The sounds of soft murmuring coming from Bucciarati, Abbacchio, and Fugo hung over the kitchen, not nearly as oppressive as it had been just a few minutes earlier. Mista had busied himself by fooling around with Narancia, playing their own private version of would you rather that mostly consisted of insane suggestions from the depths of their brains.
As Narancia explained why he'd rather shave his head than his pubes, Mista found himself watching Giorno's back. The blond had finished whatever he'd been doing and was pouring something from a pot into the porcelain mugs he'd assembled earlier.
Smiling in satisfaction to himself, the blond grabbed the first two mugs and made his way over to Mista and Narancia.
"Here you are," he said, holding out the glasses. As Mista accepted his, the rich scent of chocolate drifted up from the thick brown liquid and he realized it was hot chocolate.
"This was your secret project?" Mista asked, grinning up at Giorno. "That's kinda cute."
"Hmm, sounds fitting," Giorno answered slyly, handing the other mug to Narancia, who immediately started to down the entire glass despite it still being hot.
"This is great!" he crowed happily, "Mista if you ain't gonna finish yours, gimme!"
"I'm just not an uncivilized animal like you," Mista sniffed, ignoring Narancia's angry cry of protest. "Plus I like feeling my tongue, thanks. Never seen hot chocolate made on a stove before, is that how your mom made it?"
Mista could've sworn the light in Giorno's eyes flickered for a moment as he turned back to get the other cups, answering quietly, "She would make it sometimes for my step father. I used to watch her do it."
Something about that sounded wrong but Mista couldn't quite figure out what it was. But he didn't want to pry either, especially when he had this weird feeling that the more he asked, the more Giorno would close off.
After blowing the steam away, he took a cautious sip. The rich, saccharine taste of creamy chocolate spread across his tongue and he grinned, licking his lips to get the last of the milky texture clinging to them. "This is fucking amazing, dude."
Mista was pretty sure the grin he got in response was the biggest smile he'd ever seen Giorno make.
"If I could have everyone's attention for a moment."
When the announcement came, Mista had been in the middle of a heated debate with Narancia about the merits of not having bones in your body - Narancia was convinced that being able to slide around the floor like a glob of slime would be the funnest thing ever, but Mista did not fancy looking like a limp noodle all the time - when Bucciarati had finished whatever he'd been saying to Fugo and Abbacchio.
After Giorno had given the three their own mugs - which, Mista noted, that he even made one for Abbacchio despite saying he wouldn't - the three had gathered around each other to discuss whatever it was they needed to after thanking the blond boy. Or rather, Bucciarati and Fugo thanked him. Abbacchio glowered down at the mug and challenged if it was poison or not. 'Undeserving ass', Mista had thought, grinning smugly when Bucciarati admonished him for it.
It had only taken a minute or two for the atmosphere around those three to take a nosedive as they switched to what was likely a much more depressing topic than the whole gang reuniting alive and well (for the most part), or how good Giorno's homemade hot chocolate was. Mista wasn't that surprised; Fugo was Bucciarati's second in command and Abbacchio was like his right arm, it was only a matter of time before the buzzkills, well, killed the buzz.
He didn't care all that much, more than content to delve into the intricacies of whatever strange thing Narancia conjured up in his pea-sized brain. Man, he'd missed that. Giorno had seemed content to just sit back and observe everyone, sipping from his own mug from a distance even though he was barely a meter away across the table.
The fact that the blond had seemed more reserved around the others that evening had not gone unnoticed by Mista. Call him dense, unobservant, what-fucking-ever, but he paid attention to stuff he gave a shit about and Giorno had fallen under that category at some point.
Even out on the porch, when Giorno had shown more affection than Mista had ever seen the guy do, he had sensed some sort of wall there, some boundary that he couldn't cross even if the blond was being more open with him, and now that they were all together again, he was certain that he hadn't just imagined it.
He didn't like it.
Giorno had seemed like he was starting to open up, at least to Mista, when they'd split up; what had happened during that time? Giorno had told him about the fight against Notorious BIG, but there had to be something else. Probably Abbacchio, if Mista had to place a guess. Now Mista would have to try to undo whatever asshole thing the prick did now; fuckin' wonderful. Why the hell did Abbacchio dislike him so much anyway? He hadn't been like that with Mista when he'd joined, why was Giorno so different?
Probably had something to do with Bucciarati.
Mista had tried once or twice to draw Giorno into the conversation, but somehow the blond didn't seem too interested in taking sides. Mista thought that was insane, how could he not back Mista up here? Not having bones? You'd slip through the fucking shower drain or the sewer grates, you'd look like a flaccid dick all the time, why the fuck was that a good idea, and no Narancia, you wouldn't be able to slide around because slimes can do that because they're wet and people aren't, you dumbass, you'd get friction burn or some shit.
He was getting distracted.
So distracted that he barely noticed when Bucciarati spoke, but he definitely noticed when Abbacchio slammed his fist into the wall behind the capo's head, the loud noise effectively shutting Narancia up right in the middle of his diatribe about how you could totally eat without your teeth.
"Shut the fuck up!"
"…Thank you, Leone," Bucciarati seemed to settle on grudgingly, clearly deciding to pick his battles. "As I said, if you would all listen for a moment, there are a few matters I would like to address."
He had everyone's attention by this point, thanks to his violent they-weren't-technically-out-yet-but-probably-boyfriend, and after Fugo gave a quick nod of his head, Bucciarati looked back at his audience. "Between the three of us, we've pooled our knowledge of the situation and been discussing the best manner of progression. Unfortunately, it seems the only attack Fugo knew of that we all didn't was Notorious BIG, which you've already taken care of - or should I say Trish did. Which means we likely don't know of any of the other elite guards that the Boss has."
"The only other person I met who wasn't or isn't dead now was a man who said he was a member, but based on his appearance, I highly doubt it," Fugo explained. "He didn't come across as a seasoned fighter, too lanky and skittish, and he looked around our age - not that that's a good indicator, but you know what I mean. My best guess is that he's an advisor of the Boss instead, since the Boss was using him to relay information to me, and was proclaiming himself a member of the elite guard to ensure his own safety. That could have even been the boss's idea, I'm not sure."
"What'd the guy look like?" Mista asked curiously.
"Pink hair, brown eyes, freckles. Taller than me but only by a few centimeters, lanky, slim figure, not a lot of musculature. Said his name was… Doppio, I think? I wasn't paying much attention when he introduced himself."
"Pink hair… do you think that could have any relation to Trish?" Giorno asked suddenly, his green eyes narrowing as his brow furrowed in thought.
"I considered that as well," Fugo agreed, "but decided that anything that could come of that would be speculation at best. Hair color isn't a very good indicator; for example, we both have blond hair, Giorno. It doesn't mean we're siblings. Besides, the more I thought about it, it just didn't make sense for the Boss to reveal himself to me, even if I had left you all. Not after spending so long trying to remain in hiding from nearly everyone."
Giorno nodded, but the look in his eyes made it clear that he likely wasn't going to dismiss it as easily as Fugo had. Mista had to agree with him though; the same hair color didn't mean much these days. People could dye it easily enough, not to mention that like half the world had the same hair color - brown, or something like that. Now that he thought about it, Fugo was probably the one to tell him that.
"Since we don't know what could be waiting for us at Costa Smeralda, we've decided to lie low for one more day," Bucciarati explained, moving on from the subject of Doppio. "We can take the extra time to form a plan of attack around what we do know. That, and I'm sure you could all use some rest. These past few days seem to have stretched on and on, Lord knows you all deserve a break for once."
"So do you, Bruno."
Abbacchio's low rumble was echoed throughout the room and Bucciarati smiled softly nodding at the taller man, but Mista saw the way his blue eyes flitted across the room to meet with Giorno's for less than a second. What the fuck were they hiding? It was driving him crazy, dammit, Mista was too curious a guy to ignore it.
"There are two more bedrooms upstairs," Bucciarati continued unperturbed, "you four can decide who will sleep where. Just keep it down, we wouldn't want to wake Trish."
"Does she know you're back, Bucciarati?" Narancia asked curiously, voice laced with concern.
Bucciarati nodded in confirmation. "When Abbacchio and I came inside to talk while you all were still outside, she was awake and getting a glass of water from the sink. She's gone back to bed now, but I'd like to let her sleep. She's had a difficult week."
"You need to talk to her," Giorno said suddenly. "Neither Narancia or I really knew what to say after she awoke her Stand, and she didn't want to talk to us even when we tried."
"I plan to," Bucciarati murmured. "I can only imagine how confused she must be right now."
"What about keeping watch?" Mista asked. "We can't just all go to bed."
"I will take first watch," Bucciarati explained, and before anyone could protest, Abbacchio had wrapped his arm around Bucciarati's waist and stepped forward.
"I'm staying up with him."
No one was gonna say anything to that, Mista could recognize a threat when he heard one. It was Abbacchio's way of saying all of them needed to fuck right off and go to bed and not disturb them while he did… whatever with Bucciarati. Mista didn't wanna know the details, thank you very much.
"We'll all head upstairs then," Fugo said in that calm voice he used when talking to Abbacchio. Mista had never quite mastered that calm-down-no-one-wants-to-fuck-Bucciarati-but-you tone, but damn if Fugo didn't do it perfectly. Years of practice, Mista figured.
The others got up from the table, stretching and dragging their feet. Seemed like Mista wasn't the only one whose exhaustion was finally catching up to him, a large yawn escaping his lips. As Narancia shuffled over towards Fugo, Mista caught Giorno exchanging a look and a small nod with Bucciarati. Hell, if Abbacchio hadn't said he was staying, Giorno would probably still be in there with their capo. Those two were gonna disappear at some point tomorrow, Mista would bet his bank account on it - if he had one, that is. They filed out of the kitchen, leaving Bucciarati and Abbacchio alone, but they had only reached the foyer before Giorno spoke up.
"Fugo, if you could follow me for a moment." When the blond looked at him in confusion, Giorno added, "there's a soundproof office down the hall at the back of the house. Your injuries still need tending to."
Fugo looked shocked at Giorno's words, but Narancia was instantly at his side, grinning widely as he grabbed Fugo's arm. "Come on, let's go, Fugo! Don't worry, if it hurts, I'll hold your hand!"
"That… wasn't what I was concerned about," Fugo muttered awkwardly, his cheeks heating up at Narancia's suggestion. "I just wasn't expecting-"
"Fugo. You are our ally." Giorno's arms were crossed over his chest, clearly not having any patience for Fugo's self-pity. "And before that, you're my friend. And you do not deserve to stay like that until you either heal on your own or die."
"We- we're friends?"
Giorno's stern expression seemed to falter slightly, so briefly that Mista was certain he woulda missed it if observing Giorno wasn't his new favorite thing to do on the reg. The blond cleared his throat as he said, "I suppose you don't need to feel the same way, but I-"
"Wait, no, that- that's not what I meant!" Fugo exclaimed quickly, waving his arms frantically. "I just… after what I did, after I just left you guys like that, I thought-"
"Fugo, I believe it is more important to follow what you believe is right than to follow the path of others. And that is what you did. You have nothing to be ashamed of."
Fugo looked like he wanted to argue further but kept his head down and just nodded instead. From underneath his blond bangs, Mista saw the makings of a soft smile and couldn't help but grin. Thank God Giorno had been paying attention to Fugo's whatever-the-hell-it-was explanation because they both looked more relaxed now.
"See, Fugo? I told you no one would care!" Narancia crowed happily, slapping Fugo on the back in a way that seemed way too gentle for the small boy normally. He was showing his concern for Fugo the best he could, Mista thought.
Fugo nodded at Narancia before looking back at Giorno. "Lead the way."
Giorno set off down the hall and, after exchanging a look, Mista and Narancia hurried after them. No way were they were gonna miss out on seeing Fugo shrieking and squirming like a little girl, they could hold that over his head for years.
