A/N: Day 7: Late

Domestic, sappy fluff,

It's caught between early in the morning and very late at night by the time Bruno stumbles home.

He fishes around in his pockets, on the hunt for his house key before he remembers that he didn't bring it with him in the first place. Not a problem. Sticky Fingers lets him in – but gives up halfway, so Bruno trips on his way through, foot getting caught in a disappearing zipper. He just barely makes it inside.

Exhausted right down to his stand, huh? Late nights don't suit him anymore, since he left his position as capo. This quiet life by the sea is too relaxing; doesn't keep him on his toes the same way, without the stress to push him on. There's much less adrenaline to keep him standing when everything else depletes.

Last year an all-nighter would be par for the course. Bruno would square his shoulders and keep on keeping on because he had no other choice.

Now, he's tottering into their cozy beach shack, kicking off his shoes wherever and aiming for as direct of a path to the bedroom as he can manage.

The stairs are to his left, and they'd be altogether unappealing if it weren't for the comfort that waited at the top, but…

To his right, there's the living room. Someone left a light on in there, and small though it is, it's spilling into the front hall. Some sense of responsibility tied to the electric bill carries Bruno's tired feet to the living room, seeking out that light so he can shut it off.

What he finds, though, stops him in his tracks and sends his heart flooding with warmth.

Leone is asleep. Slumped on the couch, curled up near the lamp. Book on the floor as evidence that he tried to wait up by reading, but didn't quite manage it.

A soft smile falls easy onto Bruno's face, and he wanders into the room proper. If Leone stays like this, with his long frame scrunched up and head tipped to the side, he's sure to wake up sore; it might already be too late to spare him from that, thanks to Bruno coming home hours later than he meant to.

Still, Bruno pauses in front of his husband. Leone looks so relaxed when he's asleep. That perpetual furrow in his brows eases away, and the harsh set of his mouth softens alongside the sharp lines of his face…

It's almost a shame to disturb him, but Bruno would rather he be comfortable in bed, and so. He tiptoes around behind the couch.

Bending over Leone, Bruno rubs his hands down the soft, black fabric of Leone's t-shirt, wrapping him in the closest thing to a hug that's achievable from this angle. He presses a kiss to Leone's temple, and murmurs, "Wake up, my love."

Leone makes an altogether charming noise, layered with grump at being woken up. The furrow between his brow returns, and he grumbles something incoherent.

Bruno kisses him, again. "What was that?"

All Leone offers is a grunt, his hands reaching blindly back to grab at Bruno. They catch in Bruno's hair as arms wrap awkward around him and tug until he's bent even further over Leone's shoulders, into a better position for Leone to clumsily mouth at his cheek.

It's supposed to be a kiss, Bruno thinks.

"Said you're late," Leone mumbles out, only a little bit more intelligible this time.

"Sorry." Bruno nuzzles into Leone as those arms clutch him close. This is why he came from behind – if he were around front right now, Leone would drag him in and down and they'd both be doomed to a night of uncomfortable couch sleep. Because if Bruno lies warm and cuddled with Leone anywhere, right now, he'll be down for the count. "We lost track of time."

"Fucking Giorno," is Leone's next sleepy mutter, muffled by Bruno's skin. He seems to be trying to merge his face into Bruno's neck, now.

And Bruno is smiling again – or maybe he never stopped – because Leone is so beautifully typical and Bruno is endlessly weak anymore. Fond warmth runs him through. "He gave you tomorrow off, when he realized how late our meeting ran."

"He's the boss, shouldn't need you to hold his hand." Or at least, that's what Bruno thinks Leone just said. It comes out as a series of consonants slurred together and punctuated by a yawn.

"I'm happy to offer advice." Reclaiming his arms, Bruno pulls away from Leone some so he can catch those eyes as they flutter open. "And you know I can't keep my nose out of things."

"You're retired," Leone says, frowning. His grumpy act is rendered transparent when he couples it with a playful tug to Bruno's hair, but he doesn't seem to care.

Bruno drops a kiss to the top of Leone's head in retaliation. "But you're not."

There's more under-the-breath grumbling from Leone. Something about worrywarts or meddling husbands or thoughtful assholes, or all of the above. He's always so grouchy when he first wakes up, but tonight it settles the warmth in Bruno's chest to a soft, affectionate glow.

Hands coming to rest on Leone's shoulders, Bruno squeezes inward, kneading his way toward a neck that's probably already sore.

That's all it takes for Leone's complaints to rumble off to a quiet groan. He melts back into the couch, his body goes lax, and his eyes fall shut all over again as he leans into Bruno's touch.

"Come on," Bruno murmurs to white hair as he presses another kiss to it. "Let's go to bed."

More grumbling ensues as Leone does his level best to go right back to sleep where he is. Pressed insistently into the couch cushions with his eyes firmly closed, he gives off a noise of discontent when Bruno moves away, taking his massage with him.

Around the front of the couch, (it should be safe, now) Bruno picks up one of Leone's hands. This earns him a single cracked-open eye. "Come on," he urges, giving a gentle tug to that hand. "You'll be more comfortable upstairs."

Wordlessly, Leone offers his other hand. Cooperating, at least.

With a shake of his head and that still-small grin, Bruno takes hold of this hand too. Using the grip he has on both, he helps haul Leone to his feet –

And is immediately wrapped in a tight hug, Leone falling to lean against him. Strong arms squeeze and lift Bruno off of the ground some, so Leone can carry him a few steps toward the stairs. It's impossibly sweet, and has Bruno laughing, but:

"The light, Leone."

Dropping Bruno, Leone spares a second to flash a scowl at him before he stomps across the room to turn off the lamp. Then he stomps back (grumbling to himself all the while), grabs Bruno's hand, and guides him up to bed.

Bruno still can't wipe the tired grin off of his face.

It's nice, how easy it is to keep a smile these days.

A/N: (Apologies that it's a little later than usual, I had a busy morning)

Thanks for reading!