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Dante was terrified. He’s never trusted anyone, except for maybe Bucciarati, but now he was trusting another man to take him to the movies. He’d known Mista for a few months now. They’d flirted and done missions together, they’ve even been locked in a box together and Mista didn’t try anything.
So Dante didn’t know why he was so scared suddenly. He was always scared to be close to another man. Even sweet, stupid Narancia and Fugo who’d gone through something similar. Abbacchio seemed to understand, claiming his father had busted a 15 year old prostitute when he was 17. It was probably him. He’d been bailed out by his pimp the day of. And was put back to work immediately.
Maybe it was the thought of sitting in the dark, alone, with Mista that frightened him. A man had taken advantage of him in one before. He’d paid up front, so he expected Dante to give it up. Midway through the movie, he’d forced himself onto Dante and he had no choice but to allow it.
Anxiety and terror claws at his throat. So, he goes into Bucciarati’s room uninvited. Abbacchio jumps away from his spot in Bucci’s arms as the door opens.
“Knock next time!” He barks.
“Sorry.” Dante mumbles.
“What’s wrong?” Bucciarati asks, noticing immediately that he’s not his flamboyant self.
“I’m uh.. it’s nothing. It’s stupid.”
“You broke into ou- his room for this. Spit it out.” Abbacchio narrows his eyes.
"Is it your date with Mista?" Bucciarati always knows what's going on in Dante's mind.
Even when Dante doesn't. He seems to understand everyone in his familia, everyone he's closest to. He knew when Narancia's brain was too loud, that he needed his music to drown it out. That he needed to be sat with and held sometimes to ensure he was okay. He knew that Fugo needed to be left alone on his bad days and absolutely not touched. He knew Abbacchio lashed out in anger a lot, but he never really meant it. Mista needed to be reminded he was a good person sometimes and that nothing bad would happen.
Dante needed compassion and to never be touched without permission.
"Well, Honeypot?"
"Uh. Yeah. It's about my date with Mista. I'm really scared. I know.. I know he wouldn't do anything like that, but it's a fear y'know? Being alone in a theater.. in the dark.. people hurt me with less. What if.. what if I'm wrong about him? I can't.. trust anyone."
"You can trust Mista. He hasn't tried anything yet, right? Even when he had many opportunities. You've spent a lot of time alone with him, correct?"
"Yeah.."
"Has he touched you or done anything without your permission?"
"No, never."
"Then there you go. You're scared and anxious, but that's to be expected. Just go. You'll be fine, he won't hurt you. And if he does-" Bucciarati starts.
"Fugo will kill him."
"Exactly."
Dante sighed and stopped his endless worrying for just a moment. He left the two men alone and went to finish his makeup before his date.
“Hey, Honeypot! Get out here!” Narancia yells, a giggle in his words.
“Coming!”
His pink boots, probably too fleece filled for the sweaty Italian summer, slapped the ground as he rushed to the main room. When he got there, he saw a flustered Mista. He was wearing something different from his usually gaudy outfit. His hat was a black beanie, allowing a few curls to escape. His shirt covered his whole abdomen, somehow, and had a regular collar. He had pinstripe pants on, maybe his only pair of non-animal print leggings.
He still had his knee-high black boots. Which was like Dante, with his fluffy pink boots and the long skirt he put over it. His shirt was flowy, hiding the lack of a chest. He had hidden bike shorts under the skirt. A method of keeping himself safe, matched with the knife in his purse. And his stand, of course. But Mista’s stand could overpower his. Dante chased the thought from his mind. Mista wouldn’t hurt him.
“Why’re you dressed like a chick?” Narancia blurts.
“To make it easier to be on a date..”
“Smart!”
“I would’ve still gone out with you if you dressed like yourself, Honeypot.” Mista smiles softly.
“People’ll leave us alone more.”
“We’re both in the mafia, they’ll leave us alone anyways.”
“It’s too late to change, our movie is in half an hour.” Dante grabs Mista’s hand, nearly dragging him from their group house.
Bucciarati’s gang all lived together, since most of them were homeless before being taken in by him. They each had their own rooms, though Dante suspected that Abbacchio didn’t really use his.
Mista had picked out the movie, so Dante didn’t really know what they were seeing. He was pleasantly surprised to see an American rom-com. He was a bit worried that he’d pick out some stupid action movie. Or a weird gorefest. Maybe he’d gotten advice from Abbacchio and Bucciarati, like everyone did.
Halfway through the movie, Mista dug his hand into the popcorn resting in Dante’s lap. He froze, his eyes stuck to the screen. It was half a second. Mista pulled away and shoved the snack into his mouth, chasing it with Coke. He hadn’t tried anything. Dante released a breath. His fears were stupid, he knew that. Mista was a part of the gang because he’d killed three rapists. Why would he ever do that to Dante? He relaxed into his seat.
The movie was nearly finished, but Guido wasn’t looking at it. He just saw Honeypot. Dante. He’d agreed to go on a date with him after months of Guido’s pining and bothering Bucciarati for advice. His pretty face was flushed with the lights off the screen. The sunshine and bright moments revealed his plush lips and tired eyes. Fugo said that traumatized people looked like that sometimes.
Guido doesn’t really care why he looks like that. All he wants is to kiss him, really. It’s what he’s wanted to do since their first mission together. Granted, Narancia was there too, but Guido didn’t find himself minding.
The credits rolled and Guido watched Dante stand up. He wiped the crumbs off his skirt and turned to Guido.
“Let’s go.” He says using his girl voice.
Guido doesn’t like it as much as regular Dante. They all knew why Dante was so good at disguises. He liked to hide himself away, to pretend to be anyone but Dante de Luca. He never told them the name he used as a prostitute, but Guido didn’t want to know. That was never him .
He liked regular Dante de Luca the best. Their Honeypot.
On the way out of the theater, he grabs Dante by his wrist and stops him.
“Can I kiss you?” He asks.
Dante falters and sputters. His face floods with red. Guido thinks it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen.
“Yes.” He whispers.
The fake voice slips away. Guido pulls him close and kisses him deeply. A man whistles at them, which causes Dante to stiffen. He relaxes a little bit in Guido’s arms.
He can be protected now, and can protect himself. He’s safe.
“Are we..” Guido starts.
“Boyfriends? If you want to be.”
“I do. Badly.”
“Then of course.” Dante pecks his lips again and smiles against them.
They go back to the house hand-in-hand and don’t even care when Narancia makes fun of them.
Late that night, Narancia wakes up abruptly. His heart races and his face is warm. His dreams were full of his friends, who’d finally gotten together that day .
“Oh hell no.” He groans.