Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was very common and very easily acquired knowledge that Fugo was an angry person. All it took was Mista adding one extra spoon of sugar in his coffee, for the mug to fly from his hand and smash against the wall. With that anger, came impulsiveness- acting on the first anger driven impulse that struck his mind, no matter how violent.

This time…this time he wasn’t going to let his impulse control get in the way. This was important- perhaps the most important task of Fugo’s life. He could do this! He was smart and was no stranger to strategy. All he needed was a good plan with some good back up plans, and well, of course the back-ups needed back-ups too!

He had 3 plans- Plan A, Plan B and Plan C.

He was pondering over whether a plan D was needed but decided against it. He should focus on making sure Plan A itself went smoothly!

He looked down with determination at his draft of the strategy, running his thumb over the title on the top of the sheet of paper-  OPERATION OFFER MARRIAGE.

Yes… by then end of this week, he would be ready to pop the question and ask Giorno to marry him. He wasn’t going to rush this, and go in with no idea what at the potential outcomes. He would be prepared. On the day of the proposal, his question would have a calculated positive outcome of 97.86% backed up with a prior week of subliminal messaging, cute dates and presents that will all incline Giorno to think that Fugo is the one.

Fugo nodded to himself. Operation Offer Marriage, or OOM would begin the newt morning. Now, Fugo needed to rest, and find a way to calm his nerves.

He told himself that it would all be perfect, and that nothing could possibly go wrong as he finally fell asleep.

Chapter Text

Fugo woke up with a splitting headache and an unpleasant hangover.

All he remembered of last night was inviting Giorno to the best restaurant in town, but upon getting there, the couple somehow ended up drinking in the club down the street. Giorno had insisted on avoiding the restaurant, acting skittish after a couple consisting of a Japanese woman and a man who looked like her husband made to enter the restaurant.

“They seem like arrogant people- the type that argue with the staff. It’d be better if they weren’t around to disrupt our time together,” Giorno explained.

Fugo saw through the obvious lie, but didn’t push, placing a hand on a fidgety Giorno’s back instead. “Where would you like to go instead?” Fugo asked. “The park by the construction site should be quite and empty this time of day.”

Well, Fugo’s suggestion had clearly not been heeded as Giorno had insisted on having some fun and going to a club.

Fugo barely remembered what he did at the club other than getting shit faced, and he was definitely feeling the repercussions of drinking like it was the end of the world.

He groaned as he got himself out of bed, ready to face the world and its challenges, the most pressing one at the moment being OOM.

Shit.

OOM! He frantically checked the time, doom sinking in when he realised that it was 11:00 a.m. He had slept through all his alarms and thus been too busy sleeping to execute step one of PlanA.

‘Deep breaths,’ he reminded himself. Plan A hadn’t failed just yet. He staggered to the bathroom, gagging a bit and luckily making it to the commode before throwing up, though he didn’t know if that was a result of the alcohol, or due to the disgust he felt at sizing up his wrecked appearance in the bathroom mirror.

Washing his mouth, he quickly freshened up and ran down to his basement, quickly fetching his portable keyboard and a speaker to connect it to.

Considering the fact that her himself had just woken up, there was a chance that Giorno was still asleep, and that Fugo would still have the opportunity to wake him to an embellished instrumental version of ‘Can’t help falling in love’ from outside his window.

With new found determination, and less of a headache, he made his way to Giorno’s house in record time, sighing with relief. His nightlamp was still visibly on through the window, so he must still be asleep!

Fugo unpacked his things, gulping nervously.

“Here goes nothing,” he told himself as his fingers hit the first notes, taking to the flow of the song, played with every emotion Fugo could muster towards Giorno.

He looked up to see an outstretched arm turn of the nightlamp and smiled to himself. It was going to be alrigh-

“Hey you!” an old man from the next house called, standing on his lawn, shaking his cane.

Fugo fumbled with his notes, looking to the man with annoyance. “What?”

“Get out of her you troublemaker! Shoo! Some of us old people are trying to sleep! Don’t you know that tons of loud noises can give a man Dementia!?” The man yelled, walking closed to Fugo.

Fugo glaned up to the window. Seemed like Giorno hadn’t fully woken up and gotten out of bed yet. He grit his teeth. “This isn’t noise Fugo said.”

Then the old man did the unthinkable. He went to grab Fugo’s keyboard.

Fugo ‘don’t be impulsive’ rule snapped in half, just like the old man’s arm was on the verge of doing.

And that was how Fugo ended up at a police station, instead of in Giorno’s arms.

Chapter Text

Fugo wouldn’t have guessed that his Plan B would start with having to get himself out of prison. After yelling at his cell guard for 2 and a half hours, they both came to the mutual agreement that life would be easier if Fugo was set free.

Fugo squared his shoulders as he left the detention centre. It was going to be okay. He was prepared for mishaps as such. Onto the backup plan- one that didn’t end him up in jail.

His first move was getting showered. He felt rather filthy after being held in a musty cell, and he wasn’t about to face Giorno all stinky.

Getting out of the shower, he readied himself to take the next step.

Giorno’s life was so bustling and busy, Fugo thought he deserved some simplicity. He wanted Giorno to remember his proposal as a relaxing, happy memory, and not just as another moment high on adrenaline or stress. Fugo wanted to try something simple.

A candlelit dinner somewhere private but still extraordinary- at the Colosseum in Rome, sounded just the right amount of special and perfect.

Getting Giorno into the car saying he had a surprise in mind was easy. There was one thing, however, that Fugo had failed to consider.

Fugo had motion sickness.

It took them twice as long on the already long drive to Rome because they had to keep stopping for Fugo to vomit.

By the time they reached the Colosseum and pulled strings and dropped names to be let inside by themselves, they were both tired and disheveled. Fugo felt even filthier than from before his shower.

Fugo’s lighter refused to work, so their candlelight was more of a candle-no-light dinner.

For his part, Giorno didn’t complain at all, though the travel seemed to have drained him. Luckily Fugo had booked an hotel for them to spend the night, but it seemed like they wouldn’t have the opportunity to use it when Giorno fell asleep on his lap immediately after eating. Fugo of course, didn’t have the heart to wake him, and simply brushed his hand through the other’s hair softly.

He had failed once more, but it was hard to complain when you had an angel sleeping contently on your lap.

The two fell asleep in the Colosseum, Fugo having nightmares of the drive back.