Work With Me -Bruno Buccellati x Reader-

21- A reunion

Mista stands in the doorway, eyes scanning you eagerly. He's trying to read your thoughts, but he can't, so he leans against the doorframe and merely watches.

"Giorno wanted me to call you down for breakfast." He says finally.

You start, turning around, cheeks burning at the realisation that you have been caught,

"I'll be right down."

Mista nods, "I have to go back and collect your belongings today, so you'll be alone with Giorno and Narancia."

"That's fine," you shrug, "How long will you be?"

"Not too long, but you best get downstairs before it goes cold." He nods towards the corridor, stepping aside so you can hurry past. 

Downstairs, you turn the corner into one of the rooms you had glanced at last night. The window is open, and light illuminates the dining room you have stepped into. A dark oaken table is laid with silver cutlery, plate upon plates of food is spread across a deep red runner. Giorno sits at the head of the table, drinking tea from a china cup, steam wafting gently, sweet smelling and almost floral. Narancia smiles when he sees you, and you sit beside him. 

Does he know? You wonder. Did anyone tell him what you did? If so, why isn't he angry? You try not to think about it, helping yourself to coffee from the french press, letting the dark, rich liquid wake you from the daydream you were living in. You feel half-asleep, dozing almost, heart stilled by the waves and the subtle breezes. 

"How did you sleep?" Giorno asks, the chink of his teacup against the saucer ringing in the silence. 

"Very well, thank you," You say, looking to him. His suit is freshly ironed, crisp and sharp. His eyes are strong, unwavering as they glance over you

Giorno hums, "I'd like you to start today if possible, there is quite a lot to be done."

"Of course."

"On that note, I have to leave later today, once Mista has returned. I have some business up north, I'll be gone a few days."

"Really?" You stare into your coffee

"I know it's rude, you've only just arrived, and I'm afraid Narancia is coming with me too."

Narancia looks up, surprised, "I am?"

"Yes." Giorno sips his tea, "But you won't be completely alone, somebody will be coming to housesit."

"Who?" You ask, but you already know the answer, dread swirls in your gut.

"Bruno."

~~~~~~~~

You sit in Giorno's office, breath shaky. He's been gone not half an hour now, but it feels like an age. Bruno hasn't arrived yet, and you wonder is he knows that you're here. You try to occupy your mind with work, but you just can't. Every time you pick up a piece of paper, your mind is straight back to Bruno and you have to set it down again. You thought here, you would be safe from him. You had told yourself just this morning, staring out of the window, that you did not love him. You were sure that you didn't, but being faced with him again, was it that simple? 

No, you had to be strong, and professional. This was not just some job, this was the Don, and Bruno his Capo. Professional, proper, reserved. You had to behave, just for once, you had to keep your emotions- your temper- under control.

~~~~~~~~

Bruno stands before the house, holding the key to the door. Giorno had given it to him the moment he had bought the place, and Bruno had used it often, as much as he used the key to his own home. This time, it was different. He knew who awaited him inside, and he knew there was no avoiding it. You were there, the two of you would be alone for a few days, and Bruno wasn't sure how he felt about it. He was doing well, Abbacchio had looked after him, and he was doing a favour for Giorno- his friend and his boss. This was work, he reasoned, and he had worked with unpleasant people before.

Stepping inside, everything looked the same. Well of course it did, Bruno didn't know what he was expecting. He walks from the hall to the dining room, hand ghosting over the backs of the chairs, and then further on, into the kitchen. He pours himself a glass of water, to calm his nerves, and to drown out the fluttering in his stomach. He downs it, then pours another to sip at as he walks. Back into the hall, crossing it, into the living room. Bookshelves line the walls, and Bruno is almost sure he can name most of the books, just from how many times he has been here. The furniture is leather, but covered in throws and pillows, to prevent the sticky feeling leather gives in the summer, and Bruno absentmindedly takes a pillow- fluffs it- and sets it down again. 

His mind is elsewhere, and his feet are lazy. Where are you? He wonders, eyes dragging over the artwork on the walls, trying to memorise the brushstrokes, the colours, the lines. He feels... something... but no amount of searching will tell him what this feeling is. Anticipation? Dread? Fear? If so, fear of what? Bruno doesn't know, but he knows something, that somebody in that moment was heading downstairs. 

He waits for it, hears the pause of feet when the steps creak. A moment, and the person is walking again, steps barely audible, like they're trying not to make noise but failing. Bruno isn't facing the doorway, but he knows somebody is there now. He sets his glass down on an end table and turns, wanting to get this meeting over with.

"Buccellati." You say, glaring, the long-forgotten glare is back. Bruno smiles,

Despite everything, it's still you.