1 Reborn! fic
Title: La Vita è Piena Delle Sorprese
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Pairing: Reborn/Bianchi
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: This author likes to skip blithely among the verb tenses. Implications of sex.
Note: Started off as a Reborn introspective drabble and... grew. This is my first Reborn! fic, and I pretty much mainlined the series in three days, so there could be a lot of plotholes. I apologize in advance.
1,754 words
Not for the first time, Reborn examined himself in the mirror with more than a mild sense of distaste.
He had chosen to do this, chosen to become an Arcobaleno without hesitation or regret. It was something that needed to be done and he had been one of the seven best people to do it.
That didn't mean he had to happily accept all that entailed. He had a lot of anger the first few years. He thought that was reasonable.
Reborn had been one of the most feared men in the world. The best there was when it came to his line of work. Talented, intelligent, and if his track record was any indication - DAMN attractive. Why not? He was tall, trim but muscled, had a body that was made for fine Italian suits and fedoras and was in the prime of his life.
And he had a beautiful, dangerous woman to share that life with.
Bianchi had been younger than he normally went for. When she first approached him at one of her father's 'events', Reborn had looked at her over the rim of his Bordeaux wine glass and asked her if her mother knew she was out of bed at this hour.
That had been the end of THAT encounter, but the heiress had not been swayed. She WAS the heiress, her brother wasn't legitimate no matter what anyone claimed, Reborn had figured it out with ease and it was only a matter of time before it became public knowledge as well by some family enemy.
Perhaps it was because of her being an heiress that lead to the attraction. He had no interest in power, but it appeared that she didn't either. Bianchi's future was set, she had no reason to train in the art of killing. Their second 'romantic' encounter had been him correcting her form with the sniper rifle and asking why she was bothering.
"I'm not going to ask anyone to do something that I'm not willing to do." she replied without looking up as she loaded in another round.
It wasn't long after that they found their way to his hotel room. Even now he can remember so clearly the way she smelled like gunpowder and ginger, tasted like citrus bubblegum and fit so well against him.
They had to be discreet, and so they were. She was the heiress to a cosca that he did NOT serve (even if they were on good terms with his). They had no illusions about marriage and Reborn hated children, not to mention the legal implications. In Italy their relationship wasn't one that would get him arrested (as if he'd get arrested for THAT before other things), but they traveled the world and not all countries were so permissive.
Reborn and Bianchi would never have the typical lovers future together, but that didn't stop him from thinking about it sometimes. Cleaning off a blood-splatter from his gun, looking around the suburban 'safe-house' and imagining holding down a normal job where a desk was no doubt involved, working normal hours, coming home to Bianchi and dinner and some brat they spawned.
It would never happen. They were both addicted to danger - adrenaline junkies.
...Maybe a kid, though. If it was for Bianchi, he could probably learn to like kids. Or a kid. One wouldn't be bad.
Life works in mysterious, ironic and frustrating ways.
Reborn, who was infamously ruthless, cold-hearted, and never hesitated on a job, had to tell the young woman he'd come to love that they would never be able to be together again.
He didn't know how to handle this "emotional bullshit", so he avoided it as long as possible. He threw caution to the wind when they were down to the wire and took her for a weekend vacation in Rio, even turning off his work phone.
Any other girl would have thought he was going to propose. Bianchi was not 'any other girl', but that was why he was so attracted to her.
"If I asked you to not become an Arcobaleno, would you do it?" she asked quietly over dinner before he had a chance to broach the subject. Bianchi had a way of being the only person capable of surprising him.
"You don't have to answer that." she stated, before he had a chance to even fully consider the question. "That's what this is about though, isn't it? How long before... it?"
"...When we return to Rome." Reborn probably shouldn't have cut it this close, but if Lal Mirch was allowed to have her tragically doomed love, he was allowed his own quiet affair.
"Ah." Bianchi was silent for a moment, and Reborn fell mute as well, wondering if this was it. He should break it off here, tell her to move on. Be a man about it.
"Pity." Bianchi said first, tone flippant and almost bored. She reached across the table and took his tie between her fingers, toying with the silk fabric. "The beaches are said to be spectacular this time of year, but I don't think we'll be leaving our hotel room for the rest of the stay."
They didn't.
Seeing her to her car in Rome was the last he saw of her for several years.
He wasn't like Viper. Reborn DID learn to cope, in his way. He found his inner-peace that let him accept the choice he had to make. That didn't stop the first few years from being ugly and in a self-imposed quarantine from the world as a whole, most of all the people who he once cared so much for.
They'd met again on the job. It was awkward, but they were professionals and it postponed a difficult conversation long enough for him to mentally prepare for it.
That didn't stop him from making a quick getaway.
He heard her call his name as he was on his way out, but he was already gone. No way she could catch him if he didn't want to be caught. The chiming of his phone minutes later was a surprise. He changed them regularly, no one was supposed to have this number yet.
The text message read:
CROWN PLAZA. ROOM 901.
-B
He felt his eye twitch. She was calling him out. She knew damn well he couldn't turn that down.
He came in through the window, of course. It was a little tacky, but it avoided troublesome front desk questions. Her guard had clearly been dismissed for some time. Bianchi had progressed so far in her art that they were more to make her father feel better.
The shower was running and Reborn was hit with a sense of deja vu, but that was back when he was 6'2" and in his late twenties, before his weight could be measured in pounds and ounces by cooing nursemaids.
The shower stopped, and soon Bianchi entered the room in nothing more than a towel. It had been some time without contact of any kind. Honestly, he had been avoiding her. What would she say?
"REBORN!" the relief in her voice was almost as surprising as her dropping to her knees and pulling him into an embrace. "When I didn't hear anything, I was so worried. That's an awful way for a man to treat a woman! You're the worst, the absolute worst!" Even as she reprimanded him, she held him close. What he feared was true - he couldn't feel the things he had before. This body just didn't work that way, and it was disturbing to have the mental awareness for arousal in a body that simply had no need for that function yet.
What was more disturbing was how much comfort the embrace still brought.
He shoved Bianchi back - still having most of his adult strength despite the body - and fixed her with a glare.
"What are you doing?! I'm not a man anymore, I'm a goddamn infant! Why don't you move on?!" he had been expecting anger, rejection. Instead of relief, he found it frustrating to receive unconditional acceptance.
Bianchi matched him glare for glare, moving back and straightening her towel.
"I'll decide when I 'move on'. And for that matter, Reborn, if you really think my feelings for you were based on THAT-" she laughed, the bitterness of the sound biting into his senses "Well, for a genius, you're pretty dense. That part of you can be replaced by a piece of plastic that runs on batteries. ...Your mind, your heart... you're still the brilliant man I fell in love with."
Bianchi, it seemed, was not yet through surprising him.
He wouldn't say it was all rainbows and kittens after that. His body was a problem, but it was one they dealt with. The less secure Reborn was in the relationship, the stronger Bianchi came on with it, even openly referring to him as her lover. Loudly. Frequently. Without explaining the situation to anyone, which lead to some rather comical expressions on the faces of Reborn's students - Tsuna in particular, when he heard that. It took everything to not burst into sadistic laughter every time Bianchi spent the night and asked Reborn to stay in her bed, the way Tsuna looked ready to pass out. Well, the Japanese were a lot more repressed when it came to relationships than the Italians, but without knowing the background even Reborn had to admit, yes, it was odd.
That didn't stop him from usually saying 'yes' to her request, though he did not suggest they bang the bed against the walls just a little bit to give Tsuna the wrong impression. That might disturb the other guests, and it was still a sore subject between Bianchi and him.
Leaving the mirror and the nostalgia behind, Reborn hopped off the dresser and ambled back over to the futon where Bianchi slept on, not waking at his presence, she was so accustomed to trusting it. He placed a hand on her cheek and again felt disappointment - there was once a time when he could easily cup her chin in his hand. Now the small appendage didn't even cover her whole cheek.
"...I wouldn't have done it." he murmured quietly, the voice uncomfortably squeaky with immature vocal cords. "If you had asked me not to, I wouldn't have."
But that answer was many years too late... or he had long thought. Still asleep, Bianchi surprised him again with a quietly returned "I know."
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Pairing: Reborn/Bianchi
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: This author likes to skip blithely among the verb tenses. Implications of sex.
Note: Started off as a Reborn introspective drabble and... grew. This is my first Reborn! fic, and I pretty much mainlined the series in three days, so there could be a lot of plotholes. I apologize in advance.
1,754 words
Not for the first time, Reborn examined himself in the mirror with more than a mild sense of distaste.
He had chosen to do this, chosen to become an Arcobaleno without hesitation or regret. It was something that needed to be done and he had been one of the seven best people to do it.
That didn't mean he had to happily accept all that entailed. He had a lot of anger the first few years. He thought that was reasonable.
Reborn had been one of the most feared men in the world. The best there was when it came to his line of work. Talented, intelligent, and if his track record was any indication - DAMN attractive. Why not? He was tall, trim but muscled, had a body that was made for fine Italian suits and fedoras and was in the prime of his life.
And he had a beautiful, dangerous woman to share that life with.
Bianchi had been younger than he normally went for. When she first approached him at one of her father's 'events', Reborn had looked at her over the rim of his Bordeaux wine glass and asked her if her mother knew she was out of bed at this hour.
That had been the end of THAT encounter, but the heiress had not been swayed. She WAS the heiress, her brother wasn't legitimate no matter what anyone claimed, Reborn had figured it out with ease and it was only a matter of time before it became public knowledge as well by some family enemy.
Perhaps it was because of her being an heiress that lead to the attraction. He had no interest in power, but it appeared that she didn't either. Bianchi's future was set, she had no reason to train in the art of killing. Their second 'romantic' encounter had been him correcting her form with the sniper rifle and asking why she was bothering.
"I'm not going to ask anyone to do something that I'm not willing to do." she replied without looking up as she loaded in another round.
It wasn't long after that they found their way to his hotel room. Even now he can remember so clearly the way she smelled like gunpowder and ginger, tasted like citrus bubblegum and fit so well against him.
They had to be discreet, and so they were. She was the heiress to a cosca that he did NOT serve (even if they were on good terms with his). They had no illusions about marriage and Reborn hated children, not to mention the legal implications. In Italy their relationship wasn't one that would get him arrested (as if he'd get arrested for THAT before other things), but they traveled the world and not all countries were so permissive.
Reborn and Bianchi would never have the typical lovers future together, but that didn't stop him from thinking about it sometimes. Cleaning off a blood-splatter from his gun, looking around the suburban 'safe-house' and imagining holding down a normal job where a desk was no doubt involved, working normal hours, coming home to Bianchi and dinner and some brat they spawned.
It would never happen. They were both addicted to danger - adrenaline junkies.
...Maybe a kid, though. If it was for Bianchi, he could probably learn to like kids. Or a kid. One wouldn't be bad.
Life works in mysterious, ironic and frustrating ways.
Reborn, who was infamously ruthless, cold-hearted, and never hesitated on a job, had to tell the young woman he'd come to love that they would never be able to be together again.
He didn't know how to handle this "emotional bullshit", so he avoided it as long as possible. He threw caution to the wind when they were down to the wire and took her for a weekend vacation in Rio, even turning off his work phone.
Any other girl would have thought he was going to propose. Bianchi was not 'any other girl', but that was why he was so attracted to her.
"If I asked you to not become an Arcobaleno, would you do it?" she asked quietly over dinner before he had a chance to broach the subject. Bianchi had a way of being the only person capable of surprising him.
"You don't have to answer that." she stated, before he had a chance to even fully consider the question. "That's what this is about though, isn't it? How long before... it?"
"...When we return to Rome." Reborn probably shouldn't have cut it this close, but if Lal Mirch was allowed to have her tragically doomed love, he was allowed his own quiet affair.
"Ah." Bianchi was silent for a moment, and Reborn fell mute as well, wondering if this was it. He should break it off here, tell her to move on. Be a man about it.
"Pity." Bianchi said first, tone flippant and almost bored. She reached across the table and took his tie between her fingers, toying with the silk fabric. "The beaches are said to be spectacular this time of year, but I don't think we'll be leaving our hotel room for the rest of the stay."
They didn't.
Seeing her to her car in Rome was the last he saw of her for several years.
He wasn't like Viper. Reborn DID learn to cope, in his way. He found his inner-peace that let him accept the choice he had to make. That didn't stop the first few years from being ugly and in a self-imposed quarantine from the world as a whole, most of all the people who he once cared so much for.
They'd met again on the job. It was awkward, but they were professionals and it postponed a difficult conversation long enough for him to mentally prepare for it.
That didn't stop him from making a quick getaway.
He heard her call his name as he was on his way out, but he was already gone. No way she could catch him if he didn't want to be caught. The chiming of his phone minutes later was a surprise. He changed them regularly, no one was supposed to have this number yet.
The text message read:
CROWN PLAZA. ROOM 901.
-B
He felt his eye twitch. She was calling him out. She knew damn well he couldn't turn that down.
He came in through the window, of course. It was a little tacky, but it avoided troublesome front desk questions. Her guard had clearly been dismissed for some time. Bianchi had progressed so far in her art that they were more to make her father feel better.
The shower was running and Reborn was hit with a sense of deja vu, but that was back when he was 6'2" and in his late twenties, before his weight could be measured in pounds and ounces by cooing nursemaids.
The shower stopped, and soon Bianchi entered the room in nothing more than a towel. It had been some time without contact of any kind. Honestly, he had been avoiding her. What would she say?
"REBORN!" the relief in her voice was almost as surprising as her dropping to her knees and pulling him into an embrace. "When I didn't hear anything, I was so worried. That's an awful way for a man to treat a woman! You're the worst, the absolute worst!" Even as she reprimanded him, she held him close. What he feared was true - he couldn't feel the things he had before. This body just didn't work that way, and it was disturbing to have the mental awareness for arousal in a body that simply had no need for that function yet.
What was more disturbing was how much comfort the embrace still brought.
He shoved Bianchi back - still having most of his adult strength despite the body - and fixed her with a glare.
"What are you doing?! I'm not a man anymore, I'm a goddamn infant! Why don't you move on?!" he had been expecting anger, rejection. Instead of relief, he found it frustrating to receive unconditional acceptance.
Bianchi matched him glare for glare, moving back and straightening her towel.
"I'll decide when I 'move on'. And for that matter, Reborn, if you really think my feelings for you were based on THAT-" she laughed, the bitterness of the sound biting into his senses "Well, for a genius, you're pretty dense. That part of you can be replaced by a piece of plastic that runs on batteries. ...Your mind, your heart... you're still the brilliant man I fell in love with."
Bianchi, it seemed, was not yet through surprising him.
He wouldn't say it was all rainbows and kittens after that. His body was a problem, but it was one they dealt with. The less secure Reborn was in the relationship, the stronger Bianchi came on with it, even openly referring to him as her lover. Loudly. Frequently. Without explaining the situation to anyone, which lead to some rather comical expressions on the faces of Reborn's students - Tsuna in particular, when he heard that. It took everything to not burst into sadistic laughter every time Bianchi spent the night and asked Reborn to stay in her bed, the way Tsuna looked ready to pass out. Well, the Japanese were a lot more repressed when it came to relationships than the Italians, but without knowing the background even Reborn had to admit, yes, it was odd.
That didn't stop him from usually saying 'yes' to her request, though he did not suggest they bang the bed against the walls just a little bit to give Tsuna the wrong impression. That might disturb the other guests, and it was still a sore subject between Bianchi and him.
Leaving the mirror and the nostalgia behind, Reborn hopped off the dresser and ambled back over to the futon where Bianchi slept on, not waking at his presence, she was so accustomed to trusting it. He placed a hand on her cheek and again felt disappointment - there was once a time when he could easily cup her chin in his hand. Now the small appendage didn't even cover her whole cheek.
"...I wouldn't have done it." he murmured quietly, the voice uncomfortably squeaky with immature vocal cords. "If you had asked me not to, I wouldn't have."
But that answer was many years too late... or he had long thought. Still asleep, Bianchi surprised him again with a quietly returned "I know."