Chapter 1: Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This)
It had started innocently enough. Upon moving into the large mansion that Diavolo had left behind, it had been a given that the members of Team Bucciarati would obviously peruse the vast rooms, putting a claim to anything they took a liking to.
All the bedrooms were large with the exception of the master bedroom, that had been double the size of the other bedrooms. To dispel any fighting, it was agreed that the room would be left empty and be more of a large sleepover den for movie nights that went on too late.
The room was gutted of furniture to be distributed to the other bedrooms, Giorno taking the large collection of pillows that seemed to have no end as his own.
“Fifty-two, fifty-three, fifty-five, fifty-si-”
“Goddamn it Mista! If you’re going to skip the fours, then fucking count either the previous or next number twice! That’s why we can’t get an accurate count of Giorno’s pillow mound!”
It had been a simple question. Well…as simple a question after they had finally located Coco Jumbo in the vast collection of pillows that were piled on Giorno’s bed. Narancia had yelled excitedly and thrust his hands up, clutching the turtle.
As the group watched the turtle hurry as fast as he could out of the room, Narancia had turned to look at the large pillow pile before looking at Giorno.
“So…how many pillows do you have on your bed anyway?”
It was simple, right? Stationed at opposite ends of Giorno’s massive bed, the combined efforts of Giorno, Fugo, Narancia, Mista, and Trish began the task of counting every single pillow that Giorno had acquired in his two years of being the boss of Passione. It had quickly been observed that there were certain gifts that Giorno liked receiving in order to be in good favor with the young crime lord. Pillows were one such item.
It had been hours though. Hours of counting and recounting. Throwing pillows off the bed. Throwing pillows back on. But, no matter how many times they tried to get an accurate number, the number never matched. There just seemed to always be one more pillow.
Fugo was at his wit’s end. Between Narancia failing to add the numbers correctly or Mista sabotaging the count with his superstitious feelings about the number four, the situation had become impossible and ridiculous.
“I’m done! I’m tired of this shit! We’ve got actual work to get done and we’re in here trying to do the impossible! Defeating Diavolo again would probably be easier at this point!”
Narancia rolled his eyes. “Come on dude! Relax already! You’re getting worked up over something fun and team bonding!”
He braced himself for the eventual body slam Fugo would pin him in, only for the event to fail to happen.
Narancia looked around the room, furrowing his eyes as Fugo was nowhere to be found.
“Guys…Fugo didn’t leave did he?”
Giorno shook his head. “He would have said something and we would have heard the doors open.”
“He was just right there though! He would have had to crawl past me to get off the bed!”
Mista had pointed to a vacant corner of the bed that seemingly had more pillows piled on it, pillows that the other four swore they had never seen before. One had a pattern vaguely reminiscent of the purple and white diamonds that Purple Haze sported. “Guys…you don’t think…”
Trish’s eyes widened. “He…He didn’t get swallowed by the pile, did he?”
They had lost Coco Jumbo in the mess but only because the animal had been small and not prone to move much. Pannacotta Fugo, at times, had unbridled energy that kept him up for several hours after everyone had gone to bed. He hardly slept, choosing to work well into the night. He only ever admitted to both Bucciarati and Giorno that he was aware he had chronic insomnia, but didn’t want to become dependent on pills to fix the problem.
Fugo would simply not be a person to get buried in a pillow pile for long. But try as they might, throwing pillow after pillow off the bed, they could not locate the teen.
Mista forcefully threw a pillow on the ground. “I swear this is like the fifth time I’ve picked up this same pillow. I’m not going crazy, am I? The size of this pile just doesn’t seem like it’s getting smaller.”
The group had spent twenty minutes trying to push all the pillows off the bed, a task that they deemed impossible at this point.
Giorno clutched a pillow that was shaped like a strawberry, unsure if he had ever had this particular pillow to begin with. “Maybe he did just leave. I mean…we would have found him by now.”
Trish scooted off the bed. “Maybe Abbacchio can help with Moody Blues. He can use his Stand to turn into Fugo to see where he disappeared to. At least we would finally know.”
She turned to leave when one section of the pile began to move and Fugo sat up harshly, blinking wildly. He flinched as Giorno began to reach for him.
“Where were you Fugo?”
Fugo turned to look at Narancia before shaking his head and grabbed the Purple Haze patterned pillow next to him. He held it in his arms. “Don’t want to talk about it.”
Giorno furrowed his eyebrows. “But you disappeared for nearly thirty minutes. We searched but couldn’t find-”
“I said I don’t want to talk about it GioGio!”
Fugo’s cheeks grew as red as the strawberry color on the pillow Giorno was still holding. Fugo looked down and noticed the pillow. He huffed as he firmly grabbed the pillow and pulled it out of Giorno’s hands before scooting off the bed himself.
“I’m…I’m going to go. We’ve got more important work than counting a bunch of pillows.”
Fugo left in a hurry, still clutching the Purple Haze and strawberry pillows.
“I just know it. That damn brat took my pillow Bruno! You’ve seen how he hoards those things!”
Bucciarati followed the pattern of Abbacchio as the man paced swiftly across the room. With each step, he could feel the seething rage build as the man cursed their young boss.
“Are you sure you didn’t misplace it Leone? I mean you do tend to be rather…energetic in your sleep. You’ve thrown our blanket halfway across the room several times.”
Abbacchio narrowed his eyes. “I picked our room apart Bruno. My pillow is not there. Giorno stole it for that damn pile, I just know it. He’s getting back at me for the piss tea thing.”
Abbacchio stopped pacing and stared wide-eyed at Bucciarati. “Um…it’s a joke… Between us. Just a joke thing. Don’t worry about it.”
As much as he claimed he hated Giorno, deep down, Abbacchio held a lot of respect for the teen. Especially when it had been the culmination of his plans that led to their victory and new placements in the mafia. Both of them had sat down months later and finally broke the tension between them. The banter between them was harmless.
But…just because they were friendly with each other did not mean that Giorno could steal his favorite pillow. It had just the right amount of fluffiness that Abbacchio could twist to find the perfect position to lay his head down. It had been two days and as much as he hated admitting the pillow was a security crutch, it just felt wrong to sleep without the thing.
Giorno was currently in his office, helping Trish make arrangements for her next tour as Fugo read over the contracts Trish’s recording company had sent for her to sign. Both Giorno and Fugo were thorough in their work, especially regarding Trish, so they would stay in the office for hours.
It was an opportune time to waltz into Giorno’s room and locate his pillow.
Seconds were all it took to find his pillow. Light lavender pillowcase with several old permanent pigment streaks from accidentally falling asleep with his lipstick on and drooling the makeup off his face. Try as he might, he could never get all the streaks off and eventually, he had given up. Besides, it was his pillow and comfortable. Who cared what the outside looked like? The streaks gave it character.
Abbacchio picked up his pillow and held it close to his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of his and Bruno’s colognes combined, with just a hint of the honey smell that Giorno seemed to extrude from his person.
It would probably take a week for the smell to disappear, even if it was pleasant. Abbacchio grumbled as he turned away, intending to walk out of the room holding his prize.
The dark blue star shaped pillow caught his eye before he had a chance to move away from the bed. The tips of the star had a basic gold pattern on them and the fabric was softer than it should have been once Abbacchio touched it.
“Well…he stole my pillow so it’s only fair. Besides, he won’t miss one.”
Abbacchio walked out of the room with both pillows.
Bucciarati frowned as he saw his boyfriend surrounded in a pile of pillows on their bed, Abbacchio in a deep sleep with his sacred pillow underneath his head. Surely Abbacchio hadn’t been this upset into stealing what equivalated to around fifty pillows from Giorno’s room. To make matters worse, Abbacchio had moved to the center of the bed and was in such a deep state of sleep, Bucciarati couldn’t rouse the man to move over and let him lay down.
He sighed as he tried and failed for the third time to rouse Abbacchio before admitting defeat. Bucciarati grabbed the discarded blanket from the floor and grabbed one of the pillows off the bed, a pure white one with polka dots that caught his eye.
He made his way over to their adjoined living space in the next room and stretched out on the couch, grateful it was somewhat comfortable.
“Bruno! Wake up!”
Bucciarati’s eyes shot open and he stared into Abbacchio’s concerned ones. “Leone? What’s wrong?”
Abbacchio shook his head. “Nothing’s wrong, except you’re sleeping on the couch and it took me twenty minutes to wake you up. And…you’re surrounded in pillows.”
Bucciarati sat up, noticing the large amount of pillows that had accumulated around him during the night. He grimaced and looked up. “Now I know you were mad at Giorno, but you didn’t have to steal all his pillows.”
Abbacchio scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t be that petty Bruno. I only took one besides my own. I don’t fucking know where the rest of them came from.”
“Bucciarati! Abbacchio! Are you both- Oh. It happened here too.”
The two men looked up as Narancia burst through the door without knocking and followed his eyes as he scanned over the couch full of pillows.
“Narancia…what do you mean? What happened?”
Narancia blinked and looked at Bucciarati. “The pillows. They just…appeared without any explanation, right? You woke up and were surrounded, right?”
Bucciarati nodded. “It’s the same in our bedroom. I couldn’t wake Leone up last night. That’s why I’m on the couch.”
Narancia nodded. “Did you take a pillow from the bed pile?”
“A white one with black polka dots.”
Narancia nodded again. “So Giorno’s theory was right. They are multiplying.”
Abbacchio raised his eyebrow. “The pillows?”
“Yep! The pillows! Giorno thinks one of the pillows might be a Stand.”
Twenty minutes later had the group nestled in Giorno’s office, each with a pillow in their lap, Fugo having two.
Giorno looked around the room as he narrowed his eyes. “So we have a small problem.”
Mista groaned. “Giorno…the entire gang waking up surrounded by a pile of mysteriously appearing pillows is not a small problem.”
Abbacchio sighed as he ran his fingers through the fabric of the star pillow. “Narancia mentioned you thought this was a Stand.”
Giorno nodded and reached down, pulling a book out of one of his drawers. “I found this in the library soon after we moved in but really didn’t think anything of it until this morning. This was some sort of journal Diavolo had written about unusual Stands.”
Bucciarati frowned. “Unusual Stands? We had quite a few of those during our missions. What would constitute as an unusual Stand?”
Giorno flipped a few pages and held the book up. “Coco Jumbo and Mr. President for instance. This is the book where I found out his name and Stand name. There’s several pages about how the Stand key works. This book is full of Stands like this. Stands that aren’t bound by normal means. Like animals with Stands…or objects.”
Giorno nodded at Bucciarati and began to flip through more pages. “After Mista woke me up, screaming about how there were exactly forty-four pillows on his bed and how he had no idea how they all got there, and also losing Fugo in my pillow pile for twenty minutes yesterday, I decided to get to the bottom of this. I’ve been in here all morning scouring this book as everyone has ran in, telling me their own stories of mysterious appearing pillows.”
Giorno stopped on a page and held the book up, showing the simple illustration of a pillow with a crude tribal looking design drawn on it. “The Stand’s name is Sweet Dreams Are Made of This. Its first appearance will look like an ordinary pillow but will change its shape and pattern based on its current master’s decor and personality. It causes any pillows surrounding it to also access its power.”
Giorno flipped the page and showed the illustration of a bed with a pile of pillows on it, looking much like his own in his room. “The Stand’s power makes anyone who sleeps on it or the surrounding pillows, have a deep comfortable rest. The Stand also has the power to multiply into more pillows to achieve the perfect conditions for its full power to take effect.”
Bucciarati raised his eyebrows. “So it just makes you have a good night’s rest?”
Giorno nodded. “Or a very restful nap. Right Fugo?”
Fugo glared at Giorno before looking away and clutching the strawberry pillow tighter. “Quit bringing it up GioGio.”
Narancia grinned and nudged Fugo in the side. “Dude, did you actually fall asleep on Giorno’s bed? Is that why we couldn’t find you?”
“Quit fucking talking about it!”
Giorno smiled at Fugo. “It’s quite alright that you fell asleep. I don’t mind. You get so little sleep as it is.”
“It’s indecent! You’re my boss!”
“In name only Pannacotta. I really don’t consider any of you underlings, regardless of title, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Trish giggled. “Oooh… Giorno’s breaking out the first name.”
Narancia grinned. "And Fugo has a nickname for Giorno. No one else calls him GioGio."
Mista reached over and ruffled Fugo’s hair. “Just admit you two have a crush on each other.”
Fugo put the strawberry pillow over his face and screamed, his cheeks growing redder every second.
Abbacchio rolled his eyes. “As much as I’m so invested in your teenage romances, flirt on your own time. Preferably when I’m not in the room. We need to get back to the issue at hand. What are we doing about the Stand?”
Giorno looked over to Abbacchio and smiled. “Nothing.”
Abbacchio stood up and glared at Giorno. “What do you mean?! We know of its power and what it’s done! If we don’t find some way of destroying it, the place will be overrun with pillows!”
Giorno shook his head. “Unless someone else takes an infected pillow, we should be fine. The Stand only multiplies pillows until it finds the perfect number for each person’s comfort. So if you only needed one pillow, it would have only stayed at one. And everyone seemed to get a good night’s rest after taking a pillow from my room, so really…it’s actually a beneficial Stand. Plus…I don’t want to sacrifice my comfort…or my pillows. And really…by this point, there would be no way of figuring out exactly which pillow is the Stand since there’s so many.”
Trish raised her eyebrow. “I’ve got a question. So Fugo obviously took two pillows yesterday and me, Mista, and Narancia all were given one by Giorno and we all had the pillow thing happen. But Bucciarati and Abbacchio, how did you end up with the pillow thing happen to you?”
Bucciarati smiled and squeezed his pillow slightly. “I actually got to our bedroom pretty late last night and Leone was already deeply asleep in our bed, surrounded by pillows. I couldn’t wake him and couldn’t find my pillow, so I took this one from the pile and slept on the couch. I woke up in my own pile of pillows.”
“And how about you Abbacchio?”
Abbacchio glared at Giorno before sitting down and pulling the star pillow in his lap. “I thought you had stolen my pillow so I went to your room. Not only did I find mine, I took this one as payback.”
Giorno nodded. “You can keep it. You all know I have more than enough. As for your own pillow, I’m afraid I did accidentally take it when I was washing a few pillows that had collected some dust on them. I picked up yours by accident and I was partially looking for yours to give back to you when we were counting yesterday. I’m glad you ended up finding it in the end, even if it did get infected by Sweet Dreams.”
Bucciarati stood up. “Since the problem has been resolved, I think we should adjourn the meeting and put our pillows back in our room before they have a chance to multiply in this room. I also think we should examine that Stand journal more closely. While there have been two Stands that have been beneficial, the others in the book might not be. If Diavolo was in possession of the ones in the book, we need to locate them and determine if they’re a threat or not.”
Giorno flipped through the pages. “Agreed. I suggest we split up to find them quicker. I can photocopy the pages and distribute them evenly.”
Narancia raised his hand. “I nominate you and Fugo to be a team! That way you can flirt and get to know each other better!”
Fugo lifted his head from the pillow, clutching it tightly. “I don’t- I’m not-”
Mista chuckled. “Don’t try to deny it. Your cheeks are redder than my hat. You are crushing bad dude.”
“He’s sitting right there! Shut the fuck up!”
“So you do admit it!”
Giorno smiled. “I’d be happy to be your partner in this Pannacotta.”
Trish smirked. “There’s the first name again.”
Abbacchio groaned as he stood up. “Let’s just get this over with. Fugo, you and the brat are teaming up. Bruno and I are obviously together and I’m guessing the three of you are the last team.”
Narancia nodded. “Team Trish Kin for the win!”
Abbacchio grumbled as he headed out of the room. “I’m going back to bed. Wake me up when we’re actually ready to get started.”
Chapter 2: Karma Chameleon
Karma Chameleon- Culture Club, 1983
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
There were twelve Stands written in Diavolo’s book, strewn around Italy. They already had known of two, which left ten. After reading and careful consideration, Giorno selected the three that him and Fugo would collect and handed Bucciarati and Trish the three each team would go find. The last one was one that the entire group decided to take on together once they were finished with the three they were tasked with.
Fugo glanced over to Giorno before setting his eyes back on the road. “Are you sure we should be driving? We could have taken the private jet or-”
“This is fine. It’s been so long since we’ve done a mission alone and it gives me a chance to look at the scenery outside.”
Fugo tried not to let the blush creep through his cheeks. “I’m just worried about your safety boss. We’re not exactly low profile mafia anymore and you haven’t been anywhere since taking over without a full escort. What if some of your enemies-”
Giorno lightly punched Fugo’s shoulder. “Pannacotta, relax please. And you know I hate when any of you call me boss when we’re not on official business. We’ve been friends for two years. At least call me Giorno.”
“But isn’t this official business? We’re tracking down potentially dangerous Stands that Diavolo collected.”
“Perhaps. But I’ve never been to the cities that we’re going to, at least not casually like this. I’d like to do a little sightseeing and buy some souvenirs for my shelves.”
Fugo raised his eyebrow. “You’ve never been to Florence? Not even for a class trip? I would always see groups of kids visiting while I was taking painting classes with my tutor that lived there.”
Giorno shook his head. “I…couldn’t really leave home much when I was younger. Class trips were out of the question. We need to get off at the next exit.”
Fugo glanced at Giorno again before nodding. “So what’s the first Stand we need to locate?”
Giorno pulled the paper out of the folder. “The Stand is called Karma Chameleon. It’s a multi-jeweled brooch shaped like a chameleon. It has the power to disguise your appearance and make you blend in. I was debating on giving this to either us or Trish’s team, but I think-”
“It’s an animal and it’s flashy and you wanted to make a claim on it before Trish did. Don’t try to lie to me.”
“What are you going to do? Lick me to see if I am?”
Giorno quickly grabbed the wheel to swerve the car back in their lane. “Too much? You’re as red as your twelve hole suit.”
Fugo gripped the wheel tightly. “Gio- You- You can’t just- You…count the holes in my suits?”
“It’s interesting to figure out how many when you get a new suit or where you put them. Sometimes I kind of forget to work when you’re in the room because I’m counting the holes. It’s weird that happens.”
“That’s either OCD or a weird vampire weakness Giorno.”
Giorno laughed. “Funny you say that considering one of my birth dads was a vampire.”
For the second time that day, Giorno had to swerve them back on the road.
Giorno glanced back to see Fugo several feet away from him, cautiously looking at everyone that passed him. He stopped walking to let the blonde catch up to him. “You look like you’re pissed off Fugo. We’re supposed to act casual on these missions you know. Boss’s orders. It’s a good thing the Statue of David is only a statue, otherwise the glare you gave him would be equivalent to Medusa.”
Fugo shook his head. “Just… bad childhood memories. It’s fine. I’ll try to-”
“If you weren’t comfortable looking at the art, you should have said something. We could have done something else. I can come check these out later on. It’s not like they’re going anywhere.”
“You were looking forward to seeing them since you never got to until now. Some of the pieces are impressive and I do enjoy looking at them now that I don’t have parents or teachers breathing down my neck to master the artist’s techniques. Although…I don’t think they should have let an eight year old try to accurately sculpt a penis and then scream at him when he told them he was uncomfortable doing it.”
Giorno frowned. “My parents refused to sign my permission forms for class trips. Said they were a waste of time and money on me. Their money was better spent on getting drunk and partying while I had to fend for myself.”
Fugo looked up and stared wide-eyed at Giorno. “Gio- What the hell? You’ve never talked… Your parents-”
“Weren’t good people either. Since you let me in and told me a bad childhood memory, I figured it was only fair to share one with you. I’ve always wanted to get to know you better, but I never wanted to push you. You’ve got your secrets you want to guard, just like I do. We can’t just live with our hearts on our sleeve like Mista and Narancia can. But from now on, for every piece you share with me, I’ll promise to share a piece of my life with you.”
Before Giorno was able to see the redness creeping up, Fugo turned his head and began to walk past Giorno. “W-We’ve got one more room to go before the gift shop. I assume you’d like to spend a while in there.”
“Keep an eye out on the tackiest coffee mug you can find. Trish refuses to let me have my “Bitch, I’m adorable” mug back and I need one to replace it.”
Fugo unconsciously swung the tote bag with souvenirs in his hand as he walked alongside Giorno, their hands brushing past each other occasionally. “You know your mug isn’t going to phase anyone, especially Trish. She’s lived with six men for two years and constantly pits Mista and Narancia in “dick measuring” competitions. Face it Giorno. You’re not getting your mug back.”
Giorno sighed and nodded. “At least this one won’t be stolen from me. Are you sure you’re okay with it?”
“I bought a mini David statue paperweight I’ll be looking at every day. Your penis mug won’t be a concern. My goal of replacing one bad childhood memory with a good one is complete.”
Giorno smiled and purposely brushed his fingers against Fugo’s palm. “Mine too. I finally got to go on a field trip to see some of the most famous art pieces Italy has to offer, and with someone I like a lot instead of a bunch of immature kids.”
Fugo looked away, gripping the tote bag tighter. “Gio-Giorno… I just want to apologize for how I’ve been acting. It’s not appro-”
“Fu- Pannacotta, look at me.”
Giorno stopped and pulled Fugo closer to the building they had been walking past so they wouldn’t impede the other people walking on the sidewalk.
Fugo dared to look up into Giorno’s eyes, seeing a glint of something more in the serious look the man was giving him.
“Pannacotta, you don’t ever have to apologize for your feelings. That’s a part of being human, especially when they feel new and foreign to you. From what we know of each other, I think I can safely assume that we both had pretty bad childhoods and we had to suppress those emotions. Now that we both have freedom, we can express ourselves however we want.”
Fugo swallowed the lump in his throat. “But Giorno, you’re still my bo-”
“Friend. And maybe something more at a later date. Mista’s right you know. It’s clearly obvious we both have feelings for each other, but like I said, I never wanted to push you. The only time I ever had was so you could have a better relationship with Purple Haze. But feelings like these…I wanted you to be absolutely comfortable enough before I proceeded any further. I value your friendship more than anything and would do everything I could not to mess it up. I really mean it when I say I’ve never considered any of you my underlings. Calling me boss is only for official stuff and the rest of Passione. Never for my friends and family. And especially never for you.”
Fugo looked down and took a deep breath. The tote bag felt heavy in his hand and he was suddenly aware of needing something to counterbalance the weight. He slowly moved his free hand toward Giorno. “I-If you want… Um…”
“It’s better to hold hands than all the accidental brushes we’ve been doing?”
Fugo let out a breathy chuckle as he felt the solid warmth of Giorno’s hand wrap around his own. “Yeah.”
They began walking again, hand in hand. Giorno looked down to see their intertwined hands and the bag in Fugo’s other hand. “So…would we call what we just did our first date?”
Fugo turned and glared at Giorno. “Do you want our first date to consist of us looking at a stone penis and then buying merchandise with said penis on it? Because that’s not exactly a story I’d like to recount to people one day.”
Giorno chuckled. “Fair enough. We have plenty of time to figure out what we want to do regarding that.”
“You know…you would think I would hate them since I constantly got joked about it being my name, but I really enjoy panna cotta. And there’s a restaurant in the city that boasts they have the best in Italy. You could treat me to that after we get the Stand.”
Giorno squeezed Fugo’s hand. “I enjoy pudding a lot, as you may have seen at lunch and dinner. Chocolate’s my favorite.”
“I hear that same restaurant has an excellent chocolate panna cotta.”
“What about a strawberry one?”
Fugo squeezed back. “You already have one. Don’t be greedy.”
The jewelry shop was small and discreet, perfect for a Stand owned by Diavolo to be hidden. Fugo looked over the pages of the Stand before handing them back to Giorno. “There shouldn’t be a problem with obtaining it, unless the owner decides to not part with it due to us not being Diavolo.”
Giorno frowned. “More than likely, he used his other self to hand it over to the owner. If he’s unwilling to part with it, we’ve got two options. One is to give him a large monetary compensation. I really hope he chooses that option.”
“I’m scared to ask what the other one…but what is the other option?”
Giorno smiled. “Something I like to call… borrowing permanently without prior consent and no intention of returning.”
“Was it really a good idea to give it life?”
Giorno nodded as looked down the small street again. “The shop owner didn’t believe me when I said who I was and even turned down the money. He’s not a bad man, and I admire his commitment to customer confidentiality, but this is something we simply can’t let him keep.”
Fugo looked down the street as well. “So how is he going to find the money you left?”
“Small and subtle ways. I made sure to leave it in places he’ll find plus I’m putting a good word to have anyone in Passione get jewelry and repairs from him. There were several pieces that caught my eye that I might have someone come pick up at a later time.”
The chink of metal turned their attention to the wall beside them and a gold chameleon with jewels embedded in it stared at them. Giorno had only given the brooch enough life to move but not become a full animal.
Giorno smiled and reached over to pick the brooch up, only for it to scurry out of his grasp and use its tongue to latch on to Fugo’s exposed skin through one of his holes.
Fugo gasped and took a few steps back before carefully setting the tote bag down and tried to grab at the chameleon. The brooch ducked underneath the hole in his suit, popping up in another one higher up on Fugo’s sleeve.
“Hold still, I think I got it.”
Giorno reached over to grab it, only for it to duck underneath again and scurry across Fugo’s chest to his other sleeve.
Try as he could, Fugo tried not to laugh from the gentle tickling the chameleon was doing. Running across his chest had nearly made him cave, but the brooch ran against the underside of his elbow that produced a high pitched giggle from him. He quickly put his hand over his mouth and stared at Giorno with wide eyes.
Giorno was giving him the same look before the man broke out in a grin. “So…that’s how it happens.”
Fugo furrowed his eyebrows and removed his hand. “Wh-What happens?”
Giorno chuckled. “Check out your suit and it might be difficult, but your hair as well.”
Fugo looked down and gasped as the normal green fabric of the suit he had been wearing was a bright pink that Trish would normally be seen wearing. He cautiously touched the fabric, relieved that it was solid to the touch. He was glad he had been growing his hair out and grabbed one of the locks of hair that he purposely combed over his face, shocked at the green color instead of his normal dark blonde.
He frowned. “This is-”
Fugo blinked as the sudden change of hair color alarmed him. The green hair had suddenly turned purple. Looking down, his outfit was now blue. He looked up at Giorno, who was equally shocked at the sudden color changes. “There isn’t anything else changing, is there?”
“Your tie and shoes and possibly your eye color. They look a bit darker than the normal purple they usually are but it also might just be that since we’re still in the alley. A drastic color change would confirm it.”
Fugo groaned. “But I don’t want there to be any more color changes.”
The black suit and pale blonde of his hair definitely reflected his mood.
The chameleon was hiding in Fugo’s suit and Giorno scanned his body to see if he could spot the brooch, seeing its tail slightly peeking out in one of the bottom holes of Fugo’s jacket. He cautiously touched Fugo’s sleeve with one hand, preparing the other to grab the creature.
The chameleon moved just before Giorno grabbed it, causing the man to grip Fugo’s wrist instead. Fugo whined as the creature tickled him as it scurried up his arm, changing his hair blue and his outfit a bright orange.
It peeked out of the material on Fugo’s shoulder and spat its tongue at Giorno. Giorno narrowed his eyes and stuck his tongue out at the creature in annoyance.
Fugo couldn’t help it. He really couldn’t. For the past two years, the whole gang had had their fair share of missions and fights. Everyone in the first year since Giorno had joined the gang had more than enough scrapes with injury and death, even Trish. They had been shot, stabbed, impaled, body parts had been ripped off, bones had been broken, deadly mold had grown on them, his own virus had devastated his mouth. At the end of it, they were all fine, but there were few moments where they could just relax and act their age like the teenagers and young adults they were.
Seeing Giorno, his boss…friend…boyfriend, who normally kept his emotions in check, having a staring contest with an inanimate object with just the hint of life was perhaps the funniest thing in the world. Fugo let out a small snort before devolving into full blown laughter. He hit the wall and slowly slid down, feeling tears running down his face from how hard he was laughing.
His suit had changed to a bright yellow and through his teary eyes, he inwardly thought him and Trish could be twins with his current hair color.
Giorno slid down the wall next to him and sighed, staring at the chameleon who had situated itself on Fugo’s shoulder at this point. “I guess you were right.”
Fugo chuckled before turning to look at Giorno, his suit turning red and hair turning white. “Right about what?”
“Giving it life. But normally the animals I create come back to me. This one’s being a stubborn brat.”
“Careful now, you sound like Abbacchio. And it’s not my fault the chameleon likes me better.”
Giorno stuck out his bottom lip, forming a pout.
Fugo chuckled one last time before raising his hand up and lightly stroking the chameleon on the head. “Okay, you’ve had your fun, but we’re still on a mission. I’ll let you stay if you change my suit and hair back.”
His suit went through a few quick colors before settling back to the normal green he had been wearing and Fugo surmised his hair had done the same thing. His held out a lock and smiled as he saw the familiar dark blonde.
He turned to look at Giorno again. “Are you going to change it back to just a brooch?”
Giorno’s eyes softened and he shook his head. “It would be cruel to rob it of the life I gave it. It’s got that mischievous charm that we all have. It’ll fit nicely with all of us. And also fits nicely with all the colors it cycled through you. It’s a nice accessory to add to your wardrobe.”
“You…want me to keep it?”
Giorno nodded. “Like you said, it likes you better. It’s foolish to separate you two. Although…while it was changing your colors back, it did cycle through one I want to see a little bit longer. Your suit was red and your hair was green. With your pale skin…you looked like a strawberry.”
Fugo placed his finger on the chameleon’s head. “Karma, don’t. Don’t listen to what Giorno says. It would look terrible.”
The chameleon stuck its tongue out at Giorno as a response.
Fugo gripped the steering wheel as the scenery became familiar to him. He glanced to look at Giorno, distracted by texting one of the others on his phone.
He was glad Karma was keeping its promise, otherwise the colors his suit and hair would turn would definitely let Giorno know something was wrong.
It had been five years since he had been in the city of Bologna. After today, he hoped to never see it again.
Scream at me: Riddlepanda.tumblr.com
All the suit and hair colors are actually a lot of the official colors Fugo has had in various media (manga, anime, video games, commercial adverts, official merch)
Made a (probably incomplete) list of most of them here: https://riddlepanda.tumblr.com/post/186110657162