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Here's two drabbles from the request meme! I can't really write 100-word drabbles, because... um, my genius cannot be contained to 100 words. Yeah, that's it. Or I just suck at it. So these are more like mini-ficlets. Hopefully I'll be able to finish a couple more tomorrow!

Requested by [livejournal.com profile] ang3l_sh1, who asked for MukuHiba domestic bliss. :D



Mukuro sat on the sofa in the set of rooms Hibari used when he stayed at Vongola headquarters, stirring cream and sugar into his coffee. The TV was on, sound low, and Mukuro didn't really pay attention to it, listening for any sound from the bedroom.

Hibari slept deeply when he could, dead to the world, and he hated being disturbed. Mukuro, on the other hand, slept lightly and little, as if he'd used up his store in that long ten-year nap. Sometimes when Mukuro got bored, he'd wake Hibari up purely to enjoy his anger and the fighting (or fucking) that followed, but last night he'd let Hibari sleep.

He had his own set of rooms, but they usually went unused. Mukuro didn't like the idea of settling down anywhere owned by the Mafia.

There were footsteps behind him, and then a hand reached over Mukuro's shoulder and took the cup of coffee from him. Mukuro did not sever hand from arm or eviscerate Hibari or even twitch, but let go of the cup instead. He turned just enough to see the disgusted expression on Hibari's face after he took a sip.

"Ugh," Hibari said, "it's too sweet," and Mukuro laughed and took the coffee cup back.

"There's more in the kitchen," Mukuro said, and Hibari shuffled over to the small kitchen, yawning. When allowed to wake up naturally, he was adorable, Mukuro thought. (Mukuro also thought he was adorable when in a rage after being woken up, though, and even when covered with blood in the middle of a fight.) He turned the sound on the morning news up and drank his coffee, watching a report on a mysterious dockside fire that had occured late the night before. A job well done, he thought, they'd disposed of all the bodies with plenty of time to spare and he hadn't even gotten his boots dirty.

"Why is there chocolate syrup all over the counter?" Hibari asked from the kitchen. "I'll kill you."

"Make me breakfast first," Mukuro said, and sipped his coffee.



And requested by [livejournal.com profile] violeteyedhair, TezuFuji and plantlife. If you give me another prompt I'll write you some MukuHiba too!



"That looks painful," Fuji said, leaning close to Tezuka. "You shouldn't stay out in the sun too long, you'll get all burnt like that." He smiled wickedly, and before Tezuka could say anything he touched Tezuka's red, sunburnt nose with the tip of his finger. Tezuka did not flinch, but he did frown.

Fuji ignored the frown. "You went fishing with your grandfather, right? You should wear a hat when you do that." He moved away from Tezuka, across his bedroom to where his plants sat on the windowsill.

Tezuka was silent for a moment. "I would look like Echizen." He was rather sure the young prodigy's style wouldn't suit him, and from the way Fuji laughed, he agreed.

"Or Sanada," Fuji said, "and then you'd have to duel over who got to keep the look." He seemed tickled by the idea as he walked back to Tezuka, something green - a leaf? - in his hands. "You know, you never get burnt when we're playing tennis. What did you do, fall asleep?"

Deciding not to answer that (he certainly had not, even if he wasn't entirely sure where a couple hours had gone yesterday - one could easily lose track of time while fishing), Tezuka looked instead at what Fuji held. "What are you doing?"

Fuji moved close again, brushed his finger against the broken end of the plant's leaf and touched the same finger to Tezuka's nose, spreading cool goop that soothed the irritating burn. "I don't only keep cacti, you know. It's aloe," he said, and smiled. "It helps, right?"

Tezuka nodded, thinking that Fuji's gentle hands might be helping a little, too. He already felt better.
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July 2011

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