Chapter Text
Things had been…stressful lately, to say the least. Between other families encroaching on Passione’s territories, a few groups within Passione trying to stake their claim through power plays, some trouble brewing for their Speedwagon Foundation connections, and the occasional rogue Stand user, on top of the usual shit that comes with being at the top of the largest crime families in Italy, Mista is surprised that something didn’t fall apart sooner. Is he happy that it was him that got sloppy? No, of course not. But something had to give at some point, and better him than some of the others on the team. For example, the one person who can heal!
In his defense, Fugo told them it wouldn’t be that big of an issue, and he’s supposed to be the smart one. Just some members of a rival family smuggling through a blind spot on the beach. It was so simple that Giorno and Mista went alone, ready to take down the idiots and grab a late lunch. What they didn’t expect was a Stand user in the mix. It’s pretty rare for other families to have Stand users in their ranks. They’re usually limited to natural-born users, which are pretty few and far between if Mista remembers Sig. Avdol’s lesson correctly.
Gun to his head, Mista couldn’t tell you what happened during the fight. One second, he’s pulling out his gun and getting the Sex Pistols ready to work. The next, he’s struck in the chest and feels strangely floaty, like a balloon that had its string released. Everything after that? He might as well have been taking a nap on the beach.
Waking up was a slow process, almost like he needed to slip back into his limbs. Compared to other fights where he’s been taken out of commission, it didn’t feel like the worst state that he’s been in. He wasn’t even in pain this time! It wasn’t until his eyes sluggishly reopened that he learned the direness of the situation.
The first thing that Mista saw was Giorno with his arms pressed to his chest. He initially assumed that Giorno was just trying to heal some wounds or something, but this only lasted until Mista fully took in Giorno’s position. Kneeling, elbows locked, a second away from pressing down on his ribcage. Giorno is never one to wear his heart on his sleeve, so the frantic look in his eye might as well have been a full-blown panic attack.
“Hey,” Mista wheezed out. “We good? Did we win?”
Giorno broke out the position for chest compressions, scrambling to look over Mista. “How are you feeling?”
Mista started to shrug, but the intensity of Giorno’s stare told him that dismissing the situation was a terrible idea. “I’m feeling fine. What happened?”
Giorno closed his eyes as he mechanically recounted the fight. It didn’t sound like it took too long to deal with the smugglers after Mista collapsed. From what Giorno could gather, it sounded like the Stand was limited to affecting one person at a time. With Mista down, Giorno was free to finish the fight before things could get out of hand.
“When I was able to get to you, I—.” Giorno paused, like he needed to force out the words. “I couldn’t find a pulse. I took out the Stand user, but the effects weren’t wearing off. And you were out for so long. And there wasn’t anything for me to heal.” The exhaustion of the past few weeks must’ve finally been getting to Giorno. It’s not like him to ramble this much.
Mista pushed up to lean back on his elbows and did his best to send him a relaxed smile. “Hey, don’t worry, GioGio. I just feel a little fuzzy. I’m not even sore. No harm, no foul.” With a bit of maneuvering, Mista shifted his weight to one elbow so he can pat Giorno’s side. “Come on, let’s get lunch before the Pistols get fussy.”
It wasn’t an immediate motion. Giorno was perched next to Mista’s side for an extended beat, staring at him so hard that he might’ve been looking through Mista’s skull. When he moved, he was off like a shot. Warm, sand-crusted hands were pressed against Mista’s cheeks, thumbs resting on his cheekbones and fingers tucking beneath his hat to lightly brush against his curls. Mista barely had a second to blink before Giorno’s face was right next to his, bumping his nose against Mista’s in his rush. Their mouths were maybe a hair’s breadth away when Giorno froze. Their breathing intermingled for a moment, giving Mista the chance for his thoughts to catch up. Unfortunately, it gave Giorno the same chance. Slowly, he pulled back, lips pressed tightly against each other he was making a physical barrier from his impulse.
The second Giorno stood up, he pivoted to face away from Mista. “Sorry, that out of line.” He brushed off his pants and pulled out his cell phone before the wheels in Mista’s head could even begin spinning again. “I’ll call for some clean-up.”
Giorno’s head ducked down further than was strictly necessary for him to send a text. He wasn’t quite running, but he was taking advantage of every centimeter of his growth spurt in his steps. He was close to halfway down the beach before Mista could scramble to his feet.
“Woah, woah, woah!” Mista said, jogging up to Giorno with the biggest, shit-eating grin on his face. “What was that, GioGio?”
“Nothing.” Giorno ducked his head further, using his loose hair as a blonde barrier between him and Mista. “Just forget about it, please?”
“Oh no, you’re not getting out of this that easily.” Mista didn’t even know that his smile could get any smugger. “What was that?”
“Mista. Drop it.” Giorno’s shoulders were steadily getting closer to his ears.
“Cause it really seems like you wanted to give me a little smooch over there.” Mista pivoted and started jogging backwards as he gave Giorno a nonchalant shrug. “I mean, I get it. If I had to look at this handsome face all day, I don’t think I’d be able to resist either. Honestly, the fact that you lasted this long is impressive.”
Mista couldn’t help but bite back a grin when Giorno stopped and stared down Mista with a with a wild look in his eyes. GER emerged behind Giorno, pressing golden hands on his shoulders, mimicking Giorno’s intense stare. Once upon a time GER was probably the most startling Stand Mista had ever seen. But after nearly half a decade of watching the Sex Pistols sit on its shoulders like it’s a pirate? Mista just waved at the Stand with a roll of his eyes and gently pushed Giorno forward.
“I’m done, I’m done.” Mista pulled the car keys out of his pocket, tossing them in the air and snatching them with a wolfish grin. “Come on, food time.”
The second Mista dropped the topic, Giorno’s posture changed to his usual confident, upright stature. They walked from the beach to the car in silence, only broken up when Mista jogged ahead to unlock the doors.
“So, where do you want to eat?” Mista asked once he was behind the wheel.
“I don’t really have a preference,” Giorno said as he reclined in the passenger seat, or at least as reclined as Giorno Giovanna gets.
“Oh, I remember there’s this place that Trish told me about. Apparently, it just opened, and she wants to try it when she gets back.”
“So, we’re her taste testers?” Mista shrugged as he started the ignition.
“Taste testers, guinea pigs, whatever sounds better to you.”
That won a little smile from Giorno. “Sounds great. I’m fine with that.”
“Awesome!” Mista quickly leaned over the center console and pressed his lips against Giorno’s cheek. “Let’s go!”
Mista cackled as he pulled out of the parking spot as Giorno froze like a computer bluescreening.
───※ ·✥· ※───
Mista remembered a discussion with Buccellati from a little while back. It wasn’t anything monumental, just the two of them knocking back some drinks, shooting the shit. He doesn’t quite remember what brought the subject up. Maybe Mista hit on a woman at the bar or something? It doesn’t matter. The topic came up.
Buccellati said something like he was jealous of Mista. Now, Mista thought that Buccellati had a few too many when he said that. But Buccellati shook his head and said that he’s jealous of Mista’s general comfort with relationships and romance and stuff like that.
Mista knows around how young Buccellati was when he joined Passione, but there’s certain things that were denied to him that Mista took for granted. One of those things was luxury of clumsy relationships with partners who also don’t know what they’re doing. Buccellati’s adolescent years were spent far from people his own age that he would ever consider dating. That’s something that didn’t shock Mista. There’s a lot of assholes in Passione, and Buccellati isn’t someone to ask out a civvie and put them in contact with the mob. What he didn’t expect to hear about was Buccellati telling him about his occasional honeypot or stress relief one-night stand, which is when Mista firmly cut him off for the night, because he was not listening to any more about that. But that conversation got him thinking.
Like Buccellati, Giorno, Fugo, Narancia, and Trish didn’t have teen years that let them have stupid, messy relationships. Not that Mista thinks that everyone needs to date as a teenager, or ever really, but they had the choice stripped away from them. Narancia’s incarceration and homelessness, not to mention dropping out, separated him from most people his age. Giorno lived with Mista for most of his teen years, and only one of those two dated or fooled around. And newsflash, it wasn’t the Don of Passione. The less he says about Fugo’s situation, the better. Even Trish, who had the opportunity to have a normal life, has had her private life picked apart by the media so thoroughly that every member of the team has threatened paparazzi at least three times each. Yeah, Mista went to jail, but he was on the older side when that happened compared to his famiglia. Combine his age with his general confidence? He’s pretty much the family playboy, and the competition for the title isn’t even close.
When he returned home that night, Mista made himself a promise. If one of the younger ones need some help in the battlefield of romance, Mista would do his best to be a good mentor. From flirting advice to getting them out of a dangerous relationship, Mista’s door was always open for them.
(Buccellati’s relationship hang-ups were an Abbacchio problem. Mista’s already taking the hit for the famiglia by being a mentor to four. Abbacchio could pull his own weight and deal with his “roommate’s” issues.)
As scenarios for helping the others with their love lives, Mista never once thought that he would be in a more “hands-on” situation. For once, Mista was able to convince Giorno to stop working at a reasonable hour. Apparently, all it takes is putting him through intense emotional stress. Who knew? Despite the conversation taking place in his room, Giorno was perched on the very edge of his bed while Mista was stretched out across the mattress.
Like usual, it took a lot of poking and prodding Giorno to start talking about his emotions. It wasn’t until he asked Giorno if he was actually interested in him or if it was just stress relief that Giorno finally started opening up. Mista wouldn’t have judged if Giorno only wanted to relax, though it’s not something that Mista would accept from someone he considers one of his closest friends and his boss. However, Mista wasn’t prepared for the floodgates to open: Giorno talking about how much he values and respects Mista, drowning Mista in so many complements that his ego will never need to be stroked again, and spiraling as he questioned whether he had a crush on Mista or felt a strong, unbreakable bond with him and had no sense of boundaries. The cycle of questions continued for long enough that Mista had to throw a pillow at his back to get a word in edgewise.
Mista’s solution to Giorno’s internal conflict? Asking him out to dinner. Giorno was visibly thrown off by the suggestion, but he seemed to get on board when Mista explained. If he’s confused, wouldn’t putting himself in a situation where he would be forced to look at Mista in a romantic lens be the best way to test his feelings? Plus, the absolute worst-case scenario is that they spend an evening hanging out, which they do all the time anyway. Giorno was a bit hesitant, saying that he was pretty sure that’s not how emotions like that work. However, he fell to Mista’s flawless logic of “Why shouldn’t they?”.
So, a few days later, Giorno picked out a place to take out Mista. They avoided anywhere the gang usually goes to eat, not wanting their friends to get invested in a relationship that might not last or start meddling. He didn’t take Mista anywhere they frequent for work purposes. That was fine by Mista; those places are too pretentious for him anyway. All in all, Mista had a great time. And if his smiles and laughter all night were any indication, so did Giorno. The most unease Mista felt all evening was the few seconds of terror that he ruined everything when he tried holding Giorno’s hand on the table, only for Giorno to pull back the second Mista’s fingertips brushed his knuckles. But his blush made it clear that Giorno was just being a bit shy about the affection, which isn’t too different from his usual reaction to stuff like that. If that’s the worst that the date had to offer, Mista had some hope for the two of them.
Apparently, a successful date meant that the two found themselves talking in Giorno’s room yet again, trying to iron out the logistics of their relationship. Admittedly, this was a first for Mista. He never had a relationship that lasted long enough to get into “we’re getting serious” territory. Not that “serious” talks tend to happen after the first date in Mista’s experience. But between everything that the two had been through over the years and the implicit trust between them, they were starting off the relationship at a deeper point than normal.
They talked through everything that might be an issue, given how complicated their relationship is. How to balance their professional and personal roles, how to navigate the physical part of their relationship, who gets the Sex Pistols if they split up (followed up by half an hour of comforting Cinque and assuring him that they were joking), that sort of stuff. If someone like Narancia asked him about the conversation, Mista would admit that the conversation was a bit boring and made them dating feel more like a business deal, just with fewer implied threats.
If Buccellati asked? Yeah, Mista hadn’t felt more secure in a relationship than in the moments after that conversation.
───※ ·✥· ※───
They didn’t mean to keep their relationship a secret. If anyone that mattered asked them, they would be happy to talk about their relationship. But it was so busy recently that, looking back on it, Mista didn’t think that any of them had the extra brain power to realize that the two of them were acting any different. Mista would also argue that their relationship didn’t really change enough for the others to notice in the first place. Their friendship was already closer than what others consider normal, especially given their positions on the job, and Giorno isn’t fond of PDA. It didn’t help that their date nights were a lot more casual than someone would expect from Giorno. Looking at the don in his designer suits, an outsider would expect that he would only accept dates from the finest of establishments, or some shit like that. However, there were three date nights in a row where Giorno joined Mista after work and ate some convenience store snacks while watching a movie on his bed. At a certain point, their dates became less “romantic displays of affection” and more “holy shit, Giorno craves the chance to turn his brain off.” And if everything that Fugo has told him over the years is right, there’s nothing that Mista is better at than turning off his brain.
It got a bit ridiculous when they realized that weeks had passed, and they hadn’t breathed a word to the others. Mista could tell the exact moment the Giorno realized that he hadn’t said anything to the others. They were having a bit of lunch before Giorno and Buccellati were trapped in meetings for the rest of the day. Buccellati off-handedly offered to help them clean the villa before Trish got back from her tour. Mista had to bite the inside of his mouth when he saw Buccellati peacefully smiling as Giorno’s eyes widened enough to put the Sex Pistols to shame.
“You told Trish that we’re going out, right?” Giorno asked that evening after Mista forced him away from work.
“Have you gotten a demand for a double date?” Mista asked in return, toying with Giorno’s hair as he leans against his chest. He’s a cuter little spoon than a guy who outgrew Abbacchio has any right being.
“Have we told anyone?”
“I would tell you yes, but now that I think about it, we would’ve been bugged by Narancia and Fugo by now if they knew.”
Giorno angled his face to groan into Mista’s sweatshirt.
“Hey,” Mista kissed the top of his head, “I’ll send Trish a text. She’ll tell Narancia, and everyone will know within an hour.”
Mista had to shimmy a bit, so he could reach his cell phone on Giorno’s side table without untangling himself from his boyfriend. His fingers barely brushed against his phone when Giorno grabbed his wrist.
“Hang on.” Giorno pulled down Mista’s arm, so he was fully embracing Giorno. He angled his head so he could stare are Mista from beneath his long eyelashes, a smirk slowly creeping on his face. “Let’s not be too hasty now.”
Giorno’s plan went a little like this. Most of the team hadn’t figured out that the two of them were dating. It seemed a little unfair that Giorno and Mista had to put in the legwork when the other have eyes.
“Why not make a little bet?”
Mista folded his arms as he leaned on the pillows at the head of Giorno’s bed. “And what does the winner get?”
In other relationships, Mista would’ve proposed something a little bit more on the physical side of things. But Giorno only just became comfortable with accepting kisses from Mista, and there’s no way in hell that Mista is pushing Giorno’s boundaries for a stupid bet. That’s not the type of partner he wants to be, and that sounds like a good way to get his junk turned into a frog.
Luckily, Giorno is a crafty asshole and had an answer ready for him. “Have you been to Trattoria dei Nervetti?”
“GioGio, do I look like someone who eats at the places you and Buccellati drag your victims to?”
“You mean Passione’s business associates?”
“Tell me the difference between the two, and I’ll call them by different names.”
That got a small laugh and an eyeroll from Giorno. “Well, it’s a nice restaurant. Nothing too fancy, but we can get a little bit more dressed up. Have a real date date.”
“Aw, GioGio.” Mista leaned over and ruffled Giorno’s hair. “I think our dates are real.”
Giorno didn’t quite look like he believed Mista, which is dumb but whatever, but he thanked Mista anyway. The rules of the bet were this: they would pick members of their friend group and whoever doesn’t pick the last person to learn about their relationship has to pay for their “first” date. How could Mista resist a chance to mess with his friends and get a free meal out of the deal? Obviously, he agreed in an instant.
The second Mista agreed, Giorno jumped off the bed and grabbed a pad of paper. It took a minute of discussion on how to divide five names between the two of them. On one hand, they didn’t want to make the wager uneven. On the other, they couldn’t remove a name and permanently jinx this date. Ultimately, they came to this compromise:
- Fugo
- Trish
- Abbacchio
- Narancia + Buccellati
Honestly, Buccellati was included in the list as a formality. Both were certain that Buccellati was the only one in their group that knew about their relationship. He’s Buccellati. He knows things. And, most importantly, he's discrete. So, lacking a better option, they just lumped him in with Narancia. Because…
“He’s Narancia,” Mista said, making the first choice after winning rock-paper-scissors. “I love him to death, don’t get me wrong. But…”
“He can’t see the forest for the trees?” Giorno offered.
“More like he’s going to get distracted and climb the trees.”
Giorno took note of Mista’s choice before making his own. “I’m going to take Abbacchio.”
“Smart. He doesn’t give a shit about your love life.”
“Exactly!” Giorno laughed. “There’s no way he’s going to start caring now.”
“I don’t know. He might be petty enough to suddenly take an interest.” Mista looked back at the list and hovered his fingers over the last two options. “This is hard. I guess I’ll take Trish? Since she hasn’t been around? I dunno. You good with taking Fugo?”
“I’m perfectly fine with Fugo. I can trust him to hyperfocus on work for a while.”
“Oh shit. Can we switch?”
“No. You made your choice.” Giorno stretched his back and leaned against Mista’s side. “Now you have to live with the consequences.”
“Oh noooooo,” Mista said as he wrapped his arms around Giorno and fell back onto the pillows. “What torture from my don. How will I ever survive?”
Pressing a kiss to Mista’s jawline before nuzzling into his chest, Giorno lazily answered. “I’m certain you’ll find a way.”