no subject

[What. Was he even worrying about, to begin with? Giorno has already kissed him again, quick and soft, bringing their tally up to two. What Giorno says does make Fugo smile and even laugh, the sound coming from the back of his throat. Because here is a rare moment when Giorno is wrong and needs to be briefly reminded of the true authority in the house:] No, that's Trish.

[Trish is a force of nature. Who is always right all of the time. Which is occasionally sometimes frustrating to deal with, because one does not just tell Trish Una "no". But right now, there's no room left in him for anything but a fizzy, bubbly swell of affection. He loves that unstoppable girl, who mercilessly bullies him in one breath before letting him borrow a bottle of lip gloss and sending him on his way with a laugh in the next.]

That's so imprecise. [It's not a complaint, for once. It is what it is. Kiss economics are a sham and they both know it. Fugo reaches for Giorno's face, tucking a wispy flyaway back behind his ear where it belongs, and affectionately kisses the corner of his mouth.] That's three. Out of ... [He has to think for a moment. Kissing Giorno is wonderful, but extremely distracting.] Nine, you said?