02 ּ֯ . ❥ ּ֯ ┆꒰ 𝐆𝐡𝐢𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐨.ᐟ ꒱

La Squadra's base was unusually quiet that afternoon. The rest of the group had gone out on a mission, leaving them alone with the murmur of the television and, for once, with no one to endure Ghiaccio's outbursts of anger.

Or at least, no more than usual.

A little while ago, the blue-haired man had thrown one of his usual fits of rage after discovering the meager payments Passione had given them for their latest job. He had spent several minutes ranting against the organization, the incompetent people who managed the money, and especially against anyone who dared suggest he calm down.

Now, however, he was practically lying on top of you on the sofa, his arms around your waist and his face pressed against your chest. He was still muttering the occasional complaint under his breath, but he seemed to have found some peace in that position.

What you two had was… complicated. Too close to call mere colleagues, yet you'd never put a name to that strange relationship. Ghiaccio would never admit how much he enjoyed those moments, though he also seemed to have no intention of leaving you.

As the television continued to play in the background, you absentmindedly began to play with one of the distinctive blue curls in her hair. You wrapped it around your finger and gently tugged it back before letting go.

—Boing.

The curl returned to its place.

Ghiaccio remained motionless for a moment.

You did it again.

"What the hell are you doing?" he muttered, raising his head slightly to look at you over the top of his glasses.

His expression was meant to be threatening, but the slight blush that was beginning to spread across his cheeks betrayed him.