Chapter Text
The door slammed shut behind Trish as she walked in, taking off her pink winter coat in the process and hanging it up neatly on her peg by the door. Bucciarati had gone out and got each member their own little hook, complete with a golden name tag hung above. It was cute how much he cared, really, almost like he was their mother.
Trish paced through the kitchen and turned into the dining room where the rest of the gang sat eating brunch. Everyone was dressed in their usual attire, an amalgamation of designs and colors filling the room. Bucciarati sat at the head of the table opposite of the entryway, his shoulders rolled back naturally with years of practicing good posture. He was reading a newspaper, his eyes scanning through the local news section in search of any suspicious activity. A cup of sweet-smelling tea rested beside him, the steam slowly rising over the porcelain edge.
Giorno and Mista were sat on either side of him, both of whom had their full attention on an absolutely fascinating conversation of whether or not Mista could beat a grizzly bear in a fight. Giorno seemed to have his doubts, his arms crossed distrustfully. Mista continued to throw his arms out to his sides, arguing back at the blonde boy across from him.
“Okay, but I took karate for about 3 months and that bear took karate for like, no months. I got a 3-month advantage on that bear!” Giorno just sighed, resting his head in his hands.
Narancia was sat beside Mista, engrossed in whatever he was playing on his Gameboy, occasionally stopping to practically inhale the waffles on his plate. This made Abbacchio and Fugo, who were seated nearest to the entryway, scrunch their faces up in displeasure. Abbacchio took a few sips of his wine before acknowledging the new presence in the room.
“Hello, Trish.”
Hearing Abbacchio speak, Giorno turned to look at her, the rest of the gang following suit. Trish leaned against the metal doorframe, cracking her knuckles idly as she spoke.
“I’ve got a guy coming over at about half-past six to come pick me up, so don’t be shocked, ‘kay?” She picked at the dirt beneath her nails. Trish knew that the guys were always on edge on account of their line of work, so she had to make sure they knew in advance about any people she invited over.
Bruno choked on his tea. “Oh that’s… lovely! Does he come from a nice home?” he asks, softly patting his chest to relieve his airways. Abbacchio looked over at Bruno, visibly concerned for his husband, before turning his head to Trish.
“Is he good looking?” he asked, face as stoic as ever.
Trish seemed confused. What an odd question.
“Uh… I don’t know and I guess so? Never really thought about it,” she responded to both questions.
Abbacchio quirked an eyebrow. She hadn’t thought about how he looked? Abbacchio couldn’t imagine going out with someone purely based on their personality. Sure, he loved Bruno’s strength and power, but god, that man was gorgeous.
Abbacchio just snorted, turning his attention back to Bruno who had still not completely recovered from the close call with his drink.
Giorno just kept on looking at her in quiet shock, not quite knowing what to say now. Suddenly to his left side, there was a loud bang as Fugo slammed his fist down hard on the table.
“WHAT?! SHE GETS A DATE BEFORE I DO?!!” he shrieked, face turning an unseemly shade of crimson.
Fugo stands up to stomp to his room, but not before he got a good swift punch in at the wall. That poor, poor wall. There were stains and holes from Fugo’s relentless abuse scattered across the floral wallpaper that Bruno had picked out at a farmer’s market some years ago. He always hired someone to patch it up, but his efforts were futile as the holes always reappeared not long after.
Mista scoffs loudly. “Hah! Bet he’s ugly. Uglier than me at least,” he smirks. Mista seemed to think really highly of himself despite the fact that he hadn’t once brought someone home. Thinking about it, it doesn’t seem anyone had even accepted his advances before. Poor Mista. At least he had that resilient determination, though.
Narancia, always the last to understand what’s going on, perks up. He zooms over to Trish’s side, knocking over a sculpture on the wall in the process. Abbacchio rolled his eyes. What a waste of a perfectly good Tacitus bust. Seems like Narancia finally got it, at least. He grabbed her arm, shouting, “YOU WHAT?! WHO? WHERE ARE YOU GOING? CAN I COME?!” while bouncing up and down, making anyone who tried to watch him dizzy.
“Narancia, you know that’s not polite,” Bruno scolded from his seat at the opposite end of the table.
“Yeah, Narancia, you can’t just go on someone’s date with them. Besides, even though he’s definitely ugly, you’d still be the ugliest one there,” Mista jests, eyes crinkling with laughter at his own mediocre joke.
Narancia whips his head back over to the multi-patterned man. “You take that back! You can’t even find matching clothes, you man-whore!” he yells, barreling over towards Mista, who has preemptively stood up and started running away.
“You’re just a little rat! You’ll never catch me!” Mista cackles as Narancia skitters after him, chasing him through the living room and out the side door to the patio out back where their sounds were muffled enough that only faint whoops of laughter and shouting could be heard back in the dining room.
Bruno shook his head, sighing softly. He loved his kids, but sometimes they were a bit much. Just last week, Narancia had spilled an entire gallon of milk because he bet Fugo that he could balance it on his forehead for 20 minutes. He didn’t last 10 seconds.
Trish laughed, turning to the three men left in the room. “I’ll be upstairs getting ready, okay?” She turns around on her heel, her skirt whipping around her legs as she makes her way up the stairs to her room, beginning to remove the bobby pins from her hair.
Abbacchio stood up and cleared his throat before making his way over to Bruno, quickly grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the exit, seeming to have some kind of plan on his mind. Bruno chuckled warmly and followed him out. It was a chesty, heartfelt sound that was full of love, echoing faintly through the tall marble hallways as he left.
Giorno sighed, now left alone in the large dining room. He looked down at the table, a distorted version of his face shining back at him on the glossy wood. “It’s gonna be a long night, huh...” he muttered to his reflection. Giorno tried to imagine how the evening was going to play out. Sure, Trish had brought friends over before, but never a date. Judging by the reactions they had to just the mention of Trish going out with some guy, it was definitely going to be a sight when he arrives. Giorno sat there engrossed in his thoughts for just a bit longer before standing up gracefully to make his exit, leaving the room empty and cold.