Chapter Text
It’s snowing.
That’s the first thing Mafioso realised when he opened the front door.
The entire driveway is…covered in snow, blank and near completely void of other colours as he watched some of his neighbours curse and fling profanities while shovelling the glorified (and solidified, to some degree) water.
Chance peered his head out, too. “Oh,” he breathed, just as some dude he never bothered to meet slipped and fell face first into the snow. “Didn’t realise it’s winter already.”
“Time flies,” Two Time piped helpfully from where they perched on the handrail of the stairs. “Only when one stops to take a gander do they realise the true beauty of this cruel little world.”
Mafioso ignored them, kicking at the snow that had accumulated at the door, just about a few feet high. It crumbled, a small portion of it spilling into the house. “...might need some shoveling. Yeah.”
“Shovelling?” They echoed. “To…remove the snow, yes?”
He nodded. “Do you…want to shovel?”
Vigorous, enthusiastic nodding greeted his question, and he smiled. Great Telamon, they’re really just a kid at heart. He watched them scamper down to the basement to grab the shovel, the metal tool too heavy for them to carry. It clunked against the wooden stairs as they dragged it back up, their hands warped around the handle.
He doesn’t remember showing them where the shovel is. He doesn’t remember using the shovel in the last few days either, considering the fact that there are…faint bloodstains on the metal blade of the shovel itself.
They were about to rush outside, in all their childish excitement, but he grabbed their arm before they could rush out and dragged them back inside. “You’re wearing a tank top,” he deadpanned. “I’m not letting you out without a coat.”
“I will be alright,” they assured him. Not assuring at all, though; he could feel them trembling from the cold, fingertips pale and shivering. “You need not to worry about me.”
“Dude, you’re literally shaking.” Chance pointed.
They shook their head, indignant. “I will be alright,” they insisted again.
Mafioso sighed, slamming the door shut, trying his best to ignore the bits of snow that still gathered by his doorstep. He grabbed both their shoulders, steering them towards his room. They opened their mouth to protest, then closed it again as they were forced up the stairs, into his room as he began rifling through his closet for a big enough coat for the little kid to wear.
They tried complaining, saying how it was a waste of time and how unnecessary it all was, even attempting to wrestle their way out of Chance’s arms when the gambler tried to hold them still. They’re holding back though, the “struggle” being more of slapping hands and angry hissing than an outright fight.
Chance wouldn’t be winning if it was an actual fight, because. He’s aware of that.
He managed to find a somewhat small yet thick coat that was fit for them to wear, threading Two Time’s thin arms through the sleeves and pulling the fluffy hood over their head. They didn’t protest anymore, luckily, presumably because they gave up their cat-like flailing, and just allowed the older to pull another shirt over their top before putting that thick coat back on again. Their wings tore through the stilts in the back (how???), but other than that they didn’t really move anymore.
Their tail was flicking, though. They weren’t too happy with the coat.
By the time he was done, the kid looked kind of like a mini version of himself—only smaller and a little shorter, with bony wings and a tail. They were…pouting?, arms crossed in mild annoyance but they didn’t speak up against him. Chance was laughing in the background (of course), more at that ridiculous face they’d pulled than the amount of layers they’d forced on the kid, but maybe that’s a factor too.
“Am I permitted to leave now…?” They huffed. They’re adorable when they’re angry, he realised, this unamused look on their face paired with the gradually aggressive swaying of their tail. Maybe the fact that they looked a lot smaller in his clothes compared to when they usually just roamed the house in nothing but their top and short pants (how are they not cold?!), and now they just looked like they were buried in piles and piles of clothing.
He tossed Chance one of his spare coats, who caught it without an issue. He shrugged it on with ease, grinning. “Nope!” He said gleefully. “We’re going out with ya.”
They rolled their eyes, and slapped the gambler’s arm. It was playful, no harm done. Chance still reacted dramatically, though, gasping like they’d just greatly offended them. In no time they were back to bickering, wrestling each other outside in the hall while Mafioso looked for something warm to wear.
Something cold smacked the side of his neck, making him yelp and recoil. Chance looked up to see Mafioso devilishly grinning at him, while Two Time wielded their shovel like a fucking racket, gripped in their two hands, snow dusted across the flat of the blade.
He glared at them. “Did you throw that?”
“No we didn’t,” the mafia boss said unhelpfully. Two Time’s leg is already nudging a small forming ball of snow at their feet.
“Who else would’ve thrown it, then?” He exclaimed, hands automatically picking up and rolling up some snow as well, molding it into the shape of a ball. “You’re the only ones here!”
Mafioso snorted. “No, we didn’t throw it,” he corrected him, still grinning. He has a snowball in his hand now, but instead of throwing it at Chance he opted to toss the ball in the air, letting it fall back down in front of the cultist. The gambler wasn’t sure what he was even planning to do until Two Time drew back their shovel and smacked the side of the snowball hard, just like a racket against a tennis ball of sorts. The snowball near instantly disintegrated, and something small and grey whizzed past his ear in speeds that shouldn’t have been achievable by a snowball. There was also a sound, this hollow thunk what shouldn’t have been achievable with any normal snowball.
Whatever that was flew right into a pile of snow to his left, leaving a rather deep hole behind. He walked over, and dug his hand inside the pile to try and find the supposed “snowball”. He dug out a pebble instead.
“What the fuck!” He screeched. “Are you throwing pebbles?”
It was Two Time who answered, giggling. “There was once a saying.” They said. “For a person only lives once. Shan’t we live the best of what there is, when there still is time?”
“Not by trying to blow my brains out with rocks disguised as snowballs!”
They cackled, and wound their arms back to hit another snow-coated pebble in his direction. He shrieked, hastily picking up a handful of snow and pressing it into the rough shape of a ball before hurtling it at the younger.
It hit its mark (their face), making them screech in surprise, stumbling back. They didn’t drop the shovel, though.
Instead they charged, barrelling through the snow like a snow plow, somehow managing to make their way through the terrain faster than he could run away despite having a shit-ton more clothing than he had on him, tackling him from behind as he tried to run away. They both tumble face-first into the snow, with Chance attempting to shove Two Time’s face into the white flurry as they tussled on the ground. He could sense the other man getting closer, though he didn’t approach due to…well, they still were wielding their shovel, and no one wants to get smacked in the face by that thing.
Speaking of which, it missed his face by inches, just as he ducked in time to avoid getting a concussion. They only laughed like a maniac, arms ready to swing again, only to be struck by a snowball to the back of their head.
They toppled forwards like a bag of bones, crumpling in the snow.
“Ha!” Mafioso barked triumphantly. “Gotcha.”
They didn’t reply.
Chance scrambled to his feet, dusting snow off his coat. The kid was still face-planted in the snow, out like a light.
“Um…you good?”
“For all kings fall in their hubris,” they groaned, struggling to right themselves. Their wings anchored itself in the dirt, pulling them out of the snow. It reminded him of a spider, in a way. He never liked how their wings worked, not even now. “You, the mighty, too will collapse in your throne of pride and arrogance.”
“I thought you died.” Mafioso breathed, watching them finally get back on their feet. They glanced at the shovel in their hands, then back at their apparent father figure. “That snowball shouldn’t even had done as much damage.”
They let out an irritated hum, but said nothing, digging the shovel into the snow like how they were supposed to. The mafia boss, maybe deciding to get closer to them or something, accidentally tripped over something and toppled into the snow in the same fashion the kid did. Only then did he notice their tail hidden among the pure white powder, near completely camouflaged.
No wonder he didn’t see it.
Two Time let out a snort, watching him hoist himself back upright. Chance would’ve laughed too, but a snowball to the face was enough a distraction for him to throw himself right back into trying to fistfight the kid.
They tumbled around in the slush like children until noon. Not that anyone else cared, because—it’s the first break of snow, in the increasingly cold winter to come. Anyone from any household in the neighbourhood, young or old, would’ve gathered to play, when the snow still hadn’t melted yet.
But eventually it does, and Chance and Two Time are ushered back into the house, forced to take a bath. They’re still giggling and batting at each other like little angry cats.
Two Time started sneezing about two hours later.