Work Text:
It takes three rings before Risotto answers his mobile.
"Hello?"
"Since you're out, can you go to the store and buy some more butter and milk? I just used up the last of it. And get a carton of eggs while you're at it, we're almost out."
He raises an eyebrow. "What are you making?"
"Scones."
Risotto runs the list over in his head mentally one more time and lets out a noncommittal hum. He checks his wrist watch and calculates how long it'll take for him to get from here to the nearest grocery. "Alright. I'll be over as soon as I can."
"Thanks," comes the reply before the line cuts off. Risotto pockets his cell phone and turns around to get right back to work.
The man nailed down by his legs in front of him begs for his life one last time, but those final words are cut short by the endless wave of razor blades slicing out of his throat. When the upper half of his body falls to the floor, the assassin kneels down next to him and watches how his body spasms until the muscles stiffen and he moves no more. Risotto checks his watch again, and from a paper cut on the side of his little finger, Metallica pops up and waves at him. Risotto slowly blinks back in acknowledgement knowing that his job, for today at least, is complete.
"You all done in here, Riz?"
Behind him, Formaggio grows back to his full size while Illuso steps into the room from a puddle in the corner, and tosses another dead body onto the floor. They walk up to stand on either side of Risotto and examine his handiwork.
Formaggio whistles in appreciation as he kicks the lifeless body over, causing the pool of blood underneath to spread out in circumference. "Looks like this guy won't be selling anyone else out anytime soon."
"Butter, milk, and eggs," Risotto murmurs to himself.
"Huh?"
Risotto shakes his head and stands up to brush the dust off his knee. "Sorry, it's nothing."
When he sees Formaggio and Illuso sharing a confused look he presses his mouth into a thin line, unsure of how to explain himself. "Think you two can clean this up? I've got somewhere else to be."
He has no need for keys-- not with his stand being able to feel out the metal around him, and giving him the ability to bend it to his will. The lock to his shared loft apartment turns with a wave of his finger, and he lets himself inside. The moment he takes a step into the room, he's met with the warm, sweet scent of sugar. When he turns the corner, he finds his partner in multiple aspects of his life in the kitchen area preparing the table for dinner.
"Hey," Prosciutto greets, "How was work?"
The man welcoming him is relieved of his usual sharp attire (save for the simple tied collar around his neck), now dressed casually in a pale, yellow button up and dark slacks. His hair is tied in a low ponytail-- wavy, soft, and free of whatever product he uses to hold it down during a job. Risotto takes in the sight, almost forgetting the question he was asked just seconds ago, until Prosciutto clears his throat.
"It's been better, it's been worse," Risotto finally answers. With a straight face, he walks past Prosciutto, and places a carton of milk and the bag containing eggs and butter onto the counter by the sink. "I got the stuff you asked for."
"Oh, thanks." Prosciutto sets a plate down and walks over to inspect the bag's contents. He stands close enough so that their arms are touching. From his peripherals, Risotto can see him frown. "You smell like blood," Prosciutto informs him, "Go wash up while I set the table." With that, he gives Risotto a light peck on his cheek and returns to the table to distribute the silverware.
This is not strange in the slightest.
Rather, it is strange, and just a very rare occurrence. Although he can be considered the epitome of serious while working, everyone knows that Prosciutto likes to take it easy in between jobs. The man can lounge about as if he were a cat in a previous life. In contrast, only Risotto knows that in the days leading up to another hit or even right after a particularly grueling assignment, Prosciutto is as high strung as humanly possible. It was only natural that he found a way to deal with it.
Risotto can recall returning to their loft late one evening, and finding Prosciutto in the kitchen removing something from the oven. A closer inspection revealed said blond man to be wearing an old band t-shirt, flannel pajama pants, and an apron, while looking absolutely harried over a tray of biscotti. So Risotto was nothing less than confused, since it was just earlier in the day that Prosciutto tied a man up and jammed chlorine tablets down his throat. But he didn't question it-- just walked over, plucked a cookie off the tray, and ate it in silence. Prosciutto looked elated. From that point on, Risotto resolved to keep him that way.
They've never discussed it in detail, but it works. That's all that matters.
Presently, Risotto watches his partner move about the kitchen from where he stands, and is content with just watching him do so. Until the other man notices his staring and shoo's him away. "You're still here? Dinner isn't ready yet, so you've got time for a shower."
Risotto says nothing, but nods and makes his way to the bathroom on the other side of the loft. Although the warm spray of water does wonders for rinsing away the blood, sweat, and stress from earlier in the day, he ends up finding a warm meal and the sound of Prosciutto's voice more relaxing.
Perhaps, Risotto contemplates at the dining table, Prosciutto isn't the only one benefiting from this.
It's unclear whether or not Prosciutto knows, but for Risotto, this goes a little deeper than just getting rid of stress. He knows this isn't just some way of playing pretend and ignoring their lifestyles. To an extent, it keeps him grounded. He likes to think this is how they retain the sliver of humanity they have left, and gives him a glimpse of what might have been if he never joined Passione.
And "what might have been" is... Peaceful. Maybe even perfect. But the sight of the man smiling mildly at him across the table is the only reminder that he'd rather have a handful of nights like this with Prosciutto than everyday with anyone else.
After dinner, Risotto looks over the mail-- both letters from their mailbox and emails on his laptop. He received a notice from Illuso about an hour ago about where and how he and Formaggio discarded the bodies, but other than that, there is no more news. He stretches his arms over his head, and walks over to the sink where Prosciutto rinses off the rest of the plates. "Let me," Risotto offers.
But Prosciutto nudges him away with a bump of his shoulder. "It's fine, I want to." He turns and nods toward the scones on a plate behind them. "Did you still want to try some?"
"No, I'm done for the day." Risotto hovers by him as he finishes drying off the dishes. He brushes a few stray hairs behind Prosciutto's ear-- an unnecessary gesture as they fall back down once he turns his head. He repeats his action to no avail.
"What're you doing?"
"Just waiting for you," Risotto shrugs.
The response he gets is mumbled, but effective enough for him to see the tips of Prosciutto's ears take on a light tinge of pink. "You don't have to."
He has Risotto put away the silverware while he wipes off the counter tops, ironically leaving crumbs from the scone he bites into. They clean the kitchen in comfortable silence until its almost as spotless as the day they moved in. Once the area is deemed clean enough, they move to the bedroom up a short set of stairs to call it a day. Risotto sits down on the mattress and rubs his eye with the back of his hand, waiting to feel the mattress dip, indicating Prosciutto joining him on the bed. He could just sleep now, but he also knows after tomorrow they'll both be too busy for... Other needs. At least for a bit of time. When he looks back up, Prosciutto is removing his collar with one hand and picking up a towel with another.
"Not coming to bed?" Risotto asks plainly.
"In a bit. I'm gonna take a shower-- hey!" Prosciutto jolts in his place the moment he feels his metal belt buckle gravitate toward Risotto's side of the bed. With the use of Metallica, he's slowly pulled along until he's standing in between Risotto's legs and his shins bump the edge of the mattress. Risotto says nothing, but brings his hands up to hold Prosciutto's sides, loosely keeping him in place. Prosciutto lifts hits chin with a finger and gives him a knowing smirk. "You seriously can't wait ten minutes?"
His answer comes in the form of Metallica tugging at his belt once again, and this time, unbuckling and pulling it out and onto the floor. Thoroughly unimpressed, he shoves Risotto away lightly and turns around to head for the bathroom. But before he can leave, Risotto hooks a finger onto his belt loop and Prosciutto ends up falling backward onto his lap. Taking advantage of his surprised state, Risotto presses a kiss at the other man's jawline while his fingers at the front find the buttons of his shirt. They're quickly swatted away though, and in almost an instant, Risotto finds himself pushed down with his hands on either sides of his head while Prosciutto straddles his waist. "Are you trying to seduce me, Risotto?"
Risotto rolls his hips upward to brush against Prosciutto's groin, and raises an eyebrow when the blond's eyelids flutter shut and he bucks into the motion. "Who said I had to try?"
With Prosciutto momentarily distracted, Risotto grabs a fistful of his shirt to drag the other man in closer, as his other hand moves behind him. Prosciutto doesn't moan, but tilts his head up and emits a low "Oh," when Risotto slides a hand underneath his shirt to caress the small of his back. His deft fingers inch lower until they tease at the edge of his waistband, and finally, Prosciutto gives in and reaches an arm back to untie his hair. He dips down to deliver an open mouthed kiss that has Risotto lifting himself up on his elbow to deepen it.
It's messier than usual, but it still feels too good for either of them to care. Risotto keeps his eyes open, to revel in the way he can see Prosciutto slowly close his and give in completely. For once, neither of them fight for control of the kiss, and instead are content with just tasting and touching at their own languid pace. At least until Risotto decides he could do with a little more, and backs away to progress their night. When Prosciutto follows him, Risotto can't help but lean in to lick the other man's lower lip one last time.
"Sweet." He stops there to catch his breath before flipping them over and rising to pull off his own shirt. "New recipe?"
Though initially startled by the sudden switch in positions, Prosciutto quickly adjusts himself on the mattress and spreads his legs to allow Risotto to kneel in between them. "Can't you tell?"
Risotto tosses his clothing behind him and moves in closer to mirror the way Prosciutto had him pinned down before. "Guess I'll need a better taste."
Prosciutto rolls his eyes. "Try not to leave any marks."
Prosciutto returns from the bathroom, drying his face with a towel. After tossing it over a chair at the corner of the room, he sits on the other side of the bed next to Risotto, who is laying down with his eyes closed.
"I thought I told you not to leave a mark," he sighs.
"No one's gonna notice," Risotto comments, already half-asleep.
"I have a hickey in the exact same spot on my collarbone as last time. They're gonna notice."
"Mmhm."
Prosciutto remains seated at the edge of the mattress, bouncing his leg for a moment. Risotto figures he's most likely thinking about their next job, until he finally gets under the covers and sighs.
"Thanks."
Risotto blinks away his drowsiness and turns his head on his side to face Prosciutto. "What's there to thank me for?"
In the moonlight seeping through the window, he can see Prosciutto staring up at the ceiling. "I just know this is kind of a weird thing to do," he says quietly.
"Everyone has their own way of blowing off steam," Risotto tells him. "There are worse things you could be doing."
"I am aware," Prosciutto huffs. But he lets Risotto win this time and smiles lazily, letting his eyelids droop shut. "A little vanilla, though, isn't it?"
"Call it what you want. It's healthier than other things I've seen."
"You just don't care because you're being spoiled," Prosciutto laughs.
Risotto chuckles at this as well. "You've found me out." When he relaxes, he begins again in a more sober tone. "If it helps you... Why wouldn't I want this?"
It's almost too affectionate for their comfort zones, but neither of them comment on it. He can hear Prosciutto swallow next to him, seemingly ready to make some witty retort, but that doesn't come either. Risotto fully turns over on his side and reaches over to get the other man's attention.
"Whenever you do this..." The back of his fingers caress Prosciutto's cheek, comforting and gentle even though so many know of their callousness. When Prosciutto opens his eyes, he finds Risotto watching him intently. "Do you want me to call you 'darling' as well?"
Prosciutto kicks him underneath the sheets. "Don't push it."