Work Text:
When Leone was a kid, he dreamed of being a police officer. He wanted to do good and help his community. At age twenty-seven he wanted to be anything else. Instead of helping his community, he watched as his coworkers took bribes, he watched as murderers he arrested were released, he watched his boss shake hands with crime bosses.
Of course, Leone couldn’t judge, in his lowest moments he took a bribe and got his partner shot. Thankfully, Anthony survived and joined the force a year later. After that night Leone swore to never be a dirty cop ever again. Seven years passed since, but it didn’t change his opinion of his job. If anything, that opinion got worse. Still, he was never late to his job. Occasionally guilt would overtake him, and Leone found himself overworking.
Like tonight. It was eight pm and Leone should have been home three hours ago. He honestly meant to finish one paper which turned into two which turned into ten. His phone rang breaking him out of his concentration.
“Hey-”
“Get home now, Melone is cooking!”
And that was enough to end the workday. Leone had a life outside of work even if everyone said he didn’t. That life included two annoying roommates, Narancia and Melone. The former was way too cheerful for Leone’s cynical ass and the latter probably did illegal experiments.
“Add more oil.”
“No.”
“You clearly need more oil!”
“If the recipe wanted more oil, it would have said more oil.”
“Turn up the heat the water is never gonna boil.”
“Not till I’m done with the sauce.”
“I’m home,” said Leone interrupting their argument. Narancia was completely in the right, Melone couldn’t cook for shit.
“You should have been here hours ago,” Narancia pouted.
“I’m sorry, I forgot it’s my night to cook.”
“No, it’s not,” said Melone. To be fair everyone decided to take turns cooking dinner. This was of course before they tasted Melone’s food. Now on Melone’s nights Leone just cooks dinner early and said he forgot it was his night.
“Right.”
“Also, you’re overworked and deserved a free meal.”
“He deserves to eat editable food!”
“It is editable food.”
“Barely.”
Leone sat down watching them argue. How to explain this was actually the highlight of his day was beyond him.
“Dinner will be ready in ten minutes, now leave me alone.”
“Make me.”
“I got down on my knees, Derrik pulled out-”
“Gross,” Narancia stormed off.
Dinner was served in ten minutes, whether or not it was ready was a different question.
“Hey, you wouldn’t arrest me if I kill someone?” asked Melone.
“No.”
“Okay, I’m actually considering it.”
“Is it your manager?” asked Narancia.
“Yes, he’s so annoying, he doesn’t even know what a ladderane is.”
“How could he not know something as simple as that?” Leone asked sarcastically.
“Okay, but he’s in a lab he should know what that is.”
“Is he a scientist?” asked Leone.
“Why are you defending him!”
“Because he has to deal with you.”
“Leone, I’m hurt.”
“At least he’s not guilting you into taking more shifts,” said Narancia.
“Do you want me to arrest your boss?” asked Leone.
“No but could you do me a favor?”
“Sure,” said Leone instantly regretting it when Melone and Narancia shared a look.
“So, you don’t really get out,” said Melone.
“I’m an introvert.”
“Still, it can’t be healthy,” said Narancia.
“And it has been three years since you been on a date.”
“Dating is overrated,” said Leone.
“We think you might be scared to get your heart broken again,” said Narancia as gently as possible.
His words were right on the money. It been three years because three years ago Bruno broke up with him. And that was fine, except it left Leone an internal mess. It also made him want to give up on romantic love completely. Bruno was the only guy he dated that he imagined a future with.
“Get to the point.”
“I want to set you up with someone,” said Narancia.
“No.”
“Please.”
“No.”
“He’s really charming, and he tips well.”
“You want me to get with a random stranger you met at a bar.”
“He’s pretty.”
“Seriously!”
“I think you should do it,” said Melone, “Statistics prove that orgasms make you happier.”
“I’m not sleeping with a stranger.”
“You don’t have to,” said Narancia, “Just go on one date, also he doesn’t mind that you’re a bitch.”
“What?” said Leone and Melone at the same time.
“I asked him if he would mind dating a bitch and he said as long as your personalities are compatible, he didn’t mind.”
“Smart,” said Melone.
“Seriously.”
“He’s perfect for you,” said Narancia.
“A stranger at the bar agreed to date another stranger who’s a bitch isn’t a red flag.”
“Dude, trust me he’s charming.”
“Also, he doesn’t mind you being a bitch,” said Melone.
“How much does he know about me?”
“You’re name, you can be a moody bitch, and you’re single,” said Narancia.
“I see.” It wasn’t till now that Leone realized he really, really, didn’t want a stranger to know he was a cop.
“His name is Giorno,” said Narancia.
“I’m not going out with him.”
“Just take his number, please, you don’t even have to call or text if you don’t want to.”
“Fine.”
***
Leone did put Giorno’s contacts in his phone. But that didn’t mean he called or texted him. Unfortunately, this had the side effect of Narancia giving him sad puppy-dog eyes.
But he had other things to worry about than Narancia’s stupidly sad puppy-dog eyes. He had paperwork to do. Truthfully, he shouldn’t have been doing it alone. But nobody was on the case like him and in the end, Leone told them to go home.
Dario Conti was the ringleader of one of the biggest human trafficking organizations in Italy. The man was a bastard made to go to hell. Leone spent the last five months gathering evidence on him. He and Anthony arrested him three days ago. The court requested evidence and Leone was trying to keep it as coherent and organized as possible. He could only hope that would be enough for Dario to be behind bars for the arrest of his life.
Leone glanced at the clock. 2:30. Oh, his roommates were going to give him shit. He didn’t even want to glance down at his phone. He had a few missed calls and seven messages.
Melone: When are you coming home?
Narancia: YOU NEED TO EAT!
Melone: It’s ten!!!!!
Melone: Sleep is important
Melone: I sent you the statistics
Narancia: dinner is in the fridge
Narancia: please take care of yourself
That last text sent a wave of guilt through Leone. He really should take better care of himself. Maybe he should call Giorno. At the very least that would make Narancia happy. He was too tired to fully process that calling someone at two in the morning was not a good idea.
Leone instantly regretted his decision the moment he heard the phone ring.
“Hello.”
He hung up immediately. Only for his to ring again.
“Hey,” Leone said wanting to die.
“You know if you’re going to call someone at two am, you should commit to it.”
“I kind of thought you wouldn’t pick up.”
“Waste of a phone call in my opinion.”
“Forgive me, I don’t make good decisions at two am.”
“You’re forgiven, Leone I’m guessing?”
“Yes, sorry for waking you up.”
“Don’t worry about it, I was actually up.” Giorno’s voice was really pretty, like a fairy. Granted Leone was too tired to fully process his voice.
“Rough night?”
“Work.”
“That’s not healthy.”
“Why are you up?”
“Work.”
“That’s not healthy.”
“You could be in a shitty situation and still see that someone is in a shitty situation.”
“Would you like me to repeat your words back at you?” The fairy comparison was wrong, he was more like a smug prince.
“Whatever, we’re both workaholics.”
“It’s good to have something in common.”
“I mean most people prefer having common interests, but problems work too.”
“I’m so happy it works out, I know we’ll be great friends.”
Leone burst out laughing, “Perfect, we’ll never see each other because we’re workaholics.”
“I assure you it’s not usually this bad.”
“What you only overwork five hours?”
“It’s actually midnight.”
“That’s not good, go home.”
“I don’t believe you’re in a position to judge.”
“I only overwork once a week.”
“Do you like your job?” Giorno asked and Leone prayed he didn’t ask what his job was.
“No.”
“I would argue that’s worst, I get enjoyment from my job.”
“Alright, masochist.” Leone stood up and tidied up the papers. He sent everything so he had no reason to stay in the station.
“Aren’t you the masochist for working overtime on a job you hate?”
“Work is pain and you enjoy work and I don’t which makes you a masochist.”
“Work is not necessarily pain, it truly depends on the job and the person.”
“Okay, you’re vanilla, happy?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far.”
“How far would you go?”
“Pretty far, you?”
“Far compared to vanilla, short compared to anything else.”
“Good to know,” said Giorno, and his voice really was so pretty, “I suppose we should go to bed.”
“Currently walking home.”
“This late at night?”
“I refuse to sleep at work and it’s a short walk.”
“If you say so.”
“If it makes you feel any better I’m at my apartment.”
“It does actually.”
“Good night, Giorno.”
“Good night, Leone.”
***
The next day Leone debated whether or not to call in sick. In the end, he showed up right on time. Maybe he was a masochist. Anthony like the saint he is, handed him coffee on arrival.
“When did you go to bed last night?”
“Good question.”
“Abbacchio.”
“Don’t worry about it, I filed the papers.”
He pretended Anthony didn’t look at him with concern.
When he finally got home, Leone wanted to pass out on the couch. Unfortunately, he had two angry roommates sitting there.
“What time did you get home?” asked Melone.
“I don’t have a curfew and you’re not my dad.”
“Seriously?” asked Narancia.
“It was definitely not four.”
“Sleep is important!”
“I know, it just happened,” Leone sat down, “I would like to pass out now.”
“Did you eat dinner?” asked Narancia.
“No.”
“Take care of yourself,” said Melone.
“I do.”
“I been tracking how much you overwork, and you stay up to midnight once a week,” said Melone.
“That’s creepy and I could arrest you,” said Leone.
“This is the reason we want you to go out,” said Narancia.
“If I have a boyfriend I will somehow overwork less?”
“Yes,” they said at the same time.
“The joke’s on you, Giorno is a workaholic, we’ll just enable each other,” Leone stood up and walked towards his room.
“Wait you called him!” Narancia looked like a kid on Christmas morning. The duo followed their tired friend, who was lying face down on his bed.
“You have to tell us everything,” said Melone going on his notes app.
“I don’t have to tell you shit.”
“When did you call him?” asked Narancia.
“Today.”
“What time?”
“Two.”
“Two pm,” said Narancia praying that was correct, “You call him at two pm.”
“Am.”
“Why would you do that!” shouted Melone, “You look crazy!”
“I don’t know, I was tired now let me sleep.”
“Do you like him?” asked Narancia.
“No.”
“He’s blushing,” said Melone too observant for his own good.
“Get out before I kill you both,” said Leone. Fortunately, the empty threat was enough to get them out.
He woke up a few hours later, made dinner, learned Melone’s plan for world destruction, after cleaning up Leone’s main plan for the night was to read. But it was ten and he couldn’t help but think of someone.
He wasn’t exactly great at not overworking but somehow, he felt Giorno was worse than him. On complete impulse, he called the man.
“Hello?”
“Out of curiosity, are you at work?”
“Yes.”
“Go home.”
“You know I can say the same thing to you,” said Giorno.
“Can’t, I’m at home.”
“Look I can’t simply go home whenever I wish.”
“It’s five hours passed since five, you can go home. In fact, you’ll be more productive because you went home,” it was actually a fact that Melone would throw at him.
“Believe it or not, I’m very happy right now.”
“You’re getting joy from paperwork?”
“Don’t knock it till you tried it.”
“I did, for nine years!”
“Insanity is doing something over and over again and expecting different results.”
“I’m not expecting different results.”
“You hate your job and your…” Giorno paused, “I’m guessing thirty.”
“Twenty-seven, asshole.”
“Point being you should be in a career you love.”
“And you’re in a career you love?”
“Absolutely.”
“Congratulations, doing that at age, you know what I’m not guessing.”
“I’m twenty-two.”
“Really!”
“Yes.”
“I thought you were twenty-five.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being twenty-two,” said Giorno sounding offended.
“You’re just a little baby.”
“I promise one night with me, and you wouldn’t be saying that.”
“Pretty cocky for someone who just started living on their own.”
“Six years doesn’t mean shit, and you made an assumption, I have lived on my own since I was fifteen.”
“I’m sorry that happened to you.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Leone would be inclined to argue if it weren’t for his tone. Something about it demanded that he obey it.
“If you say so.”
“Let me finish this email and I promise I will go home.”
“Did you have dinner?”
“You’re not my caretaker.”
“I pity your future partner, always competing with the love of your life, paperwork.”
“If I had something to go back to, I wouldn’t be in the office as much.”
“Lonely?”
“I suppose I always been, don’t worry about it.”
Maybe he wanted to worry about him, Leone thought. It was kind of the reason he was calling in the first place.
“Get a cat.”
“What.”
“I’m serious, you’ll have something to go home to.”
“I can get a goldfish.”
“You’re not a cat person.” It was officially the only red flag Giorno had. Granted in Leone’s professional opinion it was a huge one.
“No, I love all animals, but why a cat in particular?”
“Because they’re cute and will not make a mess like a dog.”
“I might be allergic to cats.”
“I fail to see your point.”
“I’m deathly allergic to cats.”
“Get a bald one.”
“I’m starting to think you want me dead.”
“Well, it’s one way to fix being a workaholic.”
“You’re so compassionate.”
“Yes, yes I am, now go home,” said Leone smiling. It was stupid how much he liked talking to Giorno. Maybe he just didn’t have enough people to banter with. Still, it was nice.
“Just finished the email, anything else sir?”
“Go home and get a cat.”
“Two days in, and you’re already trying to get me in a commitment.”
“Don’t phrase it like that.”
“Why?” asked Giorno, too coy for any sane person.
“Quit being a brat it’s past your bedtime.”
“Goodnight Leone.”
“Goodnight Giorno.”
***
After that Leone made it a habit to call him at ten-a-clock. Their topics range from food they hated to war crimes they wouldn’t mind committing (it was a surprisingly high number for Giorno). Slowly the conversation was getting longer and longer, and soon Leone was calling at nine in hopes they would end at twelve.
The only downside was how hard Melone and Narancia teased him. Something he was currently experiencing.
“Are you texting your boyfriend?” asked Melone.
“Shut up.”
The pair were at the local shelter. Occasionally they would meet up after work to play with the cats. Melone would always try to justify the visit with statistics. They never bought a cat but they left a tip, so the staff was never mad at them.
“It’s so cute to see you happy.”
“You make it sound like I was depressed this whole time.”
“You were.”
“I laughed occasionally.”
“How could I forget that depressed people are incapable of laughter.”
“I admit, I’m somewhat happier,” said Leone taking a picture of a cat.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to convince him to get a cat.”
“Why, you wouldn’t be able to resist him if he had a cat.”
“Rude, also I think it will improve his mental health.”
“I can’t believe you of all people are using the mental health card.”
“I’m not that bad.”
“Yes, you are!”
Knowing that this argument would go nowhere Leone changed the topic, “How’s the lab?”
“Well, this time the samples weren’t contaminated, I’m counting it as a win.”
“And how’s saving up for your own lab?”
“I think it would be easier to just buy a house with a basement and convert that to a lab.”
Sometimes, he wanted to ask the details of Melones’ experiments (the ones in the apartment) but decided that as a cop he was better off as ignorant.
“Good luck.”
He glanced at his phone.
Giorno: Nice, still not getting a cat.
Leone: You heartless monster
Giorno: Why subjugate a cat to a life of loneliness?
Leone: Just stop working overnighters
Giorno: I gotten better.
Leone looked up when he heard Melone laugh.
“Are you sure he’s not your boyfriend?” said a smug Melone.
“Fuck off.”
***
Despite what everyone around him thought Leone knew he and Giorno were just friends. Which sucked because he was definitely developing a crush on the man. A stupid crush given he never meant the man in real life. Maybe he was a completely different person. But there was a bigger issue that Leone had to worry about.
It was two months since they started texting each other and neither managed to say what their jobs were. Granted Leone preferred not to say he was a cop. He would steer the conversation away from work in fear of Giorno asking the question. He wasn’t going to lie but avoiding the truth wasn’t too bad in his opinion.
“Get a new job,” said Giorno.
“Easy for you to say.”
“Nine years is too long to be miserable.”
“My skillset wouldn’t exactly transfer to a better job.”
“If you could do anything what would you do?”
“Fly.”
“Career wise.”
“Run a bookstore.”
“Do it.”
“Easier said than done.”
“I promise, you will succeed.”
“Don’t you think it’s cocky to promise something you can’t guarantee.”
“Trust me, what is your job?”
Leone dropped the phone.
Oh God, what the hell was he supposed to do.
“Leone, everything alright?”
What would he say, I’m a dirty cop who got my partner shot. I work at a useless job that doesn’t make a difference.
He hung up. He counted five minutes.
Leone: Sorry, phone died
Giorno: No problem.
He felt bad but Leone wasn’t ready to tell him. If he told him there was no way they would continue being friends. Sometimes he couldn’t look at himself in the mirror when he wore the uniform. But he had to tell him. And soon.
Leone: Do you want to meet up?
Giorno: Sure.
Giorno: If you’re okay with it I would like to take you to dinner.
Leone: Sure
***
Melone and Narancia sat in a room that looked like a hurricane came through. In reality, Leone was trying to figure out an outfit.
“Keep it simple,” said Melone.
“I can’t look lazy.”
“Black pants, black shirt combo,” said Narancia.
“Is that too much black?”
“Not for you,” said Melone, “Why are you so nervous?”
“I’m telling him I’m a cop.”
“He’s not going to leave you,” said Narancia.
“You don’t know that.”
“I’m betting twenty euros that he wouldn’t leave,” said Narancia.
“Don’t make bets.”
“You’ll be fine,” said Melone.
In the end, Leone went with Narancia’s suggestion. He mentally prepared himself. If he didn’t tell Giorno the moment he saw him, he would never tell him. He thought about different ways to break the news, ‘Great to see you I’m a cop.’ ‘Good to see you, to answer that one question, I’m a cop.’ ‘Great to see you, it just occurred to me I never told you my job, I’m a cop.’ God, he hated all of that. Unfortunately, by the time he made it to the restaurant Leone still hadn’t figured out the wording.
Walking into the restaurant Leone’s eyes were immediately drawn to a person sitting in the back right corner.
Don Giovanna.
Giorno Giovanna.
It couldn’t be his Giorno. Narancia would never set him up with a crime boss. Still, he couldn’t help but send a text.
Leone: Here
Giorno: Wonderful, I’m sitting in the back right corner.
It was like walking to his execution.
“Leone.” But hearing his voice, calmed all his nerves.
“Giorno.”
***
Melone was baking cupcakes. Despite being a terrible cook he was a wonderful baker something about the recipe being dependable. Narancia kept him company, both of them were waiting to interrogate Leone about his date.
As Melone was frosting the cupcakes, Leone walked in, face red.
“How did the date go?” asked Narancia.
“Amazing had the best time of my life, except for the fact he runs the fucking mafia!”
“Wait seriously.”
“How could you give him my number!”
“How was I supposed to know?”
“Giorno Giovanna, runs the biggest crime syndicate in Italy, how the fuck do you not know what he looks like!”
“You know experts often overestimate how much the average person knows about their field,” said Melone.
“Did you tell him you’re a cop?” asked Narancia.
“No, I didn’t tell the mafia boss I was a cop.”
Narancia handed Melone twenty euros. Leone rolled his eyes at the duo. He had other things to worry about, like how he was going to end his friendship with Giorno. He was so charming of course he had to have a giant red flag attached to him.
***
Five Years Later
Leone Abbacchio was the proud owner of a charming little bookstore in Naples. He was the proud dad of two cats, Bella and Maria. And if he was the proud husband of Don Boss Giorno Giovanna, that was nobody’s business.