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Just This Once

It's been 2 days. Two days since they've arrived to Portugal. They've been eating like kings, NOTHING could destroy their moods.

Well, until they decided to pull a Dora The Explorer. They went to the depths of the ass of Portugal to try the most unique food, because they were feeling "exotic".

Well, the toilets also felt very exotic after they ate francesinhas (or, "little french girls", if we're translating it literally) for the first time. A food that originated from the north of the country, and they're literally in the south.

Not that the food is bad. Heck, it's probably the best thing they've ever eaten! But francesinha is the type of food that you either have a fun time after eating it, or your stomach will be screaming in pain. To be frankly speaking, the food itself is not the problem: most of the times, it's the sauce.

Well, long story short: Illuso was the only one that didn't torture the toilet after eating it.

"I can feel the vascular coagulation from here." The brunette laughed, hearing his friends groaning in pain, at the lobby of the hotel.

Formaggio shot him a glare from the sofa, not even bothering to answer. Instead, a loud, pained groan left his lips.

"I swear, Lu, you have a light of luck following you everywhere you go. Lucky bastard..." Gelato muttered.

"So..." Everyone- reluctantly- turned to Mista, "Does this mean we won't be drinking, tonight?"

Narancia excitedly jumped from the couch, "Speak for yourself! I can already feel myself getting better!"

"You're seventeen, Narancia. No drinking for you." Trish told him, shoving her foot on his ribs.

"Are you kidding me?! Yesterday, I saw a group of drunk thirteen year olds by the docks! Besides, usually they don't care who they sell drinks to."

"That doesn't mean you should. They probably asked an older friend to buy them drinks, don't follow their example." Abbacchio answered, glaring at him from the couch. He was feeling too sick to even get mad.

"Ah! So it's a night for the adults!" Melone licked his lips, already feeling twice as better, just by the word "drinking".

"Give it a name. Me, Fugo, Nara, and Trish, will go out." Giorno sighed, his stomach not hurting as much as before, "I heard that there's a small summer festival going on near the beach. It's gonna be fun."

The other three nodded in agreement, Narancia sighing in defeat.

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"NARANCIA, WHERE DID YOU GET THAT?!" Fugo screamed at his friend, who was holding a bottle of black vodka in a hand, and a bottle of orange juice in the other.

"I asked Mista to buy it for me!"

"Of course you did..." Trish rolled her eyes at her friend, "If you get drunk, we won't help you."

Fugo nodded in agreement, Giorno also going along.

"You guys are no fun..." The brunette chuckled, already pouring some of the juice inside the bottle of vodka.

Bruno watched from afar, pondering if it was really a good idea to leave Mista alone with Narancia for five minutes.

"You okay there, Bucciarati? You look worried."

Looking back at the other Capo, the raven haired man sighed.

"It's nothing. Let's get going, yeah?" He smiled, knowing fully well that neither Giorno or Fugo would have the courage to leave a drunk Narancia by himself, in a foreign country.

"I wouldn't trust them that much." Formaggio finally said, as the group of twelve walked down the street, "I mean, when I was 16 I did a lot of pretty messed up shit."

"Yeah, but you're a different type of idiot, Mag." Illuso chuckled, checking the time on his phone- 11 pm. By this time, most of the clubs were already open- he'd read that on the plane, two days ago. It shouldn't be hard to find a good place.

"Oh you wanna go, little bitch boy?!"

"Let's dance, mother fucker!"

"Chill, people!" Sorbet separated the two, before they started coming at each other's throats, "First things first, you are not them, Mag. Second off, was that comment really necessary, Lu?"

"Oh please, as if you are one to talk." Gelato laughed from far ahead of the group. He's always been a fast walker, but that's probably because he's gay.

The hitman team then broke into a fit of screaming and laughter, as if they haven't been calling each other all kinds of names for the past 30 seconds. Mista, for some reason, also joined in at some point. Risotto and Prosciutto watched from next to Bruno and Abbacchio, as Pesci, Melone, and Ghiaccio tried to calm the others down- obviously, failing miserably.

"Well, there you have it." Abbacchio whispered to Bruno, "If you like shit, you have a plate full of it, right in front of you."

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The music blasted through the speakers, the entire club filled with laughter, neon lights, and drunk people.

Bruno was probably the only one who was still pretty much sober- he never liked the idea of drinking his problems away, and risk acting like a clown in front of other people. He never tried, and he doesn't want to start now. Besides, a group always needs a sober one: and right now, those are Pesci, and Bruno.

He checked the time on his wristwatch- 2 in the morning. He had just received a text from Giorno, telling him that the four of them were on their way to the hotel, and the festival was pretty fun. Narancia was basically passed out on Fugo's arms, muttering incoherent words every now and then.

Bruno sighed, placing his phone back in his pocket.

Looking next to him, he noticed Pesci taking a sip from his milk. The man was drinking milk. At a club.

"You don't like these types of things, do you?"

The green haired man shook his head, "Not really. Anything can happen when you're under the influence. I don't want to risk it."

"You do well." Bruno said, turning back to watch his friends. Abbacchio was in a corner, just watching the action in front of him. He was clearly drunk, but he's never been the type to lose his control when he drinks. He was having a good time with Risotto and Prosciutto, who were next to him. The three of them were talking a bit louder than they normally would. It would be hard to tell if it's because they're drunk, or because the music is just too loud. Probably both. But it's nice to see them having fun for once.

Illuso, Gelato, Mista, Sorbet, and Formaggio, were violently dancing somewhere in the crowd, already past their limit. But the smiles on their faces, somehow, made it all worth it. Ghiaccio and Melone were only-God-knows-where.

Not until Bruno saw Mista running past him to go outside and throw up, that he realized where those two were.

They were sitting on the wall that lead to the beach, drinks in hand, just... talking. Watching the sea, with the stars right above it, as people played, and talked in the sand.

Well, you don't see that everyday.

The raven haired man rolled his eyes, giving his drink to Pesci, for him to keep an eye on.

Running outside to help Mista, he thought to himself:

'When was the last time I saw these people having fun like this?'