You Dance Like an Argentinean
A long arm snaked behind Tsuna and reached across the table to grab the folder. “You need to learn how to reel them in,” the arm said. Tsuna dropped his hands to the table, spine straightening with a near audible snap. A reproach lingered on his tongue but was stopped short by the look in his tutor’s eyes. Tsuna nodded, and rose from the tall wing backed chair, leaving the dark upholstered beast in an attempt to put some distance between himself and Reborn.
While his home tutor had become a fixture of his life, Tsuna had never felt entirely at ease when Reborn loomed over him, his gaze all too piercing, and all too promising. What it promised, Tsuna did not know, although he was loathe to find out. Probably his death, Tsuna privately considered, although his continual torture seemed to amuse Reborn enough that Tsuna would live a long and miserable life beneath the hitman’s unending demands. His tutor’s eyes were currently fixed on the folder, his face blank.
Tsuna knew the truth of Reborn’s words. His guardian’s behaviour was worrying, to say the least.
“I just don’t know what to do to make them act like a team. They get along fine when we all have a common goal, but now that they all have different missions, I can’t get them to behave.” Tsuna tried his best not to whine but he recoiled from an expected blow, just to be on the safe side.
“Useless Tsuna,” Reborn snapped, his trademark black fedora shading his features. “Why do you think they're all acting like children?” Tsuna shook his head in the negative even as he answered tentatively.
“Perhaps....perhaps it’s because they feel pressured to perform well,” The brunette leaned against the red brocade wall, and began to run his fingers through his hair as he thought. The responsibilities of his guardians had only increased during the peace time, and more than once he worried about his friends. “If they’re feeling stress, they could be acting out as a means to deal with their feelings of anxiety.” His clear amber eyes became obscured once more as he shook his head lightly.
Reborn made a sound of approval, “it looks like the Vongola perception is still sharp.” Colouring, Tsuna merely dipped his head in acknowledgement, although he had a feeling that Reborn would probably kill him if it ever slipped even a nano-millimetre.
“Maybe we could do a competition or something. The last time we entered one everyone had a great time, even if I didn’t get my wish.” 'There we are', Tsuna thought,' back to the whining.'
“Your wish was to be the next Boss of the Vongola, and thus it was granted.”
“My wish was to marry Kyoko,” Tsuna protested, even as he sighed, imagining a future in which he and Kyoko ended up together. She would have been a cute newlywed wife and him a salary man returning to her home cooked meals. ‘She’d great me at the door,’ he thought, a smile spreading across his face, ‘in an apron, and nothing else.’ He was brought from his reverie by two bullets fired in his direction, both of which he dodged, but only just. The sound left his ears ringing, and while his intuition had guided him well, his mind was slow to catch up.
“The look on your face is making me feel ill,” the dark assassin scowled, his gun still pointed in Tsuna’s direction. It took all of Tsuna’s courage not to shriek as he traced the path of the bullets and found them imbedded only half an inch from his head. While he had heard the phrase ‘familiarity brings comfort’, there really was no way to get used to being shot repeatedly; it just could not be done.
“Sorry, Reborn. My mind just wandered,” he protested weakly, his hands raised in acquiescence. “Back to the competition, what kind should it be? A talent show?” Tsuna recalled his last talent show and quickly crossed it off the list of viable ideas. Reborn leaned against Tsuna’s desk, his arms crossed, and his legs stretched out in front of him. There was nothing relaxed about Reborn, Tsuna thought, eyeing him. ‘He’d probably be able to kill a tiger just with a tie.’ Speculative, Tsuna’s fingers wrapped around his own tie, and he began to loosen it. As he did so, he pondered if it was possible to hide a gun in a tie, or a knife. The answer was yes, but how to disguise it. The black tie slipped with ease from his neck, deigning to even show a crease from the tight knot it had come from. Reborn shifted minutely, his finger tightening on the trigger of his .45, and Tsuna brought his full focus back to their conversation.
“What did the ninth do during get togethers?” Tsuna asked, wrapping the tie around his left hand.
Reborn’s dark gaze lingered on Tsuna’s hands, a questioning look flit across his face. “He would have galas, or charity balls. It was an event open to the other families, but offered neutral ground in which all the guardians could transverse. It might be slightly too high brow for your guardians although...” trailing off, Reborn strode forward, gripping the tail of Tsuna’s tie in his hand.
“It would be a worthy reason for you to work on your social interaction with those better mannered than you...and to teach you how to dance.” Tsuna began to shake his head, at first in disbelief and then in downright rejection.
“No, no, no, not a chance. I will not under any circumstances....I don’t dance; it’s really a terrible thing. I always step on the girl’s feet. They even let me sit out the dancing unit in gym because I was such a danger to everyone.” The words continued to pour from Tsuna, his eyes wide as they reflected the smirking face of his tutor.
"Like there ever was a choice in the first place,” Reborn stated with a smug grin as he slowly unwrapped the tie from Tsuna’s hands. “Your first lesson is to learn the steps with your body.” Tsuna’s protests caught in his throat which had become inexplicably dry. The black tie slipped over his eyes before he could blink, as Reborn circled to his back, creating a complicated knot, probably to assure Tsuna would be physically unable to remove it himself. His fingers quested to feel the knot, and finding only an Escher puzzle atop his head.
“You’re good at tying knots,” he said lamely, as Reborn gave it one final, satisfied tug. There was a pause, so slight that Tsuna thought he had imagined it.
With a swiftness that caught him the young boss by surprise, Reborn was in front of him once more, lifting Tsuna’s arms in his own. “While practice usually helps to improve one’s skills, I was born with an almost perfect knowledge of everything,” Reborn informed him, his breath tickling Tsuna’s ear as he spoke. Tsuna snorted a laugh, a fond grin on his face.
“If you don’t believe me, I’ll kill you,” the assassin promised, tugging Tsuna roughly to what the boy supposed was the middle of the room. Stumbling after him, he resisted the urge to pull the tight blindfold from his face.
“Now, we’ll start with a standard ballroom tango, and move onto the foxtrot and the samba,” the hitman informed Tsuna, who was still trying to translate tango in his head. While Reborn pointedly spoke to him in Italian, new words tended to leave Tsuna lost for a while, at least until he managed to get away and look it up in his Italian-Japanese dictionary.
“But I won’t be able to see how I should move my feet, or anything,” Tsuna protested, even as Reborn squared them both up. “Also, shouldn’t I be learning the men’s position, I’m pretty sure this is the women’s form.”
“You need to learn both if you want to be a good dancer,” Reborn supplied easily, “although this is only the first step. Ideally, we’ll move on to Argentinean Tango next lesson.”
Tsuna cocked his head curiously. “What’s the difference?” He asked, holding his arms aloft as Reborn vanished to place a vinyl on an old fashioned record player. Where the Vinyl had come from, Tsuna had no clue. Stepping back into waiting arms of Tsuna, Reborn leaned in, bringing their bodies close.
“Argentinean is more...passionate.” The smooth voice set Tsuna’s hair on end, his breath leaving his lungs in a whoosh.
All his muddled brain could manage was a “oh, that’s nice.”
All too soon the music began, and so did Tsuna’s humiliation. If he was going too fast in one part, it was too slow in another.
“No, you’re not supposed to hook your leg around me like you’re drowning. When I dip you, you need to go for sensual, not donkey.” Reborn shouted, until his words became a dull growl, pressing against the darkness that Tsuna found himself in.
The retreat and advance, the sliding and the spins left Tsuna dizzy until finally, forgetting his will, he let Reborn lead, trying his best not to force the moves. Chest heaving, Reborn spun him, hand secure and supporting on his back. Never before had Tsuna felt so exhausted, perspiration covered his face. When Tsuna felt Reborn begin to lower him, he slid his leg along Reborn’s, his knee tucking between his tutors thighs, back arched. Reborn’s breath ghosted over Tsuna’s pale throat, drifting along the hollow between his collar bones. The dip lasted longer than the others had, and for a moment, Tsuna feared Reborn had fallen asleep again. Then he was whipped up, the small amount of space that had existed between his tutor and him gone. Panting in time with the other, Tsuna fought the urge to rest his head on Reborn’s shoulder.
It was the hitman who stepped back first, ordering Tsuna to turn in a curt and slightly disgruntled voice. Ever obedient, Tsuna turned; a shiver passing over his body as Reborn’s breathing stirred his hair. The long fingers that had only a moment ago been entwined with his, made short work of the knot, the tie falling into Tsuna’s waiting hands. While the spinning had stopped, Tsuna’s heart continued to pound loudly in his chest, and he coloured, thinking of how wrong it was that he could hardly wait to dance like an Argentinean.
While his home tutor had become a fixture of his life, Tsuna had never felt entirely at ease when Reborn loomed over him, his gaze all too piercing, and all too promising. What it promised, Tsuna did not know, although he was loathe to find out. Probably his death, Tsuna privately considered, although his continual torture seemed to amuse Reborn enough that Tsuna would live a long and miserable life beneath the hitman’s unending demands. His tutor’s eyes were currently fixed on the folder, his face blank.
Tsuna knew the truth of Reborn’s words. His guardian’s behaviour was worrying, to say the least.
“I just don’t know what to do to make them act like a team. They get along fine when we all have a common goal, but now that they all have different missions, I can’t get them to behave.” Tsuna tried his best not to whine but he recoiled from an expected blow, just to be on the safe side.
“Useless Tsuna,” Reborn snapped, his trademark black fedora shading his features. “Why do you think they're all acting like children?” Tsuna shook his head in the negative even as he answered tentatively.
“Perhaps....perhaps it’s because they feel pressured to perform well,” The brunette leaned against the red brocade wall, and began to run his fingers through his hair as he thought. The responsibilities of his guardians had only increased during the peace time, and more than once he worried about his friends. “If they’re feeling stress, they could be acting out as a means to deal with their feelings of anxiety.” His clear amber eyes became obscured once more as he shook his head lightly.
Reborn made a sound of approval, “it looks like the Vongola perception is still sharp.” Colouring, Tsuna merely dipped his head in acknowledgement, although he had a feeling that Reborn would probably kill him if it ever slipped even a nano-millimetre.
“Maybe we could do a competition or something. The last time we entered one everyone had a great time, even if I didn’t get my wish.” 'There we are', Tsuna thought,' back to the whining.'
“Your wish was to be the next Boss of the Vongola, and thus it was granted.”
“My wish was to marry Kyoko,” Tsuna protested, even as he sighed, imagining a future in which he and Kyoko ended up together. She would have been a cute newlywed wife and him a salary man returning to her home cooked meals. ‘She’d great me at the door,’ he thought, a smile spreading across his face, ‘in an apron, and nothing else.’ He was brought from his reverie by two bullets fired in his direction, both of which he dodged, but only just. The sound left his ears ringing, and while his intuition had guided him well, his mind was slow to catch up.
“The look on your face is making me feel ill,” the dark assassin scowled, his gun still pointed in Tsuna’s direction. It took all of Tsuna’s courage not to shriek as he traced the path of the bullets and found them imbedded only half an inch from his head. While he had heard the phrase ‘familiarity brings comfort’, there really was no way to get used to being shot repeatedly; it just could not be done.
“Sorry, Reborn. My mind just wandered,” he protested weakly, his hands raised in acquiescence. “Back to the competition, what kind should it be? A talent show?” Tsuna recalled his last talent show and quickly crossed it off the list of viable ideas. Reborn leaned against Tsuna’s desk, his arms crossed, and his legs stretched out in front of him. There was nothing relaxed about Reborn, Tsuna thought, eyeing him. ‘He’d probably be able to kill a tiger just with a tie.’ Speculative, Tsuna’s fingers wrapped around his own tie, and he began to loosen it. As he did so, he pondered if it was possible to hide a gun in a tie, or a knife. The answer was yes, but how to disguise it. The black tie slipped with ease from his neck, deigning to even show a crease from the tight knot it had come from. Reborn shifted minutely, his finger tightening on the trigger of his .45, and Tsuna brought his full focus back to their conversation.
“What did the ninth do during get togethers?” Tsuna asked, wrapping the tie around his left hand.
Reborn’s dark gaze lingered on Tsuna’s hands, a questioning look flit across his face. “He would have galas, or charity balls. It was an event open to the other families, but offered neutral ground in which all the guardians could transverse. It might be slightly too high brow for your guardians although...” trailing off, Reborn strode forward, gripping the tail of Tsuna’s tie in his hand.
“It would be a worthy reason for you to work on your social interaction with those better mannered than you...and to teach you how to dance.” Tsuna began to shake his head, at first in disbelief and then in downright rejection.
“No, no, no, not a chance. I will not under any circumstances....I don’t dance; it’s really a terrible thing. I always step on the girl’s feet. They even let me sit out the dancing unit in gym because I was such a danger to everyone.” The words continued to pour from Tsuna, his eyes wide as they reflected the smirking face of his tutor.
"Like there ever was a choice in the first place,” Reborn stated with a smug grin as he slowly unwrapped the tie from Tsuna’s hands. “Your first lesson is to learn the steps with your body.” Tsuna’s protests caught in his throat which had become inexplicably dry. The black tie slipped over his eyes before he could blink, as Reborn circled to his back, creating a complicated knot, probably to assure Tsuna would be physically unable to remove it himself. His fingers quested to feel the knot, and finding only an Escher puzzle atop his head.
“You’re good at tying knots,” he said lamely, as Reborn gave it one final, satisfied tug. There was a pause, so slight that Tsuna thought he had imagined it.
With a swiftness that caught him the young boss by surprise, Reborn was in front of him once more, lifting Tsuna’s arms in his own. “While practice usually helps to improve one’s skills, I was born with an almost perfect knowledge of everything,” Reborn informed him, his breath tickling Tsuna’s ear as he spoke. Tsuna snorted a laugh, a fond grin on his face.
“If you don’t believe me, I’ll kill you,” the assassin promised, tugging Tsuna roughly to what the boy supposed was the middle of the room. Stumbling after him, he resisted the urge to pull the tight blindfold from his face.
“Now, we’ll start with a standard ballroom tango, and move onto the foxtrot and the samba,” the hitman informed Tsuna, who was still trying to translate tango in his head. While Reborn pointedly spoke to him in Italian, new words tended to leave Tsuna lost for a while, at least until he managed to get away and look it up in his Italian-Japanese dictionary.
“But I won’t be able to see how I should move my feet, or anything,” Tsuna protested, even as Reborn squared them both up. “Also, shouldn’t I be learning the men’s position, I’m pretty sure this is the women’s form.”
“You need to learn both if you want to be a good dancer,” Reborn supplied easily, “although this is only the first step. Ideally, we’ll move on to Argentinean Tango next lesson.”
Tsuna cocked his head curiously. “What’s the difference?” He asked, holding his arms aloft as Reborn vanished to place a vinyl on an old fashioned record player. Where the Vinyl had come from, Tsuna had no clue. Stepping back into waiting arms of Tsuna, Reborn leaned in, bringing their bodies close.
“Argentinean is more...passionate.” The smooth voice set Tsuna’s hair on end, his breath leaving his lungs in a whoosh.
All his muddled brain could manage was a “oh, that’s nice.”
All too soon the music began, and so did Tsuna’s humiliation. If he was going too fast in one part, it was too slow in another.
“No, you’re not supposed to hook your leg around me like you’re drowning. When I dip you, you need to go for sensual, not donkey.” Reborn shouted, until his words became a dull growl, pressing against the darkness that Tsuna found himself in.
The retreat and advance, the sliding and the spins left Tsuna dizzy until finally, forgetting his will, he let Reborn lead, trying his best not to force the moves. Chest heaving, Reborn spun him, hand secure and supporting on his back. Never before had Tsuna felt so exhausted, perspiration covered his face. When Tsuna felt Reborn begin to lower him, he slid his leg along Reborn’s, his knee tucking between his tutors thighs, back arched. Reborn’s breath ghosted over Tsuna’s pale throat, drifting along the hollow between his collar bones. The dip lasted longer than the others had, and for a moment, Tsuna feared Reborn had fallen asleep again. Then he was whipped up, the small amount of space that had existed between his tutor and him gone. Panting in time with the other, Tsuna fought the urge to rest his head on Reborn’s shoulder.
It was the hitman who stepped back first, ordering Tsuna to turn in a curt and slightly disgruntled voice. Ever obedient, Tsuna turned; a shiver passing over his body as Reborn’s breathing stirred his hair. The long fingers that had only a moment ago been entwined with his, made short work of the knot, the tie falling into Tsuna’s waiting hands. While the spinning had stopped, Tsuna’s heart continued to pound loudly in his chest, and he coloured, thinking of how wrong it was that he could hardly wait to dance like an Argentinean.