A/N: Aside from some 5927, and a tiny bit of D1880 in this chapter, all chapters from here on will focus on the two main pairings so you don't have to worry about soldiering through pairings you loathe anymore. So yeah, this chapter contains porn of the 1827/2718 kind and unsubtle innuendo of the D80 kind. Enjoy!

Chapter 8: Please Turn Me On, I'm Mr. Coffee With An Automatic Drip

"The capital of the U.S.A. is what, Sawada?" Hibari questions casually, as if Tsuna isn't scrabbling for purchase on Hibari's oak desk, scattering papers and pens, and trying to stop himself from making shameful noises. He sees Hibari's translucent reflection on the window in front of him, horn-rimmed glasses perched daintily on his nose, laconic smirk stretched across his lips as he waits for Tsuna's answer.

"Umm… California?" Tsuna says, and whimpers when Hibari smiles wider, simultaneously pushing himself deeper into Tsuna, pressing the latter harder into the desk.

Tsuna bites his lip to keep from crying out when the edge of the desk bites at his hips. This is so unfair. What kind of bullshit punishment is this? Yes he accidentally set his teacher on fire, and okay, yes, maybe he shouldn't have ditched his classroom duties, but does it really merit something like this? Punitive measures are not supposed to go this far, given that the objective is discipline and not violation.

They're also not supposed to feel so embarrassingly good and make him cast serious doubt on his 'straight as a pole' sexuality. First Mukuro, and now Hibari. Does he have a neon sign on his back saying "Straight but fuckable, come abuse me?"

"Wrong. It's Washington D.C.," Hibari says, and gives Tsuna a resounding smack on the ass, making Tsuna gasp at the stinging but not entirely unpleasant sensation it leaves behind. Hibari briefly lifts his hand from Tsuna's hips to flip a page, but otherwise continues his languid thrusting. "Next. By what name is the city of Byzantium known as up until the early 20th century?"

"Uh…" Tsuna tenses when Hibari shifts back, tantalizingly slow, almost pulling out completely. "Istanbul?"

Tsuna nearly howls when Hibari viciously slams himself all the way in, a brutal snap of his hips that sends flash-scatter lights in Tsuna's vision, his untouched cock leaking along the side of the desk.

"Deep," he chokes out, his knuckles white against the edges of the desk. "Hibari-san—"

"—Wrong again Sawada. It's Constantinople," Hibari says, sounding like he really can't give less of a fuck (pun not intended) about Tsuna's begging, even as Tsuna trembles beneath him. "Honestly, do you know nothing?"

But when he moves again, the pace is fractionally slower, and just a tad bit more careful, but it's enough to make Tsuna breathe out in relief. "I'm sorry Hibari-san," he says into the wood of the desk, spine undulating as his body becomes accustomed to Hibari's movements, pleasure dominating the pain once more. "I'll try harder next time."

"Trying is not good enough," Hibari declares, his pace remaining steady even as he continues his lecture. "You will do better. I refuse to allow you to sully the name of Namimori with your idiocy."

"Yes, okay," Tsuna gasps out, only vaguely aware of what he's agreeing to, his mind otherwise occupied with keeping his wanton moaning to a minimum; Hibari has shifted the angle of his thrusts, putting Tsuna at risk of turning even more stupid as new shocks of pleasure threaten to fry his brain.

All of sudden, Hibari stills, and Tsuna couldn't suppress the whine escaping his lips at the loss of stimuli. It's at that point that he concludes that he has to be some sort of confused, indecisive masochist, because here he is, getting simultaneously insulted and fucked from behind, and he actually doesn't want it to stop even though he's supposed to be completely into girls, and not into violent, sexy prefects who ought to be tried in criminal courts for sexual abuse.

"You have a long way to go, Sawada Tsunayoshi," Hibari says. Tsuna's failed test papers flutter to the floor, as he feels both of Hibari's hands curve around his hips, slender fingers tracing along the crest of his hipbones with uncharacteristic gentleness. "So accept your punishment, as befits your transgressions."

Tsuna shivers; whether it's from fear or anticipation, he can no longer tell. He looks back at their reflection on the window, and sees Hibari baring his teeth into a feral smile, like a hunter about to deliver the coup de grâce to his quarry, and that's all the warning Tsuna gets.

Without preamble, Hibari thrusts into him again, descending into a pace better likened to fell beasts, each snap of his hips delivering the worst, most beautiful punishment Tsuna has ever taken into his body. Tsuna's head is spinning with the almost unbearable sensations firing up his spine, pressure slowly building deep in his belly, and he presses himself harder against the desk, in a desperate attempt to get some sort of friction against his cock.

As if hearing his silent plea, Hibari leans down. "I'm not going to touch it," he says, threat and seduction moulding perfectly in one breath. Then he bends even lower, almost parallel to Tsuna's back – how does he do this and keep up the same punishing pace – and gooseflesh scatters across Tsuna's skin as he feels Hibari's mouth hovering near his neck.

"But you'll still come for me, won't you?" he breathes into Tsuna's ear before dragging his teeth along the slope of Tsuna's neck and biting down, hard, and that's the match to the tinder, as Tsuna's release surges violently out of him, his cries stifled by the skin of his arm.

Hibari rocks into him a few more times before he stills completely, the force of his own orgasm punctuated by a soft, extended exhale.

Spent, Tsuna tries to catch his breath as Hibari slowly disengages himself.

"Remember this and do better next time, Sawada Tsunayoshi," Hibari announces, as he tucks himself back into his pants.

"Yes Hibari-san." Tsuna whispers, before shakily lifting himself off the desk. When he's sure his knees are no longer in the danger of buckling beneath him, he turns around, only to have Hibari slam him back down on the desk, palm flat against his chest, uneven stacks of folders, pencils, and possibly wayward staple wires digging painfully into his back. The breath is knocked out of him, and he couldn't do anything more than gasp sharply when Hibari grabs his wrists and yanks them on either edge of the table. He only has a split second to realize that that flash of deep purple he spotted in the corner is not a scarf, and he hears an audible click.

Oh. Shit.

"Hibari-san," he manages to squeak out, when Hibari picks up Tsuna's bag and rifles through it. "What are you—"

"Five minute break," Hibari interrupts coolly, and retrieves a fresh set of papers. He narrows his eyes at the slew of red marks and turns to give Tsuna a look that clearly conveys 'How could you be this stupid and survive'?

But Tsuna has bigger things to worry about than embarrassment about his shitty test scores. Swallowing thickly, he struggles against the cuffs, but it's no use- he has absolutely no leverage like this, back uncomfortably bowed unless he lies completely still, his toes barely skimming the floor.

Hibari tosses the bag away, the offensive papers clenched tightly in one hand as he watches Tsuna's futile attempts to free himself from his box weapon, before moving forward to slide a leg between Tsuna's thighs and nudging them apart. There's an almost playful smile on his lips as he dips a finger on the sticky mess on Tsuna's stomach, and brings it to his mouth. Then, without breaking eye contact, Hibari slowly, deliberately slips it past wet, pink lips, and sucks.

Tsuna couldn't stop his jaw from dropping. And with good reason too, as this is quite possibly the most obscene thing Tsuna has ever Hibari do. Then he blushes furiously, because his cock physically responds to this blatant seduction like a moth to a flame, twitching back to life. So much for refraction period.

And of course, this does not escape Hibari's notice. He smirks, that arrogant bastard, and his icy blue eyes greedily run over the spectacle Tsuna's presenting to him— splayed legs, arms securely fastened to the legs of the desk, torn open shirt and flushed cheeks —like he's mentally calculating the many different ways he's going to debauch Tsuna on his desk until it breaks.

Then, in one swift movement, he hooks his arms under Tsuna's knees and hoists him up, forcing Tsuna's head to hang over the edge of the table, Hibari's burgeoning erection pressing against the globe of his ass.

Oh god, he is.

Hibari's glasses gleam with an unholy light, and he licks his lips in a manner that has no business being as hot as it is, because Tsuna is really, seriously, honest-to-god not gay dammit, never mind that he just took (and will take) it up the ass- he was -is- serving a sentence, and the fact that it feels more like starring in his own private porno than a proper punishment is entirely coincidental.

"And then…" Hibari continues as he looms over Tsuna, his voice almost a purr in Tsuna's ear. "We're going over Biology next."


Tsuna bolts upright, breathing hard, his back drenched with sweat, damp bangs plastered to his forehead.

What the hell was that? Did he seriously just dream about getting sodomized by Hibari Kyouya, and did he actually like it?

"Tenth are you okay?"

Gokudera's concerned voice, as well as the sudden yellow lamp light flooding the room, startles him, and he whips around, wondering what the heck Gokudera's even doing here, before remembering that this isn't his futon, this isn't his room and this certainly isn't his house.

He looks down and flushes a deep crimson as he realizes that he's still hard, and worse, wet in more delicate places. Fantastic. His first night sleeping over and he just has to defile Gokudera's pristine 300-thread count quilts. A quick glance at Gokudera's red face tells him that Gokudera also noticed, and Tsuna immediately prays for a god, any god, to smite him where he sits.

"I'm so sorry Gokudera-kun. Ohmygod, this is so embarrassing," he mumbles, hugging his knees to his chest and burrowing his face between them. "I'll wash the sheets myself."

"It's okay, Tenth," Gokudera says in the most placating voice he's capable of, which is to say, not much, but Tsuna appreciates the effort. "This kind of thing is perfectly normal!"

"I ruined your sheets."

"It'll wash off. Don't worry about it Tenth, this happens to me all the time."

Tsuna pretends he didn't hear that last bit. "Still, I'm really sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Gokudera repeats, smiling reassuringly as he rises up to turn on the lights. "Go get changed Tenth."

"Right," Tsuna mumbles. He stands up, conscious of the wet spot on his crotch and quietly pads over to his overnight bag. He sticks his hand in, feeling for his cotton boxers amidst the mess of shirts and pants. After a while, he frowns, and rummages some more. Finally, he panics, and proceeds to dump all his stuff on the floor. What are supposed to be his rabbit-patterned boxers have apparently been replaced with cow print briefs no wider than a fig leaf.

Goddammit Lambo.

Gokudera peers over his shoulder and Tsuna hurriedly closes his bag, effectively preventing Gokudera from adding another item to his long list of reasons why Lambo would better serve the family as target practice rather than an actual guardian. "You didn't bring any boxers Tenth?"

"… I must've neglected to pack them," Tsuna mutters through clenched teeth. He closes his eyes and slumps back against the wall, feeling gross. "I could just not wear any… I guess."

"Or you can have one of mine Tenth!"

Tsuna's eyes snap open. "Oh no, Gokudera-kun," he says, waving his hands nervously. "I couldn't, that would be imposing on you too much."

"Nonsense," Gokudera says, looking excited as he practically launches himself across the room towards his walk-in closet.

Tsuna relents, but only because he really doesn't fancy going commando in a world where he's always prone to getting shot at with a bullet that rips off all his clothes. "Well okay, you can just give me your rattiest pair or something," he calls out, as his self-proclaimed right hand man emerges from the closet, holding something shiny, and knowing Gokudera, probably expensive.

Gokudera's on cloud nine as he presents Tsuna a pair of boxers made of rich black and red silk, with the Armani insignia embossed on the bottom right.

Armani. Tsuna blinks, as the idea of designer underwear has never occurred to him. It doesn't make sense to wear something fancy when you don't really intend to show it to anyone, though he realizes he's in no position to make judgments on the benefits of respectable underwear, given that he frolicked around in boxers for the better part of this Dame-Tsuna years.

"Gokudera, don't you have anything less… fancy?" he says uncertainly. "I'm fine with just cotton or polyester—"

"Polyester?" Gokudera gasps, looking stricken, as if Tsuna suggested he go filch underwear off the scabrous hide of a hobo. "No no no, Tenth, no byproduct of petroleum should ever befoul the wondrous skin of your loins—" Tsuna makes a wheezing noise not unlike that of a strangled cat at that "—for it only deserves the finest and most exquisite of materials, spun from the threads of the healthiest silkworms —"

"I'll take it Gokudera-kun, thank you so much," Tsuna interrupts and hastily grabs the boxers from his friend's outstretched hand, before Gokudera could further extol the virtues of Tsuna's embarrassingly leaky penis and cause him to spontaneously combust from mortification.

He hurries over to the bathroom and shuts the door behind him. He sees his flushed, panicked face in the mirror and immediately recoils from it, his eyes landing everywhere except on his own reflection. Pathetic. He couldn't even look at himself in the mirror. He leans back against the door, closes his eyes, and immediately, an image of Hibari in glasses fills his mind's eye, and he feels his traitorous cock stir up.

This is bad. There's only one way to avoid this.

With grim determination, he shoves himself into Gokudera's expensive boxers, places his soiled ones in a plastic bag, and swings the door open. "I have another favour to ask, Gokudera-kun," he says, hating himself a little for having to resort to Gokudera again.

Gokudera beams, like Tsuna just asked him to see the world from behind the fishbowl windows of a flying saucer. "For you Tenth, I would blow up the moon!"

"Er, nothing that extreme… "

Gokudera leans forward, waiting eagerly. "Then what is it?"

Tsuna takes a deep breath. This is it.

"I just want to ask if you can tutor me in World Geography?" he asks, fidgeting with his T-shirt as he gauges his friend's reaction. Then as an afterthought, he adds: "And uh… Biology?"

If Gokudera is a little confused about this bizarre request, he doesn't show it, only too happy to be of use to his boss. "Of course Tenth!"

Tsuna breathes out a sigh of relief. Gokudera has his quirks but there's no other person Tsuna can trust more to come to his aid with no questions asked. "Thanks Gokudera-kun," he whispers, and smiles gratefully at him.

Then, unwittingly, he goes for extreme overkill, and utters those three little words that have always figured prominently in Gokudera's wildest fantasies:

"You're the best."

Needless to say, there will be two sheets that will need washing the next day.

"I'm not an herbivore. Not anymore."

Sawada Tsunayoshi looks older, taller, more dignified, even with his white suit unbuttoned, his dress shirt untucked, and his tie hanging loosely around his neck.

Hibari is older and taller too. His hair is shorter, wilder, and the suit he wears is tidy, crisp and dark as night. "And why not?"

"I'm a leader now. I take responsibility over my people," Sawada answers, as he approaches Hibari with steady, measured steps. "My territories stretch far and wide. And I am strong when it matters."

Hibari looks up at him coolly from beneath his lashes. "You are still a pack animal."

Sawada chuckles, a musical yet masculine sound that pleases Hibari's ears. "Yes. But I can be the fiercest predator you've ever encountered," he says softly, leaning close, fingers reaching out to cautiously thumb the end of Hibari's tie. "If you'll let me."

Powerful, arrogant, and yet not so foolhardy as to take without permission. Hibari feels lust and excitement thrumming in equal measures beneath his skin, and he leans back casually against his leather armchair. "Then show me."

Sawada grins and complies. He undresses slowly, popping open the buttons of his dress shirt one by one, before peeling each sleeve off his arm. His hands then land on his belt, unbuckling it and pulling it off with short, forceful tugs, letting it clatter on the floor. The neatly pressed pants follow, falling to a heap at Sawada's feet. He keeps his boxers on however, but Hibari doesn't mind. It will join the rest of their clothes sooner or later.

Hibari studies Sawada with unashamed interest, eyes raking over the lithe muscles, the long, coltish limbs imbued with hidden power, and the thin scars that decorate his skin like medals. Ten years into the future, and Sawada's body has transformed from a scrawny bag of flesh and bones to a powerful weapon wrapped in human skin.

"I'll show you my strength," Sawada says, and with a sweep of his hand, Hibari's suit rips apart, sky flames curling around the edges and leaving only the mildest burn marks, tiny pin pricks of pain that make Hibari's cock throb painfully beneath his pants.

"I'll show you my speed," Sawada continues, and in a flash, his knees are clamped around Hibari's thighs, the chair creaking under the new distribution of weight, his arousal pressing insistently into Hibari's own, making Hibari involuntarily buck up his hips at the sudden friction.

"I'll show you my claws," Sawada whispers, calloused hands running over the planes of Hibari's hips, nails scraping over the peaks of Hibari's nipples, palms curving around Hibari's wrists.

"I'll show you my fangs," Sawada breathes, rocking forward and running his teeth along the cartilage of Hibari's ear, tongue flicking the spot behind Hibari's earlobe.

Hibari tilts his head back, light-headed with the swift and deadly sensations Sawada stirs within his body. Then he hisses, when Sawada's mouth descends and closes sharply on the juncture of his neck and shoulder, not deep enough to break skin, but hard enough to leave a mark.

Hibari growls and yanks Sawada back by the throat. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Marking my territory," Sawada answers calmly, even as Hibari's thumb presses a warning on his jugular. "That's what carnivores do, right?"

Hibari narrows his eyes, indignation rising in his chest at Sawada's temerity. "I belong to no one," he says coldly. Then before Sawada can reply, he removes his hand from Sawada's throat, and leans forward to swiftly bite down, taking satisfaction at the cry of pain the action elicits.

"But you," Hibari says with a wicked smile, as he moves back, licking a spot of blood off his lips. "You belong to me."

Sawada touches the wound on his neck and stares at the blood on his fingers with more fascination than dismay. Hibari never realized it's possible to be simultaneously aroused and irritated until Sawada just meets his eyes unblinkingly, showing a decided lack of fear.

This won't do. So Hibari plants a hand on Sawada's chest and roughly shoves him off. "Kneel," he demands.

Sawada looks at him, as if in consideration, and Hibari tenses, ready to lash out at any sign of resistance, but finds that he doesn't need to, when Sawada does as he's told, settling himself between Hibari's knees, hands already working to free Hibari's cock from its confines.

Hibari plants his feet wide, grabs Sawada by the hair, and pulls him forward, simultaneously nudging his cock past Sawada's lips. "Take it."

Sawada's eyes flicker up to hold Hibari's gaze before obeying, a smooth forward motion that sends a torrent of pleasure up Hibari's spine, so much that he couldn't suppress the sharp intake of breath at the shock of it. Sawada's throat muscles clench around the tip of his cock, and Hibari's grip in Sawada's hair tightens.

And then—


Hibari is woken up by a thousand bolts of excruciating pain, and his eyes shoot open to see Hibird quizzically staring down at him, perched on a rather unorthodox place. That unorthodox place being Hibari's rather impressive morning wood. Where Hibird's tiny sharp talons are currently digging into it in a way that would make even the manliest of men shriek and roll around in agony as their miserable, impotent lives flash before their eyes.

But this is Hibari Kyouya, a beast among men, with nerves of steel and balls of fucking adamantium. Besides, his pain threshold has been significantly heightened with that stunt Yamamoto Takeshi pulled this afternoon. And so, he does not scream.

"Hibird. Off," Hibari commands, gritting his teeth as Hibird tightens its grip right before cheerfully taking off, its shrill twittering suddenly sounding much more aggravating in Hibari's ear.

Hibari sits up, waits for the pain to subside, and takes his current situation into account. His shirt is plastered to his back, perspiration is coating the hollow of his throat, and his bangs are damp against his forehead. And the state of his boxers...

He wrinkles his nose, the faint scent of chlorine assailing him, and realizes to his great dismay, that his thrilling dream has actually produced a hormonal discharge of unsavoury nature here in reality. Annoyed that such a human biological reaction is causing him such a great inconvenience, Hibari gets off the bed and proceeds to the bathroom, peeling his clothes off along the way.

To say that he's disappointed that it's all a dream is an understatement. He feels cheated. The thrill of dominating the force of nature who is Sawada Tsunayoshi felt so real, he could practically taste it. If that's the type of predator Sawada Tsunayoshi would become in the near future, then Hibari no longer has any compunctions about staking his claim.

He turns on the shower to the coldest setting and sets it to full blast. Icy water beats down his back, and he shivers, the heat of his body slowly giving way to the cold.

He needs to act faster. Perhaps it's high time he takes things into his own hands.

The universe does not oblige him with this, sadly, as the next day finds Hibari in the unwanted company of both Yamamoto Takeshi and Cavallone Dino, who have sat him down and started talking to him about ridiculous, presumptuous things like Hibari's foray into the messier aspects of puberty.

"Oh my gosh Kyouya, you're having wet dreams now!" Dino gushes, looking like he really wants to risk death by ruffling Hibari's hair, and prudently restraining himself. "My little student is finally growing up!"

"I don't see how this is any of your business," Hibari snaps, wondering how in the world these two smiling morons even got wind of his private affairs.

Yamamoto laughs. "We know, but we're supposed to be monitoring your progress right?"

Hibari glowers at him. "Know your place Yamamoto Takeshi, and do not presume to understand me."

Dino waves this off, like the brain-damaged fool that he is. "Look, Kyouya, we really understand what you're going through, trust me," he says earnestly, looking like an overly concerned parent chastising his rebellious child. "And I'm saying it's nothing to be ashamed of. Why, when I was your age, I had a bad case of porn-eye. Like, everything looked like genitalia. My mother's cactus, the faucet, my computer mouse- heck, I even saw patterns in my cocoa puffs!"

"Haha, I had that phase too," Yamamoto volunteers. "It made playing baseball very awkward for a few weeks."

"See?" Dino says, beaming at Yamamoto's unflagging support. "So what you're feeling is okay!"

Hibari's patience is dwindling dangerously to negative levels. "When did I ever say it wasn't?"

"Well... never," Dino admits, though the inquisitive sparkle in his eyes does not dim one bit. He taps his chin thoughtfully, before fixing Hibari a look that cannot possibly lead to anything good. "But if you think you're ready, then you'll just need to take one last final exam."

"Hands on, of course," Yamamoto supplements, before daring to wink at him.

Hibari stares incredulously at both of them. "I don't even take exams in this school and you expect me to take one of yours?"

"It's a practical exam!" Dino insists. "Sort of a synthesis of what you know."

"Yeah, think of it as the final hurdle!" Yamamoto says.

"My finals will be with Sawada Tsunayoshi," Hibari growls, and then realizes a second too late that he's starting to talk like these two idiots, to his utmost horror. He wonders if there's a rule in the student handbook punishing teachers for spreading their contagious stupidity to school authorities such as himself.

"But you know, in some parts of the world, suitors would normally go through the siblings of the object of their interest first as a sign of dedication," Dino insists, undeterred.

Hibari grits his teeth, the familiar urge to commit unspeakable amounts of violence simmering dangerously inside him. "How about no."

Dino pouts prettily, failing in his attempts to appear hurt by Hibari's refusal. "Aww but Kyouya, we were actually hoping to give you a challenge and ask you to take on both of us." The emphasis he put on certain words does not escape Hibari.

"I mean, if you can handle it," Yamamoto adds nonchalantly.

Hibari is, frankly, insulted. Do they actually believe that he would fall for such obvious and shameless baiting? Snarling, he opens his mouth to tell them off as such when another idea occurs to him. He pauses, then takes a deep breath instead and leans back against the couch. "Che, of course, I can handle both of you."

Dino's expression brightens up, like he just struck gold, and is about to say some other inane rubbish when Hibari adds:

"…At the same time, even."

Yamamoto and Dino's sunny smiles freeze for a second and they exchange an uncertain glance.

Hibari taps his foot impatiently. "Well?"

"I'm in if you're in," Yamamoto says.

"Oh I'm in," Dino says, already tugging his jacket off. "I am so in."

Hibari stands up, shrugs off his gakuran and smirks. "Then, shall we begin?"

One hour, three wrecked bookshelves, and a half-burnt carpet later, Yamamoto ends up limping to the infirmary with a delirious Dino slung over his shoulder.

"When you said "go through the older siblings," I didn't actually think he'd take it literally," Yamamoto says.

"How come he doesn't beat you up as much as he does me?" Dino complains, wincing as Yamamoto's shoulder accidentally brushes against a tender bruise.

"He said I needed to be able to carry you to the medical ward."

"Why can't I be the one to do the carrying?"

"Beats me."

"Bad joke. God. I think I'm going to need a new tattoo to cover up the number he did on my back. Owwww…"

"Yeah, after it heals," Yamamoto says.

Tsuna and Gokudera encounter them on the way and the former nearly drops his books. "Ohmygod, what happened to you?"

"Hibari," Yamamoto answers, and Tsuna's eyes soften in sympathy, though Gokudera is mouthing "Serves you right" at Dino, and quickly pulling on a pinched, vaguely concerned expression when Tsuna turns his way.

"But Shamal won't treat them, right?"

"No he won't," Gokudera confirms with a little bit too much enthusiasm.

Tsuna sighs and runs a hand through his unkempt hair. "… I'll call Nii-san."

Dino groans. "Please."

Tsuna nods, and shoots them one last worried glance before taking off to the upperclassmen's floors, Gokudera at his heels.

Medical assistance somewhat ensured, Yamamoto resumes their trek. "Hibari takes all spars very seriously."

"That was not a spar," Dino grumbles. "In a spar, we have a whole empty field or roof, and he uses his tonfa while I use my whip. What happened earlier is a pre-emptive strike in a room filled with obstacles, where we had to improvise with physics textbooks while he attacked us with a staple gun. "

"Haha, well you can't deny he's rather resourceful."

"But that's not the point! The point is, I wasn't ready for a spar," Dino grouses, scowling, and would've kicked at the ground, if his feet isn't being dragged across it. "I was expecting, you know… a spit roast."

Yamamoto tilts his head curiously. "A what?"

"You know, a Kyouya sandwich."

"Haha, did the cafeteria staff name one of their snacks after Hibari?"

"… You don't know what I'm talking about, do you?"

Yamamoto shrugs, and remains quiet, making Dino feel like one of those losers in parties whose carefully set-up jokes are only met with awkward, mocking silence.

Then, after a while, he looks at Dino sideways, eyes twinkling. "Well," he muses slowly, "I was actually aiming for an Eiffel Tower [1]. If we can get away with it."

Dino stares. Oh wow, Yamamoto did not just pull a fast one on him. "You know what an Eiffel tower is?"

Yamamoto grins cheekily, confirming Dino's suspicions. "Yeah. But I doubt we can pull it off with Hibari."

Dino snorts. "No shit. We might as well wrap ourselves in raw meat and jump in the path of a starving wolf pack."

"Yeah, it's pretty much suicidal," Yamamoto agrees, before looking up thoughtfully. "But if we did though, man, that would be pretty—"

"—Epic," Dino finishes for him.

Yamamoto stops walking and they look at each other again. His eyes are crinkling around the corners, donning that usual sparkle, like he's eternally amused with the world, and Dino's pulse spikes unnaturally, even though he's seen that same look a hundred times before.

Then Yamamoto laughs, light and easy, and Dino, despite all the aches and pains blooming on his body, couldn't help it. He laughs too.

After carefully filing the damage costs to his good office and addressing the bill to Dino Cavallone, Hibari leaves the committee to handle the necessary clean up as he goes to do his perfunctory rounds around the school. He spots his first victim two minutes in.

"Sawada Tsunayoshi."

Tsuna jumps up at the sound of Hibari's voice and he turns around so quickly, some of the papers he's holding fall onto the floor.

Hibari steps forward and picks up the fallen papers. "Loitering in the upper class corridors is forbidden," he says, and studies the paper in his hand.

He hears an audible gulp. "S-Sorry Hibari-san, I just really need to get Onii-san to help out Dino-san and Yama—."

"—A 70 on world geography," Hibari remarks, ignoring Sawada's stuttering. "Not bad, but could be better."

"I will do better next time Hibari-san," Tsuna immediately says. "In um, biology too!"

"Biology." Hibari peers at Tsuna from over the top of the paper. "Are you having trouble with that too?"

For some odd reason, Tsuna turns beet red at this. "Just a little," he mumbles, keenly avoiding Hibari's gaze.

Interesting. Hibari decides to investigate further. "What's your current lesson on this, Sawada?"

"Um… reproductive system," Tsuna answers timidly, eyes stubbornly fixed on the books in his arms.

"I see." Hibari steps closer, and Tsuna stumbles back, eyes wild with panic, as he succeeds in plastering himself against the wall. Hibari smirks, delighted with his prey's amusing reactions, and slams a hand beside Tsuna's head, leaning in. "What exactly are you having trouble with?"

Tsuna stares back at him, looking equal parts terrified and bewildered, but before he can reply, intervention comes in the form of the other, louder guardians.



Tsuna immediately panics as Hibari already readies his tonfa in his hands to give Ryohei and Gokudera's face some visceral attention. He further shocks himself by actually dropping his books and twisting around to bodily block Hibari. "No Hibari-san, please."

"Out of the way, Sawada Tsunayoshi," Hibari snarls, raising his weapons threateningly.

Tsuna pushes down his fear and remaining survival instincts and stands his ground. "Dino-san and Yamamoto need Onii-san," he pleads, then quickly wrenches his head around just enough to visually communicate to Gokudera the urgent need to get himself and Ryohei away from the premises ASAP. Gokudera looks torn at the prospect of leaving Tsuna behind as a sacrifice to Hibari's wrath, but in the end, he just shoots Hibari one last vicious glare, and tugs Ryohei away.

The corridor is silent, and Tsuna looks around. Everyone is looking at him like he's some sort of deranged lunatic. That's when he realizes that he's not only crowding Hibari, he's hugging him.

He wonders why he hasn't been defenestrated off the building yet.

Hibari grunts, and Tsuna immediately extricates himself, nearly falling on his ass in his haste to put some distance between them. Hibari glares at him, the threat of violence still lingering on his person, barely contained.

Oh god I'm going to die. "You know Gokudera-kun, he's just really protective of me," he babbles, in a bid to buy more time before he meets his inevitable fate as the latest tonfa depository. "And I'm sure Nii-san didn't mean anything bad by what he said."

"I am not concerned with what he said," Hibari answers impassively. "No yelling in the corridors."

"Oh," Tsuna says feeling rather foolish. He's surprised that he has to convince himself that he's not disappointed with that reasoning either, considering how mortified he had been at Ryohei's lack of subtlety. "Well then I'm sorry, Hibari-san." He bows his head, wrings his hands, and utters the words to what he's pretty sure is a voluntary death sentence. "I'll just take their intended punishment, if that's okay."

For a moment, Hibari just stares at him, eyes slightly widening with an emotion Tsuna cannot decipher. Tsuna would've relished being able to surprise the unflappable Hibari Kyouya if he wasn't inwardly quaking in abject terror.

Finally, Hibari flicks his tonfa back under his sleeves, and looks away. "There is no need," he says, face back to its regular haughtiness. "Get back to class, Sawada."

Tsuna couldn't believe his luck, and he releases the breath he didn't realize he was holding. "Uh, thank you Hibari-san," he says, before inching away, past experience telling him to leave before Hibari changes his mind. His steps noticeably gain speed as he gets farther away from his prickly cloud guardian.

"However," Hibari adds all of a sudden, and Tsuna freezes, as he turns back around to look at Hibari.

One corner of Hibari's lips curls into a half-smile that could only be described as foreboding. "We'll discuss your troubling marks another time."

Tsuna falls down the stairs.

As predicted, Shamal takes one look at them, frowns at their disgusting appearance of man, and promptly goes back to his latest hentai manga. "Don't use the nice bed on the left, Rika-chan's coming over for a massage to ease her menstrual cramps," he calls out.

Yamamoto carefully deposits Dino on the farthest corner of the room, and starts dabbing antisepctic on the Cavallone boss' latest collection of prefect-induced injuries. Yamamoto's hands are sure and steady, applying the same concentration he employs in his katas for patching Dino up. It feels very nice, and completely different from when Romario does it, and Dino thinks he might not mind getting his ass kicked around if it means Yamamoto would ostentatiously lay his skillful hands on him as a consequence. Then, Yamamoto asks him to remove his shirt, and he feels a flutter of giddiness in his stomach.

Man, he's got it bad.

"If you need a proper spar, my offer still stands," Yamamoto mentions casually, as he carefully wraps bandages around Dino's chest.

Dino's starry haze dissipates, and his aches and pains come rushing back. He groans and shakes his head. "No, I don't think so. It's going to be ages before I even think about sparring. I still can't feel my legs."

A flicker of confusion passes through Yamamoto's eyes, but it's gone as quickly as it came. "Haha, of course Dino-san," he says reassuringly, though his smile doesn't reach his eyes. "I understand." He quickly knots the bandage and snips the end off with a cutter. Then he sits up, shoulders stiff and tense, and averts his eyes to his hands, as if undecided with what to do with them.

Dino's brow furrows at Yamamoto's suddenly clinical movements. And then realization suddenly strikes him like a sledgehammer. Ohmygod, I'm an idiot. "Yamamoto—"

"—I'm going to get more bandages," Yamamoto interrupts and hurriedly stands up.

"… Okay," Dino whispers, suddenly feeling very small. He hears Yamamoto clunking around the medicine cabinet, followed shortly by the familiar decibels of Sasagawa Ryohei. He fidgets in his seat, fighting the urge to bang his head repeatedly on the wall for his stupidity. Damn, did Kyouya hit him so hard, his brain deoxygenated?

After a short while, he hears a noise and he looks up to see Ryohei stepping inside, who immediately does a double take upon catching sight of Dino's battered self.

"Whoa. That's a pretty EXTREME beating, Dino-san!" Ryohei says.

Dino could only shrug weakly, but he brightens up when Yamamoto comes back into view from behind the divider. "Yama—"

"—Senpai's here, so I'm going back to class okay?" Yamamoto says, waving cheerfully and walking away before he can even finish his farewells. "I'll see you in class Dino-sensei. Get well soon!"

Dino stares miserably at the space where Yamamoto was just standing. "Goddamit, this is all Kyouya's fault."

"Hibari is an extreme man," Ryohei agrees, and brings out his tools of extreme healing.


Thanks to Ryohei's enthusiastic and extreme assistance, Dino's up and ready to conduct class after an hour of direct exposure to sun flames. "Everyone," he says to the room at large. "Kindly bring out your homework so I can see how adverbs agree with you."

As notebooks are opened, and pens clatter, he scours the faces of his students: the girls looking at him with stars in their eyes, Gokudera's heated glare, Tsuna's nervous smile, and Yamamoto's...

… total lack of opinion because his eyes are fixed on his desk instead.

Dino smile becomes a bit more strained, guilt and self-deprecation once again settling in his chest but he pushes it away, determined to be professional about this. "Right, does anyone want to volunteer to read his or her essay?"

Several girls immediately raise their hands. Dino's about to call one of them when Yamamoto finally looks up at him, and hesitantly, raises his own hand. Dino, not wanting to mess up a second time, immediately calls him. "Let's hear it, Yamamoto."

Yamamoto stands up, and scratches the back of his head before turning to his essay. "Summer is my most favourite season," he reads aloud. "The weather man said that today probably holds the highest temperature for the year. So today, I am exceedingly hot."

Yes. Yes you are, Dino agrees, before mentally slapping himself.

"But that won't stop me from doing well in my favourite activities, baseball and kendo. Because I really can't go one day without firmly gripping either a sword or a bat in my hands and striking home."

Okay, good example, if not a bit suggestive, but nothing Dino cannot handle. Though just to be safe, he discreetly makes his way back to his chair, where any possible anatomical mishaps will be safely hidden behind the teacher's desk.

"However, baseball and swordfighting make me very sweaty and super sticky."

Okay, now Yamamoto is doing this on purpose, he's sure of it. Reborn's protégé is a devious man.

"To cool down, I sometimes get ice cubes and lightly run them over my skin."

Devious and dangerous man.

"Other times, I buy a vanilla popsicle and lick it very slowly to make it last."

Devious, dangerous and delicious man. Dino gulps, and slaps a hand on his thigh to keep it from bouncing. What kind of heinous crime did he do in his past life to deserve such sweet and thorough torment such as this? He focuses his attention on the lesson plan on his desk, letting Yamamoto's words wash over him, not caring that he's not doing his job anymore, if it means valiantly refusing to let his ears deliver more obscene imagery directly to his brain.

"… and that's why summer is my favourite."

He doesn't realize that Yamamoto has ended his speech and is looking to him for comments, until he looks back up and notices Gokudera's incredulous glare, Tsuna's look of dawning comprehension, and the dreamy expressions Yamamoto is absorbing from half the female students in the room. Dino hastily wipes off his own dreamy look, adjusts his glasses and clears his throat, professional mode back on.

"Good job, Yummymoto." Fuck. "I mean Yama. Yamamoto."

Yamamoto smiles modestly. "Thanks, sensei," he says, his face a near-perfect mask of cluelessness, though his eyes, as usual, belie a subtle challenge.

Luckily, it's a challenge Dino has no qualms accepting. He grips the edge of the desk, and stares unblinkingly into Yamamoto's calculating gaze. "Your sentence composition could be improved though," he says coolly. Then he plays his hand.

"See me after class."

Yamamoto's smile widens, and he sits back down, looking totally pleased with himself.

"Yes, sensei."


[1] Basically a spit roast with the two guys on either side doing a high five. If you still don't get it, look it up in Urban Dictionary.

Post A/N: I'm running low on inspiration for this fic, mostly because my writing mojo has recently shifted to writing angst for my other fics and partially because Mukuro's no longer in the picture, and he's the character I can effortlessly write forever. So yeah, the next update may take a while. I will finish this fic though, worry not.

Replies to Guest Reviews:

HiBiRdEpIc: Well, I hope the 1827 lives up to your tastes. And really, you don't know how happy it makes me that you're not particular about the pairings of this fic, because I'm pretty much on the same boat. I'm all for Vongolorgy. Haha, I'll see about the IzaBari fic. But thank you for your support!

Team Mukuro: I miss Mukuro too. He'll show up again, believe me, just not sure when. And yeah, regarding Hibari and Tsuna's ding-a-ling, that's exactly what I'm implying. :D Thank you for the lovely comment as usual.