Long chapter, cause I've been absent for MORE THAN THREE MONTHS
YOU THOUGHT THIS FIC WAS DEAD BUT YOU WERE WRONG
2.7k words I'm not editing you can kiss my ass.
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There was something so very peculiar about Doppio the following morning.
He had been on the verge of telling you something all day; his face would brighten and he would lean toward you, then he would change his mind, suddenly pull away and become recluse as if you had shouted at him.
This would go on until noon, his constant chase of his own emotion nearly becoming a game of will-I-won't-I, to the point it had become irritating to see him shuffle near simply to scramble away again.
But the consigliere was not the only one who had been acting strangely; in the sense that the members of the special unit were behaving more strange than normal.
Cioccolata had been acting pissy since the moment he woke up; you assume that is the case, as he hadn't yet thought to tackle you with an overwhelming affection. There was no eerie smile on his face nor even an odd comment that left you wondering, 'Was that a hint at him killing me?'
He was just silent, and that was the strange part. Silent and existing, only that and nothing else. He would stare at you with such disdain you would begin to wonder if you had offended him somehow by being alive.
Even now he sits on the couch in the far reaches of the room, looking ready to bite off the head of anyone who talked to him. Secco sits at his feet like a guard dog, practically snarling.
You couldn't have done anything, right? There was no passing moment you two shared in recent that would warrant that behavior towards you so suddenly.
It was hard not to mind either of them, Cioccolata and Doppio.
One one end, there was the constant bother of minding the consigliere every time he entered the kitchen with a nervous face, and on the other, it didn't exactly make you feel comfortable having a pair of eyes drill into the back of your skull as you worked.
It was settled that you wouldn't pay attention to either beyond the necessary, after playing through the scenarios of what might happen should you try to juggle the two scenarios with one hand.
The kitchen sizzled and popped with the heat of the stove, the afternoon sun streams through thin curtains like a gentle water parting through rocks. The air tasted of greasy bacon and sweet pancake, the smell of it bringing forth a hunger from the deepest parts of ones self.
But when the last pancake was finished and the heat from the kitchen had melted into only a faint warmth, everything seemed to come to head.
Doppio was sat at the counter, though his eagerness may not have been for the food prepared, you guessed. Once more he lit up when you approached him, plate in hand. His mouth opens this time, and he goes to speak.
Then something happens. In his head, a voice shouts to mind himself, to not say a word, and he doesn't. His mouth closes and he slouches in his chair, all the previous excitement drained from him instantly. This must have been then tenth time it has happened, perhaps even the eleventh.
You don't pay attention to it, setting down his plate in front of him with his needed silverware and moving along. You didn't stick around long enough to see the way his chin picks itself up to look at you in prayer for you to come near once again.
Then Tiziano comes, from somewhere you hadn't noticed before, and throws himself onto an open seat.
"Good morning!"
"Good morning," A slight clink resounds through the room as a plate is set before him.
He's already got a fork in hand and bite of pancake in his mouth, as if he had already started to eat before you'd even set the plate down for him. Eager is the starving man.
Cioccolata doesn't move to join the group in breakfast. He continues to sneer at you from the couch with an ugly expression souring his face. All sorts of signals are sent through glares alone, and you can almost read him like a book far too easily-- perhaps that was the point, to make sure you knew and could tell exactly what went through his head.
'You've done something and it is terrible,' you think he's trying to say, 'You've done it and now I hate you for it.'
Tiziano finishes his plate just as you're about to deliver Cioccolata his, and props himself unto the body of the counter, saying, "Are you busy at all today?"
You continue to move, not bothering to stop for Tiziano's question which clearly hides intent of mischief. Cioccolata flicks his gaze to the questioning soul at the counter.
"Yes." You say.
"How busy?" He spins in his chair as he follows you with his eyes.
"Very."
"No, you aren't."
"Truthfully, I have a lot to do."
Setting the plate in front of Cioccolata, you notice the mans attention had shifted from you, to Tiziano. The latter still had that cheeky, doe-some look upon his dark complexion, though you could see it was only a front. There is a reason he said it, and it was not because he truly, honestly had any interest in spending time with you that day.
Yes, you could tell by the way Cioccolata tightened his grip on the arm rests, the way he began to grind his teeth, on the verge of pure, true anger. There was a hidden meaning behind the words Tiziano said so casually, a weight you did not understand yet.
There must have been, and you are only guessing when you think this, some sort of deliberate banter between the two, instigated by Tiziano with the deliberate intention of agitating Cioccolata to some unknown end.
What's more, you must've played a role in it, given you were now dragged into said conflict. Tiziano looks at you like you've foiled some plan; there is no change to his face, though behind his mask you can tell he silently threatens you to play along.
But to do that, you'd be picking a side. And you aren't picking a side, because that would just lead to more issues-- but you are finding yourself out of an unwanted situation based on convenience. So, when Tiziano asks, "How about we go do something fun today?"
You say, "No, thank you. I was actually planning on doing something with Cioccolata instead."
At this, the room seems to be on mute. The air is thick with a sudden tension that sweeps the house. Doppios build-up of excitement he had worked up again had shattered, the pert grin on Tizianos face had flipped into a frown that told you that you'd fucked up.
And Cioccolata was smiling up a storm.
"Me? You'd like to go out with me?" You could hear the barely-restrained excitement building in the back of his throat.
You ignore the daggers Tiziano stares into you. "If you have the time. I understand you may have already made plans, but-"
"No, I'm perfectly free." Cioccolata leans his body to look around you, and you already know who he's looking at. Something in his triumphant expression tells you he's just won a bet of some sort.
"Love to hear it."
"What is it you have planned for me?"
"Some shopping-- the kitchen is running low on some key foods needed for meals, and-"
"Nonsense! We'll have all that delivered and taken care of," It is at this moment he leaps, and it is no exaggeration when it is said that he leaps, out of his chair to his feet, reborn into his typical bouncy, cheerful persona. "Let's go shopping for goodies instead! It's been a while, has it not? Since I have treated you to something wonderful."
"Just recently you had bought me a dress for that ball."
"Nonsense, that doesn't count!"
You are led by the waist before you know it, forcefully guided out of the house without a moments preparation. You still had your apron on.
He didn't much seem to care, though, looking over his shoulder to either check Secco was following, or to throw one last nasty look at Tiziano before the door closed behind.
-----
The car is a tight, cramped space, especially now with the assortment of shopping bags in the backseat, majority luxury brands Cioccolata insisted upon. Speaking of whom, he sat across from you in the drivers seat, where he has sat for the past five minutes, unmoving.
He was not drowned in a sorrowful look teetering on an eruption of anger; it was the exact opposite, holding in laughter and giggles with fidgeting hands, occasionally even letting a few loud ones slip out before snapping his jaw shut.
The car hasn't moved since the engine was stopped, sitting absently in the lot behind your shared residence as though the driver was only a mannequin. One that was clearly losing it.
You shift uncomfortably in your seat, in an outfit he again specially picked for you during your outing. It was not short or, in your elderly neighbors words, 'whorish', but it was absolutely flattering to your body type and beyond the kind of perfection you'd typically find by yourself.
"Are you alright?" You ask, barely above a whisper, hesitance choking you.
Cioccolata seems to break from his internal cheering and looks to you with the joy of a child at a theme park. "Oh, perfectly well, my dearest. In fact," He laughs, "I'm doing spectacular."
"That's nice to hear."
"It is, isn't it? When you had stood with me this morning, oh, the joy! The world sang for me! You don't understand what you did, but my, oh, my dearest (Y/n), I could kiss you for it. Kiss you! It was wonderful, his face!"
"I saw. What exactly did I do...?"
"That's a secret, my darling. But that beautiful act deserves an award, and all of this," He throws his hand to the bags cluttering the back seats, "Is not nearly enough!"
"No?"
"No. Now, come. The thanks I wish to give, it is any wish you have for me. Say something, anything, and it's yours."
You pause, your heart nearly stills in its chest, the hairs on your neck stand up and a foreboding sense of consequence chills you. What had you done exactly, for such a reaction as this?
Your mind draws a blank and you nearly feel your brain itself deflate at the sudden opportunity. It's quietly established that you cannot simply wish away the situation that got you into Unita Speciale in the first place, but perhaps you could ask for something just as impactful?
Its quite the ask, the one you have come up with, so you are already prepared for a rejection, or a 'gotcha', so you confirm, "Anything?"
"Anything," He says, and you already know what you want.
"Could I have... A bigger room?"
The one you're in at the moment is substantial for your tastes, so something a little more accommodating to your growing closet and additional trinkets would be nice.
Cioccolata laughs at this, only just for a moment, before he calms again to answer, "Of course! Such a simple wish; for my darling girl, I must grant it!"
You shudder at the 'my' part, though stay quiet regardless. Wouldn't want to anger the man who's giving you nearly anything you ask for.
-----
This is a bit much.
Cioccolata hadn't been seen for nearly an entire day after you said you wanted a new, bigger room to stay in. The door at the end of the hall constantly slipped muffled sounds of hammers, drills, shouts and laughter, and everyone knew who it was that holed himself up in there.
But it only seemed to be acknowledged once Cioccolata finally emerged in the afternoon a whole 'nother day after the fact, somewhat sweaty in his minimal wear. The pants he wore and the fact that there was no shirt to match brought an immediate heat to your face, though you'd never admit the thoughts behind it.
"Room's done, princess! Come see, come see!"
You walk from where you'd arrived at the head of the stairs and paced to the entrance he held open for you, trying not to stare at his very much revealed chest-- though he seemed to pick up on it anyhow.
You peered past his towering body and the end of the door, finding the equivalent to a grand primary bedroom with one of the biggest damn beds you've seen.
The windows were huge. Massive. It was probably twice your height, with a small balcony attached immediately outside.
There was a display case on the wall just beside a gaudy vanity, which in itself would need an entire few pages to describe, holding a fresh assortment of knives that called your name.
Cioccolata followed you inside your room, you could feel his voice hit against your ears as he spoke, explaining every little gadget and creation he'd made for you, though you couldn't quite hear him.
A very odd deafness overtaking you, maybe the fault of shock or sheer surprise drowning out the sounds of the outside world.
You didn't even hear the footsteps thumping up the stairs, the shy but rushing pace of someone awkwardly scooting down the hall toward you, who's voice startled you from your amazed daze.
"Oh, it's done!" Doppio said, walking inside beside you. "It looks amazing, wonderful work Cioccolata. We're lucky the boss let us use this space for you!"
You look to him with a confused expression. "The don did this?"
"Yeah, Cioccolata asked him very nicely if we could turn the old interrogation room into a new bedroom for you!"
The wonder and awe of it all flies out the window without another sound. But you don't let your face show the betrayal you feel.
"That was awfully sweet of him, I'll have to give him some sort of thanks in return. Do you know if he likes any sweets?"
There is a silence that follows your question. Cioccolata continues to rattle off in the background, too wrapped up in his own lecture to notice what was happening.
An internal conflict, it's very brief but you see it happen behind his hazel- green eyes? No, you must still be under shock, for a moment, it seemed as though they were green, but that isn't right. You look at them now, and they are hazel even still.
Doppio stares at you with a bit of a questioning expression. "Did you hear me?"
You shake your head. He said something? "No, sorry. What was that?"
"I said, he'd probably like anything you make!" He says with a sudden cheerfulness that you forget about his previous apprehensive nature. "Especially strawberry cake."
There it is, another moment where you succumb to the dizziness and hear wrong, tricking you into thinking you were witness to Doppio having two voices, the words echoing.
"Hey," But strange that is, given now he sounds perfectly normal. You should probably sit down, drink some water. "How about we have a little party?"
"A party," You repeat, your ears now straining to catch that dual-voice once more.
"Yeah, like a little room-warming party! Sounds fun, right? It could even be a girls night!" Doppio seems to catch himself. "I mean, I'm not a girl, but we can pretend! You know, do face masks, have some snacks, watch a sad romcom, paint nails..."
A quick shake of the head like your brain was an etch-a-sketch, you clear all thoughts and accept those delusions as what they were, delusions. Cioccolata catches onto his lack of attention, and comes back to your side, dropping in on the conversation.
"A party? Am I invited?" Based on the face he's making, and the fact he made that room for you himself, you're not allowed to deny him.
"Sure,"
"Oh, the joy! And Secco too, yes?"
"Naturally."
Almost on cue, the man pops out from the floor with a gnashing smile, hugging your leg while still only half emerged from the ground.
It would be wrong to exclude everyone else, you think, given that 'everyone else' would probably kill you, no exaggeration, as they may interpret the lack of invite as an insult.
You scoot over to your new bed, which looks like the size of two cars put together, and plop down onto it tiredly.
"I'll make sure to invite Carne, Squalo, and Tiziano as well;" At the mention of the last name Cioccolata's mood flips again almost on a dime. "It would be rude not to, after all."
Popcorn is made, a shitty romcom is thrown onto the embarrassingly large tv on your hot pink walls, face masks are thrown into a little pile on your dresser, gossip is prepared, pajamas are brought in, and the attendees filter in one by one.
Time for a girls night, with only one girl.