A Pinch of Sugar | ( unita speciale x Fem!Reader)

18- Ballroom Ghosts

"My sweetest, I'm sorry. Will you forgive me?"

"I don't think so, I'd like to preserve my dignity."

"Would you forgive me if I got you some new shoes."

The slight pause you gave him was all that needed to be said. You bit your lip in thought, and slowly felt that dignity you were so prideful of slip between your fingers like sand. 

A finger traces your jaw, dances around your chin, and a chest closes the space with your back. "What about two pairs?" Cioccolata teases, and you're starting to wear away. No, you can't be so shallow! "And if I throw in a purse?"

"Then, I'll forgive you."

You're that shallow.

Cioccolata lets out a slight squeal and hugs you tightly with a childish glee, and pecks your cheek. "Oh, wonderful! Now, let's get this job done, and I'll take you to go pick out something nice."

Pink Floyd shudders, and you force a grin onto your face. "Sure."

It's only a moment before you're alone in that damn corner again, and Cioccolata is lost in the crowd of similarly tall bastards.

------------

The cold of the bathroom counter bites at your worn legs, and yet it is the glare Doppio gives you that makes you shiver.

"I put too much faith into you, it seems."

You can't meet his gaze, someone so cheerful turned so uncharacteristically serious, his fingers drumming against the meat of his arm in temperament.

Cioccolata wraps up what's left of your injured leg, and looks at you. He's not happy, there's no devilish smile or lecherous lick of his lips when he meets your gaze, there's no uncomfortable kiss to ease the pain in your leg. He leaves without another word, and closes the door behind him with a click.

There's a burning against your skin, and you know its him, you know its the short, delightful man just a few feet away ripping up your pride, tearing apart your resolve like paper, demanding you lift your head and face him in silent command. And he does all that as he simply stares.

His tongue presses against his cheek, what is it he should do with you? Folded arms settle against a purple sweater, his chest deflating with a small sigh.

"You disappoint me."

"He's dead though! Mission completed, dude is dead! I don't know-" You shot into a spiral of pent up annoyances, shut down by the raise of Doppio's hand.

"He was dead, yes, and your job was done... And then you screwed up the whole fucking thing trying to defend Tiziano."

"He had people coming after him, I got rid of all of them!"

"And you got shot in your leg, and almost died just as well hadn't it been for Secco."

"I don't see why it's such a big deal, you have an entire other team of people with guns, hell, you help run an organization full of people with guns-!"

He snapped his fingers, and you shut up. "You're important not for the fact that any one of us necessarily cares about you, but because your father would take your place should you disappear."

A sort of understanding came to calm your anger, and while it did not suppress that fire, it brought down the heat. You pick and prod at the gemstones stitched to your dress in a glittering assembly with a pouted lip, and waited for the moment you were dismissed so you could go whine about this whole interaction on the phone with Ivy.