Work With Me -Bruno Buccellati x Reader-

9- Here

A warm breeze tickled your skin as you walked along by Bruno's side. The sun was beating down, coating Napoli in a dry summer heat, invigorating yet calming. It was a pleasant walk, with Bruno talking all the while, not expecting any response from you. He told you of his time here, the people that called out his name when he passed, the alleys that lurked between unsuspecting buildings. There was always something happening, and Bruno wanted to be a part of it all. You watched as he helped a child catch a butterfly that hovered around a florists. His hands that glasped gently around the creature, opening his fingers just enough for the child to peer inside. You smiled to yourself, as Bruno let the insect go, the colourful wings flapping as it went back to the flowers, the child thanking Bruno a thousand times over. 

Bruno. When was it that you started thinking of him as that instead of Buccellati? You don't remember, but at one point you had stopped using his own sir name against him. As you looked at him now, speaking to the owner of an ice cream store, you wondered what had happened to you. Bruno made you feel warm, even as he offered you a cold treat on the hot summers day. There was a comfort in his name, the way it felt in your mind. You carried on walking, and he carried on retelling his stories. It was perfect, and you felt at ease for the first time in a long time.

"It's been so long since someone has lived with me," Bruno confessed eventually, "I've missed always being with someone else." He looked up at the sky, a bird flew overheard, singing some sweet tune or another,

"When was the last time?" You asked, 

"Well, the last time would be..." He trailed off, "It would be when I went looking for Diavolo. I know I shouldn't miss that time, but it was nice to always have someone by my side." 

You felt his hand reach up and stroke your hair absent-mindedly. The sensation felt familiar, but you couldn't think why. You caught his hand, felling the soft yet calloused skin against your own.

"Y/N, I like having you around. The past few days have been nice, I'm sorry for yelling at you."

"Don't apologise, it was my fault." You let go of his hand, it fell back to his side. His eyes were positively sparkling, the corners of his lips raised into a smile and he laughed,

"Well I'm glad you're not angry at me, come on then, lets look in here-"

And the moment was lost.

~~~~~~~~

 "I was thinking of making you wear a uniform," Bruno explained, holding up a crisp white shirt, "I think it would make you look professional."

You shrugged, looking around at the racks of clothes surrounding you . You weren't always one for shopping, mostly because you didn't have always have enough money to pay for anything unnecessary. How long ago was it, since you had bought something purely because you wanted it? Outside of alcohol and cigarettes, the essentials were all you spent your money on, but now was different. As Bruno sorted through a collection of black skirts, searching for the perfect one, you smiled to yourself. The heaviness in your pocket was a nice, long-forgotten feeling. He handed you a skirt, and you took it to examine it yourself,

"I like it," You said, "But are  you sure I need a uniform?"

"It's only right, you are my secretary."

You hadn't ever been asked to wear something specific, maybe a shirt of black trousers, but you never had a proper uniform. You almost declined him, rubbing the fabric of the skirt between your fingers, it was soft but sturdy. Bruno was circling you, holding up shirts and blazers, measuring sleeves against your arms, hands occasionally brushing against you. He brushed your hair behind your ear,