La Squadra turning into children

Genre: Platonic

Warning: Kids, cursing, the stress of watching over kids

"A package just came in!" Melone announces as he enters the hideout with a large box in his arms, before gently kicking the door close behind him.

"Who's it for?" Formaggio looks up from the television after tirelessly flipping from channel to channel to ease his boredom. You can imagine how desperately bored he was at how relieved he was at the sight of something of an item of mystery within Melone's grasp. Something to change the pace.

"I don't know, it doesn't have anything on it. No return address, no name, nothing." The lilac haired fellow places the box by the coffee table to be inspected by everyone, by this reducing the heavy weight from his grasp and stretching his arm out.

Everyone present in the living room squinted at the box. Some bear suspicion, some curiousity. Due to their pile up, everyone soon surrounded the box out of curiosity. As of cue, an emergency meeting was called without even Risotto saying anything.

"Where'd you find it?" Ghiaccio glances at the lilac head beside him.

"By the front door, duh. Where else could a package be? It's not like Melone could've stolen it from a neighbor." Illuso ridicules with a lopsided grin and raised brow, reducing White Album's user into fuming red in colour.

Before any furniture were thrown across the hideout, Risotto interjection was enough to pull the important topic at hand enough to prevent another riot for the night; "Did anyone of you ordered something online?"

A resounding 'no' was heard across the living room, except for one. The others glanced at each other, as if to clarify which one of them didn't respond until Sorbet spoke up.

"Where's Y/N?" Sorbet asked, finally noticing a certain candidate missing from the living room. Your absence was indeed unusual, as you've always made the effort to appear in every single mingle circle they were having. Whether it's professional gathering or a casual hang out.

"I sent them off to sleep. They haven't sleep for three days and often dozes off in random places-- which is getting annoying. I thought they got up to see whatever the hell's going on in here." Prosciutto answers, before turning to the captain. "It doesn't have a return address. It's suspicious enough that someone left that on our front door."

Everyone looks back at the box and stood silent, unsure but curious.

"Maybe it's Y/N's. Should we tell them?" Pesci nervously spoke up, disturbing the silence, taking a small glance at the Capo.

"Can't we just open it already? Ya know, just to check?" Formaggio chimes in with a shrug of his shoulders. "It looks harmless."

"It seems you're forgetting looks can be deceiving. Haven't you learned the basics of being a mafioso-"

"That's enough," Risotto's stern, authoritative voice was firm, enough to interject with Prosciutto. "Let's carefully open it. See if it has sorts of relevancy for us."

Gelato retrieves his butterfly knife from his pocket and opens it in flourish, before looking up to the Captain of the hitmen branch of Passione for a signal of approval. Risotto squints at the package for a moment, before nodding. And so the one with the knife, digs the blade on the box's surface, sliding it's sharp tip against the cardboards bindings and opening it. Everyone leans closer to inspect whatever was inside as Gelato opens the box.

Before anyone can process it, something in the box started to ring after its initial opening and began to count down. It was then they realised their mistakes when something from the box emitted gas, casting everything in thick white smoke. Everyone in La Squadra with the exception of one sleeping comrade coughed their lungs out, unsure what damage the package had done.

Thankfully, some of them regained their sense to think and opened the windows for ventilation whilst the others coughed their lungs out.

"Is- everyone- alright?" Risotto barely spoke straight without stopping to cough.

"We're fine." Melone hacks, waving his gloves hand in front of his face to clear the smoke from his sight. "What was that?"

"I don't know, it was some sort of smoke bomb!" Gelato exclaims. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to realise it sooner,"

"You didn't do anything wrong, Gelato. It all happened so quick. Even I didn't see it." Sorbet reassures his lover, stroking the blond's back to soothe him from his fits of coughing.

"WHO THE FUCK SENDS A SMOKE BOMB, HUH?! WAS THIS SOME KIND OF TWISTED JOKE?! IT'S NOT EVEN FUNNY!" It was surprising Ghiaccio manages to maintain his usual register after a coughing fit.

"Yeah, the person who sent this probably meant it as a joke. If they were to kill us they would've used a bomb instead!" Illuso shouts from the safety of his mirror world.

"Well that was a dumb joke, they should've went to send us a stinken' dead chicken instead of whatever this is!" Formaggio gestures at the remnant of the smoke, voice slightly raspy after the fits of cough.

"That was reckless of us. We should've thrown it out when we got the chance, what if it was poisonous gas?" Prosciutto points out with a glare, turning on various electric fans for ventilation with the assistance of Pesci. "Poisonous gas or not, the smoke was enough to suffocate us here!"

"Hmmm..." Melone knelt by the box to examine it, digging through the various peanut packaging to retrieve something from the box. Soon, others were quick to join him once again once he pulled out the device which emitted the gas. "It's... Baby powder? A modified one, at that."

"WHAT?" Ghiaccio exclaims from disbelief.

"Now that you mention it, the smoke smelt like baby powder." Risotto spoke up, as he glanced around the living room, every inch of furniture covered in thin layer of white powder.

"So what was it that exploded? Just baby powder?" Formaggio asks.

"Apparently," Prosciutto chimes in.

"Next time a package with no name, return address or anything informing us of identity, we're not going to open it." Risotto concludes. "Let's get the house cleaned up before going back to whatever we were doing. We'll discuss about this tomorrow."

As everyone starts to get a move on, Pesci and Prosciutto proceeded outside the house to retrieve the brooms and dustpans to be used.

"I'm glad Y/N wasn't there, Fra," Pesci mutters, arms full of bucket of cleaning supplies.

~•~

"Good morning, Y/N. Had a nice sleep last night?"

Melone's voice full of sunshine from the kitchen made you snap from your mindless, thoughtless abyss of a trance as you apparently let your feet subconsciously lead you to the kitchen. You sealed your eyes tight before reopening them to get adjusted back to reality and ease your headache.

"Good morning to you as well, Mel." You cleared your throat after hearing how raspy it was, before getting yourself a glass of water.

"We were up all night dealing with some mess."

"Oh yeah? What kind?" You asked, hopping by the counter and taking comfort as you seat yourself there as you took a sip from your glass.

"Ahh, it was a some sort of prank involving a large, modified bottle of baby powder which acted like a smoke bomb. Powder was just everywhere and it kept us awake at night tidying up." Melone sighs, before taking a swig from his mug of coffee.

"I'm sorry."

"Hmmm? For what?" The lilac head looks up at you.

"I didn't helped you guys clean up. If maybe another pair of hands were there it would be quicker." You frowned at the guilt wallowing deep within your stomach.

"Oh it's fine, Y/N. You needn't worry about it, we can handle it on our own." He waves his hand in reassurance. "Besides, sleep is something you desperately need and it's a rarity you get a full night's rest... Especially after what I encountered last evening." Melone smirked, watching you from the rim of his mug as the drowsy look from your face contorts to confusion, then realisation.

"Goddamnit, Melone," it came out surprisingly soft, but it was reasonable as you didn't have enough energy to be mad at him. You didn't know what he saw, but you already knew it was you operating with a single brain cell doing something a person would do when operating with a single brain cell.

"Y/N, Melone, meeting," Formaggio appeared from the doorway, his thumb pointed behind his back, before he saunters off.

You finished your glass, before hopping off the counter and placing your glass on the sink. And with that, you off to where the meeting space was usually at: The living room. As Melone claimed, it was sparkly clean than normal and not a speck of baby powder was found. They weren't lying when it did take them too long to tidy the place up. Although the evidence of the powder was gone, you were still able to get a faint scent of the baby powder from the couch you were seated on.

"Good morning everyone. As you know, there was a package left at the door last night-"

Risotto starts the meeting, going off about the occurrence last night. Instead of listening, you did something someone would do who operates with a single brain cell and zone off. In your defense, you wanted to listen but your Capo spoke in his calming, somehow soothing voice and you couldn't help but to get lulled into a dazed state.

"- whoever sent this package must've meant this as a joke, as you all mentioned last night. But it isn't exactly clear whether it was meant for us, or it was sent to the wrong address. We nEEd-" Risotto halts, eyes wide when his voice cracked.

This, somehow, pulled you out of your daze and snickered out loud. Everyone was, although it was discreet and well-hidden, unlike yours. Risotto glances at you, embarrassment subtley evident in his eyes, causing you to clear your throat and mutter a small sorry. The Capo clears his throat and made it clear the scene just now did not occur.

"- anyways, we need to get to the bottom of this. Ghiaccio, did you look deeper into the box?" Risotto glances at the light blue haired male.

"Not a scrap." He shook his head.

"Gelato, he was the nearest person when the box is opened, therefore he might have inhaled large amounts of the powder. Where-"

"He's sleeping. He told me he wasn't feeling well." Sorbet chimes in.

"I see. If anyone of you feel something that might have been caused by the powder, come forward and let's see if this can be a lead. You can all go now."

Once that was out of the way, others proceeded to their daily lives. You decided to stay seated, still deep within your delirious trance to comprehend what was happening. It wasn't like you were tasked to do anything anyways, hits were given to Ghiaccio and Melone, whilst paperwork was being hogged by Prosciutto and Risotto. The others were off to whatever shenanigans they can commit.

You, on the other hand, was told to catch some rest despite your stubborn refusal to leave them and not work. I mean, you already had a full night's rest last night, you couldn't understand why they wanted you to catch sleep... Well, it wasn't until you took a sip from your mug of coffee when you realised it wasn't sugar you mixed in your little concoction. And so, to bed you go once again to doze off. Well, best to savour that slumber.

~•~

To set up the scene, picture yourself a quiet evening. First of all, you can't, this is La Squadra for Christ's sake and the only way for the headquarters to be ever so silent AND serene is that if all of you were dead. And that won't happen anytime soon. But today, it was a different type of loud. It wasn't Ghiaccio getting into a scuffle with someone over a mispronunciation and any butchering whatsoever, Formaggio and Illuso cheering over their sports team, Proscuitto scolding others for not dusting their shoes outside before entering, nor Gelato and Sorbet getting it on the living room couch whilst others bravely intrude by telling at them to get a room. There was a different type of loud in the house and you can't quite put a finger to what it is.

You were back in your room, the evening after the meeting, tirelessly tossing and turning in your bed with your eyes closed and yet slumber refused to claim you. The sense of something was out there, continuing to linger much to your discomfort. And so when your final attempt to try and fall asleep failed, you shot up your bed and pulled the covers off

Wary and curious, you armed yourself by partially summoning your Stand. With a crack of the door, you peaked within the halls before letting yourself out. With pin-drop silence, you closed your door behind you before tip toeing down stairs to see whatever commotion they were up to now. Honestly, you couldn't stop to take a break from these morons sometimes, I mean, the juicy drama is worth listening to but Jesus Christ it's like ten in the evening, let this restless soul rest in peace.

Nights as a full time assassin is no joke, you've caught no peaceful slumber as you were expected to be alert and wary basically all the time. But thankfully, you were allowed to take a day off once the others has been noticing how much brain cells you've burned from sleep deprivation, when Melone caught you petting a stack of laundry, cooing how adorable the little 'kitty' is last night. Needless to say, Prosciutto had you escorted to your room, and smacked Melone for taking out a video camera instead of helping you.

You dropped your Stand in relief to realize it was only your team mates and yet, you couldn't seem to let your guard down just yet. There was Risotto, Pesci, Formaggio and Sorbet huddled in a circle, panicking over something. Confused and delirious, though you chose to approach.

"Hey guys, what up?" All turned to you, Sorbet held a bundle of cloth to his chest. You raised a brow at them, before glancing down to whatever he was holding. It had a face. A familiar one at that, with a notable feature that is its blond hair and brown eyes. It was sleep depravation you blamed for your short circuiting brain, before it clicked. "Holy fuck, Sorbet and Gelato has a kid now?! Congratulations! Since when?!" you whispered harshly to avoid waking up the slumbering bundle.

"Y/N, you're an enormous dumbass." Sorbet turns to glare at you, before turning to the others. "So that settles it, they stay here to watch over Gelato while we hunt down whoever did this."

"Watch what? Hunt who?"

"Whoever did this, duh," Formaggio rolled his eyes. "What have you been smoking? A brain tumor?"

"Oh fuck off with your basket ball head looking ass--" the silent voice you decided to keep was thrown out of the window as soon as Formaggio aimed a comment at to, disregarding the sleeping child.

"Can the both of you shut up?" Out of fear, you stopped from saying any more profanities and glanced at Risotto. "Do something more useful and call your other teammates down here. We have an emergency meeting."

"Roger," in unison with Formaggio, Pesci and yourself, all three of you split up to search for the others.

You headed to the room beside yours, and knocked on Prosciutto's door. It was not new for him to be taking his day off on his own and spending it to have a full time slumber, but even if you caught him sleeping, he's a light sleeper; the man practically wakes up to any small noises. Just the perks of being an assassin.

"Prosci?" Your knocks grew persistent and urgent, and yet no responses were made.

If he had heard you, he'd be on his feet and ready to open the door. If he needed time to freshen up, he'd tell you to wait for a moment. Instead, there was just silent. A worrying type of silence once again. Biting your inner lip, you were sure paranoia, sleep deprivation, and adrenaline does not mix well but this particular case was really giving you a bad case of bad.

"Alright, I'm coming in," you braced yourself, sucking a breathe in before stepping back. With enough force, you drove your heel beside the knob, effectively opening the door with one swift kick before you let yourself in.

The room was empty. No traces of the second-in-command, but you clearly remembered passing him in the halls before he went off to bed. Once he entered his room, he won't be coming out of it until sun rise.

"Pro?" You took a look around, mentally pleading he was just simply playing a sick joke. Out of character of him to do so, but oh the sheer desperation of your imaginative pessimistic yet optimistic mind just couldn't help it. "Prosci? Prosciutto? Brosciutto?" He hated that nickname, maybe he'll appear out of nowhere to scold you to use his name properly but alas, not a sign of his presence were made apparent.

"Where are you?" You look around, poking and proding at every corner of his room, even at the silliest hiding place you can think of; In the closet, behind the curtains, the back of his seat... Under the bed... You expected to find nothing under it, you even mentally cursed yourself for being dumb to look under the bed as you bent down but did it anyways and well... You've found something alright.

Under Prosciutto's bed was a little boy. With identical ocean blue gaze looking up at you, rich golden locks scattered and framed his alabaster skin. His baby blue and white stripped pyjama shirt barely clinging to his shoulders, as he was on all fours, hiding. And so, you lied on your stomach and tried to crawl under the bed, but to no avail, your adult body refused to fit its entirety and ended up sticking your upper half torso.

"Hey little guy, care to come out of there? It's full of dust and webs and it's dark there. Do you want to come out? I won't hurt you." You watch as the tiny boy pout his lips, before stubbornly shaking his head and scurrying away. You sighed, attempting to sit up when your head hits the bed, resulting you to scream out of pain.

"Hey Y/N- help me! There's a screaming gremlin in Ghiaccio's room and-!" Formaggio stops at the entrance of the door once he was you lying on your stomach, the lower half of your body sticking out from under the bed. For a moment he looks confused, before approaching and kneeling by the bed as well. "Don't tell me there's a gremlin here too, Jesus Christ that one in Ghiaccio's room bites."

"Formaggio, I don't think gremlins exists." Your muffled voice sounded off from under the bed. "Can you like, help me out here? There's a kid under it and he won't listen to me."

"What's in it for me?" He asks, further challenging your authority.

"I swear to God, I haven't slept in twenty four plus forty eight hours, just get the kid before I scream and die."

"Alright, alright geezus." He chuckles, before pulling you out from under the bed, before he lies in his stomach and sticks his hand under the bed. "C'mere boy, pspspspspspsps-" you stared at him with brows furrowed with concern. "- c'mere, I have some treat and toys for ya."

"Where did you learn to call kids? People from white vans?" You jest, raising a brow to try and disguise your confusion. His voice was higher than usual and it was creeping you out. "You tend to him, I'll go to the biting gremlin's room then check on Pesci. Good luck." You walked out of the room, before making your way towards Ghiaccio's room just a few doors away from Prosciutto's.

The door was already open, lo and behold, everything in his room was completely scattered on the floor, curtains pulled out and curtain rods barely hanging on the wall. The biting gremlin was indeed a blue haired, spectacle wearing assassin wreaking havoc in his room. Somehow, he was louder, more rampage wreaking than his normal adult self.

Heh, you knew what you were signing up to when becoming a mafioso under Passione, expect the worst of the worst, experience the most agonising, most painful injuries there are, see the most fucked up shit that's ever been fucked up, but God dangit, dealing with children wasn't one of them.

He stops midway through tearing the sheets off his bed to stare at you, a new face that's tried to come and face him as you stood by the doorway, slumped, defeated and just wanted to get some sleep. Young Ghiaccio scowls at you and by the gods, it was more cuter than intimidating than the adult counterpart.

"Uhhhhh, hi?" You awkwardly waved at him. 

He waddles over almost tripping from his oversized pyjama shirt loosely hanging off of him, before slamming the door on your face. You could've sworn you felt your ground shake after he forcefully closed the door, leaving you on the other side, clutching your nose, stopping yourself from spewing in a language you were perfectly fluent in; profanities. You were a professional assassin for a living but you have standards and morals; you wouldn't dare to swear around children.

"Fffffffffffffffffffff— fu— fallacy," you muttered, getting out of your slumped figure, and straightening your head out of instinct when you felt something dribble down your chin. "Great! Just fu— mmm, full of greatness." Your voice came out as nasally when you pinched your nose to prevent from any of your blood from dripping on the white carpet.

"FORMAGGIO! GET YOUR BUTT RIGHT HERE AND HELP ME!" You shouted from across the hall, shifting you gaze back to Prosciutto's door. He didn't respond like he would normally do. "Pesci? Risotto? Sorbet?"

Upon realization, your shoulders tensed. You ran downstairs, disregarding your bleeding nose and your hand subconsciously leaving your nose to bleed out as you sprint downstairs where you were met with a pile of clothes sitting by the floor. And within those pile of clothes, something squirmed within them.

"Nonononono, oh please no—" you darted back up stairs, to Prosciutto's room, when you saw Formaggio's pile of clothes lying still, and bad somehow made its way under Prosciutto's bed to play with him. From your panic-induced state, you dove under the bed to retrieve the children from under the bed, before you proceed to the living room to set them on the floor. You pushed all couch together to make a makeshift protective barrier, putting cushions in every direction within it for protection before you rush to collect Risotto, Sorbet and Gelato from the floor.

You ran pure with instinct and adrenaline, collecting children from their rooms before setting them down within the makeshift protective barriers and keep them in once place. Some of them were asleep, whilst some of them were simply dazed, crawling and fooling around. Once you were finished making preparations, you bit on your thumb, your gaze following Formaggio crawl and poke the sleeping Illuso.

Risotto won't be mad if I spent the budget on baby things, right? I mean I don't even know what the fuck is up, nor do I know when this will last but I certainly can't take it that they don't have proper places to sleep in. And not to mention, these babies are barely walking, I doubt that they can eat left over pasta in the fridge... So about nine cribs, baby formula, and baby things... One baby is already expensive, let alone taking care of nine of them...

Your figure slumps in defeat, as one of the sleeping bunch woke up with a screech. Soon enough, all followed and you found yourself standing amidst the chaos. Sighing, you rolled your sleeves above your elbows to brace yourself for extreme nanny duties.