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Gangsta's Paradise

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Mista watched in rapt attention as soft yellow hypnotizingly, tantalizingly stretched before his eyes.

It was a bright Tuesday afternoon, just past 2:30 and he had invited himself over to Giorno's apartment as per usual. The blond never seemed to mind, often doing the same, however, today Mista had finally walked in on the blond's yoga routine, downward dog greeting him as he opened the door.

"Oh, Mista. I thought you were at work?"

Normally pale cheeks were a little pink, the braid was up in a bun, and he was in a cute salmon crop tank and yellow yoga pants -that were sinfully tight- ensemble. Not taking his eyes off the prize, Mista cooly shut the door and sat down in a random chair.

"It was slow so they let me out an hour early."

"Oh! How fortuitous, I was meaning to talk to you, let me just pack this up-"

"No, no it is perfectly fine, you keep doing what you are doing, we can still talk."

Blond eyebrows quirked up, but he continued his whatever yoga actually entailed that involved a pert butt being raised into the air. A glorious minute passed before he bittersweetly moved on to the next pose. Goodbye, beautiful sun, Mista mourned, how he wished he could have given soft yellow a touch before it was gone. Giorno moved on to the next pose- god he was flexible- before finishing what he was going to say.

"I'd like to go on a date, Mista."

Uh, that was certainly an interesting way of going about it, but "sure, you ah, sound like you got something in mind already."

He moved on to the next pose, the butt was back as he leaned down, Mista couldn't tear his eyes away.

"Yes, actually, the City Festival is this weekend, and I have Saturday morning off."

Yoga pants were magical. So stretchy.

"I had heard you had the day off too. What do you think?"

Oh, shit he was talking still.

"Mista?"

Blue eyes turned to meet his and were narrowed-

"Festival this weekend? Sounds like a plan," thumb up for good measure, and apparently he guessed right.

Giorno relaxed, smiling "lovely, would you like to meet at your place?"

A thinly veiled request for Mista to drive, "sure, my place is fine."

......

Giorno was, quite frankly, a head turner. Going out in public with him involved a lot of people of all ages and genders flirting, complementing, asking him out even though Mista was right here next to him for God's sake, trying to take pictures with him, and on one memorable occasion proposing. Giorno, the blessed angel, seemed surprised every time and was kind to everyone, but did look elsewhere when Mista punched the proposal guy in the face that one time (the ensuing police incident went along the lines of 'no, Mr. Officer, I didn't see who did it, but I'll keep an eye out' with an overkill smile).

So, Mista prepared himself this time, hardly surprised when Giorno apeared at his door with large sunglasses, Mista's old letterman jacket (where did he find that), short shorts, and some converse. "I've come up with a disguise," he had said, very seriously too. He still had his usual hairstyle, three donuty spirals and a braid, but Mista supposed his eyes were hidden and he looked younger dressed like that?

Honestly it just made him look more like a model.

For Giorno though, looking this casual and relaxed was actually different enough to be a disguise oddly enough.As backwards as that logic was.

"Yeah, babe, looks good, where'd you find my jacket?"

"It was in your closet."

Well, whatever, he wasn't wearing it anyway, too okay with his current clothing options (almost everything he had on was covered in tiger stripes, like God intended). Locking up, getting on his motorcycle, indulging in some light kissing and groping because damn those shorts are short, the couple eventually headed out to the fairgrounds.

The 'fair' was actually more of a full-blown festival that spanned several blocks on the edge of the shopping district, where businesses tapered off into empty lots, perfectly sized for dubious rides and attractions and seedy merchants and vendors. Their crazy, noisy, bizarre town was home to a pretty diverse community too, so there was always a little bit of everything.

He just hoped that none of the shooting range booths would remember him.

As soon as they were parked and within site of some of the stalls, Giorno made a bee-line straight to the closest sweets vendor, Mista in tow. Two lemonades (with sherbert in them! Wow!), some various weird and deep-fried candies, a big wad of cotton candy, and some other assorted and very unhealthy carnival foods later, the two began browsing various rides. Mista had a deep distrust towards all of the scramblers and tiny coasters, citing all sorts of statistics and design flaws. Giorno conceeded on all but one: the town ferris wheel.

The aging pinwheel of imminent death had been in the town for many generations, was constantly either shut down or stuck, and was too beloved to get rid of or update because literally everyone and their grandmas had ridden it as a kid. It was wedged deep in the collective heart of the community like a splinter that should have been removed but got covered over with skin so whoops too late now. Except with more pretty lights, peeling lead paint, and weird murals all over it. Seriously was that a hyena or a horse or what.

"I always was a fan of the lion dog," Giorno mused as they waited in line, "artists sometimes do funny things when attempting to recreate animals."

"Is it a dog?"

"Mm possibly, what did you think it was?"

"Uh, hyena horse," Giorno made a little 'oh', "why do we gotta ride the wheel of death?"

"It's tradition, Mista," Giorno had on one of his serious faces, which meant either he was actually serious or about to pull an elaborate scheme.

Mista feared both.

"Okay, but if we die on this, because we totally will, I'm gonna haunt you forever."

"That's so romantic," blond-tinged eyelashes fluttered.

"Yeah, I guess. Hey! You believe in ghosts giving blowjobs? Like when celebrities claim to have sex with ghosts?"

"I had never heard about that before. It sounds made up."

After twenty minutes discussing the logistics of obscene ghost related acts, much to the disgust of the other people in line, it was finally their turn to get in one of the ancient and half rusted booths. Mista wasn't normally considered claustrophobic, but if he had to describe the four-person, enclosed, deathbox... he'd go with 'coffin-like'. Fortunately the couple behind them refused to get in the same one as them, leaving them the whole meter by meter square of peril. The seats were super uncomfortable wooden slats, there was gross trash on the floor and on both sides above each bench were large signs that said 'NO INDECENT ACTS ON THIS RIDE PERMITTED'.

"Huh, what a neat sign," Mista mused loudly over the grinding terror mechanisms of the ferris wheel, Giorno pressed against his side, drawing weird shapes on his thigh.

About three fourths of the way up the mechanisms came to a deafening stop, followed by a loud clunk, a few screams, and some other ominous noises.  They were now stuck on some nightmarish doom machine until either it inevitably collapsed or until the crews on site could get them down/fix it. He really hope the structure didn't give out.

"Oh no, it appears to have been jammed," Giorno said in feigned surprise, "guess we're stuck for a bit, hm."

"Don't tell me- you actually planned this," Mista half-shouted.

Giorno merely raised a golden eyebrow, "Mista, how could I have planned this? Don't be silly."

He did, he totally planned this, he planned a double suicide.

"Oh my god, Giorno-"

"Shall I get your mind off things?"

Mista's mouth snapped shut with a whimper. That sounded... promising. Possibly illegal, and definitely against the rules of the ride.

Mista tried for disinterested and nonchalance, "I dunno..."

He was very interested.

"I promise, you'll love it," with an impish grin and a wandering hand.

The ride was back up and running in about forty-seven minutes, plenty of time to indulge in some quality bonding time that left Mista unable to make eye contact with the ride operators. Giorno seemed way too pleased with himself, giggling at a very flustered Mista as he went for another lemonade.

As they walked, Mista finally ended up spotting the shooting range booths towards the side. The prizes sat on dusty shelves, hardly touched next to their smug proprietors who had no doubt rigged their setups. No matter though- Mista was considered an expert marksman for a reason: darts, frisbees, knocking phones into cups using physics, video games, ring tosses: his aim was impeccable.

Spying for something good, the gangster jabbed a thumb over to a booth, "hey Giorno, you want a stuffed giraffe?"

Giorno looked interested, an eyebrow raised incredulously, "you know those are all rigged, right?"

Mista waggled his eyebrows, "not for me."

Giorno smirked, pulling out a designer wallet and slipping a few small bills into Mista's hands, "oh?"

"Get ready to see how awesome I am," Mista gloated before making his way up to his first victim.

Exchanging the bills for five rings, Mista stepped up to the rows of bottles and eyed the high point ones interspersed throughout while testing the weights of each ring. Targets aquired, the gunman easily flicked his wrist, sending light plastic rings floating down and hooking on the necks of five inconveniently placed bottles. A perfect score. Giorno clapped lightly as the seedy proprietor gaped, he had over-shot and earned enough points for more than an adorable giraffe. Picking out the plushie and some cool action figures, Mista pulled out some more cash as the proprietor began sweating hard.

"Another round, if you would," Mista grinned wolfishly.

The proprietor looked close to tears, "haha, sir, surely you would- why not try the next stall over? They have watches, and- and gift cards!"

Mista turned to Giorno who shrugged, before sighing, "fine, fine, we'll go to them. Thanks for the business old man."

The other stall did have better prizes, and instead of a ring toss it was an actual shooting range with weak pellet guns. The targets were probably locked in place at the bottom, but all the high point ones were small and were moving on belts, and after some careful watching, he could see that the toy guns were pretty low power. No wonder he felt safe to have so many nice prizes.

"Which do you want?"

Humming when Giorno pointed out a few, most coinciding with what he wanted too. He'd need about 430 points for all of it but it shouldn't be a problem, he just needed the right tool.

Stepping up to one of the tied down toys he'd watched like a hawk, Mista slapped a wad of money down, "I'd like to have a go."

The guy charged double what the others did, and given the slight dust on some of the prizes, did not have very many winners. The seedy man gathered up the wad and gave him 10 pellets of ammo, wishing him luck between cackles. Loading up the toy gun, Mista watched the high point targets move on the belt, noticing any jerks or kinks on the conveyor, and noting that they weren't even bolted down and would probably fall over with one well placed pellet. Sending out the first round as a pilot, Mista smirked in satisfaction as it ricocheted off the side of the aluminium target, causing it to wobble.

The owner went from scared to smug, "oh too bad, you were so close! Better luck-"

A crash as the target tipped over onto the dusty concrete below, effectively silencing the operator who now had a look of fear. Mista could laugh, this was too easy now as he fired off the other nine pellets. One was a dud, but the other eight hit different high point disks, sending them crashing or flying to the ground as the owner gaped.

Mista whistled as Giorno feigned surprise, "why Mista, you hit 9 of the 50 point targets didn't you?"

"It appears so Giorno, that means we have 450 points to spend, what do you wanna get?"

Leaving with their spoils to the broken sobs of the owner, the two made their way through the sea of people and various game stalls. One particular sign caught Giorno's attention, tugging the gangster towards the booth. It was a goldfish catching stall, tiny pool full of orange fish swimming amiably.

"Now it's my turn to impress you," Giorno smiled deviously as he traded a few notes for a flimsy fish catching paddle thing.

He was given two minutes to catch as many goldfish as he could, each worth five points, and Mista gaped at the amount of fish filling the blonds bucket in the alloted time frame, the owner watching on in horror. The tally ended up being well over a hundred and fifty points, the owner whispering 'I didn't even have that many fish' in shock and awe.

Giorno hummed, "I'm up ten points from last year, Mista, what prizes would you like?"

Soft warmth spread from his heart because God he was so in love with this boy with his angelic smile and devilish humor. Lugging their piles of prizes away from the now-closed goldfish catching stand, Mista let himself relax and enjoy the bright atmosphere of the fair, the smells, the sounds, the very familiar Italian accents to his side-

That was Gyro Zeppeli, helping prop up Johnny Joestar while he decimated the same shooting range game Mista destroyed. He could also see Josuke fighting Kishibe Rohan off of his cotton candy while Okuyasu mauled an ice cream cone with someone tall and with interesting facial piercings. Hirose Koichi, local radio host, could be heard over the din too, probably only a few booths over and trying to talk someone down from attacking a woman. Jotaro was staring as put-out looking as possible, being consoled by a red haired man in front of the closed goldfish stall as Mista's downstairs neighbor with the silver hair ate famously spicy fried peppers with the Egyptian tea-shop owner nearby. Jolyne was surrounded by her entire gang as she racked up a high score at a basketball booth, while it sounded like Jonathan broke a strength test machine given all the polite yet harried apologies. They were surrounded by Joestars and their companions.

Huh.

This... this was freaking ridiculous.

"Giorno, your entire family is here," Mista observed.

His entire family was also wrecking havoc on the festival, much like a hurricane ripped through the property values of a luxurious beach-front community. Given the damages it was looking like a pretty accurate statement.

Giorno looked bemused, staring intently at a pastry vendor, "oh, yes, the festival is quite the tradition on this side of the family. Although, half the stalls have banned us at this point."

The pastry vendor was aware of the blond's staring, and was glancing around nervously, "how have you guys not been banned completely?"

The pastry vendor looked terrified as blue eyes bore seemingly into her soul, "it's amazing what several large public works donations can do for opinions."

The pastry vendor performed a quick Hail Mary, "so uh, the nicer version of a bribe? Pretty sure that's at least a tiny bit bribe-y."

Giorno's head tilted subtly to the menu, the pastry vendor was being consoled by another worker, "please, my papa doesn't bribe people. He's merely endearing and hard to dislike due to his noble and earnest disposition."

Giorno eventually seemed to relent his desire for baked goods, much to the relief of the pastry vendor, "right, so a not-bribe."

At that the blond turned to face him, a curious look in his eyes... probably, he was still wearing sunglasses, "does my family intimidate you?"

They absolutely, one hundred percent do, "whaaat? Absolutely not! They're cool, your family is completely cool, love 'em like my own."

A single golden eyebrow arched up from behind large dark lenses, "oh? That's good to hear. My papa is very fond of you."

Good to hear but "your papa is fond of everyone."

Giorno laughed, starting to walk towards the edge of the festival, back to where they were parked, "yes but he's curious if there might be future plans."

Uh, "future plans?"

"Future plans," the blond looked back with a smirk, "you know the kind."

Mista huffed at that, "I know you are the product of some kind of miracle of science or just two dudes loving each other a whole lot-"

"I do have a mother too."

"Fine two dudes and a chick doing something, or shit maybe babies do come from storks or cabbage or whatever," Giorno chuckled brightly at that, "but I'm sorry, Giorno."

The blond turned back, confused, "what for?"

"We can't make a baby," Mista deadpanned.

Confusion broke into a wide smile as the blond snorted loudly and dissolved into a fit of laughter that had tears running down from underneath his sunglasses, Mista joining in not long after, clutching his sides. Ignoring the stares and grimaces of the people passing them by, the two eventually managed to calm down enough to tie down all of their prizes and head home.

As Mista settled down to sleep, Giorno already wrapped around him like a pale and heavy breathing blanket, that Mista would reflect on the blond's words. Future plans? Ones that Papa Joestar would be interested in for his son.

Future plans.

Hmm.

Future-

Mista's eyes went wide.

Oh god he was talking about marriage.