Work Text:
Christmas was not a celebration that Giorno celebrated. He was never religious, but he remembers very well that every Sunday his stepfather would drag him to church to attend mass. He didn't think of being devout, and never really did.
However, Mista, Fugo and Sheila E celebrated it. He left it up to the others to choose a room to decorate a tree that Giorno later created with the Gold Experience of an old, unused rocking chair in the mansion. It was a real pine, so Mista took it upon himself to drag it out of the little sun that came through the window in the morning and water the root with a little water every day.
It was Sheila E who arranged the various colored ornaments, blinkers and a big star. Sheila E had always been very enthusiastic about the Christmas season, so she would always talk about the good Christmases spent with her sister to Mista or Giorno, who would always listen.
It was left to Fugo to be in charge of decorating the pine tree. Mista used the excuse that he already watered and pushed the tree in the sun every day, and he didn't ask Sheila E and didn't even think to ask Cannolo. Fugo didn't really care.
But he was really surprised when the least expected figure entered the room and offered help. Fugo certainly gasped at the glimpse, golden curls framing his face in the dim evening light streaming in through the window.
He politely refused, Il Don della Passione was certainly a busy person. But he didn't respond in return, entering silently and intrusively, approaching the box with the ornaments in front of Fugo, as he knelt at the foot of the tree.
"I'm very sorry. Last year I was very busy with paperwork and couldn't show up at Christmas,” he said, hanging one of the quirky snowman-shaped ornaments from the lowest point of the pine tree. Fugo almost forgot to answer, lost in the delicate curve of her face.
“Giogio, you don't have to participate in a religious occasion if you don't feel comfortable with it.”, Fugo said, in an almost growling whisper. He was unwinding the several meters of blinker, and with each turn he took, it seemed like the blinker was getting more tangled up on itself.
“I don't care.”, Giorno didn't take long to reply. “I'm not a practicer, but I certainly should enjoy some time away from that office with my family.”, he replied, brow furrowed, slightly frustrated. He had already hung up a few more ornaments.
Fugo was close to wrapping himself in the blinker. Mere seconds before he could freak out, he received gentle hands over his. “Ask for help, Fugo.”, Giorno said, reproachfully. Fugo nodded, almost embarrassed.
Giovanna held the messy bundle of strands, making a few smooth and calm movements, unwinding the blinker in seconds. Fugo couldn't help but think of his boss's hands, how gentle they were, even though there were a few healed wounds on them. They were pure.
Giorno rose to his feet, calling silently to Gold Experience, who floated higher and skirted around the pine tree, blinker in hand. Fugo wanted to vomit. Why everything Giorno did was so graceful and delicate? Was it charm? Was it simply because he was the Don?
“Fugo,” he called. The Stand was hovering beside him, restless. Fugo blinked, answering: "Yes?", and he suddenly saw a goofy smile on the Don's lips, which he covered with his hand, laughing.
“Fugo, you look adorable when you're distracted.”, he replied a few seconds later. Fugo couldn't believe what he heard, and those words seemed to hit him like a truck from behind. He blinked a few more times before shaking his head, standing up to hide a rising flush in his cheeks.
Giorno placed his hand on his own side with a satisfied sigh, walking over to the pine tree once more and finishing what he started. Fugo continued as well, and they fell into a comfortable silence as they decorated the pine tree.
-
The next time they spoke, it was a chance meeting two days later, when Fugo was hurried through the mansion with several heavy books in hand. He stumbled, not falling and knocking everything over just a little.
Giorno was walking in the opposite direction, but he stopped a few centimeters before Fugo passed by his side, greeting him in a sweet voice. He offered his help once more. Fugo refused.
“Fugo, don't refuse help.”, Giorno said apprehensively, picking up all the books without difficulty. Quickly, they turned into a bouquet of red roses. Giovanna smiled, feeling the sweet scent of flowers. He handed them back to Fugo, gently.
Fugo looked confused and speechless. Giorno didn't show his disappointment, instead he asked the destination and accompanied him until they were both at the mansion's library door. Don opened the door politely, allowing the other to pass.
“These flowers will be back to books soon, so be careful.”, he warned, smiling a little more. The other nodded thoughtfully. He watched the other's emerald green eyes, almost getting lost. Giorno had already continued on his way when Fugo managed to choke out a “Thank you”.
-
It was about 3 days before Christmas. Giorno was busy with paperwork that came up at the last minute, which he really hoped wouldn't get in the way of his plans, as it had the last year, so he was working double time.
After running through the entire mansion, Sheila E knocked rudely on Fugo's door, who soon opened the door with an irritated and sleepy frown. She glanced over his shoulder, checking the clock on the other side of the room. It was 2:34 in the morning. “What?” he asked, more gruff than he wanted to sound. Sheila E remained expressionless, only shifting slightly and saying firmly, “Don Giovanna orders your presence now.”
Fugo's expression turned wary, and he nodded before excusing himself to hastily grab his jacket and escort her to Don's office. He was nervous the entire way through the mansion. He hoped he hadn't done anything wrong.
Fugo knocked on the door before entering with a bit of hesitation, excusing himself as he did and closing the door behind him. He looked at Giorno, which were sat on the floor. Fugo's expression fell. His eyes were slightly closed.
“Giogio?”, Fugo was quick to approach Giorno, first thinking that he had been attacked by a Stand user at some point. He pressed two fingers to Giorno's wrist, checking for a pulse. He nearly jumped out of his seat when he heard a sleepy: "What are you doing?"
Fugo sat down, a little scared. Giorno stirred, shaking his head and looking at Fugo. "Help me. I can't stand up.”, Giorno demanded, sitting up on his knees.
"You need to go to bed.", Fugo said, pulling himself together and leaning closer. Giorno grumbled, "I need to finish.", Fugo took a deep breath, not wanting to hear his Don getting serious enough to order. He wrapped his arm around Giorno's shoulder and steadied him on his feet. He fell into the chair immediately.
Giorno rubbed his eyes. “I wanted to get a cup of coffee”, “But I think I passed out as soon as I got up.”, Giorno said as if that was the most normal possible thing to say. Fugo's chest hurt. “Giogio, you are very tired. You better go to sleep.”
Fugo's chest hurt even more when he saw his Don start to shake a lot while a few drops of sweat ran down his face. “I can't.”, “I need to finish this.”, he looked at Fugo, pleadingly. Fugo widened his eyes, totally oblivious and afraid of what was happening.
“Giogio, I can finish it for you.”, Fugo said, cautiously. “Is it really that important?” he asked, in a few whispers. The boss continued to shake, but Fugo grabbed his hand, confident that it would help.
"If I leave this paperwork for later, it will pile up with tomorrow's.", he paused, sniffling, even though there were no tears on his face. "If I let that happen, I won't get to spend Christmas with you guys again."
Fugo took a deep breath. “Oh, Giogio,” Fugo said, a little oddly affectionate. “Since when did you become so considerate?” “Although I think you just needed to call Mista or me to fill out your paperwork today.”
“I don't want to be like Diavolo.”, Giorno spat, even though his cheeks were a little pink. “He put his subordinates to do the heavy lifting for him. I don't want to be Diavolo.”, he said, squeezing Fugo's hand a little.
“Giogio”, “Look at me”, he said, and Giorno slowly turned to look at him. His expression was a mixture of caring and understanding. “You’re not Diavolo. Okay?”, “Taking a break is good sometimes, and you've been the best boss these two years you've been boss.”, “Giogio, I don't mind doing your paperwork for a night or two.”, his eyes were glassy.
Giorno blinked slowly, the answer not reaching him for a few seconds. “Okay,” he relented. “I can't walk alone.” “I don't want to worry Sheila, she would probably go screaming and waking everyone up.”, “Just help me get to the couch.”, Giorno asked. Fugo nodded slowly, worried.
For the next few hours, Fugo would be busy with paperwork as he watched delightedly as a Giorno slept solemnly on the couch. Sneaky.
-
“Trish is here!”, shouted an excited Mista, as he accompanied the girl to the table where everyone was gathered. Sheila gave the other a tight hug, while Mista stuck her tongue out and sat next to Fugo, who just nodded sheepishly.
Fugo still doesn't like Trish. He doesn't really hate her, but his friends died because of her, and it still hurts deep in his chest, as if a stab wound was any less worse than thinking about it. He shook his head, pushing the thought away. He heard high-pitched voices, so he looked to his side, seeing the Bullets begging Mista for food.
“Fugooooo! Tell Mista to feed us!”, shouted 5#, desperate. The other Bullets agreed. Fugo frowned, crossing his arms as he saw 5# crying. He chuckled, raising an eyebrow at Mista, who was trying to control them.
“Haaaa?! Who called you?!” he asked, raising his pistol. “We can only eat when Don is here. Be patient, dammit!”
Fugo laughed breathlessly, as he watched Cannolo at the edge of the fire, talking to himself or with his Stand. Ever since they met, he really thinks this gentleman has some screw missing, but he doesn't really comment on it. Polnareff was outside his turtle shell, trying to communicate with Cannolo, who was indifferent.
His gaze returned to Trish. She was still in the doorway, talking excitedly to Sheila. Fortunately, he couldn't pay attention to the conversation, as he could only focus on Giorno entering the room suddenly, but impeccably as usual.
This time, his braid was loose, with delicate curls flowing down the sides and reaching his shoulders. His body was well defined in a version of his standard suit in a dark red color that made him look incredible. His lips glistened, and Fugo dares to say he was wearing lip gloss. He wanted to taste that gloss.
He only came out of his detour when Giorno hugged Trish receptively. She whispered softly, but he could hear her saying I missed you. Something Fugo was unaware of churned in his stomach, so he just averted his gaze to a random spot on the table and snorted.
Cannolo sat next to Sheila E, looking too small for the chair. Giorno was then sitting down in his chair. It seemed to be an armchair specially made for the mob boss, and that feeling was wild. No one dared to sit there.
“Trish, how things are going?” Giorno asked politely. She smiled, taking a seat next to Mista. She gestured gently, starting to talk about her new, unpublished album. Fugo didn't really want to pay attention.
He just watched Giorno's expressions as the girl spoke. His brows rising slightly when he was shocked, or his brows drawing together in sadness, or his slight smile when he rejoiced. Fugo thought he noticed even too much about Don.
The whole group had good conversations. Sheila talked about her nostalgic sister, Mista talked about Monica Bellucci, Polnareff talked about his adventures with the Crusaders, Cannolo showed off his Stand, and Fugo, well, Fugo had nothing interesting to say. Unless they want to hear about his tantrums, but no. He dispensed with that and saved a nerve.
In a while everyone enjoyed good food. It wasn't exactly bad, but Fugo felt restless all night. He suspected a lot of things, but he at least tried his best to ignore it. Everyone toasted a glass of wine at the end. It was dry red wine. Fugo was unfazed by the bitterness.
-
Fugo glanced at his wristwatch at a few hours. Everyone was gathered in the room where the pine tree was, around an improvised table, playing a card game. Mista really freaked out when someone had, or he had four cards himself. He refused to continue when he was four himself.
The clock read 23:51. Fugo was not participating in the card game. He gave up on watching the others play, himself irritated by seeing stratified and useless all the time. He used the excuse that he needed air, so he walked to the window on the other side of the room and leaned against it.
It was snowing outside. He thanked himself for wearing a sweater now.
“You're a little restless, Fugo.”, Giorno said as soon as he leaned against the window, beside the other. “Is something bothering you?”, and Don was extremely cautious with his words, in a way that made Fugo really want to puke right there.
“No,” he replied, scratching his neck. “I think so.”, he was quick to add. Giorno sighed, then edged closer. He raised his hand, handing a yellow flower to Fugo, who looked at him confused and accepted it hesitantly.
“What is this?” he asked. Giorno stifled a laugh, grinning. “It's your wristwatch,” “I can't believe you didn't notice,” he said, using Gold Experience's power to turn the flower back into a wristwatch. He grabbed Fugo's wrist, pulling him into place.
So Fugo chuckled, finally that day. It felt like just Giorno's voice could lift a huge weight off his shoulders, and God, he was so grateful for that.
“Giogio, you are impossible.” he said, with a breathy laugh. Giorno was looking at him hopefully, with a twinkle in his eyes. Fugo swallowed hard, feeling his own cheeks suddenly grow warm.
“Fugo.”, Giorno said, as he closed in close. When their faces were close enough for Fugo to feel Giorno's breath on his neck, he shuddered. He had never been this close to anyone like this before, and he felt his stomach flutter.
“I like you.”, Don Giovanna took Fugo's hand, placing it on his own chest, below his heart. The beats were quickening, and Fugo exasperated, the beats themselves speeding up slightly. “It's been a while.”, Giorno added.
“I like you too, Giogio.”, and in the next moment, Giorno closed the remaining space between them as he cupped Fugo's face gently and placed a short, soft kiss on his lips. Fugo gasped at the contact but enjoyed every second of it, smiling between the kiss.
Giorno chuckled, pulling away and taking her hand with their fingers intertwined. “Come on, Panna, it's time for presents,” he said, with an embarrassed smile on his face. Fugo smiled, allowing himself to be carried away. "Of course."
Merry Christmas, our Giogio.