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Chapter Text

Diego took one last sip out of the concoction in his plastic cup, wincing at the warm, bitter taste. He couldn’t remember what was in it, much less how long ago he had grabbed his drink. 

It was nearly morning and Diego knew he was going to have a hell of a hangover. Most of the guests had already left or had found some sort of corner in the apartment to stay the night. 

He made his way to his room to retire after the long night, only pausing when he noticed someone struggling to unlock the apartment door. Before they could continue, Diego stepped out and grabbed the person by the wrist. 

It took him a few moments to realize it was HP. He could recognize her anywhere considering how close they had gotten recently. However, it was much to his surprise since he had known her in a very different light up until the start of the party.

There was something cathartic about this party as shown by HP’s completely out of character actions. Despite her usual stoic and reserved nature, she polished off drinks at this party that she never would have even tasted just a few hours before. Diego had thought the change was impressive and enjoyed how she was now having fun and allowing herself to open.

“You shouldn’t head home by yourself in that condition, HP.” Diego tried to say, but his speech came out slurred beyond belief and he could barely keep his balance as he made his way over to her, “I’ll walk you home.”

“Seems you’re a bit drunk yourself.” HP laughed easily, much different to her usual cut and dry way of speaking. 

“Mmhm,” Diego rolled his eyes, tossing his arm around HP to help her home, “I’d let you have the couch, but it seems as though it might be taken.”

“I’ll stay in your room.” HP replied after a beat.

Diego raised a brow, “Are you sure?”

She gave an eager nod, most likely the result of extra drinks she had consumed.

Reaching the room, HP let out a blissful sigh, “Your bed looks really comfy,” She managed before immediately sinking to the floor, sprawled out.

Diego shook his head, “At least take a pillow.”

He still had his wits about him to grab the extra pillow off his bed and put it under HP’s head. He then grabbed a blanket and covered her with it.

He crawled into his bed, still dressed in his clothes from the party. He closed his eyes for a while before realizing sleep wouldn’t come so he laid on his back and stared up at the spinning ceiling, instead. He took out his phone to scroll through any sort of social media but found that even that couldn’t quell his racing mind.

He glanced over at HP who slept so peacefully. 

It was because, despite how many men and women he had previously had in his room, HP was the only one he was nervous about. They had been friends for a while now, and the crush he had on her started to grow. He was worried about messing things up and wanted nothing more than to know that he wanted her to feel comfortable. 

Eventually, his thoughts tired him, and he drifted off to sleep…

Only to wake up a few hours later to rustling near him. 

He opened one eye tentatively, until he noticed the noise came from HP. She was pulling on one of the sweaters - the teal one with yellow stripes - he had left haphazardly on the floor. Despite her toned physique, she still swam in the sweater.

“Move over.”

“Huh?” Diego asked, still half asleep.

“The floor hurts.”

He moved over without really understanding what was happening, allowing HP to crawl into the space next to him. She curled into his arms, which left him no choice but to embrace her back, haphazardly wrapping his arms around her. When he opened his eyes, he got a glimpse at her from so close. She was all messy hair and drowsy eyes, and a soft expression on her face. This closeness felt too natural, much unlike any encounter Diego had had before.

“Dio?” HP asked, her voice low.

Dio? She had used his nickname. The one he had been begging her to use for a while instead of his real name. The one she had mercilessly teased him about plenty of times before.

“Yes?” His voice came out shaky.

“Quit looking at me like that.”

His heart sank, “What way?”

HP paused, letting out the smallest of yawns, “With those pretty blue eyes that look like they could unravel me right now.”

He felt a blush spread over his face, thankful that the room was dim enough that she couldn’t make it out.

“I have something to tell you.” She continued.

“Yeah?”

“You were in my dream.”

He felt his heart rate increase, “And what happened?”

“If I tell you, it won’t come true.”

“I think that only applies to wishes.”

“Then it was this,” She leaned forward, pressing her fingers against his lips. They felt soft and warm to the touch. Soon enough, they found his hair, curling into his precious blond locks. 

Diego felt like his heart would properly explode in his chest right about then. It was quite unlike HP to act so intimate. Part of the reason he started to have feelings for her was because of her aloofness, the way that it took time to wrangle things out of her. Other people who surrendered their thoughts and touch too easily grew boring to him. Diego grew infatuated with HP’s mysteriousness and how there was always a huge reward to his attempts in getting to know her. 

Her fingers danced along his jawline; lips parted ever so slightly as her eyes concentrated on his face, “Did you know you had gold specks in your eyes?”

Diego shook his head, at a loss for words for the first time in his life. He enjoyed the intensity of the moment and how close they were.

“I want to commit you to memory,” HP hummed, retracting her hand, and placing it between the two of them, “You might just be the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen.”

Diego finally realized why he chased that feeling, why none of his other partners had ever made him feel so weak. With them, he’d only felt a stark loneliness, a feeling that they wouldn’t understand him, that he wouldn’t be interested in whatever vapid thoughts they had. 

But it was different with HP.

Diego reached out, his hand resting on top of hers. Perhaps he’d find the words in the morning, after the alcohol had worn off and the spinning in his head would stop. But he doubted it was the alcohol that caused that.

Chapter Text

The chaos of the day was enough of a distraction for HP to keep her mind off the usual hauntings it subjected her to. Constant intrusive thoughts of the fateful day of her brother’s passing and flashes of images she wanted nothing more than to forget were brought up at random times and would serve to disturb whatever she was doing that day. These thoughts had gotten better once she opened and allowed Diego into her life, but HP would be lying if she said she was cured of them.

She entered their home, the door shutting behind her being the cue her mind needed to break down. After spending all day running around at work, helping dozens of patients, her mind only came to the full realization of what day it was when she crossed that threshold late in the afternoon.

With the door shut, she leaned her body against it. It felt as though she had been cloaked by dozens of blankets with how heavy her shoulders felt. Her chest hurt, heart beating faster as she tried to quell the rapid breaths that came to her now. 

“Welcome home, love,” Diego called out from the kitchen, “Dinner’s almost ready.”

But his voice was drowned out by the rapids in her mind, the demons that reminded her how horrible of a human - of a sister - she had been. She sank to the floor, arms wrapped around herself in a faux hug. 

How old would he have been this year? He’d be around 23, the same age she had been when she joined the Steel Ball Run. How much would he have been able to do with his life if he had simply been alive to live it?

What would she have done with her life if she hadn’t lived her life plagued with guilt? Surely, she wouldn’t have wasted time joining a convent to deal with her guilt, much less spend her time chasing forgiveness that wouldn’t be granted to her. 

As her thoughts spun out of control, she was only really snapped out of it when she felt a strong hand on her shoulder. She blinked as she looked up to see the only face that could shake her from her stupor.

Diego held a concerned expression, his blue eyes scanning her body for any signs of injury. “What’s wrong?” He asked, free hand coming up to wipe away tears HP hadn’t even realized were running down her cheeks.

He steadied her, helping to calm her breathing enough for her to explain, “Today is my brother’s birthday.”

His concern grew to empathy and Diego took a seat on the floor next to her, hand still on her shoulder as if it were an anchor.

“I’m sorry, HP.”

She nodded, there was no need for apologies from him. He wasn’t involved in this at all. In fact, he was the reason she dug herself out of the years of depression and guilt by motivating her to forgive herself. She was working on improvement with his helping hand.

Diego soon enveloped HP in an embrace, comforting and grounding. She dug herself deeper into the embrace, enjoying the familiarity of the whole action. She followed his breathing pattern, quickly finding herself a bit calmer than just moments ago.

“Do you know what I do whenever it’s my mum's birthday?”

They both had jobs and responsibilities which kept them from spending most days together, but on the rare occasion that she was home on the anniversary of his mother’s birthday, Diego would spend most of that day hidden away in their bedroom. She always made sure to give him the space he needed, opting instead to support him whenever he decided to come to her afterwards. She’d spend most of the night just holding him, but it was the least she could do for someone she loved.

HP shook her head in response to Diego’s question.

“Well,” Diego answered, “I light a candle for her and think about the good memories I have with her.” 

“That’s sweet.” HP gave him a smile, understanding just how much vulnerability was present in their exchange. Diego was always one to bury trauma and hurt under layers of jokes and irony, so these heartfelt moments were rare and always welcomed by HP. It seemed they were reserved for her, in a way, and the thought of being someone so special in his life brought a blush to her cheeks.

“Dwelling too much on the past makes us lose out on the present,” Diego stood, “And you have a family right here to focus on.”

HP watched as Diego stood, her mind no longer racing as quickly as it was just moments prior.

Diego held out a hand to help HP up.

She stared at his outstretched hand, ruminating on the word ‘family.’ It was true that her own family had fallen apart, torn apart by the work of her hand, the sin she had committed all those years ago. And despite how much she regretted seeing the dissolution of her parents’ marriage, and the fallout of her running away to a convent in her teen years, the thought of where she would be in life otherwise made her furrow her brow.

He was right, although she didn’t want to admit it to Diego in case she fueled his already sky-high ego. There were plenty of what ifs, but at the end of the day, she wouldn’t want to be with anyone else. She thought back to his lessons in gravity all those years ago, remembering just how fate had destined them to meet many times. 

In her loss, HP came out with a family she wouldn’t trade the world for.

She took his hand, which was cold in contrast to her warm hand. 

“Sometimes I wonder what happened to the jerk you used to be during the race.” She joked as he helped her to her feet, steadying her with a hand on her waist. 

“You married him, dear.” Diego smiled his genuine, toothy smile. 

Chapter Text

The distance Hot Pants had traveled since her last break was almost a full day, enough to persuade her to take a stop at the next safe area she could find. Her horse, Gets Up, was definitely in dire need of a break. Even though he was a well-trained horse built to endure such an arduous journey, HP knew she needed to stop for him soon. There was only so long he could go without reaching exhaustion. 

She pulled up her map, glad for the moonlight of the full moon that gleamed above her as it illuminated the page. She was searching for any sort of place she could stop along this long stretch of road. It seemed like she was in the middle of a dense forest and would come up on a town soon. Until then, however, the only other sign of life Hot Pants noticed was the occasional hoot of an owl. 

That is, until she noticed a figure on the side of the road. When he heard the approaching clops, he raised his hand and looked back, hopeful that she might offer a ride.

HP weighed her options. She was obviously strong enough to fend for herself, unless this was a crazy murderer which might require a more thought-out plan. But she was entirely capable of defeating-

Her train of thought was cut short when the figure came into view under the bright moonlight. He was someone familiar, an old friend. 

HP slowed her horse, pulling up next to the man and halting her horse with a tug of his reins. 

“Mr. Brando, what in the world are you doing out here so late at night?”

Diego Brando stood there with a surprised expression. He looked unchanged despite the months it had been since they saw each other. He wore an untucked dress shirt, leading to the idea that his appearance was strangely disheveled. It was a surprising thing to witness, considering how much Diego used to harp about appearances and how much they meant to him.

“Clearly, I was just going for a late-night walk,” He retorted, his irritation evident in his tone.

There was a moment of silence, the slight buzz of tension audible on the edge of their thoughts. HP sighed and decided to be the bigger man. She gestured for Diego to hop on.

“Get on.”

They rode in silence, but not due to lack of conversation topics. No, there was simply too much to talk about that it overwhelmed them both. Instead, Diego leaned his head against Hot Pants’ shoulder, opting to close his eyes. Hot Pants remembered just how cranky he could be when he was tired and made sure to ride slower to prevent him from waking up suddenly. 

Pretty soon, she found a place to camp for the night. She slowed down, the change in pace waking Diego up in tandem. He squinted against the darkness outside, his eyesight already terrible but even worse at night.

“Where are we?”

“I need to rest a bit. Can you pass me my bag?”

Diego hummed, pulling the bag onto his lap, and starting to surrender it when something caught his attention. He opened the bag and started rummaging through it, despite Hot Pants’ protests. Pulling out a parchment wrapped object, he unwrapped it to reveal a sandwich. 

She could see the dilation of his pupils, and how he salivated at the sight.

“You can have it-” She started, but Diego had already brought the sandwich to his lips by the time she finished her sentence.

“I missed your cooking,” he said midway through chewing, the monstrous and ravenous way he ate making him seem more like a beast than a man.

HP frowned at him, reaching into the bag, and pulling out a sandwich for herself. She intended to offer the sandwich in the first place, feeling as though he might be hungry. But, in typical Diego fashion, he had claimed it before it could be offered. She had forgotten the extent of his greediness.

“How long have you been riding?” He asked, after polishing off the sandwich in just a few bites.

HP thought for a moment, “A few days.”

“Where are you heading?”

“I’m not entirely sure.”

Whatever inch of a smile he held from eating the food faded. “I see.”

They were quiet. Hot Pants rewrapped her sandwich, unable to eat anymore because her stomach was twisted into knots. She offered the sandwich to Diego, who shook his head much to her surprise. Perhaps her words had upset him, though she was at a loss as to why.

Hot Pants cleared her throat and changed the topic, “Where are you coming from? Walking alone like that is strange, even for you.”

Diego rolled his blue eyes, “It doesn’t matter.”

There was a sense of compassion that came over HP; she wanted to make sure Diego was alright. Despite how irritating he could be, she wanted him to be alright. It was something that stemmed from their partnership, the trauma they shared. No matter how long it went between them seeing each other, she would still feel the same feeling she did as when she first worked with him.

“I know we haven’t seen each other in a while,” HP prodded, “But we were partners once.”

Diego took a deep breath in preparation. “I ran away from my wedding.”

HP stared at him as she tried to process the information handed to her.

“Cold feet?”

Running a hand through his blond hair, Diego sighed, “She is a wonderful woman, but I was marrying her for the wrong reasons.”

“Money?”

“Money.”

Hot Pants laughed a genuine laugh which grew infectious as Diego followed suit. 

“Let me guess,” Hot Pants pretended to think for a moment, “She was also 80 years old.”

“79, actually.” Diego corrected her.

“You haven’t changed at all.” Hot Pants said as she shook her head. It was common knowledge that Diego had a penchant for marrying old widows to inherit their fortunes. She had read about his previous marriage when she was getting ready for the Steel Ball Run, so the fact that he was continuing his traditions was unsurprising to her.

Some would say that was the wrong reason to get married. But, Hot Pants knew Diego would disagree because he used that very method to accelerate his climb to high society. Something had shifted in him, enough to override his extreme desire for wealth and cause him to walk away from a sure thing like that wedding.

She watched him as he stared at the night sky with a familiar feeling rising in her stomach, something that she hadn’t felt in years. 

“I have an idea on how to get your mind off this situation.” Hot Pants offered. 

“What’s that?”

Hot Pants reached over, grabbing a blanket from her bag, “Follow me.”

They laid on the blanket in a clearing that gave them a perfect view of the stars and the full moon that covered the entire dark forest with its moonlight. It reminded her of those late nights they had stayed up and talked, or even just enjoyed each other’s silence. It was all very reminiscent of when they were partnered up, on the hunt for Valentine and in search of the corpse. And part of her mourned that race. 

Back then, she had been just a ghost searching for forgiveness, no real purpose in life except to absolve her sins. And, once she returned the corpse to the Vatican in exchange for a pardon, Hot Pants expected her life to start. It was a difficult thing, however, to build a home where there was no foundation. She quickly found herself left wandering, trying to find her purpose in life. 

She watched the stars above twinkle in anticipation, reminding her of those nights they used to spend together. 

“Are you going back?” Hot Pants asked, “To your wedding, I mean.”

Diego paused for a minute, “What do you think of fate?”

She turned her face to catch a glimpse of Diego’s expression, finding instead that he was already staring at her. The dim moonlight caught in those blue eyes of his, reminding her just of how she first developed the feelings she felt for him just months ago.

Her breath caught in her throat.

It was as if they were still in the race, sharing secrets and cigarettes as if life wouldn’t pass them by. As if they had all the time in the world. 

Still, the stars remained the only unchanged part of the scene.

“I like to think it’s real,” Hot Pants started with a shaky voice, void of its normal authority, “It’s a comforting thought.”

“Do our decisions mean anything, then? Or was it just fate - gravity perhaps - that had you ride along the same road I walked just this evening?”

“Yes.” She responded, unsure if she wanted to reassure herself or him. 

She inched closer to Diego, shoulder brushing against his. The wind picked up, sending a chill down her spine.

“Come to New York with me.” He whispered against her skin once he pulled away, “I won’t let this opportunity slip by.”

“We’ve already had this conversation,” Hot Pants reminded him quietly. Which was true; they had spoken about the possibility of Hot Pants going to New York after their mission had come to an end and before they decided to part ways, much to Diego’s chagrin. 

“I can never belong to anyone else.” Diego stated. 

Hot Pants knew how he felt. Even though she was free of her sin and that she had delivered the corpse and retired from the convent, somehow HP couldn’t picture herself going anywhere else. She felt destined to a life of wandering, searching for purpose, if something didn’t change. 

“I don’t want to go months without hearing from you,” Diego gazed at her with intensity, “Come with me.”

Yet, she felt that magnetic pull that she always felt around Diego. Maybe this was gravity giving them another shot, the stars aligning to give the two travelers a chance to meet again.

So, she nodded, deciding to put her faith in gravity for the first time.

Chapter Text

Huffing, Hot Pants rolled over, shaky hands reaching out to grab her phone. The bright screen flashed the numbers 3:34 into her retinas as she let out another annoyed huff.

After falling asleep on the couch, Hot Pants had been woken up by the front door of her shared apartment opening and then slamming shut, the perpetrator obviously having no regard for her opinions on the matter. Or he was drunk. Most definitely both.

She folded her pillow around her head to block out the noise. Drunk arrivals were a typical occurrence and Hot Pants knew she would be making Diego some sort of hangover cure in the morning to save his achy head. It was their routine by now, despite how many objections Hot Pants had made. She had a job, didn’t have time for this, he attended college; no objection was enough to change the behavior. 

But those were just excuses. Hot Pants knew she really rallied against his destructive behavior because she knew there was more potential in him than getting drunk every weekend. She knew how quickly those behaviors could destroy a person, especially since she witnessed it firsthand through her father. Whatever Diego was trying to run from wasn’t worth the pain in the end. 

More an annoyance than anything, Hot Pants still felt a pang of empathy whenever he was in pain. She wanted nothing more than to keep him from feeling it. Not that he didn’t deserve it, of course. He could be a genuine pain in the ass sometimes. 

Hot Pants assumed Diego would go to his room as he usually did, but as he searched around the apartment for something and his eyes landed on HP, she saw his smile widen.

“Just who I’ve been searching for.” He said with an increasing amount of his accent shining through. Diego had spent years trying to perfect his accent, changing it to a posher accent, but it often slipped through whenever Diego drank or was angry. 

She stared at him with a scowl.

“Please don’t be cross with me,” He took a seat next to her, covering himself with the same blanket she had sprawled over her. 

“What are yo-” Hot Pants didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence before she felt an enveloping embrace from Diego. He wrapped her arms around her, laying his head against her chest and curling into her.

She felt at first that the situation was entirely uncouth. Perhaps it was a joke, or maybe Diego had lost his mind. But after a few moments of silence passed where Diego just nuzzled deeper into the embrace, Hot Pants felt that maybe it wasn’t just a joke.

“Diego?” Hot Pants asked, pulling away just enough to see his drowsy expression, “What’s wrong?”

He looked up at her, the distinct smell of bourbon on his breath as he said, “I missed you.”

Hearing those words made Hot Pants’ heart leap for reasons she was still unaware of. She chalked it up to surprise.

She wouldn’t have noticed how gorgeous Diego was if not for the fact that he laid mere inches away from her face, his normally wide eyes now lidded and fluttering with some secret intent. 

Something about those electric blue eyes caught her off guard, and Hot Pants felt her face heat up. 

Diego was entirely in her lap now, reaching up to tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear. She felt her breath hitch at the motion, something so simple yet intimate. She hadn’t been so close with someone in ages now, the feeling of want and desire rushing back and pooling in the bottom of her stomach. 

He was so close, if HP wanted to close her eyes and lean forwards just an inch, she could kiss him. She would never, of course. Diego was drunk and had properly lost his mind, after all. 

“‘ave I ever told you…” His words came out slurred and completely without the touch of Londoner’s accent he often pretended to have, “You’re the only person I enjoy being’ around.”

Hot Pants attempted to stay stoic, but felt her facade quickly crumble as she smiled. 

“Is that right?”

Enthusiastically nodding, Diego continued, “You’re a proper mate. Always looking after me and my stupid ideas.”

Hot Pants let out a puff of air as a laugh which earned her a laugh from Diego in return. 

“You’re the only person who ever made me feel this way.”

Hot Pants tilted her head, waiting for him to go on. He returned his head to her chest, the alcohol obviously affecting his thoughts and movements. 

“My chest is ‘eavy when I’m with you,” He said while shaking his head, “My mind rushes only to come to a stop once I’m finally around you. I feel like I’m drowning…”

“I think I love you.” He concluded by slurring his words. 

Her hands found their way into his blond hair, caressing the soft locks, “Thank you for telling me.” 

Diego raised his head once more, “You mustn’t let Hot Pants know. Promise me.”

Holding in a laugh, Hot Pants just nodded, and Diego allowed himself to lay back against her. She figured they should continue this conversation when he sobered up. For now, she wanted to revel in the intimacy she had no idea she desired so much until now.

She pressed a kiss against his golden locks of hair once she ensured the rhythmic breathing was due to Diego falling asleep. She couldn’t bear revealing something so deep, something she had just realized moments ago. 

With the close intimacy came an unusually restful sleep for Hot Pants, even though they slept on the uncomfortable couch. When she woke up, all last night's previous events and confessions came back to her, riddling her with immediate anxiety. While it was nice to know her feelings were reciprocated, albeit from a drunken Diego, the worry of how he will respond in full sobriety remained. 

Folding up her blanket, Hot Pants could hear the banging of plates and pans in the kitchen. She approached, leaning against the frame of the kitchen door as she watched Diego prepare breakfast. 

“Ah,” Diego said, after a few moments, “I made you coffee.”

He pressed the warm mug into Hot Pants outstretched hands and she noticed his fingers lingered just a moment too long. She wanted desperately to speak about what had transpired last night, how his confession hadn’t fallen on deaf ears. 

Instead, she asked, “How’s your head?”

“Fine.” He responded, “I think I’m going to take a break from drinking for a bit. I don’t remember anything about last night.”

“Hmm.” Hot Pants raised her brows as she took a sip from the coffee. 

She tried to ignore the way he looked at her with expectation. He may have forgotten about last night, but he still woke up sharing the couch with her, after all. 

“Did anything strange happen?”

Hot Pants smiled a close-lipped smile, “You made me promise not to tell.”

“Really?”

“ I think I love you. Don’t tell Hot Pants. ” She repeated, attempting her best to replicate his accent.

Diego cringed, “I was hoping that was just a dream.” 

“Well,” Hot Pants took a step towards Diego and leaned into whisper into his ear, “I think I love you, too.”

She leaned back, relishing in the way his face turned red. Grabbing her phone, Hot Pants checked the time. 

“I got to go to work,” She pressed the lightest of kisses to Diego’s cheek, enjoying how speechless he had become, “Let’s talk later.”

Chapter Text

There wasn’t much downtime in the race, but in the scarce free moments, Diego and Hot Pants would often set up camp and work on things such as cooking and repairing ripped clothing. It was rare that they’d have time to chat, leaving both in a strange predicament one night where all their work had been done early.

HP had pulled out a worn-out copy of the bible and read a few passages while Diego opted to rest his eyes for a moment, taking in the quiet of the countryside at night. 

“Brando,” HP’s deep voice broke the silence, “What are you scared of?”

He opened his eyes and glanced over to find HP already looking at him, peeking over her bible.

“Can’t think of anything.” He muttered in response.

HP shook her head in disbelief, “Really?”

She listed all the typical fears, spiders, snakes, death. He shook his head at each one.

“I fear nothing,” He remarked proudly, crossing his arms in front of his chest, “In fact, death fears me .”

His egotistical remark would earn him an exaggerated eye roll from HP who would simply drop the conversation instead of feeding his insatiable self-absorption. 

“Well, everyone has a fear of something. It makes you human.”

Diego scoffed, “A man like me doesn’t have fears.”

HP let out a chuckle, “Is that right, genius jockey?”

“I’m not even nervous about fighting Valentine,” Diego proudly announced, alluding to the fight that would take place once they reached the president in the coming days, “His defeat will be so swift it won’t even be considered a fight.”

“Mmhm,” HP nodded, flipping the page of her bible, “I was assuming that you had a fear of water.”

“Water?”

“As in swimming in water. I hope this doesn’t come off as crass,” HP started, awkwardly shifting on the blanket, “But, I came across the incident in the river while reading your files at the Vatican.”

Diego was too young to remember the day his parents buried him and how he was washed away into the river with only his mother seeking to rescue him. Sure, he’d heard the story plenty of times, but even then, he never understood why he got a chill whenever he entered a body of water. Why did he never learn how to swim?

“It makes all of the nightmares of drowning make more sense,” Diego supposed, “But, it’s not something I’d consider a fear.”

“Did you ever learn how to swim?”

Diego paused, wondering if her questions were rooted in malice. He was a good expression reader, however, and there was no sign of betrayal in those purple eyes he’d grown so familiar with.

He shook his head. 

“That’s good to know before we partner up,” HP took a sip of her coffee, “What is your fear then?”

“Why do you want to know?”

She looked up once again, her purple eyes meeting his blue ones, “Survival. I need to know the person I’m partnering with well.”

“You scared I’m going to fuck this up for you?” Diego almost laughed.

“Well, for example, if you fear death and you are put in a life-or-death situation, what’s to say you won’t sacrifice me in order to survive?”

Diego shook his head, “There won’t be any sacrifice involved. I promised that I’d keep you alive. You’re just as important as I am in this operation.”

HP hummed, almost as if in disbelief, “Is Dio lowering himself down to peasantry?”

“There will be no need for sacrificing,” Diego repeated, “Because we will surely win.”

“I hope so.” HP whispered, bringing her rosary to her lips. She pressed a kiss against the cross subconsciously. It was a habit Diego had noticed almost immediately, one that he was surprised she hadn’t noticed herself. She leaned into her religion immensely when she was doubtful. Actions like reading her bible, absentmindedly holding her rosary, even praying had increased between the time they first partnered up on their journey and now when they approached their final target.

He reached out, placing his gloved hand over her open palm, enclosing it around her hand and the rosary it held. 

“Intimacy.” His words fell from his lips without a fight, in a seemingly paradoxical way. 

“Like,” HP raised a brow in confusion, “Sex?”

Diego snorted, “No, but what a dirty thought, sister.”

She gave him a disapproving look and as much as he wanted to cover the matter with another barrage of teasing jokes, he felt no motivation to do so. Perhaps it was due to the vulnerability, but Diego just let out a sigh before continuing.

“I haven’t been close with anyone in a long time.”

He watched the way HP’s eyelids dipped slightly, signifying her empathy.

“I understand,” She said, voice low, “Me either.”

The fact that he was allowing this woman in was exhilarating to Diego, while his mind still cried out in warning. It was a contradiction; he wanted nothing more than to share a closeness with someone where he could be his genuine self, but also felt that barrage of anxiety whenever he attempted to do so.

Even the act of holding HP’s hand at this moment was difficult. Telling her his deepest fear was enough to make his heart race faster. He trusted her enough, however. They were partners putting their lives in each other’s hands. And Diego felt right in placing his faith in HP.

“I believe you owe me, now,” He leaned in closer, “What are you scared of?”

HP thought for a moment, “Ending up alone.”

“Really?”

She nodded, “Looks like it might come true.”

Her actions up until now made sense. She sought community in a convent for her teen years after losing her family and went after Joestar and Zeppeli in a poor attempt at partnering up during the race. She even risked her life to befriend Diego. She quite honestly could have gone after the president herself with varying degrees of success, but she stuck to partnering up knowing that they’d have more of a chance of winning together.

It hadn’t been clear to Diego, however, that she sought more than just a partner for this mission, however. What she really wanted was someone, anyone, she could confide in even though she didn’t need them as shown by her amazing self-reliance.

“Listen,” Diego said, “How about after the race, when we have the corpse in our possession, I go with you to Italy?”

HP paused, mulling over the offer. Diego’s heart raced so quickly he feared it might just explode out of his chest at any moment. If she declined, Diego wouldn’t be sure he could be this vulnerable with another human again. But he took the chance, knowing that their fears and wants aligned. 

“I’d like that.”

Chapter Text

As a priest faithful to his calling, Father Diego found building community was one of the most important pillars of his role. He had found it quite easy to be cordial to all the regular attendants of his parish, always finding time before and after every weekly mass to become acquainted with them.

It was a simple devotion; one he took to heart after his mother’s untimely death. On her deathbed, she begged him to go into priesthood, to make it out of the tough life that a stable hand would be forced to face. So, he took up the book, every single ounce of ambition fueled by his mother’s final wish. And at the young age of twenty-one, he had his own church to show for it. 

Diego always found ways to welcome and include everyone to his church. And today he spotted a new churchgoer, someone he was quite unfamiliar with. As he recited his usual holy homily from the pulpit, he found himself choking on his words when his eyes fell upon this stranger.

She was simply divine. 

Piercing purple eyes, full lips painted with pink, clothes so tight it left little to the mind. But none of that was enticing enough to get Diego offtrack of his homily. 

Instead, the blame lay with the vibrant pink hair that this woman held. Diego had heard of such things as hair dye, but there simply wasn’t any strong enough in 1890 to dye hair that vibrantly. It was a distracting color, begging for attention which the woman relished in. He continued his speech as she uncrossed and recrossed her legs, swallowing a knot in his throat as he watched.

There were hushed whispers uttered from his usual congregation, fawning, and disapproving of the new attendee in the same breath. Those brazen enough went up to the woman, either to complain or to ask to grab a drink with her afterwards.

To both of those, the woman would just shake her head.

Where he had previously felt anticipation for Sunday mass, Diego now felt an untamable anxiety coursing through him. And the thought of that pink-haired serpent returning to his pious church was the source.

If she returned, and he doubted she could without bursting into flames as he would ban her from attendance. 

He greeted his fellow parishioners at the church entrance, his smile quickly turning into a frown when he noticed who was coming his way.

She gave him a smile as she greeted him, “Good morning, Father.”

He held his hand out, stopping her from entering the quickly filling church.

She raised a brow, “Is something the matter?”

Avoiding her gaze and attempting to keep his composure, Diego shook his head, “I cannot grant you attendance.”

She all but scoffed at him, “How can you bar one of God's children from seeking salvation?”

He held firm in his convictions, “Must you dress in a manner so…provocative?””

“Why?” She took a step closer, causing Diego to take a tentative step back as she continued, “Would you change your mind if I said I wore this for you?”

Diego was painfully abstinent, that much apparent with how he felt his heart race as his eyes fell upon this clearly sinful woman. A life of celibacy can do that to someone.

So, her confession had quite the effect on him. He felt the redness grow in his cheeks, undoubtedly catching her gaze. He wanted nothing more than to retreat into the sacristy, away from this growing temptation.

“Please. It’s nothing like that.” Diego feigned innocence with a fake chuckle that even he felt was unconvincing.

“If my hair is the issue, I assure you it is my natural hair color.” She said, twirling a stand of her hair.

Diego raised a brow in disbelief.

“It’s naturally auburn. There is no commandment against having auburn hair, is there?”

Diego reached out and took a lock of her short hair in between two fingers. From his angle, he could see just how vibrant the color was, something that dye certainly couldn’t produce. His eyes wandered to her lips, painted with a pink as vibrant as her hair. There was no way this color was considered auburn. 

She cleared her throat, forcing him to finally meet her gaze. And he was certainly taken aback. He was so close, he could make out the true color of her irises, a deep purple speckled with pink. Much more unconventional than even her hair.

He was pulled from his thoughts when he felt a hand caress his own. He pulled away immediately, much to the amusement of the woman before him. 

“But your eyes…”

“Are a deep blue. Any more concerns, Father?”

Diego let out a deep breath before shaking his head, “No, miss.”

“Perfect.” She made to enter before turning back and stretching out her hand, “You can call me HP, by the way.”

And then it hit him. He recognized this brazen woman. 

From rags to riches, she was featured primarily on the front page of newspapers for her impressive racing skills and numerous awards won. It was impossible not to piece it together when she held the same determined gaze that was often featured in the papers. 

Quite frankly, from what Diego could understand, this female jockey was on her way to pave an empire. 

What he could not understand, however, was why she insisted on her attendance at his small and unassuming church. He wanted to believe that maybe she was a devout catholic deep down, but he knew better.

He took her hand in his, giving her a firm handshake. Her hands were stone cold against his warm ones, a stark difference from the usual handshakes he received.

“Welcome to my church, HP.”

She gave him another smile in return, but this time her lips were stretched just a bit too wide in an off putting way. It was almost uncanny, and Diego swore he saw her cheeks crack, skin giving way up to her ears.

But he blinked and HP’s smile returned to its normal size. She turned and entered the church, leaving Diego to wonder if what he just witnessed actually occurred.

It was as if she came each Sunday to purposely increase his thoughts of seduction. Lingering gazes and motions that redirected his gaze towards her lips, it was no wonder he couldn’t get her out of his mind.

Mass was almost over, thankfully. HP usually departed after receiving eucharist, as if she couldn’t be bothered to stay for closing remarks. 

He held up the eucharist in front of her with a shaky hand, placing the wafer on her tongue.

She closed her lips before he could pull his hand away, wrapping her pink painted lips around his unsuspecting finger. She swiped her tongue against his pale skin before he managed to pull away, leaving her with a smirk on her lips.

“What’s wrong, Father?”

He felt a bead of sweat drop along his brow as he noted the pink lipstick that was left around his finger, “You evil serpent.” 

She smirked at him, taking the chalice from the altar boy and taking a few too many sips from it while keeping his gaze over the rim. 

He waited, watching her in anticipation that she would leave. But the end of communion passed and she was still seated in the pew, determined gaze on him. He continued his closing remarks, albeit with an unsteady voice. 

The moment he presented the final blessing, HP stood, making her way to him. 

Before she could reach him, however, Diego tucked the holy book under his arm and retreated to the sacristy. He felt cowardly, especially considering it was his church. But before he could obsess over his actions, there was a knock on the door.

Diego hesitated, but soon found his curiosity getting the best of him. He opened the door to find HP on the other side.

“I want to ask for a confession.” She said, not allowing him time to question her intentions.

“There are strict times and dates set for that.” He nonchalantly replied, “Earliest would be-” 

HP interrupted, “Isn’t your calling to listen to the plight of sinners?”

“Yes,” He repeated, “On set dat-”

“I crave redemption badly , Father.”

His lips parted at her poorly veiled euphemism, mouth running dry. As much as he knew this was a trick, a way for her to slither into this holy place, he knew better than to turn away someone begging for forgiveness. Despite his better judgment, he stepped aside and allowed her inside the sacristy, closing the door after her entrance. 

HP glanced around the room which held nothing more than a few bureaus, wardrobes, and chairs as he pulled two of them to the center of the room, their wooden legs scraping against the stone floor. When Hot Pants took a seat, Diego reached over and closed the blinds to not allow any passerby a glimpse into HP’s supposed confession.

After taking the seat opposite HP, Diego blessed himself, an action Hot Pants quickly copied. They sat in silence for a few moments with Diego doing his best to avoid eye contact before HP cleared her throat and began her confession in a deep tone.

“Forgive me, Father. It’s been quite a while since I’ve last confessed. It seems like I’ve forgotten the words.”

“It’s quite alright,” Diego had dealt with a plethora of penitents that had forgotten the rehearsed lines of confession. It made for a much more honest experience in his mind. “Tell me all your sins.”

“Ah, all of them?” Hot Pants leaned forward, resting her arm on the armrest, and placing her hand against her cheek, “That depends on how much time you have on your hands.”

Diego held back the reflex to roll his eyes at her shameless words. He had dealt with sinners just like her, shameless and pointed in their attacks on the spiritual and would continue to act professionally. “Tell me the ones you express true guilt for.”

She smiled, “Well, that surely removes most of them from my list.”

Diego was quiet, shaking his head with disdain.

“But, Father, I sincerely feel sorry for one in particular,” HP started, her voice dripping with saccharine, “The one repeating sin where I imagine us…together.”

“Together?” He asked, his naivety betraying him.

“I apologize,” HP said with a chuckle, “I forgot about the purity of a man of the cloth. I meant that I want you.”

“You want me to do what?”

With this, HP laughed, “Perhaps I should show you.” 

She stood, taking a few steps forward so that she was now directly in front of Diego. He looked up with confusion, trying to meet her gaze as she leaned down above him. HP’s hand reached out and, before he could push her away, began caressing Diego’s face. She pulled him forward so that his face was mere inches away from hers.

“Does this do anything for you, Father?”

His gaze flickered between her purple eyes and pink painted lips, voice catching in his throat. She was gorgeous, the most attractive woman he had ever laid eyes on. It felt as though he was slipping under a spell of temptation, one that he couldn’t keep fighting.

“Are you the devil?” He asked with a shaky voice.

“Worse.” HP stated, her breath hot against his lips.

He grew flustered by her words, feeling the heat grow particularly between his legs. This feeling was something natural and would happen at random points throughout the day, but Diego had learned to ignore those urges, a byproduct of years of suppression and shame. Usually, when the feeling came upon him, he’d force himself to say a hundred Hail Mary’s in an attempt at keeping himself pure. 

This time, however, that feeling was all too hard to fight, the heat pooling in his stomach and spilling red along his cheeks.

“So, how am I to repent?” HP asked, “What is my punishment?”

Her purple eyes were staring at him, hands curling into his blond locks. The intensity caused his resolve to crumble, the primal instinct within him wanting to take over. This time, there was no rosary at hand to keep the forbidden yearnings at bay. 

They were locked in an unspoken battle of who would cave in first, the priest or the sinner. 

If he gave in, he would lose everything he worked for, and the promise he had made years ago would be for naught. Surely, there’d be no place in heaven for the newly anointed sinner.

But just like in the temptation of Eve, curiosity won in the end.

Diego’s hand reached up to grab HP by the nape of her neck, feeling the softness of her pink hair, ensuring its authenticity. He guided her face towards his, closing his eyes as he gently met her lips. He was impractical in his actions, unsure of what to do other than to simply kiss her. His lips stayed still, quivering slightly as the want below his belt grew. The feeling of her lips was unlike any other, plush, and soft against his own.

They stayed like that for a long moment, before HP took over, guiding his lips into a proper kiss. She tilted his head back and pressed her tongue into his mouth. He gasped in surprise at the unsuspected motion, but quickly shut his eyes again and relaxed into the repetitive, sultry action. The taste of the forbidden tasted so sweet, yet nothing like he expected, Diego concluded.

When she moaned into his mouth, he moaned back, with a racing heart and labored breathing. Suddenly, he opened his eyes and pulled away, shaking his head.

“They will hear us.” Diego said, breathlessly, “Be quiet.”

HP just laughed at his remark, grabbing him by the collar and smashing their lips back together.

As she ramped up the intensity of their kiss, HP swiftly claimed Diego’s lap, not once breaking the kiss while taking a seat. His hands hovered above her waist, unsure of where to place them as her position shifted, his inexperience causing him to falter. 

HP guided one of his free hands to her breast. He paused, feeling the soft flesh over the dress she wore, and since there was nothing between her skin and the dress, he felt everything down to the hardening of her nipple. He shuttered, his head swimming with lust at the thought of what her body would look like under the swath of fabric.

She stared down at him with eyes lidded in lust, “You’re better than I expected. But there’s much to learn.”

The other hand, now shaking slightly in excitement, was placed along her waist. He felt the soft flesh there, too, taking the opportunity to roughly grab onto it. 

HP smiled against his lips, the lowest of gasps leaving her pink colored lips.

He was about to repeat the motion when he felt something brush against his skin. It was scaly, cold, and entirely out of place. He pulled away in surprise, only to find a tail wrapped around his wrist. 

Diego inspected it while it swished around his hand, noting the golden HP initials that adorned the length.  Ironically, it was just as pink as the rest of her outfit, hair, and lips. A strange sight to be sure, but for some reason Diego found it intriguing rather than repulsive.

“What?” Diego gasped out, “What are you?”

HP caressed his cheek once again, “A serpent, just as you claimed me to be.”

By now, her lipstick had smeared, claiming skin that did not belong to her lips. Diego was sure that his own lips had become painted by the devilish pink color.

Just as he thought HP was finished, she lowered her hand and gently caressed his now painful erection. Diego let out a moan that was a mix of surprise and pleasure. The foreign touch was delightfully blissful, sending his mind reeling.

“Seems like you don’t mind.”

HP hummed in approval at his sharp inhale under her touch, continuing to kiss him while stroking him through his cassock. He moaned into her mouth, attempting to stifle the sinful little noises leaving his throat by closing his lips. Last thing he wanted was to be heard by a parishioner, but how was he to contain the noises when she touched him so wonderfully?

Just when he thought he couldn’t take anymore, that he might just give into the building pressure, HP stopped her ministrations. 

He opened his eyes in surprise. The loss of touch felt unbearable - he had been oh so close…

HP gave him a sinister smile that basically confirmed she had something evil in store.

“Get on your knees.”

“Excuse me?” Diego asked through his haze.

Her hand wrapped around his throat, giving a light squeeze, “You heard me.”

HP stood, taking Diego’s hand in hers and helping him to stand. She took her own seat and gestured for Diego to kneel before her.

Kneeling was a sacred act that denoted respect and worship. It was only reserved for church and prayer, not to be used in some impure sexual act like this one. 

The throbbing between his legs ruled him, however, and Diego kneeled despite his convictions. HP gave him another smile before parting her legs. He tried to avoid following the motions, to not gaze lustfully at a woman he barely knew, but he was forced to comply when HP shoved his face between her legs. 

At first, he was unsure of how to proceed. That is, until his tongue snaked out and finally tasted her. He moaned at the sweetness dripping from her, running his tongue along her slit while listening to the pleased moans and swishes of the tail that he received when he found the right spots.

His hand caressed the soft skin of her inner thigh, pausing when his fingers reached something wrapped around her thigh. He turned slightly, inhaling sharply when his eyes fell upon just what this woman had worn.

“Do you enjoy my new garter belt?” HP smiled, “I get more use out of my rosary this way.”

Diego wanted to be revolted, to tear the sacred object off this obviously sinful woman. 

But he found his cock throbbing at the blatant act of blasphemy instead.

Her foot found his crotch amidst his distraction, applying pressure light enough to make him moan out and bring his attention back to HP. She grabbed a fistful of his hair and guided his face back between her legs.

He continued his learned ministrations as HP’s moans climbed to a fever pitch. She grinded against his mouth and nose as she reached climax, sinfully calling out to God as she came all over his face.

Listening to HP come undone was enough to bring Diego to the edge and he found himself climaxing in tandem with her. 

“God!” He took the name of his lord in vain as he felt the mounting pressure release, coming out in ropes of cum that stained the front of his cassock. The burst of stars behind his eyes and loss of pressure built up for years now lent to his explosive release, leaving Diego a panting mess.  

He collapsed against HP’s legs, all the energy in his body zapped.

HP pulled him back by his hair, admiring the mess she made. She caressed his cheek, wiping away a few tears and beads of sweat Diego hadn’t noticed on his face.

“I barely even touched you.”

Diego couldn’t even respond, his breath labored.

“Well,” HP grabbed him by his chin, “You made me see the light. See you next Sunday, Father.”

She left through the sacristy door, leaving Diego alone to clean up his mess and ruminate on the grand sin he just committed. Yet, despite all the shame and regret that was welling up in the afterglow, he still felt a twinge of excitement at the thought that he’d experience it all again next Sunday.

Chapter Text

Study groups are often advised by professors to encourage collaboration and ensure apt ingestion of materials taught in class. Students usually find benefits in these groups, relaying what they have learned to other students that might be unsure of the topic, subconsciously reaffirming their confidence in the matter. 

Despite this advice, Diego often opted to study alone, due mostly to the sheer fact that he refused to waste his time with people below him. He did well, earning top marks in all the classes taken so far, never earning a grade below perfection.

Except in this one physics class.

For some reason, Diego, an accomplished second-year business major, had decided to take a physics course to fill his science general education credit. Granted, that would only happen if he passed the class. And it seemed like that was going to be a monumental task.

For some reason, the topics wouldn’t stick, even attending regular one on one tutoring assignments and office hours wouldn’t help. So, Diego had gone with a last resort and asked for the help of a classmate he knew was doing well. Her name was Hot Pants and she was a biology major in her final year, with a special knack for physics. For the past few months, they had studied together every other night, spending quite a lot of time together. 

Diego arrived at the library at their designated time of six in the evening, just a few minutes late since the coffeehouse he stopped at prior to their meeting had been swamped. He took punctuality quite seriously and knew Hot Pants did so, too, so the lateness was an annoyance to him. When he rounded the corner, he found Hot Pants at their usual table, reading through the textbook. He enjoyed the fact that she was on time, but it wouldn’t be too absurd to assume she had been here hours in advance. She was undeniably devoted to her studies to the point where Diego questioned if she ever did anything other than study.

They were quite lucky because the library was devoid of other students, leaving them to study at their own leisure. 

Once Diego reached the table, he pulled the coffee for Hot Pants out, setting it in front of her. 

“You know you don’t have to bring me coffee.” Hot Pants started before Diego shushed her.

“You’re saving my ass,” He said as he took a sip of his iced coffee, “Least I can do is drop five bucks.”

“Black coffee?”

“Of course.”

Hot Pants smiled, bringing her coffee to her lips. Something caught her eye as she set it back onto the table, so she turned the cup a few degrees to read something written on it.

“Seems you have an admirer.” Hot Pants remarked with a raised brow.

Diego was puzzled as Hot Pants turned the cup to him, and he read the unmistakable “ Call me! ” followed by a string of numbers in purple ink punctuated with a few hearts. 

“It’s amusing that she assumed you drank the black coffee and not the sugary shit.”

“It’s really good,” Diego defended his iced coffee, the only thing that kept him from passing out from exhaustion during study times, “Way better than that bitter sludge.”

HP rolled her eyes, before handing him her cup, “Take the number.”

Diego looked between the cup and Hot Pants before shaking his head, “I’ll pass.”

Shrugging her shoulders, HP took the cup back, “Did you get a chance to read chapter 7?”

Diego nodded, “But I still don’t understand the topic of differential pressure.”

Which was a lie. It was a rudimentary concept to him, in fact, this whole section in particular was easy to him. 

“Let me get a diagram,” She tore a piece of paper from her notebook, drawing crude lines across it, “Suppose you have two different containers with a fixed tube connecting them…”

He watched as HP explained the concept, his mind originally following her words until his gaze fell onto her plush lips. He leaned in as she spoke, wondering just how those lips would feel against his. A familiar feeling rose in his stomach, a fluttering akin to butterflies. It was a feeling he often felt around Hot Pants, whether it be due to her appearance, the way she spoke, or her words. It seemed that everything she did set him aflame these days.

He never had a crush before. All the people he had ever been with before were just simple one-night stands or useful to him in some convoluted way. There was never “fluttering” or anything of the sort. 

But now, he could feel the redness in his cheeks at the sight of her. 

He followed her hand as it reached for her eraser, his mind barely registering her words as her semi-deep voice echoed.

The eraser hit him on the side of his head, tearing him out of his daydream. 

He raised his hands in confusion, “What was that for?”

“Pay attention.”

Diego ran his fingers through his blond hair, “Okay. What was the question?”

“From everything that I just talked about, find the pressure difference between a and b.” When Diego did not respond, Hot Pants pointed to the question at the bottom of the page she had been explaining. 

Diego’s mind tried to calculate something that should be simple to him, but he was still reeling from almost drowning in Hot Pants' beauty. 

Hot Pants sighed, scooting her chair over so that she was shoulder to shoulder with Diego. He inhaled, that familiar feeling rising once again. 

“How in the world are you going to be prepared if you don’t pay attention? Do you want to fail?”

Diego shook his head, all sudden feeling like he was going to suffocate. 

“Let’s try a different approach, then,” Hot Pants started, grabbing the textbook, and centering it so both could see it, “We will go through the problem together.”

Diego was so close to her; he could basically smell the perfume on her and even her natural scent under that. She smelled like roses, soft and powdery, even though she presented herself in a radically different way. She tended to act in off-putting ways, barbed and harsh in her mannerisms. In the same way that roses, a beautiful flower, had thorns adorning their stems to ward off others who might pick them.

“The first step would be to find the initial pressure.” Diego started, voice seemingly shaky.

“Right,” Hot Pants nodded, leaning in to mark up her scrap paper, “And we’d use the formula…”

As she leaned in to write, Diego felt her shoulder brush up against his, the faintest of touches sending a flurry of red to his cheeks. It was entirely strange to act this way, especially for him. He often had slews of women and men alike blushing from his clever words and here he was simply blushing like a common schoolgirl after brushing against Hot Pants' shoulder.

“What would x be?” Hot Pants asked, turning to face Diego.

“X is-” Diego turned to Hot Pants, his train of thought coming to an abrupt stop when he realized their faces were mere inches apart.

From up close, Hot Pants was even more stunning. Diego could see the flecks of gold in her purple irises, the dusting of freckles that graced her upper cheeks and nose. And, most of all, he could see the faintest of blushes on her cheeks, hidden by her tanned skin.

With heart beating fast, so fast he feared it would burst out of his chest at any moment, Diego wanted nothing more than to lean in and close the small gap between them. He wished to finally have an answer as to how her lips felt, how she tasted, just how her hair would feel between his fingers.

To know whether she returned these same feelings. 

“Diego?” Hot Pants' voice came out softer, void of her typical rough tone.

He decided to forgo any opposition in his mind, leaning in and closing his eyes. He brushed his lips ever so lightly against Hot Pants' lips, pulling back for just a second to allow her the option of rejection.

Instead, he felt her close the gap between them, kissing him with an unparalleled passion. He followed her motions, enjoying the feeling of her soft lips against his. He swiped his tongue against her lips, relishing in the taste of the strawberry lip gloss she wore like it was a prize.

Her hands found his cheek quickly, thumb caressing his face while she pulled him impossibly close, guiding him to lean in more when there was no more space to lean into. His own hands reached for her hair, entangling themselves in the ridiculously soft locks of short, pink hair she had.

Weeks of pent-up frustration expressed itself in the way they kissed with added fervor. His head swam with the feeling, the release of the hidden feelings explosive inside. Now that he knew she reciprocated, he wanted nothing more than to know everything about her.

He pulled away first, as if coming up for air. He committed her to memory, the ways her pupils dilated, the smudged lip gloss on the edges of her mouth. She combed her hair, attempting to put herself back together. 

“8,” Diego said, leaning back in his chair, “X is 8.” 

Hot Pants, who was clearly still flustered, gave him a confused look.

“For the question.”

Hot Pants grabbed her own piece of paper with shaky hands, reviewing her math, “Huh. Seems like you’re right. Maybe you’ll pass after all.”

Chapter Text

Everything about this moment felt wrong. 

Diego danced to the wrong music with the wrong person. In his arms was some bubbly, drunk girl whose name he wasn’t even one hundred percent sure of. Upon hearing about his arrival to the bar alone, she had insisted on dancing with him, forcibly becoming his date of the night.

He was already on the fence about coming in the first place and the fact that there were others that wanted nothing more than to capitalize on this and get to know him bugged Diego even more. He knew that they wanted nothing more than to prey on his growing fame and he only came to keep up appearances. In this country, appearances meant everything.

Just as the swell of the music reached its triumphant peak and quickly ended, Diego shook his head at the girl before him, telling her he wanted a break. She nodded just a bit too enthusiastically, giving his hand an unwelcome squeeze. 

Diego had to hold back a sigh.

He congregated by the bar, leaning against the bar top as he watched the rest of the crowd dance to a new song. It was all just a show to him, it all meant nothing.

What he really wanted was one certain person to be here. His partner, the one person that could make him feel at home. Despite the fact that they had only become partners in order to obtain the holy corpse, they had grown much closer than expected. 

He started to regret his choice of leaving Hot Pants in the hotel room alone and opted to return. Before he could even reach the front door of the bar, however, it seemed like his prayers were answered.

The door opened, revealing none other than Hot Pants. She glanced around the crowd, definitely in search of Diego.

He pushed through the crowd to get to her, smiling when her gaze met his. 

“What are you doing here?” Diego asked upon reaching her, “I thought scenes like this weren’t your style.”

“They aren’t,” Hot Pants answered, crossing her arms, “But you asked me to accompany you and I realized that I should.”

They stood looking at each other for a moment as the playing song faded. A slow song started playing in its stead, barely audible over the chatter and noise in the bar, but Diego found it to be quite fitting. 

Diego held a hand out to her, “May I have this dance?”

Hot Pants had a puzzled expression, “Here?”

Diego nodded.

“With you?”

He knew dancing was somewhat of a sore subject to Hot Pants, something she just could not manage to learn in her childhood, much less as an adult. It was quite the opposite for Diego, as he had been a natural and picked up dances easily.

Diego let out a sigh, but before he could argue, Hot Pants reached out and placed her hand on his. It wasn’t soft like all the other hands he held this evening; this one was rough with wear, something he admired about her. He caressed her skin with his thumb.

She was naturally an inch or two taller than him, but in this setting it felt like she towered over him. It was something he enjoyed about her, her unconventional attractiveness. 

He pulled her in gently, his hand resting on her waist, “Follow my lead.”

They hadn’t ever discussed a relationship, but despite that Diego felt as though they could if only they could tuck away their fears of a commitment that big. Something deep in Diego said they would never be able to be together, but even that impossibility didn’t scare him. If it wasn’t true, the least he could do was enjoy all of the wonderful moments like these. 

She must have noticed the many eyes on them, for Hot Pants quickly pulled away.

“They’re staring,” She said, “We should stop-”

“ Let them. ” Diego picked up right where they left off, “I think they are just jealous.”

Surely, their close partnership was quite public now, which would most definitely cause a bit of tension in the race. Diego didn’t mind, all public scrutiny was useless to him anyway. Appearances mattered, but Diego was willing to weather whatever came to him in the morning if he just got to spend this evening with the person he actually wanted to spend it with. 

But for now, he decided to let his fear fall away and to find peace in the swell of the music and the feeling of his partner flush against him.