I. Lupo


Tsuna would have liked to pretend that all he felt for the man was lust. After all, they both had small children- not to mention wives and an appearance to keep up. But Yamamoto enjoyed the game, and so did he. Tsuna could not deny it, so when it became painfully obvious that he would not be able to give Yamamoto up, he concentrated only on hiding it.

He was greedy, Tsuna was. But for what? Sleep, sex, relief. He wanted out. He'd had enough. Cast his soul to Heaven or Hell; whoever wanted it could take it. Tsuna was done. This Mafia game had gone on long enough.

But this was a game without an exit, a ship without an escape hatch, and Tsuna had locked himself in long ago when he accepted the title of Vongola Tenth. Always racing forward, always moving ahead, trying to beat out the rest of the pack. Always scrabbling for a lead, a foothold, a weapon. Always pushing forward so that one might, hopefully, live to see the light of another godforsaken day.

And it had worked, to a certain extent. They'd beaten the Millefiore back until there wasn't much left of them. Then a sudden dissappearance, a year of uneasy peace, and a resurgence- they'd come back twice as strong, and now Tsuna was struggling. A hydra; cut off one head, and two grew back. There was no intelligence to be found, no clue, no scrap of knowledge to go on. It was like stabbing a brick wall. With a stick. In the dark.

There wasn't a thing he could possibly do anymore but live. Live, and try to stay one step ahead. So he allowed himself his moments of weakness, of indulgence, and let Yamamoto into his bed, and into his heart.

It wasn't a bad way to spend your last days, all in all.

---

Thunder rumbled, and Lambo turned over in bed, pulling the sheets in closer to his body. He liked the sound of thunder; he'd heard it made other people scared, and couldn't fathom why. It was a nice sound, warm and comforting.

Another peal shook the windows, and Lambo felt a slight jerk on the covers as someone snorted awake. "Stupid cow," muttered an ornery, silver-haired lump from the other side of the bed. The lump flipped over, twisting an arm under Lambo's body from beneath the sheets, wrapping around his waist.

Lambo smirked into a face-full of pillow. "Does it remind you of me? The thunder?"

"It reminds me of how stupid and loud you are," Gokudera muttered darkly, and Lambo bit back a laugh.

"Were. I used to be stupid and loud. Aren't you glad I grew out of it?"

A feral snarl, and teeth nipping lightly at the back of his neck. "I wouldn't go that far."

Wincing, Lambo shrugged a shoulder in an attempt to dislodge Gokudera. "Oh, come on. Would you be sleeping with me if I hadn't improved?"

Gokudera pulled away, seeming to honestly consider it. "Well, you're pretty. So, maybe." Lambo did laugh that time- to his shame and Gokudera's disgust, it came out like a little-girl giggle. "Jeez, you sound like I-Pin."

This time, the wince was more pronounced. "I thought I told you to-" he began accusingly, then bit off the rest of the sentence, wriggling away from Gokudera's grip. Unfortunately, the older man wasn't about to let his prey escape; the strength of his hold increased, and he yanked Lambo's body towards his own, so Lambo's back was pressed up against his chest.

"What were you going to say, stupid cow?" Funny how Gokudera could make the name a curse and an endearment all at once.

"Look, I feel guilty enough about this without having to think about her while we're..." he gestured vaguely at their immediate surroundings, but Gokudera understood.

"What, you think I'm not taking this seriously? No one will know. I mean, I'm not telling anyone. If the Tenth found out-" his voice was becoming hard, as though Lambo had personally filmed a documentary about their late-night exploits and foisted it on unsuspecting children, and Lambo elbowed him lightly in the ribs.

"And I haven't told Papa anything, either. Honestly, I would have thought you'd be the one to crack first. You can't keep anything a secret from him."

Gokudera glared. "Of course I can."

"Well, yeah. Just not for very long." Gokudera snarled and bit Lambo again, but the fight had gone out of the conversation, and Lambo choked back his amusement. "Oh, come on. You know it's true." While Gokudera complained quiety, Lambo managed to escape his death hold and sit up, throwing his legs over the side of the bed. "Hey, that reminds me- what'd you get Papa for his birthday?"

"You know he told everybody he didn't want gifts this year," Gokudera said, propping himself up on his elbows to elevate the level of discorse. There was a hint of suspicion in his voice- what was Lambo playing at? Had he missed something important? Lambo could practically see his thoughts. Oh, Gokudera. So easy to read.

"He says that every year," Lambo reminded him. A short pause, then, "Yamamoto got him a present."

Gokudera's livid expression was almost enough to make Lambo recoil in horror- as it was, he settled for a pronounced flinch. "Oh he did, did he? What makes that stupid baseball freak think he's so special?"

"I don't know," Lambo told him, bending over to retrieve his jeans so that for all intents and purposes, he was announcing this to the floor. "They've seemed kind of distant lately- maybe it's more of an "I'm sorry" gift than anything."

"That bastard wouldn't do anything to make the Tenth angry," Gokudera said, though Lambo noticed that he'd brightened up a lot in the last ten seconds.

"Anyway, I would have thought you'd be falling over yourself trying to find the perfect gift for him," Lambo said, tugging his usual cow-print shirt over his head.

"What gives you that impression?"

"I don't know. Just, generally you tend to go overboard. Anyway, if you want him to like you, gifts probably aren't the worst idea."

Gokudera made a face. "He already likes me. We've known each other for twelve years."

Lambo sighed. "Not that kind of like."

It took a second for Gokudera to catch on, and when he did, it became obvious to Lambo that he'd made a mistake. Well, lesson learned, Gokudera's childhood crush on Tsuna was officially a vetoed topic of discussion; "Tsuna and I are friends, stupid cow. I do not like him that way. It would be... improper."

"Improper doesn't mean the same thing as impossible."

"Cheeky little bastard. Did your previous future self do this?"

Starting, Lambo jerked his head up to look at his aggrivated lover. "My previous future self lived in a world where Tsuna was dead," he said bluntly, rocking forward onto the balls of his feet. Straightening up, he kept his face blank and emotionless as he stared out the window, watching rain fall into the street like tiny bullets. "Was it really that preferable?"

"I didn't mean that," Gokudera told him, annoyance lacing his voice, along with something that, were Gokudera anyone but himself, might have been pity. "You know how glad I am that the Tenth is alive and well."

"Yeah," Lambo said, closing his eyes. He didn't want to see the images that were going through his mind- Tsuna on the ground, bleeding; Tsuna in a hospital bed, a hundred tubes and wires connected to his chest, feeding him blood and oxygen and life; Tsuna smiling weakly at him, wishing him a happy birthday. "I'll see you at the party, alright?"

Gokudera grunted in agreement, and Lambo let himself out, not bothering to lock the door behind him. Who was suicidal enough to break into a Mafioso's hotel room?

The rain didn't look like it was going to let up soon; he didn't have an umbrella, but that was okay. Lambo liked storms.

---

"Don't we have a guy for this?" Hiroshi muttered darkly, stuffing a dignitary's coat into the closet as Lambo graciously accepted Ryohei's mother's milk stole.

"Probably," he sighed, handing the Sasagawas' things to his younger 'brother.' "Hey, do you think we could get Miki to cover for me? I'm going to be late to dinner."

"Aw, Nii-san. Don't blow me off so you can go hang out with your girlfriend. I can see right through that."

Lambo raised an eyebrow at him. "You're pretty smart for an eight year old."

"Yeah, yeah, sure, sure. Are you going to help me with these coats or not?"

"I suppose it couldn't hurt. Where is Miki, anyway?" Lambo asked, surveying the crowd gathering beyond the foyer. Hundreds of people in smart formal wear; Lambo doubted if even a fraction of them actually knew his father. But it was oh so important that they show up, these members of the allied families. They needed to make an appearance, show their support, as Tsuna did for their various gala events. Next week, for example, Lambo would be accompanying his father to the wedding of the oldest son of the Lupo Famiglia, whom neither Tsuna nor himself had ever met.

"His mother's giving him a lecture on how to behave at formal events," Hiroshi explained, thoroughly bored, as he accepted a large, bearded man's raincoat, and Lambo rolled his eyes in sympathy. Though Haru's love for Tsuna had waned long ago, she still reguarded him as a close friend, and nothing would ruin his birthday party, if she had anything to say about it. Least of all her own son.

"Well, I'm sure Yamamoto will be along to rescue him soon enough."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that. I haven't seen him all evening."

"Neither have I, but that's because we've been pinned down out here the whole time," Lambo reminded him, watching as the crowd parted and closed around a small, dark haired boy who barrelled towards the door. "Looks like he escaped anyway," he remarked, as Hiroshi waved to the oncoming Miki.

"Sawada-kun! Lambo-san!" Miki shouted over the babble of voices, drawing a few haughty glares. "Sorry I'm late. Why're you guys still out here? The party's going to start soon."

"We know," Hiroshi complained, waving at the massive guest-closet, "but we're stuck here for the time being."

Miki grinned and tugged at Hiroshi's blazer, pulling him back the way he'd come. "Nuh-uh. Your dad told my dad to tell me to come get you, so it must be okay for you to leave."

Blinded by Miki's rushed but inescapable logic, Lambo looked to make sure no one was watching, and pushed Hiroshi towards the main hall. "Come on, little brother," he said to the now-reluctant Hiroshi, ushering him in the direction of dinner. He could understand it, really- it wasn't unlike Miki to fib about such things to get his friend away from the drudgery of daily Mafia life -but they were running late, and he'd be damned if he'd miss his own father's birthday dinner.

Yamamoto met them at the door, smiling as always, but in a more haggard way than usual. As the kids went to take their seats at the impossibly long dining room table, Lambo leaned in and whispered to him, "Still no sign of Hibari?"

"Not a word. Not that that's unusual, though. He'll show up when he shows up."

"And if he doesn't?"

"Well, it's Hibari. He's probably got his reasons."

Lambo tried to keep the incredulousity out of the look he shot Yamamoto. "Like the fact that he hates people in general?"

Yamamoto laughed, ruffling Lambo's hair. "Yeah, like that."

"Papa told us to keep a look out for him," Lambo sighed, scanning the table for familiar faces; he counted all the Guardians save one, which was slightly surprising. Even Mukuro had bothered to show up.

"I know. But it's not exactly like Tsuna's going to be heartbroken if he doesn't show up," Yamamoto reasoned, sounding more relaxed. Whoever had thought to put him in charge of party planning had either been insane or trying to send him to an early grave- there was no way such a laid-back guy was cut out for this nonsense. "Now, go sit down. I think there's still a seat next to Gokudera open."

Yamamoto punched his shoulder jovially, and Lambo scowled at him. "You don't have to flaunt the fact that you know. I know perfectly well that you know. Just as long as Papa doesn't know." And just so long as Lambo didn't breathe a word about Yamamoto's own not-so-innocent dalliances- that was the other part of the deal.

"You worry too much," Yamamoto told him, subtly gesturing that Lambo should go sit down. "You're going to turn into Tsuna if you don't watch it."

"What does Papa have to worry about?" Lambo asked, thinking of everything his father had; a loving wife, a wild lover, two sons, one biological and one adopted, piles of inherited money and a gigantic mansion smack in the middle of Tokyo. Lambo could think of at least twenty people off the top of his head who'd kill to have that, to touch that grace for just a moment.

Face contorting guiltily, Yamamoto winced. "I'm sure he'll explain it to you later," he said, which wasn't so much an answer as it was a cop-out. Lambo knew it, but knew that if whatever it was was so bad that even Yamamoto didn't want to talk about it, he'd probably be better off talking to his father, anyway.

Waving a hurried goodbye, Lambo crossed the room to take his seat beside Gokudera. It was a large room, and more opulent than Tsuna felt he deserved; in that way, it was much like every aspect of the mansion.  What parts of the walls weren't gilded in gold or hung with historical tapestries were fleshed out with fine white marble, smooth and cold to the touch. The table was also extravagent, though not augmented with precious metals. It spanned the length of the room, its many wooden legs carved with reliefs of men hunting lions, wrestling tigers, skinning the spoils of the war against nature- typical old-timey things. Lambo pulled out an elegant high-backed chair and sat quiety, examining the pure silver silverware and fine China plates.

The layout of the table was strict and straightforward- everyone had an assigned place. Tsuna sat at the head, facing down the row of expectant faces, alone on his side of the table. On his right was Gokudera, the faithful second-in-command, and on his right sat Lambo, who was faced by two empty seats. The one closest to Tsuna was Yamamoto's, and he would fill it soon enough, but the other had been reserved for Hibari- Hibari, who'd been missing in action for weeks. This was not uncommon, and the fact that Tsuna had a place set for him reflected his father's optimism. A good sign; it had been wearing thin in recent months.

Beyond Hibari's empty seat was Mukuro (a poor seating choice if ever Lambo had seen one), and across from him was Ryohei, who grinned widely at Lambo as he sat down. "Hey, kid!" he said a little too enthusiastically, and if it had been anyone else, Lambo would have assumed he'd been hitting the wine a bit early. Ryohei was just the extreme type; it took some getting used to.

"Hey," he replied, watching Gokudera be fully absorbed in conversation with Tsuna, who seemed nervous and distracted. Nothing out of the ordinary there. Nothing to suggest that this wouldn't just be a normal birthday dinner.

Lambo poked Gokudera in the shoulder, and was rewarded with a snarl. "What do you want, stupid cow? We're discussing adult things over here." Well, that smarted just a little bit more than Lambo would have wanted it to. He made a note to indicate later that perhaps maybe it was the tiniest bit rude to shut the guy you're screwing out of your personal matters. Especially when they involved said guy's father.

But Tsuna smiled apologetically while Gokudera wasn't looking, trying to excuse his friend. "Is something the matter, Lambo?"

"Not really. I was just wondering where Mama and Haru went to?" Kyoko had become 'Mama' when she'd married Tsuna; it'd seemed only natural at the time, but now it felt a touch awkward.

Abashed, Tsuna pointed to a few seats down the table, where Hiroshi and Miki were sitting with their respective mothers. "Reborn insisted that the Guardians take top priority," he muttered, staring into his water glass as if the cure for cancer was written on the bottom.

Lambo blinked. Oh. That was awkward, too. Understandable, but awkward. "And Kyoko's okay with that?"

"She understands," Gokudera grunted, answering for Tsuna, who seemed to be drowning in a puddle of his own shame. Lambo decided to drop it.

"It was you who got me stuck doing coat duty, wasn't it?" he accused, poking Gokudera again.

"Yeah, but only because when you're here, I never get a second of peace. I swear to God, you still act like a five year old."

"Not all the time. I can behave myself when need be."

"Whatever," Gokudera grumbled, but Lambo felt a big, rough hand slide over his thigh beneath the tablecloth, and a jolt of electricity tingled up his spine. "Did the baseball freak say when dinner's going to start?"

"S-should be any minute now," Lambo gulped, trying and failing to keep the little-kid stutter out of his voice. After all, he was still just fifteen (and a half as he had to constantly remind Gokudera) and his hormones got the better of him when he was being groped in public.

He could see Gokudera's smirk through the semi-permanent scowl. That didn't help matters. But any snark-filled comments his ornery lover could think up were postponed by Yamamoto's arrival.

"Dinner's starting now, actually," he said cheerfully, plopping down in his own chair. "You okay, Lambo? You look a little flushed."

"It's just the heat," Lambo assured him, beating the waver out of his voice. "They turned it up way too much for just October."

"Pfft," Gokudera snorted, patting his box of cigarettes absently- Lambo could tell he wished Tsuna would lift the 'no smoking during dinner' ban desperately. "Half these old bats have one foot in the grave, anyway. They need all the warmth they can get."

"Gokudera, don't insult our guests," Tsuna reprimanded half-heartedly; most of those concerned were so far out of earshot, it hardly mattered.

"Sorry, Tenth."

And, of course, he was. Gokudera always was. For everything. Even when it wasn't his fault.

In a messed up way, it was one of the things Lambo loved him for.

---

Gokudera didn't let go of his thigh all through dinner, which made it hard for Lambo to concentrate on much of anything besides his pressing need to get away from everyone involved in the little scene. He escaped after dessert, before the customary half-hour of idle chit-chat, excusing himself to the bathroom and never returning. It wasn't that he was hiding in there, exactly; it was just that he had no particular desire to talk to anyone at that point, and there was nowhere else to go.

After a suitable amount of time had passed, Lambo snuck back into the main ballroom, heart thumping in his chest. He wanted to see Gokudera again, to be more or less alone with him, surrounded by perfect strangers. And at the same time, he didn't. Half of him wanted Gokudera to touch him, to bite him, to make him feel possessed and owned and wanted; and half of him wanted I-Pin. He didn't want anything from her, unlike Gokudera- he just wanted her. And maybe to be able to hold her, just a little bit. She was here somewhere, too, but he had no idea where. It really was a large house, and since she was an old friend of Tsuna's, she was allowed to go pretty much anywhere she liked.

So Lambo stood alone, stranded, leaning up against a sturdy marble column, when he noticed Hibari. He didn't know how the man had gotten there- one minute there'd been nothing but empty air, the next Hibari had filled the space -but he didn't question it. Hibari didn't walk into a room so much as insinuate himself into it, like a hot knife going through butter. He moved as quietly as a cat, and with the same amount of buried malevolence.

Lambo watched as a hapless servant approached him with a tray of wine glasses; to his surprise, Hibari accepted one, and when the man had walked away, poured the liquid into the pot of a nearby houseplant. Curious, Lambo observed as he withdrew a thin silver flask from his pocket and poured what looked like thick, soupy cherry kool-aid. Lambo had never pegged him for the type to be paranoid about outside fluids, but perhaps extreme power came with mind-bending paranoia. It wouldn't have surprised him.

Their eyes met and this time the shiver that wracked Lambo's body was one of pure, animal fear- his eyes involuntarily widened a fraction, every nerve in his body screamed at him to run. It didn't matter where, as long as he got away.

There was something... different about Hibari. His gaze was sharper, his body even stiffer than his usual ramrod-straight posture; and yet for all his undeniable class, there was something indescribably feral about him that hadn't been there before. Not just the usual murderous intent, something more. As though now he had a need to kill, whereas before he'd done it for pleasure alone.

Lambo nearly jumped out of his skin when someone tapped his shoulder lightly. "Don't freak out," Gokudera growled from behind him, but it was a friendly sort of sound, now. All the malice had gone out of it, like a lion attempting to purr.

"Sorry," Lambo said, distracted, staring back at where Hibari had been. He was gone, vanished as seamlessly as he'd appeared.

"Come on," Gokudera ordered, dragging him back down the hall.

"The coat closet?" Lambo asked with an internal groan. "Again? I don't really want to have to find people's coats for them, and the party isn't even over yet."

Annoyance this time. "You're missing the point of coat closets," Gokudera told him, shoving him inside. It was surprisingly roomy, all things considered, and the warm darkness was comfortable even if it smelled sort of like mothballs. Gokudera followed after him, slamming the door shut in impatience. "No one will come in here for at least another hour."

"And?"

"And, stupid cow, did you not notice me molesting you during dinner?" Lambo suddenly found himself pressed up against a wall. It wasn't unpleasant, but it wasn't really welcome, either, to be forced to choose between his father's birthday party and a vigorous round of sex behind closed doors.

"Of course I did. Did you not notice me shut myself in the bathroom for half an hour afterwards?"

Gokudera chuckled, his voice dripping with the kind of raw desire that made Lambo melt inside. It was also kind of embarrassing, but at the same time, it was nice to know he was getting the full effect of a side of Gokudera that a lot of people probably didn't get to see. "Sorry about that-" funny how he only ever apologized about things pertaining to sex "-but I couldn't help it."

"Bull. You just wanted to shut me up."

"That too." Gokudera kissed him roughly, one hand sliding up Lambo's shirt while the other fixed itself on his hip. "But I'll make it better, if you'll let me-"

Knock knock knock. Lambo hoped to God that was just the wind banging the door. The wind inside. It wasn't. Knock. Knock. Knock. "Um. What is it?" Okay, he thought, so there's someone out there. Please let it be Yamamoto, please let it be Yamamoto, please let it be-

"Lambo? You in there? I wouldn't ask, but Tsuna wanted to talk to you, and it is his birthday. I figured I'd humor him, right? Hey, is Gokudera in there?" Yessss.

"Fuck," Gokudera muttered.

"It's okay, he knows," Lambo said quietly before calling, "Yeah, I'm in here. What does Papa want?"

"He knows?" Gokudera spat, horrified, as Yamamoto said, "I don't know. He said to go up to his office when you've got the time. But I got the feeling that he didn't want to wait forever."

"It's okay, I said," Lambo whispered hurridly. "We have an arrangement."

"What kind of arrangement?"

"The kind I'm not allowed to talk about with you."

"If that bastard's doing something illegal, I'll-"

"Lambo? You there?"

"In a minute, Yamamoto. Look, I just can't, okay? He won't tell. Is that good enough for you?"

"No. How did this happen?"

"Look, I don't know. It just did. I have to go." Lambo pulled away and headed for the door, squinting into the suddenly blinding light of the hallway. Yamamoto grinned at him.

"Having fun, kids?"

"Oh, stuff it," Gokudera barked from the murky interior of the closet, and as Yamamoto leaned against the doorframe chuckling, Lambo made his way to his father's office and into the arms of destiny.