Genre: romance, silly school-life sap etc.

Pairing: Fran/Bluebell

Rating: T... so far, I guess. Might go up to M, depending on later chapters.

Warnings: AU. Smut in later chapters. And no, this is not a genderbent fic, despite what it looks like at first. Just keep on reading, 'kay?

Summary: Bluebell's dissolute life is suddenly disrupted by the arrival of her new roommate - a childhood acquaintance, who proves to be anything but the kid from her memories.

Disclaimer: Katekyo Hitman Reborn and its characters belong to Amano Akira.

Expanded from a prompt by the awesome Aimeeshi. Beta'd by my lovely BadAyka.

Chapter One: Roommate

or The Mysterious Early-morning Arrival Of A Force Entirely Unreckoned With

'I won't be able to cover your rent expenses anymore, and since our neighbour's Fran is coming to Tokyo for high school, I agreed to take him in – your new roommate will be coming next Monday. I shouldn't have to warn you, but please be nice.'

Bluebell reread the short notice at the end of her mother's letter; with every day passing, Monday drew nearer, yet she still found it all so unbelievable. She wasn't a kid anymore, wasn't her mommy's cute little girl – and she thought that, maybe, if she continuously disagrees with anyone willing to be her roommate, mother would get the hint and stop pestering her about the rent. Was it so hard to let her live alone?

But then again, she never expected this to happen; how was it even possible that mother wasn't able to cover her rent anymore? Last time Bluebell checked, her bank account was nowhere near empty, and the flow of income –her deceased father's rent– was as steady as ever. She didn't understand; she didn't want to understand.

Also, who was this Fran girl? After several days of replaying her childhood memories, she vaguely remembered a teal-haired child with strange marks under her eyes and a never-changing apathetic expression; a kid three years her minor that was bound to be ridiculed due to her looks. Bluebell used to think she was cute, though; and she half wished she'd risk her reputation and became friends with the outcast, if not for anything else, just to make the kid her plaything, dressing her up in cute clothes and putting on make-up – she had always thought it was a waste the girl never wore any, and it seems only Bluebell saw her cuteness potential.

It seemed that now – more accurately, in a few hours' time since it was just before dawn on the very Monday referred to in the letter – that cute kid, now grown into a highschooler, was coming to her apartment to live with her. She didn't know what to do, how to react; does this Fran kid remember her, and if she does, what does she think about her? She knew she was never anywhere near nice to the kid, and even though she never joined in when her friends mocked her, she never made any attempt to stop them either. She just stood there, and watched as the kid took all the insults without even as much as a twitch of the eye.

The memories didn't exactly help either; after those days she spent reminiscing and pondering, she didn't know any better how to face the girl, not with that face floating before her eyes, and the countless insults – most of them so dirty she hadn't heard them before that, but was now familiar with their meaning all too well – ringing in her ears, repeated all over and over again, a tune she couldn't turn off.

A bell interrupted her thoughts; she jumped from the chair, standing straight up, shocked by the sudden noise. She flicked the clock a glance before she made it to the door, thinking that 6 a.m. was a bit early to arrive, but rather convinced it was her new roommate nonetheless – after all, the pizza delivery boy was the only one ever being told her address, and she hadn't ordered any (neither pizza nor delivery boys, as she commented in her mind wittily, but not far from the truth).

She swung the door open and prepared her best fake smile, remembering her mother's warning. One had to admit, as much as she tended to ignore her mother's words, she at least knew when the woman was serious; and short, official-sounding notices devoid of any emotion were a sign it was high time to stop fooling around.

Her inquiring gaze fell upon a teenager that looked just like the Fran she remembered, only stretched to about five feet and overall re-sized to that format. Otherwise, the change was minimal; the lines of her face might've been a bit sharper now than they used to be back then, but she still wore same unidentifiable baggy pants and a dark sweater with the hood pulled up and half over her face.

For a few seconds, the silence hung heavily between them, weighing down on them both wondering how much the other still remembers, and whether their current relationship as roommates will be bound by the lingering memories–

"So, are you going to stand here all day, or what? Come inside already."

She turned on her heels, inviting the kid inside with a gesture, not even paying a glance to see if she followed her in or not. It's not like it's her problem if she doesn't, anyway.

Bluebell sighed inwardly, but didn't allow herself to be heard; looks like she's gotten herself in quite a mess this time. The kid looks no different from back then, and as things stand now, she'll just end up being the babysitter – there goes her party-strewn dissolute life full of worldly pleasure... but then again, the kid hadn't lost her cute charm. She might just as well use the opportunity that had arisen, and turn her past ambition into reality, making this kid finally aware of her womanhood.

"I cleaned up a room for you, you can put your bags in there," she indicated towards a door to possibly the smallest room in the entire apartment that had been full of all sorts of junk including some rotting rat corpses right until the night before.

"You can stay in the living room during the day if you'd like since your room is small; I won't be here most of the time anyway, so you won't be disturbing anyone. The kitchen's kinda small, but you'll find it has all you might need. Also, please keep your food separated from mine in the fridge; we might be sharing an apartment, but we ain't sharing food. Oh, and bathroom's here. Remember to clean the hair out of the drain after you finish your shower. And never, ever, under any circumstances are you allowed to use my razor or use my shampoo or deodorant or perfume or anything that is mine. You can use the hairdryer, though. Just don't steal from my sanitary pad and tampon stock, you have learned to buy your own by now."

With that quick guide through the apartment, she turned back to face the newcomer, placing her hands on her hips; obviously, she wanted to show the kid her place, but instead of intimidating she looked more like a cute, slightly scruffy squirrel that was just about to cast a nut at you, but is hesitating since it would mean throwing away her food.

"So, got any questions?"

The teen in front of her tilted her head slightly, and asked, her voice slightly nasal, making the tone sound as if she was utterly bored by the entire show: "Bluebell-senpaaaai... why would I need sanitary pads and tampons?"


The strands of sky-blue hair swayed and then stilled as the young woman froze half-word as she realised the possible implication of what her cute little kohai just uttered. Is it possible...? But no, that can't be...!

"-ly me, I never even considered it possible you didn't even have your first period yet, after all, some girls do have a bit slower development that the rest, and I see now that your body hasn't matured quite either..."

"Senpai, do you by chance think I'm a girl?"

Huh? What's with that, of course I think you're a girl, what else could... no... don't tell me...

Her eyes widened in shock as she finally realised the truth, and she found herself shaking badly, losing control of her ever so cool composure, losing the upper hand she thought she had, with her confident introductory speech and all, losing coherency from her scattered thoughts...

"You're... not?"

Bluebell could hardly force those words out throatily, producing a sound as if she had been on the verge of dying by the hands of a deadly pneumonia with symptoms so devastating that they have never been witnessed by humanity before. Sweat broke out, destroying her perfect make-up, tainting her peach-coloured silk-like skin as she waited for her – him – to reply.

The teen before her quirked an eyebrow ever so slightly, changing the expression by a margin and yet anyone could tell it clearly said "are you and idiot or just blind?"

Instead of a reply, his loose pants came off, falling to his ankles into a wrinkled mess, exposing his faintly sculpted thighs (something you could've never told was hiding beneath those baggy jeans), and – what was also the focal point of Bluebell's attention – a pair of slightly too small boxers which were rather obviously not empty where a female's underwear, should she ever wear male ones, would be.

"Do I look like one?"

Bluebell simply stared.

There was nothing she could do, nothing she could say; all she could do was to stare while her brain tried to cope with the turn of events.

The outcast girl she had known since childhood was actually a boy.

The girl from next door her mother sent to be her new roommate was actually a guy.

The cute young woman that wasn't aware of her own potential, and whom was she, the magnificent Bluebell-sama, gracefully willing to teach, transform and make aware of her womanhood, was actually a man.

"I'm going to bed," Fran announced and pulled his pants back on, obviously fed up with being stared at, and left Bluebell alone with her mind-raking thoughts.