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Gold Experience didn't really talk much. It could, there was no doubt after it evolved into Requiem, but it wasn't really a talkative stand like Spice Girl or Sex Pistols.
Personally, Mista was fine with that. The first (and only) time he'd heard its voice, two of his best friends had just died, and he was facing against an overpowered, psycopathic stand user. This, coupled with Giorno's vaguely unnerved tone when he mentioned that he himself wasn't quite sure of what Requiem had done to said psycopathic stand user, all made him associate the abovementioned voice to a series of unpleasant memories he didn't really wish to dig up unless absolutely necessary.
But, Requiem was still Giorno's stand. Or, at least, it probably was. And not only did Mista care about Giorno, as a friend of course, the guy was also his Boss now. So, when Requiem appeared in his room one evening, and said that it "wished to inquire about the stand known as Sex Pistols" in that tinny voice of its, Mista of course agreed to tell it anything it wanted to know, if with a bit of reclutance.
Of course, he'd wondered why Gold Experience would want to know about his bunch of shitty little imps, but in the end he'd figured it was none of his businness. Hell, maybe the explanation behind it was some unspeakable eldritch reasoning that he couldn't even hope to understand- it tended to be like that, with Requiem.
And that was how a weird daily ritual had started.
Every evening, Requiem would appear into his room- or knock if it was feeling corteous, and ask questions about Sex Pistols.
It'd started by asking the standard stuff: how damage carried from Mista to the stand and vice versa, if he could feel what they felt or if colony stands lacked that specific trait, if he could see through his stand's eyes and so on. Mista answered the best he could, actually quite entertained by the way the other stand's eerie eyes seemed to shine with interest.
Then, one fateful night, GER asked to talk directly to Sex Pistols.
The Pistols were wary at first- intimidated by the golden, creepy figure, Mista could tell, but it took only a few minutes for them to warm up to the other. In no time at all, it was as if they'd known each other for ages, with the way the smaller imps sat on Requiem's shoulders and hands and chatted excitedly.
He shivered slightly as GER gently petted number 7 with a finger as they talked.
That felt... awfully private. Not bad, indeed, the touch felt gentle and soothing against his cheek. Just, something he was glad no one else was around to see.
... Well, of course it was private, a stand was the semi-physical incarnation of someone's soul. To have two stands touch, in a non-battle context, especially to him since his stand wasn't made for close combat anyway, was an intimate feeling he wasn't used to, and it made his cheeks burn. Maybe natural born users did this with their parents. Mista wouldn't know. All he knew was that, after all, he was kinda glad that the first time something like this happened was with Gold Experience.
Giorno was family, after all. And, while he loved Fugo like a brother, and considered Trish a good friend, there was something special about the way the other made him feel like a valued member of the team, not just as the dumb muscle or the comic relief. Someone who listened to his plans and trusted him to be competent at what he did without the need for someone else's help. Before, that person had been Bucciarati. Now that he... wasn't with them anymore, the role had been taken by Giorno.
... Also, he probably wouldn't have been entirely comfortable with letting Purple Haze so close to his stand. Even if Fugo had gained a new degree of control on it, and let it out more often, old habits died hard.
From that evening on, the ritual changed slightly.
More than GER asking about his stand, it had turned into some sort of daily playdate. Now, the Pistols summoned themselves the moment Requiem walked into the room, happily flying towards it to hug (or at least attempt to hug, their arms were far too tiny for that) it and chat about everything and nothing.
It was cute, in a way. And, hadn't they been part of his soul, he probably wouldn't have hesitated to tease them for their stand-crush, especially considering how he could feel waves of embarrassing sweetfuzzywarm feelings coming from them every time they spotted the other. As it was, he could only silently reassure them that he would support them in their... standian romantic endeavors. Or something.
(He carefully avoided thinking about what the fact that the representation of his own soul apparently had a crush on Giorno's could mean.)
Which was why, when Number Five somehow found the courage to kiss Requiem's cheek, he only panicked for a moment before calming down.
When Requiem kissed the Pistol back, however, he definitely choked on his beer.
♡
Did Giorno know about this, he sometimes wondered as GER adapted quite well to the new routine of Being Insufferably And Disgustingly Adorable With The Pistols (™️).
He probably did. After all, he must've felt all the affectionate gestures that their stands now regularly showered each other with. All the hugs and kisses-
The thought made him want to hide in his room forever. His boss probably laughed his head off about it when alone because honestly, who wouldn't? It was a downright ridiculous situation. And probably, give or take a few months, he'd be able to laugh about it too with Giorno. Time a year, and it would just be another funny story to tell during dinner.
Hey, remember that time our stands had a summer romance? That was weird, right?
Trish would probably find it hilarious. Polnareff would definitely crack a joke and maybe explain the reason behind that weird behaviour. Fugo would probably go green with envy that it hadn't happened to him-
He sat up from his spot on the bed, ignoring the weird looks GER and Sex Pistols shot him.
Did GER also do this with others? If he (as time passed, he'd started finding it more and more difficult to consider the stand an "it") had wanted to know more about the Pistols, there was no reason he couldn't also be curious about Spice Girl and Purple Haze.
For some reason, the idea made him kinda sad. He'd started to think of his relationship with Requiem as something special, and as ridiculous as it was, the concept that it may not have been for the stand was a bit upsetting.
"Hey, GER."
The stand tilted his head in an owlish fashion, his round eyeballs only making the comparison even more fitting. "Yes?"
"Are you-" he paused. "... Are you doing this with other stands too? Asking about them. And stuff."
Number Three let out an outraged cry that was swiftly quieted by Number Two, as GER just tilted its head in the other direction, the closest thing to puzzled he'd ever seen him.
After a minute of silence, he finally replied.
"Spice Girl and Purple Haze are fascinating stands, but while I would not mind talking to them, I find spending time with Sex Pistols more of my liking. Unless that is a bother to you, that is."
Mista shook his head franctically, hands flailing a little bit in emphasis. "No, no, it's really not! I'm just... happy you and the Pistols get along so well, is all."
For a second, the stand just stared at him, silent.
Then, he crossed the small space between his spot and Mista's bed and crouched, looking at the guy dead in the eyes, his usually stony expression somewhat mellowed by a note of... something.
"Me too."
The sound that came out of Guido's throat as Requiem kissed his forehead was absolutely undignified, and he would forever deny making it.
♡
"You need to stop doing this."
Mista smirked, wincing slightly as Gold Experience worked its (his? God, multi-phase stands were an headache) magic to repair the bullet wound on his shoulder. "I'm your bodyguard, Giogio. I'm pretty sure this is exactly what my job entails."
The don glared, but his gaze held no heat, just exasperation at a conversation they'd had several times already, along with a smidgen of worry. "I can defend myself. And besides, how are you supposed to protect me if you're on the ground, bleeding out?"
It was by no means a new situation for the two. As the new don of Passione, Giorno was bound to have enemies, and more often than not said enemies sent hitmen to take him out. Mostly snipers, with the odd stand user every now and then. Nothing Giorno couldn't deal with on his own, but sometimes one of the hitmen evaded security, and... well, and stuff like this happened. It was no real biggie, neither of them was in any real danger, not with GER's power, but still.
Mista wheezed as a small stab of pain ran through his body, Gold Experience transforming some more of the bullet into flesh. "You're worth taking a bullet for any day, Boss."
It was meant to be teasing, but the way Giorno's face softened at that, gaze growing impossibly warm, made Guido's insides do a funny dance.
"Idiot. Now stand, I patched you up."
Mista obeyed. Before he could make a joke about "stands" because seriously, what a stupid name for a superpower, Giorno leaned down (after two years, he'd had his growth spurt, now standing taller than the older guy) and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
Mista gaped. "Uh, boss?"
"What?"
It took a long talk and a lot of mutual embarrassment to explain that, apparently, not only did Giorno know perfectly well what GER and the Pistols did, but had also assumed that Mista would interpretate it in the same way as he had-
And that is, as some stupid, supernatural version of flirting.
"Stupid stands" grumbled Guido, going red at the feeling of a cool, big hand resting on his own.
"Stupid stands indeed" agreed Giorno, as Number Six sat on GE's head and blew them both a raspberry.