Title: Life of a Storm

Summary: A/U, No mafia. Connected one-shots. Gokudera Hayato lives in a crap apartment, has a monster cat, a perverted mentor, and is best friends with Sawada Tsunayoshi (and that baseball-idiot, he guesses). This is his life. NOT 8059 or 5927.

Chapter Title: The Calm

Author: Iali10

Rating: T

Words: 1692

Warnings: Swearing, perverted humor, no actual plot

Summary: Shamal comes over and Hayato wonders what he's going to do with his life.

DISCLAIMER: THIS IS A FANBASED WORK. KHR BELONGS TO ITS OWNERS AND LISCENCE HOLDERS. I MAKE NO MONEY FROM THIS PIECE OF FICTION.

A/N: Heeellooo… damn, what the hell am I doing? I should be working on my Fairy Tales series, but I've been blocked for over a month (sorry to my readers *grovels on the ground*). I've been working on various things trying to get a kickstart, but I've gotten nowhere (though I've managed to get a little written). Then I listened to Gokudera's character song while reading the translated lyrics and… bam, suddenly inspired to write this.

I would call this a drabble fic, but I can't seem to manage to write the length of a drabble at all. This fic is mainly for me, and to help get a better grasp of Gokudera's character since most of my fics are Tsuna-centric (because I love that little guy, and where Tsuna goes Reborn usually follows :D). Expect sporadic and infrequent updates, and it possibly not being in order because, like it says in the warnings, there is no actual plot to this. Enjoy.

Edit: Fixed some spelling and punctuation mistakes.

"What the fuck is this?" A silver haired young man hissed between clenched teeth. The 'this' – a wad of cash- was waved around jerkily as his gray-green eyes flashed dangerously.

He was Gokudera Hayato, an Italian-Japanese mix, eighteen years old, and a recent Namimori-Kou graduate. And he had a legendary short temper, especially when dealing with people like his mentor- because no other word fit since the man was not exactly a friend, but couldn't be called a guardian- Trident Shamal.

"It's your allowance, brat." Shamal lounged on a threadbare recliner in the teen's crap apartment with a little smirk on his thin lips. They shared a similar 'octopus-style' haircut, but the older man's eyes and hair were brown.

Only twelve years of shared history kept the teen from decking the other. After all, when he ran away from his family's estate at eight years old, it had been this man who kept him from starving on the streets or being swept up in something dealing with the Cosa Nostra. It was a life debt, but there was a reason that Hayato didn't view Shamal as a father figure or anything like it; there were no bedtime stories, or overly affectionate gestures, or 'booboo's kissed.

But, regardless, he learned a lot about the world and how to take care of himself- perhaps more than a kid his age should since he was sure his instinctive knee-jerk dislike of women could be traced to some rather traumatizing talks given about women from 'the master.' Which was why a few years later he set out on his own all over Italy before following his roots to Japan. And the only thing he brought with him was a bag of clothes and a bank card which received a deposit every month (which was later joined by another deposit that he traced back to his sister) to pay rent and buy food, even after Shamal had moved his practice to Namimori.

It was what payed for his apartment, put food on his shelves, and anything else he needed. And, as long as neither of them acknowledged or talked about it, the teen didn't have to admit what it was – charity.

Yet the older man was bringing it out into the open which sent Hayato's pride throbbing. And while he might call Shamal things like 'letch,' 'pervert,' or 'dirty old man,' the silver haired boy knew that the doctor was no idiot; the older man had to have known how he would react.

"The hell are you doing? You know I won't take this!" He threw the money at the doctor.

It hit the man's chest with a dull thwack and then fell into his lap. Shamal sighed heavily through his nose. The yen was tossed onto the rickity coffee table and brown eyes locked with grey-green.

The teen tensed. This wasn't like the pervert he knew.

"Your father wants you to come home," the older man stated flatly, knowingly.

"Fuck him!" It came out before Hayato even fully thought it through, but that didn't make the sentiment behind it any less sincere. He hated his old man, and nothing was going to change that.

"I told him you would say that, so," Shamal adjusted his white suit then crossed his legs, his clasped hands resting on his knee, "he wants to pay for your education."

The silver haired boy snorted, reaching into the pocket of his gray skinny-jeans for his pack of cigarettes and a lighter. "I don't need that pig-fucker's money." He clenched the cig between his lips and lit it with a flick of his thumb.

Nose crinkling, the older man sent the other a disapproving look; he had voiced his disapproval as a doctor about the teen smoking since day one, even if it was hypocritical since the man occasionally smoked himself.

The teen sneered in response, taking a deep drag off the cancer stick.

Disregarding their usual fight, Shamal shook his head. "Didn't you want to go to the same school as that Sawada kid?"

Hayato went absolutely still, he didn't even breathe for a few heartbeats; but then he narrowed hi eyes and attempted to shrug it off like they both didn't know that his precious Juudaime was his weak spot. "So?"

"That tutor of his isn't going to let him go somewhere cheap."

Of course not; Sawada Tsunayoshi had been named the heir to his grandfather's Italian based company, Vongola. By the time they had met at fourteen, Tsuna was already being groomed to take over the company by his devilish tutor, Reborn (it was partly why Hayato had initially disliked the other teen- even if the memory of that time now made the Italian wince- due to his own background).

Reborn was a man of insane methods and impossible skill- no small time community college would be anywhere near acceptable for his student.

The tutor was also the only adult that Hayato damn near respected, and he had only encouraged him to reach the goal of being Juudaime's right hand man. He would follow his boss and best friend to hell and back, or in this case through Higher Education and beyond.

"I still refuse." Damn, this was pissing him off; he had no clue how he was going to afford his tuition, and the money he received currently just wouldn't cut it. Aggitated, he began to puff through his cig so fast he didn't even taste it.

Shamal smiled grimly. "Then what are you going to do for money?"

"I don't know!" Frustration evident, the mixed teen stabbed out the stub of his cig in an overflowing ashtray on the coffee table before quickly lighting another. "But I'll fucking sell my body on the street before I'll beg for his help!"

"Oh?" The doctor looked vaguely amused and scratched at the near permanent stubble on his chin.

"Yeah," the teen practically growled out. He wouldn't back down like some little bitch, even if the thought of doing anything like hooking made him die a little on the inside.

"Well, if you feel that strongly about it," the pervert smirked, "then how about you sell your body to me instead of some stranger?"

Hayato inhaled so sharply that he almost swallowed his cigarette and his eyes bulged in horror. "WHAT?!" Oh dear god, just what had he allowed into his home, because there was no way this was Shamal. "THE FUCK?!"

The teen's mind raced; had his mentor been abducted and replaced with a pod person? Or was this some deranged doppleganger fucking with him? Because the perverted, woman-loving, 'I-don't-treat-men' Shamal had just asked him to-

The doctor roared with laughter; not some chuckles or guffaws, but the man had the nerve for full-bodied, knee-slapping laughter.

A tick developed in the mixed boy's cheek and his hands slowly clenched into fists. "Stop it."

Shoulders shaking, the older man stuffed a fist into his mouth but wasn't able to stop himself. He waved a hand semi-apologeticaly.

Hayato's face twisted with a snarl. "Stop laughing, damnit!"

Shamal managed to gasp out, "But your face," before he broke down again.

"Ugh, you fucking dirty old man!" His pale cheeks flushed with anger and embarrassment. "Get out of my apartment already!"

"No, no," the man took big gulps of air, "I- I'll stop. Really." A few more chuckles escaped him, but he seemed to be quieting down.

The Italian teen crossed his arms impatiently.

"Whew," Shamal sighed and wiped at his teary eyes, "that was a good one." A lascivious grin curled the man's lips. "Now, what did little Hayato-chan think about to make that face?"

An embarrassed flush spread across the silver haired boy's cheeks, then his ears and down his neck until it felt like his whole body was blushing. "Just what the hell am I supposed to think when you say shit like that?"

"Che." The doctor ran his fingers through his hair to straighten it. "Like I would do such things to an uncute kid like you. You would need to be more," here the doctor mime a large bust over his chest with his hands, "you know?"

Hayato just sent the man a flat, disgusted look.

Muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "so uncute," the older man continued. "No, I want you to work the front desk at my clinic, and I'll pay your tuition."

Well, he didn't expect that, and it showed on the younger man's face.

"Wait, hold on. How does working part time," because the number of classes the genius planned to take to not be bored wouldn't allow for a full time job, "add up to full tuition?" Though this sounded like the answers to his prayers, it was a little suspicious and sounded too much like a hand out.

The pervert gave an exaggerated pout. "I can't get anyone to stay; they all quit."

'Is the job really that tough?' the teen wondered.

"Every single one of them," Shamal lamented, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Ai-chan, Yoko-chan, Megumi-chan, and just last week was Reiko-chan… all before I got to see up their skirts or even get a little touch."

"It's all because of you, you letch!" Hayato yelled, picking up and throwing on the couch cushions at the other man's head.

It hit straight on, despite the doctor throwing up an arm to defend himself. "Hey!"

The Italian boy fumed, once again annoyed at being associated with such a dirty pervert. But… this was really a golden opportunity. He could stay with Juudaime (and that baseball-idiot, Yamamoto too, he supposed), and it wouldn't be hard or degrading work.

'Well,' he though, sending Shamal an annoyed look,' 'not too degrading, but one never knows with that asshole.'

"What?" The doctor cocked an eyebrow at the other's look.

"What about that bastard?" Like he would ever call that man his 'father.'

With a grin on his face, the older man finally stood from his chair to get close enough to ruffle his new employee's hair (ignoring the glares, and growls, and the muttered 'I'll break your fingers, you-'). "You leave him to me."

A/N: This fic isn't about romance, but you guys are free to suggest side pairings for me to include (though there will most likely be R27 and no 8059 or 5927). This fic might actually be Shamal59, because I like that pairing but there's very little of it, or maybe even Gamma59. But, that's not the point of the fic so maybe no pairings at all; who knows, this fic is just for me after all, but I'll try to make you guys happy as well. Please let me know what you think!