Archive of Our Own

Barcelona, Spain, 1991

One week.

Jotaro has been in a relationship for one week. 

Within that time span, they've fought for their lives together. They've made sweet promises to one another. They've shared a bed. They've had sex. 

And tonight he's preparing for their first date. 

So, having done all that…why is he so nervous? 

Perhaps it's the prospect of making things… official. Of being able to call Polnareff his boyfriend. 

Augh. God. Fuck. 

He messed up his eyeliner! Why is he even trying to do it himself? 

"Star Platinum."

His Stand manifests before him and takes the well-used eye pencil in hand. Star Platinum applies the eyeliner over and under his lids with the precision of a heart surgeon and flashes Jotaro a thumbs up when he's done. 

Okay. That's all the makeup he's willing to put on. Actually, maybe some lip gloss wouldn't hurt…but wouldn't that make it painfully obvious that he wants to make out? That is the plan, but…is it rude? Is it bad to be obvious? Are you not supposed to be incredibly blatant about wanting to take your new boyfriend into a corner and kiss him silly? 

Jotaro digs through Polnareff's luggage, which lies carelessly on the floor, trying to find something he can use for his lips. Polnareff has way too much makeup for someone who barely even uses it! 

Well…maybe he'll have a reason to use it now. Jotaro's spine tingles at the mere possibility of getting to see what Polnareff looks like when he wants to look like a total diva, not just act like one. 

Eventually, he finds a little white tube of lip gloss. Jotaro puts everything back into place so Polnareff won't notice his snooping and takes the lip gloss for himself. 

Okay, okay, step two: clothes. 

Popping open his other suitcase, Jotaro spends maybe twenty seconds rummaging before deciding the usual will do. 

He and Polnareff see each other every day, and if Polnareff finds him attractive enough in his (admittedly outdated) school uniform, why change out of it? 

He actually took it to the dry cleaners earlier today, so everything is clean. Fresh. Smells like fabric softener. Perfectly acceptable attire for a date. 

Right? He can just wear this, right? 

Polnareff didn't specify the restaurant they're going to, but if it's fancy… Nah. 

They're both too broke for fancy. The Foundation covers the bulk of their expenses but Jotaro doesn't want to even begin to try and justify a luxurious steak dinner on the finance report. 

But what if there's some sort of affordable fancy restaurant and he's underdressed… 

"Ugh!"

Drastic times call for drastic measures. 

Frustrated, Jotaro grabs the phone on the nightstand and purchases a long distance call. He dials the number and waits. 

"Moshi moshi, Kujo-desu!" 

"Mom."

"OHMIGOSH JOTARO HI! I wasn't expecting you to call! Oh my goodness, it's so good to hear you! Where are you right now? How have you been? How's Jean-Pierre doing?" 

His Mom is the best person for this task. Unfortunately, also the loudest person. 

"I have a question."

"Yes, darling? Whatever do you need?" 

"What am I supposed to wear to…a date?"

"Oh my god oh my god, Jotaro, a date!? I can't believe this, my baby boy, oh-" 

"Time sensitive."

"Okay! What kind of date is it? Something casual? Something classy? Beach? Club?" 

"Movie, restaurant."

"Okay. So, check the bottom of your blue suitcase. I packed you a very nice outfit. I saw it in a magazine and, oh my gosh, it was so you!" His mom says, sounding like she's about to bounce off the walls in excitement. 

"Mm," Jotaro mumbles as Star Platinum starts to carefully remove all the clothes from his suitcase, placing them in a neat pile so they're easy to repack later. At the very bottom, Star finds a bag with a store's name on it. Something Italian. 

"I found it," he says. 

"Okay! Now, I made sure to iron it so you should be able to slip it on and go! You're gonna combine it with your nice buckle boots. Don't forget socks. You can wear your hat but if you're going somewhere real nice you should brush your hair and go without it. You look very handsome and sleek with your hair slicked back!" His mom chirps, the smile audible in her voice. "Did you shower? Did you wash under your-" 

"I did. I'm getting ready to go."

"Oh! Do you know where you're going? Are you driving? Oooh, are you going dancing? Make sure to always leave room for Jesus!" 

"Mom."

"Oh, I know, I know, you're an adult, so I know you have your urges . I just hope you're on your pills, but if you're not, I packed you some con-" 

"Mom."

"Just in case!" His mom giggles. "Oh, honey, I'm so happy. You have no idea," Mom says with a sniffle. "I won't hold you up. Will you please call me when you get back?" 

"I will. Thanks, Mom."

"Okay! Have fun with Jean-Pierre! But not too much fun!" 

Click. 

Wait…but Jotaro never mentioned it's Polnareff he's dating… 

He's that obvious. 

Now he's blushing. Fuck. Fuck! Just get into the stupid outfit already, you useless homosexual! 

*-*-*-*

Jotaro looks presentable. 

The winged eyeliner really brings out his eyes. He brushed his hair but chose to keep his hat anyway. It's a small comfort when the anxiety gets this bad. He sprays on some cologne as the final touch. 

Mom has an excellent eye for fashion - this outfit is indeed very "him". It's an indigo sleeveless turtleneck that hugs his chest underneath a nearly floor length, marine blue overcoat that he's left unbuttoned. The wide lapels are adorned with golden star pins on each side that he suspects were his mother's touch and not there originally. The sleeve hems have similar star-shaped buttons. His dress pants are nearly identical to his school pants, down to the double belt loops. He's slipped on both of his usual zigzag belts and a pair of buckle boots that add an inch to his already ridiculous height. 

It's weird wearing something other than his school uniform for once. He's kept it as a staple of his wardrobe even after graduation because it's just too hard to abandon. That jacket and singlet combo is safe. Familiar. 

This is…new. It's not uncomfortable. It's not too alien. But it's not helping him feel better. He has half a mind to ditch the fit and go back to what he knows best, but… 

He glances at the clock on the nightstand. 

4:50PM.

He has twenty minutes before Polnareff returns from "running errands". They agreed to meet at 5PM, but expecting punctuality from Polnareff would be asking for milk from a bee. 

Jotaro breathes in deep, resting his hands against the bathroom counter and glaring at himself in the mirror. 

He's clean. He looks good. He smells good. Polnareff will like it. This is what you're supposed to do for a date. 

He even bought-

… 

No he didn't. He didn't buy anything. 

Jotaro's eyes widen. 

He forgot to get a gift!! 

Dating 101: get your date something! It's so fucking basic. It's in every TV show. Holy shit. He's not getting a second date. He's getting ghosted. Polnareff's gonna say he needs to use the restroom and then never come back. Oh God. Oh fuck. He's so bad at this. 

Keep it together, Kujo! You're acting like a teenager!

Jotaro closes his eyes and steadies his breathing. Calmly, he exits the bathroom, grabs his wallet and a scarf, and leaves. 

There's a grocery store just three blocks down from the hotel. It's early February, which means they should be stocked with all sorts of Valentine's crap, if this country even celebrates that. 

Jotaro makes his way to the store at a brisk pace, tying the fluffy burgundy scarf around his neck on the way there and ignoring the unwelcome stares from passersby. At the shop, he's still getting looks from shoppers, male and female alike. They make him wish he could disappear into his hat, as if it could open up into an all-consuming void and swallow him. 

Jotaro wishes he didn't stand out, but he's built like a mountain and likes to dress flashy (for himself). He dreads getting any sort of comment, of drawing unwanted attention, of being ogled like a piece of meat. 

When he's out with Polnareff, it's different. Polnareff anchors him. When women stare at him, Polnareff brazenly stares back. He welcomes attention and relishes in it, stealing all the spotlight from Jotaro. 

And Jotaro loves that. 

Looking at the flower section makes him feel better. There's way too many options here though. Shit. He wanted to just grab a bunch of roses and go but now he's faced with choices. 

One particular bouquet catches his eye. It's the last of its kind in stock. 

A bundle of pink, blue, and purple pansies, fresh and vibrant and gorgeous, wrapped with a golden ribbon. 

They're just like the ones Mom grows in her garden during the holiday season, with so much love and care that they blossom beautifully. 

Jotaro buys the bouquet and leaves. The clerk wishes him good luck on his way out, as if his intentions are painfully obvious. 

While entering the card key, it occurs to him that he should've gotten flowers that would be meaningful to Polnareff instead of nostalgic for himself. He mentally kicks himself. It's too late now. 

He's not good at this after all. At least the flowers smell nice.

With five minutes left on the clock, Jotaro sits at the foot of his bed with the bouquet on his lap. He drums his fingers on the sheets and pretends the stain on the wallpaper is interesting. 

He sees Polnareff every day. They hang out. They do stuff. They eat. They work. They fight stand users. 

This should feel just like all those other occasions. He wasn't this worked up the last time they shared a cup of coffee at a downtown café and exchanged jokes. He wasn't this worked up when Polnareff's hugs lingered for a bit too long, when his fingers brushed against Jotaro's hand when they walked side by side… 

It's different, he tells himself. Now they're together. Whatever that means. 

It's not like Jotaro's ever done this before. He had a boyfriend in preschool for three hours who dumped him for the class hamster. A girl kissed him behind the bleachers after a dodgeball game in middle school. He "kissed" the school nurse. That's about it. 

Polnareff, on the other hand, is the romantic type. Like, for fuck's sake, he's French! No doubt he's had countless lovers who've given him wonderful times and unforgettable experiences. Now, he's stuck with the painfully inexperienced, serious, and quiet Jotaro. 

Maybe he's in over his head. Maybe he's not ready for this whole "dating" business… 

Knock knock. 

Okay, okay, it's go time. 

Calm down. 

Jotaro swallows around the lump in his throat and hides the bouquet behind his back as his hand lingers over the door handle. 

Knock knock. 

Why is he even knocking? Polnareff has a card key. They're sharing this room! 

Ugh. Him and his theatrics… 

Jotaro opens the door. 

"Bonne soirée, mon chéri," Polnareff greets him, voice smooth, his dashing smile confident. 

Jotaro just about short circuits right there. 

Polnareff stands before him wearing an outfit that would be at home in a pirate film. A white, button-up dress shirt with puffy sleeves and frills at the hems, loosely tucked into long black pants. A cream belt with an exaggerated gold buckle with little details engraved into it and dark, heeled, wingtip boots. His usual half-heart earrings have been swapped out with golden ones in the same shape.

The glittery golden eyeshadow, winged eyeliner and mascara really make his gorgeous sapphire eyes pop. 

But what's really catching Jotaro's attention is how little the low, unbuttoned v-line leaves to the imagination. 

So. 

Much. 

CLEAVAGE. 

Wherever they go, they're gonna get kicked out. If Polnareff so much as trips he's gonna have his whole titties out. 

And it's so deliberate. So intentional. 

Jotaro can't stop staring. He forgets how words work and just stands there like a dipshit. 

"Gosh, you…" Polnareff stammers for a bit, similarly taken aback. "You look incredible, my darling, wow. Oh, wow."

The pet name is already doing so many things for Jotaro. 

"Fuck." Jotaro says. 

Both men are quite eloquent. 

With all the grace of a drunken ape, Jotaro reveals what he's been hiding and brusquely shoves the bouquet in Polnareff's face. 

"O-oh!" Polnareff gasps. He takes the bouquet in hand and stares at the flowers with wide eyes. "Y-you got me flowers…?"

Oh no, does he not like them? Are you not supposed to get a guy flowers then? Is that just a woman thing? Is this seen as an insult in France? Oh God, oh fuck-

"Jeez, Jotaro, this is so sweet. You're more romantic than I imagined!" 

Nailed it. 

Jotaro struggles to get the words out. "I'm. Glad. That you like them."

Polnareff takes a good long whiff at the pansies. "They're beautiful!" 

Not as beautiful as you. 

Jotaro doesn't say that though. He has some restraint. 

Polnareff laughs heartily and reveals what he's been hiding behind his own back.

A single pale rose. 

"Oh…" Jotaro gasps dumbly. 

"I only got you one," Polnareff starts, scratching the back of his head. "I had this whole romantic spiel planned out about it, yknow, but right now I uh…all I remember is that, I only need one cuz there's just one you." 

Jotaro takes the rose, careful not to prick his fingers on the thorns. It looks freshly cut, its soft pink petals still adorned with dew, like Polnareff broke into someone's garden and plucked it himself. 

That a man would risk a breaking and entering charge for him…that is peak romance. 

Jotaro's overcome with an urge to kiss the man before him. Mindful not to squish the bouquet between them, Jotaro leans down and captures Polnareff's soft lips in a quick peck. Polnareff reacts quickly, wrapping an arm around Jotaro's waist to pull them closer together as they move their lips in tandem. 

Pulling away for breath, Polnareff smiles at him warmly. "I see you find me irresistible, Jojo."

"Yes," Jotaro says. He wants to squeeze a titty so bad. Would that be okay? Would it be too much, too fast? Jotaro decides to keep his hands to himself. 

Separating, Polnareff puts his hand on his hip and juts out his elbow, offering his arm. "Well, we have a ride to catch. Can't keep the chauffeur waiting!" 

"I can drive us, though," Jotaro says. He locks their arms together and they start making their way to the lobby, flowers in hand. 

"Nonsense! Neither of us is lifting a finger tonight. I got us a taxi."

"The theater is five minutes away."

"Sshh. It's about the mood."

Jotaro is immediately buffeted by the bitter cold when they leave the lobby. He adjusts his scarf over his nose to keep cozy, but Polnareff might actually freeze his tits off if they don't get in the taxi soon. 

The chauffeur greets them as they settle in and buckle their belts. "Buenas noches, caballeros. ¿A dónde les gustaría ir?" 

Polnareff is momentarily taken aback. "Oh, uh. ¿Yo no hablo español?" Polnareff says with a heavy, heavy accent. It's cute. "Français? English?" 

"Français, monsieur."

"Oui! Nous allons au théâtre sur la place." 

"D'accord, monsieur."

Jotaro doesn't get a lick of what they're saying. His understanding of French is severely limited to the handful of words Polnareff has taught him, most of which aren't even useful. 

He's glad for Polnareff, though. During the Egypt trip, the majority of places they went to didn't speak any European languages, so the Frenchman never ran into anyone who spoke his tongue. Here in Europe though, Polnareff's French has been invaluable in getting around, while Jotaro's Japanese has been… worse than useless. 

Europe hasn't felt as welcoming as a result. At least the sights are pretty and the food is good. 

The driver is way too chatty and Jotaro's unable to get a word in for the whole five minute trip. Not a good start. 

Once they arrive, Polnareff climbs out first so he can offer Jotaro his hand to help him get out next. 

"Allow me, my darling," Polnareff says with a sauvé smile. God, he's cheesy. 

Jotaro takes his hand and keeps holding it after he's out of the car. It's so warm…

Oh! Now they're holding hands! Holy shit!! 

Jotaro tries to keep himself cool, calm, and collected, while they purchase their tickets (again, in French) to watch The Godfather Part III. He's too busy thinking about how nice it feels to hold Polnareff's calloused hand to really care about what's being said or notice when they're entering the auditorium. 

"We're going to dinner after this, but do you wanna get popcorn anyway?" Polnareff asks. 

Jotaro shakes his head. He'd rather sit down for dinner with an empty stomach and he doesn't want a reason to let go of Polnareff's hand. 

There's maybe two other couples in the auditorium and they're all sitting far apart. Perfect. Jotaro and Polnareff grab some seats in the far back and occupy one seat with the bouquet of pansies that Polnareff's brought all the way here. 

While the pre-roll adverts play, Jotaro feels Polnareff's gaze on him. Studying him. Sizing him up. 

Jotaro meets his eyes. A challenge to speak up. 

"You look, uh," and suddenly Polnareff sounds shy. "That's a really nice outfit. It's…so tight."

Would it be terribly unsexy to say thank you, my Mom got it for me? 

Yeah it probably would. He's keeping that information to himself. 

"Figured I'd wear something else for a change," Jotaro says with a slight smirk. Polnareff's intense staring is stroking his ego. 

"You're très beau, mon cœur."

"What does that mean?" 

"Hehe, it means you're very handsome."

"Ah." Jotaro can feel the blood rushing to his cheeks but hopefully the darkness hides it from his partner. "Y…You too."

Calling Polnareff a bumbling idiot after a nearly-botched mission is so easy. Why is it so difficult to call him something nice? To express what he really thinks of his handsome, hot, sexy, beautiful, gentle, soft, sensual lover? 

Oh God. They are lovers. That's what they finally are. Oh God. Oh fuck. This is real. It's been real for a whole week. 

Squeezing Polnareff's hand on the armrest, Jotaro thinks back to all those nights after the Egypt trip when he wondered if Polnareff felt lonely in France. If they would see each other again. If they could ever…hold each other. 

Just like this. 

Like a plain, normal, ordinary couple. 

It's real now. 

"I'm glad I'm with you," Jotaro blurts out. 

The movie starts blasting over the speakers before Polnareff can begin to respond. Thank God. 

"Y'know I haven't actually seen the other two," Polnareff confesses about twenty minutes into the film. 

"What? Then why'd you let me pick this one?" Jotaro whispers at him, annoyed. 

"Home Alone doesn't sound like a date movie, okay."

"But part three of a trilogy you've never seen is?" 

"It is," Polnareff admits. "Because it's what you like."

If Jotaro had gotten popcorn he'd be pelting Polnareff with it. Stupid, sexy, considerate Polnareff… 

Jotaro makes a mental note to run down to a movie place and rent the first two The Godfather films. They're pretty long so he'll need to justify squeezing them into their schedule, but he will force Polnareff to watch them. It could be a good excuse to huddle up with him on a couch, all warm and cozy. 

Despite the minor setback, Polnareff manages to get invested. Jotaro never lets go of his hand. 

About an hour into the movie, Polnareff gasps. 

"Aren't they cousins?" He whispers in despair.

"Love finds a way," Jotaro jokes to hide his discomfort. Polnareff elbows him in the side and he has to suppress a chortle. 

Jotaro will never be able to look at gnocchi the same way again. 

Ten minutes later, Jotaro notices Polnareff frotting his other arm and breathing heavily. 

"Hm?" 

"Cold," Polnareff says. 

Maybe if you dressed decently… 

There's many things Jotaro could say about Polnareff's attire right now, but instead he opts for untangling his scarf. It's near impossible to do so with one hand so he summons Star Platinum to do it, throwing one end around Polnareff's neck and then tying it so they're both sharing one scarf. 

"A-ah…that's better," Polnareff whispers. He sounds a bit flustered. 

Jotaro leans against Polnareff's arm, resting his head on the man's shoulder to share body heat (but mainly to cuddle). 

Polnareff squeezes his hand. 

"Lovely," He says. 

They manage to make it through the rest of the film without viciously making out during a crucial scene. 

…That's a lie actually. By the end credits, a very flustered Jotaro has to wipe slobber off his face with a napkin. 

*-*-*-*

"Man, that ending got me fucked up."

"That's what happens when you shag your cousin," Jotaro says. Polnareff laughs all the way back to the taxi. 

The movie was good! Not as good as the first two films and nowhere near a masterpiece, but he enjoyed most of it. Word of mouth made it sound like the worst thing to ever happen to cinema. 

Last time he was on his campus, Jotaro heard a lot of buzz about that upcoming Silence of the Lambs, a trailer for which aired during the adverts. Jotaro thinks he can probably justify taking the 14th off…the Foundation won't question why a couple could possibly not want to work on that day.

Oh boy. Not even done with this date and already making plans for the next! He's hopeless. 

They're still holding hands. Jotaro looks down at where their fingers are laced together. He runs his thumb over Polnareff's knuckle. 

They get into the same taxi from earlier (was this guy just waiting there?) and Polnareff gives vague directions on where to go. 

Jotaro finds he doesn't care that the driver may see them and leans into Polnareff again, just like during the movie. Polnareff's more reserved about doing this in front of someone else, though, because although he doesn't shove Jotaro off, he doesn't reciprocate either. 

Jotaro could worry incessantly that he's overstepped here, but he chooses to just enjoy the contact. The tranquil time at the theater really helped to soothe his nerves. 

"I got us reservations at a really nice place," Polnareff says, rubbing the back of Jotaro's hand with his thumb. "It'll be a nice change of pace from all the junk food."

"You're the one who gobbles junk food every day," Jotaro quips. "I actually watch my figure." 

"Hey! I watch my weight!" Polnareff claims. "I am in shape!" 

"Round is a shape."

Round…like Polnareff's huge melons. Round and…squishy…

Jotaro's fingers twitch with want. His eyes focus on two things in particular. 

Polnareff puffs out his cheeks in annoyance. "I'm not round!" 

When they arrive, Jotaro exits the taxi first so that it's his turn to help Polnareff out. 

"What a gentleman," Polnareff teases. Jotaro rolls his eyes. 

As Polnareff pays the driver, Jotaro beholds the large, antique looking building with a big sign spelling the restaurant's name in cursive. No logos or caricatures, just a name. No outdoor seating, but the outside is decorated with lovely floral bushes and ornate lamps. There's two large dog statues at the entrance. This place takes itself seriously. 

"Looks nice, doesn't it?" Polnareff says. Jotaro nods. "Saw it in a brochure."

Once inside, Polnareff confirms a reservation (in French again!) and they're seated at a booth in a more secluded section of the restaurant with dim lightning. The interior design is telling of an antique or historical theme, and the wall decor includes all sorts of maps, potted plants, and artifacts from Spanish culture. There's a stage with a grand piano, but no one's performing right now. A crystal chandelier hangs overhead. 

This place is definitely over the budget. Jotaro's already running calculations in his head for how he's going to justify this in the finance report. 

Polnareff asks the waitress for something and she comes back with the menus and a nice, glass vase, where Polnareff gently deposits the bouquet of pansies and places it at the center of the table. Jotaro takes his cute little rose out of his pocket and slips it in between the pansies. The arrangement instantly adds a more friendly air to their table. 

The waitress, a mature woman with ashen hair styled in drills, studies them for a moment as she pours them each a glass of water. "English?" 

Oh thank fuck! Finally! 

"Yes, madame," Polnareff says. "Haha, is it obvious we're not from around here?" He asks in a lighthearted tone. 

"Haha, a little bit. Is this your first time in Spain?" 

As Polnareff chats up the (attractive) waitress with far too much delight, Jotaro starts going over the menu and pretends he's not bothered. Although it's in Spanish, each item has a short translation in English, so he's able to get by. 

It's uh. Well. To call it pricey would be an understatement. And it's in euro, so Jotaro's mental conversions from yen could be off…

"Hey, hey, I can tell what you're doing," Polnareff whispers at him with a chastising snap of his fingers. "Don't worry about it. Trust me."

Jotaro groans in annoyance. Polnareff finally sends the waitress off with a request for water and a bit more time to choose. 

"Well, I came here for some paella," Polnareff says, picking up his menu. "That's all I ever hear about Spanish cuisine, so may as well!" 

Frankly, Jotaro will eat just about anything so long as the texture isn't weird. As long as it's not…fucking couscous. 

"They have a paella for two," he suggests, pointing to a special on the menu. 

"Ooh, perfect! Should we order appetizers?" 

They argue for six minutes on whether to get the calamari rings or the manchego and chorizo tapas, or actually those risotto croquettes sound nice, or how about we just skip appetizers and save the calories, or how about we-

"So we'll be having the braised octopus and the tapas first," Polnareff says when the waitress returns. She starts writing it down. "And for the entrée, we'll take that couple's paella special. Oh, uh, does that have olives?" 

"I can ask them not to include olives if you'd like."

"Perfect! I don't want the devil's fruit anywhere near my plate!" 

The waitress giggles politely. 

"Which wine would you like with the tapas, sir?" She asks. 

"Uh," and Polnareff draws a blank. He looks at Jotaro for help. 

Jotaro's prepared.

Star Platinum's eyes scan the entire, massive wine section of the menu in two seconds. 

"This one," Jotaro says, pointing at one name that he is not going to attempt to pronounce. "Whole bottle."

Polnareff is looking at him like he's sprouted a second head. 

He doesn't know. 

"Okay! So that'll be the octopus and tapas, a Paella Pa' Ellos , hold the olives , and a bottle of wine. Do I have that right?" 

"Yes," Jotaro confirms. 

"Okay! I'll be taking your menus, then," the waitress says as she picks up the menus and leaves. 

Polnareff is staring at him. 

"What?" 

"You didn't get carded," Polnareff says, shocked. "You're gonna get me in trouble for buying you alcohol!" He whispers through gritted teeth. 

Aw. He's worked up. Cute. 

Fortunately for Polnareff, Jotaro is always two steps ahead. 

"That's where you're wrong," Jotaro says, lifting a finger dramatically. "The drinking age in Spain…is eighteen."

Polnareff takes a moment to process that information before he lights up with a smirk. 

"You cheeky bastard," he says. "That's the first thing you checked, wasn't it?" 

Yes. 

"No," Jotaro says. "The first thing I looked up was their public indecency laws. Don't want you getting arrested for how you dress."

"You say that," Polnareff says, rolling his eyes and playing along. "But you haven't taken your eyes off me all night. I bet you haven't even noticed my necklace."

What necklace? 

Jotaro points his gaze slightly upwards. 

Oh. That's a really nice golden chain. Has he…had that on…this entire time? 

"I, um," and Jotaro struggles with a retort. It's over. He's been caught. He can't feign ignorance anymore. He clenches his fist. 

Defeat is bitter. 

Polnareff is laughing. 

"That's not fair," Jotaro says. 

"Any good merchant must show off his wares, Jotaro!" Polnareff proclaims proudly, alien to the concept of keeping his voice down. 

"A good merchant displays his wares," Jotaro says. "A better merchant knows to watch out for thieves ."

Jotaro reaches across the table to lay his palm flat against Polnareff's soft chest. 

God. 

Finally. 

So soft…and firm…but it can't last. Jotaro takes away his hand. 

It's incredibly brief and just meant as a joke, but it's enough to surprise his partner into a fit of giggles. Jotaro can't help but crack a smile. 

"God," Polnareff says amidst chuckles. He rests his chin on his palm, elbows on the table. There's a very slight tint of pink to his cheeks that could be missed under different lighting. "You're so shameless. So bold and to the point."

"And vulgar, I'm told."

Polnareff stares at him with a radiant smile. Eventually, Jotaro feels a little uncomfortable under his gaze and he shifts slightly in his seat. 

"What?" He asks. 

"Oh, nothing. Just wondering…"

"What?" Jotaro asks again, growing increasingly annoyed. 

"Did it hurt?" 

"Did what hurt?" 

If this is some kind of joke, he's not laughing… 

"When you fell from Heaven?" 

Processing. Processing. 

Jotaro tilts his head. "I haven't…fallen from anywhere?"

Polnareff chuckles. He doesn't seem bothered, confusing Jotaro further. 

"I'm trying to tell you you're an angel, idiot," Polnareff says, his tone light. 

He's not making any damned sense. 

"Why?" 

"I'm flirting with my boyfriend."

"Oh."  

Processing. 

Oh! Angel! He's being compared to an angel, and angels are generally regarded as beautiful and ethereal! Jotaro's a fucking idiot! 

Shit! What kind of pickup line is that? Why does flirting have to be so cryptic? 

But wait, none of that's important! Polnareff just called him his boyfriend! For the first time! Loud and clear and unmistakable! "Boyfriend"! Holy! Shit! 

"Awww, you're all red!" Polnareff says with a gasp and a slight twitch of the lip. 

"Shut up," Jotaro mumbles, lowering the brim of his hat to hide his eyes. 

"You're so cute, mon cœur! " Polnareff continues to gush and point at him. 

Jotaro is not cute! He's fierce! He's scary! He's strong! He's not cute! 

"Shut up…" 

He wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole. 

Better yet, he wishes he knew what buttons to push to render Polnareff a flustered mess the way he's doing it to Jotaro right now. He feels like an unarmed man in a gunfight. 

Before Polnareff can keep taunting him, the waitress comes to Jotaro's rescue with the appetizers that feel like they took way too long. 

Jotaro's appetizer is served on a wooden slab. There's several triangular slices of manchego and some other cheese, bundles of some thinly sliced meat he doesn't recognize, pieces of chorizo, a branch of purple grapes, and garlic bread. He only knows some of these foods from magazines and brochures and finally gets to try them today. 

Polnareff gets a long, braised octopus tentacle served on mashed sweet potatoes with some green oily sauce on top. 

Jotaro's plate is better. 

The waitress shows them the bottle of red wine Jotaro picked out. She reads them the name and explains where it's from but it all goes over Jotaro's head immediately. Honestly, Jotaro only chose it because it had a French name that he recognized as a…fun phrase. 

After the waitress leaves, Polnareff immediately calls him out on this. 

"A three-page long wine list…" Polnareff starts out with an amused smirk on his face, popping the cork on the bottle. "And you just happen to pick the Ménage à Trois." 

Jotaro knows maybe ten phrases in French, most of which being the pet names Polnareff calls him. Ménage à trois, or, in English, threesome, is one he learned himself. 

He doesn't know how anyone got away with putting that on a bottle. He offers Polnareff a knowing smirk. 

"A toast, then," Polnareff says. He pours Jotaro a glass and then one for himself. "To improving your French!" 

When Jotaro gives him a disapproving glare, Polnareff chuckles and amends the toast. 

"And of course…to us," Polnareff says. 

That's much better. More than anything, Jotaro wants this whole relationship thing to prosper. 

They clink their glasses together and chow down. Jotaro starts by wrapping a slice of manchego with the thin mystery meat and puts it all into his mouth. He concludes the salty meat must be pork, maybe some kind of ham. 

Very few things can get Polnareff to shut up, but good food is one of them. Polnareff makes sure to combine a little bit of everything into each forkful and eats in small bites. He uses a knife even on pieces he could easily cut with the side of the fork, which he wields on his middle finger. 

Jotaro realizes he's staring and gobbles up several slices of food to  pretend he wasn't distracted. The wine has a fruity flavor to it that mixes well with the zesty taste of the cheese. Jotaro downs his glass before he knows it just by trying out the different flavor combinations that pop fireworks in his mouth. 

"Easy there, Jotaro," Polnareff chides. Jotaro grunts and pours himself another glass anyway. He knows his limits. Polnareff looks like he wants to chastise him, but the waitress arrives with a tray and a black pot on top. 

"Excuse me!" She says while she clears the table to make room for the paellera. As she's moving it to the center, she accidentally knocks over Polnareff's wine glass and her eyes widen with horror. 

But Star Platinum has already caught the glass and put it back in place before a single droplet can spill. Polnareff flashes him a quick thumbs-up. The waitress blinks. She takes a deep breath and gathers herself before putting up another smile. 

"W-well…here you go! Enjoy your meal, gentlemen!" 

And she's off. 

"Holy shit," Polnareff says with awe. 

The paella is made up of an array of colors and aromas, with jumbo shrimp, clams, calamari, octopus, mussels, and peas, decorated with a pattern of piquillo peppers and white and green asparagus on top. 

It's a ton of food!

And it doesn't stand a chance against Jotaro, who hasn't eaten all day in anticipation for their dinner date. He piles up a bunch of rice onto his plate and gets to work. 

Polnareff handles his food much more gracefully, only serving himself a modest portion with a single asparagus on top of it. Surely, he intends to take seconds when he finishes this first serving. 

"Oooh," Polnareff moans around a mouthful and swallows before he speaks. "It's so juicy ! And the spice is just right."

Jotaro thinks they could've added some more paprika, honestly. He likes a little more heat than this, but he'd rather not hear Polnareff whine about the food being too spicy. 

"I like it," Jotaro says as he swallows a shrimp. He grabs a smaller plate and uses it to set aside the empty shells and shrimp tails and not make a mess on his own plate. 

"You know, there was this bodega back home run by this lovely old couple, I think one of them was a retired drag queen, and they had this absolutely massive dog," Polnareff starts out of nowhere. 

Jotaro nods. 

"Really big boy! I was so scared of him, but Sherry? Sherry thought it was the best thing ever. Tried to climb on him like a horse. And he let her!" Polnareff laughs. "Y'know, Sherry always was the braver of us two."

Jotaro attentively listens to Polnareff's story. Back during the Egypt trip, it was difficult to drag any stories about Sherry out of Polnareff. The wound was still too fresh, the grief unresolved. Sometimes Polnareff would mention her in passing and his eyes would fill with a profound melancholy. 

Nowadays, Polnareff's eyes light up when he speaks of his little sister, joyful to share fun memories of their childhood spent in the French countryside. Jotaro always listens as if fixed to his spot, watching the way Polnareff goes through a thousand emotions at once when he recalls X or Y event. 

It also turns out that Polnareff's a good storyteller. Jotaro wants to encourage him to put that skill to use in the future. 

Some time passes. Jotaro's about halfway done with his (first) plate when Polnareff pours himself more wine. 

"So, where are we going next week?" Polnareff asks. 

Oh great. Work talk. Just what this dinner needed. 

"Finland," Jotaro says. "Our target is a single, white male in his early thirties. Suspected connection with last week's guy."

Last Week's Guy was…certainly a bizarre ordeal that Jotaro'd rather not recall, but if not for him, Jotaro might not be calling Polnareff his boyfriend right now. 

"What's there to see in Finland? I, like, barely hear a peep from those guys," Polnareff says as he struggles to get a mussel out of its shell. 

"We're staking out in a remote part of a small town. Nothing noteworthy there."

"No, I mean, like…tourist spots!" 

Jotaro sighs. Polnareff picks up on his objection before he voices it. 

"I know, I know, we're not on vacation. But this mission was rough. You almost…you could've…" Polnareff trails off, avoiding Jotaro's eyes. His grip on his glass is dangerously tight. 

After everything they've been through, Polnareff wants time off. Time to sightsee and relax. Time they don't have. 

Having grown up in poverty, Polnareff never got the opportunity to travel abroad as a child. He never stepped outside of France until after he'd lost Sherry. The trip to Egypt was his first outing around the world, and now, this investigation has taken him to so many more countries…it's only natural that Polnareff would want more time to properly appreciate these places. 

Admittedly, Jotaro's slightly less curious. He likes exploring new cultures and different peoples, but his interests align more with funding his education and snuffing out the embers that still flicker under the rubble of the bonfire lit by DIO. 

At the remembrance of that name, something deep in Jotaro aches, dull and faint but nagging. 

"Screw work," Jotaro says, for once deciding to ignore his responsibilities. "Pass the wine."

They don't discuss it further. The sweetness of the wine washes down the growing nerves and lingers on his tongue. 

They finish their meal and ask the waitress for a box to pack their leftovers, which is a good third of the paellera. Looks like they won't have to worry about tomorrow's lunch. 

"Would you gentlemen like some dessert?" The waitress asks as she clears the table. 

Polnareff heaves an exaggerated sigh and pats his gut. "Hoo, well, I don't know if I should!" 

But he's gonna. Jotaro knows he will. 

"Well, in case you're curious, we have a variety of flans, fudge brownies with ice cream, crema catalana, churros de chocolate, torrijas, which are a lot like French toast…" 

The waitress isn't even done with her list and already, Jotaro can see that longing gaze in Polnareff's eyes. Give him some more time and he'll be salivating. 

She continues listing a bunch of Spanish names until Polnareff clears his throat to try and interrupt her politely. 

"Oh, that all sounds so lovely, but I really can't-" 

Jotaro cuts Polnareff off with a dismissive wave of his hand and regards the waitress. "I want the cream thing. He wants the churros."

"Wha- no!" Polnareff whines. He glares at Jotaro and says, hissing through gritted teeth, "The calories!" 

The waitress seems confused, unsure of who's actually in charge here. 

Jotaro snaps his fingers. "Cream. Churros." He reiterates, giving her an intense look that makes her fluster. 

"O-oh, alright, s-sure thing, sir! I'll be right back with your order!" 

She doesn't even write it down. She is gone . 

Polnareff crosses his arms and pouts like a petulant child but Jotaro knows it's all an act. 

"You're so rude," Polnareff says. 

Jotaro just chuckles and takes one last sip of his wine, emptying the glass. He's only slightly buzzed, not nearly enough for it to show. He considers that a victory. 

"...How did you know I wanted the churros?" Polnareff eventually relents as they wait. 

"It showed on your face," Jotaro says. 

It's called near-obsessively documenting your crush's likes and dislikes over the course of two years, but Jotaro prefers the term 'educated guess'. 

…God, it feels so juvenile to call his feelings for Polnareff a crush now that they're together. Officially. Like, for real. 

"Man, you're really good at reading people," Polnareff says. "It's kinda scary!" 

It's a life-saving skill in this line of work, though. Polnareff's enemy stand detection skills wouldn't get them very far, that's for damned sure. 

They chatter for a bit until their desserts arrive. The waitress doesn't dawdle. 

Jotaro's dessert is served in a small, ceramic bowl on top of a plate with a doily. It's a cream thing with a caramelized crust, very slightly burnt brown around the rim, topped with whip cream, strawberries, blueberries, and a wedge of orange. He lightly taps the crust with his spoon - it's sturdy and makes a satisfying crunchy sound. 

This…this is literally crème brûlée. They just called it something else! 

Polnareff's rectangular plate has four thick churros stacked in cross shapes two at a time. Next to them is a hexagonal bowl filled with a smooth looking chocolate dip, so hot that it's still emanating steam. The plate is sprinkled with cinnamon and brown sugar and Polnareff is looking at it like it's one of those women from his raunchy magazines. 

"Oh my god," Polnareff gasps. 

Jotaro wastes no time. Although the crema has that familiar, rich texture of créeme brûle, the lemon flavor really stands out. And is that…cinnamon? And a touch of orange. Even the whip cream has a lovely hint of citrus. Must be homemade. 

Shit. This is delicious!

Polnareff, meanwhile, is wolfing down his churros like someone's coming to steal his plate. He dips a bit of the churro in the chocolate, really slathering it as much as possible before he rams it into his pie hole. 

Polnareff wasn't this aggressive with the rest of his food. He's just very passionate about sweets. 

"I used to have these a lot as a kid," Polnareff says after swallowing the second one. "Y'know that old couple I talked about? They used to sell these for dirt cheap!" 

That explains much. 

Jotaro finishes his modest, yummy dessert first and Polnareff is down to his last churro. As Jotaro stares at him, he becomes increasingly bothered by the smudge of chocolate and sugar around the corner of Polnareff's mouth. 

Polnareff keeps eating. He makes no move to clean himself. The smudge holds Jotaro's attention like a pink elephant. It looks cute, but it taunts him. 

Unable to control himself, Jotaro grabs a cloth napkin and reaches across the table. 

"Huh?"

"Hold still," Jotaro says. He firmly wipes Polnareff's mouth with the napkin, cleaning off all the excess, while Polnareff makes some sort of muffled noise. 

God, he's cute. He's so cute. 

"There," Jotaro says when he's done. Polnareff looks ashamed. 

"S-sorry," he says. He finishes his final churro like a civilized person. "I got excited."

Polnareff's little look of shame makes Jotaro smile. 

"Here," Polnareff says, offering Jotaro half of the final churro. "You should try one!" 

Oh, but that's the last one! Jotaro couldn't possibly…

"Go on!" Polnareff insists, sliding the plate toward Jotaro. 

Jotaro relents, takes the churro, dips it in the chocolate and eats what's left. The creamy texture of the chocolate contrasts with the crunchiness of the churro, creating a symphony of flavor in his mouth. 

He gets it now. You can't just eat something this delectable while maintaining good table manners. 

"You like it," Polnareff says with a wide grin. 

"Mhm," Jotaro mumbles as he scoops out what little is left of the fudge with a spoon. Polnareff stares all the while, incredibly pleased. 

When the waitress comes back, she seems very tired. Polnareff cracks some jokes, but doesn't try to converse further before he asks for the bill and a plastic bag for their box of leftovers. She clears the table and goes. 

"Y'know…" Polnareff starts, his expression mischievous. Up to no good. "Usually, when it's a man and a woman on a date, the server slides the bill to the man."

Jotaro perks a brow. He'd like to know where this is going. Polnareff smirks. 

"So, since we're both guys, whoever she hands the bill to…that's who she thinks tops."

The air becomes tense. A menacing aura radiates from Polnareff. 

"Is this your ploy to get me to pay?" Jotaro asks cautiously, careful not to let his guard down. 

"Tch! So you're assuming you're getting the bill," Polnareff says. He sets the box of leftovers to the side and locks eyes with Jotaro. 

"Of course. Why wouldn't I?" Jotaro asserts, his glare unyielding. His rigid, battle-ready posture portrays absolute confidence and a willingness to leap into action should the need arise. 

Jotaro's the taller man. He's stoic, no nonsense. He strikes fear into the hearts of many. Any reasonable person would assume Jotaro is, in fact, an ultra dominant macho. 

Polnareff, however, is a worthy opponent. With his large, manly muscles and abundant, confident charm, any reasonable person would assume Polnareff is, in fact, also an ultra dominant macho. 

"I came here intending to pay," Polnareff declares. At last, he shows his hand. "You have nothing to worry about."

Every second the waitress delays is another second they spend locked in masculine tension. When Jotaro spots the woman returning from her station, he braces himself for her unbiased verdict. 

The waitress arrives with a smile, clueless to the fact she carries the apple of discord in her hand. "Your bill, gentlemen!" 

This is it. The moment of truth. 

The bill folder radiates malevolent energy as the waitress begins to lower it as if in slow motion. Polnareff's breath hitches. Jotaro's clenching his fists so hard his knuckles turn white. 

The folder graces the table…

At the exact center. 

Were it just a single inch askew it would mark a clear winner. 

The waitress's smile seems so sinister now, so cold and calculating like she knows, like she's challenging them. 

"It was a pleasure serving you." She says. "I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay!" 

The wicked witch leaves them distraught. 

Jotaro glares at the folder at the center of the table. He reaches for it first but Polnareff is just as quick and their hands overlap upon the folder, their movements so abrupt that the tableware quakes. 

"Haha, oh, Jotaro," Polnareff laughs, his tone light but his face intense. "Don't be silly! This date is my treat."

"Going out to eat was my idea," Jotaro says, trying to play nice. He pulls the bill toward himself. "I insist."

"No, I insist," Polnareff says, pulling the bill back. 

"I insist."

"I insist."

They keep yanking it back and forth, uncaring as to who may witness their power struggle. 

"I insist."

"I insist!" 

"I insist!" 

"I in- An enemy stand!" 

Jotaro lets his guard down just long enough for Polnareff to fully yank the bill to his side of the table. Jotaro scans his surroundings, ready to manifest Star Platinum at the drop of a hat, but…nothing seems amiss. 

All he sees is the same diners from earlier, neatly sat at their spots and chatting away. Their waitress is staring at them from afar with this perplexed look on her face and she turns away the moment Jotaro sees her. This place is about as safe as it can get. 

He's been had! With the oldest trick in the book, no less! 

"That's cheap," Jotaro snarls. 

Polnareff triumphantly smiles ear to ear as he opens the folder. "All's fair in love and…" 

As Polnareff's eyes land on the bill, they grow the size of dinner plates. He sucks in a sharp breath as all the smugness exits out his ears. 

"Oh…" 

"Something wrong? I thought you wanted to top," Jotaro teases. 

"Y-yeah, but uh…" 

Polnareff leans toward him with the folder in hand for Jotaro to see the itemized receipt. 

Jotaro eyes the staggering total of €92.69. 

Just the joke with the bottle of wine is costing them €35. 

Jotaro, as a proud man who does not walk away from his mistakes, heaves a sigh of defeat and retrieves his wallet from his pocket. Neither of them can hope to sweet talk the Foundation's accountant into footing this bill, no matter how much Polnareff bats his eyelashes at her. 

Polnareff hands him half of the amount due in cash so that Jotaro can pay with his card and flashes him a cautious half-smile. "So…I guess we're switches?" 

Jotaro's unable to stop the snort he makes as he starts to laugh. It's ugly and loud but it feels like his bottle of anxiety, nerves, and tension bursting free. It's great, it's liberating, and hearing Polnareff's own laughter join in makes him so incredibly happy. 

Happy. Yeah. That's how Polnareff makes him feel. 

They're able to contain themselves long enough to finally pay the bill and leave, hand in hand once again. Polnareff has their leftovers and Jotaro's carrying their flowers. 

"That was fucking stupid," Polnareff laughs. 

"You're stupid," Jotaro teases. 

Polnareff hails a cab and gives him a look of mock outrage. "No, you!" 

"You," Jotaro argues. He doesn't try to hide his smile. 

It's about 9:32PM when they board the cab, so Jotaro logically assumes they're done for the day. However, Polnareff gives the driver (the same guy from earlier!?) a new location, and soon they're at a natural park somewhere in the outskirts of town. Polnareff asks the driver to return for them in thirty minutes and leaves their belongings in his care. 

The park looks like the kind where old ladies come to feed the pigeons, where young boys ride their bikes, where a man and his dog play fetch, where a family might have a picnic. There's a swingset, a modest fountain, lamps, and benches all over, but it's mostly open nature, populated by lush bushes and trees that look healthy and vibrant even at this time of year. Jotaro spots a red squirrel scurrying off into the woods, sees a pigeon drinking from the fountain. 

Polnareff squeezes his hand. 

"I can tell you like it," he says quietly, as if afraid that his voice could ever disturb the serenity that Jotaro feels right now. "What do you say we walk off those calories?"

Jotaro nods. 

Polnareff offers up his arm and Jotaro laces them together before they walk off at a lazy pace. 

It's quiet here, a sort of silence only perturbed by the symphony of the wind and the trees. There's no one roaming the grounds at this time of night, creating a calm, dark atmosphere that most would find unsettling. 

But for Jotaro? He could sit here for hours. He'd love to take a seat over there on that worn bench by the pond and read in peace. 

If only he had the time. 

"Did you have fun?" Polnareff asks. 

"A lot," Jotaro says. 

"You wanna…do it again? Next time we're free?" 

"Valentine's. We're seeing a movie. Let's grab ice cream instead of dinner," Jotaro quickly says, surprising Polnareff. 

"Oh! Haha, wow, you already have it planned out," Polnareff chuckles, squeezing his arm playfully. "And to think I was…worried."

That's hard to believe. Polnareff looked like he had everything under control up until the bill fiasco. 

"I wanted to impress you," Polnareff admits, keeping his voice low. "Y'know, leave a good first impression."

You can't make a first impression over two years into knowing each other… 

Jotaro raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" 

"I, well, you…"

Jotaro waits patiently for Polnareff to string together a coherent sentence. 

"I just figured you've been around the block a lot. Been with lots of good looking dudes your age," Polnareff says, his face uncertain. 

Did…did Polnareff just call him a slut? 

His incredulousness must be showing on his face because Polnareff quickly holds a hand up in surrender. 

"No, no, not like that! I mean…" Polnareff hastily corrects. "I mean I figure you've gone to lots of nice places with previous sweethearts. So I…wanted to stand out, I guess."

Polnareff almost physically deflates, looking like a kicked puppy. Jotaro wants to hold him. 

Jotaro's not sure what gave Polnareff the idea that he's ever been in a relationship. Okay, he humbly acknowledges that he's hot and he's very popular with annoying women, but he's never…been asked out by anyone he liked or liked anyone enough to ask them out. 

"Uh. Jean-Pierre," Jotaro starts, unsure of how to deliver the devastating news that no, Jotaro doesn't have experience, so yes, that means he's gonna need his hand held through a lot of this process. "This is my first date. Ever."

Polnareff looks at him like he's sprouted a second head. "Shut the fuck up."

When Jotaro looks away from him to study his very interesting shoes instead, Polnareff smacks his shoulder in disbelief. 

"No fucking way! How?" 

Is it really that hard to believe that Jotaro's never wanted to be in a relationship before? 

What Jotaro means to say is that he's not very social, but what he actually ends up saying is: "I don't like people."

Idiot. Stupid. 

"Oh! I guess I'm not 'people' then?" Polnareff says, breaking into a fit of giggles. He sounds so relieved. 

Polnareff isn't just a guy , though, if that's what he's talking about. He means so much more to Jotaro than he could ever hope to convey. 

"You're my best friend," Jotaro says, looking at Polnareff again, surprisingly able to keep his cool despite the shame. "So I like you very much."

Polnareff's giggles falter. "You can't just say those th- oh!" 

Jotaro stops walking, bringing Polnareff to a halt as well, and he roughly pulls the other man to him, flush to his chest. Polnareff is looking up at him with a bewildered expression and a faint pinkness on his freckled cheeks. 

They're in a highly forested area of the park, a bit far from the nearest lamp, but the moonlight beams down and illuminates them both, cloaking Polnareff's handsome face in an almost ethereal splendor. 

Polnareff's at his most handsome when he's quiet and pensive. When Jotaro's allowed to simply admire him, to feel him, to be close to him. 

Like this, pressed chest to chest, one hand cupping his partner's cheek, Jotaro can feel Polnareff's heart racing. Jotaro smiles, staring deep into Polnareff's beautiful sapphire eyes. 

"You're special to me." Jotaro says with a tone of finality. He's not sure why, but his heart is beating a mile a minute. They've been closer, they've done dirtier. But this moment…it feels special. Magical. 

Right now, they're in no rush. They're away from prying eyes with nature as their only witness. They can bask in this moment in peace. 

Jotaro leans down, closes his eyes, and connects their lips in a gentle kiss. 

Jotaro's never met anyone else who makes him feel this way. Whose heat comforts him, whose laughter soothes him, whose touch electrifies him.

This feeling of deep devotion is something new to him. It should be scary, but instead it's…soft, like Polnareff's lips. 

When Jotaro pulls away, he's surprised to see Polnareff's face is beet red. 

"You're all red," Jotaro whispers with a shit-eating grin. 

Polnareff is absolutely outraged, wide eyed and frowning. "S-shut up!" 

Oh, this is priceless. It seems he's finally found the buttons he's been looking for. 

"You're so cute," Jotaro teases. 

"Shut uuup!" 

Jotaro decides to egg him on. "Make me."

Polnareff obliges by grabbing Jotaro by the collar of his shirt and yanking him down to crash their lips together once more. Jotaro's smug laughter is cut off by Polnareff's aggressive kissing, shoving his tongue into Jotaro's mouth without fanfare. Jotaro closes his eyes and lets Polnareff push his back against a tree behind them. 

As Polnareff deepens their kiss, Jotaro's laugh devolves into low, pleasured sounds. Perhaps the sweetness of the wine and the chocolate that still lingers on Polnareff's tongue is the reason kissing him feels so intoxicating. 

Polnareff gets handsy, running one hand along Jotaro's clothed pecs as the other grabs his butt. 

Jotaro finally indulges in the urges he's had all night and shoves a hand into Polnareff's cleavage. He grabs a handful of man tit and finally, finally , squeezes. 

Never in his life has Jotaro felt more fulfilled. 

Jotaro wants to laugh but Polnareff's shoving his tongue down Jotaro's throat and feeling him up, forcing him to suppress a moan instead. He can feel the shiver that runs down Polnareff as Jotaro fondles his chest, getting a feel for the firm mounds and teasing a nipple between his fingers. 

Polnareff pulls away, panting, their lips still connected by a thin trail of saliva. "I love you," he says. "I love you, you bastard." He uses a hand to yank the scarf and turtleneck to the side and starts trailing wet kisses down Jotaro's sensitive neck, making Jotaro tremble. He kisses a spot and sucks a bruise into his skin, dragging a groan out of Jotaro. 

"Jean-Pierre…" Jotaro whines pathetically as Polnareff leaves hickey after hickey on his neck and makes his whole body tingle. He's so hot that he's sweating despite the winter chill. 

"Say my name again," Polnareff commands with a growl, teeth gracing Jotaro's birthmark. 

"Jean-Pierre..!" 

Jotaro yelps when Polnareff bites down hard enough to mark him. 

Oh, fuck. That's what Polnareff's trying to do. Marking him as his. 

To fully give himself to his lover, to belong to him…Jotaro finds that he might want that. 

Polnareff pulls the other side of the turtleneck down to pepper kisses along the rest of Jotaro's neck and leave more love bites as he goes. Jotaro's heart is beating so fast he might faint, his body so hot he might melt. He braces a hand against the tree, as if afraid to fall from this high. 

"I love you," Polnareff repeats, not letting Jotaro respond before he captures his lips again in another heated kiss. Polnareff runs his tongue over Jotaro's bottom lip before he enters his mouth, wrestling with Jotaro's own tongue. Polnareff shoves a leg between Jotaro's and grinds his knee up, making his partner's breath hitch. 

This is his first time seeing this side of Polnareff. This rough, possessive nature that he's kept hidden for so long, so unlike the patient, gentle lover he proved himself to be during their first time being intimate, is making Jotaro vibrate with excitement. 

With their bodies pressed this close, Jotaro can feel that Polnareff's getting just as excited as him. He can't let this go any further. He's not very keen on the idea of getting some in the middle of a public park in the dead of night when it's freezing. 

Trying to get Polnareff off him proves quite the challenge, because whining, tugging and lightly pushing doesn't do the trick. Polnareff's too in the zone. Regrettably, Jotaro resorts to biting Polnareff's tongue. 

It works immediately. 

"Ow!! What the hell!" 

"Let's, let's go back," Jotaro says, desperately trying to catch his breath. "Back. To the hotel."

"O-okay," Polnareff says with a nod. "You're right."

The two men somehow manage to make it back to the parking lot without stopping to suck face again, driven by the desire to take everything off. Their taxi is already waiting for them and Polnareff all but shoves him inside. 

"À l'hôtel, rapide!" Polnareff shouts as he shuts the door. 

The driver, evidently a true professional, doesn't look back at them and hits the gas without question. 

Polnareff's earlier reservations about subjecting the driver to their PDA has been tossed out the window as he pretty much tackles Jotaro in his seat and kisses him again. It's gentler this time, quieter, just wanting an excuse to be stuck together without causing too much of a ruckus. 

"Now you're shy?" Jotaro teases when he can get a word in. 

"I may be horny out of my goddamn mind but I do not want an audience," Polnareff says, voice low and husky. 

Suddenly, they hear the driver chuckle. "Très gentil de votre part! La plupart des gens ne sont pas aussi prévenants."

Polnareff takes a moment to gather himself, shocked, before he responds. "Désolé, monsieur."  

"What'd he say?" Jotaro whispers to his partner. 

"He said people don't usually take him into consideration. Guess he's had customers straight up fuck in the backseat." Polnareff whispers back, embarrassed to have been overheard. "Anyway, where were we…"

Polnareff puckers his lips and leans in to resume their smooching. 

… 

Pause. 

Jotaro thought the driver didn't know English. So how did he understand what they were talking about and comment? 

Jotaro sits up, pushing Polnareff's face away and leaving those puckered lips hanging. He looks out the window and realizes he doesn't recognize this area. It's possible he was too busy admiring his boyfriend on their way to the park to be aware of his surroundings, but this road…he swears it's not the same. 

Jotaro looks at the driver, whose unfriendly glare through the rearview mirror betrays no good intent. 

The driver emanates a menacing aura. 

Good grief. No such thing as a day off after all. 

*-*-*-*

An hour later, Jotaro and Polnareff stumble into their hotel room with sore muscles and an unshakeable sleepiness. 

Jotaro groans as his back hits the sheets. Polnareff places the flowers (which miraculously survived the whole night) on the nightstand and plops down on the bed, spreading all of his tired limbs. 

Of course their taxi driver turned out to be another DIO cultist. He was trying to get a good feel for them by driving them around town, but he blew his cover before he could enact his wicked plot. Whatever the Hell it was. They whacked his ass before he could even show them his stand. They tied him up, tossed him into a dumpster, and called the Foundation. They'll make sure he's taken care of. 

And just like that, their wonderful romantic evening has concluded in the same bullshit as always. 

"So uh…you still horny?" Polnareff asks after a while of just staring at the ceiling. 

"No."

"Yeah, me neither."

Damn it. Damn it! It could've been great! It could've been perfect! Jotaro could be feeling sore in all the right places right now, but no! 

Jotaro clenches his fist and thinks of his mother's cookies to try and keep the anger at bay. Nothing ever goes how it should…

"Hey," Polnareff says, propping himself up on his side to look at Jotaro. "I didn't get to say it before you got all touchy back at the park, but…"

Jotaro props himself up as well and stares at Polnareff, waiting for him to finish. 

"I'm happy I'm your first."

Jotaro doesn't know how to feel about that. It's honestly a little embarrassing. 

"You don't…mind that I'm inexperienced?" Jotaro asks. 

"Of course not!" Polnareff says like it's obvious. "Relationships aren't about being good at them. They're about…being there for each other, loving each other." 

Despite all his moronic tendencies, Polnareff can at times sound very wise thanks to his lived experiences. He's learned much from the hardships he faced before he ever met Jotaro and his friends and it shows. 

There's so much Jotaro wants to know about, so much he wants to ask. About dates, about affection, about boundaries, about cheating, about the future…about how to be a good partner. 

Yet, Jotaro stays quiet. Some things are best left unsaid. 

"I just want to make you happy." Polnareff says, his smile bright and his eyes full of adoration. 

Jotaro can feel butterflies in his stomach. God. Fuck. A few years ago he would've found this feeling disgusting. But now… 

It hasn't been easy. The ghosts of '89 have chased Jotaro across the globe, even today. Not a day goes by that he doesn't think about the loved ones he's lost, and though it's painful, he's not alone in his sorrows. 

During this grand investigation around the Old World, Polnareff's been his rock. They both share a sense of duty to see this journey to completion, to help rid the world of DIO's evil. It's the least they can do. 

Now, it's not just a duty to the dead that binds them. It's a duty to each other, a promise to share not just their woes but their joys as well. 

Really, Jotaro wouldn't be able to do this alone. Polnareff's smile keeps him going, day in and day out. 

Jotaro takes Polnareff's hand and squeezes it lightly. Now that they're together, he never wants to let go. 

"I'm happy with you," Jotaro blurts out. He smiles, unreserved. 

"And I, with you, mon amour."

*-*-*-*

It's dark in their room, cozy under the sheets, and serene in each other's embrace. 

About ten minutes into their peaceful, sleepy cuddling, Jotaro remembers something important and sits up abruptly, disturbing poor Polnareff. 

"What ya doin'?" Polnareff asks with a yawn. 

"I have to make a call."

Mom's going to be so happy.