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Giorno Giovanna, clutching his heart-shaped lapel, staggered backward, hitting the ground with a thunk . A wave of pain washed over him, brought on by scorching heat. The enemy Stand user cackled; neither Giorno nor Abbacchio had caught his name, but his long, flowing red hair appeared to burn as he taunted them both: “It appears that you two are no match for the blazing, seething power of my Stand, Hot Stuff! You two are finished!”
Abbacchio, being protected by his own Stand, Moody Blues, taking his form and using a garbage can lid as a shield, jumped upward. “ Shit. Oi, brat, you okay?”
“More than.” Giorno managed, wiping a bit of blood off his mouth. It wasn’t from the heat; it was from one hell of a punch near the beginning of the fight. Still, sweat dripping down his brow, he sent an icy, green-blue glare at their enemy, whose hole-filled crop-top seemed to flutter in the breeze created by Hot Stuff’s waves. While it was early April in Naples, and the day had been unseasonably warm to begin with, this was all too much for the long-sleeve wearing teen to handle. That aside, Giorno spied a soda can on the ground. Inspiration hit.
“Gold Experience!” Throwing his Stand like a medieval soldier of yore would have thrown a lance, a ghostly, glimmering hand hit the can, which gained fur, a tail, and claws. A cat.
“You really think some cat will help your sorry ass?” The villain laughed. “Oh, that’s rich.” Walking over to stomp on the cat, the cat, meanwhile, hopped out of the way, hackles raised, hissing. It jumped up onto the villain’s face, scratching it with a yowl. “O-ow! What the fuck?! ”
“Abbacchio! Now’s your chance!” Giorno, still trying to get up, yelled to the long-haired 20-something, who then obliged. With a punch directly to the windpipes and what sounded like a crack, the enemy toppled to the ground, and the heat dissipated with an audible hiss, akin to a balloon letting out air.
The two members of Bucciarati’s team were still, panting with the exertion of the battle, then happened to relax, the adrenaline beginning to fade. Moody Blues faded into Abbacchio, and Gold Experience folded himself into Giorno’s core. “That wasn’t half-bad, newbie.” Leone said, not daring to give a full complement. Still, there was the barest hint of a smile in his voice.
“T-Thanks.” He got up, staggered a bit, and Leone, near enough to catch him by the arm, did so. “S-Shit. I’m sorry.”
“Making a cat, huh? God, your Stand is so weird.” As the former cop spoke, he turned his gaze toward the feline. Its eyes were bright green, glistening in the alleyway like peridots. The fur was splotched brown-with-stripes and white, and it appeared to have short hair. It went up to their feet, nudging them with its little muzzle. “Anyway. Let’s get back. It’s almost lunch, and even if you’re limping, I’m starving, and not afraid to leave you behind if you can’t keep up. Capische?”
“Yeah, yeah…” Giorno sighed. Still, for Abbacchio, this was tantamount to high praise, and Giorno would take it. Having gotten his bearings a bit, he was able to walk once more. The two did so, trailing the streets of Naples until they reached that familiar restaurant which they each called home. Or, at the least, something resembling home. Banter punctuated the air, and since they were currently taking a short breather from their upcoming mission to go find some treasure--or something--the respite was welcome. Leone walked in with a wave. “Took out the trash.”
“Thanks, Abbacchio, GioGio.” Bruno smiled at them both. Narancia was munching on some bread with bruschetta atop it, while Fugo was doodling in a journal. Mista, meanwhile, was away in the corner, avoiding being the dreaded fourth person at the table by eating his lunch on the ground.
As they joined the rest of the team, they could hear a small trill. The room went silent.
“...What the hell was that?” Mista asked, mid-chew. Looked like he had some panini in his mouth, and the sauce was dripping down his cheek.
Narancia swallowed the bread he'd just finished biting into, then said, “...I think it was a cat.”
“A cat?” Fugo asked, looking up from his notes. “Nah, it can’t be…”
From behind Leone and Giorno trotted the cat Gold Experience had created, which let out an inquisitive meow. It rubbed itself on Leone’s legs, purring all the while.
“It can. I uh… created it, it seems.” Giorno shrugged. “Normally, I would change it back, but… I forgot. That was a soda can.”
Leone sighed. “Fuckin’ hell, Giorno, you can’t just make life and then ignore it.”
“Talk about a deadbeat dad at 15, huh?” Mista joked. Still, even so, the cat continued to fixate on Leone. “...Also, Abbacchio, looks like it likes you.”
“Looks like it is a ‘she,’” Giorno said, having knelt down to look at the new arrival, who was all over Abbacchio’s pant leg, walking back and forth, leaving behind a light layer of white-and-brown cat hair all the while.
“Giorno, please un-alive it.” The twenty-something said, picking up the feline. “It’s gonna be a nuisance.”
“But, Bucciarati, she’s so cute! C’mon, we can’t just kill her. Pleaseeeeeee…!” Narancia walked over to Bruno, tapping his shoulder, pleading with a kind of tenderness in his voice.
Leone could feel the cat purr, and she began to knead his shoulder. A bit of warmth swelled within his core. He blushed. “...Okay, okay, for fuck’s sake, I take back what I said. I’ll take the damn cat. Since clearly, while this is all Giorno’s fault, he should take her, but she seems to like me, so…”
Bruno smiled at this, with a wryness in his gaze. “Congrats on the new pet.”
Giorno appeared to be holding back chuckles. Leone shot him a glare. “ Thanks.”
At Abbacchio’s apartment later that night, new litter box, litter, and a couple cat toys and food in tow, Leone was getting used to his new roommate. She trilled, mewed, and would not leave his side. While he didn’t want to admit it, it was cute as hell. Well, at least, until she knocked a glass over, spilling water all over his carpet.
“Cat! I swear to god--”
She bolted out of the way, eyes wide. There was the audible noise of an impact as she hit something. There was no crashing or anything (yet), so at least she hadn’t broken anything (yet). It was ironic, though; just like the lil’ shit that had made her with his Stand, this goddamn cat was leaving Leone to deal with a mess she’d created. He was about to explode. He hadn’t asked for a fucking cat. He hadn’t asked to be saddled with a whole new lifeform in his apartment. She’d been a soda can before today! What were the ethics behind this? Was it even moral to make a real-life fucking cat and just leave it there ? What the hell else did Giorno do with the plants, frogs, etc. he created? These thoughts whirled around the ex-cop’s head, percolating.
After fuming for a moment, he took deep breaths, reminding himself: She was just a cat. He couldn’t fault her. Taking a hair tie and tying his long alabaster locks back, he got to work tidying up. Once finished, he walked into his bedroom, noticing: The cat was under the bed, trembling. He must have spooked it.
Was--was he feeling sorry for the damn thing? God, he was. Abbacchio made a light clicking noise with his tongue, bringing her to look at him. “Sorry about yelling at you, uh, cat. Don’t knock water over, okay?”
With hesitation, she walked up to him, gently sniffed his hand, and nuzzled his fingers. Leone smiled. Getting up, he turned off his lights, locked his door, and, moving to the bed, he collapsed onto it, wiped from the long day, swiftly dozing off.
Leone Abbacchio was then rudely awoken by a meow at 2 in the morning, and paws jabbing his cheek. He groaned. “For fuck’s sake, cat. Please, let me sleep.” He harrumphed, then dozed off once more, to be woken up again at least three times that night by assorted feline shenanigans. Finally getting the cat to calm down, he managed to fall asleep… right as his alarm went off.
Of fucking course.
“So. How was the cat, Abbacchio?” Narancia asked, taking a sip of a latte. Leone, head pounding, sinuses about to explode, and oversized bags under his eyes, shot him a glare.
“...I think she kept him up, Narancia,” Fugo whispered. “Don’t press the issue, ‘kay?”
“Oh, okay.” With a nod, he turned back to Leone. “Sorry your cat couldn’t let you sleep, Abbacchio.”
“It’s--it’s fine.” He sighed. “Look, she was purring most of last night. I--” He sighed. “I mean, she’s a cat, it’s day one in a new place. If she does it again, though…” A glare at Giorno followed. “I won’t go on another journey with the rookie here again.”
Giorno quietly sipped his morning tea, not daring to look up at the pissed-off twenty-something, who let out a growl befitting of his lion namesake. “Anyway. I feel like shit.”
“Abbacchio.”
Leone looked to their leader, his bright barrettes glistening loudly in the morning sun. It was like the worst hangover Leone had had from his alcoholic days. Bucciarati leaned in close to him, then gave him a pat on the shoulder as he said gingerly, “I’ll be by to check on you later. Go sleep. You can’t do your best work when you’re barely awake and incapacitated by a headache.”
“T-Thanks.” Leone, waving goodbye to the others, walked back to his apartment, headache threatening to consume him.
It wasn’t until he dropped onto his bed, fully clothed, that he realized: Not only was his window open, but he hadn’t seen the cat.
Fuck.
Getting up with a jolt, he jumped up, panicking, throwing his sheets off his bed, his comforter, and tossing his dirty clothes from one side of his room to another, the pile migrating with a thunk. “C-Cat! Where are you?!”
Silence. Then, a small meow.
“C-Cat?” His eyes lit up with joy.
Another meow. The cat jumped up onto the bed, purring as if to apologize. Leone, despite himself, gave her a hug. “Shit, you scared me there…”
Getting up, he put the sheets and comforter back on his bed, replaced some pillows that had fallen in the rushed search, and sat on his bed; for real, this time. Covering himself up with a blanket, he heard a radio outside playing a cute little pop song in English:
You drive me crazy, I just can’t sleep! / I’m so excited, I’m in too deep…
Britney Spears’ “(You Drive Me) Crazy.” God, the last thing he needed now was this saccharine… and admittedly very-catchy… bubblegum-crap. And yet, Leone couldn’t stop listening.
Crazy, and it feels all right! / Baby, thinking of you keeps me up all night…!
He didn’t listen to the rest of the song, but looked at the cat, who had decided to take residence atop his arm, which was covered in a blanket, kneading it and purring all the while, and realized. “Okay, your name is Britney. Cool?”
More purring. She leaned down and licked his cheek. “Well, Britney it is.” With a joyful trill, the cat moved to a spot beside Leone’s head on the pillow, and plopped herself down.
He fell asleep, and when Bruno had, as promised, dropped by to say hello hours later, he awoke the sleeping man with a gentle kiss. A thoughtful boyfriend, indeed. Britney mewed, then climbed onto Bucciarati’s arm as he took a spot beside Leone, sitting on the side of the bed. “So.” Bruno patted the cat as he turned to his partner, who was rubbing sleep out of his eyes. “What’d you name her?’
“Britney. She drives me crazy, and I can’t sleep. Y’know. I heard that fuckin’ song and it just fit. ”
“What did Britney Spears ever do to you?” Bucciarati laughed, his bob bouncing a bit as he did so. “She doesn’t deserve that vitriol.”
“She existed.” Still, joking aside, he chuckled.
“Suit yourself, Leone. That aside… I assume you’re keeping her. ‘Please un-alive her, Giorno,’ my ass.”
Blushing, he pulled a pillow over his head as Britney, inquisitive as ever, batted at his neck with her paw, wondering where Leone had gone. “Shut it.” Bruno’s laughter rang like peals of bells into the Neapolitan evening, and while Leone didn’t dare admit it, he was happier than he’d been in a long time.
“Oi, newbie.” The next day, Giorno turned around to hear Leone, gruff, but seemingly more well-rested. “Thanks for the cat.”
The blond held a napkin in his hand, then, cupping it, his hand glimmered gold. He raised his hand, now holding a small bird, which trilled joyfully. Fugo gasped. “Shit, Giorno, that’s rad as hell.”
Hopefully, Giorno looked at Leone. “Want a bird too?” His eyes had the most snide smirk hidden within, and it appeared as if he were holding back laughter.
“Fuck you.” Leone glared. “And, Giorno, for fuck’s sake, stop making animals and plants when you’re bored! ”
The bird, a small sparrow, hopped onto Giorno’s head and began to pick at his donut curls with its beak, pecking away. “I see nothing wrong with this,” Giorno grinned.
Leone groaned. The likelihood that they were about to soon be in possession of a small zoo aside, Leone had gained a new pet cat out of all this. Having the newbie on his team could have been a lot worse. Grabbing his coffee and sipping it, his periwinkle lipstick impacting the white ceramic of the cup, he couldn’t help but smile thinking of that adorable little furball he now owned. Britney was his, and while he wouldn’t admit it to anyone, he loved that cat more than life itself, even if he had only known her for approximately 24 hours.
“What’cha smilin’ about, Abba?” Narancia asked, leaning on his shoulder.
Leone took a sip of coffee once more. “Nothing.”
“Sure.” The Ghirga boy patted Abbacchio’s shoulder. Narancia then went back to babbling to Giorno about some kind of music or video game or whatnot, and all the while, Leone counted the minutes until he could see little Britney again. No matter how long it took, imagining his new feline companion kneading his shoulder, clawing at his hair, nuzzling his cheek… He grinned at the thought. Leone decided that the amount of time he spent out was worth the wait. No matter what kind of bullshit Giorno pulled from here on out, at least this time, Leone Abbacchio had gotten a cat out of it. Being on Bruno's team had its perks.