Work Text:
Photography was an unlikely skill that Diavolo picked up. His father being a priest meant he was the church photographer. Whether it be baptisms, weddings, or a charity drive, if there was an event at the church Diavolo was photographing it. He would complain all he wanted, but Diavolo knew it was better than being photographed.
And if he was being honest, he liked photography. Maybe it was Stockholm syndrome from doing so many times or maybe it was something else. Diavolo decided it was best not to think about it.
He wanted to sharpen his skills and today was the perfect day for it. The sky was blanketed in gray clouds. Meaning locals and tourists wouldn’t be on the beach. And even if they were Diavolo knew a spot that was basically abandoned. Most importantly Diavolo had a subject to practice on.
Sort of. Leone agreed to go to the beach with him but he didn’t know what they were doing. He hated being photographed. Something he ranted about multiple times to Diavolo. His nose was too long, his eyebrows were too thin, his arms were too lanky, and he always looked like a grumpy bitch. Diavolo had no idea where any of this nonsense came from. All of his features were fine and even if he looked like a bitch, he was a sexy one.
Still, Diavolo wasn’t an idiot. He came prepared.
“We’re here,” said Diavolo as they stopped in front of a steep cliff.
“I swear we walked a mile.”
“You can handle it.”
“Handling it doesn’t mean I enjoyed it.”
“You’re smiling,” Diavolo sat down the picket basket he was carrying. He laid out a towel, “Sit out and relax.”
Leone stared at him with suspicion but sat down anyway, “You’re being nice.”
“I have my reasons.”
“Oh god.”
“I’m not asking you to do anything illegal,” said Diavolo handing Leone a bottle of red wine.
“Is this a bribe?”
“Yes.”
“What do you want?”
“To photograph you.”
“No.”
Diavolo handed him a CD, L’Orfeo to be exact. Leone’s favorite opera.
“I hate you,” Leone said already opening the wine bottle, “Did you bring glasses?”
Diavolo handed him a wine glass, “Good bribe?”
“Don’t get cocky,” Leone glared at the smug bastard he called a friend, “Why do you even want to photograph me?”
“Practicing a skill, I’ll burn the pictures afterward.”
When it wasn’t for church Diavolo used a polaroid. It didn’t save photos and you could always burn whatever comes out. In short, it was perfect.
“Okay,” said Leone, “But only because you’re burning them.”
“Relax, it’s going to be line I’m not here.”
“Because that’s what I want,” Leone muttered sarcastically. He took a sip of wine and stared onto the sea. He watched as waves crashed against the store. Shades of blue, and green battle for dominance. The gray sky serving to highlight the colors. It was beautiful. Leone couldn’t help but smile.
The moment Leone looked relaxed, Diavolo took a picture. He had a calm, peaceful expression on his face. It was rare to see him like this. His friend was a being of sarcasm and eye rolls. But he was also a being of unwavering loyalty and protectiveness. He was always there for his brother, family, and surprisingly him. It was nice seeing Leone look worry-free for once.
Diavolo took a few more pictures. One of his backside, which looked dramatic against the waves. A couple of side profiles, Diavolo decided it would be best to avoid the front side. The less Leone was aware he was getting photographed the better.
The pink-haired man sat down, handing the photos to Leone.
“I don’t look like shit,” Leone said in surprise.
“You never do.”
“Not in photos,” after a moment he handed them back, “You don’t have to burn them.”
Diavolo raised his eyebrows in surprise, now that was a complement to his skills. “No, I’ll burn them.”
He put the photos in his wallet. He’ll burn them later, Diavolo tried to convince himself that was something he was going to do.