sleepytimejunction | electric tapestry

electric tapestry

It's been a couple of years since he'd left Italy. Primarily, his skills in speaking English help him get along, especially with his various contract jobs. Of all of them, the Speedwagon Foundation pays the nicest, and the money is usually clean -- that's not exactly typical of most places, but it's kind of refreshing for a change of pace.

Not that Abbacchio probably deserves clean money.

Anyway, he's technically off shift, not that he'd care if he was still on the clock, as it were. He's seen this guy around a few times and hasn't really cared to know who he is, just kind of assumes he's probably upper management somewhere. He isn't bad to look at, but Abbacchio doesn't exactly play nice either. He'd said something along the lines of stop staring or fucking do something about it to the man.

That's about what led him to being on his knees in a closet sucking the guy's dick. Not that he has a problem with it; if he hadn't wanted to, he'd have put up a fight but he genuinely didn't expect him to be this big. To Abbacchio's credit, he doesn't choke, though.

He slides off with a lewd, wet pop and strokes him.

"This all you wanted? Fucking up my lipstick? That shit isn't cheap, stronzo."

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Didn't think you were, but I appreciate the explanation.

[Slowly, he smooths his hands through Jotaro's hair, helping rinse out the shampoo. After a moment, he makes a grunt of affirmation, satisfied.]

She here in Morioh with you? Your daughter.

No, she's with her mom. She wanted to come with me, though. She cried and cried about it.

[He's quite possibly disclosing more than he might've otherwise, but the fingers in his hair are relaxing, and the combination of that and the sex is working wonders at loosening his lips.]

I finally told her I'd bring her to visit once I finished some business. Now, after what happened today...I'm not so sure I want her here, after all.

Probably makes sense. Nobody expected the kid with the arrow. Dunno what's around after that.

[Abbacchio wouldn't know the first thing about parenting, and has never felt like he himself would make a good dad anyway. Still, it's interesting to get this much information out of him.]

What's her name?

Jolyne. ...Like the song.

[He sighs, leaning into the shower spray and letting it run fully over his head and hair, making water cascade down his face and neck. Clearly, he's not someone afraid of getting water in his eyes. All things considered, he sort of likes the experience generally; it reminds him of swimming.]

She's a good kid. Loud. A boy pulled her pigtails on the playground and she beat him up.

[THAT'S HIS GIRL.]

Sounds like a badass little girl.

[And it's not like Abbacchio doesn't enjoy kids. They're all right, but he definitely couldn't figure out the best steps to parent one.

Still, she sounds like a good kid.

Abbacchio finishes up with his hair, but gives Jotaro one last ruffle for good measure.]

There you go.

Hm. Thanks.

[Before he can think better of it, and while Abbacchio's hands are still mostly occupied with tousling his hair, Jotaro leans in and slants a kiss against his lips.]

I brought towels for both of us, earlier. Not that I'm in any hurry to get out of here, but it's your water bill, not mine.

[The kiss is somehow more flustering than anything else they've done. Abbacchio hesitates, like he's not sure what to do with himself. Eventually, he just huffs and looks away before focusing on something simpler.]

Ugh, no. You're right. I'm gonna regret looking at that invoice later.

[He reaches around Jotaro, turning the water off. Not really a deep scrub down, but it's more successful than he'd have originally attempted until the morning.

He gives Jotaro one last look, like he's considering something, then he ultimately decides to step out of the shower and get to drying himself off.]

[Well. That's an interesting look, isn't it? He's not self-conscious, fortunately, but it is cold to not have the warm water running over his skin anymore, so he lets Abbacchio look as he likes and then follows him out of the shower, seeking out the other towel for himself.]

...What was that all about?

[He says, as he turns away to dry himself off, lowkey offering Abbacchio his space.]

What was what.

[Abbacchio knows exactly what. It's not like Jotaro is stupid, of course he's going to pick up on little things. Not unlike how Abbacchio notices small shit like that. That doesn't mean he isn't going to play stupid.

He shoves the other towel at Jotaro and tugs his own around his own waist before he starts brushing his hair.]

I don't think most of my shit is going to fit you, so you're out of luck in the clothes department. You'll probably live.

Yeah, I'm sure you're real disappointed that I'm sleeping in your bed in a towel.

[He lets him go, drying himself off before scrubbing his hair with the towel — a motion that leaves it a thicket of rumpled curls going every which way.

Then, with no warning, he does himself what he'd had Star Platinum do before — steps within reach and runs a finger down the length of Abbacchio's bare spine, intend on making him squeak or shiver.]

Hell, you can forgo the towel. I won't care.

[Mid-brushing, he jerks and shivers at the contact, then peers over his shoulder at both Star and Jotaro.]

Asshole. [But he doesn't sound particularly pissed about it.] What'd you call it, Star?

Yeah. Like the tarot card. An old friend of mine named him.

[He's a little proud of himself. By now, he can say that in an even tone, without his voice shaking.]

Star Platinum. I've had him for — ten, eleven years by now? Yeah, that's about right.

That's a mouthful. What, do I name mine after a tarot too? Is that how we're doing this?

[Haha no he's not doing that. He puts his brush down and makes the adult decision to hang his towel. No floor towels for the morning, amazing.]

If it's in the contract, I quit.

You could, but you don't have to. People name their Stands a lot of things. I mean, hell, you could name it "Purple Rain" if you wanted to.

[He picks up his towel and gives his hair another rub, just for good measure, then wraps it around his waist and finger-combs his messy curls back out of his eyes.]

It's yours. You pick what feels right to you. Or, you give it to somebody else and you just go with what they say.

A little too on the nose.

[So he could pick, or have someone else name it. Abbacchio tsks to himself, thinking about it as he goes to leave the bathroom. He gives a passing look to the kitchen with a squint, almost considers some wine, then decides he should try to stay sober for a bit.

His Stand appears when he gets to the bedroom; such a weird lanky thing, but it seems immediately eager to help, holding up a laundry basket. Full of clean clothes, definitely not folded.]

Yeah, yeah. All right. [Abbacchio puts on some briefs.] It'd be easier if you could pick your own name, you know.

Maybe he can.

[He calls from the bathroom, because he's a respectful person who's going to open the window in there and let out some of the steam so that the bathroom doesn't get wildly grody. Then, he leaves and follows Abbacchio's trail, navigating the little apartment through trial and error until he finds his way back to the bedroom.]

He talked to me before. It was right after you'd been hit, I said "Are you his", and he played back "his". Like he was trying to answer, with the words he had.

[He wanders in to join Abbacchio and his Stand, but stays on his feet, mindful of the damp towel still around his hips. He regards the purple Stand thoughtfully.]

Maybe someone just needs to give you the words, huh?

[Experimentally, he begins to list off in short sentences: ]

"Yes." "No." "I like it." "I don't like it." "I want." "I need." "Tell me." "My name is."

[Oh. Right. Abbacchio vaguely remembers that, the way the Stand responded to Jotaro, how it was trying to pat his hair and comfort him. What a fucking pain. Why did he end up with such a needy Stand?]

Hey, don't forget this one. "Fuck you."

[The Stand tilts its head at that one, a curious ringing noise escaping it.]

So I can sling suggestions until it's happy with what I pick. Not a bad idea, capo.

See? I'm not completely hopeless.

[He flashes a sideways smile at the Stand, moving a little further into the room.]

What do you think, you? Good idea? Do you like that?

[The Stand's appearance shifts, not unlike last time. The timer barely goes back very far before it's taking on the appearance of Jotaro Kujo in his damp towel.

Yes -- I like it.]

Suck up. [Abbacchio scoffs and slowly eases himself down onto the bed, though not without wincing a little because he sure did still take Jotaro's dick with very little prep earlier today. Oh well.] Well, it'll make it easier to pick something, I guess.

[Yes -- I want -- my name.]

Hah. Good boy, c'mere.

[He offers his hand the way that he sometimes does for Star, palm-out, like inviting a puppy to shove its head underneath it for a pat.]

...Uh. Boy, right? Or no?

[Boy -- right?]

What, do you treat yours like a puppy or something?

[Abbacchio's Stand shifts back to its usual form, almost excitedly taking Jotaro's hand into his. Without waiting, the Stand shoves its cheek into Jotaro's palm, a low gentle static buzz emitting from it.]

Star's everything I could possibly want. We've been through a lot together.

[And of the two of them here, he is apparently the Stand Whisperer, because off he goes, rubbing the other Stand's smooth cheeks and gently playing with it, teasing with petting and caresses.]

So. Now you know — he wants a boy's name.

[He cocks his head slightly.]

How about "Boots"?

Huh. Must be nice. [Of course, he's had a bad impression of his own Stand, but it seems to maybe have potential. Who's to say? But right now it feels... weird. He can feel what his own Stand feels, how Jotaro is stroking its cheek and petting. It's nice, but it's also fucking distracting.

The suggested name makes the Stand shift. No -- I don't like it.]

Boots. Seriously?

I don't see you coming up with something better.

[He runs the backs of his fingers along the nameless Stand's jawline, caressing, then pets down the column of his neck.]

How about a tarot card, then? Lavender Moon?

Whatever. [He lays back onto the bed and closes his eyes, trying to not get distracted by the way he has the ghost sensation of Jotaro's fingers on his face, down his neck.

No-- the Stand states, head tilting at the suggested name. No--

It's hard not to, but Abbacchio thinks back on everything from today. What a fucked up time, getting an arrow in the throat and now this superpower bullshit. He didn't ask for this. He doesn't deserve this. He barely deserves to have a paying job anyway. The occasional affection from Jotaro drives him crazy in the both best and worst ways, and he doesn't know how to deal with it.

Because the last time he had affection was Florentino. He was too sweet, too kind, too warm. Way too fucking good for Abbacchio, honestly.

They'd take turns playing their CDs in the car. Abbacchio always had his stock of Monteverdi, and Florentino had a variety including American music.

Abbacchio rubs at his eyes, aggressively trying to keep himself from getting too emotional thinking about what was.]

Moody Blues.

[The Stand pauses, then:

Yes -- Yes -- I like it.]

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