s ears. “Tables are for glasses.”
Risotto did not finish the childish phrase as he rolled his eyes, moving his body slightly forward so that he fell perfectly between the two furniture pieces, legs crossed over one another and as the large man back pushed the table away from them both.
“What happened at work today? Who do I have to go and… have a chat with?”
Doppio was positive that if Risotto had a chat with anyone, his naturally intimidating aura would do most of the work when it came to… persuading people to do what he wanted. Which, most of the time, was to get others to stop harassing his boyfriend, whether Doppio liked it or not. Although, something told the young-man that this time, there would be far less talking than normal.
Quickly, the pink-haired man sought to quell any chances of Risotto coming to his work, in fear that he might pick a fight with any of his coworkers. No matter how obnoxious they may be, it wasn’t the people that Doppio worked with that pissed him off the most. At least he didn’t have to speak with them throughout his entire nine-to-five shift. No, it was the customers on the other end of his phone line that made him want to rip out his hair while simultaneously taking the scissors out of his desk and clipping the cord from the phone to the wall to put an end to the phone calls for good.
Too bad taking phone calls was the job he got hired to do.
“Customers suck.”
“Yes. That does appear to be a universal constant no matter which job you end up in. Any specific reason today, or is this just a general ‘I hate the general public.’ kind of day?”
“First one.” Doppio whined as he turned a bit more to his side in order to look Risotto in the eyes directly without straining the muscles behind his eyes. “I got this annoying, demanding man on the phone complaining about the new TV our company just put on the market. Apparently, his kid’s speaker system won’t hook up properly with the TV and the CD player— which wasn’t made by our company, so it shouldn’t even be my problem whether or not it works!” Doppio inhaled a deep breath before continuing as he could feel the heat of anger radiating off his face.
“Not only was this an upset parent situation, but the man clearly had no understanding of any of the things I was talking about! He couldn’t tell any of the cable apart, and he didn’t tell me this until the end, as the jerk couldn’t even admit to it on the phone. I had to learn it from his kid—who kept putting the phone down to shout back at someone else in the room—as he laughed off his old man’s incompetence. And guess what all they ended up needing to do to fix the problem!”
“Turn it off and turn it—”
“Turn it off and turn it back on again! What a new and amazing concept!” The young-man threw the one arm still on the couch into the air in a fit of frustration before allowing gravity to pull it back down beside him.
Risotto sighed, “You do tend to get stuck with the people who… lack common sense.”
“And that wasn’t even the worst one today. Sure, there was the occasional guy who threatens my place of work or that one lady who literally will non-stop talking about her cats every single time her TV fails to connect to her crappy internet because she refuses to change providers— but! No, that’s a normal day for me. The real problem customer was this creep who I am now just realizing never stated his name at the beginning of the call.”
Doppio paused to look up at the ceiling, his eyes lazily darting between two discolored blotches that have existed long before the two had moved into the apartment and will remain for the next eternity after they move out as his mind still blanked on the name.
Bah, it wasn’t important anyway.
“Listen, this guy was an actual creep. The conversation started like normal—I gave him the stand, ‘How can I help you?’ line—but after the initial greetings, he started asking all these invasive questions. They started harmless, like: What kind of films do you like? But, but, but. No! They weren’t harmless! They just kept getting more and more invasive! Do you exercise often? Do you eat a lot of sugar?
Have you ever had a mental breakdown?” Doppio released a loud groan, closing his eyes as the same hand that flew up into the air earlier was now gripping his head to grip the headache forming just above his eyebrows. His voice turned into a mocking tone, as he sneered out “I don’t know sir? I’m probably having one right now at the rate this conversation is going! Do you actually need customer assistance or are you here just to waste my time!?”
Inhale.
Exhale.
“Screw me. I should have said that on the line instead of transferring the call to another department like a coward.”
God, Doppio was tired.
“You’re not a coward. As much as I would have wanted you to give that man a full verbal thrashing, I’m sure you would have only landed in more trouble. If it happens again, be sure to get a name. I’ll track the bastard down.”
“You’re too good for me.”
The taller man gave Doppio a sympathetic smile as he started to brush a hand through Doppio’s unsalvageable braid, drifting closer and placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. “I don’t understand why you even bothered to go in today. You do this every year.”
Doppio weakly lifted his dangling arm, prompting Risotto to lightly take hold of the half-asleep appendage as the young man closed his eyes to give his final words before drifting off into the realm of unconsciousness.
“Rent money…”
“Seriously?”
“Rent… money…” Doppio repeated, quietly whispering the words as he once again let his body go limp against the pillow beneath him.
Risotto shook his head in disbelief. “I think we could have afforded you to take one day off.”
“Shh… I’m trying to die in peace here. Please be respectful of the sacrifice I have made for this household.”
After voicing that last request, both of Risotto’s hands had receded from Doppio’s head and hand respectively, giving the young-man the impression that he could drift off on the couch in peace. However, not even a minute of silence could pass by before Risotto spoke up in objection to this wonderfully thought out plan of his.
“How about you go die in the kitchen instead? I won’t be able to resell the couch if the buyers find out a person died on it.”
“Nice try, but I know you love this couch just as much as I do. ” Doppio countered, readjusting his shoulders to get just the right angle...
“Please? Have at least one last meal before I lose you forever.”
“I dun wanNA— SHIT!”
The smaller man yelped as two large hands immediately dived underneath him, picking Doppio up bridal style off the couch with his head dangling upside down over Risotto’s left arm. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out that the red flush on his face wasn’t from anger or simply being overheated, but from the fact his very tall and very strong boyfriend can just lift him up like a rag doll, no matter how limp Doppio made his body out to be.
It was infuriating.
“Put me down, you— you goliath!”
Doppio would have kicked around, maybe even shake and shimmy his way out of Risotto’s grasp if his muscles weren’t worn down from the previous trek up the building’s stairs. Instead, all he could do was pout as his boyfriend quietly hummed on their way to the kitchen, completely ignoring any and all protest that came out of Doppio’s mouth.
“One second. And… here we go.”
Risotto smirked as he lowered Doppio to the ground, fighting with the pink-haired man to the very end as Doppio refused to stand on his own two feet, leaning into the other man’s arms, basically threatening to fall onto the ground if Risotto let him go.
Knowing full well that Doppio was serious, Risotto outstretched his free arm and pulled one of their cheap folding chairs from under the table and placed it directly below the shorter man, leaving Doppio to fall exactly where Risotto wanted him to be.
Doppio didn’t want to be vertical.
He wanted to lie back down.
So, the only logical conclusion was to fall forward and let his face rest against the table cloth as he continued pouting in Risotto’s direction.
Once again, Risotto paid him no mind, leaving Doppio’s side as he walked over to the fridge. “You know, your face will get stuck if you keep it like that.”
“Maybe I like my face like this?”
“You know what? You’re cute when you pout, so maybe keeping it like that won’t be a bad thing.” Unable to see what the man was doing, Doppio listened for the sounds of glasses, jars, and other containers being shoved against one another as he tried to figure out what Risotto retrieved from that cold box where leftovers go to die.
He couldn’t remember what they had planned earlier in the week…
The sudden thump of something hitting the table in front of Doppio jerked the young man awake, alerting his body enough to prompt him to sit back and use his elbows as anchors to avoid falling back onto the tabletop. Directly in front of Doppio on the other side of their tiny round table was a white cardboard box with no holes or any other protrusions for him to peer through to guess what could possibly be inside.
Did Risotto order take-out early? There was no logo on the box either, but Doppio was sure he had seen containers like it before…
Doppio eyed the container suspiciously, “Do we have the budget for ordering out tonight?”
“Doppio, it is the beginning of the month. We have the— you know what? Just look.”
It was obvious that Risotto’s patience had finally reached its breaking point, as the man lifted the front flap of the box to reveal— NOPE!
Within milliseconds, Risotto slammed the lid shut, the front flap sticking straight out as he placed his open palm on the top of the lid, refusing to move it as an awkward smile appeared on his face. “You know what, I think they got my order wrong. I should go call the restaurant and check—”
Risotto attempted to pick up the box once more, but newfound curiosity drove Doppio to stand up and place his hand on Risotto’s wrist.
“—Oh, hell no! You did not just carry me away from couch heaven for empty promises of food. Hand it over!”
“Actually, I think this has kiwi in it, and you are allergic so…”
“So you remember my one very specific allergy when it’s convenient for you!?”
“That is not what I—!”
Risotto’s fluttered state was all Doppio needed to gain the upper hand, abandoning Risotto’s wrist as he went for the mysterious box itself, yanking the table cloth (and subsequently the box) towards him as fast as he could. The sudden shift threw Risotto off balance, the man stumbling to his side and his hand sliding clean off the top of the box, only denting the lid slightly, leaving the forbidden food container open for Doppio to claim for himself.
Not wanting to waste precious time, Doppio placed both of his hands on either side of the box and flicked the top open. “Hah! Now I can see what you’ve been hi...ding… What is this?”
Doppio froze, hands stuck in the air as he looked down at… a cake. It wasn’t a large cake, like one would have for an office party. But it wasn’t a personal cake either.
It was a perfectly average-sized, rectangular cake with the factory white frosting, pink trimming, and several blobs of green scattered about with black dot candies to form what Doppio assumed to be the faces of frogs surrounding the cursive lettering smacked in the dead center of this confectionary marvel.
Happy Birthday Doppi
Wait…
“Doppi?”
Now it was Risotto’s turn to blush, unable to look over in his partner’s direction as he answered, “That’s why I need to call the restaurant— I mean bakery. They forgot the last letter of your name…”
Doppio blinked, still taking in the fact that there was this very cute and very detailed cake in front of him.
“It happens sometimes… um. Since when was it my birthday?”
The question was genuine. Yes, it was June, and it was only a week into the month so logically, it made sense that his Birthday would be coming up, but…
Risotto took the other chair at the table and sat down. The man leaned down without explanation while pulling his seat closer to his boyfriend as he reached out and spun Doppio’s chair to face him. Now oriented towards each other, Doppio found two hands cupping his cheeks with Risotto still hunched over in disappointment.
“Since this morning!”
“Oh.”
Doppio rapidly turned his head back and forth, playfully shaking the man’s hands off him while he looked back over to the cake on the table. A soft bout of laughter started to swell up inside him, eventually evolving into an infectious round of embarrassed giggling as the young man realized his own mistake.
“I’m older.”
The infection spread to his boyfriend, bringing back that smile to his face as he looked up to greet Doppio’s energized laughter. “Yes. You are older. I’m so sorry about the cake though.”
“Nah. Don’t be.” Doppio rolled up his right sleeve before he reached down and dipped his pointer finger into the frosting and drew the letter ‘O’ at the end of ‘Doppi’ to complete the name.
Glowing with pride and satisfied with his work, Doppio gave only a small hint as to what he was about to do with a childish smirk. He leaned forward, his free hand reaching out to hug Risotto while gently closing his eyes, displaying all the hallmarks of bestowing a gentle kiss until he pulled back and booped Risotto on the nose, wiping the glob of cake frosting against the tip.
“There. It’s perfect!”
“Actually…” Risotto, now sporting a devious smirk of his own, pulling Doppio in tighter, despite the smaller man’s protest as he gave him an impromptu Eskimo kiss, leaving frosting smeared across both of their noses. “Now, this is perfect.”
“Ew…” Doppio laughed, reaching out for a napkin to clean the both of them up. “You are so childish, you know that?”
“You started it.” Risotto countered, using his finger to get most of the frosting from his face and then proceeding to lick them for good measure. “Buttercream. Yum.”
Doppio tossed a napkin in Risotto’s direction anyway as he finished wiping his face clean, not too concerned with the little bit of frosting he had just wasted. Most of his fatigue from earlier had faded to the background, replaced with a feeling of content that he knew wouldn’t have happened if he had stayed on the couch as he had planned.
So that the two of them could eat the cake properly this time, (Dinner would have to come later. Oh well!) Risotto departed from the table in search of plates and utensils. Though, he had only just succeeded in pulling out double the amount of plates they would need when several knocks in rapid succession rang out from across the room, stemming from their front door.
“I know you’re tired, but can you get the door? I still need to figure out where the forks are since someone rearranged the kitchen yesterday.”
“It needed to be done!” Doppio whined, practically falling off his chair as he lazily stood up, exaggerating his exhaustion as he stumbled back into the living room, only going back to walking like a normal person when he was out of Risotto’s sight. “The new way is better! The forks are—”
Doppio’s voice was cut off as soon as he opened the front door, making eye contact with a very familiar face just a few centimeters above his. Electric green eyes were hard to forget, even when paired with tied-back hair and a fancy suit in comparison to the normal ensemble Doppio was used to them being paired with.
“Dia…”
“Doppio.”
Stunned at the sudden arrival, Doppio could only begin to utter out the man’s name before a higher-pitched voice easily overtook his own.
“UNCLE DOPPIO!”
Immediately, the wind was knocked out of the young man as he almost fell to the floor as a small body barreled into his legs, small arms wrapping around him and squeezing him as tight as any small child could. Doppio’s eyes darted from his brother and to the little girl below him, pink-swirly hair taking up most of his vision as he peeled her off and squatted down to her level.
“Bubblegum! You’ve gotten so big!”
Reciprocating the hug, Doppio pulled the little girl in as he looked back up at his older brother, standing in the hallway, with his hands in his pockets and his trademark scowl plastered on his face. “What are you doing here, Dia!? Are you always swamped with work!?”
“It is my weekend with Trish, and she wouldn’t stop whining to see her uncle. Not to mention, your boy-toy over there wouldn’t stop pestering me to visit today. I don’t know how he got my personal number, but be warned I am getting it changed and will send you, and only you, the new number once it happens. Also, congratulations on surviving another year on earth.”
Trish squirmed out of Doppio’s hold so she could yell out “Happy birthday uncle Doppio!” across not only the apartment but the entire floor despite being right next to each other.
Doppio had to hold himself back from automatically saying, “Happy birthday to you too!” as though it were a common greeting, instead, holding his tongue as he picked her up and got back to his feet. “Thank you, sweet pea.”
“Daddy said I’m not allowed to get older.”
“Oh, he did, did he?”
“Yup! Because older kids are… the ban of his exit-tance.”
Dia placed his fingers on the bridge of his nose. “It is ‘bane of my existence.’” Doppio’s brother opened his arms, allowing Doppio to transfer Trish from his tired arms to Dia. “You are going to stay cute and innocent forever. I refuse to live with teenage angst and boy troubles.”
Doppio poked at his brother’s cheek, fully aware that if Dia’s hands weren’t currently occupied, he would have been slapped away. “Aw, Dia loves his little princess.”
“Shut up.”
It was at this moment when Risotto had decided to walk out into the living room, indicated by Trish who immediately threw up a rocker hand sign (index finger and pinky finger extended, with the two middle fingers being held down by her thumb) that Risotto silently did back to her delight.
Diavolo rolled his eyes at the display, but this didn’t stop Risotto from greeting the two.
“Glad to see you both made it here on time. We almost started cake without you.”
“Oh! I want cake! And music! Uncle’s boyfriend should play music!” Trish exclaimed, patting her hands in the air to mimic beating on a drum.
“Right, and how is that little music career panning out for you, Risotto?”
“Great. I have a gig next weekend if you want to watch me and the boys show off. How’s that company of yours doing?”
Tension quickly started to form between the two men, with an oblivious Trish and a flustered Doppio between the two as the intense dislike between the two became clear once more. Doppio wasn’t surprised by this, but the fact that neither had taken up fists yet meant they were making an effort to get along.
“Successful, in spite of the fact I’m being harassed by auditors and my lawyer every chance they get. Word of advice my dear Doppio, if you are ever in legal trouble, go literally anywhere else than the law firm I’m using right now. While competent, the man is utterly insane.”
Risotto folded his arms. “Isn’t he the same man who handled your divorce?”
“Well, when your kids are ‘best friends', there tend to be financial perks that come with the parents doing business.”
“I can see how the two of you are related.” Doppio was convinced that Risotto’s comment was a jab at the two of them being cheap, but he didn’t voice it.
Not wishing to discuss that topic further, Dia gestured for Doppio to move aside and let them into the apartment, releasing the ball of energy in his hands to explore as she pleased while the adults moved into the kitchen.
Plates, forks, and one butter knife were already set out on the table by the time the group moved over there. Taking a back seat, Doppio happily watched Trish insist on cutting the cake herself, requiring Risotto to hold her hand and make sure she stayed safe while making messy, mismatched cuts. One separated, the inside of the cake was revealed to be strawberry, with a thin layer of jelly in the middle.
Aka, Doppio’s favorite flavor.
Trish also wanted to be the one to serve the pieces, which no one objected to as she happily set the table and ordered everyone around to “Put the box over there!” and “Dad, you sit here! I want to be next to my uncle!” The promise of Risotto showing off his guitar and drums later got Trish to drop her demands for music right away, allowing the four of them to sit down and eat while Trish did most of the talking, prompting the adults to fill in the gaps and answer a billion questions only a little girl her age could ask.
And even if Dia didn’t want to be there, he made an effort to interact and play nice, even going so far as to occasionally bump Doppio’s foot with his own as they used to do when they were children, eventually ending when Risotto’s legs got caught in the crossfire, cluing the taller man into the secret war being waged just under the table.
Despite everything that happened before Doppio had arrived home, this birthday was one he wasn’t going to forget anytime soon, as he was never one for large crowds of people or ornate and overpriced gifts. All Doppio ever asked for each year was to spend time with the people close to him, and in that regard, he had gotten everything he wanted, all thanks to his wonderful boyfriend.
Now all that was left to do was think about how he was going to repay him...
Happy Birthday, Vinegar Doppio!