A/N: Haven't really been in that great of a mood lately, and it's been affecting my writing schedule. Don't worry, I am currently working on Classified Information! As well as Chapter 2 of A Consecutive Series of Misfortunes. Just needed to post something for myself, to get back in the writing mindset.
Genres: Humor and drama, mainly.
Warnings: Language and general Varia shenanigans, themes.
Disclaimer: Sushi*Bomb does not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn. I am sad.
01: Potty Mouth
(In which Fran is frustrated by bread's inability to be made of steel)
"Fran, would you hurry the fuck up with my sandwich? Jesus!" Belphegor snapped from his spot at the marble island. Squalo sat next to him, doing his best to ignore both the pounding headache he was developing and the fact that his orange juice was too pulpy.
Fran turned around, peanut-butter spattered butterknife in hand. "I'm going as fast as I can, sempai. But the bread keeps ripping when I put the peanut-butter on." He said, the barest hint of annoyance creeping in his flat tone.
Bel rolled his eyes. "And I care because, why? Just hurry up. The prince is starving."
Fran sighed and turned back to the plate in front of him. "Yeah, yeah." He muttered as he reached for a new slice of bread.
He poised the knife at the edge of the bread slice, whistling to himself as he calmly smoothed a glob of peanut butter over the white surface. Just as he was almost at the other side….the bread tore, the corner crumbling off at an odd angle.
Fran made an irritated gurgling sound. "Goddamn this cock-sucking bread." He snapped.
Everyone looked at him in shock.
And then promptly erupted with laughter.
(In which Xanxus is being weird and Squalo thinks he might be drunk)
"Hey, trash." Xanxus began, voice unsettlingly even. Squalo unconsciously gulped, setting down his hair brush. "What is it?"
Xanxus sighed in irritation as he walked further into the room. "Someone's been watering down my fucking booze again, that's what." He growled. Squalo resisted the urge to face palm. So that was the issue this time?
The swordsman picked up his brush and resumed detangling his wet, freshly washed hair. "Why the fuck is that my problem? Ah! Fuck!" He snarled as the brush caught a rather large knot. He heard Xanxus sigh, along with the other man's surprisingly soft footsteps padding along the carpet. He felt a set of hands yank both the brush and his hair out of his grip.
"How the fuck do you keep up with this girly ass hair anyway?" He heard Xanxus say more to himself than to Squalo as strong but nimble fingers began lithely coming through his hair. In a matter of minutes, the knot was detangled. Squalo sat stark still as Xanxus brushed the long, silver hair, a slightly concerned look on his face. After several indecisive minutes, Squalo turned to his boss.
"Voi, Xanxus, are you drunk or something?" He asked curiously. The lack of flames, rage, and most importantly, glass and tequila in his clean hair was a bit alarming to Squalo.
"No. What, I can't brush your bitch hair? Rapunzel?" The older man said, a hint of amusement in his voice. Squalo was dumbfounded. "Uh…yeah, sure. Whatever." He finished lamely, and the two sat in comfortable silence.
Squalo sincerely hoped the others were asleep, because if any of them walked by and saw this…surprisingly calm scene of domesticity, neither he, nor Xanxus would ever live it down.
03: Calling Nurse Bel
(In which Fran questions the validity of Bel's alleged cooking skills.)
Belphegor had never been so insulted.
How dare his uncute kohai blatantly reject the soup that he, Crown Prince Belphegor, had gone out of his elegant and royal way to make for him? An irritated pout snaked its way across the pale face as the blonde stared at the younger hitman, who was curled up on his bed, thick duvet pulled up to his chin, and a napkin held to his nose as he sneezed into it.
"Eat the fucking soup, Fran." He snapped. Fran gave him a blank look before staring down at the tray. After a minute or so, a pale hand crept out from under the duvet…and pushed the tray away.
"Sempai…I'm not eating this." Fran said tiredly. Belphegor growled. "What's wrong with it?"
"You made it, for one." The illusionist simpered, voice low and congested sounding, a wet cough escaping him. "And no offense, sempai, but that's probably the grossest looking soup I've ever seen."
Belphegor made another irritated sound as he promptly rammed the tray back into the younger assassin's arms. "I will have you know that the prince is an excellent cook. This soup is a delicacy in my country."
Fran gave him a questionable look. "What weird ass country are you from? Because here in the civilized world, we eat food. "
"IT IS FOOD YOU JACKASS!" Belphegor screeched. Fran shook his head as he pulled the tray over to him. "Is there anything actually edible in there?"
"Che, of course there is. I couldn't get all of the ingredients though, so I improvised a little."
"Sempai, there's a huge difference between improvising and just throwing random things in."
Belphegor felt his face growing heated with annoyance. "I did not throw random things in!"
Fran made a curious noise as he stirred the oddly colored concoction. "But sempai, there's like bones and pubic hair floating around in it. Are you trying to feed me a human corpse or something?"
"NO!" Bel snapped. " It's a motherfucking stew from my motherfucking country! Now eat it or I'll stab you in your sleep!"
Fran stared at him blankly. "Well, I don't know what barbaric, medieval country you lumbered out of, but here in Italy, murdering people and grinding them into soup is not considered okay." Fran said knowingly.
Belphegor promptly picked up the soup bowl and dumped it over Fran's head before stomping out of the room.
Fran licked his lips. "Hmm…it's actually not bad." He said placidly to himself as he wiped himself off.
(In which Xanxus is not a scaredy cat and Bel is a little too excited)
"AAAAAAHHH!" The woman on screen screamed bloody murder as she barricaded herself in a small closet, a swarm of the undead dragging themselves after her. The flimsy door quickly gave way to the sheer mass of bodies pounding against it, the zombies pouring into the small room and grabbed at the shrieking woman, eagerly tearing into her flesh.
The members of the Varia all sat huddled around the big screen TV.
Squalo sat with a bowl of popcorn in his lap, not even blinking at the carnage as he casually popped a kernel in his mouth. Levi was seated next to him on the floor, also relatively unfazed by the gore. Belphegor lay on his stomach on the floor, eyes glued to the screen with a creepy, fascinated smile as the woman's intestines were graphically torn out of her body and consumed. Fran sat cross-legged to his left, nonchalantly reaching for the bowl of popcorn Bel had been hoarding through-out the movie (which Bel, despite his focus being completely on the screen, pushed just out of his reach, so Fran couldn't get any popcorn).
Lussuria hated horror movies, so he went out to a party for the night. Mammon was asleep.
And finally, the last and most important member of the assassination squad sat opposite Squalo on the couch, eyes wide and glued to the screen as he compulsively shoved fistfuls of popcorn into his mouth, very nearly chewing off his fingers in the process.
"Voi, you alright? You look a little pale." Squalo whispered to the dark-haired man. Xanxus scoffed. "Why the fuck wouldn't I be alright, scum?" He snapped back in his regular tone, gaining the attention of everyone in the room.
Squalo smirked as he popped a few kernels in his mouth. "Oh, no reason. It's just that this movie gets really gory later. Some of the zombies are really fucked up looking. I know how much you hate zombies." He said, voice laced with amusement.
The others looked back at Xanxus (except Bel, who was unabashedly turned on by all of the gore and blood on screen, laughing and clapping giddily as a man's leg was torn off), waiting to hear his retort.
Xanxus fixed his second in command with a scathing look. "I'm fine, trash. It's just a fucking movie."
The screen was eerily silent. The main characters of the movie were wandering in some dark building, searching for their lost friend or something like that. The members of the Varia all turned back to watch the movie, doing their best to ignore Bel, who was gnawing on his fingers with that fucking creepy smile on his face in excitement for the impending carnage, and focused on the screen.
Xanxus felt his pulse begin to quicken. Something was going to happen. He knew it. He shoved a fistful of popcorn into his mouth, the anticipation very nearly killing him.
It was too quiet.
Well, if you tuned out Bel's creepy laughter.
Which Xanxus could, but barely, as his nerves were frying with each second.
"This movie sucks." Fran quipped from his perch on the floor, as he tried, unsuccessfully, to steal the bowl from Bel.
"Has anyone seen Maria?"
"Blararghhaahagh" said Maria as she popped out from underneath a truck, dragging the upper half of her body with her to bite a chunk out of her friend's calf, the screen instantly alive with agonizing screams.
The room was also alive with agonizing screams.
Xanxus's to be exact, before he threw his bowl in the air and flung himself over the back of the couch and ran out of the room.
Everyone sat blinking for a moment, trying to register what just happened.
Except Bel, who had begun to touch himself inappropriately.
(In which Fran crosses the line)
Sometimes, Fran could be such a little prick. Intentional or not. That was a known fact in the Varia.
But there were some things you just never said out loud, no matter how true they were, and no matter how many times you'd been stabbed with creepy looking knives on a daily basis.
"Sempai, you look just like your brother when your hair's wet." Fran said one night when they were all sitting in the lounge. Bel froze instantly, clutching the wet towel in his hand so tightly his knuckles turned white.
"What the fuck did you just say?" He seethed, his hissing voice eerily low. The atmosphere in the room became very tense as the others stared between the two, Belphegor standing in the doorway, bare-chested and dripping from his shower, and Fran casually seated in his favorite recliner with a book in his hands.
"I said you look like your brother with your hair wet. It's a bit unsettling." Fran repeated bluntly. Whether he was aware of the murderous aura radiating from the blonde prince or not was anyone's guess.
The others watched as Bel took in a shaky breath, arm visibly trembling. Mentions of Belphegor's family was an unspoken taboo in the Varia headquarters, right up there with Xanxus's gypsy heritage and Lussuria's mother.
But then again, Fran never had much respect for taboos.
Belphegor said nothing, his chest rising and falling a bit quicker than usual as he tried to sort out his anger.
Fran studied him disinterestedly before turning a page in his book. "What? You mad or something?" He snipped, voice uncaring and nonchalant, waiting for the hissing laugh and barrage of knives.
The room was deathly silent as the members of the Varia watched the disquieting spectacle between their two youngest members. Belphegor was unnervingly blank, his usual grin replaced by a small frown.
Fran sat in his spot, staring at the blonde.
At that moment, Belphegor opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but then closed it again, and abruptly stormed out of the room. They could hear the sound of the very large (and very expensive) vase down the hall shattering.
Fran shrugged. "I guess he was," he said with a small smile on his blank face.
He knew what Bel had wanted to say then.
Mammon would never say something so horrible.
Hope you guys enjoyed this. I'll try to get writing again soon, I promise. There's a part two to this, I'll post it tomorrow or something. I swear.