Work Text:
It was just a meeting.
That’s all it was .
He had been repeating the phrases in his mind for a good half-hour. In the back of a restaurant Mista sat alone, foot tapping under the table prepared for two. There were several things flying through his mind at the moment; why a spur-of-the-moment meeting? Why was it just with him? What were they going to talk about? Was this restaurant that safe?
Was Giorno ever coming?
Shit- what if something happened? Giorno said he’d be alright but.. These last couple of months have been stressful on the two. Some of the Capos have tried to stage a revolt against the young Boss and not only that but they were supposed to be taking a trip out of Italy to go to Florida for business. That would explain the secrecy of the meeting, but arriving at a different time than Giorno? He trusts Fugo like he would Giorno but Purple Haze isn’t really good for protecting peopl-
He’s over thinking, isn’t he?
This always happens when he thinks of Giorno. It’s been years since he’s met Giorno and before that, Mista will admit, he wasn’t the smartest when it came to this stuff. He liked just going with the flow. Let whatever guided him guide him further. But those couple of weeks in early April with the rest of the group.. It’s forced him to think even just a little bit more. And that little bit spiraled into a huge mess of “protect Giorno” because it had been the only person he had left. But then Fugo appeared and the protective urges that came with being by Giorno’s side should have disappeared, but they didn’t. They only grew.
Giorno would sit by his side and promise he wasn’t going anywhere in the late hours of the night when neither could sleep. Mista would do the same, he didn’t plan on dying anytime soon. If it meant Giorno could keep on living, though, he would gladly lay down his life. Not as a guard to the Boss of Passione, but so the younger man could be able to keep going. Be the survivor.
His leg kept bouncing. In the back room set aside for high-paying customers, there was only an archway separating himself from the rest of the restaurant. Large windows sat directly opposite of the archway, with the table in the small room. He found himself looking out them, partially enjoying the view. It was very picturesque, the setting sun keeping the room in an orange haze. The sea sat below, beautifully complementing the sun. Blue eyes highlighting dark black ones. Black and purple mixed together to create a duo bathed in blood but smiling in victory.
God, where the hell was Giorno. He’s growing impatient.
Just then, like an angel answering his prayers, two sets of footsteps graced Mista’s ears. He tore his gaze away from the window to face the archway, the two faces he had hoped to see standing there. A smile instinctively grew on his face as he eyed the duo - no new scars, no pained expressions. Just a soft smile and beautiful eyes accompanied by a stone mask that hid care and was pointedly looking away.
Giorno, despite aging 5 years, didn’t look any different. His skin still looked pale but in a beautiful sort of way, eyes brighter than the sea and long caught Mista’s own. Golden locks had been tied up in the signature braid and donuts that Mista had first seen him in - a strange hairstyle that would have made anybody else look weird and unattractive, but for Giorno it only made him look that much more like an angel. An angel that was going to sit with him and have dinner with him, and Mista entertained the thought that if this was anything else at all, he’d love to call this a date .
His clothes were toned down over the years. Black jumpsuit with a heart cutout was replaced with suits and button-ups befitting of a Italian mafia boss, but it still fit Giorno like he was always meant to be this way. Fugo stood directly behind the man, hands in dress pants’ pockets and keeping an eye on the room behind them. Right - this was a meeting, not gawk-at-Giorno time.
“Were you waiting long?” To Mista, it felt like hours had passed before Giorno completely walked into the room and took his seat from across Mista. A curtain divider he couldn’t remember if it was there before covered the doorway, separating the two from Fugo, likely standing outside on watch. Mista kept his eyes on Giorno the entire time, foot stopping it’s long chorus of anxiety as his words practically stumbled out of his mouth, “No, not at all!”
That soft smile grew ever-so-slightly in a way Mista knew was completely genuine. Fuck - Giorno was pretty. But they had business to get down too. “Why’d you insist on.. Uh.. this?” He placed his elbow on the table, waving his hand around. His other arm came to hold his head up. “We could have just come together.”
“I had some things to talk about with Fugo first.” Giorno’s smile dipped away. It wasn’t a frown, just a tense line that didn’t seem to fit the room. “I’m sorry about that.”
“Don’t be!” He supplied his own toothy grin, hoping to coax that happy look back onto Giorno. “I was just lookin’ outside. See?”
Giorno’s head tilted, eyes shifting to the beautiful land outside the restaurant. The orange hues painted Giorno in a hue that made Mista think he really was sitting before an angel - no, not even that. A God. He chuckled at that, Gold Experience was practically god-like, so it would make sense.
Giorno’s gaze turned towards Mista, although his face still faced the window. That smile appeared on his face again, accompanied with a small laugh of his own. The sound was like melted butter on top of steak. Strawberries on cake. Just food in general - the good kind of food.
“You should laugh more.” Giorno turned his head to finally face Mista’s once again, “It suits you, you know?”
“Pretty sure I can’t wear my laughter.”
Giorno had to hold up a hand to stop a snort, which ended up causing Mista to laugh louder than he had before. Both were still quiet and soft-spoken, a miracle for Mista, but in a room with only them it was loud enough. Everything in the moment was different, he could pretend that his anxiety wasn’t just begging him to be on the defensive, that they still had stuff to talk about. Maybe he could pretend it was a date with an attractive guy. Just for today.
“Oh-” Giorno stopped his laughter abruptly, “Have you decided what you wanted to eat?”
In his daze, he completely forgot about the menus that had been sat down beforehand. Probably a security measure, his mind supplied. Limit the amount of- oh, shut the hell up! Food time!
“Nah, actually.” He picked up the menu, idly flipping through it. He wasn’t that hungry, the dinner meeting was thrown on him at a strange time in the day. Mista had already eaten, so he didn’t intend on getting anything big. Shouldn’t be focusing on it that much anyway.
“May I offer a recommendation?” Mista lifted his head at Giorno’s words and gave a confused grunt. “I heard the affogato here was great.”
“ Affogato ? Ain’t that just coffee?”
“It’s coffee with gelato.” Giorno didn’t bother to pick up his own menu, just folding his hands together on the table. “Here, though, I believe they make it differently.”
“How?”
“That’s what I was going to find out.”
Mista laid down the menu without so much as looking at it again. “Then I’m gonna find out with you.”
“It’s not very filling.”
“Don’t care, it’s gelato.”
Giorno laughed again. Mista watched as tense shoulders relaxed with the charming laughter, and Mista couldn’t help but let his own worries drift away too. Just as quickly as they had melted away, though, they were back. Something was up. Giorno was very blunt when it came to something that had to be done, and this entire time it’s almost as if Mista had to coax the information out of him.
The laughter was gone. “Really, though, why are we here?”
Giorno was silent for a while. The background noises of the restaurant filled the air, and he could just barely make out Fugo’s voice from beyond the curtain. His focus was completely on Giorno, however, as he watched the lines just barely shift on his face.
Finally, he spoke, “I just thought we could have an evening to ourselves. No work.”
Huh.
That still didn’t explain much, but oh well. He's definitely not going to complain about that. His statement made the last of his nervousness drift away, letting him revert back into the mindset he had as a teenager. Just relax, let whatever comes his way come his way. They were fine.
"I'm right to trust you then," He moved so that both his arms were resting on the table before him, one over the other. "I wouldn't have suggested anything."
"I know you wouldn't have, that's why I left that message." A simple white note had been left on Mista's bed and if he didn't recognize Giorno's handwriting immediately then he would have been concerned. It was the swirly cursive that they only ever used for each other and that thought only amplified the feelings he had for Giorno.
They didn't have a name. It was just something he could identify as different , it wasn't like the friendship he had with Narancia. It wasn't the almost-parental bond he had with Bruno or the barely friendly friends with Fugo. It was like the affection he held for pretty women on the street, but at the same time it wasn't. That affection stopped at face level, literally, while this one went deeper. Much deeper, holding the urge to protect Giorno and to be there for him - the fact that Giorno was stunning was just part of the deal.
Giorno let out a soft sigh, as if verbally getting rid of stress. "We never get to do this anymore, do we?"
Mista shook his head, "Nah. It kind of sucks, when you think about it."
"Hm?" Giorno gave an inquisitive sound.
"Like-" Mista fanned his hands out to punctuate his words, "Just chilling. It's been, what, years since we've just hung out? I kind of missed it."
"Were you looking forward to this?" Giorno looked almost.. Hopeful? Strange, but Mista wasn't going to comment on it.
"Yeah, actually. Mostly because it was a meeting but now that you said this isn't supposed to be work related.. Hell yeah, I'm happy. As in now- y'know, looking forward to it." He stumbled on his words at the end, but Giorno didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he could delude himself into thinking that Giorno seemed entertained.
Giorno’s smile was briefly ignored by the privacy curtain being pushed aside. Once again, his nerves were shot alight by the thought of Intruder but they were soothed by the side-eye that Fugo gave them. The waiter, god do they look stressed , came in with a wary smile. Two martini glasses sat on top of the waiter’s small serving plate, each with a scoop of vanilla gelato sitting in espresso with small shavings of chocolate on top. The idea that they didn’t order yet slips his mind as the waiter placed the glasses on the small mats in front of himself and Giorno. The waiter held the plate close and gave them a smile, quickly exiting the room in silence. Fugo still gave the lady a glare as he held the curtain open for her, but the glare was quickly gone when he looked to Giorno.
Mista wasn’t that dumb, he could tell there was a silent conversation given between Giorno and Fugo in that brief moment. Having Fugo back was a different feeling all together - sure, he’d definitely protect Fugo if it came down to it, but he can surely say he wouldn’t die for Fugo. It was 5 years, but 5 years wasn’t enough to fix what name he had given Fugo in his heart. Like his strange feelings for Giorno, his feelings for Fugo were burned into his heart.
He sounds like an adult.
Food , he has to remind himself. Food time.
Food and talking with Giorno.
The curtain was pushed back to its previous position, cutting the two off from the rest of the restaurant once again. Mista’s attention was brought back to the gelato before him, and an idea popped into his head. “You planned this, didn’t you?”
He looked up to see Giorno’s reaction and got a smug smile in return. Giorno was already taking a spoon and dipping it into the gelato. His attention was on his serving as he spoke, “And what if I did?”
Mista laughed again. Nothing boisterous, just a chuckle as he picked up his own spoon. “Then I’d say you planned it well. It’s like you had this in mind for a couple of days.”
“You read me like a book..” Giorno’s words tailed off as he put the spoon in his mouth. His eyes lit up in a way that Mista hadn’t seen in awhile. He focused on every line in Giorno’s face, the way he slowly took the spoon out and placed it back into the scoop of gelato, the way he turned toward Mista with barely-hidden awe.. Okay, seriously, Giorno was pretty. He’s established this. He’s established this years ago. And yeah, shit, there was that really happy feeling that he’s been feeling this entire time. It’s almost like he’s a teen again, that absent-minded mindset he has coming back. His head kept going in circles between Giorno and worry , the more-adult like self beating himself up over the more-teen like self’s wants.
A part of him wants to say fuck it and say what’s been on his mind - Giorno’s just that kind of guy who’d hear him out - but another part of him says that he shouldn’t. He’s 23 now, a high-ranking member of the Italian mafia, and the boss of that Italian mafia’s personal guard. The fact he was always by Giorno’s side was just a matter of his position, there wasn’t anything beyond that. Sure, he liked it a lot. He liked being there for Giorno and liked it when Giorno came to him about stuff. But it was just work.
The juvenile side of him practically hit the rational side of him with all of his force. You dumbass , Mista patronises himself, Giorno literally said no work! Shut up!
It was hard to let that go though. It was easier to let it stay in the back of his mind as he tore his eyes away from Giorno to take a shot of his own serving. If he hadn’t seen Giorno take the first bite and the subsequent reaction he would have thought he was dreaming. He’s no chef so he’s not able to pinpoint the different flavors or anything, just that the vanilla gelato was not vanilla and instead was something else and that it was delicious . It took his mind off of his thoughts briefly.
“Mista.” The delicate sound of Giorno’s voice knocked him out of his head more than the gelato. “Did you hear what I said?”
Shit, no he didn’t. “Oh, no.. Was thinking about the affogato. You were right, it’s-”
“Are you sure?” There was that smile again. This time, though, it was way less smug and more.. happy. Hopeful, even. “Didn’t seem like it.”
“What do you mean? What’dya say?”
“I had asked you to speak up because I didn’t hear what you said, but it seems like you didn’t hear yourself either.”
“Oh, hah.. What’d you hear?” He shoved a second spoonful of the dessert into his mouth.
“I could have sworn you said ‘ Damn, you’re pretty. ’”
His teeth bit down on the metal out of pure shock. The delicacy in his mouth couldn’t be felt as he tore the spoon from his mouth and stabbed the cream again, thankful that the gelato melted quickly or else he’d choke. Eyes shot up to Giorno’s to reveal a playful demeanor paired with the hopeful grin. “Did I really?” Mista stammered out after gulping the gelato down.
Giorno laughed, “Yes, you did. I didn’t really believe it.”
“Well.. You are pretty,” Mista was speaking before his rational side could stop him, “I mean- like.. I’m pretty sure a lot of people find you pretty. You’re like a model. Or those fancy paintings of Greek gods. I don’t think I’m lying when I call you beautiful.”
“ Oh .” Giorno looked surprised as his face became slightly redder. He seemed almost.. bashful?
“Hey, I’m just saying the truth!” Mista gave Giorno another one of his award-winning smiles, “Seriously, how many people have asked you out?”
“Actually, none.” Giorno didn’t take another bite of his food, instead he lazily stirred the gelato into the espresso sitting in the bottom. “I’ve never been on a date.”
“You’re kidding.” Mista laid his hands flat on the table, smile foregone for an over-dramatic gasp. Giorno’s head dipped slightly as he shook his head, the red tint slowly increasing in intensity. Mista leaned back in his chair, stress completely forgotten once more. His arms crossed over one another as he looked over Giorno. Not through him, as all of his attention was on him. “Maybe you’ve been on one and you just didn’t know?”
“Well, what are dates like?”
Mista thought for a moment. “Most are like this. Go to a fancy restaurant or a movie theater.. Just chill and talk. Get to know one another and have fun.”
“I hope this counts as a date then.”
“Yeah.” The words didn’t register right away. He only realized what had happened when he noticed that Giorno’s pale skin was a very obvious shade of red, a contrast to his still-white hands that sat on the table. “ Wait- ”
“Mista,” Giorno’s tone was that of a commander. A command that Mista could defy if he wanted to, but the weight of the words advised against it, “How do you feel about me? Honestly.”
His words didn’t want to work. It’s not that he has bad things to say about Giorno, it’s that this was completely unexpected. The rational part of his mind tried to resurface, but the opposition was too strong. He decided to just speak.
“I’m not sure how to put it into words. Not that it’s anything bad, but.. I ain’t good with conversation. Sure, I’ve been on some dates but those were like get to know you kinda deals, never really been on a date with someone I knew before. If that makes sense.”
How does he describe Giorno? They got the handsome part down, definitely, but what else was there? That nameless feeling? He doesn’t even know what that is, just that it's made a home in his heart.
“You’re.. Someone I can hang out with. Even without, y’know, work. Work doesn’t seem like work , because I want to protect you. Just because. I.. shit, I dunno. I care about you.”
He hadn’t been focusing too much on Giorno during his spiel. He was looking at Giorno, but the subtle changes in the man’s expression didn’t register until he was done. Mista didn’t know what he was expecting, or maybe he wasn’t expecting anything, because Giorno’s expression surprised him.
He looked so happy . More than when he ate the dessert. In fact, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen Giorno so happy. Maybe his own face matched Giorno’s, because it sure felt hotter than it did before. His arms unfurled as he leaned forward, letting his hands hang from his sides. “So, uh, what do you think of me?”
That snapped Giorno out of his happy trance, to the regret of Mista. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything and just let him think, but he’s already let his mind revert to what it was years ago. Unlike Mista’s blunt and hastily-spoken words, Giorno seemed to be thinking his over.
“I care about you too. A lot,” Giorno began, “I trust you greatly. I want to protect you as much as you want to protect me. If anything were to happen to you, I’m.. I’m not sure what I would do.”
“You’d probably go on a rampage.” Mista interjects.
Giorno cracked a lopsided grin, still looking at Mista with bright eyes. “Yes, probably.” He chuckles, moving his gaze to his hands. His hands were wrapped around each other, loose despite the pressure in the room. “There’s also your humor, you are surprisingly lax given any situation. That doesn’t mean you’re weak. You’re incredibly strong. You do your best no matter what you’re doing. You.. You have a special place in my heart.”
At the end of his part, Giorno looked up at Mista. Mista, meanwhile, didn’t know how to feel. He’s not one to constantly keep his emotions in check - these last couple of months, though, have really changed him. From the way Giorno described him, it was like he was describing someone else. Not the guy who sat across from him.
He felt like he was sweating. He probably was, and he didn’t feel like it was that big of a deal. “Same, Giorno,” Mista tapped his left chest. “Right here.”
Despite the awkwardness of the movement, Giorno copied Mista’s actions. “Right here,” Giorno placed his palm down over his heart, and if it was anybody else Mista would’ve thought it was weird. He just thought it was corny.
“There is something I’ve noticed, though,” Giorno spoke as if he was being completely serious, but the smile on his face and gleam in his eyes told something else. Mista, embarrassing heat washing away, cocked a brow. Giorno took his hand off of his heart and pointed at Mista’s glass. “You lose track of your surroundings when focused on me.”
His - and Giorno’s - desserts were practically completely gone. The gelato had melted in the coffee making the spoons they had completely useless. “Shit!” Mista took his spoon out, frowning as he started into the brownish liquid.
Giorno’s laugh made it all better though.