The lavish carriage was all painted a daring shade of ebony, minus the prominent golden family crest on the doors and the back. The wheels were probably the finest for miles- not even Giotto's coaches were as sleek and expensive as the one currently stopped besides the curb.
A middle-aged man stepped down from the driver's seat, lifting his top hat from his head with a seeping bow as he opened the door to the fine carriage for its owner inside. His graying dark hair wasn't as thick as it used to be, marred by balding spots on the very top of his scalp. His wiry mustache was hardly noticeable from the distance Alaude was watching, but he knew it was there from past experiences.
From the plush red leather seats slid the owner of the carriage, dressed from head to toe in the latest fashion of waistcoats. A silver chain glittered from his slack's pocket as he stepped out into the sun. He nodded to the driver and sent him on his way with the flick of a leather-clad wrist.
Alaude tucked his sketches back into a drab portfolio just as shiny black shoes came to a stop inside his line of vision. He didn't have to look up to know there was a smile painted across the towering man's face as the man slowly lowered himself to the grass in front of the detective.
"Alaude," a warm, silky voice greeted, not devoid of a smile. Alaude didn't acknowledge the greeting aside from making eye contact with the man seated in front of him.
The Primo Cavallone, Prisco Cavallone, removed his extravagant top hat and set it down on tree stump beside Alaude's portfolio. Next came the sky blue ribbons holding back in hair; they curled into a pool of silk beside the soft hat. Hair the color dark chocolate fell almost to Cavallone's shoulders, framing his handsome facial features just the way he preferred. A hand a shade or two darker than Alaude's, although concealed by leather, curled around the cloud guardian's and brought it to a pair of lips.
"I am glad to see you made it back safely from Paris, Alaude." The warm voice mumbled as he placed a kiss on each of the pale, bare fingers. "I missed you so. I was just on my way to visit you; It is a good thing I saw you lying out here beneath the tree."
Alaude's icy irises flickered from Prisco's lips to his eyes. Today they were sienna, he noted. Sometimes he could never quite describe the color of the mafia don's eyes. They seemed to change color depending on what color he was sporting that particular day. Darker colors usually meant hazy sienna or ebony; lighter colors could result in hazel or baby blue.
"I see you are wearing a new coat, even though it is of the same style as your old one; did you visit the tailor in France? It is very becoming on you." Cavallone flattered, holding both of Alaude's hands in his own now.
"It is new," The quiet Vongola guardian answered, gently tugging his hands from Prisco's grasp to absently straighten his collar.
"You have only been gone a week, yet it feels as though we've been apart for a year." Cavallone murmured, catching Alaude's pale cheeks in his hands. "Your hair has grown a little longer, too. It is nearly touching your collar. It's very fashionable."
"Do not say such idiotic things, Cavallone. A week is a week, despite you missing my company." Alaude's eyes flitted away from a smiling face to focus on a blade of grass instead.
"Oh, come now. I am romanticizing, Alaude. Do not spoil my fun." The aloof blonde didn't ever have to look to know that Cavallone's lips were drawn together in a pout.
"Romance in some other fashion. I am still recovering from my trip and do not have the patience to listen to your flowery words."
"If you insist. Shall we go for a walk, then? I shall buy you the finest pastries money can buy and share them with you as we walk." Cavallone did not wait for Alaude's answer. He rose to his feet and tugged Alaude to his. Absently he tucked the hair ribbons into his waistcoat pocket and replaced the hat on top of his head before he scooped up Alaude's art portfolio. "Some day you shall show these to me," he said, tapping the file to his hat rim. "I wish to see what sort of an artist you are. Then perhaps I will share mine, though they are quite boring. Landscapes are dreadfully unentertaining. Perhaps you would be interested in posing nude for me?" Prisco could help but ask coyly as his arm encircled Alaude's.
"I will not show them to you, nor am I interested in seeing your collection." The tips of his ears went crimson at the latter part. "Nor am I interested in posing for you." The curve of his sneer as Cavallone took Alaude's arm in his own did not go unnoticed but was not acknowledged as fingers intertwined.
"I would frame it in gold and hang it above my bed in my chamber." He teased, leaning forward to brush his lips against a colorless cheek that quickly reddened. "A true masterpiece."
"Hn," was Alaude's moody reply. "Keep your fantasies to yourself."
What happened next had started and finished so quickly, it took a moment for both parties to become aware of what happened.
Alaude had seen the glint of a gun in his peripheral vision. The ever-alert guardian had thrown himself into the targeted Cavallone leader and knocked him to the ground as the crack of a bullet leaving the barrel filled the air. Gun smoke overrode the soft aroma of the nearby bakeries and made ice eyes water.
Next the burning pain had descended. The back of Alaude's neck pulsed and his hand moved to press against it. When his fingers touched something wet, he drew them back to peer at the pads. Blood. He was bleeding. The bullet must have grazed the back of his neck, just above the spinal cord.
He didn't give his well-being nor the fact he had just taken a bullet for the Cavallone founder much thought as he jumped up, handcuffs gleaming demonically in the sunlight as he propelled himself forward. The attempted murder didn't have time to run before he found himself in a full body cuff, wailing at the tightness of the steel around his throat.
The gunshot had attracted the attention of an officer, thankfully one who worked for the Vongola family, and he joined Alaude at the scene. Only a moment later did he drag the criminal off to be tried for attempt at murder and Alaude strolled back to Prisco, who was still lying in the grass where Alaude had tackled him down.
"A-Alaude." His eyes were wide as saucers as a shaking finger pointed at Alaude's neck. "You're bleeding!"
Before the cloud could assure him he was fine, Alaude was crushed to a strong chest as his lips were crushed by another's set. Kisses were bestowed all over his face before the older don pulled away, cheeks tinted pink. "Apologies. You are injured. I will escort you to an infirmary." He drew the expensive silk ribbons from his pocket and wrapped the soft fabric around Alaude's neck to function as a bandage.
"There is no need for excessive worrying." The unfettered cloud protested, but a bigger body was determined to guide him to seek medical attention.
-x
It was a few weeks later when Prisco was finally able to see Alaude again. How unfortunate, that the day his lover was shot another crisis arose and he had to leave town for a short time. He had sulked like a child the entire time, his trusty men claimed.
"Alaude," he breathed a sigh of relief when he took in the sight of pale blonde hair from behind the chair in front of the fireplace.
The man in question merely quirked an inquisitive brow as the taller man's arms encircled his waist and pulled him into a tight embrace.
"You are okay."
"The assassin's aim was not correct. A fraction lower and the bullet would have hit a central nerve, resulting in irreversible paralysis." He droned in his attractive baritone voice. "A lucky shot."
Prisco's eyes scanned the skin of Alaude's neck. All that was left behind was a pale scar. He did not hesitate to press his lips to the spot. "Mm, lucky spot," he corrected as he repeatedly pressed soft, affectionate kisses there. Alaude didn't protest at all when Prisco pulled him completely into his arms.
"Mio piccolo gattino, as lucky as you may be, please do not ever scare me like that again."
"I would not hesitate to do it again."
"Why?"
"I do not allow people to get harmed under my watch, nor do I allow murderers to walk my streets."
Cavallone smiled against that pale, colorless spot with a smile as bright as a thousand suns. "Ti amo."
"Je t'aime," was a whispered reply, so soft Cavallone almost didn't hear it.
[Edit: A few grammatical errors are fixed. Thank you informing me.]