#its fwuff

OH NO! I hope you feel better soon, my dear. Here you go! Get some rest!

Risotto didn’t expect for things to turn out this way, watching with his team fuss over him through is half-opened eyes. Somehow, he had fallen ill during the night, waking up with a stuffed nose and sore muscles. He thought he could push through the morning meeting but his uneasy stomach made it difficult to finish his sentences. At some point in the meeting, he had the misfortune of emptying what little he had in his stomach into a nearby trashcan. He was a bit embarrassed to say the least. 

“My apologies,” Risotto began, “I believe I fell unexpectedly ill last night. I will try not to get any of you sick.” The team gave each other a concerned look when Prosciutto got up from his seat and walked over to him, placing on Risotto’s sweaty forehead.

“You have a fever,” Prosciutto stated and turned to the others, “Ghiaccio, Melone. Go to the store and get some flu and nausea medication. Pesci, go to the store and buy fresh ingredients for soup. Illuso, go and change Risotto’s bedsheets with clean ones. Formaggio, help Risotto to the bathroom and turn on the hot water. We need to let him sit in the steam for a while.” 

Prosciutto took complete control, and Risotto found it difficult to interject and oppose his rule. He didn’t have the energy to argue, his fever causing his mind to fog up. Risotto heard as they got up to do what was asked of them, sounding like they were off in the distance. Just his luck, his ears were ringing now too.

“Okay, big guy. Let’s get you to the bathroom,” Formaggio tucked himself under Risotto’s arm, struggling to lift him from his chair. “Shit, boss. Can you lay off the weight for a while, you’re heavy as fuck,” Formaggio joked. Risotto reduced some of the burden from Formaggio by finding the strength to carrying himself to the bathroom. He didn’t realize just how sick he was.

Before being ordered to bed, Risotto sat in the hot steamy bathroom for about 15 minutes before deciding to hop in the shower. The hot water against his skin felt great, washing away the sweat that was covering his body. He heard the bathroom door open followed by Prosciutto’s voice. 

“Tch. You just had to get in, didn’t you?” Prosciutto complained but his tone softened. “Are you okay with dressing yourself?”

Risotto turned off the water, pulling the curtains back and stepping out to get a towel. “Yes. I may feel unwell but I am not a child. Unless you want to help me,” Risotto teased as he dried himself and watched as Prosciutto’s cheeks turned pink both from the steam and Risotto’s comment.

“J-Just get in bed!”

By the time he got comfortable under the covers, Ghiaccio and Melone had gotten back with the medicine. Melone insisted he spoon feed Risotto his medicine with Ghiaccio fighting him on it, not wanting Melone to indulge on his perverted fantasy in taking care of boss. As they argued with each other, Prosciutto marched over and whacked them over the head. 

“STOP ARGUING AND SHUT UP! Ghiaccio, give Risotto his medicine. Melone, you can feed Risotto his soup. Go help Pesci finish it!” Ghiaccio contorted his face in disgust, and Melone skipped out of the bedroom and into the kitchen to assist Pesci.

“I can do it myself,” Risotto said as he watched Ghiaccio open and pour some of the liquid into a medicine spoon. Ghiaccio pulled it back when he saw Risotto reach for it. It became obvious to him that his team was enjoying this.

“I’ll do it!” Ghiaccio insisted, his cheeks quickly reddening. 

Not much time passed when Melone, Pesci, and Prosciutto came in with the soup. Melone happily sat next to Risotto, cozying up next to him as Pesci stood next to him, looking annoyed.

“Why do you get to feed him,” Pesci mumbled prompted Prosciutto to yell at him to shut up and be grateful he let him make the soup at all. Melone couldn’t help himself as he fed Risotto’s the soup, making airplane noises before Prosciutto told him to shut the hell up.

Most of the team stood around as Risotto obediently consumed the soup, helping his stomach settle. During this, Formaggio and Illuso came out of Risotto’s mirror, Illuso carrying what appeared to be a humidifier.

“Look what we got for you, big guy! Helped with your sinuses or some shit,” Formaggio stated, somewhat ensure.

“It helps with moisturize nasal, throat, and lung passages, making it easier for air to pass through, you buffon!” Illuso snapped and Formaggio shrugged.

“Yeah, whatever.” Formaggio took it from Illuso’s hands and began to set it up. “You’re gonna feel as good as new by tomorrow, Ris!”

He watched as his team continued to fuss over him, asking him if his stomach was feeling better and if he was feeling too hot or cold. As the leader of an elite assassin team, he never expected himself to be in such a position, to be in such a vulnerable position. He didn’t expect a group of grown men, much less ruthless assassins, to care or even look after him the way they were doing. Part of him felt the need to address this familial compassion they were exhibiting, feelings unfit for men in their profession. But the other part of him wouldn’t allow himself that. Even assassin deserved to show their humility, right? They all deserved it too, didn’t they? His team never got the recognition they deserved and they always maintained an appearance even with each other. Risotto was a man of few words, but he couldn’t stop himself. They needed to know.