FIC: KHR! - *Heroes not Included - Part II ~ Chapter 2
Title: *Heroes not Included
Part II: Abort, Retry, Fail
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn
Pairing: 1859 (established), 8059 (unrequited)
Genre: Humour, case fic, AU
Rating: PG-13 (applies to all chapters unless otherwise stated)
Word count: overall ~ 28,650 | Chapter 2: ~ 2,450
Chapters (click to jump to): 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11
Jump to Part I - No Replacements, No Refunds
Master post
~*~*~
~ Part II ~
Abort, Retry, Fail
Gokudera gladly accepted the cup of steaming hot coffee. It had a slight resemblance to motor oil but after going over thousands of lines of code Gokudera felt he needed another caffeine boost.
He rummaged through his pockets for some spare change but instead came up with a non-descript brown envelope.
"What the hell?" He turned the envelope around, looking up and down the street for anyone who could have tucked it into his pocket.
"Hey, you planning on paying for that?" The man behind the counter of the hot-dog stand glared at Gokudera with all the commanding nature of someone covered in sweat, grease and the smell of sausages.
"Fuck off," Gokudera snarled but handed him the money anyway. He didn't particularly feel like starting a fist-fight over a cup of grimy coffee.
He didn't even hear the guy's certainly nasty retort. He took the cup and headed back to the office building where Hibari was waiting for him. He had graciously allowed Gokudera to quench his desire for coffee before driving back to headquarters.
Gokudera carefully opened the envelope, even though it seemed unlikely that it would explode. Too thin and the lack of padding suggested that whatever was inside was non-sensitive to pressure. He let the contents slide into his open palm and discovered a single paper folded in half.
"What the everloving-" He never finished that thought. When he unfolded the paper every single thought was wiped from his mind. Even the one for coffee.
The cup clattered onto the pavement, spilling hot liquid all over his shoes. It barely registered. He stared at the black and white photograph that the envelope had held. He blinked but the image stayed the same.
What he was looking at was unmistakeably, undoubtedly Bianchi, his step-sister. Which was impossible because nobody was supposed to know that he even had a step-sister.
He turned the picture around and found a note on the back - printed, not hand-written.
Tomorrow. Noon. Coffee shop across FBI HQ.
Gokudera stared at the message. He didn't know what scared him more - that someone knew of his sister or that somebody was able to slip him an envelope without him noticing.
---
Bianchi was the silky-thin thread that still tied him to his family back in Italy. It was screwed-up because their only genetic connection was their father who Gokudera despised more than anything else. And that already included being the FBI's lapdog. At least that one had perks.
She was the one who cared which was why Gokudera couldn't push her away entirely. They had kept loosely in touch over the years - a short text message 'Hi. I'm in London. Don't call.', a quick phone call here, maybe even a snapshot for Christmas there but barely more. They met once or twice a year, mostly because Bianchi had a nasty habit of finding him wherever he was hiding.
Whenever they came into contact she would ask him about his life; was there anyone special, had he finally found someone, blahblahblah. She had these ridiculous views on love and being bonded forever and all that bullshit. Gokudera never cared much for that - he'd given up on the idea when he'd discovered what had happened to his mother.
Although, sometimes he wondered what he would say now. Hibari definitely fell into the 'special' category, Gokudera just wasn't sure they meant the same kind of special.
Either way, Bianchi cared. She always had and despite her being not much of an angel herself she didn't deserve to be pulled into Gokudera's world. She had problems of her own and Gokudera hated to add his own to the pile. Besides, if he were really completely honest he would have had to admit that he actually liked her.
Maybe that was why he decided to play this one close to the chest.
---
"You look like you've seen a ghost."
Gokudera shrugged, seemingly hypnotised by the skyline that was flashing past the passenger window. "I miss my coffee machine."
"You mean my coffee machine," Hibari pointed out. "I bought it."
"Yeah, but you don't even drink coffee." Gokudera finally turned around but still couldn't bring himself to look at the agent. The envelope lay heavy in the inside pocket of his suit jacket, like a rock. He needed to call Shamal. He wanted to tell Hibari.
But as far as Gokudera knew Hibari had no idea that he was still in contact with any part of his family. He liked to keep it that way - at least until he'd figured out what the hell was going on.
"Still doesn't make it your coffee machine," the agent concluded, steering the Mercedes through midday traffic.
"What-fucking-ever," Gokudera ground out but it lacked his usual fervour. There was no way Hibari didn't notice but Gokudera was too lost in his thoughts to care.
Fortunately, Hibari was not one to pry. Most of the time he didn't give a damn. All of the other times he either already suspected what was going on or he found out behind your back. But he rarely asked. It was a blessing for both of them because Gokudera didn't feel like talking anyway.
As a result they spent the rest of the drive in contemplative, vaguely uncomfortable silence.
---
Gokudera was pacing around in the parking lot, smoking his cigarette like asthma medicine and having a heated argument with Shamal.
"Me? What did I do?" He gesticulated furiously, sending ashes flying all over the place. "I didn't do anything, for fuck's sake!"
"Then how did you end up with a picture of your sister in your pocket?"
"That's what I want you to tell me, you stupid old man!" Gokudera was already highly agitated as it was and Shamal's refusal to believe that for once Gokudera hadn't manoeuvred himself into the pile of shit he was sitting in was not helping.
"It's not a nude picture by any chance is it?" Shamal sounded way too hopeful for Gokudera's taste.
"No, it's not, you perverted psychopath," Gokudera snarled, taking another look at the image in his hand. "Looks more like a surveillance photo. She definitely wasn't aware that she was being photographed."
"Shame, that."
"I swear to God, Shamal, if you are having twisted thoughts about my sister I will stuff all those creepy insects you like to experiment on so much down your throat and watch you choke."
"Alright, loosen up, Hayato. Geez. Your sister just happens to be a beautiful woman."
"No, she's not. Not to you, you hear me?" Gokudera meant every word. Shamal was okay as long as there were no women involved and Gokudera couldn't care less what he did when they were but Bianchi was a whole different matter. Not that he feared Bianchi would actually fall for the idiot doctor - she had standards after all - but he refused to imagine Shamal anywhere even near his sister.
Shamal gave a long-drawn sigh. "Okay, okay. Good God, are you sure you're getting laid enough? You're prissier than usual."
Gokudera's eyes threatened to pop out of their sockets. "I'm looking at stealthy surveillance photos of my goddamned sister with a threat attached to the back! I think I have all the right in the goddamned fucking world to be prissy."
"And my love life is none of your business," he added as an after-thought.
"Whatever you say. Well, I guess it can't be helped, can it? Send it over. The usual way. I'll see what I can find out."
Gokudera was a little calmer now that he had Shamal's word. "You'll have it by tonight."
"What does your FBI buddy think of all of this?"
Gokudera stomped out the smouldering remains of the cigarette, seeing as how it had burnt down all the way on its own. He pretended Shamal had asked about the weather and not something that was wriggling its way through Gokudera's guts like a freaking tapeworm. "He doesn't know."
"You sure? I mean, we're talking about Hibari here..."
Gokudera knew; he knew all too well that Hibari was the least sensible person on this planet while being the most observant. He was a living, breathing seismometer for Gokudera's emotions. He just chose to record them silently instead of calling Gokudera on every single one of them. It was oddly pleasant, if still a bit terrifying. Gokudera hated to talk about what made him tick, mostly because he rarely knew what it was in the first place. But Hibari never expected him to.
And yet every little tremor was recorded, filed and tagged for later use. Only, Gokudera was beginning to develop a seismometer of his own - it just wasn't as accurate yet.
"No," he said eventually, "he knows something's up but I think he's letting me take care of it for now. I can't tell him before I know what this psycho with a camera wants."
"So you're just gonna meet up with this guy? Just like that?"
"Do I have a choice?"
Shamal was silent for a moment. "Not any that you would like, I guess."
"That's right," Gokudera sighed, checking his watch. "Look, I gotta run. Let me know when you've got something on the photograph, okay?"
"Sure thing. Oh, and my regards to your better half."
"He's not my better half, you moron." Gokudera hissed, like a cat splashed with water.
"Okay, your worse half then."
"He's not my half anything, you freak!" He yelled, almost yanking off the side mirror of the car he was leaning on.
"You sleep with him, you have to ask his permission to go anywhere and you have a coffee machine at his place. He is your other half, believe me."
The mirror creaked dangerously under Gokudera's fingers. His voice was barely distinguishable from a growl: "It's his coffee machine."
The only thing that saved Shamal from a fistful of Gokudera's personal opinion were several dozen kilometres worth of distance. "And he's letting you use it. Same thing."
"Just-," Gokudera took a deep breath, working some life back into his fingers, "just call me once you're done with the photograph. Keep the rest of your useless relationship advice to yourself."
He cut Shamal off before he could come up with even more preposterous assumptions about Gokudera's state of play with Hibari. It would have been so much easier if Gokudera had actually had valid arguments. But that had never kept him from arguing.
---
Avoiding Hibari only became a problem when Gokudera really wanted to. All of a sudden, the man seemed to be literally everywhere. And he was doing it on purpose, Gokudera was sure of it.
Gokudera was doing some research on companies currently employing Gilbert's keypad algorithm when Hibari suddenly materialised before his desk. Gokudera was used to it by now. Hibari only ever walked up to people when he wanted to scare them. It was a neat little trick - give your victim the impression that they still have enough time to run. And then show them how wrong they were.
If he simply popped into existence seemingly out of nowhere he meant business; cutting off all possible escape routes in one fell swoop. Gokudera hated when he did that. Mainly because he hadn't found a way to counter this technique yet. But he was working on it.
"You're done for today," Hibari stated, his coat folded neatly over his right arm. "I will escort you home."
Gokudera took a look around the office, which was empty except for the two of them and Kusakabe. "There's nobody here but Kusakabe. You can drop the act."
Hibari raised an eyebrow. "Act?"
Gokudera tossed the pen onto the stack of specifications he'd been going through and frowned. "Do you really think there is one single agent in this department who doesn't know that we're screwing each other?"
"Are they placing bets?" Hibari retorted.
"Er...," Gokudera wasn't sure what Hibari was aiming at, "no?"
"Then why do you care?" The agent pointed at the computer, "I am not seeing you log out."
Gokudera wondered what Hibari would do if there actually were a pot on whether or not they were doing the horizontal tango. Come to think of it, he should have started one - would have made him rich. But he figured that this particular train had left.
He shook his head in silent frustration and shut down his computer. Although he had really hoped that Hibari would leave him be until it was save to head home without having to deal with this 'I know something's wrong and I'm gonna sit here and stare at you as long as it takes until you spill it' glare. It was complicated enough not to cross paths at the office but there was no way out once they were alone.
He would have to find some kind of distraction - from his own dreadful foreshadowing as well as from Hibari's silent version of the Spanish Inquisition.
---
Hibari was not really reading his newspaper. Gokudera could tell because he hadn't turned that page for over five minutes and he was a fairly fast reader. He could feel Hibari staring at him through the freaking paper.
The sad thing was that if he'd just asked, Gokudera would have told him everything. But Hibari was giving him options. Gokudera hated options. He had a horrible track record with those. He tended to go for the wrong one.
Gokudera ran a hand through his hair; he was sweating. If he couldn't make Hibari stop scrutinizing him through the sports section he was going to lose it and he couldn't afford that. He kept flashing back to Bianchi's photograph and all the possible outcomes if he told Hibari. None of them seemed favourable at this point.
He finally gave up and snapped his laptop shut. He stalked over to Hibari and yanked the newspaper out of his hands. "Sex. Now."
He didn't give Hibari time to reply. In fact, he didn't want Hibari to say anything at all for the rest of the night. Gokudera settled down on Hibari's lap and effectively trapped the agent with his thighs. He sealed their lips as firmly as he could, attempting to drown out all potential words of refusal on Hibari's part. But it wasn't even needed - there weren't any. Hibari allowed this little diversion, for now.
There was a clear warning in the way Hibari kissed: Free pass. But don't believe it will last forever.
Fine. He could work with that. Hopefully, it wouldn't take forever, just tomorrow.
~*~*~
Chapter 1 <-- Back to | On to --> Chapter 3
Part II: Abort, Retry, Fail
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn
Pairing: 1859 (established), 8059 (unrequited)
Genre: Humour, case fic, AU
Rating: PG-13 (applies to all chapters unless otherwise stated)
Word count: overall ~ 28,650 | Chapter 2: ~ 2,450
Chapters (click to jump to): 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11
Jump to Part I - No Replacements, No Refunds
Master post
~*~*~
~ Part II ~
Abort, Retry, Fail
Gokudera gladly accepted the cup of steaming hot coffee. It had a slight resemblance to motor oil but after going over thousands of lines of code Gokudera felt he needed another caffeine boost.
He rummaged through his pockets for some spare change but instead came up with a non-descript brown envelope.
"What the hell?" He turned the envelope around, looking up and down the street for anyone who could have tucked it into his pocket.
"Hey, you planning on paying for that?" The man behind the counter of the hot-dog stand glared at Gokudera with all the commanding nature of someone covered in sweat, grease and the smell of sausages.
"Fuck off," Gokudera snarled but handed him the money anyway. He didn't particularly feel like starting a fist-fight over a cup of grimy coffee.
He didn't even hear the guy's certainly nasty retort. He took the cup and headed back to the office building where Hibari was waiting for him. He had graciously allowed Gokudera to quench his desire for coffee before driving back to headquarters.
Gokudera carefully opened the envelope, even though it seemed unlikely that it would explode. Too thin and the lack of padding suggested that whatever was inside was non-sensitive to pressure. He let the contents slide into his open palm and discovered a single paper folded in half.
"What the everloving-" He never finished that thought. When he unfolded the paper every single thought was wiped from his mind. Even the one for coffee.
The cup clattered onto the pavement, spilling hot liquid all over his shoes. It barely registered. He stared at the black and white photograph that the envelope had held. He blinked but the image stayed the same.
What he was looking at was unmistakeably, undoubtedly Bianchi, his step-sister. Which was impossible because nobody was supposed to know that he even had a step-sister.
He turned the picture around and found a note on the back - printed, not hand-written.
Tomorrow. Noon. Coffee shop across FBI HQ.
Gokudera stared at the message. He didn't know what scared him more - that someone knew of his sister or that somebody was able to slip him an envelope without him noticing.
---
Bianchi was the silky-thin thread that still tied him to his family back in Italy. It was screwed-up because their only genetic connection was their father who Gokudera despised more than anything else. And that already included being the FBI's lapdog. At least that one had perks.
She was the one who cared which was why Gokudera couldn't push her away entirely. They had kept loosely in touch over the years - a short text message 'Hi. I'm in London. Don't call.', a quick phone call here, maybe even a snapshot for Christmas there but barely more. They met once or twice a year, mostly because Bianchi had a nasty habit of finding him wherever he was hiding.
Whenever they came into contact she would ask him about his life; was there anyone special, had he finally found someone, blahblahblah. She had these ridiculous views on love and being bonded forever and all that bullshit. Gokudera never cared much for that - he'd given up on the idea when he'd discovered what had happened to his mother.
Although, sometimes he wondered what he would say now. Hibari definitely fell into the 'special' category, Gokudera just wasn't sure they meant the same kind of special.
Either way, Bianchi cared. She always had and despite her being not much of an angel herself she didn't deserve to be pulled into Gokudera's world. She had problems of her own and Gokudera hated to add his own to the pile. Besides, if he were really completely honest he would have had to admit that he actually liked her.
Maybe that was why he decided to play this one close to the chest.
---
"You look like you've seen a ghost."
Gokudera shrugged, seemingly hypnotised by the skyline that was flashing past the passenger window. "I miss my coffee machine."
"You mean my coffee machine," Hibari pointed out. "I bought it."
"Yeah, but you don't even drink coffee." Gokudera finally turned around but still couldn't bring himself to look at the agent. The envelope lay heavy in the inside pocket of his suit jacket, like a rock. He needed to call Shamal. He wanted to tell Hibari.
But as far as Gokudera knew Hibari had no idea that he was still in contact with any part of his family. He liked to keep it that way - at least until he'd figured out what the hell was going on.
"Still doesn't make it your coffee machine," the agent concluded, steering the Mercedes through midday traffic.
"What-fucking-ever," Gokudera ground out but it lacked his usual fervour. There was no way Hibari didn't notice but Gokudera was too lost in his thoughts to care.
Fortunately, Hibari was not one to pry. Most of the time he didn't give a damn. All of the other times he either already suspected what was going on or he found out behind your back. But he rarely asked. It was a blessing for both of them because Gokudera didn't feel like talking anyway.
As a result they spent the rest of the drive in contemplative, vaguely uncomfortable silence.
---
Gokudera was pacing around in the parking lot, smoking his cigarette like asthma medicine and having a heated argument with Shamal.
"Me? What did I do?" He gesticulated furiously, sending ashes flying all over the place. "I didn't do anything, for fuck's sake!"
"Then how did you end up with a picture of your sister in your pocket?"
"That's what I want you to tell me, you stupid old man!" Gokudera was already highly agitated as it was and Shamal's refusal to believe that for once Gokudera hadn't manoeuvred himself into the pile of shit he was sitting in was not helping.
"It's not a nude picture by any chance is it?" Shamal sounded way too hopeful for Gokudera's taste.
"No, it's not, you perverted psychopath," Gokudera snarled, taking another look at the image in his hand. "Looks more like a surveillance photo. She definitely wasn't aware that she was being photographed."
"Shame, that."
"I swear to God, Shamal, if you are having twisted thoughts about my sister I will stuff all those creepy insects you like to experiment on so much down your throat and watch you choke."
"Alright, loosen up, Hayato. Geez. Your sister just happens to be a beautiful woman."
"No, she's not. Not to you, you hear me?" Gokudera meant every word. Shamal was okay as long as there were no women involved and Gokudera couldn't care less what he did when they were but Bianchi was a whole different matter. Not that he feared Bianchi would actually fall for the idiot doctor - she had standards after all - but he refused to imagine Shamal anywhere even near his sister.
Shamal gave a long-drawn sigh. "Okay, okay. Good God, are you sure you're getting laid enough? You're prissier than usual."
Gokudera's eyes threatened to pop out of their sockets. "I'm looking at stealthy surveillance photos of my goddamned sister with a threat attached to the back! I think I have all the right in the goddamned fucking world to be prissy."
"And my love life is none of your business," he added as an after-thought.
"Whatever you say. Well, I guess it can't be helped, can it? Send it over. The usual way. I'll see what I can find out."
Gokudera was a little calmer now that he had Shamal's word. "You'll have it by tonight."
"What does your FBI buddy think of all of this?"
Gokudera stomped out the smouldering remains of the cigarette, seeing as how it had burnt down all the way on its own. He pretended Shamal had asked about the weather and not something that was wriggling its way through Gokudera's guts like a freaking tapeworm. "He doesn't know."
"You sure? I mean, we're talking about Hibari here..."
Gokudera knew; he knew all too well that Hibari was the least sensible person on this planet while being the most observant. He was a living, breathing seismometer for Gokudera's emotions. He just chose to record them silently instead of calling Gokudera on every single one of them. It was oddly pleasant, if still a bit terrifying. Gokudera hated to talk about what made him tick, mostly because he rarely knew what it was in the first place. But Hibari never expected him to.
And yet every little tremor was recorded, filed and tagged for later use. Only, Gokudera was beginning to develop a seismometer of his own - it just wasn't as accurate yet.
"No," he said eventually, "he knows something's up but I think he's letting me take care of it for now. I can't tell him before I know what this psycho with a camera wants."
"So you're just gonna meet up with this guy? Just like that?"
"Do I have a choice?"
Shamal was silent for a moment. "Not any that you would like, I guess."
"That's right," Gokudera sighed, checking his watch. "Look, I gotta run. Let me know when you've got something on the photograph, okay?"
"Sure thing. Oh, and my regards to your better half."
"He's not my better half, you moron." Gokudera hissed, like a cat splashed with water.
"Okay, your worse half then."
"He's not my half anything, you freak!" He yelled, almost yanking off the side mirror of the car he was leaning on.
"You sleep with him, you have to ask his permission to go anywhere and you have a coffee machine at his place. He is your other half, believe me."
The mirror creaked dangerously under Gokudera's fingers. His voice was barely distinguishable from a growl: "It's his coffee machine."
The only thing that saved Shamal from a fistful of Gokudera's personal opinion were several dozen kilometres worth of distance. "And he's letting you use it. Same thing."
"Just-," Gokudera took a deep breath, working some life back into his fingers, "just call me once you're done with the photograph. Keep the rest of your useless relationship advice to yourself."
He cut Shamal off before he could come up with even more preposterous assumptions about Gokudera's state of play with Hibari. It would have been so much easier if Gokudera had actually had valid arguments. But that had never kept him from arguing.
---
Avoiding Hibari only became a problem when Gokudera really wanted to. All of a sudden, the man seemed to be literally everywhere. And he was doing it on purpose, Gokudera was sure of it.
Gokudera was doing some research on companies currently employing Gilbert's keypad algorithm when Hibari suddenly materialised before his desk. Gokudera was used to it by now. Hibari only ever walked up to people when he wanted to scare them. It was a neat little trick - give your victim the impression that they still have enough time to run. And then show them how wrong they were.
If he simply popped into existence seemingly out of nowhere he meant business; cutting off all possible escape routes in one fell swoop. Gokudera hated when he did that. Mainly because he hadn't found a way to counter this technique yet. But he was working on it.
"You're done for today," Hibari stated, his coat folded neatly over his right arm. "I will escort you home."
Gokudera took a look around the office, which was empty except for the two of them and Kusakabe. "There's nobody here but Kusakabe. You can drop the act."
Hibari raised an eyebrow. "Act?"
Gokudera tossed the pen onto the stack of specifications he'd been going through and frowned. "Do you really think there is one single agent in this department who doesn't know that we're screwing each other?"
"Are they placing bets?" Hibari retorted.
"Er...," Gokudera wasn't sure what Hibari was aiming at, "no?"
"Then why do you care?" The agent pointed at the computer, "I am not seeing you log out."
Gokudera wondered what Hibari would do if there actually were a pot on whether or not they were doing the horizontal tango. Come to think of it, he should have started one - would have made him rich. But he figured that this particular train had left.
He shook his head in silent frustration and shut down his computer. Although he had really hoped that Hibari would leave him be until it was save to head home without having to deal with this 'I know something's wrong and I'm gonna sit here and stare at you as long as it takes until you spill it' glare. It was complicated enough not to cross paths at the office but there was no way out once they were alone.
He would have to find some kind of distraction - from his own dreadful foreshadowing as well as from Hibari's silent version of the Spanish Inquisition.
---
Hibari was not really reading his newspaper. Gokudera could tell because he hadn't turned that page for over five minutes and he was a fairly fast reader. He could feel Hibari staring at him through the freaking paper.
The sad thing was that if he'd just asked, Gokudera would have told him everything. But Hibari was giving him options. Gokudera hated options. He had a horrible track record with those. He tended to go for the wrong one.
Gokudera ran a hand through his hair; he was sweating. If he couldn't make Hibari stop scrutinizing him through the sports section he was going to lose it and he couldn't afford that. He kept flashing back to Bianchi's photograph and all the possible outcomes if he told Hibari. None of them seemed favourable at this point.
He finally gave up and snapped his laptop shut. He stalked over to Hibari and yanked the newspaper out of his hands. "Sex. Now."
He didn't give Hibari time to reply. In fact, he didn't want Hibari to say anything at all for the rest of the night. Gokudera settled down on Hibari's lap and effectively trapped the agent with his thighs. He sealed their lips as firmly as he could, attempting to drown out all potential words of refusal on Hibari's part. But it wasn't even needed - there weren't any. Hibari allowed this little diversion, for now.
There was a clear warning in the way Hibari kissed: Free pass. But don't believe it will last forever.
Fine. He could work with that. Hopefully, it wouldn't take forever, just tomorrow.
~*~*~
Chapter 1 <-- Back to | On to --> Chapter 3