Title: Euro Trip
Universe: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Theme/Topic: N/A
Rating: PG-13 for swearing?
Character/Pairing/s: Lightly LanchiaxBasil
Warnings/Spoilers: Vague spoilers for the tail end of the Varia arc.
Word Count: 2,030
Summary: Lanchia receives his next set of orders.
Dedication: swinku's birthday fic! WHO LOVES YOU BABY.
A/N: UM Yeah, I don't know what I'm doing, but rest assured I am doing my best! Um, the timeline might be all wrong because I don't exactly know when the Rings Arc takes place in the calendar year but whatever, bear with me. SORRY THIS IS SO VOMIT INDUCING. I ONLY DO THIS OUT OF LOVE. RLY.
Disclaimer: Not mine, unfortunately.
Distribution: Just lemme know.
July 5
When Lanchia and Basil finally make it back to Italy after a long flight on a plane full of crying children and funny smelling old men, the first thing Lanchia asks Iemitsu is, "What are my next orders?"
The external advisor looks him over, looks tired, then smiles crookedly and tells him, "Your next orders are to take a vacation."
A moment.
"A… vacation."
Iemitsu nods. "You know, travel the world, see the sights. Do whatever you want for a few months."
Lanchia blinks and thinks that this is weird; he hasn't had that kind of freedom since…well, since a long time ago. He's not sure if he can ever find it in himself to live like that again, or if he's even ready to try just yet. It seems like too much to process right now. "I don't think I understand," he says, carefully. "There's a lot of work to be done here and any manpower you have should be concentrated on fortifying the headquarters after the ordeal with Xanxus."
Iemitsu waves a hand dismissively. "We're taking care of that. I just think you need a break, Lanchia-kun."
Lanchia looks back at him blankly. "I wouldn't know the first thing to do on a break," he finally admits.
Iemitsu laughs a little. "Oh, right. It has been a while since you've had one hasn't it?" He pauses to think, rubbing the three day's worth of stubble growth on his chin with one hand as he does. "Ah! I know just the thing to help." He flashes a reassuring double thumbs up at his new charge. "You need some fresh, young perspective! Rediscover life!"
Lanchia hopes that the fresh, young perspective Iemitsu is talking about doesn't mean that he is going to be handed a random vacation pamphlet and a Hawaiian T-shirt before being shoved out the door, which seems to be the external advisor's answer to everything lately, given the extensive reconstruction the Vongola stronghold is currently undergoing. He seems to think it will go faster if there are less people underfoot as it happens. Lanchia thinks there will be more attacks if there isn't anyone around, but then again, he's not in charge here.
Five minutes later, Lanchia doesn't know how to feel when he is proven kind of wrong but kind of right all at the same time; he is indeed shoved out the door with a vacation pamphlet as he'd initially feared, but he is noticeably lacking in the Hawaiian T-shirt department. What he does have is a wide-brimmed straw hat, but only because Iemitsu is fresh out of ridiculous shirts in his size.
In addition to straw hat and tour pamphlet, Lanchia is also given a Little Something Extra to take with him on his vacation.
"Master said I'm to show you how to have fun for the next four months," Lanchia's Little Something Extra chirps helpfully as they walk down the half-destroyed hallway directly outside of Iemitsu's temporary new office. "So what kind of things do you think you want to do on this vacation?"
Lanchia blinks down at Basil, who is actually sporting the last of Iemitsu's Hawaiian print shirts in size M. It's blue and white with palm trees on it and hangs a little bit too big on Basil's skinny frame.
Lanchia doesn't say anything. The straw hat makes his forehead itch.
"Um, how about this? It looks fun," Basil suggests after a minute of awkward silence, flipping through their pamphlet obediently. It has a picture of a charming rural village and the words "European Tour Guide" written on the cover. "What do you think, Lanchia-san?"
"My head itches," Lanchia says, and doesn't say anything else after that.
Basil sighs and books them two tickets to Spain.
July 7
"Lanchia-san," Basil begins awkwardly, "You're supposed to run from the bulls. It's a tradition."
Lanchia stares back at the young Mafioso as the unforgiving Spanish sun beats down on him. He is almost thankful for the straw hat. Almost. "Run?"
Basil nods. "Run."
Lanchia sighs before putting the terrified bull he is currently holding in the air back on the ground again; he watches it run away—dazed and confused— in the direction it had originally come from. "But I'm not afraid of them," he cites, rationally.
"It's not… you're just supposed to run."
"Oh."
A beat.
Around them, the Pamplona crowd is dead still. Unconscious bovine line the streets, sprawled out where they were thrown when Lanchia first caught wind of their sinister sneak attack from up the boulevard.
Silence.
Then, "Fuck," a bewildered American begins after a moment, "I am so much drunker than I thought I was."
Basil steps gingerly around the lolling bulls and quickly books them tickets to France.
July 14
After several hours of aimlessly wandering the streets of Paris, the city is suddenly filled with a flurry of unexpected gunfire. Naturally, Lanchia's first instinct is to grab his smaller charge and throw him to cover; in this instance cover is an alleyway behind a bakery that is lined with trashcans. A cat screeches and goes skittering up a fire escape as it is ousted from its resting place.
"Get down!" Lanchia bellows, and grabs a dumpster, hefting it over his head as he guards the mouth of the alley for any attackers. He curses airport security for not allowing him possession of any real weapons; they even confiscated his belt knife earlier.
"Lanchia-san…" Basil begins meekly, and stands, dusting himself off.
"I said get down!"
Basil sighs. "Lanchia-san, today is Bastille Day."
A moment.
Then, "I don't know what that means," Lanchia says, "But I am going to assume that we are not actually under attack." He slowly puts the dumpster down.
Basil smiles helplessly. "We're not."
Meanwhile, the parade ambles obliviously on.
July 20
"It's… a snail."
Basil pokes at his warily. "It's…a delicacy? I think."
Lanchia's eyebrow arches, just marginally. "This is supposed to be…fun?" he asks.
Before Basil can answer, Lanchia accidentally shatters the tiny shell in his hand, sending a spray of butter and snail flesh across the pristine tablecloth.
He blinks.
Basil takes one look at Lanchia's confounded expression and begins to laugh without knowing why.
"Yes," he chuckles softly, "this is fun."
"Huh."
They don't end up eating the snails at all.
Instead, they fly to Sweden.
July 28
"Um," Basil starts nervously, as a pair of hand-holding men giggle while eying him (and then Lanchia) over thoroughly.
Lanchia glares back instinctively and lets Basil bury himself into his side. "I feel that this time, we are definitely under attack," he reports, and does not understand why none of these men seem intimidated by him at all. They are either very strong or very foolish.
"Apparently, we are just um, in time for Europride here in Stockholm," Basil explains.
"Euro-what?"
"N-nothing!" He huddles closer.
Lanchia does not understand why so many people are looking at the two of them with such high interest. Do they know they're Mafia? Unlikely.
What he does know is that he is definitely not comforted by the fact that a lot of them are wearing more leather than he is.
"Maybe we shouldn't stay here very long," he suggests.
Basil nods and quickly goes to buy them tickets to…somewhere else.
August 1
"It isn't bubbly or squeaky," Lanchia says, sounding vaguely relieved as they sit down to their first meal in London.
Basil digs into his without blinking twice. "Try the beer, Lanchia-san. It is a local specialty."
Lanchia takes a tentative swig and ends up spitting most of it out.
August 10
By the time they arrive in Ireland he is used to the warm beer and names of food that have nothing to do with the food they indicate at all. However, he steadfastly refuses to eat blood pudding at any cost because he is pretty sure it is actually made out of blood.
Basil loves all the tiny, tiny ponies they see in the green countryside, "Reborn-san could ride them!" he chirps, and likes looking at the old Irish castles they pass from the outsides only. He says that even though he has grown up around castles like this, he has never liked the insides because they are all cold and empty.
Lanchia is inclined to agree with most of Basil's assessments, and learns that the most interesting thing about Ireland is the fact that in this country, someone smaller than Vongola Jyuudaime is willing to pick a fight with Lanchia in the middle of a crowded pub.
Lanchia ends up winning, and to his surprise, discovers that he enjoys the fight again.
August 15
After that there are men in dresses in Scotland and more warm beer in Germany; Basil is mistaken for a foreign woman in a beer garden in Munich and plied with drinks until Lanchia is forced to carry him out over his shoulder. He vomits on the way back to the hotel and passes out groaning for the rest of the night while Lanchia attempts to tame the mysterious hotel remote control so that it might actually do his bidding.
He soon loses that fight, and ultimately ends up watching fat men dancing in lederhosen until he falls asleep. Basil's gentle snoring bores him out.
He wakes up because his cell phone rings, bright and early Saturday morning.
August 16
Basil is a little green around the gills when Lanchia wakes him up right after he is finished talking on the phone, but the smaller boy gamely gets dressed and makes it down for breakfast with Lanchia despite his nausea.
"Ah," he sighs, pushing his food around on his plate a bit dreamily, "I was surprised for Master to call us back so suddenly. I'd already purchased the tickets to Prague."
"Mmm," Lanchia grunts, eating his sausage and feeling oddly unsure about having to go back so soon.
He thinks that maybe it is a feeling of not wanting all of this to end, but he can't be sure.
He thinks that there is still one place he wants to go before it's all over.
He doesn't manage to muster up the courage to say what is on his mind until they are already an hour in the air in the Vongola Family jet, heading back towards Italy.
"Basil," he starts, awkwardly, "Do you think it would be possible to go to one more place before we return?"
Basil blinks. "Where?"
Lanchia looks out the window and sees the tops of snow-capped mountains as they pass the Swiss border into the northern countryside.
"Oh," Basil says, and gets it.
The final stop of their vacation is a small town in Northern Italy, where Lanchia parks their rental car in front of a once magnificent house that is slowly being reclaimed by the elements.
Basil waits in the car and watches Lanchia's black-clad figure walk towards a surprisingly well-kept plot of land marked by many small, handmade crosses.
When Lanchia stops and crouches in front of them, Basil looks respectfully away.
"Boss," Lanchia begins quietly, and starts to feel the ghost of a smile on his face; it's almost like the ones he used to have back in this house, back with this family. "Boss, how are you?"
The wind blows gently through the trees and Lanchia puts his hand to the earth.
"I've been having fun, Boss. I hope that's okay."
When Lanchia returns to the car Basil is startled awake by the sound of the door opening. He's weary from travel and finds himself dozing off every now and again, without meaning to.
"Done already?" he asks, rubbing his eyes blearily. He stifles a yawn.
Lanchia starts the car. "Yeah. Let's go home."
As they drive, Basil falls back asleep, head lolling alternately against the window of the passenger door and Lanchia's shoulder.
Lanchia turns on the radio to keep himself awake for the rest of the drive back and absently wonders to himself if Iemitsu has any tour pamphlets of Asia hidden somewhere in his vast collection.
He keeps it in mind for the next time he gets to take a vacation.
END