A/N: After a (completely unintended, I assure you) year long hiatus, I have returned with a new chapter!
I can't really say I'm picking up where I left off, but I had some ideas and well, here they are. I do plan to start updating this fic regularly again, because honestly, I miss KHR a lot and I especially miss my precious Varia angels.
So yeah, the Vongola crew doesn't happen in this chapter, but rest assured that they will be popping up again periodically.
With that being said, read on!
The usual warnings apply.
Disclaimer: Don't own it. Writing this solely to entertain.
36: It's Always the Quiet Ones
(In which Lussuria simultaneously prevents accidental arson and premeditated murder)
It wasn't often that Lussuria stumbled upon any of the other members of his squad in the kitchen, but on those rare occasions when he did, nine times out of ten it was cause for concern. He was pretty sure Fran wasn't trying to make explosives like a certain other member of their crew had once, but Lussuria was also pretty sure that the young illusionist didn't know how to cook anything besides pudding.
And by the bizarre assortment of ingredients spread out on the counter, he clearly wasn't making pudding.
Lussuria heard Fran singing a random song to himself as he reached for a dubious-looking bottle that was set apart from the other ingredients. The sight of him singing slightly off-key normally would've been charming, but…
Fran read over the ingredients on the bottle quietly, shoulders shimmying cutely in time with the music as he did so, before shrugging with alarming disinterest and dumping the entire bottle into the pot he had on the stove and dancing over to the refrigerator.
"Fran?" Lussuria began worriedly as he walked into the kitchen. At the sound of the familiar voice behind him, Fran turned from where he had been digging around for something on one of the shelves.
"Oh Lussu-nee-san," he said simply, "I'm glad you're here. I need your help with something."
I'm glad too. Lussuria thought to himself with a mental grimace. That pot was beginning to boil over. "What are you making?"
"Soup." Fran replied without the slightest sense of urgency, as if his 'soup' wasn't boiling over the edges of the pot and sizzling on the stove top. Instead, he went back to rummaging around in the fridge.
Needless to say, his lack of concern for his now burning soup set Lussuria into motion.
"Fran! Dammit, watch what you're doing! You're going to damage the stove!" Lussuria shrieked as he raced across the kitchen and turned the heat down. After a few seconds, the boiling contents of the pot settled into a rather begrudged-looking simmer. Lussuria picked up the ladle and began stirring the soup.
"Honey," Lussuria began with a sigh, "If you don't know what you're doing, I suggest leaving the cooking to someone who does. Namely, me. You've already burned the house down once, we don't need it happening again. (1)"
When his plea was met with silence, Lussuria looked up. Fran was staring at him over the door of the refrigerator, his face unnervingly blank, even for Fran.
"Are you making fun of me, Lussu-nee-san?" The illusionist asked after a moment, his tone icy and unreadable. Lussuria shivered.
He's been spending way too much time with Mammon. He thought to himself.
"No, of course not, I'm just sayi-"
"-Because that was a life or death situation, you know. I acted purely on instinct." Fran interjected, still staring at Lussuria as if he was daring him to say otherwise. Which Lussuria was.
"Fran, it was just a spider." Lussuria said, rolling his eyes at the younger man before turning back to the soup.
A few minutes of tense quiet passed between the two after that; Lussuria calmly stirring the quickly coagulating soup, and Fran staring at him in what appeared to be stunned silence.
"It wasn't just a spider, you douchebag." Lussuria heard Fran mutter under his breath before the teen ducked back into the fridge to continue looking for…whatever it was that he was looking for.
"I heard that~!" Lussuria chirped.
Fran's head immediately poked over the door of the fridge again. "Do we have any banana extract, banana juice, or like, actual bananas?" He asked suddenly, pointedly changing the subject.
Mentally chalking up his victory in their little argument, Lussuria looked up with a faint smirk.
"Why? Isn't this supposed to be soup?"
To the untrained eye, there was no discernible difference between Fran's moods and facial expressions. But after living with him for a while, Fran became quite an easy person to read. The changes were very subtle, but not unnoticeable. Fran's lip twitched; a slight curl at the corner of his mouth told Lussuria that their resident mist guardian was feeling a little testy today.
"Fran," Lussuria began, "Is that a smirk I see? Hmm…makes me think that our little illusionist is up to no goooood~"
Fran finally closed the refrigerator door and walked over.
"Not at all, Lussu-nee-san," Fran said as he gingerly plucked the ladle from Lussuria's hand, "And who says bananas can't be an ingredient in soup, hmm? Is there some rule written in some obscure cookbook that says if I put fruit in soup I'll go to Hell or something?"
Lussuria leaned against the counter, settling his chin in the palm of his hand. "There's no rule against it at all. It's just that," Lussuria leaned closer, "You are aware that Bel is deathly allergic to bananas, aren't you?"
Fran's expression didn't falter. He did however, start stirring the soup a little faster than before.
"Really? I wasn't aware of that." He intoned.
Lussuria shifted a fraction closer. "That soup isn't for Bel, is it Fran?"
Fran's gaze shifted from the pot to the man next to him for a brief moment, letting out a strangled noise of what sounded like, to Lussuria at least, sadistic amusement.
A beat passed.
"So do we have any or not?" Fran asked again as he turned back to his pot.
Lussuria sighed loudly. "What did he do to you this time?"
At that, the semi-amused expression on Fran's face dimmed back into its usual unreadable expression.
"I don't really want to talk about it. But trust me, he deserves this."
Lussuria let out another sigh, though this time it was one of mild relief. "Well, I won't pry for details, but fortunately for Bel, we don't have any banana products here in the house."
Fran's eyebrow twitched. "Yeah, lucky him." He muttered.
"But Fran…uh, what was that stuff you just dumped in before I came in?"
Despite his now obvious anger, Fran's mouth bowed into a small, impish grin.
Oh boy, this isn't going to end well for Bel. Lussuria thought. Fran smiling was like Xanxus smiling: virtually unheard of, and when it did happen, it was usually at someone else's expense and the aftermath was not pretty.
"Its horse laxative."
Lussuria wisely left the kitchen after that.
"Oi, Frog, this soup tastes a little funny."
"There wasn't any salt in the kitchen. Sorry, sempai."
37: Summer Colds
(In which Xanxus decides that his subordinates have a deathwish)
His face felt hot. And for once, it wasn't from rage.
Actually, he had been in a fairly alright mood that morning. 'Fairly alright' being completely relative, of course; he only shot one messenger today, and even more magnanimously, he only shot him in the leg instead of the head or stomach.
But that had been that morning.
It was now well into the late afternoon, and Xanxus felt like his head was going to split open. Allergies had never been an issue for him, but…
He did recall Squalo bitching about how high the pollen count was in their part of the country this year. He also remembered the swordsman barking at a few underlings to go into town and stock up their emergency supply of benadryl. For some reason he requested the non-drowsy ones in a hushed tone; but Xanxus was sure that that reason was that Belphegor liked to pop them like skittles and had consequently spent the entirety of the previous summer passed out in bed, on the couch, and in various other locations around the headquarters, muttering questionable things in his sleep. (Things that of course were recorded by Fran and stashed away to be used later as blackmail.)
At the present moment, Xanxus wanted nothing more than one of those pills, the drowsy ones, because he wanted to lay down and sleep until the end of the week. But he would've rather castrated himself with his bare hand than look weak in front of his men.
And so, it was five in the afternoon, his head was pulsing, and the conference room was stuffy as hell.
And, even more annoying, all of his subordinates were staring at him as if he were liable to explode any second. He supposed he must've looked as bad as he felt.
"Boss, you look like shit."
Squalo never was one to beat around the bush.
"Yeah, he's right."
"Shut up."
"Ew, are you sick or something?"
"Shut up."
"Oh, oh~! Boss is feeling under the weather? ~ Do you want me to get you something?"
"SHUT UP."
Xanxus released the safety on one of his pistols. He supposed he'd been generous enough today. Or perhaps he just hadn't shot enough underlings.
"BOSS!"
"Fucking! Be goddamn quiet already!" He snapped, unloading a barrage of bullets on his squad. It was loud and made his head hurt worse, but it still lightened his mood a little to see them all scramble to get out of the way. They could sure move when it mattered.
"My-my hair!" Lussuria wailed suddenly. The man was cradling his green fringe, now shortened by at least an inch, mumbling incoherently before collapsing in a heap onto the table.
Ignoring his sun guardian, Xanxus shoved his gun back into its proper holster. "I'm going back to fucking bed. If anyone comes near my side of the house, I'll shoot your goddamn shit off."
The others nodded rapidly before scurrying out of the room, and probably the mansion. But not before Levi came back to scoop up Lussuria's unconscious body, bowing deeply before high-tailing it out of the room.
Squalo, however, remained behind, an annoyingly amused look on his face.
"What?" Xanxus grunted as he shifted to stand. Squalo didn't say anything. The swordsman simply gave him a fairly good-natured shrug before fishing a small, silver package out of his pocket.
"Here. These are the ones that make you sleep. Go the fuck to bed before you kill one of us."
"Good." Xanxus muttered as he snatched the pills out of Squalo's open palm.
"And do yourself a favor, take them with water. Not motherfucking rum. The hospital's two hours away."
Xanxus glared at him. "I wasn't going to do that." He said, looking insulted that Squalo felt he needed to be told this.
Nonetheless, Squalo gave him a pointed look. "Water, Xanxus. You hear me?" He repeated before walking out after the others.
Xanxus grumbled as he made his way to his room.
"Tch, retard. I don't even have any fucking rum."
38: Mirror, Mirror
(In which Mammon arbitrarily tests out a developing theory)
Mammon wiped the condensation from the mirror in one swift motion.
He had long become accustomed to seeing his short stature and chubby cheeks in the tiny erasure amidst the condensation, but tonight was one of those nights where the sight of his infant form was enough to make him want to shatter the mirror.
And he would have, if he had had the strength to do it in his tiny fists. But he didn't, and it irritated him.
Mammon ran a hand over the smooth skin of his cheek, a tiny finger tracing the indigo triangle tattooed upon it. He soon brought his other hand to join the first.
"…Viper…" Mammon uttered. He leaned over and exhaled along the mirror, over his reflection. "A relic of the past." He said with a bitter laugh. This was him now. No matter how he wished otherwise, he was there. This form was real; real and so frustratingly tangible.
Mammon's eyes slid shut as one hand reached for the warm glass of the mirror.
He imagined his reflection; the one of his former self, and not the infant he was forced to be.
He was standing there, his arms supporting him as he stood staring at himself in front of the mirror. Not on the counter, clambering to one side to avoid sliding into the sink, but with his feet placed solidly on the tiled floor. His hair was damp against his neck and hanging in his eyes.
Mammon clenched his eyes tighter.
Concentrate.
The steam in the room wrapped around his slender frame, condensing into small droplets on his skin and sliding down the expanse of his chest and torso.
Mammon smiled slightly. The sensation made the tattoos that covered his body tingle with energy.
He supposed that was a good sign.
The mist guardian forced himself to concentrate harder.
Push all thoughts of you as an infant from your mind. You are Viper. You have only ever existed as Viper.
"Maaaammoooon! Where are you?"
Mammon's eyes snapped open.
"Mammon!" He heard Belphegor calling for him, "Get out of the bathroom! Our show's about to start, stupid!"
The arcobaleno sighed, his head lolling forward tiredly against the glass. The steam had long faded, leaving only the reflection he had come to know and loathe.
Mammon had his bathrobe a quarter of the way on when the bathroom door flew open wildly. Before he had a chance to react, Belphegor was already laughing hysterically at his infantile nudity; pinching a tiny butt-cheek teasingly before pushing the robe all the way on and scooping him up like an air-headed teenaged babysitter and carting him off to his own bedroom.
"Bel?" Mammon began during the commercials.
"What?" Belphegor replied, still digging around in the box of lucky charms he had snagged off the top of the fridge for a marshmallow.
"Do you want to know what I look like?"
At that, Belphegor looked down at the little arcobaleno with a lopsided smile. "But I know what you like. You're sitting next to me right now, aren't you?"
"Yes, that's true, but-"
"The show's back on! Shh!" And with that the conversation abruptly ended. Mammon settled back into one of the numerous pillows that littered the prince's bed.
It would have been a moot point anyway.
Bel just wouldn't understand.
1) Reference to Eight-legged Antichrist. I'm sure most of you got that reference though lol
I've got some major illusionist head-canons in the works, so expect some more Mammon-centric shorts in the near future. As usual, anything I write concerning Mammon/Viper follows the Crawl with the Heretics head-canon (the original head-canon for that fic belongs to Lulu-Ichigo).
Reviews and comments are welcome, so until next time!
