Chapter Text
Giorno's nails are bitten to the quick. Leone watches as he brings a hand to his mouth, then remembers there's nothing available and lowers his hand, repeating the cycle seconds later. Kid's got good reason, though.
Maybe a week after overthrowing Diavolo, their contact decided he was safe enough to come out of hiding, starting by contacting the Speedwagon Foundation. He wanted to vouch for Passione (the new leadership, at least) and maybe start a partnership between the organizations.
As it turns out, the Speedwagon Foundation is keen on documentation of any and all Stand users they find. After much debate, all seven of Bucciarati's gang begrudgingly allowed the Foundation to open files on each of them. Their contact ("Polnareff, please!") imposed upon the staff that any information was of the utmost discretion and not to press for more. To Bucciarati and the rest, he attempted to assuage their concerns.
"I understand your reasons, believe me. I wouldn't dare try to convince you without proof. I have worked with the Speedwagon Foundation since 1989, and I swear on my life- non, I swear on Silver Chariot, that if anything happens to you, I will take responsibility." Before Fugo could announce the displeasure crossing his face, Bucciarati nodded.
The Foundation personnel were clearly used to wary Stand users, if their non-reactions to the varying descriptions from Purple Haze to Sex Pistols was anything to go by. They shuffed the group to a medical wing afterwards, insisting on a general checkup as a minor section of everyone's files. No one called out the unsettled look Bucciarati wore, or how quiet both Narancia and Trish grew.
The interesting bit came after Giorno's turn finished. He was always a bit reserved, but the kid that walked out seemed more withdrawn than polite. The doctor followed shortly, zooming away in a hurry to speak with a colleague.
Leone had a sinking feeling he knew why. He didn't think he'd ever been so glad to be wrong.
And if it turned out he was right, well… Passione made people disappear all the time.
(The doctor was indeed worried for the same reasons, but what was more intriguing was the discovery of Giorno's birthmark.)
The kid hadn’t moved for a few minutes. Leone supposed he'd be pretty fuckin' surprised to find out he had a whole family he'd never known of, so he tried to stifle his laughter. Bucciarati glared at him, before focusing on the dazed expression of the teen beside him.
"What are you thinking?" Giorno blinked, jaw working as he struggled for words.
"I guess… I guess I'm not surprised. I have a photo of him, but… I just didn’t– It never occurred to me that he would– That I…" He paused, letting out a scornful huff. "Not only does he have this family, they all have the same birthmark. Definitely believable." Leone's eyes met Bruno's.
"Did the doctor say anything else about this family?" The kid wavered, and there was a long pause.
To an untrained eye, Giorno appeared to be nonchalantly considering his answer. Leone could tell by the quiver in the kid's hands that his brain was going a million miles a minute. Before he could speak, the doctor returned.
"I managed to reach Mr. Joestar. He said he'd like to come down and meet you in person in about a month or so. Does that sound good to you?" The kid stared blankly, then nodded.
Leone and Bruno exchanged wildly confused looks.
"Alright, I'll let Mr. Joestar know. Unless there's anything else, I believe you're all free to go!" With that, Trish and Narancia sprang up, the rest close behind.
Leone could tell Bruno was dying to ask Giorno for more information, and he brought a hand to his partner's shoulder. Bruno glanced over, brow furrowed, but nodded in understanding. There was obviously a lot for the kid to unpack; the last thing he needed was to be questioned.
Narancia knew something was up with Giorno. He hadn’t caught a word of the conversation, but he saw how his friend's hands fidgeted, and how– what was it? Fugo would know exactly the word he was thinking of– anyway, he didn't look as curious as usual.
He didn't say anything until they got back to the house, and only considering talking when he noticed Giorno heading upstairs. He trailed after his friend, but faltered when the blonde disappeared into his room.
Now that he was here, Narancia realized he didn't actually know what to say. He didn't even understand what had happened, much less how to help.
As he stood outside the room, he hadn’t even realized the door had opened. Gold Experience pulled the knob back just enough to peek an eye out; when they saw Narancia, their face seemed to brighten. They took his hand and pulled him in, closing the door behind. Giorno was curled on his bed, huddled under a blanket. Gold Experience pulled Narancia closer, and faded after gesturing to sit by their user.
Narancia leaned over the bed, resting on his forearms as he observed the blanket-covered form. He could barely make out the shape of a face and a hand within the cocoon. Gingerly, he reached in to grasp the hand, and was rewarded with a squeeze.
Maybe Narancia didn't understand what happened, and maybe he couldn't solve his friend's problems, but he was always down to hold hands. He just hoped he could distract Giorno until things didn't hurt so bad.
Today was supposed to be their at-home spa day, and Trish had looked all across the house. The only place left was Giorno's bedroom. He spent so many late nights in his office or the dining room that she honestly forgot he had a bed. To find him in his bed was the most surprising thing of all.
Narancia was sprawled beside him, talking about everything and nothing. He brightened when she walked in. "Hey, Trish!" In a much quieter tone, he addressed Giorno.
"Is it okay if Trish chills with us?" Giorno nodded in his blanket. There was a drowsy look in his eyes that almost made Trish wonder if Narancia had given him an edible.
"I just wanted to see if you were down for doing nails, but I guess that's a no?" The blonde nodded again, this time looking slightly forlorn.
"Did something happen with the doctor? What, did you find out your long-lost dad is looking for you?" This last part she said as a joke; after all, how likely was it for both of them to have power-crazy fathers?
Giorno's smile faded, and his hazy eyes cleared. He curled into his blanket as Trish stammered an apology, but she had clearly gone too far.
"You've still got Abbacchio. You know that, right?" At this, the blanket shifted and Narancia could see green eyes watching him.
"I mean, even if you're just finding out about this guy, Abbacchio isn't going anywhere. And if Abbacchio's still bein' an ass, me an' Mista can get him to back off, an-and Bucciarati can help you with bein' the Don, Fugo, too, and Trish's probably gonna have the most normal life of all of us, y'know, she can take us shopping and stuff, to make sure we don't die from boredom, y'know?" Under the blanket, Giorno squeezed his hand.
Narancia made sure to hold on tight.
Two months later, Giorno was about to meet his good reason. Apparently, this Mr. Joestar was bringing more family with him. Giorno could have handled one person, but multiple people without warning was…
It was a lot of things.
He sat in the living room, somehow the quietest spot in the house. They still had an hour before anyone arrived, and he didn't know whether he wanted time to slow or speed up. Abbacchio had appeared at some point, lounging on one of the chairs with a book. The silence felt excruciating.
"Meet them in your office." It was said so abruptly Giorno nearly thought he'd misheard. Abbacchio hadn’t even looked up from his book to speak.
"Would you feel more in control here, or in your office?" In his own way, Abbacchio was trying to help. Giorno tried to corral his thoughts and consider the idea.
He could meet his long lost family in the living room, and be seen as a weak, useless kid. Or, he could meet them in his office, Don Giovanna at his desk, surrounded by his closest companions.
But why would Abbacchio think– how could he know–
Oh.
Eyes wide, Giorno stared at Abbacchio. He didn't seem like he'd tell anyone, but if Bucciarati asked–
"Bruno doesn't know. Not unless you want him to." Caught mid-spiral, Giorno tried to process the acknowledgement. Bucciarati doesn't… Not unless I… oh.
The sound of pages turning filled the air. Leone glanced over his book. The kid's eyes were closed, and his brow furrowed. Eventually, he took a deep breath and sighed, opening his eyes to sweep around the room.
"I think I'd like to get my office ready." The kid looked to Leone, who nodded. Closing his book, he rose and walked through the door, Giorno close behind.