FIC: KHR! - *Heroes not Included - Part I ~ Chapter 4
Title: *Heroes not Included
Part I: No Replacements, No Refunds
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn
Pairing: 1859 - Hibari/Gokudera
Genre: Humour, case fic, AU
Rating: PG-13 (applies to all chapters unless otherwise stated)
Word count: overall ~ 24,500 | Chapter 4: ~ 1,920 (Wohoo! Short one :D )
Chapters (click to jump to): 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8
~Part I~
No Replacements, No Refunds
"Fucking non-smokers office," Gokudera mumbled around his cigarette as he stepped out of the FBI building and started searching the late-night crowd for someone with a conveniently unguarded cell phone. He found a young business man running to catch the bus halting just around the corner. One step forward at the right second, a half-arsed apology and one quick reach into the man's pocket later Gokudera was the owner of a new cell phone.
He waited until the guy had disappeared and settled down on one of the stone benches in front of the building, lighting the cigarette he'd scrounged from one of the cleaning personnel. He dialled Shamal's number and waited.
"Doctor Shamal's office. The doctor isn't in at the m-"
"I told you to knock it off," Gokudera grumbled, "it was never funny to begin with."
"It's not supposed to be funny, Hayato. It's a precautionary measure. You never know who's calling."
"Whatever. You got something for me?"
"Unfortunately, yes. You sure you wanna go ahead with this?"
"Yes." Gokudera ground out. He was getting tired of explaining his motives over and over again. He refused to believe that he was 'chasing ghosts', as Shamal put it.
"Okay. It's your funeral. I don't know where they're hiding but I've managed to set up a meeting. You know the old storage houses down by the docks?"
Gokudera nodded. "Sure."
"Be there at 11pm, Tuesday night."
"There's dozens of abandoned warehouses down there. Which one are we talking about?"
"They didn't say. I'm guessing they're gonna pick you up?"
"Awesome," Gokudera scowled, letting the smoke form jittery patterns in the air in front of him, "I can't wait. I've never been kidnapped by a bunch of psychos before."
"Hey, that's all I could get you. If you're unhappy about the conditions go call them yourself."
"Alright, alright. Chill, old man." He sighed, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes. He'd spent the last three hours going through endless variations of the same scene over and over again and he wasn't even half-way through the entire footage yet. Frankly, he still hadn't spotted any familiar faces.
"What about your little ankle accessory? Isn't that gonna be a problem?"
"What?" Gokudera perked up his ears. "How do you know about that? I never told you."
"Word travels fast, Hayato. And I have my own sources of information."
"Shit. My reputation's ruined," Gokudera whined, sending a few choice curses in Hibari's general direction.
"Well, I told you the Vuillaume was a bad idea. But you never listen."
"Yeah, yeah, we've been over this a hundred times. I get it."
"Apparently, you don't."
"Listen, you old bastard, I won't get lectured by the likes of you," Gokudera hissed, "you've got your own record of mis- Hello? Shamal? Hello?"
But he was already talking to himself. "Asshole!" He screamed at the phone before slamming it against the nearest wall.
"One of these days I'm gonna stick a piece of dynamite up his arse and watch him fly off to the moon." Gokudera put out his cigarette and stalked back into the FBI headquarters, hands shoved deep into his pockets and fuming like a charcoal factory.
---
That was odd - Gokudera didn't remember falling asleep. Or draping a scratchy blanket over himself, for that matter. When he detached his cheek from the glass table he'd been using as a pillow he found the office buzzing with life. He checked his watch and saw that it was already way past 9am.
"Oh fuck!" He jumped up and hastily started gathering the laptop and his various notes. He was almost out of the door when he realised two things: One, it was past 9 o'clock in the morning and he hadn't gotten a steel-enforced wake-up call yet. And two, he was dragging a blanket along that hadn't been there last night. Somebody had obviously discovered him asleep in the conference room and had put it over him.
He stared at the piece of cloth with narrowed eyes but eventually shrugged it off. Kusakabe had probably taken pity on him and tried to make him more comfortable. The guy had his heart in the right place, after all.
He peered over the stack of papers and technical equipment in his arms and located Hibari's second-in-command at his desk.
"Here," Gokudera blindly dropped the blanket onto Kusakabe's lap, balancing the laptop on a highly unstable heap of documents, "I don't know where to put it. Thanks, man."
Kusakabe appeared confused. "What is this?"
"Didn't you tuck me in with it last night?" Gokudera twisted to get a better look at the man.
"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about," Kusakabe shook his head but began to properly fold up the blanket, "I went home around 10pm last night. I came in to say good night, don't you remember?"
Gokudera blinked dumbly at the agent, "And you didn't come back to tuck me in, I suppose?"
"Sorry, but no."
Gokudera swallowed and willed himself not to panic. So, somebody had stopped by in the middle of the night, had encountered him sleeping and could have done God knew what to him but instead had simply wrapped him up in a blanket? Unlikely. Something else was going on here and Gokudera didn't like the fact that he had no idea what it was. Besides, the thought of someone being able to sneak up on him was highly alarming.
"You wouldn't happen to know if anyone else came by after midnight, would you?" Gokudera was holding on to his last hope that it had been one of the few girls in the department who still had some social fibres left in their beings.
Kusakabe only gave a helpless shrug. "If anybody was here that late at night I wouldn't know about it."
"I... uh... okay. That's weird." Gokudera stammered and barely avoided slamming into another agent when he spun around to head for Hibari's office.
---
He ended up explaining his findings to about a dozen agents. While he should have been proud to have their full attention he was feeling rather uncomfortable in a room full of people who dared him to bolt so they could take credit for catching him again. And all the time Gokudera's eyes kept darting to Hibari, who had taken a seat at the far side of the long table, observing Gokudera like an art critic trying to figure out if the painting he was looking at was a fake.
That was easily the most unnerving part.
"And that's Bel," Gokudera pointed at an enhanced fraction of a screenshot, projected onto the blank wall behind him, "nasty little fucker. Loves knives. He thinks he's royalty or some shit but I think he's just being a prat. Anyway, if you ever meet him keep a close eye on his hands. If you don't see them it's usually too late."
The crowd of FBI agents was nodding and scribbling away in their little notebooks. Only Hibari continued to rob Gokudera of his last nerve with his unwavering stare.
"And last but not least, Mammon," Gokudera opened the corresponding file, "if you ask me about his peculiar name I will kill you. He's the one who came up with their trademark exit strategy. He likes to fuck with your perception, so be careful. Never take anything for granted with this guy."
"He's wearing a hood over his head," a young woman pointed out, "how are we supposed to recognise him from that picture alone?"
Gokudera grinned. "That's easy. He's always wearing that hood. I think it's glued to his skull or something..."
He swore there was the flicker of a smile on Hibari's face but it was gone faster than Gokudera could blink. It might have been his mind playing tricks on him. While Kusakabe had elaborated on their mission earlier Gokudera had made his rounds to discreetly inquire if anybody had gone back to the office last night. He got nothing.
And that left Hibari - which was stupid and absurd and completely out of the question. So much out of the question, in fact, that Gokudera stormed into Hibari's office after the meeting, stood up to his full height and blurted out, "You came back to the office last night, didn't you?"
The pen in Hibari's hand made an awkward turn at the end of a word but other than that the agent showed no sign of unease. "Why would I do that?"
"How the Hell should I know? I'm not you."
"And I'm sure that's a good thing." Hibari carefully placed the pen onto the page, making it line up perfectly parallel to the edges, and looked up at him. "Why are you so concerned with my after-work whereabouts anyway?"
"Because-," Gokudera broke off, standing there like an inflated blowfish on two legs. Because what? Because he thought Hibari had done something nice? Shocking and unheard-of, sure, but not exactly a matter of national security. Maybe because he felt a little bit lightheaded when he entertained the idea of Hibari actually caring for him. And perhaps because it was absolutely preposterous since Hibari was doing his best to make Gokudera's life miserable.
"Because," Gokudera caved and continued with a lot less vigour than he had initially intended, "whoever was in here could have stolen vital information?"
It was not a very convincing substitute for his original suspicion. And above all it was certainly not supposed to be a question but that was what was hanging in the air between them now. Hibari raised an eyebrow and didn't say anything, letting Gokudera rot in the metaphorical hole he'd dug for himself.
"I... uhm...," Gokudera ran his hand through his hair and silently cursed himself for not just leaving it be, "I just thought I should mention it."
"Noted," Hibari went back to writing comments on the report before him, probably some pointed remarks about spelling and punctuation. He imagined Hibari to be anal like that.
As the silence threatened to stretch on into infinity Gokudera suspected that it was Hibari's unique way of telling him that this conversation was over.
"Okay," he announced, "glad we talked about that. Anything else you don't want to tell me?"
"I notice you're still not wearing a suit," Hibari provided, his attention strictly directed at the papers on his desk. Well, that was not what Gokudera had been aiming at. But it did give him a perfect excuse to get out of this place and take care of some things.
"Right." Gokudera nodded sternly. At this point he was taking whatever he could get.
"You will be back here in an hour," Hibari added when Gokudera turned to leave.
"Sure thing, Gunnery Sergeant Hartman." He did a mocking salute.
"I am not a Sergeant." Hibari growled, furiously scrawling away on his papers.
Gokudera's shoulders drooped, "It was a joke, you humourless son of a-"
Hibari looked up and the glare he bestowed upon Gokudera was probably on the no-fly list all on its own.
"Whatever. Forget it." Gokudera waved a hand and sighed. It never occurred to him that Hibari hadn't even asked who the fuck Sergeant Hartman was.
---
Of course, Gokudera did not go to buy a suit. He could easily just fake a delivery form and have all the suits in the world sent to him. No, what he really wanted right now was to have a look at last night's camera feeds from the conference room.
~*~*~
FYI:
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman is the infamous and most feared drill instructor from Full Metal Jacket. Hibari may speak more quietly but he definitely evokes the same kind of dread in his underlings ;)
Chapter 3 <-- Back to | On to --> Chapter 5
Part I: No Replacements, No Refunds
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn
Pairing: 1859 - Hibari/Gokudera
Genre: Humour, case fic, AU
Rating: PG-13 (applies to all chapters unless otherwise stated)
Word count: overall ~ 24,500 | Chapter 4: ~ 1,920 (Wohoo! Short one :D )
Chapters (click to jump to): 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8
~Part I~
No Replacements, No Refunds
"Fucking non-smokers office," Gokudera mumbled around his cigarette as he stepped out of the FBI building and started searching the late-night crowd for someone with a conveniently unguarded cell phone. He found a young business man running to catch the bus halting just around the corner. One step forward at the right second, a half-arsed apology and one quick reach into the man's pocket later Gokudera was the owner of a new cell phone.
He waited until the guy had disappeared and settled down on one of the stone benches in front of the building, lighting the cigarette he'd scrounged from one of the cleaning personnel. He dialled Shamal's number and waited.
"Doctor Shamal's office. The doctor isn't in at the m-"
"I told you to knock it off," Gokudera grumbled, "it was never funny to begin with."
"It's not supposed to be funny, Hayato. It's a precautionary measure. You never know who's calling."
"Whatever. You got something for me?"
"Unfortunately, yes. You sure you wanna go ahead with this?"
"Yes." Gokudera ground out. He was getting tired of explaining his motives over and over again. He refused to believe that he was 'chasing ghosts', as Shamal put it.
"Okay. It's your funeral. I don't know where they're hiding but I've managed to set up a meeting. You know the old storage houses down by the docks?"
Gokudera nodded. "Sure."
"Be there at 11pm, Tuesday night."
"There's dozens of abandoned warehouses down there. Which one are we talking about?"
"They didn't say. I'm guessing they're gonna pick you up?"
"Awesome," Gokudera scowled, letting the smoke form jittery patterns in the air in front of him, "I can't wait. I've never been kidnapped by a bunch of psychos before."
"Hey, that's all I could get you. If you're unhappy about the conditions go call them yourself."
"Alright, alright. Chill, old man." He sighed, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes. He'd spent the last three hours going through endless variations of the same scene over and over again and he wasn't even half-way through the entire footage yet. Frankly, he still hadn't spotted any familiar faces.
"What about your little ankle accessory? Isn't that gonna be a problem?"
"What?" Gokudera perked up his ears. "How do you know about that? I never told you."
"Word travels fast, Hayato. And I have my own sources of information."
"Shit. My reputation's ruined," Gokudera whined, sending a few choice curses in Hibari's general direction.
"Well, I told you the Vuillaume was a bad idea. But you never listen."
"Yeah, yeah, we've been over this a hundred times. I get it."
"Apparently, you don't."
"Listen, you old bastard, I won't get lectured by the likes of you," Gokudera hissed, "you've got your own record of mis- Hello? Shamal? Hello?"
But he was already talking to himself. "Asshole!" He screamed at the phone before slamming it against the nearest wall.
"One of these days I'm gonna stick a piece of dynamite up his arse and watch him fly off to the moon." Gokudera put out his cigarette and stalked back into the FBI headquarters, hands shoved deep into his pockets and fuming like a charcoal factory.
---
That was odd - Gokudera didn't remember falling asleep. Or draping a scratchy blanket over himself, for that matter. When he detached his cheek from the glass table he'd been using as a pillow he found the office buzzing with life. He checked his watch and saw that it was already way past 9am.
"Oh fuck!" He jumped up and hastily started gathering the laptop and his various notes. He was almost out of the door when he realised two things: One, it was past 9 o'clock in the morning and he hadn't gotten a steel-enforced wake-up call yet. And two, he was dragging a blanket along that hadn't been there last night. Somebody had obviously discovered him asleep in the conference room and had put it over him.
He stared at the piece of cloth with narrowed eyes but eventually shrugged it off. Kusakabe had probably taken pity on him and tried to make him more comfortable. The guy had his heart in the right place, after all.
He peered over the stack of papers and technical equipment in his arms and located Hibari's second-in-command at his desk.
"Here," Gokudera blindly dropped the blanket onto Kusakabe's lap, balancing the laptop on a highly unstable heap of documents, "I don't know where to put it. Thanks, man."
Kusakabe appeared confused. "What is this?"
"Didn't you tuck me in with it last night?" Gokudera twisted to get a better look at the man.
"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about," Kusakabe shook his head but began to properly fold up the blanket, "I went home around 10pm last night. I came in to say good night, don't you remember?"
Gokudera blinked dumbly at the agent, "And you didn't come back to tuck me in, I suppose?"
"Sorry, but no."
Gokudera swallowed and willed himself not to panic. So, somebody had stopped by in the middle of the night, had encountered him sleeping and could have done God knew what to him but instead had simply wrapped him up in a blanket? Unlikely. Something else was going on here and Gokudera didn't like the fact that he had no idea what it was. Besides, the thought of someone being able to sneak up on him was highly alarming.
"You wouldn't happen to know if anyone else came by after midnight, would you?" Gokudera was holding on to his last hope that it had been one of the few girls in the department who still had some social fibres left in their beings.
Kusakabe only gave a helpless shrug. "If anybody was here that late at night I wouldn't know about it."
"I... uh... okay. That's weird." Gokudera stammered and barely avoided slamming into another agent when he spun around to head for Hibari's office.
---
He ended up explaining his findings to about a dozen agents. While he should have been proud to have their full attention he was feeling rather uncomfortable in a room full of people who dared him to bolt so they could take credit for catching him again. And all the time Gokudera's eyes kept darting to Hibari, who had taken a seat at the far side of the long table, observing Gokudera like an art critic trying to figure out if the painting he was looking at was a fake.
That was easily the most unnerving part.
"And that's Bel," Gokudera pointed at an enhanced fraction of a screenshot, projected onto the blank wall behind him, "nasty little fucker. Loves knives. He thinks he's royalty or some shit but I think he's just being a prat. Anyway, if you ever meet him keep a close eye on his hands. If you don't see them it's usually too late."
The crowd of FBI agents was nodding and scribbling away in their little notebooks. Only Hibari continued to rob Gokudera of his last nerve with his unwavering stare.
"And last but not least, Mammon," Gokudera opened the corresponding file, "if you ask me about his peculiar name I will kill you. He's the one who came up with their trademark exit strategy. He likes to fuck with your perception, so be careful. Never take anything for granted with this guy."
"He's wearing a hood over his head," a young woman pointed out, "how are we supposed to recognise him from that picture alone?"
Gokudera grinned. "That's easy. He's always wearing that hood. I think it's glued to his skull or something..."
He swore there was the flicker of a smile on Hibari's face but it was gone faster than Gokudera could blink. It might have been his mind playing tricks on him. While Kusakabe had elaborated on their mission earlier Gokudera had made his rounds to discreetly inquire if anybody had gone back to the office last night. He got nothing.
And that left Hibari - which was stupid and absurd and completely out of the question. So much out of the question, in fact, that Gokudera stormed into Hibari's office after the meeting, stood up to his full height and blurted out, "You came back to the office last night, didn't you?"
The pen in Hibari's hand made an awkward turn at the end of a word but other than that the agent showed no sign of unease. "Why would I do that?"
"How the Hell should I know? I'm not you."
"And I'm sure that's a good thing." Hibari carefully placed the pen onto the page, making it line up perfectly parallel to the edges, and looked up at him. "Why are you so concerned with my after-work whereabouts anyway?"
"Because-," Gokudera broke off, standing there like an inflated blowfish on two legs. Because what? Because he thought Hibari had done something nice? Shocking and unheard-of, sure, but not exactly a matter of national security. Maybe because he felt a little bit lightheaded when he entertained the idea of Hibari actually caring for him. And perhaps because it was absolutely preposterous since Hibari was doing his best to make Gokudera's life miserable.
"Because," Gokudera caved and continued with a lot less vigour than he had initially intended, "whoever was in here could have stolen vital information?"
It was not a very convincing substitute for his original suspicion. And above all it was certainly not supposed to be a question but that was what was hanging in the air between them now. Hibari raised an eyebrow and didn't say anything, letting Gokudera rot in the metaphorical hole he'd dug for himself.
"I... uhm...," Gokudera ran his hand through his hair and silently cursed himself for not just leaving it be, "I just thought I should mention it."
"Noted," Hibari went back to writing comments on the report before him, probably some pointed remarks about spelling and punctuation. He imagined Hibari to be anal like that.
As the silence threatened to stretch on into infinity Gokudera suspected that it was Hibari's unique way of telling him that this conversation was over.
"Okay," he announced, "glad we talked about that. Anything else you don't want to tell me?"
"I notice you're still not wearing a suit," Hibari provided, his attention strictly directed at the papers on his desk. Well, that was not what Gokudera had been aiming at. But it did give him a perfect excuse to get out of this place and take care of some things.
"Right." Gokudera nodded sternly. At this point he was taking whatever he could get.
"You will be back here in an hour," Hibari added when Gokudera turned to leave.
"Sure thing, Gunnery Sergeant Hartman." He did a mocking salute.
"I am not a Sergeant." Hibari growled, furiously scrawling away on his papers.
Gokudera's shoulders drooped, "It was a joke, you humourless son of a-"
Hibari looked up and the glare he bestowed upon Gokudera was probably on the no-fly list all on its own.
"Whatever. Forget it." Gokudera waved a hand and sighed. It never occurred to him that Hibari hadn't even asked who the fuck Sergeant Hartman was.
---
Of course, Gokudera did not go to buy a suit. He could easily just fake a delivery form and have all the suits in the world sent to him. No, what he really wanted right now was to have a look at last night's camera feeds from the conference room.
~*~*~
FYI:
Gunnery Sergeant Hartman is the infamous and most feared drill instructor from Full Metal Jacket. Hibari may speak more quietly but he definitely evokes the same kind of dread in his underlings ;)
Chapter 3 <-- Back to | On to --> Chapter 5