Because I need a distraction
I foolishly challenged glockdown into writing a fic in half an hour, so here are the horrific results. Do read Andie's amazing music AU ficlet and prod her to writing please.
Also, please bear with my KHR/MR&MRS SMITH AU. argentum_luna this is for you, ILU.
“Vongola Events and Associates,” he barks gruffly, sandwich pushed aside.
The phone has been ringing non stop since 8am and it is an exceptionally busy day at the Vongola headquarters, not because they are short staffed but only because Vongola Decimo insisted that the real staff (and by that, Gokudera knew he meant the non-mafia kind) needed a break from all the over time. The half Italian only wished irrational brides and grieving families understood the concept of lunch breaks.
“Yes we offer wedding packages but this is the funerals depart--”
“No miss, you may not speak to our resident wedding planner because it’s lunch--”
“I'm not the person to advise you unless you are looking to bury your husb--”
“THIS IS THE FUNERALS DEPARTMENT--”
But for the first time since he began standing in for the receptionist, the voice on the other line is not an overexcited female or a sobbing incoherent mess.
“Bovino?” The sandwich falls out of his hand and Gokudera fishes out his mobile.
The lines on his forehead deepen and Gokudera swears he will build a shrine for cows if it gets him out of this repetitive mess. “What trouble did he get into aga--”
His fingers stop tapping on the mobile and find themselves curled round the desk phone with urgency like one of those crazy Italian brides. The tired frustration is replaced by sudden found seriousness and a call of duty his name embodies.
“No,” Gokudera’s voice grows quiet but his fingers resume tapping out the message.
“Don’t disturb Juudaime on his honeymoon. No, I don’t need Hibari, I’m already on it--”
“AND DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE CALL YAMAMOTO--”
*
More crappy WIPs, 271 and something I don't really remember. For anothermiyaw and caelestin. Your kindness I do not deserve.
*
They meet at a masquerade, a ball to celebrate the accession of Vongola Decimo. She had been invited out of respect and hope, and she had accepted, knowing that it went further than just merry making.
Giglionero Uni sips champagne in the mezzanine, watching every masked face become a potential threat. Time is a luxury they can not afford. Yet everyone who is anyone in the underbelly of the world is out of the shadows and in this brightest night. The quartet strikes up a new tune but the man of the moment is nowhere to be found. Hidden beneath silver lining and darkest blue, she waits. He will come, she knows him.
*
The perverted excuse of a doctor had left him to his devices, live or die, just like the other woman had. But things don’t always turn out like that, Gokudera knows.
His first friend, almost lover and most familiar stranger. Two separate beings so vastly different but sometimes when he is willing to admit, he sees one in the other. Twin souls that mapped out all of himself in the crash of a chord, a dissonant, but all he can remember is the whisper in the dark of the night, between breaking dawn and remnants of nightmares.
Lastly, I'm sorry if I worried anyone. Many thanks for your concern. I'll live. Jas, Andie, Qing, Mainey, ILU.
Also, please bear with my KHR/MR&MRS SMITH AU. argentum_luna this is for you, ILU.
“Vongola Events and Associates,” he barks gruffly, sandwich pushed aside.
The phone has been ringing non stop since 8am and it is an exceptionally busy day at the Vongola headquarters, not because they are short staffed but only because Vongola Decimo insisted that the real staff (and by that, Gokudera knew he meant the non-mafia kind) needed a break from all the over time. The half Italian only wished irrational brides and grieving families understood the concept of lunch breaks.
“Yes we offer wedding packages but this is the funerals depart--”
“No miss, you may not speak to our resident wedding planner because it’s lunch--”
“I'm not the person to advise you unless you are looking to bury your husb--”
“THIS IS THE FUNERALS DEPARTMENT--”
But for the first time since he began standing in for the receptionist, the voice on the other line is not an overexcited female or a sobbing incoherent mess.
“Bovino?” The sandwich falls out of his hand and Gokudera fishes out his mobile.
The lines on his forehead deepen and Gokudera swears he will build a shrine for cows if it gets him out of this repetitive mess. “What trouble did he get into aga--”
His fingers stop tapping on the mobile and find themselves curled round the desk phone with urgency like one of those crazy Italian brides. The tired frustration is replaced by sudden found seriousness and a call of duty his name embodies.
“No,” Gokudera’s voice grows quiet but his fingers resume tapping out the message.
“Don’t disturb Juudaime on his honeymoon. No, I don’t need Hibari, I’m already on it--”
“AND DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE CALL YAMAMOTO--”
*
More crappy WIPs, 271 and something I don't really remember. For anothermiyaw and caelestin. Your kindness I do not deserve.
*
They meet at a masquerade, a ball to celebrate the accession of Vongola Decimo. She had been invited out of respect and hope, and she had accepted, knowing that it went further than just merry making.
Giglionero Uni sips champagne in the mezzanine, watching every masked face become a potential threat. Time is a luxury they can not afford. Yet everyone who is anyone in the underbelly of the world is out of the shadows and in this brightest night. The quartet strikes up a new tune but the man of the moment is nowhere to be found. Hidden beneath silver lining and darkest blue, she waits. He will come, she knows him.
*
The perverted excuse of a doctor had left him to his devices, live or die, just like the other woman had. But things don’t always turn out like that, Gokudera knows.
His first friend, almost lover and most familiar stranger. Two separate beings so vastly different but sometimes when he is willing to admit, he sees one in the other. Twin souls that mapped out all of himself in the crash of a chord, a dissonant, but all he can remember is the whisper in the dark of the night, between breaking dawn and remnants of nightmares.
Lastly, I'm sorry if I worried anyone. Many thanks for your concern. I'll live. Jas, Andie, Qing, Mainey, ILU.