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Giorno’s eyes fluttered open, and a hazy world of light and colour brought itself into focus.
His neck ached. Why was that? He got his answer as soon as he had the awareness to ask- his entire body was bent strangely, head slumped over on a smooth wooden surface. The yellow-white blob he had mistaken for the sun was in fact a folder enveloping a stack of papers, on the other end of his desk.
It wasn’t like him to fall asleep so easily, let alone in the middle of the day. If it had been at any other time, he might have worried, not just about his uncharacteristic behaviour but about the work he could have gotten done instead of sleeping. But in the middle of winter, everything seemed to move a bit slower, and not even criminal activity was an exception. It certainly didn’t help that Christmas was almost upon them. Even most mobsters had someone they wanted to spend the holiday with.
What about Giorno? When it came to companionship, he had everything he could reasonably ask for. Family, friends, and colleagues, all the same group of people but effortlessly performing every role at once. Just thinking about them brought a soft smile to his face, though some thoughts left that expression charged with nervousness.
He liked them all, but sometimes he wondered if all of them liked him too. He had done everything he could to make Fugo feel welcome after his return, making a point of spending as much time with him as possible, but everything they did together seemed to make him even more distant. It had gotten to the point where it was hard to even get a conversation started without losing him to some distraction that always came out of nowhere.
Giorno wanted everyone to like him, of course. It was natural to want to be liked, it made his job easier, and while it was easier to deal with when outnumbered by admirers, each pair of critical eyes on him invited doubts he couldn’t instantly address. Bad from strangers, even worse from people he trusted. No, he would have to find a way to appease Fugo, whatever it took.
He wondered what he could do on that day. When he wasn’t busy, Fugo could usually be found in the local library at the end of the street, either reading or reorganizing the shelves to his liking. Nothing was stopping him from going over there right away, except the unappealing prospect of cold weather. There was little point driving such a short distance, and he wasn’t going to wear a jacket, not when his suit was brand new and had barely been shown off. A solution eluded him, until he caught a glimpse of the nearby kitchen.
Hot chocolate had gotten him through most winters, and he felt no shame about developing a dependence on it yet again. As he filled the kettle with water, another idea came to him- an idea that had him hunting for two thermoses instead of one. Locating Fugo’s wasn’t difficult, his sense of design was a little predictable. It was a good thing strawberries and ladybugs looked so nice together, Giorno thought while filling each flask and dropping in marshmallows and flakes of chocolate. And some whipped cream, and some cookie crumbs, a few sprinkles for good measure, and some strawberry syrup. Even if Fugo didn’t see the careful shape he drew with it, he would taste it, and that was almost better.
Carrying the flasks warmed his hands enough that he didn’t regret not bringing gloves. Being right next to the sea, Naples rarely saw snow, but there was enough of a chill in the air for him to think of it. The last time snow had started to fall, he had been outdoors, and far less prepared- unfortunately, there was little Gold Experience could do to save him from a cold.
He managed to push the door open without putting down either drink, making sure to close it quietly. Loud noises were one of the many things that set Fugo on edge, and it just didn’t seem like an appropriate way to enter a library. As he had expected, it was practically deserted. Even the front desk was unattended. The only sign of a fellow human that Giorno could see was a few tufts of light hair, just barely sticking out from behind a shelf. He knew that hairstyle, but he approached carefully, just in case.
He soon saw enough to confirm his suspicions. It so happened that Giorno managed to get a full view of Fugo before Fugo saw him, allowing him to observe him deep in thought. Completely absorbed in the pages of his book, his eyes weren’t quite as sharp a red when tilted away from the light. By contrast, his cheeks were a bit redder, surprisingly so in the current climate. The library’s interior wasn’t much warmer than it had been outside, and Fugo’s suit was possibly an even worse choice than Giorno’s. Maybe it was better-insulated than it looked.
Even if it meant losing the opportunity to consider the rest of his features in a candid state, it was probably for the best that Fugo remained alert of his surroundings. If Giorno couldn’t sneak up on him, few enemies stood a chance. But it seemed that he had surprised Fugo somewhat- though his efforts were immediate and frantic, he failed to cover up the image of a couple embracing on his book’s cover.
“Giorno! Did you need something?” He settled for standing up, arrow-straight, and shoving the book behind him to rest on his chair. Of course he noticed his own thermos in Giorno’s hand, he must have, but he chose not to comment.
“You could say that.” Fugo raised an eyebrow, silently prompting Giorno to go on. He could almost hear what Fugo sometimes said when he under-explained something: “I can’t read minds, Giogio.” Maybe a little exasperated, but completely lacking a bitter edge. “I was just thinking, it’s probably cold in here, but that wouldn’t stop you from coming. So…” He held up his hands, letting the thin trails of steam waft upward. “Something to help with that.”
Fugo didn’t take one right away, just staring as if he needed more time to process the sight. “You were thinking about me?” As if that was a completely novel concept.
He nodded with confirmation. “I think about you all the time. Whether you’re happy, whether you’re afraid, and what I can do to help. It’s very important to me.”
“Really.” His answer contained too much of a breathy sound to be a question, more closely resembling a gasp for air.
“Of course. Where would I be without all of you?” He had turned away to find a table before he could even catch sight of Fugo’s increasingly starstruck expression, so he also failed to see it fade.
“Right. All of us. Absolutely.” Whatever disappointment Fugo barely managed to mask didn’t keep him from following Giorno, initially taking a seat at a polite distance away, even though he fully expected what would come next.
“You know you can sit here.” Careful as he was with his emotions, Giorno didn’t shy away from physical closeness, and when it came to people he trusted, he was almost insatiable at times. So it was no surprise that he would tap the seat right next to him, placing the containers of hot chocolate next to each other. Fugo would have to get closer if he wanted some, and that tempted him enough to work past any embarrassment.
He felt it as soon as he took a seat. After getting so used to the cold, having a warm body right next to him was surprisingly comfortable. He took a second to just relax before taking the drink he was offered, thanking Giorno quickly but politely and wasting no time in taking a sip.
It was sweet, almost painfully so. For some reason he had expected Giorno to favour more bitter tastes, or at least more subdued. But it was impossible to avoid any part of what he tasted, in the drink itself or the various toppings. Was that strawberry? His favourite, not that it was exactly hard to tell.
“Do you like it?” Giorno was leaning over, fists placed on his knees, seemingly anxious to hear his opinion, of all people’s. But he felt that way about everyone else too, didn’t he?
“I do like it, Giorno. Thanks for thinking of me-!” The end of his sentence pitched up into an exclamation when he felt arms wrap around him, and a head gently place itself against his chest. “Are you all right?” It wasn’t the first time they had been so close, but he usually gave some kind of warning first. Absurd as it sounded, his first thought was that he hoped he hadn’t upset Giorno by taking too long to thank him.
“I am now. It was much too cold.” He didn’t appear to care that his words were a bit muffled, spoken into the front of Fugo’s jacket. “This is okay, isn’t it?”
“Of course it is. You know that.” Though Giorno couldn’t see the fond smile he could no longer hide, he still hurried to cover it with his thermos. The more he could drink at once, the longer he could justifiably go without having to think of anything to say. A delicate sip became a deep swig, funnelling hot chocolate to his mouth as fast as he could drink it. It really was delicious, he liked it even more with every taste.
“By the way, what were you reading?” The question came from nowhere after a moment of silence, and Fugo only narrowly avoided choking from his impulsive attempt to deny he had been reading anything. He had to return his thermos to the table, simply relying on his own willpower to keep any unwanted expressions below the surface.
“Oh… nothing much…” He didn’t even have to look at Giorno to know he wasn’t convinced. But he did look, only to see him… laughing? At least, it was Giorno’s way of laughing- eyes bright, smile wide, and shoulders shaking gently for a moment before settling down. “Really, it’s not important!”
He already had an argument ready, but Giorno didn’t disagree or ask further questions. All he did was raise a finger and tap at his own lips, right in the middle of his perfect smile. When Fugo didn’t respond, he just tapped a bit harder and faster, focusing his gaze directly onto Fugo’s mouth.
Once he finally realized, he felt a bit foolish for not getting it sooner. Giorno was so assertive in his work, it was a little odd to see him relying on cryptic signals to communicate. It reminded him more of when Giorno had just joined the gang, still carefully guarding his thoughts around people he hadn’t come to fully trust. It only made sense that he would return to that if he had something he was nervous about saying.
Fugo couldn’t say that he wasn’t nervous too, but Giorno had stepped forward for him before. He could do it this time.
Though he leaned into Giorno’s warmth at the first opportunity, he kept the kiss brief and gentle, as he imagined a friendly kiss should be. He had never met someone who expressed platonic affection in such a way- he hoped he was doing it right.
Giorno didn’t complain. But he did blink a few times, raising a hand almost to his mouth- a mouth that was lightly smudged with hot chocolate that hadn’t been there before.
Oh.
“Fugo.” Giorno’s hand hovered there, wavering up and down a few times as if it wasn’t sure which way to go. “You just kissed me.”
“Yeah. I did do that.” What were they doing? Neither of them wasted time with stating the obvious, and yet there they were, stalling until they could begin to process the implications of what had happened.
“Would there… be a reason why you did that?” They had been through so much together, moments of complete chaos and despair, and yet this seemed to be the first time Giorno didn’t have all the answers to get them back into safe territory.
Unable to come up with a palatable half-truth, he tapped at his own lips. “I thought you were asking me to.”
From the way Giorno nodded, a little wide-eyed, it was clear that he understood how Fugo could have taken it that way. Hand no longer trembling, he placed it on his chin, affecting a thoughtful gaze. “Did you think it was an order?”
“No! I mean… no.” Though it remained conspicuously empty of staff, they were still in a library. He remained silent until he felt like he could forgive himself for his shout. “It felt like it was coming from a friend.”
“A friend.” At some point, his other hand had joined the first, clasping together just below his stained lips. “Is that what you want me to be?”
“What kind of question is that?” He felt no shame in answering a question with a question. “Who wouldn’t want you as a friend?” Two questions.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Without moving his hands, he shrugged. “Someone who might prefer me as a boyfriend?”
Apparently not content with staying in his chest, Fugo’s heartbeat made itself known in various places- his ears, his throat, the tips of his fingers. His mind raced through the thousand ways he could manage to interpret what Giorno could have meant, steadfastly leaving for last what he barely even dared to hope for.
Slowly and deliberately, one movement at a time, Giorno tapped his lips again. Though he still struggled to fully understand, Fugo knew he had a choice to make.
His next kiss wasn’t so gentle. Their lips were soft, and he still tasted just a hint of chocolate, but it wasn’t light or careful enough to allow any doubts of whether it was real. Though Fugo was no more experienced in kissing a boyfriend than he was in kissing a friend, he allowed himself the luxury of guessing that he had managed to cross whatever line divided them.
It was oddly satisfying to see twin blushes spread out from the middle of Giorno’s cheeks, the pattern resembling a pair of blooming roses. He could tell from the spots of warmth that his own wasn’t nearly so flattering, instead covering his skin in a series of formless blotches. His hands almost crept up to hide his face, until Giorno caught them.
“…I know. You’re thinking too much, right? About whether you did something wrong, or if you missed something. But this is good. It’s good, I promise.” His fingers tightened a little around Fugo’s wrists, his smile’s symmetry slipped just a bit, and Fugo understood. He understood what Giorno could possibly want from him.
“It is good, Giogio.” His fingertips brushed each of Giorno’s knuckles, one way and then the other. “And if you’re thinking too much about something, don’t worry. You’ve…” Even as he said it, he couldn’t quite believe he had really brought himself to such open sentimentality. “You’ve already made me really happy."
He didn’t dare laugh, but a similar lightness filled him when Giorno’s blush spread enough to be better described as a glow. “I’m happy too. Though you must already know that.”
“I do, but it’s nice to hear.” Could it have always been so easy? Just minutes ago, something as simple as slipping his hands into Giorno’s and lacing their fingers together would have been unthinkable, but whatever barrier once separated him from those dreams left nothing behind in its disappearance.
He used his gentle hold to encourage Giorno to stand up. “Come on.”
“Are we going somewhere?”
“Home, preferably. Unless you had a better idea?” Giorno shook his head, keeping hold of Fugo’s hands even once he was standing. He hadn’t forgotten the feeling of the frigid wind outside, even if braving them to get to where he was hadn’t been so difficult.
Still close, they stopped at the same time, gazing up at the doorway. “...Was that there when you came in?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t looking.” The door’s frame wasn’t very high, but remembering how single-minded he had been in his search for Fugo, Giorno could see how he managed to miss a small plant dangling just above his head.
“Huh.” He looked up at it, taking a single step forward, then stopping. Could he really completely ignore the mistletoe, the same way he always had? Would Giorno be upset if Fugo didn’t kiss him? Would he feel smothered if he did? While he remained helplessly staring upward, Giorno took a gentle grasp of the back of his neck, tilting his head back down so they faced each other. He got a view of Giorno gathering his resolve before laying a delicate kiss on his lips, eyes wide open and shining.
Attention caught by Giorno’s eyes, he couldn’t say much about the kiss, especially when it was already over by the time he could process it was happening. He just smiled, took hold of Giorno’s hand again, and kept walking.
The cold was bearable, but it was good to be home, and especially good to be camped in front of a crackling fire. Embraced by the warm air, and by Fugo’s arms, Giorno felt as though he could fall asleep there. His eyes were starting to close, and the soft stripes of colour he just barely saw were blurring into each other, maybe he really would…
But he would never know, because the arms that held him so securely were shaking him back to an alert state. “Giorno. The cups.”
“Hm?”
“The hot chocolate cups. We forgot them. They’re still at the library.” When he saw Giorno looking his way, Fugo smiled a bit, but stared with shock when all he did was stretch a little and let his eyes fall closed again. “You… don’t want to go get them?”
“Not really,” Giorno admitted. He reached up to smooth a bit of Fugo’s hair- he wasn’t looking at it, but it was almost always safe to assume that any given part of it was a mess. “Do you?"
He could only laugh when Giorno stroked at his cheek, missing his hair completely. Unexpected, imperfect, and unfathomably precious. “Not at all.”