A DROP OF BLOOD IN THE OCEAN 1/1
Title: A DROP OF BLOOD IN THE OCEAN
Series: Katekyo Hitman REBORN!
Pairing: TYL!80S; Yamamoto x Squalo // Xanxus x Squalo
Rating: R
Date: Written today
Status: oneshot
And So... A relationship of convenience for unrequited killers.
Notes: This is a companion piece to "I will find a place in your heart." You don't have to read either to understand the other, but it would certainly... help.
It had been a rough week for the Rain Guardian. He wasn't one for avoiding people, and Gokudera was doing enough of that on his own anyway. After the victory party--after whatever that had been in his bedroom--Yamamoto had carried the unconscious man to his own bed. The Rain Guardian sighed; he knew he'd done the right thing, of course. Rejecting his drunk friend--if they still were friends--and his advances. To be honest, it made him want to bang his head against the wall. Rejecting the object of his desires, drunk and willing, pinning him to the bed...
Damned principles.
Yamamoto's feet had stopped automatically in front of his bedroom door while he'd been deep in thought. He frowned at the lacquered wood. Had Gokudera come here out of true desire or jealousy? The only way to find out would be to ask. The man sighed, turning the doorknob.
The door swung open, and Yamamoto started at the silver-haired man lounging on his bed. "You're back early," he said casually, shutting the door behind him. Really, he should start to lock it. Yamamoto wasn't sure how many more silver-haired men he could handle in his bed. ...wait, what?
"Psht, that mission was a joke."
"Oh, how so?"
"The Moriarti family is about as tough as a neutered chihuahua," Squalo sneered. The swordsman had been flipping through a black folder, boots kicked off haphazardly at the foot of the bed. He'd probably been in the room for awhile, Yamamoto mused.
Days after the warehouse incident--the day that marked the very first time Yamamoto had ever doubted himself--he had returned to the Vongola estate incredibly irritated. He'd gotten blood all over his best suit, Gokudera probably didn't give a damn after all this time, it was freezing outside, and the stitches in his chin itched like hell.
He'd gotten to his room fine, somehow managing to avoid everyone in the mansion. Except, there, laying in his bed, was Squalo grinning like a shark. Yamamoto hadn't been in the mood to see anyone, let alone his somewhat-but-not-really-rival. "What do you want," he said flatly, slamming the door behind him.
The shark smirked. "A favor." And damn it, Yamamoto never expected it to be: "Fuck me."
"So it went well, I take it."
"Killed 'em all."
"Hm." Yamamoto headed towards his walk-in closet, contemplating the mission that black folder probably contained. He always did that when he saw the Varia with them; hopefully he'd never be privy to their contents. His own black folders were enough to handle.
Squalo would have been the mission's muscle, of course, hacking away at everything that moved or blinked. Depending on the layout of their target, the shark may have just been a distraction while Bel snuck off to slaughter the poor main target. The big guy with the umbrellas--Yamamoto could never remember his name, honestly--would be backup then, Lussaria probably infiltrating anyplace traps needed to be set. And Xanxus... would be doing whatever the hell it was he did. Sitting in a chair somewhere looking bored, probably.
And invariably, when the job was done, the Varia came back and it was always the same routine: Bel would scamper off somewhere to lick his knives clean and polish his crown, the umbrella guy would write up a mission report, and Lussaria would take a two-hour bubble bath. Then Squalo would follow Xanxus to the guest house--because the uptight bastard refused to stay in the mansion, refused to fully accept Tsuna's forgiveness--for a while. But a new trend had begun a few months ago; Squalo would then go from the guest house directly to the Rain Guardian's room.
On any other day, Yamamoto was sure he would have declined politely. Probably would have been a little freaked out too, but flattered somewhere in the back of his mind.
But not on that day. Not with his heart sore and pride tattered around the edges. Squalo had smelled that drop of blood--that frustration and need to take it out on something, lest it ruin him.
With a little convincing--very little, in fact--Squalo had gotten the Rain Guardian to fuck him into the floor.
It hadn't been any big mystery; Yamamoto had always known he was just a replacement for Xanxus. But that was fine; Squalo was just a replacement for the Storm Guardian. He had to chuckle at that.
"What're you laughing at, brat?"
"Nothing." Yamamoto smiled sheepishly, hanging up his suit jacket before making his way to the foot of the bed.
There had been unspoken rules after that, but only two. No looking at the other, no kissing. (Biting was okay, encouraged even.) There were also things that weren't rules, more like tendencies that just fell into place with time. Like how Squalo would only ever seek the man out when he smelled blood--that frustration that welled up inside Yamamoto after so many fruitless days with the Storm Guardian. Squalo only ever sought him out when he knew Yamamoto would be in an aggressive mood that suited Squalo's needs--his expectations.
And Yamamoto never sought the shark out; he could always count on the other man to just know when.
Squalo poked him with a toe. "Get in the shower. I have the stench of Moriarti all over me."
"Haha, what does that even smell like?"
"Cheap cologne and failure."
Running a hand through his short hair, Yamamoto couldn't help but feel a shiver run up his spine. It was his favorite, actually, seeing wet hair and a panting mouth plastered to expensive tile. Rather liked the way Squalo's shouts echoed in the space, too. If he had known Gokudera could hear, he never would have...
If he had ever thought that there was a chance he could get Gokudera into the shower like that, Yamamoto would have taken it all back.
There was clothing scattered everywhere; it would take Squalo some time to find all of his shit and get dressed. Yamamoto yawned; he, on the other hand, would just go to bed and clean up in the morning. "Hey, can I ask you something?"
"What is it," the older man grunted. He was hopping up and down, trying to fit into those ridiculous pants. The Rain Guardian had worked so hard to get them off an hour ago, it felt unfair to watch them put back on.
"How come you just don't do this with Xanxus?" It was an innocent enough question that had been bugging him.
A glare was shot from the edge of the bed as Squalo rooted under it for his shirt. "Why don't you just fuck the Storm Tartlet already, hmm?"
The glare was returned. "Because he's not interested."
"Then there you go," Squalo muttered. "Now help me find my damned shoes."
Yamamoto frowned. "But you're always going to his room in the guest house."
"I said help me find my shoes, you brat, before I find one and beat you with it."
Squalo was already stripping off his black shirt, heading towards the bathroom. The leather pants looked good on him, Yamamoto would have to admit, though he knew he wasn't the reason the Italian wore them. "Are those new?"
"What?"
"Your pants."
"Eh?" Squalo looked down in the mirror. "Yeah, they are."
"Haha, they look great on you."
"Shut it, brat."
Yamamoto smiled, getting up from the bed. He tried to tell such things to the swordsman, since he knew Squalo would probably never hear them from Xanxus' mouth. He had no problems with Xanxus, honestly, and no right to judge Squalo. After all, Gokudera treated him nearly the same.
Or, at least, he had thought so.
They were out on the lawn, breathless from a sparring match. Squalo had found--killed someone and taken--a new sword that he wanted to test out. Who better than the Rain Guardian?
"It's pretty nice, haha!" Yamamoto sat down on the edge of a fountain, catching air into his lungs. "The weight between the blade and the handle seems to be balanced wonderfully."
"It's beautiful," Squalo grinned, holding it up to the sun. "It'll look nicer with blood on it."
"Haha, if you say--" The Rain Guardian stopped; all of the murderous glee was suddenly gone from Squalo's face. The Varia was staring past him, through the water streaming from the fountain. "Squalo?" Yamamoto turned; there was a man with feathers in his hair walking towards them. The air between them turned heavy and weighed Yamamoto down. But like always, he forbade those emotions to show on his face. "Good morning, Xanxus!"
The man spared Yamamoto a glance, then most of his heated stare turned on the silver-haired man. "Squalo."
"What," the shark sneered.
"Let's take a walk." Without waiting for an answer, Xanxus turned towards the guest house.
Squalo, however, did not move. "What? No, forget it. I'm too busy for damned stupid walks."
The man in black stopped in his tracks. A moment passed before Xanxus turned slightly to look over his shoulder. Yamamoto could see that smirk there as Xanxus said something the Rain Guardian couldn't quite hear. And then, he kept on walking.
Squalo glared at the man's back, knuckles white around his sword, seething. And again, Yamamoto couldn't quite hear, but it had sounded an awful lot like: "I'll fucking chop it off." Squalo left the lawn without another word, following after the man with feathers in his hair. Yamamoto's eyes trailed them both for as long as they stayed in his vision. Then, the Rain Guardian got up, deciding it was time for some breakfast.
Okay, so maybe things between him and the Storm Guardian weren't quite as... weird as with Squalo and that bastard, Yamamoto mused from the bathroom's doorway. The shower was already on, three shower heads spraying hot water onto a vast empty space. The shark was playing with his hair in the mirror--checking for split ends, or whatever it was he claimed he did.
Squalo glanced at Yamamoto. "I see you're still dressed."
Snapping out of his thoughts, Yamamoto suddenly realized that he was--and Squalo was not. "Haha, I'm moving a little slow tonight." Roughly, he was yanked into the bathroom by his tie, Squalo then all but tossing him into the shower. The Italian kicked the glass door shut, smirking down at the Rain Guardian. Yamamoto frowned--he was soaked. "You owe me new shoes."
"If you'd stop dicking around, I wouldn't have to punish you," Squalo half-purred. He fell to his hands and knees, steadfastly removing the leather shoes and whatever else he could get in his grasp.
"Haha, I wasn't dicking around," Yamamoto grinned, unknotting his tie. "I was just admiring the scenery."
"Don't be so queer about it," Squalo muttered. One of the shower's steady streams was blocked by the man's back as he straddled Yamamoto, practically tearing buttons from the man's shirt. Automatically, the Rain Guardian's hands went to damp hips, even as he said--"I think this should be the last time we do this."
"I don't see what's so great about him." Squalo yawned as he kicked his feet up on the railing. He tossed his empty bottle over the side, laughing at the sound of it crashing somewhere on Tsuna's deck below.
The Rain Guardian grinned. "Haha, that's fine by me. That way I won't have to fight you for him."
"He's too scrawny," Squalo continued. He grabbed another bottle of rosolio from the cooler and settled into the dining room chair he'd dragged up to the roof. "But to each his own, brat."
"Haha, I just happen to like scrawny guys, I guess." Yamamoto swung the iron club, the tiny white ball flying into the sunset. He had taken up golf as a cover for a past assignment and found it to be a pleasant distraction from all of the bullshit that seemed to cascade around him these days. Like most sports, he played it very well.
"How long do you plan to wait for him to get his head out of his ass?"
Yamamoto shrugged, dropping another ball onto the tee. Miraculously, after years of disappointment, he still knew the truth in his heart: "As long as it takes."
"Eh?" Squalo cocked an eyebrow. "What's gotten into you?"
"Gokudera came to my room after that party."
The shark laughed then, his loud voice bouncing off the shower walls. "So that's how it is! That tart finally found his balls, eh?" Yamamoto shrugged, not wanting to give away too many details. "Well, good for you, brat," Squalo smirked ruefully.
The Rain Guardian's hands tightened around pale hips. He considered saying something about how Xanxus didn't know what he was missing out on. How he'd figure it out, too, eventually. But Yamamoto decided it would just earn him a fist to the nose. "Are you mad?"
Squalo grabbed a fistful of black hair and yanked it hard. "You sayin' I can get a piece of ass better than yours?"
"Hahaha--ow!" And that was good enough for each of them.
So instead of saying sweet goodbyes, Yamamoto did what he did best with Squalo, albeit minding the noise they made this last time. After all, theirs was a relationship of convenience, and that convenience had ended for them both.
Series: Katekyo Hitman REBORN!
Pairing: TYL!80S; Yamamoto x Squalo // Xanxus x Squalo
Rating: R
Date: Written today
Status: oneshot
And So... A relationship of convenience for unrequited killers.
Notes: This is a companion piece to "I will find a place in your heart." You don't have to read either to understand the other, but it would certainly... help.
It had been a rough week for the Rain Guardian. He wasn't one for avoiding people, and Gokudera was doing enough of that on his own anyway. After the victory party--after whatever that had been in his bedroom--Yamamoto had carried the unconscious man to his own bed. The Rain Guardian sighed; he knew he'd done the right thing, of course. Rejecting his drunk friend--if they still were friends--and his advances. To be honest, it made him want to bang his head against the wall. Rejecting the object of his desires, drunk and willing, pinning him to the bed...
Damned principles.
Yamamoto's feet had stopped automatically in front of his bedroom door while he'd been deep in thought. He frowned at the lacquered wood. Had Gokudera come here out of true desire or jealousy? The only way to find out would be to ask. The man sighed, turning the doorknob.
The door swung open, and Yamamoto started at the silver-haired man lounging on his bed. "You're back early," he said casually, shutting the door behind him. Really, he should start to lock it. Yamamoto wasn't sure how many more silver-haired men he could handle in his bed. ...wait, what?
"Psht, that mission was a joke."
"Oh, how so?"
"The Moriarti family is about as tough as a neutered chihuahua," Squalo sneered. The swordsman had been flipping through a black folder, boots kicked off haphazardly at the foot of the bed. He'd probably been in the room for awhile, Yamamoto mused.
Days after the warehouse incident--the day that marked the very first time Yamamoto had ever doubted himself--he had returned to the Vongola estate incredibly irritated. He'd gotten blood all over his best suit, Gokudera probably didn't give a damn after all this time, it was freezing outside, and the stitches in his chin itched like hell.
He'd gotten to his room fine, somehow managing to avoid everyone in the mansion. Except, there, laying in his bed, was Squalo grinning like a shark. Yamamoto hadn't been in the mood to see anyone, let alone his somewhat-but-not-really-rival. "What do you want," he said flatly, slamming the door behind him.
The shark smirked. "A favor." And damn it, Yamamoto never expected it to be: "Fuck me."
"So it went well, I take it."
"Killed 'em all."
"Hm." Yamamoto headed towards his walk-in closet, contemplating the mission that black folder probably contained. He always did that when he saw the Varia with them; hopefully he'd never be privy to their contents. His own black folders were enough to handle.
Squalo would have been the mission's muscle, of course, hacking away at everything that moved or blinked. Depending on the layout of their target, the shark may have just been a distraction while Bel snuck off to slaughter the poor main target. The big guy with the umbrellas--Yamamoto could never remember his name, honestly--would be backup then, Lussaria probably infiltrating anyplace traps needed to be set. And Xanxus... would be doing whatever the hell it was he did. Sitting in a chair somewhere looking bored, probably.
And invariably, when the job was done, the Varia came back and it was always the same routine: Bel would scamper off somewhere to lick his knives clean and polish his crown, the umbrella guy would write up a mission report, and Lussaria would take a two-hour bubble bath. Then Squalo would follow Xanxus to the guest house--because the uptight bastard refused to stay in the mansion, refused to fully accept Tsuna's forgiveness--for a while. But a new trend had begun a few months ago; Squalo would then go from the guest house directly to the Rain Guardian's room.
On any other day, Yamamoto was sure he would have declined politely. Probably would have been a little freaked out too, but flattered somewhere in the back of his mind.
But not on that day. Not with his heart sore and pride tattered around the edges. Squalo had smelled that drop of blood--that frustration and need to take it out on something, lest it ruin him.
With a little convincing--very little, in fact--Squalo had gotten the Rain Guardian to fuck him into the floor.
It hadn't been any big mystery; Yamamoto had always known he was just a replacement for Xanxus. But that was fine; Squalo was just a replacement for the Storm Guardian. He had to chuckle at that.
"What're you laughing at, brat?"
"Nothing." Yamamoto smiled sheepishly, hanging up his suit jacket before making his way to the foot of the bed.
There had been unspoken rules after that, but only two. No looking at the other, no kissing. (Biting was okay, encouraged even.) There were also things that weren't rules, more like tendencies that just fell into place with time. Like how Squalo would only ever seek the man out when he smelled blood--that frustration that welled up inside Yamamoto after so many fruitless days with the Storm Guardian. Squalo only ever sought him out when he knew Yamamoto would be in an aggressive mood that suited Squalo's needs--his expectations.
And Yamamoto never sought the shark out; he could always count on the other man to just know when.
Squalo poked him with a toe. "Get in the shower. I have the stench of Moriarti all over me."
"Haha, what does that even smell like?"
"Cheap cologne and failure."
Running a hand through his short hair, Yamamoto couldn't help but feel a shiver run up his spine. It was his favorite, actually, seeing wet hair and a panting mouth plastered to expensive tile. Rather liked the way Squalo's shouts echoed in the space, too. If he had known Gokudera could hear, he never would have...
If he had ever thought that there was a chance he could get Gokudera into the shower like that, Yamamoto would have taken it all back.
There was clothing scattered everywhere; it would take Squalo some time to find all of his shit and get dressed. Yamamoto yawned; he, on the other hand, would just go to bed and clean up in the morning. "Hey, can I ask you something?"
"What is it," the older man grunted. He was hopping up and down, trying to fit into those ridiculous pants. The Rain Guardian had worked so hard to get them off an hour ago, it felt unfair to watch them put back on.
"How come you just don't do this with Xanxus?" It was an innocent enough question that had been bugging him.
A glare was shot from the edge of the bed as Squalo rooted under it for his shirt. "Why don't you just fuck the Storm Tartlet already, hmm?"
The glare was returned. "Because he's not interested."
"Then there you go," Squalo muttered. "Now help me find my damned shoes."
Yamamoto frowned. "But you're always going to his room in the guest house."
"I said help me find my shoes, you brat, before I find one and beat you with it."
Squalo was already stripping off his black shirt, heading towards the bathroom. The leather pants looked good on him, Yamamoto would have to admit, though he knew he wasn't the reason the Italian wore them. "Are those new?"
"What?"
"Your pants."
"Eh?" Squalo looked down in the mirror. "Yeah, they are."
"Haha, they look great on you."
"Shut it, brat."
Yamamoto smiled, getting up from the bed. He tried to tell such things to the swordsman, since he knew Squalo would probably never hear them from Xanxus' mouth. He had no problems with Xanxus, honestly, and no right to judge Squalo. After all, Gokudera treated him nearly the same.
Or, at least, he had thought so.
They were out on the lawn, breathless from a sparring match. Squalo had found--killed someone and taken--a new sword that he wanted to test out. Who better than the Rain Guardian?
"It's pretty nice, haha!" Yamamoto sat down on the edge of a fountain, catching air into his lungs. "The weight between the blade and the handle seems to be balanced wonderfully."
"It's beautiful," Squalo grinned, holding it up to the sun. "It'll look nicer with blood on it."
"Haha, if you say--" The Rain Guardian stopped; all of the murderous glee was suddenly gone from Squalo's face. The Varia was staring past him, through the water streaming from the fountain. "Squalo?" Yamamoto turned; there was a man with feathers in his hair walking towards them. The air between them turned heavy and weighed Yamamoto down. But like always, he forbade those emotions to show on his face. "Good morning, Xanxus!"
The man spared Yamamoto a glance, then most of his heated stare turned on the silver-haired man. "Squalo."
"What," the shark sneered.
"Let's take a walk." Without waiting for an answer, Xanxus turned towards the guest house.
Squalo, however, did not move. "What? No, forget it. I'm too busy for damned stupid walks."
The man in black stopped in his tracks. A moment passed before Xanxus turned slightly to look over his shoulder. Yamamoto could see that smirk there as Xanxus said something the Rain Guardian couldn't quite hear. And then, he kept on walking.
Squalo glared at the man's back, knuckles white around his sword, seething. And again, Yamamoto couldn't quite hear, but it had sounded an awful lot like: "I'll fucking chop it off." Squalo left the lawn without another word, following after the man with feathers in his hair. Yamamoto's eyes trailed them both for as long as they stayed in his vision. Then, the Rain Guardian got up, deciding it was time for some breakfast.
Okay, so maybe things between him and the Storm Guardian weren't quite as... weird as with Squalo and that bastard, Yamamoto mused from the bathroom's doorway. The shower was already on, three shower heads spraying hot water onto a vast empty space. The shark was playing with his hair in the mirror--checking for split ends, or whatever it was he claimed he did.
Squalo glanced at Yamamoto. "I see you're still dressed."
Snapping out of his thoughts, Yamamoto suddenly realized that he was--and Squalo was not. "Haha, I'm moving a little slow tonight." Roughly, he was yanked into the bathroom by his tie, Squalo then all but tossing him into the shower. The Italian kicked the glass door shut, smirking down at the Rain Guardian. Yamamoto frowned--he was soaked. "You owe me new shoes."
"If you'd stop dicking around, I wouldn't have to punish you," Squalo half-purred. He fell to his hands and knees, steadfastly removing the leather shoes and whatever else he could get in his grasp.
"Haha, I wasn't dicking around," Yamamoto grinned, unknotting his tie. "I was just admiring the scenery."
"Don't be so queer about it," Squalo muttered. One of the shower's steady streams was blocked by the man's back as he straddled Yamamoto, practically tearing buttons from the man's shirt. Automatically, the Rain Guardian's hands went to damp hips, even as he said--"I think this should be the last time we do this."
"I don't see what's so great about him." Squalo yawned as he kicked his feet up on the railing. He tossed his empty bottle over the side, laughing at the sound of it crashing somewhere on Tsuna's deck below.
The Rain Guardian grinned. "Haha, that's fine by me. That way I won't have to fight you for him."
"He's too scrawny," Squalo continued. He grabbed another bottle of rosolio from the cooler and settled into the dining room chair he'd dragged up to the roof. "But to each his own, brat."
"Haha, I just happen to like scrawny guys, I guess." Yamamoto swung the iron club, the tiny white ball flying into the sunset. He had taken up golf as a cover for a past assignment and found it to be a pleasant distraction from all of the bullshit that seemed to cascade around him these days. Like most sports, he played it very well.
"How long do you plan to wait for him to get his head out of his ass?"
Yamamoto shrugged, dropping another ball onto the tee. Miraculously, after years of disappointment, he still knew the truth in his heart: "As long as it takes."
"Eh?" Squalo cocked an eyebrow. "What's gotten into you?"
"Gokudera came to my room after that party."
The shark laughed then, his loud voice bouncing off the shower walls. "So that's how it is! That tart finally found his balls, eh?" Yamamoto shrugged, not wanting to give away too many details. "Well, good for you, brat," Squalo smirked ruefully.
The Rain Guardian's hands tightened around pale hips. He considered saying something about how Xanxus didn't know what he was missing out on. How he'd figure it out, too, eventually. But Yamamoto decided it would just earn him a fist to the nose. "Are you mad?"
Squalo grabbed a fistful of black hair and yanked it hard. "You sayin' I can get a piece of ass better than yours?"
"Hahaha--ow!" And that was good enough for each of them.
So instead of saying sweet goodbyes, Yamamoto did what he did best with Squalo, albeit minding the noise they made this last time. After all, theirs was a relationship of convenience, and that convenience had ended for them both.