Mista slinks through the shadows in the dark hall, careful not to make noise and wake the others. He's used to hearing faint conversation from the bedrooms, Fugo and Narancia gently bickering about something, Abbacchio and Bucciarati discussing something in gentle tones, but today they're all bone tired, and everyone else is probably already asleep.
It's a bit of a pain, sneaking around like this, but Mista wouldn't trade it for anything. The guys are his family, and even though they have more than enough money to have their own separate houses, it feels safer to still live together, all six of them. There's a room for Trish too, for when she visits, and those are the best times. The house feels even fuller with her there, like the whole family is safely together.
Even more than that, Mista is glad he gets to live so close to Giorno. They don't share rooms like Abbacchio and Bucciarati do, but there's only a short length of corridor separating them, and recently Mista's been making the trip on most nights.
He digs a key from his pocket and fits it into the lock on the door at the end of the hallway, rapping his knuckles quietly against the wood as he opens the door.
"Boss, you in here?" he calls out, still quiet.
"In the bathroom", comes the equally muted reply, and Mista follows Giorno's voice deeper into his rooms, past lavish sofas heaped with warm quilts and discarded clothes. He comes to the bathroom door, opens it and is greeted with such an adorable sight he has to take a moment just to admire it.
Giorno is sitting on the edge of his bathtub, wearing a fluffy, pink bathrobe. It's too big on him, the sleeves covering his hands almost completely and making him look soft and a little younger.
"Hello", Giorno says, smiling at Mista frozen on the doorstep. Mista obviously interrupted him in the middle of his evening routine: he's holding cotton pads and has already wiped off his eye makeup, but his lips are still coral red and gorgeous. He looks sort of unfinished, but still breathtakingly pretty.
Mista has to admit he loves the way Giorno's recently started experimenting with makeup. The lipstick is a new thing, as is the eyeshadow. Once, Mista saw Abbacchio teaching Giorno how to do a perfect smoky eye, but he'll never tell anyone out of fear of being stabbed with a makeup brush in his sleep. Still, it was adorable and he'll treasure the memory.
"Let me help you with that?" he offers, stepping closer. Giorno smiles and makes way. Mista sits down next to him, takes a fresh cotton pad from a box and pours a bit of makeup remover on it. He gently tilts Giorno's head a little, and Giorno closes his eyes at the touch. Mista can't resist pecking him on the nose quickly before he wipes off the lipstick with careful fingers. Giorno stays still, breathing calmly. His golden eyelashes draw deep shadows on his cheeks.
Mista gets a bit of kohl Giorno's missed on the corner of his left eye, and then kisses Giorno lightly to let him know he's done. He tastes like makeup remover, bitter and chemical, and Mista makes a face.
"Can I get your hair too?" he asks.
"If you really want to", Giorno chuckles.
"Hell yeah I do!"
Giorno already knows how much Mista loves playing with his hair, and shifts easily aside so Mista can reach for his comb. He picks it up and sits back down, setting the comb on his lap for now. He reaches around to pull off the tie on Giorno's braid, and is treated to a sleepy flash of green as Giorno looks at him before closing his eyes again. Mista smiles silently and pushes his hands through the Giorno's golden hair, shifting through it and untangling it. Having it in a braid all day leaves it wavy and pretty, and it smells good even after a long day of hard work. Mista picks up the comb and runs it through Giorno's hair, enjoying the slow drag through soft, glossy locks. Giorno likes it too, practically purring and pushing his head against Mista's hands.
Mista puts the comb back down and sets to work on the little buns on Giorno's forehead. He has no idea how they always stay so perfect, because there are only a few pins and a bit of product holding them together. Those are easily dealt with, and Mista unravels the buns, combing the bangs too, until the hairdo is completely gone and Giorno's hair frames his face in relaxed waves.
Mista keeps touching it though, petting and running his fingers through it, enjoying the silken feel of it in his rough hands. Giorno's heavy head leans into his hands and Mista supports it, even trying to massage Giorno's temples a little. Giorno hums happily and finally opens his eyes.
"Hello", Mista whispers, meeting his hazy gaze. Giorno smiles and turns his head, pressing a little kiss onto Mista's hand.
"Shower with me?" Giorno asks, like there was even the smallest chance Mista might say no. He'd have to be insane to turn down such a request. Mista rises and starts shedding his clothes immediately, not minding Giorno's laughter at his eagerness.
He takes off his hat and runs a hand through his messy hair. The hat always leaves his hair in a mess, sort of flat but tangled. Giorno doesn't seem to mind, his eyes straying to his newly revealed chest as he pulls his shirt of as well. His boots and pants follow it and he lays them all in a heap on the toilet lid, carefully setting his gun atop the pile.
He can feel Giorno's appreciative eyes on him, so he turns and meets them. There's a faint flush on Giorno's face now, and he's watching Mista intently. Mista winks and does a slow, sensual roll of his hips as he slips his boxers off as well.
Giorno laughs at him, happy and blushing, and reaches out a hand. Mista rushes to take it, and is pulled back to Giorno with amusing haste. He ends up between Giorno's spread thighs, leaning down to touch his forehead to Giorno's.
Warm hands settle on Mista's hips, demandingly pulling him the last bit closer until they're touching. Mista's own hands find the ties of the fluffy robe and deftly undo the knot, letting the robe fall open to reveal Giorno's wearing nothing beneath it. Mista hums appreciatively and slips his hands inside the robe, tugs gently on Giorno's waist until he gets up on his feet.
Then Mista pushes the robe off his shoulders, not caring where it falls. His eyes are glued to the revealed body before him. Everything about Giorno is so perfect, it takes Mista's breath away every time he sees Giorno naked.
He's as tall as Mista now, but next to Mista with his broad shoulders and big muscles, Giorno looks deliciously lithe. Like it would be easy to pick him up and carry him straight to bed. There is definition to his arms and chest though, and Mista loves his powerful thighs. He can't help looking at them now, his gaze sweeping hungrily up Giorno's body. He admires his pale skin and the beautiful flush on it, the strong hands reaching for him and settling on his hips, the golden body hair, the soft, pretty cock resting between his thighs.
Mista has to duck down to drop kisses on Giorno's shoulder and neck, he can't help it. Giorno is gorgeous and should be kissed all the time.
Giorno laughs, and it's the loveliest sound in the world, light and happy. Mista feels the vibration against his lips and grins against Giorno's skin.
"How about that shower?" Giorno suggests coyly.
"In a minute", Mista murmurs, slipping his tongue out and tasting Giorno's skin, enjoying his scent. Giorno indulges him, idly petting his sides as Mista noses his way up the column of Giorno's throat until he can kiss the side of his chin and finally, his lips.
"Ugh", Mista gumbles and nudges Giorno's nose with his own in distaste. "You still taste like makeup remover."
"The shower would take care of that too", Giorno hums. "Come on, I want to wash your hair."
It's not like Mista could ever say no to him, especially when he's offering to put his hands in his hair. They step into the shower and Giorno turns the water on as Mista pulls the curtain closed around them.
It's not a small space by any means; despite what he might say, Giorno likes luxury. The showerhead is huge and has many different settings, most of which Mista doesn't even understand. There are massaging streams and a separate steamer and a bench, and a big shelf full of pretty bottles containing different hair products and shower gels and oils and so on. Mista would have no idea where to start on his own, but Giorno's deft fingers pick a tall pale blue bottle without him even having to look.
Giorno pushes gently on Mista's chest until he steps under the spray for a moment. Then he pours some of the stuff on his hand, and promptly steps up to Mista and buries his hands in his hair.
It feels better than Mista could have imagined. Giorno's hands are soft and sure and he massages Mista's scalp while working the shampoo into a bubbly lather. It smells good, some flowery scent Mista can't name but recognizes as one of the main components of the sweet scent he's come to associate with Giorno and the rare moments Mista gets to bury his face in Giorno's hair and just breathe him in.
Mista closes his eyes and just enjoys the gentle attention, occasionally letting out small sounds of pleasure. He's pretty sure his hair is already cleaner than it's ever been before, but Giorno just keeps going for several more blissful minutes. They’ve taken showers together before, but they’ve always consisted of much more fucking and much less washing, so this is a new and unexpected luxury.
"I think you're done", he eventually chuckles, guiding Mista to tilt his head back under the spray. Mista rinses the suds out and then turns to look at Giorno again.
"Can I do you?"
Giorno just smiles and nods, giving Mista the blue bottle. He takes it and pours some onto his hand, probably a little too much. He begins massaging it into Giorno's hair, enjoying the feel of the slick, wet strands in his fingers. The scent fills the room again, and the air all around them is pleasantly steamy and warm. Giorno looks to be pretty close to purring, and leans in close to steal a few kisses when Mista moves to soap up the ends of his hair.
Giorno picks up another bottle, some sort of soap, and begins washing Mista's skin, starting with his chest and armpits and moving downwards. His hands feel amazing on Mista's skin and he feels good and looks gorgeous, and Mista can't help his body having a bit of a natural reaction to it. Giorno just smiles and washes him there too, with gentle, slightly teasing touches. There's a charge in the air between them, but Mista doesn't do anything to take things further. They're both tired, and Giorno seems content with being close like this, softly and innocently.
"How are you feeling after today?" Giorno asks after rinsing out his hair, reaching for some kind of oil he starts rubbing into the ends. Maybe it's the reason his hair’s always so silky and shiny?
"What do you mean?" Mista asks, soaping up Giorno's body like Giorno did to him earlier.
"Are you tired? I am”, Giorno admits, closing his eyes and enjoying Mista’s hands sliding over his skin.
They’ve had a full day; first negotiations with some French people interested in a ‘business partnership’, followed by an uncomfortably tense video conference with the Speedwagon foundation, and then going through reports of new stand users in the car on their way to seeing a capo about a very large sum of missing money. That was where things got bloody today.
There was never any real danger to Giorno, but threats had been shouted and guns had been drawn and fired, and Mista's heart had been halfway to escaping through his throat throughout the ordeal. He’d pushed Giorno down and shot down the capo and his closest henchmen rather quickly and efficiently if he said so himself, but still, he must have grown a few grey hairs and lost a few years off his lifespan today.
They’ve had a lot of days like this one this month, and a lot of of months like this one this year. It’s stressful, being on his toes almost all the time, but Mista can’t even imagine how much harder it is for Giorno. He’s always under more stress because he’s the boss; there’s the whole organization to lead, and there’s always someone wanting to kill him and take his place, always people getting in his way and demanding things of him.
Mista is here to help him relax, to take everything off his shoulders every once in a while. Giorno has to carry the weight of all of Passione on his shoulders, but Mista is the one who can hold him up, gentle but strong, so that Giorno can rest.
“Yeah, a little”, Mista admits. He loves every day he gets to do his job and protect his people, but now that he thinks about it, his body does feel heavy with exhaustion, as does his mind.
“I feel like I could sleep for a month”, he continues, nudging Giorno playfully under the spray. “Who knew being the don’s bodyguard would be such tiring work.”
Giorno laughs and runs his hands through his hair to wash away the oil. He knows Mista would never want to do anything else, because this is where he belongs, at Giorno’s side, doing his best and more to to protect him and to help him do his work. Because it’s important, because this city needs them - because Giorno needs Mista and Mista needs him.
“Maybe we should go on a holiday. Take a few weeks off, leave Bruno and Abbacchio in charge and just… go somewhere”, Giorno muses.
“Yeah? You gonna take me to a romantic retreat? To Paris or something?” Mista grins.
“If that’s what you’d like, yes. You can choose our destination.”
“Huh. I’ll think about it”, Mista promises, earning himself a smile from Giorno.
“Do that. I’d like to spoil you a little”, he says, stepping close to kiss Mista. It’s gentle and unhurried, soon slowing and turning into a hug instead. They’re so tired they lean against each other for support, just standing under the warm water for a long time.
The water isn’t going to get cold any time soon, Giorno’s made sure the heater has the largest water tank money can buy, but eventually Mista starts to think it may be time to step out. His fingers have gone wrinkly and the damp heat of the room is making him feel even more hazy and tired than he would otherwise.
“We done here?” he asks, dropping a sweet kiss onto Giorno’s shoulder. Giorno leans on him kind of heavily, half sleeping on his feet.
“Hmm? I think so”, Giorno mutters, not moving a muscle. Mista chuckles and takes the handheld showerhead, carelessly rinsing them both before turning the water off and pulling Giorno out of the shower.
Giorno stands there, dripping onto the fluffy white mat, eyes closed.
“I’m tired”, he groans, a little irked, but tolerates Mista wrapping him in a large, soft towel. He rubs at Giorno’s hair haphazardly with it, doing his best to dry him quickly so he can take him to bed.
He has to stop when Giorno peeks from under the towel, though. Giorno blinks sleepily, all damp and flushed and perfect, Mista just has to pepper kisses to his nose and cheeks and lips. Giorno sighs happily and wraps his arms around Mista’s shoulders, and from there it’s very easy to just drop the towel, pick him up and carry him out of the bathroom.
"I could walk", Giorno says, but at the same time he’s wrapping his legs around Mista’s hips and holding on tightly, clearly not intending to let go anytime soon.
"I know, but I like carrying you", Mista hums into his hair. There's a sort of unspoken significance there. Giorno feels heavy in his arms, but he’s got a secure grip on Mista, and it’s easy to support his weight and hold him close.
It feels good to be trusted to carry Giorno, and if feels good know he can lean on Giorno too and have absolute trust that he’ll hold Mista up in return. It's a delicate balance and sometimes they tip over into arguments over the smallest things, but usually it's enough to hold onto each other and support each other.
They must make a funny picture, both tired to the bone, barely keeping their eyes open as Mista carries Giorno, who’s clinging to him like a baby koala. Neither of them is wearing anything, the towels laying in a forgotten heap on the bathroom floor, but there isn’t exactly anything sexy about this dash through the rooms. Giorno feels hot against Mista’s bare skin, but the air in the apartment is cool and Mista shivers. Luckily it’s not a long walk to the bedroom.
Mista reaches the bed and balances on a single foot for a moment, lifting the other one to push the covers aside. Then he pours Giorno onto the bed, laughing as he bounces a little and ends up in a slightly undignified heap, hair flying everywhere.
Mista climbs on top of him, careful to be gentle. He settles over Giorno, caging him safely against the mattress. He reaches to pull the covers over them, closing them in a warm little cocoon.
Giorno settles under him comfortably and wraps his arms around Mista again, holding him close. Their naked bodies press against each other, the contact warm and intimate.
Mista can smell Giorno's shampoo on the both of them still, and he has to stop to admire Giorno for a moment, transfixed by his beauty. His skin is flushed and glowing, and his hair spreads out around him, messy and damp, dark golden. He looks undone without the neat little buns on his forehead. There’s no makeup, no clothes, no facades, just… Giorno. Tired, trusting and real. Like this, the young don of Passione looks like any boy, a little lighter for not having to pretend to be flawless.
This is a sight only Mista gets to see. The thought is humbling, making him a little light-headed, choking his voice into something quiet and raspy.
“You’re terribly pretty, do you know that?” he murmurs, and is rewarded with a cute little smile.
“So are you”, Giorno says, cupping Mista’s cheek with one hand and bringing him close for a kiss. This one is deep and slow, and Mista enjoys the calmness of it, the feeling of being wrapped around each other, quiet and near and warm.
Sleep creeps around the corners of his mind, ready to claim him, but he won't give over just yet. He has to see what’ll happen, whether Giorno will wake up enough to want hands or Mista's mouth or something else.
Giorno turns his head so Mista’s lips land on his cheek, and speaks, looking a little weird. “Guido, I… I'm tired.”
Mista nods; he kind of expected this. "Yeah, me too. No acrobatics today.”
Giorno draws in a breath and turns to look him in the eye. He bites his lower lip before continuing.
“I want to just… be. Like this. Nothing else” His voice comes out small, and if Mista wasn’t this close he wouldn’t even notice it, but Giorno is trembling.
Mista is confused for a second, until it hits him: they’ve never gone to sleep together without having sex. Sometimes they’ve only exchanged quick handjobs, but there’s always been something, some concrete reason for them to be in the same bed in the first place.
Giorno keeps looking at Mista head on, but his hands on Mista’s arms are squeezing a little too hard. He looks like he’s nervous and trying very hard to hide it, like he’s scared of what Mista will say.
Mista sighs and drops the smallest kiss on the tip of Giorno’s nose. He wants to tell him he’s the most important thing in the world, wants to ask who hurt him and made him think love and intimacy had to come with a price, that he had to make himself do something or be something before he deserved them. It’s not a conversation for tonight though, and Mista just smiles and strokes Giorno’s hair gently.
“Yeah, of course”, he whispers. “Sleeping next to you is the best, I don’t need anything else.”
Giorno smiles, relieved and maybe a little exasperated at his own worry. He tries to say something, but it’s drowned out by a huge yawn. Mista catches it and yawns as well, causing Giorno to laugh at him sweetly.
“Yeah”, Mista repeats quietly, “Let’s just be.”
Giorno sighs and pulls Mista closer, tilts him until he falls on his side with a thump. Then he burrows closer, settling against Mista’s side, his head on Mista’s shoulder.
Mista buries his nose in Giorno’s hair and thinks about how new this really is. They’ve only been together for a few months, both of them too stubborn and maybe too scared to admit there was something between them for a long time before it, and they’ve only started talking about the scary stuff like feelings very recently. They don’t have as much time to spend with each other in peace as they’d like, and until now there's always been sex first if they’ve had a private moment.
Not now though. This is perfect, just like this, naked but calm and cocooned in blankets, because he's with Giorno. Orgasms are great and all, but Mista doesn’t need them to love being close to Giorno. Something tells him making Giorno really believe it is going to take some time, but Mista has that, and he’ll gladly do the work.
“You know…” Mista whispers into Giorno’s hair, “I’m really happy you’re like this with me.”
It's a revelation really, seeing him vulnerable like this. He's always so strong in public, scary even, perfect and competent. And Mista loves the scary Giorno, he really does. Adores him, when he's ruthless and cold, when he schemes and kills his way to where he wants to get. When he seems monstrous enough that the Speedwagon foundation keeps pestering them with questions, worrying about Giorno gradually growing into his genes. They think he’ll eventually become like the father he never met, the monster who was killed long before Giorno could’ve learned to know him.
And maybe he will, at least a little, but Mista will still be with him every step of the way. Because even when he’s terrifying and does objectively awful things, Giorno's still a good person at heart. That, Mista knows for certain.
“Like what?” Giorno mumbles, already almost asleep again.
Mista grins. “All soft and cuddly.”
Giorno reaches up a hand and tugs on the short strands of his hair, playful.
“I'm so glad for you”, he whispers, the words somehow heavy with meaning.
“Mm?” Mista hums, wanting to hear them again.
“M’not gonna repeat myself, it would be useless, you heard me”, Giorno mumbles, sleep creeping into his voice.
“Yeah, I heard you”, Mista says quietly, and smiles so wide it hurts his face. He knows he looks stupid, but Giorno can’t see his face like this, so it’s fine.
“Right back at you”, he continues, murmuring. He’s happy to have Giorno too, so happy he has no words to describe it. He feels Giorno smile against his neck.
Mista gathers him closer and pulls the covers tighter around him to keep him warm. He breathes in Giorno’s familiar scent, closing his eyes and feeling sleep finally rush in to claim them, a welcome guest in their bed.