bakerstreet | I have died every day waiting for you.

I have died every day waiting for you.

I have loved you for a thousand years...

Some say that if a pair of lovers die together in tragedy, they will get another chance when they are reborn. Even if the two of you keep losing each other, you'll get to meet again.

This meme is that meeting. For the first time? For the hundredth time? That much isn't clear. What is clear is that on this, your seeming first meeting -

Everything rushes back to you. Memories, emotion, and all the comes with it...including the memory of how you two died. Overwhelming, isn't it? Some people find it hard to accept, for good reason. What will you do? You can't just bring it up, they'll think you're crazy! Maybe you don't want to bring it up, as you refuse to believe it yourself. And even if you do believe it, that doesn't mean you have to embrace it. You're your own person, after all. You refuse to love someone merely because of who you were in the past.

Or maybe you can't help but let these feelings rise to the surface because they're too strong. No matter what, you can't repress it. In fact, the more you two meet and spend time together, the more you find yourself falling back into the old roles...and making the old mistakes. That isn't good, though; there's one more thing. One of you, when you first met, had a vision about how the two of you would die this time.

You can't let that happen. Not again.

Comment with your character and your preferences.
Feel free to do a modern AU of your character. Assumed CR and AUs are a must here.
Don't feel obligated to stick with first meetings. Play that the characters have known each other for a while, are trying to have a relationship while trying to be their own unique selves, not having a relationship because THE PAST DOESN'T DEFINE ME, or even trying to avoid death in an adventurous fashion!
Reply to others.

...I'll love you for a thousand more.

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Squalo doesn't bother trying to hide the eye roll this time or the half smirk at the insult that almost sounded fond after all these years. Though, the fact that Xanxus kept breaking the glasses wasn't even surprising to him anymore, in fact, he snorted and bit back a comment about Cavallone that had been lingering on the tip of his tongue. This, despite the insults and false threat of getting the shit kicked out of him, is familiar. He loved the moments that had always seemed rare and right, where there were half-barbed comments thrown at each other and comfortable silence. It always resonated with him when he was younger, how right and familiar it was and now he could at least put a name to the dejavu he felt back then, the why.

“Tequila too?” Because yes, sometimes Squalo does feel the need to ask if Xanxus needs more shit. He always felt like he'd get the bastard the moon if he really fucking desired it, steal it right out of the sky if he had too. His steel colored eyes drifted back down to the papers in front of him, raising a brow and snorting loudly under his breath, holding up a decadent invitation up for Xanxus's viewing. “Mn, this is mostly stupid shit, though, you wanna antagonize the main house? Some sort of shitty annual get together for the family. Gotta remind everyone we exist.”

The weird thing was, he always mildly enjoyed those sort of things. He wasn't exactly all sane, if the fact that he's spent 18 years following the most volatile man possible with the sort of loyalty that had most mafia bosses jealous was any indication, but he still liked playing at being sane and god new he was the only Varia member that could do it and pull it off and not get stared at. And socializing, well, it'd be nice to talk to some idiots that are well, unaware – or maybe they are and they play dumb, that he was only acting at being normal.

Squalo gave up being normal the moment he picked up a sword during his childhood in France, he gave up any hopes to be normal the moment Tyr killed his parents and took him to Varia and well, there was no chance in a frosty pit of hell that he'd ever get to be normal after locking eyes with Xanxus at 14.

If he thinks about it, the fact that he's just accepted these new memories without even a second thought really just drove the fact that either he's nuts and Xanxus drove him to such or he was having a midlife crisis and not even fucking knew it. Maybe even just projecting this strange form of loyalty onto the bastard and having a mental break and coming up with this shit on his own. He doesn't think too hard on it as he lowers the invitation and sticks it at the bottom of the pile of papers in his hand, his gut told him it was real, his gut was always right after all.

A snide comment about that klumsy asshole would have earned Squalo a punch to the face just on principle. Because they both knew the reason why the glasses broke was because he lost his temper. He'd had one then, yet somehow, it had been a lot more subdued. He had managed to control him instead of it controlling him. Back then, his anger had been legendary. Now, he'd gone one step further, honed it and fostered it to a point where he and it were nearly inseparable.

He places his fork down on a now empty plate and crosses his arms over his chest. "Tequila. And that shitty red wine Lussuria likes." Because he does pay attention to his underlings when he feels like it. He might rule them with an iron fist (and a lot of yelling from Squalo) but he does sometimes give a fuck about the bastards that had cast their lots with him.

He attention then turns to the invitation. He has half a mind to burn the thing right there in Squalo's hand. He hates that sort of thing. He hates social obligations with a passion. He hates hearing the whispers behind his back that people don't think he hears and he wants to grab them by their fancy ass lapels and snarl at them to have the fucking balls to say that shit to his goddamn face. Because he's not Vongola. He's not and the fact seems to always be thrown in his face. Though anyone with eyes could see the uncanny resemblances between himself and the second of ten portraits hanging in the main house.

He shifts the tray over enough so his feet can go back up. He might be lounging but he was never truly relaxed. Something that seemed common regardless of what life he led. "Reply to that. Tell them I'll make my appearances when I fucking feel like it." Yeah. They were going, if only so he could continue putting the fear of god into the shit that think they're Mafia.

"Unless there's a mission." He obviously would rather head up a mission than be at a party. Bloodshed and adrenaline beat false civility any day. Plus, he prefered to see Squalo dancing across a battlefield than across a ballroom.

Squalo kept the comment that the red wine wasn't shitty, it was actually rather good down in the pit of his stomach and instead nodded mutely. Continuing to go through the papers, he finds himself smiling a bit at the fact that, yeah, Xanxus said they were going. That was something fun, hell, he'd go out of his way to make sure they had no missions on that day if he had too. Perks of pretty much running Varia himself, he guessed, some shit could be done without Xanxus ever knowing they existed. Well, usually.

“Could be fun, we could set some shit on fire and make sure they don't invite us back, if you want,” he offered, though it sounded bored and only like he was half paying attention, the man knew it would either give Xanxus something to look forward, or amuse him enough to get his mind off of what he assumed was the words whispered behind his back, words that usually ended with a seething Squalo barely held back from stabbing whom ever the words came from in the middle of the whole group of people. “I could also call ahead, say we'll handle your food, make everyone jealous with the high class stuff you'd be getting compared to the rest of the jokers.”

They were all laughing-stocks to the swordsman, they had to be. How else could they have denied him, he was so Vongola it hurt Squalo physically sometimes. Blood wasn't what made a leader and sure, he dealt with the Runt and his gaggle of idiots, plus Takeshi – the biggest damned idiot of the lot, but the kid was too soft hearted. Even if he brought the younger versions of them to goddamned save their shit... It had to be do-or-die there he guessed.

It's no secret what he thinks of the gentle Decimo, that he'd never have been as good as Xanxus. Hell, he never would be as good as Ricardo had been. He moves his left hand behind him, setting it carefully on Xanxus's ankle, just lightly patting a few times before removing it and giving him a crooked grin.

In someways, maybe he's always been this selfish fuck who didn't like sharing. His boss always had been and always will be the best and more so than that, he deserved nothing but the best.

“Anything else you want? Glasses, wine, tequila, whiskey. Maybe I'll look into glasses that won't break from you throwing them at my head. Might hurt more, but Mammon would stop bitching.”

|ooc| This is going to sound strange, but how am I doing? fdsdafsd! |

He raises one eyebrow at that. "You know just what to say to make it sound worth my while." Though it seemed that Squalo had always known just what to say. It was strange. Even when they had first met, it had been like the other teen had known him forever. Could anticipate him even. It was half of why sparring with Squalo had always been so much fun. The other half being because the swordsman was the best he'd ever faced.

"Do that. Cause I wouldn't put it past those fucking cowards to try and poison me at some bullshit party." Mostly because he'd survived a hell of a lot else that he honestly shouldn't have. It would take something like fucking with his food to finally take him out.

He allows the touch to his ankle. Whether it be the flesh and blood one or the mechanical one, he trusts those hands. Because they belong to the man who waited eight years for him. And at times, it felt like even longer than that. Like this man has waited for him for too many time times.

"You can take it. You wouldn't be here if you couldn't." It's the truth, in a rather backhanded compliment. He has no use for the weak. It had been that way a lifetime ago when gaining strength and power for the entire family had been the goal. It was true now. He only wanted those strong enough to stand with him. Squalo had always been that. Always been able to take whatever he could throw at him, sometimes literally.

He turns his attention to the paperwork. "Find me a good mission. Something that'll be a decent challenge for once." Because shit was far too easy sometimes.

“That's my job boss, making sure shit's amusing enough for you to get off your ass and do something. Pretty fucking sure you'd just sit there and grow moss if I didn't,” he shot back with a half snicker and a shake of his head. “I also don't think the brats in the main house would be all right with someone poisoning you, Boss,” Squalo pointed out, with a chuckle, “they're too friendship-for-all and shit. ”

Though, with the confirmation for something really would've happened happened either way – the food being brought from home, Xanxus was picky as shit anyways – he mentally began preparing a meal plan for the bastard. Something to really drive it home that he was still the best person in that room, that even though they denied Xanxus his rightful place at head of Vongola – and nothing will ever change his mind about that – he ruled Varia with all the power he would've lead them and well, Varia may be a bunch of psychos in varying degrees, but they were loyal to him.

“Voiiii, you dick! Still fucking hurts like hell,” he snaps suddenly, half turning to flip his boss off with his free hand, “you wanna try getting hit with something? I'd be glad to repay the favor!” An empty threat, just like whatever else Squalo hurled back at the man. He'd never actively go out of his way to harm Xanxus, unless it was in a spar, then he was gung-ho and actively fighting that man with every ounce of strength and speed his body held.

He knew this wasn't the first time, could remember times where it was blade against fists and he'd still end up on his knees in front of him. Always ended that way, but never without a good attempt at trying to do some damage on him. He thinks there's a good few scars on Xanxus – both past and present that were born of his blade, just like he had scars from both Xanxus and the things he's done for the man.

“I'll fucking kill you if you throw shit at me while I'm trying to find you a goddamned mission, you shitty boss,” he snarls again, though quiets down and starts scanning the missions. “Single or multi-target? Mental or physical challenge?” He asks finally, lifting his left foot to rest against his right thigh and lean back to artistically position himself on the desk with one hand firmly planted against it, taking only as much space as needed and not bother the man's lounging. “There's not much shit here, I haven't had time to take the meetings for the external missions yet either. I'll get on it if you're really that bored though. Maybe you'll actually feel like doing them your goddamned self, I've been bored with no-one nearly pissing themselves because you showed your face.”

That is probably the one area that he and the one that was him are vastly different. Back then, he was always doing far too much. Pushing himself way too hard. He had a family to make strong and a mafia war to fight (and a lying betrayer whispering in his ear) and a million other things. It took an act of god to make him stop long enough to rest. Now, it wasn't that he was lazy, it was just that shit wasn't worth the effort.

Sure if it was interesting enough, he could delve up some enthusiasm. He could even be proactive, but with that little shit in change, things were changing and there was less and less room for people who reveled in the darkness like they did. Sure, there would always be assholes and dumbasses that thought they could start wars or take control, but often times they were too easily silenced. It led to a hell of a lot of boredom and frustration.

Boredom and frustration usually ended in headaches for Squalo. "Put that away before I break it." It's such an easy threat with very few teeth actually in it. That's just how they are. Honestly, it's sort of nice to have people insane enough to have the balls to stand toe to toe with him and not crap their pants.

He snorts at the threat of death. Not because he doesn't think Squalo is capable of it but because he's stopped fearing death a long damn time ago. Instead he takes in how Squalo sits and reaches out to give the man a little tug at the tips of his hair. "Since I'm their favorite person, I can always hit up the Council and see what they have." But only if he's really bored. "And I think something physical and the more targets the better. I haven't let loose in a while."

Edited 2015-04-29 04:38 (UTC)

The finger is waggled a few more petulant times with a loud snort of Squalo's own and then dropped back behind him to brace himself. Sometimes he can't help it, being a dick and pushing much farther than anyone would ever dare, but he's always known – even before he really and truly knew that he could stand in the flame, it would scorch and create scars, but it would never kill him. Which wasn't anything smart to think, especially since he was avidly aware of the fact that he thought one day he was going to die by the bastard's hand – or gun, but he figured hands would be more what would happen if Xanxus ever got lost enough in his rage and directed it solely on him or by something the bastard ordered him to do.

Sometimes, he thinks about what it'd be like to deal with it, to have the full burn of the wrath Xanxus held curled up inside of him. Squalo doesn't deny to himself that it's fucking nuts to even want it or that it technically makes him slightly suicidal by the way that he just expects it. But he's always known that he'd never die out of this man's sight. The man he was before... Well, he knew he did then. He thinks it's why Xanxus won't ever believe he's dead unless he either sees the corpse in front of him or if he well dies there, because he will come back to him like a loyal, but deranged dog.

The surprisingly light tug at his hair jerks him out of his thoughts, has him twist himself slightly to face him with a slightly sadistic smile at the man's words. “Could make a day of seeing how many of these assholes we could take out in one shot. Unless you want to go alone, Boss.” He waves the stack of papers he was holding around and then sets them down next to him, turning properly to look at the man.

He looks every bit as perfect to Squalo's mind as he did then, when he lacked the scars and had green eyes instead of the burning red now. “Did see something calling for a mass clean up of a family making a play at some of the alliances, causing trouble. Might not be challenging, but you'd have a lot of targets to play with.”

Sometimes, Squalo tests his patience in a way few dared. He knew it for what it was. He knew that the man on his desk was no cowering weakling. He had never been. He was the man he had chosen as his second, would always choose to be his strong right hand. The person he could actually trust in a world where paranoia and subterfuge was a way of life. Because Squalo had given the Varia to him when the law stated it should have been the swordsman's (though being honest, it still pretty much was Squalo's). Because Squalo had never forgotten his ridiculous vow. Because Squalo sometimes gave him small flashes of a time and a place he thought he knew where they had been almost just like this, discussing plans for all out war and expanding the family influence.

He gives another tug and grins. It's a feral thing, full of teeth and promise of a lot of destruction. "Are you asking me out on a date." He's mocking, of course. Though honestly, that's probably the ideal date for Xanxus. Going out and killing some worthless shits. Getting to test his limits and getting to see Squalo in action.

"We'll take that one then. And keep a count. I'll decide on the prize for the winner later." Because he didn't care because he would win, if only because his X-Guns did a hell of a lot more damage than a sword, not that he didn't expect a challenge. He anticipated Squalo meeting him body for body. "I'll even take a handicap to make it fair for you." Because yeah. He can't help but antagonize the man on his desk sometimes.

“What if I am, Boss? You going to do something about it? You're a couple feet behind me on that front if so.” His tone is dripping with a challenge, meeting the man for every little mocking thing he said in the first place. Squalo's answering grin is just as feral, full of every bit of pride that the man could muster and then some. He would always be the best, the only one worth standing shoulder to shoulder to the boss of Varia, no one else would ever be allowed to compared to him. It was something that'd never change, he prided himself on it then and he holds himself to higher standards now, especially as the situation changed.

Life couldn't always be the same, he guessed, but really, Squalo wouldn't trade it for the world.

Squalo pushed himself off the desk for a few seconds, moving to shift around to sit directly on it in front of him, putting both feet on the arms of the chair in a challenge. “Don't need an handicap, Boss. We both know you're going to be losing.” No, Squalo would, because that was the natural order of things. Loser served winner, he'd always be on his knees in front of Xanxus at the end, because the day Xanxus lost to him was the day Squalo automatically assumed something was fatally wrong with him.

His mechanical hand reaches out, lightly grazing through Xanxus's hair as he leaned forwards to press a surprisingly gentle kiss to his boss's forehead before pulling away and smirking down at him. “Unless you think you wanna lose even worse, Boss. Would be hilarious to watch everyone freak the fuck out knowing you lost to me. Because I'll be fuckin' loud about it.”

Edited 2015-04-30 03:14 (UTC)

His eyebrows raised a little. Squalo changes his position and it's a precarious one. Xanxus could easily reach forward and upset it. He could shove Squalo and laugh at him as he falls off the desk or he could pull forward and have the swordsman spill into his lap. He does neither at the moment though the fingers of his free hand are tapping against the arm of his chair as if deciding which would be better.

It stills when he feels the press of Squalo's hand. He knows that hand is strong enough to crush a man's skull. Why wouldn't it be. Why get a nice mechanical prosthetic made and not get all the bells and whistles attached. He doesn't fear that hand because it is one he controls as surely as the man who wears it.

What gives him pause is the press of lips against his forehead. Xanxus is not used to gentleness of any sort. That is just not how they are. It's an indulgence that he only allows very rarely and only Squalo can get away with it. Anyone else would have an X-Gun to the face and the trigger pulled the second they tried it.

He still can't help but sneer at the too fond gesture. "I didn't order any dessert." He states, leaning back a little to stare at the man perched in front of him. "Going soft if your old age, trash? Keep that up and I'll have to replace you." Only that was never going to happen. Others may come and go, but he'd sooner lose his own right arm than to lose Squalo as a subordinate.

He actually does laugh though. Because he knows, yeah. Squalo can be really loud about losing, so him actually winning, ears would bleed a continent away. "Then I suppose I'll be doing the world a favor by beating your sorry ass and showing you just how it's done." He is actually smiling. A true smile. He is truly amused and actually looking forward to such a mission, even if it will be below them both.

The fact that he got away with the random gentleness with only mocking in return makes Squalo grin wide enough to show a full set of pearly white teeth and look far to predatory. He doesn't hold his tongue as he thinks about the words and what they mean, because they both know it's an empty thread. “Voooi, might be easier on me not risking brain damage every time you throw a fucking hissy fit if I did retire and let you replacement.” Eyes glint in his teasing and he knows that they both know that there was truly no place Squalo could imagine going even if something managed to rip him from Xanxus's side. “Still got dessert, though. You gonna complain? Lemme know so I can tune you out, Boss.” He adds sharply, remembering that yes, he needed to comment on that, if only for show.

Call Squalo sentimental, but every now and then he thought Xanxus needed that rare show of gentleness, something to remind him that there was always going to be a loud asshole standing behind him to help hold him up. Like he did way back when, when his name was different and silver hair never reached this sort of length. Ricardo had deserved it, and some part of him knows that it may have no place with men like them, who revel in that darkness and play in blood for giggles, everyone needs it. Didn't help he always liked the look he got afterwards, sneering like he didn't understand and maybe, Xanxus didn't, which was fucking fine with Squalo. He could do without getting shot a few times because he started being a gigantic fucking sap at him.

Worst way to die, definitely, attempting to be romantic at a guy who'd probably shoot him for saying that stuff. Death by saying romantic shit at Xanxus was not what he wanted on his death certificate, anyways. He buries the rest of the urges that he thinks that maybe one time he may have indulged more often at him, but now it's purposely rare.

That laugh though, it brings a delighted look to his face and Squalo can't help but think that alone will soothe the actual wounded pride that will come with a loss to anyone. Absolutely worth it, anyone who told him different could go stab themselves on his sword by “accident”. “Voooooi! What sort of favor? I'm going to beat you and that's all there is to it, Xanxus. Don't think I'll go easy on you.” There's a petulant tongue stuck out at him, like he was that bratty teen that pledged everything to him instead of a far older smart mouthed man he was now.

His hand leave the arm of his chair to flick Squalo casually in the same place he had been kissed. "You're going to have to take it back to the kitchen then. Dessert sucked. You know I don't like sweet things. Now, if that had a little more spice, maybe I'd let you pass, but you should know better, Squalo. I really will let you retire. Buy you a fucking gold watch and throw you a go away party."

He can't help but lightly cup the man's face a moment after the flick. "Could you imagine the want adds? Wanted, arrogant loud mouthed pick. Must work weekends. People skills not required. Ability to pour a proper glass of whiskey a must. Hair shorter than one foot need not apply." What was it about his second that could make him actually smile and tease like that, at least behind closed doors. It feels like an echo of other times. He wondered when and how he had grown so comfortable with this man and his answer seemed to be that he always had been.

"If you dared, I'd kill you where you stand. I won't accept such an insult from you." And he's more than certain Squalo knows he won't ever hold back on his end. Moderation and he are not close friends. But the joking only lasts a second and his fingers mercilessly catch the man's tongue, holding it. "You best watch where you stick that. I can and will put it to better uses." It's a dark suggestion followed by another grin.

The swordsman had been about to answer that he could imagine the want-ads, but that it should be with short hair, because no one would ever match his loyalty, trying to replace him wouldn't work because there was no one with that much dedication etched into their bones for the Boss of Varia. He'd never find another man that'd spend the next 18 years growing out their hair, not one that could deliver like Squalo could. He wanted to tell him he'd have to settle for something less than the best, so it'd just be wise if Squalo dealt with the ever looming threat of brain damage and stuck around.

Instead he had his tongue captured and a threat that if he'd better give Xanxus his full strength or face death, he wants to say something about that too, like there was no way in hell he'd give him anything. Instead, he gets captured by the statement that followed and he out right laughs with his tongue held. He raises his brows and bounces them almost ridiculously as he manages out around the held tongue, “beh-er you-ses, huh,” and reaches for the man's wrist to guide the hand forward so he can properly suck on the fingers with a soft chuckle.

It was his fault for sticking his fingers near his mouth and not expecting Squalo's mind to go south when such an easy target was given to him. Though, he presses his teeth to the fingers in a warning, he may be playing nice right now, but he wouldn't tolerate having a fist shoved down his throat without Xanxus's hand bleeding even a little.

He watches him at this point, though bows his head eventually, showing his belly in case there was anything in his stance that offered a threat. He didn't want to mess this up, not when there was teasing and Xanxus smiling. Squalo loved the private smiles, the private everything like this. He was always selfish about not wanting others to see these things. He was always like that, the teasing and smiles were his then and they're going to be his now.

He knows it's a dangerous proposition to put your hand close to the mouth of a shark. One might come away with one less hand. But this blood thirsty beast is his and knows who the true apex predator here is. He knew he was asking for retaliation but his eyes still go a little dark at the feel of those perfect teeth scraping against his fingers. It's not in anger though. He has to relent on his grip on the man's tongue.

"Of course. It's the only proven way to shut you up." There's still that ghost of a smile on his lips and he hasn't made the move to pull his hand away. He can allow himself this indulgence for a little longer. Long enough to decide what he wanted to do with the man sitting on his desk like that. It won't take much to haul him to sit with him in his chair. He even drops his feet back on the floor in order to do so. "Now stop cluttering up my desk." It's not a hard pull, but it's still a pull.

Squalo goes easily at the tug, moving to carefully position himself to straddle Xanxus's lap and press his face closer to the man's neck. He isn't gentle as he sinks his teeth into Xanxus's throat, but he's not overly rough like he could be. There wasn't any threat in his bite, just once again reminding his Boss that the shark may be tamed, but one should never doubt it could easily take a hand off. He doesn't chew like he wants to either, doesn't leave any lasting bruised beyond what he knows is an angry red mark marring his throat.

"You ever think we've done this shit before, Boss?" He asks suddenly, smiling sharply as he decided to rest his hands against the man's shoulders, though begins to knead them as he thinks that the bastard was far to tense to be even remotely comfortable stilling in his chair. "Just seems familiar?"

The weight isn't unwelcome and though he could be an ass and make a dig at Squalo about gaining a few too many pounds and making him sweat it off, he doesn't. Because this is just too familiar to him. Too comfortable. It's not something he could do with anyone else but this man. Because to do this, he has to let his guard down. And so what if the man leaves teeth marks, Squalo wears enough of his marks every time he gets frustrated or angry or bored.

He is none of these at the moment. It's almost contentment, which in and of itself is a miracle. It won't last because it never does, but at least for a moment, Squalo is doing a damn good job at being a nice tranquilizing Rain for him. But then the question comes along with the hands at his shoulder and that calm is gone. He's frowning and he is indeed tense, though strong hands, metal and flesh alike do wonders for his shoulder.

"It does. It's strange. Sometimes, when I look at you, it's like I'm seeing someone else. Someone I should know and it pisses me off because I don't know and I never forget a damn face. But you're not someone else. You're my piece of shit shark." Yet now that Squalo has said something to him about it, he can't stop thinking about just how nostalgic this position really is. About how once upon a time, those agile hands would be tangling into hair let out of a thin ponytail and they would be discussing affairs that had nothing to do with business and everything to do with them.

Chuckling against Xanxus's neck, Squalo slumps at the confirmation that he wasn't crazier than normal and that he wasn't alone in this sense of deja vu. All it does is make him bite down again, pleased with the whole situation and not really bothering to hide it. “Vooi, thank fuck it's not just me,” he finally vocalizes, pulling his teeth away from Xanxus's neck and giving the man more hard pushes into the knots he can reach on the man in his slight pleasure. “Thought I was going even more insane, you have any idea what a fucking feat that is to me? Pretty sure I was headed for a mental break down.”

He rolls his eyes again, though pulls back enough to look at his boss right in the eye, scanning for some sort of tell of well, he's not sure what he's looking for, but he doesn't think Xanxus would lie to him about something like this. After all, Squalo'd never lie to him, sure he might just not say everything he knows, because some things are better kept quiet than shouted from the rooftops at an glass shattering decibel. After all, anything Xanxus wanted was just fine with him, always had been and always will be.

“Then again, we both might just be getting crazier with age,” of fucking course Squalo has to let his mouth run, has to absolutely tease Xanxus about it. He knows the man doesn't count those 8 years in the ice, that by that logic, Xanxus is younger than him by a good 6 years at this point. But like fuck those 8 years didn't happen for Squalo, that he didn't count them. How couldn't he? They were his failure, no matter how many times he had to tell himself that no, there was nothing he could do, but like fuck will that irrational little part of his brain will stop blaming himself for how the coup ended those 18 years ago. “Not like that'd be fucking new though, could play it up. Terrify some trash into doing me a favor and killing themselves for not being fuckin' quality.”

Xanxus almost points out that Squalo isn't the one with a history of mental health issues in the family. Whatever the fuck had been wrong with his mom was probably hereditary. Why else would he still be putting up with all this bullshit unless he was certifiable. And insanity of that level does always tend to draw more craziness to it. But that's not really fair or an issue he enjoys bringing up. The less said about his past, the better, all the way around.

Which is why this was just so damn irritating. Because this seemed like the past beyond his normal one. It made it a little less so with Squalo to confirm he's still got all of his very few marbles. Squalo being on his lap and kneading his shoulders also helps matters.

It's now his turn to give the man a bite. He leans forward and he locates the juncture between neck and shoulder before sinking his teeth in. It's not playful. It's punishing. He does not. Like. Being. Reminded. It goads him that his Sweet Sixteen was spent as a bosscicle and the year he became legal and could bang anyone he felt like...and the year he was legally allowed to drink without first showing his ID (his gun to their face).

"They'd come with white coats, you moron. And then I'd have to kill them and medicate you and that's too much of a pain in my ass. Besides." he licks the mark he made. "You would bitch if you couldn't stab something into something else, Freudian bastard." He sort of remembers that sort of thin too.

Squalo lets out a breathy laugh that slides into a low hiss as the punishing bite is paid to his neck, his kneading pauses and then redoubles as he listens and feels the swipe of a tongue against his neck. Perfect, always so perfect. He hummed, nosing along Xanxus's jaw before he returned the harsh bite he was paid. “You say that like I wouldn't find something to stab people with. It'd be pretty easy to peel the pads off the wall, get some of the wall behind it and see how much effort it'd take to shove that into someone.” Okay, maybe that was a bit telling of who he spent his time around that the bratty prince somehow managed to have that much of an influence on him even if he was a goddamned lazy bastard.

“But I don't think you'd be too happy medicating me. Means you'd have to deal with all the trivial bullshit in Varia. You'd also have to fend for yourself via food cause no fucking smart chef will step in here thinking they can cook for you and live to see another day.”

Squalo's always a buffer, he guessed, something a little less harsh and jagged – only a little, however, than Xanxus but it's enough to keep everything running smoothly. He thinks of a time where it was a little less him doing everything and a little more equal, but he knows he'd rather it this way. Xanxus deserved the best and Squalo prided himself on being exactly that. “Not gonna lie, Boss... I like this a bit better than however the fuck we were back then. A lot more fun for me, at least.”

He can sort of remember how this went before. How sometimes moments like this went further. Biting and small moments of closeness led to deeper closeness. Where the line between normal leaders and right hand men were crossed. Sometimes, he crossed them too. It was just how they were. Squalo could bring out the best in him but also the worst. Most of the time, it was the worst though.

“You've been thinking about that, haven't you.” He was actually teasing because yeah. He didn't put it past Squalo to indeed always figure out a way to murder someone. He was a dangerous man, but a man that Xanxus owned because he wasn't afraid of playing with fire. And if Squalo burned him so be it, he would just burn back hotter.

"Yeah yeah. You can stop reminding me of how fucking useful you are, already." He sort of fists at Squalo's hair for a moment before nuzzling at the bite marks he had made. "And you got that right, you piece of shit. Whoever I was, it isn't me. This is me and I'm not going to be anything else. So you just better fucking deal with it." Even if he could sometimes remember how it once was, it meant nothing. Whatever they had back then, they could do whatever they wanted now.

Never let it be said that Squalo liked safe people, places or things, not with how he actively preferred his boss at his worst if only to see him burn all the more brightly at his best. Sometimes, he thinks if Xanxus really pushed for it, the whole world would kneel before him and stand in awe of the ferocious wrath he held. He'd forever roll his eyes at Vongola forsaking Xanxus as their leader, but he knew and he's pretty sure Xanxus knew, it was at it's best with the runt. A pity that it needed someone like that instead of the man he was on top of.

“Thinking about killing someone in new and interesting ways? Boss, that's my job,” Squalo teases back and though Squalo was grinning like a maniac, there was something a little tame hidden in it, “would be a pretty shitty assassin if I couldn't kill someone with a piece of wall. Wonder how much pressure it'd take to put some dry wall through a jugular. Might be messy, definitely worth it just to say I did it.” He starts chuckling again, humming as he tilted his head back to allow Xanxus more space to nuzzle against.

He doesn't think he could burn hot enough to ever burn Xanxus, there was no way that he could and that was just how Squalo liked it. He wouldn't have it any other way.

“Sometimes I worry you'll forget who the fuck does most of the work around here,” he adds tauntingly, though quiets himself and mulls over the words Xanxus says, how he should react and what were the appropriate things to say to the leader of Varia. “Voooi, you say that like I ever thought of you as anything but some asshole that fucking owns me. Couldn't ask for more than you to always be you. Why the fuck do I need the past when I have you right here?” He snarks, a shark-like smile appearing as he pulled back to take his teeth to Xanxus's bottom lip and tug briefly and release it. “Anything you want boss, always going to be fine with me. You should remember that.”

He might run the risk of growing too affectionate with how comfortable he's growing. It makes him a little more free with where he places his hands on the swordsman, how his thumbs make small circles against the fabric of his clothing about just where he's contemplating putting marks. Somewhere high enough for the whole fucking world to see his ownership sucked in a dark bruise on Squalo's throat.

"I'll see about getting you a special job, just so you can find out." Because he can spoil Squalo when he chooses. Though it's probably not really spoiling if it's Xanxus getting the contract. He always tends to go for the most difficult things, always up to throw the man he firmly believes it the best swordsman in the fucking world against jobs considered impossible by sane standards.

"Like you'd let me forget. You bitch too much too loudly for me to ignore, you mouthy fuck." The fondness in his voice can't be avoided and he hides it by responding to the tug of teeth by surging forward to give the man a punishing kiss that's certain to leave lips swollen. Only when he's certain of that does he pull back with a dark smirk. "That's also something I'm not going to forget." Anyone who dared to think they could take Squalo from him...well, they wouldn't live long enough to realize their mistake.

Squalo laughs, loud and nearly overly gleeful at the prospect that Xanxus knew what would make him smile when he really put his ass to it. And spoiling him with insane missions that no one with even half an ounce of sense would take. But again, Squalo's never been particularly sane, the man in front of him paying him affection was more than proof of it. And just to drive that thought home, he smiles wide and sharp pressing his lips close to Xanxus's ear as he dug his hands into the man's shoulder to at least attempt to brace himself for any retaliation.

“Careful Boss, someone might hear you complimenting me too much and think you're going soft,” he taunts, grabbing an earlobe with his teeth and tugging lightly. “Hell, if you're not careful, might think I need to be more mouthy just to get reminded that you're not gonna start crooning love songs at me from a window and hold a fucking boom box or whatever over your head.” Yeah, he's an asshole and sure, maybe he'd have not taken the time to remind Xanxus that people could possibly catch him with his affection back then. But he's not that person, not really, not anymore. Too much was different and he liked it now. Liked the way he still gets let into the wrathful man's little bubble and give as good as he got – or just about as good.

“See that you don't, the day you do I'm assuming you're an impostor and cutting your head off. After all, my loyalties to you, not some shitty dick who can't remember even the most basic things in life.” Of course, no one would ever really call his loyalty basic, not really, but to Xanxus, he at least thought it was a basic and irrefutable fact.

"I doubt they'd hear me over you." he states and his hands shift down to grab hold of the man's rear a moment. It's not quite retaliation, but it's close enough for the moment. "And you don't have to worry about bullshit like that. I'd kill myself before I ever did anything that fucking stupid." Because this right here is just about as romantic as he can tolerate. Maybe the him back then was a little better at it, but he doesn't do sentimental bullshit. It's a waste of his damn time when he could just skip to the fun parts.

It's not like men like them have time for anything else. Even now, they're on borrowed time. Any moment, this could be interrupted by some annoying jackass. Squalo would be unceremoniously dumped off his lap so he could shoot whatever poor asshole decided to bother him. Clearly, there needed to be some new rule, along with the other "do not bother the Boss when" rules of survival. If Squalo is in there for longer than fifteen minutes, leave them the fuck alone.

“Heh,” is the first thing he says, grunting as Xanxus grabbed his ass and he lifts slightly automatically. “Gotta make sure everyone hears me, otherwise nothing will get done, Boss. Think about what'd happen if I went quiet for a day. Everyone would wonder who the fuck pissed me off properly and they'd be even more on edge, cause they'd assume it was you. Which means double the death until shit blew over.” Because if he isn't loud as all hell, something was clearly wrong with him and everyone needed to hide until it was over. “Shit, wonder if the weaker trash would just end up offing themselves before I got to them. Shit, I should do that for shits and giggles, Boss.”

Squalo digs his hands into the muscles of Xanxus's shoulders, though he smirks and removes them and quickly goes to unbuttoning his shirt. “Would feel better directly on your skin, Boss.” Not that he didn't have any ulterior motives, no, not at all. “Sides, the fuck do you even wear a shirt for if you're not gonna do it up properly, fucking hope one day you end up with frost bite.”

I have died every day waiting for you.

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