Reborn- "Emotionally Constipated"
CRACK.
Title: Emotionally Constipated
Universe: Reborn
Theme/Topic: God No!
Rating: PG-13
Character/Pairing/s: Tsuna, YamaxGoku, and lightly Reborn+Lambo.
Warnings/Spoilers: None that I can imagine. Just the usual OOC and stupidity.
Word Count: 1,801
Summary: Even ten years down, Mafia men are Mafia men.
Dedication: sw_inku- HAHA I AM MAKING GAY 11-year-olds now?!?! GIVE ME THE YAMAxGOKU YUMMIES.
A/N: HAHAHA I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’M DOING.
Disclaimer: Not mine, though I wish constantly.
Distribution: Just lemme know.
Tsuna always wondered what happened to the present-you when the past-you came back in time after the present-you was shot with the ten-year cannon.
It was a complicated question, and when he finally managed to phrase it correctly to ask Reborn, all the baby assassin did was blink at him before drawing said cannon on him and shooting him in the face.
In the face. Couldn’t even aim for the stomach or something, he had to go for the face.
Figured.
A poof of dust and a weird popping noise later and Tsuna found himself in not-where-he’d-been-standing-just-now but rather, where-he-would-be-standing-ten-years-from-now.
“It looks the same,” he mused aloud, when found himself inside his house.
“It’s the boss from ten years ago,” someone said then, and it sounded like Gokudera but a long while after his voice had gotten deeper.
“Hi Tsuna!” someone that sounded like Yamamoto greeted next, and his voice had the same timbre as Gokudera’s but was more cheerful-sounding.
Tsuna blinked, and looked around. “Er, hi,” he greeted, and supposed he ought to at least be civil for the five minutes he’d be here even if this was infinitely weird.
Belatedly, he realized that his two companions of-the-future were lounging around on his living room floor and that Yamamoto might have been-maybe getting shot in the face did weird things to his eyes, Tsuna thought-laying down with his head in Gokudera’s lap while he read manga.
He rubbed his eyes.
The same scene was still there when he opened them again, and he thought that maybe getting shot in the face did some sort of irreparable nerve damage.
“Ten-year cannon, huh?” Yamamoto asked conversationally, looking up from his manga.
“Er, yeah.”
Yamamoto smiled. “Good timing, Reborn should be getting back from class any second now.”
Tsuna stared. “Class?”
“Sixth grade.”
“Oh.”
“Want any juice or something, boss? Er... should I turn on the TV and put a video in or somethin’?” Gokudera asked then, realizing that maybe he ought to do something for the kid-who-was-going-to-become-his-leader. “I can get you a plate of cookies maybe. Animal crackers?”
Tsuna stared. “I’m okay… I er, I’m too old for that. Remember? When we met we were too old for that.”
Gokudera blinked. “Oh. Yeah. Well then… you want some beer or something?”
“Too young for that! Definitely too young for that!”
“Oh right,” the explosives expert realized. “You’re thirteen. We were thirteen when we… haha it’s been a long time.” Pause. “Damned awkward age, thirteen.”
“Tell me about it,” Tsuna agreed, and slumped his shoulders a little bit.
“Thirteen was fun,” older-Yamamoto chimed in, and earned himself a conk on the head from Gokudera.
“That’s because you lived life like a carefree idiot.”
“Worked for me from then and still works for me now,” Yamamoto shrugged, and smiled up at Gokudera.
“Dumbass,” older-Gokudera muttered, and whapped him upside the head one more time for posterity.
“Huh,” Tsuna marveled, and supposed that it was good that some things didn’t change all that much, even if Yamamoto’s head was in Gokudera’s lap.
Before he could say anything else on the matter though, the door suddenly burst open and an eleven-year-old in a suit bustled through. “Tsuna, I just received word that… oh. Hello.”
Tsuna stared at older-Reborn. “You’re eleven?”
“Yes.”
Tsuna thought that Reborn was probably the tallest eleven-year-old kid on the face of the planet. Probably the only one dressed in Armani.
He had really nice hair.
Tsuna himself only remembered being incredibly awkward at eleven-- only slightly less so than at thirteen.
Reborn wore eleven well.
Unfair.
“How long?” the assassin asked after a moment, all business.
“Two minutes,” Gokudera and Yamamoto answered in unison, and Tsuna wasn’t sure how comfortable he was with how well those two seemed to have learned to work together over the last decade.
“Well, I suppose it can wait three minutes,” Reborn allowed, thoughtful. He set his briefcase down (and then his backpack), and took off his shoes.
Dodged the bullet that whizzed through the open doorway behind him, the lead imbedding itself into the wall a few inches to the left of Tsuna’s head.
“WHAT THE HELL?!” Tsuna demanded, and scrambled for cover.
“Forgot how jumpy boss used to be,” Gokudera mused, and something like nostalgia washed over him at the thought.
“Yeah,” Yamamoto agreed, and the two of them didn’t even look like they were going to try figuring out where the heck that bullet that'd almost killed Tsuna-age-thirteen three seconds ago had come from.
“SOMEONE’S TRYING TO KILL US!” Tsuna panicked, and hid under the table.
“He acts like that’s new,” Reborn sighed, and had forgotten how his charge had been when he’d first met him.
“W-what?” Tsuna asked, and peeked out from his hiding place.
Reborn dodged to the left again, another bullet, and Tsuna thought that maybe he could see a figure in the doorway behind his tutor, a smoking gun in one hand and…a bouquet of flowers in the other?
Before he could ask what the hell was going on with that, Reborn moved, cutting backwards and grabbing the barrel of the aforementioned smoking gun before pivoting and pulling forward, the result of which was the assailant being thrown over the eleven-year-old’s shoulder and landing bodily on his back on the ground. Another pivot and the click of a hammer being cocked back showed the gun to have been extricated from its owner’s grasp and transferred to Reborn’s instead, the assassin standing over his now-fallen foe’s prostate body and pointing his own gun right at his forehead.
“Dangerous, Lambo,” Reborn chastised mildly. “Tsuna from ten years ago is visiting, and you remember how his reflexes were back then.”
Lambo looked up at Reborn, the wind knocked out of his lungs.
He held out the bouquet.
Reborn sighed.
Yamamoto grinned. “Ah, young love. Remember when you used to try and shove dynamite into my mouth?”
“Other places to shove it now,” Gokudera reminded him, deftly.
“It’s good to know we haven’t lost our edge as a couple after all this time.”
“Die a horrible, painful death.”
Yamamoto grinned and kissed Gokudera’s hand.
Tsuna just kept staring, not sure which pair to watch.
“I don’t want flowers,” older-Reborn told older-Lambo then, sounding a bit resigned.
Lambo’s eyes watered ever so slightly at the rejection. “Oh.”
“Thank you, though,” the other assassin added, and sounded oddly polite about the issue as he raised the gun and clicked the safety back into place. “They’re… very pretty.”
Lambo blushed. “Well… um… do you wanna maybe…”
He suddenly sprang up then, the horns on his head electric. “…DIE SOMETIME?!” he finished loudly, and charged Reborn.
Reborn kicked him in the face hard enough to send him barreling out the door.
Tsuna gaped.
“He just doesn’t learn,” the eleven-year-old sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose as he moved to close the door behind the sounds of Lambo’s body hitting traffic on the street.
Horns blared.
“Aw c’mon, you gotta give the kid credit… ten years is a long time to be chasin’ after someone,” Yamamoto supplied philosophically, and Tsuna wondered if the sudden swelling he could see developing in the 23-year-old’s cheek was from something that had happened while Tsuna’s attention had been focused on Reborn or Lambo. He theorized that maybe Gokudera had punched him in the jaw for kissing his hand earlier, but he couldn’t be sure.
“Wait a minute…” Tsuna murmured after what Yamamoto said suddenly clicked into place. He slid out from his hiding place then, looking at his three friends incredulously. “You’re telling me that the whole reason Lambo’s always been trying to kill Reborn was for…” he trailed off, made an awkward gesture with his hand when he couldn’t quite voice the words, “a…um…a crush?”
Yamamoto and Gokudera shared a look.
Reborn checked his watch.
“Thirty seconds,” Yamamoto and Gokudera said as if on cue, and Reborn cleared his throat.
“Try not to say anything about this when you get back,” he told Tsuna, wisely. “We don’t want to mess with the timeline, after all.”
“Wait so I’m right? Oh god. Oh god that is so messed up.”
“It’s not that bad. Lambo-kun just isn’t very good at communicating his emotions,” Yamamoto explained rationally. “Some people in this business are just like that. Right, Ha-chan?”
“Call me that again and I slit your throat in your sleep.”
Yamamoto looked at Tsuna then, as if his point had been proven. “See?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gokudera growled.
“Nothing!”
Tsuna thought that under the strain of all this new and disturbing information, his brain might have cracked.
And he found himself wanting to go back. He couldn’t really believe it, but he really, really wanted to go back.
At least where he was from, babies just tried to kill other babies for pure killing reasons and not… other reasons. And Yamamoto and Gokudera didn’t lounge around, casually threatening to end each other out of love, and there were no pet names or bouquets and just… violence. Good old fashioned violence with no purpose. The kind of thing Tsuna could understand.
That he could handle.
He looked at Gokudera and Yamamoto then, and voice small, asked, “How much longer?”
“Ten seconds,” they said, in unison again, and that was really getting creepy.
“Oh thank god.”
“Bye, Tsuna from the past!”
“Later, boss.”
“Please work hard at your studies, Tsuna.”
And five…four… three…two….one.
A pop and a cloud of smoke later and Tsuna found himself back in the good-old-place-where-he’d been-standing-earlier, instead of at the good-old-place-he-would-be-standing-in-ten-years-from-now.
In the background, thirteen-year-old Gokudera lit dynamite and tried to shove it in a grinning thirteen-year-old Yamamoto’s nostrils.
Lambo fired a heat-seeking missile from a rocket launcher at Reborn, which the one-year-old assassin deflected with a flaming arrow fired from a crossbow in the opposite direction.
Some wooded area to the west of Tsuna’s neighborhood erupted in flame.
Some of Tsuna’s backyard blew up too, and his mom would really kick his ass about her scorched petunias later.
There was lots of screaming, the wail of sirens, the panicked cries of birds and other wildlife as they ran for cover.
Lambo got kicked in the face and was sent hurtling out into the street, narrowly missing oncoming traffic only to return to the front door of Tsuna’s house sobbing, the kid rubbing his eyes and asking to be taken to the potty, please.
Yamamoto thought Gokudera was playing tag with him, and went all out to win by dodging expertly. Gokudera tried throwing some bombs, next.
Tsuna sighed and took Lambo’s hand and led him to the potty.
And as his home was destroyed by chaos and violence and general mayhem, he felt very, very relieved.
Now this, this was more like it.
This was home.
END
EDITS PLZ.
Title: Emotionally Constipated
Universe: Reborn
Theme/Topic: God No!
Rating: PG-13
Character/Pairing/s: Tsuna, YamaxGoku, and lightly Reborn+Lambo.
Warnings/Spoilers: None that I can imagine. Just the usual OOC and stupidity.
Word Count: 1,801
Summary: Even ten years down, Mafia men are Mafia men.
Dedication: sw_inku- HAHA I AM MAKING GAY 11-year-olds now?!?! GIVE ME THE YAMAxGOKU YUMMIES.
A/N: HAHAHA I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’M DOING.
Disclaimer: Not mine, though I wish constantly.
Distribution: Just lemme know.
Tsuna always wondered what happened to the present-you when the past-you came back in time after the present-you was shot with the ten-year cannon.
It was a complicated question, and when he finally managed to phrase it correctly to ask Reborn, all the baby assassin did was blink at him before drawing said cannon on him and shooting him in the face.
In the face. Couldn’t even aim for the stomach or something, he had to go for the face.
Figured.
A poof of dust and a weird popping noise later and Tsuna found himself in not-where-he’d-been-standing-just-now but rather, where-he-would-be-standing-ten-years-from-now.
“It looks the same,” he mused aloud, when found himself inside his house.
“It’s the boss from ten years ago,” someone said then, and it sounded like Gokudera but a long while after his voice had gotten deeper.
“Hi Tsuna!” someone that sounded like Yamamoto greeted next, and his voice had the same timbre as Gokudera’s but was more cheerful-sounding.
Tsuna blinked, and looked around. “Er, hi,” he greeted, and supposed he ought to at least be civil for the five minutes he’d be here even if this was infinitely weird.
Belatedly, he realized that his two companions of-the-future were lounging around on his living room floor and that Yamamoto might have been-maybe getting shot in the face did weird things to his eyes, Tsuna thought-laying down with his head in Gokudera’s lap while he read manga.
He rubbed his eyes.
The same scene was still there when he opened them again, and he thought that maybe getting shot in the face did some sort of irreparable nerve damage.
“Ten-year cannon, huh?” Yamamoto asked conversationally, looking up from his manga.
“Er, yeah.”
Yamamoto smiled. “Good timing, Reborn should be getting back from class any second now.”
Tsuna stared. “Class?”
“Sixth grade.”
“Oh.”
“Want any juice or something, boss? Er... should I turn on the TV and put a video in or somethin’?” Gokudera asked then, realizing that maybe he ought to do something for the kid-who-was-going-to-become-his-leader. “I can get you a plate of cookies maybe. Animal crackers?”
Tsuna stared. “I’m okay… I er, I’m too old for that. Remember? When we met we were too old for that.”
Gokudera blinked. “Oh. Yeah. Well then… you want some beer or something?”
“Too young for that! Definitely too young for that!”
“Oh right,” the explosives expert realized. “You’re thirteen. We were thirteen when we… haha it’s been a long time.” Pause. “Damned awkward age, thirteen.”
“Tell me about it,” Tsuna agreed, and slumped his shoulders a little bit.
“Thirteen was fun,” older-Yamamoto chimed in, and earned himself a conk on the head from Gokudera.
“That’s because you lived life like a carefree idiot.”
“Worked for me from then and still works for me now,” Yamamoto shrugged, and smiled up at Gokudera.
“Dumbass,” older-Gokudera muttered, and whapped him upside the head one more time for posterity.
“Huh,” Tsuna marveled, and supposed that it was good that some things didn’t change all that much, even if Yamamoto’s head was in Gokudera’s lap.
Before he could say anything else on the matter though, the door suddenly burst open and an eleven-year-old in a suit bustled through. “Tsuna, I just received word that… oh. Hello.”
Tsuna stared at older-Reborn. “You’re eleven?”
“Yes.”
Tsuna thought that Reborn was probably the tallest eleven-year-old kid on the face of the planet. Probably the only one dressed in Armani.
He had really nice hair.
Tsuna himself only remembered being incredibly awkward at eleven-- only slightly less so than at thirteen.
Reborn wore eleven well.
Unfair.
“How long?” the assassin asked after a moment, all business.
“Two minutes,” Gokudera and Yamamoto answered in unison, and Tsuna wasn’t sure how comfortable he was with how well those two seemed to have learned to work together over the last decade.
“Well, I suppose it can wait three minutes,” Reborn allowed, thoughtful. He set his briefcase down (and then his backpack), and took off his shoes.
Dodged the bullet that whizzed through the open doorway behind him, the lead imbedding itself into the wall a few inches to the left of Tsuna’s head.
“WHAT THE HELL?!” Tsuna demanded, and scrambled for cover.
“Forgot how jumpy boss used to be,” Gokudera mused, and something like nostalgia washed over him at the thought.
“Yeah,” Yamamoto agreed, and the two of them didn’t even look like they were going to try figuring out where the heck that bullet that'd almost killed Tsuna-age-thirteen three seconds ago had come from.
“SOMEONE’S TRYING TO KILL US!” Tsuna panicked, and hid under the table.
“He acts like that’s new,” Reborn sighed, and had forgotten how his charge had been when he’d first met him.
“W-what?” Tsuna asked, and peeked out from his hiding place.
Reborn dodged to the left again, another bullet, and Tsuna thought that maybe he could see a figure in the doorway behind his tutor, a smoking gun in one hand and…a bouquet of flowers in the other?
Before he could ask what the hell was going on with that, Reborn moved, cutting backwards and grabbing the barrel of the aforementioned smoking gun before pivoting and pulling forward, the result of which was the assailant being thrown over the eleven-year-old’s shoulder and landing bodily on his back on the ground. Another pivot and the click of a hammer being cocked back showed the gun to have been extricated from its owner’s grasp and transferred to Reborn’s instead, the assassin standing over his now-fallen foe’s prostate body and pointing his own gun right at his forehead.
“Dangerous, Lambo,” Reborn chastised mildly. “Tsuna from ten years ago is visiting, and you remember how his reflexes were back then.”
Lambo looked up at Reborn, the wind knocked out of his lungs.
He held out the bouquet.
Reborn sighed.
Yamamoto grinned. “Ah, young love. Remember when you used to try and shove dynamite into my mouth?”
“Other places to shove it now,” Gokudera reminded him, deftly.
“It’s good to know we haven’t lost our edge as a couple after all this time.”
“Die a horrible, painful death.”
Yamamoto grinned and kissed Gokudera’s hand.
Tsuna just kept staring, not sure which pair to watch.
“I don’t want flowers,” older-Reborn told older-Lambo then, sounding a bit resigned.
Lambo’s eyes watered ever so slightly at the rejection. “Oh.”
“Thank you, though,” the other assassin added, and sounded oddly polite about the issue as he raised the gun and clicked the safety back into place. “They’re… very pretty.”
Lambo blushed. “Well… um… do you wanna maybe…”
He suddenly sprang up then, the horns on his head electric. “…DIE SOMETIME?!” he finished loudly, and charged Reborn.
Reborn kicked him in the face hard enough to send him barreling out the door.
Tsuna gaped.
“He just doesn’t learn,” the eleven-year-old sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose as he moved to close the door behind the sounds of Lambo’s body hitting traffic on the street.
Horns blared.
“Aw c’mon, you gotta give the kid credit… ten years is a long time to be chasin’ after someone,” Yamamoto supplied philosophically, and Tsuna wondered if the sudden swelling he could see developing in the 23-year-old’s cheek was from something that had happened while Tsuna’s attention had been focused on Reborn or Lambo. He theorized that maybe Gokudera had punched him in the jaw for kissing his hand earlier, but he couldn’t be sure.
“Wait a minute…” Tsuna murmured after what Yamamoto said suddenly clicked into place. He slid out from his hiding place then, looking at his three friends incredulously. “You’re telling me that the whole reason Lambo’s always been trying to kill Reborn was for…” he trailed off, made an awkward gesture with his hand when he couldn’t quite voice the words, “a…um…a crush?”
Yamamoto and Gokudera shared a look.
Reborn checked his watch.
“Thirty seconds,” Yamamoto and Gokudera said as if on cue, and Reborn cleared his throat.
“Try not to say anything about this when you get back,” he told Tsuna, wisely. “We don’t want to mess with the timeline, after all.”
“Wait so I’m right? Oh god. Oh god that is so messed up.”
“It’s not that bad. Lambo-kun just isn’t very good at communicating his emotions,” Yamamoto explained rationally. “Some people in this business are just like that. Right, Ha-chan?”
“Call me that again and I slit your throat in your sleep.”
Yamamoto looked at Tsuna then, as if his point had been proven. “See?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gokudera growled.
“Nothing!”
Tsuna thought that under the strain of all this new and disturbing information, his brain might have cracked.
And he found himself wanting to go back. He couldn’t really believe it, but he really, really wanted to go back.
At least where he was from, babies just tried to kill other babies for pure killing reasons and not… other reasons. And Yamamoto and Gokudera didn’t lounge around, casually threatening to end each other out of love, and there were no pet names or bouquets and just… violence. Good old fashioned violence with no purpose. The kind of thing Tsuna could understand.
That he could handle.
He looked at Gokudera and Yamamoto then, and voice small, asked, “How much longer?”
“Ten seconds,” they said, in unison again, and that was really getting creepy.
“Oh thank god.”
“Bye, Tsuna from the past!”
“Later, boss.”
“Please work hard at your studies, Tsuna.”
And five…four… three…two….one.
A pop and a cloud of smoke later and Tsuna found himself back in the good-old-place-where-he’d been-standing-earlier, instead of at the good-old-place-he-would-be-standing-in-ten-years-from-now.
In the background, thirteen-year-old Gokudera lit dynamite and tried to shove it in a grinning thirteen-year-old Yamamoto’s nostrils.
Lambo fired a heat-seeking missile from a rocket launcher at Reborn, which the one-year-old assassin deflected with a flaming arrow fired from a crossbow in the opposite direction.
Some wooded area to the west of Tsuna’s neighborhood erupted in flame.
Some of Tsuna’s backyard blew up too, and his mom would really kick his ass about her scorched petunias later.
There was lots of screaming, the wail of sirens, the panicked cries of birds and other wildlife as they ran for cover.
Lambo got kicked in the face and was sent hurtling out into the street, narrowly missing oncoming traffic only to return to the front door of Tsuna’s house sobbing, the kid rubbing his eyes and asking to be taken to the potty, please.
Yamamoto thought Gokudera was playing tag with him, and went all out to win by dodging expertly. Gokudera tried throwing some bombs, next.
Tsuna sighed and took Lambo’s hand and led him to the potty.
And as his home was destroyed by chaos and violence and general mayhem, he felt very, very relieved.
Now this, this was more like it.
This was home.
END
EDITS PLZ.