Chapter Text
Some days—more often than not, if he pushed aside his humble nature—he could admit that it was good to be Pantalone de’ Bisognosi.
It was truly a beautiful morning, its sun beaming across the blanket of snow that still lingered from a few nights prior. The skies were a clear, brilliant blue, a hue that seemed to exist only on winter’s coldest days, and on the air was the crisp, fresh scent of snow and ice. Truth be told, that brisk scent was more energizing than coffee ever could be. The cup in his hand let out a curl of steam, as if hearing his thoughts, and Pantalone couldn’t help his smile. As lovely as late morning winter might smell, he still appreciated coffee’s rich, earthy aroma. This morning he’d even been a bit of a lush, taking some cream in it as well. No sugar, mind. He still had his figure to look after.
It was shaping up to be a perfect day, just one more to lose in a stream of so many other successes. He had a few clients to meet with but should still have enough time to enjoy a little breakfast on his morning walk. And, if he was prudent about sticking to his schedule, he’d even be able to cook dinner later. The gods knew it’d been too long since he’d last dallied about in the kitchen. He had some angel hair pasta in the pantry, didn’t he? Maybe some cherry tomatoes in the fridge? Oh, and if he picked up a bit of fresh garlic after work, perhaps a bottle of wine… He stopped and swirled his cup around, taking a deep inhale and closing his eyes to indulge on a sigh. Since he was already spoiling himself, maybe he’d pick up a loaf of bread, too, if it didn’t feel like it might be too heavy with dinner. Salad was nice but there was just something about a good, crusty bread. His mouth nearly watered; oh, he could practically smell it now—
“Oh!”
His eyes flew open at the sudden exclamation and with the pop of his cup lid and an arc of coffee, something almost knocked the wind from him before dropping from his sight with a flash of gold. The contents of his cup splashed across the snow and white polyester but for the moment, all Pantalone could see was red. His coffee was wasted and he’d have to send his coat to the cleaner which he’d have to pick up after work, at which point the bakery he’d wanted to visit would be closed, so any fancies he’d had of bread with dinner were thoroughly dashed, and—
“Shit, I’m so sorry!”
The whine at his feet drew his attention downwards and Pantalone’s anger melted like snow beneath hot coffee. There on the sidewalk waited something truly special, with splayed legs and watery eyes and mussed blonde hair that curled away from a… Well. A rather lovely, pink face. One that pleaded with a naïveté he could only dream of. His heart raced at the very idea.
“Oh, dear,” he said gently, immediately stooping and putting his hand out. “Here, give me your hand.” He offered her a warm smile, too. “It’s a little icy out today, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, a little,” she exhaled. It was almost a laugh. Something surged in his chest; she had a soft sort of accent, she couldn’t possibly be from around here. “Sorry, I—oh, no, your coffee!” Her brows came together and it took everything in him not to squeeze her pretty little hand in his. He only gave the ruined cup a moment’s notice before shaking his head and letting out a chuckle of his own.
“Think nothing of it.” That was what he was doing. “Come on, then,” a gentle tug at her hand, “let’s get you up, shall we?”
“No, no, I…” She worked to put her weight in her feet, watching the treacherous sidewalk warily. “I’ll buy you another—”
“Don’t be silly.” He knelt a bit more and freed her other wrist, too, of its role of anchor, then pushed up into a sort of hunched stance to pull her after him. He couldn’t help but curse the weather; though, maybe the cold was for the best. To feel her tiny hand so warm in his palm… Why, that might be too indulgent. “It was my fault,” he said distractedly, entranced by the sliver of skin peeking out from between her glove and her sleeve. “I wasn’t looking where I was going. Too busy daydreaming, I suppose.”
“Still, I mean it! I’m happy to buy you another cup of coffee—” Her knees wobbled and her ankles threatened to fail and Pantalone pulled her anyway, careful but unbothered. On her feet she still stood significantly shorter than him and so, when she stumbled again, it sent her pretty face into his chest—and her into his arms. If she had a bit of help landing there, that was between him, his greedy palms, and winter’s earnest blue skies.
“Are you all right, dear?” he asked, peering down at her through some rose-tinted haze that suddenly fogged his glasses. He rather unfortunately couldn’t feel her very well through his coat but that didn’t stop the possessive curl of his arms around her middle. If not for the godsforsaken cup in his hand, he wasn't sure he wouldn’t have held her even more tightly.
“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Oh, she… Was she trembling? He pulled away just enough to take better stock of her. A vaguely outdated coat with a likely broken zipper, sheer tights peeking out from under a skirt, her delicate neck exposed above the collar of her tacky dress…
“You must be freezing,” he cooed, smoothing a hand up her back. The cheap polyester was almost offensive. The coat would’ve been a mild travesty on its own, but of course the poor dove was wearing white, and so the coffee stains weren’t exactly doing her any favors.
“No, it’s… I’m okay, really,” she assured, casting an unconvincing smile his way. He couldn’t help but laugh.
“You’re shivering,” he countered. “Unless…” He pursed his lips, tilting his head playfully. “Unless I make you nervous?”
“What? No, not at all! You seem very kind—”
“Perhaps you’ve taken ill, then.” He lifted a brow. “Or maybe you’ve got low blood sugar. Though…” The corners of his mouth twitched; he granted his smile a bit of agency. “With as sweet as you are, I’d find the latter a bit difficult to believe.” Her eyes widened above cheeks flushed both from the cold and her embarrassment, her plush lips already parting on explanations he didn’t need—or want, particularly.
“You really are too kind,” she muttered, gaze wavering but… not faltering. Oh, he liked that. He liked that very much. “So, um, about the coffee,” she started, then blinked at him, looking down and frowning. “Oh, gods, and your coat—”
“Don’t concern yourself with that.” She was, though. He could tell by the way she eyed the fabric. He might’ve stopped her sooner if not for how much he liked her attention; he wasn’t so immature as to deny that he wanted even more of it—nor was he immune to a beautiful woman captured in his arms. Especially if she was going to look at him like that. He could practically feel her stare burning through his sweater, warmer than any quality wool. “Are you sure you’re okay, sweetheart?”
She blinked again and glanced up at him, cheeks dusted pink. “Yeah, I—I’m fine. But your coat, I can’t… I mean, you have to let me pay for the drycleaning.”
“I don’t have to do anything,” he said easily, catching a few strands of her hair between his gloved fingertips, “but I would like to take you out for coffee sometime. What do you think? Is that a fair compromise?”
“Fair?” She lifted a brow. “I ran into you and spilled your coffee and ruined your coat, and you’re asking me if it’s fair for you to buy me a coffee?”
“You really are a delight, aren’t you?” he chuckled, tucking her hair behind her ear nonchalantly. He couldn’t have imagined the flutter of her eyelids. “No, I suppose that isn’t fair at all. For someone like me to abscond with even five minutes of time from someone as enchanting as you… Why, I could work my entire life and never be able to repay that debt.”
She squinted at him, clearly skeptical, clearly considering. It was always those without that would look for thieves, wasn’t it? When you had so little to lose, it made it all the more valuable. He couldn’t blame her. She was smart to be dubious, and intellect was so attractive. Part of him—a big part of him, in fact—wanted to wait, to see what his little lamb might say. But an even bigger part of him had to admit that this wasn’t a catch he was interested in losing.
“Where were you headed?” he asked, canines carefully concealed behind a polite smile. “If it isn’t too far, I can walk you. Perhaps you’d let me do at least that much.”
“Just to the bus stop,” she nodded past him, “but please don’t feel obligated! I’m sure I can make it that far without slipping again,” she laughed. “And anyway, I’d feel terrible taking up any more of your time this morning. You must have someplace to be—”
“Oh, don’t say things like that.” He held an elbow out for her. “What kind of a man would I be were I to allow a lady to cross such treacherous terrain on her own?”
“Perhaps one that didn’t think a lady required a man’s elbow to manage,” she quipped, voice sweet as it could be. His elbow hovered forlorn and ignored. She was going to be a problem, wasn’t she?
“Or perhaps”—cards on the table—“one that didn’t have a particular interest in you holding onto him.”
She blushed again, as seemed to be her way, but she cast a coquettish smile in his direction that nearly tore him to shreds. “If you’d like to walk me, then that’s an entirely different scenario, isn’t it?” One delicate hand threaded into the crook of his arm, and her other came to cover it. He could just sink his teeth into her. “Honesty is a lot more attractive than chivalry.”
With a beautiful woman on his arm and her sparkling laughter in his ear, spilled coffee was forgotten as quickly as the crumpled paper cup was dropped into the trash. Yes… Yes, indeed. Most days it was good to be Pantalone. Some days just happened to be more… stimulating than others.