Author's note: This is the less-explicit version of the one I have posted on my LiveJournal. If you want that version, visit my LJ (link posted on my profile).
With a yawn, Hibari once more stepped into the privacy of his rooms in the Vongola's underground base, recently returned from a mission that had taken him far from Japan. Tired? No, merely relaxed now he was in his peaceful sanctuary. He removed his shoes, hung up his suit jacket, and stepped on to the reassuring feel of the tatami mats which covered the entirety of his traditional Japanese-style room. Finally – he was free from those suffocating crowds.
Yet…something about his room still made him tense. His quick eyes soon sought out the intruder: a small package placed squarely in the middle of a squat table, neatly-wrapped with thin, indigo paper and topped with an emerald ribbon whose loops sprouted in an all-too-familiar fashion.
Hibari's mouth thinned and his eyebrows drew down as he asked, without turning, "What is the meaning of this, Mukuro Rokudo?"
"Kufufufu…" That low laugh, coupled with that irritatingly erratic presence, was something that he had long since learned to recognise.
"It is merely a present. Perfectly harmless, Kyoya." Mukuro appeared suddenly before him, complete with his tilted smile and trademark smugness. The man looked the same as always, though today he had no weapon on hand.
"I have said to you many times already: do not address me so familiarly." Hibari's tone was even but his flint-like eyes added an undercurrent of a threat to his words.
Unfazed, Mukuro's smile widened imperceptibly. Gesturing to the lavender bundle, he said, "Today is a rather special day, or so I'm told. For you, at least."
Hibari crossed his arms, staring unblinking at Mukuro. "Who gave you that idea? I'll bite them to death for spreading lies."
Mukuro bent down and scooped up the present with a hand, proffering it, but Hibari cut across him before he could speak. "I am not accepting any gift of yours, Mukuro."
Mukuro paused. He continued in a voice light with humour. "I cannot call you Kyoya, but you can call me Mukuro?" he queried. "That's a little unfair…"
"Since when did you know the meaning of 'fair', Rokudo?" asked Hibari abruptly. Damn Mukuro. Never before had he hated someone so much in his life. The sight of the indigo-haired man sent him into seething resentment. "I am not going to forget our last battle any time soon."
"Good." Mukuro took a step closer. "Then I will linger all the more in your memory."
Hibari took an automatic step back from the Mist Guardian. Just because the other man was taller did not mean Mukuro had to use it to his advantage, he thought sourly. "What are you insinuating?" he demanded.
Mukuro closed the gap between them and pulled him into a firm and strangely intimate hug. Mukuro's voice, murmured into his ear, held a strange tenor. "For once – just once – can you let go of this ridiculous pride of yours?"
The words struck some hidden nerve inside Hibari, and he reacted instinctively. He twisted and roughly elbowed the Mist Guardian in the gut, forcing the man out of reach. Mukuro did not stumble; it was as if he expected the reaction. Did those red and blue eyes show faint disappointment?
Hibari struggled with the mixture of emotions that had surged up at the embrace. Enjoyed? No, he certainly had not enjoyed being in Mukuro's arms, he told himself.
"I…will bite you…to death." The words came out mangled, but with clear, murderous intent. In response, the ring on his finger burst into a fury of violet flames that broiled around his body but did not burn.
"And yet," Mukuro ran a thoughtful eye over the turbulent fire, "it seems your will is a little lacking today. I wonder why?" The words were speculative; his smile was not.
Hibari was far from amused. He launched himself in a speedy attack. Flame-wreathed tonfas clashed with a screech against the black haft of a trident. Mukuro's red eye flared with a lesser flame as he braced himself against the force of the attack. Then he countered by throwing his weight forward, bearing Hibari backwards until they slammed against the wall. There, Mukuro pinned him under their weapons and held him there, mouth to mouth.
Pure shock froze Hibari in place. The violet flames vanished and his box weapon fell silently to the ground. The cold length of Mukuro's illusory trident also disappeared. The contact lasted barely seconds before Mukuro pulled back, gazing steadily at him, unsmiling – waiting.
Hibari was furious. His hand was poised to scrub away the physical memory of Mukuro's lips. He knew he was quivering. But why? How could he be feeling two conflicting emotions?
"What was that for, Rokudo?" he demanded coldly.
Mukuro gave a small shrug. "That was my gift to you, Kyoya," he replied.
Hibari's eyes flicked to the lavender bundle, abandoned on the floor during their short tussle.
Noting the direction of his gaze, Mukuro added, "I never said it was from me. That gift came from Chrome."
Scowling, Hibari let his hand drop and clenched his fists. Thinking back, Mukuro never had said the present was from him. The tricky bastard. Why was he not biting Mukuro to death already? He despised the man. He did. Mukuro was the only one who could bury under his defences and strike where it hurt. And he could tell the other man was doing so deliberately.
What was the part of him that tolerated the other Guardian? He would not be satisfied until he identified the reason.
Hibari gave an abrupt yank on the loose, black tie Mukuro had taken to wearing. They were now at the same eye level.
"If you—!" But Mukuro's lips stopped what he had been about to say. Ignoring stifled objections and attempts to push him away, Mukuro encircled Hibari's waist and pressed their bodies closer. The other man held him tightly, and despite everything, Hibari felt his heartbeat quicken erratically as their kiss endured. There was a tropical whiff about the man (Pineapples, he noted). Mukuro's long fringe brushed lightly against his cheeks.
How had he ever thought he detested this? The other man's lips were soft and warm; eventually they began to trail kisses along his jaw and down his neck with a feather-like touch. Long fingers caressed his face and brought a flash of pleasant heat to his skin. For someone who had taken pleasure in breaking his body in every possible way, Mukuro was being exceedingly gentle.
Hibari was vaguely aware of being manoeuvred against the wall, fingers interlaced by his head, but he was far too distracted by a sudden intruding tongue. His protest was muffled as the tongue strove deeper. His breaths, when they broke apart, came as gasps. Their actions gained in urgency and roughness as they abandoned restraint. With skin became flushed and damp with sweat, they found themselves shedding layers which now felt restrictive. All awareness contracted to the physical presence before them as passion overrode thought.
He awoke slowly to semi-darkness. The chill from his bared upper body contrasted with the warmth of a blanket drawn up to his waist. He sensed the presence of a body lying at an intimate proximity behind him. The other person eased yet closer with the soft rustling of sheets, the touch of skin on skin as a hand rested on his shoulder and ticklish breath as the other leaned over to whisper into his ear sending a shiver through him.
"You look so peaceful when you're asleep. It's a change from your constant scowling," Mukuro said teasingly. He caught Hibari's arm before the indignant man could pull away. "Don't be like that. Stay? Please?"
Did he just say 'please'? With a huff, Hibari relented and Mukuro released his hold. He refused to turn and meet the other man's dual-coloured eyes. His previous churn of emotions had resurfaced.
"Is something the matter?" Mukuro tried to turn him around so they could face each other. Hibari turned his head enough to give the man a one-eyed glare.
"What have you done to me?" he demanded, voice low and furious.
Mukuro surprise was evident from the tone of his response. "Nothing you didn't want to do."
Hibari gritted his teeth. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you." He hunched over, hiding his face in his pillow, and muttered the string of words repeatedly, resisting Mukuro's attempts to coax him otherwise. Eventually, Mukuro gave up and settled for resting a cheek along the nape of Hibari's neck, holding him in a one-armed embrace as he waited for Hibari to finish.
It felt good to be held. As much as Hibari disliked the gesture, he did not repel it. The contours of the other man's body lined his perfectly. He could feel the steady rhythm of Mukuro's chest moving in and out with each breath the man took, the lithe body curved along the arch of his back, leading him to recall their lovemaking.
Hibari shut his eyes and took a steadying breath, feeling the unwanted response of his body to the memories. What was wrong with him? What had possessed him to do this? Something wet slid down his face and was absorbed into his pillow. He blinked, drawing a hand across his eyes as several more drops followed. Tears…?
Mukuro leaned over to wipe them away then kissed his cheek. "It's alright to show weakness sometimes, Kyoya."
"Bastard." Hibari dashed away his tears and twisted to face Mukuro. "I am not weak and I hate you for what you did," he asserted. But he knew his own body was betraying him.
Mukuro smirked. "Is that so?" Hibari felt a hand brush against his skin and flushed. He made to pull Mukuro's hand away but the other man deftly caught his wrist and raised it to his lips. Mukuro's eyes noted the light tremor that shivered across the skin and this time he smiled – a genuine smile that contained no hint of mockery or condescension.
"It seems you've finally let someone in to your heart."
Have I? Maybe you've dug in so deep there's nothing to hide...
"What are you talking about? I don't love you, if that's what you imply. Not at all." But then what we did would not have happened…
"Hmm..." Mukuro ran his fingers through Hibari's hair. "I believe this is the first time I've heard you lie." Then he leaned forward and brought their lips together once more.