A/N: Yo! Welcome to Chapter deux of Dancing in the Dark!
So a couple of things I want to say for this chapter. One, this will be the last chapter with a 'T' rating. From here on out, it will get pretty…uh…steamy. So come next chapter, it will be located in the 'M' section. (Duh! SushiBomb, give the reader some credit!) And also, well… that's actually all I needed to say. I know, I'm a dumbass. Sorry lol
Welp, on with the chapter!
Disclaimer: SushiBomb does not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn…blahblahblah
After a short one and a half hour flight out of Italy, first class of course (because princes don't fly coach), the two hitmen found themselves waiting in a very busy terminal in the middle of the Parisian airport. Belphegor sat on a chair with his slim body folded up, absently doodling on a napkin he found. Squalo was standing to his right, giving every person that passed by them a nasty look.
His head was pounding. Throughout the whole flight, the plane had been experiencing turbulence, and one of the passengers, a portly man in his late thirties, who was sitting directly in front of Squalo and Belphegor, was yelling rather obnoxiously that they were all going to die. Naturally, Squalo had then threatened the man into silence, brandishing a closed fist menacingly.
Now that they were off the plane, the two sat with the rest of the passengers in baggage claim, waiting for their luggage. So far, they had been waiting for almost forty-five minutes. And Superbia Squalo knew damn well that it did not take forty-five minutes to unload some luggage off a stupid plane.
"Come on goddammit! What the hell are they doing up there? Scratching their asses?" Squalo yelled out in poorly controlled rage. Bel just chuckled, picking up his newly finished drawing of 'Napkin Squalo,' as the young prince had named the oddly accurate picture of Squalo looking cranky, and turned his head this way and that, admiring his surprising artistic skill. He was a genius, afterall.
"Relax Squ-squ, they'll be down soon." Squalo just cast a subarctic glare down at the blonde.
"You said that twenty-minutes ago! VOI! I'm gonna get to the bottom of this right now!"
The irate swordsman growled out before marching over to one of airport employees. He grabbed the skinny looking man by his shoulders and spun him around to face his wrath.
"VROOII! WHAT IN THE FUCKING HELL IS TAKING SO LONG? WE GOT SHIT TO DO YOU KNOW! WE DON'T HAVE THE GODDAMN TIME TO STAND HERE AND WAIT FOR THESE FUCKING BAGS! HURRY IT THE HELL UP!" The silver-haired swordsman rained down his wrath upon the poor man, who…just stared at him weirdly.
Squalo's expression went from murderous to perplexed. Didn't this guy hear him?
"Hello! Bags? In a hurry? Us?" Squalo said, pointing to himself and his companion, who was still doodling like a child, as well as the rest of the passengers.
The man still looked at him strangely.
It was then that he remembered that they weren't in Italy. They were in France, and Squalo was pretty sure he didn't speak a word of French.
By this time, another, more burly-looking man came over to the two, saying something in french to the smaller man, who was still ignoring Squalo. The skinny man said something back, pointing rudely at Squalo's face, and the two began to laugh loudly.
I can't fuckin' believe this! These two assholes are laughing at me! Squalo thought to himself, gritting his teeth, trying to no avail, to control his ever rising irriation.
At that moment, Belphegor uncurled himself from the seat, and strode over to the trio. He poked Squalo in the shoulder.
"So what happened?" The rain guardian just turned to him, looking like he was about to spit fire at the two men, who were still laughing and talking. The larger man said something that suddenly made Belphegor's eyes narrow sharply. Squalo, of course, couldn't see that, but he could feel the change in the younger man's aura. And it was not pleasant.
The blonde prince put a hand on the shoulder of the larger man. Lips curled into a particularly homicidal looking smile, the prince calmly said something to the two men, in perfect french, which Squalo assumed was none to nice; as the two men suddenly looked like their souls had left their bodies. The burly man responded shakily, to which the prince just laughed, looking quite menacing.
"Ushishishi~!" The prince laughed a bit more, before patting the man's shoulder in a deceptively benevolent way, and shooed them off. The two ran for dear life.
Squalo just stared at the prince in something akin to awe. He didn't even know Belphegor spoke french.
"Bel," He started curiously.
"Hmm?"
"What the hell did you say to them?" The younger assassin just shrugged.
"Oh, I just told them that they had exactly five minutes to get our luggage here, or I would skin their mothers alive and string their screaming fleshless bodies up by their nipples off of the Eiffel Tower so that their blood could drip on the citizens of their godforsaken country," he said smiling, as if wasn't talking about brutally torturing someone's mother.
Squalo's eyes were as wide as saucers.
"Bel, you're the only person I know who could say something that psychotic with a fuckin' smile."
Belphegor just laughed.
And sure enough, the two walked toward the exit exactly three and a half minutes later, luggage in hand.
About an hour later, the silver chartered Mercedes-Benz that picked them up from the terminal parked in front of a placid looking villa on the outskirts of the city.
The Etruscan -style home stood two stories, the old grey brick and stone giving the large manor a homey feel to it. The house was surrounded by several acres of land, covered in pine and lavender, which made Squalo sneeze a bit as he exited the vehicle.
"Home sweet home," Belphegor muttered, as he sauntered up to the door, roughly kicking off the latch. The prince looked back over his shoulder at Squalo, who was still standing in front of the house, slack-jawed.
"Shishi~, you coming or what?"
"You lived here?" The swordsman asked, slinging his duffel bag over one shoulder, following the prince inside. Bel smiled coldly.
"Lived being the key word. This was my family's summer home. We used to come here all the time when me and Rasiel were really small." The prince said, dropping his bag on the couch. Squalo shivered a bit at the sudden drop in temperature when Bel mentioned his brother.
"Is it okay for us to be here? Doesn't this place belong to someone else now?" The swordsman asked as he took in the modern furnishings of the living room. A large plasma TV was plastered to the cream colored wall, with a white three piece sofa set placed facing it. The house looked lived-in.
"Don't worry. I double checked before we left headquarters, and it still belongs to my family. Not that it matters, anyway." The blonde said with a melancholy smirk. He plopped down on the loveseat, slinging an arm over his tired eyes.
"I had it newly furnished so that it wouldn't be empty when we got here. I figure since we flew out here, we might as well hang around for a couple of days." He explained around a yawn.
"This place brings back a lot of bad memories." Squalo raised an eyebrow at that.
"If that's the case, why didn't we just stay at a hotel or something?"
Belphegor sat up on his elbows, giving Squalo a dumb look.
"Because we're on a mission, genius. Don't you think we'd look just a little suspicious to the hotel management if we suddenly showed up covered in blood? Xanxus-sama is already on my ass as it is. We don't need any problems."
Squalo nodded. He hadn't thought of that. The blonde prince continued, laying back down.
"Besides, I've always liked it here. It's quiet, comfortable, and we don't have to worry about being tracked or followed. I just don't like the baggage that comes along with it." He sighed nostalgically.
"How long has it been since you've been here?" Squalo asked, taking a seat on the main sofa, still looking at the prince. Belphegor made a noise that suggested he was thinking.
"Well, the last time we came here, I had just turned six, so yeah, about thirteen, fourteen years?" The blonde smiled to himself bitterly.
"It still looks exactly the same, too."
Squalo glanced around the room. He felt like was being let in on some top secret information about the enigmatic royal. The swordsman felt strangely privileged, but he figured he shouldn't push his luck. Squalo turned to the prince.
"Voi, so about the mission. Can you tell me anything about this party or whatever?" He said, arms folded across his well defined chest as he leaned into the soft cushions of the sofa. Belphegor nodded absently.
"Yeah. I've been there a couple times before . The club is called Les flammes de l'érotisme. It's one of the most exclusive clubs in the world. A lot of important people go there, 'cause it's discreet, you know?"
Squalo nodded in understanding.
"You don't have to worry to much, fetish parties are alot like raves, just way more …uh…sexually liberated. That's the simplest way I can describe it. It's a lot more complex than that, but I'm not about to explain all of the technicalities to you."
The prince tilted his head. Squalo looked nervous, and also a little irritated.
"But you said-" The blonde smiled.
"I lied. Shishi~! There will be copious amounts of sex in every direction!" Squalo slapped a plam over his face in frustration.
"Then why'd you make me come with you?" The prince shrugged.
"Because I'm an asshole. I just wanted to take you out of your comfort zone. Maybe you'll loosen up a bit."
Squalo sighed, feeling his headache return with a vengeance.
"So how are we gonna get in? If it's so exclusive or whatever, they aren't just gonna let anyone in." The rain guardian said.
Belphegor smiled, waving his hand dismissively.
"Oh don't worry about that, I've already got it covered."
Squalo rolled his eyes, before he realized he had forgotten to ask the prince something he had meant to ask at breakfast that morning.
"And how come you wanted to do this mission so bad? Even if you were already gonna be here, you're not usually the one who goes out of your way to go on assignment."
Belphegor was silent. To Squalo, it seemed like the blonde was contemplating on whether he should give him an honest answer or not. After a few seconds, the prince looked up at him.
"Well, I didn't wanna say anything in front of boss, but me and Cantatore are already acquainted. Quite well, actually."
The rain guardian's thin silver brows shot up in surprise.
"Really?" The blonde nodded.
"Mm-hmm. This mission is kind of personal."
Squalo reclined a bit further into the sofa cushion.
"Why's that?" He stared as Bel picked some loose thread out of his jeans. He was frowning.
"Let's just say he did something he shouldn't have, and I owe him for it."
"Oh Jesus…he didn't rape you or something, did he?" Squalo asked cautiously, sincerely hoping that Bel wasn't that weak.
The prince gave an indignant snort.
"Yeah right. That pervert wishes he could get that far with me." The swordsman looked a bit mystified.
"Uh…Bel, how far did he get with you?"
Silence.
The blonde just licked his lips, a cryptic little grin on his face. He got up slowly off the loveseat and wandered over to the stairs.
"Shishi~! That's not up for discussion at the moment. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go fix my hair." The prince hopped up the first few steps, before turning back to the still confused Squalo.
"Oh by the way, when I finish, we're going shopping. I don't have any shoes yet, and I'm one hundred percent sure that whatever outfit you brought won't be satisfactory."
Squalo snapped back to attention.
"VOI! The clothes I brought are fine dammit!" Bel just shook his head, laughing lightly.
"Trust me, I know that they aren't. If you wanna freshen up before we go, you can have the room on the left."
Squalo growled low in his throat, but nodded anyway.
Two hours later, the rain guardian was in his assigned room, laying on the massive king sized bed, staring at the ceiling. He had already showered and dressed, and was now waiting for the egotistical prince to finish whatever the hell he was doing.
Another sixteen minutes passed before Squalo growled and got up from the bed and stomped across the hall to the younger man's room.
He knocked. No answer.
He knocked again, a bit louder this time. Nothing.
"Vroi! What the fuck are you doing in there?" He yelled through the door.
"I'm coming in dammit!"
Squalo pushed open the door roughly and looked around.
Belphegor's room was actually a lot like his room back at the Varia base. The walls were a rich eggplant-ish color, with the bed centered in the middle, covered with a deep black comforter. The bedpost and accompanying furniture were all made from a deep cherry wood.
Squalo heard the familiar noise of a hairdryer whirring from inside the slightly ajar bathroom door. The kid was blowdrying his hair for the past two hours?
For the third time that day, Squalo growled in extreme displeasure, marching over to the door and pushing it open.
"Voi! What are you-"
The older hitman stopped silent. The prince was standing in front of the large bathroom mirror, clad in only a small towel, drying what appeared to be the second to last patch of hair, which was now jet black.
"You dyed your hair?" Belphegor nodded while shaking free the last patch of hair from the clip that held it back, and began drying it.
"Why?" Squalo grit out irately.
Finishing the last bit, the prince squirted some shine elixir onto his hand, running it through the dark tresses slowly.
"Because I can, for one, and two, because Cantatore doesn't know Belphegor." Squalo raised an eyebrow skeptically.
"What are you schizo now? What's that supposed to mean?" Bel just gave him an exasperated look, like that weird explanation was supposed to magically answer all of the swordsman's apparently inane questions.
"I met Cantatore a couple of years ago. I was on a mission in Versailles. So I was in disguise then. When he met me, I had black hair."
"So?"
"Well, he thinks I'm an up and coming Russian model named Pietro." The prince said in an amazingly realistic Russian accent.
Belphegor pinned back his long bangs with a few tiny bobby pins, exposing his stormy grey eyes. Squalo had to admit, that black hair really made the kid's eyes shine, sort of like the moon in a pitch black sky. They were quite alluring. This new look added an air of mystique and seduction to him that Squalo was surprised at himself for finding quite attractive.
The prince pointed to his newly redone visage in the mirror.
"That is who Giancarlo Cantatore knows, and that will be our ticket to getting our mission completed."
Squalo just cocked his head to the side, sighing. He wasn't quite sure why Xanxus made him come. From his point of view, it seemed the kid had it completely under control. He supposed he was only chapperoning to keep damages to an absolute minimum. Prince the Ripper did have a habit of getting carried away, after all.
"I still wanna know what happened between you and this guy that you wanna kill him." Squalo said crossing his arms as he leaned against the just gave him that secretive smile again.
That was really starting to irk him.
Satisfied with his appearance , the prince gave himself a once-over before turning to Squalo. That slightly feral look in his eyes made Squalo a bit uneasy. Even more so when the prince ran a pale hand up his toned stomach. The rain user jumped back, shock written all over his face.
"Hey watch it! I ain't into that!" The older man screamed. The once blonde hitman chuckled.
"I told you, that is not up for discussion right now. But Squalo," the prince began as he leaned against the opposite side of the doorway, standing very close to the older assassin, watching him.
"W-what?" Squalo found himself paralyzed under the intensity of that stare. Belphegor was a completely different person under that mop of blonde hair and jubilant demeanor. Those eyes held an omnipotence in them that Squalo found frightening. Behind that piercing gaze, the swordsman could see the cold, analytical mind that belied the true, demented nature of Prince the Ripper.
Squalo felt like he couldn't even breathe.
The staring contest abruptly ended when the younger hitman looked away, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair.
"Shishi~, it's nothing. Come on Squ, we have a lot to do now. The party's at midnight." And with that, the prince simply sashayed out of the bathroom, laughing quietly to himself.
Squalo released the breath he hadn't even noticed he had been holding.
What was that?
Wow, this chapter took like a thousand years to finally piece together. *Tired-desu!* But also, I just want to be clear. I hope I don't offend anyone who's into fetishes and that lifestyle with my using it as an element in my story. The reason I'm saying that is because I did some research on it to make sure I didn't sound like a moron, but I never realized how complex of a subculture it is. On some websites, I noticed a lot of people are pretty strict about it,like the rules and etiquette particularly, and I'm not going to try and explain something I really know nothing about. So I'm totally sincere when I say I mean no disrespect whatsoever. I've been invited to parties like that before, and I wish I had gone so I could see what it's actually like. So for the purpose of the story, I'm going off what my friends who are into that scene have told me.
Phew. Alright loves, until next time~! Sushi*Bomb out!