"GO GO GO WHAT THE F UCK." Squalo's voice cracked, slapping the untidy hair of the driver as his fiancé pounced into the stale leather of the backseat. Three gunshots ran in the air, close enough to make their ears ring. A worrisome whirring was all that the car gave them, seemingly unfazed by the chaos around its cheap exterior. (Y/N) groaned, pounding on the dashboard a few times as the engine stalled once more before rolling into a soft rumble. "THEY'RE LITERALLY RIGHT THERE THEY ARE RIGHT THERE-"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP." The disgruntled young woman dug her foot into the gas pedal, knocking two gay men back into the seats. Another gunshot burst through their rear window, resulting in a girlish scream from the red head. Tiziano yanked himself to sit up despite the swerves he was forced through, resting his arms to try and get the best possible aim on their attackers. "WHY ARE THEY STILL SHOOTING AT US??"
Tiziano tastefully ignored her question, adding a new one to their polite conversation. "STOP SWERVING WHAT THE SHIT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" Yet, despite his kind request, she did not. Because they were still being shot at and fifteen minutes prior he failed to hit a fucking fire extinguisher right in front of him.
"FUCK YOU. DID YOU EVEN PUT THE PACKAGE IN THERE YOU STUPID BI-" The factory behind them erupt into flames, their detonation lighting up one of the random rooms in the building. The shockwave made their tiny car skid, lifted by the back wheels and shoved hard enough to turn. Burnt pasta speckled the ground, raining down on the roof of their little clown car like flecks of hail. They stared at the smoldering building, hearing the chaotic screams of gangsters that tried to flee the pasta factory. (Y/N)'s hand fell to the button for the windshield wiper, clicking it on to push the ash and embers out of the way. "I swear to god if I ever have to do this shit again."
Despite their differences, Tiziano and Squalo nodded in agreement. "Fuck, this boss is hardcore."
The drive back was quiet, less out of respect and more out of their bone tired asses. Their mission was arranged out of the blue, after Fugo picked up a whiff of money laundering by one of the more problematic capos. It was the final straw to a long line of disrespect done by their group, and Giorno was rather brutal in his ways. Unfortunately, at the same time, he happened to learn that the two surviving members of the Unità Speciale were only alive thanks to one of his own members. And based on the past evidence, all signs pointed towards (Y/N). So, on the Don's orders, the three of them would pledge their loyalty by going on a fun little trip, fucking with the bad capo a bit in the don's name, and then tossing the car in the ocean and taking the train back. They really thought it would be easy, but that was also under the impression that they would like each other. And for the most part, they could tolerate one another. But-
"(Y/N)." Squalo's eyes squinted at a mishaped bulge in her pockets. Her response was a dull tone of recognition, and he glanced back at his lover as if to try and confirm, but Tiziano was taking a nap. "(Y/N)."
"What?" Her concentration tore from the road and she glanced at him and then at the blond in the back. "What's up? You forget something? It's gone now y'know. I'm not turning back around."
"No. No, I wanted to ask... Is that... handfuls of pasta... in your pants." His tone was less impressive and more of complete and utter disappointment, but that's because he didn't understand. And despite repeated exposure of her sheer lack of common sense, he still wasn't used to it. There were doubts that he would ever be. Not that she cared.
"Is that... not handfuls of pasta in your pants?" She looked at him, exasperated so much so he almost wondered if it was him that did something wrong. "You mean to tell me you went into a pasta factory, and just didn't take any pasta??"
"Yes, that's what goes on in normal people's brains, you're the weird one here! Tiz! Tiz, wake up and tell her!" His voice roused the drowsy man, pointing at her legs and then made a disgusted expression.
"Yes, I know you're gay..." His eyes shut again, brows furrowed in annoyance from the disturbance.
"I'm not weird just cause I'm bi! How dare you!"
"YOU HAVE PASTA IN YOUR PANTS."
"How DARE you assume what's in my PANTS."
"IT'S PASTA IT'S FUCKING PASTA I'LL TAKE IT OUT MYSELF AND SHOW YOU IT'S FUCKING PASTA. YOU CAN'T JUST TURN MY WORDS LIKE THAT."
"SEXUAL HARASEMENT THIS IS HARASEMENT, I'LL THROW YOU OUT OF THIS CAR RIGHT NOW. I WILL DO IT." The tiny car shook a little, and the clowns continued to bicker until Tiziano shouted at them with his big boy voice.
Despite the bumps and the cramps, the couple was dropped off safe and sound with the car, and (Y/N) was picked up by Fugo and Abbacchio. The reason these two were chosen? They drew the short stick. Also because everyone else was 'busy'. And to pressure (Y/N) to make sure she did as she was supposed to. "Mission complete?"
"Yep! As smooth as butter!" Climbing into the backseat, the door slid shut and Abbacchio ventured off to get back home. She buckled her seatbelt, leaning forward to drum her fingers on Fugo's shoulders, his dangly strawberry earrings brushing against her knuckles with a light tickle. "I'm still glad it's over though. It feels like it's been like, a year since I've seen you guys!"
"It's only been a few days, what are you talking about?" Fugo rolled his eyes, staring out the window to watch the cars pass by. Despite his hidden face, the side view mirror showcased his happy grin to her. She wasn't so mean as to point it out and expose him, and she leaned over to Leone's side.
"You're not getting anything out of me. I quite liked the break from you." Nope, as cold as stone.
"You're both so mean to me, I almost got shot, y'know?" Her legs childishly swung from side to side, a habit of boredom. "And I almost crashed the car, and the bomb kinda had trouble, so we doused it in a bunch of other stuff, so i think we maybe accidentally did more damage than intended..."
"Didn't you say the mission was as smooth as butter?" Fugo cut her off. "Also, you've done all those things before."
"...Yea, like I said, as smooth as butter." She shrugged, avoiding his confusion to change the topic. "Anything happen lately? Or are Bruno and Giorno still busy with the meetings with the Speedwagon Foundation?"
"Mostly that. They're trying to locate more of the arrows." Leone propped an arm against the window's ledge, lazy purple-yellow eyes sweeping towards the rear view mirror to take a glance at her. "The one we donated from Polpo gave them a little more insight on their structure and makeup, but not much else. Not who made them, nor how."
"That's... sucky." She chewed on her bottom lip, an action that didn't fall unnoticed by his eyes. They fell back to the road in front of him, although admittedly, his attention still stayed in the mirror. "I thought there were only two, the one Giorno has, and the one that Diavolo had and broke."
"They say there's four more known ones, and then they are searching for any more that can be out in circulation. We might have to go on another trip." Fugo unbuckled his seatbelt, exiting the car and popping open the door for (Y/N) to shuffle out. "Go report to Giorno, but remember, he's in a-"
"Giogio! Guess who's back, motherfucker?!" Her foot collided with the front door, nearly breaking it off the hinges as she stormed through the house to his office. How dare he make her go through a loyalty test! She's plenty loyal and he knows it! She threw her body into the lustrous, wooden double doors that lead into his office, throwing them open without regard of whatever he dared to do. "It's me, about to give you the ass whooping of the century-"
Bruno stood by the door at the ready, slapping a large hand from his stand over her mouth and zipping her lips shut. Startled by the sudden action, all (Y/N) gave him was an annoyed glare, yet he simply held a finger to his lips. From the phone, Jotaro sighed.
"Please, ignore her. Continue." The don's emerald eyes peered at her through golden lashes, flashing her a completely innocent smile. It would have been sweet, if she could have knocked a few of his piss teeth out. Maybe being here has made her a little violent. Or it's the fact that he shoved three grown bastards into a tiny car for three days or so.
Still, (Y/N) came prepared, fishing out the sticks of spaghetti from their pants and lining a few of them up to write a simple response: B I T C H
In a calculated response, he summoned a rose from one of the dry pasta noodles, handing the fresh bloom to her. Jeez, still the same smooth Giorno, that little bitch. It would be rude to not take the bloom however, so she plucked it from his fingers and returned to Bruno's side to ask for her ability to speak again. With Giorno's agreement, he raised a hand to her lip, running his thumb against the crease with too much care. "You need to knock next time, (Y/N)."
"It ruins my grand entrance." Her response was curt, but her brilliant grin was weather the action was at. "Where's the others?"
"I think they heard you, so please... deal with them." He shut the doors before she could even ask what that meant, but Narancia's scream cut her train of thought. There was a tumble from the stairs, and SCF jumped into action, cushioning the fall of Mista and Narancia as they tumbled down to the ground.
"(Y/N)! Tell Mista that I'm the better dancer! I'm the one that made it and everything, and then he's here trying to show off just cause-"
"Look, just cause you can do the splits doesn't mean you're a better dancer! I danced all the time, you know?!"
"The stanky leg doesn't COUNT."
"Stanky leg totally counts but better question; what the fuck?" She turned towards the stairs for an answer, where Trish shoved them both out of the way to actually answer her question.
"We were playing Just Dance. It doesn't matter who's better between them, I won. Also, welcome back." Wearing some comfy T-shirt and shorts, she enveloped her in a good hug. "Please, I'm begging you, do NOT leave me alone with these idiots again."
"Idiots?! I'm not an idiot!" Narancia was quick to defend himself, but like a child, his way of doing so was with his fists. "You're the idiot! Who the hell has like, three different soaps?!"
"A clean person, you mongrel! Go take a bath! Ew! Don't put your foot on me!"
Mista could only give him a pitying gaze, knowing full and well all four of them were actually dumbasses. He wrapped an arm over (Y/N)'s arms, sighting like a concerned parent. "He'll figure it out someday."
"SHUT THE FUCK UP, THERE'S A MEETING GOING ON" With a perfect chuck, Fugo's starbucks pink drink cup nailed Mista right in the back, dousing him in icy liquid.
Nothing has changed, has it?