To celebrate a full week of being reunited with Eric, I made my famous spaghetti with homemade sauce and garlic bread. Eric wasn't the biggest fan of pasta in the world, but I knew he went weak in the knees for my spaghetti.

Sure enough, the minute that he walked through the front door, he let out an enthusiastic squeal.

"Is that your spaghetti sauce?" he asked as he came into the kitchen. His hair was freshly wet from a post-training shower, and the hoodie and sweatpants covered up a body that I had spent the better part of the past seven days getting reacquainted with, in every position possible.

"It sure is," I answered cheerfully. "You can come help out with the salad and the garlic bread. I don't think even your culinary skills can mess that up."

"Ouch," he retorted, but I heard the duffle bag drop to the floor next to the stairs.

Just as easily as he'd always fit into my life before the two year split, Eric came into the kitchen and began to lay out an assembly line for the garlic bread. I ducked my head and grinned into my sweater, knowing that he'd do a similar assembly line for the salad.

"How was work today?" I asked, as though either of us had normal jobs, and as if I wasn't a paid dom and he didn't get paid to fight people during the day.

"It was pretty good," Eric answered. "We're getting closer to the championship, so we spent a lot of time on fighting hand to hand in the ring. Lots of sparring practice to see if the muscles we built for the past six weeks have done us any good."

"Well, I know your muscles have done you some good," I said with a laugh.

Eric chuckled and shook his head in mock discouragement. "I don't think I can use the kind of muscle memory we've been building in the bedroom when I go into the ring," he said.

"Well, I certainly hope not!" I exclaimed.

"Anyway," Eric continued. "I got to kick Alex's butt thoroughly in ring today. He's been working pretty hard, so his ego was way out of control. I had to help him rein it back in, poor fella."

"What about Terrance?" I asked, vaguely remembering Eric's old nemesis from years ago. "Is he still being insufferable?"

"Ugh," Eric said. "He could be good, but he talks too much. Spent the whole period asking me if I was sure that I wanted to do this. If maybe three championships weren't enough. You should have seen Kamal's face. It looked like someone had offered him a shot of this garlic and tried to convince him it was quality rum."

"Kamal is still the boss, then?" I asked. "Over at HIT?"

I watched Eric put the garlic bread into the oven, then I moved over to stove to stir the spaghetti sauce. I took my time to "casually" brush up against him as I did so.

His laughter bubbled up around his answer. "Yeah. He just passed 50, but he's still determined to be the best business owner that HIT's ever had. He's a pretty good guy, though, so I hope he keeps staying around in his old age."

I turned to make sure that Eric could see me roll my eyes. "Yes, I'm sure at your age 50 seems ancient."

Eric looked back at me and batted his eyes innocently. "Oh, that's right. It's not that far away for you, is it, Old Timer?"

"Ha ha, it's a good 8 years away, Eric."

"So soon?"

"Hey! That's almost a full decade," I protested.

Eric flashed me a grin as he opened the fridge and began to get the ingredients out for the salad. I helped by getting the cutting boards and knives out from their drawers and shelves.

"How was your day?" Eric asked. "I hope you didn't get to actually knock anyone unconscious. I assume that's nobody's actual kink."

"Some of the clients would probably like that, but that's not the kind of services I offer," I acknowledged. "Nothing with my fists, anyway."

"Maybe someday we'll work up to the paddling," he suggested.

"Maybe. That will be up to you," I answered.

In truth, I didn't think it was something that Eric would like. He might get around to liking spanking, but it seemed to be act of giving up control and sensation play that seemed to be the key to his kink paradise. That was perfectly fine with me, because it let me take care of him and exert my dominance just fine without having to push too hard, the way I sometimes had to do at work.

"It wasn't the best day," I admitted. "One of the other doms quit and I had to clean up their room for them. It was full of biohazards everywhere, so I spent the first half of the day in scrubs, mask, and gloves."

"Doctor role play," Eric teased.

"You know, nobody ever hires me for that," I said in disappointment. "I always get the professors and teachers."

"Mm. Yeah, I can see that," Eric agreed. "It's the hair, and probably the beard too. Wait, is that why you brought a ruler?"

I nodded. "A lot of people are into the sexy teacher role play on top of their bondage, you know."

"Hmm." Eric paused to consider it as he sliced the carrots.

It would never get old to me, watching Eric take our kinks seriously. I marveled now that I had never brought them up before. It seemed like an incredible oversight, and all of the questions that I had previously had about whether or not Eric would be able to adjust to this type of life seemed incredibly foolish.

"You know, maybe we could try the teacher thing," Eric said after a moment of silence in which the only sound had been the constant pounding of the knife against the cutting board.

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah. You in that blue blazer of yours? It screamed stern professor wants to give me the dirty kind of extra credit that I'd craved all year but had been too chicken to ask for, so he's snapped and tied me up," he said cheekily.

"Sounds rude of him to ignore your safe words," I answered teasingly.

"But as long as you don't, that's all that matters, right?" Eric answered sweetly.

"That's right," I agreed.

It was then that the timer went off, so I went to take the sauce off of the stove. As I mixed the spaghetti into the pot, I explained that "At least I have double the room now. I got his room in exchange for having to clean it up."

"That sounds like a pretty decent bonus," Eric noted.

I watched him reach for the plates and the silverware. As he moved about the kitchen, it occurred to me just how easy it was to see him settle into the same old routine that we used to have. I supposed that I was unconsciously doing the very same thing with my routine. Neither of us had planned it, but slipping into our old roles was so easy for us to do.

It made me ache even more for the two years that we had lost.

After the plates were full, we retired to the couch in the living room - just like we had so many times. Eating in the living room was never something that I had grown up doing, but it was Eric's life for the first 20 years or so. He'd gotten me used to the idea, and now, eating in a formal kitchen seemed so wrong somehow.

But wrapped up in one another on the couch, feeding one another from our plates seemed so right.

"I missed this," Eric commented as he fed me a fork full of spaghetti.

I leaned over and kissed a bit of spaghetti sauce off of the tip of his mouth.

"Me too," I admitted. "I missed everything about us, Eric."

His gaze lowered to his plate, and I knew that was guilt on his face. It was guilt for everything that we hadn't been able to experience during those two years. We didn't talk about it, but I knew that Eric carried that guilt, that was clear in his expressions and in the sadness that always overcame his face during any conversation that included what we had missed.

"There's probably a lot we should talk about," I noted.

"Yeah. About everything that happened - "

"No," I corrected gently. "What is in the past is in the past. What we need to discuss is the future."

He offered me another forkful of spaghetti, and for a few minutes, we focused on dinner. I focused on the way his eyes sparkled with barely contained mirth as he offered me every bite, and the way that he seemed to enjoy the way I offered the garlic bread to him on the tops of my fingers.

"I still love you," I told him when the plates were put to the side and our arms were full of one another. "That hasn't changed. I tried to change it, and I tried so hard to stop while you were gone, but I couldn't."

"I love you too," he said quietly. "Without you in my life, it felt like ... all my accomplishments were ..insignificant."

"You accomplished so much," I argued lightly. "I wish I had been there to see it, but you accomplished all of that without me. But what we need to discuss is this: what do you want in the future?"

Eric took a moment to consider the question, which I appreciated. It meant that he was taking this as seriously as it deserved.

"I want someone to love, who loves me," Eric said eventually. "I want someone waiting on me at the end of the day and at the beginning of the day."

"I want those things too," I agreed. "I want a home with the man I love, not just this big, empty house."

"Hey, don't knock this big, empty house," Eric teased. "It's so much better than a tiny, empty apartment."

"A tiny empty apartment you could easily move out of," I chided. "What about children?"

Eric's eyes widened a little, and I can see that the question took him by surprise. "I always figured that children would be in the cards. Back when I thought we were getting married, I used to wonder what ours would look like. I got pretty attached to the idea. I guess that's why I never could allow myself to bond with anyone else."

I let out a relieved sigh.

"So it's official, then?" I pressed on, determined to have this conversation, no matter how easy the rest of it had been and how difficult the answer to this question could be. "You and I are going to give it another go as a real couple?"

I watched him consider it long enough for him to lurch forward and completely plaster himself against me. A kiss was the resounding yes that I needed to hear.

Here together on the couch, everything looked perfect. I couldn't think of a better or more complete future than the one we had just decided on together, and I couldn't consider a future or a set of circumstances that would deter us from sharing the life we wanted to share together.