#hiding injury | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lady-wallace · 1 year

Text

Life Lessons and Knife Wounds (JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure)

Another @febuwhump fic for today! Thanks again to @xxcntrs for helping me choose prompts! Hope you enjoy :)

This one is for the prompts: Day 20: “Knife Wound” | Day 11: “Fever” | and Alt prompt 6. “Limp”

~~~~~~~

Giorno neglects a wound and fails to see how bad it's gotten until he's on a mission with Abbacchio and everything comes to a head.

~~~~~~~

Read on Ao3

Read on FF.net

~~~~~~~

Giorno bit back a wince as he pulled his pants on, careful over the bandage wrapped around his thigh.

He'd gotten on the wrong end of an enemy's knife a few days before while their team was on a drug ring bust and it still hurt more than it probably should.

But Giorno didn't have time to worry about it right now—there were too many other things he had to think about. The only reason it still hurt so much anyway was because of the way his trousers rubbed against the bandage whenever he walked.

He chose to ignore the fact that it still burned even when he wasn't walking.

Giorno sighed, finished dressing, and headed down to the kitchen where everyone was already having breakfast. Fighting the limp took quite a bit of effort, especially since his whole body seemed to decide it wanted to ache that morning but he was fine. He would endure.

"Morning! Narancia called to him as he caught sight of Giorno, then frowned. "Did you even sleep?"

Giorno frowned back. "I slept fine." Like a rock, actually. He had been so tired the night before he'd almost slept through his alarm.

Bucciarati looked up from where he was making eggs at the stove, a vague look of concern in his eyes as he too caught sight of Giorno. "You do have some dark circles under your eyes. It might be wise to get a little more rest."

Giorno refrained from sighing as he sank down at the table, barely hiding the wince that crinkled his brow as a fold of his trousers dug into his injury, the pain sharp and burning.

He gratefully accepted the cup of coffee Fugo passed him. Despite his deep sleep the night before, he felt more exhausted than usual.

"What's on the agenda today?" Abbacchio asked, taking a drink of his own coffee.

Bucciarati plated eggs and came over to the table. "The business with Carlotti needs to be taken care of. If he won't pay up, he needs to be made aware of the consequences."

Giorno had nearly forgotten about the club owner who had failed to pay protection for the past two months, begging expense issues and that he 'would have the full amount next time—with interest!' Giorno and Bucciarati suspected he had probably gambled the money away and still wouldn't have any to pay when the next collection period came around.

"I'll go," Giorno said even before his brain could catch up to what he was saying.

"Are you sure?" Bucciarati asked. "Collections aren't really something you are required to do in your position."

"Besides, we could use you to sign papers today," Fugo added.

"It won't take all day," Giorno said, and, honestly, the thought of sitting in the office all day made the nagging headache that had been hiding behind his eyes since he woke up even worse. He was afraid that if he were to spend the whole day sitting at his desk he'd simply pass out from this annoying exhaustion again. "Besides," he added, turning to Bruno. "Carlotti needs a reminder that he won't get away with failing to pay me another month. If I show up there myself he might get the picture."

"Are you sure you're recovered from that last fight?" Bucciarati asked, and the sudden scrutiny directed at him nearly made Giorno squirm in his seat.

"I'm fine—only a little sore," Giorno said—not exactly lying. "If it comes to a fight, my Stand does all the heavy lifting anyway."

Bucciarati pressed his lips into a thin line but nodded. "Alright then. Abbacchio, I want you to go with him."

Giorno and the goth both glanced at each other over the table. Abbacchio rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Fine. I could have just done it myself, though."

"No, Giorno's right," Bucciarati said. "It doesn't hurt to be more involved in business on the ground. And it's better there's two of you if there's trouble."

Abbacchio grunted, but Giorno actually didn't really mind being paired with the taciturn older gangster that day. At least Abbacchio tended to ignore him if at all possible, and Giorno didn't want anyone noticing too much about him that day.

Maybe he was stubborn, but it wasn't like he hadn't hidden injuries before—most of his life, actually. He knew what they felt like rubbing painfully against his clothes, poorly tended to. He would survive this too.

Never mind that his headache started to get worse the minute they began to drive to their destination and on top of that he was also feeling light-headed. The morning sun didn't help, making him a little too warm. He could already feel a sheen of sweat sticking his suit to his skin and stray strands of hair to his face.

He cleared his throat before he spoke up quietly. "Could you turn the air conditioning on?"

Abbacchio glanced over at him, lip curled in what was sure to be a snide remark before he frowned instead. The look passed in another instant, however and he huffed, reaching for the dial. "You can do it yourself, you know," he grumbled.

Giorno closed his eyes briefly as the cool air hit his face. It felt, honestly, a little too cold, but he wasn't about to complain and risk annoying Abbacchio even more.

It was a bit of a drive to their destination and with the morning rush hour traffic, even worse.

By the time they got there, Giorno's head was splitting, making him woozy as he climbed out of the car. He had to grab the roof to stave off a sudden wave of vertigo. It was so distracting that he forgot to watch his limp as he went to head toward the club with Abbacchio.

"Are you limping?"

Giorno froze, schooled his expression and glanced up at the older man. "No."

Abbacchio narrowed his eyes and jabbed a finger at Giorno. "You better not have lied to Bucciarati earlier. I don't need an injured kid, Boss or not, getting himself in trouble during a fight."

"It might not even come to a fight," Giorno responded, not answering Abbacchio's question.

Abbacchio clicked his tongue in annoyance and headed toward the club entrance, Giorno behind him, trying to hurry and keep up with Abbacchio's long stride without limping again. It hurt.

However, after several tries of Abbacchio pounding on the door and Giorno even opening the club up using Gold Experience to manipulate the locks, they found that the place was completely empty.

"Bastard must have known it was collection day and split," Abbacchio growled. "Either that or he's just not here yet."

"Should we wait for him?" Giorno asked half-heartedly. Earlier, the idea of getting away from the house instead of sitting around the office sounded good, but now it wasn't nearly as appealing. In fact, he kind of just wished he could lay down and close his eyes to see if that would help his aching skull.

Abbacchio looked around, seeming annoyed. "That would be pointless. He probably has eyes on the place and wouldn't show up if he knew we were here. I'm going to call Bucciarati and see if he knows of anywhere Carlotti might be."

"Alright," Giorno said tiredly as they headed back outside. The sun pierced his eyes and he felt dizzy again. It was too hot—all of him was too hot. Especially his leg which felt like it was on fire even after only being on it for a few minutes.

He tried to put as little pressure on it as possible as he attempted to concentrate on Abbacchio's one-sided conversation with Bucciarati, but everything just seemed to be getting fuzzier. Exhaustion pulled at his body, threatening to drag him down.

"Hey, I asked if you were ready to go?"

Giorno jerked, looking upward dizzily to see Abbacchio swimming before him. He blinked, trying to clear his vision.

"Bucciarati gave me his apartment address. Kid? Hey, Giorno!"

Everything tilted and Giorno suddenly flailed, realizing he was going to fall. Agony tore through his leg as the heat and pain crashed over him, blinding him until he was forced to fall into the darkness.

***

The next thing Giorno was aware of was nauseating movement, and the sound of swearing and keys rattling. He tried to make sense of any of it, but blinking his eyes open for even a second brought sharp pain with a stab of light and he swiftly shut them again.

The key jangling and swearing stopped, but the movement started up again, something hard digging into Giorno's hip and lower stomach and…

He was upside down—that's why he was so dizzy. He blinked his eyes open briefly again, and saw the swish of a black coat-tail and the heels of someone who was carrying him over their shoulder.

What the hell had happened?

Another dizzying movement had him falling backwards onto something soft. A bed? What was going on? He didn't even know where he was. Everything was blurry when he blinked, trying to make sense of any of this—of who the blurry figure looming over him was. Why was he so delirious right now? Had he been drugged, kidnapped?

New panic settled in when he felt someone's hands searching him until they found the tender spot on his thigh.

Giorno couldn't stop the strangled sound of pain that escaped him, trying to roll away.

More muffled cursing and then the hands moved to his waistband and started to tug his pants off.

Giorno finally had the wherewithal to pull himself into full consciousness, weakly pushing at the invasive hands.

"Don't," he growled in warning, reaching for Gold Experience.

"Don't flatter yourself. Need to see your leg," a familiar voice grunted and Giorno finally managed to focus on his purported captor. It was just Abbacchio.

Not that that was much better, because he was about to uncover the injury Giorno had been trying to hide all day.

He continued to struggle, until the movement crushed Abbacchio's hand against his wound and the pain that ripped down his leg because of it stole his breath away.

He lay limply against the bed as Abbacchio swore again.

"Dammit, kid, just stay still and let me look at this."

Giorno couldn't do much else at this point, resigned and mortified as Abbacchio peeled his trousers the rest of the way off and turned to the bandage that was sloppily wrapped around Giorno's thigh, halfway between his knee and the leg of his boxers. The rusty stain of blood was seeping through it and Abbaccio unceremoniously started unwrapping the bandage, the gauze sticking a bit which made the process even more uncomfortable.

"Shit," he swore again as he finally uncovered the wound, the air stinging it now that it was exposed. "Had a feeling it was infected."

Giorno blinked and finally looked down at the wound.

It…didn't look good. The area around it was inflamed and red, and on top of that, there was discolored discharge. He swallowed hard.

"Why the hell didn't you say anything?" Abbacchio demanded. "You've even got a damn fever!"

Fever? That would explain the delirium. Giorno didn't know what to say, just lay there in what he now figured must be some hotel bed. He felt awful, and honestly didn't have the energy to defend himself right now.

Abbacchio sighed, straightening up and pushing his hair back. "Listen, just stay here, don't try to move around. I'm gonna go get some stuff and when I get back I'm gonna clean that out properly. You better still be in that bed when I walk in the door."

Giorno nodded silently and watched as Abbacchio left the hotel room.

How embarrassing. He honestly hadn't thought the injury was that bad. Hadn't even bothered to fix it with Gold. But maybe he had neglected it a little too much. It wasn't like he could do anything about it now.

He folded an arm over his eyes tiredly. Of course it had been Abbacchio of all people to have found him out. Well, honestly, that was better than Bucciarati. Though he wasn't stupid enough to think that the capo wouldn't be getting the full failed mission report from Abbacchio.

He drifted, still pretty out of it, until Abbacchio came back, drugstore shopping bags rustling in his hand.

He seemed mildly pleased at least that Giorno hadn't moved and headed toward the adjoining bathroom. "I'm gonna clean the tub out and I'll be right back."

Giorno resigned himself to what he knew was coming, swallowing hard as Abbacchio returned.

"Can you stand?" he asked.

Giorno stiffly swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, gritting his teeth against the pain that shot up his leg. Abbacchio quickly stepped in and gave him an arm, helping him to the bathroom.

"Why don't you sit in the tub?" Abbacchio pointed to the small bathtub on one side of the bathroom. Giorno briefly slipped his suitcoat off, not wanting it to get wet and Abbacchio helped lower him into the tub, bad leg extended as far as it could go.

Abbacchio turned to wash his hands, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. "Alright, I'm gonna have to clean that thing out first."

Giorno nodded, leaning back against the side of the tub.

He watched as Abbacchio grabbed several things he had left out on the counter and came to kneel beside the tub.

"Gonna flush this first," he said, holding up some saline wash. "It's not gonna be pleasant."

"Yeah," Giorno acknowledged quietly, setting his jaw as Abbacchio wrapped a hand around his knee, tilting his leg at a better angle while keeping a firm grip on him and then unceremoniously pointed the squeeze bottle toward the wound.

The pain that resulted was so bad that Giorno felt the coppery taste of impending sickness in the back of his throat. He let out a strangled sound and tried to breathe through his nose so that he wouldn't throw up on top of everything.

Abbacchio swore quietly before redirecting the wash and going at it again. Giorno instinctively tried to pull away, but Abbacchio's grip was firm.

"Easy," he murmured. "This wound's a lot deeper than I thought. How the hell did you walk around on this for the last two days?"

Giorno didn't answer, simply bit back another groan and gripped the sides of the tub with white-knuckled hands. He glanced down, watching as the blood and yellowed discharge got flushed from the wound and washed down the drain, then finally squeezed his eyes shut, unable to stand looking at it anymore.

Abbacchio sighed as he finally pulled back, but only to grab an antiseptic wash. "This will probably feel worse, but I want to make sure it's actually clean this time."

Giorno braced himself, but was unable to keep from crying out when Abbacchio poured the antiseptic over his leg.

"Easy," he said again, tightening his grip as Giorno threatened to pull away, or kick him—he wasn't sure what his intention had been—it just hurt.

"I know it sucks, but that's what happens when you ignore your injuries. I swear you're as bad as Bruno."

Giorno furrowed his brow. "Doesn't he just use Sticky Fingers?" he asked to distract himself.

Abbacchio snorted. "Yeah, exactly. He tries to pass zippers off as valid first aid. All they do is close in all the bacteria. Believe it or not, I've had to do this for him too on more than one occasion and one was already too many. You can't just ignore injuries and expect them to get better. And you definitely don't agree to go on a job that could potentially be dangerous when you have a fever and a festering wound."

Giorno ducked his head, cringing again as Abbacchio made one more pass with the antiseptic before setting it aside.

"I don't care if you think it's showing weakness or whatever shit, if I have to find another one of my teammates collapsing from fever, because they were too damn stubborn to get proper medical help, then I'm going to be the one enforcing some rules around here."

"I'm sorry," Giorno said quietly, biting his lip as Abbacchio dabbed the wound dry with some gauze.

"Don't say you're sorry and then go and do it again," Abbacchio growled. "I know you and Bruno think you have some duty to the rest of us or some shit, but all I want is a little honesty. It's okay to admit you're hurting. Injuries happen—it doesn't make you weak."

Giorno looked aside. Maybe it was the fever, but Abbacchio's words affected him more than he wanted to admit. "I'll try to remember that. I just…that concept isn't really something I'm used to. I've only ever hidden injuries because if I didn't…" He trailed off, knowing he shouldn't even have said that much, but his head hurt, and he was exhausted and woozy, and honestly, he felt safe with Abbacchio.

The goth paused briefly at his words, seeming to contemplate something before he reached for more gauze and spread antibacterial cream over it. "Look, kid," he finally said. "I don't know what shit you went through before you joined the team, but you don't have to worry about stuff like that anymore. You have a support group. And we don't care if you get injured—not like that anyway. All I ask is that you admit it, especially when the wounds get infected."

Giorno ducked his head. "Okay. I'll…work on remembering that next time."

Abbacchio grunted, carefully placing the swatch of gauze across the wound and then wrapping it a lot better than Giorno had. When he finally taped it off, he sat back on his heels and pressed the back of his hand to Giorno's forehead.

"I got some meds for the pain and fever, but you might want to take some antibiotics once we get back home—think we have some lying around for this kind of thing."

Giorno nodded and wearily allowed Abbacchio to pull him out of the tub. His leg still hurt, obviously, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been. Probably because it wasn't sticking to the bandage again.

"Let's head home," Abbacchio told him after Giorno had carefully dressed and took the promised medicine.

Giorno nodded, exhausted. He really just wanted to lay down and sleep.

Abbacchio cleaned up a little and helped him back out to the car. Giorno sank gratefully into the seat, though still squinted against the sun. It must have been the fever making his head hurt so badly, he realized.

Abbacchio dug around in the car before coming up with a pair of sunglasses that he handed over. Giorno gratefully took them and closed his eyes.

"You can rest if you want to. It will be a little bit of a drive," Abbacchio said.

Giorno was already ahead of him though. Curling up against the window, he pretty much passed out by the time Abbacchio had pulled out onto the street.

***

Abbacchio pulled up in front of the house, glancing over at the sleeping teen in the passenger seat. He didn't have the heart to wake him and instead decided he was going to have to take a blow to his pride to carry the kid into the house.

He got out to do that but before he could, Bruno appeared, anger and worry clashing on his face.

"Where is he?" he demanded as Abbacchio opened the passenger door, careful to make sure Giorno didn't fall out. "Giorno, what the hell—?"

Abbacchio pressed a finger to his lips and Bucciarati stopped and thankfully quieted.

"Kid's exhausted, let him sleep off the fever," Abbacchio said quietly. "Don't worry, I already gave him a talking to. Not like you're in any position to accuse anyone of that sort of thing."

Bruno gave him an indignant look, but it quickly softened as he glanced into the car and saw Giorno fast asleep. "Thank you for looking after him."

"Isn't that my job?" Abbacchio asked blandly as he bent and carefully scooped Giorno up into his arms, pulling him out of the car.

He carried Giorno inside and settled him on the couch in the living room. As an afterthought, he grabbed a blanket from a nearby chair and spread it over him.

"Hopefully next time he'll have learned his lesson," Abbacchio said, and felt pretty confident that Giorno would. Or, at least, he would be ready to keep an eye out for the signs.

Bucciarati gave him a look, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Shut up," Abbacchio snapped.

"I didn't say anything," the other man protested.

Abbacchio sneered. He wasn't going soft—at least not too much.

Though he did adjust Giorno's blankets to make sure he was warm and covered. Just in case.

#febuwhump2023 #day 20 #febuwhump day 20 #knife wound #febuwhump day 11 #fever #alt prompt 6 #limp #jojo's bizarre adventure #fanfiction #giorno giovanna #leone abbacchio #giorno whump #hurt giorno giovanna #hiding injury #wound tending #infected wounds

16 notes · View notes