Work Text:
Risotto’s mornings almost always began with his eyes waking up to a sea of pink. A nest of tangled hair smooshed unceremoniously against his face, attached to a body whose arms and legs had tightly bound themselves around whichever limb had been foolish enough to get close when he’d finally passed out during the wee hours of the night.
The first struggle wasn’t the desire to get out of bed, but the ability to, as his boyfriend locked him down in a vice grip to prolong the early morning cuddles they rarely got to indulge. And as the many weekdays before this one, Risotto took each limb one at a time as he slowly, and skillfully, peeled Doppio off of him without rustling him completely away. A few whines, whispers and moans could be made out along the way, but once the smaller man was cocooned in a mass of warm blankets, the complaining ceased.
Navigating the early morning cold was a pain, but the promise of a welcome hot shower got Risotto down and hall in a timely manner. Steam fogged up the mirrors and the windows, blocking out the bare scratches of sunlight over the horizon as the hitman continued with his routine. He gave himself a moment to pause after while his air was rinsing out whichever new fruity concoction Doppio called a conditioner before a sharp turn to cold at the end to shock his system.
A shiver starting at the shoulders to be shaken out of his hands and feet, running the course of Risotto’s whole body had him as awake as could be at this ungodly hour.
The towel around Risotto’s waist was a formality. One dropped when reentering the bedroom to retrieve a pair of ironed pants from the closet that he’d slowly gotten used to filling with his own belongings. The rest of his outfit would wait til later, as he didn’t want to risk dirtying the entire ensemble while breakfast in the works.
And speaking of breakfast…
The hitman glanced over his shoulder to smile at the man who had yet to move from where he’d left him.
The kitchen was down the opposite end of the hall from the bathroom, taking up the entirety of the west half of the spacious apartment they’d made a habit of staying in. Risotto didn’t dare call it a home just yet, as their situation couldn’t afford the luxury of permanence anytime soon. That being said, three months has been the longest streak they’ve had going for them and with the four-month anniversary of the apartment coming up soon… Risotto was inclined to set aside plans to celebrate.
It would not be anything fancy nor over-the-top, but a breakfast league above today’s would be a subtle enough way to mark the occasion.
Humming under his breath, Risotto got to work plugging in the coffee maker and toaster, working on brewing his boyfriend’s ‘wake up juice’ while getting out the rest of the cookware.
The pan was next, still next to the sink where he’d left it drying from the morning prior, ready to be sprayed with cooking spray before set on the burner. Two eggs over easy was enough, followed by the toast already pushed down and set to be burnt to the perfect amount of crunch. Sausage links were added as an afterthought. One Risotto was grateful to include once he found the stash he had hidden behind the horrible TV dinners his boyfriend would buy to sustain himself during the day. The whole plate was done quick and efficiently, set and ready to serve a man who had yet to leave the bedroom even as the smell of breakfast wafted through the apartment.
The extra time alone went into making a plate of his own, repeating the same process, but burning his toast as much as possible to prevent devious hands from stealing food off his plate when he wasn’t looking. However, this time alone would come to an end as a look at the clock above the entryway had other plans, urging the hitman to return to his lover and coax him out of the bed of his own free will.
A fruitless attempt, one Risotto made every morning before sighing and unearthing Doppio himself. The hitman grabbed the smaller man by the waist and bundled him in his arms, enduring the load yawn in his ear as he pulled down Doppio’s nightgown before setting him in his dining room chair.
“Thank… you.” Doppio muttered, eyes barely open. He then reached for the orange juice, as the coffee still needed time to cool down, intending to pour the bottle himself. But as usual, he missed by quite the margin. The lazy hand swiped at nothing instead of the bottle he was after.
Adorable.
And concerning.
Risotto took hold of the bottle and filled their glasses himself, getting through his meal in record time while Doppio continued to chip away at haphazardly his. Eating had become secondary when his boyfriend reached toward the counter to begin going through the necessary files for his work. Risotto would have preferred this waited until later, but the time he had left to prepare for the day didn’t allow for him to linger at the table any longer.
What the hitman needed to do now was to finish getting dressed. Polish the bells on his hat. Stretch a bit after putting on his coat to make sure nothing had shrunk in the wash. All that was left was his belt. Once secure, a quick look in the mirror confirmed that everything had come together as it should. If looks alone could kill, Risotto was confident that the next job would go without a hitch.
As Risotto rejoined Doppio at the table, he was greeted by a half-drunk cup of coffee and the dossiers he’d need for the day. His boyfriend hid behind his own paperwork, slowly sipping his own drink as the two discussed their upcoming plans.
A mission here.
A visit there.
Perhaps something… more next weekend.
Their plans were always cut short by the clock, looming overhead stronger than before now that the time for him to depart drew near. Risotto set his empty glass by the sink before leaving, stopped at the edge of the kitchen by a pair of surprisingly strong hands clinging to his free arm.
Looking down, Doppio’s cheek had dug into his arm, eyes still showing signs of sleep opened wide, begging the hitman to stay longer despite the both of them knowing he couldn’t.
“Doppi… I have to go.”
“No.”
“I can’t take you with me. You know this, so let go—”
Doppio tugged at Risotto’s sleeve.
“Gimme a kiss first.”
Rolling his eyes, Risotto did as his boyfriend commanded and leaned down to peck him on the cheek. Then a second time. And a third, until there were enough kisses for each freckle on the smaller man’s face.
Satisfied, Doppio relented his hold, wishing Risotto a goodbye before the hitman had left the apartment for good… scratch that, all of five steps until the large man realized the keys to his bike were not on him from the lack of weight in his pocket. Risotto closed his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose, already picturing his keys on the living room's end stand.
A quick back track wasn’t going to kill him, but when the hitman opened the apartment door, it wasn’t Doppio’s smiling waiting for him, but Diavolo’s smirk as he spun the very necessary pair of keys around his finger.
“Missing something?”
Risotto nodded, raising an eyebrow at the idea that perhaps it wasn’t his own forgetfulness at fault for where his keys ended up. On the verge of running late, the hitman shuffled over to Diavolo with a hand out, ready to accept his keys when the Boss pulled them back just out of his reach.
“And where is my goodbye kiss, hm?”
Now, Risotto could summon his keys to him with Metallica—the iron ring hanging off them was there for that exact purpose—but who was he to deny his boyfriend such a request?
After all, it was what Risotto had come to expect from his morning routine.
The best things were always done twice.