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It was that time again.
Of course, how could he forget it? The day that Gyro finally stole a kiss from the man he'd been aching for for ages. Gyro trotted down the hallway, a little bit of a hop in his step, reading the numbers on the wall as he passed. He'd been gone long since before Johnny awoke, and while he felt bad without giving him a kiss good-bye, it had to be done, since he wouldn't be able to be on time for their favorite tradition.
How long would it be now? Three years, he counted, putting each year to a finger on his hand. They'd been painted emerald green, with a little bit of blue from when he'd painted Johnny's nails for him. He chuckled, picking the extra blue bits off, recounting how the redhead wouldn't sit still and there was more polish on his skin than his nails. Johnny was a mess -- A beautiful mess, of course. Gyro's beautiful mess. And he'd been making even more of one with his usual New-Year preparation, made evident by the thud that had come from inside the flat just before Gyro turned the key to enter.
"Stello," He called, poking his head through the door, almost cautiously, to find the Joekid himself on the floor, rubbing his behind as he'd evidently fallen from somewhere. This happened frequently, and since Johnny hadn't passed out or wasn't in any screaming pain, Gyro wasn't particularly worried. Johnny popped up, throwing the roll of tape he had in his hands at Gyro.
"Get out!! I'm not ready yet!" The now grounded Jojo shouted, the Italian flailing his arms about trying to intercept the inbound cellophane. He yelped, but averted his eyes and slipped into what had been turned into their shared bedroom. He hadn't caught what was going on, but he felt a warmth in his chest knowing that Johnny had been preparing something. Being a man of his word, he didn't do so much as peek under the door and instead dug out the original ugly sweater and began taping whatever New Years paraphernalia he could find on it. Sure, it was goofy, but it was Gyro's brand of goofy, something that Johnny had seemed to tolerate, at the very least.
Three years was a huge deal. Gyro had to take his hands to his face to stop himself from grinning, fantasizing about five years, fifteen years- fifty, even. Standing back to look at his creation, Gyro let out a little "nyoho!" to himself, putting on the ugly sweater and glasses to match. The house itself had become almost spotless- It was always somewhat cluttered, not that they minded too much, as long as the floor was clear should Johnny need his wheelchair. Had someone helped? It seemed so, as Johnny's stuff wasn't organized in its usual Johnny way. He quirked an eyebrow as he examined it and reached out to attempt to fix it.
As if on cue, Johnny's voice rang out from the other room. "You can come out now!" He called. Gyro found him back in his chair, having done up the table for a nice dinner. Johnny knew next to nothing about anything culinary when they'd met. And now, before him, were two plates of pasta. Simple, but also the cutest thing he'd ever seen. They'd been garnished with basil leaves, and the blonde felt a little pride in having taught him all of that. That warmth in his chest came back again.
"You said you were going to Stephen's? To help with the horses?"
"Well, I was, but they decided to come over.."
"You weren't going there for the horses, were you?"
They were to the point that Gyro could tell exactly what was going on in that little head of his. He figured out in a few seconds that Johnny had been planning this for a minute, and the grin that was spreading across the redhead's face gave it away.
"Guilty."
"You're too easy." Gyro let out another one of his peculiar laughs, removing the corny glasses. "It looks good, stellina. 'M excited to try it."
"Not in that, you're not," Johnny laughed, motioning to Gyro's getup, to which he pouted and pulled off the silly sweater.
"You're mean to me."
"You know it. Come on, sit down, dumbass. I'm not trying to eat cold noodles," He quipped, pulling up to the side of the table. Gyro just rolled his eyes, taking his own seat, and trying his first bite of the pasta.
Regardless of the actual taste, it was the best meal he'd had in his life.
Soon after, they'd settled on the couch, in the same spot they had those three years ago. Johnny had gotten a new laptop, but decked it out as he had the old one. Once again back on Gyro's person was the sweater, and he'd set them up with cheese puffs and strawberries. "Did you pull it up?" He asked, sitting down next to Johnny and putting his arm around his shoulder.
"Ugh, the connection's jank. I'm trying.." Johnny hit the reload button a few times, to not much avail. He huffed, shutting the laptop. "It's gonna be next year by the time I get that fucking stream up."
"Come on, fiammetta. You're always adamant about doing it- Why not try the TV? We could use your phone-" Gyro began listing off all the viable options for replacing the laptop in their stream-watching. Johnny rolled his eyes at the nickname, given to him for his hot-headedness, took a deep breath, and opened the laptop back up.
"I dunno. I just wanna do it on the laptop. You made me miss it once, yaknow."
"Sorry. Whatever you wanna do, Stella."
Gyro checked the time. It reminded him of how worried he'd been about getting that kiss timed right. Right now, there was about five minutes left of the year. He hummed a bit, rubbing his thumb gently over Johnny's shoulder. For a moment, he seemed to think, turning towards his partner and watching him become increasingly frustrated with the Wi-Fi. "You know, we don't gotta watch if you don't wanna. It's like, our anniversary, you know? What if it was just us?" The redhead paused, looking up at him. The raised eyebrow on his face seemed to say, "Okay, go on."
"We can just watch the clock, you know? Put it up so it shows the seconds and we can pretend." Reaching over onto the light stand, he pulled the emerald green steel ball off the stand it was on. "This'll be our ball, and the living room's our Times Square."
"Gyro, that's kind of-"
"Just humor me, will you?"
"Fine."
Gyro held the ball out in front of him, cleared his throat, and put on his best faux-announcer voice. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Times Square, and for our last performance, let me introduce Gyro Zeppeli-Joestar and his world-famous performance of the hit song, Pizza Mozzarella!"
"Zeppeli-Joestar?"
"I always kind of thought we'd hyphenate."
"I guess we never really talked about it."
"We should do that soon. First, though! My performance! They're waiting on me!"
Gyro hopped out of his seat, setting the steel ball on the coffee table and clearing his throat dramatically. He hopped around the living room, his "Rella, rella, rella"s dragged out in a dramatic way. Johnny watched with a grin, debating pulling out his phone to record it, but he decided against it. He didn't want to miss the important performance, after all.
When he'd finished singing, Gyro tossed his hat out to his "crowd", bowing dramatically as Johnny reached out to catch the hat and offering applause.
"You added more lyrics?" Johnny asked with a snort, putting the hat atop his own head.
"Of course. There's more cheese than mozzarella."
At this point, there was only thirty seconds remaining.
"You know, when I kissed you that first time, I was worried."
"Yeah, you should have been, especially for the hell I was gonna give you for making me miss the ball drop."
"It wasn't that. I dunno. It's all sappy stuff, but I guess a combo anniversary and NYE is as sappy as it can get for us."
Twenty seconds.
"Were you worried I wasn't gonna accept it?"
"Well, duh. Doesn't every guy?" Gyro patted Johnny's thigh, flashing his familiar gold-plated grin.
"Dude, I was dropping hints for months. Especially when I came out to you. You think any guy other than Julius Caesar Zeppeli is going to make me realize I was into dudes?"
"Nyohoho! You're right about that, Joekid." They both cringed, Johnny at the nickname and Gyro at the full name. Of course, that wasn't gonna stop them from name-dropping whenever they could. "I guess what I was trying to say was that I'm grateful to have you."
"You're right, this is sappy stuff."
Five seconds.
"It's true!"
Four.
"I guess so. It's only better 'cause you have a sexy accent."
Three.
"Nyoho! If you really feel that way, we can skip the words."
Two.
"Mmh, fine. Come here."
One.
As the clock hit twelve, Johnny had pulled Gyro in by his collar and pressed their lips together. Just like they had before.
And to Gyro, it was just as electrifying. Pulling back and seeing those beautiful blue eyes made every second worth it.
"Happy new year, Johnny!" He said with a grin.
"Happy new year, Gyro. Can you take the sweater off now?"
"Nyohoho, I'll let you do that part."