Fuck it. We did an epilogue. Goddamn.

This was not planned.

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Too many songs. Too many quotes. Just...

Enjoy.

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So fuck you (fuck you very very much)

A surprise visitor to the Vongola arrives!

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"Sawada Iemitsu."

The voice was cold, emitting all the fury of a woman scorned, coming from the small, diminutive brunette standing in the doorway.

"Miss, you can't be here." Brow Nie was trying to keep her from entering the meeting room, and Bel leaned forward, gaze sharpening.

"Isn't that…" Lussuria murmured to Xanxus, who nodded.

"Fluffy's mother."

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"I don't care where and where not I can't go." The woman snapped in accented but fluent Italian. "I'm here to see my husband, whether he likes it or not."

"Kaa-chan." Tsuna choked out, and the woman brightened momentarily.

"Tsu-kun! Kaa-chan is mad, but not at you. I will talk to you later. SAWADA!" Like a switch was flipped, the raging inferno was back. Sawada stood, wincing, and made his way to the door.

"Nana, it's too dangerous for you to be here, you need to…"

"Don't tell me what to do, Sawada." The woman hissed. Bel pulled out their phone, and pressed record.

"Nana…"

"Don't…" Nana cut him off, slicing a hand through the air, eyes blazing. "Don't try and justify yourself to me, Sawada. I had to hear about your actual job from Hibari Fengyu, Iemitsu! Hibari! Because you simply didn't have the balls to tell me yourself! You left me, to raise our son by myself for fourteen years, with no help at all. I moved to Namimori for you, away from all my friends, my family, because you said that it was safe from assassins. You know what? I killed eight people protecting Tsuna."

Iemitsu choked around the words he was about to say, eyes wide. Nana barrelled on, regardless of their audience, getting more and more agitated.

"I was a little shocked the first time, but by the time the fourth one came around, I as resigned to it. The only reason they got so close at all was because they said that they were your friends from work. How was I to know who they were?! You never told me anything, only about your boss, who actually visited with you, and then sealed Tsuna's Flames!"

"How do you know about Flames?" Iemitsu demanded to know, angry. "Did the Hibari tell you that as well?"

Nana narrowed her eyes, and the temperature in the room dropped.

"Fengyu doesn't need to tell me everything. I'm not stupid, Sawada."

"But I never told you! Was it Reborn? Tsuna? Tsuyoshi?" Iemitsu was raging red, and he practically spat out the name of the sushi chef. "Were you seeking comfort from him while I was away?"

"Unlike someone in this room, I was loyal to my marriage vows." Nana hissed. "Or did you think I wouldn't find out about Tsuna's half-brother?"

Iemistu reeled back as if he'd been struck, face draining of colour. Nana continued on, relentless.

"At least Tsuyoshi would have been loyal. At least he lived in the same town year-round. Perhaps it would have been better if I had married him, because then I wouldn't have been treated like trash."

"Can they?" Takeshi murmured to Tsuna. "Can tou-chan and Nana-san get married? Because the thought of the food they would produce in Takesushi makes me want to drool."

"I wouldn't be adverse to it." Tsuna replied, equally low. "I'll pay for the damn wedding myself."

"Popcorn?" Xanxus held out the large bucket to Tsuna, who immediately grabbed a handful and chewed on it, agitated.

"…didn't need to tell me about Flames, you stupid moron! I already knew about them."

"How? Someone must have told you, you never mentioned it…"

Sun Flames erupted around Nana's fists as she lunged forward, punching Sawada in the face. He howled as his nose was broken and his skin was burnt.

"Because I'm a fucking ex-yakuza hitwoman!" Nana snapped, eyes blazing gold. "I retired to raise Tsuna, because I thought that I'd finally met the one man that was worth it, only to have him abandon me and live halfway across the world!"

Tsuna made a small 'oh', and nodded like everything suddenly made sense.

"That's why I wasn't allowed to go into the basement. And why she made Reborn nervous when she used knives."

"That's what you got, voi?" Squalo looked shell-shocked.

"A beautiful punch." Lussuria sighed. "Lovely execution, and the burn was a nice touch."

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"I am through with you." Nana snarled, pulling a brown packet out of her handbag and tossing on the table. "Those are the divorce papers. Sign them; my Mist sister has done something to them so that once you do, they will return to me. After that, I never want to see or speak to you again. If you do, I will treat you like all my other unwanted visitors. Goodbye." Nana turned, and stalked out the door, slamming it behind her hard enough to leave cracks in the walls.

Tsuna sighed, shot a glare at his sperm donor, and then followed his mother out the door, Takeshi hot on his heels.

Bel smirked, and pressed the button to end the recording, immediately sending it to Mammon.

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The VARIA would get a kick out of this. No one liked Sawada.

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It's a little bit funny (this feeling inside) -

(Xanxus takes Bel on a date)

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For the record, Xanxus would like to state that he had everything planned out perfectly.

He'd double-checked all possible sniper spots, and the VARIA Quality blind spots, he'd made sure that where they were going didn't encroach on an enemy Familigia's territory, used (abused) Mammon's network to double-check no shoot-outs were going to happen due to high tensions between the lesser street gangs.

He'd showered, dressed nicely, debated for twenty minutes with himself about whether it would be more appropriate to give Bel flowers or a new knife, agonized over his wardrobe because he never realized that he owned exactly three items of clothing that didn't have the VARIA crest on it (and it was all underwear), contemplated ringing Federico for advice until he remembered that Federico was still pining over Hamlet and had yet to make a move.

He'd braved asking Lussuria for help in the clothing department, and his Sun had spent an impossibly long time picking clothes out for him (they'd bickered a lot; he was not going to wear purple), but they managed to find something that was comfortable, practical and fashionable. The blazer was tight enough to 'show of his shoulders', but loose enough to hide his guns under, and thankfully, his hair had grown out from the ratty nest he'd kept it in before he was frozen. He'd endured teasing from Squalo, threats from Viðarr and Slaugh, and a sympathetic pat on the shoulder from Mammon and advice against the flowers (this was why he loved Mammon best) and the suggestion that gelato would be appropriate from Yosei.

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It had started off well too. He had managed to get his shit together enough to grab Bel's hand and hold it for most of the walk around, the two of them just talking. His Storm was looking ridiculously pretty with their hair braided around their head, wearing a flowy white top and black jeans with VARIA boots, and Xanxus could even spot a little bit of makeup (he wasn't going to mention it). They'd stopped for coffee (Xanxus paying, stop arguing Bel) and biscotti, happy to just relax and drink the good coffee and not instant shit that was commonplace in HQ, holding hands across the table.

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That was when it went to shit.

Because nobody can be prepared for other people's idiocy.

The Abano Familigia were small-time petty crooks and con-men. The Crespo were thieves for the most part, specializing in cars. Lower-level scum, nearing the bottom of the Cosa Nostra food chain. It shouldn't have been an issue.

Except that Bel and Xanxus had the misfortune of sitting at the table next to the son of the right-hand man of the Abano, and the cousin of Don Crespo and his younger brother had just spotted him. And today was the day that the Abano had just beaten the Crespo out of a business deal.

Shots were fired.

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Being Quality, Xanxus flipped the table, stray bullets thudding into the wooden surface. Also being Quality, Bel managed to get their biscotti and coffee off the table before he flipped it. Curling up next to him, Bel handed Xanxus his coffee cup and curled up against his side, sipping their own expresso and nibbling on a biscotti.

"Not exactly what I had in mind when you said date, Xanxus." Bel drawled, and Xanxus fought down an embarrassed flush.

"Not what I had in mind either." He retorted, checking that his guns were within easy reach.

"Hey." A gun clicked, and, as one, Bel and Xanxus look up, one of the Crespo henchman pointing his gun at Bel. "Bitch, get up. Or I shoot your boyfriend." Bel stiffened. Xanxus sighed, grabbing the remains of the biscotti and Bel's espresso.

"I'll hold your coffee."

"What did you just call the Prince, peasant?" Bel hissed, drawing a knife and standing up, deflecting a bullet and flaring their Flames.

That was when the screaming started.

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When it was all over, the café was covered in blood, and both the Crespo and Abano bade a hasty retreat, dragging their wounded and their dead. Xanxus sipped at his coffee at the table (now upright once more), and scanned the streets, one of his guns smoking on the table (the stupid bastard thought that he was Stupid, and tried to stab him. He was the pile of ash on the ground now). Bel sauntered over, a distinct swing in their hips that wasn't there before, looking pleasantly relaxed and distinctly pleased with themselves.

Bel slid into the chair, all liquid grace and long limbs, and smiled at him, sharp and bloody, draining the remains of their coffee in one gulp.

"You are forgiven, Xanxus. I take it back. This was the best date."

Looking around the partially destroyed café, the cars on fire and the police sirens wailing in the distance, along with the shocked looking civilians standing around, Xanxus decided that discretion would be the better part of valour, and handed Bel the rest of the biscotti.

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself." He managed to get out, drinking his coffee and wishing for something a little stronger.

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Not what he had in mind at all.

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We didn't start the fire (it was always burning)-bookimp

(Slaugh and Hibari go on a mission together. It's a bad idea)

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In hindsight, sending two extremely volatile Clouds on a mission together was a bad idea. But, Tsuna was pissed, Xanxus was pissed, even Federico was pissed, the entire VARIA was a seething mass of rage, and Hibari was going to go murder them anyway.

How did it start?

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The bloody Vongola Ball.

And the VARIA Ladies were the envy of all.

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Naturally, idiots would take advantage.

Three fights. Sixteen marriage proposals (for Yosei), plus over a hundred offers to dance. Offers for alliance through marriage addressed directly to Xanxus? Forty-eight. There were also offers made for Squalo and Viðarr (since Perun was conspicuously absent), and Fon, standing next to his nephew, was looking more and more pissed off as the evening wore on, many trying to gain favour with Mammon. It all came to a head when one persistent Don wouldn't take no for an answer while pursuing Hamlet of all people, despite knowing that she was a bonded Rain to a Vongola Sky. Chrome, who had been taken under wing of the sniper (much to the delight of both, since they were generally quiet, out of the way people, except when Rokudo was around) was looking increasingly uncomfortable with it all, flickers of Rokudo making himself known drawing the attention of Hibari. In turn, that drew the attention of Slaugh and Tsuna, and it kind of snowballed from there.

The Don made a pass at Hamlet, only to be firmly rebuffed by the Dane. The Don then turned his attentions to Chrome, who politely declined his offer of marriage to his heir.

The Don got snipy, stating something about loose woman and the two Guardian's spreading their legs for their Sky's, only for Federico (backed up by Macbeth and his new Mist, Othello) to intervene and demand an apology for slights against Vongola Guardians, very tellingly placing his hand over Hamlet's to prevent her from drawing her handgun.

The Don refused, stating that he was merely expressing his own opinion, and added that perhaps it was the reason why there were suddenly so many females in the VARIA, posing as 'assassins'.

Tsuna intervened before Xanxus could shoot the bastard, declaring that if there wasn't a retraction, then Tsuna would be making his own opinion on the Don's behaviour very clear.

The Don refused again, and swept out of the Ball with a parting jab that made Tsuna's eyes darken, and a scowl of rage twist Federico's features. Xanxus was chillingly calm, and that made everyone else more afraid.

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And thus, it was behind closed doors, that Xanxus suggested the most unholy alliance to be created and sent to deal with the Don.

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Hibari Kyoya, Cloud Guardian of Vongola, and Slaugh, Cloud Officer of the VARIA.

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Eyes blazing a burnt orange, Tsuna agreed, and sent the orders.

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And thus, the two Clouds had their silence interrupted by the arrival of Hamlet, stating that they were needed for an urgent mission, and handed the sealed envelope over to them, face set in a smug grin with a hint of anticipation, causing Slaugh and Hibari to exchange a curious glance at each other, before Slaugh opened the envelope, Kyoya reading over her shoulder. They reached the last line at the same time, and both broke out into identical grins, bloodlust quickly filling the air.

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'At your discretion.'

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They took Kyoya's motorbike, dressed civilian, and went to explore the city for the day, their uniforms hidden underneath the seat. They managed to find a tea shop that was opposite the villa where the insolent Don lived, and spent most of the day in blissful quiet, drinking tea and sharing headphones and writing down any weaknesses that they could find, disguised as Japanese and Italian lessons. The waitress was lovely, letting them have the table for as long as they liked and bringing them tea (and giving them a plate of cantuccini to nibble on for free) and sometimes correcting their pronunciation when Slaugh said (lied) that she was from Sicily and her friend from Japan had come over to visit her and they were travelling but he'd learned Italian and she spoke mostly Sicilian so they were trying to improve her Japanese so that they could communicate better. The waitress sucked up the story and commended them for doing so well and travelling so far, and happily answered their questions on the surrounding areas.

But she wouldn't say much about the Fabiano Familigia, whose villa they were sitting opposite. Only that they ran the town. They were good people.

Slaugh didn't buy it.

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The documents in the main office disproved the waitress's words, along with the folders of blackmail material against so many women and the bribes and the trafficking and the heir's court cases that were dropped faster than they appeared. They were despicable people.

"We can't leave this here." Kyoya hissed, visibly shaking in rage as he stared at the photos, one in front of him showing a girl barely into her teens. Behind him, the Don groaned, and Kyoya aimed a vicious kick at his head, silencing him once more. Slaugh nodded, teeth clenched tight, before her gaze caught something on the wall. A wine award. One for gin. And many, many awards for a craft rum, whatever the fuck that was. Rum was flammable, right? She remembered her cousins Tyler and Gabriel setting fire to a bottle and throwing it at their principal's car after he expelled them. Then later, her weeks with Cousin Severus, and the offhand comment he made about Everclear being shit and that a good whisky was the way to go, despite how awesome Everclear looked when it was on fire, rum had prettier colours though.

"There must be a lot of rum in the cellars." Slaugh commented, mind whirring. "The first bottle is not always the best. Hypothetically, if one were to set fire to it, using blackmail documents to start the fire, it would burn for a long time."

"It would take them a long time to restock." Kyoya agreed, raising an eyebrow. "If something were to happen to it, hypothetically, of course."

Slaugh met Kyoya's gaze, a feral grin stretching her lips, bloodlust thickening in the air, mixed with mischief. She held up the keys to the cellars.

His lips twisted to mirror hers, eyes shadowed by his fringe and a demonic aura surrounding him. In the light, his teeth looked almost pointed, and Slaugh suddenly understood why the mistling's name for him was not onii-chan, but oni-san.

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He held up a lighter.

Click.

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It burned beautifully. On a hilltop, astride Kyoya's motorbike with her arms wrapped around him, Slaugh sighed in pure bliss, inhaling the scent of matcha and spearmint. Kyoya covered her hands with one of his, a low purr rumbling in his chest. The distant sounds of screams reached them, along with frantic shouts and swearing.

"We are due back in two hours." Slaugh sighed, reluctant to ruin the moment but knowing that they'd get reamed out of they were late.

"Just a moment longer." Kyoya uttered lowly, hand tightening around hers. Slaugh smiled into his shoulder, and pressed a kiss underneath his ear.

"Whenever you're ready."

They sat on the hill under the stars for half an hour more, surveying and admiring their handiwork, the fires bathing the countryside in a warm golden glow.

"Come, koi." Kyoya twisted to place a light kiss on her nose, and she wrinkled it in protest, unable to stop a smile breaking across her face. The motorbike roared to life, and Slaugh tightened her grip as Kyoya pulled onto the road, the wind whipping her hair and making her eyes stream a little, but she didn't care.

She was just so…happy.

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Bitch betta have my MONEY (pay me what you owe me)- JaguarVakarian, bloodshound

OR Mammon indulges in daylight robbery (Fon's just the arm candy)

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In hindsight, using Mist Flames to appear in the middle of a session (she'd have to thank Lord Black for the information on the times), right in the middle of the assembly, was a bad idea. But Mammon had done it, and so she had to deal with the mess (she also felt that it was suitably dramatic, but she wasn't going to mention that). She waved a hand, and the Mist Flames cleared, letting her dodge a yellow-brown spell that whizzed by her ear. She eyed the caster.

"Rude."

"Who are you? How did you enter the chamber?" An ancient wizard demanded to know, beard snow white and scraggly. His seat indicated him to be House Selwyn, one of House Yaxely's old allies.

"My name,' Mammon announced, loud and clear, 'is Ekaterina Nadia Yaxely, Lady of House Yaxely."

There was an uproar from the assembly, and the old fat man on the stand fired three bangs from his wand before they would settle.

"What proof do you have that you are of my House, let alone the Head?" A middle-aged, balding man demanded, mouth a tight, angry line underneath his beard. Mammon tilted her head, not able to place a name to the face, before…

"I know you, you're Andon's little brat." Mammon curled her lip in disgust. "You vomited on me when you were four, and your father made me apologize for upsetting you."

There was ripple of poorly hidden sniggers, and the man in the House Yaxely seat flushed.

"Tell me, Diran of House Yaxely, what is the Family Gift?" Mammon continued, relentless. "Did you read the flames and divine my visit? Or is that beyond your control?"

"You dare…" he sputtered, but Mammon steamrolled over him.

"I dare, nephew, because House Yaxely belongs to me. I possess the Family Gift. It has been taken from your line."

"You are a Squib." Diran hissed, and Mammon narrowed their eyes, letting their ironclad control over their magic loose, the weight of it pressing down upon the room and making the seated Houses shiver.

"And you," Mammon pointed at their Stupid nephew, "are in my seat."

Vines sprouted from his chair, and the man shouted in panic as they constricted around him, the cries gaining in pitch as the vines continued to tighten, before there was a crunch, and it was silent. Mammon stepped forward, over the now dead body, and sat down in the recently vacated seat, subtly adjusting their cloak so that it draped and hid the shape of their body.

"Are there any more questions regarding my legitimacy?" Mammon questioned the room, voice icy. "I'd be more than happy to demonstrate my magical proficiency on those who continue to doubt my claim."

"Killing a Seated Member is a crime, punishable by death." A particularly pompous wizard said, and Mammon gripped the armrests tightly.

"So is kidnapping a magical child from a foreign coven." She parried, voice mild. "But yet, those who assisted in the crime are still seated in this chamber."

There was silence, before a tall blonde stood from the Malfoy seat, meeting her eyes.

"You are referring to Ms Potter, Lady Yaxely? The Heiress to three of our esteemed houses?"

"That is correct, Lord Malfoy." Mammon affirmed.

"Will House Yaxely be seeking retribution?" House Longbottom demanded, and Mammon gave them a wicked smirk, leaning back into her chair.

"Retribution has already been taken." A thick silence filled the room, and Mammon resisted the urge to laugh, knowing that if she did so, it would not sound sane in the slightest. She drummed her fingernails on the armrest, the clicking sound irritating House Avery and House Mulciber, but she didn't care. She knew that Mulciber and Avery had been friends with her nephew, but they were assholes.

"Then what is your purpose in this Hallowed Body?" The pompous wizard asked, and Mammon hummed, wondering if the fallout would be worth it, before deciding that yes, it would be.

"Consider this a warning." Mammon began, standing and allowing both magic and Flames to seep out across the floor. "Those who dare touch what is mine will feel the full wrath upon their House. The Children of Terra, as an official coven, will be permitted to take appropriate measures if a treasured member is kidnapped once more. Also, you may want to watch your expenses in the next few weeks. Some of you may not be able to afford it. Until next time."

With a twist of Flames, Mammon teleported themselves back to where Fon was waiting, hiding in the shade of a tree, watching Lichi chatter with a pair of squirrels.

"Finished already? That was barely twenty minutes." Fon commented as soon as she was next to him. Mammon sighed.

"It was pitifully easy. Kill a person, flare my magic, make vague threats and then vanish. They won't be coming after Bel anytime soon. Well,' Mammon gave Fon a sly grin, 'not with their finances anyway."

"If you were capable of resolving this without my help, why did you ask me to come?" Fon questioned, offering Mammon his arm. Mammon smiled at him, and looped her arm through his.

"I wanted something pleasant to look at afterwards." She commented, smile growing wider at his disbelief.

"So I was eye-candy?" Fon managed to get out, incredulous.

"Something like that." Mammon hummed, taking a deep breath and exhaling. "Now, since I've successfully robbed most of the Wizarding World blind and their economy will collapse in a few weeks, bar the few businesses Bel asked me to spare, how about we go to that tea shop you like?

Fon barked out a surprised laugh.

"My, you are generous today."

"I'm not paying." Mammon informed him haughtily, and Fon gave her an amused smile.

"It was good to change some money to the local currency then."

"Oh, you're not paying either." Mammon leaned in, lips brushing his ear.

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"The Wizarding World will pay."

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Head will roll (on the floor)- Tsuyu-the-Hanyou

(Viðarr commits patricide)

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Bel and Slaugh were in his childhood room, packing his things, hidden from the wards.

Viðarr stood in the shadows of his father's office, observing his progenitor. The months passing his disappearance and the death of the self-proclaimed Lord Voldemort had not been kind to Lord Nott. What had once been slowly greying hair was now completely gray, there were new lines to his face and his movements spoke of a deep-set paranoia. Fitting, considering that there was, in fact, an intruder in his office. Viðarr was ready. He knew the words, his duty, what he had to do.

He shifted.

Lord Nott's head snapped up, gaze piercing the room.

"Who's there? Show yourself!" Viðarr took a moment to gather his courage, and then wiped all emotion from himself. He couldn't afford to get distracted.

"Good evening, sir. Sorry to intrude this late, but I've come to kill you. Hope you don't mind."

"Who do you think you are, just waltzing into my house like…" Lord Nott trailed off, squinting in the dim light at Viðarr. "Like you are one of my kin." He finished and Viðarr slow-clapped.

"Well done, Lord Nott. Your observation skills are astounding." He said, stepping forward into the candle light.

"Theodore." Lord Nott growled. Viðarr gritted his teeth.

"That is no longer my name, Lord Nott. But you won't be around long enough to correct your mistake."

"So you have come to replace me." Lord Nott stated, looking equal parts amused and angry. "You think you can challenge me, boy? I am the Dark Lord's best front-line fighter."

"I am not your judge." Viðarr stated, eyes narrow. "I am your executioner. Do not mistake the two."

"What are you talking about, boy?" Lord Nott snapped. Viðarr raised his hand, and used a silver knife to slice across his forearm, blood dripping onto the carpet. Lord Nott took a step back.

"What do you…."

"I, Theodore Acacius Morholt Agni Nott, son of Theodore Henricus Marrok Erlingr Nott, hereby call upon my ancestors of House Nott, to judge the claim on the House." Viðarr intoned in Old Norse, magic swirling around him and blowing stacks of paper everywhere, Lord Nott frozen in place.

"What are you doing, boy? Stop this nonsense!"

"I call upon our patron Goddess, Skadi, of the winters, of the mountains, of the hunt. I call upon Forseti, the God of Justice, to settle the dispute. I call upon these patrons of House Nott, to contest the claim of Lordship on the House."

"You play with powers you do not understand, boy." Lord Nott laughed. "The Gods shall have your soul for this! Your arrogance has led to…"

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The candle flickered, and went out.

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"We are Summoned, by the blood of our descendants, to settle a dispute." The voice was both male and female, terrifying yet reassuring, loud and soft and ringing in Viðarr's very soul and vibrating through his bones. Yet, he could feel two presences in the room with them

"Speak." The voice demanded, and Viðarr swallowed, taking a deep breath.

"I have called upon the patron God and Goddess of this House to judge the actions of the current Lord. He has forsaken the Olde Ways, ceasing to worship those who gave us power, and instead followed the words of a madman, who also did not follow the Olde Ways. He has committed crimes against his kin, his magical brethren, and had evaded justice for his actions through deceit and bribery."

"Silence, boy." Lord Nott cut across, livid. Viðarr couldn't see his face, but he could imagine the scowl that twisted it. He had seen it directed at him far too often.

"He has mistreated his offspring,' Viðarr continued, willing his voice to hold steady, 'he has forsaken his marriage vows and was unfaithful to his spouse, and later murdered her in cold blood. He has raped young women not of age, and desecrated graves of those he deemed lesser. He has bribed officials, and assisted in the passing of laws that severely put others at a disadvantage. He has dishonoured alliances, betrayed those Houses that have long been allies, and broken oaths sworn by his magic and the honour of his House. He has ignored the rulings and teachings and laws laid down by our ancestors in the governing of this House. He has tarnished the name of House Nott."

"Do you seek retribution for the death of your mother?" The voice was a smidgen more masculine, and Viðarr hoped that he was speaking to Forseti.

"I do. I seek justice for those he has wronged."

"Do you seek retribution for the wrongs he has done to you?" A female voice demanded, the howl of a harsh winter blizzard against a mountain.

"I do." Viðarr's voice wavered a little, and he took a fortifying breath.

"I have done you no wrongs, boy. You should be grateful…"

"Grateful?" Viðarr spat. "Grateful? Grateful that I had to learn how to sneak around the house to avoid you when you were drinking, grateful that you scarred me both mentally and physically in your 'lessons'? Should I be grateful that you stole my innocence?"

"A necessary evil, you were too weak to be…"

"ENOUGH!" The voices thundered, and Viðarr squeezed his eyes shut as the torches flared, resisting the urge to flinch as the fire came too close. He kept them shut, even as a white light flared into being, a black void against his eyelids in the shape of a humanoid.

"We have seen into your heart, Theodore Henricus Marrok Erlingr of House Nott. We have seen your very soul, and found you lacking in honour and dignity. Too long has this House forsaken your patrons. We, who gave you life and magical gifts. We, who gave you the ability to divine truth from lies, to distribute justice, to be a voice for those who were weaker. We, who taught you the ways of the Runes, and Rituals long forgotten. You have dishonoured your ancestors with your actions and words."

.

"Retribution will be administered by our chosen Heir, Theodore Acacius Morholt Agni of House Nott. As Viðarr avenged the death of his father Odinn by slaying the wolf Fenrir, so shall our Heir avenge the death of the innocents by your hand by slaying you." Forseti demanded.

"You are a blight upon this House, more akin to carrion on the path than a leader of the hunt." Skadi rebuked. "Thus, your life is forfeit."

"We hereby name Theodore Acacius Morholt Agni the true Lord Nott, appointed by the patrons of his House."

"Punishment of traitors to the House is at the Lord's discretion."

"And justice shall be wrought."

"He has our blessing."

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The light vanished, and Viðarr opened his eyes. Distantly, he noticed that his hands were shaking, and that the cut he'd made on his arm had healed into a silvery scar that bore resemblance to the 'Isa' rune. Images and knowledge ran rampant through his head; runes, warding, the mansion wards, bonds to House Elves, the Familie Magicks, rituals that were long since outdated and banned from practise, hunting techniques and symbols that danced in his vision. A weight set itself upon his ring finger on his right hand, and the Lordship Ring, a simple band of white crystal, resized itself to fit his finger.

"No." the ex-Lord of House Nott shouted. "I refuse to let this…this…whoreson rule my House! He is nothing more than a…" He choked, gurgling on his own blood, while Viðarr watched on dispassionately, arm red with his blood.

"I offer this kill to my patron God, Forseti. Justice has been wrought in your name." There was a burning sensation, and Viðarr looked down at his forearm, to see the Golden Axe of Forseti shimmering into existence on his wrist. He slashed his arm at his father's corpse, and the head rolled away from the body, Viðarr placing it in a bag used for confirming target identity (in the case it wasn't designed to look like an accident).

Viðarr sighed, suddenly feeling very tired.

Merlin, he just wanted a nice cup of tea under a warm blanket and to cuddle with his boyfriend. Hopefully Perun was back from his mission in Denmark; it would be the perfect ending to an overall shitty weekend. The bag bounced against his hip like a volleyball, the bottom starting to turn red. There was a knock on the office door, and Viðarr felt the brush of Cloud Flames against his senses.

"Viðarr." Slaugh touched his shoulder. "We're ready to leave when you are."

"Just give me a second." Viðarr managed to get out. To his relief, it sounded steady. "Please wait outside the wards." Slaugh nodded, and departed, calling to the others to leave the mansion.

"Kadry." He summoned his personal elf, the Houe Elf popping into existence and bowing before him.

"Yes, Lord Nott."

"I'm locking down the British Manse." He informed the elf. "Please, leave and relocate to one of the other Nott estates. Now, preferably."

"As you command." The elf vanished, and Viðarr felt all life forms disappear from the wards. He took a deep breath, gathering his magic, and then reached out his hands, directing his magic to the ward triggers. He twisted.

.

Outside of the mansion, he appeared, stumbling a little on impact. There was an arm on his elbow, holding him up, and blonde curls in his vision. Bel.

"It is done, then?"

"It's finished." Viðarr confirmed, his voice conveying his exhaustion.

"I will alert Mammon. They have finished fleecing the Wizengamot." The Storm Officer wrapped an arm around him, hauling him towards the car they rented, Slaugh bringing up the rear.

"I'm tired." Viðarr admitted quietly, and Bel pressed a quick kiss to his forehead, pushing him into the car.

"A man needs his rest." They acknowledged, and shut the door. Leaning against the window, Viðarr closed his eyes, and sighed.

"All honour to Forseti, God of Justice, and Skadi, Goddess of the Hunt." He murmured under his breath.

.

In the distance, a wolf howled.

.

.

I CALL THE SHO-SHO-SHOTS! (don't act like you forgot)-

(Tsuna takes a leaf out of Reborn's book)

.

A shot rang out.

.

Don Rosario froze, a thin trickle of blood creeping down the side of his face.

Tsuna felt calm, calmer than he should have, considering what this asshole had just commented on.

'Hyper Dying Will Mode." Someone whispered. Ah, that might explain it.

"Explain to me, flower boy, why you felt it necessary to insult my Lightning Guardian?" His voice was colder than Zero Point, and everyone on the room shivered.

"The Bovino boy…"

"Miura-san is my Lightning Guardian." Tsuna corrected, feeling his jaw twitch in irritation.

"That bitch isn't worthy to wield the Vongola rings!"

Tsuna stared down Don Rosario over the barrel of his pistol, and pulled back the hammer, the bullet chambered with a satisfying 'click'.

"Wrong answer."

He fired again, the bullet grazing the opposite side of Don Rosario's face. He clicked his tongue. He was aiming to take of the ear as punishment for not listening the first time. He would have to ask Reborn to help him brush up on his aim.

"Tsunayoshi…" Nono began, and Tsuna growled.

"I am done playing nice. You continue to insult my Guardians, regardless of warnings. Next time you do so, your men will be finding your body at the bottom of that very fancy pool you just installed."

Don Rosario paled, and Tsuna made a mental note to thank Ryohei for that particular piece of gossip. Apparently, one of the maid's brother-in-law's cousins had been complaining about the poor wages and bad working conditions (his Sun Guardian was beloved by all the staff, and was often up at the same time, if not earlier, than them).

Don Rosario opened his mouth, Tsuna narrowed his eyes.

"If the next words out of your foul mouth are not an apology, flower boy, I don't want to hear it." He snapped. "I expect a formal written apology on my Lightning Guardian's desk by the end of the week. If there isn't, my Sun will come knocking."

Hopefully, Ryohei will break a few walls. The Rosario Villa was so ugly, it could use some renovations.

"But that's only two days away!" Rosario protested. Tsuna smiled his 'Reborn-Xanxus-Nana' smile – the one that was reserved for making people wet themselves due to the unholy mixture of Reborn's sadism, Xanxus' bloodlust and his mother's uncaring attitude. Rosario trembled before him.

"Then you'd better start writing, Don Rosario. Dismissed."

Rosario fled, his men on his heels, and the door slammed shut behind him.

"Tsunayoshi…."

"You told me this morning, Vongola Nono,' Tsuna began, fixing his predecessor with a steely glare and lowering his gun, 'that I needed to start taking more responsibility for the Alliance. This is me laying out the terms for that. Either they respect my Guardians, or they get shot. It's entirely up to them."

"Tsuna-fishy, perhaps Haru-chan…."

"Be silent." Tsuna hissed at his sperm donor, Flames sparking along the barrel of his gun and his fist. "Haru is mine! End of discussion. If that was all you wanted, you can see yourselves out. I have work to do."

He turned his back on them, placing the pistol on the table and picking up his pen, scanning the nearest document. He could still feel them in the room, but eventually, the two men left, his sperm donor grumbling under his breath.

.

"Impressive." Reborn purred, dropping down from the ceiling. "Most impressive, Vongola Decimo."

Tsuna spared his old tutor and now friend a look, frowning as he looked at the accounts from the CEDEF and noticing that they went over budget, again.

"You're the one who wanted me to grow a spine, Renato." Tsuna replied, leaning back into his chair and meeting the hitman's eyes squarely after he'd signed off the form. He made a mental note to investigate the CEDEF's expenses for the next quarter.

"Indeed I did." Reborn agreed, draping himself over the back of Tsuna's chair in such a way that it meant that Reborn's mouth was right next to Tsuna's ear.

"And it is made of steel." Reborn whispered hotly into his ear. Tsuna resisted the urge to move, instead opting to hand the hitman a thin manila folder.

"I have an assignment for you, if you would be so kind. The Sacco Familigia had visitors from one of the Spanish cartels last week. I want to know if there was a deal signed."

"And if there was?" Reborn asked, curious. His breath caught when Tsuna turned around, eyes flickering orange.

"Wipe them out."

"As you wish, Decimo."

.

.

In my skin-tight jeans (be a teenage dream tonight)- bookimp

Bel takes Xanxus on a date (of sorts)

The note said 'Fontana Pretoria, 11am. Dress civilian.'

.

Bel hoped that Xanxus owned clothes that didn't have the VARIA crest on them (they despised shopping), and they were familiar enough with Xanxus' wardrobe to know that the majority of his clothes were uniforms or standard issue clothing for off duty. That was why Bel never bothered to try and steal his hoodies- they were exactly the same as theirs.

They shifted, the tight black jeans clinging tight to their body, offset by the loose navy button-up shirt. Their feet, thankfully, were in cased in low leather boots (and the VARIA bootmaker had merely smiled when they had made their request) that were comfy, so Bel had been able to avoid Lussuria foisting ridiculously high heels on them. And the skirt. And the dumb push-up bra. And the low cut top (Lussuria had somehow managed to undo enough buttons to let a glimpse of Bel's (unfortunately necessary) red bra, but it was hot enough that Bel wasn't complaining.

Their head felt light, considering that they had forgone the crown today, and the only accessories was a pair of black glasses, a dragon necklace and a watch. Bel was aware of the many admiring looks they received (bow before me, peasants), but ignored them, happy for the moment to stay in the shade of the Palazzo Bonocore. There were a lot of tourists around, but Bel didn't mind as much; more people to blend in with. They had already checked out the obvious sniper spots, and then the VARIA Quality sniper posts, then all the little nooks and tiny holes where people would be able to hide and then slip out and knife you in the back.

Bel checked their watch.

11:54am

They looked up, and a familiar figure stepped into the plaza from the opposite side to them.

.

Oh.

Oh shit.

.

Xanxus did own something other than uniforms, good to know.

.

But those black jeans were positively sinful, in the way they clung to his thighs and…the booty. Paired with a white button up with the top three buttons loose, leather shoes and a navy blazer….Bel suddenly felt very hot, and it wasn't due to the summer heat. Everyone around them weren't entirely indifferent to Xanxus' ridiculous good looks; he drew many admiring gazes from the female, and a few of the male population as well. It was amazing that they'd managed to co-ordinate their outfits without….

Bel narrowed their eyes as they noticed that Xanxus' blazer was the same colour as their shirt.

Lussuria.

That damn Sun was meddling again. Dragon necklace (how many times had Xanxus been called 'the Dragon of Wrath' by enemies). Red bra (also sourced from Lussuria).

Bel admired their lover (and how good it felt to call him that) for a few moments, before they stepped out of the shadows and moved towards the fountain they had agreed to meet at. It was still earlier than planned, but Bel didn't mind.

"Xanxus."

His head snapped around to catch her gaze, and Bel was not blind to the sudden flash of lust. Clearly, Lussuria knew what they were doing. They were forgiven.

"Bel." Xanxus greeted, looming over them, grabbing a hand and bringing it up to his lips. Bel fought the urge to blush, but could feel pink rising on their cheeks. It only increased when Xanxus turned their hand over and pressed a kiss to the inside of their wrist.

"Shall we?" His voice was a smooth purr, and it made Bel want to do things to their lover, only halted by the fact that they were in public. It was unfair.

Bel laced their fingers through his, and tugged him towards the exit of the plaza.

"Come. I was promised gelato last time and got a blood bath, so I can't complain, but I really want gelato today, and there's a good place that Yosei recommended."

"By all means, lead the way." He deferred, and Bel resisted the urge to grin. It was going to be a good day.

.

After eating a lot of gelato and walking along the Promenada Palermo hand-in-hand, Bel could almost have fooled themselves into thinking that they were a couple of lovestruck teenagers and not internationally famed assassins, out enjoying a date and the sea views and the clear blue skies, away from the storm clouds perpetually swirling around the CEDEF. There were people laughing, Xanxus had managed to kiss them on the cheek five times so far within two hours (which meant he was getting better at displaying public affection out of his VARIA life, progress), and they'd stopped for coffee and mocked fashion choices in German.

It was getting later in the afternoon now, and they were both starting to flag, having been consistently checking blind spots and being on watch for assassins who would try and take them out. Bel had started leaning into their Sky, soaking in the ambient Flames he constantly emitted, and Xanxus' hands were starting to drift towards his guns every time there was a particularly loud noise. Bel was ready to call it a day, and could feel that Xanxus felt the same way, when it happened.

.

Already on edge, Bel dodged the first bullet, shoving themselves away from their Sky and rolling to the ground.

They didn't dodge the second one.

.

Metal embedded itself into their upper arm, and Bel bit down on a scream, throwing themselves behind cover. A second later, another bullet chipped the plaster next to their other arm, and Bel jerked back, their Flames already working on Disintegrating the bullet stuck in their arm. Hot blood dripped down their fingers, and Bel winced, applying as much pressure as they could to try and stop the bleeding. They could already feel themselves heating up from fever…no. No.

That was the Wrath Flames that were now blanketing the entire port. Bel risked a second to glance up at where they had last seen their Sky, and their jaw dropped.

Xanxus wasn't just emitting his 'I-am-pissed' Wrath Flames. He was radiating wrath like it was going out of style. Bel could see the concrete blistering and popping like burning skin, cracks forming in the road.

He drew his guns.

"Trash."

.

"So, aside from being shot at, how did the date go?" Lussuria asked, pointedly ignoring the pacing Sky in the corner. Bel, sitting on an examination bed, sighed.

"At least I got gelato this time."

"Mm." Lussuria hummed, Sun Flames dancing along their arms. "Maybe you should stay in for a movie night instead. Less risk of running into trouble."

"I don't go looking for trouble." Bel grumbled. "Trouble usually finds me."

.

.

.

Hello darkness (my old friend)

(Because we forgot about this loose end)

.

They called him Marino, because he came from the sea.

.

Washed up in the early morning tides, blood still oozing from a cut on his head. The old lady Mirta said that he was lucky to be alive; the waters were infested with sharks this time of year. Lucky to miss the rocks lining the harbour. One of the fisherman's children had found him, and thought him dead, but his heart was still beating strongly in his chest. His jacket was shredded, the emblem too worn to be recognizable, and although his boots were of fine quality, there was no makers mark.

He lay still, recovering for a week, his head spinning and his vision blurring every time he sat up. The first few nights, Mirta woke him in intervals. He recognized the signs of concussion, and concluded that someone had hit him on the head, and then tossed him into the sea. By the start of the second week, he was able to get up and help Mirta with things around the house. By the third week, he could do repairs and lift heavy things (he had training, could lift more, but who taught him? How was he able to do this?).

As time went on, he was told things. He was in a small town called Manfria, on the coast of Sicily. It was a small village, not filled with tourists and visitors just yet, as it was nearing winter. Mirta lived by herself, but had many children, and many grandchildren that she spoiled rotten. She sold blankets and quilts and small baked goods, which her children transported to the nearest big town. Marino never offered to go with them, happy to continue fixing Mirta's house and doing the gardening and occasionally going out in the boats for fish. He still found time to go for a run on the beach (fitness was important, but he couldn't remember why) and wrote down as much as he could remember from his 'past life'. It wasn't a lot, and Marino got frustrated at his lack of progress.

He was able to read, write and speak Italian, Japanese, Sicilian, English and Spanish, but couldn't think of a job where five languages might be required. Was he a translator? A tour guide? A school teacher? Or did he just like languages? He was a good shot, as evidenced by when he went hunting with Mirta's second son, his friend and his friend's cousin. He could fix electrical issues (which made him popular with the locals when a thunderstorm knocked out the power), handled knives with the ease of long practise…none of it was adding up.

It all came to a head the night some young hotheads belonging to the Manco Familigia (not Alliance, a voice whispered, too weak) terrorized the town. They first broke into the bar, then proceeded to trash homes as they went, raucous in the way that drunks are, shouting and yelling slurs and throwing rocks and threatening with knives. They made the mistake of breaking the windows of Mirta's small, modest house (Mirta screamed and hide under the table as glass scattered everywhere), and then the shouts came closer.

.

The door was smashed inward, the lead youth swaggering in with all the confidence of a rooster and the temperament of a particularly foul horse. Marino, standing in the doorway of the small room Mirta had let him stay in, frowned, but took a step backwards, hiding in the shadows. He had been about to go to bed, Mirta trying to finish a quilt for her granddaughter.

The youth lunged under the table and dragged Mirta out, heedless of the glass that cut her hands and legs. Mirta was old. She was capable of household chores and short hours of gardening, but she could not break the grip of a mafia bred princeling. He taunted her, opening a flick knife and stabbing it through the quilt, telling the others to rip it apart because it was hideous. He ignored Mirta's pleas for him to stop, for all of them to stop, she hadn't done anything wrong, and knocked the dish rack off the bench, the plates shattering on the floor and crunching underneath his boots.

Marino had had enough.

"Stop." He ordered, steel infusing his voice and making all of them pause.

"Who the fuck are you? The bitch should be living alone." The leader blustered, a red flush creeping up his neck at being caught.

"You should leave now." Marino told him, eyes narrow. The other boys (some of them still carrying traces of baby fat) arranged themselves behind their leader, the ones who had ripped the quilt still holding pitiful flick-knives and sloppy stance, hiding behind false bravado.

(He'd sparred with a little blonde demon once. He wondered who it was).

"Oh yeah?" One of the minions sneered, unsheathing a serrated knife. It was poor quality (not Quality) and Marino resisted the urge to scoff. Pathetic.

"Whatcha gonna do about it, old man."

Old man?

Old man?

This bitch….

Marino shot forward, punching one to the floor and slamming his palm into the chest of another, feeling ribs shift and crack under the pressure. The third fell victim to a vicious kick to his knee, while another rushed him, waving the knife and slashing at his neck. Marino dodged, the point coming dangerously close to his face.

Another youth threw the rock he'd been holding. Marino, occupied with the knife-wielder, didn't see it.

The rock hit his head, and he dropped. Mirta screamed. Marino closed his eyes.

.

Raijin opened his eyes, and twisted, sweeping the attackers off their feet and grabbing the knife. Green sparked over his skin, and he growled, furious. It all came back; Levi ignoring orders and stating that they were to patrol the riverside, only to turn and shoot Kidlat in the forehead and stab Burak in the chest with his parasols, unleashing a fatal voltage of Lightning. Raijin, knowing he was next (he'd been careful, dammit, but his meetings with Kidlat, Dumisa and Burak must have been noticed) threw himself out of reach of Elicius' flashing machete and into the river. He was thankful that Levi was too stupid to think about electrocuting the water, or maybe the fact that someone would notice, but either way, he was unlucky enough to hit his head against a pier on his way downstream. How the fuck he got to Manfria, when he had been in Syracuse, without drowning or being eaten by sharks or drifting out into the middle of the fucking ocean or being run over by a cruise liner or something? Maybe he had subconsciously been making himself Hard to Kill?

.

"Bastardo!" Ah, yes, the morons. He'd better deal with them.

The flick-knife idiot charged him. He side-stepped and slammed his knee up into the welp's groin, Knife-boy going white and wheezing, curled up into a ball. Raijin dodged the bullet that the leader fired at him, pivoting on his foot and snapping the other leg out to catch the leader in the chest, making it Harder than usual. That kick was followed up by a particularly brutal sick-kick to the thigh, bone shattering under the force. The leader cried out as he fell to the ground, trembling in fear as Raijin loomed over him.

"Who are you?" The leader whimpered, leg broken and body sliced from the glass. Raijin smiled, more akin to a wolf baring its teeth.

"Raijin."

Green sparked.

.

He'd taken his leave from Mirta and the town, and the nice people. He didn't belong there, not when his hands were stained with blood. Mirta had cried, and begged him to visit, and he found himself conceding. He made a mental note to put Manfria under VARIA protection; the stupid Manco clearly not doing a good job. He'd made the trek from that small village to Gela, where he'd caught a bus that took him right into the heart of Vongola Territory. Then, he'd walked to the VARIA HQ.

He stared up at the big doors, taking a deep breath to centre himself. If his traitorous Officer was still around, he would be the first person on his list to kill. But first, he'd have to visit either Boss or Officer Superbi to be declared un-dead and back on duty. Ugh, what a mess. Briefly, he wondered if Lei and Dumisa were still around. He was glad that his partner hadn't been on that mission (because Raijin was good, but he couldn't have saved Dumisa, just like he couldn't have saved Burak and Kidlat). There was nothing for it. He'd have to go inside.

.

The first thing he noticed was the lack of Officer Levi's Flames pressing down on the whole building.

The second thing was a very familiar Storm signature, belonging to the no-longer-missing Officer Belphegor.

The third thing was a tall African man slamming into him and crushing him into a bear hug.

"Holy shit! Raijin!"

Ah, it was Dumisa. Figured. Raijin returned the hug just as tightly, resisting the urge to cry. It had been a shit few months.

Fuck it.

Hot tears slipped down his face and soaked into Dumisa's jacket.

"Dumisa." Raijin choked out. "I'm so sorry, Burak and Kidlat…"

Dumisa shushed him, pulling away and giving him a grin so bright it was almost blinding.

"You're back! Bronte and Lei will be pleased. Oh! I have to introduce you to our new Officer!"

"New Officer?" Raijin repeated, a little dazed and so very, very tired.

"You'll like him." Dumisa assured. "Complete opposite of Levi. Scary smart as well, but helpful. Perun made Administrator under his leadership, and we started new lessons…"

Raijin let his partner's voice wash over him, nodding in the right places, overwhelmed by the feelings of everyone's Flames signatures and the all-encompassing Sky laced between them.

.

He was home.

.

.

.

Too hot (hot damn)

(If this were an anime, it would be the token fan service episode)

.

It had been in summer.

Xanxus had notified his Guardians of his plans, and they had all saved up their holiday hours (so many missions, sometimes they didn't see each other for weeks), and then applied for two weeks off during the hottest part of summer. Bel and Viðarr had spent two days arguing over which safehouse they could use (something about location and aesthetics), Bel arguing that the Black properties were more heavily warded and in better locations, Viðarr arguing for space. Bel eventually won out, offering a Black villa on a secluded island a few miles off the coast of Vulcano, with beaches to die for and well-maintained buildings and wards against outsiders and sharks, Viðarr, Squalo excluded.

Xanxus had conceded to bringing a plus one at Mammon's request (because Fon never got a break from the Triads, and the VARIA Boss liked Fon), and that led to Perun submitting his application for holidays, followed by Hibari showing up the night before they left without a word, small bag packed and ready to go, taking the total number up to 10.

Squalo borrowed (stole and left a note) a sailing yacht from his uncle, and they were off on the early tide, the sun beginning to peak over the horizon as they left the port. Bel didn't remember much of the trip, sleeping after watching the dawn in a very comfy hammock below deck (because the Superbi believed in authenticity of a sailing experience) with Mammon curled up in the one opposite, maintaining a Mist Ward over them to avoid sea patrols and the Superbi, but Slaugh came downstairs to rouse them both as soon as they landed.

From then on out, it was days of lazing on the beach, sleep-ins, idyllic activites, watching Squalo try fishing and curse when Mammon simply waved a hand and teleported some right out of the ocean, long moonlit walks on the beach (the last was just Bel and Xanxus, he was a hopeless romantic) and good food because they all had standards and everyone knew how to cook because they were Quality (Lussuria had once gone undercover as a chef. It was hard to meet their standards).

It got better, or worse, depending on the point of view.

See, for 9 assassins and 1 Cloud Guardian, lazing about and relaxing on a beach, while fun for the first few of days, meant that they got bored, and starting looking for physical activity. It started with runs in the pre-dawn light, then again at dusk, then swimming as far out to the wards as possible and back several times. Then climbing the cliffs with no harnesses, because 'voi, why not?'

That was when Bel started cursing whomever owned the yacht, because there were volleyball nets.

Which meant that, because they were all stupidly competitive (including Viðarr, who was happy to laze around and do nothing on most days), volleyball matches became a thing. Which meant that those of the male persuasion permanently abandoned shirts. Not that Bel was complaining about that, they quite enjoyed the view. It just meant….distraction.

Too much distraction.

As evidenced by the ball Bel had received to the face for shamelessly ogling their boyfriend when he executed a flawless jump serve. Several times. They were, however, gratified to note that it wasn't just them; Slaugh had been nailed just as much, Perun once, and Fon four times.

Xanxus, the annoyingly handsome bastard, had fast enough reflexes to recover (if he'd been distracted at all), and Squalo and Lussuria just laughed at them all and spiked harder.

Which led to Bel's current dilemma; not playing, but watching. It was three on three; Xanxus, Mammon and Squalo vs. Hibari, Fon and Lussuria. Currently, Lussuria's team was winning, due to Fon and Hibari making it a competition to do the most complicated acrobatics, while Lussuria egged them on. Xanxus and Squalo were demonstrating excellent teamwork, as usual, while Mammon simply…appeared to be in the right place at the right time, walking on the shifting sand as easily as concrete. Bel called bullshit and Mist trickery.

It was still ridiculously hot, and Bel and Slaugh had retired to the lounge chairs under the shade of an umbrella to re-apply sunscreen. Perun and Viðarr had disappeared to get drinks, but Bel didn't count on them being back for a while.

No, Bel had other things on their mind. Such as, the impressive figure their lover made, shirtless and tanned and muscular. The ripple of muscle under skin was as fascinating as it was hot, and Bel felt in desperate need of a fan. Just the way Xanxus moved in general was striking, and Bel found that they could barely turn their eyes away from him.

"You're drooling." Slaugh commented, pausing in the application of an entire bottle of sunscreen to her arms.

"Fuck me." Bel exhaled, breathy, as they traced the movement of a sweat droplet over Xanxus' impressive abs and trailing over the 'v', only for it to disappear beneath…

"Bel!" Slaugh clicked her fingers, impatient. "You need to put sunscreen on or you'll burn."

"I'm already burning." Bel mumbled, and Slaugh sighed, squeezing a dollop of the cream onto the back of Bel's neck and rubbing it in.

"Pathetic, the two of you."

"As if you weren't ogling at Hibari the moment he stepped out of the boy's rooms with no shirt on." Bel snarked, catching the hint of a blush rising on Slaugh's face, before they focused on their lover once more as he set for Squalo, biceps flexing.

Oh god, they couldn't take much more. He was so effortlessly attractive, like an Adonis that basically walked straight out of the ocean. He ran his hands through his hair, profile sharp against the backdrop of the endless blue sea, and Bel swooned. Xanxus caught their eye, and winked at them, a sinful smirk tugging at his lips.

Shit.

They were going straight to hell.

Bel reached over, and grabbed a popsicle from the icebox.

.

Two could play this game.

.

.

.

HAVE YOU EVER SEEEEEEN THE RAIN? (I wanna know)

(Squalo and Takeshi should never be on mission together)

.

It was a mission that would never be recorded. If any of the higher-ups were asked, they would deny it. The mission never happened. It did not exist.

.

The Santoni Familigia had been, on paper, a model to society. Their businesses were legitimate, employees well paid and taken care of, their records squeaky clean.

Too clean.

Tsuna and Gokudera were, naturally, suspicious. So they asked Shamal to investigate. Shamal, still a freelancer and not associated with Vongola, agreed. He was there for three months with no words. Everything was fine, no need to overreact, sure you weren't just imagining things, Decimo? Four months passed, and Shamal started to get suspicious.

Five months. A girl from one of the housekeeping families went missing.

Six months. Two bodies were found in a dumpster behind a storehouse. No investigation took place.

Seven months. Shamal alerted them that three assassination attempts were made. They all failed.

Eight months.

Nine months.

Ten months. No word from Shamal.

And now, at the end of the eleventh month since the doctor went in, Tsuna contacted VARIA, and specifically asked for Squalo. Takeshi was recalled from a previous assignment. They were summoned to Tsuna's office in the early hours of the morning, when all of Housekeeping were asleep, and verbally assigned the mission.

Get in, recover Shamal. Get out. Kill anyone who gets on your way. Burn it down.

.

They met up with Chrome and the Alice/Jabberwock duo; the Mists were tasked with finding any information and transporting it to the VARIA archives to sort it. Lightning Lei was bringing the explosives. It was three missions. They were not to overlap. They would not speak of this to anyone. Own transport. No comms. Could not be linked back to Vongola or VARIA.

.

Squalo and Takeshi took Takeshi's motorbike (the one Tsuna didn't know about because he constantly worried), parking a few blocks down from the main complex and walking the rest of the way there, disguised as maintenance workers (Haru was a genius with disguises). They slipped in the back, and made their way through the building, eyes peeled for any hint of Shamal. Everything was clean and shiny, and it made Squalo think of hospitals, complete with the smell of bleach and old blood. As an assassin, he was well-acquainted with both smells on the regular. Beside him, Takeshi scanned the walls, eyes narrowed at the displays of elaborate art and pictures.

"I can't sense him." He whispered, and Squalo resisted the urge to curse. He should have stolen Pyry or Janus; they were the best sensors in the VARIA. He couldn't pick up on anything either, which meant that Shamal was either in a basement or Warded behind Flame blockers. If the Santoni were smart, they would have done the latter; Shamal may have been an asshole, but he was talented, and if he hadn't been a prick in regards to who he treated, VARIA would have offered him a contract years ago, if not outright hired him. It didn't mean that Squalo liked him, however- he was still bitter over the fact that Shamal had refused to help Lussuria treat his Sky post-defrosting, on the basis that he was a man- but he could respect the freelancer. He did some good work.

"Taicho." Takeshi poked him in the side, other hand gesturing at a section of wall that looked normal enough, but on closer inspection, there were slight gouge marks in the floor, and the handle on one of the torches lining the hallway was too polished.

"A secret passage, voi?" He muttered, wrinkling his nose in distaste. That was plain tacky.

"The Doctor is behind there, but…lower. I can only barely sense him."

"Restraining cuffs, voi. They block Flame usage. I'll show you some when we get back."

Takeshi opened the door, a smaller knife drawn. Squalo pulled out a flashlight (VARIA special, had a small knife on the opposite end of the light) and turned it on, venturing into the dark corridor first, Takeshi shutting the door behind him.

"Ditch the disguise." Squalo ordered, stripping the overalls off. "We won't need them."

"But, the exit…"

"Shamal is down here, voi?"

"Hai, taicho."

"Two maintenance workers carrying out a body is suspicious, voi. Getting in was the easy part. Getting out is always the hardest." Takeshi hurried to obey, tossing the overalls into a dark corner and gesturing towards the corridor.

"Let's hurry. I don't know how long until someone comes to look." Squalo followed his fellow swordsman, the younger Rain leading him unerringly through the many twists and turns, Squalo memorizing the paths they took. It was a few minutes before they reached a suspiciously large door with a complicated electronic lock, and Takeshi seemed to deflate.

"He's behind here, but…"

"Step aside, voi." Squalo eyed the lock, the door, and then finally, the wall beside it. Taking a deep breath, he exhaled slowly, placing a hand against the wall and calling up his Tertiary Storm Flames. He didn't use them often simply because….

"Taicho, you're hand!" Takeshi exclaimed, and Squalo winced as his Flames licked around his wrist, scorching him. Splitting his focus, he used his Rain to Tranquilize the area, numbing it, even as his hand pushed through the wall, the brick crumbling easily.

"Voi, start breaking it." Takeshi kicked out at the hole, widening the gaps as Squalo focused more on disintegrating the cement holding the bricks rather than the bricks themselves. The wall crumbled easily, and Takeshi dove through the gap, stopping dead at the sight of Shamal strung up like a particularly gruesome crucifixion; arms spread wide by the cuffs holding his wrists, and feet chained to the wall, head lolling forward.

"Voi, Shamal." Squalo breathed, darting forward to pick at the locks that kept the Mist suspended in mid-air. "What a mess you got yourself into."

"Not by choice." Shamal wheezed out, surprising Squalo with the fact that he was still conscious, and not even protesting when Takeshi caught him.

"Taicho, we need to leave. Now. The building could blow at any second."

"Wait, the building…."

"A certain Sky was most displeased about your disappearance, Shamal. You've been missing for three months." Squalo grunted, hefting Shamal over his shoulder and heading towards the exit. "That's all we can say."

"Off the books, then?"

"Yep!" Takeshi replied cheerfully, slinging the wooden sword over his shoulder and opening the passageway, holding the door open for Squalo. They had just exited the door and shut it, when two men walked around the corner, both parties freezing at the sight of each other. Takeshi moved first, blurring out of existence, and then appearing behind the two men as they dropped to the floor, choking on their own blood.

"Voi, to the exit." Squalo ordered. "Brat, lead the way. Shamal, try to stay awake."

"I'll try."

"Taicho." Takeshi nodded, and sped on ahead, bouncing off the wall to flip over another man and behead him. Squalo hurried, mind calculating the quickest exits and times, trying not to focus on how skinny Shamal was and the ribs he could feel poking into his shoulder. Did they even feed him? Or had Shamal resorted to eating his own bugs and Mist-tricking his body into believing that it had been fed? Either way, he needed to get to Lussuria, ASAP.

Takeshi slammed open the exit, Squalo hot on his heels, and they both skidded to a stop, coming face to face with what seemed to be the entirety of the Santoni Familigia's private army.

"Well, well. If it isn't the Rain Guardian, and Squalo Superbi." An oily man stepped forward, Shamal twitching at the sound of his voice. Squalo gritted his teeth. They'd been recognized, had been seen by a lot of people, and the Head of the Santoni, no less. That meant a lot of people to kill.

"You never saw us." Takeshi laced his words with Mist, and it was an impressive trick (that reeked of Mukuro), but on a crowd that size, it barely worked for a few seconds.

"Kill them." Don Santoni ordered, and Squalo sighed, dumping Shamal on the ground (ignoring the protest and the swearing) and pulled out the necklace Bel had given him ages ago (It's called a Portkey, Bel explained, it will transport you to VARIA medical, with the correct codeword). He looped it around Shamal's neck, making sure it was on securely, and directing the Mist Doctor to grab onto it.

"Excalibur." Squalo snapped, and Shamal disappeared. Squalo then turned to face the oncoming thugs, and released the catch on his prosthetic, the metal gleaming dully in the lamplight. Takeshi already had his sword in its live form, and seemed to be concentrating on something, eyes cast skyward. The damn brat was going to get shot…

"Taicho. It's the calm before the storm." Takeshi stated, eyes fixing on the group of thugs.

"I know." Squalo snapped, moving to stand next to his pseudo-apprentice.

"It's been coming for some time." Takeshi continued, flashing him a slightly maniac grin as bloodlust started to rise. "When it's over, so they say, it will rain a sunny day."

Squalo stared, uncomprehending.

A drop of rain landed on his face. Two. Three.

"I know." Squalo grinned back, mind finally connecting the dots, and tilting his sword towards the attackers.

"Shining down like water." Takeshi sang, dating forward to rush his attackers, Squalo right behind him deflecting bullets as they hit the front line, his blade slicing the throat of Don Santoni.

"And I wanna know!" Squalo belted out, sword flashing in the lamplight and beheading a couple of goons.

"Have you ever seeeeen the Rain?" Takeshi joined him, his feet dodging bullets and dead bodies with ease.

"I wanna know!" They chorused, back to back and both grinning like lunatics.

"Have you ever seen the rain?" Thunder rumbled across the sky, and the rain became a torrential downpour. Takeshi shouted in delight, sword beginning the movement for his family style, the air thick with bloodlust and anticipation. Squalo grinned, and shook his head, long hair hanging like limp, silvery seaweed around his shoulders.

"Voi! Save some for me!"

There was an explosion that rumbled underneath their feet, followed by a series of detonations that progressively got louder and larger. The roof of the main building blew off, and crashed down somewhere to Squalo's left, sending dust and plaster into the air. There was a flash of green that indicated Lei was making his way out of the wreckage, and a bloom of indigo that meant the Mists had finished their jobs.

"Voi! Brat! Time to finish up!" Takeshi nodded, and his sword flashed faster, Squalo picking up his own pace, falling into a haze of dodging and killing, the ground slippery and treacherous beneath his feet, and water soaking through his uniform, probably ruining the leather (Lussuria would scold him for it later). Blood sprayed into the air, onto his face, his uniform, dripped down his sword, ran in rivers into the storm drains and gutters, pooled beneath the bodies that continued to fall to the sword. A bullet lodged itself ricocheted off his prosthetic and back to the man who shot at him, and lightning flashed, crackling across the sky and hitting one of the buildings, setting it on fire.

And then there was silence, or perhaps the complete absence of sound, bar his own breathing and heartbeat.

.

"Coming down on a sunny day."

.

Dawn broke over the ruins of what was left of the Santoni Familigia, staining swords the same colour as the fresh blood that was dripping off them. Leaning against the only wall that was still standing, the two Rains watched the sun rise, the ruins smoking behind them.

"Voi." Squalo sighed, gaze fixed on the sea.

"Hai." Takeshi agreed, closing his eyes and letting the sea breeze caress his face and ruffle his hair.

Their hands were bloody, there were no survivors. But it was moments like these, that they could have peace.

.

.

.

I seem to find the happiness I seek (dancing cheek to cheek)- a7152966

.

The three assassins standing in front of him had seemed nervous, but determined. Xanxus still wasn't quite sure that he'd heard properly.

"A what?"

"A ball!" The youngest looking one, Tychon (Cloud? Mist? Xanxus couldn't tell) bounced on their toes.

"Why?" Xanxus wanted to know, still confused.

"Only the Boss and his Officers are allowed to go to the Vongola one." Sahar (that one was a Sun) pointed out. "The rest of us don't get opportunities to dance in a controlled setting. Most of the time it's on missions, and that's always complicated."

"So we thought,' Mubiru rumbled, 'that we hold one here, just for the VARIA. No outsiders, no politics, just fun."

"An excuse to let your hair down, as it were?" Xanxus confirmed. It was…actually a good idea. The Vongola Solstice celebrations were as stuffy and tedious as they got, and he rarely got to enjoy actually dancing. Plus, his assassins rarely did get to have fun, without the pressure of a mission weighing down on them. But first…

"Alright." He agreed, smirking a little. "But you have to clear it past Mammon first. Budget, other expenses, you name it. A solid plan, location and a concrete date is needed by Saturday next week. Or it's not happening. Clear?"

The three snapped to attention.

"Yes, Boss!" The chorused, and Tychon bolted out the door, Mubiru following them slowly. Sahar remained in his office, shifting uncomfortably.

"Yes, Sahar?"

"The Varia Ladies would like to attend this event free of VARIA dress code." Sahar stated, eyes staring straight ahead, and Xanxus frowned, before…

"You really think that I'd make the Varia Ladies dress in uniform for this?" He asked, incredulous.

"VARIA guidelines state that no female…."

"Sahar." Xanxus interrupted, eyebrows raised. "Three of my Officers are biologically female. My Sun Officer identifies as female. My Storm…it's a little complicated at the moment. I am well aware of who will be attending in a dress, if this goes through. I'm not going to stop anyone wearing what they want. Although…" he trailed off, and fixed Sahar with a stern look. "Keep it formal. No crazy outfits, nothing too short."

"You got it, Boss." Sahar smiled at them, and swept out of the office, beaming. Xanxus leaned back in his chair, hands folded behind his head. He couldn't wait to see what happened.

.

.

Mammon cleared it.

.

Mammon cleared it.

And gave them a rather generous budget. Sun took over location planning with a fervour that was more suited to an emergency surgery or a flu endemic than a ball, commandeering one of the biggest ballrooms because 'we have them, might as well use them'. Bel, being a 'proper Prince, peasant, so I know better than you do' dragged the rest of Storm into planning the food, tables, seating arrangements, flower arrangements. Lightning and Rain were set to do the heavy lifting, while Squalo sent out feelers to the various assassins who had some skill in music because 'Voi! We are Quality, some of you must know how to play proper music'. Mist were in charge of 'Acquisitions', which probably meant they were 'borrowing' decorations for Sun to use. Cloud was….doing something, but there was a sudden increase of mission reports crossing his desk, and patrols had stepped up, dragging those who were not interested in party planning into making sure no news of this got out to anyone.

Xanxus just sat back and enjoyed the chaos, discreetly penning an invite to Fon and Hibari. He wasn't going to have his Mist and Cloud moping for the whole thing. Besides, Hibari was Quality, whether he was VARIA or not, and if Xanxus was capable of holding two Storms without them tearing each other apart, he knew that he would have bonded with Fon years ago.

.

.

Xanxus tugged at his tie, frowning, and trying to loosen it until it was comfortable, when a thought occurred to him. He wasn't at Vongola, this was a VARIA Ball.

Therefore, he didn't have to adhere to Vongola standards.

Grinning, he tossed the dinner jacket over his chair, and got rid of the tie, unbuttoning the top two buttons on his deep red shirt, before running a hand through his hair and deliberately mussing it. Showtime.

.

.

There was apparently a precedent that a VARIA Boss opened with his SIC. This hadn't been a problem at the first VARIA ball, simply because a) there had only been one Ball before this and b) the very first VARIA SIC and been a woman (and the Cloud Officer) while the Boss had been her Sky.

It meant, however, that Squalo was opening with Xanxus.

Xanxus, feeling in a particularly good mood, allowed Squalo to pick the song.

Squalo, being a little bitch, tossed his hair, fluttered his eyelashes, and requested the slow waltz that they had danced to, 'that fateful night at the Vongola ball, after we first bonded'*.

It started off as a joke, but as the song went on, Squalo's Flames thrumming happily and the bond a pleased and content hum in the back of his mind, Xanxus slowly lost the humorous edge to his smile, thoughts running rampant through his head.

It had barely been a year since Squalo and Lussuria and Mammon had broken him out of the Iron Fort and defrosted him. Eight months since Slaugh had first arrived. Just over 6 months since they had managed to rescue Bel, and pick up Viðarr and Alice. So much had happened in that short amount of time; Ring Battles, VARIA being grounded, the stupid future thing, breaking the Arcobaleno Curse, Mammon becoming an adult…and through it all, the steady presence of his Rain, either beside him or at his back.

It made sense, it felt right, that he was not only opening the VARIA Ball with his SIC, but also his first Guardian, his first friend.

Squalo picked up on his pensive mood, and met his eyes.

"Voi, Boss, what…?" He sounded startled, and his flesh hand came up to brush at Xanxus' cheek and…oh shit, he was crying. Xanxus couldn't speak, but shoved all his emotions along the bond; gratitude, protectiveness, appreciation, loyalty, love.

"Voi." His Rain replied, slowing the waltz until they stopped, sounding equally choked up. Then there were Squalo's arms around him, and Xanxus was crushing his Rain to his chest and sobbing and oh God he couldn't lose anyone again.

There was a bright flare of Sun, and Lussuria was there, the sharp edge of red was Bel, and the green flash was Viðarr followed by the seeping indigo Mist that was Mammon, and then Slaugh was pressed against his side and Viðarr was on his other side and Bel had somehow managed to wedge themself between himself and Squalo and Lussuria was squeezing arms around them and Mammon was pressed against his back and…

.

All the Elements came together under their Sky.

.

.

After the emotional (and quite embarrassing) opening, the dance floor was flooded by assassins wanting to dance. Xanxus found himself accosted by the many VARIA Ladies throughout the evening, each looking lovely in their various dresses and smiling and laughing. There was, of course, the awkwardness that often came from those of the male persuasion, along the lines of 'I thought you were a guy!" and 'Wait, you're female?', but nevertheless, the ball was going splendidly. He spotted Mammon and Fon with their heads together at one point, slow dancing. He saw Slaugh and Hibari disappear upstairs to the gallery to avoid the crowds, Viðarr and Perun were leaning against a wall, drinks in hand, and Lussuria was easily picked out, being twirled from partner to partner, the entire Sun Division drunk on wine and the emotions they picked up from everyone else. The rest of the Divisions wisely avoided Sun. Belphegor was also dancing their way through their Division, visibly teaching some assassins how to dance and whirling others around, pulling off a very impressive tango with Molan that drew cheers from those watching.

But eventually, the evening started to wind down. Xanxus' feet were aching, in a way they hadn't done since he used to dance with Nona at the stupid Vongola balls, and he'd been groped numerous times (in good humour) by his dance partners. He'd managed a dance with an oddly sombre Lussuria, who didn't say anything, but sent their emotions down the Guardian bond for the entire dance, making him feel a little overwhelmed and like he was about to start crying again at the rush of gratitude and love. He hadn't seen Slaugh or Hibari since that short glimpse (they were probably on the roof again) and Perun and Viðarr had procured couches from somewhere and were curled up on them drinking tea and coffee, other members of Lightning and some Clouds joining them.

He heard the band announce the last song, and there was a tap to his shoulder.

"May I have the last dance?" He turned, and Belphegor stood there, resplendent in the same red gown they had worn to the Vongola Ball. Xanxus bowed, holding out a hand.

"I would be honoured, Officer Belphegor." Bel took the hand, and they stepped onto the dancefloor, not noticing that others cleared it just as quickly.

.

Conducting the band, Dumisa grinned, and gave the signal to change the song from an upbeat one to a slow dance.

On stage, Sahar smirked, and stepped up to the microphone to sing, voice husky and low, as Lindworm on the piano started to play.

.

"Heaven, I'm in heaven. And my heart beats so, that I can hardly speak…"**

.

Up in the gallery, Slaugh pressed the knife in deeper, the CEDEF plant screaming behind his gag.

"You will not ruin this, asshole." She hissed. Beside her, Hibari eyed the one he'd knocked out, crushing the camera underneath his foot.

"Tch, herbivores."

.

"And I seem to find the happiness I seek..."

.

On the dance floor, unaware that they were the only ones on it, Bel and Xanxus swayed together, Bel resting their head on his chest, Xanxus singing along under his breath, so softly Bel could barely hear it.

.

"When we're out together, dancing cheek to cheek."

.

Bel closed their eyes, and smiled.

.

.

*for those of you interested, the song is 'Carl Goes UP' by Michael Giacchino

- This is also the same Ball that Squalo dressed in drag to be his Sky's 'date'.

**'Cheek to cheek', Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong

.

.

.

You give me fever (what a lovely way to burn)- KKVixen

.

It started, as it always did.

Assassins dropping like flies in odd places, coughing.

Then, it was the fevers, the delusions, the attacks when others could no longer recognise friend from foe. No one was able to escape it. It was inevitable, unpredictable, and liable to strike at any time without given warning.

It was VARIA flu season.

.

And Xanxus had not seen his Storm Officer for over three days when one poor, bloodied soul stumbled into his office, skin red with burns, to report that his Officer had locked themselves in their rooms with instructions not to disturb, but Officer Belphegor was coughing during training on Sunday, so perhaps they had come down with something? Xanxus, peering at the assassin over his stack of mission reports and the trade agreement that Fluffy had wanted him to look at (if he had time, please? I don't trust these idiots about as far as Haru could throw them), had merely looked at him for a long time, completely unintimidating in a regulation hoodie, sweatpants and his new glasses (because, dammit, his eyes were still playing up) with his hair a complete mess, noting how the assassin was shivering, but was still heat-flushed and weakening at the knees.

"At ease." He commanded softly, swearing when the assassin relaxed, too much, and then collapsed on the ground, twitching. He stood, leaving the pile of paper on his desk for later, and moved to pick up the assassin, sighing. Humming 'Another One Bites the Dust' under his breath, he made his way down the hall to the chaos that used to be called VARIA Medical.

.

"Bel has the flu." Xanxus told Lussuria when his Sun had paused to greet him and take the assassin off his hands. Lussuria blinked, and then gestured to the full sick-bay.

Yeah no shit, honey." Lussuria snapped, sounding exhausted. Xanxus raised an eyebrow, and Lussuria deflated.

"Sorry, boss, but everyone has the flu. I can give you antibiotics and instructions to pass onto Bel, but I honestly cannot leave the sickbay at this point in time."

"I know, Luss." Xanxus soothed, letting his Flames rush over his Sun and calming them down a little. "Just the antibiotics will be fine. I might ask Mammon to see if they can watch over Belphegor."

Lussuria gave him a funny look, but rushed over to the massive medicine cabinet and grabbed a couple of bottles.

"Blue in the morning with food, yellow three times a day, also with food and water. Bel has to drink the whole glass of water, they need to stay hydrated. If they're feverish, wrap them in a blanket and try and keep them warm. The fever goes to chills extremely quickly. May be delirious. Got all that?"

"Yes ma'am." Xanxus mock saluted, and Lussuria hid a grin, shooing him out of their sick bay, antibiotics in hand.

"Let me know if there's any trouble! Keep Bel isolated as much as possible!" Lussuria called after him, and he waved a hand in acknowledgment, heading towards Mammon's quarters. The miser would be better at this than he would be, maybe they could take care of Bel.

.

Mammon stared at him with bloodshot eyes, dark rings visible, and an overall twitchy air about them.

"Xanxus, I love you like the son I have not borne, but what is the date today?" Xanxus frowned, trying to remember.

"December 30th."He answered, and Mammon gave him a strained smile.

"What ends tomorrow?"

"The year?" Xanxus dragged out, unsure if his Mist was joking or not.

"Yes, and…?" Mammon waited expectantly, but Xanxus drew a blank. Mammon sighed, still frazzled.

"End of month, Xanxus."

"Yes?"

"End of financial year, you dolt!" Mammon snarled, patience wearing thin. "I don't have time. Sorry." The door slammed shut, and Xanxus was left in the hallway, staring at the door as though it was a cute puppy that had just bitten him.

"Shit." He swore, running a hand through his hair. Squalo was on an urgent mission extraction. Viðarr was currently out sourcing drugs for Sun and organizing the various assassins who weren't sick, so that was a no-go. Slaugh could….no. Slaugh was dealing with the sudden influx of missions and sorting through them, since Squalo wasn't in HQ and Lussuria was busy. He knew that Slaugh had also picked up Squalo's paperwork and riding herd on Rain while he was away, since Xanxus was dealing with Vongola ninety-five percent of the time (and Nono Vongola's shitty demands, and Fluffy trying to keep them from killing each other) and sleeping the other 5% (or training himself into the ground when he couldn't sleep). Alice would probably lose Bel in some Territory and forget about it, Yosei had stated that she had some family issues come up and had left this morning, and most of Storm was either struck down by the flu or out on missions. Molan was somewhere in Canada of all places trying to hunt down a target.

There was nothing for it.

.

He'd have to do it himself.

.

The first thing that struck him was the heat. Thankfully, the flu this season didn't include vomit like the last two, but Lussuria had given him a list of symptoms that he could easily treat. Unfortunately, the top one on the list was passive Flame use, or what was sometimes termed as Flame Diffusion, as Flames started to escape the body via the skin cells and secretory glands. The entire room was thick with Storm Flames, and Xanxus could feel the bite on his skin. Was this why no one had thought to look for Bel for a few days? They had tried and had been dissuaded by the acidic environment? The only reason he was probably not as bad off as the messenger was due to their bond; he could feel his Sky Flames immediately Harmonizing with the Flames hanging in the room like a corrosive fog.

"Bel?" He called, scanning the room.

"Come to put me out of my misery?" came a rasping voice just at his elbow, and Xanxus spun, startled. Bel stared up at him, blanket wrapped around their shoulders, crown missing and blonde curls sticking up in spikes. There were deep bags under their eyes, and an unhealthy green tinge to their skin. They coughed, sparks of red and smoke emitting from their mouth, and Xanxus ticked another symptom off his list- wet cough, adverse Flame side-affects (Lussuria had unofficially termed it 'dragon-cough').

"Nurse you back to health, apparently." Xanxus informed his Storm, voice dry and thick with amusement. Bel gave a derisive snort, swaying on their feet.

"A bullet would be better." Xanxus raised an eyebrow, belatedly remembering his Storm's penchant for dramatics.

"I went through a lot of work to get you out of that castle, I'm not going to shoot you six months later because of a cough."

"Pity." Bel muttered, before stumbling their way back to their bed and flopping on it ungracefully. "It's hot in here. I'm hot."

Xanxus rolled his eyes, and opened the window, letting the cool December air rush in and cleanse the stifling Flames. Bel was definitely running a fever; they were self-aware enough to know when their body had hit its limits.

"If it was hot, why didn't you open the window before, Bel? Even some fresh air would have been better than none." When there was no answer, Xanxus sighed, knowing this was going to be a long week (or however long it took for Bel to recover), and turned around. Bel was face down on the bed, mumbling something into their pillow.

"I didn't hear that, Bel."

There was silence, Bel tossing a little, before their breathing evened out abruptly, as if they'd fallen asleep. Xanxus resisted the urge to sigh again, walking over to adjust Bel's limbs so that they wouldn't wake up sore, when he paused, his hand hovering just over Bel's arm. Bel had been hot before, standing next to him, but now there was no heat or Flames radiating, and there was a faint quiver to their body. No, Bel was shivering.

Shit.

Lussuria had said that the fever gave way to chills extremely quickly, but he didn't think that it would be that quick. Bel wasn't just shivering, they were practically quaking with cold, moving in jerky movements. Xanxus scrambled for a blanket, cursing the fact that Bel didn't feel the cold as much as others and therefore did not have thick blankets that were a necessity for everyone else in the draughty castle. He swore under his breath in a multitude of languages as he came up short on blankets and options, before reaching over and scooping Bel off their bed, carrying the Storm bridal style (oh, they were going to kill him for this if they ever found out). Easing his way out the door, he managed to get to his quarters without dropping his Officer, and immediately placed Bel on his couch, dragging a blanket over them, then a duvet and a few more blankets for good measure.

"Shit." He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. He was definitely not equipped to deal with this. Hell, he could barely take care of himself when he was sick (much to Lussuria's ire), how the fuck would he be able to take care of Bel?

"Ludzu, paresta!" Bel screamed, cowering under the blankets. "Astaj manu vientu!"

Xanxus stared, feeling the blood drain from his face. He didn't understand what Bel was staying, but judging by the terror and pain on their face, he could take a wild guess.

"Vela, natse? Naste me urren?"

"Bel." Xanxus called, heart panging as he heard the whimpers. "Bel, it's me." He reached out to grab their shoulder, to provide some sort of comfort, but Bel flinched away.

"Ema, ema, ludzu!" Bel cried out, and Xanxus was heartbroken at the sight of tears trickling down their cheeks.

"Mia tempesta." He crooned, ignoring the flinches and scooping Bel into his arms, holding them against his chest, fighting the urge to cry as well. Bel curled into his chest, and sobbed, shoulders shaking with every harsh inhale, hands gripping his shirt with intense strength.

"Ema, mikssa mindei arasta? Mikssa mindei arasta?" Bel wept, tears soaking into his hoodie and making it cling to his chest, skin feverish against his own, but still shaking with cold. He let his Flames creep out, pulling on some of Mammon's Mist to make a physical blanket to pull over them.

"Shh, Bel. I have you. You're safe now." He shut his eyes, cradling Bel a little closer to his chest. "You're safe."

.

When he opened his eyes again, it was darker, almost sunset, and Bel was mumbling in Italian.

"Anan, padre, non lasciarmi." The Storm twisted in his embrace, and he tightened it, feeling the heat of Bel's skin against his own (tried not to think about how much skin was pressed to his own). Bel was hot, too hot to be healthy. In his mind, he cursed the combination of assassins, numerous disease moulding into one, and then incubating in VARIA HQ. There was no set way to deal with the flu season, except drink fluids and eat toast and stay in bed underneath seventeen kilograms of blankets (as prescribed by Triton, because he always caught the VARIA flu).

"Anan, non lasciarmi!" Bel moaned, pressing their face tighter against his chest, arms like iron bands around his ribs, making it a little hard to breathe.

"Bel." Xanxus tried to push Bel off a little, but the Storm only tightened their grip, pressing their nose into his chest. He flushed. Bel was never this affectionate, and their nose was cold. One part of him was screaming to get up and put the appropriate distance between them, but the other was stating 'no, you idiot, they're never this affectionate, enjoy the hugs while you can'.

"Anan, mi manchi tanto. Perche ' te ne sei andata?" Bel looked up at him, the angle awkward, and Xanxus could see the glassy sheen to their eyes that indicated that Bel was not quite…all there. He could safely add delusional to the list of symptoms.

"Bel, Anan is not here." He said, gently moving Bel's arms from around his waist.

Bel resisted for a moment, before bringing them up to clutch at his wrists and hide their face in their arms.

"Xanxus, perche 'te ne sei andata? Fa troppo freddo." Xanxus froze in his movements, eyes widening. It's too cold. None, not one of his Guardians had mentioned being cold while he was frozen. Had it just been Bel, or had the others felt it as keenly as his youngest Guardian? The Storm was shivering in his grasp, eyes squeezed shut, body rigid against his own

"Xanxus!"

"I'm here." Xanxus reassured his Storm, squeezing his eyes shut and running a soothing hand through the blonde curls.

"I'm here now, Bel."

.

.

Mammon bumped into Lussuria on the way to find Xanxus, Lussuria carrying a few bottles of pills and one that sloshed, Mammon carrying the completed annual report. Both Guardians took a moment to stare uncomprehendingly at each other, weeks of non-stop working leaving their mental capabilities severely impacted.

"Annual report done?" Lussuria asked.

"Xanxus is taking care of Bel?" Mammon wasted a few short seconds trying to get their brain to reboot, wondering if perhaps the sight of all the zero's at the end of their accounts this year (courtesy of Houses Selwyn, McLaggen and Burke) had permanently fried some cells from shock factor. Both Guardians looked at each other, blinked, and slowly, turned towards the door in front of them.

"There's no screaming." Mammon stated, eyes narrowed.

"Nothing smells burnt." Lussuria added, placing a cautious hand on the door and opening it cautiously, Mammon ducking slightly in case a bottle flew towards their heads. When neither projectiles nor yelling came forth, they ventured in, Mammon scanning the room for immediate threats (yes, Xanxus did technically count as one), only to stop as Lussuria let out a soft squeak that sounded like a muffled squeal.

"Mammon, darling, over here!" Mammon made her way to the Sun's side, holding back a coo of their own when they saw the Storm curled up on top of the Sky, both fast asleep. Lussuria moved forward to scan Bel, smiling at the results.

"Bel's recovered."

"Move." Mammon requested politely, lifting a camera from her Territory and snapping a couple of pictures. Xanxus' hand was twined into Bel's curls, the other arm draped across their waist to hold them in place. Bel had their fingers directly on Xanxus' pulse, the other hand resting over his heart. It was cute. Sickeningly adorable. There was a blanket or six resting on top of them, but Mammon could feel the Sky Flames twisting around them, lending their own unique warmth. The camera clicked a few more times, Lussuria suggesting a few new angles, before the Sun's good mood plummeted.

"We should probably hide these." Lussuria mourned. "Boss-honey would kill us."

"Please tell me that was a joke." Mammon deadpanned, lifting the camera once more. "These are going in the scrapbook."

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Don't stop me now (I'm having such a good time)- LunaCat1920

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"My son. You finally grace us with your presence." Non Vongola began, about to launch into what was no doubt a lengthy tirade on his manners, looks and 'utter disrespect of his elders', when Xanxus interrupted him.

"Not your son." He growled, flinging himself into his chair and letting his Guardians arrange themselves behind him. It had been a shitty few months, but end of year had passed with VARIA in the black with enough leeway to allow extra modifications to the uniform, and even upgrades on the jet that they used to get around the world.

By contrast, via the spies they had in Vongola Finance, Fluffy and his Guardians slowly taking over and reviewing policies and the CEDEF slowing crumbling into a madhouse due to Sawada's incompetence, the Vongola was so far in the red that there was talk of selling a few of the holiday villas in order to cover their debt, since they were severely lacking in current assets.

It was these facts that Xanxus knew exactly why they had been called into the Vongola Mansion, in the annual Alliance meeting. There would be demands that Bel leave his side, VARIA would be taken off restrictions, they would start bringing in money for the Vongola via their international connections, bada bing bada boom everyone was happy.

Except the entire Storm Division, bereft of a competent Officer.

Except his Guardians, unable to intervene.

Except Bel, stuck in a loveless marriage.

Except himself, missing his better half.

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The droning of Don Vongola and the brown-nosing of the sycophants grated at his ears and rubbed his Flames the wrong…no, that was Sawada, flaring his Flames in the hopes that someone would fall to Sky Attraction (now that he was, officially, missing a Sun, because that had been a shit-show of epic proportions), and subsequently irritating Squalo and Lussuria, because they had to put up with it for years and he was still doing it. God, Sawada was still a pretentious asshole, despite the fact that his son was sitting right there. Fluffy kept shooting his sperm donor annoyed looks, his own Sky Flames feeling a little prickly everytime Sawada's brushed his.

"…VARIA report."

Oh shit, time to tune in.

"Despite unfair restrictions,' Xanxus began, keeping his face carefully blank, 'VARIA has not gone over-budget this year. We have managed to meet the set mission requirements before we were placed on lockdown, but respectfully ask that in the coming year, VARIA be allowed to operate once more."

"VARIA has not been operating for the past five months." Don Visconti stated, shuffling his own sheaf of paper. "It has put the Cosa Nostra quite out of balance."

"The VARIA knew what they had to do in order to raise their restrictions." Don Vongola deflected.

"By firing at least half of their task force?" Fluffy…Tsuna sounded vexed, and Xanxus was pleasantly surprised by his defence. "You're not requiring the CEDEF to fire their female employees, why should the VARIA do the same?"

"An excellent point, Heir Vongola." Don Lorenzo pointed out, eyes narrow. Xanxus recalled that Don Lorenzo had a couple of nephews in Sun, specializing in poisons. And maybe a niece in Cloud.

"And the restrictions will be risen." Don Vongola pacified the increased grumblings. "As long as the Storm Officer steps down from their position. We cannot have a female in the Officer position. I am willing to allow them to remain in the general mook pool, however."

"You fucking what?" It took Xanxus a moment to realize the snarl was his own, hands slamming onto the table and Flames blazing.

"A drastic demotion when the Storm Officer has done nothing wrong is a bit of a stretch, Don Vongola." Dino's voice was tight, Flames tightly under control in a way that suggested he was seconds away from snarling as well. Xanxus could feel Rain Flames drenching him, both from Squalo and the sword brat, but it was doing little to quench his ire.

"Would you rather the Storm Officer be married off, Xanxus?" Sawada opened his stupid fat mouth, and Squalo's Flames took on a brittle edge. "There are many heirs looking for strong Flame users in order to boost the bloodline…"

"Bel is mine." Xanxus growled, Flames eating away at the table. "So shut your worthless fucking mouth, Sawada."

"Xanxus, do try to be reasonable…" Don Vongola began, and Xanxus snapped.

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Fuck it. Fuck the ever-loving shit out of the old man and his stupid policies and dumb ideals.

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He stood up, chair skidding on the carpet, and spun, grabbing his Storm Officer and hauling them into a passionate kiss, one hand finding their waist to tug them closer, the other reaching up to bury itself in their curls.

Bel made a pleased sound, arching eagerly into his hands and dragging their hands through his hair, making a point to scrape their nails against his scalp, making him groan.

There was a squeak, and then a thump, and a wash of voices enquiring after the Gesso brat, one exclaiming that he'd fainted.

"That's it. That is it! I'm retiring. I'm done." Xanxus pulled away to stare at Don Superbi in surprise, the one sensible Don (Visconti ad Cavallone excluded) shaking his head and standing up.

"As of tomorrow, my Heir, Pantera, will be taking over my duties. I'm too old for this shit." He muttered the last part under his breath, before turning to Squalo. "You have my utmost sympathies."

"Thanks, voi?" His Rain sounded confused, and Xanxus buried his face in Bel's neck to hide a grin, feeling a swooping sensation of elation, Bel's heart beating equally fast.

"Xanxus, you…" Nono Vongola seemed a loss for words, sounding strangled, and Xanxus faced him, back straight and jaw set.

"Bel is mine." He emphasized, glaring at Don Vongola. "My Guardian, my Officer, mine. You'll be taking them over my dead body."

"Our dead bodies." Lussuria chimed in, eyes gleaming with unholy glee and Sun Flames.

"But…"

"As Heir Vongola,' Tsuna stood, narrowing his eyes at Don Vongola, 'I hereby lift VARIA restrictions."

"Tsuna-fishy…"

"It is necessary to keep our allies happy, Sawada." Tsuna's voice was glacial. "Officer Belphegor is not only the most capable and deadly Storm I know, they are also one of the best Officers in the VARIA. It is also not our place to challenge the inner workings of the VARIA, as they are independent contractors of the Vongola."

"Heir Vongola is right. Not even your predecessors, Timeteo, dared to place their own as Officers." Don Visconti backed Tsuna.

"Your restrictions were useless and petty." Don Superbi hammered the final nail in the coffin. "I wonder, if we did not fall in line, would you restrict the movements of Alliance members also?"

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"Enough." Dino ordered, the room falling silent at the command of the young Sky. "We should adjourn for today, and reconvene tomorrow, after everyone's tempers have cooled. This is not up for discussion."

"Agreed." Tsuna stood, many of the Don's hastening to do so. "Don Visconti, Lorenzo and Scarlatti, I wish to speak with you in my office, if you have the time."

"Of course, Heir Vongola." Don Scarlatti bowed, and Xanxus narrowed his eyes, before Slaugh tugged on his hand and Viðarr was pushing him towards the door.

"Come on Boss, before Don Vongola corners you." Mammon chided, gesturing to the old man making his way towards them.

Xanxus pulled Bel along, hurrying out the mansion with his Guardians hot on his heels, piling into the van as Squalo dove into the drivers seat and started the vehicle, peeling out of the driveway with a screech of tyres against concrete. Xanxus collided with Viðarr, got Slaugh's elbows in his face, and ended up with Bel on his lap.

"Voi! Welcome to Flight 'get-the-fuck-outta-here' with Captain Squalo. Don't worry about seatbelts, we'll be parking in about six minutes, traffic going well." Squalo bellowed, and Xanxus couldn't help it.

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He laughed, pulling Bel closer to him and holding them tight.

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Fuck the old man.

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This magic spell you cast (this is la vie en rose)- BladeAzeles

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It was not his alarm that woke him.

Instead, it was the steady warmth of the sun on his skin, the sound of birds outside his window and the busy hum of assassins in the building, brushing against his Sky Flames that saturated the building. He kept his eyes shut, enjoying the soft golden light that filled his room, the warmth of the body in his arms and the contented hum of Storm Flames next to him. He could tell immediately that it was mid-morning already, and that he'd probably missed a meeting with Fluffy and Don Vongola, but he couldn't bring himself to care. A few floors below, he could feel Squalo sparring with his Division, the delighted pulse from the bond indicating that he was in a good mood. Lussuria's bond was radiant with happiness, most likely from having an empty infirmary for once, while Viðarr's had a satisfied edge to it, Slaugh was drowsy, and Mammon was brimming with smugness; most likely the miser had made more money overnight (or stolen it from stupid Wizards). Basking in the bonds, he drifted back to sleep.

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He next awoke when one of the birds abruptly stopped singing, courtesy of a bullet fired by an irate assassin, body instantly going into battle-mode, before he registered where he was, and he relaxed, resisting the urge to leap out of bed and dive for cover. Sprawled across his chest, Bel stirred, brow furrowing in confusion.

"Xan?" Bel slurred, eyes cracking open bare millimetres, before shutting again, the blonde mumbling something about early risers.

"Dumb assassin. Sorry." Xanxus murmured back, tugging Bel a little closer and running a hand through their curls, the Storm practically purring at the ministrations, body going lax against his.

"Time?"

"Noon-ish. We slept through the whole morning."

Bel hummed, and pressed their nose to his neck, inhaling deeply. Xanxus hummed, tugging gently on blonde curls, ignoring the sleepy protest, Bel's breath fanning across his neck.

"Can we…" Bel began, trailing off when Xanxus kissed their shoulder, lips trailing up to their ear.

"Hmm?" Xanxus purred, his fingers tracing over the crescent moon on Bel's hip, the skin smooth and warm beneath his fingertips, the mark black against otherwise pale skin.

"Xa…" Bel cut off when he pressed his lips to hers, happy to just enjoy kissing Bel without the chance of any interruptions (there had been moments in storage closets interrupted by nosey Mists that no one spoke of), lazily twining their tongues together and hands skimming up their sides, kissing his Storm soft and slow and warm, as if they had all the time in the world. Bel hummed, pulling away a little to stare into his eyes.

"Good morning." They smiled at him, and his breath caught at the beautiful simplicity of the expression. God, he could write sonnets about that smile; the one only he got to see, when Bel had all their walls taken down and there was nothing between them and the rest of the world.

"Good morning, amore mia."

"Sap." Bel chided, but Xanxus was close enough to see the light dusting of pink across their cheeks, and their adorable freckles that they liked to pretend they didn't have. He pressed a kiss to the tip of their nose, grinning a little at the scrunched up face they made.

"Sei bellisima, amore."

"Stop." Bel giggled, bring a hand up to cover their face. "You are incorrigible."

"You love me for it." Xanxus teased, poking their sides and running his fingers over their ticklish spots. Bel batted his hands away, eventually grabbing them and holding his wrists so he couldn't move them anymore. Xanxus, intent on winning this round, merely brought his wrists up higher, and kissed Bel's knuckles. He made the mistake of catching Bel's gaze, and froze, drowning in the starry night sky of deep indigo and silver flecks, falling into the void or being sucked into a black hole without a care in the world.

"I do." Bel breathed, a soft smile pulling at their lips, before leaning forward and pressing a chaste kiss to his mouth. They could have stayed like that forever.

Then Bel yawned, jaw cracking.

"Nap time?" Bel suggested, eyes already on their way to closing. Xanxus smiled, and broke their grip on his wrists, tugging them closer to curl up against his chest.

"Sounds like a fantastic idea." He agreed, closing his eyes.

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The world could wait.

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Leaving on a jet plane (don't know when I'll be back)

Xanxus wakes Bel before he leaves on a mission

His bags were packed, and Sigma Squad were waiting for him downstairs, the VARIA jet set to leave in the next ten minutes, but Xanxus couldn't go just yet.

"Bel." He called softly, placing a hand on his Storm's bare shoulder.

"Mrmphf."

"Bel." He shook them a little, gratified when Bel's first instinct wasn't to stab him, but to roll over and eye him blearily.

Bel had crawled into bed about four hours ago, fresh from ten missions back-to-back in Northern Africa, and had immediately curled into his warmth and dropped off to sleep, only stirring briefly when his own alarm went off. Xanxus himself was assigned eight assassinations; three in Denmark, two in Estonia, two in Latvia and one in Belarus, set to leave now. He hated September. September was always crazy. Everyone wanted shit done after the summer heat and before the awkward Christmas parties that no one wanted to attend because of family drama.

"Xan?" Bel slurred, and Xanxus raised an eyebrow at the nickname. "You going?"

"Yeah." Xanxus nodded, leaning down to press a chaste kiss on the corner of Bel's mouth. Bel made an unhappy sound, and wrapped their hands around his neck, pulling him back in for a proper kiss.

"Don't be Stupid. I'll kill you myself if you nearly die." Bel breathed, dropping back to the bed and rolling over, falling asleep almost instantly. Xanxus blinked, then hid a smile and leaned over Bel, pressing a gentle kiss to their cheek.

"Stai al sicuro, mia tempesta." He murmured, lingering for a moment longer, before a pulse of irritated Storm Flames reminded him that he was due down stairs five minutes ago. Reluctantly, he turned away, and left, shutting the door quietly behind him.

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It's a beautiful day (and I can't stop myself from smiling)- Roostertheking

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Xanxus heard the door creak open, snapping into wakefulness, but remaining relaxed so as to not wake up the blonde in his arms. Bel had landed late last night with Molan (Bel having been in England sorting out their multi-billion dollar empire, Molan retiring when Bel did to act as her assistant) and had crashed immediately, a week of dealing with the Wizarding World, the mundane world and the Snape-Prince coalition leaving the Storm mentally and physically exhausted.

"Papa?"

French, so…Arlette, of House Black. There was a light patter of feet, before a delicate weight settled across his back.

"Papa,vous dormez?"

"Non, Arlette. But maman is." He murmured back, tilting his head to meet a halo of wild black curls. "What is wrong?"

"Marko and Mihai are hungry."

"What is the time?"

"Early, Papa." Arlette pouted, the expression identical to Bel's, and Xanxus resisted the urge to chuckle, carefully extracting his arm from underneath Bel. Bel stirred a little, tugging a pillow closer and curling into the duvet as the cold autumn air hit her back. Xanxus grabbed a hoodie and dragged it over his head, picking up Arlette and propping her on his hip.

"We will see about some breakfast, fledgling."

"Papa!" Arlette whined, wiggling in his grip. "I'm not a bird!"

"Sure you aren't, mon petite aigle." Xanxus teased his daughter, and the ravenette pouted, red eyes narrowed in childish anger, kicking at the door to the kitchen when he opened it. At the counter, Marko and Mihai of House Potter froze, Mihai with his hand in the cookie jar, sparking indigo. Arlette wiggled out of his grasp and dropped to the floor in a move that looked like she was taking lessons from Slaugh, and started protesting.

"Papa!"

"Mihai." Xanxus picked up the cookie jar, and placed it on the highest shelf. "I remember stating no Flames use in the house."

The Romani twins both looked embarrassed, and Xanxus ruffled their hair.

"I'll make breakfast, shall I? Eggs?" The three children cheered, and immediately rushed to set the table, Mihai arguing with Arlette about who was getting the plates.

"Tata." Marko tugged on his sleeve, and Xanxus crouched down to listen. "Are you dropping us off at school today?"

"I believe so." Xanxus confirmed, the little Rain giving him a small smile.

"Is mămică coming to?"

"She is still asleep, Marko." Xanxus ruffled his hair. "She had a busy week, and got back late last night."

Marko nodded solemnly, and reached out for a hug, which Xanxus readily gave him (he still reeled over the fact that the many children he and Bel adopted liked getting hugs from him), pressing a kiss to the wild mess of hair that was, apparently, a House Potter trait. The intricacies of blood adoption still eluded him, but he understood enough, and had even consented to giving his own blood to the latest adoptees; Arlette, Finn and Soren. Soren, who had been a blonde, now looked exactly like him. All of these kids were legally his and Bel's on paper and in blood and magic and some days he couldn't believe it himself. He kept thinking that he would wake up and it would all be a dream and he would still be stuck in the Iron Fort with the shitty old man breathing down his neck.

"Papa! Breakfast!" Arlette demanded, and the tone of her voice was so Bel that he laughed, turning on the stove and hunting through the pantry for some bread.

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When he next walked into the kitchen after dropping the Terrible Trio off at school (their poor, poor teacher), Bel was sitting at the table, tablet in front of her and a still steaming cup of coffee next to her. Next to her, Zaria of House Peverell poked at a muffin, the Slavic teen still half-asleep. Her Greek half-brother, Atreus, was locked in a fierce debate with Parvana of House Potter over the last brioche, whilst Adaeze of House Black twisted her dark braids into a bun, some Wizarding newspaper in front of her declaring the ascension of the Black Potter Corp. as one of the most influential businesses in both worlds.

"Morning, otec." Zaria mumbled as he passed her, reaching out to brush a hand against his shoulder, Cloud Flames swirling in a lethargic manner just beneath her skin. This was met with an instant flare of Lightning from Parvana, and Atreus' Sun lashed against his skin, the young tween struggling to get it under control in response to the other Flames. Adaeze sneezed, and a teacup went flying from the table and into the wall, shattering upon impact.

Xanxus raised an eyebrow at Zaria, who, now fully awake, looked sheepish.

"No Flames at the table." Bel admonished absently, taking a sip of coffee, eyes not moving from their tablet.

"Good morning." Xanxus greeted his other children (oh god he had over eight children what the fuck when did this happen?). There were assorted greetings, and an apology from Atreus, the white-blond's fingers gingerly touching the scorch marks on Xanxus' arms. Xanxus wrapped his arm around his son (his son!) in a half-hug, leaning over to drop a kiss on Adaeze's hair.

"Baba!" Adaeze complained, but her lips quirked up into a smile regardless. Xanxus finally reached Bel, and swooped in to kiss her on the lips, ignoring the protests from the young adults at the table. Bel smiled against his lips, and reciprocated eagerly.

"Ew! Otec! Matka!" Zaria complained, and there was a mock retching sound from Parvana.

Xanxus started laughing, leaning his forehead against Bel's to catch his breath. He opened his mouth to reply, when…

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"VOOOOIIIII! XANXUS GET YOUR BRATS UNDER CONTROL!"

"I brought you back a present." Bel deadpanned, relishing in Xanxus' shocked face, before his Rain stomped into the kitchen, Soren and Finn hanging off his back and arms, giggling wildly.

"Uncle Squalo! Are you gonna show us some cool moves?" Finn pestered the Rain, bouncing excitedly.

"Voi! Brat, sit down and eat your breakfast!"

"Squ-chan, you shouldn't be so mean!" Lussuria sang, swanning in behind them, Sun flames reaching out to gently caress first Xanxus, then Bel, then curl protectively around Atreus and the small boy trailing behind his Sun. Xanxus shot his wife a stunned look, and Bel merely smirked.

"Two presents, my bad."

"Xan-chan!" Lussuria cooed, bouncing forward to wrap their arms around their Sky. Two years retired from the VARIA, Lussuria had immediately opened up a clinic in the slums, providing free or low-cost health care to those who couldn't afford it (funded by House Peverell and Lussuria's own generous savings). It kept his Sun busy, but Lussuria was loving every second of it. It probably also helped that most of the retired Sun Division had joined in, or opened similar clinics in nearby districts.

"Luss." Xanxus greeted, hugging Lussuria a little tighter than normal. He missed his crazy, flamboyant Sun.

"Oh! This is my apprentice, Niran." Lussuria introduced. "Niran, my Sky, Xanxus…." Lussuria trailed off, eyes narrowed. "You never told me your last name, only that it wasn't di Varia anymore."

"He took my name." Bel pointed out. "Since, you know, I actually had a last name."

"All of them, voi?" Squalo deposited Soren in Bel's lap, the little Storm puffed up like an offended kitten, red eyes glaring at the Rain.

"Kiuru." Xanxus admitted quietly. "Bel's birth name."

"So you're now royalty, voi?"

"He married me." Bel sniped, moving their coffee cup out of the way of Soren's grasping hands. "Of course he is. No, Soren, you may not have coffee."

"I see business is booming, Bel honey. Multi-billions, is it?"

"Something like that." Bel waved a dismissive hand. "Mammon enjoys the challenge, and has formally taken over the Finance Department. Fon was most put out, but he enjoys taking care of the two little menaces."

"You mean your goddaughters, Leysa and Xifeng." Xanxus commented wryly, and Bel snorted, standing up and giving Lussuria a hug.

"Like I said, menaces."

"Could be worse, voi." Squalo grumbled. "You could have been named godparent to Moriko."

"That's Alice and Perun's problem." Xanxus resisted the urge to shudder. He should have known that any offspring of Slaugh and Kyoya's was going to be…Cloudy, and violent. Thankfully, the two Clouds had stopped at one, both busy with running the Foundation

"And how are my favourite Lightnings?" Lussuria snagged a teacup, pouring straight from the teapot and taking a seat next to Atreus, the younger Sun curling closer to the Thai doctor.

"Stealing just as many children as we are." Xanxus snorted at Bel's reply, grabbing the last brioche on the plate.

"They have over thirty in the old Nott Fortress in Russia." Xanxus elaborated. "And miraculously, they keep finding more. I hear most of Viðarr's old Division has joined as well. Dumisa and Raijin, at least. Bronte was there from the beginning."

"How's the…import-export business going, Squalo? Enjoying a pirate's life?"

"Voi! I'm not a pirate!" Squalo protested. "But business is slow around this time, so I made the time to come and visit. Yosei and Triton are more than capable of managing it in my absence. My cousins are all excited and fighting each other for the next set of internships."

"Oh, more pirates on the seas." Lussuria teased. "Do you all wear tight leather pants and poet shirts as well?"

"Voi!"

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Sitting down next to Bel and holding her hand under the table, listening to his Guardians bicker and tease each other and his adopted children, Xanxus allowed himself to smile.

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All was well.

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Slain.

Happy holidays everyone! If you don't celebrate that sort of stuff (Vicky's not really a big fan of Christmas) for various reasons, stay safe, and take the time to relax and indulge in some good food.

And so marketh the end of My Thoughts Be Bloody. We would like to take the opportunity to thank everyone for their interest, their support, reviews, ideas and occasional prompting to update ( *sweats nervously*).

We wouldn't have gotten this far without you all.

Thank you.

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Signing out for the last time,

Victoria and Siofra.

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Fin.