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It was mid-December and a glowy veil of Christmas cheer enveloped the city of Naples. Bright decorations shaped like presents, stars and reindeer lit the way for shoppers hurrying home with their newfound treasures in the wintry evening.
The holiday spirit touched each and every heart, including those of our favorite gangsters. Casa Bucciarati brimmed, in its own way, with the giddiness and excitement of Christmas.
“Shut up, Fugo!! If you keep it up, Santa won’t bring you any presents…” Narancia’s shriek overpowered the carols coming from the radio. The scrawny teen fought for balance on a stool while Fugo passed him the decorations with a violent gesture.
“All I’m saying is that there’s an order to everything. We should be putting the lights first, then these stupid balls. Bigger ones at the bottom, smaller ones on top. It’s obvious, you idiot!!!” He kicked the stool with each word. “This is why you fail 3 out of every 5 missions.”
In one corner, two silent figures busied themselves with the nativity scene, surrounded by miniature barn animals and shepherds, dried moss and brown paper. Giorno and Trish conferred deeply with each other regarding the setup of their ideal Christmas village.
“Trish, are these upright?” Mista, in his ugliest cropped Christmas sweater, asked from the top of the ladder, string decorations in hand. “Shut the fuck up, you two!! I can’t hear a thing over this racket.” He cussed at Narancia and Fugo while leaning down to hear what Trish had to say with her quiet voice.
Somehow, all the yelling mixed with the music in the background made for the perfect Christmas atmosphere. The capo sat at the kitchen table, busy with mafia paperwork and doing his best to focus through the noise. He’d usually be in his office at this hour, but the kids had insisted he at least come down while they put up the decorations to soak up the Christmas spirit.
Abbacchio sighed from his spot on the stove, stirring the mulled wine absently. Despite the joy that had been brimming around the house since the start of the season, Abbacchio was feeling particularly dreadful that evening.
In the last couple of weeks, Bruno had been busy with the end-of-year administration and Christmas planning day and night. He’d been going to bed very late, and when he came early, he was too tired to do anything other than fall asleep right away. Whatever free time he had from mafia work, he spent telling Abbacchio all about the wonderful plans and presents he was putting together for the group.
The capo had begun his seasonal preparations in November, when he sat everybody down to write ‘letters to Santa’. Although there were mixed responses at first, in the end he got one from each of them, except for Abbacchio, of course. Bucciarati knew better than to make him partake in the childish ritual. Now he was busy making sure to carry out everybody’s wishes.
Narancia had asked fervently for a drone and the newest Snoop-Dogg cassette tape, as well as all the candied orange that could fit into his stocking. Fugo had been the most skeptical, but he’d ended up mentioning a specific board game that had caught his eye in the letter. Mista found the whole sitch very fun, so he played along happily, insisting he’d been very nice that year and asking for a nerf gun specifically to shoot Narancia in the face. Giorno had reacted shyly, prefacing the letter with a message that Bucciarati didn’t owe him anything and that there was nothing specific he wanted, but that if he insisted, he’d always wished for a microscope kit as a kid. Bucciarati received nothing but a mistrustful side eye from Trish at first, but he reminded himself her mom had died earlier in the year, and that she needed a nudge to open up sometimes. In the end, he asked her to at least note down a few things that she’d like to receive, which turned into a laundry list including but not limited to a designer bag, branded cosmetics and many more high-end products.
Leone understood that Bruno had never had the chance to celebrate Christmas the way he’d wanted. It was his favorite holiday, and he was working hard to bring everybody together and recreate what some of them might’ve had with their now estranged or dead parents.
Bruno’s heart of gold had always been one of his favorite qualities, so it didn’t feel right to resent him for it. Even so, what about Abbacchio?! All the planning and busyness had him feeling neglected and pushed aside, his hole and cock wasting away and practically covered in spider webs. None of it for lack of trying. He’d made a move so many times throughout the last three weeks to no avail, his boyfriend was either too tired or busy to reciprocate. It didn’t help at all that seeing his capo being so dedicated and loving made him all the hornier.
Abbacchio was so lost wallowing in his misery that he almost burned the wine on the stove.
“Leone! Watch out…” Bruno’s voice interrupted his daydreaming. He rushed over to the stove and lowered the flame with a concerned look on his face. “Are you ok? You were going to boil off all the alcohol, that’s the last thing we want.”
“Sorry, sorry… I’m ok.” He felt his temperature rise at Bruno’s affectionate squeeze of his hand. Has it been this long? Abbacchio was even more touch starved than he thought, apparently.
As Bruno walked away and back to his paperwork, the radio host announced the next song. The sultry notes reached Leone’s ear as he resumed his task by the stovetop absentmindedly.
Santa baby… He rolled his eyes. It had come on at least three times a day this past week, and every time it did, it was hell on Earth for Abbacchio.
Been an awful good girl… Leone did his best to push away the feeling that phrase ignited in him, but all he could think about was seducing his very own ‘Santa’ sitting at the kitchen table. Maybe it wasn’t too late for Abbacchio to make a list of his own.
Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight…
-
Abbacchio decided to carry out his own personal preparations. He braved the pre-Christmas consumerist hell of the stores (and his phobia towards the color red) for the perfect holiday lingerie set, unearthed some old fishnets from his goth younger years and got to work.
The next night, he snuck into Bruno’s office and left a wine bottle with a small note on his desk:
“Dear Santa,
I hope it’s not too late to ask for my present. I’ve been so naughty this year, I’m afraid I’ll only get a lump of coal. Think we could do something about that?
–Mrs. Claus”
Abbacchio waited impatiently the whole day, looking out for any sign that his boyfriend had gotten the message. In the end Bruno slid him a folded paper underneath the dinner table.
“Dear Mrs. Claus,
Santa will be busy working tonight, but if you come by his office after 11pm, he’ll make some time to help you out. Naughty girls deserve presents too.
–Santa.
P.S.: Bring some milk and cookies, Santa is hungry.”
He couldn’t stop himself from rereading Bucciarati’s saucy reply in the hours leading up to his date with Santa.
-
Twas the night before Christmas eve, and the younger residents of Casa Bucciarati slept soundly in their rooms. Young Narancia mumbled unintelligibly against his old saliva-stained anime pillow; he dreamt of flying his new drone as high as it would go. Despite his standoffish demeanor during the day, that night Fugo dreamt placidly of teaching Narancia his favorite board game (and beating him at it). The oldest of them, Mista, slept the deepest, bringing down the house with his snoring. A light sleeper by nature, Giorno tossed and turned in his froggy sheets, earplugs the only reason he could sleep at all.
At the end of the corridor, Trish slept in her very own room. A dream of a shopping trip with her beloved mom put a smile on her face and relaxed her eternal frown underneath a cream-colored silk eye mask.
On the other side of the house, Abbacchio looked in the mirror with a satisfied huff. The velvety red fabric flowed beautifully over his hips, and the wide black belt cinched at his waist just right. Red doesn’t suit me so badly after all… He thought as he fixed up his belt and fishnets one last time. He was so tall that the Mrs. Claus mini dress did a lousy job at covering his butt, but he figured Bruno would be into that.
Abbacchio tiptoed to the office at the strike of 11 and knocked on the door softly.
“Come in…” The sight of Bruno sitting at his desk surrounded by all kinds of paperwork made Leone’s heart drop in equal parts sadness and disappointment. Had he maybe forgotten about their little date? However, when the busy capo looked up, the focused frown on his brow transformed right before Leone's eyes. “Lock the door behind you.”
Leone obeyed. He could feel his boyfriend’s lustful eyes on him as he moved to the trolley to fetch the bottle he’d gifted him. He set the bottle and two of their finest wine glasses on the heavy mahogany desk.
“Everything ok? How’s the report coming along?” Abbacchio undid the two top buttons of Bruno’s white shirt and rubbed the base of his neck.
Bucciarati sighed. “You know how it is… Work never ends for the capo.” He let out a big breath and sank into his chair, closing his eyes and letting Abbacchio massage his tense muscles for a while.
Abbacchio doubted for a second if he’d come at the wrong time. After seeing Bruno like that, he decided waiting a couple more days wouldn’t kill him. That same heart of gold had given him a new home and purpose all those years ago, the least he deserved was a bit of patience in return. Just as he was about to say something, Bruno’s words stopped him in his tracks.
“But tonight is not about capo Bucciarati.” He rummaged through one of his drawers and pulled out a bright red Christmas hat with a serious gesture. “You’re here to see Santa, aren't you?”
Abbacchio struggled to hold back a giggle.
“What, too much?” He motioned to take it off, an apologetic smile starting to form on his lips.
“No such thing as too much…” He didn’t look half bad with his shirt buttoned open like that. The gold of his crucifix popped sexily against his brown skin. Italian winters did very little to the natural tan of the fisherman’s son. Leave it to Bruno Bucciarati to look sexy in a Santa hat.
He pulled Abbacchio by the hand, guiding him gently around the chair and onto his lap.
“Well, Mrs. Claus, get comfy and tell Santa what your heart most desires.” Looks like his Santa hadn’t forgotten him after all.
Bruno hugged him close, wrapping a hand over his hip, caressing the top of his thigh and placing kisses on his jaw. Abba soaked in the attention for a few minutes, he hadn’t had much else than a quick hug from him in weeks. Now he could feel a little something starting to poke his thigh and the warmth from his beloved’s lap searing through the fishnets. Bruno’s arm around his back felt solid and safe. He was so touch starved that the firmness of that chaste caress was enough to set him on fire.
“Anything… I’ve missed you so much, just do anything to me.” Abbacchio wiggled against Bruno’s erection, turning his head to kiss him softly on the lips.
Bruno tutted playfully. “Nuh-uh. That’s not how it works. When you sit on Santa’s lap, you use your words and ask for what you want.” He spoke sternly in between kisses. “C’mon baby… there must be something you’ve missed extra badly. Let me spoil you tonight.”
Abbacchio had just come up with this whole Mrs. Claus sitch with the intention of getting a bit creative and doing something fun for his boyfriend. He never imagined Bruno would’ve played along to this extent, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like where this was going. Of course there were special things that Bruno did that he loved the most. It was just difficult to speak up and ask for them.
Well, this was a special occasion after all. Abbacchio leaned in and whispered in Bruno’s ear. He didn’t have the gall to say the lewd words on his mind out loud.
“I– I want you to spank me and… eat me out on the desk.” He blushed red and stuttered as those words came out of his lips.
“Very well. Your wish is my command. Won’t you indulge Santa for a bit, though?” Bruno patted his lover’s thigh with equal parts affection and possessiveness. “Stay on my lap for a little while longer…” Abbacchio softened under his touch. He could feel him getting harder underneath his dress pants, as he ran his hands curiously over the soft velvet of his dress.
“Baby, you look stunning… You did all this for me?” Leone knew his capo’s taste well enough to know what he was enjoying the most. The red dress was rather tight around his chest and shoulders, and Bruno was unable to keep his hands to himself. He massaged Abbacchio’s needy nipples with one hand, sneaking the other under the skimpy skirt.
He ground up from underneath, guiding Abba's hips down towards his erection. “Yeah, just like that. Look who’s a nice girl now.” Bucciarati’s deep grunts and teasing hands made Abbachio dissolve into a puddle of anticipation. He couldn’t help but lick his lips and beg for more.
“You want more?...”
“YES, yes, yes!!!” He begged between sighs, with a pitch far from dignified. Between the stimulation to his nipples, hearing his own neediness as he spoke, and the rising temperature in the office, Abbacchio’s cheeks had gained a healthy blush.
“What about your wishlist? Santa wants his milk and cookies…” Bruno pats the fleshy side of his hips and motions for him to put the sealed bottle and unused glasses away. “Let’s see what you got for me.” He guides him to lay down on the solid mahogany desk, ass up.
Bucciarati enjoyed the view profusely with a grin on his face. His hands moved of their own accord, fingers grazing the back of his thighs, pulling up the skimpy skirt of the dress and admiring the black lace thong under the fishnets.
Under his grip, Abbacchio whined and wiggled restlessly.
Bruno held his boyfriend’s hips firmly while teasing him in a stern tone. “Oh… what’s with this impatience? Greedy girls don’t get presents. Don’t you want a present?”
“Y–yes.”
“You know… Santa knows everything. You’ve been acting up lately haven’t you? Being so needy while I’m busy trying to fulfill my duties as capo. And now you’ve come and interrupted me once again.” Bruno tutted reproachfully, strengthening his grip on the soft flesh of Abbacchio’s ass. He came closer, his erection pressed closely. A hot whisper tickled Leone’s ear.
“What shall I do with this naughty girl I have right here?” He punctuated it with a firm slap on his buttcheek.
Abbacchio came undone at that baby spank. A moan escaped his lips muffled by Bruno’s paperwork on the desk.
“Santa knows a way for you to still get a present. But I don’t bend the rules for just anyone… It’ll be our little secret. You have to be a good girl and take what I give you. How does that sound, Mrs. Claus?”
“Yes…” Abbacchio whined desperately in between heavy breaths. “Give me everything… P– please.”
Bruno slaps the pale skin of Abbacchio’s asscheek firmly. For a fleeting second, Mrs. Claus worried she’d wake someone up with her lewd moan, forcing herself to quieten down. Abbacchio quickly remembered that everybody wore earplugs to sleep; it was the first time he was thankful for Mista’s snoring.
For a few seconds, the ticking sound of the grandfather clock dominated the air in Bucciarati’s office. The couple held their breath as they listened for any sign of movement in the house. Abbacchio hitched his breath at the sudden spank on the same side. “Ah–” His boyfriend knew how much he loved being caught off guard.
The flesh of his left cheek burned deliciously; just the thought of how red it must look against his light skin made Leone wriggle his erection helplessly against the hard surface of the capo’s desk. His fantasies were interrupted by another spank, this time on the other cheek.
Bruno doubled down his punishment, leaving Leone with no respite in between slaps. The needy whimpers went straight to Bucciarati’s head. His monochromatic dress pants felt tighter with every tortured sound his lover made; the friction felt heavenly against his erection. Bruno’s fingers gripped the fluffy ends of the red skirt in an attempt to ground himself.
With every hit, Abbacchio crawled ever so closely to that state of ecstasy that he knew all that well. It wasn’t the first time they’d played this game, after all. A sense of shame clouded his eyesight with tears threatening to spill over Bruno’s important files.
Abbacchio was melting into a puddle of pure bliss underneath his boyfriend’s stern hands, begging for more unintelligibly. What had once been clear hand marks on his asscheeks had now turned wholly red, from the sides all the way to his upper thighs. The tingling goosebump-riddled skin swelled and contrasted almost eye-catchingly against the black fishnets.
Bruno admired his work and bent down to kiss the tender skin, surprising Leone with a playful nibble of one cheek. His hands spread the scant flesh of his butt over the fishnets, his lips planting kisses along his crack and coaxing frustrated moans from Abbacchio’s sweet mouth.
“Fuck!!” His knuckles were white from gripping the edge of the capo’s mahogany desk.
“More?”
“Yes!! Yes, please…”
“Mmmhh… you always turn into such a nice little girl under my hands. How can I not indulge you when you ask like that? Time for your present, then.” Bruno’s doting words collided with his cruel fingers, teasing the red mark on his asscheek as he spoke. It made Leone’s head spin.
His sensitive skin made him suck in his breath when Bucciarati rolled down the fishnets inch by inch. The quivering hole amidst the red mess that was Abbacchio’s ass begged for attention from the very fingers that exposed it as they pushed the lacy string aside.
Leone felt Bruno caress him lovingly, spread him open with both hands and lean down. The overwhelming tightness and Bruno’s cheeky tongue drove him crazy. It left Leone with no option but to grind down in a desperate attempt at satisfying the hunger mounting in his core.
Bruno couldn’t contain himself after all was said and done. The capo enjoyed pleasing his beloved even more than he enjoyed winding him up, and he’d felt himself close to caving several times throughout the night.
He licked his lips in anticipation before ravishing Mrs. Claus’ to his heart’s content. Leone’s unrestrained moans flooded the air around them as Bruno invaded the depths of his hole with a stiff tongue.
Leone’s greedy entrance contracted needily around his lover’s tongue, brimming with anticipation for more. They knew each other well; the unspoken certainty that things wouldn’t stop at ass-eating was thick in the air.
Bruno pressed himself against his lover. The hairs of Leone’s nape stood up with his warm breath. “Is there anything else on your list, Mrs. Claus?”
“Unhh…I— ” Abbacchio whined and panted frustratedly, blowing messy strands off his face with every puffy breath.
Bucciarati only hummed coyly, rubbing his boyfriend’s shoulders with gentle loving hands and kissing his neck. “Are you trying to say you want me inside you?”
Leone gathered himself just enough to nod through the fog of his mind.
Without much ado, Bruno stood up to fumble through his drawers. He was interrupted by a motion of Leone’s; it signaled towards something inside his dress pocket.
The sachets of lube were tossed aside while the capo rolled down the lacy thong.
Having planted a final peck on his right buttcheek, Bruno massaged the fluttering entrance slowly but firmly. The lubricant smelled overly sweet and minty, undoubtedly some kind of seasonal freebie.
Leone’s hole winked and contracted in time with his shallow sighs of arousal. He sucked in a breath sharply at the intrusion of Bruno’s middle finger, letting it out with a throaty moan. Much as he was used to the stretch, its hot tightness never failed to take his breath away time and time again.
Abbacchio clamped up around the finger, grabbing onto the desk for dear life, adrift in an ocean of lust as Bruno pumped it in and out painfully slowly.
It wasn’t long before he introduced a second one; they were both clearly ready to get moving, enjoyable as it all was. He stiffened his fingers, prodding expertly right towards the spot he knew drove his Leone crazy. Delicious pangs of electricity from being rubbed all around, but never quite there, made him raise his ass in search for more of that luscious stimulation.
“Shit…” Leone panted breathlessly. “If you keep teasing like that I think I’m gonna come…”
“Ready to get back on Santa’s lap then, nice girl?”
“Yes… yes.” Abba struggled to get up, wiggling back and pushing himself up carefully from between Bruno’s stationery.
He was an utter mess, but breathtakingly so: ruined panties and tights rolled down to his thighs, eye makeup smudged, disheveled silver hair sticking out in weird places, glowy flushed complexion, Mrs. Claus' dress creased and half-open to perfection. The look of him made Bruno’s heart and cock hurt.
The capo took in the view hungrily, caressing his hips with his thumbs and proceeding to roll down the tights and panties with the utmost care. Abbacchio’s long legs were deliciously soft and silky. “It's not easy being Santa, you know? Having such a patient and compliant Mrs. Claus by my side makes it all worth it. Now come on here, let’s get you your well-deserved reward.”
Bruno unbuckles his pants and unzips his fly, rolling on the condom with practiced ease. He groaned at the sensation that enveloped him as Leone lowered himself around his up-until-then neglected thickness. Ahhhhh. Their bodies had missed each other terribly, more than words could say.
All the yearning he’d felt in the last weeks blossomed into unrestrained affection. Leone wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s shoulders lovingly and played with the fluffy ball at the end of his Santa hat. He pressed tender kisses on his mouth while breathing through the stretch, enjoying the exquisite pressure bordering on pain between his legs. Finally…
Bucciariarati’s breath strained. He squeezed Leone’s lean thighs and closed his eyes in an attempt at resisting the urge to buck his hips inside that deliciously overwhelming heat. The rim quivering intensely around his cock didn’t make things any easier for him. Thankfully for the helpless capo, his boyfriend was of the same mind as him.
“Let’s do this, Santa baby, we don’t have all night.” Abbacchio ground his hips slowly, but built up the pace with practiced skill. He jumped a bit at Bruno’s sudden grip on his hips, feeling his cock twitch and leak against the red velvety fabric of his dress. A throaty moan escaped his mouth inadvertently.
Bruno guided Abbacchio’s hips with a firm hand, and soon they fell into a rhythm, the repetitive creaking of the chair and dry thuds dominating the quiet atmosphere of the study.
The young couple were no strangers to each other’s bodies, and knew exactly how to pleasure the other person. Abbacchio bounced his hips expertly with the right amount of force and Bruno guided his movement, making sure he hit all the right spots.
Happiness washed over Abbacchio at the domesticity of that moment. He recalled all the sleepless nights they’d shared exploring each other, how patient Bruno had been with his slow heart. With the years, they’d built a solid understanding of what makes the other tick, and the safe comfort of this scene pulled at Abbacchio’s heartstrings. He closed in on his partner’s parted mouth, overwhelmed by the need to show his capo just how much it all really meant to him. He pulled Bruno closer in a gentle embrace.
Bruno and Leone kissed deeply, humming in unison to the rhythm of their bodies. The capo kneaded his lover’s scant buttcheeks affectionately with both hands, while Abbacchio held his jawline tenderly. The shameless exchange of affection made Abbacchio gasp. He suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe if he didn’t become one with his beloved. A rush of warm blood assailed his face, and his hips sped up on their own accord.
“Fuuck.” The force with which Bruno’s cock hit that tender spot just right coaxed moan after moan out of his mouth.
Bucciarati chuckled, and Abbacchio felt him smile against his lips. “Yes, just like that. Tell Santa just how much you want him.” He deepened his thrust, making sure to hit his prostate with every rock of his hips.
“Ah– Right there!! Don’t stop…”
“Baby… Are you close?” Bucciarati asked between heavy breaths, clearly close to the edge himself.
“Y–yeah, keep going.” Abbacchio moaned and threw his head back in ecstasy. As he tried to catch his breath, he was caught off guard by Bruno’s lips on his neck. He whispered sweet nothings in between kisses.
“You’re being so good tonight. I’m so lucky to have you.” Bucciarati’s loving words, together with the tender caresses to his nape, went straight to his heart. His boyfriend knew how to hit it just right, knew which words made him come undone; in that moment, nothing else mattered. Everything else, any stress or rejection he might have felt leading up to that night, seemed insignificant compared to the love they shared.
“I missed you so much… You have no idea.” The confession escaped Abbacchio’s lips without him meaning to. The shameful neediness made him a bit flustered, giving his face a tint almost as red as his dress. His tired legs shook, and he knew he was close to the edge now.
Bucciarati hummed apologetically. Abbacchio could feel the low vibration on the crook of his neck. “I know, amore mio. But we’re together now, my heart belongs to you and you only.” Almost as if to prove how sorry he really was, Bruno quickened up the pace and gripped his waist once again.
The cheap fabric of the red dress flew around with every bounce of Abbacchio’s hips. He braced himself for his climax and held on to Bruno’s shoulders, holding the Santa hat in place with one hand. The small white fluff on the tip swung to and fro.
Abbacchio’s legs squeezed around Bruno, sharp nails digging into his shoulders as his orgasm hit him. Fuck… He’d been so deprived of his beloved boyfriend’s cock that he came untouched. He shot his huge load right into the skirt of the dress, leaving a sticky puddle of cum.
Bucciarati wasn’t any better. He hadn’t had any action in weeks and was equally as sensitive. He came with a low groan, as Leone milked him dry with every clench of his thirsty hole, pistoning his hips until he couldn’t take it anymore and relishing the moans and sounds he pulled out of his lover with every thrust.
The exhaustion from the last weeks hit Bruno all of a sudden and, mixed with the deep sense of satisfaction radiating from his body, settled around him like a thick winter blanket. Abbacchio felt perfectly warm on top of him and the endorphins had him lulled close to sleep in seconds.
“Sorry to cut things short, but Santa’s had a long day. And you know Narancia, he'll be up at 6 making a racket already.” Bruno muttered those last words tiredly, his speech muffled by the fluffy edges of Abbacchio’s dress and his long platinum locks. He rubbed soft circles on Leone’s back as he spoke.
The gentle puffs of Bruno’s breath tickled Abbacchio’s neck, warming his heart in the cold winter night. He hums in agreement as he runs his hands through the capo’s disheveled black bob. Oh. Just in time, Abbacchio grabs the red and white hat before it falls off his boyfriend’s head.
They stay together on Bruno’s sturdy desk chair, the young capo nuzzling Abbacchio, and mumbling contently at the long nails scratching his nape. The couple let the minutes run by slowly, basking in the silence of Bruno’s office and none making a move to untangle their tired limbs.
In the silence, the grandfather clock struck midnight. Bruno pulled back for a second and smiled up at his partner. “Oh. It’s twelve already. Merry Christmas, Mrs. Claus.” He rubbed Abbacchio’s rosy cheek with his thumb, pressing a sweet peck on his lips.
“Merry Christmas, my capo.”
In years past, Leone had repeatedly braced himself against the loneliness the holidays brought him. Christmas was just another cold winter day. One where he was forced to reckon with the fact that he had nothing to celebrate and nobody to celebrate with. But in that moment, entangled in his beloved’s sweet embrace, floating in a post-orgasmic haze, he noticed he’d never felt happier. Even when the kids got on his nerves, or he came out half-dead from a mission, Abbacchio was experiencing something akin to belonging. Their mismatched gang had at some point turned into the family he’d never had growing up. He had always rolled his eyes at people preaching about ‘the true meaning of Christmas’, but in that moment, in the arms of his capo, Abbacchio thought maybe he understood after all.