Chapter Text
Oh Trish. You fucked up bigtime.
She groaned- head pounding as she rose from a mess of sheets, staring into the mirror on the other side of the room.
Last night should have been a nightmare, there was no way that could have happened-
Shit.
Jesus fucking Christ in a hot pink Lamborghini.
It was real.
The spots remained. Her eyes were green.
It wasn’t a nightmare. It was real.
And she was pretty sure Giorno was the only one who knew.
She ruffled her hair- it felt the same- and her eyes narrowed as she stared into the glass, waiting for her reflection to change, melt away and reveal her true self.
God. This. This was her true self.
“Spice Girl.” She whispered- feeling the slight chill as her stand slid out of her body.
“Yes, Trish?”
“What the fuck is this?”
“...Trish. It’s you.”
Groaning, she brought her hands to her face. Just her fucking luck…
Her stomach groaned in response. Fuck, she was starving.
As much as she wanted to curl up in a hole and die, it was 7am- no one was going to be up at this time.
Not after her tantrum last night. Fuck, that was embarrassing .
So she was going to pretend it never fucking happened. Spice Girl slid back within her body as she softly descended the stairs.
Sheila wasn’t on the couch.
Huh. Weird.
-----
Fugo woke up with arms around his chest and a lot of blonde hair in his face.
Giorno was softly snoring, a few locks of hair rising and falling in time with his breath. The sheets had been kicked around every which way, Shifted as Giorno moved to embrace his boyfriend.
Well. And there was someone else to kick up the blankets too.
Fugo wanted to curse Gio’s kindness, but. He was willing to let it slide today.
Sheila wasn’t snoring as she clutched her pillow, curled up on the other side of the bed.
Why the hell was this bed so damn huge anyway?
They could probably fit Trish on here to and still have enough room.
Not like Fugo wanted that to happen. He wanted Gio alone as soon as possible but. Sheila was in a shit position and Gio didn’t want her to sleep on the couch.
A clanking in the kitchen made him open his eyes a bit more, feeling Giogio snuggle against him, arms tightening around his chest. Trying to give him good reason not to wake up any further.
Fugo could see through the mass of hair that Sheila was drooling a lil onto her pillow. He should use that as potential blackmail material.
Something in the back of his mind wanted to like. Smack her with a pillow. Just because.
They weren’t even related, why the fuck was he acting like a shitty brother?
But the noise continued- and once Fugo was up, he was up.
“Giogio…”
Giorno grumbled, burying his face in Fugo’s neck. “Don’t wanna get up.”
Granted, neither did he- but his curiosity was getting the best of him. Spice Girl had him hide all the alcohol. But He didn’t think Trish was searching for that.
“Giogio… I want to see if Trish is alright.”
A sigh, Giorno letting his grip loosen. “...Fine. Do as you will Panna.”
Pressing a kiss to Giorno’s forehead, Fugo tried to keep his voice from wavering. “I’ll be back in a moment, Giogio.”
Giorno only pouted as Fugo pulled away and out of bed.
Fugo walked into the kitchen and almost fucking fainted.
Trish. Was in the kitchen. Making breakfast for them.
That alone was shocking- she never got up early unless she had to. What was also shocking was that uh.
Her hair. Had Black spots in it.
And Her eyes. Were a shocking green.
Now, Fugo was not around for the whole killing the boss thing- but he had been. Filled in.
Fuck. Now he wished he didn’t send Giorno up there last night.
Giorno shuffled into the kitchen. “Morning Trish.” he grumbled, pulling his fluffy robe tighter around himself.
“Oh. Morning.” She replied. “Made some espresso already, go and get some.”
“Thank you.”
Fugo blinked on trying to. Process the situation.
Giorno was going on like everything was normal, like. Like it was all fine.
Was it, in fact, all fine? Or was Giorno putting on an act to keep her from panicking again.
She slaved away over something in a pan, obviously very focused.
But that didn’t shut her up.
“Uh. Sorry about the Tantrum.”
Giorno blinked as he made espresso for himself and presumably Fugo. He genuinely seemed to be unable to reply.
It was nearly 8am, and she had turned into the spitting image of her father overnight, the man who almost lead them all to ruin- and she was. Apologizing for causing them trouble.
Fuck. Fugo couldn’t do this for much longer or he was gonna lose his mind.
Giorno took a long swig of his espresso before responding. “Do Not apologize. Your reaction was justified.”
“But the reasons were not.”
“ Some reasons were justified, some were not. It’s far too early to be discussing this, and I am not the person you need to speak to.” Giorno said, promptly shutting down the conversation.
Trish just sighed, stirring around some cut sausage.
There was a bumbling in the bedroom, a few muttered curses after something rolled onto the floor. Probably Sheila. She tended to do that.
More shuffling, and then the sound of the bedroom door opening, Sheila walking into the kitchen, stretching her arms. “Mornin-”
She shut up when she saw Trish.
There was. A very heavy silence.
“Uh. Morning, Sheila.” Trish spoke, voice soft.
“Morning.” Sheila responded dumbly.
Yeah. Fugo had had enough. Grabbing Giorno’s hand, he started to drag them back to the bedroom. “No offense Trish, but we’re going to grab breakfast in town.”
Gio seemed confused, but didn’t immediately talk back as Fugo dragged him into their bedroom so they could change.
Leaving the two women alone in the kitchen.
“...Uh. I hope you like sausage for breakfast.”
“Oh, Uh. That’s fine.” Sheila said, making herself some espresso. She didn’t try to physically avoid Trish. If anything, she was doing everything in her power to close the distance between them.
Trish got back to the food.
“Uh. Your hair.”
Oop. Here it is. Here’s where she rejects you and you back to your room and drink until your eyes bleed. “Uh. It’s. Genetic. Holdover from my dad.”
“...It's Hot.”
Trish Froze, trying to process what Sheila just said.
“...Huh?”
-----
“Panna.”
“Yes?”
“What was that?”
Gio didn’t complain until they were in the car, bundled up to their ears as they drove through the snow.
Fugo chewed his lip, moving down the road with ease, despite the chains on the wheels clanking. “They need a push, Giogio. You know they would keep dancing around this.”
“...Yes. Perhaps this is best.” He sighed.
Reaching a hand across the car, he wove his fingers between Giorno’s, blushing as Gio allowed it, squeezing his hand as he drove.
“You should have both hands on the wheel, Panna.”
“Perhaps.”
Giorno chuckled, a smile tugging onto his face. “Couldn’t resist the temptation?”
A scoff. “...Maybe.”
Fugo’s flushed face was extremely adorable. Although this had already been decided in Giorno’s mind, it was further solidified as they drove.
“So, did you have anything in mind?” Giorno inquired.
“...No. I didn’t think this far.”
Giorno laughed. “Then Surprise me then, my dear.”
“I’ll do my best.”
-----
Silence filled the kitchen as they stood there, their breakfast growing cold in the pan once Trish turned off the heat.
Sheila’s coffee cup sat steaming, The two of them simultaneously avoiding, yet craving each others gaze.
Trish fiddled with a tea towel, trying to find something to say-
Fuck it. God. Who the hell cared? Why did this have to be perfect!?
Not like Sheila was going to return her feelings anyway.
“Sheila, I…”
Sheila looked up at her, dark eyes sparkling as the snow reflected in the kitchen window.
“I’m. In love with you.”
Nothing.
Not a word filled that room.
No sound of wind. Or crackling of branches, or chirps of birds.
Trish’s words had silenced the world. Whether it was from their foolishness, or their profoundness, she had yet to know.
God and Mary I’ve done it now-
Warm hands cupped her cheeks as her brow furrowed, and she looked up.
Right into Sheila’s lovely, glistening eyes.
“Trish…”
She wanted to say something, heart beating out of her chest, bouncing into her throat as Sheila got closer, and closer, and.
Kissed her.
Like. On the lips.
For. a pretty long amount of time.
And Trish kissed back.
It was just as perfect as she thought it was going to be.
Pulling back, Sheila looked away. “Uh- shit sorry I should have asked-”
“Sheila.”
“Yes?” She responded, eyes snapping back to Trish’s.
“Was that. Uh. a response?”
“Yeah? Uh. I’m. Very much in love with you.”
“Like. How much.”
“I wanna move in with you levels of in love.”
Oh. Alright.
Trish glanced over at their breakfast. She had a few bites as she was cooking, so she was no longer hungry…
Meeting Sheila’s gaze, she swallowed her pride. “Not to push this too fast but. Wanna make out in our room?”
Sheila nearly collapsed from joy right then and there. “God I thought you would. Never ask.”
-----
Giorno chuckled as Fugo held the door for him, the Don shuffling back into the house, Stomping the snow from his boots as Fugo closed the front door.
The house was strangely silent, Giorno glancing around. The second car was still in the driveway when they returned…
Golden Experience told him there was life in the upstairs bedroom- but the life he sensed didn’t move.
“...They upstairs?” Fugo asked, hanging up his jacket, taking Giorno’s from his shoulders.
“Yes. They’re not moving…”
Fugo knew Golden experience wasn’t that fine-tuned. “Uh. Be careful.”
“I- would they-” Giorno shut up as it occurred to him the many possibilities behind why they were up there together. “I. See.”
“Better safe than sorry.” Fugo grumbled.
Their breakfast had gone well, the two of them deciding to walk around the town afterwards. Giorno was a work of art when the snow stuck to his hair, curling around his magnificent form. While they were almost reluctant to return to the cabin, they brought back some more wine, along with bread and cheese with preserved meats for dinner.
Setting their groceries on the kitchen counter, Fugo sighed, sorting everything out. Purple Haze was getting antsy…
“Wine, Panna?” Giorno asked, uncorking a bottle, pouring a glass for himself.
“That would be great.”
Giorno snuck a kiss onto his cheek. Fugo paused for a moment, before looking over at his lover.
Shining eyes looked right back.
“What, did I miss the mark, Panna?”
“Well, uh, no-”
Fugo was silenced by a kiss on the lips.
“Was that better?”
“Anything is enough for me, Giogio.”
Giorno chuckled. “Well, then I will see what is best.”
“Do as you will.”
-----
Trish grumbled as she woke, finding something very heavy on her chest.
A cat? No, she didn’t have a cat, as much as she might have wanted one…
Slowly blinking, she looked down, face growing red.
Sheila. Sheila was resting her head on Trish’s chest.
Face right between Trish’s breasts.
Granted they were still dressed, so it was not that scandalous- but still, it made her quite flustered…
But Sheila was so cute… snoring softly, hair a mess as it was pressed against Trish’s pink shirt.
Although it was making it a bit hard to breathe.
Lifting her arm that wasn’t being crushed, she reached over to brush the hair from Sheila’s face, getting a cute little noise in response.
It still amazed her. That Sheila waited for her. Through all of this. She still waited.
Hopefully Sheila knew Trish would wait for her.
Sheila stirred from her sleep, grumbling as she moved into Trish’s touch.
“Afternoon Sheila.”
Some more grumbling.
“We can’t sleep all afternoon you know.”
“Don’t wanna get up.”
Trish chuckled, ruffling Sheila’s hair. “I’m hungry.”
Sheila was quiet for a moment. She moved her head off of Trish’s chest, rolling over onto her back. “I am as well.”
“Then let's go downstairs.”
“...No.”
Trish sat up, leaning over Sheila. Her spotted hair was everywhere, pushed up at all sorts of angles. “Do you want some sort of incentive? You’re more stubborn than a mule.”
Sheila looked up at her, confused at first by what she meant.
A Kiss cleared up that confusion.
“Is that good?” Trish asked, trying to ignore how she was blushing. “Or do you need a bit more?
“...More.”
Trish was more than happy to comply.
-----
Trish stumbled down the stairs, almost arm in arm with Sheila.
Fugo raised his eyebrows in surprise as they both took a seat at the small table, pleasantly surprised to see some wine poured for them.
"Afternoon Fugo." Trish chirped before downing half of her glass in a single gulp.
"Evening." He grumbled, flipping through the news on his phone. Purple Haze was quiet, sitting on the back deck right behind the dining room. Fugo was keeping a close eye on his stand through the sliding glass door.
"Is Giorno cooking?" Sheila asked, sprawled out in her chair like she had never sat in one before in her life.
Fugo nodded. Trish could see the hint of a blush.
Sheila rose to her feet, taking her coffee with her as she moved to the kitchen. "May as well give him a hand."
When she was far out of earshot, Fugo set down his phone.
"So she actually did it?"
Trish shook her head.
Fugo narrowed his eyes. "Then what-"
"I confessed, then she confessed. And then uh. We kissed. A lot."
His expression was comical. Eyes blown as wide as she had ever seen them, completely in shock. He should have expected this, with Sheila being as strong-willed as she was, but he was sure her tendency to be slow on the uptake with emotions got the better of her this time.
Looked like he was wrong.
Shaking his head, he rested his chin in his hand. "Didn't think you would do it first."
"Well same here."
"I take it you then ended up moving to the bedroom?" Fugo asked, pushing his phone to the side.
Trish nodded. "So, what did you two end up doing?"
"...We went out for breakfast…" Fugo mumbled, unable to hide the blush that coated his face.
"That's so soft holy shit."
He avoided her gaze, pouting as a blush descended down his neck and crawled up his neck. “It was nothing, really-”
She lightly smacked his arm. “Give yourself some credit- never thought you were the romantic type.
“I’m plenty romantic Trish.”
“Sure you are.”
Their conversation was stopped by Giorno and Sheila exiting the kitchen, a large cutting board carrying a carefully arranged antipasto.
“Dinner is served!” Sheila said, pouring Fugo more wine.
“It is indeed.” Giorno added. “A toast, to a very successful vacation.”
Fugo and Trish raised their glasses, Sheila raising hers as well. “Cheers.”
And thus, dinner was served.
Voodoo Child was granted their own plate after trying to beg Trish for slices of prosciutto. Purple haze was happy enough to stay on the back deck, Spice Girl joining them in the snow.
What they were conversing about, Neither Fugo nor Trish cared to find out.
Sheila and Fugo recounted quite a few stories from their past travels- some that Fugo had nearly forgotten, Sheila’s words bringing them back to life.
Although he was sure she was embellishing some of it. Didn’t much matter to him though, when it made Giorno laugh like he did.
Trish grew quiet as the night dragged on, leaning on Sheila’s shoulder as her girlfriend and Giorno discussed the deep intricacies and ethics of turning cars into very large rats as an escape mechanism. Sheila was all for the idea. Giorno was not.
“Then I shall propose this alternative.” Giorno spoke, his aristocratic nature showing through. “Capybaras. They are the largest rodent, and thus, would be much easier to enlarge than a rat.”
“But Rats are cuter!” Sheila said. “Besides, they’re smarter than some capy-whatever.”
“Capybaras are animals of refinement and taste. Perhaps that is why it would be wrong to create them- they deserve the best, not to be released into the streets of rome.”
Fugo pushed his hair behind his ear. Even late into the night, They were talking- all of their stands were on the back deck, conversing amongst themselves.
Trish glanced over at him. He could tell she wanted nothing more than to go to sleep.
With a sigh, he placed his hand on Giorno’s shoulder. “Giogio, I believe it would be best if we went to sleep.”
“Retire to our chambers? Fugo the night is young, you know.”
“It’s midnight.”
“And? My beloved, I am a creature of the night-”
Fugo stumbled to his feet, trying (stupidly) to lift Giorno from his chair. “I’m not sleeping without you.”
Effortlessly twisting in his grip, Giorno pouted. “So be it… Let us take our leave, beloved.”
Purple Haze was not happy about having to go back within Fugo, but with a loose promise to be released again soon, they relented.
Trish nuzzled Sheila’s shoulder. “Mm… Tired.”
She didn’t need to say much more, Sheila rising to her feet, Trish whining as she was separated from her girlfriend for a moment. Before Sheila scooped her up in her arms.
And this time, Trish didn’t resist.
-----
Sheila grunted, lugging one of Trish’s bags to the car.
Their vacation had ended, the four of them packing everything up, preparing to leave their little cabin together and remerge into the world once more.
Fugo was helping Giorno pack up the back of Giorno’s shiny new car- a far cry from the small, antique little thing Trish had him drive up there. Trish was doing one last check of the house, shuffling through the snow, looking at her phone.
And then she stopped, in the snow.
“Guys.”
Sheila blinked over at her. “What?”
“Check your phones.”
Fugo raised an eyebrow. “...Why?”
She groaned, closing the distance between them, showing the image on her phone to the three of them.
Mista and Narancia, smiling into the camera.
With matching shining rings on their fingers.
“Mista and Narancia. Are. Engaged.”