The Long Haul
By codedredalert
Chapter 1: Arrival
Disclaimer: I don't own KHR. See Prologue for complete disclaimer and warnings.
Chapter Warnings: Swearing. Implied death of unnamed characters. Insulting thoughts about architecture.
A/N: Thank you KusajishiFukutaicho, my lovely, longsuffering beta, for dealing with my rushing and awkward. Thank YOU if you've reviewed, followed or favourited my story or myself.
If you wouldn't mind clarifying Italy/ Italian language/ culture stuff, please drop me a PM!
-/\-
22 Dec
Hibari hated travelling on a good day. Putting him through 45 hours of transit with one Gokudera Hayato was certified hell.
He couldn't enjoy the stopover in Singapore because the odd hours of arrival and departure just drained all his energy. He hadn't been allowed to book a first class suite. He hadn't even been allowed to book just half of business class to get some personal space. No, he'd been forced to sit right next to the Storm guardian and endure the non-stop, infernal typing and the white glare from the silver-haired man's laptop for twelve hours of flight.
And after all that, Hibari hadn't even been allowed to get a driver to get to Naples. Instead, he had been subjected to the morning rush crowds on the train, first to Rome's central terminal, and from there to the central Napoli terminal. The Italian then insisted on eating lunch in the city, when both of them still had bags and coats and jetlag to deal with. Hibari would have been happy to buy something to go just so he could get out of the crowded, noisy, bustling public, but the silver haired man had to have a five course meal. As Hibari had no idea where or when anything was happening until they visited Chiavarone on Christmas' eve in two days' time, he sat there and glared as the other typed and ate and texted and took calls. Only three—three—hours later did they get into a taxi to go to whatever heaven-forsaken place the miser had picked out for the mission's duration.
In hindsight, not having Kusakabe arrange his travel schedule and accommodation was a mistake.
"We should have taken the jet," Hibari growled. The silver haired man looked up from his laptop in surprise, which quickly turned to annoyance.
"We're supposed to be undercover," Gokudera said sharply.
"We should have taken first class," Hibari amended generously, sleep deprivation and travel fatigue showing in the edge of his voice.
"It's too expensive. I already let you take business, what more do you want?" Gokudera snapped his laptop shut, his trademark no-nonsense temper starting to strain at the edges. Hibari was secretly relieved, though he could still hear the 'tap tap tap' in the back of his head.
"First class," Hibari said simply. Did the half-Italian not hear him the first time?
"What normal twenty-three year old can afford first class?" Gokudera hissed. Hibari looked at him with disdain.
"Forget it," Gokudera sighed. His phone buzzed and he whipped it out of his pocket and started tapping away on that instead. Hibari turned to look out the window, feeling slightly nauseous with all the electronics. They seemed to be heading to the less well-off part of town. Hibari could see unintelligible symbols sprayed onto walls as the taxi passed some smaller alleys. That irked him. He reached for his tonfa even as the blatant displays of disrespect to public property and the law went out of sight. Hibari frowned.
Perhaps if he slept, this would all be over quickly.
Just as he thought so, the taxi pulled up in front of a five story building that was decidedly unimpressive. Gray and visibly weathered, their lodging fit right in with the rest of the vandalised street. Nevertheless, Hibari exited the cab promptly, refusing to spend longer than he had to inside the suffocating vehicle. The air was brisk and cold, a welcome reprieve from the stuffy over-heating that seemed to be present inside all the buildings and public transport in Europe.
Hibari wondered briefly if the apartment would be the type with central heating or self-contained heating. He hoped it was the latter. Europeans did not seem to realise that having the indoor thermostat at thirty-five degrees Celsius made the weather outside feel worse.
"I'll see the landlord and get the keys," Gokudera said. He entered the house without waiting for a reply, leaving Hibari standing outside with the bags the driver had helped lift out of the boot. Hibari made brief eye contact with the man, and the taxi pulled out of the driveway as if speed limits were suggestions. Hibari frowned slightly at that. It seemed that no one in this country had any respect for law or courtesy. Sometimes he wondered how the little sometimes-carnivore managed to convince him to leave Japan. Sometimes he wondered why he still let himself get talked into it every time.
"Got them, let's go. Fourth floor, unit A, all the way at the end," Gokudera said as he returned. He paused after he retrieved his bags to look at Hibari meaningfully. "There's a lift but it's small. You're not going to like it."
"We'll see," Hibari said, annoyed by the presumption. Gokudera merely shrugged and led the way inside, past a small area which served as a reception. It was small and rather bare, though there was a door that presumably led to wherever the landlord lived. Gokudera then opened the door to an empty broom cupboard and stood aside. Hibari stared at him.
"This is the lift," Gokudera explained. "You know, elevator?"
Hibari stared into the broom cupboard. There were a panel of buttons on the inside, but other than that, it looked like a three foot square empty storeroom. Gokudera seemed to have gotten tired of waiting though, and wheeled his own bags in before squeezing in himself.
"See you upstairs then. Fourth floor," he added as a reminder before he closed the door. It clicked and through the tiny glass and wire mesh window, Hibari could see the inside of the broom cupboard lurch up slowly.
Hibari turned on his heel, exited the reception and took the stairs.
Unit 4A was on the fifth floor, giving Hibari yet another reason to be annoyed with the place. The door was open when he got there, one of Gokudera's red suitcases set on its side to hold it ajar. Hibari stepped in, taking all the bags with him, including the one that had been used as a door stop. The door threatened to slam shut as a gust of cold air rushed by, but Hibari caught it with the back of his forearm and let it swing shut gently.
"You took the stairs after all," Gokudera commented as he came out to the entryway to retrieve his bag. He had taken off his shoes, and placed neatly to the side, against the wall. Hibari gave a short nod, then looked at the apartment. From the door, he could see almost nothing of the place, except for a wooden door set straight ahead and part of a beige sofa. A wall cut off the entryway from the living space, and Hibari found himself grudgingly approving of the tactical advantages of the layout. He removed his own shoes and placed them at the side, locking the door before lifting his bags into the apartment proper.
Three steps in and Hibari had a proper look at what would be 'home' for an indefinite amount of time to come.
It was mostly wooden doors and white painted walls, with pale cream or wooden furniture. The curtains to the balcony on the left and the carpet were different shades of blue, and the few framed paintings on the wall were all green and blue scenery; of river banks, or sailing boats. The beige sofa that could be glimpsed from the door looked over a low table to a television mounted on the opposite wall. That wall also had a door, which Gokudera was manoeuvring his bags through.
"You like it?" Gokudera asked as he caught Hibari's gaze.
"It's small," Hibari critiqued as he continued his survey of the place. There was not much left to see. Just a simple kitchen with an island counter that doubled as a dining table, with three high chairs along one side.
"It can't be helped," Gokudera replied. "We're on a budget." He looked up, green eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Shouldn't you be used to this? You're always the one on these sorts of jobs."
Hibari didn't think it worth mentioning that he'd supplemented the miserable budget with his own cash. It might give the man an excuse to cut off his budget entirely. Instead, Hibari narrowed his own eyes in return.
"I am always alone on 'these sorts of jobs'," he retorted stiffly. Gokudera shrugged, conceding the point. Hibari wheeled his bags in and parted the curtains to have a quick look out the balcony. It had the first sliding door Hibari had seen in this country, though it was made of full length glass. The balcony itself was short and wide, perhaps four long steps across and one easy step to the tall, concrete barrier that was the edge. The view was of the next building's windows.
"Fuck!"
"Quiet," Hibari said reflexively, turning back to the apartment. Gokudera stuck his head out from the room.
"You be quiet! There's only one bed, dumbass!"
Hibari had suspected that, with the size of the apartment. "Why didn't you check with the landlord before renting the flat?" he asked dryly, annoyed by the other's lack of foresight.
"Long story," Gokudera growled, one hand going up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "In short, I got a good deal on the place."
"Miser fool," Hibari commented, walking into the bedroom to have a look, and bringing his bags with him while he was at it. Sure enough, there was only a single albeit decent queen size bed. Hibari walked round it then back, looking it over with an analytic eye. Gokudera hovered, awaiting the verdict from the older man while running a hand through silver hair.
"It's settled then," Hibari decided at length, flipping his suitcases to lie flat on the floor on the side of the bed that was further from the window. Gokudera looked up, brows furrowed in confusion. Hibari—claustrophobic, crowd-hating Hibari—wasn't going to put up a fuss about the single bed? A pillow suddenly hit Gokudera in the face, and Hibari was moving the remaining pillow to the centre of the headboard.
"What?" Gokudera asked.
"You sleep outside," Hibari said simply, starting to unpack.
"Hell no," Gokudera replied, putting the pillow Hibari had thrown to him back on the bed. Hibari paused and looked up, a tonfa suddenly appearing in his left hand.
"Then fight," Hibari said, eyes narrowed.
"Look, can't we settle this like adults?" Gokudera asked. "We'll take turns by the week. And as a show of good faith, you can have the bed first. Agreed?"
Hibari made a noncommittal sound and promptly ignored the other thereafter. He started unpacking with the efficiency born of practice, emptying his suitcases quickly. After a moment, Gokudera seemed to have come to a decision and started unpacking as well. He took the drawers on the other side of the bed, and a busy silence filled the air, isolated but not uncomfortable.
Naturally, both of them discreetly noticed what the other had brought. Both of them were fighters, and an analyst and a diplomat in turn. It was impossible for them not to pick up on the arsenal the person in the same room was laying out.
Gokudera, as usual, had somehow managed to smuggle his weight in explosives on his person, and twice or three times that in his luggage. Hibari mentally snorted in contempt for both the airport security and the silver haired man's reliance on a bulky, one-use only weapon. The same thoughtlessness was evident in the clothes the other had brought. Hibari had noticed that Gokudera's bags were twice the size of his own, and now it became apparent why. Gokudera had brought his entire wardrobe along, as well as half his office. Stacks of paper and clothing steadily piled up on his side of the bed.
Chains, chunky jewellery, studded belts, t-shirts with loud print and ripped jeans also formed a few piles. Incredible, how the man thought that those delinquent-like articles of clothing were appropriate. Hibari was decidedly not impressed.
On the other side of the room, Gokudera was making similar observations in the background. His mind was whirling in its usual million mile a minute style; worrying about the Tenth, analysing the mission, calculating the schedule for the next few hours, the next day, the week, the mission's projected duration, the rundown of the different famiglia and their networks, the economy, the direct neighbourhood… Somewhere, along with all that, he noticed that Hibari had brought the absolute minimum along, and it was easily catalogued without conscious thought. All suits, a few sets of what looked suspiciously like Namimori's uniform, and a spare scarf in Namimori yellow.
Something felt off for a moment, and Gokudera paused to give a casual strand of thought space to take hold. Hibari seemed to have no weapons with him, which couldn't possibly be right. The Cloud guardian wouldn't simply walk around unarmed. Or maybe he would, Gokudera thought dryly. Though he had never seen it himself, Yamamoto swore blind that Hibari had thrashed Ryohei in hand to hand. Granted, that had been on New Year's, so that might have been the sake talking.
Gokudera reigned his conjecture in. Hibari had obviously brought his tonfa.
"Did you bring a gun?" Gokudera asked.
"No," Hibari replied, without looking up.
"Well, what did you bring, then?" Gokudera asked in a business-like tone. He caught the edge of a frown forming before Hibari briefly held up two cubes, purple edged with silver. Box weapons, probably hedgehogs.
"Is that all?" Gokudera asked. Hibari kept the cubes he had been holding up and continued unpacking as if Gokudera hadn't said anything.
"Be that way, bastard," Gokudera muttered, going back to his packing. His myriad of thoughts slid back into place and he ignored Hibari in favour of wondering whether the Tenth noticed a difference in the reports Irie and Fuuta were doing in his place.
-/\-
Gokudera had a mental checklist for the day, and so far, he was doing pretty good. He'd finished reading and analysing the mission specs on the plane. He'd managed to arrange the catering and the staffing for the private Christmas dinner, as well as the Guardian-only after dinner presents. He'd settled the payment slips for all the staff for December, just in time for the long holiday. He'd proofread Mukuro's latest mission report. He'd filed Yamamoto's university alumni networking profile. He'd arranged for a new fake ID and passport for Chrome for her Myanmar mission. He'd filed Irie's medical reports. He'd paid Lambo's school fees.
And now as his list was slowly whittled down to the big, empty block of time dedicated to the vague, looming demand of 'the mission', Gokudera was faced with the unenviable choice of lethargic ennui and trying to pick apart Hibari Kyouya.
The Cloud guardian, of course, had finished unpacking and packing and had stood in the corner of the room, half-watching Gokudera with the look of a leopard only half-contemplating a herd of zebra from its lounging in a tree. Hibari had produced a phone and sent off a slow, deliberate series of texts, grey eyes flicking over as Gokudera laboriously tried to fit all his belongings into one modest chest of drawers.
Possessive bastard and his stupid power-plays, Gokudera groused as he took a moment to consider what the best way to keep his socks was. It was obvious that Hibari was not leaving until Gokudera did, just to reinforce his claim on the room.
Well, two could play that game, Gokudera decided, emptying out the bottom drawer again. He packed, unpacked and rearranged the drawers until he was satisfied that he had found the best arrangement. Then he stopped, took everything out methodically and tried out another arrangement that seemed like a good idea. Hibari seemed to have run out of things to text, and kept his phone, blatantly standing watch with a heavy, level gaze. Keeping a very careful blank face, Gokudera decided the previous arrangement really had been the best and redid his drawers. Hibari's distrustful stare intensified into a full out glower.
A lesser man would have fled. Perhaps that man would have been all the wiser for doing so.
With a very deliberate air of ignorance, Gokudera gathered his bags and left the room. He shoved his briefcase under the low coffee table and went to pack his mostly empty suitcases into the storeroom-pantry. The shelves were notably empty, not that Gokudera had expected anything else. There was an ironing board folded up against the wall, but no iron. Gokudera made a mental note to hunt for it later. Between Hibari and himself, they had enough suits to set up a small store. They needed an iron.
He walked out of the storeroom to find Hibari sitting at the kitchen corner, ankles crossed upon each other in a way that was deceptively neat. The bedroom door was shut, and Hibari's back was to the wall. Gokudera felt a flare of irritation and just the slightest twinge of resentment. They were meant to be family and here the ex-prefect was acting like Gokudera was about to stab him in the back.
Gokudera was many things, but a traitor he was not.
Hibari's posture was perfectly calm, casual like he had been sitting there for hours instead of scarcely a minute. He did not look up.
How strange that someone could set upon you a stare that could bring titans to their knees, and in the very next moment not care the slightest whit for your existence. Gokudera felt his curiosity take a mental poke at the convoluted knot that was so out of place in his neatly woven mental map of who what when where why.
Hibari Kyouya. Hibari Kyouya who'd commandeered an escalator school at the age of twelve and the healthcare system of an entire town by the time he was fourteen. Hibari Kyouya who talked about biting people and blatantly abused mammalian order classification to refer to others. Hibari Kyouya who regularly pulled off lengthy missions and returned with results that exceeded all expectations and mafioso divided in equal measure between commending him or baying for his blood.
He knew the dark haired man sitting at the table but did not understand him. He did not know where to even begin understanding him. He knew what Hibari did; he could rattle off Hibari's profile, his height, his weight, his blood type, his eye colour, his hair colour, his address… But what made the man tick? How did he think? What layers did he have to his personality? It all came up a large blank. Hibari was too jealous with his solitude, too guarded with himself.
With a grudging realisation, Gokudera knew that he had to be the one extending the hand of camaraderie, because Hibari sure wasn't going to. And this was a mission that needed them to work together, and if he couldn't trust Hibari, this was all going to go to hell in a handbasket.
And so, he graciously played the bigger man and opened the conversation. Because he was sure that was what the Tenth would have wanted.
"I'm going to take a look around the neighbourhood," Gokudera called, in the most amiable tone he had for all-but-strangers who should be family. "Want anything?"
"No," Hibari said, eyes languidly trailing down the page. Gokudera did not understand why he hadn't done that earlier on the plane, or why he had chosen to print and lug the papers when he could have easily read them off his laptop. Yet another observation that he could note but not see any significance in. All these little hints told volumes while leading absolutely nowhere. Frustrating.
"Do you want to come along?" Gokudera added pointedly, doing his best to keep his annoyance out of his voice and not doing so well.
"No," Hibari repeated. Gokudera shrugged as he put on his coat. He'd tried.
"Oh, by the way," Gokudera remembered just as he slipped on his shoes. "Look for the iron when you're done reading that and text me if you can't find it."
There was no reply from Hibari, and Gokudera wasn't going to stand around waiting for one, so he checked that he had his wallet, phone and key before stepping out and letting the door swing shut behind him. It locked with a gentle click and Gokudera sighed, reminding himself it would look very strange if he started cursing the second he set foot outside his door.
"Bastard," Gokudera allowed himself, before walking off.
-/\-
Dear Hibari-san, the file read as the very first line of the headnotes. This mission is extremely delicate. Powerful families are involved. Discretion is of the utmost importance. Please proceed with caution.
Hibari frowned at the warning. From the beginning, he had been expecting something complicated for this mission. Why else would the sometimes-carnivore send the silver-haired man along? Why else would they be here, out of contact, flying business and hiding under false names in this cramped apartment?
Grey eyes flicked to the top of the file, where the families expected to be encountered were listed. Vongola, Chiavarone…Costeggiare. He knew the name. It wasn't one of theirs.
"Costeggiare are like Hollywood pirates," Chiavarone had said, with a special sort of distaste as he said the name. Hibari remembered the sudden dip in inflection as the blonde spoke. "Flashy but no class. Unusual for an old family. They took in too many of their hired smuggling men as members some time back, maybe a few generations ago. Made the mistake of making one a captain recently. Their management was a disaster after that. Internal politics, very messy. I think they'd upset you, Kyouya!"
Chiavarone had tried to finish his paragraph lightly, but Hibari knew him a bit too well to believe him—that smile was a bit too much teeth and promise. Ah, Hibari had thought. They'd killed one of his. Hibari could understand that.
After that, Hibari opened a map, and with sweeping fingers Chiavarone had pointed out Costeggiare territory; large chunks of the south and west, as well as a section in the south-east.
"Central is mine, mostly," Chiavarone said with the distinct lack of arrogance that came from truth. "They used to go around, or at least be polite when crossing. We had an arrangement. Now though…" His cheeks puffed out with an exhale.
"You are ridiculous," Hibari had commented and Chiavarone laughed.
"Oh, Kyouya, only you would say that to the face of the most handsome mafia boss in the world."
Hibari's eyes flicked to the side, an echo of his response that day as well, then back down to his file.
Discretion is of the utmost importance; the neat, sans-serif font ran across the pages. Please proceed with caution. Hibari smiled, somewhere between grim and expectant as certain words from the summary caught his eye.
Profile influential persons. Evaluate strength. Take opportunities if available.
He uncapped his pen and began to make notes in the margins.
-/\-
The area around the flat he'd rented had quite a few amenities. A grocery store, some small restaurants, a post office and, though it wasn't within walking distance per say, a department store.
It truly was winter, and by five, it was dark enough to be the dead of night. Gokudera stepped out of the grocery store, juggling the various bags and his wallet only to fumble for his phone to check exactly how long he'd spent inside the store. It took a while for his jetlagged mind to remember that it couldn't possibly be midnight, because he'd signed for the key before three.
He'd hurried back, though he made sure to be careful, looking both ways before he jaywalked. He could just imagine the Tenth's face if he added that to his report and smiled to himself as he jabbed the lift button with his elbow. He managed the door to 4A somehow, and felt the warmth wash over his face.
"I'm back," Gokudera called as he took off his shoes. Silence. "Hey, are you there?"
Still no reply. Gokudera figured that Hibari was just being an ass and shrugged out of his coat. He dumped the bag of household items near the storeroom door and put the foodstuff on the counter before returning to the storeroom. He shelved his purchases and noted there was still no sign of the iron. Hibari, of course, was also nowhere to be seen.
Gokudera packed away the foodstuff, mildly regretting doing the other bags first as the condensation from the meats, the milk and the cheese left small pools of water in the bag and on the table. After packing dry food away in the cupboards and tucking a first aid kit under the sink, Gokudera stood with a sense of accomplishment.
His good mood made him start on dinner early, right after he'd made himself a cup of coffee, black with plenty of sugar. He boiled some spaghetti and was just starting to fry mincemeat with basil, garlic, tomatoes and plenty of olive oil before he felt the instinctive rise of danger turn fight and he whirled around, chopping knife in hand to see Hibari standing in the bedroom doorway observing him.
"What were you doing?" Gokudera asked, straightening and going back to his work, even as the nagging feeling that told him not to take his eyes off the man standing across the room persisted. The silence that followed was indignant, as much as Gokudera could tell from trying to douse the spaghetti in cold water and stir the mincemeat so it wouldn't become a huge slab.
Curiosity seemed to have gotten the better of his fellow guardian, though, and the dark haired man eventually ended up standing nearby, looking over Gokudera's arms to the stove.
"This is?" Hibari asked, after several long moments of staring at the pot.
"Pasta sauce," Gokudera answered. He thought it had turned out quite well. It wasn't anything near the odd purples and near-luminescent oranges of Bianchi's usual concoctions, so that could only be a good sign. Hibari nodded once. Taking a spoon from the drawer and rinsing it, Hibari dished out a little and blew on it before popping it in his mouth. He chewed, paused, swallowed slowly. Gokudera looked at him expectantly.
"Disgusting," Hibari said bluntly, washing the spoon. Disgusting? Well, good mood or no, Gokudera's pride wouldn't let him take that lying down.
"What, you think you can do better?" he challenged, pointing at Hibari with the wooden spoon he'd been using to stir the sauce.
Hibari did not deign to reply. He took his set of keys from the table and his coat from the hanger.
"Hey, where the fuck do you think you're going?" Gokudera demanded. Hibari glanced at him, then at the pot of pasta sauce, then looked away with what was obviously condescension as he put on his coat and changed to outside shoes.
"The hell is that supposed to mean!"
The door shut, and Gokudera chucked the spoon into the sink, cursing fluently. He'd done well, dammit. Would it kill the bastard to shut up, eat and be grateful that someone had spent time and effort cooking? The goddamn arrogance to actually tell him to his face that it was 'disgusting'… His cooking wasn't that bad! Just because his sister couldn't make anything in the kitchen except biohazards didn't mean shit. Surely it didn't warrant that…
Suddenly self-conscious, Gokudera tried the sauce himself. It tasted fine. Nothing to brag about, but not bad.
"More for me, then," Gokudera said to the empty flat. He ate on the sofa, his laptop in front of him and the TV running the news in the background. Eventually his laptop battery died on him and he took that as a sign to wash the dishes and clingwrap the remaining plate of pasta and chuck it in the fridge.
He plugged in his laptop to charge and took advantage of Hibari's absence to use the shower. The water took forever to heat up, which was far from amusing in the dead of winter. He was back on the sofa, towelling his hair dry when the door clicked open. Gokudera's hand went for the gun he'd left on the low table in front of him, just in case, but it was just Hibari.
"Welcome back," Gokudera said sarcastically. Hibari ignored him.
"You're welcome, bastard," Gokudera added. Hibari ignored that too. The Cloud guardian added some things to the fridge and cupboards, before walking over to the bedroom, still holding one bag. It was printed with the logo of the department store. Gokudera frowned, checking the time on his laptop. Again, it wasn't that late, just shy of eight o'clock.
"That store is three-quarters of an hour away by foot," Gokudera said. He took in Hibari's ruffled hair and came to a conclusion he didn't like very much very quickly.
"YOU STOLE A MOTORCYCLE?" Gokudera demanded.
"I put it back."
"That's not the point," Gokudera retorted. "We're undercover. What part of that don't you understand?"
Hibari then spoke the lengthiest statement that Gokudera had heard from him all day.
"I'm going to sleep. Wake me and I'll bite you to death."
-/\-
A/N: I somehow survived school and got this out on time! I apologise if this chapter is sloppy, I didn't go over it as much as I would have liked. I hope you've enjoyed this chapter. Please review if you did! I need all the encouragement I can get to do the next chapter. Polite concrit is welcome too, of course.
(In hobbit-style, I give you this chapter as a birthday present! Now, as humans, a great present would be a review hinthinthint, ahaha.)