[That's a good instinct. They wouldn't get anywhere if Fugo said that out loud, probably; Giorno would start kissing him and refuse to stop, and he'd not only fall off the piano bench but off the stage.]
[Instead, the reassurance soothes him enough to at last loosen his grip. He pulls away, even--not far, but a bit, so that he can look Fugo over. Fugo, who is so beautiful, who's flushed and a little unfocused and who wants to keep kissing him . . .]
[And Giorno kisses him. Just once. It's a sweet kiss, but it's also--well. Giorno's gotten very good at putting all of the feelings he can't verbalize into his kisses in the last six months or so. This kiss is full of love, but also of the simmering warmth he would like to get back to as soon as possible, the reason he's so reluctant to let go.]
[But he can't let it be a long kiss, or they'll linger on the edge of leaving for ages. So after a moment he pulls away and sighs.]
Okay. Okay, let's go, then.
[He bites his lip and stands to go; his eyes catch on the burst of color that is the flower atop the piano, and--oh. He carefully plucks it up and tucks it behind his ear. He can't leave a present behind. They'll have to get the pudding later, though, because he'd absolutely drop it on the way back if he tried to bring it now.]
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[Instead, the reassurance soothes him enough to at last loosen his grip. He pulls away, even--not far, but a bit, so that he can look Fugo over. Fugo, who is so beautiful, who's flushed and a little unfocused and who wants to keep kissing him . . .]
[And Giorno kisses him. Just once. It's a sweet kiss, but it's also--well. Giorno's gotten very good at putting all of the feelings he can't verbalize into his kisses in the last six months or so. This kiss is full of love, but also of the simmering warmth he would like to get back to as soon as possible, the reason he's so reluctant to let go.]
[But he can't let it be a long kiss, or they'll linger on the edge of leaving for ages. So after a moment he pulls away and sighs.]
Okay. Okay, let's go, then.
[He bites his lip and stands to go; his eyes catch on the burst of color that is the flower atop the piano, and--oh. He carefully plucks it up and tucks it behind his ear. He can't leave a present behind. They'll have to get the pudding later, though, because he'd absolutely drop it on the way back if he tried to bring it now.]