"Romario, I leave the famiglia to you-"

"Sir-",

"-I know you'll do me proud,-"

"Sir, if I may-",

"-give the mares to Ivan, you know how he loves taking care of them-"

"Sir could you just-",

"-Bono and Brutus get to keep my liquor shelf-"

"Sir-",

"-they'd piss on my grave otherwise, you know that, anyways let Michael keep my desk. I've seen how he looks at it-"

"...-",

"-don't deny it Romario, you know it's true-"

"..-",

"-as for the rest, let them choose, just tell them I love them and it was a pleasure working with them-"

".-",

"-I can now go in peace, thank you Romario for all-"

"SIR",

"-!- yes?"

Romario had been observing his boss carefully for the last two hours, he'd been rambling for the most part of the trip to the hotel, all the way through check-in and had then proceeded to attempt to wear a hole through the carpet with all the pacing around he was doing.

"If I may, Sir", a narrowed eyed glare prevented any interruptions this time, "I believe you should hurry to get dressed, Signore Reborn would not be pleased if you were found lacking in any manner during the coming assembly", which caused a sharp mocking sound to escape the blonde Don's mouth, "Yeah, at this point my face alone would be enough to cause him displeasure", a huffed excuse for a laugh followed the statement, and much as Romario would have liked to disagree with his boss, this time he really- could not.

x

Not when he remembers the calculative coldness that poured from those dark pools of black, the slight downward tilt of the lips reflecting disappointment or the smooth blankness of his face, a careful façade in the face of encountered enemies, no recognition in his features save for the minute tenseness in his muscles.

Aware.

Alert.

Prepared to take any danger down before it became a threat.

Not when he knew, that at that moment, the danger-... was them.

x

x

No, he really cannot say otherwise. And the pained aura coming from his boss lets him know he's come to the same conclusion.

He hopes his boss' previous stint as Signore Reborns' student will serve as some kind of damage protection.

Still, when confronted with such a wild card there's no anticipating what he'll do.

x

x

"Dio, dacci la tua benedizione"

x

x

x

x

The room is ensconced in the sort of stillness that comes with precipitation, when one is filled with more nerves than steel, and Federico -not for the first time- wonders at the idiocy of the Older Generation.

A small sound directs his attention to the door leading to the hallway, where he sees the Chiavarone boss -still a little pale, but now with the addition of subtle despair etched onto his face, enter the room with the ever trusty Romario right behind him.

And really Federico can't blame the young Don, not really anyways, after all even he felt somewhat off kilter after the events of that morning.

There was not one of them who hadn't been affected in someway by the completely-different-than-what-they-heard Sawada spawn and his unexpected (talk about fucking plot twists) relationship with the World's Greatest Hitman.

Whether it be from his oldest brother dealing with the fallout from such a major faux pas in the underworld, such as taking Sawada's word for granted ad bypassing the local Yakuza's right to grant permission into their territory.

As well as the headache he must be sporting after the heated discussion he engaged in with their father about false information and letting too many things pass under the radar when it came to Sawada.

Apparently their old man saw it fit to travel to Japan ASAP in order to rip Iemitsu a new one (he didn't say it quite like that but the meaning stands).

Though if Enrico was heading towards Throbbing Vein™ levels of irritation, Massimo was at a completely different end of the spectrum.

For all that he was the most burly of the siblings, he'd always been the calmest of them all. And if the way he was decimating the cheese tray and the champagne bottles littering the floor were any proof, he wasn't planning on changing anytime soon.

And as funny as seeing his younger brothers' Rain in a mild constant state of shocked denial over witnessing Reborn showering his lover (very male lover, at that) with kisses, it had nothing on the pure wholehearted confusion Sawada was emitting through every fucking pore in his body, which -he's not going to lie- was definitely enhanced by the black eye that had made itself at home on his face and bandaged arm he had (if anything, he should be proud his son had that much of a good aim), since he had to be 'incapacitated' in order to remove him from his family home, and if they just happened to use a little more strength than required- well.

Then of course, there is Xanxus.

Xanxus, who seems to be going though a respectable portion of the hotels' wine selection in his ever-growing joy at the shit storm that this trip has turned into. And since the disdain the youngest of the Vongola heirs feels for the CEDEF boss has never been a secret (the rest of them are actually capable of acting), there is naturally nothing out of the ordinary with this situation.

In Xanxus' own words 'any fuckup of his is a god fucking win of mine'

x

x

x

x

The cheese really was that good, though that was not actually the reason why he was devouring it as if he were a starved man. And much as he enjoyed a good flute of champagne now and then, he'd rather have a nice whiskey in the rocks, but hence he could not.

Because he was scouting.

And what Massimo found left him even more sure that they'd really fucked up big time on this one.

The exits are all clearly visible and seem accesible, but each and every one of them has potential blind spots, which would be nigh undetectable to the unseasoned eye.

That added to the knowledge that they were being observed even if he could not for the life of him (possibly quite literally in this case) figure out from where.

There were no hidden cameras.

The personnel wasn't paying any attention to them unless called for.

There were no windows from where a sniper could get a good shot (and fuck that he had even been forced to consider snipers sure as shit said something)

Which only left one option available.

And he prayed to a god he didn't believe in that he was mistaken. /p

Because if he wasn't?

Well.

That opened a whole different can of shit he did not want to meddle in.

x

x

x

x

The shitty hotel was weird.

That was the only thing Squalo could- would focus on (voii forget the shitty kiss, forget it, forget the jealo-it'll never happe-he'll never see you like tha-fuck fuck fucking shitty bos- why did it have to be him wh-forget it).

The shitty hotel was strange and he did not know w h y.

Sure, it could have been the overly polite staff that answered your questions without ever actually giving you an answer.

Or the other clients in the lobby, the ones who radiated so much normalcy and civilian out of their very pores that it made him itch.

Or the ones that radiated the complete opposite, who looked so fucking un-civilian that he wondered how they weren't in jail.

Or it could be the fact that both of these entirely different types of people could communicate and engage in shitty conversations with such ease it felt normal.

This shitty hotel was strange, the shitty people here were strange, fucking Sawada's brat was strange, fuck even goddamn Reborn was strange, and Squalo just wanted to fucking leave.

Of course, that's when the shitty brat arrives with Reborn by his fucking side, like he belongs there

(and that surety it hurts, it tears at him, because he'll never happen, he won't ever belong, not quite like that, not with who he wants to belong)

and a squadron of goons, different from the ones that morning, but still of the same shitty caliber (they were almost Quality, almost).

The shitty brat walks through the fucking huge lounge (not as big as the Varias' but still) to sit in a dark leather wing back chair that had been unconsciously left alone by everyone in the room and that's when his shitty boss decides to become interested in the fucking going-ons of the room once more.

Which Reborn of course decided to encourage (or discourage, you can't really know with him, fucking voii) by leaning against the back of the chair and proceeding to shamelessly stroke his lovers neck in a could not be more obvious if you fucking tried show of possession, practically spelling 'he's mine, I fucking dare you to touch him', which who would have fucking imagined he'd be the possessive type, what with all the female lovers he'd had in the past.

x

x

x

(but this was different wasn't it?

even you could tell,

and it wasn't just gender,

it was everything.

x

x

the way they touched,

the way he lost control, for him,

the way he threatened you all, for him,

you knew,

it was love.

x

x

you knew,

this man, who held the heart, the soul, the very will, of the greatest assassin the mafia has ever known,

this man held your life in his hands,

and you hoped he didn't let it fall,

because you know, you knew, you will know,

that if he lets go,

he will grasp it,

and he won't care to hold it safe)

x

x

x

x

"And so the lion fell in love with the lamb,

but it wasn't a lamb,

it was a sheep,

and inside the sheep lay a wolf"