Chapter Text
“Okay so,” Bruno Bucciarati sighed “Can you explain that again Abbacchio?”
“Like I said, I was out investigating the lead you gave me, when I was hit by an enemy stand. They knew who I was and that I was investigating the drug trade.” Abbacchio went over the events of the day again. “They must have known I was coming because the stand user was planning to interrogate me.”
“And they actually got you to talk?” Giorno asked as he healed a nasty cut on Abbacchio’s cheek.
Abbacchio slapped his hand away angrily, “I got hit with a stand that forces you to tell the truth.”
Giorno held back a bit of laughter at the state of the man before him, he’d seen Abbacchio furious plenty of times but never to this extent. His purple painted lips were frozen in an angry scowl, his brows furrowed together, even his silver hair seemed to stick out at odd angles like an angry cat.
Narancia piped up from his homework “You didn’t let them get away, did you?”
“Of course not!” Abbacchio said, “The stand didn’t have much power, so the bastard came at me with a knife. From there it was pretty easy to overpower him and finish the job.”
Fugo grabbed the back of Narancia’s skull and forced his head back down to the papers in front of him “Focus!”
“And you’re sure no one else overheard?” Bruno’s face twisted in concern.
“I used Moody Blues to replay the junkie’s actions from the beginning of the day, he came alone.” Abbacchio explained.
“Well, seems like it’s all settled.” Mista shrugged.
Abbacchio felt himself speak before he could stop, “No, it isn’t. I’m still under the effects of the stand.”
Narancia’s head snapped up again earning a groan from Fugo.
“Could the user still be alive?” Mista asked.
“No, I made sure.” Abbacchio placed his head on his hands, god he was exhausted and now all sorts of things where spilling out from his lips without him meaning to.
“It’s not the first time a stand continues working without its user. You don’t think it’s permanent, do you?” Giorno questioned.
“It’s got to wear off eventually. Surely--” Bruno was cut off.
“Wait!” Mista said suddenly.
The room went quiet with tension, what could have caused Mista to interrupt him like that?
“This seems like it could be really fun!” Mista said with a devilish grin, “An Abbacchio who can’t lie? Let’s ask him all sorts of things!”
Narancia jumped out of his chair, his math work completely forgotten much to Fugo’s chagrin.
“I wanna ask something!” His faced was determined.
“We should let Abbacchio rest—” Giorno began.
“Did you eat my gelato? The one in the fridge that had my name on it?”
Abbacchio rolled his eyes, he had no idea why Narancia would suspect him of that.
“Of course not.” He began, expecting that to be the only thing he said but without his consent the next words spilled out, “But, I saw Fugo take it.”
Narancia’s jaw dropped as he spun around, taking out his pocketknife to point at Fugo “How could you! I bought that with my own money!”
“It’s just ice cream! Put that away before you hurt yourself!” Fugo yelled.
The two proceeded to get into one of their scraps again. The rest of the gang completely ignored them, knowing they’d come out of it nursing each other’s wounds and acting all lovey-dovey by the time they finished.
“Did you mean to say that last part?” Bruno’s eyebrow raised quizzically.
“No. It’s like, I can’t control when I want to omit the truth either.” Abbacchio spat. His patience was seriously running thin.
“In that case,” Said Mista, back on the offense “Boxers or briefs?”
“Neither,” He said instantly, cringing at what he knew he was about to say. “I wear a thong.”
This snapped Fugo and Narancia out of their yelling match. Mista threw his head back as he began to furiously laugh, gripping his sides as if he was in pain.
Abbacchio rose out of his chair, violently knocking it over as he grabbed Mista by his crop top sweater.
“Shut up!” He spat through gritted teeth, his face turning redder and redder. “If you ask me anything else, I’ll hit you! And you can take that as a promise, not a threat!”
A hand was placed on his shoulder, he spun around to find Fugo who was giving him a thumbs up. He wore a look akin to that of a proud father. “I completely understand, Abbacchio.”
Oh god, he grimaced, is this his way of telling me he shares the same underwear choice? I didn’t need to find that out.
He let go of Mista and picked up his discarded chair, settling down with his legs spread and a scowl on his face. This day couldn’t possibly get worse. Mista wiped the tears of laughter from his face as he too sat down, next to Giorno.
“Come on you heard him Giorno, he’s gonna hit me if I ask anything else, your turn.” Mista poked him with his elbow.
Giorno locked eyes with Abbacchio he seemed to be seriously considering it. His green eyes inspected him like an alien deciding where to probe his test subject. Abbacchio felt a slight chill travel down his spine.
“Enough,” He slammed his fist on the table. “No more interrogations, I’m going home.”
“Wait,” Bruno said, hand on his chin.
Obedient as ever, Abbacchio stopped in his tracks.
“You’re still under the effects of an enemy stand, someone should go with you. Giorno, could you stay with him tonight?”
“No.” Abbacchio spluttered before he could stop himself. Shit, he’d never gone against his Capo’s word like that.
Bruno hit him with his piercing blue eyes, “I know you’re still unable to control what you’re saying so I’ll ignore your little outburst. Giorno is best equipped to keep an eye on you today as I have something I need to attend to.” With a warm smile that melted away Bruno’s steely look he added “I trust him, so should you.”
Giorno followed Abbacchio out of the restaurant they usually met at, he understood what Bucciarati was doing. Abbacchio and he had been at odds ever since Giorno entered Passione, or to put it more accurately, Abbacchio had been completely and vehemently against Giorno. He had even tried to haze him the very first day they’d met.
“So, was the piss drinking thing like, a fetish or something?” Giorno asked.
“No, not really, just wanted to scare you off.” Abbacchio fumbled, speaking without meaning to again. “If you start asking me questions like them, I’ll choke you.”
“Oh, so it’s a choking fetish then?” Giorno shot back immediately regretting it.
Abbacchio gripped his throat with one hand, Giorno was surprised at how large it was, wrapping at his slender neck. He struggled against him for a moment before Abbacchio whispered something Giorno couldn’t catch, likely his truthful answer, and the larger man roughly pushed him aside. Giorno coughed a bit, rubbing where Abbacchio had grabbed him. Holy shithe was strong.
“Hurry up! I don’t want to go against Bucciarati.” Abbacchio barked angrily.
“Sorry, I won’t ask anything useless again.” Giorno straightened out his pink uniform and caught up with the silver haired man. Part of him felt bad sure, but the other was getting some enjoyment from this new Abbacchio who had no choice but to tell the truth.
Abbacchio said nothing else as the continued walking, Giorno wasn’t sure where they were headed, he wondered what kind of place Abbacchio lived in.
“Where’s your house?” He asked.
Abbacchio told him the address begrudgingly. “You better never show up there.” He added with a growl.
They arrived at Abbacchio’s apartment building, which was nestled between several others. Giorno followed him to the second floor and waited for Abbacchio to undo the several locks on his door. As they crossed the threshold Giorno was surprised to find it was simply decorated. Part of him was hoping he’d be walking into a gothic mansion but Abbacchio seemed to have only the basics of what an apartment should.
A black cat trotted out from under the couch to rub itself affectionately against Abbacchio’s leg.
“You have a cat?” Giorno questioned, as he bent down to introduce himself to the little feline.
“She’s a stray.” Abbacchio explained. “I feed them sometimes, she was hurt so I took care of her.”
“Really?”
“Yea? Got a problem with it?” Abbacchio threatened.
“Not at all, I think that’s really kind of you.” Giorno remarked. He wasn’t expecting Abbacchio to have a side of him that took in strays. He was similar to Bucciarati in that regard.
Abbacchio groaned and closed the door. The last thing he needed was Giorno getting any ideas in his little blonde head that he was “kind.”
He pointed to the hallway, “Bathroom’s over there.” He then pointed at the couch in the living room. “The couch folds out; you can sleep there. There are fresh blankets in the dryer. If you’re hungry you can eat from the fridge.”
“Sure, thanks.” Giorno tried to keep track of what Abbacchio was allowing him to do in his home.
“What the hell are you thanking me for?” The older man replied rubbing his temples. “I’m going to my room. DO NOT bother me.”
And with that warning Leone Abbacchio retreated to his room.
Giorno suddenly felt reallyawkward standing in his fellow gang member’s house, holding his pet stray cat in his arms. He wanted to do a good job of taking care of him for Bucciarati, but the atmosphere was entirely too oppressive. He wondered if there was a room in Abbacchio’s house he could actually relax in.
As he looked around for anywhere to lounge at, he noticed Abbacchio’s living room had a glass sliding door that led to a little balcony. He longed to get some fresh air. Giorno tested the door and was delighted to find that it was not locked, he was sure Abbacchio would have been very mad if he caught Giorno picking his lock. As he stepped outside, he found a neglected little folding chair. Abbacchio must not come here often, he noted. It was nice and cloudy outside; a gentle wind was blowing and there was a soft warm kitten on his lap.
Abbacchio wasn’t planning on leaving his room for the rest of the night in order to avoid the boy currently in his living room but he realized, after a short nap, that he hadn’t left any food out for the stray cat. He considered not moving from his oh-so-comfortable bed, but the guilty image of the small black cat’s pleading eyes stirred him awake. It wasn’t late enough for Giorno to already be asleep, so he’d have to interact with the damn brat again.
When he entered his living room, Giorno was nowhere to be found. He silently thanked whatever god was out there that he wouldn’t have to talk to him. He put some pellets out for the cat and refilled her water bowl.
Wait. Where was the cat? Even when she hid under his furniture, she always came out to greet him when he entered a room. She especially always came running as soon as he put food in her bowl. As he started looking around for the shadowy little figure he cursed aloud. There was Giorno, out on his balcony on a folding chair he didn’t even remember owning, with the cat sat right on his lap.
“Oy,” Abbacchio slid open the door.
“Yes?” Giorno stroked the cat’s silky black fur.
“I need to feed her.” Abbacchio’s voice was still groggy from his nap. Giorno found it strangely attractive.
Even more appealing was Abbacchio’s casual wear. He was out of his usual get up, instead he wore loose sweatpants and a simple black t-shirt. It really wasn’t anything special but for some reason it made Giorno’s face flush red.
The cat jumped out of his lap and rushed inside having smelled her food.
“Get inside.” Abbacchio ordered.
“Why?” Giorno rose from his chair.
“Because you’ll catch a—” He trailed off as Giorno’s appearance shimmered and changed before him.
The wind had blown the clouds out of the way, the setting sun washing them aglow in orange. Giorno’s braid was blowing gently in the wind, the blonde locks catching the fading sunlight turning his hair into spun gold. His uniform conveniently showed off his sculpted chest and his skin was a pale, milky, white. The boy was like a marble statue come to life. His lips were pouted and pink and his vibrant green eyes were looking at Abbacchio so softly it set his heart ablaze.
“You’re beautiful.” Abbacchio murmured, unable to stop himself, still under the effect of the enemy stand.
Giorno was at a loss for words, did Abbacchio really just say that to him?
“Thanks.” He said with a smile, something clicked in his head. Abbacchio was looking at him with hungry eyes.
Shit. Abbacchio was so embarrassed but he’d said it and there really wasn’t any going back. It wasn’t the first time the brat had taken his breath away; he had this unnatural, ethereal beauty that drew others to him. This is why he wanted nothing to do with him, among other things, how could someone that beautiful be real?
“What are you thinking?” Giorno stepped closer to him. He knew he’d be getting an honest answer for once and he needed to know.
Blood rushed in Abbacchio’s ears. “I’m thinking about how I want to kiss you.”
“Then do it.” Giorno practically ordered.
Fuck it, Abbacchio thought, grabbing the boy by his collar and hungrily kissing his lips. He was finally being honest with how he really felt about Giorno, how badly he wanted to see the boy come apart in his hands. From the moment he waltzed into their group like he owned the place he wanted to get his hands on him. And there he fucking was, in his home like a present for him to unwrap. He’d have to thank Bruno later.
Giorno let out a high-pitched gasp of pleasure against Abbacchio’s lips. This was literally the last thing he had been expecting to happen today. The last thing he’d everexpected to happen, really. Abbacchio had, admittedly, done a very good job at making Giorno think he was completely disgusted by him. But now the taller man was kissing him with so much ferocity that his knees felt like they were going to give in.
He felt Abbacchio’s hand on his lower back pressing them closer together. Giorno slung his arms around Abbachio’s neck deepening the kiss. Without warning Abbacchio’s tongue invaded his mouth and he alternated between exploring his mouth and roughly biting and sucking on his lower lip.
It was too much, he felt lightheaded, so he broke away to catch his breath.
Abbacchio looked down at his work, perfect little Giorno’s hair was a mess, his lips bruised and red, he was out of breath, panting like a dog under him. He grabbed the younger’s chin jerking his attention back to him.
“I seriously want to drag you into my room right now.” He growled into Giorno’s ear before biting the lobe.
Giorno shivered. “What else would you like to do to me?” He ventured, his cunning smile returning to his face.
Abbacchio smirked against his ear, knowing he had no choice but to tell him the truth. Fine, if he was forced to be honest, he’d tell him.
Giorno felt his cheeks burning with all the things Abbacchio was whispering into his ears, what he was promisingto do to him.
Unable to handle all the filthy words coming out of Abbachio’s mouth, he grabbed his face and kissed him, just so he’d shut up.
He felt a hand on his ass, and suddenly he was lifted off the floor.
“Ah!” He gasped in surprise. “Abbacchio…”
“Giorno if you keep whining like that, I don’t know what I’ll do.” Abbacchio said with a pained expression. He was carrying Giorno across the living room and towards his room.
Giorno had no idea how Abbacchio opened up his door while trailing bites and kisses down his chest, but soon enough he’d been brought into Abbacchio’s room and thrown onto his bed.
Abbacchio climbed on top of him, Giorno noticed just how much bigger the silver haired man was compared to him.
“If this is how you’re like when you’re completely honest I hope the stand’s effect never wears off,” Giorno murmurs breathily.
“Shut the hell up.” Abbacchio says and plunges back in to devour him.