A/N: Had to copy and paste my fic.
Fugo woke up earlier than yesterday, but Giorno was still asleep. He wasn't sure when he would wake up, but he kissed his cheek and got out of bed. Tomorrow would be Giorno's last day with him. What could he do with him?
Fugo sniffed the air and noticed something lacking. The servants haven't prepared breakfast. Perhaps he could try his hands at cooking. He took his phone off the charger, headed to the kitchen, and watched a simple breakfast video on his phone.
Giorno awoke and noticed Fugo wasn't next to him. Curious about Fugo's whereabouts, he got out of bed, checking the dining room. When he got there, the absence of Fugo's parents surprised him, but that was the new normal. Then he checked the kitchen and saw Fugo cooking.
"I thought the servants cooked," Giorno said, surprising him.
Fugo turned around. "Oh, they do. The servants know my parents have been acting strangely and were hesitant to make food unless I said so. One of them asked why I was cooking, and I told them it was for you. I know you hate chicken, but I wasn't sure if eggs were okay. I already cooked the bacon. Three pieces for each of us! Also, would you like rice or bread?"
"I don't mind eating the eggs. As for the other question, one slice of bread, please," Giorno answered.
Fugo sliced some bread and put a slice on a plate after he finished cooking the eggs. "Want any salt or pepper?"
"Just salt."
He dashed salt on their eggs. "I'll get the glasses in a minute. What would you like to drink?"
"You still have orange juice, right?"
"Yes."
Fugo and Giorno headed to the dining room with the plates in their hand. Giorno sat at the table, but Fugo had to fetch their glasses and the orange juice. Once he brought the items, he sat next to Giorno.
While they ate, Fugo thought about where to take Giorno. He could take him to places like Galleria Borbonica, Catacombe di San Gennaro, Napoli Sotterranea, or Teatro di San Carlo. There were so many places Fugo wanted to take him, yet so little time, and most of the sites he thought of were historic. Perhaps Giorno would like to see a movie or—
"Let's go to Pompeii!" Giorno suggested.
Fugo looked at him. "Why Pompeii?"
"I don't know. I was thinking of that one song by Bastille."
"Sure. I think most kids here have been to Pompeii for a field trip. Well, all kids except me."
"Oh, that's a shame. You've never been?"
"I learned some things about it, but—you know."
"Right. Speaking of your parents, don't they have to eat? You didn't make food for them."
"You're right! We should make them something." A wicked smile grew on Fugo's face. "I know what to make them. Come! Let's head to the kitchen."
Giorno followed him. "What are we making them?"
"A peanut butter and jelly sandwich." Fugo took the jars out and a knife. "But we're going to put a secret ingredient: your spit."
"My spit?"
"It's what they deserve. I also need to ask Father a question."
After they ate, Giorno and Fugo were in the garage where a shiny yellow expensive-looking car awaited them. Fugo had the car keys in his hands, playing with them as he approached the car. Although he was in such high moods, Giorno was nervous, worried that Fugo's parents would punish his boyfriend should a single scratch appear.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" worried Giorno.
Fugo got in the car and patted the other seat. "Babe, get in. We aren't taking taxis any longer."
"You're not worried about your parents?"
"Why would I? They don't care," he said. "Anymore."
Fugo had a point, causing Giorno to sit and buckle up. The garage door opened, and light poured in, filling the dark room. Fugo put the car in reverse, closed the garage door, and drove off to Pompeii.
"Would you believe me if I told you Father let me listen to my music on my phone?" Fugo said while keeping an eye on the road.
"He did?"
"Yeah. He didn't like it, said it was too depressing. Then he turned off the music. It was a quiet ride. This was when I went to the dentist for a check up."
The rest of the trip was silent, making Fugo nervous. Since traffic kept them from moving, Fugo took his eyes off the road to look at Giorno and noticed he appeared bored.
"Oh, the music!" Fugo broke the silence. "Would you like me to turn the radio on? I don't know what music stations there are on the radio, but I'm sure Father listens to something boring."
"Sure, some music would be nice," Giorno replied.
Fugo turned on the radio, which was on Radio 24. He checked Giorno's reaction, and he seemed a bit interested, but Fugo was sure he'd rather listen to music. He was also aware his favorite musician was Jeff Beck, an English guitarist who made blues rock. There weren't any blues or jazz stations that Fugo knew of, but there were some rock stations—two, in fact. He switched it to Virgin Radio Italia, grabbing Giorno's attention. A Jimi Hendrix song was on.
"I thought all the songs were in Italian," Giorno said.
"Sometimes. I don't know. I don't listen to the radio. I listen to whatever is on YouTube."
"I assume almost every radio station plays some songs in English." He started fanning himself. "It's kind of hot in here."
Sweat appeared on Fugo's forehead, and he felt slightly dehydrated. He turned on the AC, blasting cool air.
"Thanks!" Giorno said. "I wasn't sure if you wanted me to turn it on or not."
Suddenly, Fugo had a flashback when he received his driver's license for the first time. Fugo was happy, but when he saw his father's face, his expression was hard to decipher.
"Since you're at that age," Fugo's father started, "I'm going to hide these keys from you."
"What? Why?" He clenched his fists. "What was the point of me getting my license if I'm not going to drive?"
"Because you're at that age. One of your elder brothers took a girl in my car and did nasty things to her. I want you to avoid doing that. As for the point, it was to prove that you're an adult, but right now, you're acting like a child. Once we return home, you're going to your room to study."
"But, Dad!"
"I saw your hands! You better learn to control your anger or else!"
Giorno wasn't a girl, and Fugo had no interest in women or sexual activities. And the "nasty things" his elder brother was making out with his girlfriend. He remembered the argument, and their voices getting louder as the seconds past. Father implied that his action would've impregnated his girlfriend. Of course, his elder brother impregnated a girl, just not his girlfriend.
Fugo shook his head, dismissing that memory. "Uh, Giorno, since this car isn't moving, do you want to—"
A red first generation Mazda Miata next to them honked. Its driver, a blue-haired man with red glasses, yelled out obscenities at everyone then stared at the teens. Fugo and Giorno stared back. Fugo knew who he was. His name was Ghiaccio, and he had seen him get into arguments with people and causing scenes.
"The hell are you looking at?" Ghiaccio yelled.
The two looked away and focused on the car in front of them. The cars started moving again. Eventually, Ghiaccio had to make a turn, making the teens feel at ease.
"That guy made me nervous," Giorno said. "Could you imagine getting into a fight with that guy?"
"Yeah, and I thought I had anger issues. That guy is another problem entirely." Fugo continued driving to Pompeii while trying to build up the courage to prepare the question that Ghiaccio interrupted. They reached the ruins, but now they had to find a place to park. "When we find a parking spot, do you want to maybe—"
"A parking spot!" Giorno pointed.
Fugo took the spot before someone else could, removed the car keys, and grabbed Giorno's shoulders before he could open the door. His head turned tomato red. "Wait! D-do you m-maybe want to uh um maybe start to, you know, o-or um—"
Giorno giggled. "Are you asking to make out in the car with you?"
"Y-yes! How'd you know?"
Giorno slightly frowned. "Because I'll have to go back home soon. You've been trying to make things memorable for me. Thank you. I want to make things memorable for you too."
He pulled on Fugo's tie to bring him closer and mashed his lips against his. Fugo unbuckled his seat-belt for more movement and embraced him. His hands wandered all over him to remember how he felt. Giorno's skin felt smooth and soft. The friction combined with the summer heat caused them to sweat again, but they didn't care. They continued kissing even when Fugo accidentally unbuttoned Giorno's clothes. Then, Fugo tried to do something different and inserted his tongue inside Giorno's mouth, and he replied the same way, wiggling around and slobbering their mouths.
"Um, Fugo," said a familiar voice from behind the car. The two withdrew from the kiss, leaving a trail of saliva, and looked behind them. It was an appalled Abbacchio, and he was in his police uniform.
Fugo adjusted his tie, got out of the car with Giorno, and pretended everything was normal. "Hey! I didn't think you'd be here. How's Bucciarati?" He looked like what his father feared—all sweaty, hair messy, clothes unbuttoned, a slobbered mouth. Crap, the look on Abbacchio's face tells Fugo how bad this looks, embarrassing the boy.
"Just...clean yourselves up. I was never here." He walked off the other direction until he turned around to say something else. "And I won't mention this to anyone!"
Fugo and Giorno swiped the saliva from their mouths, fixed their hair, and made sure they buttoned up their clothing.
"I think Abbacchio believes we did something inappropriate," Giorno said.
"You're right. Ugh. I'm not going to explain to him that it was just a kiss." Fugo held his hand. "Let's check out the ruins."
The teens followed a tour guide, explaining everything that Fugo already knew about Pompeii. Fugo, bored, looked to Giorno to see if this entertained him. Since Giorno knew a few things about Italy, Fugo wondered why he wanted to learn about some dusty old ruins. As for Giorno's expression, he seemed excited and brought his phone out to take pictures of the mosaic fountain. Fugo internally admitted the fountain looked pretty and took a picture of it too.
"Do you think Ubisoft will ever make a game taken place in ancient Rome?" Giorno asked Fugo.
"I can see them making a game that involves Amunet," he replied.
"Amunet?"
"Remember when you visited her tomb in Assassin's Creed 2? We'll probably get a game in ancient Egypt before that happens."
"Oh! I remember now! Was her tomb the one with the bad camera angle?"
"I don't remember, but Ubisoft is currently obsessed with the colonial period. Who knows how long that will take."
"Wait, Amunet is a woman. I don't think they'll make a game about her. They never made a game about Shao Jun."
"What about Liberation?"
"Well, that's just one, and it was a spin-off of Assassin's Creed 3. Sheila was excited about it, but Trish thought Ubisoft could've done better. Don't you remember her ranting on Twitter about how Ubisoft said women were hard to animate? They said this in June."
"No, I hate Twitter, but let me check." Fugo brought out his phone and searched up keywords. "Did they delete the tweet?"
Giorno shrugged. "I never saw it. I just saw Trish getting angry about it."
"What was Sheila's opinion?"
Giorno checked his phone and searched Trish's tweet. "I see that Sheila liked it, so she agrees."
"Even though she likes Liberation?"
"You can still be critical of the developers while loving their games."
Fugo rolled his eyes, annoyed that Giorno would speak to him like a child. "Sheesh, okay. I know that."
"I wasn't trying to get you riled up."
"Just—quiet! Please." Fugo tried to control his anger. Their conversation caught a few eyes, but they all turned their heads and minded their business. "Sorry for getting angry."
"It's fine." Giorno hugged Fugo.
For some reason, Abbacchio was there and cleared his throat. "Uh."
The two stopped hugging.
"Hi," Fugo said.
"Hello," Giorno said.
"Shut up, Giorno!" Abbacchio snapped. "Don't get near Fugo!"
Fugo blushed. "Abbacchio!" He expected this behavior from his dad, but Abbacchio was more of a father than his actual father. Same with Bucciarati, but he wasn't here. He felt nothing except embarrassment and shame.
"Are you alright, Fugo? Did Giorno coerced you into something you didn't want to do? If you want, I could call Bucciarati to make you feel better."
"We weren't doing what you thought we were doing in the car," Giorno said. "You're pissing Fugo off!"
"Actually, I'm not—"
"I know Fugo would not agree to whatever was going on in his dad's car," Abbacchio interrupted. "And one of his elder brothers got his girlfriend pregnant."
"Shut up!" Fugo shouted, grabbing the attention of everyone around them.
"People are staring," Abbacchio said.
"Yeah, isn't this familiar?" Fugo whispered loud enough for only him and Giorno to hear. "Anyways, I wasn't pissed off, Giorno, just a bit embarrassed. And Abbacchio, I wanted to make out with Giorno in the car. Let's just drop this, can we? And my elder brother got a different girl pregnant. I don't know if it was in the car, though. If so, gross."
"Alright," they both replied.
Because of the banter with Abbacchio, their tour guide left them.
"Uh, where did the tour guide go?" Giorno asked.
"I'm not sure." Fugo looked to Abbacchio. "Do you know?"
"I don't know. I'm just patrolling around to stop scammers. Fugo, you learned about Pompeii. Be his tour guide."
Somebody eavesdropped on their conversation.
"Did somebody say tour guide?" said an auburn-haired man with a buzz-cut and a red leather jacket with studs. Then he noticed Abbacchio. "I mean—uh." He brought out his phone and texted someone as if his life depended on it.
"You! Formaggio, wasn't it?" Abbacchio said. He had on his angry face. "I thought I told you to leave."
"I was about to!"
"Really? Because it sounded to me like you were about to scam these kids."
"I wasn't! Once my"—Formaggio thought for a second—"friend gets here, he'll explain."
Abbacchio crossed his arms. "And who would that be?"
A tall brunet man with six pigtails walked out of a crowd and stood next to Formaggio. He gawked at Fugo, and he gawked at him.
"Do you two know each other?" asked Giorno.
"That's Illuso, Clara's ex."
"Clara?" Formaggio looked at Illuso. "Who's Clara? That's a woman's name, isn't it? I thought you were interested in men."
"I am! She's just some dumb bitch I dumped." Illuso composed himself. "Has she gotten over me yet? That girl needs to move on. It wasn't personal. As for her sister, tell her to quit being an annoying shit or else I'll have her YouTube account taken down."
"She took down the videos a long time ago," Fugo replied. "Now we're waiting for you to take down yours."
"Fine." Illuso pulled out his phone, deleting his video, or so Fugo hopes. "There. Now leave us alone."
"Hey, your boyfriend here tried to scam Giorno."
"Oh, and is he your little boyfriend I've been reading about?"
"Yeah, actually."
"Well"—Illuso tried to think of a comeback but failed—"we'll be leaving. Tell Sheila, Trish, or Clara about his, and I'll make sure you regret it."
"Hey, and make sure you two leave and never come back," Abbacchio warned, "or else I'll arrest you and your boyfriend."
Illuso and Formaggio flicked them off before leaving.
"Come on, Giorno. Let's leave." Fugo held onto his arms.
"Are they supposed to be adults?" Giorno questioned.
"Ignore them. They're man-children. Since they're gone, I'll be your personal tour guide. So, where shall we head first? Shall we head to the vineyard? Mother loved teaching me that."
"That sounds nice."
"Well"—Fugo turned to Abbacchio—"I'll probably see you on Minecraft, assuming you have it."
"I have it but haven't played it yet," Abbacchio said. "Bruno bought it for me after he bought it for himself, and he's enjoying it. He's always playing it whenever I call him."
"Remember to play on peaceful when you start. See you."
"Do you have it on Xbox or PlayStation?" Giorno asked. "I love Minecraft so much, I bought it on both consoles and on PC. Perhaps we could add each other as friends."
"I think not," Abbacchio said. "You have fun, Fugo. If you run into trouble, just call me."
Abbacchio walked away.
"He still doesn't like me?" Giorno asked.
"Don't worry. He just wants to keep me safe along with the others. Narancia, Mista, Trish, and Sheila are friends with him, despite him being an adult. So does Bruno. Those two know we've had it rough and want the best for us. Let's go to the vineyard before lots of people show up."
