Chapter Text
Staple Snacks
Thunderstorms, one of the worst things to experience when you’re with a child. Diavolo couldn’t be any less wrong when lightning struck somewhere in the distance. Loud sobs crept out from Trish’s room. ‘Just great,’ he thought.
The TV was blaring some show he couldn’t care less about, he turned it off. Diavolo walked upstairs towards the little girl's room, rain still downpouring outside. He cracked open the door.
“Trish..”
He saw her balled up, face scrunched into a pillow.
“Papa, I’m- I’m scared- I- I-” hiccups were getting in the way of her speech.
“It’s okay, Papa’s here...” Diavolo sits on the edge of her bed.
Trish crawled closer and hugged the man’s waist. Uh- what should he do now. He placed a hand on her back, waiting for an idea to rush in. Maybe, just maybe, Trish would calm down with some milk. That’s truly a gamble. She’s gripping down hard against Diavolo’s t-shirt, the poor thing has seen better days. Whatever, it’s not like Trish is going to let go any time soon until this goddamn rain finally stops. Diavolo offered her his back and she looped her arms around his neck. He grabbed Trish’s small legs and slowly stood up. It’s been a while since he carried her like this.
Trish has definitely calmed down a little. Floor boards creaked as he headed downstairs. Diavolo opened the fridge and saw a sad looking white carton sitting discarded at the back edge. There’s only enough milk to fill a mug about halfway. He forgot errands existed- again. Diavolo let Trish climb down so she can properly hold the mug.
The pink haired man's phone vibrated on the couch. He went back to the living room with Trish following behind of course.
Mi Amore: Hey, do you have anything planned?
Oh shit-
It was Funny.
No, just at home, he typed out.
Mi Amore: I’m driving there, heard Trish’s scared of thunderstorms
Since when did he tell him that? Although it would be nice to have some company since he didn't want to spend precious time awkwardly doing nothing with Trish.Time for what you may ask? Well... He hasn't thought about that yet.
Rain’s pouring hard, be careful
He sank backwards into the couch. Trish rests her mug on Diavolo’s coffee table.
“Who were you texting, Papa?”
“Uh..”
Her eyes brightened up with excitement.
“Is it Dad?”
“Hey, I don't think I gave you permission to call him that,” Diavolo snarled as he closed his eyes.
“Hmph, he says that I can,” Trish pouted.
‘Maybe it’s not the best idea to let Funny babysit Trish for 5 whole days,’ he recounted. Trish needed someone to be with her though. Donatella stayed in Italy, she didn't have money to raise a child. He now needs to financially support himself and his daughter. Of course there’s also that entire ordeal of him moving to America. It’s not just that, but he noticed that he can’t spend much time with Trish. Applying for jobs here and there really kept him busy. At least her school looked nice and welcoming, he had to thank Funny for that. Diavolo wanted Trish to have a normal life, as normal as having a single father growing up can be. To call his own childhood terrible is doing it a disservice.
He was just about to drift off when the doorbell rang. Trish quickly sprang up and bolted towards the door. Geez, was she really that excited to see him? Diavolo chased after Trish and got the keys to unlock his front door.
There stood Funny, umbrella in hand, a warm smile glued on his face. Some parts of his shirt got wet from the rain, his cargo pants too. His boots were utterly soaked.
“Hi,” Funny said as he waved his hand across Diavolo’s face.
Shit, he was staring.
“Uh- hey,” Diavolo stumbled, face now beet red.
“Hi Dad!” Trish was basically jumping with pure excitement at this point.
“Hello Trish, nice to see you again,” Funny responded softly.
Diavolo took his wet umbrella and leaned it against the wall. Funny took off his shoes while holding a bag of some sort.
Deep down, he felt true warmth and comfort in his presence. Butterflies and all that are still there, but now he’s grown accustom to it. Diavolo let Trish drag Funny in as he locked the door.
“You’re so excited Trish, what’s the deal here?” Funny chuckled.
“I miss you Daaad~.”
“Aw, I miss you too.”
Funny knelt down, he noticed the dried tears on both her cheeks. Poor thing. He grabbed a napkin from his pocket and walked to the sink, dampening it with warm water so he can slowly pat her cheeks. Trish closed her eyes. Soft dimples started to appear as she smiled when Funny continued. Once there were no tear stains left, he set the napkin aside and took her back to the living room.
While slouching in that couch of his, Diavolo still hears the rain pour outside. He saw Funny and Trish approaching from the corner of his eye. She looked very relaxed, definitely not the state she was in 10 minutes ago. Oh well.
“Trish, I got you something.”
Her eyes widened, curiosity rising in her little brain.
“What is it?”
“Have you ever tried candied apples before?”
“Nope.”
“Wanna try some?”
“Papa says that he doesn’t want me eating too much American food because they’re unhealthy,” Trish responded sounding sad as ever. Great way to throw your dad (or in this case papa) under the bus.
“Hey, I said no more hotdogs because you ate 2 of them at once!” and now he just looks like a terrible father.
They both huffed in annoyance, rather harmoniously. Funny shook his head, smiled to himself and opened the bag he brought.
Candied apples are great snacks; sweet sugar-like coating on the outside and a scrumptious, sour apple on the inside. Not the healthiest when compared directly to fresh fruits but it’s delicious still. He knew he should bring more than one just in case. After unwrapping the stubborn plastic seal, he handed it to Trish.
“Woah, they’re shiny..” her urge to touch said coating was instantly halted by Funny.
“Don’t touch it, your hands are gonna be sticky.”
“Aw, it looks so cool tho...”
She had a pretty hard time biting into it but after a while, managed to get a small nibble. With sparkling eyes, she continued eating. Funny patted her on the head and sat her down, he himself finding a comfortable spot next to Diavolo. Sitting down, Funny saw the man’s eyes drift away from his direction; probably hiding that heated up face.
“I’m not leaving you out sweetie, I know you wanna try some too,” he giggled and tucked a strand of hair behind Diavolo’s ear.
“No, I don’t. All Americans eat are either pure sugar, oil, salt, or lard. Nothing in between.”
“Woah, woah, that's not true.”
“Bullshit.”
“Hey, don’t curse in front of Trish,” Funny reprimanded.
Diavolo huffed, still stubborn on the American food take.
Speaking of Trish, where did that little scoundrel run off to. He looked around, no signs of her.
“Did you see where Trish went?” he asked.
Funny headed towards the kitchen, she’s not there. Around the living room, not there either. Behind chairs, tables, the TV, where is she? Maybe the bathroom? He creaked the door open.
There she was, being a good girl and washing her hands. Thank God.
“Omy, Trish... you got me worried for a second,” Funny heaved a sigh of relief.
“Huh, I was here a while ago, did you not hear me walk?”
“I wasn’t paying attention, I’m sorry...”
Trish clung to his thigh as if to say it's okay. They went back to the couch.
“Found her..”
Diavolo felt relieved, how did he not see her going to the bathroom.
“Was the candied apple good, Trish?” Funny asked her.
Trish nodded, “Yup, it’s really good.”
Funny looked at Diavolo, his smirk growing wider. ‘So what’cha say Mr. I Hate American Food?’ He grabbed the one sitting on a napkin.
“Just try it.”
“Fine.”
Diavolo reluctantly accepted the sugary mess and held the stick he was given. His only exception was Funny, that man can do wonders on him. He bit into the apple. ‘Holy fu-’. This thing was as though as a rock, how did Trish manage to finish it so fast? He got a bite eventually. It was sugary (no shit); the apple was sour as hell. The after taste wasn’t that bad though.
“How is it?”
“Surprised my teeth didn't rip off, this thing’s a rock.”
“It’s not a rock, you’re overreacting.”
“Take a bite then.”
Funny took the candied apple and bit down. Tasted just like childhood.
“Haha- it’s tougher than usual, Trish must’ve gotten the softer one,” he chuckled.
“See, what did I tell you.”
They both laughed. It’s a fucking stupid argument, why was Diavolo being petty about it. He signaled Funny to sit beside him. TV was not the best option right now, but they had to do something to pass the rain. ‘Back to Peppa Pig I guess’
Trish was sitting in her own chair beside the couch, watching the entire scene play through. Laughing along when her dads did. She finally understands what home feels like.