Chapter Text
When Risotto came to, he could hear another morning song coming from the sparrows, and he opened his eyes to a ray of sunshine flooding the dreary little room with light. Though he awoke with the same stiff and aching body, he was more than grateful that he had managed to make it through another night. He regarded his pain as nothing more than a mere side effect of the second chance he had been given.
As he steadily regained awareness, he took in a sweet and smoky aroma, one much stronger and much more pleasurable than the stale scent of his own odor. He immediately recognized the smell as a certain brand of French vanilla coffee grounds, further suspecting that someone was brewing an entire pot in the hideout’s kitchen. However, the smell soon soon served a bitter reminder that he hadn’t even eaten since the day he nearly lost his life. He weakly settled his hand over his belly, and the hungry beast within barked a pitiful storm back at it.
He assumed that the coffee was for him and his caretakers, and knew that it would have been accompanied with a nice and fulfilling breakfast, but everything he longed for was currently out of hand’s reach. He was still bedridden by his injuries and would need some assistance in getting to their kitchen and dining room. Due to Metallica’s ability, however, he had already sensed another presence close by, and he eventually turned his head to take a look at his guest. There was a book shrouding the majority of his face, but his short, blond locks were long enough to peak over the novel in his hand.
Gelato sat idle and comfortable on the wooden chair, with one leg crossed over the other and his nose buried deep into his book. At first, he seemed too preoccupied to notice that Risotto had woken up, but he looked away from the book after he heard him let out a yawn. His olive eyes settled onto the man observing him, and he folded the book over his thumb before laying his hand atop of his knee.
“Buongiorno, Risotto.” Gelato used his free hand to push his reading glasses up and over his forehead, giving his leader a warm smile.
“Buongiorno, Gelato,” Risotto returned wearily. “I smell coffee. Is the food ready?”
“No, not yet. Sorbet just started cooking only a few minutes ago. It seems you’ve managed to rise a little too early.” Gelato’s eyes slightly narrowed before he went on. “Speaking of which, is your stomach feeling any better? Illuso made sure to warn us about your little... accident from last night. If you’re still nauseated, the bin’s right beside you.” He used the hand entrapped by his book to gesture towards the bin.
“No, no. I feel fine,” Risotto assured, pushing his palm down onto the bed and making an effort to pull himself upright. “Other than the fact that I feel like I’m starving to near death.”
“Well, that is what happens when you don’t eat,” Gelato said, watching Risotto use all of his might to lift himself up. He noticed how much Risotto’s body trembled from his lack of strength, and how he couldn’t even sit up in bed without wincing. It was a damn shame to watch, but he refrained from offering him any assistance, knowing just how much Risotto disliked being pitied.
Once Risotto finally managed to sit himself up, the blankets fell from his chest and revealed his spotted bandages. The once crimson red blood that soaked into the cotton had long since phased into a sickening coat of brown. Risotto’s own attention fell down at the bandages when he saw Gelato grimace at the sight.
“That’s not looking too good,” Gelato remarked with a hiss. “It looks like your wounds haven’t been cleaned since Prosciutto last patched you up.”
Risotto frowned at the mention of his lieutenant, memories from the morning prior coming back to him like a flash flood. “I reckon so,” he murmured in reply.
“From my knowledge, that was supposed to be Illuso’s damn job,” Gelato said, sucking his teeth. He didn’t sound too amused over Illuso’s negligence, and frankly, neither was Risotto, but he had been too caught up in his thoughts about Prosciutto to acknowledge it. He felt ashamed for hoping that Prosciutto would have decided to show up in Sorbet and Gelato’s stead, despite knowing what he did had obviously hurt him. Why did he think that things could have gone any differently? Why did he even bother wishing upon that dying star, knowing damn well he had fucked everything up the moment he—
Risotto’s moment of grieving and self degradation had ceased when he heard a loud thud against the wooden floor. He looked away from his bandages, watching Gelato rise from his chair before he started going on an annoyed little rant. “Of fucking course he didn’t replace your bandages,” he growled. “That stuck up bastard had to have been too focused on immersing himself in his own shit for him to leave you rotting in a pool of your own blood, piss, and vomit. I mean, it’s not like he had anything better to do, right? Right?!”
Gelato grabbed the top handle of the chair, slung it down to the floor, and began to furiously pace back and forth while cursing Illuso and his entire bloodline in Italian. Given the situation, Risotto could do nothing but watch as he aired his anger out into the room— though, with all the fuss that Gelato was making, he was surprised that Sorbet hadn’t popped in to see what all the noise was about. By the time Gelato had stopped referring to his colleague as an array of insults (such as a worthless cuckold, a cocksucker, and a whore’s son), he still looked pretty annoyed, but he had mostly calmed and stopped his pacing about the room.
“I guess that gives me all the more reason to get you washed up, anyway,” he said, following his exasperated huff. “You’ve been lying in that bed for the past two days in the same sweaty and shitty underwear. No offense, Risotto, but you are really starting to fucking reek.”
Risotto chuckled at his remark, allowing his head to loll until he was looking down at his lap. Even he had been loathing the collective stench of his own blood and sweat since the previous morning. Though he knew he couldn’t have done much with his motion sickness, having to go through another night without being able to wash all the muck off of him had hardly been tolerable. Now he couldn’t even stand the feeling of all the grime that had collected during his prolonged recovery, and he couldn’t recall ever feeling so icky in his entire life. At that point, a nice warm bath would have probably felt damn near close to being baptized.
“I’ll go start running the bath water,” Gelato said, stepping over the toppled chair and making his way towards the door. “I’ll come and help you into the bathroom when I’m done.”
That’s when Risotto remembered that he was still very sickly, and that he wouldn’t be able to bathe himself without close supervision. Not only had he been relieved to be able to bathe, but he had also hoped to have some well deserved privacy, as he hardly had any within the past couple of days. All of the relief Risotto felt had been gone quicker than the blink of an eye.
* * *
“Awkward” was the primary emotion that Risotto felt during the entirety of his bath.
After helping him discard his dirty bandages, Gelato had at least been thoughtful enough to turn his back while Risotto undressed, but that gesture had done little to make him feel any less embarrassed or exposed. The only thing he could do to alleviate some of his discomfort was to keep his palms firmly cupped over his genitals, allowing Gelato to wash the other half of his body. In all fairness, Gelato wasn’t too keen on the idea of having to see his Capo completely naked either, but there wasn’t much either of them could have done about it.
Gelato hummed a gentle tune to himself as he gently scrubbed the dirt and grime away from Risotto’s torso. He took extra care in being a little more delicate when washing near his cuts and scrapes, as Risotto would often wince from the sting of the soap seeping into his wounds. Whenever he wasn’t grimacing, he otherwise held a pitiful look on his face, much like the look of a child who had been hopelessly embarrassed by his parents.
“You’re a little tense, Capo,” Gelato said, scrubbing the washcloth against the back of Risotto’s neck. Making out Gelato’s smirk from the corner of his eye, Risotto knew it would be best not to entertain him. Noticing his lack of interest, Gelato persisted in teasing him anyway, using his other hand to pinch his cheek. “Aww, would a wittle wubber ducky make you feel any better?”
“Cut it out, Gelato,” Risotto grumbled, thrashing his head away from his hand.
Gelato giggled as he dipped the washcloth back into the water, using it to rinse the suds away from Risotto’s neck and shoulders. “I’m just messing with you, capitano . I thought I could at least try and bring a smile to that scary old face of yours.”
To Gelato’s dismay, the frown on Risotto’s face only grew wider. As amused as he was, he could tell that Risotto wasn’t in the mood for jokes, and he knew better than to annoy him any further. After he rinsed away all of the soap and scum that laid upon Risotto’s shoulders, he grabbed the soap bar and lathered the cloth for another washdown.
“Your body is awfully filthy, but your wounds seem to be healing pretty well,” he said, breaking the silence between them. “How are you feeling?”
“...Could be better,” Risotto murmured back at him.
“Hm. I understand.” Gelato began rubbing the cloth against Risotto’s back. “Trust me, I’ve been there. The days get darker before they get brighter.”
Risotto made no reply, and the following silence had been fulfilled by Gelato’s continuous humming and the sound of suds and water sloshing against his body. Risotto had never been the talkative type, so his silence wasn’t at all odd to Gelato, but he believed the current situation would be much less awkward if there were some type of conversation between them.
“They found all those bodies you left in that alleyway two nights ago,” he said, watching Risotto’s eyebrows furrow at the news. “I saw them talking about it on the local news yesterday morning. They were all so mangled that they have yet to be able to ID a single one of them. They said that the crime scene was too extreme for them to suspect that it could be the work of any average killer.”
Risotto acknowledged him with a grunt, but still remained silent afterward. Gelato briefly dipped the cloth back into the water.
“Do you know who could’ve planned the ambush?” he asked, using the wet cloth to rinse the soap away from Risotto’s back.
“I’m not sure,” Risotto said quietly.
“Probably would’ve helped if you left enough evidence for the forensics team,” Gelato quipped.
“When your life’s on the line, it’s the last thing you even consider,” Risotto said, eyes glued to the murky water below. “I thought they were just a bunch of lowly street thugs, but before I knew it, I was being attacked by their Stands.”
“So they were Stand users?”
“Some of them were. I’m not too sure about the rest, but I doubt they would have been trying to gut me with knives if they all had their own Stand abilities.”
“They could’ve been sent from a rival syndicate,” Gelato speculated, lathering the washcloth with soap once more. “Passione’s not on good terms with most of them, especially considering this territory war bullshit that’s been going on.”
“Except we don’t own any territory,” Risotto pointed out. He craned his head upward so Gelato could give his neck a second washdown. “What good would it be to take me out when my death wouldn’t grant them a thing?”
“You bring up a good point,” Gelato thought aloud. “Then again, who else besides them could be out for your neck? Nobody but enemies of the mob would gain anything out of your death, no matter how small that gain may be.”
“...Nobody but the Boss himself, at least,” Risotto said with a sigh.
The very second Risotto mentioned the Boss, Gelato’s hand froze, momentarily laid still at the base of his neck. Risotto could see some of the anger dawning on his face, the cloth slowly returning to a steady scrubbing motion amongst his skin.
“Do you really think...” Gelato trailed off, unable to finish his own question.
“It’s not unlikely,” Risotto stated. “And he has more to gain from it than anyone else.”
A low “Christ” was all Gelato could manage for the time being, despite knowing that Christ had abandoned them all some time ago. “After all the things we’ve done for that fucking bastard, we’re still treated like less than shit on the bottom of someone’s shoe. Risotto, don’t you think it’s about time we—”
“We’ve talked about this, Gelato,” Risotto interrupted. He already knew what he was about to say.
“We haven’t talked about it enough,” Gelato argued.
“Yes, we have,” Risotto retorted, giving him a stern look. “You know exactly how this organization deals with traitors. Things may be bad now, but they’ll be even worse if we ever tried to retaliate. I won’t ever take that risk.”
“So fucking what? You’re just gonna let him kill you first?” Gelato seethed, causing Risotto to briefly clench his jaw.
“I don’t even know if it were really his doing,” he said. “I only suspect that it could be him because he’s the only one I know would benefit from my demise. But the setup doesn’t make any sense for that. It was too damn sloppy to be anywhere near close to his level— close to anyone’s level, for that matter.
“Maybe that was the point, Risotto. Maybe he intentionally made it look sloppy just so you’d least suspect he had some part in it.”
“He may be a man of mystery, but he’s never been discreet about leaving a message,” said Risotto. “If he were really trying to kill me, he would’ve made it obvious that he had some part in planning that ambush.”
“Letting someone find out that you’re secretly planning to kill them defeats the purpose of it being a secret,” Gelato countered, “and you of all people should know this by now.”
Risotto closed his eyes and let out one long sigh. “Gelato, I get what you’re saying, but this may as well be another trap if that were true,” he said. “I nearly lost my life less than two days ago. Right now, the last thing I’d want to do is risk putting myself and my team in any more danger. I prefer keeping myself alive for as long as I can than practically trying to commit suicide.”
Gelato let out a defeated huff, mentioning nothing more of the matter to his Capo. He couldn’t deny that he was more than right, but the implication that his near death experience could’ve been the work of the Boss infuriated him to the core. Not once had his loyalty ever lied within Passione, in spite of the formal pledge he made to the organization— his true loyalty lied within his team, and would never again stretch beyond that boundary. He had lost any ounce of faith he had for the mafia within the very first month he had been hired as one of their assassins.
He always thought of taking down the Boss and having their team take over the organization. Now, considering that the Boss’ actions nearly made him lose someone he cared about, he felt that desire much stronger than ever. Gelato was no stranger to loss, and the events from two nights ago hit far too close to home for him. It reminded him of some of the darkest days he spent on the battlefield, and he never expected to have to go through something like that ever again.
“I’m glad you’re okay, capitano ,” he said, rinsing the last bit of suds away from the front of Risotto’s neck. “I don’t know what any of us would’ve done if we’d lost you.”
Risotto didn’t respond, but the grin forming on his lips told Gelato all he needed to know. He dipped the cloth back into the water and wrung away the remaining soap and grime, a smirk accompanying his follow-up question.
“So, do you need any help with washing your dick and your ass?” Risotto’s eyes shot open, grin substituted by a look of pure horror. “Those are some of the only parts of your body I haven’t touched yet.”
The sudden change of tone in their conversation both shocked and humiliated Risotto the same, and he almost found himself spluttering out his answer. “I can do that myself!” he boomed, practically snatching the cloth out from Gelato’s hand. While Gelato snickered, he passed the rag off to his other hand and pressed his palm down on the edge of the tub, preparing to lift himself up and out of the water. “And I prefer if you’d turn around while I do so.”
“Of course.” Gelato rose from his seat on the toilet and turned around to provide his Capo his privacy, but as soon as Risotto’s bottom half began rising above the dingy water, the door clicked and swung open without warning. He fell back into the water with a noticeable thud, causing a short lived tidal wave that splashed some of the water out and onto the floor.
When he walked in on the scene, Sorbet had been oddly quiet, as if he had just caught his lover doing something obscene with their Capo. Despite that obviously not being the case, Risotto could read his suspicion like an open book. He began wishing that he were somewhere much farther off along the plane of existence.
“I was just coming in to tell you two that the food’s ready,” Sorbet said, voice so low that Risotto could hardly even hear him. Though Sorbet was addressing the both of them, he kept his beady eyes fixed onto his leader, and said leader returned his hardened glare with a look of indifference and exhaustion.
“Alright, sounds good!” Gelato chirped back at him. Noticing the death glare Sorbet was serving their Capo, Gelato stepped forward and cupped his face in his palm, peppering his left cheek with humorously loud kisses. Sorbet eventually gave in to his persuasion and turned his head to return his kisses, though they had become much quieter and much more passionate than the smooches planted against his cheek. Risotto looked off into space, wanting to do anything but watch those two mack on each other. Something in his gut told him that Sorbet was looking to make some type of point, but it was a point Risotto had long since understood and had no interest in wanting to disprove.
Of course, Sorbet would never think otherwise. He was far too cynical for common sense.
After what seemed like hours of having to watch and listen to... that, Gelato finally broke away from their kiss, planting one last smooch against the bridge of Sorbet’s nose. “We’ll come and eat after I finish up with his bath, zucca. Maybe you should go and replace Risotto’s bedding while you wait, yeah?”
“I’ll do...” anything for you, Risotto was sure Sorbet wanted to say, but after having a brief glimpse into his bored eyes, he presumed his subordinate deemed himself satisfied with his flashy display. So instead of saying “I’ll do anything for you,” like the sentimental narcissist he was, Sorbet had settled on “...Yeah, I’ll do that,” and turned to leave. Before walking past the threshold of the bathroom, however, he quickly turned back around to give his Capo his final warning. “And don’t fucking try anything funny.”
Risotto blankly stared back at him. With that, Sorbet finally left the bathroom, making sure to slam the door behind him.
“Don’t mind him,” Gelato said with a chuckle. After he turned his back to the tub, Risotto began rising out from the water once more. “He’s just a little possessive. He doesn’t mean any real harm by it.”
“I can tell,” Risotto said, grunting from the strain he placed on his achy thigh. “This isn’t the first time he’s done something like that. Maybe you should try doing a better job at convincing him that not everyone’s out for your ‘sweet ass,’ as he likes to put it.” Gelato slightly turned his head at that, but not so much that he would have been able to see Risotto’s naked form. “No offense to you, Gelato, but I’m nowhere near as interested as he thinks. I’ll say that you are lucky to have someone like him, and he’s more than lucky to have someone as patient as you.”
“...Oh! Right.” Gelato let out a snort, turning his head back towards the wall in front of him. While Risotto started cleaning the lower half of his body with the washcloth, he raised a brow at the back of Gelato’s head. “I mean, I guess Sorbet does tend to forget that there’s more than one handsome little blondie in our team. He may not be as good looking as me, but I don’t take any offense to it at all, Capo. Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”
It took some time for Gelato’s words to fully register, but once it had, Risotto nearly dropped the rag into the muddy water below him.
“...What?”