Present time…

He wakes up, amazingly, on the couch; something that hasn't happened since he was nine – it almost makes him sad… wait, no, he did not have that thought! Not so amazingly, Reborn's already gone. Seven minutes later, Lambo is out hunting for him, clean and dressed.

He comes across the bar Reborn always goes to for visiting his contacts and Lambo rests against the outer wall – he's still not old enough to go in.

It is three hours before Reborn saunters out. He doesn't even look at Lambo as he begins his way down the street, heading in the opposite direction from the hotel. Lambo, just as quietly, follows.

When Reborn enters a more seedy looking club, Lambo sighs and leans against the wall again; he knows one thing for sure: blood is about to spill because Reborn would never stoop so low to go into such a dirty place of his own will.

As he thought, screams begin from within; three minutes after Reborn goes in, everyone's rushing out after one of the pimps is shot in the head (though he knows that, later on, it's going to be claimed no one heard a gun, which won't be a lie). Four minutes later, Reborn and Lambo are on a completely different street, three dead men left behind them.

Reborn simply does not negotiate with bad guys; poor Tsuna.

Lambo balances along the edge of a fountain, staring down at all the shiny coins as he waits in his boredom for Reborn to finish dissembling and then hiding the gun used for the kills.

Even if someone manages to find it and reassemble it, they would never be able to trace it back to the Vongola; it's just best to take precautions.

When Reborn walks nonchalantly pass him, Lambo leaps off of the fountain and follows. It's around lunch, so he's pretty sure they should be heading back to the hotel, but they're not.

He follows with curiosity now; is the job not done?

They end up heading for a restaurant and Lambo sighs. Does Reborn have a date? He refuses to acknowledge how his heart shudders at the thought; it had always done that when Reborn went on a date or a lover of his was mentioned in any way, but now it has a completely new meaning from just not liking his archrival in a relationship. Ever since that time, everything suddenly seems so intimate.

When he goes to stop outside the gates, Reborn turns around and crooks a finger at him. "Don't stop following there."

Lambo blinks, but does as told, wearily tracking the hitman as they enter the dully lit, warm settings. It feels like home: Only Italy can get an Italian restaurant right.

The waitress sees them coming and leads them instantly to a table out of sight. She asks them what they would like for the afternoon and they both make an order (Reborn wants an espresso to go with his and Lambo wants milk). She walks away and leaves the two men in silence.

Lambo stares out of the window; it looks like it's going to storm heavy. The sky is so dark and cloudy, it looks like night. There's a flash of lightning and he feels himself tensing and then relaxing with each strike. There are bad memories and good memories tied to those flashes of lights; like his first fight is a really bad memory, while the first time he won a fight using lightening is a very good memory.

He tenses when he hears the rumble and then relaxes when he sees the flash. This goes on in silence, Reborn's head tilted down as if he could be staring at the table.

The waitress returns with their beverages and then leaves again; she doesn't say a word, as if she knows that the silence can not be broken.

Tense… relax… tense… relax… tense… relax… The lightning is beautiful; like a moving painting that has no artist but life itself.

By the time their lunch arrives, they still haven't spoken a word. Lambo has his full harvest salad and Reborn his…

Lambo pales and looks away; stingy Reborn, he had to have done that on purpose. Because before Reborn on a platter is…mushroom veal marsala… veal… cow…

That bastard.

"Do you have a problem with my lunch?" Reborn is staring directly at him, fork at the ready.

Lambo looks down and away. "You did that on purpose."

The hitman smirks. "Do you suppose that it's your brother?" He takes a bite of the meat and chews slowly; Lambo swears he's taunting him. "He tastes good." He wishes Reborn was a messy eater just so he could find some fault with what he was doing aside from the obvious, but Reborn doesn't let slip a drop of the sauce, nor does he hog his food. He simply takes his time.

Lambo stabs his salad, wishing it were something else completely… like, who knows… a head? A very certain head? He glares at the leaves.

A fork sneaks onto his plate and his head jerks up to watch as Reborn eats it. He could have sworn that Reborn had been eating slowly, but… his plate is empty now; devoid of all but a mislead trail of sauce.

He slaps away Reborn's head. "No!"

Reborn smirks and eats the fork full he has. "You have to defend your food." He nabs at Lambo's plate again and succeeds.

Lambo growls and waits for the next time; when it happens, he grabs Reborn's wrist and holds, smacking the fingers like a mother would the hand of a disobedient child. "No!" He holds the hand away as he takes a bite of his own food. He glares petulantly at the smug Reborn as he does so.

Reborn, with one flick of the wrist, has Lambo's hand in his instead of vice versa. He holds it, feathering his thumb over the back of it. He brings it up to his mouth and kisses each knuckle, his eye glinting with some hidden agenda.

Lambo flushes darkly and can only stare. He continues to eat his food, but he doesn't taste it. When he looks back down (finally), his plate is empty.

Reborn smirks and drops his hand, leaning back into his chair. A moment later, the waitress returns; she takes their empty plates and their orders for desserts.

The storm outside is raging, pelting the glass window hard enough that it sounds like it might break. Each flash of lightning that strikes lights up the sky until it hurts to look. Each clash of thunder makes him jump in his seat.

He only look back at the hitman when he hears a soft chuckle. The man has his chin lowered, his face hidden by the shadow of his fedora. His hands are folded together, his elbows on his thighs as he leans forward; he leans back and throws an arm behind himself.

Lambo feels himself begin to move. His chair scrapes the ground as it slides towards Reborn; it stops when their thighs nearly touch. Lambo looks down just in time to watch a loafer clad foot release a leg of his chair. And yes, still, Reborn is ignoring him, as if Lambo just so happened to have gotten there.

That stingy bastard.

The waitress comes back and makes no comment on how they have moved closer together. She puts down the espresso flan in front of Reborn and the Italian hot chocolate in front of Lambo before she sets a plate of Romeo's kisses in the middle.

Lambo blinks. "Signorina, ( - Miss,)" He begins softly. "mi dispiace, ma non ci siamo per questi. ( - I'm sorry, but we didn't order these.)"

She smiles happily. "E 'sulla casa per essere così sgargiante nella vostra sessualità, il nostro capo è anche gay e noi tutti lo amo molto, in modo da fare tutto il possibile per sostenerlo. ( - It's on the house for being so flamboyant in your sexuality; our boss is also gay and we all love him dearly, so we do what we can to support him.)"

"Grazie per loro. ( - Thank you for them.)" Reborn offers her that drop-dead-gorgeous smile and she flushes darkly.

There's a gun to Lambo's gut if he dare say anything about them not being a gay couple. That evil, clever, bastard.

He forces himself to smile as he tries to, very carefully, wrap his hand around the gun and pull it away from his belly. "Sembrano deliziosi. ( - They look delicious.)" She beams and struts away; Lambo waits until she's out of hearing range. "Please take your Beretta away from my gut." It digs into his hip.

"And if I don't?" His deep, dark voice whispers into the guardian's ear. The gun begins moving down and –

"GAH!" Lambo's body jerks and he bends over the table, biting his bottom lip as tears flood from both eyes. "Aaaahh…" The muzzle rubs into his sensitive inner thigh. It's right next to his manhood. "R-Reborn… no-ooooohh…" He breathes each word, throwing his head back and bucking his hips into the assault.

A hand whispers up his throat and grasps his jaw. "What an erotic voice…" He chuckles sensually. "You have been hiding this from me all of these years? Naughty cow."

A romeo's kiss is taken from the basket and slipped between Lambo's parted lips. He tastes chocolate and fresh pastry.

"Eat your dessert." The gun disappears completely and Reborn leans back into his own seat.

Lambo, panting and very bothered, stares with wide – eyed shock at the hitman. Reborn slips a finger under his jaw and tips it up, shutting his mouth. He begins eating his espresso flan, ignoring Lambo yet again.

Lambo picks up his hot chocolate with trembling hands; he manages to sip a bit – "HOT!" The cup nearly falls onto the table, but he manages to set it down without spilling it before his hands jerk at the sudden and biting pain.

His tongue is burnt now, but at least his problem is gone. He swears, out of the corner of his eye, he sees Reborn smirk. That evil, stingy, clever, dastardly bastard – he is really going to have to kill him one of these days.