Chapter Text
Late Spring - 1993
Diavolo woke up with eyes too worn to open a heavy weight on his chest. It was not the metaphorical kind associated with pressure stemming from the past burdens that found themselves slinking into the present day from time to time, as on a cosmic whim. No, it was a very real, very warm weight that burrowed under Diavolo’s left arm and nested on top of his rib cage. The weight on him rose and fell with each breath Diavolo took, which led to the conclusion that if this were an attempt on his life by way of suffocation, this was the most pitiful attempt the man had experienced by far.
Curious, Diavolo used his free arm to poke at the bundle of warmth, keeping him tied down to the hotel room’s uncomfortable excuse for a couch, only to be greeted with a head of hair twirling around his finger. Now confused, the man forced his eyes open, fighting against the bright lamplight burning through the shade over it with his free hand as he took the opportunity to assess what exactly he was dealing with.
Diavolo blinked.
And then blinked again, convinced it was a dream, until the scene in front of him continued to persist even after the man had fully entered the waking world.
That was no assassin, but a child.
The very child Doppio had taken into his care was now laying on top of Diavolo, using the Don of Passione and one of, if not the most powerful men in all of Italy as a cushion while he slept.
At least, Diavolo has assumed he was sleeping. The child wasn’t making an effort to move by any means, even after the rather obvious movements on Diavolo’s part, would have indicated that the man was awake and aware of the situation they both were in. There was no audible increase in his breathing, along with no visual signs of the boy’s chest moving faster to match a nervous heart rate, meaning that either the child was, as Diavolo had assumed, sleeping… or dead.
The man quickly hovered his hand over the boy's mouth and nose, waiting for the inevitable exhale of air to confirm that the child was, in fact, just fine. Good. Doppio would have been quite upset otherwise.
And speaking of Doppio…
Diavolo let his head fall back against the back of the couch, as the strain of continuously staring down at the kid in case of sudden movements was not doing any favors for his neck. He let out a soft exhale of air and whispered out to his other half, aware that the two’s bond tied them in such a way that the other would wake alongside him.
“My dear Doppio, why is there a child on me?”
Fingers from Diavolo’s free hand soon found their way to his eyes, rubbing against his eyelids as they met against the bridge of his nose, remaining there as he awaited Doppio’s response.
“Hm…?” Diavolo’s consigliere hummed, only half-awake until Doppio registered the scene Diavolo was currently subjected to through their eyes. “Oh! Well… ah, I was having Giorno practice his reading, and I guess we hadn’t paid much attention to the time. I don’t even remember which page we left on…”
There was a bit of disappointment in those words, as Doppio was no doubt referring to the closed book that had since fallen to the floor in their sleep.
“Can you please get him off me?”
“But, Dia! He’s sound asleep! It would be cruel to wake him up now.”
Diavolo scoffed, dropping his free hand onto the armchair next to him as he took another look at the child’s sleeping form. “You coddle him.”
“I do not!” Doppio protested, despite his Don’s acute awareness of how much time Doppio would spend fawning over the small child, taking up every opportunity to brag about the boy’s accomplishments as if Diavolo wasn’t there to witness them. “Besides, even if I did… Giorno’s life was pretty hard before we met. Why would I want to make it harder?”
“And you think bringing him into the mafia as your assistant is making his life easier?” Diavolo retorted, shaking his head while musing over the results of Doppio’s conversation with the child from a few days prior. “Consigliere’s assistant…”
It had been an amusing gesture, to say the least.
“You’re just jealous that he’s my assistant and not yours!”
“Why would I have need of an assistant when I have you? Unless you wish to be replaced…”
“We both know you could never replace me even if you tried.” A stifled chuckle on Diavolo’s end made the pause in between Doppio’s words barely noticeable. “I wasn’t the one to introduce him to what we do anyway. Why did you think that talking about the famiglia in front of him was a good idea in the first place?”
“He was going to find out sooner or later, Doppio. We would only delay the inevitable by keeping the reason for our… unorthodox lifestyle a secret. And what other alternative would there be for him if we withheld this information longer? Especially after you’ve cemented him deep in your life.”
“Yeah…”
Maybe it was waking up at the odds hours of the night that had Diavolo sounding more irritated than he had intended to. Even if Doppio did not always act like it, the Don was aware that his other half was not taking any of these decisions lightly. The lecture was not needed.
“You know,” Diavolo forced himself to find a bright side to all of this. For Doppio’s sake. “Giorno was the one who so eagerly wished to be a part of both sides of our life. As long as he heeds our warnings and does what is told, no harm should come to him.”
“He better.”
Diavolo took another deep breath, turning his attention to the alarm clock that illuminated out from the nightstand on the other side of the room, right next to the bed that the man would have preferred to be in. Two-forty.
An awful time to have woken up, at five o’clock was simultaneously too close and too far away to make a proper decision on whether it was advantageous for Diavolo to get a start on his work now or he could try to fall back asleep and wait for the alarm to go off at his usual hour. It wasn’t as if tomorrow held any pressing matters that required Diavolo’s attention. But as fate would have it, it was always better to bet on something seeking to through a wrench in his plans than nothing at all.
Still…
The man poked the child’s head again, unable to get Giorno to stir in the slightest.
Without saying a word, Diavolo reached out and pulled the cord to the lamp beside him, shedding the room in total darkness before closing his eyes and searching for some form of comfort on this godforsaken coach.
“Aw. You do like him. I really wish I had my camera...”
Diavolo immediately denied the accusation. “I do not hold the same affection you have for him in the slightest. I simply don’t see a reason to suffer through waking him up and dealing with a whiny child so early in the morning. Goodnight Doppio.”
“If you say so. Goodnight Boss.”