Chapter Text
Luca Paguro had no idea how he ended up becoming pocket-sized. One moment he was happily crunching on the candy Giulia had given him, and the next he was swamped by a pool of fabric on the floor. Fabric that had turned out to be his now-oversized clothes.
There had been a lot of screaming after that revelation.
Now, bundled up in his too-big shirt and tucked carefully into the pocket of Giulia’s overalls, he picked at his cuticles. “Giulie? When do you think I’ll turn back?”
She patted his head, an act likely meant to be reassuring but one that ended up making him feel like a puppy. “We’ll figure this out, Luc, don’t worry. Papa will have a cure for you.”
She abruptly cupped a hand over her pocket, enveloping him in darkness, and from the murmur of voices beyond, Luca belatedly gathered that there were people around.
“I’ll get you home as quickly as possible, all right?” she whispered, looking nervously down at him. “Now hold on tight.”
And before he could process what was happening, she was breaking out into a full-on run, dodging carts and squeezing through the midmorning crowd as she sprinted past the town square and ducked through the gate into the backyard of Massimo’s home.
She rapped frantically on the darkened kitchen window. “Papa!” she called. “Papa, are you home?”
Luca heard the door swing open; he peeked through Giulia’s fingertips to see a sleep-ruffled Alberto. “Giulie? What’s wrong? Papa’s gone out fishing.”
She cursed creatively. Then, realising her hand was still obscuring her pocket, she let it fall. Luca stuck his head as far out of the pocket as he could. “Um. Hey Beto.”
Alberto’s eyes went wide, looking shell-shocked. “Luca?” he choked.
He scratched the back of his head nervously. “Um. Yeah. I’m not really sure how this happened.”
It was Alberto’s turn to swear. “Giulia, what on earth did you do to him?”
“I didn’t do anything!” she protested, and Luca stepped in before they started arguing.
“It’s not her fault,” he reassured his friend. “We’d just bought some candy from the corner store and I’d just taken a bite when this happened.”
Alberto still looked as though he’d seen a ghost. “Oh. Okay.”
“Calm down, Beto, it’s just me,” Luca tried, and Alberto immediately looked guilty. “I know, I’m sorry, I should be the one comforting you. Do you want to, uh. Come here?” He held out his open palms.
Awkwardly, Luca hoisted himself out of Giulia’s pocket and climbed into Alberto’s hands, sitting down cross-legged. His torso was roughly the size of his palm. It felt strange, looking up at Alberto like this.
Alberto was taking him in as if seeing him for the first time. “You’re tiny ,” he said, fingers curling protectively around Luca’s back, and Luca huffed.
Giulia sighed, looking guilty. “I’m sorry, Luc. I don’t know what in that candy.”
He hastened to wave off her apology. “It’s okay. Massimo will be able to fix everything.”
There was the strange sensation of something pressing down on his head and Luca turned to see Alberto trying to card through his curls. He smiled sheepishly. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s okay. It felt- nice.”
Giulia cleared her throat. “Right. Let’s sort some things out first, then. Papa might not be back until evening, and you need clothes and food and a place to stay safely.”
Alberto lit up. “Hey, Giulie, what about that dollhouse you used to have?”
Her brow furrowed. “It’s covered in dust. Besides, will Luca even be the right size for it?”
One trip up to the dusty storage hatch tucked into the ceiling, two wet towels and many sneezes later, they’d procured the house and polished it up. Now it sat atop Giulia’s desk, cherry-red roof and creamy walls haloed in the midmorning light.
“It’s only one story,” Giulia said apologetically. “But the furniture should be nice enough.”
Luca couldn’t help but laugh. “Giulie, seriously, it’s fine! It’s not like I’m moving in here or anything.”
Luca had been in Alberto’s shirt pocket the entire while, and now his friend set him gently down on the front step. He was just the right height to fit through the front door.
A bit awkwardly, he shuffled forwards, trying not to let his makeshift robes- his old shirt, wrapped haphazardly around his torso- catch on anything.
The inside of the house was nice, if a bit dark, but it was split into two rooms, a living room and a bedroom, and Luca found himself admiring the cheerful yellow walls and white-painted wooden furniture. There was a floral sofa, a small teal rug and even a vase of flowers on the sideboard.
At the kitchen table, he pulled up a chair and sat down.
“Hang on, I’m turning the house around now,” Giulia warned, and he sat still as she rotated it so the interior became visible to them.
“Oh my god, you look so cute in there,” Alberto gushed, and Giulia smacked him on the arm. “We’re not finished here, idiota .”
She bent down to speak to Luca. “Open that door,” she said. “The bedroom’s just through there.”
He was delighted to find it carpeted, with a four-poster bed with proper blankets in the centre of a room with a small wardrobe besides it and even a little claw-foot tub tucked into the corner.
“Wow, your dolls really lived in luxury,” he joked, and Giulia rolled her eyes. “Open the wardrobe, idiota . There should be some clothes in there that would fit you.”
There were indeed outfits on the hangers. There was a frilly blue dress, a long white nightgown and a series of other sparkly frocks. There were no pants or shirts in sight. He swallowed. “Um. Giulia?”
There was a sly smile on his friend’s face as she plucked the blue dress off the rack and pushed it at him. “Go on, try it on.”
In the distance, he could hear Alberto spluttering.
He crossed his arms. “It’s far too short!”
She rolled her eyes and held it up to his torso. “It goes past your knees, Luc. Ooh, and I have the cutest doll shoes you could borrow!”
She was evil, Luca was convinced. Well and truly evil.
She shooed him to go stand behind a makeshift changing room she’d created by opening the wardrobe doors and draping a blanket over them. Reluctantly, he unwound his shirt, letting it pool on the ground, and tugged on the dress.
It was sleeved, with a criss-crossing corset detail on the bodice and a dark blue skirt that went down to his knees. Thankfully, there was a minimal amount of buttons, and he managed to procure socks and underwear from one of the drawers. He resolutely did not think about what he looked like.
He ducked out from under the blanket, tugging at his skirt. “Happy, Giulie?” he grumbled.
He looked up to see Alberto with his mouth wide open. “Um,” he said, a faint blush tinting his cheeks. “You look…nice.”
Luca felt his own face heating up. “Oh. Thanks.”
Next to him, Giulia chortled. “You look adorable, Luc.”
Reaching into the wardrobe again, she pulled out a tiny pair of platform shoes. “You’re wearing these,” she declared. “Oh, I missed playing dress-up!”
Luca sighed internally. “And here I thought you came out of the womb brandishing a sword or something.”
She grinned. “I do have a collection of dolls’ weapons, in case you were wondering.”
Alberto leaned down and held out a hand. “Luc, get on. Let’s run away before she gets any more crazy ideas,” he whispered dramatically, and they both laughed as Giulia pretended to take offence.
After wrangling on the platform shoes, Luca sat down in Alberto’s cupped palms as the three of them made the journey downstairs to fix lunch and discuss their strategy.
Giulia had taken after her father, at least in the culinary department, in the last four years since they’d met her, and now she expertly ladled steaming hot pesto pasta onto two plates for herself and Alberto, and a tiny portion onto a smaller one for Luca.
Luca hopped off Alberto’s hands onto the dining table and sat in front of his plate, surveying the veritable mountain of food. “O-Okay.”
“Just eat with your hands,” Giulia suggested. “You had no problem doing it a few years ago when Alberto was doing the same.”
Alberto smacked her arm. “We were twelve! And sea-folk!”
She pointed her fork at Luca, a gesture slightly threatening now that he was the size of a doll. “He was twelve. You were thirteen.”
“Technicalities,” Alberto muttered under his breath, and Luca bit back a laugh. He’d given Alberto a dictionary last Christmas and now his favourite pastime was flaunting his newfound vocabulary.
Deciding, screw it , Luca reached out and grabbed a piece of mostaccioli with his bare hands. It was larger than both his handspans combined. Tentatively, he nibbled at the top corner, and he heard a snort from across the table.
“Would it be really mean if I took a photo right now?”
Luca raised his head and glared at Giulia. “Yes.”
Something white came into his vision and he turned to see Alberto brandishing a scrap of tissue paper- a corner torn off from his napkin. “You don’t want to get the dress dirty,” was all he said as he carefully tucked it into Luca’s collar.
There was absolutely no blushing on his part, thank you very much, Giulia.
(He regretted telling her about his stupid crush.)
♡
After the strange affair that was lunch, Giulia headed out to the corner store where she’d gotten the candy to try investigate its origin, leaving Alberto and Luca home alone. She’d done a truly appalling amount of fussing before leaving, insisting that he remain in her bedroom with the door closed so that Machiavelli wouldn’t be able to get to him.
Alberto finally shooed her out the door and sprawled down on her bed, Luca’s dollhouse turned so the interior was facing him. “This is weird,” he admitted, and Luca, sitting primly at the kitchen table, agreed wholeheartedly.
He propped his head up with his elbows. “Beto, do you really think Massimo will have a cure?”
“Of course he will,” Alberto said confidently. “And if he doesn’t, I’ll find one for you, okay?” His hand shot out as Luca stood up from his chair, and Luca gave him a look. “I’m not going to fall off the edge or anything.”
“I didn’t say you were! I was just offering you my hand so you could…come here!”
He rolled his eyes. “That wasn’t smooth at all.”
But he daintily stepped onto his hand anyway. Alberto put him on Giulia’s pillow. “You look like a doll,” he teased. “A real life teddy bear.”
Luca narrowed his eyes. “Is that a compliment or an insult?”
“For someone who gets complimented all the time, you really are dense.”
“For someone who flirts with everyone he sees, you’re not very good at compliments.”
Alberto frowned. “What?”
Luca wasn’t fooled. “Don’t even try to deny it. I’ve seen you with the girl from the gelato store.”
Alberto laughed incredulously. “Emilie? I talk to her! Luc, what are you on about?”
“You call her Em! And hug her! And you gave her your jacket last week. You wouldn’t even let Giulia touch it.”
Feeling slightly put out and regretting saying anything, he crossed his arms defiantly. “I’m not mad. You could’ve just told me you liked her.”
Alberto’s face was softening into a look of understanding that Luca did not like at all. He quickly backtracked. “I mean, I don’t mind you making new friends. I like your friends. I just don’t know Emilie. That’s all.”
He could’ve sworn he glimpsed disappointment on Alberto’s face before it vanished. “Oh, Luca. I call you nicknames. I hug you. You wear my clothes all the time. I’m not replacing you, okay? You’re still my best friend.”
Luca tipped his head against the headboard of Giulia’s bed. “I know, I’m sorry. I just thought- I just thought you would tell me about stuff like this. You liking people, I mean.”
“Lu-ca. I don’t like her. Not like that.” There was a fondly exasperated tone in his voice. A warm finger dipped under his chin and tilted his head up. “Listen, you dense little idiot, I do not like Emilie. Okay?”
Luca let out a string of syllables that may or may not have been incoherent gibberish. “I- okay.”
A smile was tugging at the corner of Alberto’s lips. “Were you jealous?”
Luca scoffed. “What? No.”
The smile was a full-blown smirk now, mirth dancing in the sea-glass green of Alberto’s eyes. “Really? I could’ve sworn I saw you make heart eyes at Emilie last time.”
Maybe Giulia wasn’t wrong when she asked him why exactly he’d fallen for a complete and utter idiot. He threw his hands up. “Oh, for Poseidon’s sake, I’m not jealous of you! I didn’t even know her name!”
There was a knowing glint in Alberto’s eye. “So you were jealous of her, then.”
He’d walked right into a trap.
He opened his mouth. “Uh,” he said, coherently, scrabbling for words just as footsteps sounded on the stairs and the door slammed open.
“Papa’s home!” Giulia gasped, her hair in disarray. “Come on, Luca, let’s get you downstairs!”
Without fanfare, she scooped him up and stuffed him into the darkness of his pocket. He didn’t bother turning to see if Alberto had followed.
Safety ensconced within the fabric walls of Giulia’s overalls pocket, he buried his face in the soft denim and cursed.