Story Title: For the Sake of Appearance
Rated: PG-13 for cross-dressing and ridiculousness
Status: Complete // 600+
Summary: A mafia boss and two of his Family members are sitting in a bar, when in walks a cross-dressing hitman.
Steve's Notes: On LiveJournal, erisabesu had a Reborn-centric meme, tsunayoshi wanted to see older!Reborn in a dress, and I unfortunately happened to be on a roll. For erisabesu because, well, it's technically all her fault. I posted this awhile ago on my lj, but forgot to post it up here.
Disclaimer: Katekyou Hitman Reborn! © Amano Akira
The woman who saunters into the bar is tall, beautiful, and—this is where Tsuna chokes on his drink—so obviously Reborn in disguise that the fourteen-year-old boy that still resides somewhere inside him goes into the proverbial corner of his subconscious to commit ritual suicide.
"J-Juudaime!" Gokudera, a little drunk and trying to whisper but failing spectacularly, leans against him, jabbing a finger in Reborn's direction. "Juudaime, she winked at you!"
Sure enough, when Tsuna's stare gravitates back to Reborn, the hitman gives him a slow, sultry wink. Reborn, dressed in a long, red, Mandarin dress that clings to every (padded) curve, Reborn, wearing a wig of impossibly long, blade straight black hair, Reborn with subtle make-up and staggering stilettos and—were those thigh-highs?
"Wow, Tsuna," Yamamoto breathes on his left. Yamamoto can hold liquor better than anyone else; despite the amount of saké he's ingested, he seems entirely sober. "You're so lucky, yeah?"
Tsuna turns as red as Reborn's dress. Why, why, why is he the only one who can ever see through Reborn's ridiculous disguises? Granted, none of them have ever been this ridiculous, but the sharp angles of Reborn's jaw and the flint in those dark eyes and—they were thigh-highs! Lacy, sexy thigh-highs that stood out in stark contrast to the pale skin of Reborn's thigh and—
"Ciaossu," Reborn purrs, his normally deep voice pitched impossibly higher, softer; his lilting Italian sounds like music. Tsuna muffles a terrified squeal. "You're the young Vongola Decimo, yes?"
"He is, ma'am!" Gokudera says, clapping Tsuna on the back harder than he would if he hadn't just gotten into a drinking war with Yamamoto. "And I'm his right-hand man!"
One of Reborn's hands, perfectly manicured and painted a crimson as deep as his dress, rests on Tsuna's knee. Tsuna begins to hyperventilate; he feels sweat beginning to form at his temples. Reborn's hand creeps upwards, slowly onto his thigh, the heat of it burning through his expensive, tailored pants.
"I've always wondered what it would be like, to be with a mafia don," Reborn says. So close, Tsuna can see he's wearing a shimmer of lip gloss and his eyes are lined in sharply in black. He smells like the flowers that Tsuna's mother used to grow outside their house in Namimori and his hand is lingering on Tsuna's hip. "Can you show me?"
Tsuna sputters. Gokudera and Yamamoto get up from their seats on either side of him; Gokudera wiggles his eyebrows and nods approvingly, while Yamamoto gives him the usual grin and a large thumbs-up. Tsuna looks at them desperately, pleading with his eyes for them to please, please, please not leave him with his unhinged, cross-dressing ex-tutor, but the desperation in his expression is obviously misconstrued as something else entirely. His two closest Family members are gone within moments, leaving him alone with a cruelly smiling Reborn.
"Ahahah, Reborn!" Tsuna tries to laugh, but his voice sounds weak and strained. He's shaking a little as he adjusts his tie in nervousness. "Reborn, what are you doing?"
Reborn moves suddenly, and his trusty gun—where was he keeping it?—is in his hand and pressed to Tsuna's temple. "You shouldn't be distracted by beautiful women, No Good Tsuna," Reborn scolds, his voice still feminine but now cold. It scares Tsuna more than it has any right to, and he cannot contain a horrified whine. "Now you die."
Tsuna's eyes roll up into his head, and when he wakes up, he's back in his bed and there's a weird taste in his mouth. Daylight cracks through the blinds and Gokudera and Yamamoto are standing by his bed, smiling at him like buffoons. "Phhmrgh?" Tsuna asks, and Gokudera replies, "She must've been one hell of a night!" while Yamamoto just smiles.
And Tsuna, much to his mortification, finds that he's stark naked underneath the sheets.
He's never going drinking again. Ever.
end.