Work Text:
Crash!
The sound of shattering glass woke Abbacchio up with a start from his desk. Rubbing his eyes, he checked the time.
Just past midnight.
Abbacchio stretched his arms up, wincing at the aching sensation he felt at the crook of his neck. He clicked his mouse a few times to see after a few seconds the same blank document he had seen before he drifted off, the blinking cursor tantalizing, almost taunting him.
He stood up from his desk with a sigh and moved to investigate the sounds coming from outside his office. He was expecting maybe Narancia, trying to sneak a snack in from the fridge, or Fugo trying to reach a book that was too high for him to grasp.
What he didn’t expect was to see Bruno, with a bundle of something standing near the backyard door.
“Oh, Leone!” he said, flustered, “I didn’t realize you were done writing!”
“I mean, you could say that,” Abbachio replied, half-lying. He couldn’t really call it being done when he hasn’t done any writing. “A-anyway,” he moved the conversation away from his writing, “what’s with that bundle in your hand?”
“Oh! This?” Bucciarati asked as he lifted it up, “Well, it was meant to be a surprise, actually.”
“A surprise? For who?”
“For you, actually,” the moth-man revealed, his face slightly sheepish. Abbacchio felt his heart flutter a bit at those words.
“Me? For what?”
“Fugo told me about this thing that humans do to show attraction,” Bucciarati scrunched his eyebrows together, antennae twitching as he thought hard, “a dat-ey?”
Abbacchio let out a small chuckle. “A date?”
Bucciarati’s antennae perked up at the word, “Yes, that! I wanted to try to do something following human customs, after what happened yesterday .” His voice lingered on the word.
“Yesterday?” Abbacchio thought for a second before remembering the shock he felt when a dead fish landed on top of his desk, and how the moth-man explained it being a custom between his species. “...Oh.”
“Haha, yeah...” Bucciarati said, slightly flustered, “So I wanted to try to do something that you might be more accustomed to.” He opened the door to the backyard, inviting Abbacchio to follow him as they stepped into the garden.
The moon was out on that night, bathing the garden in twilight. The lush colors of each flower and the waxy sheen on every leaf tinted in a soft, pale blue. In front of Abbacchio, Bucciarati arranged the contents of the bundle he was holding, which turned out to be a punnet of strawberries, a thermos, and two cups.
“Uh, Bruno, isn’t it a bit too late for something like this?” Abbacchio asked, considering the time he saw on the clock just a few minutes ago. He was suddenly conscious of the way he was dressed at the moment. Surely sweatpants, a sweatshirt, and a messy bun was no appropriate outfit for a date, right?
“Well the kids are all asleep, so it’s just you and me...” The moth looked back at him with a look in his eyes that made the writer’s heart skip a beat, “I think it’s the perfect time.”
Feeling the flush rise into his face, Abbacchio moved to sit next to Bucciarati, who had begun to pour out the steaming liquid from the thermos into each cup. When he was finished, he handed one to the ex-cop with a soft smile, who took a sip and relished in the spreading warmth and smell of tea. The two sat in that for a while, sipping tea, eating the sweet fruit, and enjoying each other’s company as the night went on.
After a while, Bucciarati put down his cup and stood to face Abbacchio, who looked at him with a curious expression. “Actually, the picnic isn’t the only surprise I had in store,”
“Oh?” Abbacchio quirked, his interest piqued. Bucciarati took a few steps back and spread out his mottled wings, taking a deep breath.
“Don’t take your eyes off of me, okay?”
With that, Bucciarati flew into the air, hovering with the moonlight illuminating his silhouette. From his viewpoint on the ground, Abbacchio thought he looked like an angel, astonishingly and supernaturally beautiful in the glow of the moon.
And then, he started to dance.
Bucciarati didn’t need to worry about Abbacchio getting distracted, for the human was enchanted with the display in front of him. The night was quiet, but with each graceful maneuver and turn, every pirouette and dip filled the air with a music and a rhythm that drew Leone in like a siren’s song. Although the display of courtship was not intended for his species, the man still felt it’s attracting effect as if it were intended for him and him alone.
As Bucciarati slowly concluded his dance in the sky, Abbacchio was suddenly struck with an idea. As the moth-man touched the ground, Abbacchio stood up and hurriedly made his way to his office, re-assuring Bruno that he’d be right back.
Needing only a second to grab his cellphone and a pair of earphones, he rushed back out to rejoin Bucciarati, who looked at him with a puzzled expression.
“Did you not enjoy my dance?” he asked, worry clipping the edges of his voice.
Abbacchio was quick to shake his head in denial, "No, no, on the contrary!” he held out one of the earbuds as he put the other into his own ear, “It just reminded me of something I’ve always wanted to do, ever since I got to know you.”
Bucciarati, with a slight blush, took the earbud and placed it near his ear. Abbacchio pressed a button on his phone and slowly, soft music began to fill his ears. He turned around to see the man with a hand out, his posture slightly bowed.
“May I have this dance with you?”
Nights in white satin, Never reaching the end
A flustered expression graced the moth man’s face. “B-but, I don’t know how humans dance!”
“Don’t worry, I’ll teach you.”
Letters I've written, Never meaning to send
Slowly, Bucciarati placed his hand into Abbacchio’s, who pulled him closer with a gentle sweep. The writer put the moth’s hand on his shoulder, and placed his own hand on the moth’s waist, a small blush creeping onto Bucciarati’s face at the small but intimate touch.
Beauty I'd always missed, With these eyes before
Abbacchio motioned for the moth-man to take his free hand, which he then held out in front of them. Slowly, they began to step and sway gently to the music, the slow, swaying tempo and the sweet melody guiding their feet.
Just what the truth is, I can't say any more
Bucciarati turned his sapphire eyes to meet Abbacchio’s violet-yellow, who held a look that made the moth’s heart swell with a feeling he couldn’t quite place. As the music approached its chorus, Bucciarati moved to lean into the human as they moved in sync with each other.
'Cause I love you
With their bodies being so close, Bucciarati could feel the vibrations of Abbacchio’s deep voice as he softly hummed along to the lyrics, lulling the moth man into a feeling of safety and closeness. As they got lost in the music and with each other, Bruno felt a small swell of pride within himself, proud of his choice of a partner.
Yes I love you
As the music carried on, the two reveled in each other’s embrace, feeling their worries and the world around the pair melt away if only for a few, flighting minutes, slow-dancing to the stars and the moon above them and to one another.
Oh how I love you
Eventually, as the music reached its conclusion, so did the dance they shared, pausing to gaze into each other’s eyes, the air full of anticipation and electricity. Slowly leaning in, they…
…
“-We really need to clean up that broken glass in the house,” Bucciarati said, suddenly pulling away. Abbacchio looked on not in shock or astonishment, but one of fondness and familiarity.
“Of course, wouldn’t want one of your kids getting hurt-”
“- Our kids,” Bucciarati corrected as he moved in to give Leone a quick peck, smiling at the man’s soft blush at the sudden gesture. He stepped into the doorway and turned to look at Abbacchio. Who was carefully packing up the thermos and the strawberries.
“By the way, Thank you. We should do this more often,” Bucciarati said warmly, stepping into the cottage.
Looking up, Abbacchio smiled to himself as he walked in after him, saving these new experiences in his heart so that he could, at any time, relive those beautiful moments with this beautiful person.
------------------------------------
The next morning, at breakfast, Fugo pouted as he took out the strawberries, noticing a few were missing. He scanned the room for a possible culprit and set his eyes on Narancia, who was, as usual, snacking on something.
“Narancia, I know you ate my strawberries!”
“Did not!” Narancia stuck his tongue out at Fugo, who beeped as he advanced towards Narancia. The other dove out of the way to avoid the collision.
As the children initiated a chase around the living room, beeps and chirps filled the morning air as Bucciarati moved to diffuse the confrontation. Abbacchio looked on the chaotic-but-domestic scene while sipping his morning tea, silently thanking his lucky stars for the chance to find this family.
His family.