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Giorno loved his father.
Honestly, he really did, in mostly complete disregard to the multitude of what he would consider grievous shortcomings. His father was selfishly ambitious, ruthlessly cunning, heartlessly driven, and was overall charismatic and way too smart for his own good. But Dio Brando was his father and Giorno loved him regardless, as sons often do. However, he really needed his father to back off from doing that thing he always did.
The controlling and manipulative thing where he said it was for 'your own good GioGio, honest,' but it was kind of an obvious ploy to get you to do what he wanted. Signing him up for rugby (rugby!) without his knowledge was the last straw. It had taken thirty-five minutes to get his name removed from the roster and the coach was still sending him desperate emails, hopeful he would be a star just like his dear old dad and like his father. The only sport he had been interested in was tennis, scoffed at by his father, which would have been enough spiteful fuel to keep at it if only it weren't so much effort.
He was old enough now, with a stable income, almost finished with his degree, and was tired of his father trying to control every aspect of his life like he was a miniature version of himself.
Which is why Giorno was on Craigslist.
He needed something... dramatic, something shocking that would- well it would be impossible to break his father's will- but at least make him chalk him up as a lost cause (like his other three half-brothers).
Hopefully.
The best case scenario would be causing his father to give up on trying to live vicariously through him, the worst case would be Dio pouring all of his considerable resources into a reclamation effort. Giorno had a plan though, requiring just a single last cog in the wheel. Thanksgiving was a week away, and with the holiday came a traditional family meal.
'Family' in the Brando household included all four children, Dio, Uncle Diego, a few business associates, and Dio's two lovers/companions: a priest and whoever Vanilla was. This would be the perfect time to make a debacle of things, which wasn't really something he did, but if his father brought up arranged marriages one more time- this plan had to work.
He just needed to find the right person to do it with.
Hence, his excursion to the personals section, to find the right dinner guest. He'd already told his father he'd be bringing his partner and had come up with a whole list of things sure to get his father out of his hair. After several hours of reading through posts one finally caught his eye:
"Hi my name is Mista here to offer my services this thanksgiving holiday. Do you have a family member you want to annoy? Maybe you need to come out to a parent or you just want to fuck around with your family. Whatever the reason Im your guy! For the price of one homecooked meal and twenty bucks I can:
*pick a fight with one or more family members
*beat the shit out of one or more family members indoors or outdoors
*get into a political debate (I know nothing about politics but will try)
*pretend to get smashed or pretend like Im high
*pretend we are married/engaged/pregnant
*hit on other members of your family in front of your parents
*propose in front of everyone
I am a 28 year old convicted felon with several years of jail time who can benchpress 145kg. I have nothing above a ged I got in jail and drive a loud as hell motorcycle that will make your dad both nostalgic and pull out a shotgun. I am open to both genders and am covered in tattoos and piercings. So if you need an entirely platonic person to ruin your nice family dinner Im your guy!"
He was perfect.
Giorno immediately sent an email briefly expressing his situation and requirements. As well as the kicker. Dio Brando had maybe an inkling of his persuasion towards the same sex, but still held firm that he would find a nice woman or few, maybe settle down with one for a time, and crank out a few grandchildren for him to influence since his other three actual kids didn't even inherit his hair color let alone anything else of note.
So Giorno was going to come out during the family dinner and maybe even break out the fiance-word to really mess with his father and his irrational fear of intimacy. He hoped the man from the posting was cute or handsome, but supposed a burly type of person would be more suitable anyway.
He didn't receive a reply until twenty minutes into his lecture the next day, surreptitiously checking his phone while the professors back was turned, to the delight of it not being spam. He requested a picture to make sure the offer wasn't a fake, which was easy and fair enough, a more detailed list of requests as well as what would be allowable in terms of what he could say and do. It was surprisingly thoughtful, Giorno assumed maybe he had done this before. As for the limitations... he really just needed his father to step back from his life, so shock value and commitment was key, he had to make his father believe he was beyond help and reason.
A picture and no limitations sent out and Giorno eagerly awaited Thanksgiving. Mista's appearance was still a mystery but he at least gleaned some semblance of what his personality was like through e-mail correspondence. He seemed like a very laid back and open sort of person, taking everything in stride.
The day before Thanksgiving, Giorno finalized his plans by buying a cheap fake engagement ring and helping Mista choose an outfit (how one man could own so much animal print was beyond him). It was exciting and nerve-wrecking all at once, and by the time the family dinner started he was ready to explode with curiosity.
Mista arrived right on schedule fifteen minutes late, a brief trio of knocks at the door and a text with 'showtime ;)'. Giorno was the one to open the door to... a tanned skin, muscled man his height and unlike anything his imagination had worked up the past week or so.
He did indeed have a few piercings along his earlobes, eyebrows, snakebites on his lips, the peeking image of a tattoo under a leather jacket and... the most gaudy clothing. A leather jacket and white and blue diamond sweater-vest over a bright orange polo, with tiger stripe pants and high white boots.
But he was handsome in a very masculine way; hard muscles and broad shoulders, short and styled hair as dark as his eyes, high cheekbones and a chiseled jaw...
He was a fashion disaster.
He was exactly Giorno's type.
Giorno was awestruck- fortunately Mista picked up the slack in time for Dio to come down the hallway in time for a "sorry I'm late, babe," and for the no-longer mysterious guest with the gorgeous voice to tilt his head and plant a kiss right on the blond's lips.
Giorno could hear a faint 'wry' in the background but was able to collect himself with the kiss. Bringing his hands up to thread through surprisingly soft hair, Giorno deepened the kiss, getting a hum of approval and a higher octave 'wry'.
"I'm glad you could make it, Mista," stealthily sliding the ring box into a pocket of the leather jacket with a wink- earning a smirk in response.
Giorno turned to his father, arm wrapped around his guest, who threw an arm over his shoulder, "father, this is my fiance, Mista."
"I can see where he gets his good looks," Mista winked, unabashedly eyeing Dio up and down, "Guido Mista, you got a nice place here, pops."
He was good, Dio looked caught in a cornucopia of emotions ranging from murderous, disgusted, furious, disappointed, with a little bit of hope thrown in- he probably had a few ideas on how to split them apart. That certainly wouldn't do, and wouldn't happen, not if he had any say in it.
"Now that Mista is here, we should move on with dinner, right father?"
Dio's face twisted in a look that screamed how much he'd rather not, "yes. Let's."
As soon as Dio had turned the corner, Mista dropped his arm and quietly asked "was that all okay?"
It was so sweet, "it was perfectly fine. You are very good at this."
"Really? This is the first time I've done something like this," lightly blushing as he scratched the back of his neck. It was cute, but unfortunately he collected himself and asked "you have anything special in mind for me to do at dinner?"
"How terrible of a conversationalist can you be?"
"I've been told I range from disgusting to disturbing."
"Perfect."
Giorno and Mista sat side by side much to the annoyed eyebrow twitch of Dio and collective looks of confusion from everyone else. Father Pucci looked visibly disturbed, but it was clearly a front. Vanilla's face was unchanging.
True to his word, Mista was a force to be reckoned with at the dinner table: shamelessly flirting with Giorno's half-brother's, discussing his theory of cannibalism loudly and enthusiastically, making embarrassing noises as he fed Giorno spoonfuls of various sides (whatever matched his plate).
A part of him was caught in the sick satisfaction of watching Dio's face, the other part was relishing the attention Mista was giving him. He was incredibly observant, having quickly picked up on his facial expressions- faster than some of his family had- and able to read the room and conversation with ease. Although his topics were exaggerated and purposefully off-putting, Giorno actually found himself joining in and interjecting his own unabashed opinions, earning a pierced smile every time.
He really liked his guest, liked the way he talked and thought, liked the danger and intrigue, liked how different he was. Giorno's life was a rigid series of routines under Dio's thumb and Mista was an alluring spark that had Giorno flushing every time he was spoon-fed and cooed at, with every smile and name-drop.
He kind of really liked Mista.
He- oh right, this was platonic, wasn't it? It was all too easy and very appealing to forget that they weren't really engaged, but he might as well indulge while he could, right? So he fed Mista sometimes too, nudged his feet, held his hand, called him sweet names he'd probably never call- had never called anyone before. He was met with such positive reactions that it made him a little braver than normal, glimmers of things that made him think that maybe Mista wanted this to be real too.
As soon as dessert was served, Mista gave him a subtle wink before sliding the ring box out of his pocket.
"Giorno I- I have something to ask you," he was good, "I know I'm uneducated," Dio knew something was wrong, "and an ex-convict," but he was too desensitized, "but I... will you marry me?"
He had gotten out of his chair, on one knee, offering the ring up as everyone gaped and stared.
"Guido," smiling at the warmth in his chest and cheeks," I would love to."
Dio immediately spluttered, appalled and appealing to Giorno's rationality, Pucci loudly invoking the name of God, Diego cackling like a madman as the brother panicked. Vanilla was unmoving but seemed ready to toss Mista out on the street. His pretend-fiance inhaled the dessert as Dio raged on, before eventually being escorted to the door. Giorno followed, closing the door in Vanilla's impassive face to turn to Mista.
"How'd I do? Pretty good, huh?"
Giorno couldn't help smiling, "you were the best. Absolutely perfect."
His former guest was standing very close, sliding the ring box into the blond's hands, "I really enjoyed it, doing that for you."
This was his chance, pushing the box back to tan hands (it did have his money in it after all), "would you be willing to do it again? For real this time?"
Mista looked surprised, cheeks flushing a bit, "you wanna... go on a date with me? Like, an actual date- with me?"
Giorno frowned lightly, put-out, "do you not want to?"
"No, no-I mean I- yes, I really, really want to, I just can't believe you'd want me?"
So sweet, "Mista, I'd been thinking about it all night."
"Oh... you really uh-?"
"Yes, so will you go out with me?"
"Hell yeah, uh, same time next week?"
"It's a date."