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The Eternal Party
Title: The Eternal Party
Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Vento Aureo
Character(s): Buccellati, Narancia, Abbacchio, Risotto, Tizziano, Squalo, Doppio
Pairing(s): None
Genre: Fluff
Word Count: 900
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary: “It would be no use to hold a grudge in Heaven. I might be kicked out.”
Notes: This is the most self-indulgent thing I've ever written that wasn't a crossover.
When Buccellati passes on, the first thing he has to get used to is being able to truly see and hear again, not just sense the spirits of other people. The first sound that reaches his ears is…
Michael Jackson?
Buccellati rubs his eyes. When he’d reached Heaven, he hadn’t had a particular idea of what it would be like, but his mental image had not been a party room with food and drink being served and a dance floor.
He hardly gets a second to try to recognize who’s in the room before he’s tackled. “Buccellati--!”
Buccellati returns Narancia’s hug. “I’m glad to see you again, Narancia.”
A voice he hasn’t heard in a while speaks up. “Weren’t you just with him today?” asks Abbacchio, arms folded.
“It feels like forever!” says Narancia, still clinging onto Buccellati.
Buccellati turns to smile at Abbacchio. “You’re welcome to have a hug too, if you want.”
Abbacchio doesn’t join the hug, but he does touch Buccellati’s arm gently as he speaks. “You were supposed to survive.”
“I’ve been dead longer than you have,” says Buccellati. “I just hid it better for a time. ...I’m sorry, I should have left someone with-”
“Don’t blame yourself. What’s done is done.” Abbacchio steps away, and Buccellati doesn’t remark on how long he spent not taking his own advice. Instead, he takes a look around the room.
They are not the only partygoers in Heaven. Buccellati recognizes some- the current DJ is Zucchero, and a few of the assassins he’s met are on the dance floor or clinking their drinks together.
“We’re sharing space with the assassins because…?” he asks.
Narancia lets go of him, finally, to rub the back of his neck. “Well, this is where we showed up, so we figured we’d wait for you here. And they’re dead, so they’re harmless, right?”
“I’ll pretend that ‘harmless’ is a compliment.” The leader of the assassins, or so Buccellati presumes by the clothes he’s in that match his corpse’s, approaches him. “Buccellati. I would like to make peace with you and your squad.”
“You gave us a lot of trouble for that,” says Buccellati.
“I know. We thought our actions were justified, at the time, even though all they accomplished was killing all of us.” The assassin leader inclines his head. “What I did I did for revenge for my fallen friends and subordinates. Of all of your squad, you might understand that best. And, as Narancia says, we’re dead and harmless now.”
Buccellati considers that for a moment, then extends one hand. “It would be no use to hold a grudge in Heaven. I might be kicked out.”
The other man shakes his hand firmly. “Thank you.”
He introduces Buccellati to the rest of the room, quickly matching names to faces to battles. Sale and Zucchero aren’t covered under the assassins’ blanket forgiveness, and Buccellati decides not to engage them in conversation, though they’ll probably have to talk one day. Notably absent are Green Day and Oasis’s users, which doesn’t surprise Buccellati nearly as much as Heaven being an eternal party.
There are two others that Buccellati has not personally met, and they approach, with Narancia scowling and leaving to go argue with the DJ that it’s his turn to pick the music.
“Tizziano,” says one, “and this is my partner Squalo. We’d like to apologize to you.”
Squalo says, “We thought you were doomed from the start, going against the boss. But you even managed to take him down! If I’d have known that-”
Tizziano interrupts. “The point is that we nearly killed some of you, and we’d like to let bygones be bygones. If there’s anything we can do now to make up for that, though I can’t think of anything to do when we’re all dead…”
Buccellati shakes his head. “I don’t know about Narancia, but I won’t hold it against you. In your place, I might have been too frightened of the former boss to act any different.”
They each sigh in relief and shake his hand.
The refreshment table looks delicious, and the dance floor is more inviting now that the music has changed and no one will ask him to moonwalk. Still, he’s in a particularly gracious mood right now. “Is there anyone else I’m going to forgive today?” he asks, to nobody in particular.
Risotto says nothing, but jerks his head in the direction of one corner of the room. That corner is occupied by a boy sitting on the floor with his arms around his knees, crying softly.
“The underboss, Doppio,” says Tizziano. “Since he arrived, all he’s been doing is crying and saying ‘boss’ over and over again. He won’t answer any of us when we talk to him, even if we try to be nice.”
This gives Buccellati pause. He knows Doppio is responsible for tricking him into leading him to Polnareff, and he isn’t sure how much else he can blame Doppio for rather than the boss. That he’s even in Heaven probably counts as a small miracle. Still… it’s pitiful, looking at him rock and sniffle.
Buccellati picks up a box of tissues from the nearest tables and goes to set it down next to Doppio. He says nothing to him, only returns to the party at large.
While eating a grilled scallop, he notices Doppio taking a tissue from the box.
Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Vento Aureo
Character(s): Buccellati, Narancia, Abbacchio, Risotto, Tizziano, Squalo, Doppio
Pairing(s): None
Genre: Fluff
Word Count: 900
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary: “It would be no use to hold a grudge in Heaven. I might be kicked out.”
Notes: This is the most self-indulgent thing I've ever written that wasn't a crossover.
When Buccellati passes on, the first thing he has to get used to is being able to truly see and hear again, not just sense the spirits of other people. The first sound that reaches his ears is…
Michael Jackson?
Buccellati rubs his eyes. When he’d reached Heaven, he hadn’t had a particular idea of what it would be like, but his mental image had not been a party room with food and drink being served and a dance floor.
He hardly gets a second to try to recognize who’s in the room before he’s tackled. “Buccellati--!”
Buccellati returns Narancia’s hug. “I’m glad to see you again, Narancia.”
A voice he hasn’t heard in a while speaks up. “Weren’t you just with him today?” asks Abbacchio, arms folded.
“It feels like forever!” says Narancia, still clinging onto Buccellati.
Buccellati turns to smile at Abbacchio. “You’re welcome to have a hug too, if you want.”
Abbacchio doesn’t join the hug, but he does touch Buccellati’s arm gently as he speaks. “You were supposed to survive.”
“I’ve been dead longer than you have,” says Buccellati. “I just hid it better for a time. ...I’m sorry, I should have left someone with-”
“Don’t blame yourself. What’s done is done.” Abbacchio steps away, and Buccellati doesn’t remark on how long he spent not taking his own advice. Instead, he takes a look around the room.
They are not the only partygoers in Heaven. Buccellati recognizes some- the current DJ is Zucchero, and a few of the assassins he’s met are on the dance floor or clinking their drinks together.
“We’re sharing space with the assassins because…?” he asks.
Narancia lets go of him, finally, to rub the back of his neck. “Well, this is where we showed up, so we figured we’d wait for you here. And they’re dead, so they’re harmless, right?”
“I’ll pretend that ‘harmless’ is a compliment.” The leader of the assassins, or so Buccellati presumes by the clothes he’s in that match his corpse’s, approaches him. “Buccellati. I would like to make peace with you and your squad.”
“You gave us a lot of trouble for that,” says Buccellati.
“I know. We thought our actions were justified, at the time, even though all they accomplished was killing all of us.” The assassin leader inclines his head. “What I did I did for revenge for my fallen friends and subordinates. Of all of your squad, you might understand that best. And, as Narancia says, we’re dead and harmless now.”
Buccellati considers that for a moment, then extends one hand. “It would be no use to hold a grudge in Heaven. I might be kicked out.”
The other man shakes his hand firmly. “Thank you.”
He introduces Buccellati to the rest of the room, quickly matching names to faces to battles. Sale and Zucchero aren’t covered under the assassins’ blanket forgiveness, and Buccellati decides not to engage them in conversation, though they’ll probably have to talk one day. Notably absent are Green Day and Oasis’s users, which doesn’t surprise Buccellati nearly as much as Heaven being an eternal party.
There are two others that Buccellati has not personally met, and they approach, with Narancia scowling and leaving to go argue with the DJ that it’s his turn to pick the music.
“Tizziano,” says one, “and this is my partner Squalo. We’d like to apologize to you.”
Squalo says, “We thought you were doomed from the start, going against the boss. But you even managed to take him down! If I’d have known that-”
Tizziano interrupts. “The point is that we nearly killed some of you, and we’d like to let bygones be bygones. If there’s anything we can do now to make up for that, though I can’t think of anything to do when we’re all dead…”
Buccellati shakes his head. “I don’t know about Narancia, but I won’t hold it against you. In your place, I might have been too frightened of the former boss to act any different.”
They each sigh in relief and shake his hand.
The refreshment table looks delicious, and the dance floor is more inviting now that the music has changed and no one will ask him to moonwalk. Still, he’s in a particularly gracious mood right now. “Is there anyone else I’m going to forgive today?” he asks, to nobody in particular.
Risotto says nothing, but jerks his head in the direction of one corner of the room. That corner is occupied by a boy sitting on the floor with his arms around his knees, crying softly.
“The underboss, Doppio,” says Tizziano. “Since he arrived, all he’s been doing is crying and saying ‘boss’ over and over again. He won’t answer any of us when we talk to him, even if we try to be nice.”
This gives Buccellati pause. He knows Doppio is responsible for tricking him into leading him to Polnareff, and he isn’t sure how much else he can blame Doppio for rather than the boss. That he’s even in Heaven probably counts as a small miracle. Still… it’s pitiful, looking at him rock and sniffle.
Buccellati picks up a box of tissues from the nearest tables and goes to set it down next to Doppio. He says nothing to him, only returns to the party at large.
While eating a grilled scallop, he notices Doppio taking a tissue from the box.