Work Text:
July 5, 2008, 3:05pm
“Alright, we’re really not working today,” Giorno exclaims to Mista, who is laser-focused on his XBox from the edge of the bed.
“Ok, where is Giorno and what did you do with him?” Mista asks.
“No really, ever since I got the politicians to lay off, our lives can be a little easier,” Giorno responds.
“You say that, but I feel like in two hours you’re gonna send me on a mission to find some obscure stand user who poses a niche threat,” Mista replies.
“No. We’re gonna use the pool we spent all that money installing for once and not do anything,” Giorno responds.
“I forgot we even had that,” Mista says.
“How could you forget? You can see it out of our window,” Giorno responds.
“You have a curtain covering it, dumbass,” Mista responds.
“It’s sort of sheer,” Giorno attempts to defend himself.
“Whatever man,” Mista replies.
“Just find a swimsuit, I’m going to get Fugo,” Giorno replies.
Mista rummages through his drawers. He has three. Giorno has two dressers spanning twenty-one drawers and a massive closet. However to find anything that resembles a swimsuit, it takes tearing apart his mere three drawers until they’re empty. He grunts at the inconvenience and eventually finds a pair that might have holes in them.
-
Giorno knocks on Fugo’s door.
“Come in,” Fugo says.
“We’re using the pool today, find a swimsuit,” Giorno says.
“I’d say I forgot we had a pool, but I remember putting it into the expense report,” Fugo says.
“You and Mista can’t just enjoy one day off?” Giorno remarks.
“We are not aware of what those are,” Fugo replies.
“Am I that bad?” Giorno asks, letting loose.
“We are typically overworked, but not underpaid. We cannot unionize as our work is not legal. It is what it is,” Fugo responds.
“Heartwarming,” Giorno mutters.
“Is this really a day off GioGio, or will I be up all night working?” Fugo asks.
“I’m giving you today off, for real. Ever since I got the government to lay off it’s been a lot better. I’ll meet you outside,” Giorno says, exiting Fugo’s pristine room.
Fugo has swimsuits located in the middle shelf of his closet. He grabs a pair that are new with tags with small strawberries printed on them, sighs, and heads to the back exit of the mansion.
-
Giorno goes back into his room to find Mista still playing XBox, but in swim trunks.
“You can go outside, you know,” Giorno says.
“Just let me finish this heist,” Mista replies.
“Fine, but help me pick a swimsuit,” Giorno responds.
“We’re going to our backyard, not on a mission,” Mista says.
“I don’t think I’d wear these on a mission unless it was undercover of some sorts,” Giorno says, slightly embarrassed.
He holds up a classic black bikini from Ralph Lauren and a black Versace bikini.
“The second one is more you, but I guess if I had to pick I like the plain one better,” Mista says.
Giorno slips out of his black Armani loungewear and into the Ralph Lauren bikini. Mista pretends not to watch. He overhears one of the Sex Pistols make a comment and glares at his stand in annoyance. If he didn’t care about completing his heist in GTA, he would’ve collapsed right there.
“Let’s go meet Fugo outside,” Giorno says, pretending not to notice Mista’s blush.
Giorno would hardly admit it to anyone, let alone himself, that maybe he had an agenda here.
“We should grab the wine and the plastic glasses,” Mista says.
“Go to the cellar and grab them,” Giorno commands.
Mista heads to the basement where he can compose himself and attempt to clean up his look. Giorno looks unreal and he has no idea how he’ll get through this. He grabs a cheaper bottle of wine, a sweet cherry, and the glasses, and slowly walks back up the stairs.
“You’re a mess, Mista,” Number two says.
“If I find you guys some food will you shut up,” He says.
“Yes,” The bullets cheer in unison.
“I have to go find a snack for the Pistols, can you take the wine out?” Mista asks.
“Sure,” Giorno responds cheerfully.
Mista rummages through the kitchen for the finest charcuterie he can find. Buying the bullets' silence is key right now.
—
Giorno heads out to the grand pool to find Fugo sitting on the deck wrapped in one of Giorno’s Versace towels.
“Mista picked out wine,” he says.
“It is five-o-clock somewhere, I guess,” Fugo responds.
“Do you want a glass?” Giorno asks.
Fugo turns his head towards Giorno and he has to stop himself from making his jaw drop. Giorno’s butter-blonde hair is down and long enough now to be past the midpoint of his back. His victory rolls are perfectly-rounded. The black bikini contrasts his pale skin perfectly. Through his hair, the pink star-shaped birthmark pokes through just enough.
“What did you say?” Fugo barely mutters out, cheeks bright red.
“Do you want a glass of wine, Pannacotta?”Giorno asks, almost seductively.
“Yeah, sure,” Fugo responds quietly, turning his head away to keep from getting distracted.
Fugo can’t help but stare as Giorno turns around to pour the wine glasses. The cut of Giorno’s bikini is certainly cheeky . He fills up three since he already knows Mista’s answer. Mista comes stumbling out the door muttering something to the Sex Pistols as he meets Giorno and Fugo on the deck. He grabs a glass of wine, sits next to Giorno and says nothing.
“I picked good,” Mista says.
Giorno offers a soft smile as Mista puts his head on the crook of his neck, Fugo’s cheeks go red.
“Shall we go in?” Giorno asks, in the same tone as before.
Fugo shakes in anger for a moment before nodding his head in agreement. Giorno sticks his arm up as the wine his glass sloshes around as if he is a drunk girl trying to be the life of the party. Fugo thinks that’s exactly what he’s trying to be
Fugo’s foot grazes the water. It’s cold– rather his body has not adjusted to the temperature. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Mista dives right in. Giorno walks down each step poised like a model.
“It’s so cold,” Fugo complains.
“You either have to deal with it or be like Mista,” Giorno responds.
That’s the closest to a confession that Giorno agrees with Fugo’s opinion he’d ever get. Fugo decides to deal with it following the blonde, teeth chattering for the first four steps. Fugo notices how pale Giorno looks. The black bikini looks edited to high contrast on his skin– and Giorno has been out and about a lot in this heat wave.
“You look almost sickly-pale. Are you sure you’re not cold?” Fugo asks, instigating just a little bit.
“I’m always this pale, Pannacotta,” He responds.
“Is that yet another power of requiem?” Mista chimes in.
“The power of plastics,” Fugo says, rolling an eye.
“That’s a secret I’ll never tell…but you guys should really use sunscreen,” Giorno responds, as if he’s a starlet.
“GioGio gets a stand that gives him the fountain of youth and I have six hungry bullets screaming at me all day. Feels unfair,” Mista asks as he can already hear their cries.
“Try being me, Guido,” Fugo retorts.
“Your stand is a reflection of your soul. Maybe I just am the fountain of youth. If you stick around maybe I’ll give you some,” Giorno jokes, suggestively.
“What do you mean by that, Gio?” Mista asks, swimming around in the pool while Fugo and Giorno stay stagnant.
“Why don’t you find out?” Giorno says, sipping his wine.
Part of Fugo’s brain wants to scream ‘get a room’ while the other part wants to swim in the fountain. He remains silent.
“You are something else off the wine, Don , you know that?” Mista says, throwing back at Giorno what he threw.
“Can’t the leader of the strongest mob in all of Italy let loose with his best comrades?” Giorno says, pouting.
“Giorno Giovanna, letting loose, I never thought I’d see the day,” Fugo says, taking a very small sip of his wine.
“Big talk coming from you, Pannacotta Fugo. You’re like the most uptight Type A calculated person I know,” Giorno says.
“I’m not the one who works me half to death,” Fugo responds.
“You can say no at any time,” Giorno says, putting a finger under Fugo’s chin, looking down at him and making eye contact.
“You’ve practically babytrapped me and Mista with paperwork and hitman jobs. We couldn’t even if we wanted to,” Fugo responds, trying to hide the red heat spreading throughout his body. The water does nothing to hide it.
“Mayhaps I have,” Giorno says, grinning.
“We should play a drinking game,” Mista exclaims.
“Which one?” Giorno asks, raising an eyebrow.
Fugo sighs in the distance.
“How about truth or drink?” Mista suggests, smiling.
“How juvenile,” Giorno physically turns up his nose.
“Look who’s talking.” Fugo says.
“What do you mean by that?” Giorno asks.
“You know exactly what I mean by that,” Fugo responds, smirking.
“Well I guess we should get started either way. I’ll refill the glasses,” Giorno says.
He gets out of the pool slowly, pours each glass, and uses his stand to carry the third one back to the pool.
“Mista, it was your suggestion, so why don’t you start,” Giorno says, positioning himself on the pink XXL raft.
Fugo and Mista join him on either side as they begin their float around.
“If you had to date any stand that you know of, dead or alive, who would you pick?” Mista asks.
“Can I say my own? GER literally keeps me young,” Giorno asks.
“That’s kind of a cop out answer, GioGio,” Mista says.
Giorno takes a drink.
“Is it a copout if I say GER?” Fugo says, blushing, trying his best to act that he’s joking.
“Not fair you stole my answer,” Mista says, giggling.
“It’s hard being the prettiest,” Giorno says sarcastically.
“I believe it’s your turn to ask,” Mista reminds him.
“Who is your celebrity crush?” Giorno asks.
“Serena Van Der Woodsen,” Mista says.
“You mean the actress that plays her?” Giorno prompts.
“Yeah, but I like Serena’s archetype,” Mista responds.
If Mista had one more drop of wine in him, he would’ve muttered passive aggressively about how Serena reminds him of Giorno. Fugo drinks.
“Fugo don’t you have one?” Giorno asks.
He drinks.
“Mine is Pamela Anderson,” Giorno says.
“I’ve never seen you chase after a blonde,” Mista says.
“I’ve seen you chase after one,” Giorno responds.
“Giorno likes brunettes and maybe redheads,” Fugo says.
“You do stare when we watch X-Men,” Mista pipes in.
“What else do you do whilst looking at a TV?” Giorno asks, with an attitude.
“Your eyes practically turn into hearts when you see those three,” Mista says.
Giorno drinks the rest of his wine, smiling.
“Fugo’s turn,” Giorno says, sending Requiem to get more wine.
“What’s your guilty pleasure?” Fugo asks.
“How can any pleasure be guilty when I have no shame,” Giorno says.
“I know you watch What Not To Wear with Mista,” Fugo says, turning to a judgemental stare at Giorno.
“I don’t feel the guilt Mista does,” Giorno says, drinking until his cheeks are red as the cherry wine.
“Is that why most of your suits are cut out to see your chest?” Fugo says, cheekily.
Giorno laughs.
“You all know my guiltiest pleasure is Gossip Girl . What’s yours though, Fugo ?” Mista says.
“I don’t have one,” He says, taking another small sip of wine, lying through his teeth.
“Fugo there is no way someone as uptight as you does not have a guilty pleasure,” Mista says.
“I bet it’s kinky,” Giorno says, two sips away from slutting his speech.
“I think it’s Mista’s turn again,” Fugo says.
“This game isn’t very fun when everyone lies,” Mista says, exaggerating a frown on his face.
________________________________________________________________________
9:00pm
Fugo is in his cabinet in the kitchen searching for a perfect snack. He’s in a purple silk robe. Giorno in nothing but a playboy crop top and Mista’s black sweatpants catches him off-guard.
“You didn’t answer a single question earlier,” Giorno says, standing in the doorway.
“I answered one, but given how much you drank I’m not surprised you forgot,” Fugo responds.
“Was it that kinky?” Giorno asks, joking.
“It’s not like you answered honestly. The liar is less-moral than he who stays silent,” Fugo says, fake-acting pretentious.
“At least I answered,” Giorno says, walking in towards the kitchen light.