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lysapadinTitle: Drought
Characters and Pairings: Yamamoto/Hibari; Tsuna, Yamamoto Tsuyoshi
Summary: Hibari isn't the only one who's noticed that Yamamoto is behaving a bit oddly, and Yamamoto deals with that.
Notes: Adult for smut; follows Deluge as part of the Natural Disasters series [index]. 5018 words.
~~~~~~~~~~
Drought
The heat finally breaks when a storm blows inland from the coast. It brings cooler winds with it and a solid day of rain that settles the dust and washes the air clean and revives just about everyone as far as Takeshi can see, even after the sun comes back out again and everything begins to steam dry. It's still not as hot as it was before, which is the important thing. Gokudera's overall temper improves (Takeshi can tell because now when Gokudera yells, it's because he's just bad at being normal, not because he's actually angry) and Tsuna perks up again and begins to resume his usual interest in the world around him.
It's hardly a surprise when Tsuna glances at him as they meander homeward after school—Tsuna's home, that is, which is almost as much Takeshi's home these days as his own, or so Tousan says with a grin—and says, diffident, "Is there, um, something going on I should know about?"
The only real surprise is that it's taken him this long to say anything, Takeshi supposes. The guys on the team have been giving him sidelong looks for a full week and some change now. They haven't said anything. They stopped asking years ago, after it first became clear that Tsuna was something more than anyone had previously given him credit for being and that he was pulling certain people, Takeshi among them, along with him.
And he's getting sidetracked from the question. No surprises there; he's been expecting this, even when he wasn't quite sure what he was going to say about it when people (let's be honest, Tsuna and Tousan) started to notice that there's something going on. Now it's here and he still doesn't know what he's going to say.
So Takeshi stuffs his hands in his pockets and smiles at Tsuna. "Beg pardon?"
He gives it even odds whether Tsuna's going to buy it, but anything's worth a shot, especially when Gokudera's on Tsuna's other shoulder and still grumbling to himself over the injustice of Nagai-sensei's decision to assign extra homework to Tsuna to make up for an awful performance on their last test. (This is a point regarding which Takeshi agrees with him in full; Tsuna doesn't need the kinds of math that Nagai-sensei teaches, not where he's going, and besides, he has Gokudera and Haru to know these things for him. But try explaining that to Nagai-sensei.) Gokudera's pretty reliably distracting, after all, especially when he gets wound up on the respect due the Tenth.
But maybe not this time. Tsuna bites his lip and gestures, waving his fingers at Takeshi's arm. "You have a lot of bruises lately."
Takeshi glances down to where there's a bar of purple stretching across his forearm, precisely the width of a tonfa. He thinks it's from where he deflected a strike for his jaw the hard way. "Huh," he says, knowing how vague that sounds. "I guess?"
Tsuna wouldn't be Tsuna if he just accepted that, Takeshi guesses. Or something. They amble along in silence—relative silence; Gokudera is muttering away about blackmailing Nagai-sensei into respecting the Vongola's dignity—while Tsuna chews on his lip and looks worried. Then he says, sounding troubled, "You'd tell me if there was something wrong, wouldn't you?"
"Of course." There's no question of that, because it's Tsuna. If there were trouble, Takeshi wouldn't even blink before turning to him. "What else would I do?"
The look Tsuna gets then is too old for his age, like all of a sudden he's the man he's growing up to be. "I wonder." He sounds tired.
Yeah, so there's that. Takeshi sucks in a breath through his teeth, not a careful one, and it makes his side ache. "Everything's okay," he says, which is pretty much the truth. "Nothing's wrong." Also true, as far as it goes. He thinks. It just leaves a lot of things… silent. Yeah, silent.
He doesn't know how to talk about those things, though, is the thing.
The problem with hanging out with a guy who's got a hyperactive intuition is that sometimes he uses it when a guy would really rather he not. Like right now. "There're things you're not telling me." It's funny how Tsuna changes when he pulls out the Vongola stuff; he goes from quiet and self-effacing to quiet and self-assured. The switch is startling enough in its own right that Takeshi suspects that it's half the reason Tsuna gets the kinds of results he does.
The other half, of course, is the Will that backs all that self-assurance up. Takeshi reacts to that like he always does, exhaling and straightening up. Coming to heel. "Yeah," he admits and sees the way it makes Tsuna frown. That makes him feel bad, kind of, so he adds, "Really. It's okay."
And he also doesn't exactly want to talk about it, not like this where anyone can see them ambling along the sidewalk or listen if, if he wanted. Maybe if it were just him and Tsuna over a cup of tea or something. He glances past Tsuna to Gokudera.
Tsuna sees that and gets it. Takeshi can tell by the way his eyes narrow. They make it a few meters down the sidewalk before Tsuna says, quiet, "I'm always ready to listen."
"Yeah," Takeshi says. "I know."
Tsuna nods and leaves it at that. It's probably only a temporary reprieve, but Takeshi figures he can live with that.
Hibari-san is scarce—scarcer than usual, that is. He's always a little bit elusive, and the only real thing anyone can count on with him is that he'll turn up for a fight or wherever there are people behaving in an inappropriately sheeplike fashion.
Takeshi wonders sometimes what Hibari-san has against groups, anyway. His standards for grouping behavior are mysterious; he generally ignores the school sports teams, which are groups by definition, but he prosecutes his justice against groups of friends who shouldn't be the least bit offensive. Well, from an outsider's perspective, anyway. They must be managing to offend Hibari-san somehow, obviously.
But Hibari-san is around less than he usually is. Normally Takeshi sees him prowling around the school or watching it from some perch or another, or at least sees him out and about around town. Takeshi hasn't seen much of him though. Not since Sunday. Not since he walked away.
He probably ought to be upset by that, or something. It's not like he has a whole lot of experience to be drawing on—any experience, come right down to it—but a sort of ambient general knowledge tells Takeshi that cutting and running after receiving a blowjob really isn't the done thing. On the other hand, Takeshi's very specific, concrete knowledge of Hibari Kyouya says that a swift retreat after a brand-new experience is perfectly in keeping with Hibari-san's nature, especially when that brand-new experience might somehow be construed as being sheeplike. Also, there's precedent: Hibari-san walked away the first time, too, though not quite as fast. Getting upset with Hibari-san for being himself is about as useful as yelling at a volcano for erupting or something. It won't do any good, is the thing.
Anyway, Takeshi isn't angry, which is just one of the reasons he'd really not talk about what's going on, not with Tsuna or anyone else. He's pretty sure that if he tries to explain, it's going to go all wrong. All they'll hear is the words that he says, and Takeshi's perfectly aware that words aren't his strong point. So he'll say that he and Hibari-san have been fighting and getting each other off after and that Hibari-san doesn't seem to have quite figured out what he thinks about that. What he's pretty sure they'll hear is that he and Hibari-san are beating the snot out of each other and that this gets them hot and bothered and that Hibari-san fucks and runs.
And, okay. He can't actually deny that, exactly, but it's only part of the truth. And Takeshi doesn't know the words that would fit the other part of it, because it's not something that he can explain. It's something that he feels instead. Tsuna isn't a fighter and neither is Gokudera—they will fight, and they do when they have to, but it's not something they enjoy. It's more like a duty, is the thing, something that has to be done so they do it and get it over with as quickly as possible. If they get any kind of rush from it, it's the kind that comes from adrenaline and surviving a brush with danger. Incidental. Not something to seek out in its own right. Not something to savor.
Ryouhei-senpai would probably understand it, if only the thought of trying to hold a conversation with him didn't make Takeshi's eyes cross. But Ryouhei-senpai gets competition, the kind against an opponent and the kind against the self. He'd get why courting fights with Hibari-san makes sense. Probably. Takeshi doesn't feel much like trying to test that theory out. It'd end with having to persuade Ryouhei-senpai that he's still not interested in boxing, anyway.
Lambo is right out, naturally, and so are Mukuro and Chrome. No one knows where Mukuro is right now anyway, even if Takeshi felt like baring his soul to the guy who looks at the rest of the world like it's his own personal cat toy, and Chrome is… well, Takeshi likes Chrome a lot, but her perspective is kind of off-kilter even by Vongola standards. Also, there's the sex thing, which Takeshi isn't at all sure he could talk to her about without feeling very strange doing it. Besides, it'd all go straight to Mukuro anyway.
Now that he's thinking about it, he and Hibari-san have even more in common than he'd previously noticed. Makes sense of why things are going the way they are, now that he's looking at it. All kinds of sense, because Hibari-san… Takeshi's sure that Hibari-san feels like this all the time, itching to move and fight and test everything.
Part of him wants to ask Hibari-san and see if he's right, but that would require finding Hibari-san first—and he's seriously been absent these past few days; Takeshi hasn't caught him doing that thing where he sits around watching them go about their lives very much at all since Sunday. It would also require trying to find the words to ask with, and for Hibari-san to be willing to listen, and—no, he can't see that. Can't see it at all.
It's Thursday before Hibari-san shows up again, and that's maybe being generous with how Takeshi defines showing up. They've taken their lunches outside, Tsuna and Gokudera and the girls, and they're sitting under the spreading branches of the trees out by the sports field when Takeshi's neck prickles with the sense that he's being watched. (It's funny how he can feel that, but Reborn and Tousan both say it's a good skill to have, one that will come in handy. The only difference is that Reborn smiles when he says things like that, but Tousan says it like it worries him.)
Gokudera notices too, maybe half a beat after Takeshi does. He doesn't stop talking; he and Hana-san have been wrangling all week over a point of politics or something. Takeshi hasn't been paying attention, but it keeps them entertained and gives Tsuna something else to focus his attention on. "It's like I keep moving my mouth but no sound is coming out," Gokudera says, even as he looks past Hana-san and Tsuna and catches Takeshi's eye. "Are you even hearing what I'm saying?"
"Of course I'm hearing it, it just doesn't make any sense," Hana-san insists, even though Gokudera isn't listening to her any more. He's looking around the same way Takeshi is, seeking out the source of that surveillance. Of course, Takeshi has a certain advantage; he's been waiting for this since Sunday and he's already pretty sure who it is that's watching them. He laughs at Hana-san and glances up through the sunlight-dappled leaves just fast enough to catch a glimpse of black cloth fluttering over the edge of the clubhouse roof. The sense of being watched disappears as abruptly as it had arrived, and it's likely that the girls hadn't even noticed it. Tsuna did, or at least noticed Takeshi and Gokudera noticing, which amounts to the same thing.
Takeshi shrugs at him and returns to his bento, since there's not really anything he can say about Hibari-san's thing for high places and spying on people. After a moment Tsuna goes back to mooning over Kyouko-san, though not without spending a little too long with his eyes resting on Takeshi.
He gets that feeling of being watched again later in the afternoon, during phys ed. It's baseball, has been baseball for the past few weeks, and Takeshi's going to miss that when they switch over to track and field next week. (He won't miss Gokudera's grumbling about it, though.) It's only phys ed, but Takeshi throws himself into the games anyway, the way he doesn't bother doing with the other sports rotations. He does it because it makes Gokudera roll his eyes and he's got a reputation to maintain anyway, but really, he does it because it's baseball. There's a clock in the back of Takeshi's head and it's counting down steadily, measuring off the time he has left for the game. He's made his peace with that, pretty much, but the cost of that peace is playing each game like it's his last. (He's had enough things happen in the mafia game now to know that each one might be.)
Takeshi's on the mound when he feels it, the hairs on the back of his neck lifting and prickling with the sense that he's being watched again. Takeshi grins. Asano, who's already two strikes down, goes green and completely whiffs the fastball Takeshi sends screaming across the plate. The game had already been going badly for the other team, but now Takeshi has a reason to show off and it just falls apart for them. Nojima's probably the best player in their class aside from Takeshi himself, but Takeshi strikes him out with a curveball, another fastball, a slow pitch that psychs him out completely, and then it's time to come in from the field. Takeshi's neck doesn't stop prickling even then.
"The hell," Fukami says as they're lining up and Gokudera is stepping up to bat, looking like he'd rather be holding a dead rat in his teeth. "Don't you want to save some of that for a real game?"
Takeshi just grins at him and stretches an arm over his head—not the roof of the clubhouse, he decides; the trees instead, that's where Hibari-san's lurking now. "No," he says. "This is a real game."
Fukami just rolls his eyes, not convinced, but that doesn't matter. He doesn't have to understand. Tsuna looks puzzled, which is more of a concern, but since he doesn't try to say anything here and now, Takeshi doesn't worry about it.
Hibari-san watches until the end of class rolls around and the other team is thoroughly demoralized; it's the best round of phys ed baseball Takeshi's ever played.
Later—much later, after dinner and he's wrestled his homework into submission—Takeshi lies back on his bed and thinks about being on the mound while Hibari-san was watching and how that had felt, the prickling awareness of Hibari-san's laser focus on him as he'd played. Wasn't like that was something he'd been able to pay attention to at the time. Too distracting, for one, and besides, it was something worth savoring. Now there's plenty of time for that sort of thing.
Takeshi closes his eyes and thinks about standing on the mound and knowing Hibari-san's somewhere nearby, paying attention. He gets hard almost before he's got the feeling called to mind again—the humid air and the smooth action of the wind-up and pitch and the ball spinning as it flies from his fingertips, and the weight of Hibari-san's regard. It puts a hot feeling in the pit of his stomach to think of Hibari-san and the game at the same time; he undoes his fly as he sifts through the game again, his cock throbbing in time to his heartbeat. He recalls the best moments, the ones where his mind and body were in perfect accord, the perfect pitches and the ringing crack of his bat connecting with the ball and the ball soaring deep into left field where Asano might as well be chasing butterflies for all the good he's doing.
Does Hibari-san see the perfection in that kind of moment? Takeshi wonders about that as he slides his hand under the waistband of his boxers and cups his cock. Can he see why it's the same thing as a fight, the same thing as that moment when a blow meets flesh or is deflected? Or maybe not quite the same thing; that game wasn't all that great, not like a real game would be. A real game would be like fighting Hibari-san—today's game was more like playing with Lambo.
It would be good, though, to play a game with his team against a decent opponent and Hibari-san there to see it, if it weren't too much like herding behavior for him to attend. Takeshi thinks about that and slides his hand up, cupping his palm over the head of his cock. The friction and the fantasy he's building in his head, going all out with Hibari-san there to see him doing it, makes him draw a breath, a deeper one. The bruises on his ribs ache and that just makes the hot feeling in his stomach twist, because the ache just reminds him of how he got those bruises, how sparring with Hibari-san is like the best games, but better. Sparring with Hibari-san does take everything Takeshi has, the best of him and then some, and offers the surety that Hibari-san is giving that back in his own way. Takeshi rubs his thumb over the head of his cock and bites his lip, which isn't the kind of sharpness he'd like it to be but is close enough, and thinks about Hibari-san's eyes, single-minded and hot enough to burn, the way Hibari-san fights like he's never even heard of holding back, and the way Takeshi can feel his delight, uncompromising as diamond, in every swing of those tonfa.
Hibari-san gets hard when he fights, too. Takeshi takes another breath that aches and closes his fist around his cock, thinking about the jut of Hibari-san's cock against the black of his slacks and the crisp white of his shirt, the slickness beading at the slit and the lazy glitter of Hibari-san's eyes as he strokes himself off. Thinking of that summons up the way Hibari-san's cock felt in Takeshi's hands, sleek and heavy, and the soft feel of his skin against Takeshi's lips, the salt taste on his skin and how his cock had crowded his mouth and flooded it with salt-flat and musk. He's rocking into his own fist now, remembering that moment, breathing hard enough that there's a constant dull pang in his side. Takeshi ignores that and tightens his fingers as he thinks about the intent way Hibari-san looked at him and the way he almost smiled after Takeshi had come in his hand and wonders whether that was how Hibari-san was looking this afternoon. That's it. It's the thought of the satisfied line of Hibari-san's mouth that sets Takeshi off and follows him down into the wash of pleasure as he comes, sticky-hot against his palm and stomach.
Takeshi catches his breath slowly after, sweat cooling on his skin in the sluggish aftermath as the bruises along his ribs stop throbbing—they're definitely getting better, gone mostly to green now—before he reaches for the tissues to clean up with.
It's two days until Sunday, he thinks, and lays in bed a while longer before going to take his bath.
Takeshi doubts very much that it's an accident that Gokudera finds something else to do Friday afternoon, something that requires him to be elsewhere when it comes time to walk home after school. That could have something to do with the way Tsuna looks obscurely satisfied with himself as Takeshi falls in with him after school.
Here we go, Takeshi thinks, resigned, but it's actually a quiet walk home. Tsuna doesn't press him for conversation and Takeshi's always found it easy to be quiet with Tsuna, who isn't the kind to need flashy performances. Or rather, isn't the kind to be distracted by them. It's the same thing, but not. Either way, Tsuna doesn't say much until they turn the corner of his street. "Looks like your bruises are healing up okay."
Takeshi looks down on reflex, checking himself over. The bar of green-yellow across his arm is probably the most visible mark left, aside from the split place in his lip, which is mostly just tender now. He shows Tsuna a grin and suspects it doesn't do much. "Yep. I heal pretty fast." Just one more of those useful little talents, one of the ones that are a part of being one of Reborn's natural-born hitmen or something.
Tsuna nods and they walk a few more paces down the sidewalk. Tsuna's fiddling with the strap of his bag; his forehead is creased and he looks even more worried than usual. Takeshi waits, because it's pretty clear that Tsuna is building himself up for something.
When Tsuna finally comes out with, "How'd you get them?" it's actually pretty easy to just shrug and say, "I was sparring with Hibari-san."
Tsuna doesn't say anything at all to that, not at first, though he wrinkles up his forehead, looking all perplexed. When he does things like that, Takeshi can see how he's going to look when he's older, all serious and solemn and careworn. (Takeshi just hopes that there'll be smile lines on Tsuna's face too, and resolves to work on that.) "I thought that maybe it was that." Tsuna darts a glance at him; the corners of his mouth are turned down and he doesn't look happy, exactly. "If you were getting into fights with anyone else, it'd be a matter for Family, and you'd say something."
"Yeah," Takeshi says, because saying maybe would just worry Tsuna.
But Tsuna's not done yet. He nods and says, "So I thought, if it's not that, then who? Those aren't the kind of bruises that you get when you've been sparring with your dad, and Squalo hasn't been by in a while, so it pretty much had to be Hibari." They've come to Tsuna's house; they stop there, outside the front gate. Tsuna looks up at Takeshi. "I just don't know why."
Takeshi rubs his hand over his chin, thinking about the ways of answering that, but in the end he goes with the simple one. "I want to," he tells Tsuna. "It's fun."
Tsuna's mouth moves, silent, shaping the words it's fun like he doesn't quite know how to make sense of them. He looks at Takeshi's arms again and the faint bruises still patterning them, then back up, disbelief sliding down over his face. "You're completely crazy," he all but accuses Takeshi, almost helpless.
Only Tsuna isn't helpless, not really, and Takeshi can already see something like his sense of humor beginning to surface from beneath his worry. Yeah, it looks like they're going to get through this okay after all. He shrugs and shows Tsuna another grin. "Don't knock it till you've tried it," he says, perfectly sure that Tsuna will do no such thing.
"I can't believe you sometimes," Tsuna informs him. It kind of looks like he's trying to frown but can't quite manage it. "What are you, some kind of masochist?"
"They're only bruises," Takeshi says. "It's worth it."
The look Tsuna gets then is suddenly thoughtful, like he's hearing something in that Takeshi would maybe rather he didn't. Takeshi rocks himself back and forth in his sneakers, uncomfortable with the way it feels that Tsuna is stripping him down to his bones, all with the purest of intentions. Then Tsuna says, slowly, like he's measuring out his words, "I hope that it is. And that you're being careful."
"I'm always careful," Takeshi tells him.
Tsuna doesn't even try to pretend that he believes that, which is just as well. "Be careful," he says again, firmly enough to give it the weight of a real command. Takeshi gets the feeling that Tsuna knows, somehow, that it's more than just the fighting that's going on.
He dips his head, acknowledging the order. "I know what I'm doing," he says, which is true. Mostly true. True as far as it goes.
Tsuna gazes up at him and then sighs. "Just remember that Gokudera will hurt himself laughing if you aren't careful," he says, and the dangerous moment is past.
"Can't have that." Takeshi grins at Tsuna. "Don't worry, it's fine." He shrugs. "See you later?"
Tsuna opens his mouth, but after a moment he simply says, "Yeah, I'll see you later." He turns away and walks into his house, and doesn't stop shaking his head the entire way.
Tousan hasn't said a word about any of this, though Takeshi has caught him looking at some of the bruises, studying them or maybe just keeping track of them as they fade. And it's not like Takeshi is trying to hide anything from Tousan, but there are things he really doesn't think he wants to talk through with his father. And things Tousan probably doesn't want to know anyway. Tousan's not the kind to push, either.
Even so, when Takeshi heads downstairs Sunday afternoon, Tousan lowers the newspaper he's reading and looks at him. Just looks at him, grave, as Takeshi freezes in the act of opening his mouth to say that he's going out. He shifts on the balls of his feet and clutches the strap slung over his shoulder and tries to meet Tousan's eyes like he isn't heading out to see what's going to happen next.
Not that Takeshi thinks for one second that Tousan's fooled.
"Your homework is all done?" Tousan asks after they've stared at each other for a bit.
"Yeah," Takeshi says, and it's true, too: Tousan's not above checking from time to time, and swears Takeshi will thank him for it later. (Takeshi has his doubts about that, but Tousan's been right about stranger things.) "Finished the last of it this morning."
Tousan nods, still studying Takeshi and looking thoughtful. Takeshi tries to remember whether there are any chores he's left undone, but can't think of anything he's overlooked—there shouldn't be any reason for Tousan to look like he's thinking of reasons to keep Takeshi inside. Then Tousan sighs and shakes his head (something about the way he does it reminds Takeshi of the way Tsuna shakes his head sometimes). "You'd better be careful with those ribs," he says, completely randomly.
"Eh?" Takeshi says, since that's neutral enough not to give anything away. He hopes.
Tousan just snorts and gives him a rather pointed look. "Broken ribs aren't a joke, and you're still not breathing completely normally. You're going to want to be careful of them." The newspaper rattles as he shakes it out again, and it only sounds like an afterthought when he adds, "Assuming it comes to that, of course."
Takeshi can't help himself; it feels like his face must be on fire. "Tousan," he protests.
Tousan looks over the top of the newspaper again and snorts at him. "So it is like that, is it? I guess you must be getting to be that age."
"Tousan," Takeshi whines, because he really, really doesn't want to be having this conversation at all.
Tousan carries on because he's merciless that way. "If it's like that, I suppose there's not a whole lot that I can say," he muses. "Not and have you listen. I remember how it goes at that age." He sighs, practically misty, and Takeshi groans in horror, pretty sure that Tousan is about to start telling him about the days when he was courting Kaasan. Takeshi is not at all in the place for that to be good right now.
But Tousan just laughs at him and leaves that subject mercifully closed. "I'll see you for supper?" It only sounds like a question, so Takeshi ducks his head and mutters his assent—he'll be home by then if Tousan wants him to be. Tousan nods his approval. "All right, then. Get along with you, and mind what I said about those ribs."
Takeshi nods and makes for the door. While he's stepping into his sneakers, Tousan adds, like an afterthought but not, "Oh, and you might bring him by sometime."
Takeshi's neck protests the way he jerks around to look at Tousan, who's smiling placidly behind his newspaper. (He doesn't get it, Tousan doesn't really go out all that much, and when he does, Takeshi would swear that his social circle doesn't overlap with his own. How does he find these things out?) "Uh," he says, groping for some way to cope with the mind-bending concept of bringing Hibari-san around to meet his father. Oh, man. "Um. Um."
"When it gets to be that way, of course," Tousan supplies gently. His eyes are twinkling, though. Well. At least he knows how evil he's being. "It doesn't do to rush these things."
"Right." Takeshi doesn't have anything else he can say, not when Tousan is so clearly determined to be Tousan about the whole thing. "I'll, uh… I'll be going now."
"Enjoy yourself," Tousan says, peaceably enough. Then he smiles. "But I suppose that goes without saying."
He's still laughing behind his newspaper when Takeshi gets his shoes on and escapes.
end
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Characters and Pairings: Yamamoto/Hibari; Tsuna, Yamamoto Tsuyoshi
Summary: Hibari isn't the only one who's noticed that Yamamoto is behaving a bit oddly, and Yamamoto deals with that.
Notes: Adult for smut; follows Deluge as part of the Natural Disasters series [index]. 5018 words.
Drought
The heat finally breaks when a storm blows inland from the coast. It brings cooler winds with it and a solid day of rain that settles the dust and washes the air clean and revives just about everyone as far as Takeshi can see, even after the sun comes back out again and everything begins to steam dry. It's still not as hot as it was before, which is the important thing. Gokudera's overall temper improves (Takeshi can tell because now when Gokudera yells, it's because he's just bad at being normal, not because he's actually angry) and Tsuna perks up again and begins to resume his usual interest in the world around him.
It's hardly a surprise when Tsuna glances at him as they meander homeward after school—Tsuna's home, that is, which is almost as much Takeshi's home these days as his own, or so Tousan says with a grin—and says, diffident, "Is there, um, something going on I should know about?"
The only real surprise is that it's taken him this long to say anything, Takeshi supposes. The guys on the team have been giving him sidelong looks for a full week and some change now. They haven't said anything. They stopped asking years ago, after it first became clear that Tsuna was something more than anyone had previously given him credit for being and that he was pulling certain people, Takeshi among them, along with him.
And he's getting sidetracked from the question. No surprises there; he's been expecting this, even when he wasn't quite sure what he was going to say about it when people (let's be honest, Tsuna and Tousan) started to notice that there's something going on. Now it's here and he still doesn't know what he's going to say.
So Takeshi stuffs his hands in his pockets and smiles at Tsuna. "Beg pardon?"
He gives it even odds whether Tsuna's going to buy it, but anything's worth a shot, especially when Gokudera's on Tsuna's other shoulder and still grumbling to himself over the injustice of Nagai-sensei's decision to assign extra homework to Tsuna to make up for an awful performance on their last test. (This is a point regarding which Takeshi agrees with him in full; Tsuna doesn't need the kinds of math that Nagai-sensei teaches, not where he's going, and besides, he has Gokudera and Haru to know these things for him. But try explaining that to Nagai-sensei.) Gokudera's pretty reliably distracting, after all, especially when he gets wound up on the respect due the Tenth.
But maybe not this time. Tsuna bites his lip and gestures, waving his fingers at Takeshi's arm. "You have a lot of bruises lately."
Takeshi glances down to where there's a bar of purple stretching across his forearm, precisely the width of a tonfa. He thinks it's from where he deflected a strike for his jaw the hard way. "Huh," he says, knowing how vague that sounds. "I guess?"
Tsuna wouldn't be Tsuna if he just accepted that, Takeshi guesses. Or something. They amble along in silence—relative silence; Gokudera is muttering away about blackmailing Nagai-sensei into respecting the Vongola's dignity—while Tsuna chews on his lip and looks worried. Then he says, sounding troubled, "You'd tell me if there was something wrong, wouldn't you?"
"Of course." There's no question of that, because it's Tsuna. If there were trouble, Takeshi wouldn't even blink before turning to him. "What else would I do?"
The look Tsuna gets then is too old for his age, like all of a sudden he's the man he's growing up to be. "I wonder." He sounds tired.
Yeah, so there's that. Takeshi sucks in a breath through his teeth, not a careful one, and it makes his side ache. "Everything's okay," he says, which is pretty much the truth. "Nothing's wrong." Also true, as far as it goes. He thinks. It just leaves a lot of things… silent. Yeah, silent.
He doesn't know how to talk about those things, though, is the thing.
The problem with hanging out with a guy who's got a hyperactive intuition is that sometimes he uses it when a guy would really rather he not. Like right now. "There're things you're not telling me." It's funny how Tsuna changes when he pulls out the Vongola stuff; he goes from quiet and self-effacing to quiet and self-assured. The switch is startling enough in its own right that Takeshi suspects that it's half the reason Tsuna gets the kinds of results he does.
The other half, of course, is the Will that backs all that self-assurance up. Takeshi reacts to that like he always does, exhaling and straightening up. Coming to heel. "Yeah," he admits and sees the way it makes Tsuna frown. That makes him feel bad, kind of, so he adds, "Really. It's okay."
And he also doesn't exactly want to talk about it, not like this where anyone can see them ambling along the sidewalk or listen if, if he wanted. Maybe if it were just him and Tsuna over a cup of tea or something. He glances past Tsuna to Gokudera.
Tsuna sees that and gets it. Takeshi can tell by the way his eyes narrow. They make it a few meters down the sidewalk before Tsuna says, quiet, "I'm always ready to listen."
"Yeah," Takeshi says. "I know."
Tsuna nods and leaves it at that. It's probably only a temporary reprieve, but Takeshi figures he can live with that.
Hibari-san is scarce—scarcer than usual, that is. He's always a little bit elusive, and the only real thing anyone can count on with him is that he'll turn up for a fight or wherever there are people behaving in an inappropriately sheeplike fashion.
Takeshi wonders sometimes what Hibari-san has against groups, anyway. His standards for grouping behavior are mysterious; he generally ignores the school sports teams, which are groups by definition, but he prosecutes his justice against groups of friends who shouldn't be the least bit offensive. Well, from an outsider's perspective, anyway. They must be managing to offend Hibari-san somehow, obviously.
But Hibari-san is around less than he usually is. Normally Takeshi sees him prowling around the school or watching it from some perch or another, or at least sees him out and about around town. Takeshi hasn't seen much of him though. Not since Sunday. Not since he walked away.
He probably ought to be upset by that, or something. It's not like he has a whole lot of experience to be drawing on—any experience, come right down to it—but a sort of ambient general knowledge tells Takeshi that cutting and running after receiving a blowjob really isn't the done thing. On the other hand, Takeshi's very specific, concrete knowledge of Hibari Kyouya says that a swift retreat after a brand-new experience is perfectly in keeping with Hibari-san's nature, especially when that brand-new experience might somehow be construed as being sheeplike. Also, there's precedent: Hibari-san walked away the first time, too, though not quite as fast. Getting upset with Hibari-san for being himself is about as useful as yelling at a volcano for erupting or something. It won't do any good, is the thing.
Anyway, Takeshi isn't angry, which is just one of the reasons he'd really not talk about what's going on, not with Tsuna or anyone else. He's pretty sure that if he tries to explain, it's going to go all wrong. All they'll hear is the words that he says, and Takeshi's perfectly aware that words aren't his strong point. So he'll say that he and Hibari-san have been fighting and getting each other off after and that Hibari-san doesn't seem to have quite figured out what he thinks about that. What he's pretty sure they'll hear is that he and Hibari-san are beating the snot out of each other and that this gets them hot and bothered and that Hibari-san fucks and runs.
And, okay. He can't actually deny that, exactly, but it's only part of the truth. And Takeshi doesn't know the words that would fit the other part of it, because it's not something that he can explain. It's something that he feels instead. Tsuna isn't a fighter and neither is Gokudera—they will fight, and they do when they have to, but it's not something they enjoy. It's more like a duty, is the thing, something that has to be done so they do it and get it over with as quickly as possible. If they get any kind of rush from it, it's the kind that comes from adrenaline and surviving a brush with danger. Incidental. Not something to seek out in its own right. Not something to savor.
Ryouhei-senpai would probably understand it, if only the thought of trying to hold a conversation with him didn't make Takeshi's eyes cross. But Ryouhei-senpai gets competition, the kind against an opponent and the kind against the self. He'd get why courting fights with Hibari-san makes sense. Probably. Takeshi doesn't feel much like trying to test that theory out. It'd end with having to persuade Ryouhei-senpai that he's still not interested in boxing, anyway.
Lambo is right out, naturally, and so are Mukuro and Chrome. No one knows where Mukuro is right now anyway, even if Takeshi felt like baring his soul to the guy who looks at the rest of the world like it's his own personal cat toy, and Chrome is… well, Takeshi likes Chrome a lot, but her perspective is kind of off-kilter even by Vongola standards. Also, there's the sex thing, which Takeshi isn't at all sure he could talk to her about without feeling very strange doing it. Besides, it'd all go straight to Mukuro anyway.
Now that he's thinking about it, he and Hibari-san have even more in common than he'd previously noticed. Makes sense of why things are going the way they are, now that he's looking at it. All kinds of sense, because Hibari-san… Takeshi's sure that Hibari-san feels like this all the time, itching to move and fight and test everything.
Part of him wants to ask Hibari-san and see if he's right, but that would require finding Hibari-san first—and he's seriously been absent these past few days; Takeshi hasn't caught him doing that thing where he sits around watching them go about their lives very much at all since Sunday. It would also require trying to find the words to ask with, and for Hibari-san to be willing to listen, and—no, he can't see that. Can't see it at all.
It's Thursday before Hibari-san shows up again, and that's maybe being generous with how Takeshi defines showing up. They've taken their lunches outside, Tsuna and Gokudera and the girls, and they're sitting under the spreading branches of the trees out by the sports field when Takeshi's neck prickles with the sense that he's being watched. (It's funny how he can feel that, but Reborn and Tousan both say it's a good skill to have, one that will come in handy. The only difference is that Reborn smiles when he says things like that, but Tousan says it like it worries him.)
Gokudera notices too, maybe half a beat after Takeshi does. He doesn't stop talking; he and Hana-san have been wrangling all week over a point of politics or something. Takeshi hasn't been paying attention, but it keeps them entertained and gives Tsuna something else to focus his attention on. "It's like I keep moving my mouth but no sound is coming out," Gokudera says, even as he looks past Hana-san and Tsuna and catches Takeshi's eye. "Are you even hearing what I'm saying?"
"Of course I'm hearing it, it just doesn't make any sense," Hana-san insists, even though Gokudera isn't listening to her any more. He's looking around the same way Takeshi is, seeking out the source of that surveillance. Of course, Takeshi has a certain advantage; he's been waiting for this since Sunday and he's already pretty sure who it is that's watching them. He laughs at Hana-san and glances up through the sunlight-dappled leaves just fast enough to catch a glimpse of black cloth fluttering over the edge of the clubhouse roof. The sense of being watched disappears as abruptly as it had arrived, and it's likely that the girls hadn't even noticed it. Tsuna did, or at least noticed Takeshi and Gokudera noticing, which amounts to the same thing.
Takeshi shrugs at him and returns to his bento, since there's not really anything he can say about Hibari-san's thing for high places and spying on people. After a moment Tsuna goes back to mooning over Kyouko-san, though not without spending a little too long with his eyes resting on Takeshi.
He gets that feeling of being watched again later in the afternoon, during phys ed. It's baseball, has been baseball for the past few weeks, and Takeshi's going to miss that when they switch over to track and field next week. (He won't miss Gokudera's grumbling about it, though.) It's only phys ed, but Takeshi throws himself into the games anyway, the way he doesn't bother doing with the other sports rotations. He does it because it makes Gokudera roll his eyes and he's got a reputation to maintain anyway, but really, he does it because it's baseball. There's a clock in the back of Takeshi's head and it's counting down steadily, measuring off the time he has left for the game. He's made his peace with that, pretty much, but the cost of that peace is playing each game like it's his last. (He's had enough things happen in the mafia game now to know that each one might be.)
Takeshi's on the mound when he feels it, the hairs on the back of his neck lifting and prickling with the sense that he's being watched again. Takeshi grins. Asano, who's already two strikes down, goes green and completely whiffs the fastball Takeshi sends screaming across the plate. The game had already been going badly for the other team, but now Takeshi has a reason to show off and it just falls apart for them. Nojima's probably the best player in their class aside from Takeshi himself, but Takeshi strikes him out with a curveball, another fastball, a slow pitch that psychs him out completely, and then it's time to come in from the field. Takeshi's neck doesn't stop prickling even then.
"The hell," Fukami says as they're lining up and Gokudera is stepping up to bat, looking like he'd rather be holding a dead rat in his teeth. "Don't you want to save some of that for a real game?"
Takeshi just grins at him and stretches an arm over his head—not the roof of the clubhouse, he decides; the trees instead, that's where Hibari-san's lurking now. "No," he says. "This is a real game."
Fukami just rolls his eyes, not convinced, but that doesn't matter. He doesn't have to understand. Tsuna looks puzzled, which is more of a concern, but since he doesn't try to say anything here and now, Takeshi doesn't worry about it.
Hibari-san watches until the end of class rolls around and the other team is thoroughly demoralized; it's the best round of phys ed baseball Takeshi's ever played.
Later—much later, after dinner and he's wrestled his homework into submission—Takeshi lies back on his bed and thinks about being on the mound while Hibari-san was watching and how that had felt, the prickling awareness of Hibari-san's laser focus on him as he'd played. Wasn't like that was something he'd been able to pay attention to at the time. Too distracting, for one, and besides, it was something worth savoring. Now there's plenty of time for that sort of thing.
Takeshi closes his eyes and thinks about standing on the mound and knowing Hibari-san's somewhere nearby, paying attention. He gets hard almost before he's got the feeling called to mind again—the humid air and the smooth action of the wind-up and pitch and the ball spinning as it flies from his fingertips, and the weight of Hibari-san's regard. It puts a hot feeling in the pit of his stomach to think of Hibari-san and the game at the same time; he undoes his fly as he sifts through the game again, his cock throbbing in time to his heartbeat. He recalls the best moments, the ones where his mind and body were in perfect accord, the perfect pitches and the ringing crack of his bat connecting with the ball and the ball soaring deep into left field where Asano might as well be chasing butterflies for all the good he's doing.
Does Hibari-san see the perfection in that kind of moment? Takeshi wonders about that as he slides his hand under the waistband of his boxers and cups his cock. Can he see why it's the same thing as a fight, the same thing as that moment when a blow meets flesh or is deflected? Or maybe not quite the same thing; that game wasn't all that great, not like a real game would be. A real game would be like fighting Hibari-san—today's game was more like playing with Lambo.
It would be good, though, to play a game with his team against a decent opponent and Hibari-san there to see it, if it weren't too much like herding behavior for him to attend. Takeshi thinks about that and slides his hand up, cupping his palm over the head of his cock. The friction and the fantasy he's building in his head, going all out with Hibari-san there to see him doing it, makes him draw a breath, a deeper one. The bruises on his ribs ache and that just makes the hot feeling in his stomach twist, because the ache just reminds him of how he got those bruises, how sparring with Hibari-san is like the best games, but better. Sparring with Hibari-san does take everything Takeshi has, the best of him and then some, and offers the surety that Hibari-san is giving that back in his own way. Takeshi rubs his thumb over the head of his cock and bites his lip, which isn't the kind of sharpness he'd like it to be but is close enough, and thinks about Hibari-san's eyes, single-minded and hot enough to burn, the way Hibari-san fights like he's never even heard of holding back, and the way Takeshi can feel his delight, uncompromising as diamond, in every swing of those tonfa.
Hibari-san gets hard when he fights, too. Takeshi takes another breath that aches and closes his fist around his cock, thinking about the jut of Hibari-san's cock against the black of his slacks and the crisp white of his shirt, the slickness beading at the slit and the lazy glitter of Hibari-san's eyes as he strokes himself off. Thinking of that summons up the way Hibari-san's cock felt in Takeshi's hands, sleek and heavy, and the soft feel of his skin against Takeshi's lips, the salt taste on his skin and how his cock had crowded his mouth and flooded it with salt-flat and musk. He's rocking into his own fist now, remembering that moment, breathing hard enough that there's a constant dull pang in his side. Takeshi ignores that and tightens his fingers as he thinks about the intent way Hibari-san looked at him and the way he almost smiled after Takeshi had come in his hand and wonders whether that was how Hibari-san was looking this afternoon. That's it. It's the thought of the satisfied line of Hibari-san's mouth that sets Takeshi off and follows him down into the wash of pleasure as he comes, sticky-hot against his palm and stomach.
Takeshi catches his breath slowly after, sweat cooling on his skin in the sluggish aftermath as the bruises along his ribs stop throbbing—they're definitely getting better, gone mostly to green now—before he reaches for the tissues to clean up with.
It's two days until Sunday, he thinks, and lays in bed a while longer before going to take his bath.
Takeshi doubts very much that it's an accident that Gokudera finds something else to do Friday afternoon, something that requires him to be elsewhere when it comes time to walk home after school. That could have something to do with the way Tsuna looks obscurely satisfied with himself as Takeshi falls in with him after school.
Here we go, Takeshi thinks, resigned, but it's actually a quiet walk home. Tsuna doesn't press him for conversation and Takeshi's always found it easy to be quiet with Tsuna, who isn't the kind to need flashy performances. Or rather, isn't the kind to be distracted by them. It's the same thing, but not. Either way, Tsuna doesn't say much until they turn the corner of his street. "Looks like your bruises are healing up okay."
Takeshi looks down on reflex, checking himself over. The bar of green-yellow across his arm is probably the most visible mark left, aside from the split place in his lip, which is mostly just tender now. He shows Tsuna a grin and suspects it doesn't do much. "Yep. I heal pretty fast." Just one more of those useful little talents, one of the ones that are a part of being one of Reborn's natural-born hitmen or something.
Tsuna nods and they walk a few more paces down the sidewalk. Tsuna's fiddling with the strap of his bag; his forehead is creased and he looks even more worried than usual. Takeshi waits, because it's pretty clear that Tsuna is building himself up for something.
When Tsuna finally comes out with, "How'd you get them?" it's actually pretty easy to just shrug and say, "I was sparring with Hibari-san."
Tsuna doesn't say anything at all to that, not at first, though he wrinkles up his forehead, looking all perplexed. When he does things like that, Takeshi can see how he's going to look when he's older, all serious and solemn and careworn. (Takeshi just hopes that there'll be smile lines on Tsuna's face too, and resolves to work on that.) "I thought that maybe it was that." Tsuna darts a glance at him; the corners of his mouth are turned down and he doesn't look happy, exactly. "If you were getting into fights with anyone else, it'd be a matter for Family, and you'd say something."
"Yeah," Takeshi says, because saying maybe would just worry Tsuna.
But Tsuna's not done yet. He nods and says, "So I thought, if it's not that, then who? Those aren't the kind of bruises that you get when you've been sparring with your dad, and Squalo hasn't been by in a while, so it pretty much had to be Hibari." They've come to Tsuna's house; they stop there, outside the front gate. Tsuna looks up at Takeshi. "I just don't know why."
Takeshi rubs his hand over his chin, thinking about the ways of answering that, but in the end he goes with the simple one. "I want to," he tells Tsuna. "It's fun."
Tsuna's mouth moves, silent, shaping the words it's fun like he doesn't quite know how to make sense of them. He looks at Takeshi's arms again and the faint bruises still patterning them, then back up, disbelief sliding down over his face. "You're completely crazy," he all but accuses Takeshi, almost helpless.
Only Tsuna isn't helpless, not really, and Takeshi can already see something like his sense of humor beginning to surface from beneath his worry. Yeah, it looks like they're going to get through this okay after all. He shrugs and shows Tsuna another grin. "Don't knock it till you've tried it," he says, perfectly sure that Tsuna will do no such thing.
"I can't believe you sometimes," Tsuna informs him. It kind of looks like he's trying to frown but can't quite manage it. "What are you, some kind of masochist?"
"They're only bruises," Takeshi says. "It's worth it."
The look Tsuna gets then is suddenly thoughtful, like he's hearing something in that Takeshi would maybe rather he didn't. Takeshi rocks himself back and forth in his sneakers, uncomfortable with the way it feels that Tsuna is stripping him down to his bones, all with the purest of intentions. Then Tsuna says, slowly, like he's measuring out his words, "I hope that it is. And that you're being careful."
"I'm always careful," Takeshi tells him.
Tsuna doesn't even try to pretend that he believes that, which is just as well. "Be careful," he says again, firmly enough to give it the weight of a real command. Takeshi gets the feeling that Tsuna knows, somehow, that it's more than just the fighting that's going on.
He dips his head, acknowledging the order. "I know what I'm doing," he says, which is true. Mostly true. True as far as it goes.
Tsuna gazes up at him and then sighs. "Just remember that Gokudera will hurt himself laughing if you aren't careful," he says, and the dangerous moment is past.
"Can't have that." Takeshi grins at Tsuna. "Don't worry, it's fine." He shrugs. "See you later?"
Tsuna opens his mouth, but after a moment he simply says, "Yeah, I'll see you later." He turns away and walks into his house, and doesn't stop shaking his head the entire way.
Tousan hasn't said a word about any of this, though Takeshi has caught him looking at some of the bruises, studying them or maybe just keeping track of them as they fade. And it's not like Takeshi is trying to hide anything from Tousan, but there are things he really doesn't think he wants to talk through with his father. And things Tousan probably doesn't want to know anyway. Tousan's not the kind to push, either.
Even so, when Takeshi heads downstairs Sunday afternoon, Tousan lowers the newspaper he's reading and looks at him. Just looks at him, grave, as Takeshi freezes in the act of opening his mouth to say that he's going out. He shifts on the balls of his feet and clutches the strap slung over his shoulder and tries to meet Tousan's eyes like he isn't heading out to see what's going to happen next.
Not that Takeshi thinks for one second that Tousan's fooled.
"Your homework is all done?" Tousan asks after they've stared at each other for a bit.
"Yeah," Takeshi says, and it's true, too: Tousan's not above checking from time to time, and swears Takeshi will thank him for it later. (Takeshi has his doubts about that, but Tousan's been right about stranger things.) "Finished the last of it this morning."
Tousan nods, still studying Takeshi and looking thoughtful. Takeshi tries to remember whether there are any chores he's left undone, but can't think of anything he's overlooked—there shouldn't be any reason for Tousan to look like he's thinking of reasons to keep Takeshi inside. Then Tousan sighs and shakes his head (something about the way he does it reminds Takeshi of the way Tsuna shakes his head sometimes). "You'd better be careful with those ribs," he says, completely randomly.
"Eh?" Takeshi says, since that's neutral enough not to give anything away. He hopes.
Tousan just snorts and gives him a rather pointed look. "Broken ribs aren't a joke, and you're still not breathing completely normally. You're going to want to be careful of them." The newspaper rattles as he shakes it out again, and it only sounds like an afterthought when he adds, "Assuming it comes to that, of course."
Takeshi can't help himself; it feels like his face must be on fire. "Tousan," he protests.
Tousan looks over the top of the newspaper again and snorts at him. "So it is like that, is it? I guess you must be getting to be that age."
"Tousan," Takeshi whines, because he really, really doesn't want to be having this conversation at all.
Tousan carries on because he's merciless that way. "If it's like that, I suppose there's not a whole lot that I can say," he muses. "Not and have you listen. I remember how it goes at that age." He sighs, practically misty, and Takeshi groans in horror, pretty sure that Tousan is about to start telling him about the days when he was courting Kaasan. Takeshi is not at all in the place for that to be good right now.
But Tousan just laughs at him and leaves that subject mercifully closed. "I'll see you for supper?" It only sounds like a question, so Takeshi ducks his head and mutters his assent—he'll be home by then if Tousan wants him to be. Tousan nods his approval. "All right, then. Get along with you, and mind what I said about those ribs."
Takeshi nods and makes for the door. While he's stepping into his sneakers, Tousan adds, like an afterthought but not, "Oh, and you might bring him by sometime."
Takeshi's neck protests the way he jerks around to look at Tousan, who's smiling placidly behind his newspaper. (He doesn't get it, Tousan doesn't really go out all that much, and when he does, Takeshi would swear that his social circle doesn't overlap with his own. How does he find these things out?) "Uh," he says, groping for some way to cope with the mind-bending concept of bringing Hibari-san around to meet his father. Oh, man. "Um. Um."
"When it gets to be that way, of course," Tousan supplies gently. His eyes are twinkling, though. Well. At least he knows how evil he's being. "It doesn't do to rush these things."
"Right." Takeshi doesn't have anything else he can say, not when Tousan is so clearly determined to be Tousan about the whole thing. "I'll, uh… I'll be going now."
"Enjoy yourself," Tousan says, peaceably enough. Then he smiles. "But I suppose that goes without saying."
He's still laughing behind his newspaper when Takeshi gets his shoes on and escapes.
end
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