digiorno | ic inbox ( ruby city ) Ⅲ

oh

[He . . . exhales. So relieved.]

no it's okay!! i was just worried i didn't know
i'm glad
i want to work on it more but also what if i cant solve it today and i'm supposed to? was why i was worrying
but that's silly
i got a little caught up
maybe a lot

[Another pause. He breathes. An important thing he briefly forgot to do.]

i said i love you this morning already but also, i love you, happy valentine's day
i love you, i love the box, it's so pretty and you're so good, sorry i'm so silly!!!

[Fugo exhales and rests a hand on his chest which, very briefly, was clenched tight with a spike of worry. He wants this to be a good day! He wants so much to do good by Gionro, despite... not really knowing what to do. Valentine's Day has chocolate. And presents. And romantic gestures, which he is honestly pretty fuckawful at when he tries to do them on purpose.]

I'm sorry that's on me...
I shouldn't have assumed you wouldn't be in your room until later.
Go ahead and save it for a rainy day.

But, um
I'm glad! That you like it. Even though it made you worry. Happy Valentine's Day, Giogio.
I love you, it's ok, you can be as silly as you want.

oh that's probably good since i am usually very silly

fugo can i come see you? because i made you worry so i want to make it up to you
but also because it is valentine's day
but also to say thank you
but also because i just want to!

Oh. That's a lot of reasons!
Er which by that I mean
Yes! That's all I had planned. No more surprises from me.

it's four reasons
oh so let me come up with another one
okay: i look very cute today and i want you to look at me

where are you?

I think can manage that.
Since I spend a lot of time looking at you.
Because you're very cute every day.
But today is a "very cute" day by your standards,
I must assume that your cuteness has increased exponentially.

Sorry that was a bit of a tangent I'm a little drowsy.

I'm in the library. The downstairs library, not the outside library.
I didn't want to wander too far, today.

you're drowsy and thinking about how cute i am
which is in turn very cute
i'll be right down to kiss you all over your face ♥

[And he is. Because now that he's realized he hasn't done anything wrong, he's very excited to see Fugo and, as aforementioned, kiss him all over his face. So it's not that long before Giorno's bare feet are heard padding at high speed through the library, looking for His Boyfriend.]

[Zoom zoom.]

[The first thing Fugo will see is a sizeable gift bag in a number of clashing neon colors: neon pink, neon green, neon blue . . . Honestly there's no way of knowing where Giorno got this, but it's certain that he chose it for Fugo and not because it goes with his outfit. His love for Fugo outweighs his love for #aesthetic.]

[As for his own avowed cuteness, the highlights are as follows: royal blue tights with no shoes under a high-waisted skirt covered in blue flowers, with a purple off-the-shoulder top. More significantly, more unusually, Giorno's hair is mostly down, curled loosely--and he's not wearing any makeup. He's all freckles and blond lashes when he turns the corner and sees Fugo, and in a way it looks like he's brightening even more than usual.]

Ah. Buon giorno! [he calls, breathlessly--and that's all the warning Fugo gets before Giorno is bounding up to him, before he plucks the book and watch from Fugo's hands, puts them to the side, sets the bag next to him, and sits down smartly in his lap, arms coming to loop around his neck.]

[Then he kisses him. Confidently, excitedly, definitively, he kisses Fugo on the mouth, and when he pulls away he's beaming. Just happy to be here.]

Hi.

Edited 2017-04-02 01:59 (UTC)

[There may or may not be a half-typed objection to Giorno's assertion that Fugo is being very cute on his watch. It doesn't get sent. Giorno ends up having the last word, because he zooms so quickly down to the library that Fugo doesn't have the time to finish it. There's simply not enough time to come up with a proper rebuttal.

What he should have had time for is closing his watch and setting it aside along with his book, place neatly kept with a bookmark. He has plenty of warning. He can hear the excited approach of Giorno's feet in the hallway and, when he does turn the corner into the library proper, there's a whole room for him to cross.]

[Except Fugo sort of just. Spends all that time staring at Giorno, fingers slack around the watch and forgotten novel, and watches him as he closes the distance between the door left swinging open behind him and Fugo's armchair. There's a lot to look at. To be honest, he barely even notices the neon monstrosity of a bag dangling from Giorno's hands because he's all caught up in-- the spill of his hair, the pretty curve of his shoulders, the slope of his stomach. His freckles. The way his whole face lights up with a smile.

Boyfriends, as it turns out, are really powerful. Fugo is effectively stunlocked through this whole process. He's very pink by the time Giorno claims a seat in his lap and just. Sighs, entirely foolishly, and relaxes completely into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Giorno's waist. When Giorno pulls away he's left leaning back into the chair with an amazed, lopsided smile on his face.]

Wow. [That's ... all he has right now. Just wow. Yeah, Giorno has somehow found a way to make himself very literally exponentially cuter. Fugo half-wonders if he should have found something a little more put-together than the very particular sweater he's wearing.] Um. Hello.

[Giorno beams. He got a wow. From Fugo, who is so articulate, but right now all he could think of was wow. Oh, he did good, then. He did a good job. It makes him wiggle a little, very excited and pleased with himself, and lean in to kiss Fugo again very quickly before leaning back to take him by the shoulders and examine him.]

[At which point, he also goes a little pink. Oh. This is . . . the kissing sweater. He bites his lip and grins, glancing up to meet Fugo's eyes.]

Oh, look. It worked again. Good luck for you.

[He pauses a moment, then loops his arms around Fugo's neck again. This is the comfiest and closest he can get, so obviously that's his choice.]

You look very handsome. So I'm going to spend the rest of the day just staring at you. Okay?

[That's two kisses already. Giorno really is making good on his threat to kiss him, although he needs work on his definition of "all over". Not that Fugo's unhappy about the situation, which should be clear by the firm but gentle grip he keeps on Giorno's waist as if he needs to keep Giorno from wiggling up and away. It's just, you know. Semantics.]

What worked-- [One can almost the disappearing question mark as it suddenly transforms into an exclamation point above Fugo's head as he realizes what Giorno means. Oh. It's his formerly unofficial Boyfriend Sweater that is now official because the two of them have made the retroactive decision that, yes, the day they started dating was in fact the day Giorno kissed him on the park bench.] Oh. Yes. It did, didn't it? There goes all my luck for the month. I'm glad you still like it.

[He says, as if Giorno didn't at one point hang mistletoe over both of his doors to enforce a kissing toll. Which. He put up with and paid every day, several times over, with only a very little bit of complaining, all things considered.]

"Very cute" is-- it's an understatement. I don't think I'll be able to look anywhere else, today. [Fugo shifts underneath Giorno in order to get them both in a position where it's easier to be close. Maybe today is the day he'll finally sit down and count all of Giorno's freckles. Probably not, though.] Not even exponentially works. Not that math is good for-- [His cheeks go pink, but he doesn't stumble over the word. ... stumble much over the word.] ... flirting.

[Oh. Oh. Fugo is being very brave again. About flirting this time. It sends a sly little smile creeping across Giorno's lips, because his boyfriend is so lovely and cute and brave.]

Well, I don't know about that. I think it works for you.

[There's a moment of contemplation, then, although admittedly it's more a moment for Giorno to measure how devious he wants to be twenty seconds into a conversation. He smooths down the loose fabric at the front of Fugo's sweater, purses his lips playfully.]

But if you want to know a secret . . . it doesn't really matter how you do it. If you flirt with me, it works. I'm sort of a pushover for you. That's why I want your eyes on me. I'm just greedy.

Edited 2017-04-04 05:22 (UTC)

[What happens next is very silly. At first, Fugo doesn't seem to find his own words. He's surprised and pleased and, oh, it's all over his face. A crooked smile tugs at a corner of the mouth as he considers the idea that yes-- really!-- his weird sideways style of flirting actually... works. On someone as charming and clever and lovely as Giorno. It's one of those things that seems a little too good to be true, except he has evidence of that sitting here with him. On him. Smoothing out the wrinkles of his sweater, less because he'd like to see it sitting nicely and ... probably because Giorno will take any excuse to touch him.

Wow. That's all he can think, for a while. Who would have thought?]

[But eventually, Fugo gathers himself back up again. His expression settles into something very more like his usual self, very stern and serious. This is a grave matter that needs to be addressed immediately.]

Giorno. [He pulls his hands away from Giorno's waist and places them on his shoulders, and-- well, to be honest, briefly dazed by the feeling of warm skin under his palms. He blinks. What was he-- oh, right. He returns to seriousness, soldiering on despite his pink ears.] Giogio. That makes me very happy. But you know, if you're a pushover and I have a one hundred percent success rate, how am I supposed to improve? I take being my very best for you very seriously.

Edited 2017-04-04 20:17 (UTC)

[Every time Fugo does this--every time that look of wonder crosses his face, that amazement that Giorno really does like him, not just him in principle but in reality, every facet of him no matter how strange or awkward--Giorno falls a little more in love with him. The more often he can make Fugo realize that, the happier he is. And maybe Fugo will never totally believe it on his own, but . . . maybe someday he'll be a little less surprised.]

[Hopefully he never quite gets over some habits, though. It's weirdly charming how suddenly and effortlessly Giorno manages to freeze him, just by baring his shoulders. He bites his lip to hide a crooked, fond smile and tries his best to replace it with something contemplative.]

If your intention is improvement, consider factors other than just success or failure. Speed of success, for example. Or if there's a particular reaction you'd like to prompt, consider that your goal.

Or . . .

[He hms and rolls his shoulders absently (but not really absently at all).]

I could just do my best to make it more difficult for you. Generally speaking, I tend to be pretty good at that.

Edited 2017-04-04 21:10 (UTC)

[There is no chance, in any shape, way, or form, that Giorno's gesture was anything but intentional. Fugo knows it. And yet here he is, a little dazzled just by-- how it feels, to have someone move underneath his hands. To have Giorno move underneath his hands. Wow, is a thought he has, immediately followed by, this is nice.

Sitting in a library and the smell of books, which is quickly being overwhelmed by Giorno's perfume, with this amazing boy in his lap and underneath his hands. Talking about the study of flirting. God, it's stupid.]

[Wistfully:] Usually, I'm just happy to see you smile. If I can manage that, I count it as a success.

[He's so in love with him. It leaves him foolish and a little dizzy every time he thinks about: the fact that he can say that to Giorno, I love you, ti amo, aishiteru, and Giorno will say it back to him.]

Hm. There really are a lot of variables when it comes to flirting, aren't there. Nonverbal cues, delivery, tone of voice, expression... [Fugo's thumb fondly brushes the curve between Giorno's neck and shoulder, up and down.] I might have to make a list. Come up with a formula.

[Usually, I'm just happy to see you smile.]

[God. How unfair. He was so ready to be terrible, to be absolutely wicked. He was all geared up to it. And then something like that. The sweetest thing anyone's ever said to him, probably. The sweetest thing anyone could say. What's he supposed to do with that?]

[In practice, all he does is stare. His lips twitch up helplessly at the corners, like some strange and incomprehensible reflex. Which, with Fugo, and especially lately, it is. He smiles so much around Fugo, and it's silly, because Fugo thinks he's such a sad person who's no fun, but he is--not heavy at all but light, the sort of person who can lift up anyone's heart.]

[Or Giorno's, at least. That's what matters, here and now.]

. . . Oh . . .

[His voice comes out so stupid. Soft and breathy and ridiculous. And it's just--he's just a mess. Fugo is so sweet to him, and every time it's absolutely destructive in slightly different ways. Now, off-kilter as he is, ready as he was to lean forward and torment his poor boyfriend who's done nothing wrong in his life but be easy to tease--he just melts a little, cards his fingers through the hair at the nape of Fugo's neck and curls in close.]

I'll help. If you want a test subject. But, um.

. . . That was at least an eight out of ten. I don't remember how I was going to tease you at all.

[Ah, there it is. The smile he was hoping he would get to see. Not that he doesn't love Giorno's smiles-- because he does. He loves Giorno's wicked smiles, sharp and toothy, his perfectly practiced charming smiles, bright and dazzling, and he even loves the smiles that aren't really smiles at all. (As much as they hurt. As much as they mean that everything is wrong.) But he has a special place in his heart for these soft, subtle smiles.]

Is that so? [He reaches out with his other hand, the one that isn't busy tracing the outline of Giorno's neck and shoulder, to settle in the dip between his waist and hip. He leans in close, foggily murmuring:] I'd like that. I'd like that a lot.

[That's... really all he can manage, before he just. Gives up on flirting, gives up on words entirely, in favor of just kissing Giorno. This kiss is slower and softer; unhurried in its affection, lingering in its sweetness. He's not worried about the time. They have all day, for whatever else Giorno has planned.]

[Oh, no. Oh, no--Giorno squeaks, overwhelmed and startled and pleased and everything, so much, when Fugo leans up to kiss him. His lips are so soft and so warm, and Giorno keeps having these moments of being startled, so shocked and surprised that he gets to kiss Fugo whenever he wants to.]

[It's one of those moments again. He doesn't want this kiss to stop. He so doesn't want it to stop that when Fugo pulls away, he follows, fingers of one hand insistent in his hair while the other hand is flat, palm-down against his chest. He's got to try to regain some kind of balance or he'll float away, but for now he's just--drifting, kissing Fugo with the kind of fondness that doesn't have words.]

[Thank God for kissing. Even when he decides he's done, he doesn't pull away, not really. That would be the worst, probably. It's Valentine's Day, he can just drape himself over his boyfriend if he wants to.]

Fugo.

[He tugs, very lightly but also very petulantly, on Fugo's hair, leaning his forehead against Fugo's as he huffs.]

You're being too cute. I was going to be wicked and I keep forgetting to. And I was going to give you your gifts but I keep forgetting that too. What am I supposed to do? You're so cute you're making me dizzy.

Shouldn't that be my line? [It's good that Giorno didn't pull far away, because that might actually count as a crime in the pit of lawless anarchy that is Ruby City. Fugo chuckles and, oh, he really can't stop smiling. He can't even pretend to be skeptical or stern or whatever. He's too happy, too dazzled, too content in his own skin to pretend to be anything what he is.] If I had been on my feet earlier, you would have knocked me right down to the ground.

[Reluctantly, his hand drifts down to rest on Giorno's hip proper. If he's going to talk about the skirt, he ought to call attention to it.]

This skirt looks pretty on you. And your tights, um-- they bring attention. To how slender your legs are.

[He. May have also sort of forgotten about the present. He'll be excited about it later, but right now-- God, Giorno is cute today. He squeaked when he was kissed. He's rosy and freckly and has their foreheads pressed together, so how can Fugo be peeved about his hair being tugged. And shy as he is, he doesn't deny or try to wiggle out of Giorno's accusation of cuteness.]

[Oh.]

. . . I wasn't trying to knock you down. Not literally. Only figuratively.

[But now he's being flattered, so he can't make himself be sorry. Ooh, he really can't. It's that weird fact: when it's just him thinking to himself how cute he is, it doesn't affect him much. It just feels like truth. But when it's Fugo--]

[Well, it's very overwhelming. He chews his lip for a moment. He's going to wear this skirt . . . forever. All the time.]

You should tell me more facts. About how cute I am today. [

]

Okay. Here are a few.

[Even though he's not the one being complimented, Fugo's pink all over. He reaches with both hands for Giorno's face, fingers sliding into his hair, his smile wide and wondering.]

Your hair... you usually tie it back. And that looks good too, very dramatic, very bold, completely unforgettable. I usually don't get to see it loose unless you're brushing it. But when it's loose like this, it frames your face and makes your jaw look rounder. Softer. [Fugo could probably run his fingers through Giorno's hair forever. He loves the texture of it, the feeling of all those curls and waves slipping through his fingers. But he pulls them out this time to carefully touch Giorno's face as he continues to speak; his brows and the bridge of his nose, the crest of his cheeks.] You're not wearing any makeup today. I can see your freckles and that, um-- that makes me think of the spring and the summer and wonder if they'll get any darker when we get more sunshine.

[Giorno's makeup routine fascinates him; how he so carefully draws lines around his eyes, darkens his lashes, evens out the tone in his cheeks, brings out the shape of his mouth with bright splashes of color. The result is Giorno, only more intense. Intense and bright and perfect. Again, Fugo's hands drift down; this time, they come to rest on Giorno's shoulders.]

Your shirt... you look very good in colors like this. I think they're... jewel tones? Is that what they're called? This shirt is purple, but it's so bright and I think that makes your eyes look brighter. It makes your everything look brighter. And I get to look at your neck and shoulders and-- [Ah. Here he goes. Fugo's pink briefly flushes darker into red, but he manages to get the word out:] stomach.

[Here is another fact that Fugo can't quite manage to say: because it has such a high waist, Giorno's skirt naturally draws the eye to the gap between the hem of his shirt and the top of his skirt. He can't not look at it.]

You look so comfortable. And happy. You've been smiling a lot today, which is the cutest thing of all.

[. . . This is it, Giorno thinks, a little dizzily.]

[Not: this is it, this is the end of me. It's not quite so dramatic. He's overwhelmed, but it's good. It's sort of a beautiful thing, actually, a brand new experience that he has to navigate instant by instant in order to properly understand it.]

[It reminds him a bit of the moment that he realized that he loved Fugo--that he was in love with Fugo. It's like that, that same bright and crystal-clear realization, but it comes without the heavy choke of fear. Because--he knows now, doesn't he, he knows that Fugo isn't going to run away anytime soon. Fugo loves him, too.]

[Fugo loves him too. Fugo . . . without question, without doubt, loves him, so much that he thinks deeply and wonderingly about every part of his appearance, what every expression means, what his freckles might look like with more sun.]

[Is this it? Is this what it feels like to no longer be afraid?]

[He shudders a little, then curls forward and presses his face against Fugo's neck and exhales sharply. His smile is so sharp it curls into his voice, leaves its fondness against Fugo's jaw.]

I am. Comfortable. And happy. You make me feel comfortable and happy. It's you, it's all you.

I've never felt so good and so . . . safe, to be myself. Before this. It's extraordinary. You're extraordinary. Do you realize?

[He ... can't just reply to that. He needs a moment, even floating in all this happiness, to make a circle with his arms around Giorno and draw him in; lean back into the armchair, close his eyes, and curl closely around this boy who's staked out a claim in the unsteady ground of his heart. Listen to him breathe. And just let those words sink in, float down to come to rest at the center of his collection of countless little observation collected through the six months they've lived together.

Objectively speaking, Fugo is not a safe person to live with or be close to. After all, Purple Haze is always with him. And no one knows better than Fugo how little control he has over his own Stand--or his own temper. There is a simple, undeniable, certain risk to associating with him.]

[And yet, Giorno feels comfortable with him; enough to share a bed with him, both on nights where it's hard to sleep and nights where it's easy. He makes Giorno happy, in so many little ways that it would be silly to try and think of them now. Giorno feels safe to simply be himself; to be a boy who likes wearing skirts, someone in love with more than one person, a cunning criminal with dangerous ambitions, the young man who grew up as a child who was told over and over again that he wasn't worth it and there was no place for him. And all of the other things that Giorno is.]

[When he's finally ready to make words, he has to admit:] Probably not as much as you would like me to. But, when I'm with you...

[Fugo trails off and opens his eyes again. He sort of wants to shift around so he can get a better look at Giorno; the way they are now, the most he can see is the top of his head, the set of his shoulders, and the curve of his spine. But he doesn't want to move him, either, not when he can feel how happy Giorno from the smile on his jaw.]

I feel very loved. I feel-- unique, in all the world. Not because of what I've done or what I can provide for you. Just by being. [Somehow. He wonders, some days, if he'll ever simply understand it in the way others surely must.] Thank you for telling me. Knowing you feel that way... I don't think I have the words for how happy I am.

I love you. Ti amo. Aishiteru.

[He understands why Giorno used that particular word. Extraordinary: very unusual, remarkable. He knows fear, has lived with it and carried it with him so long. He understands, so well, how unheard of it is to feel that way around someone; to have that sort of faith and trust in someone simply for being there. It's amazing. It means the world to Fugo to know that Giorno feels safe to be himself with him.]

[Oh. That's . . . exactly what he wanted to hear. He didn't know he wanted to hear that, he wasn't angling for it--not like he would normally be. Not how he would have been, a year or two ago. It just happens to be the perfect thing at the perfect time to make this moment perfect.]

[Fugo feels unique in all the world when he's with Giorno. He feels not only loved, but very loved, just because of who he is.]

[Good, Giorno's whole body breathes, as delight settles around his shoulders and curls at the corners of his lips. He sits up and, a little helplessly, crooks his finger under Fugo's chin to tip his face up. If he does that, Fugo has to look at him, and he can't look away either. He doesn't want to, but he doesn't trust his own courage, sometimes.]

That's all I ever want. For you to feel loved and unique in all the world. Both of those things are true.

[The idea of not kissing Fugo right now seems truly horrible. So he doesn't bother trying to resist the impulse, just leans in and kisses him softly. He always manages softness and possessiveness at the same time, but tonight that's not what he passes along. It's more along the lines of: I'm so proud of you. Look how amazing you are.]

[Reverent, that's what the word is.]

[The way his fingers curl in Fugo's hair when he pulls away is a little less reverent, more playful. But the look is still there, somewhere in his eyes. It's not as though he ever thinks Fugo isn't amazing. Not even when he's trying to embarrass him. Although in this case, Giorno would say he's helping when he picks up Fugo's hand by the wrist and presses it securely against the gap between where his shirt ends and his skirt begins.]

Aishiteru, Fugo.

[He can be sentimental and awful and smug all at the same time. He has that power. Also he wants to see how red Fugo gets. He's getting really good at it.]

[Ever since Kurama shared with him the meaning of oak-leaved geraniums and lily of the valley with him, Fugo's done a lot of reading about flowers; he's been pouring over old-fashioned books, printed a hundred years ago about which blossom means this and what color meant that. And so he found heliotropes. Little flowers who, according to the legend of Clytie and Helios, dutifully follow the sun as it makes across the sky.

Most of the books he's read told him they mean devotion. But they also mean love. The bouquet he asked Kurama to make for him, that he'll pass along to Giorno later-- it's a little silly, how blunt and clumsy the message is. But what he means to say when he gives Giorno heliotropes and pink peonies is this: I love you, always; now and forever.]

[Like a heliotrope, Fugo turns to face the warmth of Giorno's smile. He looks at him like he's shy, which he is, and with the sort of smile that can only be categorized as hopelessly in love, which is undeniably true. He doesn't shy away from what Giorno has to tell him; sighs when he's kissed, perfectly content just to be in this moment.

Content enough, apparently, that when the kiss is over he leans forward when Giorno pulls back because he doesn't really want it to stop. And he's content enough to laugh when Giorno relocates one of his hands, eyes bright and playful, even though he can feel himself going red.]

Ti amo, Giogio. [He darts forward and kisses Giorno's cheekbones, then his jaw. And since Giorno so helpfully put his hand there, his fingers slyly curl up to tickle a spot near his ribs that Fugo has learned makes Giorno giggle when it's touched.] Later, I promise. When we go back upstairs.

[His whole body crumples around that one ticklish spot, a burst of giggles tumbling out of his mouth before he can stop them. Part of him thinks it's so unfair that Fugo knows where he's ticklish; part of him thrills at it, because no one has ever--]

["No one has ever" is Fugo all over, Giorno thinks, and bites his lip, overwhelmed all over again.]

Okay. No tickling!

[It isn't as stern as he wants it to be. In part because he really doesn't mind, and in part because a thought has occurred to him. It's a thought that a couple of months ago he would have kept locked up in his own head, but now--it seems important to share it, even if he's a little bit embarrassed.]

. . . I never dressed up for anyone before, [he admits eventually.] Only for myself. I used to think it was silly that people did that, when they were--together. But I like it. I want to do it again, to see your face light up like that. And hear you laugh, maybe--I can't believe I can do that!

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