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Metal. Specifically shiny metal. Titanium, stainless steel, plated gold, niobium, ect. ect. This shouldn’t have distracted Bucciarati from his work. It really shouldn’t have; it should have been something minor and infinitesimal. But it did distract him. A lot, actually.
Bucciarati had always had an affinity for piercings. Not on himself, the farthest he went was lobe piercings and that was enough for him. On other people, that was a different story, however.
The best it could be described as was a type. Since he was young, he was enamored by piercings. Living a more sheltered life than most, he wasn’t accustomed to trends until later. After his mother’s divorce, when his father took tours, people from all over came. A couple of these people had strange haircuts, fashion and jewelry. That’s probably he had to guess it stemmed.
Nobody knew this besides him. It wasn’t even important now that he was a Capo. He had a team to command and territory to control; wasting time admiring people with metal in their face and body was fruitless.
His work was too important to be swindled by a barbell, stud or a ring. Until it wasn’t.
🦐🦐🦐🦐🦐🦐
Abbacchio left at 11 that morning. Bucciarati wasn’t concerned too much because it was his day off and there were no meetings or missions. The goth didn’t leave the house often of his own violation but that was his own business. Bucciarati didn’t have any right to pry (though he wouldn’t deny he wasn’t curious.)
He busied himself making breakfast for everyone and then filling out some mindless paperwork. Soft jazz played gently in the background as Bucciarati tried to remember if he had gotten the protection money from a line of shops in his territory.
Abbacchio usually dealt with the collection of the money and reported back to Bucciarati. He couldn’t remember, though. Silently swearing to himself for not keeping documents on this, he left the office.
It was likely Abbacchio had come back from whatever escapade he had gone on. His observation was right when he saw the man sitting on the couch.
“Abbacchio, could you come to my office? I need something checked,” he called.
“Ooh, you’re in trouble~” Narancia teased, earning a sharp elbow in the side.
Bucciarati shook his head at his childish members. Sometimes he really felt like a mother. Or, would that make Abbacchio the father? Flushed, he shook his head.
Abbacchio was in his office in a matter of seconds. Wearing more casual clothing and his hair in a messy bun. Domestic was a good look for him. Bucciarati had to cease his stares.
He slid forth the paper which Abbacchio came to his side to look at. Leaning down, he scanned over the document.
“Did you collect the money from the line of shops last week? I forgot.”
Bucciarati looked up at Leone. He was still reading through the document. The side profile the man had was breathtaking, all sharp and jagged angles. Something else caught his eye through the mane of light lavender.
Three studs lay on the outer cartilage of his ear. His helix shined with the silver jewelry. A long bar was situated through the top of his ear. And lastly, a ring sat snugly against the inner cartilage.
Bucciarati gaped. Three helix piercings, an industrial and a daith. There was no way he had those previously; the Capo surely would’ve noticed. He continued to stare at the jewelry, entranced.
“-arati? Bucciarati?” Abbacchio said, breaking the trance. Bruno looked up.
“I-I’m sorry, what?”
“I told you I got the collection money. Every shop has paid it.”
“Oh, yes. Thank you, Abbacchio. That was all.”
Leone nodded and walked out, the shine of the jewelry gleaming when the light hit it just right. Bucciarati thought they were stunning and looked absolutely perfect on Abbacchio.
‘Oh, god,’ Bruno thought. He held his face in his hands and groaned. ‘If he gets anymore, I’m screwed.’
🦐🦐🦐🦐🦐🦐
A month had passed by with relative normalcy. As normal as a group of stand users in the mob could get. The missions had been slowing down but they stayed on their guard.
Bruno sat in the living room, hunched over a table, going over the expenses and taxes. He was never good at math. Better with hands on stuff. Not numbers and equations.
Tuning out Mista and Fugo, who were talking loudly, was a habit by now. They argued about something minuscule while sitting with Bucciarati on the couch.
The door to their house slammed shut. Buccarati didn’t lift his head.
“Damn! That looks sick, Abba!”
“That had to hurt. Hey, Bucciarati, look,” Fugo said, bumping into the Capo gently.
He finally looked up from his work and looked around. Fugo pointed to Abbacchio, seeing nothing new besides how handsome he looked, as always.
And then he saw it. A black ring with two spiked ends, stuck out from his nostrils. It hung above the top of his waxy black lips.
Time seemed to stop and Bucciarati couldn’t stop the gasp he let out.
“Also got this,” Abbacchio said, sticking out his tongue. A silver bar sat snugly in the middle. It made a metal clinking noise when he stuck his tongue out. The noise was sharp and metallic as the metal hit against his teeth.
Bruno’s face went completely red, staring at both piercings. Abbacchio seemed happy with the results, a smirk on his lips. The words everyone were saying became jumbled as he looked awestruck at his team member.
Leone was an attractive member, of course. Just his type, too. But with the piercings? Abbacchio was already beautiful but the metal stuck through the flesh seemed to amplify his looks.
Fugo took note of Bruno’s immobilized form stuck on Abbacchio’s tongue and septum. A sly grin graced his features. So that’s how it was? Fugo filed this away for future blackmail.
“They suit you,” Bruno blurted, face still painted bright with embarrassment.
Abbacchio didn’t ever look shy. Instead, he ducked his head. His hair jerked with the movement. “Thanks,” he said.
Mista began to blabber again, paying no attention between Abbacchio and Bucciarati.
“I was thinking about getting a navel piercing. Have been for a while.”
“You always wear clothes that show off your midriff, might as well.” Fugo noted.
“Oh! What about nipple piercings?!” He yelled. Everyone collectively groaned.
Bucciarati watched as Abbacchio opened his mouth. He could see the shine of silver in his tongue when the man talked. It was captivating.
“That’s my queue to leave,” he said, rolling his eyes and walking from the room.
Bruno looked to the forgotten paperwork. There was no way he would be able to focus on this anymore. Not with the newfound thought of how the bar would feel against his own tongue and lips. Or elsewhere.
‘Curse you, Leone. Curse you,’ he thought.
Paying attention would be a lot more difficult from now on.
🦐🦐🦐🦐🦐🦐
Another month had passed since Leone had gotten his new piercings. He was very proud of them.
During his teenage rebellion phase, it’s practically all he wanted. He begged his parents for months, years even. They didn’t allow it, of course. They claimed piercings looked tacky.
In high school, he went over to a fellow goth kid’s house. Abbacchio gave him a shitty stick n poke and the kid pierced his septum in return. He hid it for a couple days before the piercing rejected. Since then he wanted the piercing professionally done but the police academy refused for him to have it done.
Since his new ear piercings, he decided to go back to get the septum done. Then he found out the place had a buy six get one free. With the five ear piercings coupled with the septum, he had the option to get another one.
Sure, he could get ears again and be simple but the tongue piercing was looking tempting. So he got it.
None of the piercings particularly hurt badly. He was in the police for a couple years and now in the mafia. Experiencing pain was part of the occupation. It stung more than it hurt and the healing wasn’t too unbearable.
Long story short; he loved them. He surprisingly felt more confident than ever. Embarrassingly enough, he spent more time just staring at himself in the mirror and looking at how the jewelry shined in the lighting.
No one disliked the new piercings. Or nobody said anything bad about them. Unless you count Narancia calling him a ‘bull.’
Everyone raised good opinions, hell, even Giorno complimented them.
There was one person he couldn’t gauge the reaction of, however. It was bothering him. And that person was Bucciarati.
Leone silently craved both his approval and affection. He may have showed off his fresh ear piercings to Bucciarati when he wore his hair up. And he may have been disappointed when Bucciarati didn’t say anything but surely looked at them.
Maybe he was indifferent on the piercings?
He could understand how and why the piercings would be an issue. They could be used to identify Abbacchio more easily (as if he wasn’t already identifiable) or they could be ripped out in battle.
Bruno was adaptable. He didn’t show much care for how his group of misfits looked like or, to a fault, acted like. They were all quirky and strange in their own ways. Bucciarati certainly couldn’t say anything, the man wore lingerie under his suits.
So when he came home with the septum and tongue piercing still distantly throbbing like a bee sting, he was near desperate for Bruno’s say on them.
The man flushed red and could only stare. Abbacchio surely took notice of this. The Capo said the new jewelry ‘suited him’ but Leone was searching for more. He swore himself up after this, of course he was searching for more; it was never enough when it came to Bucciarati’s approval.
Conclusion? Leone thought Bucciarati didn’t like the piercings. Maybe he was angry? It seemed plausible.
Besides, Bruno seemed distracted lately. Focused on Abbacchio’s tongue rather than his eyes when they talked about assets. His ears when his hair was in a bun. Or his nostrils when they were all watching a movie and Bucciarati thought he wasn’t looking. But he knew.
Was he causing all these distractions? Bucciarati was off these months, too. More in his thoughts. He’d have to bring it up later.
Leone found himself laying on the couch, reading a horror novel while thinking. It was more skimming over the words, trying to retain them pathetically while other thoughts entered his head. More looking at the book than reading it.
Fugo sat on the opposite couch. It was something the two bonded over. Reading. Just sitting in silence aside from the occasional page flipping.
Fugo broke the silence but didn’t take his eyes away from the book.
“You might want to cool it on the piercings,” he said with an uninterested tone. As if reading Abbacchio’s own thoughts.
Abbacchio raised his eyes to the kid. “Why should I take your advice? It’s my paycheck.”
“You’re distracting Bucciarati.”
The kid was attentive, that was for sure. Abbacchio slammed his book shut and placed it on his lap.
“What?”
Fugo sighed and rolled his eyes. “Have you not seen him gawking at your piercings? He can barely work when you walk into the room.”
Leone stayed quiet. Sure, he’s noticed. But he wasn’t sure if it was a big enough deal to warrant the attention of any other team members.
“Like,” Fugo continued “He’ll be writing a report and when you walk into the room, he falters and then just looks at you. It’s like you’ve infatuated him. It was like this before but now it’s noticeable.”
“I’ll have a talk with him, I guess.”
“Make sure he’s paying attention to you instead of your tongue,” he snickered and went back to the book.
Leone looked at Bucciarati’s office door up the stairs. Yeah, a talk. He picked his book back up. Later, though.
The hours in the house drained away slowly. Both Fugo and Abbacchio had finished their respective books and left to go to the book shop.
Bucciarati was in the midst of making dinner for the night. The carbonara pasta was still boiling and the fresh herbs were already chopped. He enjoyed cooking for the gang.
He took out wine glasses and poured himself a Bartolo Mascarello. Giorno stirred the sauce. The kid always helped out wherever he could. Doing the dishes, extra paperwork, tending the chores. He was a lot like Bucciarati with his workaholic tendencies. They got along together great.
“Would you like a glass, Giorno?”
“Sure.”
He poured him a smaller amount. They both sipped the wine peacefully. Bucciarati allowed for ‘his kids’ to drink at least two glasses of wine until they were cut off. Almost like parents, Abbacchio and him were allowed however many glasses they wanted. They had a lock on the wine cabinet to enforce the rules.
On queue, Narancia and Mista came and sat at the kitchen table and began spinning in the stools.
“When’s dinner going to be done?” Narancia whined.
“Yeah. I would prefer not to deal with the hungry pistols,” Mista said as the small yellow stands danced around and screamed in the high pitch tone.
Bucciarati pushed forward a plate of fresh, sliced bread. Giorno had made the dough and baked it this morning.
“Giorno made the bread. Dinner’ll be ready in ten minutes.”
The Sex Pistols devoured three sliced of bread before finally calming down. Narancia nibbled on his slice.
“This is really good, Giorno!” he exclaimed through a mouthful of food.
“Thank you.”
Bucciarati liked the domesticity of it all. He stirred his pasta once more and wiped his hair from his face.
“Soooo, Bucciarati, when can I get my nose pierced?” Narancia tried to sound subtle.
“Why do you want your nose pierced?” Bruno leisurely asked.
“Abbacchio looks so cool with piercings! I want one! But I can’t get it without an adult. Laws n’ shit.”
“Maybe for your birthday.”
“But that’s so far away!”
“It’s only three months away, Narancia.”
He whined but didn’t say anything. He decided to continue on his piece of bread.
“You seem to reaallyy like Abbacchio’s piercings, Bucciarati,” Mista said, wolfish tone.
Bucciarati stiffened. Had he been that obvious? He knew if he admitted it, the boys would never let him live it down. Narancia and Mista definitely, Fugo and Giorno would tease him, too.
“I might.”
“You ‘might?’” Narancia asked. “Bucciarati, you gawk at Abbacchio whenever he comes around!”
“You do stare at him a lot,” Giorno voiced. He gave a knowing smirk.
“Don’t think we haven’t noticed!” Mista finished.
Bucciarati felt like he was in the spotlight now. His skin prickled red again.
“Wh-What? I do not gawk at Abbacchio. I just like his piercings.”
“Yeah, yeah. Sureeee,” Mista laughed.
There was no way they were unaware of the crush he had on Abbacchio. He managed to subdue the crush on his employee but since the piercings it came back worse. Giorno probably figured it out first, seeing how observant and sharp the kid was. Fugo probably knows and told Narancia. There was no way Mista knew before this, the kid was dense.
God, he was getting transparent if these kids were taunting him. He still had a trump card on them.
“I will put the Nintendo Switch in Sticky Finger’s dimension. I don’t think you’d like that,” Bruno warned.
“No!” Narancia immediately caved.
“Then hush.”
Bruno went back to stirring his pasta. It was done now. He added the sauce and herbs to the dry pasta.
“Dinner is finished,” he ushered the gang to the pot while sipping on the wine.
The two rowdy men evers got the first bowls, arguing loudly. They sat at the table. Bruno got himself a bowl and poured another glass of wine. He’d need it.
Giorno was watching him with calculating eyes. If Bucciarati didn’t know his past, he’d find the notion peculiar.
“You should go for it, Bucciarati. Abbacchio obviously likes you,” Giorno whispered, gently touching his shoulder before taking his own bowl and leaving Bruno alone.
Bucciarati bristled.
A couple minutes later, Abbacchio and Fugo joined. They were back from the book shop with a couple new books to read.
They all sat together and ate the pasta at the cedar wood table.
“I’m getting my nose pierced on my birthday, Abbacchio!” Narancia exclaimed.
“I said maybe,” Bucciarati corrected.
“That means yes,” Abbacchio snorted. Bruno easily caved into the kids requests. There was no way he was going to deny him. Though if he would allow Narancia to get a nose piercing why would he be any different?
He sighed. “On a different note, what did you buy at the book shop?”
“I got Fahrenheit 451 and Abbacchio got It by Stephen King.”
“Wasn’t Stephen King on acid for like 75% of that book?” Narancia said.
“Probably. I don’t think anyone sober writes an orgy scene of 12 years old in a sewer,” Leone muttered.
Bruno sighed into his hands. Why did he bother asking? He finished his pasta quickly before putting his and Giorno’s dishes away.
“I’ll be up in my office. Thank you for making the bread.”
“Thank you for making dinner!”
“Dinner was good,” Leone said.
“Of course. Thank you, Leone,” Bucciarati said as he left for upstairs. Thoughts of Abbacchio didn’t dissipate even as he settled in his seat.
🦐🦐🦐🦐🦐🦐
Around 8 o’clock Leone decided to knock at Bucciarati’s door. As expected, there was a faint ‘come in!’
Abbacchio walked into the neat office. It was clean and homely. Several filing cabinets were laid against the wall and a laptop was situated on the desk. Bucciarati was on his knees, sorting through manila folders.
“Ah, Abbacchio. Is something wrong?”
“Not exactly,” he vaguely said.
Bucciarati placed the folder along with the rest before standing to meet Leone. He strided over to his desk to lean against it. Not exactly sitting on it, but not standing on it either. He didn’t like to sit in a chair while discussing personal issues.
“What’s up?”
Abbacchio surely didn’t miss the quick look at his septum. How the hell would he even approach this conversation without making a fool of himself?
“You’ve been distracted lately,” he chose “I just wanted to know if it was my fault. I understand the piercings are a bit flashy.”
Abbacchio saw Bucciarati’s face go red. It was the piercings, huh? The surprised look on Bruno’s face was cute but that was beside the point. He looked lost for words.
“I can remove them if you lik-“
“You’re hot,” Bruno blurted out.
Abbacchio’s jaw dropped and Bruno covered his mouth with his hand. Both hearts seemed to be beating so loud they were concerned the other could hear it.
“That’s...not how I wanted it to come out. A-Apologies.” Bucciarati composed himself. “It’s — You are a very attractive man, Abbacchio and I’m sorry for gawking. The piercings just make you — hot, for a lack of better term. Not saying you weren’t before, of course.”
Bruno was thinking about how uncomfortable he made Abbacchio. Then the man responded.
“Are-Are you attracted to me, Bruno? Do you...like me like that?” Abbacchio asked, stepping forward marginally. His tone was hopeful.
“I...I do,” Bruno was sure he was going to die in the next few seconds. If not at Abbacchio’s hand then because his heart gave out.
He couldn’t suppress a flinch when Leone stopped inches away from him. Bruno tried his best to avoid his eyes but he couldn’t. He met the colored contacts of Leone to find that he didn’t look mad. He looked...nervous, anxious, happy.
“Can I kiss you?” Leone whispered.
Bruno’s brain stopped working. His body worked on auto pilot, like this was a dream.
“God, yes.”
Their lips met. It was perfect and even better than either could’ve hoped for. Bruno’s lips were soft and he tasted like wine. Leone’s lips were waxy with black lipstick. It was far from rough. Instead it was soft and gentle.
They broke apart for a breath only to meet again. Abbacchio’s hands settled for Bruno’s waist. Bruno was more focused on Leone’s nape and curtains of hair.
Bruno breathed gently and nuzzled his face in Abbacchio’s shoulder.
“I’ve loved you since we met. Curse you getting piercings, there was no way I could look away from you.”
Leone laughed and leaned his chin on Bruno’s hair.
“If I knew all it would take for you to confess would be to get some piercings, I would’ve gotten them years ago. I love you, too.”
They shared a delicate moment while hugging. It was perfect for them both.
“Don’t forget I can show you some neat tricks with my tongue piercing,” Leone whispered into Bucciarati’s ear.
He blushed and smacked Abbacchio's chest.
“Shut up!” Bruno laughed along with Leone.