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snack (an August tiny fic)

Summary:

It’s not always annoying to have to get up in the middle of the night to go to the toilet.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

At three AM, the urge to piss forced Leone out of bed. Almost too sleepy to aim correctly, a mellifluous hum stirred him, stupefied, away from bed and downstairs. 

 

There, in the kitchen, stood “the source” in nothing but lace knickers and a white singlet that rode up his minuscule waist, illuminated by the light above the stove—a scene worthy of Vermeer’s hand.

 

Seeing as his mouth hung agape, Bruno, smiling coyly, held out a forkful of fettuccine. “Want some?”

 

Leone felt all his blood had gone to his feet—in fact, it had stopped slightly short of them.

Notes:

this was inspired by a tweet by @zee63365234 that said:

 

watching a girl stirring pasta in your kitchen illuminated only by the light over the stove is suspiciously close to the full body halo of an angel

 

of course, boys can be angels too (fictional ones far more often than real ones though).

hopefully the imagery I wanted to evoke comes across as well: I was thinking of Vermeer’s Milkmaid as well as other works from the golden age of Dutch painting, Rembrandt’s especially, where the painter plays with a very small but concentrated source of light, like a candle’s.

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