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Leone Abbacchio stared at his capo balefully.
"Why do I have to stay here and watch the brat?" he growled.
Bucciarati sighed heavily, his annoyance beginning to show through. Abbacchio might have felt bad about being the cause of it except for the fact that he was also, at this moment, very annoyed.
"Because I need all of the others on this mission, especially with Giorno out of commission," Bruno explained.
Abbacchio bristled. "So, I'm obsolete, that's what you're saying?"
"You're not obsolete, Leone, you're injured!" Bucciarati said in exasperation. "Your shoulder still hasn't healed fully since the last mission and that could prove problematic in the heat of battle. I shouldn't have to explain this to you."
Abbacchio sighed, finally feeling a little of the guilt creep in. "No, you shouldn't. I'm sorry, it's just…"
"I know," Bruno cut in. "You're annoyed and in pain and you hate being laid up. Believe me, I get it. But Giorno also needs someone to look after him. He's still got a bad fever and needs someone here."
Abbacchio pressed his lips into a thin line. The golden brat had caught some kind of flu—probably because he got about as much rest as Bucciarati did and seemed even worse at taking care of himself. Abbacchio hadn't wanted to admit it, but he had been at least a little worried when Giorno had almost collapsed the day before when they had all found out that he had been hiding a fever.
"And you think I'm capable of taking care of a sick kid?" Abbacchio asked incredulously.
"Of course, why wouldn't you?" Bruno replied, furrowing his brow in confusion. "You'll be fine. You just have to be there if he needs anything."
Abbacchio sighed and folded his arms across his chest before he regretted the motion with a wince due to his bad shoulder. "Fine. But don't expect me to hold his hand or anything."
Bucciarati gave him a small smile that made Abbacchio bristle again before he turned at the sound of the rest of the team gathering.
"Is everyone ready?" he asked.
"Yep," Mista replied, checking his gun before putting it in his waistband.
"Is Giorno going to be okay?" Narancia asked worriedly.
Bruno smiled kindly at his concern. "Of course he will. Abbacchio will be staying with him."
"Are you sure he'll be okay?" Narancia asked again, this time skeptically.
Abbacchio stepped forward and flicked the back of his head, making him yelp. "Hey, just worry about the mission, all right, brat?"
Narancia rubbed his head with a glare, but nodded. Abbacchio caught Bucciarati's eye and gave him a nod. Then Bucciarati and the others left.
Abbacchio stared at the closed front door for a moment before he sighed, rubbed his still aching shoulder and went to make himself a cup of tea and take another dose of pain pills.
He supposed it wasn't the worst thing, looking after a sick kid. After all, Giorno would be sleeping most of the time, right? And it wasn't like he was vomiting or anything, at least not yet. He just had a fever and a cough as far as they could tell. If all Abbacchio had to do was sit by the kid's bedside and make sure he didn't die in his sleep or something, then it might end up being a more relaxing day than usual.
Abbacchio made his cup of tea and grabbed a book before he headed upstairs to Giorno's room.
The room was dark. The shades had been mostly drawn and only one beam of light made it through to fall across Giorno's face, which was flushed with fever. His breath sounded a bit labored and his golden curls were lank and plastered to his forehead with sweat.
Abbacchio crossed the room quietly and turned on the floor lamp next to the chair in the corner, setting his tea and book down on the side table.
Giorno stirred and his eyes flickered open, giving a weak cough as he looked up at Abbacchio.
"Mm…Abba-cchio?" he murmured.
"It's just me," Abbacchio replied gruffly. "Need something?"
Giorno looked down and shook his head. "N-no, not right now." He turned over and seemed to fall back into his restless sleep, his back to Abbacchio.
The older gangster pressed his lips into a thin line and sat down, picking up his book and began to read it while he sipped his tea and waited for the pain medicine to kick in and stop his injured shoulder from throbbing. He really wished Giorno could fix muscle injuries. If he'd gotten shot or something, he would be fine. He didn't care much for the irony.
He looked up when Giorno made a sound of discomfort and saw that the boy was tossing, looking restless. Obviously the fever, Abbacchio reminded himself and went back to reading.
"N-No," Giorno murmured and Abbacchio glanced up again, seeing him tossing his head back and forth, hands clenched in the blanket. "P-Please, don't…"
Abbacchio frowned, realizing Giorno must be having a nightmare. He wondered if he should do something about it. Bucciarati would have already been sitting on his bed at this point, shushing him or something, but Abbacchio wasn't very good at that kind of thing, at least he didn't consider himself very good at it. Sometimes he thought Bruno overestimated his ability for caring, especially when it came to a physical sense.
Giorno let out a whimper and jerked before he continued to plead softly. Abbacchio bit his lip.
"Hey, Giorno," he finally called, hoping it would wake the kid up. He was starting to get uncomfortable witnessing Giorno's nightmares.
The boy whimpered again but finally seemed to settle on the bed. At least for a little while. Abbacchio only read a couple paragraphs before Giorno was tossing again, seeming even more out of it than before.
Abbacchio sighed and set his book aside, standing up and crossing to the bed. Giorno moaned and curled up, pressing his face into the pillow.
Abbacchio frowned as he saw the red flush of fever painted across Giorno's cheeks under a sheen of sweat. Of course, the rest of him was pale, almost sallow, his cheeks sunken and horrible dark circles under his eyes.
"Nuh—please, n-no," Giorno whimpered. "Stop!"
Abbacchio frowned and finally reached out to touch the boy's shoulder, giving him a shake. "Hey, wake up," he said.
Giorno didn't exactly wake up, but he startled slightly and then settled a little. Abbacchio didn't notice that much though, because he was too busy focusing on just how hot Giorno felt. He shifted his hand to feel Giorno's forehead and nearly pulled it back in surprise.
"Damn," he muttered. Giorno really was burning up. He wondered just how hot he was. Maybe it was time for him to have another dose of Tylenol?
He glanced toward the bedside table and saw the bottle with a sticky note Bruno had left with the time on it. Abbacchio frowned. It looked like Bucciarati had given Giorno a dose before he left. Then why didn't it seem to be doing anything?
Abbacchio spotted a thermometer on the table as well and picked it up. He should probably check and see just how much Giorno's fever had risen.
It took a little work to get the thermometer under Giorno's tongue, but as he waited Giorno curled up tighter, whimpering again. The thermometer beeped and Abbacchio took it back and glanced at the reading.
"Almost 103," he muttered to himself. It might not be dangerous, yet, but it wasn't good either. And he was sure if it had been that high before Bucciarati would have said something. Which meant that it had to still be rising.
Abbacchio shook his head as he set the thermometer aside and looked helplessly down at Giorno who turned over again, seeming unable to stay still. He would wait a little while to see if the Tylenol kicked in and if not…well, he was going to have to force the fever down before the kid's brain boiled.
"Don't! Let me go! Leave me alone!" Giorno cried out, startling Abbacchio as he kicked against his blankets, sending them mostly to the floor. Abbacchio bent to pick them up and put them over Giorno again when he noticed the boy's Stand aura glowing around him briefly before it flickered out. Abbacchio frowned. Was that Gold Experience trying to heal Giorno, or was it just a defensive reaction from whatever he was dreaming?
And what was Giorno dreaming? Being a private person himself, Abbacchio didn't really like to pry into other people's business, but he had to wonder. The kid seemed distressed, and it didn't seem to all be from the fever.
"Stop!" Giorno suddenly shouted, twisting on the bed. "S-sorry! I didn't mean to. Pl-please stop!"
Abbacchio felt something twist in his chest as he watched Giorno cower into the blankets, shaking from fever and maybe something else. Despite how Giorno could irk him, he did care for the kid. And he had a bad feeling he was dreaming of something that had happened to him before.
He didn't know what he could conceivably do for Giorno though, so he simply went back to sit down, trying to concentrate on his book again.
Giorno seemed to settle for about half an hour before he began to simply moan, shifting weakly in the bed. Abbacchio watched him for a few seconds before he got up and went to grab the thermometer again.
Giorno whimpered and turned his head away when Abbacchio tried to get it into his mouth.
"Come on, kid," he said, gripping Giorno's chin and instantly knew he was hotter. He waited, worried, while the thermometer counted up and when it finally beeped he was sick to realize it was at 104 now.
"Alright, we need to get you cool," he said, resigned.
He hurried to the bathroom down the hall and started a bath, making sure it wasn't freezing, but was cool enough to help.
Leaving the water running, he hurried back to get Giorno who was still tossing uncomfortably on the bed, seeming delirious right now.
Abbacchio pressed his lips together and reached down to try and get Giorno out of the bed.
"Come on, kid, at least try to make this easier on me," he muttered as he slid Giorno up and out of the bed, trying to favor his bad shoulder as much as possible.
It still twanged though when he was forced to lift Giorno completely since the boy's legs seemed to refuse to work. Abbacchio cursed and gritted his teeth as he hurried toward the bathroom. At least the kid was skinny. Too skinny, really, especially with the addition of sickness, but it wasn't doing his shoulder any favors.
He settled Giorno heavily onto the floor once they got to the bathroom and glanced toward the tub. It was full enough. Here in the more stark light of the bathroom, Giorno looked even worse and he instantly slumped against Abbacchio's shoulder.
"Sorry about this, kid," Abbacchio muttered and began to strip Giorno down to his underwear, pulling off the sweat pants he'd been wearing before he started to peel off his sweat-soaked shirt.
It was a difficult venture with Giorno being delirious and not offering any help, so Abbacchio simply propped him against his chest and grabbed the back of the shirt, hauling it over his head and…
Scars. That's what he saw when he pulled Giorno's shirt off. His back was covered in scars. Old scars—not ones he could have gotten recently. Not ones from wounds Gold Experience would have healed.
Abbacchio just sat there staring for a long minute, not even sure what to think. Expect that now he knew. Now he knew exactly what Giorno had been having nightmares about, and as he thought about it, a lot of things made sense. How Giorno would just seem to shut down when people started yelling or when anger was directed at him. Get stone-faced and silent. How he would sometimes stiffen or start if he wasn't expecting someone to touch him, even if it was just one of them. And Abbacchio, well, he yelled at Giorno a lot. And he wasn't really nice about it. Had he reminded Giorno of whoever had done this to him? That thought made him sick and he found himself simply sitting there on the cold bathroom tile, cradling the boy against him as if he could protect him from the past. It was ridiculous. After all, you couldn't erase the past. No one knew that as well as Leone Abbacchio.
"God, Giorno," he breathed, swallowing hard.
He was snapped out of his dark thoughts, when Giorno shuddered and moaned and Abbacchio suddenly remembered what he was supposed to be doing. Certainly not sitting around worrying about stuff he had no power to fix. He could help the kid's fever though, and maybe that would help the nightmares to go away. He could at least do that.
"All right, kid, easy," he murmured as he shifted Giorno and hefted him up and into the tub.
Giorno flinched and flailed a bit, trying to curl away from the cold water, but Abbacchio grabbed his shoulders and held him still, sliding him down as he gripped the back of his neck to keep his head above water. Giorno moaned, face twisting in discomfort, kicking out.
"I know it doesn't feel good, kid, but we've got to get that fever down," Abbacchio said, grabbing a washcloth and wetting it before he began to wash it across Giorno's forehead.
Giorno continued to make sounds of discomfort as Abbacchio continued his ministrations, trying to cool Giorno off as quickly as he could without shocking his system too harshly. When the water got warmer, he put new colder water into the tub and caused Giorno to shiver, whimpering and curling further into the tub.
Abbacchio quickly grabbed him before his head could go under the water and pulled him back up. Giorno murmured and his eyes finally blinked open, the green orbs full of confusion.
"Hey, you good?" Abbacchio asked cautiously, leaning over the tub.
Giorno blinked up at him and Abbacchio was relieved to see recognition there.
"Abba—" Giorno began then stopped, head whipping around, arms coming up to wrap around himself as he instantly pressed his back against the side of the tub, face horrified.
"Sorry, I know it's not fun waking up in a bath half naked, but you were burning up, I had to get your temperature down," Abbacchio told him.
Giorno swallowed hard, curling into himself. He flinched as Abbacchio reached out to touch his forehead again, and he pulled back.
"I'm just gonna check your temperature," he explained.
Giorno glanced up and gave a small nod of consent before Abbacchio pressed his hand to his head, relieved to find he wasn't as hot as he had been.
"You're feeling cooler, but we'll check with the thermometer again when we get you back in bed. You were up to 104 when I put you in here."
Giorno swallowed, then whispered. "I—I've had worse. You…you don't have to worry. Or stay."
Abbacchio narrowed his eyes at him. "I'm not leaving. You could pass out and drown."
Giorno glanced up at him briefly before he looked away. "I'll get out then. I think I'm okay now. You don't have to bother taking care of me anymore."
Abbacchio frowned. "Hey, hold on a second. You think I've got a problem taking care of you?"
Giorno looked up at him as if he didn't quite understand the question. "I…I know I'm just a burden on you. It's okay, if you don't—"
"Stop," Abbacchio snapped making Giorno flinch. He cursed inwardly and took a deep breath, attempting to soften his voice. "What I mean is, you're not a burden. Okay? I don't care what anyone might have told you before, but here, you're family, got it? Family isn't a burden."
Giorno looked slightly taken aback, but then shame washed over his features and he ducked his head, wet strands of hair falling into his face, making the picture look downright miserable. "You…you saw them. Didn't you? The…the scars."
Abbacchio exhaled. "They're a little hard to miss," he replied honestly.
Giorno shuddered, hunching his shoulders. Abbacchio was silent for a long moment, then stood and grabbed a towel. "Come on, you can come out now. Let's get you into bed before you catch a chill and make this worse."
Giorno nodded and Abbacchio helped him stand shakily and practically lifted him over the side of the tub, wrapping him in the towel. He patted Giorno dry and helped him back to his room where he grabbed fresh clothes and helped Giorno into them.
They were both silent, Abbacchio tried not to stare at the scars on Giorno's back as he helped the kid dress, but god there were a lot of them, and some looked like they had been pretty bad. He'd seen enough even in the short time he was a cop to recognize what it looked like when someone used a belt. The worse spots on Giorno's back were still in the distinct shape left by a buckle. Abbacchio wished he could take a baseball bat to whoever had done this to the kid, especially since, from the looks of them, he'd gotten most of them as a young kid. Abbacchio's lip curled unbidden. He had a special hatred reserved for bastards who beat kids.
Giorno glanced at his face and looked away again, swallowing. "Sorry," he whispered.
Abbacchio schooled his expression. "It's not you," he said gruffly. "You don't have to apologize, kid. And…look, I'm sorry. I know I can be rough on you, and mean and angry, and I'm working on it. I may not ever stop seeing you as a dumb kid, but I have to admit that you have some good traits, Giorno. And you're a lot smarter than I originally gave you credit for."
Giorno looked up at him with surprise, eyes shining as if he didn't quite believe it. He probably thought he was having another fever dream. Abbacchio snorted.
"And I want you to know, that…you don't have to talk about it, if you don't want to. I understand. But, if you do need to talk, my door is always open. God knows I have everyone else talking to me all the time for whatever reason, one more isn't going to hurt me."
He didn't say it nearly as gruffly as intended and Giorno's face softened as he looked at him, a certain gratefulness coming over his features.
"Thanks," he said. "Really, Abbacchio, I…I know you're not…like him. I…I trust you."
Abbacchio felt his stomach twist but also felt a little bit of warmth in his chest at the same time. He rolled his eyes.
"Well, good, because we kind of need to trust each other. Now here, let's take your temperature again."
He was relieved to see Giorno's fever had gone back down to a manageable 101 and it was also time for him to take another dose of medicine. Once Abbacchio had plied him with all of that and got him to drink some water, Giorno looked exhausted and Abbacchio helped him back into bed.
"You need anything else?" Abbacchio asked. "I'm just going to be sitting in the chair over there."
Giorno shook his head and huddled under the blankets, still looking miserable, but not quite so bad as before. His eyes began to slide shut before he opened them again and met Abbacchio's. "Abbacchio? Can you…not tell Bucciarati about the scars? I'm not…ready for him and the others to know. Not yet."
Abbacchio softened in understanding. "He won't hear it from me," he promised. "But if you ever need someone to talk to, Bucciarati is a lot better than I am at that."
Giorno smiled slightly as he huddled further under the covers. "I don't actually think you're that bad at all. But…thank you."
Abbacchio sighed and rolled his eyes again. "Get some rest, kid."
Giorno didn't need further bidding. His eyes slid shut and he seemed to be asleep within an instant.
Abbacchio snorted a soft laugh and returned to the chair. His tea was cold now, but he found his place in his book and started reading again, keeping an eye on the golden haired boy sleeping nearby, seemingly without nightmares. Abbacchio hoped that would hold out.
But if they didn't, he would be there to help Giorno chase them away. After all, family meant that there was no person who had to bear their burdens alone. It hadn't been an easy concept for Abbacchio to learn, but he liked to think he had gotten better at it.
Maybe he could help Giorno figure that out as well. In the meantime, he would watch over him until the others returned.
Maybe this hadn't turned out to be such a bad day after all.