Rating: PG-13 (for language)
Characters: The Varia!
Notes/Warnings: I am sick and running on fumes and recklessly inspired by the last couple of KHR chapters. So I wrote some bizarre and stupid Varia daily life fic. Please judge me mercifully.
Also, Lussuria is Lussuria, okay. Some forces cannot be tamed.
Summary: Squalo needs a dollar.
“VOIIIIIII,” voied Squalo voifully, “LEND ME A FUCKING DOLLAR.”
“Certainly,” Mammon said.
She produced a bill out of seemingly nowhere and held it out to the swordsman, whose fingertips had barely brushed against it before Mammon added, “It’s a ten thousand percent interest rate, per day.”
Squalo bristled. “WHAT?!”
“Since we’re acquaintances. Normally for loans I charge hourly interest.”
Squalo let go of the dollar as though it were coated in anthrax and jumped a good two feet back. “You’re insane!!”
“But who has the dollar?” asked Mammon coyly.
Squalo cursed vividly. “Fuuuuuck, just give me an interest-free loan just this fucking once!!”
“I’d rather die,” said Mammon, looking affronted.
Squalo made a strangled noise, flipped out his jack-in-the-sword, and lunged at Mammon intending to increase his hole content by a factor of 12. Mammon, predictably, vanished into space, cackling insidiously and leaving Squalo to flail about in frustration, his extended sword arm giving him the off-balanced appearance of an extremely tall and pointy fiddler crab.
“The prince found a giant crab!” said Bel in a sing-song voice because he’s kind of prone to making exactly that sort of observation. He dodged as Squalo turned and stabbed at him furiously. “Ushishi, it’s an angry crab!”
“Sorry, princes don’t speak Crab.”
Squalo changed tactics and started snapping his jaws at Bel, possibly in an attempt to somehow eat him? I don’t even know, okay. Look, the guy has issues.
“Shishi, maybe it’s a sharky after all!” Bel trolled merrily.
“DAMN RIIIIIIGHT I’M A FUCKING SHAAAAAARK.” Squalo stabbed a few more times for good measure, then as an afterthought asked, “By the way, do you have a dollaaaaar?”
“I have millions of them,” Bel purred.
“THANK FUCK, I FUCKING NEED—”
“But they’re not for commoners!” continued Bel delightedly.
Squalo slashed at him again; Bel dodged and did a fucking backflip onto the chandelier (per Varia law as set down by Xanxus, any room occupied by any member of the Varia at any time must have a chandelier in it) like he was fucking Cirque du Soleil up in this bitch.
“GIVE ME THE DOLLAR,” Squalo roared at him.
“The sharky will have to perform for it!” declared Bel. “Like Sea World!”
Squalo did an acrobatic fucking pirouette off the handle and sliced the golden chandelier chain clean in half. Bel somersaulted away as the lights came crashing down, and threw a pair of knives at Squalo for good measure as he landed safely and dashed away, laughing.
Squalo, not seeing the humor in any of this, slashed the chandelier to ribbons out of spite, then stomped off into the next room.
He hesitated. Xanxus was asleep on the couch in the corner, face hidden underneath the copy of O: The Oprah Magazine that he had apparently been perusing.
On the one hand, waking up the boss almost always meant certain death, but on the other hand, if anything was liable to put Xanxus in a less homicidal mood than usual, it was the Queen of Daytime Television and her eye-opening and strangely therapeutic celebrity interviews. “Boss?” he ventured quietly.
No response. Maybe he’d better try a little louder. “BOSS—”
A few seconds later he stalked darkly back out of the room, wondering where that wine glass had even come from. Fuck. That was three down, now, and he was still no closer to that sweet, sweet cash and the prize that he so desperately craved.
He stopped before the next door in the hallway and considered for a moment. Levi’s room.
…Nah, fuck Levi. “No one even gives a shiiiit,” he said out loud before continuing down the hall.
At long last he reached the door where he knew he would find the sixth and final member of the Varia assassination squad. His one last hope, though he hated himself a little for having to resort to this.
Taking a deep breath, he knocked once and then entered Lussuria’s Gay Gym.
It literally was a gay gym and the words were in fact plastered right there on the door, in sparkly all-caps bubble font. Inside, the walls were awash in all the colors of the rainbow and the feathers of many, many peacocks. A huge boxing ring sat in the center of the room under a magnificent disco ball that was also a chandelier (thank you, Xanxus), and alongside one wall was a sleek, elaborate bar counter underneath another bubble font sign proclaiming “LUSSURIA’S GAY BAR” and manned by a staff of six strapping employees who never wore shirts. Squalo glanced at the bar’s lone patron tonight, and sighed. He had come this close to steering clear of the requisite Levi cameo in this fic.
Doing his best to still ignore Levi’s presence entirely, he finally spotted Lussuria and his gleaming pecs, flamboyantly punching a sandbag into dust. “VOIIIIIII!!” he called.
“Squalo~~~~~! ♥ ♥ ♥” said Lussuria only he included about six more hearts than I actually wanted to try and fit in there. “What a pleasure to see you here~! ♥”
“OH MY GOD,” Squalo replied, nearly gagging as the dust from the sandbag started to settle. “PUT SOME FUCKING PANTS ON BEFORE MY EYES SHRIVEL UP AND DIEEEEE.”
“♥~” said Lussuria, although he obliged willingly enough.
“Fuuuuck,” muttered Squalo, looking upward to stare directly at the discolier in the vague hopes that he might go blind.
“So, what brings you to my magnificent lair today~?”
Here goes nothing, Squalo thought desperately. “Do you have a fucking dollaaaar?”
Lussuria smiled and Squalo felt his hopes soar before—
Squalo’s hopes crumbled and he suddenly felt like weeping.
“He took my last one!” said Lussuria apologetically, gesturing toward the bar.
Squalo turned, very slowly, and saw Levi morosely nursing an appletini. Something snapped inside of him.
Five minutes later he somersaulted through the smoking hole he’d just created in the wall of the gym, ignoring Levi’s agonized grunts and Lussuria’s wails, and stormed back through the hall the way he’d come, seething with rage and cursing the fates.
At long last, he found himself back in the Varia break room again, standing beneath the chandelier in front of the Varia vending machine where it had all begun. Fighting back sudden tears, he gazed at it mournfully.
There it sat… so pure, so tempting, so close and yet so far. Those sweet, sweet Starburst fruit chews.
Oh, how he longed to rip apart that colorful packaging and tear into one of those impossibly sweet candies filled to bursting with flavor and real fruit juice. He needed it, he craved it. Passionately, the way a man craves the heat of the sun in the dead of winter, and the warmth of a kindred soul when the loneliness has all but consumed him in the night.
If only he had a dollar! Hell, even eighty-five cents would be enough! If only he hadn’t blown his entire paycheck on all of that film equipment and those blank DVDs. If only there was some way—
—wait a second.
“OH MY GOD,” he said out loud before whipping out his sword and instantly smashing the machine to pieces.
“YEEEESSSSS,” he moaned contentedly as he crammed his pockets with delicious Starburst chews. He stuffed about five into his mouth all at once and walked away chewing contentedly.
Now that’s Varia quality, he thought to himself, giving himself a little mental thumbs up.