Work Text:
Italian was Diavolo’s first language, but as Kira found he was very precise (if gruff) with Japanese and, in general, good with English. It probably was because, as an alternative personality, he didn’t have the same limits other humans had and as such things came easily: language, most of all, but Kira had found it was easy to teach the mob boss how to cook and only ever had to correct him on things once or twice. Most of the time for the benefit of those around him, he spoke Japanese and if needed English. But with Kira it was either Japanese or Italian.
As in, most of the time he spoke in Japanese, but on some occasions far too often to ignore he’d yell something in Italian. Diavolo sometimes ended his sentences randomly in Italian or sprinkled in Italian phrases and sayings in daily life, and if something were to go wrong there would be a very loud "MERDA!". On others, it was pure Japanese, profanity and all. It bothered Kira, in a way that reminded Diavolo of an old subordinate. And, once or twice, the topic was drawn up.
“If I may ask, why lapse into Italian with me? It’s not like I have a problem understanding your dialect,” was how Kira asked it last time.
“It’s not that, I can tell you,” Diavolo replied with a shrug. “It’s just not as if anything I say is important enough for you to learn.”
And that was true in some lengths. When Kira took the time to buy books on Italian and memorized a few words from the mob boss, it turned out that, yes, most of them were swears. Colorful ones, in fact, that Kira was almost jealous of. On the lighter side, Diavolo also greeted Kira “Good morning” in Italian, “good evening” when he came back from work, and always said varying degrees of “thanks” for things, such as Kira making dinner instead or something simple like waking him up in the morning.
However and for Diavolo’s benefit, Kira pretended to not know what Diavolo said even after memorizing the meanings. It was... perhaps happier that way, seeing Diavolo unflinchingly swear and not to have to think twice about Kira overhearing it. Something about his language in general made Kira think he was a prude or, even simpler, was that kind of person because of most of his social interactions was limited to Doppio. Even with their situation as it were, Diavolo stayed home, picked up the mail at most, and operated his business from a laptop and a cell phone he had on him.
And yet, there was one phrase Diavolo never explained and Kira couldn’t immediately find the translation to, which bugged him for quite a while:
“Sono stato contento di averti incontrato. Sono felice ora.”
He had said this one morning when Kira had ended a rant about his workplace and how his boss and neighbor, Mr. Katayama, was spreading yet another degree of bullshit for fun. Work had been tiring as well and Kira had ended up saying some things that... lacked self-esteem, more or less, and were directed at his entire workplace. Diavolo had been taken by surprise by this, and said those two sentences when Kira caught him staring.
“...What? What does that mean?”
Diavolo’s smile disappeared as he blinked, then he looked away and turned red. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
He did thank Diavolo for it later, though, as trying to figure out what it meant was a good way to not focus on the day’s millions of problems. He did his work and went home as early as he could for once, avoiding his boss and coworkers before they ask about the newest rumor Mr. Katayama started up about “Nazo”, the mysterious leopard-man that was staying with Kira. God knows what it was today; maybe he was assuming the worst or, as everyone’s expressions told, the “best”.
But, whenever asking about it from Diavolo, it was the same answer: “Don’t worry about it.” And yet, within the following days, the phrase came up once more. It was when the week was over (not that Kira bothered with days off), but the stress was not; once more Katayama was being a pain in the ass and Kira had found he now had a good amount of attention from the workplace. As he grumbled about it, complaining over the TV set, he had slipped,
“Sometimes I wonder how much attention I’d even get if I suddenly died.”
And Diavolo immediately hit the mute button. “Don’t say that,” he said in his deepest voice.
Kira looked over and met Diavolo’s stern expression for just a moment. “It’s not as if I’d go anywhere soon, Diavolo.”
“Still. Don’t say that.” And Diavolo reached over and placed a hand right on Kira’s head. The boss hesitated then, and spoke, once more, in his native tongue. “Sono contenta di... averti incontrato. Sono felice che tu sia qui. Got it?”
There was a very cold look, just for a moment, on the other man’s face. It grabbed Kira’s attention as it usually did, and when they broke away the sound on the TV went back on and Diavolo acted as if it never happened as usual.
Kira spent the rest of the night piecing together the sentence. This time, he learned a few key words from it and slowly pieced it together. When he finally had what sounded right, Kira stared at the sentence for what felt like 20 minutes. It was amazing that someone as prideful as Diavolo dared to say this, then remarked that it meant nothing. It felt slightly like an insult, slightly like a compliment, and...
Slightly, no... Too entirely like a challenge to come up with a reply that would fluster someone scarlet red.
Soon Kira devised such a thing, and he replaced sleep over the next few days with translating it into Italian. The mornings arose too slowly for Kira during this time, and once or twice he checked the living room where Diavolo made his bed and home in just to make sure the other man wasn’t spying on him and aware of the nifty plan. When off at work, he hid what he had done under the bottles of nails – Diavolo hated that habit and reminded Kira gladly of this fact – and when he was home and Diavolo was asleep he resumed his work.
When the morning of the day he knew the phrase by heart did finally arise, Kira quickly made breakfast for the two of them. As Diavolo conversed with him over the usual topics (the weather, work, reminders not to show up on the news or else the house would go down in flames) over the food, Kira bid his time for the perfect chance. When it did come up, it was time to go to work, and Diavolo’s stupid grin gave such a chance.
“Try not to get arrested, Yoshikage, alright? Good luck with the dumbasses at work.”
“I’ll try. Oh, and... Diavolo.”
“Hm? What’s up?” Diavolo tilted his head, hair falling out of the way to reveal his ear. And that was the cue. After standing up and picking up his jacket, Kira walked to Diavolo and leaned over so he could whisper in his ear with a smile in his voice:
“Sono anche molto felice. Così voglio essere insieme per sempre con voi.”
Diavolo was still for seconds until slowly covering his crimson face with his hands.
“When... did you learn Italian?” he whispered between his palms.
“Around the same time you said it wasn’t important enough to learn what you said.”