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When Giorno and Mista are somewhere more protected from the rain, Giorno will definitely take the time to think about how cute it was that, at the first sign of a storm, Mista transformed to stand over the puppies to keep them dry while they move. As it is, Giorno’s drenched, his fur on his paws clumped with mud, and the puppies keep trying to escape from Mista’s cover to play with him.
“Are we close?” Giorno asked up at Mista.
Mista nodded.
Giorno sighed. Finally. Anything to get out of this rain.
(Except going home, of course. He was going to have his day with Mista, damn it.)
Mista made a noise and gestured with his head. When Giorno looked, he saw what they’d been walking towards: a cave.
The puppies ran ahead as soon as the cave was in sight. Mista barked, and they slowed to wait for him.
Mista insisted on leading the way, in case something else had moved in since the last time it rained. Fondness warmed Giorno’s chest. He can’t help but think how cute Mista’s protectiveness is. Even though Giorno’s immortal, he still insisted on putting himself in the line of fire.
Of course, if anything were to actually be in there, Giorno would never let Mista be on the front lines for him, and he absolutely wouldn’t let anything get to the puppies, but, thankfully, Giorno can’t detect any life nearby that’s not accounted for by the eight of them.
There was a cacophony of flapping and sprinkling on Giorno’s legs as the puppies shook the rain off their fur. A couple of them yipped and started playing, one sniffed at the floor and air, one followed close at Mista’s heels, and there was a whine from one getting tackled by the other.
Giorno smiled. He transformed back into his preferred form.
“Be nice,” Giorno said, walking over to save the poor crybaby from his bully. He pushed off the squirming tackler and carefully picked up the crying puppy to cradle in his arms. “Was your brother being mean to you?” he asked. The puppy snuggled closer into his chest and rested its head on the crook of his arm.
There’s a harumph. When Giorno looked up, Mista’s transformed back into a more humanoid form, watching Giorno with a bright, fond smile.
Giorno felt his cheeks heat up. He cleared his throat and looked around too quickly to actually see anything. “Is there anything we can use to build a fire? I’d like to warm up a bit before we sleep.”
Mista huffed, still smiling. He walked over to a wall and pushed aside a rock to show a small cranny with wood to make a fire.
When they finished with making the fire, Giorno sighed in relief. He sat close, letting the heat wash over him, and Mista perched behind him with his arms wrapped around Giorno’s waist.
Outside, thunder clapped. High-pitched yipping rang out, and Mista tensed.
“Mista?” Giorno asked, lifting his head.
Another flash of lightning, and from there, Giorno saw all the puppies flinch and duck very, very low. Giorno’s heart broke, even before they started whining.
Mista bolted up. He threw an apologetic look at Giorno before making his way over to the puppies.
As if it would ever be a problem to him. To see Mista be soft, compassionate, caring of his young… It was something he doubted he'd ever tire of, something he'd never cease to be fond of. It was just one of the many facets he found lovely.
As soon as Mista moved away from Giorno, the six quivering puppies were quick to snuggle close to his legs in twin puddles. It was adorable and left Mista stumbling and unable to move another inch. The werewolf huffed and sat down instead, lap immediately smothered with whining puppies.
Giorno cooed from his seat by the fire, grinning as Mista barked low and blushing at him.
The moment was shattered as lightning flashed from the mouth of the cave and the wind picked up in earnest. The thunder that followed was a loud clap that reverberated against the stone, and left the world shaking for a moment.
Mista flinched, curling around his howling and shivering brood with a minute tremble. Giorno's frozen heart lurched at the sound and sight and he was standing in an instant.
The puppies hardly moved, but Mista looked up from under the hood pulled over his head with wide and scared eyes. He looked too vulnerable- and that just wouldn't do. Giorno hummed and shifted back from his humanoid form back to that of a wolf, padding softly over to Mista and his six puppies.
Mista's dark eyes were still wide, but there was less terror and more warmth in them now, and that would make this momentary discomfort all the more worth it. He wasn't as fond of his wolf form, too many scents, it was uncomfortable having dirt on his paws or in his fur, and the lack of hands was less than ideal. But the puppies were quick to nuzzle against his side, Mista following slowly after.
They'd never switched it up like this before- a humanoid Mista snuggling against Giorno in his wolf form. Normally it would be him, burying his face into the werewolf's soft, warm fur. It was incredibly comfortable, and great for naps, but… Giorno was not warm. Even in the form of a beast, he was as cold as the departed. If Mista and his brood minded, he couldn't tell.
The lightning and thunder continued to rage outside, the rain coming down in sheets. Despite the wind whipping a path through the cave, stealing the heat and leaving a damp trail, the fire left them warm enough to lull. Before long, the puppies were drifting off into a restless sleep, curled up tight against Giorno's side.
If it weren't for Mista stroking a calloused hand along his back and nuzzling below his jaw, he probably would have joined them. It certainly didn't feel bad, and absently Giorno wondered if this was how Mista felt when he was pet.
To think, the son of the vampire lord Dio Brando, laying in a damp cave being snuggled and stroked by a werewolf and his young. His father would have an absolute fit.
But the puppies weren't whimpering pathetically anymore (though one was snorting in his sleep) and Mista was no longer shaking like a leaf.
As the storm petered out and the wind died down, Mista eventually went slack with sleep, Giorno following not long after.
Giorno hadn't ever dreamt before. He imagined it was something like seeing shapes in clouds, or shadows on the walls cast by dancing firelight. If he had dreamt of anything that night, he might have dreamt of thunder and forks of lightning or of soft and warm places or of many pairs of tiny lungs breathing around him.
He woke to an odd sensation. Something small was moving against him.
Giorno opened one eye to see a puppy pushing its head underneath one of his forelegs. He lifted a paw and the puppy wriggled forwards to lie where his paw had been. Before he could move again, two more puppies quietly shuffled closer. They appeared to be half-awake. Mista, on the other hand, was still fast asleep and slumped over Giorno’s broad back. It wouldn't be worth the trouble to wake him so Giorno turned his attention back to the puppies.
One was blinking sleepily up at him. He leant down, wondering what the fuss was, and the puppy licked his nose.
Giorno froze. It was only instinct; he hadn't expected it.
The puppy immediately shrunk back upon reading his tense body language and the closest puppies followed their brother’s lead.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Giorno whispered. He hadn’t meant for them to think they’d annoyed him, and he hadn’t meant to frighten them. “Come back closer if you like.”
The puppies appeared to weigh their options for a moment. One which Giorno dimly recognised as the braver of the bunch crept back towards Giorno’s narrow forelegs - each as long as a puppy from tail to muzzle. The very brave puppy tentatively gave Giorno’s chin another lick, and Giorno was careful not to flinch away. Soon the rest of the puppies were emboldened by this sign. They crowded by the thick fur underneath his jaw and murmured happily.
It can’t be for warmth, Giorno thought as a puppy kicked his ribs, so what on earth are they playing at?
Giorno put the thought aside. He wasn't getting anymore sleep like this without crushing one of the puppies or waking Mista up, but he’d bear it. Unlike the dogs he could make it through one night without sleep.
The next morning was marked by the first birdsong and Mista stirring where he lay over Giorno’s hindquarters.
Mista lifted his head and peered at Giorno. The night had made his hair unruly – more so than usual – and Giorno would have happily run his hands though it, had he had hands at that particular moment. Instead, Giorno simply nodded at the pile of snoring puppies between his forelegs.
“Is this going to become a regular thing, by chance?”
Mista noticed the puppies and quickly crawled over to them, waking them. He looked a little embarrassed.
Giorno shifted back into a humanoid shape and smiled. “No need to apologise,” he yawned with his arms stretched up above his head. “The seven of you are rather sweet that way.” He ruffled Mista’s hair. “You are.”
With what approximated a bashful grin, Mista patted his hair down and dropped to his haunches. Between them six small tails beat the cave floor with a chorus of happy thumps. And Giorno got the feeling that thunder and lightning wouldn't be quite so scary from here on out.