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28 December 2008 @ 02:54 am
[o7] FANFIC: Something Vague  
title: something vague
author: proboscus
rating: r
pairing: xanxus/squalo
summary: Some time fifty years ago, some old degenerate man sat, squatted, made love, and died on these ornate pieces of furniture, but Xanxus showed them neither pity nor respect and pushed Squalo down on every possibly surface including his great great grandfather's rusty old wheelchair.
misc: standard disclaimers apply. written for lycorisc for many reasons and reversepedo ♥ who wanted er, scar/stump sex and because i couldn't churn out metal gear 3!3318/10018. some crack with schmoop; plus more creative liberties taken, boo me.

one: It was at a party when, drunk on expensive wine and extremely bloated with decadent cheese, Squalo had made a decision that would change the course of his fate forever.

Had he known what lay in store for him ten years later, he would have deliberated his decision over and made a list of pros and cons. Then the list of cons would have teetered, and towered over a meager list of pros, and he would have found some other lucky fellow deserving of his devotion.

That fellow would have been richer and less prone to bursts of anger. Squalo would have said farewell to a future filled with nothing but long hours and little next to no pay, and it would have been a good life, one wherein he was the best swordsman in the world and he would still have the use of his other hand.

But instead, Squalo followed what normal people liked to call their "heart", and threw logic out the window the way infatuated shoujo heroines often do when they chased the men of their dreams. Often times a man is faced with the wrong thing to do and the right thing to do, and often times he only misses by one. Squalo, young and having only killed about 80% of all swordsmen in Italy, had yet to figure out what he wanted in life.

In Squalo's defense, the cheese was too good to pass up, the ninth Vongola boss hired the finest caterers, and the shirt Squalo had arrived in was his only clean shirt that didn't have any blood in it. It was a good shirt. In fact, Squalo would even go as far to say it was an honest shirt, despite the fact that it seemed to attract esteemed retiring Mafiosi.

But shirts and cheese side, the decision to devote himself to Xanxus' rage had come upon him the very second their eyes met. It swept over Squalo quiet like an epiphany, without his consent.

Xanxus overturned the buffet table and shoved the caterers into the Olympic-sized swimming pool. He punched and spat at and very nearly killed half of the catering staff. He was apparently allergic to cheese and didn't think it was polite that the caterers included it in the menu.

When his angry gaze flickered towards Squalo who stood several feet away sampling the cheese, time felt like it had stopped. Then there was just the two of them, staring at each other, gazes never wavering. A wedge of cheese had lodged painfully in Squalo's throat, as Xanxus' dark eyes penetrated him to the very bone.

His gaze, it was so dark it would have made any normal man's testicles shrivel to the size of prunes. But Squalo was far from a normal man and instead he shivered to his toes.

Xanxus gave him a brief once over, assessing the cheese and tomato paste on his otherwise clean shirt, and Squalo knew, he just knew, that his man, this man with the foul temper and the unkempt hair, this man in leather boots and tight pants was going to be a permanent fixture in his life.

He grabbed a handful of cheese and stuffed it into his mouth.

two: Squalo wasn't sure how he'd gone from nibbling on delectable cheese, to staring at Xanxus from across the courtyard, to having his clothes improperly removed, to rolling across swathes of expensive carpeting and knocking into furniture passed onto several generations of Vongola bosses.

Arm chairs were stuffed and desks and bookshelves were carefully maintained and lacquered. Some time fifty years ago, some old degenerate man sat, squatted, made love, and died on these ornate pieces of furniture, but Xanxus showed them neither pity nor respect and pushed Squalo down on every possibly surface including his great great grandfather's rusty old wheelchair which creaked and rolled over Xanxus' boot on the floor, giving Squalo very pleasurable sensations indeed.

In less time than it took to disembowel a civilian, Xanxus had gotten Squalo naked, hauled him on all fours and dismissed any misconceptions Squalo may have harbored about Xanxus' sexuality. It was unfortunate to see the last of his good shirts torn into shreds, the buttons clattering on the floor like coins as Xanxus grasped him by the collar and all but threw him on the mattress. The mattress bounced and so did Squalo; the cheese and the wine had addled his thinking, and he was under the illusion that Xanxus was going to make every second of this unforgettable. They were going to do it loud, and hard, and if possible, on Xanxus' great great grandfather's rusty old wheelchair.

Squalo was young, impressionable, had killed off a mere 80% of all swordsmen in Italy, and had yet to figure out what was good for him. He shouldn't be blamed for fantasizing about these things; he was a young man with a healthy libido.

When Xanxus had fallen asleep in the middle of their tryst after having consumed one too many bottles of wine, Squalo had to slap him awake and threaten to cut off genitalia unless Xanxus lived up to his reputation.

And it seemed like the cue Xanxus was looking for as it pissed him off to extremes. Whatever appendage that had wilted during intercourse turned tumescent in the blink of an eye. Cheese or no cheese, by the time morning came, Squalo had palm prints on his ass and teeth marks on his shoulderblade. He was scratched, spanked, bent over in ways he never knew were possible, and when he tried getting up, he was dizzy and fell back down again; he suspected a possible concussion.

On the bedside there was Xanxus drinking wine from a golden bejeweled goblet. He sat, completely naked, on the very same armchair Squalo was splayed over diagonally last night, his legs apart and his gaze steady but unreadable. He watched Squalo watch him, stupid bastard probably watched Squalo sleep too and Squalo narrowed his eyes at the inherent creepiness of the situation that he was suddenly thrust into.

And then Xanxus finished his morning wine. He picked up the bottle, and then without warning poured its contents on Squalo's head so that he was drenched down to the chest. Squalo was about to reach over and deck Xanxus but the bastard was quick and had already clamped a hand around his neck, pinning him to the mattress with his knees.

Xanxus was apparently up for round twenty four.

three: When Squalo lost his good hand - for a cause! -, he didn't expect Xanxus to feel sympathetic in the least. He didn't expect Xanxus to understand at all, the stupid ass would've told Squalo that it was just a hand. No need to get attached to it, it was fucking trash anyway, and hands were pretty damn useless when you came down and thought about it.

Then he would've squatted on the ground and laughed in Squalo's face while Squalo twitched and bled and screamed at him as he lay in a pool of blood. He was too weak to defeat some puny Japanese swordsman, what a joke, Squalo didn't deserve to stand next to him as an equal, and who did he think he was trying to fool - he didn't cut off his left hand, it was cut off by the enemy. Had Xanxus actually been there to witness Squalo fight, he would have predictably kicked Squalo in the stomach for having "lost" a match and then called it a day. And maybe Squalo would have predictably died.

Sympathy was too much to ask for even from a man whose widely held belief that everyone around him was useless trash. Sure the two of them were inseparable as a fig leaf and a butterfly and they slept together occasionally, but Xanxus didn't have feelings, much less for Squalo and drawing pity from him was like drawing blood out of a fax machine; disappointing and virtually impossible.

But sometimes, you hang around Xanxus long enough, and even you'd be surprised. He redeemed himself whenever he's had too much to drink, his judgment having been impaired by the alcohol and altered extremely. Squalo had lost his hand - for a cause! - and he'd accepted that and moved on, but it was still a little bit upsetting that he could only use one eating utensil, never two, not even on a four-course meal. He couldn't even satisfy Xanxus with only one hand, but that should be the least of his concerns as he was a swordsman above all else. Not a day had passed that Xanxus hadn't called him new nicknames -- none of them affectionate --, but one night when they were sprawled out on the bear-skin rug in front of a fiery hearth in the middle of June, Xanxus had brought up artificial hands in the midst of pummeling Squalo to the bear skin rug. Xanxus had impeccable timing of course, as per usual, and Squalo nearly keeled over in surprise at the sudden shift in topic (they were arguing over which method of killing was the quickest and the safest).

"What do you mean, like a sharp pointy hook?"

Xanxus shoved him face-first down the rug, calling him a stupid trashy whore and Squalo resurfaced and spat out fur, snapping his hips up so quickly that Xanxus nearly fell over on his side.

Squalo made a promise to himself that, given a hook to replace his left hand, the first thing he would do was gouge Xanxus' eyes out and then claw his testicles for every piece of china and kitchenware he'd thrown at his head.

But then he'd quickly forgotten his promise in a flurry of movement, Xanxus fingernails had dug into his hips, and his teeth grazed Squalo's shoulder to leave a wide bite. Squalo's hair was getting long, and he probably should cut it some time; Xanxus slid his fingers slowly up Squalo's neck and twisted the soft strands around his fingers. Then he yanked. Painfully.

In the morning an artificial hand sat gleaming on the bedside under shafts of morning light. Xanxus was perched in his usual seat, naked and sipping casually on some wine.

Squalo wasn't sure whether to feel grateful or slightly creeped out so he turned his back on Xanxus and went back to sleep.

four: Waiting for Xanxus was like waiting for it to rain in the Sahara, you knew it was going to happen some time or another, whether from some celestial cause or global warming, but either way you hoped and you prayed and though it wasn't clear when it was going to happen, you knew for sure that it was plausible. So you kept hoping, you kept praying, kept telling yourself: one day, one day.

Squalo could outgrow his clothes just waiting for Xanxus. In fact, he'd grown his hair past his hips, developed a new hobby, and was actually getting pretty damn good at scoring free drinks down at the local pub, and still Xanxus remained frozen in his prison. Squalo wasn't lonely without him. Really, he wasn't. Life was easier without someone trying to demand sex, loyalty, and a refill every five minutes. Xanxus tested his patience, his perseverance, his skills in bed and flexibility. Without Xanxus around to complicate things, life actually felt like it was finally looking up.

But there was an inexplicable clench in Squalo's gut the day Xanxus had finally broken free, demanding every blonde big breasted prostitute be sent to his room at once as he had a lot of lost time to make up for.

It felt like the first time they'd met, though this time without the cheese, the heaviness in Squalo's chest was alarming in heft. Xanxus met his eye again, and time stood still.

Lussuria looked particularly suspicious at the exchange though at this point everyone including Levi was suspicious about their relationship and their lack of proper conduct behind closed doors. Belphegor didn't care for it and just let the room with Mammon, opting to pelt birds or torture insects or whatever it was that he did to pass the time. Everyone understood it was an important moment so it was best to leave the boss alone with his idiot "right-hand" man wink-wink-nudge-nudge.

There were no welcome-home! embraces exchanged or heated kisses in the middle of the night. Squalo stalked over to Xanxus, slapped him very very hard in the face with his detached artificial hand before marching up the stairs and being covertly followed by him.

Xanxus yelled at him and slammed him up the wall and growled at him and threw him down on the hallway floor and snatched away his artificial hand. The artificial hand twitched as if in protest and Xanxus took it between his teeth like a dog, gave it a few good shakes and spat it out on the floor before tossing Squalo onto one shoulder and kicking the bedroom door open. He threw Squalo down the mattress, and said something about Squalo looking like a complete pussy - Squalo wasn't sure what Xanxus was getting at it but he was rather insulted by both implications.

Xanxus yanked him up by the hair, and like threads of silk, the strands slipped clean between his fingers. Had he been a sentimental person, he would have said something timely like, "the look suits you," or "you're still as beautiful as ever, my love." but as such Xanxus was a heartless bastard and was, in more ways than one, a total dick.

He pulled Squalo down with him, nudging his legs apart without preamble and snapped up his hips until Squalo's thighs trembled and his eyes burned in pain. Maybe he was getting misty-eyed because it really fucking hurt, maybe all that ice made Xanxus dick impenetrably hard contributing to the discomfort, or maybe the surge of "emotion" inside Squalo's chest was too unbearable to contain. Xanxus' hips slowed down and he found his rhythm all on his own, slow and leisurely because he was still the biggest asshole ever, torturing Squalo until he yielded but just because the stupid boss was finally back, no way was Squalo going to beg. He never begged, he wouldn't start now.

Squalo's fingers skimmed over the scars on Xanxus' back and traced the hollow of his throat with sharp teeth. Xanxus kept slipping his fingers through Squalo's hair and thrusting hips and rolling it smoothly, and the pain was subsiding now and turning into something else. Squalo made the mistake of tilting his face up just as Xanxus was leaning down, and for the first time, their mouths brushed and Squalo clenched his eyes shut and lay still. Really fucking weird if you ask him, this whole kissing Xanxus business, dry lips, a little chapped, and it was Xanxus who pulled back after several moments.

"I can't believe I'm fucking a handicapped," he murmured with an undisguised eye roll and Squalo hit him over the head with his right hand and Xanxus laughed at him and grabbed his left wrist and trailed his lips down Squalo's arm. He was being too fucking slow that Squalo felt his hard-on might wilt any moment.

Squalo nudged him with the ball of his left wrist and Xanxus let out another bitter laugh before wrapping his mouth around where his hand should have been. Squalo blinked at him and blinked again but he let it go for now because Xanxus' pace was quickening. Mattress springs creaked; hands closed over hollows of throats, and in the morning Squalo woke up with a crick in his neck and Xanxus sitting by the bedside with a glass of wine.

He wasn't watching him this time but there was a long list of people that he planned to "take care of" sitting on his very naked lap. Squalo pulled the blankets over his shoulders and smirked.

five: Christmas, like a troublesome wart, had snuck upon them without consent. Ten years had passed since the unfortunate run-in Millefiore and that fellow Byakuran with more issues than Xanxus and his deceased mother combined. But the past, present, and future had been altered, and all was well, and boring, and the Varia had been gifted a new member for their troubles: Fran, an unsuspecting jailbait in a frog costume who Belphegor continued to harass now that Mammon was no longer two feet tall.

The mansion was decked with boughs of holly and paper streamers were put up in the spirit of the occasion. There was a ten foot tree sitting in the ballroom, shimmering with tinsel and shiny balls Lussuria decorated with smiling faces. It was so unlike them to celebrate the holidays, much less indulge in the inanities of day to day civilians, but a lot has changed since the whiny brat took over as the tenth Vongola boss, and here they were, a team of so-called elite assassins, preparing for an event made popular by a fat man in a red suit and some Jewish baby born in a manger. People were coming over that night. Actual people.

Squalo tucked a pencil behind his ear and, clipboard in hand, taste-tested all the food. “You call that gourmet cooking? It tastes like ass, you cheesy lot of second hand electric donkey-bottom biters! Either bring back something edible or I’ll make castanets out of your testicles!”

He found Xanxus in the study, drinking wine and perusing the guest list with a tight scowl. Xanxus looked up from the list as the door opened and Squalo let himself in noisily.

"There's no cheese; I made sure of that." he announced loudly, and Squalo put the clipboard down, flipping his hair casually over his shoulder, the movement catching Xanxus' eye. Xanxus pushed his chair back, unfolded his fingers from his desk and patted his knee.

Squalo snorted.

This is what they had become, he thought with a derisive shake of the head, they'd mellowed out with age!

Squalo climbed into Xanxus lap, picking up the bowl of grapes from the desk and wedging a piece of fruit between Xanxus' teeth. Xanxus chewed slowly, very slowly and pressed his thumb against Squalo's lips.

Squalo bit down on the pad of his finger hard but not painful enough to leave a mark. He put down the bowl of grapes, tightened his legs around Xanxus' waist and then rolled his hips until Xanxus' left hand tightened up his hair. Xanxus tilted his face up with his other hand and parted Squalo's lips with a kiss.

"Too soft," Squalo said, so Xanxus bit down on his bottom lip.

Some things never change.
Current Music: mat kearney - where do we go from here?
proboscus on December 28th, 2008 02:04 pm (UTC)
Again I would like to thank you for those wonderful icons with which you grace the fandom ♥.

Thank you for reading, lol! I'm glad you enjoyed it. (:
i wanted to get close to the sheep: 80 ♥ gleetablo on December 28th, 2008 11:35 pm (UTC)
stop thanking me, my icons are terrible 8o ♥

i liked naked xanxus lounging on a chair, i found that image amusing XD