A/N: Yo! Welcome to the third installment of my little collection, Phases of Accidia.
First, I wanna say thanks to everyone who reviewed, I love your feedback! I am flattered to hear that my fanfic has been deemed "Varia Quality!" Second, this chapter came completely out of no where. I was driving to work yesterday, and this one scene popped into my head and I almost died laughing. This little one-shot was spawned completely out of my desire to type that one single scene. If you can guess which one, I'll give you a cookie!
That said, the characters are bit OOC in this one, mostly towards the end, and to be honest, I'm not sure when exactly Fran joins the Varia, but we know it's during some point in the ten years since the ring battles. Anyway, read it and enjoy!
Disclaimer: Katekyo Hitman Reborn belongs to Akira Amano. I'm just a humble college student with a crappy laptop writing for fun.
III. Of Gelato and Mental Torture
"Squalo~…" Belphegor.
"Long-haired commander." Fran.
"…." Squalo stared straight ahead, clenching his teeth, trying to focus on the afternoon news.
"Shishi~! Yo, Squ-chan!" Belphegor again.
"Idiot commander." Back to Fran.
"Squ-squ! Stop ignoring us!" Belphegor began to poke Squalo in the side of the head. The sword emperor growled low in his throat. Maybe If I ignore them with all of my will, somehow they'll get the goddamn message and leave me the fuck alone. He thought irately to himself.
"Oi! Ugly old lady!" No such luck.
"Grandma Squalo, we want Gelato." Wait, Grand-ma? Squalo felt his eye twitch rapidly.
Poke. Pokepokepokepoke. Belphegor from the left.
.Poke. Fran from the right.
"Squalo! The prince orders you to take me and the stupid frog to get gelato. Ushishi~" Bel grinned while he and Fran continued their savage poke attack on the Varia commander's poor skull. The two youngest members of the assassination squad flanked him on either side of the couch, effectively distracting him from watching the latest news.
"Idiot long-haired commander…gelato…" Fran droned.
Squalo was determined to ignore them. Unfortunately, the universe was not on his side today.
"Squ-chan, if you don't take us, I'm going to switch all of your shampoos with-"
The Varia strategist snapped.
"VOIIIIII! WHAT THE FUCK? LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE! DON'T YOU ASSCLOWNS KNOW HOW TO FUCKIN' DRIVE? GO BY YOUR DAMN SELVES!" Squalo was hyperventilating angrily. Of course, Fran had to comment.
"Commander, you should calm down. All that rage is going to make your blood pressure go up." Squalo almost started breathing fire. Belphegor laughed.
"Come on, Squ-chan! Take us to get gelato! The prince has been craving it all week!" Bel prodded again. The shark looked at the two quizzically.
"Voi…Why do you need me to take you? Seriously, can't either of you fuckers drive?" Squalo reasoned back irately. They were both in their twenties for fuck's sake. How could neither of them drive? Anyhow, he had already missed the weather report, which was what he really wanted to see, so now he had nothing better to do than hear these two out.
"Well?"
Belphegor and Fran glanced at each other, and then back to the waiting rain guardian.
"We're not allowed." They said in unison. Two thin silver eyebrows rose skeptically.
"Not allowed? Why the hell not?" Fran scratched his neck, (almost) looking sheepish and sighed as he began his unreasonably lengthy explanation about how he had taken one of the Varia's many 'toys', a sleek white BMW M3 coupe, if his memory served him well , out for a spin. He had taken an immediate liking to the car, and as such, affectionately labeled it his 'baby.'
Not many knew this, aside from the core Varia members of course, but Fran was a closet adrenaline junkie, and a notorious speeder. Lussuria had found that out the hard way, when he once went on assignment with the green-haired illusionist. He had come back with his Mohawk thoroughly decimated and frizzed out, and was muttering something along the lines of 'slow d-down,' shaking like a chihuahua.
"Tch..." Was all Squalo could say. How could he forget that? He had been the one to pick up the young illusionist from jail the next day. Who knew flying down the highway at 136 miles an hour would land you in jail? Apparently a certain apathetic froggy didn't. Fran had had his license for a grand total of three and a half months, just shy of his 21st birthday, before getting it suspended until the following year. He sighed in near resignation as he looked over at the blond prince, who smirked back.
Did he even dare ask why the slasher wasn't allowed?
"What's your excuse blondie?" Squalo rested his chin in his hand as he scrutinized Belphegor, who had planted himself on the couch beside him.
"Bel-sempai has no regard for traffic safety." Fran quipped up. Belphegor immediately stabbed him in the arm.
"Shut it toad! I wanna tell him!"
As such, it was Belphegor's turn to launch into an equally long recant of the "Greatest Joy Ride in Traffic Violation History" as he dubbed it. He had sped through eleven red lights in a row, causing three separate accidents, almost hit a pedestrian, ran an old couple in a beat up old Fiat off the freeway, cut off a bus full of children (forcing the bus driver to slam on the brakes, resulting in an improbably high number of bruises and broken noses), bypassed two separate tolls, all in the span of about fifteen minutes ("Ushishi~ it was fun!") and, when he was eventually pulled over, he gave the officers his typical excuse. "I'm a prince. I'm allowed to drive like an asshole. It was everybody else's fault for being in the way."
Needless to say, Belphegor got the royal treatment, alright. A few days in jail, a revoked license, and enough fines to finance the immergence of a third world country. Not to mention his gorgeous Black Ferrari convertible was impounded indefinitely. Plus, on top of the 17284356075 tickets he already received, one the officers gave him another ticket for being a dumbass, and having the balls to think an excuse like that would actually work.
When Squalo gave him an incredulous look, Bel simply said, "It's true! He gave me another ticket because he was affronted by my audacity. Shishi~!" Fran gave the plucky blonde a sideways stare/glare.
"So anyway, yea. Me and Speed Racer over here (stab "Look who's talking!" stab) can't drive. Could you take us?" Fran asked, yanking knives out of his frog hat.
Squalo sighed again, dragging his open palm down his handsome face in defeat. They weren't going to leave him alone until he took them. Well, he hadn't had gelato in a while, so why not?
"Fine." Hopefully he wouldn't regret this.
And since when did members of the mafia have any regard for the law, anyway?
'Mama Antonella's Casa di Gelati 'was famous all over Europe. The little hole-in-the-wall shop boasted the largest selection of flavors of any gelato shop in Italy, from chocolate to watermelon, cotton candy to prune, and was so rich and fresh that epicureans traveled from all over the country to partake in the cold, sugary treat. A certain trio of hitmen were not among those so lucky.
Squalo grit his teeth in irritation as he patted himself down for what had to be at least the third or fourth time. He had forgotten his bloody wallet. And to add insult to injury, now that he was in front of the shop, he spotted the tub of cherry gelato inside, practically radiating a holy aura, almost as if to mock Squalo and his everlasting misfortune. He turned to the other two members of his party glumly.
"Voi! I forgot my fuckin wallet! Can one of you two cover for me?"
"I don't have any money." Fran said as he stared down the coconut gelato with something along the lines of longing.
"The prince thought you were gonna pay. I didn't bring my wallet either." Belphegor glowered at the swordsman, million watt grin wiped off of his face for once.
"WHAT? When the fuck did I say I was gonna pay? You only asked if I could drive you here! VOIII!" Squalo nearly tore out his hair in rage. "Uh duh, when the prince says to take him somewhere, that means you pay too. Che. Stupid peasant."
At that, Squalo almost had a seizure.
Belphegor ignored the shark's wrath-induced convulsions and tried to think up a solution to their little dilemma. He crossed his arms and stared hard at the brick walkway. Squalo could practically hear the rusty gears turning somewhere under that mass of gold.
After another minute, Belphegor gave a firm nod of his head.
" I got it." When Squalo looked at him expectantly,Belphegor smirked maliciously.
"Let's just take it. Ushishi, we're motherfucking hitmen! What're they gonna say, no?" Squalo gave him a look.
"Yea, but stealing some fuckin' gelato seems kinda pathetic, don't you think?" Squalo argued back. Bel's shoulders sagged a bit in admittance. The thought of three grown men having to steal ice cream did seem pretty lame. The two thought some more.
"You think Mama Antonella would put it on a tab? I mean we are the Varia. That's gotta count for something, right? " Was the shark's idea. Bel readily answered, "Hell no. That old bitch is almost as greedy as Mammon. You could be God and she would still charge you."
"Hmm..true that."
"Ushishishi, we can always whore out Fran…I'll bet he's worth a few euros." At that, the mist guardian stared pointedly at Belphegor. The royal assassin suddenly started to claw at his face and neck.
"GET THEM OFF OF ME!GET THEM OFF!" But Squalo was too busy laughing his ass off to be of any assistance. As Bel staggered about clutching his head, yelling unintelligibly about 'scarabs' eating 'the princes perfect face and brain' (effectively gaining the attention of the whole street), Fran nonchalantly began to stroll over. He accidently bumped into an older gentleman on the way. The man, who appeared to be very wealthy, sniffed in disdain at the green hair and large frog hat. How dare this little hoodlum crash into him like that?
Fran just offered a polite 'excuse me' to the cranky man, and came to stand over by Squalo. When the man was out of hearing range, Fran leaned in slightly and asked, "Hey, stupid long-haired commander, what flavor gelato do you think the fake prince likes?" He offered up, still watching the man's retreating back.
"It doesn't matter, we don't have any mon-" Squalo's mouth hung slightly ajar as Fran produced the quite expensive looking designer wallet he had 'lifted' from the nice man. A ghost of a smirk graced his lips.
"Don't worry, it's my treat."
Squalo smirked toothily.
"In that case, I think Bel likes chocolate."
After finally procuring their gelato, (and Belphegor attempting to disembowel Fran for using such a dirty illusion on him), the three drove in relative silence back to the Varia headquarters.
"That was pretty fuckin' slick, you used to pick pockets or something, eh, runt?" the Varia second in command glanced over at the youngest member of their group. Fran's lips curled into an almost imperceptible smile.
"Yeah. Before Master took me as a student, I lived on the streets. You learn a lot of neat tricks when your life depends on it." As Fran turned back to the window, Squalo took this in, nodding silently. He chanced a peek in the rear view mirror at the last of their little triad.
Belphegor sat in the back, looking for all the world like the spoiled prince he was. Arms crossed, lithe body sunken in to the cushion of the back seat, a nasty bruise forming on his usually unblemished forehead. His general aura was absolutely murderous at having been made a fool of. He would occasionally turn to glare daggers at Fran, who opted to ignore the prince's sub zero gaze and watch the sun setting over the Italian countryside.
He would have thrown real daggers of course, were it not for the fact that Squalo had explicitly told him, with his sword at his throat, that if he so much as grazed the caramel leather interior of his Maserati with one of his 'shitty little knives', there would be one less homicidal prince in the Vongola's employ. So, the moody prince settled for throwing them mentally.
Despite a slight throbbing in his temple, Squalo's mood was actually fairly pleasant for once. He reclined a bit in the warm seat as he merged onto the freeway that would take them home.
We should go out for gelato more often, Squalo thought to himself, before getting another good guffaw at the thought of Belphegor pounding his head into a tree, begging someone to help him kill the beetles that were sucking out his spinal fluid.
Oya Oya, I think that was the longest one-shot I've ever written in my life! I won't be surprised if I get arthritis pain soon! -sob-
Anywho, thanks for reading! As always review are love, or Bel will run you the fuck over!