[Fic] Windshear [Part 1/?]
Haven't posted much lately, but we still have about 30k words in 9 more chapters to edit so far. And chapter 10 is nowhere near the end. Will try to update every week, every Wednesday, give or take time zone differences. Comments, crit & love much appreciated. Thanks! Now, onwards! Enjoy ^_^
Windshear [Part 1/?]
Authors: kagayachou and the-dw
Characters/Pairings: Yamamoto, Hibari, Vongola. Eventual Yamamoto/Hibari.
Rating: PG-13
Words: 2310
Summary: Ten years after their trip in the future, Yamamoto thought that they had managed to fix everything. But something’s wrong. Something’s very wrong with Hibari.
Yamamoto looked around, a content smile on his slightly-flushed face. He'd downed two drinks so far. Somebody probably spiked the punch, but that was okay. Dad's restaurant was famous for the sake as well as the sushi, so he could take his alcohol. It made people watching all the more entertaining.
Tsuna, for example, was stuttering at Haru's advances and casting frantic little glances towards Kyoko every half second or so. His fiancée didn’t seem the least bit threatened by their friend’s behavior though. After all, Haru was a creature of habitual spontaneity, and...
Gokudera was dancing on Ryohei's table.
... no wonder, Yamamoto grinned. The guy had been goaded into having a dance off against Lambo, who was probably going to get it from Reborn later when the older kiddo finished that little amiable chat he was having with Dino and Bianchi.
Mukuro and company were over by their own corner. It was quite obvious that pineapple head was trying to match-make Ken and Chrome while they were drunk. Chikusa was nursing his drink in both hands and watching the show like he had popcorn.
Yamamoto was just about to see if there was any when Hibird flew past, chirping frantically.
Hibird?
He blinked. Oh, that was right, Hibari came back this year. But where'd he go? Yamamoto followed the small yellow bird with his eyes as it flew around the room, two circles before it darted off towards one of the curtained balcony windows. Hm? Was it homing in on the elusive Cloud guardian? Curiosity got the better of him.
Outside, Hibari swirled his sake cup in his hand, leaning back slightly to look at the night sky. There weren't many stars here; Italian streetlamps and the lights from the houses surrounding the Vongola mansion outshone what little stars there were. Behind him, a loud shout pierced through the sheer mass of noise, causing his brows creased in slight irritation. Such noisy, crowding herbivores...
But he didn't move an inch, too drowsy and content to sit on the balustrade of one of the many balconies of the mansion. He hadn't planned on attending the reunion - he did hate crowds still - but he just happened to be in Italy at the time, and Tetsu had reminded him of it in one of his rare indulgent moods. When Hibari Kyouya made a promise - even if it was just an RSVP - he kept it.
Pity that he couldn't bite all those herbivores to death. The noise was getting in him and disturbing his peaceful mood. He took another sip from the sake cup before setting it down beside him, closing his eyes, focusing on the whisper of cold air brushing against his cheeks and messing up his hair. Italian nights were cold ones, but he wasn't so weak as to be moved by such things.
"There you are," Yamamoto's voice was bright, his laughter irritatingly light. "I thought Hibird was looking for you." The little bird landed and bounced a bit on Hibari's shoulder as it twittered a cheery greeting.
Yamamoto walked over to look down the balcony. Taking in the magnificent Italy sea view, he stretched, took a deep breath, then sighed as he turned back to the older man. "So... what are you doing sitting alone out here? Not your kinda party?"
Hibari looked at him from underneath his bangs disdainfully but mildly curious due to the alcohol. He turned back to watch the sea and the sky - even from here, he could see and hear the movements of the tide. It was peaceful and soothing. Not even this particular... man's presence could disrupt that.
"Yamamoto Takeshi," he intoned, bored dislike colouring his tone. The warm buzz of alcohol in his veins made him continue, "No party's 'my kind' of party."
Luckily, Yamamoto had some sense of self-preservation. He didn't laugh out loud at Hibari's words, even though the reply made him smile.
"What kind of 'company' do you like then?" He asked conversationally, "If you're not up for a crowd..."
Hibari let his eyes flutter shut, ignoring the man beside him. Yamamoto Takeshi had always struck him as strange - he was obviously not a herbivore, because no herbivore had that level of skill or talent for death, yet he seemed to be so determined to masquerade as one. And that was what Hibari couldn't understand - why a wolf like Yamamoto would willingly wear a sheep's clothing and follow a sheep's orders when he could be free.
He did not open his eyes when he next spoke, his tone conversational. "Tell me, Yamamoto Takeshi," he murmured. "Why do you like pretending to be an herbivore?"
The question was unexpected, so for a couple of seconds, Yamamoto just stared blankly at Hibari. Over the years, he had come to understand what Hibari really meant with his talk about herbivores, but... that was a fairly limited classification, wasn’t it?
"What are you talking about?" He asked good-naturedly. "I eat meat and vegetables just like you do," he shrugged. "I'm not picky about what I eat."
Hibari shot him a glare that could melt the strongest steel, his fingers tightening around the balustrade, white knuckles matching the white cement. He wished for his tonfas at this moment, wished for the feel of cold steel in his hands, cold steel against the long column of Yamamoto's throat.
"Stop pretending," his voice was as cold as liquid nitrogen, burning through skin. "You know what I'm asking."
Yamamoto pursed his lips briefly, looking at Hibari contemplatively. Gokudera glared at him so much, what was another glare... especially when it came from such a pretty face and a small, willowy frame wrapped up in a dark blue kimono featuring black cherry blossoms?
But Hibari was far from just pretty, and that was normal, so Yamamoto just shifted his stance slightly and dimmed the smile somewhat. "What do you think I'm supposed to be?"
Hibari opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow at him, raising the sake cup to take another sip. Warmth effused his body, and he turned away to stare out at the sea again, eyes half-lidded. The cold night air blew gently against him, and he slanted his eyes to the side to meet Yamamoto's again.
"That's for you to decide," he said, shrugging. "But you can be much, much stronger than this, if you would just discard that sheepskin."
Yamamoto did laugh then, a short chuckle a tad lower than usual. "You're not just saying that," he remarked teasingly, "because you want to see me naked under the sheepskin. You're looking for someone else to fight, aren't you?"
Hibari's mind screeched to a halt at that, and he whirled around, eyes widening slightly as he simply stared at Yamamoto for a long moment. What- That was-
How did 'naked' have anything to do with the conversation they were having? This man... he was confusing Hibari more and more. Just what was he, if he could surprise Hibari like that? And that the weapon he had used was simply words, and non-sequitors at that. Non-sequitors that were now making images creep into his traitorous mind.
Hibari growled, his fingers twitching as he reached forward slightly. His eyes were fixated onto Yamamoto's throat, imagining his fingers closing around the tanned skin, squeezing.
He exhaled, and closed his eyes.
"Don't be ridiculous," he barked.
"Oh, we'll get to fight someday," Yamamoto blithely continued. He slipped a hand into Hibari's and lifted it until he could adjust so they were linking pinkie fingers. "Probably not on Vongola property or anywhere that'd make Tsuna and the guys worried though. It'd be fun!"
Hibari glanced down to the hand - and pinkie - in his. A moment passed in complete silence. He took a short breath, and the movement was barely a flash as he let his fingers slip out of Yamamoto's, almost carressing the other man's hand as he brought it up in one smooth moment, and twisted that finger back.
The light flush on his cheeks had disappeared entirely, and his eyes were flashing, half in anger and half in anticipation. "Did I give you the permission to touch me," he said, a clipped statement.
Yamamoto winced, quickly twisting his wrist to relieve the sharp pain, and grabbing Hibari's to stop the motion with his freehand.
"I can't help it," he laughingly replied. "You were reaching up, with the cute blush over your cheeks. I thought you were going to reach out first."
Hibari opened his mouth to growl, to retaliate against those words. His other, un-captured hand was drawn back, ready to strike Yamamoto across the face with a right hook that would surely send him tumbling over the balustrade when he felt that familiar, irritating itch in his chest and throat. He snapped his mouth shut immediately, swallowing and taking a long, harshly deep breath, feeling his throat burn for a moment.
But he couldn't stop it.
The cough came gently, as it always did. He covered his mouth with his free hand, his other falling like a puppet with a string cut as he tried to cough as quietly and unobtrusively. But he couldn't - not matter how much he tried, how much sheer will he tried to exert, he simply couldn't stop it. His eyes squeezed shut as he doubled over, fingers digging into his cheeks, white-knuckled as he tried to cover his mouth entirely enough to muffle the sound.
He snatched his other hand back from Yamamoto's grasp, holding on tightly to the balustrade as the world was knocked off-kilter. He held on tightly so he would not fall as his forehead touched his knees as he tried to breathe through his nose through the space between each painful, forceful exhale of air. The world, what little he could see of it through his nearly-shut eyes, spun on its axis. His shoulders shook slightly.
He hated this weakness so much, especially when there seemed to be no cause for it.
Yamamoto's eyes widened. What was this? Hibari was sick? That sounded- that looked like an awful cough. Worse than normal coughing. How long had it been, he wondered. Had the guy even gone to a doctor?
"... Hey, Hibari," he touched the man's shoulder, steadying him. "That cough there doesn't look or sound too good," he exclaimed. He drew his hand away and fumbled for a tissue, pressing it into Hibari's hand until his fingers curled around it, then just awkwardly settled for rubbing his back until the guy could throw him off.
Just how bad off was he?!
Hibari wanted to push that invading hand off his shoulder immediately - he didn't need any help, much less help from a hypocrite like Yamamoto - but he needed both of his hands where they were. The tissue was helpful, at the very least, and Hibari momentarily forgave Yamamoto for the transgression of touching him.
He gasped for breath in the barely-there breaks that he got from the coughs, but each draw just seemed to irritated his lungs and throat more and send him into another fit again. It was a never-ending vicious cycle, and he absolutely hated the fact that Yamamoto was there - no one had managed to seen him like this before, because he had always left the room or chased his men out whenever he felt a fit approaching. But the coughs were getting worse and worse at a faster and faster rate.
Damn if he was going to die because of something as pathetic as his body's rebellion against him.
The fit gradually subsided, pain replacing the itch. His lungs ached, his throat burned, but those were inconsequential things. He let his hand fall from his mouth, taking in long, slow breaths, and did not open his eyes. Shrugging his left shoulder, he slitted his eyes open and glared at Yamamoto balefully.
"Don't touch me," he said, sounding hoarse and raspy like he had spent the week screaming,
It'd been a while since Yamamoto ever looked upon anything with wide-eyed surprise, but there it was, for a second before his eyes narrowed in disapproval and concern. He had another tissue ready just in case, and it looked like Hibari needed it.
Willfully ignoring the warning signs, Yamamoto dabbed gently at the trickle of red seeping from the corner of Hibari's lips. He sighed again, a stern frown upon his face.
"... What poor doctors did you threaten into secrecy for this?"
Hibari's eyes narrowed, and his hand reached up, closing against that offending hand that was touching him. But his grip was too weak at the moment, and he released it, letting his hand fall back down to his side as he concentrated on regaining his breath. He turned away from Yamamoto, steadying himself as he swung his legs over the balustrade, standing on slightly shaking legs and turning his back to the other man.
"It's none of your business," he said, curt and sharp, and started to walk away.
That reply told Yamamoto that there were doctors who knew what was wrong with Hibari, and it didn't take a genius to guess that the answer probably lay close to Namimori, since the older man practically owned the local high school and the hospital.
Yamamoto tore his eyes from Hibari’s retreating figure, looking back over the balcony. Then, his eyes landed on the yellow ball of feathers that seemed to be staring at him from the edge. He laughed.
"It's not something I can just ignore now, is it?" Briefly, he fancied that Hibird might just be able to sing that to Hibari. But that was just silly. He glanced back towards where the other man had gone, then sighed and returned to the party.
Hibari could take care of himself, couldn't he?
Next: Part 2
Windshear [Part 1/?]
Authors: kagayachou and the-dw
Characters/Pairings: Yamamoto, Hibari, Vongola. Eventual Yamamoto/Hibari.
Rating: PG-13
Words: 2310
Summary: Ten years after their trip in the future, Yamamoto thought that they had managed to fix everything. But something’s wrong. Something’s very wrong with Hibari.
Yamamoto looked around, a content smile on his slightly-flushed face. He'd downed two drinks so far. Somebody probably spiked the punch, but that was okay. Dad's restaurant was famous for the sake as well as the sushi, so he could take his alcohol. It made people watching all the more entertaining.
Tsuna, for example, was stuttering at Haru's advances and casting frantic little glances towards Kyoko every half second or so. His fiancée didn’t seem the least bit threatened by their friend’s behavior though. After all, Haru was a creature of habitual spontaneity, and...
Gokudera was dancing on Ryohei's table.
... no wonder, Yamamoto grinned. The guy had been goaded into having a dance off against Lambo, who was probably going to get it from Reborn later when the older kiddo finished that little amiable chat he was having with Dino and Bianchi.
Mukuro and company were over by their own corner. It was quite obvious that pineapple head was trying to match-make Ken and Chrome while they were drunk. Chikusa was nursing his drink in both hands and watching the show like he had popcorn.
Yamamoto was just about to see if there was any when Hibird flew past, chirping frantically.
Hibird?
He blinked. Oh, that was right, Hibari came back this year. But where'd he go? Yamamoto followed the small yellow bird with his eyes as it flew around the room, two circles before it darted off towards one of the curtained balcony windows. Hm? Was it homing in on the elusive Cloud guardian? Curiosity got the better of him.
Outside, Hibari swirled his sake cup in his hand, leaning back slightly to look at the night sky. There weren't many stars here; Italian streetlamps and the lights from the houses surrounding the Vongola mansion outshone what little stars there were. Behind him, a loud shout pierced through the sheer mass of noise, causing his brows creased in slight irritation. Such noisy, crowding herbivores...
But he didn't move an inch, too drowsy and content to sit on the balustrade of one of the many balconies of the mansion. He hadn't planned on attending the reunion - he did hate crowds still - but he just happened to be in Italy at the time, and Tetsu had reminded him of it in one of his rare indulgent moods. When Hibari Kyouya made a promise - even if it was just an RSVP - he kept it.
Pity that he couldn't bite all those herbivores to death. The noise was getting in him and disturbing his peaceful mood. He took another sip from the sake cup before setting it down beside him, closing his eyes, focusing on the whisper of cold air brushing against his cheeks and messing up his hair. Italian nights were cold ones, but he wasn't so weak as to be moved by such things.
"There you are," Yamamoto's voice was bright, his laughter irritatingly light. "I thought Hibird was looking for you." The little bird landed and bounced a bit on Hibari's shoulder as it twittered a cheery greeting.
Yamamoto walked over to look down the balcony. Taking in the magnificent Italy sea view, he stretched, took a deep breath, then sighed as he turned back to the older man. "So... what are you doing sitting alone out here? Not your kinda party?"
Hibari looked at him from underneath his bangs disdainfully but mildly curious due to the alcohol. He turned back to watch the sea and the sky - even from here, he could see and hear the movements of the tide. It was peaceful and soothing. Not even this particular... man's presence could disrupt that.
"Yamamoto Takeshi," he intoned, bored dislike colouring his tone. The warm buzz of alcohol in his veins made him continue, "No party's 'my kind' of party."
Luckily, Yamamoto had some sense of self-preservation. He didn't laugh out loud at Hibari's words, even though the reply made him smile.
"What kind of 'company' do you like then?" He asked conversationally, "If you're not up for a crowd..."
Hibari let his eyes flutter shut, ignoring the man beside him. Yamamoto Takeshi had always struck him as strange - he was obviously not a herbivore, because no herbivore had that level of skill or talent for death, yet he seemed to be so determined to masquerade as one. And that was what Hibari couldn't understand - why a wolf like Yamamoto would willingly wear a sheep's clothing and follow a sheep's orders when he could be free.
He did not open his eyes when he next spoke, his tone conversational. "Tell me, Yamamoto Takeshi," he murmured. "Why do you like pretending to be an herbivore?"
The question was unexpected, so for a couple of seconds, Yamamoto just stared blankly at Hibari. Over the years, he had come to understand what Hibari really meant with his talk about herbivores, but... that was a fairly limited classification, wasn’t it?
"What are you talking about?" He asked good-naturedly. "I eat meat and vegetables just like you do," he shrugged. "I'm not picky about what I eat."
Hibari shot him a glare that could melt the strongest steel, his fingers tightening around the balustrade, white knuckles matching the white cement. He wished for his tonfas at this moment, wished for the feel of cold steel in his hands, cold steel against the long column of Yamamoto's throat.
"Stop pretending," his voice was as cold as liquid nitrogen, burning through skin. "You know what I'm asking."
Yamamoto pursed his lips briefly, looking at Hibari contemplatively. Gokudera glared at him so much, what was another glare... especially when it came from such a pretty face and a small, willowy frame wrapped up in a dark blue kimono featuring black cherry blossoms?
But Hibari was far from just pretty, and that was normal, so Yamamoto just shifted his stance slightly and dimmed the smile somewhat. "What do you think I'm supposed to be?"
Hibari opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow at him, raising the sake cup to take another sip. Warmth effused his body, and he turned away to stare out at the sea again, eyes half-lidded. The cold night air blew gently against him, and he slanted his eyes to the side to meet Yamamoto's again.
"That's for you to decide," he said, shrugging. "But you can be much, much stronger than this, if you would just discard that sheepskin."
Yamamoto did laugh then, a short chuckle a tad lower than usual. "You're not just saying that," he remarked teasingly, "because you want to see me naked under the sheepskin. You're looking for someone else to fight, aren't you?"
Hibari's mind screeched to a halt at that, and he whirled around, eyes widening slightly as he simply stared at Yamamoto for a long moment. What- That was-
How did 'naked' have anything to do with the conversation they were having? This man... he was confusing Hibari more and more. Just what was he, if he could surprise Hibari like that? And that the weapon he had used was simply words, and non-sequitors at that. Non-sequitors that were now making images creep into his traitorous mind.
Hibari growled, his fingers twitching as he reached forward slightly. His eyes were fixated onto Yamamoto's throat, imagining his fingers closing around the tanned skin, squeezing.
He exhaled, and closed his eyes.
"Don't be ridiculous," he barked.
"Oh, we'll get to fight someday," Yamamoto blithely continued. He slipped a hand into Hibari's and lifted it until he could adjust so they were linking pinkie fingers. "Probably not on Vongola property or anywhere that'd make Tsuna and the guys worried though. It'd be fun!"
Hibari glanced down to the hand - and pinkie - in his. A moment passed in complete silence. He took a short breath, and the movement was barely a flash as he let his fingers slip out of Yamamoto's, almost carressing the other man's hand as he brought it up in one smooth moment, and twisted that finger back.
The light flush on his cheeks had disappeared entirely, and his eyes were flashing, half in anger and half in anticipation. "Did I give you the permission to touch me," he said, a clipped statement.
Yamamoto winced, quickly twisting his wrist to relieve the sharp pain, and grabbing Hibari's to stop the motion with his freehand.
"I can't help it," he laughingly replied. "You were reaching up, with the cute blush over your cheeks. I thought you were going to reach out first."
Hibari opened his mouth to growl, to retaliate against those words. His other, un-captured hand was drawn back, ready to strike Yamamoto across the face with a right hook that would surely send him tumbling over the balustrade when he felt that familiar, irritating itch in his chest and throat. He snapped his mouth shut immediately, swallowing and taking a long, harshly deep breath, feeling his throat burn for a moment.
But he couldn't stop it.
The cough came gently, as it always did. He covered his mouth with his free hand, his other falling like a puppet with a string cut as he tried to cough as quietly and unobtrusively. But he couldn't - not matter how much he tried, how much sheer will he tried to exert, he simply couldn't stop it. His eyes squeezed shut as he doubled over, fingers digging into his cheeks, white-knuckled as he tried to cover his mouth entirely enough to muffle the sound.
He snatched his other hand back from Yamamoto's grasp, holding on tightly to the balustrade as the world was knocked off-kilter. He held on tightly so he would not fall as his forehead touched his knees as he tried to breathe through his nose through the space between each painful, forceful exhale of air. The world, what little he could see of it through his nearly-shut eyes, spun on its axis. His shoulders shook slightly.
He hated this weakness so much, especially when there seemed to be no cause for it.
Yamamoto's eyes widened. What was this? Hibari was sick? That sounded- that looked like an awful cough. Worse than normal coughing. How long had it been, he wondered. Had the guy even gone to a doctor?
"... Hey, Hibari," he touched the man's shoulder, steadying him. "That cough there doesn't look or sound too good," he exclaimed. He drew his hand away and fumbled for a tissue, pressing it into Hibari's hand until his fingers curled around it, then just awkwardly settled for rubbing his back until the guy could throw him off.
Just how bad off was he?!
Hibari wanted to push that invading hand off his shoulder immediately - he didn't need any help, much less help from a hypocrite like Yamamoto - but he needed both of his hands where they were. The tissue was helpful, at the very least, and Hibari momentarily forgave Yamamoto for the transgression of touching him.
He gasped for breath in the barely-there breaks that he got from the coughs, but each draw just seemed to irritated his lungs and throat more and send him into another fit again. It was a never-ending vicious cycle, and he absolutely hated the fact that Yamamoto was there - no one had managed to seen him like this before, because he had always left the room or chased his men out whenever he felt a fit approaching. But the coughs were getting worse and worse at a faster and faster rate.
Damn if he was going to die because of something as pathetic as his body's rebellion against him.
The fit gradually subsided, pain replacing the itch. His lungs ached, his throat burned, but those were inconsequential things. He let his hand fall from his mouth, taking in long, slow breaths, and did not open his eyes. Shrugging his left shoulder, he slitted his eyes open and glared at Yamamoto balefully.
"Don't touch me," he said, sounding hoarse and raspy like he had spent the week screaming,
It'd been a while since Yamamoto ever looked upon anything with wide-eyed surprise, but there it was, for a second before his eyes narrowed in disapproval and concern. He had another tissue ready just in case, and it looked like Hibari needed it.
Willfully ignoring the warning signs, Yamamoto dabbed gently at the trickle of red seeping from the corner of Hibari's lips. He sighed again, a stern frown upon his face.
"... What poor doctors did you threaten into secrecy for this?"
Hibari's eyes narrowed, and his hand reached up, closing against that offending hand that was touching him. But his grip was too weak at the moment, and he released it, letting his hand fall back down to his side as he concentrated on regaining his breath. He turned away from Yamamoto, steadying himself as he swung his legs over the balustrade, standing on slightly shaking legs and turning his back to the other man.
"It's none of your business," he said, curt and sharp, and started to walk away.
That reply told Yamamoto that there were doctors who knew what was wrong with Hibari, and it didn't take a genius to guess that the answer probably lay close to Namimori, since the older man practically owned the local high school and the hospital.
Yamamoto tore his eyes from Hibari’s retreating figure, looking back over the balcony. Then, his eyes landed on the yellow ball of feathers that seemed to be staring at him from the edge. He laughed.
"It's not something I can just ignore now, is it?" Briefly, he fancied that Hibird might just be able to sing that to Hibari. But that was just silly. He glanced back towards where the other man had gone, then sighed and returned to the party.
Hibari could take care of himself, couldn't he?
Next: Part 2