Hey, it's my first Katekyo Hitman Reborn! fanfic.

*gingerly waves to new fandom*

Uh, this will probably be my only oneshot for this fandom, but knowing me, I'll get hit with a ton of plot ideas and you may see me again soon.

I apologise for any OOCness (but Fran is a young child in this, so I think he can get away with showing some emotion at his age). I'd love some reviews, but don't leave non-constructive flames, please. I'm also sorry for any spelling mistakes.

I can assure you all, I do NOT own Katekyo Hitman Reborn!.

Anyway... enjoy!

Squalo closed his eyes and released a heavy, tired sigh before opening them again and turning his attention back to the screen. It was Tuesday night and, as far as Squalo could tell, there was nothing good to watch on television.

Typical, he thought crossly. The Varia had finally had a lax day where the members could actually relax (or at least try to), and there had been nothing to watch all day. While the other members of the Varia had actually found something to do, he had been left to brood in the mansion.

Huffing angrily, Squalo pressed the power button on the remote and slumped back against the sofa, wondering if he was actually bored enough to go to bed early.

"Long haired commander?"

Squalo jolted at the sudden voice and spun around to look at the archway that led out of the lounge and into the hallway. Stood in the doorway, sporting a pair of green, frog patterned pyjamas along with a fuzzy pair of green socks and lacking his apple hat, was Fran.

Fran had just become a member of the Varia very recently, and – considering that he was nine years old and had been pushed into joining – he was taking it remarkably well. Aside from his weird blank face and snarky comments, he'd conformed rather nicely.

Squalo's eyes narrowed, and he leaned off of the sofa pillows to get a better look at the boy. "What the hell are you doing up?" he snapped, eyebrows furrowing. "You were sent to bed ages ago."

Lussuria, who'd instantly taken a shine to the kid, had taken on a motherly role towards Fran. Thank God, too, because no one else would have done it otherwise. He'd show Fran around the mansion, help him out with the other members and send him off to bed at the appropriate times, like he had done earlier.

For a few moments, Fran didn't say anything and simply stared at Squalo, eyes wide and face blank. Squalo clenched his jaw; he'd been instructed by Lussuria, who was in full Mother-Hen Mode, to be nice to the boy (but as soon as the words had left his mouth, Lussuria had looked Squalo up and down and then added, "Well, try to be nice, okay?").

Fran then inhaled slowly, calm and collected as Squalo's temper began to rise, and he finally spoke.

"Tell me a story."

Squalo's jaw went slack. "... What?" he said, dumbfounded.

Fran tilted his head slightly, making some soft teal strands of hair fall into his eyes. "Please?" he added, which didn't really help, considering that he'd said it in his usual monotonous voice.

Squalo stared, his face twisting into a combination of bewilderment and disgust, and eventually exclaimed, "No."

Fran blinked slowly, completely unfazed. Squalo shook his head. "No way in hell. Now go to bed."

Much to Squalo's annoyance, Fran didn't turn on his heels and return to his room. He stayed rooted to the spot, staring at Squalo evenly. "I want to hear a story."

"Well, that's too damn bad, isn't it?"

"Tell me a story."

"No!" Squalo shouted, before sucking in his breath and exhaling slowly. He raised a hand to rub his temple.

Him. Out of all of the Varia members in the mansion, he was getting pestered for a story. The kid was better off going to Luss. Hell, the kid was better off going to Mammon or Levi. Just not him. Squalo had done his fair share when he had to take care of Belphegor when he was eight, and if that experience was anything to go by, then he definitely didn't want to look after anyone kid.

When Squalo next spoke, his voice was hissed through gritted teeth. "If you want to hear a story that badly, go and ask someone else."

"They're all doing stuff," said Fran, "and you're just sitting around. So you can tell me one instead."

Squalo groaned loudly and collapsed against the pillows, raking a hand through the hair over his scalp. "Why the hell do you want a story so badly? You've never asked for one before!"

"I didn't need one before, but now I can't sleep. Tell me a story, stupid long haired commander."

"STUPID?!" Squalo roared, whirling around to face the child again. "YOU LITTLE – "

And then he stopped. Fran's bottom lip was jutting out ever so slightly. He was pouting.

The kid was pouting.

Oh, good God.

Squalo looked the child over again, his shoulders starting to slump in defeat. "You're not going to leave until I tell you a story, are you?"

Fran's minuscule pout disappeared, and, as if he could tell that he as about to get his way, a very small grin curled across his face. Squalo glared at the child. "God, you're a pain," he muttered, before beckoning him over with a fleeting wave of his hand. "Get over here, then."

Fran's smug grin momentarily grew larger, though it left just as quickly as it came. He padded into the room and took a seat on the sofa next to Squalo, making the older man huff and shuffle away from him.

"Right," Squalo started, at a loss of what to say. "Well. What story do you want to hear?"

And then Fran did something that instantly made Squalo's temper reach its boiling point.

He shrugged.

The strategy captain could actually feel his face turning red. "Wh-WHAT?!" he screeched. "You begged for a story and you don't even know which one you want to hear?!"

Fran didn't flinch. His eyes didn't fill with tears from being yelled at. He gazed straight at Squalo. "I like ones with frogs," he replied calmly. "But not 'The Princess and the Frog'. That one's boring."

Squalo balled his hands into fists before blowing a gust of air through his lips agitatedly. "I don't know any frog stories."

"I know another one," said Fran. "There's this scorpion that wants to get across a river, so he asks a frog to take him. But halfway across the river, the scorpion stings the frog, and they both drown."

Silence.

Squalo stared, wide-eyed, looking deeply disturbed. It seemed even freakier that a nine year old was telling him this. What kind of screwed up story was that?

"Wha... Who the hell told you that?"

"Master."

Master?

Oh. Mukuro.

"... That's messed up."

Fran lifted one slim shoulder in a lazy attempt at a shrug, and then stared back up at Squalo. "Tell me a story."

"Brat, if you say that one more goddamn time..."

"Then start."

Squalo had half a mind to beat some freaking manners into the kid, but the other half of his mind as reminding him that the sooner he told a story, the sooner the kid would go away. And boy, did he want the kid to go away.

He sighed exasperatedly before turning back to Fran. Oh, screw it.

"Once upon a time – "

"I don't like this story."

"Shut your goddamn mouth," Squalo hissed acidly before raising his voice again. Really? He could have been making fun of stupid soap operas or watching a film, but he was doing this instead? "Once upon a time, there... there was a frog." Yeah, that seemed like a safe bet. "This frog... lived in a pond with its family–"

"His grandmother."

Squalo snarled. "Shut up!" But then, when the statement had sunk in, he blinked. "What?"

"His grandmother," Fran repeated, his flat voice slightly softer than before. "He lived with his grandmother."

Squalo blinked again, confounded by the correction, but quickly shrugged it off. Well, whatever makes him happy. Then he'll get lost.

"Well, uh... this frog lived in a pond with his grandmother, and... lots of other frogs his age–"

"But they thought he was weird."

Okay, what?

"Huh?"

"The other frogs though he was weird, so they didn't play with him," corrected Fran. Even though his face was its usual emotionless mask, he had swept his gaze away from Squalo and was now staring at the wall opposite them. "They stayed away from him and left him alone."

Squalo's eyebrows furrowed and he watched the child for a moment, a soft frown on his face. "Okay," he said slowly, before shaking his head. "Right. Uh, the other frogs left him alone and didn't play with him, so it was always just him and his grandmother."

There was a brief silence. Squalo wasn't exactly sure what to say after that, but Fran apparently hadn't noticed and was busy staring into thin air. Squalo coughed. "The frog always played by himself in the pond. Then, one day... he found that he had special powers. He could create illusions with them, and for a while, he made them just to entertain himself.

Then, one day, a group of people showed up when he was playing in the pond." Squalo paused, and his face began to twist in annoyance. "He made a total idiot of himself and referred to some of the people – who turned out to be the Vongola's independent assassination squad – as tooth decay fungi."

Out of the corner of his eye, Squalo could see the kid give a small, triumphant grin.

"ANYWAY," Squalo emphasised loudly, and the grin quickly evaporated, "despite being a complete and total brat, he had a strong Mist flame in him, and he was thought to have a lot of potential as an illusionist. So he was – unfortunately for us – taken in by the assassins, and was going to be trained by their own illusionist." After a pause, Squalo suddenly felt the strong urge to add, "So he didn't need the other frogs after all, 'cause he had something that they never would."

Fran turned back to look at Squalo, his face stoic but his aquamarine eyes sparkling. With a large air of confidence and pride, the child finished the story with...

"A cool hat."

Silence. And then, "... What?"

"He had a cool hat, which they would never have." Fran tilted his head. "That is what you were going to say, right?"

Squalo looked away pointedly, pressing his lips into a thin line. Well, that answer does save him a lot of embarrassment...

"Sure," Squalo finally replied, folding his arms.

Fran blinked up at the white haired man – and the sincere, tiny, barely-visible-to-the-naked-eye smile reappeared. "And potential," he said softly. "Powers and potential."

Squalo coughed gruffly. "Yeah, those too."

"And a bright future," Fran added. "Most of the other frogs were really stupid. They'll end up working in dump sites."

After a moment of surprised silence, Squalo snickered. "Yeah, they probably will." He then stretched his legs and twisted his ankles until they gave a satisfying click. "All right, you've had your story. Get back to bed."

Fran obediently jumped down off of the sofa and headed towards the archway, but stopped in his tracks and turned back to face Squalo. "Long haired commander?"

Suppressing a weary sigh, Squalo asked, "What?"

"... Thanks."

Fran's voice was soft, scratchy, and he'd turned back around and bolted into the hallway before Squalo had time to process what he'd said.

Thanks.

It was sincere, full of gratitude... and Squalo had a nagging suspicion that Fran wasn't just talking about him telling the squirt a story.

Squalo stayed still for a few moments, thinking hard. He wasn't particularly fond of children, and had originally seen having a kid in the Varia as an annoyance, nothing but dead weight... But the look Fran had given him, wide-eyed and thankful...

Perhaps Squalo could get used to having him around.

When a warm, unknown feeling filled his chest, he shook his head and began to retreat into his own room.

By the way, the Scorpion and the Frog is an actual story. Bizarre, right?