[039] What would you do if I sang out of tune?
Title: Third Wheel
Author: ME LOL
Rating: Gen!
Series/Fandom: Hitman Reborn!
Characters/Pairings: I-pin, Lambo, mentions of Ryohei
Warnings: language?
Summary: Lambo finds that he has competition.
Dedication(s): jiao_chan for her birthday back in November. Old fic is old.
I-pin meticulously picks imaginary specks of dust off the hem of her skirt, and Lambo watches from across the room, sitting on the edge of the bed with his chin resting on the palm of his hand. His hair droops to mask one half lidded eye, and a frown becomes evident on the lethargic expression so associated with his face.
(A frown, a real one like how Gokudera does it. Not a pout.)
“Goodness, isn’t that a bit short, I-pin?”
She only spares him a passing glance before staring back at her full length mirror, pushing up a few stray strands behind her ears and smiling awkwardly at her reflection.
“Don’t be silly,” she replies and dismisses the subject with a shrug of the shoulders. Then, she frowns again, and fusses at another part of her appearance that shows signs of imperfection - her earrings, the one that Ryohei got her. They were on crooked.
Lambo huffs, and moves to lie on the bed, elongated limbs lazily hanging off the sides of the mattress. Hormones had finally caught up with that ‘enormous cranium of his’ as I-pin put it, stretching out his bones to make them long and lanky - bigger than he knew how to handle so that he tripped over his own feet and slammed his poor bony fingers into sharp, random crevices every five minutes- and deepening his voice by a few million octaves.
“Still, aren’t you a bit…,” he trails off, and his voice suddenly reverts to that high pitched whiny squeak of yesteryear. “Overdressed?”
This time, she turns to glare at him, hands on her hips. “You’re kidding, right?”
“And why would I bother teasing you at such a time, I-pin? It’s not often that you request my assistance.”” Arms cross behind his head, and he maybe kinda glares at the ceiling. “Or invite me to your house, at all.”
The sour edge reeking from the core of that last statement flies completely past I-pin’s head, and she rolls her eyes at his apparent childishness. “Who else would I ask? Bianchi-san’s back in Italy, and I didn’t want to bother Haru-san and Kyoko-chan over something so trivial.”
‘So am I trivial to you?’ Lambo thinks, but instead blurts out, “What about Fuuta? Yamamoto? Gokudera?”
The ex-assassin pauses in her obsessive fidgeting, and makes an irritated face specially reserved for inane comments like that.
“I’m not even going to bother responding to that,” she says after hopefully successfully telepathically sending her child hood friend ‘You are such a stupid cow’ messages with the pupils of her eyes. “You’re good at this stuff, anyway.”
Curiously, attention perked at the possible compliment, Lambo sits up slightly, eyebrows raised. “What stuff?”
“Useless dating stuff. Wasn’t it obvious, you stupid play boy cow?” Her words are blunt, teasing, but Lambo’s used to it. “That’s all you seem to be good at nowadays.”
“W-wait,” and suddenly, he straightens all the way, eyes kinda wide. “Dating stuff? I didn’t know that this was going to be a date--”
That gets him a stuff animal to the face. “A-ah!? So violent, I-pin!”
But now she’s laughing, waving a dismissive hand at him as she shuts her closet door. “O-of course it isn’t, dumby! It’s only Brother Sasagawa! We do this all the time, remember? Whenever he comes back home? I only wanted your opinion.”
She twirls in her outfit on the tips of her toes, and grins nervously at him, smoothing down the wrinkles in her shirt.
Lambo peels Mr. Snuffles off of his person, and keeps his gaze low and sedated, focused on the tops of his knees.
“Yeah, of course. Beauituful.”
Half an hour later, Lambo trudges off back to work cleaning toilets at the convenient store down the street, and I-pin waits for Ryohei’s car at the gate of her house, smiling softly in the cold winter air.
Author: ME LOL
Rating: Gen!
Series/Fandom: Hitman Reborn!
Characters/Pairings: I-pin, Lambo, mentions of Ryohei
Warnings: language?
Summary: Lambo finds that he has competition.
Dedication(s): jiao_chan for her birthday back in November. Old fic is old.
I-pin meticulously picks imaginary specks of dust off the hem of her skirt, and Lambo watches from across the room, sitting on the edge of the bed with his chin resting on the palm of his hand. His hair droops to mask one half lidded eye, and a frown becomes evident on the lethargic expression so associated with his face.
(A frown, a real one like how Gokudera does it. Not a pout.)
“Goodness, isn’t that a bit short, I-pin?”
She only spares him a passing glance before staring back at her full length mirror, pushing up a few stray strands behind her ears and smiling awkwardly at her reflection.
“Don’t be silly,” she replies and dismisses the subject with a shrug of the shoulders. Then, she frowns again, and fusses at another part of her appearance that shows signs of imperfection - her earrings, the one that Ryohei got her. They were on crooked.
Lambo huffs, and moves to lie on the bed, elongated limbs lazily hanging off the sides of the mattress. Hormones had finally caught up with that ‘enormous cranium of his’ as I-pin put it, stretching out his bones to make them long and lanky - bigger than he knew how to handle so that he tripped over his own feet and slammed his poor bony fingers into sharp, random crevices every five minutes- and deepening his voice by a few million octaves.
“Still, aren’t you a bit…,” he trails off, and his voice suddenly reverts to that high pitched whiny squeak of yesteryear. “Overdressed?”
This time, she turns to glare at him, hands on her hips. “You’re kidding, right?”
“And why would I bother teasing you at such a time, I-pin? It’s not often that you request my assistance.”” Arms cross behind his head, and he maybe kinda glares at the ceiling. “Or invite me to your house, at all.”
The sour edge reeking from the core of that last statement flies completely past I-pin’s head, and she rolls her eyes at his apparent childishness. “Who else would I ask? Bianchi-san’s back in Italy, and I didn’t want to bother Haru-san and Kyoko-chan over something so trivial.”
‘So am I trivial to you?’ Lambo thinks, but instead blurts out, “What about Fuuta? Yamamoto? Gokudera?”
The ex-assassin pauses in her obsessive fidgeting, and makes an irritated face specially reserved for inane comments like that.
“I’m not even going to bother responding to that,” she says after hopefully successfully telepathically sending her child hood friend ‘You are such a stupid cow’ messages with the pupils of her eyes. “You’re good at this stuff, anyway.”
Curiously, attention perked at the possible compliment, Lambo sits up slightly, eyebrows raised. “What stuff?”
“Useless dating stuff. Wasn’t it obvious, you stupid play boy cow?” Her words are blunt, teasing, but Lambo’s used to it. “That’s all you seem to be good at nowadays.”
“W-wait,” and suddenly, he straightens all the way, eyes kinda wide. “Dating stuff? I didn’t know that this was going to be a date--”
That gets him a stuff animal to the face. “A-ah!? So violent, I-pin!”
But now she’s laughing, waving a dismissive hand at him as she shuts her closet door. “O-of course it isn’t, dumby! It’s only Brother Sasagawa! We do this all the time, remember? Whenever he comes back home? I only wanted your opinion.”
She twirls in her outfit on the tips of her toes, and grins nervously at him, smoothing down the wrinkles in her shirt.
Lambo peels Mr. Snuffles off of his person, and keeps his gaze low and sedated, focused on the tops of his knees.
“Yeah, of course. Beauituful.”
Half an hour later, Lambo trudges off back to work cleaning toilets at the convenient store down the street, and I-pin waits for Ryohei’s car at the gate of her house, smiling softly in the cold winter air.