If there was one thing that pissed Squalo off more than any other, it was when Xanxus became so unreasonable about the fact that, though he had run out of his monthly supply of steak and wine, it was inhumane to expect his boyfriend to go out in heavy snow and freezing cold just to get more – than again, it was either deal with a bit of frostbite or be pulling bullets out of his body with a set of tweezers. Squalo already knew which option he'd rather take.

Squalo would have loved to have taken his car down to the grocer's, but said vehicle was currently being repaired after a certain someone put bullet holes throughout the expensive car. Not that the man was naming anyone in particular, but someone should learn to control their anger and not shoot at things they needed.

"Fucking stupid piece of fucking..." Squalo angrily kicked snow out of his path as he tried to hurry the normally-fifteen minute walk from the grocers to his home along, shuddering as the bottom of his pant legs became saturated. He wasn't happy at all, and he just wanted to get home – the fact that the moon bore down on him and it was too dark to see his surroundings properly didn't help, either. "Goddamn fucking – who's there?!"

Squalo had sharp senses, and he knew footsteps when he heard them. These ones sounded small, as if they belonged to either a child or a very small adult. There was also a hint of uncertainty about the gait, but the fact that they got louder with each thud told Squalo someone was approaching him.

The long-haired male prepared himself for the worst, confident in his strength to be able to fight off an impending attack – but what he hadn't been expecting was for a tiny hand to reach out of the darkness and grip tightly the long jacket Squalo was wearing.

The man tensed as a small body pressed against his side, the other shaking violently against him. Nothing was said between them; Squalo just reached into his pocket and grabbed his phone, using the light from the touch screen to illuminate the unexpected visitor.

It was a very small boy, his teal hair splattered with snow. He was wearing next to nothing; a sleeveless white shirt and khaki shorts. His skin was an unhealthy shade of blue, a sure sign that if the man didn't do something soon, this boy was going to die.

"Where's your house?" Squalo naturally expected the boy to live on this street – a kid wouldn't get far in this weather wearing what this one was. The boy didn't reply, his teeth chattering the only answer the adult received. Taking a different approach, he instead asked, "Why are you out here alone? Do you have parents?"

The kid shook his head, emotionless teal eyes looking up into dark ones. "...Mama... went to see her new boyfriend... She s-said... she didn't want m-me... to come... S-so to w-w-wait here for her... She e-even k-kept my... warm clothes... for when... she c-came back..."

"What the fuck?" Squalo was appalled by what he was hearing – as someone who had legal guardianship of a teenager, it made him sick to know that there were parents out there who didn't give a fuck about their kids, and this was a clear-cut case of abandonment. Dropping his shopping to the ground, the long-haired male was quick to shrug his jacket off and instead wrap it around the quivering body. "Bullshit. How long have you been out here for?"

"Long enough..." Tiny hands gripped the fabric tight, instinctively pulling it tighter against him. "...I miss mama..."

"Forget that bitch." Scooping the kid up into one arm, Squalo grabbed the plastic bag with his free hand, continuing on with his walk home. "She wouldn't have left you out here like this if she cared about you."

"S-she said... she'll be back..."

"That's a lie, brat." Squalo growled to himself as he kicked again at the snow mounds, taking his frustration out on the weather. "You'd have died if you didn't approach me. Why the fuck didn't you go to someone sooner?"

"...Because... strangers are bad... But so c-cold..." Squalo recognised the desperation in the younger's voice; he had heard it enough times.

"Well, I'm not bad," Squalo reassured.

"You're a s-stranger... Y-you could b-be..."

"Fuck no." The adult snorted at the boy's words. "If I was bad, I wouldn't have the annoying little shit I do that lives to make my life miserable."

The boy nodded, too tired to argue. "W-what's your n-name...?"

"Squalo. Yours?"

"...Fran... C-can I... call you g-grandpa...?"

"Hell no, brat!" Squalo was naturally a loud person, so it wasn't surprising he snapped at the question. "I'm not even a fucking grandpa!"

"Oh, well." The boy – Fran- just shrugged, as if he wasn't fazed at all. "I tried."

"Little shit..." The man sighed, knowing he wasn't far from his home now. "Almost there..."

Fran let his eyes slip closed as he was carried, having not been so close to another person in a long time. His mother was distant from him, and she very rarely touched him in an affectionate manner. He was enjoying this so much, he almost wasn't aware of when he had been taken into a house.

The entrance hall looked nice, Fran thought. The walls were void of any decoration, but they were a nice creamy colour that the boy thought looked pretty. There were several rooms branching off the hall, a stairwell further down from them, and a small passage beside it that probably led to the backyard. It was much nicer than the hotels and apartments he had been in with his mother.

"Voi! Asshole!" Squalo kicked the front door closed behind him as he shouted out to someone else. He took the first doorway on the right, bringing Fran into a large living room. There were bookshelves scattered against the walls, filled with various things from DVDs and books to ornaments and photo frames. There was a widescreen TV mounted to the far wall, an entertainment system resting beneath it. Two couches and a very expensive chair were situated in front of it in a crooked C, and said couch had an occupant resting comfortably in against the red material. "I got your shit!"

"Then fucking cook it, you stupid piece of trash." The chair's occupant, a man with dark-hair and scarring on his face, turned fierce red eyes to the silver-haired male. There was a wine glass in his hand, and Fran didn't miss the way fingers tightened around the base of it in annoyance.

"Fuck off." Squalo stepped into the room, dropping the shopping onto the coffee table in front of one of the couches. He then moved over to a fireplace not far from that chair that seemed to demand respect, dropping Fran in front of the angry flames. "Can't you see I'm busy?"

"Don't care, trash; I'm hungry."

Squalo rolled his eyes as he took his jacket back from the boy, sliding it over his shoulders once again. He reached out, patting a teal head in a semi-awkward manner before he said, "I'll be right back; I'll get some dry clothes for you to change into."

Squalo said nothing more to his partner as he stood back up, leaving the room. Fran locked gaze with red eyes, more curious than anything; now that he was finally getting a bit of warmth back into his body, he was feeling better.

"What's your name?" Fran questioned childishly.

The dark-haired man was silent for a few seconds before he growled out, "Xanxus. What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Grandpa brought me here." Fran remained emotionless as the other snorted.

"'Grandpa'?" A smirk crossed the other's face. "Good one, trash."

Fran blinked innocently as he looked around at his new surroundings, surprised to find a second body curled up on the couch across from him. They had their back to the teal-haired male, messy locks of blond hair obscuring anything Fran could use to identify their gender. A purple-and-black striped shirt donned their seemingly-skinny body, and they were so still, the kid almost wondered if they were still alive.

Before Fran could open his mouth and question who the blond was, Squalo had come back into the room. He held a shirt similar to what the blond was wearing, but this one had red stripes instead of purple. There was also a striped hoody in tow, as well as a pair o f black shorts.

"Take that tattered shit off and put these on instead." Squalo tossed the clothing to his guest, turning to the blond on the couch instead. "Hey, Belphegor... Wake up."

"He's out to it," Xanxus growled, wishing his boyfriend would stop messing around and get to work on his steak already; he was fucking starving. "He won't wake."

Squalo grunted as he reached out, shaking a thin shoulder. He turned to look at the taller male, an accusing look in his eyes. "The fuck did you give him?"

"Sleeping pills." The dark-haired male shrugged. "Stupid trash wouldn't stop complaining and it was pissing me off."

"You fucking moron, you know he's not supposed to be having shit like that!" Squalo sneered as he leant down, pulling the still body into his arms. "That shit's like giving elephant tranquilisers to a kitten for him. Simple medicine would have sufficed, dumbass."

"He'll live. Probably." Xanxus just twirled his glass around as he glared out of the window opposite him and out into the snow-drenched gardens. "Don't really care either way."

Squalo grunted again as he turned around, the blond in his arms. He glanced over at Fran, finding the boy only half-finished with his task. Grabbing the younger's attention, he said, "I'm just going to put this shithead to bed and then I'll deal with you."

Fran nodded, waiting until everyone had stopped looking at him again before he took off his pants and slipped the shorts on instead; they were big enough to act as pants for him, and Fran liked that.

Xanxus didn't turn to look at the boy until he knew Fran had dressed himself. He snorted again at the sight of the younger, dressed in clothing that was far too big for his scrawny body. "Trash."

Fran shrugged, sitting back down in his spot. He tugged the hoody over him next, so happy to be warm again.

Squalo didn't take long at all to come back, and when he did, he had some blankets and a pillow with him. He was silent as he made up a bed on the couch before he turned the TV on, putting the volume down just low enough to be heard but not bothered by.

"There you go." The long-haired male patted the makeshift bed as he yawned, suddenly looking as tired as he felt. "Go to sleep and we'll figure out what to do with you tomorrow."

Fran nodded, clambering up onto the couch. A faint, barely visible smile crossed his face as he was tucked in, having never experienced such a thing before. He didn't mind the hand that ruffled his hair, instead finding it comforting.

"Night, brat..." Squalo muttered as he stood up, grabbing the plastic bag he had abandoned previously.

"My steak. Now." Xanxus growled, getting up to follow the younger male into the kitchen.

"I fucking am, Xanxus!" Squalo snapped back. "Fuck! Patience!"

Fran flinched slightly as the living room light was flicked off, having never liked the darkness. He was just glad that light from what he assumed was the kitchen filtered in through the doorway, and the TV illuminated his surroundings as well.

Suddenly, Fran's exhaustion had hit him like a ton of bricks, and he was out to it like a light.