Hello, welcome to McDonald's || MisGio

(2)²

Lets just pretend that in getting happy meals you have to give your name bc i have no idea how happy meals work, I never had happy meals before.

New week began, the boys now busy with their shifts. Giorno was typing in numbers as he heard a loud booming voice at the entrance.

"Guido! Get me a happy meal but use your name!" A boy with black hair and orange band strapped to his head exclaimed.

"Okay okay! Don't shout, you're making a scene." The man named Guido said, loud enough for Giorno to hear.

'his voice is familiar . . ' blonde boy thought, holy shit.

Looking up, he saw the same man last week, wearing the same clothes, does this man only have one pair of clothes?

"Good morning, welcome to McDonald's, what would be their orders?" Giorno said his usual lines.

"U-Uh, I'd like to have a Happy Meal, with boy toys, chicken nuggets and uhh coke." He replied.

"Name for the happy meal?" Giorno added, tho he already knew what the man's name was, he still asked.

"I'm sure you heard my name earlier but, sure thing blondie, Guido, Guido Mista. " Giorno felt his cheeks heat up, he caught Guido sending him a wink, this man doesn't learn, huh?

"Please don't call the security again, I wanna apologize for last week, I just find you pretty . . . " Guido trailed off, cheeks flushing a faint pink.

"Sure . . . ? Sorry bout calling security, and you're forgiven . . . " the blonde looked away, trying to keep professional.

"Anyways sir—"

"—please, call me Guido." the brown haired said.

"Okay . . . Guido . . . Dine in or take out?" Giorno cleared his throat, his professionalism wearing out.

"As much as I'd like to say I'd rather take you, I say take out." Guido shot the blonde a toothy grin, Giorno mentally rolled his eyes, but his heart started to feel weird, and cheeks heating up more, I think I'm sick.

"Okay si— Guido, here is your number." Giorno handed him a stand, the number 4.

Guido just stared at the stand, no intention of taking it. What is his problem?

"I-I'm sorry— GIVE ME ANY NUMBER BUT 4." the man now practically screamed, hands clasped together over his head as he bowed down.

The people behind in line seemed to be getting impatient, but paid no mind with the man on the counter.

"I-I have tetraphobia . . ." Guido looked away, embarrassed, the blonde let out a small oh and gave him another number.

The black eyed man sprinted to his friend's table, clutching the stand tightly in his hand. His friend was laughing as he listened to Guido's ramble as to why he sprinted all the way to the table.

"He gave me the number Narancia! The. NUMBER." The man exaggerated, clearly terrified.

The blonde back at the counter, was bewildered by the customer's actions, but nonetheless understood his phobia of the number.

Soon after, Guido's number was called, the embarrassed man before had a confident and shining smile as he approached the counter, giving the card back, with a folded 1/8 piece of paper, before exiting the doors, not forgetting to wink at the cashier again.

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