Giorno x Mista-Day off

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Giorno yawned quietly, his usual tidy hair in messy curls around his head. His body sagged with a peaceful, restful feeling. Mista, on the other hand, was shaking off nerves here and there.

Over time, Mista had grown a fondness towards Giorno since he joined Bucciarati's gang. His reckless stand, Sex Pistols, threatened to tell Giorno themselves if Mista didn't make a move. Today was the deadline. "Mistaaaa, you have until the end of the day to tell Giorno or we will." They all cried, besides number 5 who was sneaking away with a red cheek due to number 3.

"Would extra food change your minds?" In reply, the 5 of them kicked at his cheek. "Okay, okay!" Mista grumbled, ruffling his hair under his hat, forming a quick plan.

Slipping into Giorno's room while he lay in his bed, reading a novel, number 5 sat on his knee crying. "What's wrong number 5?" Setting the book aside, Giorno picked up number 5 gently.

"N-number 3 hit m-me again." Number 5 hiccuped as Giorno rubbed his reddened cheek.

Feeling a soft finger rub his cheek, Mista spun around only to be met with an empty room. "Huh? Where's number 5?" He glared down at the bullets, the arrow on his hat drooping over his eyes. They all shrugged as he hastily left the room, fixing his hat to cover his chocolate brown locks. He sighed hearing the craziness downstairs and Narancia's cry of pain. Probably got a math problem wrong. He shook his head and chuckled, about to glide down the stairs when he heard Giorno talking to someone in his room.

"It's okay number 5, why don't we go get you something to eat?" Number 5? That pesky little- Throwing open Giorno's door without a knock, Mista stomped straight to number 5 in anger.

"Ay Giorno, I'm sorry for the bother. Number 5 and I will leave you alone." Giorno only smiled, Mista's face heating up more and more when he noticed him in only sweatpants and a thin tank top, his golden curls cascading down his slender shoulders.

"It's not a bother at all." He assured him. Number 5 slipped out of Mista's grip and attempted to tug him to Giorno by his hat, only succeeding at knocking it down to the ground. Before Mista could scold number 5, Giorno slid off the bed and snatched up the hat in one hand before standing up only inches from Mista. "Here." He smiled, ruffling his hand through Mista's soft and messy hair before adjusting his hat back on him, leaving Mista more flustered than before.

"I- uh- thank yo- you." Mista managed, going to walk out in shame as number 5 continued tugging him to Giorno with a threat in his eyes. Reluctantly, Mista grabbed at Giorno's arm to get his attention.

"Hmm?" Turning to face him, Giorno was quickly pulled into a suffocating hug, Mista's tomato red cheek against Giorno's dusted pink cheek.

"G-Giorno, I um, I l-" Pushing his head off his shoulder, Giorno flashed him a content smile, his eyes averting to Mista's smooth lips.

"May I?" Without a word, Mista connected their lips softly as Giorno pulled him closer, Mista's hand slipping into his wondrously soft hair.

The kiss deepened as Giorno instinctively slipped a leg between Mista's, hoping to get closer to him. As they moved their soft lips against each other, Mista pulled away panting lightly. In response, Giorno slipped his hands to his uncovered waist and pulled him into a hug, smiling against his cheek. All 6 of Mista's stand clapped in the background, fueling Mista's anger towards them. "Out! Out! Privacy." He shouted, breaking away from Giorno to shoo them out and lock the door.

"I'm sure they could sneak under." Giorno laughed, "but I heard it's a free day today, and I sure as hell didn't get enough sleep." Giorno yawned again, his curls twisting around his head. He slipped his fingers between Mista's as he was turning back around, slightly pulling him to the bed. "I promise no funny business." He swore, getting comfy with Mista, he slipped his hands back around his waist and tugged him against his own waist, then slipped his leg above his, intertwining them.

"Not like the time at the bench?" Mista argued half heartedly, snuggling into Giorno in utter disbelief at the scene playing out before him.

"Hey! I was mending your wounds." Giorno huffed, using one hand to draw circles on Mista's stomach.

"You're an inappropriate doctor." He finished, leaning his head back onto Giorno's chest.

"So it may seem." Giorno smiled, pulling at the hem of Mista's pants.

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