Disclaimer: I don't own Reborn.

Summary: Wondering how Squalo's hair can be so infinitely pretty should not amount to this many sleepless nights and this much level of insanity, but unfortunately for Xanxus, it does.

Author's note: Wrote this for a friend a year ago for an lj meme to help me with my writer's block. But I found it again and decided to revise and post it. I liked this version than the previous one. And I have to say, Xanxus is pretty fun to write in this light xD

Warning for language and a total lack of seriousness.

I hope you enjoy~

Much Ado About Hair

Xanxus had a thing for Squalo's hair. He wouldn't admit this out loud, of course. He was, after all, the mother-fucking boss of a mother-fucking assassination team. The word 'Varia' practically exuded awesomeness. To admit he had a thing for long, pretty hair—hair that belonged to another mother-fucker in his God forsaken crusade of badassery—would not only be un-cool and totally un-Xanxus like, but it'd hurt his reputation so bad that no amount of bullets to the head would ever put him out of his misery. No, he kept such musings to himself.

But he was curious as to how Squalo could maintain his hair's natural shine and silkiness, even during the throes of battle.

Most of the time he wondered why Squalo didn't just cut it off—it had to be a nuisance during a fight right? Maybe that was how he'd lost to Yamamoto Takeshi in the first place—his hair kept getting in the way? Then again, Squalo never seemed to think his hair was a bother otherwise he would have shortened it by now.

So then what was his secret? It was eating away at Xanxus curiosity that sleeping at night became impossible. And if that wasn't enough, he started to have dreams about hair and about Squalo and other random hair-related shit too traumatizing for Xanxus's masculinity to handle. It was probably what had officially broken his penis from ever properly functioning again because morning woods were no longer something he had to worry about anymore. He'd eviscerated himself.

But he couldn't help himself. Every time he saw Squalo (which was quite frequent), it was divine cruelty that made the first thing he looked at was his hair. It was equivalent to staring at a woman's chest rather than at her face. The hair just spoke to him, as if asking Xanxus to openly gawk at it like a moron.

"Oi. What the fuck do you keep staring at me for?" said Squalo, who had reached the limit of his patience. He looked mildly irritated. "It's starting to give me the creeps." He swept his hair away from his face and Xanxus, as though transfixed, followed the movement like a hawk. He caught a waft of his shampoo.

He didn't reply, was quite unperturbed by his swordsman's rather rude display of language, however, it did make him realize something—something that would have undoubtedly saved him from a mother-load of sleepless, Squalo-haired filled nights and a lifetime of self-evisceration.

Without so much as a warning, he yanked Squalo by the arm, slid his hand through his hair and just sniffed.

"Hey—what the fuck?" Squalo tore himself free. Irritation was clearly an understatement. He was pissed. "What the hell was that for? Have you completely lost your marbles or has being trapped in a block of ice for so many years caused your brain to stop functioning?"

He did not wait for a reply and stalked off, muttering about taking one of his guns and firing it up his ass where he'd likely feel it in the morning.

Xanxus was unfazed though, and continued to look ahead, his face almost dream-like because every thing made so much more sense now. He would have cried tears of joy and pulled out a song from the 'Sound of Music' album if not for the fact that he was supposed to be manly and badass—and weeping whilst singing 'the hills are alive with the sound of music' did not make for a manly and badass sort of man.

Instead he simply said, "Huh," like that proclamation was the answer to all of life's unsolved mysteries.

It all made perfect sense. Why Squalo's hair was always so shiny and sleek. Why it was so pretty and reeked of pure estrogen-qualities not bestowed to any other man (or woman) within a fifty mile radius. Why every time Squalo so much as flicked his hair to the side, it seemed to throw off rainbows and moonbeams and sparkles.

"He... uses Pantene Pro V…"