Title: The Grandfather (see what I did there hurr)
Fandom: Ace Attorney
Spoilers: None that I can see, actually!
Pairing/Characters: Shelly/Viola (Yes, really), Bruto, random wacky mobsters
Genre: Humour/Romance
Summary: Your typical sappy romantic dinner is not as orthodox as it seems.
Warnings/Rating: I... guess the age difference might squick some of you out, but there's absolutely nothing risqué here. PG-13 just to be safe.
Notes: This was originally supposed to be a very funny fic; then, uh... Well, it's not THAT funny, but it's light-hearted. Also, it was originally for the kink meme, but then I realised nobody would want to read this, so instead of going "what kind of retarded anon would post this crap", you can now direct your complaints directly at me! Also I wish more people shipped Shelly/Viola sob.
Disclaimer: These characters are all Capcom's. Well, except maybe for the wacky mobsters. I guess those are technically mine.



It had been her idea, not his. She softly proposed it and he accepted, relieved that he would not have to make the first step - he was rather inexperienced in these matters, after all. Ideally, the location would have been a neutral, secure one, but the Très Bien was deemed unsuitable for anyone looking for an edible dinner. Thus, they agreed to meet at his apartment.

The night came and, when she arrived, Viola Cadaverini couldn't help but smile at the scene Shelly de Killer had prepared for her: neatly arranged silverware, a bouquet of fresh roses and, to top it off, candles as the only source of light. It was obvious that his idea of romance was a few years behind, but she didn't mind.

After the food and drinks were sorted out (the earlier provided by Shelly, the latter by Viola) and intimate jokes about deadly substances, the dinner began.

"Do you... do this for all your guests, Mr. de Killer...?"

"Oh, no. Not even for the ones who survive their stay." And they chuckled, sharing a most peculiar bond. The chuckles quieted down, however, as the sound of footsteps grew louder. The two of them had a feeling they knew what was coming, but while Viola set down her cutlery, Shelly continued to eat.

But yet it grew louder, and louder, until a heavy foot audibly kicked open the front door. As predicted, this foot was attached to one enraged Bruto Cadaverini, who was accompanied by a remarkable number of armed subordinates. Of these subordinates, a few of them were quite baffled, as they expected they'd be breaking into anything but a romantic candlelight dinner.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Bruto spat out as he punched the light switch on.

Shelly swallowed the bit of turkey he had in his mouth before courteously answering, "We are having dinner, Mr. Cadaverini."

"Don't even try to go funny on me now, de Killer!"

"I didn't tell him..." Viola began, and the assassin responded with a soft "I know" as he stood up and turned to face the mobsters.

"For Christ's sake, de Killer," he continued in the stereotypically Mafia-ish Italian accent you are now reading his lines in, "You're old enough to be her father; almost old enough to be her grandfather!"

"But I am not, am I?"

"You know that's beside the point."

He sighed, showing no traces of anything but his typical smile. "What now?" He gestured towards Bruto's companions. "I know that you are careful to keep friendship completely separate of business - and so do I - but there is no business here, is there? So, I presume you are not here to..."

"I can turn it into business if I have to."

The younger mobsters were whispering amongst themselves by this point. "So the boss is friends with the Monopoly Guy?" "Looks like it." "I heard he's the boss' favourite baker or somethin'." "Oh, does he bake Violetta's birthday cakes?" "No, stupid, those are all Violetta's." "... Does she ever eat them?" "... Does anyone?"

Viola stood up, her head low. "If we are at an impasse... Maybe I should just... leave..."

"Don't you feel bad, Violetta, this isn't your fault," Bruto muttered in a gentle, almost childish tone just before he immediately shifted back to his furious self. "I never thought you'd do this to me, de Killer. Not you."

Shelly took a moment to reposition his monocle before replying. "I was somewhat rude, wasn't I?"

"At least you get it. So..."

"So, I had better remedy the situation before anyone has to get hurt." His smile turned more sincere as he took a step forward and bowed in respect. "Mr. Cadaverini, I am formally requesting your permission to court your granddaughter."

And at that moment, some of the younger mobsters were trying as hard as they could to hide their chuckling. A more experienced colleague advised them to stop ("Why, is Sir Monocleworth going to challenge me to a duel?"), reminding them that the boss was protective of more than just his little Violetta, and once he began moving down in his priorities, he would be sure to have a small chat with anyone who made fun of his friends. The chuckling ceased.

Indeed, after a moment of shocked silence, Bruto turned back and shouted, "Whoever was laughing back there'd better walk out and come back when they're proper men, because this--" he vigorously pointed at de Killer, "... is how a real man does things!"

Viola took her seat again, a pleased and subtle smile on her face. "Don't worry..." she said to the terrified subordinates, "My grandfather is too harsh on you... Tomorrow... I will have some cookies for you... to make up for all this trouble..." She finished with a giggle. The poor inexperienced mobsters cheered up for the moment, Bruto had a look in his eyes that could only be described as "That's my Violetta" and, thankfully, he was too proud of her little girl to notice how Shelly's smile had changed again, this time to an uncharacteristically affectionate one.

"Well, then, is this 'problem' settled?" Shelly asked.

"... One week." Bruto crossed his arms. "One week for you to think very carefully about this, and... and for me to make sure you're not trying to kill her or anything like that."

The assassin's smile was neutral and polite again. "If I were... You know I would have never given you a chance to come here."

He faced him with silence, a hard stare... and a raspy chuckle. "Oh, you." Turning to the front door, which was fortunately not entirely broken, he said to his men, "We're leaving now."

Only then, on their way down the stairs, did some of those men start to understand what Viola had told them.

The night carried on, peaceful, the two of them noticing the atroquinine slipped into their drinks and smiling, thankful for having met such a fascinating, admirable and perfect counterpart.