#I LOVE YOU BASTARD UNCLE KAKYOIN

[plantbruno]

Ur avpol dads au has me thinking about not only avpol giving gio a chance to grow up with caring parents but avpol meeting the rest of the bucci gang as youngsters and looking out for them. Kak or one of the other crusaders visits one time and is like hey did u know ur house has a gremlin infestation I thought u guys only had ONE

“So, what’s with the teenagers?”

It was the question that had been haunting Kakyoin all evening. Maybe he’d dropped by unannounced, yeah, but that had never been an issue before. However, instead of being greeted with Giorno holding a geriatric and implausibly still-kicking Iggy in his arms, a young man in the worst crop top Kakyoin had ever seen in his life (which was saying something---he did know Joseph Joestar, after all) opened the door, nearly pulled a fucking gun on him, and then cheerfully invited him inside for pizza at Giorno’s distant call of hello. There, Kakyoin had faced a whole cluster of unfortunately-dressed teenagers.

Avdol and Polnareff glanced at each other. “They’re Giorno’s friends,” Polnareff finally said.

“Funny, I did manage to gather that much. Since when does Giorno have friends?”

“Excuse me?” Avdol said, eyebrow twitching.

“Friends like that,” Kakyoin amended. “Friends who invade his living space.”

“It’s a fairly recent development,” Avdol admitted.

“We should tell him,” Polnareff said, shifting to face Avdol better. Kakyoin felt his eyebrows climbing up.

“Tell me what?”

Kakyoin watched warily as Avdol absently took Polnareff’s hand in his prosthetic one. “Giorno runs the Italian mafia now,” Avdol said, and if Kakyoin couldn’t tell his frank tone apart from his bullshitting tone by now, he’d have thought that his friends were being assholes.

“What,” he said.

“Remember when I, like, was presumed dead. Throwback to that,” Polnareff began, and Kakyoin narrowed his eyes, refusing to take the bait and show a single sign that him being “dead” had affected his life at all. “Well, Giorno took liberty to avenge me.”

“From the stand user mafia boss that fucked you up,” Kakyoin added.

Polnareff shrugged. “Yes. And now, well...”

“Our son is a mafia boss,” Avdol finished, looking a fascinating cross between vaguely nauseated and horrifically proud.

“Huh,” Kakyoin said. “Frankly, I’d have expected Josuke or Jolyne to develop mob ties before Giorno. I’ve always thought your kid is kind of an angel.”

Polnareff pinched the bridge of his nose. “God, please, for the love of god, knock on wood. I cannot have a mob feud between Giorno and Josuke or Jolyne. I won’t survive it.”

Kakyoin snickered and obligingly leaned across the coffee table between them to lightly rap his knuckles against Polnareff’s skull. Polnareff batted him away.

“Don’t lose sleep over it, my love, Giorno would win anyway,” Avdol said, taking a sip from his tea.

Kakyoin opened his mouth to make a good case for Jolyne in all her ten-year-old glory, but closed it when Giorno walked down the stairs and into the kitchen. He returned to the living room with a glass of water and sat next to Avdol. “We were just talking about you,” Polnareff said.

“I know. I could hear.” Giorno turned his gaze on him, and Kakyoin was suddenly reminded of the first time he’d met him, back when he was five years old and didn’t talk to anyone and Kakyoin had been terrified that he was going to do something really fucked up like recount his fight with Death 13 to a traumatized toddler. Kakyoin felt a reminiscent sort of fear, looking at this teenager who held the kind of power that had poets writing cautionary tales against hubris for centuries. “How long are you staying, Uncle Kakyoin?”

Kakyoin shrugged. “Not sure yet.”

Giorno nodded. “I will properly introduce you to my friends tomorrow. Would you like to see what I do?”

Avdol and Polnareff went very still in that weird married couple way they had of telepathically communicating some dire message, and Kakyoin, as he was usually wont to do, ignored it. He gave as wide a smile as he could and said, “I would love that.”

Giorno nodded, seemingly satisfied. “I am going to sleep,” he announced, then gave his fathers each a kiss on the head before going back upstairs.

Kakyoin shook his head in silent wonder. “How often does he have all his friends over here?” he asked, returning to the original question of the night.

“Frequently,” Avdol said. “We don’t mind. Most of them are orphans or have an unstable homelife. We enjoy providing a resource of stability for them.”

Kakyoin resisted the urge to laugh at Avdol and Polnareff being a source of stability, because it was not only probably true for those kids, but it was probably also true of himself. He never showed up at Joseph Joestar’s house unannounced, at any rate. “So, you’re going to adopt them, too, huh?”

Polnareff choked on his next breath. “No.”

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” he said cheerfully, crossing his legs. “I heard Narancia say he has a room here.”

“They all have rooms here. It is a big house,” Avdol deadpanned.

“Whatever, I know I’m right.”

“You’re annoying,” Polnareff complained, beckoning to Iggy, who had just hobbled drowsily into the room, and picking him up to put on his lap as he approached.

“I liked them,” Kakyoin admitted. “They were weird, but I think they’re good for Giorno. They draw him out of his shell.”

That got him twin soft smiles that seemed reserved for proud fathers alone. “Yes,” Avdol agreed. “They do.”

“Well, I’m exhausted. I think Mista nearly killed me when I knocked on the door, and you know me, near-death experiences always get me a little bit sleepy,” he said, standing up and stretching, feeling his joints pop. He reached for his cane. “Is my room still mine?” he teased, smirking.

“Yes,” Polnareff said with an eyeroll. “Though Sheila did use it once.”

“Who’s Sheila? You’re telling me Giorno has more friends?”

“He is a charismatic boy,” Avdol said rather defensively.

“Ah, whatever. Good night, dads.”

“Hey,” Polnareff protested, while Avdol laughed and said, “Good night.”