I wrote this way, way back in 2013 for Valentine's Day but pretty much forgot to post it because it got buried in my pile of unfinished crap. And now, I've found it again and am finally posting it here (yay!). (I think I posted this on my tumblr, but I could be wrong.)
Anyway. Yeah. Valentine fic, Vongola style.
Which equates to not much of a Valentine fic, but more of a fic that happened to occur on Valentine's Day. I just wanted to see the boys being all threatening with guns.
Warnings: Language, violence (because they are in the mafia)
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Buon San Valentino
.
.
.
Well-polished leather shoes slapped against the concrete floor, each thud echoing along the empty hallway like a gunshot. It was getting late, Sawada Tsunayoshi thought in distaste as he spared a glance at the setting sun outside the dilapidated building, it was getting late and they still have yet to find their target. Alfonso Cosimo was one slimy bastard, that was for sure, and Tsuna vindictively hoped that it would be his Cloud who'll find Cosimo—Hibari-san would bite him to death so hard we probably won't even have a body to retrieve.
"Tenth?" Gokudera's voice sounded from the communicator, "the basement is clear. No sign of the fucking traitor."
Tsuna hummed thoughtfully, not even bothering to berate his right-hand man for his language because Alfonso Cosimo is a fucking traitor; the smooth-talking Venetian now joined the ranks of the few people that Vongola Decimo sincerely hated. Anyone who hurt his family was as good as dead. "I'm at the east wing, but so far, there's nothing here." He kicked a stray pebble, disinterestedly watching it collide with the crumbling wall, "any news from the others?"
Gokudera made a pained noise that translated surprisingly well despite the static. "Yamamoto says the west wing's clear, Sasagawa and the stupid cow are still making rounds around the estate, Rokudo's at the rooftop and god-only-knows-where Hibari is." Tsuna's right-hand man said in a tone of one resigned to the fact that he was surrounded by crazy bastards; the Japanese stifled the urge to giggle.
"I'll keep looking; tell Nii-san and Lambo to not go too far. It's getting late and I want to go home as soon as poss—"
"I hate to interrupt," Mukuro's voice came from the communicator, sounding anything but, "But I found our guest of honor."
A sinister smile that would make Reborn proud wound itself into Tsuna's lips.
Finally.
.
.
.
"He and his friends tried to ambush Mr. Prefect there who was planning to take a nap," Mukuro explained in greeting as soon as Tsuna set foot on the rooftop, smirking beatifically at a scowling and horribly jetlagged Hibari; the man had just arrived from a mission in Hong Kong and looked like he could kill for a nap.
And judging from the corpses surrounding a whimpering and bloodied Alfonso Cosimo, Tsuna had no doubt that Hibari did.
"Vongola," Alfonso garbled, catching Tsuna's attention as a pained wheeze came out of the man's blood-stained lips. A punctured lung by the sound of it, Decimo thought as he slowly and deliberately sauntered towards Cosimo, Hibari's handiwork as clear as day on the man's battered form; Mukuro's too, if the unusually wide and frightened eyes were of any indication. "Vongola, please."
Sawada Tsunayoshi blinked mechanically, looking down at the man with empty eyes. It would be so easy to forgive Cosimo. Tsuna's heart was still too soft for this world, that fact hasn't changed even after all these years, but then images of Fuuta lying in comatose, bullets perforating his body, made Tsuna clench his teeth and reach for the ornamental pistol.
It was a Vongola relic, Reborn had said, the silver pistol was commissioned by Daemon Spade and had been used to kill off traitors ever since the Vongola's founding.
Irony was an interesting thing.
"I don't care if you try to kill me," Tsuna, no, it was Vongola Decimo right now; this was no place for Sawada Tsunayoshi, started, eyes looking down at the man he'd trusted with his life and the lives of everyone in his famiglia not too long ago. "I don't care if you say something bad about me," he'd stopped caring about attacks on his person long ago, has been desensitized to it since Middle School, "but if you do anything, anything at all, to hurt my family—"
He cocked the pistol, felt the barrel roll into a satisfying click, and pointed it point-blank between Cosimo's eyes. "—then forgiveness is simply out of the question."
"Please!"
Tsuna exhaled harshly through his nose, took a perfunctory step back and held out the pistol to Mukuro.
"Tsunayoshi?"
"Finish it."
Hibari snorted, Mukuro sighed.
"Honestly, and I thought you were finally getting into it. You even had a speech going for you," Decimo's Mist teased as he gracefully took the proffered weapon. "Ah, well, maybe next time." The ex-convict turned to Cosimo with a mirthless smile.
Alfonso Cosimo looked about ready to cry. "Signor Sawada, please."
"You should be honored, Alfonso," Mukuro began, mimicking Tsuna's earlier position, the pistol held loosely in his right hand, "you are going to be killed by a bullet from a gun commissioned by the very first traitor in the Vongola." Mukuro paused because he's always had a flair for the theatrics and whatnot and then, "And you will be shot by the biggest traitor of them all."
Tsuna looked away.
"Buon San Valentino, motherfucker."
.
.
.
la fin
A/N: Oh Tsuna.
I had too much fun with Mukuro in this one. Like, he wasn't even supposed to be here, but then he ends up getting the titular line and doing most of the work. His lines practically wrote themselves.
I remember writing this during the clusterfuck that is the whole Shimon/Vindice-are-fucking-dicks/Daemon-Spade-is-an-even-bigger-dick. Yeah. Good times.
Same drill as always.
Comments/Suggestions/Violent reactions; leave a review.