He’d expected - well actually he wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but whatever it was, it wasn’t this. Wasn’t this scrap of fluff with a backbone of steel - but a backbone that only ever came out when someone they’d claimed as their own was under threat. They weren’t anything like the rumours that had been whipping around the Alliance; except they were. He could see remnants of what must have fuelled those rumours, heard the cruel nickname used almost affectionately by those around them and seen them trip down a flight of stairs. But then he’d been known to trip down flights of stairs when he tried to sneak down to the kitchens for a snack at three am, so he wasn’t in any position to speak.
Wasn’t expecting to feel this level of need. He hadn’t been around another Sky for any length of time since his father had died; his Flame type were beyond rare. He was only aware of three other Skies in the Alliance - and several more sub-families that tended to throw Skies, but hadn’t in this generation and two outside it. There’d been more, but all three of the legitimate Vongola heirs were dead, and he’d not overlapped with the family’s bastard heir, despite being within a year or two in age of him. Xanxus had been home tutored, and then Squalo had knelt and offered him the Varia, and he’d disappeared into their Compound. He’d rarely emerged into what passed for the Mafia’s Polite Society after that, though a number of brutal and messy assassinations had been laid at his feet, until his appearances had stopped entirely with the events of the Cradle Incident. Which he’d only become aware of in hindsight - he’d gotten Squalo beyond drunk and pushed. He'd known that there was something wrong in the general story; he knew what a Guardian - and a widowed Guardian, for that matter - felt like thanks to his father and his Elements, and the Swordsman was mostly definitely attached to a living Sky, yet from his drunk ramblings also leading the Varia for some reason.
Nothing had prepared him for being fascinated by another Sky. God, he thought he’d known about Sky Attraction; thought he’d been prepared for it. He’d even used his own once or twice, under Reborn’s insistent tutelage, and been deliberately exposed to that of the Giglio Nero and the Vongola Don, but this was an order of magnitude more powerful. He wanted. He wanted to protect the little Sky, and he wanted to do something filthy to them; wanted to do both so deeply and with so much need it scared him. They were only fourteen; he was a pervert for even thinking about how that body would feel under him, surrounding him, how that squeak would feel as the little Sky swallowed around his cock. Wanted to teach them all the things that Reborn couldn’t - or wouldn’t. And more than anything, he wanted this Sky to include him on that list of their own, the ones that would make them show their backbone and their claws.