the (questionable) merits of truth
Title: The (Questionable) Merits of Truth
Series: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Characters/Pairings: Suberbi Squalo, Dino; implied Dino/Hibari
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Squalo's language.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Squalo makes a discovery.
The (Questionable) Merits of Truth
This, Squalo decided, had been a fucking bad idea. It had to be the brat’s fault, because everything was his fault, somehow. When he had let it slip that the Bucking Horse suggested they spend some time, for old time’s sake, Squalo! and Yamamoto had smiled cheerfully and exclaimed how happy he was that Squalo had other friends and social life aside from him, Squalo’s resolve not to go anywhere with the Cavallone crumbled like the cookies he’d been forced to make last Christmas.
(In his defense, it had been that or facing the wrath of Reborn, and even the Varia weren’t so stupid as to make that particular mistake.)
So, after the Vongola’s annual meeting was finished, Squalo found himself being dragged to a traditional Japanese restaurant by an enthusiastically babbling Cavallone boss. The restaurant was what people would normally consider nice, not too big, with an outside garden visible from behind the back door (good, Squalo thought, because that meant a second exit, should something happen). A pretty waitress greeted them at the door, bowing and smiling and bowing some more, and Squalo wondered if they got back pains from bowing so much.
They got a table from a remote corner of the restaurant, something that Squalo appreciated since his rather unusual appearance tended to attract too much attention. What he didn’t appreciate, however, was the complete lack of anything even remotely appetizing in the menu.
“VOOOII, you trash! Why can’t we go somewhere that serves food that’s actually edible?” Squalo briefly contemplated throwing the menu at the nearest waitress, but decided against it since apparently, this was a restaurant the rest of the Vongola used to frequent, so he’d have to uphold the Family pride.
Dino simply smiled at him, clearly used to his quicksilver temper. “But Squalo, of course we have to eat Japanese food when we’re here! When in Rome, remember?”
No, Squalo thought, he didn’t because they fucking weren’t in Rome, but in a rare act of mercy, decided to let it slide. Instead, he focused on looking at the man seated across from him. The Bucking Horse hadn’t changed much from when he’d last seen him - he was still wearing that ridiculous jacket (really, hadn’t someone taught the shithead what proper fashion was by now?), was still grinning like the fool he was, still sporting various bruises of different sizes and shapes.
Wait, bruises? What the shit was this?
“Why the fuck are your neck and hands covered in bruises?”
Dino stopped his blabbering about the finesse of Japanese cuisine at this and promptly turned beet red. Squalo smirked.
“I thought you’d got rid of your clumsiness already? You’re a pathetic excuse for a mafia boss, Cavallone.”
The response he got wasn’t the one he was expecting: instead of indignant yelling, Dino was looking slightly relieved and simply laughed, rubbing the back of his head in a manner that was so eerily reminiscent of Yamamoto that Squalo had to do a double take to confirm that the person in front of him hadn’t suddenly changed.
Discarding all thoughts of the brat, he continued. “Besides, why are you even in Japan? This was a Vongola-only meeting, you know.”
Cavallone smiled at this, oddly cheerful and placating. “Well, Tsuna is my cute little brother, so I thought to come and help with the meeting! It’s not always easy, you know, to organize something like this, and-“
“You weren’t even in the meeting.” Squalo was starting to get more and more suspicious, and the way Dino was paling wasn’t helping his case. Fuck if he was going to believe shit like that, there was a reason why he was a member of the elite assassin team (aside from his sword skills), and it was that the team needed someone with both common sense and enough intelligence to use it. And, really, living with his fucktard of a family, he’d become extremely skilled at calling others out on their bullshit.
Dino was now sweating buckets and blabbering something Squalo could not make heads or tails of.
“W-well, you know, since I actually helped beforehand, I mean was here, I mean since I was here, no, wait-“ Again, Squalo cut him off.
“You weren’t at the meeting. And…” Shit, how had he not noticed this before? It all matched; right down to the number of times the Bucking Horse’s visits to Japan coincided with the Vongola meetings where someone else was absent.
Squalo started grinning. This was way better than Lussuria’s Spanish soap operas. It all made sense, the weird bruises, everything. His grin bordered on feral when he asked, as nonchalantly as he could manage, “How long have you been fucking the Cloud brat? …or should it be how long has he been fucking you?”
It was worth it, the wasted evening, the crappy food, everything, to see Cavallone choking on his sake, face burning.
This, Squalo decided, a wicked gleam in his eyes, might not have been such a bad idea, after all.
FIN
Series: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Characters/Pairings: Suberbi Squalo, Dino; implied Dino/Hibari
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Squalo's language.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Squalo makes a discovery.
The (Questionable) Merits of Truth
This, Squalo decided, had been a fucking bad idea. It had to be the brat’s fault, because everything was his fault, somehow. When he had let it slip that the Bucking Horse suggested they spend some time, for old time’s sake, Squalo! and Yamamoto had smiled cheerfully and exclaimed how happy he was that Squalo had other friends and social life aside from him, Squalo’s resolve not to go anywhere with the Cavallone crumbled like the cookies he’d been forced to make last Christmas.
(In his defense, it had been that or facing the wrath of Reborn, and even the Varia weren’t so stupid as to make that particular mistake.)
So, after the Vongola’s annual meeting was finished, Squalo found himself being dragged to a traditional Japanese restaurant by an enthusiastically babbling Cavallone boss. The restaurant was what people would normally consider nice, not too big, with an outside garden visible from behind the back door (good, Squalo thought, because that meant a second exit, should something happen). A pretty waitress greeted them at the door, bowing and smiling and bowing some more, and Squalo wondered if they got back pains from bowing so much.
They got a table from a remote corner of the restaurant, something that Squalo appreciated since his rather unusual appearance tended to attract too much attention. What he didn’t appreciate, however, was the complete lack of anything even remotely appetizing in the menu.
“VOOOII, you trash! Why can’t we go somewhere that serves food that’s actually edible?” Squalo briefly contemplated throwing the menu at the nearest waitress, but decided against it since apparently, this was a restaurant the rest of the Vongola used to frequent, so he’d have to uphold the Family pride.
Dino simply smiled at him, clearly used to his quicksilver temper. “But Squalo, of course we have to eat Japanese food when we’re here! When in Rome, remember?”
No, Squalo thought, he didn’t because they fucking weren’t in Rome, but in a rare act of mercy, decided to let it slide. Instead, he focused on looking at the man seated across from him. The Bucking Horse hadn’t changed much from when he’d last seen him - he was still wearing that ridiculous jacket (really, hadn’t someone taught the shithead what proper fashion was by now?), was still grinning like the fool he was, still sporting various bruises of different sizes and shapes.
Wait, bruises? What the shit was this?
“Why the fuck are your neck and hands covered in bruises?”
Dino stopped his blabbering about the finesse of Japanese cuisine at this and promptly turned beet red. Squalo smirked.
“I thought you’d got rid of your clumsiness already? You’re a pathetic excuse for a mafia boss, Cavallone.”
The response he got wasn’t the one he was expecting: instead of indignant yelling, Dino was looking slightly relieved and simply laughed, rubbing the back of his head in a manner that was so eerily reminiscent of Yamamoto that Squalo had to do a double take to confirm that the person in front of him hadn’t suddenly changed.
Discarding all thoughts of the brat, he continued. “Besides, why are you even in Japan? This was a Vongola-only meeting, you know.”
Cavallone smiled at this, oddly cheerful and placating. “Well, Tsuna is my cute little brother, so I thought to come and help with the meeting! It’s not always easy, you know, to organize something like this, and-“
“You weren’t even in the meeting.” Squalo was starting to get more and more suspicious, and the way Dino was paling wasn’t helping his case. Fuck if he was going to believe shit like that, there was a reason why he was a member of the elite assassin team (aside from his sword skills), and it was that the team needed someone with both common sense and enough intelligence to use it. And, really, living with his fucktard of a family, he’d become extremely skilled at calling others out on their bullshit.
Dino was now sweating buckets and blabbering something Squalo could not make heads or tails of.
“W-well, you know, since I actually helped beforehand, I mean was here, I mean since I was here, no, wait-“ Again, Squalo cut him off.
“You weren’t at the meeting. And…” Shit, how had he not noticed this before? It all matched; right down to the number of times the Bucking Horse’s visits to Japan coincided with the Vongola meetings where someone else was absent.
Squalo started grinning. This was way better than Lussuria’s Spanish soap operas. It all made sense, the weird bruises, everything. His grin bordered on feral when he asked, as nonchalantly as he could manage, “How long have you been fucking the Cloud brat? …or should it be how long has he been fucking you?”
It was worth it, the wasted evening, the crappy food, everything, to see Cavallone choking on his sake, face burning.
This, Squalo decided, a wicked gleam in his eyes, might not have been such a bad idea, after all.
FIN