Work Text:
Anyone who so much as glanced at Narancia would assume that he was about to go on a date.
A picnic basket in one hand, a bouquet of flowers in the other, he slowly made his way through the streets of Naples, the afternoon sun forgiving with its heat. Rather than his casual, laidback stride, his steps were careful, deliberate, almost looking awkward.
He just wanted to get into a presentable, formal mindset once he approached your front door.
When he finally enrolled in college, he was excited to earn his education while remaining smug and dancing in front of a surprised Fugo and Mista over his acceptance. Yet he was still nervous, especially since his book smarts were so poor compared to his--illegally obtained--street knowledge. Surrounded by peers that were mainly young adults, the thought of being called out in a lecture hall and being unable to answer a simple question made him already want to cover his face with shame.
The scent of a now-faintly warm, homemade mushroom margherita pizza wafted by his nose and he felt more at ease. He couldn't wait for you to try it, as he devoted all of his morning to creating his favorite dish.
Were it not for your presence at school, he probably would have dropped out, whether by embarrassment or fighting someone for picking on his intelligence. By miraculous coincidence, he met you on numerous occasions during the semester, your schedules practically identical. With your beauty and knowledge, he could not resist from sitting close to you, wanting to get to know you more. He wanted to know what it was like to hold your hand, to kiss your forehead, to wrap his arms around you in an affectionate embrace.
And yet, similarly to an incident in Venice that occurred all those years ago, he could not bring himself to properly speak, his tongue becoming twisted over saying a simple 'hello' to you. Such an occurrence made him feel like a child, which completely conflicted with his stern adherence to respecting elders, as he often touted to the younger members of Passione--even Don Giorno, to an extent.
But you still reached out to him, noticing him during class, asking him how he was doing. When he was struggling with understanding a concept, you would stay by his side until he was able to grasp the material. Your smile was so radiant all throughout and he wanted nothing more than to protect such a precious thing.
Spring was here, as was break. Before you both parted from campus, he blurted out the question of if you would be interested in meeting up sometime during your small vacation.
It was difficult to hold back his joy upon hearing the eagerness in your 'yes'.
As soon as he returned to Passione's main headquarters, he immediately set out for his room to prepare a mixtape for you, in addition to planning out your afternoon together.
And now Narancia was standing at your front door, his heart pounding against his chest. He thought that pretending that his heartbeat was trying to replicate the beat to one of his favorite hip-hop tracks would ease his nerves, but he immediately thought of the vulgar lyrics to said song, and his mind slowly began to apply them to you--
The small angel that appeared on his one shoulder--who looked exactly like Fugo--scolded him for allowing such depravity into his thoughts, whereas the Mista-looking devil on the other just snickered at his dilemma.
Taking in a deep breath to calm himself, Narancia raised his fist to knock on your door, ready to finally greet you with the hello that he was too shy to say.