|Reborn- "Ten Years Down"
||[Oct. 17th, 2006|10:08 pm]
Still sussing out the characters so this is probably OOC to the max or something. HA like that's stopped me before. XD;;
Don't know what Reborn is? Download it here!
Title: Ten Years Down
Character/Pairing/s: YamaxGoku, Lambo, Tsuna, Reborn
Warnings/Spoilers: Um, not really, unless you’ve read so little you know nothing about Lambo. >> Also, OOC and stupidity.
Word Count: 1,435
Summary: A glimpse into the future looks bleak.
Dedication: shiroro- it’s not porn, but you know, it probably will be one day knowing me. >>
A/N: First Reborn fic! I am exhausted from work, so this will probably be very short and retarded, but I needed a warm-up fic for the meme I just started. XD;;
Disclaimer: Not mine, though I wish constantly.
Distribution: Just lemme know.
It didn’t start out as a particularly extraordinary situation for them considering— Lambo had pissed Gokudera off (as usual), resulting in Gokudera grabbing and shaking the toddler like he killed babies professionally (it was probably a chapter in the instruction book at the very least), while Yamamoto tried to hold him back good-naturedly, saying that kids made mistakes all the time.
“Yeah? Kids die all the time too,” Gokudera snarled, and reached for his dynamite while Yamamoto shifted to try and extract a sobbing Lambo from the enraged assassin’s grasp.
In the ensuing struggle baby Lambo managed to gain enough leverage to draw a weapon— yes, that weapon— and fired it at himself quickly as Gokudera shook him, thinking (probably correctly) that taking the height and size advantage away from the crazed explosives expert would maybe save him from being shaken to death.
He missed. His own face.
And thus—despite having started off relatively normally considering-- the unbelievable nature of the current situation was born.
“How do you miss yourself?” Tsuna asked—boggled-- as everyone in the room stared at a now 23-year old Yamamoto as he stood blinking and still clutching baby Lambo in a sort of makeshift tug-of-war with Gokudera.
After the blinking stopped he paused, turned to assess the situation. “Oh, someone must have used the cannon!” he exclaimed as good-naturedly as always. Everyone—when they thought about it-- supposed that was the part of him that would most likely not to change, even ten years down. “Man,” he continued, just as cheerfully, “I forgot that toys were really advanced ten years ago too!”
They’d at least expected that part of him to change after a whole ten years. Was he retarded?
“Hi Tsuna!” the grown Yamamoto greeted first, releasing his hold on Lambo and waving at the ten-years-younger version of his boss with the same warm familiarity he did in the present.
“Hi,” Tsuna responded, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Hi Lambo-baby!” grown-Yamamoto continued, and patted the toddler’s head warmly.
His eyes landed on Gokudera next, the poor abused Bovino assassin still suspended in the air between them. “Ha-chan!” His smile broadened, somehow. “I forgot how cute you were ten years ago!! Hi!!”
Gokudera blinked. “What the hell did you just call me?”
“Ha-chan!” 23-year-old Yamamoto repeated just as happily, if slightly louder on the chance that Gokudera just hadn’t heard him the first time.
Gokudera blinked again. Dropped Lambo (he hit the floor with a little “urk” but was otherwise unharmed), forgetting how he’d been planning to kill the brat just moments ago.
A long, tense silence.
And then, “THAT’S IT, YOU DIE NOW!!!”
Yamamoto pouted. “You can’t kill me. You love me.”
“I’M PRETTY SURE I DON’T.” To prove it, Gokudera pulled out a block of C4 (his special friend) and promptly attached it to a bundle of dynamite. “LEMME SHOW YOU.”
Yamamoto grinned. “You’re so cute when you’re angry.”
“What’s going on here?” Tsuna whispered nervously to Reborn.
“Things happen in ten years,” the one year old responded, wisely if unclearly.
“Huh,” Tsuna murmured, because there really wasn’t anything else to say on the matter.
“You might wanna get outta here boss,” Gokudera began, and lit the fuse to his dynamite bundle with the end of his cigarette. “Like, a five mile radius of here.”
“DON’T BLOW UP MY HOUSE AGAIN!” Tsuna shouted.
Yamamoto—more than a head taller than Gokudera now—simply grinned and pulled the other boy close. “Kyaaa I forgot how adorable you used to be! Not that you aren’t now, but you know… you’re so young!”
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!” Gokudera shouted, and squirmed, still holding the hissing explosives. “I’M ABOUT TO BLOW YOU STRAIGHT TO HELL, BASTARD!”
Yamamoto beamed (or maybe glowed was a better word) and ruffled Hayato’s hair in an overly familiar way before licking the tips of his fingers and deftly pinching out the hissing fuse on the piece of dynamite the other gangster had lit, like he’d done it a hundred times before. “Don’t be so grumpy, Ha-chan. Don’t you want to know about us ten years from now?”
Gokudera struggled in the adult’s stronger grasp, looking up at him with supremely ruffled hair and anger so angry it was almost… well, embarrassed. “You ten years from now will just be dead after I kill you, so I don’t care!!”
“Oh, you,” Yamamoto said, with an unfamiliar familiar warmth in his voice. He smiled and leaned forward.
And everyone stared (there really wasn’t anything else to do) as 23-year-old Yamamoto kissed 13-year-old Gokudera.
Innocently enough, mind. Just a peck really… but still. Still.
“That’s kind of illegal,” Tsuna gaped, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“We’re in the business of illegal,” Reborn reminded him, and drop kicked Lambo out of the window when the other toddler tried to take advantage of the distraction and spork his rival in the throat.
“Oh yeah,” Tsuna echoed, and knew Lambo would probably land in a bush or something—he was a pretty lucky kid when it came to things like that.
In the meantime, Gokudera blinked stupidly up at Yamamoto-the-elder after they broke apart, the brown-haired young man pulling back and grinning down at him. Gokudera may or may not have been blushing just a little bit.
“Sorry!” Yamamoto said, and didn’t sound sorry at all as he laughed and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Ha-chan is just so cute, now and ten years from now, I couldn’t help myself.”
“RIGHT. I’M KILLING YOU NOW.”
And he pulled out even more dynamite from somewhere, and was so angry he couldn’t see straight (and he felt kind of strange in the stomach too—not in the same way Bianchi made him feel mind-- but still kind of bad and weird all at the same time). “PREPARE TO DIE!!” he cried, and readied to launch his volley of explosives just as…
…five minutes ended.
Everyone blinked as a cloud of ominous dust suddenly appeared (they still didn’t know where exactly, all that dust came from whenever five minutes were up after the ten-year cannon got used), the smog briefly engulfing 23-year-old Yamamoto completely from view.
“Bye everyone from ten years ago!” he called, and waved as he disappeared.
A weird little “pop” noise and some cleared up mystery dust later left everyone with just regular-Yamamoto standing there again, blinking. “Weird,” he said, and waved a hand in front of his face to dispel remnants of the fog. “Kids toys these days, man…”
Gokudera stared at him.
Yamamoto grinned. “Yo,” he said, casually. “You’ll never believe what I just saw.”
“What?” Gokudera asked, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say right now. His voice was a little bit small.
“There was some guy who looked like your older brother or something-- all naked and kind of surprised to see me, I think. Even though he knew my name. Man, talk about awkward.”
Gokudera looked absolutely sullen. “Naked?”
“Yup,” the other boy answered verbally this time, just in case the nod from before hadn’t worked and Gokudera needed further clarification.
Gokudera’s shoulders slumped.
Yamamoto blinked and watched his presumed friend as he suddenly shoved a stick of dynamite in either of his own ears before replacing the cigarette in his mouth with a third stick. “What’re you doing?” he asked, and was kind of concerned. “Some sort of weird new game?”
“Boss, I’m going outside to kill myself,” Gokudera told Tsuna, and walked passed Yamamoto in a sort of dazed, highly depressed manner.
Everyone watched him stroll listlessly out the door.
“We broke his soul,” Reborn diagnosed, clinically.
“I’ll go buy him some cocoa,” Yamamoto offered—good-naturedly-- after a moment, even if he had absolutely no idea what was going on. “That always cheers me up when I’m down!”
He jogged out the door after Gokudera.
“Bring me some too,” Reborn called after him.
Tsuna stared. “Shouldn’t we be more concerned about breaking Gokudera’s soul?”
“We’re in the business,” Reborn reminded him, simply.
When Tsuna continued to look concerned, the baby assassin simply waved him off dismissively. “We know Gokudera’s alive ten years in the future, right?”
“Huh,” Tsuna murmured, supposing that was true enough.
He thought about it for a minute.
“…we also know Gokudera waits around for Yamamoto naked in ten years!” he cried after a moment.
He paused. Glanced out the window.
And then, “Maybe we shouldn’t let them hang out with each other so much.”