[Drabble KHR] FS Chronicles - Fireworks in the Kitchen
Title: Fireworks in the Kitchen
Rating: G (or PG for domestic violence a bloody punch)
Summary: For once it's not Gokudera who's blowing stuff up.
A/N: The speech was almost directly-quoted from events on Formspring. It would be exact, but I used this as a short drabble to submit to ReboU for the Choice game so I altered some things.
When Hibari returned from his little sojourn to Hong Kong to research new types of box weapons, he had really hoped that Mukuro had listened to him and not tried to cook anything. If there was even a slim chance that some higher power would gift the troublesome illusionist with some sense for once and grant Hibari the reprieve of another headache that would inevitably result from having to deal with the mess of cleanup, he would be thankful to them forever.
...There was a reason Hibari did not believe in these 'higher powers'.
He knew something was wrong as soon as he had posed the question to the Mist Guardian.
"I hope nothing too chaotic happened while I was away." The implied query was quite clear to the other man, who chuckled before giving his answer.
"Nothing must have since you are unaware of it."
Hibari rolled his eyes and shuffled the notes he had taken during his research on the new box weapons before pushing them to one side, swivelling in his chair to fix an unblinking stare upon Mukuro, and asking firmly:
"Mukuro. Did you destroy anything?"
"...No."
The lie was clear in Mukuro's answer. Hibari let his expression darken, murderous aura palpable.
"What did you break?"
The illusionist's smile dropped several notches, becoming more of a grimace. Nothing could be hidden from Hibari. Not easily. Not now that he knew Mukuro so well. "I meant to repair it before your return..."
Hibari stood, strode forward and wrapped his hand in the other's loosely-worn tie, jerking Mukuro down so he could glare into his eyes. "What. Did. You. Break."
It took effort for the other man to maintain eye contact, he could tell. As evenly as the illusionist could manage, he grated out unwillingly the answer Hibari had been dreading to hear.
"The...kitchen."
Hibari was silent. Releasing Mukuro's tie, he stepped back and remained still for a moment, expression stony. Then...
CRACK!
His fist met the illusionist's face with the wince-worthy sound of bone crunching. Mukuro staggered back, face contorted in pain as blood ran thick and fast from his newly-broken nose. With satisfaction, Hibari watched the other man hunch over, gasping, before rummaging in his pocket and producing a handkerchief which he offered to Mukuro.
Hibari was not sorry, but that handkerchief - and the icepack which he flitted away to retrieve from the Vongola kitchens - was as much comfort as Mukuro would be receiving. The Cloud Guardian watched as dark red quickly stained the white material and dyed it a deep crimson. Plucking the now-useless scrap of cloth away, he produced another and flicked it towards Mukuro before discarding the first. Splotches of blood had soaked into the floor at the other man's feet before they could be stopped but they went ignored.
"Didn't you promise not to go near the kitchen?" he asked irritably. Speaking thickly in-between dabbing at his nose, Mukuro replied:
"I said I would not cook, not that I would not touch the kitchen."
With a sigh, Hibari pulled his chair over and forced the other to sit in it before snapping at Kusakabe to fetch Shamal. Then he pulled up another chair and sat opposite Mukuro as he waited for the doctor to arrive.
"What were you doing then?"
More silence. "I tried to cook," Mukuro replied eventually.
Hibari pinched the bridge of his nose and tried his level best not to throttle the man before him as his hopes for a stress-free New Year went up in flames.
Rating: G (or PG for domestic violence a bloody punch)
Summary: For once it's not Gokudera who's blowing stuff up.
A/N: The speech was almost directly-quoted from events on Formspring. It would be exact, but I used this as a short drabble to submit to ReboU for the Choice game so I altered some things.
When Hibari returned from his little sojourn to Hong Kong to research new types of box weapons, he had really hoped that Mukuro had listened to him and not tried to cook anything. If there was even a slim chance that some higher power would gift the troublesome illusionist with some sense for once and grant Hibari the reprieve of another headache that would inevitably result from having to deal with the mess of cleanup, he would be thankful to them forever.
...There was a reason Hibari did not believe in these 'higher powers'.
He knew something was wrong as soon as he had posed the question to the Mist Guardian.
"I hope nothing too chaotic happened while I was away." The implied query was quite clear to the other man, who chuckled before giving his answer.
"Nothing must have since you are unaware of it."
Hibari rolled his eyes and shuffled the notes he had taken during his research on the new box weapons before pushing them to one side, swivelling in his chair to fix an unblinking stare upon Mukuro, and asking firmly:
"Mukuro. Did you destroy anything?"
"...No."
The lie was clear in Mukuro's answer. Hibari let his expression darken, murderous aura palpable.
"What did you break?"
The illusionist's smile dropped several notches, becoming more of a grimace. Nothing could be hidden from Hibari. Not easily. Not now that he knew Mukuro so well. "I meant to repair it before your return..."
Hibari stood, strode forward and wrapped his hand in the other's loosely-worn tie, jerking Mukuro down so he could glare into his eyes. "What. Did. You. Break."
It took effort for the other man to maintain eye contact, he could tell. As evenly as the illusionist could manage, he grated out unwillingly the answer Hibari had been dreading to hear.
"The...kitchen."
Hibari was silent. Releasing Mukuro's tie, he stepped back and remained still for a moment, expression stony. Then...
CRACK!
His fist met the illusionist's face with the wince-worthy sound of bone crunching. Mukuro staggered back, face contorted in pain as blood ran thick and fast from his newly-broken nose. With satisfaction, Hibari watched the other man hunch over, gasping, before rummaging in his pocket and producing a handkerchief which he offered to Mukuro.
Hibari was not sorry, but that handkerchief - and the icepack which he flitted away to retrieve from the Vongola kitchens - was as much comfort as Mukuro would be receiving. The Cloud Guardian watched as dark red quickly stained the white material and dyed it a deep crimson. Plucking the now-useless scrap of cloth away, he produced another and flicked it towards Mukuro before discarding the first. Splotches of blood had soaked into the floor at the other man's feet before they could be stopped but they went ignored.
"Didn't you promise not to go near the kitchen?" he asked irritably. Speaking thickly in-between dabbing at his nose, Mukuro replied:
"I said I would not cook, not that I would not touch the kitchen."
With a sigh, Hibari pulled his chair over and forced the other to sit in it before snapping at Kusakabe to fetch Shamal. Then he pulled up another chair and sat opposite Mukuro as he waited for the doctor to arrive.
"What were you doing then?"
More silence. "I tried to cook," Mukuro replied eventually.
Hibari pinched the bridge of his nose and tried his level best not to throttle the man before him as his hopes for a stress-free New Year went up in flames.