Oh! Oh! Can you do headcanons of la squadra slow dancing with their s/o? Please :D
Risotto: You were in Risotto’s office, helping him organize his bookshelf. Well, you were bored and took it upon yourself to organize for him. Risotto was distracted by some documents, unconcerned with what you’re doing. As you clean the shelf, you find a vinyl. “What’s this?” A question more to yourself than to him. “A record.” You examine it, seeing if its in good condition. It’s a record of Italian classics. You wonder why he has it. “It was a gift from Ghiaccio,” he answers like he read your mind. “He believes it’s essential that every Italian knows those songs. He’s given them to the others as well,” He says with a bit of amusement. “Do you have a record player?” You look around the office, expecting to find one. Risotto says there is one in their basement but doesn’t know if it still works. You jump to your feet and go to find out. It turns out that it works just fine. It took you a while to figure out how it works, but you manage. As you mess with it and get it to play one of the songs, Risotto comes it to check on you. “I was getting concerned,” he kisses your cheek. “It works!” You point out the obvious, and he hums knowingly. It’s playing an instrumental version of ‘O Sole Mio. You and Risotto stand and listen when you take his hand into your and swing them. “Dance with me?” placing his hand on your hip. You can tell he’s contemplating, needing to finish paperwork, but he couldn’t deny you with that look. “Of course, tesoro,” holding you close rocking to the music, dipping you and twirling you into the night.
Prosciutto: He’s a natural at ballroom dancing in both standard smooth and Latin rhythm dances. You didn’t even know he could move his hips like that! You’re a obviously intimidated because he looks like a natural, and you may know how to dance, but not like THAT. You’d stick out like a sore thumb if you went dancing together, so you always reject him when he asks you to go dancing with him. He eventually persuades you, bothering you until you give in, to go dancing with him, promising that he will be the lead and your body will follow on its own naturally. He buys you an outfit that coordinates with his. As the night progresses, you’re reluctant to admit to yourself and him that you’re truly having fun, knowing he’d give you his signature smug smirk because he proved you right. Looking around, you can tell many people are tired and need a break, even you can see beads of sweat rolling down Prosciutto’s forehead, but he still has a smile on his face. “You look happy,” you point out with a smile. “Huh? Of course. I got to bring you here and show off how dazzling you look,” He pulled you close, “and seeing your beautiful smile was a wonderful bonus,” pressing his thumb on your bottom lip before bringing you into a kiss. Soft music is played in the background, like an intermission for the dancers, and Prosciutto pulls you onto the dance floor. “Don’t you want to rest?” Noting that his face is a tad flushed. “I don’t want to lose an opportunity to be able to hold you close.” Prosciutto hands caress your neck and slide to your shoulder, your back, waist down to your ass, squeezing it, and back to waist, and dance into the night.
Pesci: Is insecure about dancing because he has two left feet. Is very likely to step on your toes if you tried dancing. One time, Prosciutto moved the furniture in the living room to make space to teach him (and you) the waltz, foxtrot, and tango. He uses you to demonstrate and you can see Pesci pout (he’s a little jealous) and then he uses Pesci to demonstrate. You pick it up pretty quickly; you’re not amazing, but you don’t look like a fool. Pesci, on the other hand, is having difficulty and can’t manage to remember the basic steps. Prosciutto gets frustrated and yells at him until he’s had enough and leaves. Pesci mopes and staggers to his bedroom and you follow, concerned. You rub his back, assuring him it’s okay. He doesn’t need to learn those fancy dances. He isn’t looking at you but you hear a sob and it breaks your heart. You’re determined to make him happy, so you get his (or your) music player and play a classic ballad. You take his hand and pull him up and hug him. You go and place his hand on the small of your back and take his other hand and entwined it with your own and being swaying. It’s not classy like Prosciutto’s teaching, but that doesn’t matter at all. Being close to him is enough. Not long after, a smile works a way onto his lips, and he hugs you closer and follows your lead.
Formaggio: Any kind of slow dancing happens when it’s nearing the end of the night and the bar you’re at is near closing. When you get there, you and Formaggio are dirty dancing and grinding on each other, drinking and taking shots. As the night ends, the staff cleans around you. You two are regulars, so they don’t kick you out immediately. In fact, the DJ continues to play music but it’s slower; sentimental ballads, if you will, and the staff is cleaning around you. They are amused that you two can go from dry-humping to sweetly and romantically (though drunk) dancing. You’re holding each other’s weight, making sure neither lose balance due to being slightly intoxicated. Formaggio is chuckling and nuzzling into the crook of your neck and inhaling your scent. He is whispering how much he loves you and wants to hold you forever and how he promises to be with you until you’re old and wrinkly.
Illuso: It was your one year anniversary with Illuso, and he was nowhere to be found. You left calls and messages and even contacted his team about his whereabouts but they were no help. It’s not that they didn’t know; “It’s classified,” they said. Illuso usually tells you when he’s gonna be gone on long missions, but he didn’t say anything this time. So you were debating whether to be pissed or worried for him. As the day ends, you get a call from him. You’re frantic and ask him if he’s alright, if he’s hurt, is he stranded somewhere. You hear the exhaustion in his voice, explaining that he is alright, but how he was sent on a mission unexpectedly and didn’t have time to contact and pauses. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be with you to celebrate tonight, Amore. How can I make it up to you?” You can hear the sincerity in his voice. You want to hold him close and tell him it’s okay, but you just got to settle with reassuring him that he doesn’t have to, that it’s fine, “work is more important I know.” Even though that’s not the meaning you intended, those words cut him. ‘Nothing is more important than you, Amore,” He wanted to say. “Can I see you tomorrow?” He laughs. “Of course.” With that, you say your goodnights and you go to bed at ease. At 3am, you wake up to noise, music to be specific, outside your mind. You peer outside and see Christmas lights hanging on your tree and lights wrapped around the trunk. It looks beautiful. You see Illuso and a boombox playing a soothing melody. “You said you wanted to see me tomorrow.” You gawk, surprised by this sudden display, but laugh immediately and proceed to run outside and throw your arms around him. You’re only in a t-shirt and your underwear, but you don’t care. He looks at you, examining and memorizing every detail of your face before kissing you deeply. The music plays before you, coaxing you both to dancing to its rhythm until Illuso is ready to carry you to bed.
Melone: You and Melone have left a decent restaurant and had a bit to drink especially you. You’re clinging to Melone, laughing in his ear and kissing his cheeks, his ears, his forehead, his eyelids, everything. Melone is laughing along with you returning your kisses with just as much fervor. Neither of you have plans on going back to either of your homes anytime soon and want to enjoy your time together. You’re walking down the beautiful coast of Naples, watching as the sun sets. Melone takes you to some places near the area to make sure you sober up when you come across a band that’s playing music outside a bustling restaurant; you decide to stop there. You nestle in Melone’s arms, watching some of the other couples dance. When the band starts playing romantic music, you watch as the young couples go back to their seats with only the older ones staying behind to dance with their lover. Melone gentle pries you away and moves to bow in front of you, holding out his hand. “May I have this dance?” He flashes a charming smile and leaves a kiss on your hand. Melone is never one to shy away from showing off his love for you. He wanted to make a statement to those other couples but also wanted to show you and how perfect you are off. You’ve danced with him many times and this wasn’t any different. The way you moved together, the way your hands fit so well together, how your breathing was synchronized. You knew Melone was thinking it too. How you two were fated to meet, find each other, and be together.
Ghiaccio: He will not slow dance where anyone will see him. He will not slow dance in front of strangers; he will not slow dance in front of his team. He has a paranoia that they will laugh at him, and he hates being laughed at. But if you’re playing soft music while having a stay-at-home date then MAYBE he will humor you with a dance. It’s all leading up to that moment, you want him to hold you tenderly; you want to hold HIM tenderly. You grab his arm and try to tug him off the couch but he’s holding on like his life depended on it, yelling that he doesn’t want to dance. Eventually, you give up and slump your shoulder and pout and go to sit down on the chair at the opposite side of the room and face away from him. You hear a “tch” and you sit there in silence for a while until you feel a tap on your shoulder. Ghiaccio is extended his hand, signaling to take it. You do and make no comment because you know he’s gonna treat into himself again. He pulls you close, pressing your hips together and wraps his hands around your waist. Even like this, he still has that angry scowl. You lean in and lovingly rub your nose against his and wrap your hands around his waist too. His face softens as the song nears its end and is replaced with a look of tenderness.
Sorbet and Gelato: Sorbet is at the kitchen table, counting the stacks of cash from his and Gelato’s latest mission. You and Gelato are in the living room, drinking and conversing about irrelevant things and eventually singing “ Con Te Partiro” obnoxiously and horribly, laughing as you did. In time, Sorbet has had enough and is marching to the living room to put an end to your shenanigans. “I’ve had it with you two! Can’t you behave like adults?” He crosses his arms and taps his foot, finding Gelato in your arms with his legs wrapped around your waist as you wobble back and forth. You and Gelato look at each other and laugh. You put Gelato down and grab Sorbet and bring him into your arms. “Loosen up, Sorbet,” you smirk and pat his butt. Gelato starts humming “Con Te Partiro” but this time he does it well. Gelato is actually a very good singer with an angelic voice, but he likes to come off as unpleasant as possible. Your hands are rubbing circles into Sorbet’s upper back, hoping to ease some of the tense, and he eventually does relax and give into your rhythm. Gelato continues to hum as he moves and places himself between you and Sorbet, who rolls his eyes at his lover’s antics. Gelato his facing you, puckering his lips to get you to kiss him, which you do. And he turns and does the same to Sorbet, who withholds the kiss before giving in. You rest your body on Gelato’s back, who then nestles himself in Sorbet’s chest. Holding his lovers in his arms has Sorbet breaking his facade, smiling warmingly knowing he has his lovers by his side and begins humming his own soft melody.
