Chapter Text
"Pannacotta Fugo you idiot homosexual."
Fugo just grumbled, looking down at the engine of the car. He may not know a thing about cars but he definitely knew that the engine was not supposed to be smoking like that.
"So. You got any idea what it is?" He asked, looking over at Trish.
"... Probably a broken. Something." She muttered.
"Well that's unhelpful."
"Shut the fuck up."
They stood there in the mud for a moment, trying to figure out what to do.
And then the skies opened up above them and started pouring rain.
They were supposed to be on their way to some fancy villa in the country- not because their confession plans had gone awry, not at all- Giorno had explicitly invited them, and only them along with him and Sheila.
Giorno and Sheila were already at the villa, likely having a few drinks, conversing about. Something. God knows what.
While Fugo and Trish sat soaking wet in a car that was currently billowing out white smoke.
"Did you try to call him?" Trish grumbled.
"I did."
"Did he answer?"
"No."
A tense atmosphere pressed against the sides of the car, threatening to crush the windows in a desperate attempt to escape.
"Are you going to confess while we're there?"
Trish nodded, crossing her arms in an attempt to warm up.
"And what's the plan if you fail?"
"Walk to the nearest port and buy a ticket on to a random ship and start anew wherever it takes me."
"Hm. A romantic ideal."
"It better fucking be I'm not gonna do something I would hate."
Fugo nodded in agreement, looking at their emergency map to see how far away they were. Apparently they were less than a mile away from the villa, so it was entirely possible that they could walk- but there was no way they could walk in this awful mud.
So they were stuck until Giorno actually fucking called back.
Purple Haze was clawing at the back of Fugo's brain. They had been begging to be let out for a while now, feeding off of his stress and anxiety.
He almost let them win.
Before a bottle was almost shoved into his lap.
“Lets pregame.” Trish said, opening her bottle, flicking the cap off with her finger. Fugo hadn’t the faintest clue what the hell any of these were going to taste like, but was pleasantly surprised when it was sweet.
“I mixed them before the trip in case shit hit the fan.” She explained. “I made that one strawberry flavoured for you.”
Now that he actually looked at it, he could see a layer of strawberry pulp at the bottom of the pink liquid.
“These can get you pretty fucked up though, so keep an eye out.”
He capped his, passing it back to her before slouching in his seat, checking his phone again. Once the engine was turned off and the behemoth of machinery had started to cool in the rain, the smoke began slowly dissipating. A google search told him it was a coolant issue- nothing that would kill them, but still a pain in the ass.
They could call a tow truck. But then Fugo would have to do more nasty paperwork and try to explain why the car wasn’t properly registered or some other shit that would take up way too much of his time.
Now, he could always pass this duty off to some poor underling, but he didn’t fancy that idea. If he generated the paperwork he was going to do it himself.
“Have you tried calling Sheila?”
Trish raised her eyebrow, giving him and extremely judgemental look. “Hilarious that you think she uses her phone more than Giorno.”
She definitely had a point there. Giorno was very tech-savvy for someone with his status. Although he mostly stayed on instagram and occasionally (far too frequently) sent Fugo posts from the site. Fugo had issue with how often Giorno was playing video games (He almost had an entire squad wiped during a very somber state he was in after something happened in Animal Crossing) but that was a completely separate issue.
“So. How about we talk about how fucking hot Sheila is.”
“No.”
Trish pouted, reclining her chair until it was almost flat. “Why not?”
He threw her a slightly disgruntled glare.
“Fine.”
She silenced him right as he was about to open his mouth.
“No talking about Giorno.”
They quickly realized that they then had almost nothing to discuss.
Boredom was never achieved, an odd figure appearing on the road ahead of them
It was instantly obvious that it was neither Giorno or Sheila. The person had an impressive slouch, fog seeming to hover around them.
They were yelling something in the direction of the car, but Fugo couldn’t be fucked to listen to what they fuck they were saying.
“Great. Some stand user broke the car.” Trish groaned. Jacking her seat back to its upright position, she adjusted her bra. “Want me to handle it?”
“If I use Haze we won’t have to leave the car.”
She shot him a confused look. “I thought you hated using Haze?”
“I might make a few exceptions.”
“...Well now I kinda want to see it.”
Fugo summoned his stand with little effort, Purple Haze manifesting outside of the car.
He made some lazy hand motion, the stand hovering over the mud of the dirt road. The foe didn’t even flinch as Haze got closer, shrieking something about killing Giorno’s favorites.
“Lemmie snap a pic of this dude before you melt his face off.” Trish said, leaning over the armrest to get a good photograph. “How much ya willing to bet he’s the one who fucked up the engine?”
“Quite a bit.” Fugo scoffed. Purple Haze was far enough away that he could attack without worry. Christ, Haze was mere centimeters away from this dude. This was one stupid motherfucker... “Didn’t do his research either.”
A distant scream echoed through the hillside as Purple Haze punched the man in the face.
Trish texted the photo to Giorno, adding a note about the delay. “If the car doesn’t start up once this guy kicks it I’m gonna go crazy.”
He could only grunt in response.
Through the purple fog, he saw the man drop into the mud. Fugo sighed as his stand returned to him- a pleased grumble filling the recesses of his mind. Trish checked her nails as they waited for the virus cloud to die out.
Fugo’s phone vibrated, and he was surprised to see that Giorno was calling.
“Yes?”
“Fugo.”
“Yes?”
“Are you alright?”
Blinking, he gave himself a once-over. “I am.”
A sigh just barely came through the speaker. “I had neglected my phone- I apologize, I didn’t see your messages until just now. Trish’s text had me quite worried.”
“We are fine, I assure you. I’m about to try and start the car again.”
“If the car is truly broken please let me know immediately. I will come down to pick you two up.”
Fugo turned the key, the engine roaring back to like- not a whisp of smoke in sight. “There will be no need. It appears to be working just fine now.”
“...Still. Keep me on the line.”
Putting the phone on speaker, he set it on the dashboard as Trish summoned Spice Girl to close the hood.
“We are heading up the hill now. Less than a kilometer from the villa.”
“Good.”
Trish leaned in to Fugo’s phone, a smile tugging on her lips. “Is Sheila with you?”
“She is.”
“Could you tell her I’m Ok?” she requested, sweetness dripping from her voice.
“I will.” Giorno responded, his voice briefly muted.
“Could you be any less subtle?” Fugo hissed.
She shrugged, crossing her legs as Fugo turned the final bend in the road. “What if she’s worried about me?”
Rolling his eyes, he pulled into the driveway of the modern home. Their car was a muddy mess compared to Giorno and Sheila’s.
At least the driveway was paved.
Shuffling out of the car, they collected their belongings, Trish calling out Spice Girl to give them a hand.
Stopping before the front door, Trish looked over at Fugo.
“No pussying out, got it?”
Chewing his lip, he didn’t even realize she had offered out a pinky to him.
Reluctantly, he intertwined his pinkie finger with her own. A promise he never expected to make, with his cowardly disposition.
“...Deal.”