A/N: Day 21: Vacation

Dads AU feat. five small children.
Domestic...nonsense...

"Do you mind putting Giorno down for his nap?" Bruno asks, busy wiping off Trish's tiny hands, while the rest of their brood (minus Giorno, of course) runs amok in the background. "I'll wrangle the rest of them."

Leone is a step away from falling asleep where he sits, and was previously pondering when he should intervene with the couch jumping, because someone is liable to lose their lunch soon – or an eye or some shit – if they keep going wild like that.

But Bruno's offer of a quiet escape is wildly appealing. And it comes along with that knowing sort of glint in his eye, which means he's noticed that Leone is nearing the end of his fragile patience.

Still. Three rambunctious tots plus one pudgy baby is a lot for just Bruno to handle, so Leone double checks.

"You sure?"

"Mhm," Bruno assures, with another charming sideways glance across the table. "If I need help, I'll call you – but I think they'll settle down just fine."

That's a bold assumption he's making.

Then again, the gremlins do tend to listen to him better than they do Leone. Which is annoying as hell but comes in handy in situations like these, when Leone's energy wanes and Bruno is even more of a godsend than usual.

"Okay, then." Shoving to his feet, Leone gathers Giorno – who's nothing more than a cherubic blob with dark hair and big turquoise eyes – from his high chair, and cradles him close. "Your funeral."

Bruno swats at him as he passes, but there's no real heat behind it. And he's laughing; a pretty sound amongst the wind and the waves and their screaming children and wow Leone is in so deep. Being tired doesn't help.

It's okay, though. Vacations are for relaxing.

Or. They were, before the whole let's adopt five entire kids what could possibly go wrong, thing. Now vacations are mostly for wrestling sunscreen onto a handful of tiny writhing creatures that demand to be tossed into the ocean or buried in the sand or given ice cream. Sometimes all of those at once. (And then he and Bruno have to do their best to explain why that's not possible, Narancia, nor is it safe.)

That's not to say that vacations these days aren't just as fun. They're just that much more exhausting.

At least kids' clothes are so little that they can share a suitcase. Leone doesn't want to think about the hassle of luggage when they all get older…though it might be a fair trade-off for a quiet car ride…

Oh well. As it is, they're still small enough that, as a family, they can squeeze into two bedrooms in this rented beach house. The three oldest – who are currently getting into a pillow fight with the couch cushions, by the sound of it – share, and the two youngest room with Bruno and Leone.

These are the quiet ones (when they aren't crying for something), and Leone's personal favorites right this exact second.

Their room is where he should deposit Giorno, rock him to sleep and sing to him and all because he likes that shit, and then maybe Leone can put himself down for a nap, and hope that Bruno can handle the rest.

But…something a bit more appealing than rented bedrooms catches Leone's eye on his way past the patio doors. Something down the beach a little ways.

So he hefts Giorno in his arms and murmurs, "Don't tell Padre," into a squishy cheek.

Giorno makes a tiny series of noises as if he understands that he's been sworn to secrecy, and tangles a small fist in Leone's hair.

Vacations can still be relaxing, dammit. This is Leone's motivation for slipping out of the beach house and onto the sand, making a beeline for a small grouping of trees. They offer a tempting patch of shade from the blinding early afternoon sun – and in said patch of shade, a hammock hangs. Situated right in the path of the ocean breeze.

It's calm, it's quiet, and it's private enough that Leone deems it an acceptable naptime location. So without further ado, he collapses into the hammock, taking Giorno along with him, pressed to his chest.

The hammock sways, some, but steadies after a moment. The movement is calming, anyway.

Seems like Giorno also finds all of this agreeable. Cuddling down into Leone's t-shirt as he is, and all. Closing his eyes.

Leone curls an arm beneath Giorno to help him stay in place, and once he's sure he won't lose a child to the sand, he lets all of the remaining tension drain from his body.

This is nice.

Tropical scenery all around as he dozes off with the best-behaved of all their children as his only company…

"Don't tell the others," Leone mumbles, ruffling Giorno's hair, "but you're my favorite little brat."

All of them are his favorites, in actuality (no matter how much Pannacotta stomps his tiny foot and insists that's impossible), but there's no better napping companion than Giorno. He settles down easily, most of the time, and thank fuck today is no different.

It's a far cry from last night, when everyone had been way too excited about the first night of vacation to sleep. Everyone meaning the kids, of course, and instead of sleeping, he and Bruno were forced to stay awake, too. Giving out way too many bedtime stories and glasses of water while fending off one too many tantrums.

No actual rest took place. And now Bruno has tasked Leone with putting Giorno for a nap. So surely he won't mind if Leone tags along. If he maybe just shuts his eyes for a second…surely Bruno expects this to happen…

"Papà! Gio!"

The sudden appearance of that squeaky voice is accompanied by the hammock dipping to one side, and Leone reopens his eyes to raise both eyebrows at the mess of dark hair and freckles next to him. Looks like someone escaped Bruno's naptime wrangling.

"Yes, Narancia?"

"Me, too," Narancia decides, and promptly starts to try and haul himself aboard the hammock. "I wanna get on the ham'k, too."

"Hammock," Leone says, on reflex.

"Ham'k."

Close enough. Grabbing onto one tiny arm as tiny hands grab onto him, Leone helps Narancia climb his way into the hammock, and wraps an arm around him as he snuggles in. Makes himself right at home.

After a half-second of silence, Narancia tips his head up and asks, "Can we swing?"

"No. It's naptime."

Narancia's nose scrunches up, and he considers. He's probably trying to be extra adorable in the hopes that Leone will promise that they can swing after, but Leone's no fool – he knows if he promises that, then Narancia will only pretend to sleep for a few minutes before opening his eyes and demanding swings.

It's what happened last year, after all.

"Okay," Narancia acquiesces. How sweet of him.

What the hell did Bruno do, to mellow him out this much?

…Maybe Narancia's just on a well-behaved streak.

(Hah. Not likely.)

All that matters is that he's settling down, though, and so Leone feels safe enough to do the same. Now both kids look to be on their way to dreamland, and he's well on his way to joining them – right up until there's a scuffing in the sand, and he has to crack an eye open to check on the disturbance.

"Hello, Panni."

Pannacotta pulls his signature impressive frown. The one that Bruno always – incorrectly – jokes that he learned from watching Leone.

Trying to persuade him to use his words while he's in a mood could upset this whole nap operation, and anyway, Leone can guess what he wants.

"Would you like to come up on the hammock?"

A terse nod (Leone didn't even know children could nod tersely until he met this one), and then Pannacotta grabs onto the weathered netting. He pulls himself up with minimal help from Leone and heads for Leone's other side. Crawling across all of the bodies in his way to get there. Which is bound to cause –

"Ow!" Narancia complains. "Papà, he kicked me!"

That. Which will inevitably be followed up by:

"I did not!"

"You did!"

That.

Well. The peace was nice while it lasted. Leone sighs as the back and forth of, "Did not!" "Did!" rinses and repeats for a few rounds. He wonders if they'll just wear themselves out – sometimes they do, Bruno doesn't know, but Leone has experimented – but this time it only seems to be escalating.

Plus, Giorno is squirming against Leone's chest, making some altogether unhappy sounds, and if he starts fussing then none of them will get a proper nap.

"Not my fault your fat head was –"

"Settle down, you little shits," Leone intervenes on a mutter.

It works, if only as a distraction. Because now they're giggling at the swear word, but at least no one is shouting insults, so Leone counts it as a step in the right direction.

Even when Narancia repeats, "Shit," in his tiny voice, and snickers at his oh-so-clever humor.

"I'm telling Padre," Panni threatens, even though he's laughing right along with Narancia, his face buried between Leone's arm and the hammock.

"No," Leone says, "you're sleeping."

"I'll tell after."

"You will not."

"Will to."

"Shit!" Narancia chimes in.

Leone rolls his eyes as they dissolve into another fit of giggling. He is not at all tempted to laugh along, and his mouth does not form a smile without his consent. If it weren't for Giorno scrunching up his face, Leone might let this carry on – as it is, though, it's time for peace and quiet.

"Shh," he soothes, to Giorno and the other two brats alike. Rubbing at Giorno's back is enough to banish the grumpy expression from that chubby face. It goes all angelic again in no time.

By some similar miracle, Narancia and Panni are quiet now, too.

…Albeit after shushing each other back and forth for a few seconds. Whatever works.

This round of hard won peace lasts for a few minutes at most. What hauls Leone from sleep's edge next is an audible gasp, followed by feet sprinting over sand, and he wrenches his eyes open just in time to spot Guido hurrying toward them.

He launches himself at the hammock, landing heavy on Leone's shins (ow – it just had to be their oldest –) and setting the whole hammock into a violent sway.

Narancia squawks, and four sets of little hands clutch at Leone to keep from falling into the sand below – he manages to finagle a leg free, and stops their movement by bracing his foot on the ground, slowing everything back to normal.

Against his chest, Giorno is whimpering, so Leone murmurs soft words of apology on behalf of his hellion brothers (though he fears Giorno will grow up much the same).

"What was that for?!" Panni grouches, riled right up. Extra grumpy because he's tired. Wonderful.

"There were four of you on the hammock!" Guido shrieks, until Leone shushes him. He then continues at a much softer volume. "I couldn't let there be four of you on the hammock."

Rocking Giorno as best he can, Leone can appreciate the sentiment. "Thank you, Guido," he murmurs, hoping to deescalate the situation with soft words. Something that always comes easy to Bruno, but eludes Leone though he does his best. "But next time –"

Panni, though, seems to be against things deescalating. "Yeah thanks for nothing you –"

"What's going on out here?"

Oh thank god. That's the voice of Leone's salvation, and sure enough Bruno hovers into view, then, standing beside the hammock with a wide-eyed Trish in his arms. She looks tired, tiny eyelids drooping on heavy blinks and a tiny fist in her tiny mouth.

"Naptime," Leone answers.

Because that's what's supposed to be going on out here. So far only Giorno is really cooperating, and that is no fault of Leone's. He was only tasked with Giorno, after all. Everyone else is out of his jurisdiction. Technically speaking.

"Padre," Panni says, sitting up on his knees and making the hammock sway some despite Leone's anchor, "Papà said shit and so did Narancia."

There's a squeak of protest from Narancia, who is now also trying to get up and defend his honor.

"Oh dear." Bruno feigns surprise, and quells Narancia's fretting with a hand in his hair. "Thank you for telling me, Panni," he says, sparing a hard look for Leone before moving on to ruffle Panni's hair. Unfair.

Fortunately, Giorno interrupts injustice with a soft, "Nn," sound. It's as close to words as he gets, and it's adorable as hell.

"What he said," Leone agrees.

"But he didn't say nothing," Guido argues, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"He didn't say anything," Bruno corrects.

"Yes he did," Leone corrects, too, but a different and more important aspect. "He said it's naptime."

A sappy, fond expression eases onto Bruno's face, then – and it's somehow even more blinding than the sunlight that's filtering through the trees, but Leone can't take his eyes off of it.

Bruno leans in close, bending over the hammock so that he can press his lips to Leone's forehead. God. The contact is so soft that Leone could fall asleep right that second, with warm fingers brushing hair out of his face, and a gentle kiss landing on his temple next. His eyelashes flutter at the feel of it.

"Me, too!" Narancia demands.

So with a soft puff of laughter, Bruno lifts away from Leone's face, and distributes a round of forehead kisses to everyone present. And then another. They're in high demand, today.

"Is there room for us?" Bruno asks, once everyone has received a satisfactory amount of smooches (Leone could go for a few more, actually, but now isn't the time to ask for them). "Papà's right, it's naptime."

"Yeah! Yeah, Padre, here!" Scrambling atop Leone's stomach, Narancia frees up his previously occupied spot, which is Narancia-sized and therefore small.

To compensate, Leone moves over as best he can, and Panni and Guido shift to help make room until there's a more Bruno-sized gap beside Leone. Slow and careful and pressed against Leone's side, Bruno settles in, bringing Trish along with him.

Leone wraps an arm around Bruno, and the kids squeeze in around them. On top of and between them and all. Giorno keeps his perch atop Leone's chest, and Trish stays nestled to Bruno's. Narancia is squished between them and sprawled atop them all at once, Panni is hugging Leone's other arm, and Guido is tangled lower, around their legs.

Now is a fine time to ask, but the hammock is creaking ominously and so Leone wonders, "…Can this thing hold all of us?" There's no ruder awakening than being dumped on your ass, after all.

Bruno hums in confirmation, and he's close enough to kiss Leone's cheek, this time. "It's sturdy."

And Leone has half a mind to protest, but it seems like Bruno is even more tired than he is, because he's already starting to drift off. His body is lax, his breathing deep, and their kids are starting to follow his example, one at a time.

What the hell…?

What kind of bizarre calming magic does he have that Leone doesn't?

…Oh well. Whatever it is, it works on Leone, too, so he doesn't have room to complain. Not when he's got his entire family tangled too-warm around him, and is fast succumbing to sleep at last.

A/N: Thanks for reading!