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Gigantic Drabble Dump of Doom
So, I wrote this long-ass fic and offered drabbles to some folks who helped me out with that. I finished those drabbles, oh, a month ago. But I wanted to wait until I posted up the long-ass fic, so they could sort of go hand-in-hand. Then other drabbles happened and I just can't justify posting something all by itself if it's under 500 words. So I held onto those, too. And V-Day seems like a good enough day to post it all up, especially since the long-ass fic is done. So, there's maybe something for everybody in this batch? Happy V-Day!
Title: Awkward
Alternate Title: Thank you, leosgalpiper, for helping me prod my Three Attempts fic into something presentable. *love love*
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Pairing: Gokudera/Yamamoto
Rating: PG-13 (for mentions of sex)
Word Count: 520
Gokudera scrubbed harder with his toothbrush. He would never get that taste out of his mouth.
He had just... And then they'd... And Yamamoto had... Aaargh! How embarrasing. Gokudera spit fiercely into the sink, rinsed his toothbrush, and reloaded it with more toothpaste. Maybe a second go.
Yamamoto slid into the bathroom behind him, slid long arms around his waist, slid easy words into his ear: "Hey there," he whispered, his voice all happy and naked and warm.
Gokudera elbowed him in the ribs. "Oof," Yamamoto said with a laugh and he pulled his arms away.
"Haha, you must be pretty tired, huh," he asked, pulling his own toothbrush out of the cup beside the sink. Gokudera noticed (while trying to look like he hadn't noticed) that Yamamoto was still naked; Gokudera, on the other hand, was fully re-dressed.
"Shut up, freak," he said, all foamy around the toothbrush in his mouth, because all of his other more colorful insults were far too sexual in nature and he didn't want to be reminding Yamamoto of that, now did he?
"I did keep you up pretty late, I guess. Sorry!"
Gokudera cussed under his breath. A bit of toothpaste foam flew out and landed on the mirror above the sink. He silently prayed that Yamamoto wouldn't notice and think to compare it to something else he'd spit out recently. God.
"Hey," Yamamoto said cheerfully, "good thing you brought your toothbrush, huh! I never think about that."
Gokudera's cheeks flushed a deep pink. He hadn't thought about it. He hadn't. He'd just... Well, they had kissed before, these quick little awkward things. And they'd fooled around a little recently (Gokudera tried kissing Yamamoto's neck and unbuttoning his shirt to kiss lower, and Yamamoto hadn't stopped him). He hadn't thought about staying over. It was just a very distinct possibility.
"Yeah," Yamamoto continued, unscrewing the cap on the toothpaste, "I always forget and then it's nighttime and I'm ready to go to bed and my mouth is all like, 'Belgh!' but I just have to go to sleep like that because my toothbrush is at home. Hahaha!"
Gokudera rolled his eyes and kept scrubbing. He hoped this second brushing would get that funky taste out. He couldn't believe he'd just...gone down on Yamamoto. He hadn't even planned to go down on a girl. Ever. How gross.
"I can pull some futons onto the floor if you want, and we can sleep down there. I mean, my bed's pretty small...haha, but I guess you know that, huh?"
Gokudera scowled and yanked his toothbrush out of his mouth. He spit for the third time that night. He said, "You know what? Having sex with a guy is humiliating enough, but it's nothing compared to listening to you yammer on about it afterward!"
Yamamoto stared at him, toothbrush halfway out of his mouth. Then he blinked and smiled. "I'll be quiet, I'll be quiet!"
Then he slung an arm over Gokudera's shoulders and pulled him against his side. "I guess you shut me up pretty good earlier, didn't you?"
And he kissed him, suds and curses and all.
Title: Unexpected Interruptions
Alternate Title: One Out of Three Drabbles Owed Isn't Bad, Right, schizocherri? Thanks for helping me, babe. ♥
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Characters: Lambo, Hibari, Kusakabe
Rating: PG
Word Count: 500
"Quit wasting my time or I'll bite you to death."
Baby Lambo's eyes went wide and he made an "eep!" noise. Then he blew a spit bubble and pointed one pajama'd finger at Hibari.
"Booger," he said, firmly.
"I do not," he said crankily, but reached a hand up to his nose just in case. His eyes narrowed at the sticky, lying, smelly cow brat in front of him. His fingers twitched around the tiny, powerful box in his hand.
And Kusakabe, having developed a keen sense of Hibari's Limit over the years, swept in and scooped up Lambo.
"Just a few more minutes," he said, resting one hand on Hibari's shoulder, "then we can get back to training."
Hibari's eyes were sharp like fangs, but he nodded. "Fine."
Someone should have taken that bazooka away from Lambo years ago. They were adults with very important things to be doing, but the cow brat kept poofing in from the past and delaying the whole process.
Kusakabe sat cross-legged in the corner of Hibari's training room, baby Lambo on his lap. Lambo kept poking a finger between Kusakabe's eyes, then pulling down hard on the bottom lids.
"Scaarrryyyyy," he said, staring at Kusakabe's bulging, exposed eyes. Kusakabe stuck out his tongue to complete the effect.
"Uuuwahh!" Lambo cried, and tumbled backward. Kusakabe didn't mind the kids like Hibari did. Across the room, Hibari glanced unamused at his watch. Two more minutes.
"Oooh," Lambo said, having clambered back into Kusakabe's lap, "Lambo wishes he had a stick! Kusakabe-san's hair would make the best Lambo sticks!" His eyes were wide with amazement.
Hibari frowned and tapped his fingers against his arm. He knew that Futa was doing significant research overseas, but surely Reborn could have found a more suitable trainer for Lambo. Even when it wasn't a Lambo clad in cow-print pajamas, Lambo wasn't nearly strong enough for Hibari to be wasting his time with.
Still, worthy or not, Hibari knew this had to be dealt with. Maybe the others had the patience to loiter around with the brat, but Hibari had things to be doing. He couldn't...kill it, but he could scare it enough that it wouldn't ever use the bazooka again, and Hibari could finally get some peace.
He stalked over to Kusakabe, who was holding the brat in his arms, making Funny Faces at him, and grabbed Lambo by his sticky, poofy hair. He held the kid so they were eye to eye, and he bared his teeth. That alone was usually enough to stop most seasoned enemies in their tracks, but Lambo crossed his eyes at Hibari and stuck out his tongue.
Then, in a move swift enough to earn his Guardian title, he planted his tongue on Hibari's cheek and slid it slickly, warmly up its curve.
And poof. When the smoke cleared, Hibari was crushed beneath a very surprised-looking, fifteen-year-old Lambo, with his tongue still stuck incriminatingly to Hibari's cheek.
Kusakabe hunched over himself, laughing.
Title: Stroke of Luck
Alternate Title: templated comes to the rescue on the Three Attempts fic! Thanks so much, hon!
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Pairing: Lambo/I-pin
Rating: PG
Word Count: 600
The first time Lambo realized that I-pin was beautiful, they'd been next to each other on the swings. They were eleven and she'd just started to braid her long, black hair. The braids streamed out behind her, the wind flushed her cheeks, and Lambo's heart battered against his ribs. It was terrifying.
And he was a little terrified at the moment, watching I-pin light the New Year's Eve lanterns, her soft features darkened and made more dramatic by the warm, orange light. They were fifteen and I-pin was the most beautiful girl in the world. Lambo didn't think he was biased.
He just happened to like her. A lot. He had for as long as he could remember knowing her. And, he had discovered, he was so very bad at this "liking someone" thing. He'd been liked: his tousled hair, his soulful eyes, the cool older-boy company he kept...the girls loved him. That was easy. But, to I-pin, he was just Lambo, her dear childhood friend.
Their friends had tried to help him. Tsuna often gave them easy assignments together. Ryohei trained Lambo to spar with her. Yamamoto taught him to give sincere compliments. Gokudera blushingly gave him a condom, which was jumping the gun a bit, but the sentiment was there. But, even with all of these weapons in his arsenal, Lambo knew that the responsibility was his to make the first move. And that was a very scary thing.
In the dim light, I-pin passed him the matches with a smile. "Your turn," she said.
Lambo had never done this before. He'd spent New Year's Eve with his parents. And he'd spent it with the Vongola men. Ryohei had slipped him glasses of sake when Tsuna and the girls weren't looking. It had been fun. But he'd never spent it alone with the girl he liked before. And he'd never spent it performing the ritual of Observing the Night.
They'd gone to I-pin's master the day before. He was kind, but very commanding of respect. He was younger than Lambo had pictured. They had knelt with him as he explained to Lambo the ritual. They shared a pot of tea and I-pin's master talked about the lanterns, about lighting the way for gods bearing good luck. It all sounded very solemn and serious.
But on the way to their coats, I-pin looped her arm through his and smiled. "It's fun," she said, "don't worry."
And, after she bowed and slipped out the door, her master had held him back with one strong hand on his shoulder. "Bring flowers," he'd said simply.
And Lambo had heeded that advice. I-pin had grinned and hugged him and put them in a vase in the living room. After they finished lighting all the lanterns, they sat together on the couch and stared at the flowers. Lambo tried not to look at her, or think about how very close she was sitting. It only made him nervous. Instead, he tried to think about Tsuna and the others; the encouragement; the well wishes. And then he thought about his sweaty palms. He thought about how dumb and awkward it all was. He thought about the way I-pin's fingers felt laced between his own, all warm and soft.
He glanced down at their hands in amazement. Suddenly, he was a boy on a swing all over again, his heart beating fast, his brain unable to keep up.
"What are you doing," he asked quietly.
"It's Observe the Night," she said simply, resting her head on his shoulder, "I'm waiting for luck."
Title: Gokudera's Worst Nightmare
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Pairing: Yamamoto/Gokudera
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 300
Warnings: Spoilers for TYL!arc
Notes: With apologies to leosgalpiper, who inspired this with one of her WIPs. Also, it's canon and you know it. ♥
"You're fucking kidding me!"
Yamamoto smiled and looked down, scratching the back of his neck. "Afraid not," he said. The boy in front of him looked so flustered and betrayed. So much younger than Yamamoto ever remembered them being.
Gokudera threw his hands up in the air and stalked angrily to the bed. "Whatever. But you're sleeping on the floor."
Yamamoto smirked and shrugged. When the bazooka got fixed and this kid swapped places again, he couldn't wait to rub it in to the older Gokudera how childish he'd been.
"Fine," he said, pulling an extra blanket from the foot of the bed. He wouldn't have said anything about it at all if the nosy kid hadn't found the pictures of them with their arms slung around each other. Then again, the suspicious lack of a second bed in the room they'd share as adults would have tipped him off eventually.
Gokudera was muttering to himself as he pulled back the covers. "Gonna kick your ass when I get back and you're not so big, you big stupid pervert, you are so going to get it..."
Yamamoto tuned him out and began digging in the drawers for some spare pajamas. Gokudera crawled into bed and hugged the pillow to his face, presumably to scream into it. But when Yamamoto turned around with a ratty T-shirt in his hands and a pair of sweatpants, Gokudera had frozen in place.
"What the fuck?" He pulled his hand out from beneath the pillow, staring at the treasures he had found there: a small bottle of lubricant and two condoms of different brands.
Yamamoto blushed, but grinned boldly like a boy. "You like the studded kind," he said with a shrug. Then, "Haha, ow!" when Gokudera flung his finds across the room.
Title: Vengeance
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Character: Gokudera
Rating: PG-13 (for language)
Warnings: Spoilers for TYL!arc
Word Count: 550
Gokudera swore vengeance.
He swore to the blood in the streets, the bodies turned to ash, to the war he would wage on his own if he had to. He swore to the destruction, and then he had crumpled to his knees on the floor of his room and sobbed into the heels of his hands.
He didn't eat. He didn't need it. He drank, but only at the crest of dawn, the hot gold light painting the outline of clouds outside his window, when the others in the compound had been asleep for hours, when he had finally come in from slaying the white dragons of the Millefiore, blood soaking his shirt, his hair, his hands. He wouldn't wash up. He wouldn't change. He just slipped a knife from his pocket and scratched more tick marks into his wall. Twelve, eighteen, thirty-nine, the whole fucking lot of them.
He didn't talk to anyone. He pushed past the others when they tried. Though, once after dinner, two weeks after the wake of the tenth boss of the Vongola family, he had sought out Kyoko in the kitchen and pulled her into a stiff and awkward embrace, his hot, moist breath landing on the top of her head like an apology. He had kissed her cheek, squeezed his eyes shut against the coming tears, and walked out of the room. Ryohei tried to spar with him. Bianchi tried to reason with him. Yamamoto tried to talk with him like they used to, but he muttered, "Fuck off," and left the compound for some fresh air.
He hated life without the Tenth. They were a headless organization, slaughtering the enemy at random, in small angry bursts of offense, then days of defense, of hiding, of covering each other until they could get to safety. The Cavallone Family, the Tomaso Family, they were either all dead or they had been unable to make contact and Gokudera knew the Vongola should be making a priority of assembling their allies in a time like this, but it was easier to button up his suit at dawn, to stuff his pockets full of flame and nitro and go out to just kill something, and so he did. He killed lots of things. Lots of breathing, sniveling pieces of shit that probably hadn't been the ones to kill the Tenth, but it didn't fucking matter because he took them out anyway.
He used to hate that Yamamoto thought it was all a game. He used to ridicule him and call him worthless and hopeless and "Get the fuck out of my Family!" It wasn't until after the wake, kneeling in his room, broken into too many pieces to ever sweep together and reassemble, that he realized he had thought it was a game, too. He had thought they were the heroes, that they couldn't be stopped as long as the Tenth was leading them. But the game was over. The game was fucking over. There were no heroes. There was no eternal life. There was only the rage that he felt inside, this spark-hot flash that pushed him through another day. There was only that expanse of empty space on his wall, waiting for more tick marks, waiting for his vengeance to finally be complete.
Title: Things Lost and Gained
Alternate Title: Two Out of Three Drabbles, schizocherri! \o/
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Characters: Roy, Hughes, Elysia
Rating: G
Word Count:
"Can you believe how big she's grown? Isn't she twice the size of when you last saw her?"
Roy frowned and observed the tiny thing resting in his hands. He'd only seen her the previous weekend and she didn't look much different than she had then. Though she was quiet this time, which was a definite improvement. But Roy assumed that it had more to do with Gracia being just in the other room, and not with any maturity gained in the last week.
"I swear, Roy, she's going to be talking any day now. She gurgles and watches us when we talk and you know the doctors said she was really responsive for a baby and..."
Roy tuned him out. He gazed down at Elysia, her tiny body barely covering his two broad hands. Her eyelashes resting together on her cheekbones. Little pink lips. She was every ounce Gracia's daughter, a sweet, angelic, beautiful little thing. Then she burped and opened up those wide green eyes and grinned with her mouth open, the resemblance to Daddy becoming suddenly more apparent.
Maes slung an arm over Roy's shoulders. "Hey, pumpkin," he said softly, reaching out a finger for her to bat at. "I can't tell you how glad I was to get that desk job during Ishbal, Roy. If something had happened to me, there wouldn't be this little angel."
Roy smirked, then stuck his tongue out at the baby in his hands. Elysia cackled and kicked her feet.
Maes cleared his throat and leaned back on the couch. "I want you to know," he said, all seriousness like he got when they were discussing business, "even though I have a family now, I'm still behind you. Probably more so, now that I have Gracia and Elysia. Anything you need, just tell me."
Roy nodded. He never liked to say too much about his plans, not out loud. But Maes had been privy to them for so long that a nod was all that was necessary.
Maes smiled at him fondly and handed him another beer. Elysia reached out her tiny, baby hands for it, but Roy whisked it out of range.
"I appreciate what you're doing," Maes said, "just don't forget what you're giving up, friend."
Roy set his beer down on the coffee table and held baby Elysia so that she was nose to nose with him. Her big, curious eyes stared back into his and a smile crept across his face.
No, he thought, this is what I'm saving.
Title: Some Things That Brian Doesn't Do
Fandom: Queer as Folk
Characters: Brian, Michael
Rating: R
Word Count: 530
Notes: A microfic for you, Kitten. Out OTP makes me sad. ;_;
It's after he breaks that prick's hand in the locker.
He'd be sulking, but Brian doesn't sulk. He rages. He's sitting on the bed in his room, his back against he wall, his knees bent up, and he's thinking angry, juvenile thoughts. He would be thinking about the ever-closer graduation that would take him out of Pittsburgh, but that would be like running away. And Brian doesn't run away.
He hears the footsteps going up the stairs. He knows it's Mikey even before he knocks on the door. When he comes in, all loyal-dog smiles, and pulls a Tupperware container out of his book bag like contraband, Brian's stomach rumbles.
"Mom thought you'd be hungry. You know she doesn't believe in that 'go to bed without supper' punishment stuff." He thrusts the container of lasagna at him. "Well? You hungry?"
And, "yes," Brian says, because lying is another thing he doesn't do. At least not to Mikey.
***
It's after the Patrick Swayze picture.
He's on his bed, hand shoved down into his jeans, jacking himself hard enough to grit his teeth. He'd be thinking about Patrick Swayze, all sweaty and muscular, but he's not. Brian's into real people and when he closes his eyes, slides a finger down to his ass, it's Mikey's deep brown eyes that he's picturing.
Destiny isn't something that Brian believes in. He rejects it like his mother's god, but as he thrusts up into the tight grip of his hand, he can't help but think that Debbie walked in on them for a reason. He tries to groan quietly. Brian's not cut out for Pittsburgh; he'll be gone the day after graduation. But Mikey has no reason to run from anything.
Brian moans out a gritty "fuck" as he comes all over his hand. He's the kind of guy to try anything once, but it's better if he never makes Mikey love him, want him like this. Because hurting Mikey isn't something he ever plans to try.
***
It's after that thing with the gym teacher.
He's on the floor in his bedroom. He's not thinking about the bitter taste in his mouth from the guy's dick. He's not thinking about the marks the floor tiles left on his knees. Instead, he's thinking about how easy it was when it was all said and done.
He can do this. He can do it because he didn't hate it and best of all, he can use it. And he wasn't afraid of it. He and Mikey talked about blow jobs because they were teenage boys -- gay teenage boy -- and Mikey giggled about the idea.
But Brian knows that it's just part of the deal and it's good to have it out of the way. Like going to the dentist, or getting the first wet dream and waking up with your dick stuck to your pants and not remembering what the fuck you'd dreamed. Good like that.
And he isn't crying. Because Brian doesn't cry. But when Mikey opens the door and comes inside and kneels next to him and holds him, he thinks that maybe he can break that rule just once. For Mikey.
Title: Patience
Fandom: Honeydew Syndrome
Character: Charles (implied Charles => Metis)
Rating: G
Word Count: 140
Here's the thing about Charles: He can be incredibly patient.
Loyal, too. Fiercely, singularly. And he makes sure that everyone (including dumb jocks) knows just how patient and loyal he can be in the way he walks with his arm thrown over Metis' shoulder. He makes sure by looking dumb jocks in the eye when he does it.
He knows what Josh is about. He's got him all figured out and the fact that he sends Metis to talk to Josh should be proof enough of that. See, he's not afraid of a little competition. And he can wait. He can wait for. Ever. Josh can have his little fun with Metis (given that he doesn't dare hurt Metis because then Charles will come un-fucking-glued). He can have his little fun and when Metis gets bored, Charles will be waiting.
For as long as it takes.
So, I wrote this long-ass fic and offered drabbles to some folks who helped me out with that. I finished those drabbles, oh, a month ago. But I wanted to wait until I posted up the long-ass fic, so they could sort of go hand-in-hand. Then other drabbles happened and I just can't justify posting something all by itself if it's under 500 words. So I held onto those, too. And V-Day seems like a good enough day to post it all up, especially since the long-ass fic is done. So, there's maybe something for everybody in this batch? Happy V-Day!
Title: Awkward
Alternate Title: Thank you, leosgalpiper, for helping me prod my Three Attempts fic into something presentable. *love love*
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Pairing: Gokudera/Yamamoto
Rating: PG-13 (for mentions of sex)
Word Count: 520
Gokudera scrubbed harder with his toothbrush. He would never get that taste out of his mouth.
He had just... And then they'd... And Yamamoto had... Aaargh! How embarrasing. Gokudera spit fiercely into the sink, rinsed his toothbrush, and reloaded it with more toothpaste. Maybe a second go.
Yamamoto slid into the bathroom behind him, slid long arms around his waist, slid easy words into his ear: "Hey there," he whispered, his voice all happy and naked and warm.
Gokudera elbowed him in the ribs. "Oof," Yamamoto said with a laugh and he pulled his arms away.
"Haha, you must be pretty tired, huh," he asked, pulling his own toothbrush out of the cup beside the sink. Gokudera noticed (while trying to look like he hadn't noticed) that Yamamoto was still naked; Gokudera, on the other hand, was fully re-dressed.
"Shut up, freak," he said, all foamy around the toothbrush in his mouth, because all of his other more colorful insults were far too sexual in nature and he didn't want to be reminding Yamamoto of that, now did he?
"I did keep you up pretty late, I guess. Sorry!"
Gokudera cussed under his breath. A bit of toothpaste foam flew out and landed on the mirror above the sink. He silently prayed that Yamamoto wouldn't notice and think to compare it to something else he'd spit out recently. God.
"Hey," Yamamoto said cheerfully, "good thing you brought your toothbrush, huh! I never think about that."
Gokudera's cheeks flushed a deep pink. He hadn't thought about it. He hadn't. He'd just... Well, they had kissed before, these quick little awkward things. And they'd fooled around a little recently (Gokudera tried kissing Yamamoto's neck and unbuttoning his shirt to kiss lower, and Yamamoto hadn't stopped him). He hadn't thought about staying over. It was just a very distinct possibility.
"Yeah," Yamamoto continued, unscrewing the cap on the toothpaste, "I always forget and then it's nighttime and I'm ready to go to bed and my mouth is all like, 'Belgh!' but I just have to go to sleep like that because my toothbrush is at home. Hahaha!"
Gokudera rolled his eyes and kept scrubbing. He hoped this second brushing would get that funky taste out. He couldn't believe he'd just...gone down on Yamamoto. He hadn't even planned to go down on a girl. Ever. How gross.
"I can pull some futons onto the floor if you want, and we can sleep down there. I mean, my bed's pretty small...haha, but I guess you know that, huh?"
Gokudera scowled and yanked his toothbrush out of his mouth. He spit for the third time that night. He said, "You know what? Having sex with a guy is humiliating enough, but it's nothing compared to listening to you yammer on about it afterward!"
Yamamoto stared at him, toothbrush halfway out of his mouth. Then he blinked and smiled. "I'll be quiet, I'll be quiet!"
Then he slung an arm over Gokudera's shoulders and pulled him against his side. "I guess you shut me up pretty good earlier, didn't you?"
And he kissed him, suds and curses and all.
Title: Unexpected Interruptions
Alternate Title: One Out of Three Drabbles Owed Isn't Bad, Right, schizocherri? Thanks for helping me, babe. ♥
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Characters: Lambo, Hibari, Kusakabe
Rating: PG
Word Count: 500
"Quit wasting my time or I'll bite you to death."
Baby Lambo's eyes went wide and he made an "eep!" noise. Then he blew a spit bubble and pointed one pajama'd finger at Hibari.
"Booger," he said, firmly.
"I do not," he said crankily, but reached a hand up to his nose just in case. His eyes narrowed at the sticky, lying, smelly cow brat in front of him. His fingers twitched around the tiny, powerful box in his hand.
And Kusakabe, having developed a keen sense of Hibari's Limit over the years, swept in and scooped up Lambo.
"Just a few more minutes," he said, resting one hand on Hibari's shoulder, "then we can get back to training."
Hibari's eyes were sharp like fangs, but he nodded. "Fine."
Someone should have taken that bazooka away from Lambo years ago. They were adults with very important things to be doing, but the cow brat kept poofing in from the past and delaying the whole process.
Kusakabe sat cross-legged in the corner of Hibari's training room, baby Lambo on his lap. Lambo kept poking a finger between Kusakabe's eyes, then pulling down hard on the bottom lids.
"Scaarrryyyyy," he said, staring at Kusakabe's bulging, exposed eyes. Kusakabe stuck out his tongue to complete the effect.
"Uuuwahh!" Lambo cried, and tumbled backward. Kusakabe didn't mind the kids like Hibari did. Across the room, Hibari glanced unamused at his watch. Two more minutes.
"Oooh," Lambo said, having clambered back into Kusakabe's lap, "Lambo wishes he had a stick! Kusakabe-san's hair would make the best Lambo sticks!" His eyes were wide with amazement.
Hibari frowned and tapped his fingers against his arm. He knew that Futa was doing significant research overseas, but surely Reborn could have found a more suitable trainer for Lambo. Even when it wasn't a Lambo clad in cow-print pajamas, Lambo wasn't nearly strong enough for Hibari to be wasting his time with.
Still, worthy or not, Hibari knew this had to be dealt with. Maybe the others had the patience to loiter around with the brat, but Hibari had things to be doing. He couldn't...kill it, but he could scare it enough that it wouldn't ever use the bazooka again, and Hibari could finally get some peace.
He stalked over to Kusakabe, who was holding the brat in his arms, making Funny Faces at him, and grabbed Lambo by his sticky, poofy hair. He held the kid so they were eye to eye, and he bared his teeth. That alone was usually enough to stop most seasoned enemies in their tracks, but Lambo crossed his eyes at Hibari and stuck out his tongue.
Then, in a move swift enough to earn his Guardian title, he planted his tongue on Hibari's cheek and slid it slickly, warmly up its curve.
And poof. When the smoke cleared, Hibari was crushed beneath a very surprised-looking, fifteen-year-old Lambo, with his tongue still stuck incriminatingly to Hibari's cheek.
Kusakabe hunched over himself, laughing.
Title: Stroke of Luck
Alternate Title: templated comes to the rescue on the Three Attempts fic! Thanks so much, hon!
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Pairing: Lambo/I-pin
Rating: PG
Word Count: 600
The first time Lambo realized that I-pin was beautiful, they'd been next to each other on the swings. They were eleven and she'd just started to braid her long, black hair. The braids streamed out behind her, the wind flushed her cheeks, and Lambo's heart battered against his ribs. It was terrifying.
And he was a little terrified at the moment, watching I-pin light the New Year's Eve lanterns, her soft features darkened and made more dramatic by the warm, orange light. They were fifteen and I-pin was the most beautiful girl in the world. Lambo didn't think he was biased.
He just happened to like her. A lot. He had for as long as he could remember knowing her. And, he had discovered, he was so very bad at this "liking someone" thing. He'd been liked: his tousled hair, his soulful eyes, the cool older-boy company he kept...the girls loved him. That was easy. But, to I-pin, he was just Lambo, her dear childhood friend.
Their friends had tried to help him. Tsuna often gave them easy assignments together. Ryohei trained Lambo to spar with her. Yamamoto taught him to give sincere compliments. Gokudera blushingly gave him a condom, which was jumping the gun a bit, but the sentiment was there. But, even with all of these weapons in his arsenal, Lambo knew that the responsibility was his to make the first move. And that was a very scary thing.
In the dim light, I-pin passed him the matches with a smile. "Your turn," she said.
Lambo had never done this before. He'd spent New Year's Eve with his parents. And he'd spent it with the Vongola men. Ryohei had slipped him glasses of sake when Tsuna and the girls weren't looking. It had been fun. But he'd never spent it alone with the girl he liked before. And he'd never spent it performing the ritual of Observing the Night.
They'd gone to I-pin's master the day before. He was kind, but very commanding of respect. He was younger than Lambo had pictured. They had knelt with him as he explained to Lambo the ritual. They shared a pot of tea and I-pin's master talked about the lanterns, about lighting the way for gods bearing good luck. It all sounded very solemn and serious.
But on the way to their coats, I-pin looped her arm through his and smiled. "It's fun," she said, "don't worry."
And, after she bowed and slipped out the door, her master had held him back with one strong hand on his shoulder. "Bring flowers," he'd said simply.
And Lambo had heeded that advice. I-pin had grinned and hugged him and put them in a vase in the living room. After they finished lighting all the lanterns, they sat together on the couch and stared at the flowers. Lambo tried not to look at her, or think about how very close she was sitting. It only made him nervous. Instead, he tried to think about Tsuna and the others; the encouragement; the well wishes. And then he thought about his sweaty palms. He thought about how dumb and awkward it all was. He thought about the way I-pin's fingers felt laced between his own, all warm and soft.
He glanced down at their hands in amazement. Suddenly, he was a boy on a swing all over again, his heart beating fast, his brain unable to keep up.
"What are you doing," he asked quietly.
"It's Observe the Night," she said simply, resting her head on his shoulder, "I'm waiting for luck."
Title: Gokudera's Worst Nightmare
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Pairing: Yamamoto/Gokudera
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 300
Warnings: Spoilers for TYL!arc
Notes: With apologies to leosgalpiper, who inspired this with one of her WIPs. Also, it's canon and you know it. ♥
"You're fucking kidding me!"
Yamamoto smiled and looked down, scratching the back of his neck. "Afraid not," he said. The boy in front of him looked so flustered and betrayed. So much younger than Yamamoto ever remembered them being.
Gokudera threw his hands up in the air and stalked angrily to the bed. "Whatever. But you're sleeping on the floor."
Yamamoto smirked and shrugged. When the bazooka got fixed and this kid swapped places again, he couldn't wait to rub it in to the older Gokudera how childish he'd been.
"Fine," he said, pulling an extra blanket from the foot of the bed. He wouldn't have said anything about it at all if the nosy kid hadn't found the pictures of them with their arms slung around each other. Then again, the suspicious lack of a second bed in the room they'd share as adults would have tipped him off eventually.
Gokudera was muttering to himself as he pulled back the covers. "Gonna kick your ass when I get back and you're not so big, you big stupid pervert, you are so going to get it..."
Yamamoto tuned him out and began digging in the drawers for some spare pajamas. Gokudera crawled into bed and hugged the pillow to his face, presumably to scream into it. But when Yamamoto turned around with a ratty T-shirt in his hands and a pair of sweatpants, Gokudera had frozen in place.
"What the fuck?" He pulled his hand out from beneath the pillow, staring at the treasures he had found there: a small bottle of lubricant and two condoms of different brands.
Yamamoto blushed, but grinned boldly like a boy. "You like the studded kind," he said with a shrug. Then, "Haha, ow!" when Gokudera flung his finds across the room.
Title: Vengeance
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Character: Gokudera
Rating: PG-13 (for language)
Warnings: Spoilers for TYL!arc
Word Count: 550
Gokudera swore vengeance.
He swore to the blood in the streets, the bodies turned to ash, to the war he would wage on his own if he had to. He swore to the destruction, and then he had crumpled to his knees on the floor of his room and sobbed into the heels of his hands.
He didn't eat. He didn't need it. He drank, but only at the crest of dawn, the hot gold light painting the outline of clouds outside his window, when the others in the compound had been asleep for hours, when he had finally come in from slaying the white dragons of the Millefiore, blood soaking his shirt, his hair, his hands. He wouldn't wash up. He wouldn't change. He just slipped a knife from his pocket and scratched more tick marks into his wall. Twelve, eighteen, thirty-nine, the whole fucking lot of them.
He didn't talk to anyone. He pushed past the others when they tried. Though, once after dinner, two weeks after the wake of the tenth boss of the Vongola family, he had sought out Kyoko in the kitchen and pulled her into a stiff and awkward embrace, his hot, moist breath landing on the top of her head like an apology. He had kissed her cheek, squeezed his eyes shut against the coming tears, and walked out of the room. Ryohei tried to spar with him. Bianchi tried to reason with him. Yamamoto tried to talk with him like they used to, but he muttered, "Fuck off," and left the compound for some fresh air.
He hated life without the Tenth. They were a headless organization, slaughtering the enemy at random, in small angry bursts of offense, then days of defense, of hiding, of covering each other until they could get to safety. The Cavallone Family, the Tomaso Family, they were either all dead or they had been unable to make contact and Gokudera knew the Vongola should be making a priority of assembling their allies in a time like this, but it was easier to button up his suit at dawn, to stuff his pockets full of flame and nitro and go out to just kill something, and so he did. He killed lots of things. Lots of breathing, sniveling pieces of shit that probably hadn't been the ones to kill the Tenth, but it didn't fucking matter because he took them out anyway.
He used to hate that Yamamoto thought it was all a game. He used to ridicule him and call him worthless and hopeless and "Get the fuck out of my Family!" It wasn't until after the wake, kneeling in his room, broken into too many pieces to ever sweep together and reassemble, that he realized he had thought it was a game, too. He had thought they were the heroes, that they couldn't be stopped as long as the Tenth was leading them. But the game was over. The game was fucking over. There were no heroes. There was no eternal life. There was only the rage that he felt inside, this spark-hot flash that pushed him through another day. There was only that expanse of empty space on his wall, waiting for more tick marks, waiting for his vengeance to finally be complete.
Title: Things Lost and Gained
Alternate Title: Two Out of Three Drabbles, schizocherri! \o/
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Characters: Roy, Hughes, Elysia
Rating: G
Word Count:
"Can you believe how big she's grown? Isn't she twice the size of when you last saw her?"
Roy frowned and observed the tiny thing resting in his hands. He'd only seen her the previous weekend and she didn't look much different than she had then. Though she was quiet this time, which was a definite improvement. But Roy assumed that it had more to do with Gracia being just in the other room, and not with any maturity gained in the last week.
"I swear, Roy, she's going to be talking any day now. She gurgles and watches us when we talk and you know the doctors said she was really responsive for a baby and..."
Roy tuned him out. He gazed down at Elysia, her tiny body barely covering his two broad hands. Her eyelashes resting together on her cheekbones. Little pink lips. She was every ounce Gracia's daughter, a sweet, angelic, beautiful little thing. Then she burped and opened up those wide green eyes and grinned with her mouth open, the resemblance to Daddy becoming suddenly more apparent.
Maes slung an arm over Roy's shoulders. "Hey, pumpkin," he said softly, reaching out a finger for her to bat at. "I can't tell you how glad I was to get that desk job during Ishbal, Roy. If something had happened to me, there wouldn't be this little angel."
Roy smirked, then stuck his tongue out at the baby in his hands. Elysia cackled and kicked her feet.
Maes cleared his throat and leaned back on the couch. "I want you to know," he said, all seriousness like he got when they were discussing business, "even though I have a family now, I'm still behind you. Probably more so, now that I have Gracia and Elysia. Anything you need, just tell me."
Roy nodded. He never liked to say too much about his plans, not out loud. But Maes had been privy to them for so long that a nod was all that was necessary.
Maes smiled at him fondly and handed him another beer. Elysia reached out her tiny, baby hands for it, but Roy whisked it out of range.
"I appreciate what you're doing," Maes said, "just don't forget what you're giving up, friend."
Roy set his beer down on the coffee table and held baby Elysia so that she was nose to nose with him. Her big, curious eyes stared back into his and a smile crept across his face.
No, he thought, this is what I'm saving.
Title: Some Things That Brian Doesn't Do
Fandom: Queer as Folk
Characters: Brian, Michael
Rating: R
Word Count: 530
Notes: A microfic for you, Kitten. Out OTP makes me sad. ;_;
It's after he breaks that prick's hand in the locker.
He'd be sulking, but Brian doesn't sulk. He rages. He's sitting on the bed in his room, his back against he wall, his knees bent up, and he's thinking angry, juvenile thoughts. He would be thinking about the ever-closer graduation that would take him out of Pittsburgh, but that would be like running away. And Brian doesn't run away.
He hears the footsteps going up the stairs. He knows it's Mikey even before he knocks on the door. When he comes in, all loyal-dog smiles, and pulls a Tupperware container out of his book bag like contraband, Brian's stomach rumbles.
"Mom thought you'd be hungry. You know she doesn't believe in that 'go to bed without supper' punishment stuff." He thrusts the container of lasagna at him. "Well? You hungry?"
And, "yes," Brian says, because lying is another thing he doesn't do. At least not to Mikey.
***
It's after the Patrick Swayze picture.
He's on his bed, hand shoved down into his jeans, jacking himself hard enough to grit his teeth. He'd be thinking about Patrick Swayze, all sweaty and muscular, but he's not. Brian's into real people and when he closes his eyes, slides a finger down to his ass, it's Mikey's deep brown eyes that he's picturing.
Destiny isn't something that Brian believes in. He rejects it like his mother's god, but as he thrusts up into the tight grip of his hand, he can't help but think that Debbie walked in on them for a reason. He tries to groan quietly. Brian's not cut out for Pittsburgh; he'll be gone the day after graduation. But Mikey has no reason to run from anything.
Brian moans out a gritty "fuck" as he comes all over his hand. He's the kind of guy to try anything once, but it's better if he never makes Mikey love him, want him like this. Because hurting Mikey isn't something he ever plans to try.
***
It's after that thing with the gym teacher.
He's on the floor in his bedroom. He's not thinking about the bitter taste in his mouth from the guy's dick. He's not thinking about the marks the floor tiles left on his knees. Instead, he's thinking about how easy it was when it was all said and done.
He can do this. He can do it because he didn't hate it and best of all, he can use it. And he wasn't afraid of it. He and Mikey talked about blow jobs because they were teenage boys -- gay teenage boy -- and Mikey giggled about the idea.
But Brian knows that it's just part of the deal and it's good to have it out of the way. Like going to the dentist, or getting the first wet dream and waking up with your dick stuck to your pants and not remembering what the fuck you'd dreamed. Good like that.
And he isn't crying. Because Brian doesn't cry. But when Mikey opens the door and comes inside and kneels next to him and holds him, he thinks that maybe he can break that rule just once. For Mikey.
Title: Patience
Fandom: Honeydew Syndrome
Character: Charles (implied Charles => Metis)
Rating: G
Word Count: 140
Here's the thing about Charles: He can be incredibly patient.
Loyal, too. Fiercely, singularly. And he makes sure that everyone (including dumb jocks) knows just how patient and loyal he can be in the way he walks with his arm thrown over Metis' shoulder. He makes sure by looking dumb jocks in the eye when he does it.
He knows what Josh is about. He's got him all figured out and the fact that he sends Metis to talk to Josh should be proof enough of that. See, he's not afraid of a little competition. And he can wait. He can wait for. Ever. Josh can have his little fun with Metis (given that he doesn't dare hurt Metis because then Charles will come un-fucking-glued). He can have his little fun and when Metis gets bored, Charles will be waiting.
For as long as it takes.