Title: Bruises
Rating: PG, just humor
Characters/Pairing: Romario, Dino/???
Warnings: none, but beware of falling Dinos XD
Summary: Romario has a sneaking suspicion that something's not quite right with his boss, and he has plentiful evidence to prove it.
- - - - -
This was written based on that meme-type thing where a randomly selected song yields the title and word count for a fic.
Song: "Bruises" – Chairlift
Words (Song Length): 401 (4:01)
- - - - -
Romario will gladly stake his professional reputation on his firm and most educated conviction that his boss, Dino Cavallone, the tenth-generation head of a deeply respected mafia family, has hopelessly and helplessly, utterly and completely, blindly and blissfully fallen head-over-heels in love. And when the boss falls, he falls hard. Spectacularly and notoriously hard. Romario knows that better than anyone.
If the boss has indeed fallen in love, as Romario won't hesitate to assert, then a lovesick Dino Cavallone can be aptly likened, without exaggeration, to a bull—better still, an elephant—turned loose in the proverbial unsuspecting china shop.
Romario's most striking evidence in support of his opinion cites the astonishing observation that, while the average day's events quite suitably label the boss as a royal klutz in his own right, his usual endearing clumsiness fittingly pales in the face of this newfound terror unwittingly unleashed upon the Cavallone household. The boss's penchant for self-induced injury has veered exponentially beyond any precedential mishaps, which had been sufficiently staved off by the presence of Dino's men—that is, until recently.
Over the past week or so, the boss has developed an ingenious talent for tripping not only down flights of stairs but up them as well. The boss's habitual rowdy, infectious laughter melts to blushing giggles whenever they pass a florist's shop, whereupon he promptly pricks all ten fingers after thoughtlessly snatching the nearest bouquet of red roses. Romario sighs to himself as slamming car doors victimize the boss's head and hands, panics as he rushes to the boss's side after face meets pavement for the third—no, fourth—time today, smiles wanly as the boss sheepishly chuckles, "gomen, gomen," while clutching an ice pack to his knee, furrows his brow while raiding the sizeable first aid kit for band-aids and antiseptic after the boss's rather unfortunate head-on encounter with a sliding glass door and an unsteady flower pot.
But the boss isn't fazed in the least, simply dusts himself off and comes back for seconds, laugh never faltering, and Romario swears the walking disaster known as Dino Cavallone must be the most resilient creature on the face of the planet.
As a thump, a familiar "ouch!", and a string of spluttered curses assail Romario's ears, he sprints to the scene, fervently praying that he'll deliver a still-living, still-breathing, still-in-one-piece boss to the first date next week. It won't be easy.