Omake

Gokudera sat in the little gelato shop, attempting not to frown as part of Masaru’s ice cream fell down onto the table. The man wondered if Ryohei’s boy was retarded or something like that, considering he could not keep the treat off his face, clothes or the furnishings. The boy was a big, sticky mess of Rocky Road.

“What’s the matter Goku-oji?” Haruhi asked as she took a lick of her own strawberry ice cream. Gokudera just took a bite of his vanilla and glanced at the girl.

“Nothing,” he lied.

Actually, there were a lot of things wrong in Gokudera’s opinion. For one, he had the most dynamically troublesome pair in the entire Family with him (he did not count those like Osamu and Foschia because they did not get along unless necessary and the Chiavorone and Fausto had partially-outgrown their troublesomeness in lieu of training) and there was no way to conveniently get rid of them. Secondly, the squirts were not doing their job properly.

See… when Gokudera had awoken the morning after being left with all the Guardians’ children, he required a long shower thanks to a combination of Osamu’s constant chewing on his skull all night long, the discovery of Rosario in his lap and Fausto partially draped over a shoulder (one touch of his hair or suit and he did not even want to know what was on either). While in the shower, he recounted the previous day’s events—particularly those linked to the Ten Year Bazooka. All unwillingly-perverted thoughts aside, the Storm lingered on Adult Haruhi’s words.

…irresponsible sitter…

… you become a better sitter as time goes on…

… I’m sure there’s someone for you…

…try taking us on outings; little kids are chick-magnets…

It was not much, but it did prompt the man to think seriously about the future. For the past fifteen years—had it really been that long already?—he had been a solidly faithful right-hand man for the Tenth, putting little else in front of his duties to the Vongola. It made him forget about things such as women and having a family. In fact, being as he usually found those two factors to life utterly irritating; those sorts of things were normally far from his mind. Adult Haruhi though… she seemed to put things into a little bit of perspective.

He never really stopped and thought about how the Eleventh was going to need quality assistance during his training to become a Vongola boss and leaving it up to Masaru and Haruhi could only spell out disaster.

So a few days after the important meeting, Gokudera asked Tsuna’s permission if he could start dating again (being as he did not want to be taking strange women throughout the Compound without the Tenth’s prior knowledge). He had dabbled in the singles’ pool while preparing the Compound for the Tenth during what was supposed to be college, but never went back as soon as the Family was properly relocated. Tsuna smiled wisely, said something about Gokudera being a “late bloomer” and gave his approval with a laugh. It was a bit embarrassing, but worth it, he decided. He then threw the Boss off by asking if he could take the young Eleventh for the day.

No, he is in school, Tsuna had replied as he skimmed over some paperwork. You may take Masaru and Haruhi though. They don’t go back for another two days and their fathers have missions that need their full attention until then.

How long are school breaks in Japan nowadays? Gokudera had asked, quite flustered—mainly because he did not know of these other missions.

Long enough to repair half the building after a third-rate assassin tried to kill the little tykes and lost, Tsuna had grinned.

Gokudera made a note of how he was far from dealing with normal children and morosely went to gather them.

The nearest town was not very large, but was large enough to spend the entire day in trying to covertly pick up women. He disliked the thought of copying Shamal, which would have probably landed him a few swift kicks to the Tender Area before the end of the day, so he decided that the best plan of action was probably to stand back and let any interested woman approach him.

It would have helped, however, if Masaru was not such a loud and sloppy brat.

“Whoa! I’m extremely sticky!” the kid laughed. He held out an ice cream-encrusted finger and inched ever closer towards Haruhi, who squealed in fake terror.

“Stop it Masaru-kun!”

“I have the Cheese Touch!”

“My fingers are crossed!”

“The added power of ice cream will make all finger-crossing useless against me!”

“Hiiii!”

Were they for real? What was wrong with kids these days?

“Masaru, stop it,” Gokudera ordered through clenched teeth. The boy stopped and pouted.

“Goku-oji, don’t you know about the Cheese Touch?”

“No, but what I do know is that you are covered in ice cream and I am not letting you get into my car like that.”

“Does that mean I’m riding on the roof?” The boy’s eyes lit up in extreme delight, recalling a threat used previously in the day.

“No,” Gokudera sighed, “you are going to clean up.” Since Masaru was done with his ice cream, Gokudera took the boy’s hand and tried to wipe the sugary mess off. Unfortunately, the melted ice cream had already bonded to Masaru’s skin, tearing up the napkin effortlessly. Gokudera simply stared in wonder as Masaru began giggling and stuck part of the napkin on his face. It did not help that Haruhi also began to laugh and that Masaru took a few more napkins from the dispenser on the table, only to become an even bigger mess.

“Now, look who’s giving someone a hard time,” a voice laughed in smooth Italian. Gokudera reluctantly looked over his shoulder to see a woman standing there, an amused look on her face.

“Wow, she’s extremely hot too!” Masaru nearly yelled, in Japanese of course. The woman raised an eyebrow at the foreign language.

“Erm… you wouldn’t know how to get this off, would you?” Gokudera asked nervously, pointing at the sticky mess that was Masaru. The woman smirked slightly and rolled her eyes, as if she should have seen the question coming.

“I take it you’re not used to this,” she said as she knelt down next to Masaru and took a fresh napkin from the dispenser on the table.

“No, not really,” Gokudera said. This was not exactly how he wanted to gain a woman’s attention, but took it anyways.

The Guardian watched as the woman went to work. She looked Masaru in the eyes and stuck out her tongue. The kid copied her and she wet the napkin with the boy’s own spit. She able to quickly wipe all the ice cream and stuck napkin off of Masaru’s face and hands in just a few minutes, leaving the kid somewhat cleaner (the shirt was going to have to go before entering the car, that was for sure).

“Grazie, Senora!” Masaru said, making use of what little Italian he knew to thank her. The woman smiled and patted Masaru on the head.

“He is such a cute little boy! Is he yours?” She turned to Gokudera, who flushed a distinct shade of red.

“No… he’s my friend’s son. I’m helping watch him while his father is away on business for a few days.” The woman watched as Masaru moved chairs and tried to get a sample of that was left of Haruhi’s ice cream. “That’s my goddaughter.”

“They are still cute children.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m Simonetta.”

“Hayato.”

“What an interesting name,” she said, taking a seat at the table. “You don’t hear that often.”

“Maybe we can talk about it another time?”

“…like over dinner?”

“That sounds nice. I know a good place in the next town…”

“I used to work there in university; excellent seafood.”

“Seven sound alright?”

“Seven-thirty; I still have errands to run and this was just a short break.”

“Fine by me… did you want to meet me there or should I ask for directions to your place?”

The woman laughed and drew a map and address on a piece of scrap paper for Gokudera. They small-talked for a few more minutes before she had to leave, with a smile and a wave, leaving Gokudera nearly speechless.

“Goku-oji,” Haruhi asked. “Who was that pretty lady?”

“Hopefully, the reason I might not be coming home tonight,” Gokudera smiled.

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A/N: omake = extra/extra chapter
Grazie, Senora! = Thanks, Lady!