Work With Me -Bruno Buccellati x Reader-

31- Hotel California

The van has only just left the town centre when it happens. You yawn suddenly, fatigue thrums through you before you can even process it. Abbachio shoves your shoulder, 

"Stop yawning, you're making me feel drowsy."

"Sorry-" You stop, your eyelids feel like boulders, you can barely keep your eyes open. "I'm just really tired."

Fugo looks at you through the rear-view mirror and you catch him yawning, too, "I must admit I'm definitely tired too."

"I think we're getting too old for this," Bruno mumbles, covering his mouth. "Sleeping in this van isn't doing us any good."

You look out the window, and the buildings are blurry and identical in your exhausted haze. Then you see it, light spills from a building's windows, bright and clear against the confusing mess of road and brick. You can almost hear music, coming distinctively from the building. You're about to point it out when you hear the screech of brakes and a horn ring out. 

"FUGO!" Bruno reaches across the van and seizes the steering wheel, the van lurches, its drifting between lanes, cars brake and swerve to avoid it. Fugo is sound asleep, Abbachio kicks the back of his chair,

"Wake up! What, are you trying to kill us?"

Fugo wakes with a yell, and straightens up the van. Car horns ring out in street and you almost forget about the building. Bruno relaxes with a sigh,

"If you keep falling asleep at the wheel, we're never reach the lay-by safely."

"I apologise, I don't know what's wrong with me." Fugo rubs his eyes, "I'm- I'm f-"

His head drops and Bruno grabs the steering wheel again, "We have to find another place to stay the night, somewhere closer." 

You look out the window again. The building is brighter still, and closer. You strain to read it,

"What about there? The Hotel California?" You point at it, Abbachio leans over and studies the approaching building.

"Hmm, looks fine." He shrugs, "Fugo, stop there."

He does so, and the four of you stumble out of the van, hauling your bags with you. Bruno doesn't think about it as he pays for the rooms, and you can't make out any of the hallways. They're all dark and muddy, and in your exhaustion it appears as if you're just walking through shadows. The wallpaper is old looking, you think, sort of 70's, yellows and oranges that feel too sweet. Nicotine stains climb the walls, and you stare at the worn down carpet.

 Bruno leads you to your room and you climb onto the bed, pulling the duvet over yourself limply. Your bag lies abandoned by the door. You close your eyes and bliss runs though your veins. You're so tired, you can't even think anymore. You just about register the weight dipping the other side of the bed.

"Bruno?" You find the effort to roll over and find Bruno smiling at you, "Didn't you get your own room?"

He chuckles, and a yawn stifles his laugh, "I didn't see the point, do you mind?"

"No, not really." You shuffle up closer to him and he holds you tight. You can feel the lace beneath his suit, you're playing with it when sleep finally conquers you. 

~~~~~~~~

You haven't slept that well in decades. You wake to the sound of Bruno's breathing, and you can feel his arms wrapped around you- you can smell his cologne through the thick aroma of smoke and wine. He runs his fingers through your hair, and you catch his eyelids fluttering before they open. 

"Did I wake you?" You ask, 

Bruno chuckles, pressing his forehead against yours, 

"No, no, you're fine." He pulls you in close, and you become a tangle of limbs with him. How long has it been since you've had a moment alone? Just the two of you, holding each other in the silence of an otherwise empty room. Your fingers curl in his lace, feeling the intricate designs, fingernails tracing the warm skin of his chest. He's so alive beneath your palms, breathing deeply, the rise and fall of his chest, the laughs that escape him in gasps, the way his hands explore your own body carelessly- unafraid.