Chapter Text
The night began innocently enough. You and Narancia had decided to head into town for a little fun—just a couple of drinks, some laughs, and maybe a karaoke performance if Narancia could be convinced. The bar you stumbled upon wasn’t anything fancy, but the atmosphere was lively, and the drinks flowed freely. Too freely, it seemed.
“You gotta try this one!” Narancia said, shoving a brightly colored cocktail into your hands. His cheeks were already tinted pink, his grin wide and slightly lopsided. “It’s like…candy but, like, stronger!”
You took a sip, laughing at his enthusiasm. The sugary drink went down easily, and before long, you were matching his energy, the room spinning just a little as the two of you danced, laughed, and toasted to who-knows-what.
Hours passed in a blur of neon lights and slurred laughter. One moment, Narancia was singing a terribly off-key rendition of a pop song, and the next, the two of you were leaning against each other, giggling uncontrollably as he slurred, “Y’know you’re like the coolest person ever.”
“No, you are!” you countered, poking his chest.
He grabbed your hand, holding it dramatically. “No, listen! We should…we should do something crazy. Like, the craziest thing ever.”
Somehow, that ‘crazy thing’ ended up being a spur-of-the-moment wedding at a gaudy little chapel down the street. The officiant barely batted an eye at your stumbling entrance, and within minutes, you and Narancia were standing at the altar, trying to keep straight faces as you exchanged vows.
“I do,” Narancia said with an exaggerated solemnity, his grin betraying his mock-serious tone.
“I guess I do too,” you said, biting back a laugh.
Rings were exchanged, a camera flash blinded you, and before you knew it, you were husband and wife. The realization didn’t fully hit until the next morning.
Your head throbbed as sunlight streamed through the curtains. Groaning, you tried to sit up, but a flash of gold on your finger caught your eye. The ring. Your heart began to race as the hazy events of last night flooded back. The chapel, the vows, the ridiculous laughter…
“Oh my god,” you muttered, clutching your head. “No, no, no.”
Turning to the other side of the bed, you saw Narancia sprawled out, snoring softly. “Narancia!” you hissed, shaking him urgently. He groaned, swatting at your hand before slowly blinking awake.
“Huh? Wha…?” he mumbled groggily, sitting up. His own eyes widened when he noticed the ring on his finger. “Oh. Uh…whoops?”
“Whoops?!” you snapped, panic bubbling in your chest. “We got married! Like…actually married! What were we thinking?”
Narancia rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish grin forming. “I mean…it’s kinda funny when you think about it, right?”
“Narancia, this is not funny! We need to fix this. What if the others find out? They’re going to kill us!”
Narancia’s face scrunched up as he thought. “Okay, okay. Don’t freak out. Here’s what we’ll do…we’ll just not tell anyone. Yeah! We’ll keep it a secret.”
“A secret? You think they’re not going to notice we’re wearing wedding rings?” you countered, holding up your hand for emphasis.
“Uh…we’ll…say it’s a…friendship thing?” Narancia offered weakly. At your incredulous stare, he threw up his hands. “Look, do you have a better idea?”
You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “No, but this is a terrible plan.”
“It’ll work! We’re great at keeping secrets. Totally.” Narancia’s grin was far too confident for your liking, but with no alternative coming to mind, you reluctantly nodded.
“Fine. But if this blows up in our faces, it’s your fault.”
“Deal,” he said, extending his hand. You shook it begrudgingly, already dreading the inevitable chaos this would bring.
Back at the mansion, the tension was unbearable. Every step inside felt like walking on a tightrope, and Narancia’s attempt at small talk was painfully over the top.
“So, uh, nice weather today, right?” he said loudly, his voice cracking as he fidgeted with his collar. Meanwhile, you couldn’t stop glancing down at your hand, nervously twisting the ring around your finger in a futile attempt to make it less noticeable.
It worked…for all of five minutes.
“Is that…a wedding ring?” Fugo’s sharp voice cut through the room, freezing you both in place. He had the kind of expression that could dissect you in an instant, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.
“What? No! Of course not—” you stammered, shoving your hand into your pocket like a guilty child.
“And Narancia has one too,” Fugo added, crossing his arms. “What exactly did you two do last night?”
The entire room fell silent. Giorno paused mid-page in his book, Trish raised an eyebrow from her seat on the couch, and Abbacchio’s groan of irritation was audible before he even spoke.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Abbacchio muttered, rubbing his temples.
Bucciarati’s gaze was calm but pointed as he stepped forward. “Would you care to explain?”
Narancia looked between you and the rest of the group, his grin forced and far too wide. “Uh…maybe?” he squeaked.
“Maybe?!” Fugo’s voice rose an octave as he threw his hands up in frustration. “Do you even understand how reckless that was? What if someone had recognized you? What if the authorities got wind of it?”
“Okay, okay, calm down!” you said, raising your hands defensively. “It was a mistake. We didn’t plan for this to happen, alright?”
Abbacchio’s scoff was full of disdain. “A mistake? You don’t just accidentally get married. And here I thought Narancia couldn’t stoop any lower in stupidity.”
“Hey!” Narancia shot back, his face turning red. “It’s not like I dragged Y/N to the chapel kicking and screaming!”
“Oh, great defense,” Trish interjected dryly, flipping through a magazine. “You two are lucky you didn’t end up plastered across the tabloids. Can you imagine the headlines? ‘Wanted Members of Italian Mafia Tie the Knot in Drunken Vegas Fiasco’?”
Giorno finally spoke, his voice measured but firm. “What’s done is done, but the repercussions could have been disastrous. We need to be more careful.”
Narancia flopped onto the couch with a loud groan. “You’re all overreacting. It ain’t even a big deal…It’s not like the world’s ending.”
“Not a big deal?!” Mista’s indignant shout nearly shook the walls. He pointed an accusatory finger at Narancia, his expression one of genuine betrayal. “You got married without me! I’m your best friend! I should’ve been your best man!”
“Oh, come on, Mista…” Narancia started, but Mista wasn’t done.
“Do you know how long I’ve been planning your wedding speech in my head? Since forever! I was gonna talk about how you’re like a brother to me, how much we’ve been through together, and now? Now, I don’t even get to wear a tux?”
“We didn’t even wear tuxes,” Narancia muttered under his breath.
Mista threw himself onto the couch dramatically, grabbing a pillow to bury his face in. “This is the worst day of my life!”
“Enough,” Bucciarati said, his tone commanding as he held up a hand. “What’s done is done. But I expect the two of you to sort this out—quietly. We don’t need any more unnecessary attention.”
“Fine,” you mumbled, your cheeks burning as you avoided everyone’s gaze. Narancia gave a sheepish nod beside you, clearly feeling just as cornered.
As the group began to disperse, Trish gave you a knowing smirk. “I’ll give it a week before you two do something just as stupid again.”
You sighed, slumping back against the couch. Narancia leaned over, whispering conspiratorially. “Well, that wasn’t so bad.”
You shot him a look. “Are you kidding me?”
Despite the chaos and scolding, there was an undeniable glimmer of humor in his eyes. Slowly, you felt a smile tugging at your lips. As disastrous as this was, it was still a memory neither of you would be forgetting anytime soon.