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Bruno has a tendency to forget important dates; anniversaries, birthdays, things of that sort. He’s even been known to forget his own birthday completely, a consequence of years of living day-by-day in the mafia, never truly having the security to plan for the future, so Abbacchio isn’t expecting much for Valentine’s day, which is completely fine by him. The mushy holiday was way too embarrassing for him anyway and he knows Bruno will be busy, in fact he’s scheduled to be away on a business trip that whole week, leaving him in their shared apartment alone.
So when Abbacchio wakes up on the fourteenth and notices a shimmering golden zipper embedded in the top of their nightstand, he can’t help but smile.
Too curious about when Bruno managed to do this, Abbacchio sets Moody Blues to replay and soon enough she’s morphing into the form of his sneaky lover, crouched next to the bed beside him and oddly enough, looking directly into his eyes as though he had been expecting him to do this.
The replay begins and Abbacchio’s sleepy brain is immediately graced with Bruno’s quiet laugh, enveloping him in a comfortable warmth.
“ Buongiorno, mi amore ,” the Bruno replica smiles at him softly, “I had guessed you might do this so I thought to leave you a little message. I am still kept busy with my business trip but I did manage to sneak back long enough to leave you a gift, I trust with your inquisitive nature you’ll enjoy it.”
Moody’s recreation of Bruno leans in to give Abbacchio a clumsy kiss not quite connecting with his lips but the gesture warms Leone all the same.
Bruno’s laugh resounds throughout the room once more, “Hopefully that was close enough that I don’t look like a complete fool. Enjoy your gift, cuore mio .”
The playback stops, leaving Leone to stare at his own stand in the form of his lover’s smiling face while fighting a furious blush no one but himself can see.
Shaking himself from his moment of unnecessary embarrassment, Leone dismisses Moody Blues and hesitantly fingers the golden zipper tab, a bit worried about what Bruno could have put in there; his idea of ‘romantic’ often bordered on traumatizing. (Leone will never forget the time Bruno presented him with his actual disembodied heart still beating in it’s gift-wrapping. He almost seemed hurt when Leone slammed the box shut in horror.)
Hopefully this time Bruno understood that when telling someone ‘ Il mio cuore ti appartiene ’ it was only supposed to be meant as a metaphor.
Leone sighed and couldn’t help but smile at the memory regardless, Bruno was nothing if not devoted in his affections. It warmed Abbacchio’s heart to be on the receiving end of such attention.
Using those feelings to steel himself, Abbacchio unzips the nightstand and reaches a tentative hand inside, fingers brushing against something that felt like wood or glass.
Pulling the item free, the zipper disappears in a shimmer of gold and Leone is left holding a framed photograph of Bruno and himself on what appears to be their first official ‘date’ (how many years ago was that now?).
They had gone shopping at Bruno’s behest, which Abbacchio had assumed was in preparation for some business trip Bruno needed to attend. However the stores they visited were more upscale than the usual ones, still owned by Passione of course, but Bucciarati’s team didn’t have the status nor responsibilities to warrant using them at the time. Bucciarati did occasionally attend meetings and travel in Polpo’s stead, given the bastard’s inability to leave his damn cell, and when he did, Polpo liked for him to dress as lavishly as possible. The former capo had always been happy to flaunt his wealth at every opportunity, using Bucciarati’s striking form as a living mannequin sent for the sole purpose of intimidation.
Abbacchio figured that was the case in this instance as well, but was confused when Bucciarati pushed him into the changing room, tossing all manner of expensive clothing and accessories his way until he was satisfied.
Bruno drug Abbacchio from store to store like this until he decided their walking had made him hungry and it was time for an early dinner. He took Leone to a cozy trattoria , seating them on the restaurant’s outdoor terrace overlooking the sea. The atmosphere and the wine had loosened their lips to a point that all pretense of work had been completely forgotten, their casual banter interrupted only when a young waitress came by to refill their glasses.
“More wine for the couple?” The girl beamed at them warmly, presenting the bottle and ready pour.
The words had Abbacchio choking on his wine, a blush blooming across his cheeks as he spluttered to deny the assertion, “O-Oh no we’re not-”
“That would be lovely, thank you.” Bruno smiled warmly as though she’d said nothing unusual and the waitress blushed like a schoolgirl, averting her face to focus on shakilly refilling their glasses.
Watching her continuously glance up at Bruno, eyes lingering on his face and occasionally glancing downward at his exposed chest, had Abbacchio’s previous embarrassment morphing into cold irritation.
He cleared his throat loudly, leveling a glare at the girl when she managed to drag her attention away from Bucciarati.
“O-Oh, so sorry! Please excuse me!” With a flustered little bow, the girl scurried away and Leone was left scowling with his arms crossed, stubbornly avoiding the knowing look playing at Bruno’s features.
As Leone sat, adamantly maintaining the juvenile pout that had fixed itself to his lips, Bruno laughed .
The sound sent warmth rushing to the tips of Abbacchio’s ears, crimson blooming across his pale skin. He wasn’t sure he’d ever heard Bucciarati laugh this way before.
“I didn’t realize you were so possessive, Abbacchio.” Bucciarati leaned forward, propping his head up on his elbow, a flirtatious little smirk playing at his lips.
Abbacchio had to swallow hard around his heart which had decided to make his windpipe it’s new permanent residence, determined not to back down so easily, “Didn’t realize you were the type to flirt with waitresses right in front of your date . That’s cold Bucciarati.” Abbacchio leaned back in his chair, sipping casually at the wine in his glass and hoping Bruno wouldn’t notice the beads of sweat forming at his temple.
“I wouldn’t worry too much about her, Leone .” Bucciarati purred, Abbacchio’s name dripping from his lips like honey as he skillfully twirled his wine glass between his fingers, intense gaze never leaving Abbacchio’s face, “I’ve had my eyes on someone else for quite some time now.”
And that is about the last thing Abbacchio could remember before his brain completely short-circuited.
Leone smiles at the memory, thumb brushing across the glass over Bruno’s triumphant expression, only sparing a moment to glance at his own endlessly flustered one in the photo. Bruno had insisted on taking this photo to commemorate the evening and Abbacchio in his endless desire to please had let him without making too much of a fuss.
Turning the frame over in his hands he found a note stuck to it’s back, written neatly in Bruno’s blunt, all-caps script;
I took the opportunity to have breakfast prepared for you. Be sure to eat well.
-Bruno.
Abbacchio grimaces at that. Bruno was far from a chef. Leone was sure he would have starved to death ages ago had he not simply bought Libeccio and trusted the cooks to feed him in exchange for keeping the peace. Resigning himself to what was inevitably either a tasteless or burnt breakfast, Leone finally pulls himself out of bed; at least Bruno made good coffee.
Shuffling into the kitchen, Leone is surprised to be met with the delicious smell of fresh baked goods rather than burnt eggs. The small kitchen island was completely covered in all varieties of pastries, all arranged in an appetizing display. Off to the side, their dining table was set with an arrangement of roses creating a centerpiece. Abbacchio didn’t notice the zipper decorating the vase until he sat down with his plate of crostata and frothy cappuccino.
He was beginning to sense a pattern and tried not to be overwhelmed by Bruno’s thoughtfulness, deciding to pull down the zipper without much thought and a small silver tube came tumbling out, nearly falling to the floor before Abbacchio could catch it.
Taking a look it was easily recognizable to him as lipstick, but it wasn’t either of his usual colors and was obviously an expensive brand; more notable was the small card attached to the tube with twine, another note from his better-half:
I know you prefer to buy your own but don’t worry, I tested this one myself and I think you’ll approve.
Instead of a signature, the card was marked by a perfectly pressed kiss in the shape of Bruno’s plush lips, shimmering gold in the soft morning light.
Abbacchio’s heart jumps at the sight, the image of Bruno delicately applying the gloss, rolling his lips together to ensure full coverage, and then deliberately planting silken lips to his own occupying his mind for far too long for such an early hour.
God he missed Bruno.
He hadn’t had the pleasure of kissing those delightful lips for nearly five days now and it was taking a toll on Abbacchio’s rational mind.
What did the kid need with Bruno so badly he had to be gone for so long anyway? They both remained as advisors for the new don but had agreed to stay out of anything explicitly dangerous unless absolutely necessary and that if they did need to fight, they would do it together. He’d had to reign Bucciarati in a couple of times now, but he was certain Bruno wouldn’t lie to him and go into danger alone; never again.
Shaking himself free of those thoughts before they turn against him, Leone stands to wash his mug and plate before padding into the bathroom to get ready for his day.
Stepping into the stream of hot water had his mind wandering back to Bruno. Why was he going to so much effort today? It wasn’t as though Valentine’s day was something special for them. Most years it had been spent in some dingy motel, lucky if they could side-step the boys long enough for a few moments of privacy. Bruno treated him well, that much was undeniable, but over the top romance tended to take a back-seat in their relationship, both understanding that their mutual safety, the team, and the mission came first.
Maybe Bruno had always wanted to make huge gestures like this and now that most of the inherent threats in their lives had been taken care of he felt like he could. He had relaxed significantly since the Passione takeover and dissolution of the drug trade, maybe the idea of less filth littering their streets put him in the mood.
Whatever it was, Leone would never be able to tell for sure. He and Bruno were close; honestly there probably wasn’t anyone that knew the lifetime mafioso better, but he still had trouble reading Bucciarati. If he wanted to keep Leone in the dark about something, there wasn’t much he could do other than trust him.
And trust him he did.
Stepping out of the shower into the steamy bathroom, Leone’s eyes were again drawn to a sparkling zipper, this one embedded into the vanity mirror. He almost couldn’t believe there was more but then again, Bruno never was one to do things halfway.
Wrapping a towel around his waist and pulling his wet hair into a loose bun atop his head, Abbacchio steps forward and pulls the zipper down, careful to look out for anything that might spill out this time.
What he found was a minimalistic-looking shopping bag from a high-end fashion store containing what appeared to be a complete new outfit, accessories and all.
He smiled for what felt like the thousandth time that morning and pulled the silken fabric from it’s bag, once again thinking about Bruno and his endlessly thoughtful nature.
Knowing that Bruno had impeccable tastes, Abbacchio decided to slip the outfit on before scrutinizing it too closely.
Inspecting himself in the floor mirror, Leone found himself wearing high-waisted black pants with dark-grey pinstripes, held in place by a wide belt with a large golden buckle in the shape of an ‘A’ (Bruno knew him so well, and were those diamonds decorating the edges?). His shirt was silken gray and tucked into the pants nicely though Abbacchio chose to leave it loose and unbuttoned, the sleeves pooling around his elbows comfortably. The bag had also contained a long necklace to match his belt and what was definitely a far too expensive watch.
With a curious turn he inspected his backside, nodding appreciatively. He wasn’t surprised Bruno chose pants that hugged his ass so nicely, he was always telling him to stop hiding himself beneath his usual fell-length coat and had a tendency to linger behind when Abbacchio happened to be the first out of a room.
Leone sighed, and fished out the card he was sure was left in the shopping bag, hoping that this would be the last of Bruno’s surprises.
I hope you enjoy your new outfit, Leone. I’m certain it will look perfect on you. I actually do have more planned for you today but you’ll have to go and find the rest yourself. I’ve left plenty of clues for you along the way and I trust you’ll figure them out without trouble.
I will see you tonight, cuore mio.
-Bruno
Leone wasn’t sure if he’d ever stop blushing at everything Bruno did but for now he chose to blame his flush on the shower steam and not his ever-thoughtful partner.
The idea of going out alone on Valentine’s Day certainly wasn’t appealing knowing that the streets and squares would all be decorated and tourists and couples would have the place crowded, but the idea that Bruno would be waiting for him somewhere after nearly a week apart had Abbacchio finishing his morning routine with care, swapping his usual lavender lipstick for the new gold gloss and styling his hair into a low ponytail pieced into his trademarked spikes, allowing two broad ribbons of hair to asymmetrical frame his face.
Quickly dabbing on Bruno’s favorite cologne and tossing it into his handbag along with his emergency makeup pouch, Abbacchio was out the door before realizing he had no destination in mind. It was then that he noticed an extra zipper attached to his bag and sighed, tugging it open and shoving his hand inside to pull out another note:
For the first clue, I thought it only fitting we return to the start. There you will find something familiar to point you to me.
Abbacchio grumbled at the vaguely written note. So this is what Bruno had meant by “clues”. Well at least this one wasn’t difficult to figure out “the start” could only refer to one of a few events and considering the photograph he received as his first gift, he was certain he needed to go to the restaurant from their first date. The only thing he wasn’t sure of was what “something familiar” might be.
However, nearing the trattoria had Abbacchio quickly figuring out that “something” familiar was actually “someone”, rather two someones, namely Mista and Narancia who were loud as always, sitting on the terrace waving forks at one another while arguing over something Abbacchio didn’t care to pay attention to.
“Yo, Abbacchio!” Leone flinches as Narancia stands, one hand smacking the table causing their plates to clatter, the other waving widely though the air, trying to get the older man’s attention.
Abbacchio sighed, as much as he wanted to ignore the boy and just go back to his apartment, he knew Bruno was expecting him and he didn’t plan on disappointing him.
Upon seeing Abbacchio approach, the boy flopped back into his chair and kicked a free one away from the table, grinning up at Abbacchio and urging him to sit (not that there was a clear spot at the table, it was completely loaded down with food).
Abbacchio’s attention was suddenly diverted from looking at the half-empty plates with disdain when Mista let out a loud wolf whistle and grinned knowingly at him, “Damn Abbacchio! Got a hot date or what?” the younger man wiggled his eyebrows at him suggestively and Abbacchio recoiled, feeling himself blush under his makeup.
Mista laughed loudly at that and leaned back in his chair, eyeing Abbacchio from beneath his hat, “Relax man! Bucciarati sent us,”
This didn’t prevent Abbacchio from glaring at the young gangster, “That’s exactly what I’m wondering about. He’s supposed to be on a business trip for your boss so what are you doing here?”
Mista’s smirk faltered at that as he struggled to come up with a reasonable response, “W-well uh, y’know how Giorno is he-”
“Abbacchiooo!” Narancia whined and kicked the still-empty chair into his leg, “Stop fuckin’ interrogating Mista and eat with us! It’s been, like, forever, man!”
The boy’s enthusiastic grin always had a way of melting Abbacchio’s icy irritation into something a little warmer and he huffed, reluctantly seating himself at the table, “It hasn’t been that long Narancia, we get dinner every week.”
“Yeah but why don’t we ever hang out besides that?” The boy crossed his arms and laid his head on the table, looking up at Abbacchio, a needy childish look on his face, “We’re all still friends, right?”
Friends isn’t exactly what he would call them but he figured it was close enough and sighed, wanting to dissuade Narancia’s insecurities, “Yeah, Narancia, we’re friends. And the only reason we don’t hang out is because you need to focus on studying. You and Trish are still going to school right?”
Narancia groaned and sunk back into his chair, “God, don’t remind me.”
Mista snorted and pointed an accusing fork at him, spaghetti sauce flying in all directions, Abbacchio flinched at that. Mista was lucky none got on his shirt. “Y’know you were the one that wanted to go back to school, right?”
“I know! I know!” Narancia rubbed his hands over his face, pulling his cheeks down comically with the force of it, “God mafia work was easier than this shit. Y’know they expect me to sit in that room all day?”
Abbacchio puffs a small facsimile of a laugh through his nose and allows a small smile to settle into his features, “Yeah, that is usually how it works.”
“And Trish is so busy recording for her new album I hardly get to see her!” The boy was full-on pouting now, slumping further down in his chair to the point he could barely be considered seated, arms folding over his chest tightly, a pink tinge dusting his sharpening cheekbones.
“Dude. You know you and Trish live together right?” Mista deadpanned, fork hanging in the air between them.
Narancia balked at that, scrambling upright and slamming a fist onto the table in defense of himself, “Yeah but she’s always gone! We only get to see each other after dinner every night!”
“Yeah, every night.” Abbacchio rolled his eyes at his theatrics, “And every day at school.”
“Bro, y’know she’s gonna get sick of you if you keep clinging to her like that, right?”
Something akin to a pained squeak escaped Narancia’s throat as he recoiled, “Y-you don’t really think she’d ditch me do you?”
“She might,” Abbacchio nodded solemnly, deciding to play along in teasing the boy.
“Y-you think so too, Abbacchio?!” panic appeared to flare up in Narancia’s violet eyes as he grabbed at Leone’s elbow, “You’ve got to help me, man! I mean you manage to keep Bucciarati from leaving you and we all know he’s way out of your league!”
“You little shit,” Abbacchio growled, straightening himself and preparing to shove the brat off of him.
“Oh yeah, Bucciarati!” Mista proclaims as though he’d forgotten something important, “He told us to give you this.”
Mista pulls an envelope from the seemingly endless void beneath his hat and presents it to Leone who was currently trying to push away Narancia’s needlessly teary face and pry his arms from around his middle without actually hurting the twerp.
With a resigned sigh he allows Narancia to remain and snatches the envelope, holding it high so as to prevent the still-clinging boy from seeing it’s contents.
With a glance, he found the card to contain yet another esoteric clue with no immediate meaning and sighed heavily. Couldn’t Bruno just tell him where he wanted him to go?
“C’mon, Narancia, get off,” Leone manages to pry the boy’s arms away and drops his hand onto the crown of his head, touseling his dark hair, “If Trish were annoyed with you, you’d know. Now chill out.”
Narancia nodded resolutely and seated himself in his chair again, stabbing a fork into his dessert and averting his eyes, an embarrassed blush remaining on his cheeks, whether from the talk of his… whatever he and Trish were... or from Abbacchio’s uncharacteristic affections he couldn’t tell.
Abbacchio stood and straightened his clothing, lifting his bag from where he’d hung it on the chair and tucking the envelope inside.
“Heading out already?” Mista leaned on his elbow, a knowing glint in his eyes.
Abbacchio simply shot him a look. It was obvious these jokers were in on whatever Bruno was plotting and he didn’t appreciate being played for a fool, “I have somewhere to be.”
“Oh do you?” Mista wiggled his eyebrows again and barked a laugh at whatever face Leone made in response. “Fine! Go get your man!”
Abbacchio turned on his heel with a huff and ignored the whistling and well-meaning shouts of encouragement that followed him.
The string of clues led Abbacchio all throughout Naples, taking him to previous date spots and other romantic locations, small gifts and sweet notes awaiting him each time, each new clue tucked neatly behind a shimmering golden zipper.
The whole ordeal had Abbacchio feeling a bit overwhelmed but he couldn’t bring himself to be bothered, not even in the midst of the crowds of tourists crawling all over the more scenic parts of the city.
The day had grown into evening and the sun had begun to set as Abbacchio found his feet traveling down the docks at the marina, the bustle of the city fading behind him as he walked towards the open sea.
A familiar silhouette turns to face him as he approaches, black bob blowing gently in the sea breeze, and it’s as though time stops.
The setting rays aren’t even comparable to the warmth in that smile.
“You made it.” Bruno states simply, his smile carrying in the chords of his voice like a siren’s song and Leone was certain he had seen an angel.
“Yeah…” Leone breathes, completely enraptured by the man standing before him, too dumb and filled with emotion to get his mouth to work.
The angel laughs and it’s so sweet and crisp and clear, carrying in the wind and enveloping Leone in a tender feeling he can only describe as Bruno .
“Well come on then. Your prize awaits.” Bruno extends his hand towards Abbacchio, the warm sun rays reflecting off the blue water and lighting his face in a gentle glow.
Entranced in that lovely visage, Leone reaches out to Bruno like he’d drown otherwise, allowing himself to be guided upwards onto the deck of the yacht on which Bruno was standing.
In his trance Leone is shepherded towards the center of the vessel where a table is set for two and ushered into a seat. Bruno says something to him but Abbacchio is too distracted to fully understand the words as he watches Bruno’s legs carry him into the steering compartment of the ship and he is given a moment to collect himself.
Soon enough Abbacchio finds that the boat is leaving port and Bruno returns, bringing with him the twinkling sounds of music from a source Leone cannot discern, as well a covered dinner tray, a bottle of wine, and two glasses.
“I’m surprised to see you made it here before dark, Leone.” Bruno teases, setting plates and glasses in their appropriate places, producing a match from somewhere and lighting the candles on the table with an elegant flourish.
Abbacchio hums and simply gazes at Bruno through the soft lighting. They were a decent way from port now, leaving no one to overhear or see them so Leone felt comfortable in expressing himself to his lover.
“Well I had a pretty good incentive.”
Bruno makes a meditative sort of noise and pours wine into their glasses, Leone’s favorite Greco di Tufo , and removes the covers from their dinner trays, tossing them aside and making them disappear in a blur of blue and gold, revealing plates of food warm enough that steam still floated lazily away from them.
Abbacchio briefly wondered how Bruno had managed that. He’d had to have been waiting on that dock for hours. Between Abbacchio’s extremely variable sleeping schedule and the uncertainty of how fast he would progress through the scavenger hunt he’d been sent on, there wasn’t really any way Bruno could have predicted when to have the food prepared.
Unless…
Abbacchio groaned internally, mind flashing back to two far too conveniently met young stand users. He never thought he’d be on the receiving end of Aerosmith and the Pistols’ combined tracking abilities. Bucciarati had no doubt had them tailing him all day, reporting on his movements like they’d done countless times for other marks.
He’d gotten soft in his time away from the famiglia . He should have never been such an easy mark to not even notice seven flying stands buzzing around him all day. Bruno did have him pretty distracted today though, the thought of mafia work and stand battle simply hadn’t occurred to him, despite the fact that Bucciarati had supposedly been on a work trip for said mafia.
“Will you be dining with me tonight or would you prefer to continue staring at our meal for the remainder of the evening?” Bruno quirks up an eyebrow, an amused smirk playing at his lips.
Leone feels a familiar warmth returning to his face and chest in earnest, quickly stabbing a fork into his dinner and shoving a bite into his mouth with an embarrassed huff.
Bruno chuckles and Leone feels his momentary agitation melt away, the two falling into easy conversation, first about the dinner and then about Bucciarati’s trip.
“I missed you, cuore mio …” Bruno leans closer, supporting his face on an elbow despite the poor manners required to do so, ocean eyes brimming with shimmering warmth.
Abbacchio nearly chokes on his dessert, sputtering with the grace of a beached marlin and downing the rest of his wine in an attempt to reclaim his airways. “W-Why do you keep calling me that today? Isn’t it a little intense?”
Bruno merely smiled, “How do you figure that?”
“Well,” Leone gesticulated with no particular goal in mind, “Don’t people usually only use that when they’re married?”
Bruno’s smile widened nearly imperceptibly at that, “Usually, yes.” He wet his lips before continuing on, a coy look in his eyes, “Is that a problem?”
Leone’s stomach did a funny little flip at that, his reply accompanied by a shakily exhaled breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, “No it’s… it’s fine.”
Bruno hums, eyes flitting across Abbacchio’s features, “Good.”
The two fall into silence again, though considering that tiny gulls seemed to have taken to using his guts as a flight range, Leone struggled to let the lull in conversation linger.
“I missed you too, you know.” He grumbles while poking at the remainder of his cake, pressing on despite the pink he’s sure is dusting his cheekbones.
That warm smile widens again and soon Bruno is raising from his seat, a gentle hand coming to cup Leone’s cheek and lift it towards him, placing a chaste kiss upon his lips.
“That color really does look lovely on you…”
Abbacchio’s face heats at that, and he covers it with a scoff, “Bruno we just ate, I’m sure there’s barely anything left.”
A devilish smirk crosses Bruno’s features, “Well, we can fix that.”
With the help of his stand, Bruno easily pickpockets the shiny tube from Abbacchio’s bag and swipes the liquid gold across his lips, made easy by the way Leone’s mouth was hung open in surprise.
With an appreciative, satisfied noise, Bruno leans in once more to capture Leone’s lips in his own, reapplying the gloss as he leans back in order to undo any damage he may have caused.
Abbacchio’s heart skipped when he noticed the metallic shimmer left behind on Bruno’s lips.
Bruno hums, rolling his lips together as if to savor the shared gloss like a trophy and offers Leone an outstretched hand, “Dance with me?”
Leone can only nod, still weak from the amorous display, before he is led further onto the open deck.
Spinning himself to face Leone, Bruno makes short work of draping his arms around Abbacchio and pressing their chests together, leading him into a gentle slow dance while romantic music twinkles in the background, the warm rays of the setting sun sparkling on the water’s surface all around them.
Abbacchio can do nothing but be swept along by the dreamlike quality of the evening, too captivated by the lovely way Bruno swayed in time with the music to protest when led into a low dip.
Bruno’s curtain of dark hair fell to frame his face and tickle Leone’s cheek, lightly panting breaths intermingling between them, chests heaving with the effort to keep up with one another. Dual-toned eyes gazing into oceanic blue, he watched as Bruno’s gaze flit momentarily downward to glance at painted lips contemplatively, noses brushing softly, foreheads settling against one another until slowly their lips met in a brief caress of skin on gilded skin, eyelids fluttering but never closing, each too enthralled in the other to consider parting.
The song fades out and with nothing more than the soundtrack of the sea and their harmoniously beating hearts to interrupt them, Bruno’s lips part in a breathless whisper, “Leone Abbacchio… amore della mia vita … Will you marry me?”
And with that, Abbacchio’s ass hit the deck.
Reeling at the words, he had tried to immediately separate from Bruno, forgetting the precarious position he was being held in and went tumbling to the floor in a mess of incoherent sputtering, ears and face burning so hot he swore his brain would melt out of his ears.
“Leone!” Bruno kneels down, hands immediately moving to help before halting at Abbacchio’s raised hand, falling uselessly to his sides as he looked on in concern, “Leone… I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean-”
“Don’t.”
Bruno blinked at him for a few moments, quieting and settling into a seated position on the backs of his heels, his face slowly taking on the stony quality it gets when he’s attempting to distance himself from more difficult emotions.
“Don’t you dare… take that back.” Leone looked at him then, a blush remained but any former embarrassed distress held on his face had morphed into a look of burning resolve.
“What do you-”
“Of course I’ll marry you, Bruno.”
After taking a moment to process what Leone had said, Bruno appeared to melt, his whole body relaxing, tears springing to the corners of his eyes as a laugh bubbled from between his lips. He collapsed into Leone then and he laughed with him, the two settling into a dream-like state of near disbelief, unsure of where to go from here but damn happy to figure it out together.
Wrapping his arms around the smaller man in his lap, Leone pulls Bruno’s bronzed face to his and pulls him into a tender kiss, colored gloss causing their lips to slide together in an impassioned rhythm.
With an assist from Moody Blues, Leone is soon lifting himself to a standing position, Bruno cradled to his chest like a precious treasure, lips never parting from one another for more than a moment.
Before Bruno is able to protest, Leone is already taking long strides toward the cabin of the small yacht, carrying him to the on board suite and laying him down on the bed, kissing him until they are both breathless.
Leone moves to unbutton Bruno’s shirt and he laughs, “You never even let me give you the ring!”
“Don’t need one,” Leone kisses him again, sliding the silky white fabric away from Bruno’s bronze, freckled shoulders and moving his painted mouth to kiss at Bruno’s pulse point, leaving a trail of golden kisses all the way.
He feels another laugh escape Bruno’s lips before he’s being gently pushed away, “You most certainly do.”
Bruno clumsily leans down to retrieve his shirt from where it landed on the floor beside the bed and fumbles with one of his many golden zippers, Leone was never sure which were decoration and which actually held pocket dimensions courtesy of Bruno’s stand.
It seems Bruno himself wasn’t sure either because it takes a few tries before he finds the right zipper and by the time he pulls out the little box he’s blushing with a shyness that Leone can’t help but find adorable.
Bruno’s eyes seek Leone’s and soon his confidence is returning and he flips the box open with a smile, revealing a silver band with a single sapphire colored gemstone.
Leone’s breath catches, eyes pricking with the threat of tears, everything feeling suddenly real at the reveal of the small piece of jewelry.
Bruno chuckles softly as he’s done so many times tonight. “It should fit perfectly, I checked the size many times,” he takes Leone’s hand and slips the cool metal band perfectly onto his ring finger, eyes flicking up to meet his once the jewelry is in place, “You are a very heavy sleeper, cuore mio .”
Leone’s heart squeezes in his chest and he can feel the building moisture in his eyes begin to spill over, quickly brushed away by Bruno’s thumb as his hand cups his cheek, bringing him in close for another lingering kiss.
“ Ti adoro, Leone. Il mio cuore ѐ tuo.”
Leone shuddered a tearful laugh, leaning his face into Bruno’s touch, “I love you too, tesoro . But please keep your organs to yourself this time.”
Bruno’s bright laugh burst throughout the small room yet again, both laughing at the memory of his romantic faux-pas, “I can’t make any promises, Leone. You know I never do anything half-way.”
Leone chuckled, lips locking with Bruno’s as he did, determined to spend not only this evening, but the rest of his life in this man’s arms.
As Leone and Bruno kissed, whispers of promise and declarations of love passing between them easier than the air they breathed, two younger voices could be heard in the far distance, whooping loudly as they thrust their arms up in victory, startling a pair of young tourists on a romantic stroll at the pier.