Work Text:
4:45 pm. August. 2000.
Summer is at its most brutal in Naples. The sea breeze has slowed, the air is stagnant and sticky. Sun is streaming into Bruno’s living room from the open balcony door, casting everything in its golden hue. A futile effort to get some sort of air circulation in the apartment.
Two men are on the dark velvet sofa (god why did Bruno have to pick this fucking sofa it’s a fucking heat sink), Bruno sits, slumped against the back with Abbacchio’s head in his lap. Both have rid themselves of their shirt and shoes, pants remain for modesty’s sake(not each other’s of course, but for the poor neighbors who have certainly looked in on them far more undressed) It’s most definitely too hot to be lying on one another right now, but who cares. The smooth fabric of Bruno’s pants is cool against Abbacchio’s bare shoulders.
Strange, usually Bruno radiates heat like a furnace…perhaps it’s so hot that the heat from another person is cool.
Speaking of Bruno…his fingers are absent mindedly scratching at the fine hairs at Abbacchio’s temple. It’s soothing.
“Leone…”
Abbacchio hums in response, just enough to let his partner know he’s listening.
Bruno doesn’t say anything else, just continues to play with silver hairs.
There’s a picture on the wall of their gang-their kids really-it would be a nice family portrait in another time and under different circumstances. But neither one of them would trade this life for another.
A few more minutes pass. The sun was briefly obscured by a lone, merciful cloud, before returning with a vengeance. The room feels another ten degrees hotter.
They both groan. Then look at each other before laughing.
“Fuck the sun.” Abbacchio staunchly refuses to remove his head from Bruno’s lap. Nothing, not even God himself could move him from that spot. Heat be damned.
Bruno chuckles softly, his eyes crinkle at the corners. “Yes I agree. We should have put some amount of sunscreen on had I known it would be this bad.”
Abbacchio looks up at Bruno. “God that would be so pathetic, getting sunburned in our living room. Too hot to even get to the balcony for actual sun bathing”
“Pathetic indeed.”
“Am I red yet?”
“No…” Bruno leans forward to kiss the tip of his partner’s nose. Abbacchio scrunches his face in response. “But now…”
“Oh fuck off,” but he doesn’t mind the teasing and it makes Bruno smile. And laugh sometimes. Like now. So any inconvenience to himself is alright as long as Bruno is content.
“Hush. You like it.”
Abbacchio rolls his eyes. He does like it. He likes it a lot. Thankfully Bruno knows this and kisses him again. Despite the sweltering temperatures in the room, the warmth from his partner as he leans over him is pleasant, welcoming, it feels right. Feels like home.
“I do,” he says as he peels himself off of his partners lap. Really there is no relief from the heat, even separate from a whole other human. “Let’s go take a bath…I’ll cook.” He stands up, extending his hand to Bruno.
Bruno takes it in both of his as he’s pulled from the puddle he might have become from being left in the sun too long.
“Good. I think I might melt if I get anywhere near the stove while it’s on.”
Abbacchio presses a kiss to Bruno’s shoulder as they walk to the bathroom. “And the kids call me dramatic.”