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

19- Girls Night, Girls Night!

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!"