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"Are you sure about this Trish?"
"Hell yeah! You’re gonna look great!"
Mista grumbled as he walked out of Trish's closet, brushing off imaginary dust from the new piece of clothing he was wearing. Trish drew her attention away from applying lip gloss in her vanity to fully examine the man, now wearing one of her dresses.
"... this is humiliating."
Trish clapped a hand over her mouth in an attempt to stifle her laughter, but failing anyway.
"You look… beautiful!" Trish said in between giggles.
"You said you wouldn't laugh!"
It started with a friendly game of truth or dare to pass the time in between missions—but after Mista made Trish kiss a frog (of Giorno's supply), she had to get payback.
Mista had ditched his cropped cashmere sweater and striped jeans for a pink maid dress complete with lace detailing and a giant petticoat, all of which he couldn't believe Trish even owned.
"Hey, my dare included the cat ears!" Trish ran over and snatched Mista's hat off of his head, revealing a head of dark brown tightly wound curls.
Mista couldn't even react in time to try to save his hat, and instead was donned a cat ear headband.
Trish laid back on her bed, opening her flip phone to capture the glorious image of the tanned Italian man in a pink maid dress and cat ears, awkwardly standing in front of her.
"HEY! No pictures!" Mista frantically ran over to her to avoid any permanent records of his new attire, successfully snatching the phone out of her grasp.
"I said I would try it on for 5 minutes and then I was allowed to take it off right after."
Trish pouted. "No, we agreed at least 10 minutes. You look so pretty! You might get used to this look, you never know."
"Yeah, right." Mista made his way over to the vanity, taking the first real look at himself in the dress.
He made a few poses in the mirror, repositioning the cat ears and swishing the big skirt around. He even grabbed his pistol and pretended to be aiming at an enemy stand user.
"See?" Trish laughed. "It suits you!"
Mista joined in her laughter. "Okay, this isn't so bad. Actually, it's pretty freeing-"
Trish waved her hands in front of Mista’s hands. "GROSS! Ever heard of TMI?"
Mista laughed and collapsed onto the bed beside where Trish was sitting. "Okay, who's turn-"
Mista's thought was interrupted by the door to the room being slammed open, a smaller man peeking inside accompanied by some feral rap music.
"What are you guys so loud about—OH MY GOD MISTA??"
The man in question shot up from where he was sitting and his face grew bright red. "Narancia, no, this isn't what it looks like! Trish dared me—"
"Dude, you're literally wearing a maid dress and cat ears? Wait till Fugo sees this-"
Mista rushed forward, slamming a hand across Narancia's mouth and closing the door before anyone else was alerted.
"If you tell anyone- " Mista lurched back suddenly. "Did you just lick my hand??"
Narancia grinned slyly. "Next time don't cover my mouth. You look ridiculous, by the way." He looked over Mista's shoulder, and pointed at Trish, laying on the bed.
"And the others will find out sooner or later. I'm sure Trish has gotten a couple pictures already."
Mista whipped around, catching a glimpse of Trish's second cell phone being shoved in her pocket, a guilty smile plastered on her face.
Mista groaned, and turned back to Narancia. "Whatever, I accept my fate. But you cannot insult me in this dress when you wear that orange skirt everyday."
"Hey! For your information, this is not a skirt, it's like a loincloth that the manly guys wear like those ancient warriors Fugo makes me learn about. And I wear pants anyway."
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say. But don't knock it till you try it. I'm telling you, my guy down there is getting such a delightful breeze—"
Trish started yelling before he could finish. "Mista! Stop it!! Guys are so disgusting…"
The three laughed again, Narancia was practically wheezing on the floor. "Dude, seriously? Maybe I should try it…"
Trish's eyes lit up immediately, and she dragged Narancia into her closet before he could change his mind.
--
Trish snickered at the new sight in front of her. "Good thing I bought more than one of these dresses."
Narancia and Mista, now in matching maid dresses and cat ears, were looking at their appearance in the mirror. Narancia’s was orange, fitting for his name.
"Dude, you were so right. I'm never wearing pants again. I look pretty good too!"
"See? Like everything, don't knock it till you try it."
"Hey Trish! Take a picture of us! Mista come here."
Narancia and Mista posed back to back, smiling widely at the camera, apparently not caring anymore about a permanent record. Mista held up his pistol and Narancia called out Aerosmith, which buzzed on top of them.
Trish snapped the photo, and a couple extra just in case. Narancia and Mista buzzed with conversation, and only Trish noticed the door slightly open, with a flash of golden hair which told her who was peeking inside. “Oh hey, Giorno! Wanna join?”
Mista peering over to see who was at the door. “Giorno! Trish probably has another dress! It’s so fun!”
Giorno thought for a second. “Do you have green?”
Trish jumped up. “Yeah I do!! Why green?”
“Oh, I’m not sure…”
Narancia perked up. “Nature and stuff of course! Frogs too!” Giorno smiled in agreement.
Trish nodded. “Of course! And…Oh! That reminds me, after you get changed, make us some flower crowns!”
And so, Giorno, Mista, Narancia and Trish sat in a circle on the bed, Giorno crafting flower crowns to complete everyone's new look.
"What the hell are you guys doing?"
The four of them went silent and immediately and turned their attention to the teen now standing at the door, brows furrowed.
"Fugo wait—"
Just as fast as Fugo had appeared, he closed the door and disappeared down the hall.
"Is he just going to pretend he didn't see anything? Or..."
Trish shook her head. "Just leave him. Giorno, can you make some roses?"
--
Fugo stomped down the stairs, towards the kitchen where Bruno and Abbacchio were having afternoon tea. Bruno was typing on the laptop, Fugo assumed he was doing some capo work. Abbacchio had a novel open.
“Mista and Narancia are playing dress-up with Trish’s clothes and Giorno is helping. Bucciarati, please tell them to act their age. We can be attacked by an enemy-stand user at any time—”
Before Fugo could finish, he was interrupted by Abbacchio’s snickering.
“Leone, don’t laugh!” Bruno scolded. “Fugo, today is our day off, let them have fun. You should join them!”
Fugo shook his head. “No thanks, I’d rather sit here with you guys. At least then I won’t be losing brain cells by the minute.”
Abbacchio, still amused at the concept, turned to Fugo. “So they really are wearing Trish’s clothes up there?”
“Yeah. Cat ears and flower crowns too.”
“Leone, don’t poke fun at them. I know you had a phase—”
Abbacchio’s face went red, and he swatted in the other man’s direction, who was hiding his laughter behind his hand.
Fugo got up, embarrassed. “Okay, nevermind. I’m going back upstairs.”
A sudden BANG from the room above them stopped all three of them in their tracks.
Abbacchio and Bruno stood up immediately and looked in the general direction of the sound. It was unmistakably Mista’s pistol.
Without hesitation, Sticky Fingers materialized behind Bruno, jumping forward to create an entrance on the ceiling, into the room populated by the others. Bruno leaped forward, peeking into the room above to survey the situation. Fugo and Abbacchio stood in a defensive position, watching carefully below. They’ve been through many tough battles with all types of stand users, but the tension waiting for Bruno’s report was unnerving.
Instead of shouting or any words of action from their capo, Bruno peeked back down at the two waiting below, grinning. “Guys, everything is fine… but come up here in a couple minutes. You will want to see this.” And he disappeared through the opening, which zipped closed behind him.
Fugo and Abbacchio exchanged confused glances, then rushed over to the stairs.
-- a couple minutes earlier
Giorno looked in the vanity, looping flowers he had made into his signature golden curls. After Fugo had left, the four continued their truth and dare game. Mista looked around at the three of them in matching maid dresses, wondering to himself how Trish even had so many on hand. He was sitting on the floor, cutting some pieces of salami up for Sex Pistols who had begun to whine for a snack.
Narancia was laying on the bed, skirt spread out around him. “Trish, I dare you to…. Wait, Giorno, you can make anything living right? Trish, I dare you to let a rat crawl on top of you!”
“What, no! Why do I have to get all the gross animals?”
“Because you made us dress up in maid dresses. Giorno, get making!”
Giorno looked around for something to use. “Pass me those hair clips.” Narancia watched with wonder in his eyes as they formed into rats. Four of them.
Giorno carefully made his way over to Trish, who was hesitantly holding her hands out. The rats squeaked in Giorno's gentle hands. Trish made a face in disgust. “Make sure they don’t move around too much!”
“Trish, they are rats. I can’t control their movements.”
All Narancia originally wanted to see was Trish squirm as a rat or two sat idly in her hands. But what he didn’t expect was the four rats to suddenly jump from Giorno's hands, and run towards the salami which Mista was preparing.
Mista shot up when he noticed the four rats running towards him, yelling. “Why did you make four of them?? And why are they running towards me!? Four of them is one thing, but don’t get me started on what rats symbolize!!”
Giorno moved forward. “Mista, it’s okay, let me just grab them.”
Mista curled up, grasping his gun. “Giorno, please, get them away from me—”
The rats sniffed hungrily at Mista’s shoes, and the Italian squirmed under their noses.
Narancia laughed. “Mista, just throw them some salami and get away.”
“Four of them! Four pieces! I can’t—”
One of the rats ducked under Giorno's attempt to grab it and began to climb up Mista’s bare leg, under the skirt of the maid dress.
“GUYS—”
Before anyone could react, Mista had already readied his pistol and a shot rang out. A couple seconds of silence passed, everyone’s ears ringing.
Narancia broke the silence. “Mista did you just shoot the rat??”
The rat in question was fine, but the shock of Mista using his gun and the sound from it was loud enough to make all four of the rats revert back to their plastic forms. The group sat in silence, contemplating what Mista had just done.
The next sound was familiar, a zipper. The four turned their heads to the corner of the room, where they faced Bruno’s head peeking out of the floor.
“What happened? Is everyone alright? Oh—”
The scene before him was Trish, Giorno, Mista, and Narancia—in matching maid outfits and cat ears—with the colour completely drained out of their faces. Mista hid his gun behind his back, hoping to hide the evidence from Bruno. Yet the bullet hole in the ceiling said otherwise.
Since no one replied, Giorno looked around and stepped forward.
“Thank you for checking up on us, Bucciarati. We are just fine, thank you. Mista here just tripped and banged his knee. No need to worry.”
Bruno knew he was lying, but after seeing no one was in danger, he smiled in response. “Okay, well I’m glad you are all fine. Mista make sure to be careful with your gun—I mean where you step…”
Mista looked down, embarrassed but nodded in agreement.
“I see Fugo wasn’t lying about your new attire.”
Narancia crossed his arms and puffed a response. The fear and shock from previous events was gone. “Hey, before you make fun of us you should get in one of these too. I’m sure Trish has more.”
Bruno laughed. “No way.”
Mista moved closer to the head peeking out from the floor. He had his hands together, pleading. “Pleaseeeeee Capo!”
Narancia joined in, and so did Trish. “It would be a team-building activity! Imagine the look on Abbacchio’s face when he saw you.”
Bruno sighed. “That would be pretty funny. Okay, fine. Let me just tell these guys you are okay.”
Trish ran into her closet, Mista and Narancia exchanging excited glances.
--
Abbacchio put his hands up to his face, hiding how red he was getting. Fugo just stood in the doorway, unable to form words. Their teammates, and now Bruno, were collectively posing in their outfits. Bruno seemed to get the fanciest— and most revealing— out of the outfits. His was the classic black and white. Bruno couldn’t help but laugh at how flustered Abbacchio was getting.
Mista and Narancia were beaming, Giorno couldn’t help but match their enthusiasm. Trish was holding the door open, capturing every second on her cell phone.
Abbacchio had to avoid making eye contact. “I can’t believe you’re wearing that.”
Bruno frowned. “Leone, you don’t have to be so mean~”
Narancia covered his face and looked at Mista, making a gagging motion. Trish promptly hit him playfully, and faced the doorway again. “You know, I may happen to have exactly two more dresses…”
Mista whipped his head around. “You do??”
Abbacchio shook his head. “No. There’s no way I’m getting into one of those.”
Fugo nodded. “Yeah. I’m not doing this”
Mista ran forward, grasping Fugo’s shoulders. “Please c’mon man. 5 minutes, I know you will love the feeling.”
Fugo rubbed his temples, and looked at his friends genuinely laughing and enjoying themselves. He knew this was stupid, but seeing everyone have so much fun even in the midst of what they were going through was relieving. “... 5 minutes.”
“Yes!! This is awesome. Now.. Abbacchio?”
Fugo followed Trish over to her closet, and only Abbacchio was left in the doorway. He looked over to Bruno, and his eyes softened, ridiculous outfit and all. He sighed. “No cat ears.”
Mista and Narancia shouted in victory.
“Red for Fugo… and silver for Abbacchio! I got extra ears as well!!”
--
Trish stood before the site of Buccariati’s gang, all dressed in matching maid dresses and cat ears. She knew getting these dresses would be worth it, and the photograph she now held of all 5 of them would be treasured forever.
Mista had ditched the ears, favouring his hat again. He made his way over to Trish, grinning at the photo in her hands.
“So Trish, how did you even manage to acquire all the maid dresses while we are on the run like this?”
“Oh... a girl has her ways.”
“Did you like, expect this to happen?”
Trish smiled sheepishly, looking at the picture. “...maybe.”