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“The targets have been evading us for months now, but we’ve been able to track them down. It seems they’ve been using a couples yoga retreat in Pescosolido as a front for their operation.” Risotto let out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers.
“How does that work?” Pesci questioned. Risotto lazily rolled his eyes to look at Prosciutto. He’d explain later.
“What are we waiting for? We know where they are, let’s get them!” Ghiaccio’s grating voice rose in volume, a manic grin spreading across his face.
“Don’t be hasty. We can’t afford to spook them again.” Risotto sighed, laying the documents of a folder out on the table in front of him.
“Natalia and Narcisa D’Innocenzo. Twin sisters known to be major drug traffickers.” Prosciutto slid copies of the photographs around the table. “We take out their operation, and we’re the only supplier in the area.”
The twins were in their mid-twenties with olive skin and long black hair. Despite having shockingly similar features, Natalia looked harsher. She was dressed more business-like, while Narcisa looked like she was trying to emulate a pop singer. It looked like Narcisa tended to wear hers up and dress in shades of pink, while Natalia kept hers down and curly, wearing more neutral tones.
“They’re not dangerous, not even stand users that we know of. They're just slippery.” Risotto continued. “We’ve finally found their base of operations, we just need to be careful about the way we do this.”
“Aaaaalright, so what’s the plan then, boss?” Formaggio said, cracking each of his knuckles individually. “We going in covert style? Undercover?”
“Yes.” He slid two files in front of Prosciutto and Formaggio. “Congratulations to the happy couple.”
Prosciutto’s eyes shot open, darting around the room.
“What!?” Formaggio stood, slamming his hands on the table. “Why us? You really think that’s going to work?”
“Illuso and Melone are away on another mission and I have other matters to attend to. You don’t think Pesci or Ghiaccio could pull this off, do you?” Pesci shook his head vigorously, and Ghiaccio deigned to look offended.
“But-” Formaggio began to argue but was cut off by Risotto’s level stare.
“You will handle this. You leave tomorrow.”
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
“Why are you wearing a suit?”
“Why do you look like a slob?”
“It’s 75 degrees and we’re in the fucking woods.”
“That’s no excuse to look like you slept in a gutter.”
“Maybe I did? What’s it matter to you?”
Prosciutto responded with what could be described as ‘a look of utter disgust.’ In kind, he got what could have been called ‘an elbow to the ribs.’
“Come on asshole, look like we’re in love, we gotta be believable...” Formaggio said under his breath.
“I cannot believe we’re in this situation.” Prosciutto grumbled, straightening his spine and taking Formaggio by the hand.
“You look like you’re in pain, fucking relax .” Formaggio squeezed his hand, hard.
“If you had just a bit of class-”
“Hi! Welcome to the Tranquil Farm! Where rest and relaxation meet healing and love!” A smiling woman appeared behind the front desk. By her style of dress, she determined it to be Narcisa. What she had just said made absolutely no sense. Prosciutto decided he hated it here. “It’s so nice to have you here! Do you have a reservation?” Her pink-painted smile was off-putting.
“Yes. We do, thank you. Under Paoletti?” Prosciutto gave his most earnest smile, lamenting the things he must do for this gang.
“Oh yes! Mr. and Mr. Paoletti. Our newlyweds! Congratulations to you both. My name is Narcisa, I help to run this place! I’ll get you checked in right now.” As she began typing on the console in front of her, Prosciutto scanned the room. Next to the front desk a hallway marked “staff only.” There was no visible lock on the door, maybe an alarm? They needed to make sure both twins were in the same place when they took them out. If they could find their office, it would be perfect. Hopefully it would be enclosed, and far enough from the rest of the resort that they could do the job inconspicuously.
“Okay awesome! You’re in room 102. The Honeymoon suite!” She emphasized the word with a sing-song voice and ended the sentence with a giggle. Prosciutto also decided that he did not like this woman. “Our first day wind-down yoga session starts tonight at 8:30. Feel free to get settled in though, our introductions and orientation begin tomorrow!”
“Thank you.” Prosciutto could tell his smile was more like a grimace.
“Oh we’re probably going to stay in tonight, right babe?” Formaggio’s tone was sickly sweet, almost pleading. “Honeymoon and all that.” He winked at Narcisa and she burst into another fit of giggles.
Prosciutto’s first instinct was to kill them both and abandon the mission. He took a deep breath, glaring at Formaggio.
“Come on, lighten up baby! She gets this all the time, right Narcisa?” Formaggio was far too comfortable with this. “Always so grumpy after a long car ride, you know how it is.” He elbowed him lightly, making Prosciutto feel like his chest was filling with fire.
“Of course! Totally understandable, take your time settling in.” Narcisa slid the key across the counter. “Oh, love, it just warms my heart! Enjoy you two!” She said with a wink. Formaggio winked back. Prosciutto did his best not to kill everyone in the room.
They spent the elevator ride in silence. Carrying the bags, Formaggio pushed past him as Prosciutto unlocked the door.
“You’re kind of shit at this.” he said, stretching out on the white sheets. Prosciutto noticed that his shoes were still on. He balled his fists and tried to breathe slowly through his nose.
“You’re laying it on thick. Were the pet names truly necessary?” He sat at the table and laid out their files, very pointedly not looking at Formaggio.
“Just making up for what you’re lacking, honey bun.”
“Stop.”
“Sweet pea?”
“No.”
“Baby cakes?” Formaggio had gotten off the bed and moved to stand behind him. His hands came to rest on the backrest of Prosciutto's chair. He was so close he could feel his body heat. Prosciutto kept his eyes on the files in front of him, refusing to acknowledge him directly.
“Absolutely not.”
“How about darling?” he whispered the last word directly into his ear, his hands sliding from the back of the chair to his shoulders. Prosciutto tensed, pushing the chair harshly backward into Formaggio as he stood up.
“Would you take this seriously! We do not have a lot of time to figure out their schedule, get them in one place, take them out, and leave!” Prosciutto could feel his body heating up. If it was from emotion or the humid weather, he wasn’t sure. He took off his suit jacket, rolling up the sleeves of his yellow button down shirt.
“I’m not taking this seriously? I’m playing my part, you stuck up asshole. We’re supposed to have just gotten married! We can’t act like fucking buisiness partners or something. We’re undercover, remember?” He waved his hands wildly when he talked. “We do need to act fast, cuz I ain’t doing any fucking yoga.”
“That we can agree on.” Prosciutto motioned for the other to sit down.
“Snagged this while you were pouting.” He spread a resort map on the table. “I think we should be looking at it in reverse. Like, any place that’s marked we probably don’t need to give a shit about.” His demeanor was focused as he ran his thumb across his lower lip. “I’m thinkin’ we can get them in their office. I can shrink down, make sure the coast is clear, we can lock ‘em in there, then you can finish the job.”
Prosciutto stared, retort caught in his throat. He unfortunately had a point. Prosciutto was not ‘playing his part,’ as he had said. While he was fuming, Formaggio had not only gotten a map, but came up with a decent starting plan. He felt shame settle in his stomach as he scanned Formaggio’s face.
“What? Got a better plan?” Prosciutto shook his head, forcing his eyes toward the map on the table.
“No. Let’s start with that hallway near the check-in desk.”
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
They waited until everyone would be at the ‘wind-down yoga’ session before starting their search. They spent the time in a tense silence, avoiding each other’s line of sight. The only sound in the room came from the soft music Prosciutto had started playing on the room’s alarm clock stereo.
The employees only hallway was unfortunately not a direct line to the twins’ office, but rather an entrance to a separate administrative building.
“Well fuck.” Formaggio scratched at the short hair on the back of his head. “What do we do now?” Prosciutto sighed, looking at the directory on the wall.
“We start searching.”
They started off down a hallway that had most rooms labeled “conference,” “meeting,” and “IT.”
“This is going to take too long. We need to hurry up. I have no idea how long yoga takes but it can’t be all night, right?” Formaggio opened a hallway to a stairwell, having checked all the rooms on the ground floor. Prosciutto hummed in affirmation.
“Think about what we know about Narcisa and Natalia. Where would they have their office?” He opened the door to the second floor, a direct copy of the floor below it.
“Well they’re smart, sneaky enough to keep themselves hidden for a while.” Formaggio ran his fingers over a sign labeled “wellness space.” “They aren’t doing anything funky right out in the open. So you’d think if they disappeared for long periods during the day, someone would notice.” That was another astoundingly good point.
“Top floor then.” Prosciutto said, walking quickly towards the elevator. “The most important offices are often on the highest floor. It would be wasteful to spend any more time down here before we rule out that option.” Formaggio nodded, pressing the call button.
“Smart thinkin’ sugar.” He bumped his hip against his as he walked into the elevator. Prosciutto sighed, breathing deeply through his nose. As the door opened, revealing a remarkably similar top floor, he gestured forward with a smirk, saying “after you, angel face.”
Prosciutto was fuming. Every pet name that came out of Formaggio’s mouth made his muscles tighten. He felt like his limbs were made from cement.
“Would you stop! There’s not anyone around.” He grit out through his teeth.
“It’s called method acting.” Formaggio winked for what seemed like the 100th time since this horrible mission began.
“Gutter punk.”
“Pretty boy,”
“That’s an insult?”
“Only if you want it to be, baby.” Formaggio stepped closer, cocky. Prosciutto felt heat creep up the back of his neck as his face contorted in anger. They were the same height, but he felt dwarfed by Formaggio’s wide frame. He stared narrow eyed, refusing to be the one to break eye contact.
Suddenly, his back hit the wall. He felt one of Formaggio’s large hands cradling the back of his head, the other on his chest. It felt warm enough to brand through the thin fabric of his dress shirt.
“What the h-”
“Shut the fuck up dreamboat, someone’s coming.”
Before he could respond Formaggio was impossibly closer, his eyes half-lidded, their lips almost touching. Reflexively, Prosciutto’s arms flew up to push him away. The smell of Formaggio’s cheap cologne was overwhelming. How could someone’s body run that warm?
“Follow my lead, don’t fucking blow this.” Formaggio whispered against his lips as he slid the hand on Prosciutto's chest up his neck to hold his jaw. He tilted Prosciutto's face just enough to comfortably press their lips together. Prosciutto made a noise of indignation, his hands flexing on Formaggio’s chest. He could feel short hair through the gaps in his stupid shirt. Though fully intending to push him away, possibly kill him if the chance arose, Prosciutto paused as he heard voices echo down the hall.
“Come on, it looks like I’m attacking you.” Formaggio whispered angrily.
“You are.” Prosciutto returned.
“What, can’t handle a little kiss?” Formaggio’s fingers dug into his hair, tugging the buns loose. Prosciutto could feel him smile against his lips. Something dark and highly competitive growled inside him. He surged forward, catching Formaggio’s bottom lip between his teeth. He felt him breathe out a short laugh before using his grip on his hair to move Prosciutto where he wanted. His back was against the wall again. Prosciutto had not been kissed like this in a very long time. Formaggio’s grip on his hair was tight, and his own fingers were caught in the mesh of his shirt, trapped between their chests. He felt his mind go nearly blank, taken over by the sensation of Formaggio’s all encompassing warmth.
“Woah, excuse me!” Narcisa said, hiding her smile behind her hands. “We interrupting something?”
“Guests are not allowed in this hallway, boys.” A woman he assumed to be Natalia walked forward, far less amused than her sister.
“Heh, sorry,” Formaggio stepped backward, manually untangling Prosciutto's fingers from his shirt. Having the audacity to look bashful, he stepped towards Natalia. Prosciutto stumbled as he pulled him from the wall. He felt off-balance, like he’d just stepped off a ship. “You know how it is, just got carried away is all. Sorry about that!”
“Oh don’t I know it! Ah, young love!” Narcisa said dreamily, clasping her hands together and gazing off in the distance.
“And you’ll be sure to not let this happen again, yes?” Natalia clicked her long red nails together, flicking her eyes between the two disheveled men in front of her.
“Yes ma’am, very sorry about that! Come on, honey!” Formaggio tightened his grip on Prosciutto's hand and dragged him down the hallway. Prosciutto muttered something he hoped sounded like an apology as he passed the twins, allowing himself to be directed down the hall.
Back in their room, Formaggio finally let go of his hand.
“What the fuck happened to you back there? Your brain leak out your fuckin’ ears or something?” He asked, eyes wide. “You a virgin or something? One kiss and all of a sudden you lose your ability to speak?” His arms were waving wildly, getting more dramatic as his rant continued. “You almost blew our cover, we’re supposed to be newlyweds. Fuckin’ jesus christ…”
Prosciutto stared at the man in front of him silently, pulling the rest of his hair free to fall around his shoulders. Formaggio was infuriating. And dirty. And impolite. He didn’t care about codes or honor. He wore cheap and used clothing and always had dirt under his nails. He had a stupid haircut, a shitty attitude, and knew nothing about wine.
Prosciutto stepped into Formaggio’s space, halting his tirade. His slender fingers bunched in the already wrinkled fabric of his crop top. He pulled him closer, just as Formaggio had done before.
“For once. Just shut the fuck up.” He said before crashing their lips together.
++++++++++(I am so not comfy writing nsfw but they do fuck here. Whatever you’d like to see, that’s exactly what happens.)++++++++++
Prosciutto groaned as the morning sun streamed into his eyes.
“You know, I admire your commitment to the role. Took you a bit, but you’re getting it now.” Formaggio was standing at the window, bare-chested and smoking a cigarette. With his free hand he was idly trailing his fingers through the short hair on his stomach.
Formaggio was infuriating, but he wasn’t stupid. And Prosciutto's standards were apparently lower than he thought they were.
“You know I’m no actor. Think for yourself what that means.” Prosciutto stood, dressing with as much composure as he could. “We should focus on rethinking our plan. We were almost caught.” He said, buttoning his shirt to cover the bruises now littering his chest and neck. He heard loud, bracing laughter and turned to see Formaggio putting out his cigarette.
“Damn, you really were out of it huh? You didn’t notice where they were coming from?” He picked his shirt off of the floor and held it to his nose. He made a face before throwing it in the general direction of his suitcase. Prosciutto was overcome with horror at what he had just done, what he wanted to continue to do. He sat on the bed, hiding his face in his hands.
“So you know where the office is.” He said, his hair falling to cover his face as well.
“Course, lover boy. I’m not distracted so easily.” He could hear the wink in his voice. Prosciutto groaned, keeping his face covered as he laid back on the bed. Had he really let himself get so distracted that he lost track of the mission?
“Stop sulking sugar lips, lets go kill us some drug dealers!” Formaggio slapped the top of Prosciutto's thigh before picking up a towel and heading into the bathroom to shower.
After they were both as presentable as they could get, yet again they were seated at the table in silence.
“So…” Formaggio cracked his knuckles individually. Really, that was an annoying habit. “Same plan? I go in, make sure the coast is clear, lock the door, you age ‘em up, then we high tail it out of here?”
Prosciutto nodded, sliding the last of their files into the bag.
Formaggio shrunk down their luggage so they could take it to the car without suspicion. Quietly, they made their way to the administrative building once again. They took the stairs in silence. Upon reaching the top floor, Formaggio turned to face Prosciutto. He had a now-familiar smirk on his face as he lifted on his toes to press a kiss to Prosciutto's forehead, before immediately beginning to shrink. Prosciutto watched as Formaggio stuck close to the wall, shrinking down even farther to peer underneath the double door to the large office. He really was distracted yesterday, not to notice that. It was absolutely Formaggio’s fault. Distracting bastard.
“Good to go, they’re in there alone.” Said distracting bastard was now grown in size and directly in front of him. Prosciutto nodded, taking a rope from his bag.
“Wait there. Behind the door to the stairwell.” He trailed his fingers across the back of Formaggio’s hand before crouching down below the window of the office, tying the rope around the handles of the double door. He summoned the Grateful Dead, willing the mist through the cracks in the door. Muffled, he could hear sounds of distress.
“-hat? Nat-, I-”
“N-cisa! You -ook-”
Without stands, it took no time at all to drain their spirits and their lives. He closed his eyes and focused on sensing their body heat. When it began to drop consistently, he untied the rope and recalled his stand, surveying the room. Two women lay motionless at their desks, their papery skin and white hair in stark contrast to their appearance minutes ago.
“Nice work dollface, glad you’re on our side.” Prosciutto startled as Formaggio hip checked him. “Let’s grab their shit and get out!”
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
They returned to the La Squadra base not 48 hours from the time they left. Formaggio confidently slammed a briefcase of documents on the table.
“Mission accomplished! D’innocenzo’s neutralized.” He puffed out his chest, smiling proudly. Risotto flicked his eyes over both Formaggio and Prosciutto. They settled on Formaggio’s chest, where he could see purple bruises through the mesh of his shirt. Prosciutto’s hand flew to his neck, where he knew there to be a deep purple hickey.
“Good work. I’ll review these.” He made direct eye contact with Prosciutto, smiling wickedly. “Glad you made good use of your time.”