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La Squadra sat in their dark living room, in various positions of comfortability. With no jobs for the day, they had all lazily opted to stay in and lounge, savouring their stress free hours.
Illuso sat cross legged next to Formaggio, both silently flipping through a sports magazine, their once loud and obnoxious conversation about football players over long ago as they scanned the pages, Illuso on the verge of falling asleep.
Pesci and Prosciutto sat on the couch across from them, Pesci asleep on the armrest and Prosciutto lighting his fifth cigarette.
In the armchair where Sorbet and Gelato would usually sit, Ghiaccio sat with his laptop on the armrest, Melone sitting on the other, balancing his own laptop on his knee.
Melone’s typing had been slowing down over the past few minutes, his interest in the topics he had been researching for Babyface slowly regressing. He wanted to do something. Cooping up an assassin inside all day was never a good idea, after all.
He looked up at his peers and noticed their varying states of boredom.
“Guys,” Melone finally interrupted, jolting Illuso fully awake. No one said anything, but they all turned their heads to the purple-haired man. “We should do something,” He announced.
“What do you suggest?” Prosciutto was careful not to sound too interested smoke billowing out of his mouth as he spoke.
Melone glanced down at Ghiaccio, who was looking at him expectantly, then back up at the rest of the men in the room. “Not to be childish or anything, but I do want to try something interesting…”
Ghiaccio flinched. “I never like where these things go....”
Melone smirked. “Oh, Ghiaccio, relax. My ideas aren’t always as insane as you make them out to be,” he put his laptop down on the ground and closed Ghiaccio’s screen as well, “and this one is fairly simple, anyway.”
Ghiaccio glared at Melone, but followed suit and set his laptop on the coffee table in the middle of the room. “Alright, so what do you have in mind?”
“Truth or dare,” Melone chuckled, earning him a groan from almost every assassin in the room.
“That is rather childish,” Prosciutto remarked, “although I wouldn’t mind learning a thing or two about you all.”
Formaggio grinned. “If we do this, can I go get alcohol from the fridge to make it more interesting?” He rubbed his hands together excitedly.
Illuso snorted. “Who said we’re doing this for sure?”
“Well, I, for one, think it’s an interesting idea,” Formaggio stuck his tongue out at Illuso, “You’re probably just scared we’re going to find something out about you.”
Illuso smacked his hand on the coffee table, waking Pesci from his sleep. “I’m not scared of your stupid game.”
“Then you wouldn’t mind joining, would you?” Melone purred, placing a gentle hand on Ghiaccio’s head, who murmured something about how weird Melone was.
Pesci looked at Prosciutto. “What… what are you guys doing?”
“Just playing a game, Pesci,” Prosciutto replied. As he took a long drag from his cigarette, he pondered letting Pesci join, but decided against it. “Go grab us some drinks and glasses from the cabinet.”
“Drinks?” Pesci inquired, tilting his head to the side, “like milk?”
“No, you dumbass, alcohol!” Ghiaccio burst out, curling his hands into fists. “Even I understood that!”
Pesci whimpered a bit and shrunk under Ghiaccio’s gaze, but Prosciutto waved his hand dismissively. “Never mind, just go get yourself some milk, you don’t need to play.”
With that, Pesci thankfully retreated the scene, shooting Ghiaccio an almost threatening glare as he left.
“Well, now that the children are out, let’s begin,” Melone announced, running his hand through Ghiaccio’s hair to calm him down.
Illuso was surprised that this seemed to work. He noted that Melone seemed to take a great liking to Ghiaccio, and Ghiaccio, although he would deny it, definitely seemed to at least reflect some of Melone’s feelings. This piqued the interest of Illuso, and he decided he needed to push that along at some point during this game.
“I’ll get the drinks,” Formaggio said in a tone that made Prosciutto almost regret allowing alcohol. He could tell Formaggio was already planning on getting as many people drunk as he could, and he thanked God that he himself was no lightweight.
With this thought in mind, Prosciutto scanned the room and pegged his teammates on their drinking habits. He had drunk with a few of them before and therefore was able to make some decisions. He knew Formaggio and Illuso could take a considerable amount, while he knew Melone was a bit of a lightweight. He had never seen Ghiaccio drink much so he was not too sure about him.
Risotto could hold his own with drinks too, but Prosciutto did not see the dark-eyed capo anywhere around.
Although, he knew better than to assume Risotto wasn’t watching.
“What if Risotto comes back?” Ghiaccio asked, as if he read Prosciutto’s mind.
On cue, Risotto materialized behind Ghiaccio. “And so what if I did?” His deep voice growled, making Ghiaccio jump so bad he nearly fell off the armchair.
Melone, however, was hardly fazed and smiled up at the intimidating man. “Ciao, Riz. I knew you were there.”
Risotto merely rolled his eyes at his strange teammate and addressed everyone else. “I am aware you are all to participate in some sort of childish game.”
Although he was obviously ignored, Melone felt obliged to reply. “Would you care to join? It’s only truth or dare.”
Everyone held their breath as they awaited Risotto’s response.
Their leader scanned each of them, and although he didn’t mean to, his faze lingered on Prosciutto’s well-sculpted resting bitch face. Maintaining eye contact with the blonde, he replied coolly. “I suppose it would do no harm to get to know each other better.” With that, Risotto made his way over to where Pesci had previously been sitting and sat down next to Prosciutto, who smiled as he took another long drag from his cigarette.
“Drinks!” Formaggio announced as tossed very tiny versions of bottles of booze and little boxes, in which he transformed back to their regular size as soon as they hit the coffee table.
He had brought three packs of smirnoff ice coolers, three packs of coronas, one bottle of rum, two bottles of vodka, and a tall bottle of red wine.
After admiring all he brought, he tossed each squad member a red solo cup.
“Formaggio, that’s a lot of alcohol…” Illuso remarked, eyeing all the drinks suspiciously.
Formaggio merely grinned. “Everything’s more fun when you drink more.”
“Where did you even get all this?”
“The coronas are my own, along with the rum, but the rest I took from our collective cabinet.”
Prosciutto sighed. “Of course you had your own alcohol storage…”
Melone was rubbing his hands in delight. “Oh, splendid! This will be a wonderful game, won’t it?” As if to kick it off, he grabbed the vodka and flicked the lid off. “Everyone must take a shot every time the game switches people, okay? Let’s start off with a shot.” Melone poured himself a shot, then handed the bottle to Ghiaccio, who grumbled in annoyance but complied.
Soon everyone had taken their shot, and the game began.
“Prosciutto, truth or dare?” Melone asked, popping open a smirnoff ice cooler for himself.
Prosciutto was surprised Melone started with him, but answered nevertheless. “Dare.” He had filled his red solo cup up completely with red wine and sipped on it elegantly.
“I dare you to drink every last drop of what’s in your cup within ten seconds.”
The group seemed to collectively wince.
“Melone…” Ghiaccio began.
“Oh shush, I know he can hold his alcohol but I want people to at least be a little drunk for this to be fun,” Melone smirked, patting Ghiaccio’s head again.
Prosciutto raised an eyebrow, but nodded and began gulping down his wine.
Even Risotto’s eyes widened as everyone watched the pristine blonde shamelessly pound back his drink, wine beginning to dribble down his chin. Before his time was up, he slammed his cup aggressively onto the table and gasped for air.
Illuso and Formaggio applauded, impressed but not quite as intimidated as Ghiaccio clearly was.
Prosciutto smirked, but before he could speak, Risotto reached out and wiped the wine off his chin. Prosciutto shrunk back and glanced at his boss.
“Sorry,” Risotto mumbled, wiping his hand on his jacket. “It just bothered me and I didn’t know if you noticed.”
Prosciutto nodded, hiding his flustered demeanour with his usual calm and collected composure. “Thank you,” he turned to the rest of his team, “Illuso, truth or dare?”
Melone whistled before Illuso could answer, and everyone sighed in unison as he waved the bottle of vodka.
Illuso took his shot, then answered. “Truth.”
“Hm…” Prosciutto narrowed his eyes, leaning forward ever so slightly. “Have you ever used your body to get what you want.”
Illuso smirked. “Oh Prosciutto, you should know that’s a yes, and I wouldn’t doubt that you would answer the same.”
Formaggio laughed and took a swig of his corona. “Of course he has! Of course both of you have!”
Melone thought he was dreaming, but there was indeed heat rising to Prosciutto’s cheeks. He assumed it was already the alcohol kicking in, but Melone smiled to himself as he pondered the idea of Prosciutto being flustered like this.
As fairly attractive men, Melone knew both Illuso and Prosciutto could definitely get what they want off their looks alone.
This amused Melone, and he silently praised himself for suggesting this game.
When Prosciutto didn’t reply, Illuso poured himself a shot. “Ghiaccio, truth or dare?”
Ghiaccio’s head jerked up in surprise. “Um… Dare,” he gulped as he took the bottle of vodka and poured himself a third shot.
“I dare you… to let Melone sit on your lap for the next four rounds.”
Ghiaccio’s breath caught in his throat, and Melone laughed. “But—“
“And you can’t hurt him or fight with him in any way!” Illuso added as he popped open a corona for himself.
Ghiaccio was practically as red as his glasses, but before he could protest, Melone slid off the armrest and onto Ghiaccio’s lap, perpendicular to the blue-haired man so Melone could wrap his arms around him. “Oh Ghiaccio, you know you love this.”
Ghiaccio looked like he wanted to scream, but held his tongue as Melone stroked him lovingly, resting his head on Ghiaccio’s shoulder.
Illuso smiled at the scene, happy to bring them hopefully ‘closer’, in both a literal and metaphorical way. He hoped that maybe if Ghiaccio got a few more drinks in him, the ice lover would give in to Melone’s feelings.
“My turn,” Ghiaccio grumbled. “But Illuso, I’ll need you to pour me my shot.”
Illuso nodded. “Of course.” He took Ghiaccio’s red solo cup and began to fill it, and Ghiaccio noticed he put far too much in.
Already feeling buzzed, Ghiaccio knew he wouldn’t be able to take much more before he got seriously drunk. “That’s too much!” He protested as Illuso handed the cup to him.
“So? Drink it.” Formaggio pushed, finishing his first corona and fourth shot happily.
“I don’t understand you men.” Ghiaccio took a deep breath and gulped down the drink, which earned him a kiss on the cheek from Melone that made him practically freeze.
Melone gazed at Ghiaccio, wishing he could kiss his lips instead, but he would have to wait until later in the game when Ghiaccio was gone drunk. “Ghiacciooooo, it’s your tuuuurn,” Melone sing-songed in Ghiaccio’s ear.
Ghiaccio’s head whipped up. “Oh, yeah.”
After quite a bit of heavy drinking, almost every person playing was far too drunk.
Formaggio had his arm around Illuso and they were leaning on each other, swaying back and forth together and laughing at the tiniest of things.
Prosciutto felt like he was about to throw up, and was resting his head on Risotto’s shoulder as he held a hand over his mouth, holding back whatever was threatening to burst out. Risotto had an arm around the blonde and was rubbing circles on his back, a soft gesture no one could imagine him doing sober.
Ghiaccio was drunk and Melone ever drunker, cuddling together even though their four rounds were long over.
“Whose turn is it again?” Formaggio’s words were slurred and muffled by an almost empty corona.
“Bahhh, whatever,” Illuso hiccuped. “Prosciutto, truth or dare?”
Prosciutto swallowed whatever was in his mouth with a shudder. “Uhhm… truth.”
“If you…” Illuso took a swig of Formaggio’s corona, “if you could bone anyone here…” he burped, “who and why?”
Prosciutto grinned, his eyes half closed. “Risotto, of course.”
This earned him a sly smile from Risotto. “And why?” He probed, shifting closer to Prosciutto.
“Because… because… because your abs are so nice…” Prosciutto sighed and hiccupped. “And your pecks…”
Melone giggled and held Ghiaccio closer to him. “They are going to have sex later!” He squealed in delight.
Ghiaccio scoffed. “You’re… so embarrassing, Melone.”
Risotto didn’t seem to hear what Melone said, instead his double vision was doing it’s best to gaze down at Prosciutto, a look in his eye that no one could quite place because they had never seen such a look in their superior.
Before anyone could move on from the topic, Risotto suddenly pulled Prosciutto into a heated and lustful kiss, earning a loud and obnoxious bark of laughter from Formaggio that resulted in Illuso falling into a fit of giggles.
With the two drunks distracted with their uncontrollable laughter, and Risotto and Prosciutto intensely making out, Melone’s head drooped, realizing his game had come to an end.
Ghiaccio tilted Melone’s chin up. “Hey, you’re game was great…” He paused to burp rather loudly in Melone’s face, then continued. “They loved it, clearly.”
Their moment was interrupted when Prosciutto suddenly broke out of his kiss with Risotto. Risotto looked hurt, until he realized the blonde was about to puke. Risotto quickly pushed him away, and just in time, his usually well mannered and collected teammate vomited violently, aiming successfully behind the couch. Risotto resumed his earlier pattern of rubbing Prosciutto’s back comfortingly as he emptied his stomach.
When the puking ceased, Prosciutto looked up at Risotto with tears in his eyes, something the alcohol brought out that none of the teammates ever saw from the finely dressed man. Risotto smiled softly and without saying a word, he scooped the blonde up in his arms and carried him out of the living room, holding him close.
Melone grinned at the scene, watching the two leave, seeing the bright side to his game and the nice outcome he had created.
Then he got an idea. He shifted himself so he was on Ghiaccio’s lap still but now completely facing the ice lover. “Ghiaccioooo…” He moved his face nice and close to his. “Truth or dare?”
Ghiaccio held his ground. “Truth.”
“Do you want to kiss me?”
“Um, dare.”
Melone leaned in. “I dare you to kiss me.”
“Never have I ever--”
“That’s not the game!” Melone leaned back away, pouting.
Ghiaccio snickered. “Oh Melone, of course I want to kiss you.” He wrapped his arms tightly around Melone and drew him close.
With that, Melone smiled and they leaned together, both of their secret sober wishes being fulfilled as their lips finally met.