Chapter Text
"Try to get some sleep Leone. You're still recovering after all."
Abbacchio felt his insides quiver strangely once again hearing his first name roll off the tongue of the Capo.
There was also a feeling on his face, a feeling reminiscent to that one annoying cheekpinching Aunt that he had in childhood (because right now it felt like someone was roughly gripping his cheekbones), and he wondered briefly if he was blushing.
More importantly, he wondered if Bruno could see him blushing.
His voice was like warm tea and honey and it made the older mans chest bloom with sweet rolling heat like he was drinking a cup right now.
"I'm just down the hall, don't hesitate to come and get me if you need me but please remember to take it slowly. Alright?"
He nodded to the dark haired Man in the doorway (because he was so consumed by these unusual feelings that's all he could do) and mentally slapped himself. What the hell was wrong with his tongue?
Brunos dotting smile made him feel even lighter and warmer and the feeling lingered, even long after the Man had closed the door to his room, encasing him in cold, heavy darkness.
Leone Abbacchio shouldn't be alive and he knew this.
Somehow, by some unbelieveable miracle or whatever fucking thing anyone wanted to call it at this point, he had cheated death.
And though the Nurses at the Hospital had assured him it was just his brain having vivid dreams in a comatose state, he knew he had been sent back to the land of the living after being very much dead.
When King Crimson impaled him with its own fist he had died on that Beach and unbeknownst to him, his Team did everything they could to heal him, mourning him when they thought they were too late.
But they weren't.
After their reluctulant departure, he was found by that same group of boys (minus one well disguised Boss among them) he had begrudgingly helped retrieve their soccerball. The Ambulance crew had been shocked out of their minds to actually find a pulse on the man and to see his stomach hole almost completely filled once they reached the beach.
On top of all that, he had basically been laying in a bath of his own blood. Well... he supposed that part wasn't so bad considering it wasn't the first time that happened to him.
At least it wasn't all for a damn key this time however.
Abbacchio had supposedly been in a coma for over a week before opening his eyes to find he was in a Hospital Bed, with almost every square inch of his torso covered in clean white bandage.
He was also hooked up to an IV and several other machines that beeped and whirred annoyingly.
The Man none other than Bruno Bucciarati had been standing over him, absolutely in tears and crying out desperately for a Nurse as soon as pupils reminiscent of a sunset locked onto his.
Abbacchio was sure that if he had been a little more coherent and not as weak as he had felt, he would have been redder than a tomato because of how the Capo (his Capo) burried his face in the crook of his neck and shook with sobs, telling him how very glad he was that he was alive.
He was also sure he would've strangled that blonde brat Giorno-fucking-Giovanna with his own bare hands because he was crying too with his face buried in his other side... but that was besides the point.
He was thankful the annoying curlyhaired piss-drinker had used his weirdo powers to pull him out of a coma (though he'd rather die for real this time than admit that allowed).
He just had to settle for huffing, growling out the meanest " 'bout time." He could muster as he turned his head to ignore the teens bright and knowing smile, and the twinkle in his annoying aquamarine eyes.
The silver haired man sighed softly, staring up at the emptiness of his bedroom ceiling, idly listening to the soft weeping of frogs from outside his window that was cracked open ever so slightly.
Dying must have botched his brain somehow. He was sure of that too.
Why else would he be so... tongue tied around Bruno? There was just simply no other word for it.
They had spent so much time together, years even, and it was safe for him to say he knew everything there was to know about the man just as safe as it was to say Bruno knew everything about him too.
Bruno had saved him from the streets after all and since then they had been most trusted comrades.
Perfect partners in crime.
Two sides of the same coin.
None of the other relationships he held with the others in their team was anything like theirs. Leone never opened up as much with the others as he did Bruno. And it was the same vice versa.
This however... this had never happened before. Sure he remembered times being flustered around the other Man before but this...
It was different.
Alien even.
It was almost scary.
...
But why did it feel so nice? So.... right somehow?
Why did he crave more of this feeling? If it could even be called a feeling at all...
Without realizing he was doing so, Abbacchio thought back to after his awakening.
Bruno had sat with him for nearly weeks in that Hospital, coming to visit him almost every day, holding his hand and recounting everything he had missed on their journey.
His supposed tragic death.
Car chases.
Gunfire.
Members of La Squadra fighting them and falling left and right.
The unsettling and strange concept of body swapping (hearing that one was definitely going to give him some nightmares).
Turtles that were actually paraplegic Human stand users.
Apparently he hadn't been the only one who "died" to his surprise.
He would probably never forget the day when the street rat known as "Narancia Ghirga" came practically bursting down the door to his hospital room and launched himself somehow right into his bed (he was going to repay the brat for elbowing him in the fucking gut someday too) with a scream of "ABBA!!! YOU'RE NOT DEAD!!!" and oh joy.... more tears.
He hadn't even registered he was shedding some as well until Bucciarati swipped the corner of a handkerchief under his eyes.
And here he thought that his tears dried up a long time ago...
At least he hadn't been wearing any makeup when it happened.
But here he was now, finally out of the Hospital and lying in a bed that was his own. It had actually been his first day "Home" today.
He reflected back on how Bruno eagerly chattered away about the big move to the Italian countryside and the House and all the preparations they had done for his arrival (and the reunitement with Fugo recently) as he drove him past endless fields of greenest green paired with bluest skies.
Though... Abbacchio wasn't really impressed by that view. He had seen a much more startling and radiant shade of Blue in the eyes of Bruno Bucciarati. That was something he could stare at for hours...
The Goth cringed as he remembered how much his face heated up when the dark haired man put an arm around him, helping him out of the vehicle and into the house with slow steps and soft encouraging words.
The Capo's touch seemed to leave tingles on his skin everytime they made contact, even if it was very brief, and his scent also seemed to linger on his clothes. How had he never noticed these things before?
Had it always been this way?
Had he just been too dense not to see it?
Did dying give him fucking "super senses" or some shit?
These strange occurences definitely didn't happen with anyone else.
Not with Giorno (fuck was he glad it didn't), not even when he was forced to let the kid lay his hands on him to speed up some of his healing process.
Not even with Trish and the Girl usually drenched herself in expensive bottles of Estee Lauder perfume on a daily basis.
No. It was just Bruno.
Undoubtedly, just Bruno.
The real question was.... did the Capo feel it too?
"Something's fucking wrong with me..." the retired policeman groaned, the gruffness of his voice despite being kept low breaking the fragile silence of his dark room.
This bed was angelically soft and the pillows were memoryfoam, Bucciarati had even tucked him in with a fleecy weighted blanket when helping him upstairs and into bed.
But it was all like stone to him.
The same fucking rock he had bled out and died on.
He didn't know how long he had been laying there thinking about these feelings and what exactly they meant to him but just when sleep was starting to pull him down into comfortable quiet, the soft squeak of his bedroom door opening made his eyes shoot open again.
"Who's there?" He grunted, however there was no bite to his voice, as he slowly moved up into somewhat of a sitting position.
"Oops." The appologetic voice of Narancia filled his ears and his wild haired head poked through the doorway with a hesitantly shy smile. The dark rings under his eyes were still visible to Leone even in the everlasting dark. "Didn't mean to wake you up. I was just...."
He trailed off, biting his lip.
He didn't have to say anything. Abbacchio knew very well what was going on. Narancia always had a habit of just being awake but he didn't mean to be of course.
Sometimes he would be pining for someone of his past, othertimes he just didn't want to be (or rather just couldn't be) alone in his room.
More often than that... he would wake up from a terrible dream and just needed the closeness of another person nearby to reassure him.
But this time, he felt like Narancia just really needed to check if he was there. If he was still ok. Still here. Still alive.
The long haired mafioso hummed, rubbing one eye with a closed fist. "It's fine, just get in here. I was already awake."
Narancia's purple eyes gleamed in the darkness like polished amythest rings and he shuffled into the room, plopping himself on the bedside with such eager force the mattress bounced, making Abbacchio bob slightly in bed.
He forced down a growl, settling for giving him a half-hearted glare. Damnit, it was always hard to be grouchy with Narancia at this hour, espescially when he sat before him in an old oversized Transformers t-shirt and Pokémon pajama bottoms.
At least it wasn't another damn elbow to his stomach...
"Why are you up? Are you still in pain?" The spindlier one of the pair questioned, tilting his head.
"Hmm, not really." He sighed, sinking back into the soft memoryfoam pillows.
It was true, everything had been numbed down to more of a dull ache on the norm these days. It was only if he stood up or moved too fast at all did his core twinge in pain.
He definitely wouldn't be doing any situps or benchpresses anytime soon.
"I just.... feel weird." As pathetic of a response as it felt, it was all he had.
Narancia looked down at his knees as the Goth spoke, as if finding the serene expression of Bulbasaur printed in the soft fleecy fabric on his knee to be the most interesting thing at the moment.
"Everything is weird now...." he mumbled. Abbacchio raised an eyebrow at him, watching the boy sigh and rest his chin in his hands.
"Bucciarati says we're like... settled down now and we have this house all the way out here and it's like nice and stuff, Mista and Giorno really like it, but it's weird not being in the City anymore..."
He had a point there. No more breakfast, lunch and dinner at a resturant everyday anymore.
Thankfully Bruno knew how to cook, he was actually pretty good at it, and the others liked to help him in the kitchen too but.... without Bruno the best any of them could make was a bowl of cereal.
Even then it would no doubt end badly because Mista, Giorno, Fugo and Narancia would most likely get into one big fight on the "proper" way to pour cereal and the questioning of milk first then cereal or cereal first then milk?
He seriously didn't want to think about how that would go down because every scenario he could think of at the moment either ended in fire, blood or wasted cereal.
Narancia began to thread his fingers through his own hair now as he continued to talk.
"Giorno is like technically the Boss now and he's got like a shitload of paperwork to do everyday but... he like still turns to Bucciarati for like leadership and shit like the rest of us. He says were gonna be starting to do missions again soon. Mista discovered he really likes building things and he's staring to make some shit around the house. Trish is going to leave to, like, travel? She says she needs to like 'find her independence' or something. And you're finally back but you won't be kicking anyones ass anytime soon."
There Abbacchio couldn't stop the chuckle from escaping him, then shot him somewhat of a warning look.
"Wanna bet on that?" He asked, trying to put some challenge in his words. It was Narancia's turn to laugh before he paused, biting his lip as his eyes softened a little. The seriousness of the teens expression almost made the silver haired man tense up.
He looked so thoughtful and sullen... Abbacchio felt like he knew what it was about.
"Fugo's back too." He said finally, his voice sounded so small and the older man noticed he was now gripping the blanket of his bed. "...He's... different."
So he had been right.
Even in the short few hours he had been at the house and around the others, he had immediately noticed the tension radiating around Pannacotta Fugo.
Espescially the tension between him and Narancia.
Not that he wasn't surprised about that knowing how Fugo had left their team and had expected the awkwardness of having him back but... the way the two boys almost refused to look at one another, the painful distance they both tried to ensure they kept...
Ever since Narancia had been recruited on their team, the wild haired ratboy and the surly walking strawberry had been practically joined at the hip.
Fugo had been Narancia's immediate go to when bored. Even if Fugo was busy, Narancia seemed to just enjoy sitting close to him and being in his company, it made him groan a lot less about having nothing to do.
The silver haired boy volunteered to be his turtor, even when he was busy enough doing work for Bucciarati, because he saw Narancia's potential, even if the boy didn't see it in himself.
He was the person the spindly boy would wake up in the middle of the night to crawl into bed with when he felt alone and hurting, the only other person Fugo allowed such physical and emotional connection with.
They were undoubtedly best friends...
But Abbacchio knew Narancia wasn't sure if they were even that anymore.
None of them were sure where the two stood anymore.
It was almost heartbreaking (even if Abbacchio considered himself to not have a heart).
Feeling awkward, he reached a hand out in a stiff movement to pat the Teen on the shoulder.
He was never a good comforter and more often than not found himself making things somehow worse when he tried to. Bruno was so much better at this than he was. The man had a heart as Golden as the overly large zippers that dangled and jangled on his favorite white suit.
Abbacchio felt his insides quiver strangely again... but he ignored it quickly as he turned his attention back to Narancia.
"Do you.... wanna stay here for the night?" He asked with only slight hesitation.
With Fugo out of the question at the moment, Narancia still needed a midnight sleeping buddy for his obvious need of comfort and Abbacchio would oblige... if the boy promised not to elbow him or kick him or drool on him or smother him by clinging to him like a baby Koala in his sleep.
The boy smiled at the Goth and shook his head, making the black hair on his head that stuck out in all directions sway with the movement.
"Nah. I'm gonna go ask Bucciarati if I can sleep in his room tonight. He doesn't mind..."
His head suddenly snapped up and he gasped. Leone stared in somewhat surprise as he hopped to his feet, looking suddenly excited.
"Oh! I just remembered, I was gonna give this to you!"
Abbacchio watched with raised eyebrows as the wound up boy dug in his pajama pants pocket, suddenly shoving the plush black thing he hauled out right in his face.
He frowned deeply, his brow furrowing in question as he crossed his eyes to look at it.
"A.... Penguin?"
It was a penguin alright.
It was small and cartoonish in appearence, its head kinda spikey in design. The thing he noticed the most about it was its expression.... it looked moderately pissed off.
Narancia nodded his head so eagerly you'd swear his head would fly off,
"Yeah! His name is Badtz-Maru! He's from the Hello Kitty squad!"
Ah yes.
The annoying colourful Japanese cat thing Abbacchio was so tempted to put his foot up the ass of some days.
His frown deepened so much it hurt his face a little as he stared down at the plushie that was shoved into his hand with the same narrowed eyes it was staring back at him with.
"Why're you giving that to me?"
"He reminds me of you!" Narancia almost snorted as he started to laugh again. "People call him bad-Badtz sometimes and he's got a HUGE attitude. He's like really bitter. Like you!"
Narancia wheezed with laughter, grasping at his sides as the former Policeman glared intensely at him, the man was just too easy pick on on a account of how pissed off he could get.
The thin boy wiped his eyes with a blissful sigh and gained a little of his composure back, still half-chuckling.
"But like seriously... it's mostly to make you feel better. I know you're like still a little sore and Bucciarati says you still need to like recover and shit so.... yeah. I brought you him to keep you company."
Abbacchio huffed, shaking his head, is expression mirroring Badtz-Marus balatantly annoyed expression.
"At least it's not that dumbass pink rabbit..."
"Hey! Don't talk shit about MyMelody!"
Now Abbacchio laughed a little at the kid snapping at him, over a fucking disgustingly cute bunny no less.
His positive reaction made Narancia forget defending the honor of MyMelody for the moment and a bright smile that shined like the sun appear at the sound of the Goths laughter.
"Anyway, I'd better go so you can get some sleep now or else Bucciarati might get mad at me for keeping you up." Narancia padded over to the door and turned back to look at the older man one more time, his eyes twinkled again.
"Night Abba."
"Night Rat."
"Night Badtz-Maru."
Abbacchio could tell just from the Penguin plushies sour expression that even if it could've replied, it simply wouldn't have.
For the second time that night, the door of his room closed again, leaving him to the stale silence of his room and the house around it.
Eventually, Abbacchio eased himself down again on the matress, tucking Badtz-Maru under his arm after turning him over a few times in his hands with a long calculating stare.
...
...
What did Bruno Bucciarati mean to him? His brain nagged him for that answer.
What did he, Leone Abbacchio, mean to Bruno? He nagged his brain for the answer to that.
Did Bruno see him like how Narancia saw Fugo?
His truest and most trusted Friend? A source of comfort? Someone he enjoyed being around?
Did he see Bruno like how Fugo saw Narancia?
The only person in this world he trusted his deepest darkest secrets with? The only other being he allowed a deeper physical and emotional intimacy?
Could he even consider the man to be his best friend? Just thinking of those two words made him feel like a cliché girly teen who made bracelets and he forced himself not to cringe again.
Is that what these feelings were? Just a deeper level of companionship? It didn't seem that simple...
Leone Abbacchio drifted to sleep long before he could come up with answers to any of those questions.
However he couldn't help but wonder...
If Badtz-Maru had the all answers and could've replied if he asked, would he tell him?
...
Probably not.