Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He was light-headed. The blood was coming too fast - too much - seemingly out of every vein. It was as if the entire sky was in his head. When he spoke though, his voice was clear as a bell.

“Jojo... this is the last of my Hamon .. take it from me .. JOJOOOO!!!”

Joseph stopped as he saw the flashbang of Caesars’s last Hamon in the doorway of Kar’s base, his heart plummeting to his feet even as he and Lisa Lisa took off running, knowing deep down he was too slow, too late. The resolve and anguish in Caesar’s cry -

How stupid. How stubborn I’ve been.

Please. Someone help him. Joseph cried out in his heart, his mind, his soul.

Please.

////

Caesar regained consciousness. Slowly, very slowly, he reoriented himself.

The smell of grass tickled his nose 

The chirping of songbirds filled the air. 

He opened his eyes.

The sky stretching over him was blue, with gauzy white clouds scudding by on a sleepy summer’s day.

He sat up slowly, wincing in preparation for the pain. When there was none, he placed his palm on his ribs like Messina had shown him. Nothing. He did the same to the other side. After that he slowly sat up.

There was no blood. There was nothing, even though his body still felt the impacts of the divine sandstorm, felt the wind as sharp as knives slice through his skin.

In the distance, Caesar saw a large house. For a moment he thought it was the Pillar Men’s base, but then he realized it wasn’t as imposing.

He was about to head to the house when he heard light snoring. He turned to see Joseph sleeping under a tree.

No. He was in Heaven, so this meant that Joseph had died too. No. No, no, no, no. This was just what he was trying to prevent. Was Joseph in the hotel too? Caesar’s heart hammered as he ran to the tree, wondering why his new body in heaven would have a heart that hammered so, that flooded him with his last memories of Jojo.

He fell to his knees and placed his shaking hands on Jojo’s face. His clothing was different, but it was Jojo. He even had the same damn boots.

“Nnnn..” murmured the sleeping Jojo as Caesar’s hands moved over his face.

“Jojo ...” Caesar didn’t know what else to say, and then Jojo opened his eyes.

“Yes, I am Jojo.” The voice was soft, with a rich British accent. “Who are you?”

Jojo’s eyes were not that shade of teal like the sea before a storm. They were blue.

And they made the summer sky above pale in comparison.

“What do you mean who am I? Jojo, it’s me.”

Jojo sat up, looking at Caesar. “Forgive me, but I don’t recall your face. I can be a bit remiss about that sometimes, Father often scolds me.”

Father. As far as Caesar knew, Jojo’s parents had died.

“You lost your memories on Earth, but I have mine.” He grasped Jojo’s hand. “This is all my fault. I just wanted to - “ He couldn’t continue. “I’ll stay with you. I’ll help you get your memories back.”

A look of sympathy passed over Jojo’s countenance. “Listen, chap, why don’t you come inside for a bit? I’d love you to join us for tea.”

“Tea? You’re talking about tea at a time like this - ” He felt frustrated, reaching out to clutch his lapel, then realized he had done that before – he instead smoothed Jojo’s vest.

Jojo looked down, watching Caesar’s hand on his vest. He looked puzzled, but didn’t stop him. Caesar instead stopped himself, withdrawing his hand.

Jojo got up, stretching his long legs and heading towards the house.

“Marianne made a lemon cake today, I believe. And chocolate pudding.”

Caesar followed, watching his long stride, different clothes but the same belltop boots.

He was hungry. He didn’t go to church much, but he was sure that there was no hunger and sickness in Heaven.

Maybe this wasn’t Heaven after all. But if it wasn’t, then where the hell was he?

Chapter Text

Jojo walked, the wilder grass of the grounds becoming more clipped and tidy the closer they got to the main entrance. Occasionally Jojo would glance back at him, smiling.  

They took a shortcut through the grounds, coming up on the house from the side. To the left Caesar saw a long wall with a gate. He and Jojo walked past a large fountain just outside the main doors. 

Jojo’s boots stepped up the stairs, and he opened the door for Caesar. 

“After you.” 

After a moment’s hesitation, Caesar stepped in, onto a chessboard pattern on the floor, a long spiral staircase at the far end with a red carpet trailing up it. There were fine furnishings, huge oil portraits, big potted plants, and a suit of armor.  

A servant hurried down the stairs towards them.  

“Young master, you should have let us open the door for you.” 

“Nonsense,” he said, his voice soft.  “I wouldn’t want to disrupt the hard work you do. I can get the door myself.” 

The servant looked up at them again, doing a double-take. 

“Master Dio? I – I thought you were out for the day.” 

“Oh?” said Jojo. “Haha, this isn’t Dio. This is my friend and he’s joining us for tea.” 

The puzzlement on the servant’s face vanished. “Very good. You’re just in time.” 

Jojo and Caesar made their way to a parlor that let in the summer sun.  

“Come. Sit.” 

Caesar sat, looking at the fine porcelain teacups, bowls and saucers, mahogany tea caddy, silver tea pot, and exquisite table linens. He fidgeted, feeling out of place. But Jojo’s demeanor put him at ease. Jojo acted as if this odd situation was the most natural thing in the world. 

After a servant poured some tea, Caesar ate some cake while Jojo devoured a chocolate pudding with appreciative lip smacking. 

When he was done, Jojo said, “I do hope you’ll stay for dinner too. But Father likes propriety, and guests are announced. So will you please tell me your name?” 

Caesar placed his teacup down, wincing slightly as it made a louder clink than he had hoped for on the fine saucer. 

“It’s Caesar.” 

“Caesar. ‘Render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s,’ eh? It’s nice to meet you. You already knew my name, but I’ll tell you again. I’m Jonathan, but you can call me Jojo.” His happy expression immediately turned concerned as Caesar felt the blood drain from his face. 

“I say, old fellow. Here, have some water.” He reached for a glass. 

“I don’t need any damn water. Take off your shirt.” 

When Jonathan just stared, Caesar grabbed Jonathan’s tan jacket and pulled it off his shoulders, revealing the vast expanse of muscle across his upper back that had been only hinted at by the bespoke tailoring. 

Jonathan grabbed Caesar’s hand, stopping his stripping rampage. He shrugged his jacket back on.

“I say. I’ve been tolerant but this is going a bit far.” 

“Y - You’re right.” Caesar took a deep breath. “I need ... I would like to see your left shoulder. I would like to see your birthmark.” 

Jonathan took so long to answer that Caesar was sure he was about to withdraw his hospitality and toss him out. And that couldn’t happen. Not until he confirmed his theory about where he was. 

At last he spoke. “Not many know about that. Why do you want to see it?” 

“I don’t have to see it. Just ... tell me what it is.” 

“You tell me.” Jonathan crossed his legs and regarded Caesar. 

“It’s a star.” 

Jonathan nodded. “It seems we must have met before, indeed.” 

Caesar felt calmer. It was impossible – but he was with Joseph’s grandfather, Jonathan Joestar – in his time period. 

Of course, there was no way he could tell him that. 

Instead, he said, “I’d like to stay for dinner.” 

Jonathan nodded. “I’d like that too.” 

Chapter Text

Before dinner, Jonathan showed Caesar around the mansion.  

They walked down yet another hallway, and turned into a room lined with bookshelves holding tomes of all shapes and sizes. 

Jonathan waved his hand in the direction of the shelves that reached almost to the ceiling.  

“This is the library.” 

“I can see that.” 

Jonathan was unaware of Caesar’s sarcasm on his having pointed out the obvious.  

“I spend much of my time here.” He reached up a long arm and took a book from one of the highest shelves. "This is The Travels of Marco Polo. I read this over and over when I was a child. It's what first got me interested in history.” 

“Marco Polo made a lot of that up you know. Most of it isn't even true,” said Caesar.

 Jonathan's sunny smile never wavered. 

 “Well, we weren't there. That's why I'm studying archaeology. Father often chides me for wanting to pursue such a ‘useless profession.’ He says I should look to business – the future. But I feel the past is important.” 

“You have no idea,” said Caesar. 

 Jonathan put the book back and turned to Caesar, slipping a hand in the pocket of his tan suit jacket that Caesar had come close to tearing, cutting an elegant figure against the bookshelves. “What kind of books do you like?” 

“I'm … not much of a reader.” Caesar began to scuff his boot a bit self-consciously on the expensive Oriental rug, then stopped.  

“Perhaps you'll find something to your liking. Since you're going to be spending at least a few days with us.” 

“I am?” 

Jonathan walked closer. “Unless you already have a place to stay.” His tone was polite. 

“Huh?" Caesar looked into his unyieldingly blue eyes. "I … I totally have a place to stay. But this is nicer, so I'll stay here.”  

“I'm glad. So, tell me – ” 

They were interrupted by a sound: the bang of the main door striking the wall behind it.

A voice roared out, “Bloody Hell! Why isn't anybody here to open this door for me!” 

Caesar was surprised to see Jonathan's whole being wilt a bit, his large frame freezing like the rabbit that knows it's been spotted by a fox.  

There was a pattering of footsteps across the tiled floor, apologetic voices trying to soothe whoever had entered the house so violently. 

"But we weren't expecting you back until tomorrow, young master."

"It doesn't matter! You should always be waiting! Someone should be stationed by the door at all times!"

Caesar was moving down the hall even before Jonathan left the library. He heard Jonathan's footsteps running after him.  

"Wait .."

Caesar didn't wait. He reached the main hallway to see a blonde man with fine clothing, around the same age as Jonathan. His face would have been handsome were it not contorted with narcissistic superiority. 

When the man looked up and saw Caesar, his whole expression went milder. He stopped berating the servants and straightened up. 

“I didn’t know we had company. I’m Dio Brando.” He stepped towards Caesar, clearly waiting for Caesar to extend his hand. When he didn’t, Dio didn’t miss a beat. “May I ask your name?” 

“I’m Caesar Zeppeli.” 

“That accent. Are you help?” 

Jonathan had caught up to Caesar, standing next to him. His voice was determined but had a slight waver. 

“He’s not help. He’s my friend.” 

Dio’s expression became scornful. “Oh? I wasn’t aware you had any friends, Jojo.” 

Before he could think, Caesar opened his mouth. “I’m not help or Jonathan’s friend. I’m here on business. With a ... proposal ... for ... his father.” 

“His father is my father. Did Jojo not tell you about me?” 

Caesar remembered the odd exchange when he first arrived.

“Of course. You must be Jojo’s brother. It’s just, you said Dio 'Brando,’ not Joestar.” 

Something flickered on Dio’s face like a crocodile hunting prey under the surface. Then it was gone. 

“Of course I’m a Joestar. Just as much as Jojo here.” He clapped Jonathan’s shoulder. “Isn’t that right, Jojo?” He didn’t wait for a response, only walked away. He stopped, though, and turned around.

“You’re staying for dinner, Mr. Zeppeli?” 

Caesar shifted his weight to one hip, crossing his arms and holding Dio's gaze. “I wouldn’t miss it.” 

 "Hrmm. And someone see about that door. It's broken." As soon as Dio left the room, the mood lightened.  

“Well. Haha. Yes, that’s my brother. He knows how to make an entrance.” Jonathan’s laugh was shaky and insincere. 

Caesar grabbed the taller man’s elbow. “Don’t we have to dress for dinner or something?” 

“Why, you look fine.” Jonathan looked Caesar up and down, taking in his long pink scarf and turquoise short jacket and white pants. “I suppose that is some kind of European garb. If that’s your culture, I don’t see the need - ” 

“I do. I’m here to fit in. When in Rome ... come on, who’s the history buff here?” 

Jonathan laughed, a more relaxed sound that made Caesar inexplicably happy.  

“That’s right. When in Rome. Let’s head upstairs to my wardrobe.” 

Chapter Text

Caesar half-followed, half-hustled Jonathan to his room. Caesar couldn't have cared less about dressing for dinner. But now that he had opened his big mouth and stated that he was a businessman looking for a business deal with Jonathan's father, Caesar needed to look the part. He also wanted to talk to him about Dio. 

 They arrived in Jonathan's room. A large four-poster bed was in front of a picture window overlooking the manor grounds. There was a writing desk in the corner, a large wardrobe against a wall. A variety of masks from different native cultures hung on the walls, along with a few historical-looking small artifacts.  

Jonathan watched as Caesar took in everything in the room. “This is a mask from the Olmec culture, this one is from Papua New Guinea, this one is from Peru.”  

“Is this one made of stone?” Caesar walked over to a mask that was on the desk, next to a notebook filled with notes and diagrams, clearly done by Jonathan in study of this mask. 

 Caesar was surprised when Jonathan grasped his forearm, Caesar was once again surprised that this gentle boy: his fingers closed easily all the way around his own muscular forearm. 

“Don't touch that. I’m still learning how it works, and it's got at least a few surprises.” 

“But it's a mask. It's not supposed to have surprises. You're supposed to wear it and that's it, aren't you?” 

 Jonathan carefully picked up the mask and put it in a drawer of the desk.  

“You're right. But this isn't any ordinary mask. I have put in many hours of study, and I'm not much further along than when I first started. I know it's Aztec. Alexander von Humboldt, a German explorer - one of my heroes - coined the term. He combined the Nahuatl word Aztlán, which means 'place of the heron' and refers to the Aztecs' mythical homeland, with 'tec,' which means 'people of'.” 

Caesar liked hearing Jonathan talk about his passion. He had a dreamy look on his face when he did, his long dark eyelashes lowered almost to his cheekbones.

Something about the word "Aztec" prickled the back of the blonde's mind. But impatient, he changed the subject.   

“So tell me about your brother. is he adopted?” 

“He is,” said Jonathan. “But that doesn't make him any less my brother.” 

“I didn't say that.” Caesar walked up closer to Jonathan. Boy, was this kid stubborn. “But he is a bully. And you need to stand up to a bully. That's the only way to defeat them.” 

Caesar held up his hands in a fighting stance. “I can even show you how to defeat him in a fight.Here. Just plant your feet apart like so, hold your fists up in front of your face and –  ” 

Jonathan's fist shot out so fast, that Caesar felt the air rush past his face as he instinctively moved to the right. 

 Caesar was dumbfounded. He stared. Jonathan’s face had a deadly earnest expression that Caesar could not look away from. The dreamy look from before was completely gone.

“You don't think I've tried? I've studied boxing. I practiced it. I'm good. But I can't even land one hit on him. It's like he's always two steps ahead of me.” 

The frustration in Jonathan's voice made Caesar feel awkward. The Italian had never been particularly good at strategizing. But he was going to have to start. Right now.  

He put his hand on the taller man's shoulder. “Then we’ll be three steps ahead. Don’t worry about him. You have me now.”

“I’m glad. I’m glad to have a friend.” Jonathan looked down shyly. “I know you didn’t mean it back there when you told him you weren’t my friend.”

Caesar felt a strange feeling. He muttered agreement but moved away from Jonathan and walked to the wardrobe. “Let’s get dressed.”

“Oh .. Righty-oh. I almost forgot what we came up here for.” Jonathan grasped the handles and pulled the double doors open.

Caesar gaped. There were shirts, jackets, trousers, ties, vests, hats, capes, gloves, socks, shoes, boots, scarves, and cravats. So many different colors and materials. He had never seen so many clothes in his life. He had always liked fashion, almost as much as he liked women. Unlike men, women had many layers, and layers were good. You could play with them, change them. It was fun to uncover and rearrange them.

“Um …”

With a start, Caesar realized he had been zoning out. 

“I was just thinking … if I had had this many clothes when I was growing up … I wouldn’t have wanted for anything else.”

“Well. My clothes are yours as long as you are here.”

Caesar felt a twinge of guilt. He wasn’t planning on being there that long. He had to get back to Joseph. 

Alive.

Chapter Text

George Joestar sat at the head of the dinner table, Dio to his left. The table was set and servants stood waiting.

“Where is that boy. As many times as he’s had dinner taken away … ”

Dio sat politely. “Shall I fetch him, Father?”

“No.” He turned to the maid who stood respectfully by the table. “Marianne, start the first course.”

“Yes, sir.”

Just then, Jonathan and Caesar entered the dining room.

George’s eyes widened, and Dio’s glass paused halfway to his lips.

“Jojo. Who is this, and what on God’s green earth are you wearing?”

Caesar wore a brown derby hat with a rose on it, a harlequin pattern vest over a black button down shirt, black pants, and a purple waistcoat. His boots were brown leather with tapering, squared toes. 

Jonathan wore a jauntily cocked top hat with a white gladiolus, white gloves and held a cane. A fur-trimmed capelet draped over his navy blue pinstriped three piece suit. 

Jonathan did a slow twirl around on his blue-ribboned black boots for all to see. 

“Isn’t it smashing? Father, this is Mr. Caesar Zeppeli. He’s going to speak to you about a proposal.”

The maids served the soup. They kept looking at the two fashionable dudes, however. 

“Is it a proposal to go to the vaudeville stage? Because that’s what you look like.” He acknowledged the maid who placed the bowl of soup and picked up his spoon. Jonathan and Caesar took their seats while Dio stared.

“And Joestars don’t do vaudeville. That’s been a hard and fast rule since the Horatio Joestar vaudeville disaster of 1821.”

“The what?” said Dio.

Caesar looked at the patriarch, his bushy moustache and severe expression. He felt intimidated. The prepared speech he had concocted while they got dressed - I am a businessman from Naples. I’ve been looking to secure capital for a business venture here in England. I’m looking to open a men’s fashion store - had gone out the window with his dismissal of their drip. At least Jonathan loved it. And he looked damn good, too. 

He realized he was staring when George’s voice made him jump.

“I’m George Joestar. It’s nice to meet you. But I wasn’t informed of your arrival. Jonathan, I’m very disappointed in you.”

Jonathan’s face fell, contrasting with his exuberant attire.

Caesar spoke up. “I thought Dio would have informed you. He was aware.”

Dio gripped his glass. “It … was an oversight on my part.” He looked sharply at the Italian. “I definitely won’t be making anymore. Oversights, that is.”

Caesar dipped his spoon in the clear broth. It was delicious. He went for another spoon but the dish was whisked away. A dubious looking lump of something else was placed in front of him.

“Errr… can I have some more broth?”

Everyone looked at him askance, even Jonathan. Caesar muttered “never mind” and watched everyone devour the food.

“You don’t like Yorkshire pudding?” asked Jonathan. “Oh, I don’t suppose you’ve ever had it.” Jonathan gulped his down in two bites. “I’m sure you’ll love the next course, larded oysters.”

“And then it’s sheep rump and kidneys in rice,” said George. “Made my two boys big and strong.”

“Urp …” said Caesar. Never mind being crushed. He was going to starve to death.

A maid appeared by his side. “More consomme, sir?” She gave him a wink.

And that’s when Caesar got his idea.

“Yes, Lord Joestar. I’ve traveled here from Rome because I heard you were a man of good repute in the business world, and I need a partner for a business idea. I want to open an Italian restaurant in London.” He smiled internally at the confidence in his voice.

George preened a tiny bit at the compliment; Caesar saw it. But he wasn’t prepared for the next question.

“But what would they serve there?”

“Why … Italian food, of course.”

“But what do Italians eat?” asked George.

“I mean … things like gnocchi, salami, pasta.”

“Gnocchi? What’s that? Is it pudding?” said George.

“And what’s salami?” said Jonathan.

“N-No, gnocchi is not pudding. It’s like … like a dumpling, and salami, It’s like a sausage.”

“Like a banger?” said Dio. He noticed that while Jonathan slurped his oysters without prelude, Dio seemed to be sensually licking his, all while side-eyeing the blonde.

What a weird family. 

As they set down the smoking sheep’s rump, Jonathan’s puzzled face perked up. “Ah, pasta, like Marco Polo discovered in China!”

Caesar leapt up from his chair before he could stop himself.

“China?!? The hell you say. Pasta is Italian! You take that back at once!” He grabbed Jonathan’s collar. 

Oh, shit. He had gone and done it now. He was definitely getting thrown out on his Italian ass.

Chapter Text

Caesar looked around. Everyone was staring at him. Dio smirked behind his oyster shell. Caesar looked at Jonathan, realized he still held his collar. Jonathan’s eyes were wide and startled. Caesar held his breath.

Jonathan’s puppy dog eyes blinked, then crinkled merrily. “Oh, Caesar. You’re so funny!” 

He started to laugh and so did everyone. Jojo’s laughter was contagious. The servants laughed, Lord Joestar laughed. All except for Dio.

Caesar should have been relieved - he was, but his prevailing emotion was not that. It was being flustered. It was the way Jojo said his name, “ Caes-ah.” 

Caesar backed away. “Ehe…eheh.”

George smacked the table. “By jove, I like the cut of your jib.”

“Y-you do?”

“Yes, I do. I think you have the piss and vinegar to see this crazy venture of yours through. I will back you. But there is one condition.”

“C-condition?”

“Yes. You must prepare some Italian dishes for dinner tomorrow night. I’ll have the maids and cooks help you.”

“Er - but the ingredients.”

“Ah-ah. No excuses. If you want to run a restaurant you must be resourceful. Is that clear, Mr. Zeppeli?”

“Er, yes sir.”

“I’ll help,” said Jonathan, who had risen from his chair and thrown his arm around Caesar. 

“And we will too,” chorused the maids.

“Splendid. Now let’s finish dinner. Where did Dio get to?”

Dio’s chair was empty. He had stalked off at some point, no doubt disappointed at Caesar’s finding favor with George.

////

After dinner, Caesar walked outside to get some air. He had been given his own room - right next to Jonathan at the Brit’s insistence. He didn’t know where the hell he was going to get Italian ingredients in Victorian Liverpool. 

Lost in thought, he didn’t see the shadow against the wall until a booted foot shot out and blocked his path. The boot was fitted to a leg wearing tan breeches, and the leg belonged to Dio. His amber eyes glinted balefully in the dim moonlight.

His sinister voice rumbled. “Jojo has a way of bringing home strays. And it never ends well for the strays. Be careful, Mr. Zeppeli.”

Caesar fixed him with a steady gaze. His voice was quiet but sure. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Dio’s lips began to curl in an approximation of a smile. “I wonder how long that will last?”

Dio sauntered away.

MEANWHILE BACK IN SWITZERLAND IN 1939

Joseph and Lisa Lisa ran in. They immediately took in the devastation. And that’s when Joseph saw the bubble. Joseph fought the urge to run, to scream, to punch something. He ran to it and he reached for it with trembling hands, it moving into his hands almost on its own. He saw something coiled inside. 

It couldn’t be … 

But it was. 

Lisa Lisa cried out, and Joseph turned, seeing the massive stone cross on the floor. As he turned the bubble popped and he felt the headband draping between his fingers. Clenching it tightly, he dashed to his mentor.

She was crumpled near the massive stone block, her hand looking small and helpless as she touched it. Her other hand covered her mouth in disbelief.

Joseph had a strange feeling. He needed to confirm his suspicions before he spoke. The tall brunette closed his eyes. He who was never still forced himself to be still, to sense his surroundings with that sixth sense he used to predict people’s lines and with which he had called out Caesar’s feelings for him. He smiled at the memory of the fiery Italian’s initial denial and their subsequent, first kiss. 

After a while he opened his eyes. He was sure.

He knelt by Lisa Lisa. Crouching near her, he said, “Caesar’s not here.”

“He’s under … under … ” she couldn’t finish.

“I don’t know where he went, but he’s not under there. Look, there’s no blood. If he was smashed there would be tons of it.”

“Jojo .. how can you say something like that … at a time like this..”

“I wouldn’t be cavalier about gory details. But Caesar’s presence .. it’s not here.”

“That’s because he’s dead!” Lisa Lisa pounded her fists on his chest. “This isn’t like you … you need to accept he’s gone.”

“That’s not something I could ever accept.”

She looked into his eyes, and he could tell. She thought he was crazy, was having a nervous breakdown, a mental break. And maybe he was. Because what other explanation was there?

Lisa Lisa felt his forehead. “Maybe you’re in shock. You need to lie down in your room. I’m going to do the same.”

///

Caesar felt an urge to talk to Joseph. He had to see him. How did he get here? Maybe if he closed his eyes and -

BANG

///

In his room, Joseph paced. There was no way he could lie down. He needed to talk to Caesar, to see him. Maybe he could - 

BANG

Joseph blinked. 

Caesar stood before him. But his body was transparent.

Oh my God. Was Caesar dead after all?

Chapter Text

“I may have been a little … rash.”

Joseph was startled out of his trance. 

He stepped closer to the blonde apparition.

“A little?!? What were you thinking, going in there alone? Caesar, if you aren’t dead, I’m going to kill you.”

He reached out but his hand passed through. He drew a breath.

“What’s going on.”

“I don’t know how much time I have. All I know is I was about to die … and now ...”

Joseph blinked and shook his head like a dog shaking off water.

“Excuse me?” He stepped closer. “Caesar, this is dumb  - I - I need - I need you here.”

They both held up their hands, palms facing one another.

Caesar said, “I … I …”

“Yes?” said Joseph hopefully. They still hadn’t confessed.

“I - 

“Yes?”

“I need salami. And any Italian food ingredients you can find. I don’t know how much time I have. Hurry! It’s an emergency!”

Joseph ran to where Suzi Q was making sandwiches for them.

“Oh - I heard -”

“Suzi, I - ” He clutched her shoulders.

“Yes?” She looked up at him hopefully. She had a massive crush on him.

"I - "

"Yes?!?"

“I know you have a stash of Italian food. I need all of it.”

A few minutes later, a basket of Italian foods was in Caesar’s hands. It had turned transparent like him. He didn’t know why he could hold it, he just knew. 

Joseph’s face turned pale and stricken. Caesar knew he must be fading.

“I’ll come back. I promise - ”

“Caesar, wait - !”

BANG

And Joseph was alone.

///

Caesar appeared outside the door of his room.

“AH! You - you startled me!” Jonathan stood there in his nightshirt and slippers, holding a candle.

Caesar hid the basket behind his back.

“I - I couldn’t sleep.”

Jonathan’s face was kind in the candle’s glow.

“I couldn’t either. Walk with me?”

Soon Caesar and Jonathan were walking through the estate garden. The roses were silvery under the moonlight, their scent filling the air. Caesar smelled another scent, rich and heavy. “Bougainvillea? It grew all over the front of my family's house. I loved to lie in bed and have the perfume coming through my window.” 

“That’s right. It’s amazing, isn’t it. I like to imagine I could travel somewhere exotic just on the smell alone. It certainly is almost enough to forget one’s troubles.”

Travel. Caesar's mind drifted, until Jonathan’s arm brushed against Caesar’s as they walked, bringing his focus back to the present. Again Caesar was impressed by the man's solidity. 

Caesar knew what “troubles” Jojo was speaking of. He looked around to make sure that the trouble had indeed gone inside. Not seeing anyone, he turned back to Jonathan.

“Who are you looking for?” Jonathan’s face was smooth and perfect in the moonlight.

“Just making sure we’re alone.”

“Oh.” Caesar thought he heard a tone of something in the taller man’s voice. But he was probably wrong.

They walked past an alabaster statue. It was a lovely woman. Caesar recognized it from the statue in the foyer. 

“That’s Aphrodite, our guardian goddess for our family. I suppose a Joestar brought her back from their travels a long time ago. But she fits in well, so we’ve kept her.”

Caesar looked closer, at the folds of cloth and the pretty, classic face, every strand of hair perfectly carved. “This is marble, I think it’s Roman. Venus.” 

Jonathan’s eyes widened. He knelt and took a closer look. He stood up and beamed at Caesar, his smile almost turning the night to day. “Why yes, I suppose you’re right! Perhaps you’ve got the makings of an archaeologist in you after all!”

The blonde was happy. Jonathan made him want to be smarter. He would go to the library tomorrow and read one of his history books.

They kept walking until they came to a small fountain and a bench. They sat down, Caesar’s leg brushing against Jonathan’s. He was happy when Jonathan didn’t move it away.

“So, about Dio.”

“Yes. He’s up to something, I know it, but … I have no proof, no basis for an accusation of any kind. I’ve kept my guard up these last seven years seemingly for nothing.”

“I’ll see what I can find out.” Caesar grimaced. He didn’t want to spend any time around Dio, but it was clear someone had to.

Jonathan began to shake.

Caesar turned to him, putting his hands on his shoulders. “My God, man, what did he do?”

“My dog was burned alive in the incinerator .. and a girl I cared for moved to India without saying anything to me. I haven’t seen her in six years. He had a role in both; I know it in my gut.”

So that explained the remark about Jojo bringing home strays. Caesar's vision went white-hot.

"Do you want me to beat him up?”

Jonathan looked at him in horror. “I don’t want you to do anything. He’s hurt everyone I care about and I don’t want him to hurt … you .” 

Jonathan reached out and hugged Caesar close. Caesar’s heart thumped in his chest.  

Jojo spoke into the crook of the Italian’s neck, seemingly reluctant to let go. "I know we haven't known each other long, but I feel I've known you my whole life."

Caesar couldn't explain it either, but he felt then that he would do anything to protect this boy's happiness, to keep him safe.

Caesar slowly put his arms around him too. Caesar gave him a hug, feeling how warm he was under his nightshirt.

Flustered, he pulled away. “Let’s make a plan then.”

“I’ve been thinking the same. There’s going to be a ball at the mansion in three days. We can do something to undermine him, even if we can’t expose him.” 

“Good. You’re tired of taking his crap.” Caesar grabbed Jojo's cheeks, pinching them and forcibly puckering his lips.

"Let me see your game face."

"GAME FAETH?!?"

"Yes! Back home we shout "Forza!" during a match. It means be strong while you fight. Say 'Forza!'"

"Fortha."

"Again!"

"FORTHA!"

The blonde released the blue-haired man's face. 

“Molto bene. Look. Here’s what we’ll do at the ball… ”

Chapter Text

“That's a terrible idea," said Jonathan. Caesar’s face fell somewhat. Caesar had said that they could get Dio to pull a knife. and when Dio pulled his knife, Caesar would pull a bigger knife, saying “You call that a knife? This is a knife.” 

“You would get in trouble too.”

Caesar looked disappointed. “Damn.” 

“Look. I like your original idea about getting him to pull a knife.” They had spent some time talking in the garden, and Jonathan had told him about the time Dio had pulled a knife during an argument, and was about to stab him, interrupted only by their father's appearance. 

“He definitely carries that knife around with him at all times," said Jonathan. “Getting him to pull it out the ball, however, would be tricky, and once he pulls it someone could get injured. Because at that point he'd have nothing to lose. And I don't really want to see a Dio with nothing to lose.”

 Caesar thought. “Let me sleep on it," he said. “Actually, I don't think I'm going to be able to sleep tonight. I'm going to go to the library and read a book.”

“I'll come and keep you company," said Jonathan. “I don't think that I'll be able to sleep either.”

 They walked through the garden back to the manor, going inside. Caesar thought he saw something move out of the corner of his eye, but when he whirled around there was nothing there. 

“Let's get a snack first," said Jonathan brightly. “The kitchen is this way. You might as well see it since you have to prepare your Italian dinner.”

 They entered the kitchen, and Caesar gasped. The kitchen was huge: shining pots, pans and utensils hung from the wall, geese ducks, and chickens hung down from the ceiling with garlands of vegetables as well, waiting to be plucked the next day. Massive bags of flour, rice, cans of lard, and other dry goods were against the walls. Honestly, what was in this kitchen could have fed Caesar's family for six months.  

 Jonathan went to a pantry cupboard and opened it, looking from side to side. “I know it's in here somewhere,” he said, reaching inside. He pulled out something wrapped in gold foil. “Come on, Caesar let's hurry!”

“Oh wait,” said Caesar, "I could really use some wine.”

 After a trip to the wine cellar, Jonathan and Caesar sat in the library each holding a glass of wine and a book. Jonathan was eating chocolate and perusing a book about the Incan civilzation. Caesar had chosen a novel by Bram Stoker, a new one that was causing quite a sensation in the Victorian literary world.

 “I haven't read Dracula yet myself,” said Jonathan "I've been focusing more on nonfiction lately. I find history can be just as good an escape, even better than fiction.  Do let me know how it is, though.”

As the time passed, Caesar felt himself drawn more and more into the terrifying world that Bram Stoker had envisioned: a young man, coincidentally by the name of Jonathan as well, sought to escape from the globe-spanning clutches of a evil vampire, masquerading as nobility. Like Jonathan, Jonathan Harker was so young and full of hope, but he had his joy and his sanity drained from him by terror deliberately inflicted by the count, who thought of Jonathan as his mere plaything.

 Unaware that Caesar had drained his wine glass, he jumped when Jonathan appeared by his elbow. 

“Oh! I was only coming to fill your glass.” Jonathan saw Caesar's face. “My word. Is Dracula really that frightening? Your face…”

 Jonathan squeezed his body next to Caesar's in the chair, his warmth pressing close to him only now making him realize that he was trembling. Jonathan reached out, his fingers curling around Caesar’s. “Drink.” He held the wine glass to his friend’s lips. After Caesar drank, he said. “You’re in the book. And so is Dio. You are Jonathan, and he is Dracula.”

 “Tell me about it. Caesar. Start from the beginning.” 

 Caesar told Jonathan everything that had happened, not leaving out the terrifying scene of the baby being kidnapped by Dracula, it's mother wailing uselessly at the bottom of the castle wall, nor the scene of Dracula's three Brides devouring the baby. He told Jonathan about Mina Harker, an intelligent and devoted woman who was very in love with Jonathan, and whom loved her in return. He told him about her heartfelt letters to her fiance, and her fear when he would not return, knowing in her heart something was wrong, not resting until she got to the bottom of it, and how she flew to his side to nurse him back to health once he escaped the count’s clutches.

“That’s as far as I got.”

 Jonathan was quiet. “Mina.. she sounds very much like my Erina. And Jonathan. Well, he does sound a bit like me, but this Count Dracula, he's not even human, allegedly. Dio is only human.” 

Caesar turned to him, more aware of the closeness of their bodies, feeling the wine in his system and knowing Jonathan also felt the wine - his face was flushed and his eyes were bright. “But only Jonathan knows that, apart from the villagers. and no one will believe Jonathan.”

 “Yes!" said the smaller man, squeezing Jonathan's hand. “And that's exactly why Jonathan is so isolated and terrified. He's the only one who knows. Everyone else thinks Dracula is just a wealthy count looking to set up a new home in London. Is this book really popular? The only Victorian literature I've ever heard about are ..." he said - struggling to think -  "the books I heard about from my teacher were Wuthering Heights and Sense and.. Sense and something.”

 “Sense and Sensibility " said Jonathan. “A very involved and complicated romantic drama with many people. Not exactly my taste, but I can see the appeal. But yes, Dracula is very popular. I know for a fact that there were book clubs springing up all over. Where people will gather and speak endlessly about the books, even dressing up like the characters.”

Caesar felt something click and he could tell Jonathan had thought the same thing. “Jojo,” he said looking excitedly into his eyes. "I think we’ve found our way to stop Dio.”

They both outlined the plan, went over it again, and outright grinned at each other. 

“It’s silly and outrageous,” said Jonathan.

“You know what else is silly and outrageous?” Caesar leaned in and put his hands on Jonathan’s face, ignoring the surprised look. “How badly I want to kiss you right now.”

“M- mmph!”   Jonathan didn’t even have a chance to say no. His lips felt Caesar’s on is and he wrapped his arms around the blonde as Caesar hooked his leg over Jonathan’s.

They made out for a while, Caesar deepening the kiss as soon as Jojo’s initial reserve had faded, taking signals from Jojo’s whole body, how his arms squeezed him, how he took Caesar’s hand from his face and pressed it to his chest.

Caesar felt Jonathan's fingers pushing against his lips.

'Mm - " he felt a square of chocolate pushed on his tongue, followed by Jonathan's tongue pushing back in. The chocolate melted, both of them drinking the sweetness as it melted promptly.

After a while, their lips separated. They looked at each other, trying to control their breathing.

Jojo spoke first. “I’ll leave first thing in the morning and I’ll see you at lunch.”

Caesar nodded. “Hurry back.”

Chapter Text

Caesar lay in bed, feeling warm and drowsy from the wine and Jonathan’s kiss. Caesar still tasted the chocolate.

It’s not like he was cheating on Joseph.

It’s just a kiss.

The Italian rolled over on his side, the mattress shifting slightly. The moon shone faintly through the heavy curtains on the window.

He didn't belong to anyone anyway. Love to him was just something that he expressed in the spur of the moment, as his heart led him. He was very fond of Joseph of course. Well, more than fond. They'd crossed that line after a tough evening of training and a heated argument led to something Caesar never thought he would do the first time he saw that tousle-headed kid in Rome: have sex with that tousle-headed kid. But Jonathan was Joseph’s grandfather. He wouldn’t be happy about it, and Caesar didn’t feel like dealing with it. As long as he didn't cross that line with Jonathan, it should be fine. 

As he drifted off to sleep he thought, why was it that Joseph and Jonathan made him want to look at them - and only - them ?

///

Caesar awoke to someone shaking him. He felt a warm hand on his arm and his confusion was instantly alleviated. He knew the size and shape of that hand. 

“Jonathan ... you're back already?”

“Yes, and it went very well, even better than we’d hoped. But you - ” He booped Caesar’s nose, making the blonde blush -  “slept the whole of morning! It's nearly lunchtime.”

Jonathan’s expression turned serious. “But I don't want us to go down to the dining room together. Let's go separately. He’s already suspicious of my impromptu trip today.”

Caesar swung his legs off the bed as Jonathan left his room. He smiled as he noticed how much more cheerful Jonathan had become. Caesar dressed and went downstairs, a full five minutes after Jojo told him to make an appearance - just for extra caution.

The blonde brightened, seeing Jonathan at the table. Jonathan patted the chair next to him: but so did Dio.

“Jonathan. Why are you hogging Mr. Zeppeli all to yourself?”

Caesar reluctantly sat next to the golden-haired man. He had to keep up appearances.

Dio picked up a bottle and poured Caesar some wine, leaning in a little bit too closely for Caesar's liking. Caesar glared at him slightly as Dio leaned back in his own chair. Lunch was served: a simple two-course meal rather than the lavish dinner from before. The maid who set down Caesar's plate beamed at him, her smile enough to power the lights in the room.

“We're so excited for you to make your Italian dinner for us tonight, we are! That's why we just have a light lunch.”

Caesar looked at Jonathan. “You'll help me in the kitchen?

 Jonathan’s look of consternation that Caesar hadn't sat next to him faded as Caesar said that. He straightened up in his chair and nodded.

 “Of course. I wouldn't miss it.”

 Dio’s face barely concealed his dislike of Caesar ignoring him and speaking to Jojo.

“That's a shame I was going to ask you if you wanted to join Jonathan and me for a little rugby scrimmage.” 

Jonathan took a bite of his food.

“I was actually thinking the same thing. It would be a lot of fun. How about tomorrow? That's the day before the ball. It should be perfect.”

 Dio’s voice held a slightly sinister tone that made Caesar’s hair on the back of his neck stand up.  “Yes. Perfect.”

////

Jonathan stood next to Caesar in the kitchen, an excited smile on his face. Caesar had the basket of food. He couldn't make anything fancy - not that he knew how to make anything fancy anyway, but that was prosciutto, salami, a jar of olives, a jar of capers, and tins of sardines.

Marianne took everything out and set it on the counter. Caesar smiled. 

“So what are we making?” said Jonathan expectantly. 

“Spaghetti alla puttanesca,” said Caesar proudly. 

The maids murmured approval, puffing Caesar’s imaginary feathers. It must sound so fancy to them, when there were far more elaborate and time-consuming pasta dishes that took much more skill than Caesar had. Good thing he wasn’t actually going to open a restaurant. 

“What’s this?” Jonathan held the pasta. 

“It’s spaghetti. You boil it in water.”

“Oh … we'll set a pot on.” He nodded, and the maids set a pot on the stove.

Caesar looked at the sardines. He’d rather not use them except as a last resort. He looked up at Jonathan, who was right at his elbow.

“I don’t suppose you have any anchovies?”

“Why yes, we do. One of my favorites is scotch woodcock. I like woodcock in the morning, noon, teatime and even after dinner. The bigger it is, the better. I want it to fill my whole hands.”

Caesar paled. “Wood …cock ?!?”

Jojo leaned forward conspiratorially. 

“Even though I've been warned many times I might choke, I slather gentleman’s relish all over it and stuff the whole thing in my mouth. Mmm- mm. Do you want to try some?”

He loomed over Caesar, looking lustful.

“We're learning about your Italian customs, it's only proper that you learn about ours." He grabbed Caesar's arm and began to pull him. “And I'll give you an extra helping of my special recipe gentleman's relish.”

“R-Right here? In the kitchen, in front of everyone?”

Jonathan looked confused. “Why not? The maids have already seen it.”

These people are crazy. They are all crazy. He began to tug back on the taller man's arm, attempting to pull away.

 Jojo frowned and put his hand on Caesar’s head. “Are you feeling all right? You’re all flushed.” He reached to receive a can from a maid. “Here you are. Anchovies.”

Caesar backed away slowly, using his long scarf to cover his hard-on. 

“I.. I'll be right back.” He backed out of the room and pressed himself against the wall, trying to control his breath.

Food. He was talking about food.

He put his hands over his mouth.

Cute. So cute. How adorable was the guy?? He literally had no idea about all the sexual innuendo he was spewing: or the effect it had on Caesar. Caesar took deep breaths, trying to get the image out of his head of doing * CENSORED * with Jonathan. After controlling his breathing which alleviated his little problem, he went back.With some fresh shredded cheese, butter garlic, white wine, salt, pepper added from the Joestar pantry, dinner was ready to be served.

Dinner was perfect. The pasta wasn’t enough for a huge helping, but it was enough to whet their palates for more. Even Dio ate all of it. George promised to get him backing for his restaurant as soon as possible; that they would even go to London to look at possible locations after the ball was over.

(Scotch Woodcock and Gentlemen's Relish are actual foods from the Victorian period, lol)

Chapter Text

The next day, Caesar, Dio and Jojo walked out to the back lawn of the mansion. There was a rugby pitch set up. 

Caesar was wearing one of Jonathan’s uniforms and rugby boots. Seven men in rugby uniforms approached, unsmiling.

Jonathan frowned. “I thought it was only going to be us.”

Dio said, “I invited a few ruggers.”

Jonathan said hesitantly, “Niles, Paul, Ethan, Nigel … Raj, Alfred, Tommy. This is my friend Caesar. He’s visiting from Italy and - ”

“We heard about him from Dio,” said a man with curly auburn hair.

“Why so grim, Tommy?” said Jonathan. He sounded puzzled. “Caesar, these are my teammates from Hugh Hudson Academy.”

A man with a dark cowlick suddenly hurled the ball at Caesar. It struck him in the chest before he had a chance to catch it. “Oof!”

“Ethan,” said Jonathan sternly. “That wasn’t necessary.”

“Just testing his reflexes, that’s all.” A ripple of laughter circulated, the only ones not joining in were Caesar and Jonathan.

Jonathan moved closer to Caesar and whispered. “Caesar, you don’t have to do this. I don’t know what Dio said to them.”

Caesar tossed the ball up and caught it. The smart thing would be to back out - but Caesar wanted to wipe the smug looks off all their faces.

He glared at everyone. “Let’s do this.”

Jonathan insisted they have a referee, despite Dio’s protests that it was just a scrimmage. They waited until Jonathan trundled out one of the gardeners who used to play. He would be impartial, Caesar knew. He also knew Dio would try any dirty trick he could.

“Normally it’s eight players a team. One hooker, two props, two locks, three more players. But we’re making do with five,” smirked Dio.

“Gents, bind up,” said the ref.

“Bind?” said Caesar.

Dio manifested at Caesar’s side. He put his arm around him. Caesar couldn’t very well throw it off.

“It’s important to have a very tight bind,” he said, as he tightened his arm around Caesar. Caesar saw the Indian guy, Raj, coming up on his other side, but Jonathan quickly moved in front of him. He threw his arm around Caesar too.

“Now bend over,” said Jonathan. He and Dio bent Caesar forward as two guys came up behind them, locking arms around their hips.

“Urk!!”

The ref spoke as if this was totally natural, to be surrounded by bent-over muscular men in short pants. He pointed. “Thar’s the goal line, thar’s the try line. Ye only have to hold the ball over the try line tay score. Ye can only pass backwards and sideways; a forward pass is nae gut.”

The ref flipped a coin and caught it, pronouncing tails, which was their team. 

The ref held up the ball and blew his whistle. The whole team surged forward. Caesar saw Jonathan digging his cleats into the grass.

“Push, Caesar, push!” said Jonathan.

“Yes,” said Dio. “It’s all about pushing power.”

“Urk!!”

“Caesar, you’re fighting it," breathed Jojo. "You have to embrace it or we’ll fall apart. Let’s try another angle.” Jonathan shifted his feet, everyone shifting with him. It was clear they respected Jonathan. 

Caesar could hear the grunts of the other team as they were pushed back slowly but surely.

“Yes! Drive that angle! More power!” encouraged Dio.

"URK!!"

Suddenly the opposing team folded, and then Dio kicked the ball. Caesar ran for it, Dio on his heels. Just as he was about to grab it, Dio stuck out his ankle, causing Caesar to stumble and causing the ball to fumble forward.

The ref blew his tin whistle.

“Penalty f’for’ard motion - free kick tae t’other team.”

Caesar cursed under his breath. But there was no time, the ball was in motion, it was a mad scramble. 

Dio managed to snag it. He headed for the try line, the others hot on his heels. Jonathan ran alongside him.

“Dio!!! Here!” Jonathan called out. But instead Dio snapped it to Caesar, causing the others to turn on their heel and head straight for him.

“Caesar!” gasped Jonathan, him realizing as Caesar did what Dio’s plan was all along. 

But instead of passing it backward to Jojo, Caesar dodged the would-be tacklers, his feet nimble as he heard the bodies thud to the grass, the air being knocked out of their lungs.

I’m not losing to you, Dio, was his final thought before he landed on his belly, holding the ball over the try line. 

They had won.

Caesar turned to smile, his smile fading as he saw all the players from Hugh Hudson launching themselves at him anyway. 

He was going to be crushed … again??

But then Jonathan hit them all at once like a runaway steam engine, sending them flying like kites and crashing down hard, some landing in shrubbery with their feet sticking out, one landing in the fountain, and one in the rose garden. 

“AAAAHHHHH” One of them screeched as the thorns scratched his face, then howled as the gardener-referee attacked him with his hoe.

“YE IDJIT! YE CRUSHED ME PLANTS - PENALTY PENALTY PENALTY!”

Jonathan was angry, towering over them, all traces of uncertainty gone.

“What is the meaning of this? How dare you come on my property and attack my guest??”

“It - was Dio - he told us that - Caesar was trying to usurp your fortune,” said Paul, picking pieces of shrubbery out of his hair.

A soaking wet, contrite Raj said, “We were only trying to help our sempai.”

Jonathan was quiet, but Caesar could feel his anger, roiling in the air. 

“Get off my lawn. I’ll forgive you but not now. You have ten seconds. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four - ”

But everyone was already clearing out. And Dio had disappeared as well.

Jonathan stepped close and embraced Caesar. “I’m so glad you’re all right. If you had been hurt ...” He stepped back, his hands still on Caesar’s shoulders.

“Let’s get cleaned up and ready for dinner. And you can help me pick out my outfit for the ball. Oh, and I’m going to teach you how to dance.” Jojo's voice was gentle and kind, all trace of the righteous power gone.

Caesar goggled. It was clear there were two Jonathans. And the second one had come out when Caesar was in danger.

“I know how to dance,” replied the Italian.

“I'll wager you don’t know how to waltz.”

“No ... I guess I don’t.” 

“Well, come on then." Jojo smiled merrily. "And no stepping on my toes.”

And Caesar found himself following him once more.

Chapter Text

“Joseph.” Lisa Lisa snapped her fingers in his face. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Waamu and me duel, you and Kars duel.”

Lisa Lisa looked at him. “This is no time to grieve.”

“You keep saying that.” His mentor thought his inattention was due to grieving - but Joseph wasn’t grieving. Because Caesar was coming back - he had to.

Joseph crossed his arms. Lisa Lisa rubbed her forehead and reached for a cigarette. “Thank God you didn’t say that in front of Waamu and Kars. They would have smelled blood in the water.”

He heard the snap of her lighter and turned away from her quickly, looking straight ahead, the corners of his mouth tense. 

“I’m going for a walk.”

“Jojo! Get back here!”

“You want me to get the stone, don’t you? And I have to get Messina to the hospital. Or did you forget about him?” Joseph left the room and strode down the hall, down the stairs and out the door. He retrieved Messina, hefting the huge man over his shoulders, his weight a feather compared to the weight of Caesar’s absence.

The fresh cold air made his soul ache when it hit him. How could he tell her that smoking reminded him of Caesar? The rare times the Italian had allowed himself a break, he smoked. Those were the times when Joseph had snuck looks at him, seeing the angle of his cheeks, his lips as they embraced the cigarette, his blonde hair going over his eyes as he lowered his face to the lighter; the flare of light enhancing his birthmarks. 

Even when the cigarette was lit and smoke trailed from it, and Caesar lifted his head back up and Jojo knew he should look away, he didn’t. “What are you looking at, you imbecile?” Caesar would say, and Jojo would turn away only then, embarrassed, hoping his heartbeat wasn’t too audible.

After dropping Messina off to astonished hotel employees for care, he went back to Lisa Lisa’s room and opened her suitcase. He found a photo of Erina as he knew her now, and a photo of her young and holding a baby. There were others in the photo but he didn’t look closely. Why would Lisa Lisa have a photo of his grandmother of all things?

///

Caesar and Jonathan went to the ballroom after dinner, from which Dio was absent. Caesar couldn’t believe the sheer size of the room, the ornate columns and murals on the walls, the carved sconces holding lights. 

The waltz sounded boring, to be honest. But he had to learn in order to keep up his mission.

Jonathan put on a gramophone and soon the sounds of Johann Strauss filled the air. 

“I’ve danced the waltz at the last four balls, but for some reason I feel nervous,” said Jojo. “Well, let’s start.”

 Jonathan reached out his arm and put his hand on Caesar’s shoulder blade.

“I think that’s a little high,” said Caesar. "My waist is down here."

“Not for the Viennese Waltz,” laughed Jojo. “Put your hand on my shoulder.” Jonathan then extended his other hand and Caesar placed his hand into it. 

Jonathan stepped back with his right foot, but the blonde didn’t move.

“I’m a man, why am I the woman here?”

“I’m a man too, silly. This is just so I can teach you.”

Jonathan stepped back again, yanking Caesar forward. 

“Whoa! Fast!” 

“It is fast. Try to keep up.”

 The next hour was spent with Jonathan teaching him the steps of the Viennese waltz. Soon they were spinning in graceful turns, making arcs around the room. 

Jonathan slowed and eased them to a stop. Caesar was breathing heavily. He had been wrong; the waltz required complete coordination of body and mind and being connected to your partner. It wasn't boring - at all.

Even though they stopped dancing, neither of them moved. They seemed unable to look away from each other.

"Caesar, I ..."

A smattering of applause broke out as servants who had come to clean the ballroom had gathered to watch them, smiling.

Jonathan smiled back. Suddenly the gramophone music stopped.

“How lovely. If I had known, I could have played the piano for you.” Dio looked at Caesar. “Sorry about the rugby game. The fellows got a bit carried away.”

Jonathan and Dio stared daggers. Caesar felt the evil aura emanating off the other blonde.

“I’ll be in my room.” He left without saying goodbye to Jonathan, feeling a twinge of something because of that.

Once out of sight, he began running and didn’t stop until he was inside.

///

Joseph was training, trying to get the image of Caesar out of his head and his heart. but no matter how he punched or kicked nothing was working.

Damn it, it's almost like I hear Caesar's voice calling to me. 

“Joseph.. Joseph it's me.” The voice had a tinge of urgency to it not quite like Joseph had heard it since... he lowered his fists. "Caesar!! I'm here."

 The voice was faint. “Dio … I need to know about Dio Brando he.. Jonathan's step brother … very dangerous … key … to everything.”

When the voice ceased he turned around and around, frantically calling Caesar's name. But there was no answer. Joseph paced the room, looking for Caesar to appear at any moment.

Joseph ran his hands through his hair. Caesar had said that someone named Dio Brando was the key to this whole thing. Jojo was done guessing and holding back for propriety's sake; he needed to know.  

He walked downstairs. As he walked, he remembered something that Erina had said before he left for Italy:

Jojo. I don't want you dragged into the events from 50 years ago.

Well, he hadn't been. but maybe Caesar had. He needed answers now. 

Joseph dialed Erina’s phone number. He picked up the receiver. “I need to place a transcontinental phone call, to Erina Joestar.”

He waited what seemed like an interminable amount of time until his grandmother picked up. her voice sounded a little crackly and far away.

“Granny, it’s Joseph. Who is Dio Brando? 

 The silence went on for so long, Joseph thought the call had dropped - then he heard her speak.

 “Where did you hear that name.”

“No. Not this time. I'm the one asking the questions. Who is Dio Brando?

 Erina spoke. “Operator are you still there?”

“Yes.”

 “I need you to get off the line. and I need you to close the channels to the party line.”

 “But I can't just walk away from my station - ” 

“That's exactly what I need you to do.” 

Joseph heard that sound of a chair scraping back and footsteps walking away. When Erina spoke again the line was clear with no static.

 “I haven't spoken that name in 50 years. I never thought I would hear it again, let alone from my own grandson. but you deserve to know the truth.”

Chapter Text

Joseph walked into the arena.The ancient colosseum was ready for a great battle; the stands full of vampires, looking like waves of beetles under the full moon in dug-up Roman armor.

He saw his master, Waamu and Kars standing near two chariots, both with monstrous black horses harnessed to them, each bigger than the biggest draft horse. He approached the first chariot. Kars watched him intently as Waamu gently petted a horse’s fanged mouth.

Lisa Lisa said, “You're late: we've been waiting for you for over an hour.” She handed Joseph the reins to the chariot. “You just need to shoot some Hamon through it to control them.” 

Joseph took the reins but forgot to Hamonize them. One of the horses lowered his great head and sunk his teeth into Joseph's shoulder. The pain made Joseph realize the truth of what he had to do. 

He thrust the photo at Lisa Lisa, who had a puzzled look on her face as she watched the blood run down his shoulder. Her eyes moved to the photo as if pulled by a string. “I was going to tell you later. Now isn't the time.” 

He crossed his arms against his chest. “I'm learning that there's no time like the present.”

She glanced uncomfortably at Kars before glancing back at Joseph. “Very well. Your grandmother saved my life when I was a baby. We were the only survivors of a sinking passenger ship. Erina didn't raise me, but I always considered her family. That's all there is to it. You need to focus -”

Kars looked back and forth at them. “You mean … you don’t know?” he asked Joseph.

“What do you mean ‘I don’t know?’ Don’t know what?”

Kars got an amused expression, tapping an index finger on his lips. “Would you like a word?”

Joseph glared up at him but nodded. 

He and Kars walked away from the Hamon master. 

Kars turned to Jojo when they were out of earshot. “I can smell a Hamon bloodline a hundred miles away. She hasn’t told you something very important. Do you want to know?”

“I’m not sure. But I do need to ask, does the name Dio Brando ring a bell? He was a stone mask vampire from fifty years ago.”

“Dio Brando? I do not know that name. I’m sure he’s no one special.”

Joseph glanced at Lisa Lisa and began heading back.

“Are you sure you don’t want to know your relation to her? You may not survive this battle.”

“Oh, I’ll survive it.”

“But she may not.”

Joseph stopped and turned back around, very slowly. Kar’s smile was wicked as he whispered in Jojo’s ear.

///

He stalked up to her. She was angry.

“Joseph. Where is your motivation? This is the leader of Pillar Men we’re - .”

He balled his fists and screamed in her face. “WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME YOU WERE MY MOTHER?!?!”

The vampire audience gasped. “Ooh,” squealed one, "It's a regular soap opera."

"And a whole bloodline Lord Kars can terminate tonight!" cackled his friend next to him.

Joseph didn't hear any of that. He was too busy looking at her face - his mother's face - the mother who he was told was dead. She was saying nothing, as impassive and cold as ever. .

He looked again at the chariots, the silly Roman costumes, the moronic, bloodthirsty audience. This spectacle, this ... repeating history: it meant nothing to him. He didn’t want revenge on Waamu either. Why would he? There was nothing to take revenge for.

It didn’t matter. He needed to find Caesar.

He walked into the arena. He raised his arms.

“Is this what you've come here for? To see a fight between the Pillar Men and Hamon users, which has not occurred in 2000 years?”

 The vampires cheered their agreement.

Joseph balled his fists and yelled: “Well, you came here for nothing then. Show’s over. I quit!” 

He stomped away, past Lisa Lisa and out of the Coliseum. A murmur swept across the crowd of vampires.

 Kars approached Lisa Lisa. “This wasn't part of our deal. get him back here.” 

Lisa Lisa's eyes were fixed on Kar’s angry purple ones. She was in complete disbelief. “I … I … I'll fight you myself.”

Kars laughed chillingly. “Both of us?” 

As Lisa Lisa thought of her answer, he smiled to himself.

He could not have foreseen a more perfect turn of events.

Chapter Text

At last it was time for the Joestar annual masquerade ball and soirée. Caesar and Jonathan were in Jona’s room, putting last minute touches on their costumes. They had worked for hours going through Jonathan’s extensive wardrobe for their costumes.

Caesar had a dark green tunic style suit with a royal cape that covered only his left side. Jojo frowned in concentration as he fluffed Caesar’s neck ruffle. Caesar smiled inwardly as he watched his face. Jonathan had a black shirt with an aristocratic black waistcoat with blue brocade and silver buttons. 

Caesar lifted a riding cloak, fastening it around Jonathan’s neck. 

Gorgeous.

His admiring of Jojo was interrupted as Jojo suddenly yanked the blonde’s cummerbund, tightening it like a corset. 

“Urk! ”

“You’re the one who said we need to show off our bodies.”

Last were the masks. Caesar’s mask was white and looked like a barn owl, his piercing green eyes showing through. Jonathan’s was blue with glittering silver trim. They placed them over each other's eyes, moving the satin bands over the back of the head.

They stepped back, silently admiring each other’s handiwork looking each other up and down.

“Andiamo.”

Jona nodded. “Yes. It’s time.”

Caesar’s heart beat rapidly as they walked together to the ballroom. He felt Jonathan squeeze his elbow, which immediately calmed him. The ballroom was decorated magically, with twinkling lights and silken drapery. There was a buffet table to the side with meat and desserts. The place was full of guests and servants. Everyone who was anyone was in attendance. The ball was also full of lovely young women. Caesar felt like a kid in a candy store. At last, he was in his element. 

His jaw tightened as he spotted Dio. He wore a garnet Gothic tailcoat with a high collar, gold brocade coating the pointed shoulders and cascading down the front of his vest. On anyone else it would have looked ridiculous, but Dio pulled it off. Caesar saw a cluster of young women around Dio, looking at him like he was the only man in the room. 

As planned, Caesar walked up to Dio holding personal court. He walked slowly but confidently. One of them raised her head and looked at Caesar. She made a sharp movement with her wrist, expanding a small hand fan she had drawn from her sleeve as she stared directly at Caesar. Soon all the young women followed suit. 

Dio looked puzzled, then slowly followed their gaze, his jaw clenching under his mask as he saw who the ladies were looking at. 

Jojo’s voice was jovial. “Go ahead Caesar, you can dance with any one of them that you like.” 

They all waited, staring at Caesar like he had dropped straight from Heaven. Yet Caesar’s eyes scanned the room. 

He spotted a couple of plainer-looking girls leaning against the wall, holding their drinks and looking wistfully at all the gallant men and beautiful women.

Before he knew what he was doing, he crossed the room, feeling everyone's eyes on him. He stopped in front of one of the wallflowers, her distant eyes suddenly looking alarmed as she saw this handsome man approach her.

 Caesar smiled and bowed, extending his hand. 

“May I have this dance?”  He could feel Jonathan's eyes on him: proud, and he could feel Dio’s jealousy as well. Caesar understood then that the very worst thing he could do to Dio was take attention away from him. The man was more narcissistic than Narcissus himself. and that's why his and Jonathan's plan was sure to work perfectly.

 The evening went lovely after that: all the young ladies clamoring to dance with Caesar. Jonathan of course had his dance card full as well, and there were plenty of women who danced with Dio. but he no longer had that admiring flock around him. Caesar could sense Dio’s rage building, and he knew his time to act was approaching. 

As the waltz ended, he bowed to his partner and looked at Jonathan, who was already looking at him while bowing to his own partner, and an unspoken signal passed between them.

 Caesar approached Dio who was surreptitiously putting liquor in the punch bowl.

 “Dio. Can I have a moment? He held Dio’s gaze, knowing full well how captivating his green eyes looked from under the mask. Caesar turned and walked away, Dio following him just like he knew he would.

 When they were a ways away, Caesar suddenly grabbed Dio and pushed him against the wall.

 “This is what you want, isn't it? This is what you wanted since I've gotten here.” Dio looked at him fascinated, his amber eyes murky, his true intentions hidden as always.

Caesar lifted his knee, tracing the inside of Dio’s leg. Although every fiber of his body was telling him not to do it, he pressed his body against Dio, against the ruby velvet. Caesar trailed his fingers down Dio’s arm. He felt Dio’s erection against his thigh.

Dio grabbed him and spun him, pushing Caesar’s back against the wall. He dove in for a kiss when Caesar held up his palms to Dio’s chest, stopping him.

“You think you're going to get me that easily? You have to do something for me first.”

“What?” growled Dio, leaning into Caesar’s neck, scraping his teeth along the skin.

Caesar knew he was playing a dangerous game: but he focused, relying on his seduction skills. Dio wanted him, and he was banking on that. 

“It's nothing much. I've prepared a little reading for you, to entertain people at the ball.” Caesar reached into his jacket and drew out a folded paper. Dio took it, unfolded it, his amber eyes quickly scanning the words.

 “Dracula? this is my favorite book.” He handed the paper back to Caesar. “I know this part by heart.” 

“It's my favorite too,” said Caesar. “If I like your performance, you can give me a.. private one later tonight.”

“Oh, you’ll like my performance now, and my performance later tonight.” His eyes greedily scanned Caesar's face and body. “But before I go, how about a little taste?”

Before Caesar could react, Dio grabbed a handful of Caesar’s hair, swooping in and biting his bottom lip - hard. As he did that, his hand snaked into the back of Caesar's pants, fingers spreading and the middle finger pressing, probing - 

Caesar winced. He had a sudden urge to once again have his trusty old wrench within his grip. But he had to endure. 

Nn ~~ Nnn ~ 

He winced as Dio manipulated him, fighting not to feel anything as the physical sensations built.

Then it was thankfully over, the Gothic wannabe withdrawing his fingers. Caesar's face burned red with anger and humiliation. It was a good thing he wore a mask.

Dio stepped back, satisfied. 

“Tonight. You won’t be able to walk once I’m done with you. So practice taking a seat.” He walked to the stage, leaving Caesar seething.

Chapter Text

Dio ascended the makeshift stage. Jonathan had gathered all the guests to watch. They stood smiling, holding their drinks. Jonathan smiled as Caesar took a seat next to him, but his smile faded.

“What happened?”

“Nothing happened.” He hadn’t told Jonathan exactly how he had planned to get Dio into doing the play. 

Jonathan’s eyes searched his, bringing Caesar close to confessing. It was clear he didn’t believe him. 

Just as the Italian opened his mouth to speak, a spotlight switched on. Dio had been joined by a brunette with large brown eyes and an eager, earnest expression. 

The actor reminded Caesar of the man sitting right by him. An optimist who wanted to see the good in everyone. And Dio did look good under the spotlight, Caesar had to admit. The narcissist was thriving in his element. For a moment, Caesar felt his confidence falter.

The play began.

“Count Dracula? I’m Jonathan Harker. I bring the letter of introduction from Mr. Hawkins. I’ll be facilitating the purchase of your house in London.”

Dracula gestured with his wrist. Jonathan bowed immediately but stiffly. Upon standing up, he looked confused. 

“Welcome to my castle!” said the count. “Enter freely and of your own free will! Come in, for the night air is chill."

Jonathan stepped forward, looking around nervously. He cocked his head, listening for something that was frightening him. 

“W-What is that awful sound?”

“Listen to them,” said Dracula, who did not look afraid at all. “The children of the night. What sweet music they make! You city dwellers cannot enter into the feelings of the hunter .”

“Well, I - I need to shave. It was a long trip.” Jonathan walked over to a mirror that faced stage left. He lifted a razor from his bag and held it to his face. Dracula walked up behind him, causing Jonathan to gasp and cut himself. Jonathan looked back and forth from Dracula to the mirror. From the audience's view, it seemed that Dio did not appear in the mirror.

Dracula smirked. “Take care,” he said, his deep voice hypnotizing. “Take care how you cut yourself. It is more dangerous than you think in this country.” 

The scene concluded. The audience exhaled in unison. The young man who played Harker stepped back and clapped, the guests joining him in applause. Dio bowed to all, then fixed his eyes on Caesar and Jonathan, his eyes glittering like a predator.

As he stepped off the stage onto the ballroom floor, a group of people surrounded him.

“That was wonderful,” gushed a woman. “Absolutely wonderful! Jonathan was right. You look exactly like Dracula.”

“Erm … thank you, but I don’t. Stoker wrote him with a mustache and … much older.”

“Not in our headcanon.”

“Our ?” The puzzled performer looked back and forth between the adoring faces. 

The man who played Harker grasped Dio’s hand and pumped his arm like he was pumping water from a well.

“We put on performances for a … niche audience. We write the plays ourselves, from our favorite novels with these wonderful fictional characters. Sometimes we even cross the novels over - so, say, Mr. Darcy might fall in love with Count Dracula.”

“Yes, said a girl with red hair. “Dracularcy.”

“Or Harker becomes a vampire,” piped up another girl, wearing eyeglasses as thick as a beer bottle.  “Or we couple up Mina and Lucy.” She waggled her eyebrows up and down for emphasis.

Dio looked between them again, his expression even more baffled. “That’s so ... stupid. If you love the books so much, why not keep it like they wrote it?!”

“Where’s the fun in that?” said the redhead.

Just then, George burst in. 

“My son … has become a WHORE TO THE TEMPTATIONS OF THE TRAVELLING STAGE?!! ” 

He flung his arm over his forehead, two concerned butlers supporting him as he struggled to stay upright.

“Dio .. is this TRUE what your brother has told me? You are running away TO JOIN AN ACTING TROUPE?!” 

“F-Father, I don’t even know these crazy people! I assure you!”

“Nonsense,” said the red-haired girl. “We’re practically family at this point. Now come along. Jonathan already gave us your most-generous contract.”

They grabbed Dio and hauled him out, almost too shocked to protest. 

As they went past George, he pinched his thumb and forefinger together hopefully. “Might you have a small part for me?”

The ball guests gave a confused smattering of applause. Jonathan and Caesar clapped the hardest. Caesar and Jonathan moved in next to each other, still clapping as Dio glared at them full of hate as the Victorian shippers dragged him away.

Dio wrenched free from their grasp and strode up to Caesar. “You. You’re the one behind this.”

“Actually, it was Jojo. He came up with the idea all on his own.”

“That’s not what I mean. Of course only he would come up with something so hare-brained. But he never would have stood up to me if it weren’t for you.”

“He’s not alone anymore.”

“I suppose back there in the hallway ... was his idea, too?”

“No,” said Caesar as Jonathan moved closer to him. “That was all me.”

Caesar felt something sharp swipe his midsection. The blade was so sharp it went through his tunic without a sound.

“AaaaAAAAAAAA!” screamed a guest.

Chapter Text

Dio moved so fast Caesar hadn’t seen him draw the knife. Even though Caesar had been expecting it, he hadn’t expected Dio to go from zero to a hundred so fast, to have the skill of a seasoned street fighter. No one else seemed to realize what was happening, apart from the wallflower; the burning on the Zeppeli’s belly the only proof of the direness of the situation.

Caesar looked into Dio’s wild eyes as felt Dio seize his right shoulder, pressing forward, thrusting his knife hand repeatedly at Caesar's gut. 

He spoke between jabs. “Seven years … blending in …  I’ll kill ..  you … first … then Jojo. You won’t take my fortune.”

People began to murmur at hearing this. This was the outcome he and Jonathan had wanted - for Dio to expose himself - but Caesar couldn’t take any time to celebrate.

The thick tunic had saved him initially - but it couldn’t save him now, Caesar holding the blade at bay by striking his forearm hard over Dio’s with every thrust, matching the angle and intensity. Dio was pushing him back as it took all his concentration to stay alive. 

“JOJO!” he gasped. “Get everyone out.”

But Jonathan was already on it, shepherding all the guests to safely. He cast Caesar an anguished look as their eyes locked.

"Look out!!” screamed the first girl Caesar danced with. She was the only guest who had remained.

Caesar looked up, only to see Dio over him, the knife in both hands, aiming for his head. In the split second Caesar had caught Jojo’s anguished look, Dio had switched his strategy. 

Dio’s eyes glinted with victory. 

Everything moved in slow motion. 

Caesar readied his elbow for a throat strike, but Dio had his chin tucked in. The solar plexus was open, but Dio had no doubt steeled that, judging from his posture. The only other option was - was - 

Caesar launched himself forward heel first, landing a perfect hit on Dio’s balls, and rotating his body to the side to avoid the gravity-fueled blade. Even so, the knife shredded his suit and he felt a searing pain in his side.

Dio hit the ground hard, the knife falling from his fingers as he went into a fetal position. 

Caesar rolled on the ground in pain along with Dio. The wallflower knelt at his side, grabbing some linens to stop the bleeding on his belly and his side.

“It’s not as bad as it feels,” she said. “He didn’t get that deep."

“Easy for you to say… ahh .. say. How would you know about street fights anyway?"

"I’m the commissar’s daughter. And we’ll arrest your attacker.” 

"You’re so much more confident than when I met you.”

“You helped with that. Ah, here comes your sweetie. I’ll turn him over to you.”

“He’s not …” Caesar protested.

“And while you’re so weak … ” she bent down and kissed him. It was so sweet, he forgot the pain momentarily. Then Jonathan was there, making sure Caesar was okay before he turned to Dio - 

Who was gone, along with the shippers.

///

Caesar was spread out on Jonathan’s bed, with the blue hovering over him, dabbing his wounds with iodine and bandaging them. 

“Gesu Cristo, che dâ malâ!” he hissed at the excruciating sting, defaulting back to Genoese, the part of Italy near Switzerland where he was born. 

Jonathan finished bandaging him up. “There.” He slid next to Caesar on the bed. “Caesar. We did it. He’s gone.”

“He won’t dare come within fifty miles of here,” agreed Caesar, rolling on his undamaged side to face Jonathan.

Jonathan trailed the back of a finger up Caesar’s cheekbones, just a knuckle, but it made a shiver run down his spine.

Jonathan leaned closer. “Now that we are … alone. I need to tell you something. I know you aren’t from here. I don’t mean from this country - I mean from this world .”

Jonathan bent down and kissed an area of undamaged skin near the wound, which calmed the blonde. He didn’t even think too much about why Jonathan was kissing his body, just that it took his mind off the pain and the surprise question.

“You’re right. I’m from the future. I don’t know how I got here. I think I was supposed to save you.”

"So you have. And yet, you’re still here … with me.” Jonathan's voice was getting strained with desire.

Caesar moved closer. He took Jonathan’s hand and placed it on the back of his own neck, shifting his body more on top of the bigger man. 

Jonathan made a small demure gasp as Caesar slowly climbed over him.

“Jonathan…” Caesar whispered his name as he bent down, Jonathan meeting his lips, both of them opening their mouths. 

Their tongues claimed each other’s mouths, softly twirling around each other, exploring every corner. Soft moans were muffled by the increasingly passionate kissing. Caesar allowed his mind to go pleasantly blank, all the time travel strategy forgotten. He slipped a hand under Jonathan's nightshirt and began groping those pecs he had been longing to touch. Caesar's palm, even pressed flat, fingers spread wide, was unable to cover the expanse of one of them.  

He gave his left nipple a sharp flick with his thumb. 

“Aah!” The little moan was pulled out of Jojo; he immediately flushed red.

The gentleman was hot, thought Caesar giddily. That conservativeness was hot. He would unbutton him until he was naked and defenseless; buttons Jonathan didn’t even know he had. 

“I want to make you make more of those sounds,” whispered Caesar against his skin, before he trapped his nipple between his teeth, holding it captive as he worked the nub with little nips.

He released his teeth, immediately swirling his tongue over the bitten nipple.  As he relished Jonathan’s every whimper, Caesar realized he needed this man. He needed to make him feel good. Jojo’s skin and body was wonderfully responsive under his mouth and hands, shivering and quivering dramatically. And Caesar couldn't get enough of it. 

Caesar took his time working his own brand of love archeology, excavating every desire from Jonathan's body and heart and handling it like a rare kind of fragile treasure. It couldn’t be cheating since Jonathan was Joseph’s ancestor and he was so damn beautiful – he was so damn beautiful. 

He knew that every time with Jonathan would be like the first time - for both of them - and Caesar was strangely okay with that. 

It took a while, but he was finally inside Jonathan enough to start moving, his hand taking Jonathan's and entwining their fingers. He held his gaze as he spoke. "Squeeze as hard as you need to. It's going to feel good soon."

He pushed his hips against Jojo. God, it was better than he thought. He settled his chest against his, his breathing becoming hotter and faster. The urgency built, both of them gasping roughly until it dissolved in blessed, burnished relief. 

Caesar seized Jonathan’s hand and wiped the sweat from his upper lip on the back of it. Then he pressed a long kiss to his knuckles. 

“You make me want to be better, smarter. I want to learn things. I want to be part of your world.” 

Jonathan’s voice was tinged with roughness from exhaustion. “Silly Caesar. Don’t you get it? You already are.” 

Jonathan drew him down to his chest and Caesar slept well for the first time since he arrived. 

Chapter Text

Caesar didn’t make it till morning. He woke as moonglow filtered through the curtains, painting the bed silver, making Jonathan’s blue hair look like spun moonlight from a blue moon. Jonathan was sleeping so peacefully, his long lashes brushing his beautiful cheekbones. Jonathan looked innocent and beautiful - and Caesar had nothing but vulgar thoughts.

The blonde gently kissed his cheek to wake him. When that didn’t work, he trailed his fingers over his chest. Jonathan made the slightest grumble and then nothing.

“Dormi come un sasso, mio ​​piccolo principe.” Caesar admired him some more, then shook his shoulder more roughly.

“Huh? Wah ?” He blinked awake. 

“I need you,” Caesar said simply and without apology. The Italian sat closer, his eyes locked onto the Englishman’s sleepy ones as he brushed his hands over his wide shoulders. He swept his palms over the swells of his chest. 

The Italian’s hands dropped to the Englishman’s hips, slowly rubbing the skin under his hands. He leaned over him breathing in his ear. 

“I want to feel your body again, my pampered prince.”

Jonathan was instantly awake as Caesar’s breath came out slow and hot against his stomach as he pressed long, lingering kisses there. 

“Ah - Ah !” 

“Heh..” 

Jonathan let out a soft, low whimper under his touch as his mouth slowly kissed up his body. By the time Caesar got to his mouth, Jonathan’s lips were swollen with desire. The blonde didn’t have to do anything as Jonathan grabbed the back of his head and pulled him against him. 

Their lips opened against each other, tongues slowly swirling and dancing in the deeply passionate kiss. Caesar made a soft growl as their breaths mingled, heavy and aroused, Caesar kissing him wet and hot. Jonathan matching him in a way that made his whole body shiver.

After a while he pulled back, a thin trail of saliva connecting them. 

"Ti voglio … tutto di te . Sei così seccante e sensuale.”

Jonathan understood the meaning if not the words. He slowly pulled the sheet off his muscular legs, giving Caesar the full view of his exposed body.

“You love my body so much … it is quite a fine one, I’ll admit. I’m an athlete and a gentleman.” The Joestar looked at the Zeppeli seductively, spreading his legs slightly as his eyes held him captive. “I’d never leave a paramour in want.”

“Non posso resistere a te …”

The Brit’s eyes had a wicked look that Caesar thought for a moment he was looking at Joseph. “Say some vulgar, naughty things to me in Italian.”

Another low, aroused growl came out of the Italian as he shivered again at the tone of Jojo’s words, feeling his breaths becoming even more heated, his eyes still looking into Jojo’s as he spoke more intimately in his native tongue.

“Heh... Sei così bello. Il tuo corpo é cosi perfetto... non posso lasciarti andare, sei solo mio. Ti renderò un disastro...”

Caesar’s erection came alive in his hand as he looked at Jonathan’s perfect body. It was a blank canvas. Jonathan replaced Caesar’s hand with his, and Caesar moaned softly as he quickly spasmed all over Jonathan’s thigh.

“Oh, sì that's so good... look at you all messy and bellissimo , all marked by me..Keep touching me …”

Caesar’s hips twitched as Jonathan watched his face closely, knowing when Caesar was getting close, and moving his fingers.

Soon Jonathan’s beautiful canvas was splattered with his white paint. He was dry. But Jonathan wouldn’t let him go.

“You missed a spot.”

“Ah … Ah … oh … Jojo … ohhh!!” 

Caesar trembled wordlessly, his hips giving a small jerk. Jonathan looked down, seemingly satisfied. Only then did he release him.

The next morning, Caesar was awoken by Jonathan leaning over him, kissing him all over his face and neck. As he blinked awake, taking in the sunshine through the curtains, Jonathan reacted like a happy dog. If he had a tail, it would have been wagging. Jojo didn’t have a tail, but he had something else more than adequate to express excitement. And it was pressing into the top of Caesar’s left thigh. 

Jojoj fixed him with his bright eyes, clearly having been keeping watch for Caesar to wake up. “I want to do it again with you.”

“Mmmn -” Caesar stretched a bit. “If you wanted to do it, why didn’t you just wake me up? Okay, okay,” he laughed, reaching up and messing up Jojo's hair. “Let’s do it from behind this time. I’ve been eyeing your big a - ”

“Mm- mn ,” Jojo shook his head, his forehead crinkling between his blue eyes. He loomed over Caesar, seizing his wrists with surprising force.“It’s my turn this time.” He leaned in and licked his ear and whispered in it: “I’ve been eyeing yours too.”

Caesar’s eyes widened. Had Jonathan always been this … rugged ?

///

Joseph put a quarter-mile between the stadium and him before he slowed, then stopped. He slapped his hand on his head. Fuck. He couldn’t leave Mas - Lis - his mother to fight alone. What would Caesar say? He felt his absence keenly. He needed to talk to him. 

Joseph closed his eyes and focused on Caesar's face. He spoke to the air. “Caesar. Come in Caesar. I have something crucial I just learned about Dio Brando. And I need your advice.” He concentrated. He needed to to hear his deep, melodious voice. He waited.

///

“Oh, Caspita!" moaned Caesar in a deep melodious voice as Jonathan leaned in for The Kiss - sucking Caesar’s lips into his mouth. Caesar tugged his wrists gripped in Jojo’s hands - he couldn’t get free. His heart began to beat faster. Jonathan continued to kiss him passionately, his tongue sweeping every corner of his mouth, wet and hot and slippery with saliva. 

This was … unexpected.

Jonathan broke the kiss, eliciting a tiny whimper of protest from the blonde as his mouth grabbed at nothing. Jonathan panted, his tongue wet.

“Want me to let go of your wrists? On one condition. You open up that sweet spot for me. Non-negotiable.”

“Si,” he said breathlessly.

“Guess I’m not a failure at negotiation after all.”

Caesar’s wrists slipped free as Jonathan grabbed his thighs and spread them. He leaned in circled his tongue around Caesar’s puckered star, questing and tasting. 

////

“Caesar, come in.” What, this wasn’t a game of walkie-talkies. But it had worked before. “I think Lisa Lisa is my mom.” That should get through to Caesarino. But there was no answer. Joseph was disappointed but not worried. He knew Caesar would come back and it was showtime, after all. He cracked his knuckles and walked back very fast to the stadium.

///

Caesar trembled after getting a thorough tongue-lashing. Jojo rolled onto his back, pulling Caesar onto his lap. His large warm hands grabbed Caesar’s ass, massaging the flesh. He began to rub his sizeable dick under Caesar’s, lifting it up, coaxing it to stand up more.

“Haah..” The Italian grabbed Jonathan’s shoulders as the relaxing morning turned intense very fast. His cock was veiny, thick and cut and stimulated his in all the right places.

Caesar reached for them, clasping his hand around them, his thumb rubbing over Jonathan’s wide pink head, his thumb pressing in to coax out some pre-cum. 

This was more like what he did with Joseph, the wild abandon, the reveling in each other’s bodies. Jonathan’s blue orbs were green in the sunlight, and Caesar was almost crippled by a sudden desire to feel him inside him.

////

Kars and Lisa Lisa squared off. 

“Hey asswipe.” 

Kars looked at him.

“Not you - her. Yeah, you abandoned me. But that doesn’t make it ok for me to abandon you. You trained me to fight, so I’ll fight. But afterwards, we’re having a talk.”

All she could do was nod.

///

“AAHH, AAAH, FUCK, Jojo!!!!” moaned Caesar, grabbing his cock and stroking it as Jonathan pounded him. He heard the wooden slat underneath the bed crack as Jonathan emptied himself into him.

He moved to the side just as Jonathan collapsed on the bed, his face a picturesque mask of ecstasy. 

He pulled Caesar close, gasping as he buried his face in the crook of his neck.

“Jojo … ” Caesar didn’t know what to say. There was so much roiling in his heart and his mind, he didn’t know how to formulate any words. “Jojo.”

Jonathan lay on him for a long while. Just when Caesar thought he had fallen asleep, he murmured. “Let’s go for a walk. I need some air.”

Soon they were walking on a dirt road flanked by a low stone wall. “These have been here since Celtic times. Farmers built them long ago for field boundaries.”

When Caesar first got here he wasn’t interested in history. The past was the past. He only needed to be concerned with the present and less so the future. But he knew the opposite was true. 

How differently he saw things now, he thought as he looked up at the tall gentleman by walking by his side. 

Cicadas droned in the summer air and huge white clouds as big as whales swam through the English sky. A butterfly flew by, chased by two more. He followed them with his eyes, smiling. He turned to Jonathan to ask if he had seen them. Jonathan was closer than before, looking very serious. He took Caesar’s face in his hands, looking into his eyes. Then he dropped to one knee.

“I … I love you. I’ve never felt this way. I’m in love with you.” 

He reached into his pocket, taking out a small box. 

“This was my mother’s ring. Caesar Zeppeli, will you marry me and stay in my time?”

Chapter Text

“Yes … yes, I will. Jonathan. Jojo. Mio amado.” Their lips met in a fervent kiss. When they broke the kiss, Jonathan lowered his forehead and pressed it to Caesar’s. He exhaled in relief.

“I was so nervous you’d say no. We’ll move to London, and open the restaurant.”

Caesar held still, feeling Jojo’s sweet breath on his nose. He kept his eyes closed. “You know that was a ruse, right? What if no one comes?”

Jonathan kissed Caesar’s forehead gently, speaking in his warm voice.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be our best customer.”

Joseph will understand. He won't be happy, but he will understand, thought the Italian.

///

Suddenly Joseph Joestar wasn’t there anymore. Lisa Lisa fell to her knees with a cry as her womb reverted back to pre-birth.

“Did … Did she just abort that guy?” came a query from the stands. 

“What sorcery is this?” whispered Kars, stepping back. “Is this … magic of undoing?”

“Yes … ” she lied. It came out a whisper. “Instead of you wiping out my bloodline, I wiped it out myself.” She just made it up on the spot, not knowing what really happened. Please be safe, Jojo. But she felt in her bones he was gone. Even worse it was like he never existed at all.

She thought to herself, I guess I didn’t deserve my baby after all. 

///

Caesar’s attention was drawn from his lover to a movement behind the wall. There was something behind the stone wall - not something - someone. 

He turned to Jonathan. “Wait here a moment.”

Jonathan nodded, and Caesar went to the wall, hopping over it. A man in a white suit and a black and white harlequin pattern top hat lay on the ground, his white shirt stained with blood. Caesar lifted his head to call for help, but the man grabbed his arm. 

“No,” he said. His long mustache twitched as he grimaced. “The young lion - I don't want him to see me. like this. it's too late for me anyway” - he coughed, his face scrunching with pain at the effort. Blood spattered his collar. “I failed in my mission.”

“Lion? Who did this to you?”

The man could only cough. “I think they were bandits. They were dressed strangely. Somehow they got the jump on me.”

“Darling, are you all right?” called Jonathan. 

Caesar waved his hand. “I am fine .. taking a leak.” When he looked back down, the man was looking at him intently. 

"That handsome face, that chin .. those eyes. I ... I feel I know you from somewhere. I’m William Zeppeli.”

“William .. Zeppeli? My grandfather?!”

“What do you mean?” 

“I’m Caesar Zeppeli! I'm here from the future! I was told you trained Jonathan in Hamon.”

“Yes, that's why I'm here. But why are you here in my time? Are you … cough …here for Jonathan too?” A little blood trickled out of his mouth.

“Nonno. Please don’t worry, I am.” 

William reached up and clasped his hand. “Take care of him.” The fact that William was close to death, the fact that they were related, the fact that Caesar was so connected to himself after the passion with Jonathan last night and again this morning, the proposal.

"I will. I promise." His eyes closed and he felt something shift. He opened his eyes and his nonno was gone. Caesar hoped he had ended his suffering and sent him to a better place. He stood up, sighing.

Those were no bandits, and he knew it without a doubt. William had described the shippers to a T. 

The lovely sweetness from the proposal was pressed in on by an encroaching fear as he wiped his blood on the grass, the hot summer air suddenly like the inside of a crypt. No. No. matter what, Caesar could not involve him any further in this. He would figure it out. He would protect Jonathan from even thinking about his evil brother again. 

Jonathan cleared the stone wall easily, a small frown on his face. "Everything all right?" As soon as he saw him, Caesar walked up to him and slipped his hand inside the larger one, Jonathan clasping his fingers around it. “We should go back."

“But we've only just got outside,” protested Jonathan. “It's such a beautiful day, and I just got engaged.”

“Yes, but I’m hungry. Aren’t you?”

“I’m always hungry,” he laughed. 

They went inside. No one else was there. Jojo made a beeline for the kitchen. “Hmm, where’s Marianne? It’s lunchtime. And the rest of the maids? Perhaps Father gave them the day off.”

“All at once?” Caesar looked around. Something wasn’t right.

“Ah!” Jonathan pulled out two plates of food with notes on them. “It says they’ve gone to the fair and they made us food. Those girls are so sweet.”

He brought the plates to the table. It was cold chicken and boiled potatoes with leeks. 

“Get a fork, amore mio, don’t eat with your fingers,” said Caesar automatically. He looked around the quiet and still house, not touching the food.

“Oh … my first Italian pet name. What shall I call you?” he said shyly.

“T - ” He was about to say Tesoro, but remembered that was what Joseph called him. He felt a twinge of guilt. ‘Caro.’ Call me caro, amore.” He would explain things to Joseph when he got back.

“Caro. Please eat this simple repast with me, your spouse."

“All right, all right,” he gave in again for the third time that day. There was no immediate threat and Jonathan was impossible to resist; it was easy to see where Joseph got that irresistible charm. Caesar was hungry anyway, and couldn’t think well on an empty stomach. 

He and Jonathan ate while they discussed plans for the restaurant, with an occasional kiss thrown in.

When the plates were clean, Caesar suddenly felt very tired. He turned to Jojo to say he wanted a nap, but he saw his fiancé fall face first with a crash into the plates. And then everything went dark.

///

Kars stared at the lady Hamon master. “This is very serious,” rumbled the violet-haired being. “I didn’t know Hamon users had access to sorcery that not even the Pillar Men do. He stepped back into a fighting stance, raising one arm. “I cannot show you any mercy at all.” 

Lisa Lisa didn't contradict Kar's wild - and wrong guess. She had no idea why Joseph had vanished, but she was devastated. She rose to her feet, to a smattering of applause from the stands.

“I don’t need your goddamn mercy.”

"Remind me to call my mom," sniffed the vampire who had said it was a soap opera.

During this tense exchange, the same horse that had bitten Joseph flicked its ears as someone approached. As the person walked by, unnoticed by anyone, the blood-sucking equine lowered its black head and with a wicked snicker, bared its fangs, only to be backhanded severely - causing drool to fly out of its mouth. It looked at the man with it's googly eyes  - and did not try anything further. 

Lisa Lisa finally heard footsteps behind her. She whirled to see a tall, middle-aged man with a thin black mustache. His suit was white, and his curly black hair poked out from underneath a tall hat with black and white diamonds.

“You will not be fighting alone. I will be fighting in the young man's stead,” he said in a smooth, confident voice as he bowed gallantly.

“My name is William Zeppeli.” He lifted her hand and pressed his lips to the back of it. “And when this fight is over, perhaps I can take you out to dinner.”

Chapter Text

William looked the seven-foot tall being up and down. “Hm. It's hard to take you seriously when you're wearing purple panties on your head.”

 The leader of the Pillar men sniffed with pure disdain, looking at Will as if he was the tiniest of insects. “It isn’t panties. It's a turban.”

 Wamuu snickered. Kars whirled and glared up at the taller man.

 Wamuu stopped laughing.  “Sorry, Father.”

 “ ‘Father’?” said William. “I would have thought that you’re the one calling him daddy.”

 Giggling filtered down from the stands.

 “Fa - Lord Kars, said Waamu, “Ah, he's just trying to make you angry - don't let him get to you.” 

“You're right, son.” Kars inhaled a long breath in through his nose and out his mouth. “ Phoooooooh …” His face calmed. “Never mind that.” Kars jabbed a finger at the metal chariot with wicked spikes as sharp as the horse’s teeth. “Get over there! You’re going to race Wamuu!”

William sauntered over to the chariot. He placed a hand on the now well-behaved zombie horse and said “Nice horse - no saddle. Makes sense, because I'm sure you’re used to riding bareback.”

 “I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!!” yelled Kars, his fragile equilibrium evaporating. Two brutal-looking bone blades appeared on his outer arms; they blazed in the night. Kars crossed them in front of him with a resounding clash, then opened his arms and charged. 

“First thing I’m going to do is DESTROY that stupid HAT!”

“He’ll take his head off along with it!” piped up a vampire.

“I can’t look!” said another, covering his face.

“GRAAAHHH!!!” Kars bent his arm at the elbow, hard and fast, as if throwing a disc. Light shot out from his bone blade, arcing through the air in the shape of a boomerang. It sliced off the hat. 

There was an audible gasp from everyone in the stands and Lisa Lisa, as William's head was suddenly gone, and there was only his body, tottering unsteadily on its feet.

“Hah!” said Kars triumphantly. 

But then his head popped out of his collar: this time sporting a black bowler hat.

“He had another one underneath it!” said the amazed vampire.

“What?!?” said the one who had covered his face. “I missed it?!”

William took the bowler off. He flicked his wrist and three circular blades appeared. He charged it up with Hamon and launched it, spinning, towards Kar’s face. 

“This is from my friend Speedwagon! Hamon hat slicer!!”

Kars, stunned by Will’s non-death, had no time to react.The hat sliced Kar’s face down to his cheekbone. He fell to his knees, clutching his face as blood dripped through his fingers. 

“MY FAAAACCCE! MY BEAUTIFUL FACE!”

William walked up and picked up the hat. “You’re not bad. But nearly as handsome as my grandson Caesar. Now there’s a gorgeous young man.”

“FATHER!” Wamuu knelt near him, trying to see his face, but Kars shoved him away. He glared at William balefully through his fingers that ran with his blood.

“You - you - I’ll staple you to the temple and let the birds pick out your guts!”

William ignored him, swiveling to face the lady.

 “Miss … ”

“Lisa Lisa.”

“Ah, a lady so lovely she has not one pretty name, but two.”

“Oh, he’s good,” chirped the stand vampire.

He placed his hand on his chin as he looked at her scarf. 

“Lovely. Hermes?”

“Bargain basement. Fifty lira.”

“Mm, I do love a thrifty woman.” He offered his arm. "Signora … your chariot awaits.”

“GET THEM, WAMUU!”

“I WILL FOR YOU, FATHER!”

He boarded his chariot, grabbing the reins. Will helped Lisa Lisa on. They cracked the reins as Kars, who had recovered and the bleeding had slowed somewhat gave the signal. The stands erupted as the two vehicles hurtled around the ancient track.

Waamu pulled alongside them, a spike jutting from the side, piercing the other chariot’s suspension. There was a shower of sparks as Wamuu gloated as he forced the Hamon users’ chariot off the track towards a deep ditch. 

“Take the reins, my dear.”

William took a sandwich and a pepper shaker out of his jacket.

“The old man is having a snack!” piped up the vampire peanut gallery announcer.

“This is no time for that!” said his friend who had uncovered his eyes and was now sitting on his hands so he wouldn’t cover them again.

“Aah .. aahhh … AHHHH … Ha ... Ha.. HAMON SNEEZE !!!”

A gust of wind shot out from his nostrils, and blew the wheels off Wamuu’s chariot, which rolled end over end as the panicked horses tried to get away from it. Wamuu jumped away from it, got caught up in the explosion, and crashed on his back on the track.

“You … You lost ?!” said the astounded Kars. “You … you stupid kid!! I wish I never adopted you!”

Wamuu had gravel and debris embedded in his skin as he sat up.

“What? You’re not my REAL DAD?! Screw you, old man! You can’t tell me what to do?”

Oh, Shit.  thought Kars.

“No .. wait, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Too late. Laters!” He stomped out of the Colosseum the same way Joseph had gone.

“Noooo, come back, Son!!!” He watched Wamuu's receding form, then turned on Will and Lisa Lisa, who had stopped the chariot and were sharing a sandwich. 

“You've really done it now,” growled Kars savagely. 

Chapter Text

When Caesar came to, he was sitting in a chair in the parlor. His wrists ached and he couldn’t pull them forward onto his lap. His mouth was so dry. He couldn’t close it. God, his head hurt. Where was his scarf? He was wearing a stupid ruffle...

He opened his eyes. Everything was so blurry he wanted to vomit, but he looked anyway. He looked for Jojo, who was lashed to a chair, his hands behind his back. Was he breathing - he couldn’t tell. Then he heard a small moan. 

Thank God. 

“Your little tricks won’t help you now.” Caesar lifted his head sharply at the voice - causing a new wave of nausea. The voice belonged to Dio. As Caesar fought to see the blurry figure, shippers - now simps - flanked Dio, mirroring his smirks and looking at him devotedly. 

Dio ran his thumbnail along Caesar’s jaw, to murmured protests from the simps. “Hmm, Zeppeli, you look like you could use something in your mouth.” 

The man who played Jonathan said, “But, Lord Dio, you said you didn’t want any of us to touch you - ”

Caesar could practically hear his eyes roll. “You lot have a one-track mind. He snapped his fingers. “Take it off.”

The girl with red hair removed Caesar’s cloth gag. Caesar’s tongue was dry from the material. He looked at the blurry figure in front of him.

“You can do anything you want to me. I won’t fight. Just let Jonathan go.”

Dio withdrew his hand from Caesar’s face, sounding disappointed.

“Boring. If that’s all you were going to say, I would have left the gag on.”

“But -” Oh. Dio really liked him like that. He shouldn’t have been surprised, but he was. 

Dio whispered to the bottle specs girl. She laughed, which got a small smile out of him. 

“How about I do whatever I want to Jojo, and I’ll let you go? After you watch, of course.”

Caesar kept his face neutral with intense internal struggle. If he let the horror show on his face, he would play into the freak’s hands. He needed not to give this sadistic narcissist any encouragement.

During his pondering he frowned. There was something different about Dio. Caesar struggled to put his finger on it, but it was difficult to think clearly with his anxiety for Jonathan. Why wasn’t he awake?

As if reading his mind, the man who had played Harker said, “ We didn’t need him awake and fighting us, so we gave him an extra dose.”

“Several extra doses,” said the girl with the bottle spectacles.

“That’s right. He’s a very big boy.” The girl looked absolutely chuffed (Caesar had picked up the lingo) to have Dio respond to her correction.

There was a knock on the door from downstairs.

“I’ll be right back. You, come with me,” he said to the man who had played Harker. “Watch him,” he ordered the others.

Caesar caught the red-haired girl’s eye. Her touch removing his gag had been tender. She bent down. “This is wrong, and you know it. He is insane.”

“Lord Dio is not insane, of that I’m sure.” But he detected a hint of doubt in her voice. As he looked at her pensive expression, there was the sound of the front door opening downstairs. 

Caesar shook his head. The change about Dio - it was right on the tip of his tongue. “Please. May I have a drink of water.” 

“He didn’t say you could," said a girl with curly auburn hair. She could have been the sister of one of the rugby players. For all Caesar knew, she might very well be.

“Oh, stuff it.” She left and returned with some water and held it up to his lips. He drank it, the liquid clearing the fogginess in his mind and vision. 

The tromp of boots was heard as five uniformed officers entered the room. Caesar’s heart leapt in his chest.

“Thank God you’re here. He’s crazy. Untie me so I can help Jojo!”

“I told you that’s what he would say,” the voice wasn’t Dio’s but had an Italian accent and it sounded like him. Like … me.

An officer kneeled in front of Caesar. “You got the Italian accent down pretty well.”

Suddenly Caesar understood what was happening. His grogginess evaporated. He fought against his bonds. “I am Caesar! I am Caesar Anthonio Zeppeli!”

“Dio has been plotting to murder the Joestars since he was adopted seven years ago. It’s a good thing I came along when I did.”

“And we’ll testify, too,” said “Harker.” The simps nodded, looking for all the world like normal, upper class men and women, no hint of their derangement showing.

Caesar let out a stream of Italian curses. They were angry and black. He hadn’t talked like that in a long time, not since he met Master and Jojo. His first Jojo. Joseph …

He saw the water glass slip out of the woman’s hand and smash on the ground as she had been walking to give him another drink. He heard Jojo stirring, groaning.

“If you think I’m Dio Brando, then ask him to speak Italian! You impostor!”

Dio spoke a smooth stream of Italian, giving a speech about how much he loved being part of the Joestar family, wouldn’t change it for the world. It was impressive, Caesar had to give him that.

“Enough.” It was an inspector who resembled Benjamin Franklin. “I knew Dio Brando’s father Dario, and I deeply feared something like this might come to pass. Thank god we came in time to prevent a tragedy.” He jerked his hand towards Caesar.

“Take Mr. Brando away and lock him up.”

As two burly officers each grabbed an arm, a weak voice spoke.

“He isn’t Dio. Dio is standing right there.” As all eyes moved to the young Lord, the redhead moved behind Caesar and slipped a piece of broken glass in his fingers.

“Jonathan.” Dio laughed nervously. “It’s me, your friend. Dio drugged you. You’re confused.”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” Although Jonathan’s voice was soft, it was commanding. Dio had lost the floor. 

“Inspector. Before you take him away, would you kindly do me a favor? Caesar has two birthmarks under his cheeks, small purple crescents.”

“And they’re right here. You can see. What are you getting at?”

If Caesar’s hands were free, he would have slapped himself. “Of course. That lot with him are stage artists. It’s makeup. Wipe it off.”

At last - at last - the rich, baritone voice of Dio came from the correct person. “If you had just stayed out a minute longer, you huge oaf.”

“How could I, when my dear one is in trouble.”

The officers withdrew their arms and closed in for Dio. The simps surrounded him in a protective circle. “It’s a good thing I have a backup plan. And I have no one but you to thank for that." He withdrew something from his jacket.

“THE STONE MASK!” Jonathan was fully awake now.

Dio spoke calmly almost musingly, as if there was no cadre of police waiting to take him in. “I need to use it on someone first.”

“Me!”

“No, me!”

“Choose me, Lord Dio!” 

Dio looked at Caesar and smiled. “No. I think I’ll choose … you.”

“Madonna Santa!!” Dio was coming for him with the mask. He saw wicked-looking curved spikes inside. Now he knew what Jojo meant when he said “a few surprises.”

Caesar had been sawing, sawing with the piece of glass … he felt the ropes giving.. But it wasn’t enough … the spikes pricked the skin of his temple… springing to life, Trying to work his way to the bone underneath, activated by the trickle of blood.

And that was when Jonathan broke his restraints and tackled Dio, taking him straight through the plate glass window.

Caesar felt the spikes give one last grab as they lost their prey.

Chapter Text

"Jojo!!” gasped Caesar. Everyone crowded to the window. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t see. Then he felt fingers undoing the binds on his wrists and ankles. 

Caesar jumped up immediately, and shouldered through the crowd at the window. Jonathan and Dio were grappling, rolling on the ground. Jojo almost had Dio pinned when Dio put on the mask. And that’s when all hell broke loose, the police taking out their guns, Dio flying back up to the window with Jojo clinging onto his legs. Dio drained the blood of the red-haired girl, the one who had been so kind to him, and one of the cops, all while taking bullets left and right. 

A frightened shipper, the one who played Jonathan, stumbled backwards into a candelabra, which caught the curtains behind it on fire. 

Caesar shouted and summoned his Hamon. He was going to kill Dio. But nothing happened.

“Fuck! Why won’t it work?!”

Jonathan kneed Dio in the kidney, a move that would have crippled anyone instantly and put them in the hospital for weeks. But Dio only chortled. And yet he could not get out of Jonathan’s grip, no matter what he tried. 

Caesar ran to a pair of crossed swords mounted on the wall. He removed one and tossed it to Jojo, who caught it in one hand, spinning Dio like a top in the other as he screamed like a samurai and raised his blade to cut off Dio’s head, the spreading flames surrounding them.

 ///

As Kars advanced, muttering gleeful diatribes against him, Will said, “How’s your sandwich? Need any salt? Paprika?”

Lisa Lisa hissed: “We have to act before he gets the jump on us! Why am I even listening to you??”

Will gave her a flirty look and pinched the brim of his hat between his thumb and forefinger. “Because I’m oh-so-debonair. Caesar didn’t spring from sea foam. Pardon me.” 

He put his arm around her waist and jumped - just as Kar’s bone blade sliced the metal chariot like a knife through hot butter. They landed some yards away. 

Lisa Lisa stepped away from Will, firing up her scarf. It extended, flowing, arching above her head. Under the moonlight, she looked like Chang'e, the Chinese moon goddess. But the similarity was short-lived. The scarf crackled with shards of light - beautiful and deadly: just like their wielder.

Kars didn’t hesitate at the fearsome sight. His entire body glowed as if in direct challenge to the snake muffler, resulting in a sudden flash. The light for a moment was blinding. 

The lady Hamon master took a battle stance as he reappeared. She leaped in the air as he smashed one bone blade to the ground where she was a mere second ago. As she backflipped over his head, as nimble as any acrobat, she directed one end of the scarf to go against the natural flow and strike: and strike it did - piercing his hard skin like serpent fangs. A tiny smile appeared on her stoic face as she watched a look of shock appear on the Pillar Man’s face as Hamon struck him right where she aimed: in his cerebral cortex. The look of disbelief stayed as his body crumpled to the ground.

 There was stunned silence from the crowd. 

“Next? Anybody else?” But no one responded.

“I didn’t think so. Your king is dead.” She flipped her hair. The scarf ceased to crackle, and settled around her like a normal accessory. 

She turned to Will. “So how about that dinner? I’m famished.”

The clatter of pebbles was heard. The Hamon masters’ heads turned towards the tiny sound. One of the horses was staggering down the track, a survivor from Wamuu’s broken chariot. Its mouth was frothy and its coat covered in sweat. Purple and clear fluids ran from its nostrils and mouth. 

“I’ll put it out of its misery.” Lisa Lisa walked towards it, her index finger charging. She walked right up to the beast, and aimed her finger to its forehead, grimacing as the horse made pathetic little sounds: ough ough ough.

“Wait…something's off,” warned Will. 

The surrounding air seemed to vibrate, before the horse's belly exploded in a shower of green guts. A hand snapped out and wrapped around the woman’s throat, lifting her off her feet. 

The monstrous hulk that was Kars stepped out of the remains. The ancient Pillar Man shook what was left of the steed off his shoulders.

Lisa Lisa cursed with choked breath as Kars laughed. The stadium buzzed excitedly. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t notice that my doppelganger fell to the ground - without a sound. As any good husk should. Were you distracted by this chapeau-addicted twink? You could do a lot better - with a real man, such as I, Kars.” As she struggled in his grip, he told her: “Choose. Be with me, or be absorbed by me. I want your magic - and I’ll breed the Hamon out of you.”

In the stands, an embarrassed zombie put his hands over a little zombie’s ears, who was licking a lollipop. “Couldn’t find a damn babysitter cause everyone is here.”

Lisa Lisa’s hair activated and twisted up. It lashed out across his face, twisting as it reached for his eye sockets.

“Kew! She’s gonna scoop out his eyebaws!” said the little one cheerfully.

But the lack of oxygen made her aim bad. She missed the eyesocket - but got his ear, tearing it off his head and being rewarded by purple blood spattering her face.

Kars countered with his bone blade, slicing off her attacking hair and puncturing between her shoulder blades with one move. She tensed and slumped in his grip.

“UNHAND HER !” Will fired up his Hamon, his body lighting up the night. “Or I’ll give you my Tornado Overdrive AND my Sendo Kick!”
He sounded and looked powerful, and Kars hesitated for just one moment. Everyone watching was holding their breath, so a little voice piped up loud and clear.

“That old man can’t do nuffin. He ran outta powa a while ago.” All turned towards him as he placidly enjoyed his candy on a stick. 

Zeppeli growled, “Ah. I really hate kids.”

Kars held Lisa Lisa close to his chest with one hand. He regenerated his ear and pointed his blade at Will. It glowed increasingly, his intent to shoot light right at Will. “Then let my light be the last light you see.”

“Three .. two … one," said Will.

Kars laughed chillingly. “Yes, good idea. Count down to your death.”

BANG!!

Caesar fell from the sky and landed hard on Kars, knocking the Pillar Man flat.

“Right on time,” said Will, looking at his watch, as he held the unconscious Lisa Lisa, having spirited her away just before Caesar hit. He looked at Kars on the ground. "Best respect the Ripple quickness.”

Caesar had no idea he had landed on anyone. He heard murmurs that sounded like a thousand buzzing insects. He rolled into a crouch and snapped his head up.

Ew. It was something even worse. He was in the ruins of the Colosseum. Hundreds of vampire zombies filled the stands.

“Caesar!”

He turned to see - his grandfather - holding Master. He had so many questions, namely - where had the Joestar Mansion gone - but there wasn’t time as he heard the ground beneath him snarling.

Caesar rolled off and instinctively threw up a bubble around him and Will, all the Ripple that he was trying to summon for Jonathan, manifesting doubly to attack Kars in a fusillade of cutting bubbles, swarming him like hornets.

“Oh, I’ve heard about him,” said stand vampire number one, who had been running commentary with his friend. “Bubble Boy.”

“More like bubble butt,” said stand vampire number two.

“Mm-hmm,” purred stand vampire number one.

Chapter Text

As Kars glowed from the inside out with Hamon, the bubble cutters slicing him head to toe like a Christmas goose, Caesar ruminated. 

That “bang!” just before he came back to his time: Caesar realized he had heard that noise before - just before he ended up 50 years earlier, in England! He had moved again in time - this time forwards!! He gaped at Will, who was trying to revive Lisa Lisa by patting her face.

“Nonno. You - You died in my arms!”

“I did.” He didn’t look at his grandson, still watching the woman’s pale face for any response. “When you’ve moved through the timeline as much as I have, you kind of get used to it.” He gave a fake cough. ‘It’s too late for me; I’ve failed in my mission.’ Not too bad, eh?” 

Caesar ignored Will’s reprising of his line from behind the stone wall where he had found him dying, just after Jonathan proposed. Wait - if I’m back in 1939 my time, then - 

“JOSEPH! JOJO!” Caesar looked around wildly for his friend as Kars tried to heal himself while under attack. The cutters were slowing as Kars took small, painful steps away from them. 

“Joseph isn’t here. He vanished - without a trace.” His teacher had regained consciousness in Will’s arms. “Caesar … I’m so glad. I was certain you had been killed. But he never gave up on you. If you came back, maybe he - maybe my baby -” Her voice held a tinge of hope.

But it wasn’t the same, Caesar knew. Joseph hadn't merely traveled through time. By Caesar and Jonathan falling in love with each other, Caesar had unintentionally - stupidly - ensured that Jonathan would not marry Erina, that Joseph would never be born. Caesar had erased him from existence.

 He’d. Erased. Joseph.

Joseph -  with his foxy grin, goofy antics, cheeky confidence, infuriating irreverence and uncultured idiocy. And his way of barely dressing, like he’d rather walk around naked if he had a choice. The shameless way he offered every part of his body to Caesar, and made him give all he had in return. The cutest way of clinging after sex. And those weird lips Caesar felt oddly inclined to kiss. 

The words coming out of his mouth pure self-recrimination:  

“My. Jojo.” He missed his voice, his laugh, his touch, his presence. He felt his knees almost give out. But he couldn’t crumple in a heap now. Yet that’s just what he did, slumping bonelessly to the ground.

Kars grunted as he leveled his gaze on them, the attacking bubbles shattered or dissipated. His body was scarred and broken; he was standing up by sheer piss and vinegar. 

Will urged, “Caesar, you need to fight.” 

“Fight?? Why should I listen to you when you can’t even save yourself in the timeline?!”

“The timeline takes a toll on my Ripple. The more I loop, the longer it took to regenerate, and now? I don’t have any left at all.”

The older Zeppeli looked at Lisa Lisa, setting her on her feet, and putting her arm around his shoulders. “Per favore. Se non per me, per lei.”

Yes, concluded the younger Zeppeli. He could do it for her. 

The ground shook as Kars hit it with his fists, causing everyone to jostle and the bubble to dissipate. Kars didn’t trash talk, he didn’t waste a second, he just unleashed an arc of lethal light from his bone blade at the exposed warrior. There was no time to react, Caesar was still trying to rein in his emotions. And - did Teacher say “baby?? ”

Will threw himself in front of him, getting sliced cleanly at the waist by the light. 

Caesar was started out of his stupor. He shot out a hand. “Ripple bubble binder!!” 

He tried a new move he had been practicing on Air Supplena before his battle with Waamu.  A web of sticky bubbles held the Pillar Man in place.

“Lisa Lisa, now!!”

As his master’s whole body blazed with light, her scarf coiled as it delivered down its judgement, the snake muffler striking like twin cloth cobras, every fiber glowing, each end gruesomely hacking off Kar’s arms at the elbow, one from underneath, one from the top. He was unable to bend down and pick up his bone blades as they clattered to the ground.

“I told you: I don’t need your goddamn mercy.” She turned to her disciple, pulling black sunglasses down over her face:

“Finish him.”

“Sì, signora!!” Caesar rotated his palms, forming the largest, fastest and sharpest bubble cutter he had ever made. Unlike the hacking of the scarf, his bubble lopped off the Pillar Men leader’s head like a medieval executioner's axe. As it freewheeled through the air, Kar’s violet hair wound tightly around it.

None could read his final expression.

Caesar didn't even wait to see the head or the body hit the ground. He and his master cradled Will. Lisa Lisa bent down and pressed her cheek to his white face. 

Will smiled weakly. “I guess we're going to have to take a rain check on dinner.” Blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth and nostrils. 

“Don't try to talk.” Her voice was choked. Caesar was sure that behind those dark glasses were tears. She pressed a hand to his severed midsection, trying to slow the blood loss and ease the pain.

“I have to talk. There’s so much to say and so little time. I first died in 1889; figured I'd wake up in Heaven. Woke up elsewhere ... been looping in time ever since. Each time is different. Last time Speedwagon was in it, this time it was you. I have to say, you were a complete surprise.” 

Will put a hand on Caesar’s. “Mio dolce Cesare. Il mio unico nipote. The first time I died, I gave Jonathan my Ripple. But I have nothing left to give you.”  

“Nonno. Y-You can just travel in time again, right?”

“Not without my top hat.” 

Poor thing. He’s so close to the end he’s just babbling nonsense.

“Caesar,” said Lisa Lisa. She jerked her chin to the handkerchief in his breast pocket. Caesar removed it and wiped his nonno’s face, while he gathered his thoughts. 

“Your hat causes you to loop??”

“Not the hat.” He coughed. The small action would have been immensely painful, were it not for the woman easing his pain. “There’s something inside it.” 

It couldn't hurt to humor a dying man. Yet Caesar wondered at the conviction on his face. “Wh - What’s inside it?”

“They aren’t very coherent .. took me long time to get them to tell me .. they are fragments of something called Stands.”

His grandfather continued, his strong voice softer. He handed his hat to Caesar with a trembling hand. “I'm giving it to you. You appearing here gives me hope. If anyone can save Jonathan, it’s you. Looping I was ... never trying to save myself …I was trying to save him.”

It took Caesar a minute to cool down and for the red anger at Kars to dissipate. 

“Save him … from who?” Although he knew. Of course he knew.

“... tried everything … ten thousand times. Dio always finds a way.”

Will placed his other hand on Lisa Lisa's. “You're just prolonging the inevitable. Let me go.” She stopped staunching his blood flow, turning off her Hamon, and he quietly died.

Chapter Text

Caesar kissed his grandfather’s forehead. 

“Addio, nonno. Ci rivedremo.”

Standing up, the blonde slowly shook his head as if he were clearing cobwebs. 

“No. No.” 

He lifted his head and looked Lisa Lisa in the eye. “What he said is not acceptable. I love - I need my Jojos. Both Jojos.”

She seemed weary, resigned.“You don’t even know where to look in time. What year, what place -”

“I’ll start by looking here.” He turned the hat over and looked inside. 

At first there was only the shadowed interior: then, a pair of little eyes opened, then another pair and another pair, until he realized there were about a dozen creatures! They jostled for space and domination, not friendly to each other, judging by the growls and hisses.

“It’s like a goddamn feral cat colony in there.” 

Caesar was hit suddenly with a wave of unfathomable grief and pain as the creatures inside began to yell. The grief and pain did not belong to him, but he felt as if they did.

LONELY, LONELY, LONELY !!

• THE OLD MAN DIED! WHY DO THEY ALWAYS DIE??

The discordant voices spoke in unison. Different tones and frequencies; he couldn't tell if they were male or female. The unwanted empathy was so strong, Caesar's instinct was to drop the hat, but he didn't dare.

The voices continued:

 HE SAID HE WOULDN'T LEAVE US, IT HURTS, IT HURTS.

• WILL WILL WILL WILL ZEPPELI ZEPPELI NO, NO, NO, NO NOOOOO!

The voices were in his mind, swirling so it made him dizzy. The creatures were hurting emotionally, to the point of madness. The sudden empathy made him physically recoil; fighting not to drop the hat. 

NEW ZEPPELI! HEY! 

It took the Hamon warrior a moment to realize they were speaking to him. 

THEY DIE, WE DIE. WE ALONE, ONLY ALONE. ALWAYS HELPING, BUT HELP NEVER ENOUGH. OUR HELP IS NO GOOD! WHY, WHY, WHY WHYYYYYYY!!

“Chi siete?”  He asked. “Who are you?”

The voices stopped. Had he scared them off?

“Oh, no.” 

The blond dared to lower his ear, half afraid they’d bite it, but instead feeling relieved. Because he heard the stands were not gone, only muffled! They were having their own little conclave. The Italian held his breath, taking a moment to push his damp hair back from his forehead. The voices returned, sounding more excited now than the previous combination of grief and anger.

WE SHOW. WE SHOW NEW ZEPPELI. HE WANTS TO KNOW!

The colosseum vanished and Caesar saw visions of humans, and colorful figures fighting with them. The figures were right out of science fiction. They fought when the human with them fought. And the humans fought alongside other humans with the star tattoo on their left shoulders. When the humans died, the figures did too. But clearly there was some residual energy left, and for whatever reason, they had gravitated to, and clustered within, the harlequin-patterned top hat.

The vision ended, the colosseum reappearing. Caesar said, “You’re those creatures!!”

THAT'S RIGHT, STANDS. WE WERE CALLED STANDS. ONLY PARTS OF US LEFT - SMALL PARTS. 

“Stands. I’m trying to save my Jojo - my Jojos. Please hel-”

The excitement was replaced with rage. 

JOJOS CAN'T BE SAVED, CAN'T BE SAVED. ALWAYS TRAGIC, TRAGIC, TRAGIC. JOJO DIE, OUR JOJOS DIE.

•  SHUT UP SHUT UP!! WE LOST OUR USERS TOO, IT'S NOT ALL ABOUT THEMMMM. DAMN JOJOJOOOOOOS!!

Caesar was baffled by the creatures’ mood swings - and yet he understood. If his Jojos meant so much to him, imagine having your whole world revolve around them, having your very existence be dependent upon a Jojo or their ally. He knew what he needed to do. 

His eyes met the woman he admired the most. The woman who had been silent this whole time looked back, finally finding words to speak. 

“Bring Joseph back. Please.”

Her faithful disciple nodded solemnly. 

“I promise.” 

Apparently, the “stands” on opposing sides lived in the hat. The chaos needed structure. Dwelling in their anguish would not help them, just as dwelling in his grief would not help him save Jonathan and find Joseph. Caesar spun around, donning the hat with a stylish flourish.

His tone brooked no dissent: “Take me to Jonathan.”

BANG!!

The Joestar mansion was engulfed in flames. Caesar saw two figures lying motionless in front of the manor. He ran as fast as he could and threw himself on the ground. 

“Jonathan.” Caesar gathered his limp body in his arms. A rain began to fall. It would not save Jonathan’s home, but it tamed the acrid stench in the air. 

Caesar could see his fiance's clothes were scorched; his face and hand had burns, his beautiful blue hair was singed and smoking, even his eyebrows were half-gone. Only then did he notice a headless corpse, dressed in that garish gothic outfit from the ball. 

Brando.

Jonathan had won. They had defeated Dio - but it was too late for his love.

“You fool. You beautiful fool.” His voice broke and he buried his face in Jonathan’s neck.

Chapter Text

Caesar Anthonio Zeppeli prepared to mourn a second time when Jonathan spoke. 

“My Caesar … ”

“Jonathan! Menomale …”

Jojo smiled weakly. “Thank God my father is on a business trip. He won’t be happy when he sees the manor is gone.”

Caesar brought the big man closer to his chest. “He’ll be glad his son is alive. His only son.”

Jonathan was slipping under again. He was badly hurt. Caesar had to tell him before he went into a coma. 

“Mio amado. I love you. So much. But, I cannot stay here. I have a Jojo waiting for me. He’s … your grandson, Joseph Joestar.”

Jonathan only smiled beatifically. “That's how you knew my body.”

“I would have known your beautiful body anyway.”

“Is Joseph like me in other ways?”

“Not in the least. And somehow, in every way.”

They both laughed softly, both voices strained with smoke and emotion.

“I love you too, Mio Caro. I’ll never forget you.”

In answer, Caesar bent to give him a kiss near his blistered lips.

“You will. But I won’t.”

Jonathan's eyes began to blur. He was going under. It was like he had hung on just for Caesar to give him a farewell kiss.

Caesar had to lean down to hear Jonathan. “His grandmother is ... Erina ... isn't she.”

“Yes ..”

“...she's in India.. please, tell her I died with her in my heart.”

Caesar grabbed him, too hard. “Non morirai, idiota! Not if I have anything to say about it.”

“Write a letter..”

“You'll tell her yourself, damn it!"

As Jonathan finally slumped unconscious, Caesar didn't know if he had heard him. Holding him close, the blonde spoke to the hat. 

‘"I .. I can’t believe this. I was supposed to be here with him.Protecting this treasure. This crown jewel of the family.”

There was a little snicker from the hat. “Protecting the family jewels?”

“Oh, you think that's funny, do you?” He noticed that their cadence and tone were more normal now.  He reached over with one hand, picked up the hat, and looked inside. 

“It's not our fault. We're autistic.” 

Cesar ignored that. “You know what “family jewels mean?”  They must be curious about human sexuality, he thought. He gently lowered his beloved to the ground, taking off his jacket and folding it as a pillow under Jonathan’s head. "Make yourselves useful. Get rid of the body."

Caesar stood up, mentally preparing for his next jump. Jonathan was depending on him. But the hat began dragging Jonathan towards the cliff, using some kind of psychic energy to pull him.

“No, NO! Basta! Not him, I meant Dio!! You know, the guy MISSING his HEAD? Jona’s STILL alive!”

The hat dropped Jonathan's feet, and physically rocked from side to side, almost tipping over with conflict. Caesar was zoned out, thinking, when he saw the hat resume dragging Jonathan.

“Forget it, forget it.” He nudged the top hat away from Jojo with his boot. It rolled a couple of times, landing upright, where it sat quietly. Caesar hauled Dio’s corpse by both legs, dragging it to the edge of the cliff and pausing for a moment. 

What a corruption of talent, of beauty, of life. Goodbye, Dio. I hope you find peace. You sure won’t be disturbing my beloved’s anymore.

He gently rolled him off the cliff.

He picked the hat back up, brushing it off.  

“I think you stands - at least one of you - had the ability to control time. It explains why Will was able to loop so many times.”

They were quiet and he peeked in. A pair of pretty eyes batted at him. "You are not only smart but handsome."

“Er, thanks. Now will you please take me to Erina Pendleton? It's extremely urgent.” He snapped the hat on at a rakish angle.

BANG!

Caesar was in a tunnel, moving along without any effort on his part. It felt like he was flying.. There was no sound. He wondered why he wasn’t instantly at his destination as had happened consistently. He felt as if he was slowing, and began to feel alarmed. 

“Hellooooo, Caesar.” A smooth voice spoke over his shoulder. It was Dio!

Caesar had been expecting anything - but he never would have expected this. He whirled, praying it was an auditory hallucination. 

It wasn’t. Dio was there, looking like he just stepped out of Joestar Manor the first day Caesar met him. He couldn’t speak, only stare. 

“You didn’t think you were the only one who could jump, did you? I saw you. When you were in the garden that night with Jojo. I saw you appear out of nowhere."

Caesar felt sick, recalling the distinct feeling he had that night of someone spying on them. 

“I didn’t know what to think of it. Then something in your little hat reached out to me.”

The Italian found his voice. “You are - ”

“ - deceased? Expired?” He laughed gleefully. “I jumped from that point.” He extended his hands. “Ta-da.”

Caesar’s Ripple flared. Dio faltered. Then he smirked. “Do you really want to use that in here? Besides, I’m not a vampire - ahh!” Caesar hit him with a shot, causing him to grab his arm. 

“I had to make sure. And make sure you don’t have the mask.”

Dio cursed. “I don’t. But I have something more . How do you think I found you?”

Caesar felt his stomach drop. He looked into the hat. “Et tu, Brute?”

Where before the hat was chaos, there was a strange unity coming from it, a loose coalition or a temporary peace. 

Dio’s voice was a victorious whisper: “There’s something in there on my side. It says it's something like, ‘the world.’ Right now he’s in charge. And that means I’m in charge.” He leaned in and whispered in Caesar’s ear.

“You’re in Dio’s World now, baby.”

Chapter Text

Dio grabbed for the hat but Caesar moved back. He shook it frantically and shouted at it.

“Voi ragazzi ! Don’t listen to Dio!” Was the stand associated in some way with Dio? Impossible. Even though now Caesar knew nothing should be impossible, it was hard to figure out what was going on, let alone what to do.

“There are a lot of you in there. Don’t let 'The World' dictate everything!”

“Yoink.” Dio plucked the hat away.

“Don’t you dare put that on,” seethed the Italian. “You’re not worthy to wear my grandfather’s hat.”

“I, Dio, am worthy a thousand times over.” He placed the hat on. And that was what Caesar wanted him to do. He commanded his stands.

“Erase his mind! I know you can do it!”

Dio’s face went blank and he staggered. 

Yes! It's working! They listened!

Brando seemed about to collapse - when he righted himself and grinned an evil grin. 

Nothing had happened. Caesar felt deflated. His hail mary had failed.

“M-My grandfather cared for you for years ! This man isn’t capable of caring! He’ll only use you!”

Dio patted the top of the hat. “Get Zeppeli out of here.”

Caesar heard a sound like a whip, felt something coil around his waist. He was yanked back so hard his feet flew up. He flung his body to the floor of the tunnel, lying on his belly and clawing for purchase. He looked over his shoulder at the black void of space-time looming behind him. 

Jojo. It couldn’t end like this. He made a final plea.

“STANDS! Don’t do this! Remember who you are. And I care about you. He does not! STAND UP FOR YOURSELVES!”

“We are so sorry, sweet new Zeppeli, pretty Caesar.” As he felt himself being dragged into oblivion, he at least was somewhat proud that Dio didn’t hear him scream.

As he left the time tunnel, he braced himself for cold, for loss of oxygen, to possibly be obliterated. Instead, the rope around his waist loosened. He --

-- smelled flowers? and he heard - drums ? Caesar looked down. His feet were on solid ground, a ground of plain dirt mixed with sand. The ground shook as if something big was coming. He squinted towards the horizon where the noon day sun held court above. Wait - the sun? Hadn’t he been hurled into a void? Caesar wasn't in the void anymore - but something big was coming. But what? It looked and sounded like an army. Sure enough there were flags. Shit. The last time he spoke to Stroheim, the German had told him war was going to be avoided. War. War had come so soon … He watched a crowd come closer. They had … odd uniforms and odd mounts. Were those … camels? If it was an army, it wasn't any goddamn army he knew.

Trumpets blasted as he realized they were not only camels but zebras, ostriches, and a huge elephant. The flags were celebratory and it sure looked like a parade out of Arabian nights. 

He didn’t think anything could tear his eyes away - especially when he saw some (transparently) veiled beauties carrying baskets of flowers - his favorite - frangipani ? He knew the flowers had smelled familiar!

He had to be dreaming. He had gone to heaven and was living something out of a childhood fairy tale. Then there was a thump, and a grunt. 

“Dio?? ” Oh he wasn’t dreaming, because this asshole would never be any of his dreams.

Dio rubbed his butt, looking chagrined. 

“Well, that didn’t go as planned.” 

The circus was almost on them. There was nowhere to run or hide.

Caesar gasped as he was seized again from behind, something around his waist lifting him off the ground. He felt silk robes covering him as he was plunked on the neck of a pachyderm adorned with a tall, carved seat. The elephant picked up the astounded Dio but did not put him with Caesar, only dangled him like a kumquat he was saving for later.

Caesar felt something slip over his eyes. It was a matching turban. His hand closed on a jewel that would have fed his family for a year; he could tell just by the hardness and the faceting. 

So high up. The road was thronged with men, women, and children. He addressed the stands. Even though he couldn't see them, he knew they were there.

"Why? I thought you were going to kill me. What about The World?""

"We talked about it. Caesar does care. And we care about him!"

Someone threw a cloud of flowers up and began to sing:

“Hey! Clear the way in the old bazaar, hey you, let us through - it’s a brand new star. Oh, come be the first in the block to meet his eye. Make way, here he comes, ring bells, bang the drums - ”

A huge purple genie popped out of the hat. It was he who was singing.

“YOU’RE GONNA LOVE THIS GUY!!"

"What are you doing??" hissed Caesar. He suspected the stands had combined to make the genie.

"Disney."

"Disney? Like ... Steamboat Willy?" He'd seen the cartoon in the theater with Joseph. Not that they'd paid much attention to the screen.

The stand laughed. "Oh, honey, Walt's come a long way since then. Musicals are the only thing that kept us sane in that hat."

Dio struggled in vain in the grip of the trunk. He was probably cursing but couldn’t be heard over all the jubilation.

The "genie" continued, the crowd enthralled.

“Zeppeli! Handsome is he, mia mamma. That physique! How can I speak? Weak in my knees!” The stand pinched his cheek. “You yummy boy. <3”

The genie whispered in his ear: “Wave.” Caesar waved tentatively, to uproarious cheers. 

“Boy, genuflect, show some respect! Down on one knee!” The genie glared at Dio:

“N - Never !” Poof! Brando was promptly transformed into a small white monkey, wearing a tiny fez and vest. The genie tossed the little monkey up to the delight of all. Dio looked so small as he cartwheeled through the air, that Caesar instinctively reached out to catch him. He landed open-mouthed in Caesar’s hands, the two staring at each other as the genie continued to sing:

“So get on out in that square, adjust your veil and prepare, to simp and grovel and stare,

for - for - ”

The singing stopped. The only sound was a drum roll. “We’re waiting on you. We’re not gonna go until you go.”

Dio crossed his monkey paws. He sulked, his tiny fez tilting sideways.

“Come on, you can do it! DO YOU WANT TO BE A MONKE FOREVER?!”

“...Zeppeli.” Dio barely whispered the word.

“There it is!”

Everyone cheered, the trumpets blaring and fireworks going off. Dio turned back into a human and suddenly Caesar had a full-grown man on his lap.

“Get off!” 

“I’m stuck!” They both struggled in the tall seat made for one person. 

“And that good people, is why, he got all cute and dropped by. 

WITH SIXTY ELEPHANTS 

LLAMAS GALORE

ORSI E LEONI

A BRASS BAND AND MORE:

FORTY FAKIRS - COOKS AND BAKERS -

BIRDS THAT WARBLE ON KEY: 

FATE LARGO A  

ZEP -

PEL -

IIIIIIIIIIII !!! ”

Chapter Text

The stand ended with a big finish. The throng cheered uproariously. The crowd was made up of black-haired, brown-skinned people clothed in white clothes. There were also some men with turbans and military jackets. 

“Awww, you people are darling. We’re here every Thursday. Star Platinum and the Stands. Here, you know what?" He rummaged in his pockets, pulling out outrageous things like a coat rack, a vacuum cleaner, a large toy train and an astounded kangaroo. “I know it’s around here somewhere … ah, here it is.” He took out a cloth bag with a $ sign. “You guys have been so great.” He reached in and tossed coins to all as the parade moved away. 

As the crowd moved out of sight, Star Platinum made jazz hands.“Ta Daaaaaa! Well? Whaddya think?” Star Platinum waited expectantly. 

“Huh?” Caesar was still in a daze. He couldn't think about what to do next. “You expect me to applaud that?!”

“Why not? They did.”

Caesar took off his turban and threw it.

“Hey!”

He realized that Dio was still on top of him. At some point they had gone numb and stopped struggling. But now the Italian was again aware of Dio’s knee in his ear, his crotch in his face, his ass making his left leg fall asleep. 

“You want my honest opinion? GetthisBritishbastardoffa me first!”

The genie shrugged while hovering. “I don’t know. You guys look kinda cozy.”

“RAAAAAHHHH!!”

“Fine, jeez. Don’t blow a gasket.” He rolled his eyes, wiggled his nose. The elephant was gone, and him and Dio were on solid ground. Dio promptly fell to his knees and threw up, which made Caesar cackle.

The humor of Dio’s suffering put things back into perspective. It wasn’t the stands’ fault. They hadn’t been free in a long time and he was the one who had freed them. And it had been kind of fun. The Zeppeli number had been goddamn catchy. Caesar hummed a few bars of it as he gathered his thoughts.

“You know how to put on a show, I’ll give you that. You have a real future in musical theater. I loved the song about me. I am all of those things and more.” He polished his knuckles on his lapel, in a little preening. He got serious. “But that being said … I just want to get back to my friends now. Please,” he added. There. That should do it. Dio stood up on shaky legs. 

The purple genie's face darkened. The sun on the horizon disappeared.

“Friends?! Friends, you say?”

Caesar blinked, his polite tone becoming his natural firm one. “Jonathan especially needs help right away. I need to get back to Joseph. Suzi Q, Lisa Lisa, Loggins, Messina and Stroheim. And Erina Pendleton. I haven’t met her yet, but - ”

Star Platinum cut him off. He held up a hand.

“Back up! Uh-oh! Watch out! You done wound me up! 'Bout to show you what I'm workin' with.”

Oh no … the blonde groaned inwardly.

“Well, Ali Baba, he had them forty thieves,

Scheherazade had a thousand tales.

But, master, you're in luck because up your sleeves

You got a brand of magic never fails.

You got some power in your corner now,

Heavy ammunition in your camp.

You got some punch, pizazz, yahoo, and how?

All you gotta do is rub that lamp.”

Was it Caesar’s imagination, or was that last line said in a throaty, seductive tone?

“And then I'll say ‘Mr. Man, what's your name?’”

Caesar interrupted. “You know my name. It was your whole song!” Dio had came to stand next to him, looking as confused as Caesar felt.

 “Whatever.” The purple stand genie continued with an eye roll. He was bigger now, looking a little like something that might have frightened the children instead of entertained them. 

“My friends. Take us back to our friends.” He may as well speak for Dio. 

The stand genie ignored his request. “You unappreciative - Let’s try this one more time.” It rolled up its sleeves, zooming in very close to Caesar and Dio. Its eyes were huge and wild, with the void of space in them, the sight causing them to grab onto each other’s arms.

“CAN YOUR FRIENDS DO THIS? CAN YOUR FRIENDS DO THAT? CAN YOUR FRIENDS PULL THIS OUTTA THEY LITTLE HAT?!”

“LOOK OUT!” Dio snatched Caesar back just in time from a cliff that seemed to look down into bright orange lava miles below. They were in another dimension.

“CAN YOUR FRIENDS GO” - Star Platinum proceeded to beatbox for five minutes straight. Dio and Caesar were in shock.

“I'm the genie of the lamp. I can sing, rap, dance, if you give me a chance!

Don't sit there buggy-eyed,

I'm here to answer all your midday prayers.

You got me bona fide, certified,

You got a genie for your charge d'affaires!

I got a powerful urge to help you out

So what's your wish? I really wanna know!

You got a list that's three miles long, no doubt. All you gotta do is rub like so.” Stand Platinum fluttered suddenly long eyelashes so Caesar felt the breeze.

Caesar drew a sharp breath. He definitely hadn’t imagined it. 

The scene changed again, the stand spinning jubilantly underwater as strange alien fish with terrifying teeth and eyes looked on. Bubbles swirled around them as the song intensified.

“Mister Zeppeli! One wish, or two or three. I'm on the job, you big nabob - 

You ain't never had a friend, never had a friend, you ain't never had a friend, never had a friend

You ain't NEVER

HAD A

FRIEND - ”

Caesar knew he was in trouble. Despite the stands insisting Caesar was in charge,  it was clear they were in the stands’ world. 

"Like MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE !!!!!!!”

And Caesar had no idea how they were going to get out.

Chapter Text

“Smile!” barked a no-nonsense voice. A flash went off in Caesar’s face. When the spots cleared, he saw the setting had changed. No more interdimensional hellscape. He was standing next to Dio in what looked like an ordinary high school gym.

The Zeppeli did a double take. Dio had on a powder blue tuxedo with side ruffles and a light green cummerbund. His pant creases looked like they could cut a sandwich in half. Dio was absolutely goggling at Caesar. 

The owner of the voice was a middle-aged woman wearing horn-rimmed glasses, looking like a severe librarian. She made a shooing motion. “Move. There are other couples waiting.”

“Couples?!” Caesar looked around. 

“Next!” the librarian barked.

A teen girl in a pastel pink gown tugged her shy partner by the arm. The bashful fellow wore a similar tux as Dio, just a different color. They took Dio and Caesar’s place. Caesar saw a little display decorated with balloons and streamers in front of a sunset backdrop that looked like it was cut out of a magazine and blown up. The young couple didn’t notice the kitschy decorations. They giggled and blushed and avoided looking at each others' eyes.

They were at a prom. An American high school dance before graduation. Caesar knew what it was because Joseph had told him about it. Italy had a celebration before exams, not a dedicated dance, and he had been intrigued. That intrigue was now a distant memory. 

“Oh, for god’s sake.” Well, what kind of tux was he wearing? He certainly hoped it was better than Dio’s. Even looping in time, It was crucial to look one’s best at all times. He looked down. The light was dim but - he could tell he was wearing a dress. “Oh my god!!”

“It’s okay! We’ll get out of here, I promise!”

“Not that. What kind of dress is this? What does it look like??”

“It’s … it’s light blue with a … crimping neckline and cap sleeves with bows.”

“That’s not so bad.”

“And an overskirt with more bows. And ruching like the Joestar manor curtains.”

“Overskirt? More bows?! I need a mirror.” Caesar held up his dress and ran to the girls’ room. He stood in front of the mirror over the sink. “What a disaster.” 

Dio came in. “Are you ok?” 

“No! We look like cheap wedding cake toppers?”

“I think you look nice.” Dio’s tone was awkward. 

“Really? You’re not just saying that?” Outside the music began, the bass coming through the walls.

“Come on. We can’t wait in here.” Dio grabbed his arm and shoved the door open with his other hand. They went to the dance floor. A banner on the wall said PROM 1987.

“Don’t just stand there, sillies. Dance!” It was the photographer, now a chaperone, as her nameplate said.

“We don’t really - ” 

The chaperone loomed over them. She looked suspiciously like the genie. 

“DANCE. NOW.”

Dio awkwardly put his arms around Caesar’s waist. Caesar put his arms around Dio’s shoulders. 

“Zeppeli … I …”

“Shut up. I’m thinking.”

He swayed to the music, just rocking side to side. The repetitiveness helped him think. That’s the only reason he tolerated it. His nonno had told him the stands were psychic energy, formed from the will of the human stand users. They never had feelings or emotions apart from the humans until now, Caesar had learned by talking to them. But they still were chaotic without actual humans to be attached to. But they were focused. Relentless. Of course they were infatuated with him, liked him, even admired him. But this obsession? This fascination with romance and even love? And why was Dio - what did Dio - he looked at Dio’s stupid face, staring at him.

And suddenly, he knew.

His eyes widened. 

“You’re doing this,” he said accusingly. “You’ve got them all worked up.”

Dio’s eyes widened and he stopped rocking them. “Not on purpose.”

Caesar leaned in. “You caught feelings for me.”

“I, Dio, have no such feelings.”

Caesar looked around at the prom setup, stands dancing together bashfully and stiffly, with some acting as chaperone, and one even seemingly spiking the punch bowl. He believed Dio wasn't doing it on purpose, but the stands were highly reactive. 

“Then what do you call all this?” he hissed, his arms still around Dio’s shoulders.

“Fine. I admit it. I may have a little crush on you.” Caesar noticed the other couples had stopped dancing and murmured excitedly, gathering closer. And was that a spotlight?

“Oh, do we have a confession?” The stand genie was back, his horn-rimmed eyewear the only link to his former disguise. “Hmm. What’s the best way to confess at prom. To music!” Before Caesar could step away from Dio, Caesar felt his feet leave the floor. He and Dio both looked down. They were levitating, slowly ascending to the upturned faces of the other attendees. A song poured from the speakers.

I'm gonna take a little time
A little time to look around me
I've got nowhere left to hide
It looks like love has finally found me

In my life there’s been heartache and pain. I don’t know if I can face it again. Can’t stop now, I’ve traveled too far to change this lonely liiiife ..

THOOM

The base kicked in and the lights made a pattern on the floor underneath them as the chorus started. 

I WANT TO KNOW WHAT LOVE IS, 

I WANT YOU TO SHOW ME!

I WANT TO FEEL WHAT LOVE IS 

I KNOW YOU CAN SHOW ME. 

LET’S TALK ABOUT LOVE

LOVE THAT YOU FEEL INSIDE

I WANNA FEEL IT TOO

AND I KNOW, AND I KNOW, AND I KNOW YOU CAN SHOW ME.

The song concluded. When they landed, they wore prom king sashes and crowns.

Everyone applauded.

And then the scene changed to a bedroom.

Caesar seemed less surprised than Dio at this. But from the gleeful look spreading across the Brit's face, he was adapting quickly.

“Looks like we’re not getting out of here until we have the whole prom experience.”

“And what’s that?”

“Me fucking your brains out.”

Adds Caesar Zeppeli/Dio Brando tag