Work Text:
The fresh smell of baking bread wafted through Giorno's window and permeated his dreams before he could even open his eyes. He smiled and turned over in his soft bed, turning to face the window where sunlight was streaming through, catching dust particles and carrying in the warmth of the outside world.
His curtains billowed in the breeze, and Giorno's smile only grew as he slipped out of his covers and padded over, peering out onto the cobblestone streets below his cottage. Instantly, his eyes found the source of the wonderful scent that woke him.
"Guido Mista!" He laughed, feeling his heart soar, leaning out on his elbows over the windowsill and letting the wind rustle his bedhead. "What on earth are you doing here?"
Mista grinned up at him, shielding his eyes from the morning sun. He had a basket tucked under his arm, and in his free hand, a freshly baked cinnamon apple muffin. He waved eagerly when he finally spotted Giorno.
"What, can't I stop by my favorite customer's home to deliver directly?" He said joyfully. The baker looking up at him was a beautiful vision in a pair of floral patterned overalls and a cap haphazardly thrown over his curls, one that made Giorno's cheeks heat up in a flush, but just...not one that he was prepared to see before he had even done his hair or gotten out of his nightgown.
"Mista," he shook his head fondly. "I just woke up, I'm still in my pajamas! You couldn't just wait for me to stop by the bakery later, like always?"
"Nope!" He called up, dark eyes gleaming as he turned the muffin around in his broad, calloused hands. "I wanted to see you! Don't you want a pastry? Come down!"
"I'm not dressed!"
"And I'm not dressed either, under my clothes!" Mista retorted.
Giorno rolled his eyes and made to close the window. " Goodbye, Mista. I'll see you and the pastries later. Now shoo! Shoo!"
Mista stuck out his tongue, and it was the final thing Giorno saw before he managed to pull himself away from the window and start his morning routine, cheeks still rosy pink and giving away his feelings.
Giorno floated through the rooms of his small country cottage in a daze as he started his day, the smell of muffins still faintly hanging in the air. He dressed simply, in a billowy white button up shirt and black trousers, before brushing out his hair, all the while daydreaming about how Mista liked to play with it, and how he would slap his fingers away playfully if they had flour on them.
He and the baker had been friends for over a year now. The first few months after Giorno had moved out to the countryside to escape the suffocating atmosphere of his family home had been...rough, to say the least. He had worked himself to the bone to afford this cottage, as well as groceries and feed for his animals, and it had only been the charming graciousness of his next door neighbor supplying him with baked goods that had kept him from starving to death that summer.
And well, Giorno hadn't even liked cinnamon apple muffins. At all. But Mista had been so enthusiastic in giving them to him, packing big plates of them for Giorno to have when he managed to stop by during lunch, that he'd just grown to love them. He would eat anything Mista made just to see that grin.
Nowadays, work wasn't so hard on him, and he no longer relied quite as hard on Mista to keep him nourished and fed. But he'd made it a habit anyway, a little routine, and every morning after he'd taken care of the animals, he walked along the dirt and cobblestone paths to the small bakery tucked between the dress shop and the apothecary, and bought whatever caught his fancy. While trying not to stare at Mista while he worked, strong arms flexing as he kneaded dough.
Sometimes they even hung out in their offtime, strolling around the town together buying fruit, talking and laughing. It was an easy friendship. And It was the highlight of his day, to be honest.
Giorno mused pleasantly on this now, as he finished tying his hair back with a ribbon that the kind lady who ran the dress shop had gifted him. Suitably dressed, he then made his way downstairs to make a quick mug of coffee before pulling on his work boots and braving the outside world. Spring was in full bloom, and almost overnight his garden had exploded into color and life. Crawling ivy glistened up the side of his home, and peonies, daisies and bluebells spread across his lawn excitedly, their petals soft and decorated in dew, inviting him to sit amongst them. The sight made Giorno smile, overjoyed. He'd grown this entire garden himself, and it had never looked better.
He wandered aimlessly through the lush flowerbeds and rosebushes, greeting them softly and bidding them a good morning, before he reached the barn. The barn was another gift built by a friend, the kindness of others enlightening his life yet again, and it housed his goats and chickens and cows.
It was peaceful, to take care of another life. Giorno hummed softly to himself, a little love song, as he fed them and tended to them, petting their soft heads and letting them nudge his hand for treats. He even collected a few eggs and some bottles of milk into a sack to bring to Mista as a thank you gift.
"Hello there." He murmured softly to a baby goat still wobbling around on unsteady legs. "And how are you?"
She bleated in his face loudly, and he laughed, feeling smile lines bend around his cheeks. "I see, I see. Don't have too much fun without me today!"
The farm was his pride and joy. Small, sure, but he managed it entirely by himself. And he had never been happier. All his childhood he'd wanted to live like this, on the land and free to do what he wanted. His family had told him it was impossible, and he'd believed them for a while, but now he was living the undeniable proof of his happiness. And he'd fought for it. He wouldn't ever give it up.
After chores, Giorno decided to venture into the nearby town and finally greet Mista, his hands trembling a little at the prospect. Even after a year, seeing Mista still made butterflies burst to life in his stomach like nothing else could. He paused by the cozy kitchen to grab his favorite straw hat inlaid with flowers before he set off on his way with a bounce in his step.
By now it was solidly mid-morning, so the sun beat down heavily on his neck as he made his way down the soft soil path of his property and towards civilization, stomach grumbling at the thought of the muffins he'd grown to adore. He pushed his hat up in greeting to every horse and carriage he passed on the way, and they greeted him back cheerily, waving and calling his name and wishing him a good day. The town was small, but close-knit, and Giorno had never truly experienced such closeness before he came here.
"Hey, Giorno!" A young black-haired boy called as he passed, bouncing off his horse to come closer and leading it behind him by its reins.
Giorno brightened at the sight of his friend. "Hello, Narancia. Where are you off to?"
"I was coming to see you! Are you going into town?"
"I am. Do you want to come along?"
Narancia nodded excitedly, hooking his arm through Giorno's, and together the pair walked the rest of the way into town together laughing and chatting about nothing and everything.
"He came all the way out to your house just to deliver to you?" Narancia laughed boisterously. "I can't believe that! No, wait, I totally can."
"Really?" Giorno tried to suppress a smile. "He's never done it before, so I don't know…"
"Psh." Narancia waved his hand. "He was waiting for the right moment. And you totally shut him down!"
Giorno shook his head. "Oh, be quiet. I had just woken up! And I'm going to see him now."
"Oooh." Narancia waggled his brows. "I better get going then, huh? The bread won't be the only steamy thing in that bakery today."
Giorno shoved him with his elbow, and Narancia shoved him back. The two of them paused their walking to stand in front of Mista's bakery, brightly colored and decorated in flowers that Giorno had grown in his garden. It had been owned by his grandmother before him, but when she died and none of her siblings had wanted to take over, Mista had gladly stepped in. He was the best baker amongst them, anyway. The bakery had never been under better management.
"By the way," Giorno turned to Narancia and took both his hands in his, squeezing them. "Why were you coming to see me?"
Narancia blinked, reaching into his pocket. "To bring you your gift, obviously!"
"Oh!" Giorno chuckled, surprised. "I had no idea."
"Close your eyes." Narancia ordered. Giorno complied, and after a moment something soft and heavy was placed into his arms. His eyes fluttered open and widened.
"Narancia, thank you!" He beamed wide at the sight of the knit scarf, unraveling it to get a better look at all the beautiful woven colors and patterns, choosing not to mention that it was the middle of spring and he did not need a scarf. "I love it."
Narancia excitedly threw his arms around him and pulled him into a hug. "Fuck yeah! Fugo taught me how to knit it!"
At that moment, the door to the bakery flung open and Mista stepped out, smelling like fresh baked cookies and radiating warmth. Giorno ran to him and Mista wrapped him up tightly in his arms.
"Giorno!" He said, elated, pressing him close into his sturdy body. "I was beginning to think you'd never come."
Giorno nuzzled into his chest, hiding his embarrassing grin. "I come every day, Guido. Have a little faith in me."
He turned to say goodbye to Narancia, and found him disappearing around the corner of the shop with a small wave. Giorno shook his head, exasperated, and pulled away from Mista's hug to look at his face, dusted with sugar and tanned with sun.
"What do you have for me today?" He asked, eyes twinkling.
Mista slipped his hand into his, a warm comfortable weight against his palm. "Come inside and see."
Inside the bakery, Giorno was hit by the overwhelming scent of cocoa and melted butter. The whole shop was a tad cramped, tables and chairs crammed against the wall and a big glass pastry case taking up the counter space, but Giorno preferred to think of it as cozy. Mista was always tiredly mentioning his plans for renovation, but Giorno liked it this way. Tiny. Homey. Sitting at the counter was Trish Una, the owner of the dress shop next door, swiping her finger through a bowl of frosting. She looked up brightly when Giorno and Mista entered, their hands still clasped.
"Giorno!" She called. "Enjoying the ribbon?"
Giorno touched his blond hair lightly. "Very much so. Thank you!"
"It makes you look so pretty, Gio!" Mista squeezed his hand once more before letting go to walk behind the counter, stopping to swipe the bowl from Trish's needling fingers.
"Have you had a good day so far? Any interesting gifts?" Trish asked, resting her chin in her hand with a knowing smile.
"Hm? Well, I did get this from Narancia." Giorno held up the scarf. "It's beautiful, right?"
"It's lovely, but isn't it like...90 degrees outside?" Trish chuckled, running a hand over the fabric. "When will you ever get a chance to wear it?"
Giorno tugged it away. "I don't care, it was a sweet sentiment. Narancia worked very hard on it."
"Yo, Giorno!" Mista called from the back kitchen. "Come see your cake!"
"My cake?" Giorno asked confusedly, before venturing to Mista. Trish watched with an amused look. In the back, he found Mista hunched over a beautiful layered chocolate cake, icing it to perfection painstakingly. Next to it were the promised cinnamon apple muffins.
"Well, what do you think?" Mista gestured to it dramatically, showing off the icing stuck to his sleeve. "I've been working on it all morning!"
"Mista," he laughed gently. "Why are you making me a cake?"
"Because of your birthday...obviously? And baking is kind of my thing?" Mista frowned a little, straightening up. "It's chocolate and raspberry."
Giorno paused, stunned. Was it his birthday? When had he even told him that? Or... any of them for that matter? All of it made sense suddenly, the gifts and the well wishings from every townsperson who passed him, they all had remembered what he forgot. He was at a loss for words. Mista came closer, as if sensing the astonishment on his face.
"Gio?" He smiled sadly. "You forgot, didn't you."
Giorno hung his head and nodded. "Yes, I...did. How did you know?"
Mista placed his hand at the small of his back tentatively. "You told me, months ago. Remember when we went up in the hayloft with that old bottle of wine?"
Giorno did. He could never forget. He and Mista had blown off work for the day to curl up in the hay, sun casting patterns across their flushed cheeks, drunk and laughing themselves silly until the light had faded and they couldn't even see each other's faces anymore. He had long since wondered what he had said that night that the wine made him forget, but now he knew.
But he remembered how Mista had laid on his back next to him, drawing out shapes in the rafters above him, listening to the animals mill about below them. He was talking about something long winded, a story maybe, but Giorno wasn't really listening. Because for a single minute the light had caught his black eyes and turned them a heavenly golden brown. And he couldn't think of anything but that sight. He never forgot it.
"That was months ago, Mista." He laughed. "You really remembered?"
"Course." He pushed him over to the cake. "How could I forget? Now try some! Go on, try!"
Giorno obeyed with a chortle, cutting himself a hearty slice and digging in. It was delectable , rich and creamy and the perfect mix of fruit and chocolate. Not too sweet, but somehow captured everything he loved about chocolate. He took a few more bites, before looking at Mista's eager, excited expression.
"Well?"
He swallowed. "It's fantastic!"
Mista's face broke into a relieved grin, and he ran his hand across his hat, leaving a flour handprint across it. "Thank god. I'm so glad, Giorno."
"Oh, that reminds me-" Giorno reached into his pack and pulled out the fresh eggs and milk, passing them to him.
Mista beamed. "Thank you, Gio! The stuff I get from your farm is better than anything I could order."
While they sat there enjoying the cake and chattering about how the farm was doing, Trish slipped into the back kitchen and leaned against the wall. "Mista, are you guys still going? I told you I'd watch the shop for you."
Giorno looked up and blinked. "Going? Where are we going?"
"Oh, right!" Mista dug into his pocket and pulled out a worn set of keys, tossing them to Trish. "Lock up at 10. Keep an eye on the register. If anyone asks, we're out of key lime pies."
"Gotcha. Have fun! You owe me." She caught the keys and disappeared back to the storefront.
"Mista, where are we going?" Giorno asked gingerly, and to that he got nothing more than a wink in response.
Mista hadn't really told him where they were heading. He'd taken Giorno's hand in his again, picked up the picnic basket he'd been carrying earlier, and spirited them out of the bakery and down the busy, crowded street with a brief goodbye to Trish.
As they ran through the town, waving hello to everyone they passed, Giorno found a giddy burst of laughter bubbling out of his chest. He had to hold onto his poor straw hat with one hand just to keep it from flying off his head while they ran, Mista pulling him out of the marketplace and down a beaten path towards a shallow muddy river.
"Hold on, Mista I can barely keep up!" Giorno giggled and he stumbled a bit, splashing into the water as they crossed over it. "Where are you taking me?"
"You'll see!" Mista led him across a wide, grassy field dotted in wildflowers until the town was a spot on the horizon, growing smaller as the two of them left it behind for the safety of the trees. Giorno began to have an inkling of where they were going.
They were out of breath by the time they'd reached the woods, ducking under the tall winding trees and through the thicket carefully. Finally, Giorno and Mista emerged upon a glade, dotted with streams of sun peeking through the trees.
"Wow." Giorno breathed, turning around to take in the sight of the clearing, the perfect cocoon of light and grass, safe from the rest of the world and glowing just for them. If he looked up, he could see patches of pale blue sky shining through. If he looked down, a family of ladybugs and a cluster of soft dandelions.
"It's beautiful, Mista. It's perfect, how did you find this?" He managed to say.
Mista was already sitting down, unpacking the basket and laying out a patterned blanket. "Oh, you know. I have my ways." He said coyly. "You like it?"
"I love it." Giorno laid down next to him on the blanket and stretched out, feeling his muscles pop and unwind. "It's so...quiet out here."
"Isn't it quiet at your cottage too? Being so far away from town, and all." Mista leaned down next to him, and passed him a muffin.
"It is, but sometimes it's too quiet. This is nicer. I'm not alone with my thoughts." Giorno said, taking a bite. Cinnamon flooded his mouth, tasting like love and the happiest memories of the last year of his life. He devoured it happily. Anything Mista made was packed full of care and devotion.
Mista hummed, and then was silent for a moment. Giorno looked over to see him staring at his muffin contemplatively like it held the answers to the universe. He caught his gaze, and they smiled at each other, feeling the air tingle and shift between them slightly, just like it had that evening in the hayloft.
The morning drifted into the afternoon, like a lazy river flowing. Mista stretched out beside him, and they talked and joked idly, sharing the air between them.
"For my next birthday, I want to go to the ocean." Giorno decided, an hour later, feeling drowsy and warm and on the verge of a nap. "Take me there?"
Mista chuckled. "I don't know if the bakery makes enough money to afford that. But I can try."
Giorno opened his eyes, watching birds flutter from tree to tree in the canopy above them. "I'll have to buy more pastries then, and keep the shop funded. That way you can fulfill my request."
"Deal. But that would mean you'd have to actually start paying, I think I give you more free food than you buy." He quipped.
Giorno struggled up on his elbow, and peered over at Mista, who was twisting flowers in his hands. For a long, contented minute, they sat there, soaking in sunlight. Then, Mista leaned over, brushing a thumb over Giorno's cheek softly.
"You're beautiful." Mista murmured, eyes dancing across his face like he wanted to memorize it. "You're so...beautiful."
"Mista?" Giorno asked gently.
"I would have kissed you, that day in the hayloft." He blurted out, making Giorno eyes widen in shock. "I would have."
He swallowed around the lump in his throat. "Why didn't you?"
"I was scared." Mista admitted, scooting closer, his hand cupping his cheek. Giorno relaxed into his touch, feeling his face light up with a nervous smile. "I wanted to so bad. Everytime I looked over at you, next to me in the hay, I thought about just leaning over and..."
The honesty left Giorno speechless. Imperceptibly, he leaned closer to Mista, like a flower reaching towards the sun, their knees almost touching. They hugged regularly, but somehow this moment felt more intimate than anything before.
"And?" He said.
"And I never did." Mista whispered. "Do you want me to?"
"Well, you haven't given me a birthday gift yet." Giorno breathed out, bracing himself. In the span of a second, Mista surged forward, pressing his lips against his in a short, sweet kiss. Giorno immediately pushed back without a moment of thought, kissing him earnestly, his heart thrumming in his chest from the pure adrenaline of the moment.
They kissed languidly, noses nuzzling each other. Mista slid one hand around his waist to pull him into his lap, and Giorno let him, his whole body pulsing with unrestrained energy and joy. His lips were chapped, but slightly sweet, like…
"Cinnamon." Giorno pulled back for air, feeling dizzy and in love . "You taste like cinnamon."
Mista rested his forehead against his. "Is that a good thing?"
"That's a great thing." Giorno giggled, before capturing his lips into another kiss. He realized, pushing Mista down onto the blanket so he could straddle him, that he would be perfectly content to spend his entire day out here, in the shade of the forest, kissing his best friend like he needed it to live. He would never be happier than in this moment, tasting sugar on Mista's lips. He never wanted to leave their private paradise.
Just like that evening in the hayloft, tucked away from the rest of the world and orbiting nothing but each other, food and wine shared, their safe haven belonged to them alone.
And, Giorno supposed, as he tangled his hands in Mista's hair and kissed him breathless to the sound of nature, to the birds, trees and flowers too. They could share.