Maybe Just A Little

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Nonsensual Dialogue (Has no part or significance to the story. If you want to, by all means go on to the next chapter! I can’t help myself, I just like to work the audience! Tommy: *pops his head in* You mean you just like to talk.)

Me: Hullo! Allow me to introduce myself, I’m Herme. Exactly 53.867% of the 2-Person team. The other part is my cohort, Thomas.
Tommy: Pleasure. Allow me to welcome myself and the Mistress here to the Katekyo Hitman Reborn! fandom.
Me: Yes! Freakin’ finally!
Tommy: Yeah, the past year has been rather pathetic for the two of us, and we’ve finally managed to finish something. Though, if any of you know us—
Me: And hate us!
Tommy: —for not finishing Other Stuff, please know, we’ve been trying. This particular story just made it out first.
Me: Right-o! Now, this tale is an 8018 [YamaHiba]. Yeah, I know. There is almost NO evidence, even to the most crazed fangirl’s best ability to slash *anything*, to support this pairing. I mean, I thought, once, at one point, there might be…maybe just a little…but the moment passed and all that was left was my imagination and this fanfic. But then again, what is Fanfic, after all, but the written expression of our desires? *smiles*
Tommy: Exactly. Now some WARNINGS!
Me: Think we got their attention?
Tommy: Let’s hope so. So, warnings: A bit of spoilers for the 10-Year Arc (which begins roughly around Chapter 136 of the manga, don’t know when in the anime cuz…we don’t watch it. Sorry! But this fic takes place in Chapter 142, bydaway); Cursing—
Me: But not as much as you might think, compared to other stories of mine.
Tommy: —Boy smexing; Deep Thoughts That May Be Utter Crap—
Me: Maybe crossing into OOC, even, though we apologize for that, we damn sure tried not to.
Tommy: And I guess that’s it. Is that it?
Me: *Shrug* Yeah, sure.
Tommy: Please enjoy, and if you feel up to it, drop us a line to tell us what you thought.
Me: It’s our first KHR fic, after all!

13.January.2008-11.April.2008

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“Maybe Just A Little”
By Herme23


“And a rock feels no pain;
And an island never cries.”
—Simon & Garfunkel

“They’ll never see it coming!”

Yamamoto Takeshi grinned at his father as he grabbed a cold sports drink from the fridge. “Well,” he said, “if coach puts Nishimura on short stop like we’ve been afraid, they will.”

“Yeah, that Nishimura kid’s a bit slow, I’ll wager that,” Pops Yamamoto agreed. “But that Yoshida is a sharp kid. And Nakamura is one hell of a pitcher.”

“I know,” Yamamoto replied. “The season’s shaping up good. It’s about 4:1 that Namimori High will beat Seisen. But unfortunately, with them playing K High next, it’s about 8:1 they’ll lose!”

Pops laughed. “We can only hope those guys get something right! Ah, so are you heading out to the batting field now?”

“Yeah, I’ll probably be back in time for the dinner rush. Will you be good here, dad?”

A small salute was all the confirmation Yamamoto needed. With a final wave, Yamamoto left Takesushi and stepped out into the sunshine. Stuffing the opening of his sports drink pouch into his mouth, Yamamoto raised his bat to make a test swing.

Before he could move, however, everything around him exploded into puffs of smoke.

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With a glance behind him, Hibari Kyouya dropped the last of his would-be attackers back down upon the concrete. No one else was presenting themselves and it appeared that there were no others hiding around him. Now that there was no one left to beat on, Hibari felt the irritation that had begun when he was woken from his nap flare into full-blown fury.

Glaring down at the nearest body, he considered beating him further but then, his eyes alighted upon a large weapon on the ground. Vague memories from old war movies he’d seen informed him it was probably a bazooka of some sort. Even vaguer memories eventually reminded him that a small afro’d cow that hung out with those other herbivores had a similar bazooka. In order to help them avoid great trouble, Hibari figured he ought to take the bazooka with him and return it.

With a smirk, Hibari turned and began walking towards his home.

Help those weaklings? No chance in—

Wait.

Hibari’s gait skipped a beat, but he did not stop. As he walked, he realized that if *he* was just attacked, then the herbivores, also, were without a doubt already attacked and conquered by now. That baby could take care of himself, and Hibari’s concern for Sawada and the dynamite dork bordered on non-existent. Apathetic, even.

There *was*…however…*one*…just *one* herbivore, perhaps, that Hibari Kyouya might have been able to delude himself into thinking he might be just a bit, just a tiny bit…

Well, he’d be wondering, anyways.

Though refusing to alter his pace, Hibari nevertheless altered his course from home to Takesushi, the restaurant owned by the father. And sure enough, when he got there, said herbivore was indeed missing, but what Hibari found in his stead was something else altogether.

In fact, it was remarkable: his herbivore had grown into one bad-ass looking man.

Now, Hibari had always been a bit slight for his age, but he had never really thought much about it, as he could easily beat men twice his height and girth. As he stared at the full grown man towering over him, however, Hibari felt a tingle run down the length of his body. The confidence and the raw power that emanated off the well-built body in front of him permeated his very being and inexplicably, Hibari felt…excited. So much that his fingers twitched, but he was unsure if it was because he wanted to rip off the other man’s clothes and violate him, or to beat him to a pulp and simply dominate him in that way.

Indecision left him speechless and Hibari missed his opportunity to speak first when the other caught sight of him.

“Ah, Kyouya!” the other said easily, relief evident in his voice. Hibari raised his brow, however, at the use of his given name. “I’ve already known for a long time you’d be alright,” the man continued, “but it’s still nice to actually see it with my own eyes, yanno?”

There was a silence as the two stared at each other, so much until even the other realized.

“Kyouya? Kyouya? Kyou—”

“Kyouya?” so-named boy emphasized stiffly.

The other smiled. “Ah, this is the past, of course. Do we still only address each other by surnames? Oh, no, wait. You didn’t call me by name, you called me—”

“Herbivore,” Hibari cut it, a tiny grin finding its way onto the corner of his lips.

Yamamoto grimaced. “I definitely haven’t missed that. Yanno, every time you called me that I had this crazy urge to go out and eat tons of beef.”

Hibari didn’t reply as the same quasi-sadistic thrill that filled him when he called the usual Yamamoto that nickname didn’t fail to arrive when he did the same to the now older Yamamoto. His emotions were betrayed only by the deepening of his grin.

Meanwhile, Yamamoto seemed to have gotten over it. “We should move from here. Go somewhere safer. Yanno, just in case,” he said then. He turned and looked longingly at the sushi restaurant behind him. “I really wish I could go in and say hi to my dad, though. Just one more time… C’mon,” he added bracingly, “do you know a good place to go?”

Hibari nodded and turned to start walking.

As was his usual style, Hibari neither replied to Yamamoto’s wish nor divulged their destination. He completely agreed with going somewhere safer. It was only logical. And by this same logic, he understood Yamamoto’s comment to mean that Yamamoto Senior must no longer be alive in the however-many years hence that junior came from.

The knowledge was surprising, but he did not feel particularly upset about it. He especially didn’t know if he should offer any sort of comfort to Yamamoto. He didn’t know if he was even capable of it. Hibari wondered then if his future self had cared, and whether or not he had been able to offer any comfort then whenever it had happened. He rather doubted it.

All further thought upon the subject ceased however when he realized they’d reached their destination. Behind him, Hibari heard Yamamoto give a laugh.

“I should have known you’d bring me here. This place was more your home than even your real home.”

Hibari narrowed his eyes. He’d never told anyone that. Just what was his future self playing at? Just then, he felt a hand on his upper arm. Startled, Hibari jerked his arm away, his other hand moving to his tonfa, but by then, Yamamoto was already a few feet away.

“Ah, no touching either?” Yamamoto asked, hands raised to show there was no threat. “I thought for sure we had at least reached *that* stage by now.”

“We have.”

After Hibari’s rather sober reply, both of them stood quiet until finally Hibari turned and unlocked the door that led to the school’s administration offices. Yamamoto followed wordlessly and once again, Hibari had nothing to offer up. A flush of irritation coursed through Hibari as he realized yet again that this “social” area was his greatest deficiency, brought to light only due to his constant exposure to this bright-eyed, light-hearted fool.

In truth, Hibari wasn’t startled so much by the suddenness of Yamamoto’s hand on him without warning, but by the warmth and familiarity that transposed between that hand and his upper arm. With that simple gesture, though Hibari couldn’t be sure before or now what Yamamoto had meant by it, Yamamoto nevertheless poured a wealth of emotions into Hibari.

If he could only bite Yamamoto to death and leave him, Hibari was certain he’d be able to forget he ever had such a deficiency, but he could not—would not?—could not do so it seemed, and so he was constantly exposed, time and again.

As the two of them drew into the Discipline Committee Headquarters room that had been fought over long before this moment, Hibari stared down the suddenly older man. Yamamoto Takeshi brought about feelings in Hibari that he both repulsed and relished.

Ignoring those feelings for the moment, Hibari said, “So?”

“’So’ what?”

“Why are you here…older?”

“Ten years, in fact,” Yamamoto pointed out. “It’s because of the Ten-year Bazooka—”

“Who did this?”

Yamamoto became solemn, and to Hibari it was a strange emotion to see him draped in.

“I really hope you never know,” Yamamoto replied. “If Tsuna and the others succeed, you won’t. You won’t know how the world was in the time I came from, or what lies ahead for us.”

Hibari wondered whom specifically Yamamoto was referring to when he said “us,” but Hibari would surely bite his own tongue and die before asking. “Bad?” he asked instead.

Yamamoto considered. “Not for *you,* I s’pose. But it wasn’t otherwise pretty for the rest of us.” He shook his head. “I really don’t wanna say. Right now, it’s all in the hands of the other, younger, ones.”

“Yourself included?” Hibari asked, masking any concern he *might* have been feeling with a touch of disdain.

Yamamoto, as usual, took it with good will and gave a laugh. “Myself included.”

Hibari neither replied nor asked anymore questions. He considered the situation. The Yamamoto of his own time was (as he had already guessed) taken in by those same attackers of his, at an earlier time. Along with those other weaklings, it seemed. And short of throwing himself willingly into the path of one of those bazooka bullets or bombs or whatever it was that bazookas shot, Hibari was powerless—no, wait, he didn’t like that word…Hibari was…NOT…in any position to help. Even if he wanted to.

Which of course, he didn’t.

Looking back, Hibari reconsidered the man before him. Yamamoto was leaning against the window sill, looking out over the school grounds, his face disgustingly nostalgic. Hibari had followed his gaze, but his thoughts were in all probability vastly different from Yamamoto’s.

As Hibari stared holes into the distant trees, he realized that even his denial of wanting to help—‘cause he really didn’t—couldn’t change the fact that he felt irritated. He wasn’t foolish enough to be caught by those bumbling fools that had so easily taken Yamamoto and the others, but now he was left to just hang around. Not-waiting.

“Hey.”

Interrupted in his misery, Hibari turned his head to refocus on Yamamoto, who was now looking at him with that same annoying nostalgia he’d recently been gushing for the schoolyard.

“Would you mind coming here?”

After some quick deliberation, Hibari decided he wouldn’t mind too much.

When he stood in front of Yamamoto, the older man asked, “Would you mind if I touched you?”

Hibari arched his brow.

Yamamoto smiled. “Nothing like what you’re thinking. I’d just like to hold you.”

The deliberation this time lasted longer, and raged much fiercer, but finally Hibari gave the faintest of nods.

Instantly, Yamamoto’s hands reached out and touched softly at Hibari’s hips. With a gentle force, Yamamoto pulled Hibari closer and into his broad chest. Hibari’s body tensed and his eyes narrowed slightly as he was engulfed completely. The feeling was similar to being swallowed by a pool of water; the sensation nearly as frightening. He was sharply aware of Yamamoto taking in a deep breath.

“I’ve missed your smell,” Yamamoto said then, explaining the large draw of breath. “When I left, meaning when I was transported back to this time, your whereabouts were unknown.”

Hibari started. “Unknown? Why?”

Yamamoto laughed and his embrace tightened a bit. “No reason, that’s just how you are. You come and go. Always, always.”

Hibari took a breath and raised an eyebrow at Yamamoto’s attempt to wax poetic. Apparently, that was enough because Yamamoto laughed again and added, “You were off investigating.”

**Investigating what?** Hibari thought. **For who?** But then all further thoughts on the matter ground to a halt as Hibari became acutely aware of Yamamoto’s body.

“So,” Hibari said at last, “ten years, eh?”

Leaning away slightly, Hibari glanced upwards. Feeling particularly daring, he reached up and licked lightly along the thin scar that sliced across Yamamoto’s chin. Yamamoto started but he made no move against Hibari.

“You’re taller,” Hibari added needlessly, and to his surprise, Yamamoto replied, “My height’s not the only thing that’s grown, yanno.”

Smirking with an eyebrow raised, Hibari said, “Let me be the judge of that.”

“Be my guest,” Yamamoto replied, wrapping his arms around Hibari’s waist.

Once more, Hibari felt the excitement that had gripped him when he first saw Yamamoto, just this time three times fold. Reaching out, Hibari grabbed the lapels of Yamamoto’s jacket and pulled him downward. Their lips met in a joint effort to seemingly drown the other person. He felt a thrill as Yamamoto’s hands dragged over the span of his back. Pressing his hips forward, Hibari melded himself between Yamamoto’s legs, insistently moving against Yamamoto’s growing erection.

Hibari grinned to realize no matter how many years had passed for Yamamoto and even though Hibari hadn’t changed at all, he still was able to turn Yamamoto on. In fact, in an undisclosed memo lying somewhere around the darkness of his mind, Hibari actually prided himself on this talent.

This, and the fact that the Yamamoto that was his own age was not as successful at it as Hibari.

The very few times Yamamoto had initiated anything, it took a lot of work on his part to get Hibari riled up. Hibari then had a passing thought that maybe the reason Yamamoto rarely tried to initiate anything was because Hibari blew away his pride, but if Hibari thought he knew anything about Yamamoto then that was not the way Yamamoto was. He’d never give up that easily.

Hibari’s attention was drawn back to Yamamoto when he felt a large hand slide its way up the smooth expansion of skin along his side. Without his even realizing it, Yamamoto had managed to pull out his shirttails from his pants. He also realized his top two buttons were undone. Reaching out, Hibari began pulling off Yamamoto’s suit jacket, using the action to hide his growing apprehension. This older Yamamoto was slick. He worked much more smoothly than the one Hibari was accustomed to. Gone were the fumbling hands and shaky apologies. This man knew exactly what he was doing and pressed forward with an air of assurance that made Hibari mentally stumble.

Hibari looked up at Yamamoto’s face. Their eyes met for a brief moment, then Yamamoto was kissing his lips. His chin. His neck.

**Ah,** thought Hibari. **So this, then, is the man the Yamamoto I know will grow into. Interesting.**

By this point, Yamamoto had managed to unbutton the remaining buttons of Hibari’s shirt, and loosen his belt. As he unclasped the front of Hibari’s pants, Yamamoto lifted Hibari’s body and sat him at the edge of the desk.

Hibari allowed all of this but then, Hibari felt the consequences of one who actively seeks another’s touch, but becomes afraid when they receive it.

Hibari felt panic creep over him, much the say way Yamamoto was. He felt cornered and threatened, and his first instinct was to fight his way out. His fingers twitched against Yamamoto’s chest as he considered doing just that but then Yamamoto moved and with him, all of Hibari’s tension. A small kiss to his hipbone told Hibari why Yamamoto had moved. However, when Hibari glanced down his eye briefly caught sight of Yamamoto’s and Yamamoto’s eyes told a different reason.

Hibari looked upward and stared at the ceiling. Below, Yamamoto placed small calming kisses to and around his hips, and suddenly Hibari realized that had been Yamamoto’s idea all along in moving: to calm Hibari down. Yamamoto had been aware of Hibari’s rising tension, and he counteracted it. Then it occurred to Hibari that Yamamoto had known just *exactly* what to do. This Yamamoto had known. He had changed from the boy Hibari was familiar with to the man who was utterly and completely, it seemed, familiar with Hibari. No small irritation rose in Hibari when he realized he was nowhere near such an emotional epiphany. Hell, every time he passed the Yamamoto of the present in the hallways, he still didn’t know if he wanted to bite him to death…or kiss him to death. Or maybe a combination of both, just so long as death was the end result.

His irritation most likely being the catalyst, Hibari sat up and reached out to grab Yamamoto. He managed to grasp a good handful of thick dark hair. Yamamoto let out a gasp when he felt his hair transform into a handle by which he was hoisted back up to eye-level with Hibari.

Yamamoto was kissed fiercely even as he felt his tie being pulled off. Either it would choke him to death, or it would loosen and fall away, allowing him to live another day. Fortunately, it did the latter and Yamamoto felt impatient hands tug at the buttons of his shirt.

**My Kyouya was never one for patience,** he thought amused. **Well, at least he’s not—oh, no, there he goes.**

Yamamoto watched with some regret as several of his shirt buttons scattered about the room. He didn’t have any more time to muse upon them, however, before he felt a kiss on the center of his chest, directly over his heart. Yamamoto’s heart glowed faintly. Even ten years later, Hibari did that, and Yamamoto had come to believe it was the closest Hibari ever could, and perhaps ever would, get to telling Yamamoto he cared for him. Maybe even loved him. But Yamamoto would never ask. He’d learned the hard way what happens when you ask.

Lifting Hibari’s chin, Yamamoto lay down a kiss to his lips. The kiss deepened and became hotter as Yamamoto trailed his hands back down Hibari’s torso and down to his waistline. Upping the ante, Yamamoto slid one of his hands down between Hibari’s burning skin and the fabric of his underwear. He felt more than heard the hitch in Hibari’s breath.

Yamamoto slid his tongue rhythmically across Hibari’s own, mimicking the movements of his hand against Hibari’s hardness. The fingers in Yamamoto’s hair tightened in sync, soft sounds that seemingly couldn’t be repressed issued forth from Hibari’s mouth into his own. Gods, Yamamoto had missed this. He had really missed Hibari Kyouya.

Hibari’s mind was experiencing a meltdown as Yamamoto’s fingers and palm performed a complicated, and highly gratifying, dance up and down along his erection. The feelings were so intense than for a moment Hibari lost all conscious thought and could do nothing but feel. Refusing to go down without a fight, Hibari forced his eyes open. Dragging his hand lower, Hibari pulled at the front of Yamamoto’s pants to free him. When Hibari’s hand clamped around the girth hidden away inside his eyes widened ever so slightly.

A kiss behind his ear and then a slightly breathless whisper of “Do you approve?” pulled Hibari back into the moment.

Giving a trademark smirk, Hibari didn’t speak but instead placed his two feet back upon the floor. Pulling his hand from Yamamoto, he tugged at his pants and underwear, pulling them down and away. A bit of fancy footwork found his shoes and socks lying scattered about.

Yamamoto’s hand had slowed but Hibari didn’t mind as he pressed himself flush up against the taller man. Pulling Yamamoto’s head down for a kiss, Hibari felt the other man give a small groan as his straining erection slid across the burning skin of Hibari’s belly. Suddenly then, Yamamoto slid his hands to the backs of Hibari’s thighs and lifted him back to the desk. Hibari felt himself being coaxed back into a reclining position and this time he eagerly accepted Yamamoto’s weight hovering over him.

As he lay back against the cool surface of the desk Hibari stretched an arm back and began fumbling with the drawers. Pulling the top center drawer open, his hand moved about inside until it unearthed the prize. Pulling the tube out, he nonchalantly handed it off to Yamamoto who took it with a look comprised of surprise and recognition.

“Gods, I’d forgotten we kept that there,” he said, looking at the small tube. “It’s a wonder no one caught us, or found this, or something!”

Hibari grinned inwardly to hear a prediction of the risks on all future school trysts but only answered haughtily, “Who would dare?”

Yamamoto smiled as he popped the lid, squeezing some onto the tips of his index and middle fingers. Leaning down to kiss Hibari’s chest, Yamamoto began the process of relaxing Hibari’s entrance. Warming the slick gel between his fingers, Yamamoto rubbed them around the outside, slowly acclimating Hibari to the sensations, not knowing how much time had passed since this younger Hibari had become intimate with his own younger self. Hibari, however, gave no protests when he slid in a finger and Yamamoto drank up each and every sound that Hibari emitted. When he got back to his own time, he would be sure to hold onto Hibari when he showed up for as long as he could this time, no matter the consequences.

Hibari felt his toes curl. Seriously. Hibari had never thought he’d ever do something like that, but the longer Yamamoto prepped him the more the pressure built. Panting, Hibari raised a foot to push lightly at Yamamoto. The signal worked. Yamamoto withdrew his fingers and popped the lid of the tube again, this time coating his own member.

Hibari leaned up on his forearms to get a good look at Yamamoto’s bared erection. Despite his years, Yamamoto couldn’t help but flush at Hibari’s unabashed scrutiny. In an effort to end it, Yamamoto leaned forward and pressed the head against Hibari’s opening. He increased the pressure slowly and the tip began its entry.

For one brief moment, Hibari was filled with the fear that Yamamoto wouldn’t fit, and for the first time in his life he wished he were a little bigger. **I hope I grow a bit in the next ten years,** he thought blandly. But then the head of Yamamoto’s cock pressed past the ring of muscles and Hibari gave a gasp as pain flared along his nerves. Having closed his eyes, Hibari did not see Yamamoto lean forward but he felt the soft kiss to his knee and he heard the “I’m sorry” that Yamamoto whispered to him.

Hibari opened his eyes and looked at Yamamoto. It was then that he realized that this man was not only the man his Yamamoto would grow into, but that this man was, by all accounts, his same Yamamoto Takeshi. **Ah ha,** Hibari thought. **I’ve found you.**

“No you’re not,” Hibari said then in response to Yamamoto’s apology, and it had the effect Hibari had expected: Yamamoto laughed.

“Alright, you caught me,” Yamamoto said and he pressed forward again, gaining an inch before retreating back to the head.

Hibari gave a low groan and let his head drop back between his shoulders. His mouth gaped open and his throat was left open and exposed. Suddenly desperate to taste it, Yamamoto thrust in again, leaning forward to slide his tongue along the curve of Hibari’s neck. Hibari moaned from the feeling of Yamamoto’s hardness filling the space inside him with sinfully pleasurable pain. The hot tongue along his neck distracted him from the pressure below and Hibari lifted his head in order to meet that tongue.

Once their two tongues met all heretofore caution was lost. Yamamoto pulled back and thrust in hard, causing Hibari to groan loudly. He repeated his movements, slowly building up speed until Hibari could hardly take in breath, his own panting along with Yamamoto’s steaming up the air between them. This coupled with their labors caused a sheen of wetness to moisten their skin, making it easier for them to slide along each other.

As Hibari gave another cry of pleasure, Yamamoto slid his arms back behind Hibari and sat him up. Hibari’s eyes closed as he felt his erection press against Yamamoto’s abs, forcing delicious friction. Yamamoto gasped when he felt Hibari’s inner muscles squeeze tighter, and holding on to Hibari’s hips, Yamamoto pounded all the more fiercely into his small lover.

In something that bordered upon desperation, Hibari threw his arms around Yamamoto’s neck. There was the most intense pleasure building within him. Yamamoto was touching places he had never before known could give him this degree of pleasure. Then when Hibari felt one of Yamamoto’s hands wrap around his erection time seemed to freeze. The pleasure had built up to such a pressure that he wasn’t even sure if it felt good, or if it just hurt. It was such that Hibari wasn’t even sure what the definition of either pain nor pleasure was, let alone what each was supposed to feel like.

This feeling made Hibari’s entire body stiffen and he felt trapped. He wanted to pull back away from it, if only to feel like he wasn’t going mad, so that the burn would lessen. But he also wanted to push forward, to increase the friction, for surely this was the only way to relieve it.

Hibari went with Option #3.

In a combination of both methods, Hibari pressed forward against Yamamoto, moving his hips in such a way that forced their coupling to stay closer, the movements deep and quick. Feeling the burn coming to a point, Hibari squeezed his thighs together as close as they could possibly get with Yamamoto standing sandwiched between them. Hibari wanted to bring Yamamoto entirely into himself. Even if it hurt the other boy. He wanted to dig his fingers into Yamamoto’s arms, into his skin, into his soul and pull him up into him.

Then the burn ignited.

Yamamoto felt impossibly caught as Hibari tensed up. When Hibari threw his head back, pulling away from him, Yamamoto followed. Kissing Hibari deeply, Yamamoto caught the cry that forced its way out of Hibari’s throat as he climaxed. All things combined, Yamamoto felt his own orgasm hit him and the blinding force of it kept him hugging Hibari fiercely, kissing Hibari’s mouth raw.

Then the flame burned down, and the two collapsed back upon the desk, the sheer white of their emotions toning down until the room around them flickered back into view. For a while, there was silence, broken only by the panting of the extremely satisfied. Then, slowly but surely, wits were gathered back to them and enough was regained to say, a bit mockingly, a bit truthfully:

“Wao.”

Yamamoto broke into laughter. “Guess now my younger self has something to live up to, huh? I’m sure I’ll take it as a challenge to top this. And you should know: I never give up.”

**Believe me, I know,** Hibari thought, but all he said was, “You’re crushing me.”

Long-since used to Hibari’s gruff way of being, Yamamoto leaned up. His softened member slid from Hibari’s body, the friction tickling their over-sensitized bodies. Yamamoto hitched up his pants and watched as Hibari leaned over and pulled some paper towels from the inside of the desk. He was again surprised but this time didn’t comment.

He also didn’t offer to help.

Yamamoto remembered quite clearly a much younger Hibari yelling at him: “Allow you to wipe my ass like I was a damned baby? Are you out of your mind, you stupid herbivore!” It was the most Yamamoto had heard Hibari yell at him in one go, and it was unceremoniously followed by a trademark cuff to the head. Since that time, Hibari had only allowed Yamamoto to help him once. Just once. And it was most likely because Hibari was stumbling drunk.

Yamamoto smiled when he remembered the party that Gokudera had thrown for the Vongola Tenth’s twentieth birthday. Those two had disappeared halfway through, Reborn was sexually harassing a slightly tipsy Lambo, and Yamamoto himself was dealing with a suddenly very touchy-feely Cloud Ring bearer. His fond reveries were interrupted, however, by Hibari’s voice asking a strange question.

“What do I call you in the future?”

Surprised, Yamamoto gave a soft smile. “Yamamoto.”

**Why not Takeshi?** Hibari wondered. **Isn’t that his first name? I mean, if he addressed me by mine…**

“I can almost hear your thoughts, yanno,” Yamamoto said as he tried his best to button up his shirt, what with more than half of them missing. He smiled when he saw Hibari tense. “I’ll be straight with you: I don’t really call you Kyouya in the future, just Hibari.”

Yamamoto didn’t add, however, that he actually does call him by his first name…sometimes…but only when asked, which meant always during…well…

Forcing the blush away, Yamamoto met Hibari’s eyes which were watching him even as Hibari re-dressed himself. Swiftly, Yamamoto glanced to the window and gauged his chances for reaching the window and surviving the jump should Hibari choose to attack. But then, Hibari surprised him again.

“When you find me…” Hibari began.

“What?”

“In the future, when you find me, will I have memory of this?”

Yamamoto smiled. “Rest assured, it will be *you* who finds *me*. And I hope so, otherwise I’d be pretty hard-pressed to explain *this*.”

Giving a soft snort, Hibari turned around and picked up his discarded pants and slid them on. As he tucked in his shirttails and buttoned his pants, Yamamoto spoke up again.

“Hey,” Hibari heard Yamamoto say, “I do love you, yanno. I love you.”

Hibari froze. Only once had Yamamoto broached this subject before, and Yamamoto had learned pretty quick not to. The topic brought shivers to Hibari because he couldn’t answer back, neither in the affirmative nor negative. How would he know if love was the feeling that had moved him to seek out Yamamoto’s company in the very beginning? How would he know if it was love that kept Yamamoto beside him? How would he know?

Yamamoto Takeshi was an idiot herbivore. A boy younger than his own self. He was only half-clever, and half-skilled. Half-afraid to reach out to Hibari, half-afraid not to. But then, Hibari had a flash of the older Yamamoto’s eyes when he had first pulled away before. The eyes that told him Yamamoto was backing off because Yamamoto had known that Hibari was…scared. Worse still was that Hibari now recognized the look as one that the Yamamoto who was closer to his age often used himself.

Yamamoto had always known.

All those times, Yamamoto wasn’t holding back due to a battered pride. He was…oh gods…*protecting* Hibari. He didn’t rush into anything because he didn’t want to rush or intimidate Hibari.

Hibari felt himself burn with shame, which in turn urged a desire in him to run away. Run away from everything, everything from these confusing feelings to from the boy who made Hibari acknowledge them.

Insane amounts of pride rooted Hibari to his spot. Pride, and Yamamoto’s words.

The Yamamoto before him told him that he loved Hibari. It could be safe to say that the Yamamoto that was his own age might also already love, or is perhaps on his way to loving Hibari. If his word could be trusted. If the feelings could be love.

The Yamamoto before Hibari was skilled and extremely familiar with Hibari’s body and mind. He was able to bring Hibari to a pleasure he’d never before known, not even in the times he had spent with the Yamamoto that is his own age. Something like that…like that could only be…could only…

It was then that Hibari realized that the feelings he was experiencing were things that only came…with time.

In ten years, Yamamoto had gone from the shy and inexperienced boy he was shagging to the strong and confident man who…made love to him.

Hibari startled as he realized he *wanted* this.

He wanted Yamamoto.

For this, for everything, for whatever. He wanted it all. And for him to achieve this, he had to deal with his own Yamamoto. He had to build him up to this. Hibari had to deal with himself.

Turning back around, their two pairs of eyes met. And suddenly, just like that, their eyes locked and all the years, and all the bullshit fell away, and all that remained was Hibari Kyouya and Yamamoto Takeshi.

And finally, Hibari realized: he wanted to. He would. For this, he would work out his own issues. Hibari could not at that moment tell with any certainty if what he felt towards Yamamoto Takeshi was anything like love, but whatever it was, it was worth it. He *definitely* didn’t want to lose that feeling, no matter the worries it brought.

But he wasn’t going to tell Yamamoto that.

Hibari felt a smile creep up in his face that felt only a little psychotic and Yamamoto felt not a little trepidation.

After all, Hibari mused, why should the other have it so easy?

“It’s alright, yanno,” Yamamoto said then, offering up a smile. “We’ve got plenty of time, you and I. Plenty of time.”

Then before Hibari could make any sort of response there was a soft explosion and tendrils of smoke curled around him. When it cleared some, Hibari opened his eyes to see the younger Yamamoto emerging, coughing, from the billows of smoke.

“H-Hibari?” Yamamoto choked out, waving the smoke away. “What the…where am I?”

Hibari didn’t answer. Instead, he was staring at Yamamoto’s eyes. Deep within them, he could see traces of the man that Yamamoto would eventually grow up into. But then, Hibari’s eyes fell slightly. Now that Yamamoto was once again in the body that was only a year or so younger than Hibari himself, it brought Yamamoto’s face much closer to Hibari’s level. His face…and his lips.

Hibari was now staring at those lips. **They’re so close,** he thought. **So close.**

“Hibari?” those lips were still saying. “How did I get in here? How long have we been gon—umphf!”

Reaching up, Hibari grabbed Yamamoto’s ears like a double-handled cup and pulled him downwards. His kiss effectively silenced Yamamoto and simultaneously satisfied Hibari. “Long enough,” he said against Yamamoto’s lips.

Yamamoto, clearly pleased with the welcome despite the ear abuse, smiled into the kiss and threw his arms around Hibari’s waist. “Did ya miss me?”

*Smack.*

“Ah,” Yamamoto said, rubbing the side of his head absently. “Right.”

Hibari pulled Yamamoto back in for a kiss, which lasted for some time. Long enough for Yamamoto to forget he had asked a question, but then a muffled voice mumbled “Maybe just a little.” into Yamamoto’s lips.

“Huh?” Yamamoto startled. “What? What did you say? What? Hibari, wha—”

*“Shut up or I’ll bite you to death.”*

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“Welcome back.”

Startled, Yamamoto Takeshi turned to find an older, much more dangerous-looking (if that was even possible) Hibari Kyouya watching him from the doorway. Looking around, Yamamoto realized he was standing in the center of the room Hibari stayed in when he visited the Secret Base complex.

“Ah, hey there—”

“Did you have fun?”

Yamamoto gave a half-guilty grin. “I don’t have to explain, do I?”

“No, I suppose not,” Hibari said as he strode towards him, “but it might prolong the inevitable. You’ve got thirty seconds.”

Yamamoto felt a cold sweat break out. For the second time in what felt like as many minutes, Yamamoto glanced to the window and gauged his chances for reaching the window and making it out. Still mid-ponder, he lost his chance.

Hibari grinned down at Yamamoto as he sat heavily on Yamamoto’s torso. Ten years had passed since that day in the Committee room and Hibari Kyouya finally had a response.

He just had to show it.

Pushing aside the tattered shirt Yamamoto was sporting, Hibari leaned down and placed a kiss.

Directly over Yamamoto’s heart.

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Author's Note: Well then! There you have it! I loved writing this, thought I was incredibly sluggish to finish, but it's finally done. If you've made it this far, thank you for reading! If you've made it this far and think you might wanna leave a comment, well, then by all means! Thanks again and we hope to see you soon!

~herme

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