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After the Boss was defeated, they got all of his assets. Cars, mansions scattered around, businesses. They decided to keep the dozen-or-so luxury cars that made up the Boss’s collection. They voted on keeping only one of the mansions, a large thing perfect for meetings, the occasional party with neighboring dons to keep up appearances, and housing the eight of them.
One day, Abbacchio was sitting in the living room with Buccellati, Narancia, Mista, and Giorno. All of them were sitting comfortably except for Narancia. He was upside down, body half draped over the top of couch, neck bent at nearly a ninety degree angle. Painful.
“Soooo” Narancia says, managing to stuff his hands into the pockets of his usual orange skirt. “Why do we always wear the same outfit, everyday, no matter what? Why don’t we have a variety?” Abbacchio blinks. Did Narancia just say something intelligent? He looks down at himself, the large medallion with an A on a belt draped across his hips, his chest partially exposed with criss-crossing laces. He looks at Buccellati, dressed in his usual white suit with the open chest, showing the intricate design underneath that Abbacchio still doesn’t know if it’s lingerie or a tattoo.
Now that Abbacchio looks around, he realizes he’s never seen them in anything else. How would they look like in something else? He tries to imagine Mista with an actual midriff covering t-shirt.
“Heh. That’s actually true.” Mista raises his arm and smells his armpit, nose crinkling. So he’s finally accepted that he smells. “Ugh. I actually smell.”
“I think my laces are getting worn out” Abbacchio says, looking down at his chest, the purple threads reduced to a lilac color rather than a deep royal purple.
“Clothing trip?” Narancia begs, looking at Bruno. “Please?” Bruno doesn’t even take the time to consider it. He just smoothens the wrinkles on his pants and he gets up.
“Only one hour” Bruno says. “I have to make a phone call afterwards.”
It was surprisingly not as chaotic as he thought it’d be.
When they reached the large department store, they split into groups. Abbacchio found himself with Buccellati, which made his heart thump faster as it always does when he’s alone with the blue-eyed man. Giorno, Mista, and Narancia had scuttered away upon entering, leaving the two men alone.
“So where do you want to go first?” Bruno asks, voice smooth and calming, sending a kind smile Abbacchio’s way. “T-shirts, socks, ties?” Abbacchio cracks a grin at this. The two of them start walking in a random direction, passing by a variety of clothes.
“Since when have I worn a tie ?” Abbacchio asks, taking a turn into a random section of clothing.
“As an officer.” Bruno answers. Bruno’s smile wavers a bit when he realizes what he just reminded Abbacchio of but it just brinks a single light chuckle out of the ex-cop.
“True.” He says. He spies a shirt that seems decent, a sleeveless purple shirt with a deep v-neck “How does this look?” He says, holding the article in front of him. Bruno nods and there’s something new in his eyes but it quickly passes.
“Let’s find some pants to match and then you can go try it on.” Bruno says, picking out something from a neighboring rack, draping it over his arm. Abbacchio manages to find a pair of pants, but not before Bruno finds a pair of gaudy tiger-striped neon purple pants, saying that Abbacchio can wear them and beat Mista at his own game. Abbacchio shakes his head and playfully hits Bruno lightly on the back of his head.
They head to the changing rooms, both of them entering their stall at the same time. Abbacchio is out relatively quick. The pros of wearing the same outfit everyday, somehow without getting it to be smelly, is that he knows the quickest way to put it on and take it off. The shirt is actually quite comfortable and the black skinny jeans make his legs seem longer than they actually are.
He unlocks the door and takes a step out, expecting Bruno to be there, ready to comment on his outfit. To his surprise, Bruno isn’t out yet.
“Hey, Bruno. You done yet?” He asks, folding his arms.
“Yeah, um, just, give me a moment.” The man’s muffled voice sounds flustered. Strange. The sound of a door unlocking comes and the changing room door opens, a single shoe-clad foot stepping out and then another.
Abbacchio feels his breath catch in his throat.
Bruno stands there, his hands in his pockets. He’s wearing a pair of form-fitting white pants with little black designs swirling through the cloth, high-wasted, the end reaching just below his belly button. The black design isn’t there on his chest, so it’s not a tattoo, then. Oh, yeah.
Bruno’s not wearing a shirt.
“So, um, how do I look?” Bruno asks, nervousness in his voice, giving Abbacchio a quick turn and wow , those pants are really form fitting.
“Oh! You, uh, look very uh dashing, my dear friend.” Abbacchio says and even through his makeup the embarrassed blush shows through. What the heck was that awkward sentence? To his horror, Bruno’s nervous grin falls, sadness entering his eyes. He fidgets with his hands, face tilted down.
“Only friend?” Bruno asks, his expression a perfect recreation of a sad puppy dog.
“Wh-what?” Abbacchio stutters. “I mean, uh. . .best frieeeend?” He drawls, hesitant. Blue eyes meet dawn eyes and Bruno’s jaw is trembling, brow drawed. And then that jaw steels itself and Bruno stands a bit taller, determination replacing any emotion in his eyes. He takes a step towards Leone, and then another, until their chests are centimeters apart, Bruno’s head tilted up to look at Leone’s eyes.
His muscles ripple with every movement, skin smooth and flawless except for the occasional thin scar and a light splatter of freckles at the shoulders. The noirette rolls his shoulders back before standing on his toes, landing a short peck of a kiss on Leone’s mouth before pulling away, an expectant smile on his face.
“Do you have a different answer now?” Bruno asks, crossing his arms. Abbacchio blinks, mind blank.
“Um, uh” he feels like a teenage girl. “Bruno?” Bruno sighs.
“Leone, anyone can tell that you’ve been pining for a long time now” Bruno says with a smirk, a blush crossing across his face. “I didn’t really, well, acknowledge it before all of this because of how our lives were like, but now. . .I’ve always felt the same.” Abbacchio blinks.
“You planned this, didn’t you.” He states. “That’s why the brats were so quick to leave!” He groans, pinching the bridge of his nose, his lips just beginning to tingle when he remembers the kiss.
“What if I did?” Bruno says innocently. “Does that mean yes? You didn’t really say no.” Leone shakes his head.
“Take me on a date first” he says because after the pining card, there’s no way he’s going to make it easy no matter how much he wants this.
“But this is the date.” Bruno says. Leone marches back into the changing room. He came here intent on getting clothes but he ended up getting a boyfriend. The world works in strange ways.