Home-Field Advantage [January 14th] [8018] [Reborn!]
Title :: Home-Field Advantage
Prompt :: January 14th, “some mad hope” [31_days]
Pairing :: 8018
Rating :: PG-13
Warnings :: Crack. In a word, Yamamoto.
Wordcount :: 900
Summary :: Of herbivores, hugs, first dates, and fish. Sort of.
The day after the Cloud Battle, Hibari Kyouya is attacked from behind.
There are the rough hands around his shoulders (mussing his uniform, and he spends half a heartbeat fantasizing how he will rearrange their eyebrows to make them pay for this obvious affront against Namimori), the heat of the body pressed so close behind his, and the answering heat rising in his own body as the bloodlust immediately begins to surge.
But, he realises another quickened heartbeat later, something is amiss.
The opponent isn’t moving, isn’t reaching for a weapon or for his throat, isn’t even tightening his grip to ensure that Hibari doesn’t get away. Rather, he is doing nothing but merely hanging on, which surely even the most moronic of herbivores should know is not nearly sufficient to be a threat.
And then he hears the laughter in his ear, and the bloodlust simmers down to stone-cold horror:
Hibari Kyouya is being hugged.
He whirls, tonfa flying and now fully intending to bite the herbivore’s entire face off for this grievous transgression, and is met with only a burst of laughter so intense it blows the hair back from his forehead and an open palm easily blocking the tonfa’s path.
“Hahaha, good one, Hibari! I mean, I knew you were fast and all, since you’re our ace, but it’s still pretty cool seeing it up close like this, haha!”
Hibari stares.
“But really, you should put those twigs of yours away - I’m not a Gundam or whatever like what you fought last night, so you don’t need to bite me to death too!”
“Herbivore.” He snaps the word out neatly from between bared teeth, sharp and precise like an unheeded promise of pain.
Yamamoto blinks, brow now slightly furrowed. “Oh, is that what it was called? I thought Ryohei was saying something about it being Gory Moscow, but maybe I heard wrong. I guess it’d be pretty silly to fly a Gundam in all the way from Russia, haha!”
“You,” Hibari enunciates, and Yamamoto’s face lights right back up into its trademark grin.
“Haha, yup, it’s me! Does that mean I can hug you now?”
“I don’t hug herbivores.”
“But, hey, Hibari-”
“You. Are. A. Herbivore.”
“But I’m not a vegetarian! Really! My dad even owns a sushi restaurant - c’mon, I’ll show you!” He makes a mad grab for Hibari’s hand, and then begins to drag him cheerfully down the street. “It can be like a date, haha!”
Hibari very nearly has a facial expression, and it is not pleased.
Hibari opts not to kill him in the middle of the street only because it would be boring. If he allows the moron herbivore to fight on his own turf and gives him that slight home-field advantage, then perhaps the battle would be marginally more interesting, might offer him a rush beyond simply licking the blood from his own face.
He tells him this, voice flat as though presenting only the most obvious of facts, and Yamamoto beams.
“Home-field advantage, huh? I didn’t know you were into sports too, Hibari! Maybe I should have asked you out sooner, haha!”
Hibari stares at the pulse on the side of his neck, and unconsciously licks his lips.
That is the spot he aims for when he is first dragged through the doors of the restaurant, lunging forward in one vicious swoop and intending to sink his teeth into that carelessly-exposed column of flesh.
“Hahaha, good! I was hoping you’d be hungry!”
And Hibari finds a piece of fish jammed in between his teeth instead.
Which he promptly spits onto Yamamoto’s shoes.
“Don’t like that one? That’s okay; we’ve got lots here. Try this one instead!”
Completely unperturbed and smiling still, he shoves another bit of fish in Hibari’s mouth before the other boy can so much as move, and Hibari smashes his teeth down on it with something rapidly approaching fury.
“Fight.”
“Haha, what?”
“If you insist that you are not a herbivore-”
“Hibari, I’m standing right in front of you with meat, I’m really not a vegetarian-”
“-then stop behaving like one and fight me.”
“…with a fish?”
Hibari’s eyebrow twitches, and Yamamoto finally gives a good-natured shrug.
“Well, I guess since you are into sports now and all that…”
And he draws back his arm, body sliding naturally into its pitcher’s position, and then lets go.
The problem with this particular herbivore, Hibari decides some indeterminate time later as he blinks open his eyes and forces himself back up to a sitting position, is clearly not a lack in the body but rather a lack in his mind.
And he is too busy musing over the apparent strength in that arm to properly register the fact that he has just been knocked out by a fish.
(Hibari Kyouya is a man of priorities, after all.)
“Hahaha, sorry about that! I didn’t mean to knock you out or anything, but I hope at least throwing meat at you proved I’m not vegetarian, haha!”
Now ignoring him entirely, Hibari gets silently to his feet and stalks out of the restaurant without so much as a glance over his proudly-set shoulders, fish scales still shimmering delicately in his hair.
But he makes note of the place as he leaves, and makes certain to remember its location well.
He thinks he may just return here, after all.
Prompt :: January 14th, “some mad hope” [31_days]
Pairing :: 8018
Rating :: PG-13
Warnings :: Crack. In a word, Yamamoto.
Wordcount :: 900
Summary :: Of herbivores, hugs, first dates, and fish. Sort of.
The day after the Cloud Battle, Hibari Kyouya is attacked from behind.
There are the rough hands around his shoulders (mussing his uniform, and he spends half a heartbeat fantasizing how he will rearrange their eyebrows to make them pay for this obvious affront against Namimori), the heat of the body pressed so close behind his, and the answering heat rising in his own body as the bloodlust immediately begins to surge.
But, he realises another quickened heartbeat later, something is amiss.
The opponent isn’t moving, isn’t reaching for a weapon or for his throat, isn’t even tightening his grip to ensure that Hibari doesn’t get away. Rather, he is doing nothing but merely hanging on, which surely even the most moronic of herbivores should know is not nearly sufficient to be a threat.
And then he hears the laughter in his ear, and the bloodlust simmers down to stone-cold horror:
Hibari Kyouya is being hugged.
He whirls, tonfa flying and now fully intending to bite the herbivore’s entire face off for this grievous transgression, and is met with only a burst of laughter so intense it blows the hair back from his forehead and an open palm easily blocking the tonfa’s path.
“Hahaha, good one, Hibari! I mean, I knew you were fast and all, since you’re our ace, but it’s still pretty cool seeing it up close like this, haha!”
Hibari stares.
“But really, you should put those twigs of yours away - I’m not a Gundam or whatever like what you fought last night, so you don’t need to bite me to death too!”
“Herbivore.” He snaps the word out neatly from between bared teeth, sharp and precise like an unheeded promise of pain.
Yamamoto blinks, brow now slightly furrowed. “Oh, is that what it was called? I thought Ryohei was saying something about it being Gory Moscow, but maybe I heard wrong. I guess it’d be pretty silly to fly a Gundam in all the way from Russia, haha!”
“You,” Hibari enunciates, and Yamamoto’s face lights right back up into its trademark grin.
“Haha, yup, it’s me! Does that mean I can hug you now?”
“I don’t hug herbivores.”
“But, hey, Hibari-”
“You. Are. A. Herbivore.”
“But I’m not a vegetarian! Really! My dad even owns a sushi restaurant - c’mon, I’ll show you!” He makes a mad grab for Hibari’s hand, and then begins to drag him cheerfully down the street. “It can be like a date, haha!”
Hibari very nearly has a facial expression, and it is not pleased.
Hibari opts not to kill him in the middle of the street only because it would be boring. If he allows the moron herbivore to fight on his own turf and gives him that slight home-field advantage, then perhaps the battle would be marginally more interesting, might offer him a rush beyond simply licking the blood from his own face.
He tells him this, voice flat as though presenting only the most obvious of facts, and Yamamoto beams.
“Home-field advantage, huh? I didn’t know you were into sports too, Hibari! Maybe I should have asked you out sooner, haha!”
Hibari stares at the pulse on the side of his neck, and unconsciously licks his lips.
That is the spot he aims for when he is first dragged through the doors of the restaurant, lunging forward in one vicious swoop and intending to sink his teeth into that carelessly-exposed column of flesh.
“Hahaha, good! I was hoping you’d be hungry!”
And Hibari finds a piece of fish jammed in between his teeth instead.
Which he promptly spits onto Yamamoto’s shoes.
“Don’t like that one? That’s okay; we’ve got lots here. Try this one instead!”
Completely unperturbed and smiling still, he shoves another bit of fish in Hibari’s mouth before the other boy can so much as move, and Hibari smashes his teeth down on it with something rapidly approaching fury.
“Fight.”
“Haha, what?”
“If you insist that you are not a herbivore-”
“Hibari, I’m standing right in front of you with meat, I’m really not a vegetarian-”
“-then stop behaving like one and fight me.”
“…with a fish?”
Hibari’s eyebrow twitches, and Yamamoto finally gives a good-natured shrug.
“Well, I guess since you are into sports now and all that…”
And he draws back his arm, body sliding naturally into its pitcher’s position, and then lets go.
The problem with this particular herbivore, Hibari decides some indeterminate time later as he blinks open his eyes and forces himself back up to a sitting position, is clearly not a lack in the body but rather a lack in his mind.
And he is too busy musing over the apparent strength in that arm to properly register the fact that he has just been knocked out by a fish.
(Hibari Kyouya is a man of priorities, after all.)
“Hahaha, sorry about that! I didn’t mean to knock you out or anything, but I hope at least throwing meat at you proved I’m not vegetarian, haha!”
Now ignoring him entirely, Hibari gets silently to his feet and stalks out of the restaurant without so much as a glance over his proudly-set shoulders, fish scales still shimmering delicately in his hair.
But he makes note of the place as he leaves, and makes certain to remember its location well.
He thinks he may just return here, after all.