So FF says its been abt 3 months i have published nothing for this fanfiction

Im truly sorry. But i think evveryone is already tired fo hearing me apologizing then doing the same thing again & again & again

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please forgive me! TOT


In the previous chapters:

Squalo is now working for Xanxus. But a new mission sends him to NYC where the late reunion with a strange man is raising questions about Squalo's past...?


His head fucking hurt. His throat was sore. His legs were numb and he couldn't remember which century it was. Nor where he left his shoes.

"Fuck…" Somehow, Xanxus' brain could tell he was lying on a bed. His hands groped about in the dark (because the raven was pretty sure he was fucking blind now), only to meet – in the middle of all the sheets and bottles – an arm, then a chest, then a neck and a head connected to said neck.

'Holy fuck, don't tell me it's some shit like a half body bathed in blood I brought here last night' was what he wanted to say, though only a low groan went past his lips.

"Oh, seems like he's trying to wake up." A voice was chiming somewhere in the darkness.

"Finally!" Another voice said. "I'm tired of babysitting him. Seriously, I just can't understand how Squalo can take care of such a baby. Did you see the mess he did in the bathroom?"

What the fuck was that? Who the fuck was so fucking annoying so fucking early in the morning? And what the fuck happened for him to be that wasted? Let's start again, from the beginning, from that stupid party he initially should have never attended. Well, at first everything wasn't that bad. The booze was good and the music was trash, like every time in that kind of gathering. Two idiots were following him, he kind of remembered. A man and a woman. Then another idiot appeared. But this other idiot, he knew him too, so it was sort of okay. But after him came a fourth idiot that looked like the asshole of the year. The scumbag looked like some crap God took then laid another layer of crap on. Well, a shitty crap.

He remembered he (Xanxus) was talking (or arguing, he couldn't tell the difference anymore) to that shitty crap. They called each other names, that's true, but Xanxus was totally sure it was the crappy shit (wait, no, the shitty crap) who started the fight. The raven's pride was offended, wasn't it? And he was in his full right to protect himself, wasn't he? And Xanxus never left his house without his guns… Or so he thought. That damn useless mongrel forgot to add them to his clothes! Ah, wait. That's true. Squalo was off to the States, so basically, he was the mongrel who forgot the fucking guns? Bullshit.

The more he dwelled on his thoughts, the more the images were growing clearer in Xanxus' mind. The crappy scumbag was mocking him. And the other idiots were telling him to forget it. Like hell. If he, Xanxus Vongola, couldn't teach a lesson from time to time to some lifeless trash, where was the world going? And the scumbag was laughing, and looking away, his guard down. That was his chance. And the hammer-like punch he hurled to his offender was something the scumbag was totally asking for! Ha! It sure made the worthless insect whirl meters away from him. However, the tanned man hadn't expected him to get up right after. Weird. Normally, no one would be back up so fast after such a blow. Or was he just too drunk and didn't have a very clear notion of time anymore, it was all the fucking same. In any case, the scumbag was up and fuming and ready to riposte. But as he ran to Xanxus, he tripped on something that looked like a foot. The scumbag went down like a brick in front of the raven, who laughed. Just before throwing up on the scumbag's face.

"Dear sister, he won't let go of my arm, and he reeks of puke. That's stomach-turning."

"Stop complaining! And I already told you not to call me that!"

"'That', what? Sister? But you are my sister. Until proven otherwise."

Oh, shut up! Shut up! Shut. Up! Couldn't they let an honest man sleep it off in peace, good Lord? Xanxus grunted again then turned over. His eyes cracked open. Just a little. And he muffled another profanity as Rome's afternoon sun went to burn his drunkard's pupils. "Fffuck…"

And just like a man nearly drowned in the sea who tries to hold tight to any kind of lifebuoy that's within reach, Xanxus clung harder to the body lying next to him, still cursing under his breath. "Fucking shark trash, go fucking close the curtains…"

"Yo-oh, Xanxus!" Byakuran greeted him, waving a friendly hand at the other male who was clutching hard at his arm.

Xanxus froze. His eyes were now wide open. His jaw had dropped by a kilometer.

And this time, he threw up on the white haired man's face.

"Just what in the world was on your mind?" Throwing a barely read newspaper, half-crumpled in a rare yet violent fit of anger, Vito Giordano started stomping around in his office. In the middle of the room, Alessio Giordano was looking at him, still, fists clenched. There were bruises on his face, his lower lip was painfully cracked but the younger Giordano didn't look like it affected him in any way.

It wasn't the same office as where we brought you the first time you met the old and dignified man – that warm and cozy greenhouse-office in Carnegie Hill. Located in the Downtown part of the island, it was the nerve center of the entire Holding. Did they have to acquire some business at the other side of the planet then have it crushed down to set up their own? Was there a leader in some country they needed to "support" in order to get new markets for one of their subsidiaries? Or how much should they pay some "official partners" to get anything ranging from an environmental permit to a lobbying in any of the sectors the Holding had already a premium on? All of SLW's decisions were taken there, in that impressive, bright and modern style room.

At first glance, everything in that place or more or less similar to what you usually see in a CEO office room. But when you look more closely, you can see here and there traces of the recent presence of children: plush toys and toy cars forgotten near Vito's desk, fresh pasta's stains on the otherwise immaculate couch, color pencils and papers covered with doodling in a corner of the room, and three or four small plasticine figures, slightly grotesque, enthroned atop the last contract Vito's lawyers had brought him. Because, this room might be the skull of SLW Ho., but from 12 till 2p.m from every Monday, Tuesday and Thursday, it also served as a daycare for three of the old man's youngest grandchildren.

And it was precisely during grandpa Vito's childcare time that he saw the appalling news, printed in bold at the first page of the Post. And there, amongst all the celebrities' gossips, he could read 'Billionaire heirs arrested at jet set gathering'. At first, Giordano almost didn't notice the article… until he saw the very face of his first son which was blossoming with recent bruises, garments torn and hair messed up. Vito couldn't believe his eyes. And it all happened the previous day! "Honestly, Alessio," Vito resumed, "I myself don't know what to think about this."

"Father, I'm…" Vito raised a hand, making Alessio hush right on the spot. The son looked down. "For this, I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"You'd better not make it happen again. Did you see how Nicky and Isa were looking at you when they left? A freak show!" Vito Giordano glowered at him. Despite the old man's habitual bonhomie, a simple glare from him had been enough to make the hair on the young man's neck rise in fear. "Alessio. Alessio, my son. Just what in the world was on your mind? Were you drunk? Or drugged?"

"I wasn't!"

"So you'll have to explain me this shit." Vito's voice raised. He wasn't walking anymore and had settled to face Alessio right in front of him, his arms crossed and his forehead lowered so that he had to slightly raise his eyes toward his oldest son. For a fraction of second, Alessio felt something akin to a murderous aura from his father, but it quickly disappeared as the old man tiredly rubbed his eyes before heaving a deep sigh. "For Lord's sake, son. I've never taught you to go and pick fight with random people like a barbarian-"

"It wasn't a random person! And that man was the one who started it in the beginning!"

"Are you even listening to what you say? You sound like a fourth grader!"

Alessio bit the inside of his mouth. That was utterly true. He was the eldest son, and on top of everything the future head of one of the biggest industrial empires of the world. He couldn't allow himself to act like some sort of foolish tumbler in front of the Holding's business partners! Yes, he was perfectly aware of all of this. And in spite of everything, he couldn't help but answer the Vongola's insult. That's the truth. Xanxus was the one at fault! All he did was to defend himself and his family's pride against that brute! However, this wasn't something he could say that easily to his father. 'Always take responsibility for your acts, no matter what happened', a motto instilled in the young man since his early years.

Just like an obedient child, Alessio bowed down to his father, "I'm truly sorry. This will never happen again."

Finally, the older Giordano gave up. Definitely, this wasn't good for his blood pressure. He dismissed his son and was now alone in the office.

3:07 p.m. The cleaning service would be there soon. They were surely waiting outside for the argument between the father and son to be over. Weary, Vito looked around the room. What a mess those kids could make every time they would come at his office. But the old man liked that mess, and he loved his grandchildren, especially those three ones. At any rate, now was the time to clean the mess they left, both children's and adults' ones… Once more, Vito Giordano sighed and rubbed his eyes. The old man definitely was too old for those kinds of ruckus. Reading the Post wasn't even his idea but well and truly his youngest daughter's, youngest daughter who said it was a shame her old father knew nothing about what was happening outside Wall Street, about what was happening outside the Holding and the Holding's empire. If it weren't for her, Vito would have cared less about all the fuss around movie stars and political scandals. To think that his own son was on the cover of those damn tabloids!

Suddenly, Giordano flinched. Who was the man Alessio had a fight with again? At first, Vito had been too furious to read the whole article.

The old man hissed. "… Vongola. Xanxus."

That man. Again. Vito couldn't help but curse in his inner self as the image of the tanned man crossed his mind. Giordano and Vongola families never got along, even before Xanxus went into his family's business. Both companies' head offices might be on different continents, nevertheless frictions due to business matters had always existed between them. And in their world, business meant everything.

However, Vito's irritation wasn't entirely caused by those old grudges.

Jumping as though he just remembered something important, the old man started rummaging in his pockets looking for his phone. He finally found it, but not in his pockets: after she played with it, Isa forgot her grandpa's phone with her plush toys.

"Kids, really." Vito smiled as he picked the phone from the ground. He then began tapping quite slowly on the screen, opening his contacts lists, scrolling until he found the name he was looking for. But when he called the number, the only feedback he got was the endless beeping of the dial tone. "That's strange," he thought, "he must be busy now."

Vito hung up. He'd have his secretary call him back later.

"Vooi. I'm fucking tired of your shit, Xanxus."

Squalo was yelling (again) in the other room. Actually, he wasn't yelling in the true sense of the word, but his voice was just so loud any sentence he would say would sound like a yell. But that's also how Lambo felt the sheer anger in the silverette's voice. Even an outsider like him knew better than cross the older man's path when he was that mad. It was even a divine intervention for Lambo that they could ultimately find a compromise about the long haired man's housing. To make it short, Lambo's master bedroom was officially made into Squalo's personal space. The room was big and independent enough from the other rooms of the flat to give the silverette some privacy. The Bovino then had to set up a new bed in was previously used as the dark haired boy's office/storeroom.

"No, you fucking listen to me! And don't fucking lie to me. I'm no fucking child you can fucking lie to!"

Lambo sighed. This had been going on for the past two hours. And yet, earlier that morning, no one saw that blast of tempest coming. In point of fact, that day began pretty quietly, Squalo was checking his mails, going through all the reports he received from the other of VR Co's staff members. That's when he saw that stupid bulk email from Lussuria: 'They say boss is in jail somewhere in Rome. What do I do? Do I have to tell Squ-chan?' Apparently the long haired man wasn't supposed to receive the message.

Then began the tantrum. At first Squalo called Xanxus' number, only to be sent straight to the voicemail. He called almost everyone in VR Co, then tried to reach all the rest of the Vongola family there in Sicily before calling Xanxus one more time; and one wasn't truly sure whether all of their phones just ran out of battery all in the same time or the network at their place was just shit or they just did not want to deal with the silverette, but when someone finally answered one of his many (oh so damn many) calls, it was past lunchtime and – what an irony – he was the one whose phone actually kicked the bucket. Too much stress for such a tiny body.

Squalo was on the verge of breakdown – and he more than surely would have succumbed if Lambo's smartphone hadn't rung about ten minutes later. The caller was the same person who picked up the phone. It was a woman's voice. Lambo remembered it was a very sweet and delicate voice. She said it was Bianchi, that Xanxus was already off the hook so he (Squalo) didn't have anything to worry about anymore. Yes, Xanxus was with her at the moment. Yes, she would be pleased to put him on the phone.

So it was in the common living-room where the young Bovino settled on sinking a little more into the newly treated against stains couch while opening up his ears and paying attention to each word his new roommate was screaming (no, just saying) at the Vongola boss. Even though he could see nothing of the amazing discussion between the lovers, Squalo's words were just too vivid not to get a complete mental image of the scene. Thus this is how Lambo was picturing Squalo's call with Xanxus.

Squalo is walking in circles in the bedroom. He has that awfully annoyed expression on his face, the same one he had when they were at Giordano's place. He stops. Listens. He grimaces. "Are you fucking kidding me? It was obviously your fucking fault!... Fuck it, Xanxus, don't make me believe the guy just slipped and fell on your fucking fist." He's tapping his foot. Strangely, now, Lambo is imagining a jazz band playing on the background. "And I… Voi, don't fucking tell me to shut up, you useless idiot of a boss! And I am not screaming… Do I fucking care if your fucking head hurt, damnit!" He kicks a nearby armchair. A glass is breaking somewhere in the room. "Do I give a flying fuck about your fucking hangover? Now, you listen to me!" He stops, leans on the table. "Yeah, so what if he insulted you? For who's sake do you think I'm in this shitty city right now? At this point I can say everything is screwed. Bravo, boss. Really." He sneers. "Vooi. Of course, I'm being sarcastic, you stupid. It's way worse than just screwed." He makes big movements with his hand to emphasize his point, even though none can see him talking at the moment. "This mission is fucked up. I could just leave everything and go back home. At this point, staying here is just a waste of time anyway…" A long silence. He makes that annoyed gesture again. The one where he's vaguely brush his left ring finger on his forehead. The silverette somewhat calms down. "No, no, wait. It's not like I'm really going to leave… Uh? Why would I do that, you say… I won't do that, that's all. I know that's a shitty setback but I'll find something…It'll only take a little longer than planned" He spins on his feet then falls back in another armchair. "Yes, I'm a fucking grown ass man. I can sort that shit out by myself. Don't you fucking lump me together with your trashy subordinates." His voice lowers down, a bit. Maybe he's smiling. "Yeah… Yeah, that's right. Che. I'll find a way or another. That's my job after all. Yeah, I get it… Ah, wait, Xanxus!" Pause. "What, you ask… Voi, just take care of yourself."

It startled Lambo when Squalo burst in the living room. He instinctively took his feet off of the couch and smiled awkwardly at a relatively grumpy Squalo. This, Lambo knew it best, wasn't the grumpy-because-of-work face, more like an I-wanna-see-my-lover kind of grumpy face.

"So? How did things go?" The young man asked. A grunt was his first answer.

"Xanxus is being bothersome as usual." Squalo sighed as he went to the kitchen's mini bar to pour himself a glass of Blanton's. After drinking the thick liquid in a single gulp, he violently put the glass back on the counter. "I hope the shit he did this time won't spoil everything I did until now."

"I see…" Lambo sympathized with him. "Uhm, by the way, Mr. Squalo…"

"What?"

He could do it. Lambo knew he could do it. Didn't Victor Hugo say something like, the future belongs to the brave? "That woman who answered your call…Bianchi." The young man ventured, "The one who was with Xanxus, do you know her?"

The silverette's eyebrow raised curiously. It looked like he didn't expect that question. "Yeah. If I'm not wrong, she's Xanxus' ex-fiancée."

"Wow, really?" Lambo rose from his seat. This is a turn of situation he didn't see coming. "That surprises me. And you… You're okay with her being with Xanxus now?"

"Well, yeah. I don't really mind." Squalo poured another glass of bourbon. And indeed, he didn't seem like he minded his lover's ex taking care of him miles away. What a weird couple dynamics, Lambo pondered. But didn't that hide something else?

"So… after their breakup-"

Squalo burst in laugh. "Voi, you couldn't really call that a 'breakup' in the first place."

"Oh. So, after… after they split, did Bianchi get someone else?"

"Who knows. Why you ask?"

"Well, Mr. Squalo, I was just wandering if you could…"

"If I could what? You're fucking annoying. Go straight to the point, already."

Lambo tried to grin. "If you could introduce me to her?"

Squalo took another sip. "No way." And he was dead serious.

"Why? You said she's single now, so it's ok, isn't it?"

"Vooi! I never said that!"

"Come on! All you have to do is talking to her about me, just a little… At least give me her number… Ah, that's right. It's already here."

Lambo started searching methodically for Bianchi's number in his call history. Squalo sighed in surrender. "Che. Do as you want. But don't fucking come complain here afterwards."

"Yeah, yeah." Suddenly, Squalo's phone rang. "Oh, I forgot to tell you, it didn't stop ringing some time ago."

Squalo furrowed at his incompetent assistant, but seeing him already so busy planning his future and very improbable date with the young woman, he went to pick it up by himself from the coffee table. "Yeah?" He answered and furrowed a little more as he recognized the voice on the line.

"Good afternoon." Vito's voice resounded from the small device.

"Voi, why the fuck-" Squalo's expression darkened dreadfully. As fast as though he just got stung by a giant hornet, he left the room again not to let Lambo see his unease. This time, instead of just going to his bedroom, he left the flat to stay on the landing. How he did need a cigarette at the moment… And that flickering light was doing nothing but annoy the shit of him more. "Fuck. Forgot the packet in the living-room." He murmured. Just fuck it. One way or another he'd have to talk to that old geezer again, whether he liked it or not. "What? What do you want?"

"Now, now." Vito laughed. "No need to be so upset. We've known each other since long, don't we?"

"Yeah… that's why I'm upset."

"You always have something funny to say, huh?... But more seriously. Have you read the news? About my son…"

Squalo flinched. Here it comes. "Yeah."

"You know, I don't want to get media and all that jazz mixed in that little fight of ours. You can understand that, can you?"

"Yeah…"

"We're all adults here. A trivial fight like this one… We can deal with it by ourselves, can't we?"

"Yeah…"

"And since you're in NY, we can directly have a talk, not to let this affair turn into an ugly scandal, can't we?"

"Yeah…"

"So, it's all settled then! I'll be waiting for you at Ferdinando's. At 7. You do remember the old Ferdi, don't you?"

"Yeah… Huh? Wait! Don't fucking decide things by yourself!-"

But the old Giordano had already hung up, leaving the poor Squalo wondering if the world had just start going mad around him.

TBC