ic inbox ( ruby city ) Ⅱ

[digiorno]

buongiorno! sorry i missed you; i'll happily get back to you as soon as i'm done with whatever business i'm on. leave a message!

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[digiorno]

Papa!

[He squawks and goes limp, desperate to slither onto the floor and out of this hellish torment. LEAVE HIM BE . . .]

[silvercrusader]

[Oh no. He's gone too far. His poor son, smothered to death. Polnareff laughs and finally releases him, entirely unrepentant.]

I can't help it if I love you!

[digiorno]

[Nope, too late. He slides onto the floor, keening all the way, and comes to rest with his back against the wall. The world's most graceful and dramatic death.]

Your love is too strong!

[silvercrusader]

So stop being so perfect!

[He leans over, peering down at his poor son.]

Wear some crappy clothes on some days, I don't know. Burn dinner one night.

[digiorno]

Never.

[This gasped out, the last words of a doomed child. Never. Never will he be anything less than perfect!]

[silvercrusader]

Then you're doomed. I'm just gonna have to keep loving you so much.

[SUCH IS LIFE. He doesn't sound a bit sorry about it. He does, however, hop off the counter so he can kneel in front of Giorno. Carefully, he takes one hand.]

Are you dying, my poor son?

[digiorno]

[He heaves a great sigh. Such a sigh was never previously heard.]

I am . . . I am. Only one thing will save me now.

[slowly . . . cracks one eye open . . . are u paying attention papa]

[silvercrusader]

[He is. He clutches Giorno's hand closer, expression rapt. Somewhere a heart monitor is beeping dramatically.]

What is it?

[digiorno]

It's . . .

[Can one pose while also pretending to die? Apparently one can.]

Pudding.

[Because of course it is.]

[silvercrusader]

[GASP.]

But do we have any?

[He LEAPS to his feet-- leaps, no one has ever gotten up so dramatically-- and races to the fridge, throwing it open. And lo and behold, there is a cup of pudding. What a coincidence! What a plot twist! What a time to be alive, and he grabs it, returning to kneel at his son's side.]

Giorno!

[digiorno]

[Giorno is now wheezing. Wheezing so much, so dramatically, his breath fluttering. The beeping has intensified, probably, even though real hospital machines don't work like that. He opens his eyes again when Polnareff returns to his side, reaches out for the pudding — and then his hand falls to the floor.]

Papa . . . a spoon . . .

[And then, a little more briskly:] We're not barbarians, Papa.

[silvercrusader]

We could be, if we wanted to.

[He informs him of that just as briskly. Fortunately, the drawer is within hand's reach, and so Chariot rises, opening the drawer and groping blindly. It takes him two tries, but eventually a spoon is found.]

Now can you live, petit?

[digiorno]

Mm . . .

[He considers the spoon. Then, grabbing it, he nods, and sits up, cradling the pudding cup to his chest.]

I think I will manage, yes.

[silvercrusader]

Thank god.

[He flops back, lying on the floor, propped up on his elbows.]

That was a close one.

[digiorno]

Jean-Pierre Polnareff . . .

[He looms over his beautiful, perfect papa, a solemn look on his face.]

You were a hero today.

[silvercrusader]

[Solemnly, he nods. He knows this. He accepts this. It's just his role in life.]

I should get a medal. An award. A hug.

[digiorno]

[A similarly solemn nod. He then flings himself bodily over Polnareff. Oh how the turn tables . . . who is being crushed now?]

[No one. Giorno is not that big. But still.]

[silvercrusader]

[He definitely isn't, but still Polnareff OOFS.]

Worth it.

[--he wheezes, and pats Giorno lightly on the back.]

[digiorno]

[Are they just gonna snuggle on the floor? Yeah, maybe. Maybe they are. So what? It's a free country. It's their house. Fight them about it. He curls up, getting a little more comfortable in his position of "flopped".]

My hugs are always worth it. And so are yours, even if they are sometimes a little lethal.

[silvercrusader]

[If anyone needs the kitchen, they're out of luck. Polnareff settles in, fingers drifting idly over Giorno's back. He'd push his fingers through his hair, but it's not yet nighttime; god forbid his son be seen with mussed hair.]

Full of love. I've never smothered anyone with my hugs, except you, maybe, just now, but even that worked out. You oughta be grateful, all these muscles mean I can pick you up whenever you want.

[digiorno]

That's true.

[His father is a merciful man, considerate of his son's perfect hair and also perfect everything. His father is, in fact, nearly as perfect as Giorno himself. Truly together they are too perfect.]

You should just carry me everywhere, I think. That way I can be as tall as everyone else around here.

[silvercrusader]

My arm might get tired.

[It isn't a no. Just a problem thoughtfully posed for his son-don.]

[digiorno]

Don't skip arm day, then.

[So breezy.]

[silvercrusader]

[He snorts, loudly and not entirely intentionally.]

You're gonna tell me about exercising?

[digiorno]

I will if you let yourself get too weak to carry your own son.