When Hayato had agreed to become part of Tsuna’s clan, he hadn’t expected to be spending much time in Tsuna’s own company. The clan lord would obviously, he’d thought, have better things to do than meet in person with a scruffy little dhampir. It appeared, though, that Tsuna liked his news first hand, and so it was that Hayato found himself sitting in that arm chair across from his new lord at least once a week.
And Tsuna’s rooms might be nice and warm, but it still gave Hayato the shivers.
“So, both Belphegor and Rasiel were out that night, hm?” Tsuna paced slowly beside his chair, eyes distant. “I think perhaps Xanxus isn’t as much under Byakuran’s control as he would prefer.” Tsuna focused on Hayato again and smiled. “I’m impressed you spotted them.”
Hayato stomped hard on a blush. He was not one of Shamal’s fluttery girlfriends and he did not blush for pity’s sake. “They were concentrating on fighting each other; they didn’t take much care to conceal themselves.”
“Nevertheless.” Tsuna rested his fingers on Hayato’s shoulder. “Few would look beyond their own hunger, when feeding, to notice who they were.”
Hayato swallowed. The mention of feeding made him remember the way his… his… his dinner companions leaned against him when he drank, and that reminded him of his faintly guilty curiosity over how it felt and why they did it, and, as always in Tsuna’s presence, that made him wonder what it would be like. And that made him, once again, have to grab hold of his never to be sufficiently damned human hormones and try to stuff them back in their box before Tsuna noticed. Which was probably a lost cause, but Tsuna had been forbearing enough not to press the issue so far.
Cool fingers lifted to touch his throat lightly, making him gasp. “And are you well fed now?” Tsuna murmured.
Only it looked like his dispensation might have run out tonight. He’d been half expecting it for weeks, when Tsuna looked at him with that tiny glint of speculation behind the sympathy. “Boss,” he said, husky, unable to meet the dark gaze above him.
“Are you willing to share with me?” Tsuna asked softly, and Hayato swallowed, remembering the times he’d listened to that question be asked, the few times he’d had the nerve to ask it himself.
“I’m half-blood,” the last gasp of his sanity drove him to protest. Vampires might kill other vampires, but they didn’t drink from them. Unless they were watchers and he wasn’t thinking about that, damn it.
“That means you’re both, not that you’re neither.” Tsuna’s smile showed just a hint of his fangs, as was mannerly when asking for a meal, and that stunned Hayato; Tsuna was really serious about this. “So?”
Hayato closed his eyes; he refused lie to himself about how much he wanted even this kind of belonging, no matter how ridiculous that was, or had seemed right up until now, and it was obviously pointless to lie to Tsuna. “Please.”
Tsuna’s slender fingers ran up his throat to his chin and effortless strength tipped Hayato’s head back. Tsuna’s lips brushed Hayato’s once and moved down the line of his jaw, slow and gentle. Hayato was tense, breathing in quick gasps, and Tsuna’s lips moved against his skin as he murmured, “I won’t leave you. Relax.” The sound Hayato made was uncomfortably close to a whimper, and Tsuna’s fingers combed through his hair, slow and soothing. Tsuna’s knee slid up onto the chair beside him, caging Hayato under the slim arch of his body and Hayato jerked up against him, breathless, at the delicate prick of fangs on his throat.
Hayato was nearly writhing in the chair with the slow, light nip of Tsuna’s teeth up and down his throat, never quite breaking skin. He couldn’t tell whether Tsuna was teasing him or marking him, and oh god he shouldn’t have thought that because the idea of walking around marked by Tsuna’s fangs made him harder than he’d ever been before in his life.
“There, that’s better.”
Hayato took a few seconds to understand the words, and then it didn’t matter because Tsuna finally bit down properly. Heat struck straight through the core of him and he couldn’t even form the thoughts “sharp” or “ow” because all he could feel was the way Tsuna’s teeth in his throat held him, the slow surge of thrill and sweetness when Tsuna sucked.
Now he understood why the people who came to the clubs did it. It was incredible. It was just on the edge of bearable, and it went on and on, sensation like a blood-starved limb waking up, so intense that he couldn’t tell if it was pleasure or pain, only feel it.
When Tsuna finally let him go he felt wrung out, too dazed to speak. He let Tsuna settle him back in the chair, feeling the faint throb where he’d been bitten.
Tsuna smiled down at him. “I like the taste of you.”
Hayato could feel his face getting hot.
“Both,” Tsuna reminded him. “You live in both worlds. That is one of the things I value in you.” His fingertips brushed the bite and Hayato shivered, lips parting.
“Rest,” Tsuna told him and kissed his forehead.
“Yes, boss,” Hayato managed, before lethargy and the overstuffed cushions of the chair sucked him down into drowsing. The thought meandered through his mind that he’d shared blood both ways now. Vampire and human.
He eased down in the chair, liking that thought, and Tsuna’s soft laugh followed him into sleep.
The Return of the Vampire…
There was always the risk, when the doorbell rang after dark these days, that it would be another thrilling moment of flight come calling, so Hayato was already scowling when he opened the door. It was good to get off on the right foot. What stood there tonight wasn’t an invitation to airsickness, but the scowl didn’t go to waste.
It was Yamamoto.
“You have a lot of goddamn nerve,” Hayato growled after a moment. “After all this time with no word unless, oh yeah, I watch for the trail of vampires only an idiot would look for, now lying around in scattered soggy bits! Email is faster, you know! Asshole.” It wasn’t anywhere near his best reaming out ever, he hadn’t had much of a run-up, but it was definitely heartfelt.
Yamamoto just nodded. “Can I come in?”
Hayato told himself he wasn’t going to be that much of an idiot. He told himself Yamamoto obviously didn’t need any of his help any more, and he was probably twice as crazy as before. Watchers usually were. He was going to close this door and go back to the life he’d scraped together for himself after the last time he was stupid enough to get involved with Yamamoto Takeshi.
“Yeah.” He turned his back, leaving the door open. “Go ahead.”
…And What Happened After
“Well?” Hayato asked, voice flat as he stalked down the hall and into the kitchen to finish making his tea. “I don’t imagine you just dropped by to calm my concerns about your continued life, undeath and health.”
Yamamoto sighed faintly. “I’m sorry.”
Hayato turned around at that, and stared at him. “You… what?”
“I shouldn’t have assumed you were like Byakuran’s people,” Yamamoto said, and promptly ruined the apology by adding, “Even if you were going around drinking blood.”
“Excuse me.” Hayato’s eyes narrowed. “Unless I’m very mistaken indeed, you now ‘go around drinking blood’ yourself, so just be careful whose eating habits you start getting all high and mighty about.”
“Mm.” Yamamoto’s eyes were dark and distant for a moment, and Hayato shoved down a shiver. He’d known already that Yamamoto wasn’t very well going to be coming back after Hibari got a hold of him. “Anyway.” Yamamoto focused on him again. “I did want to see you.”
“Why?” Gokudera demanded, arms crossed.
Yamamoto shifted, hands stuffed in his pockets. “To ask if you’d have dinner with me.”
Gokudera blinked, and his first thought was that that was ridiculous, Yamamoto couldn’t drink from humans, and the appearance of a young watcher in one of the clubs would cause absolute chaos. Then his brain caught up. “You what?”
Yamamoto ran a hand through his hair, lingering at the back of his head. For a moment he looked so like the old Yamamoto, smiling and sheepish and thoughtlessly determined, that it took Hayato’s breath away. “Kyouya wants to, um, introduce me to Tsuna, but I kind of wanted to eat with someone I knew first.”
“That hasn’t seemed to trouble you a whole lot until now.” Hayato’s voice sounded a little weak in his own ears. It was just the moment of shock, he told himself.
“Well, that was different.” Yamamoto didn’t say how it was different, and that, too, was Yamamoto all over. Hayato scrubbed his hands over his face.
“Why me, though?” he asked, muffled.
“Well,” Yamamoto said slowly, “I guess because you’re a friend.”
Hayato knew right then he’d lost the argument. “Friend, huh?” he managed to snap. “You always leave your friends totally in the dark for months on end?”
Yamamoto was just watching him. “This is the first time I’ll feed from someone I’m not killing.”
Hayato stared at him, incredulous. Yamamoto clearly had not the tiniest inkling of manners or couth or the right fucking moment; some things apparently never changed. “Is it? That’s nice.” Hayato leaned against the kitchen counter and muttered, “I’ve got to be fucking crazy.” And Yamamoto was suddenly right there, and Hayato hadn’t even heard him move.
“Yes?” he asked, one hand sliding around Hayato’s back and drawing him closer.
“You know this might not actually work, right?” Hayato asked, a little uneven. “I mean… half-blood, right?”
“You’re vampire enough to need human blood,” Yamamoto pointed out, perfectly logical if you ignored the way his eyes were fixed on Hayato’s throat.
A tiny part of Hayato was laughing hysterically; first he was human enough to feed Tsuna and now he was vampire enough to feed a watcher? After all these years of being neither, the irony was killing him. Not that Yamamoto compared to Tsuna in any way, especially considering the stunning lack of subtlety with which a lot of the vampires of Byakuran’s clan had been strewn over the landscape with parts ripped off lately. Which reminded him.
He set a hand on Yamamoto’s chest and pushed him back a bit, and tried to ignore the distinct feeling that it only worked because Yamamoto let him. “That Hibari had better have taught you decent table manners,” he said sternly.
Yamamoto cocked his head, considering. “I think so.”
“How wonderfully reassuring,” Hayato grumbled. “If you spit, I’m going to punch you. Okay, fine, fine, yes I’m willing to share.”
It was neither the old Yamamoto nor the crazy Yamamoto who looked down at him, two fingers running down the line of his neck, and said quietly, “Thank you.”
“Yeah.” Hayato’s voice was husky. “All right.”
He shivered as Yamamoto tipped his head back, hands closing tight in Yamamoto’s shirt as lips moved over his throat, tracing a vein unerringly. A low, wordless sound left him on a breath as Yamamoto bit down, swift and sharp, and Yamamoto made a soft, inquiring noise. Hayato couldn’t actually answer, so he just leaned into Yamamoto and moaned a little as an arm came around him and held him up. He was used to the way Tsuna’s power, carried on the very scent of him, folded around him when Tsuna fed, but this was different. Yamamoto burned in his senses, sharp and wild, and the movement of his mouth on Hayato’s throat was more demanding, more raw. It made heat tighten down on Hayato like a vise, heat that surged up and up until it unstrung Hayato’s very bones, and the sounds he made turned broken with his panting.
When Yamamoto finally took his mouth away Hayato could barely stand, with the fiery echo of sensation still rolling through him.
It did finally penetrate that they were still standing in the middle of his kitchen, and he managed to smack Yamamoto on the shoulder. “Thought you said you’d been taught manners,” he said hoarsely.
“Was that wrong?” Yamamoto’s fingers stirred in Hayato’s hair and he shivered softly.
“Not… not wrong.” A breath. “Just gauche. Should have expected that, I guess.” He managed to lift his head and declare, “Next time, we are using the bedroom.”
Yamamoto smiled, and if there was an edge of satiation and a definite glint in Yamamoto’s eyes Hayato was too drained to excoriate him for it properly. Later. “All right.”
“All right, then.”
After a moment of quiet Yamamoto said, “You taste good.”
Hayato gave up. He leaned his head on Yamamoto’s shoulder and laughed, wobbly and breathless. “All right, fine. Maybe we can have dinner again some time.”
Hayato growled at that, but let Yamamoto steer him toward the couch and bring the tea over. “Glad you’re back,” he muttered into his cup.
Yamamoto smiled that new smile again, the one that made Hayato have to swallow.
Two to Three Servings Daily
Hayato knew he was in trouble when Tsuna stopped in the middle of giving instructions and frowned at him.
“Hayato, how long has it been since you last ate?”
Hayato shook off the tiny bit of fog he’d been in, only a tiny bit really, and protested, “I ate just the other day!”
Tsuna’s frown was joined by a wry tilt to his mouth. “I see. And when, exactly, did Takeshi last visit you?”
Hayato cleared his throat, eyes sliding away from the glint in Tsuna’s. “Um. Well. Last night.”
Tsuna sighed. “Haru,” he murmured, “I don’t wish to impose, but if you could do us both the favor…?”
Haru had her hands on her hips and was looking sternly at Hayato already. “Well of course!” She linked her arm though Hayato’s and towed him off to the far corner of the room, scolding him the whole time. “Honestly, Gokudera-kun, you never take enough care of yourself. You have to eat right!” She positively shoved him down onto a small couch and he told himself he only let her because he was being nice, not because his knees were a bit shaky. “I bet you don’t even have your knife on you!” She plumped herself down on his lap, rummaging through her purse. “Here, now.” She pulled out a small, plastic case of razor blades and plucked one out, briskly nicking her wrist.
“Whoa, whoa, hey!” Hayato caught her wrist as blood dripped down, lapping at it quickly. “Don’t go around wasting that, it’s important stuff.”
Haru laughed and snuggled comfortably against him, sighing as his lips closed properly over the little slice. “I know.”
Hayato wanted to make sure she knew he meant it was important to her, not just to him, but he couldn’t quite draw his mouth away from the taste of her to do it. He knew he was probably still in trouble, that Tsuna would likely scold him for being careless, but right now the whole world was Haru’s pulse and the living heat of her blood shared between them.
Hunter and Hunted
Hayato had never worried about drunks when he wandered the human parts of town after dark. Half-blood or not, and however delicate he looked, he was more than strong enough to deal with any little annoyances. Walking the vampire parts of town, on the other hand, still had its risks when Lambo wasn’t with him.
“Filthy half-blood.” The vampire standing in front of him wasn’t swaying and wasn’t slurring his words, but he was obviously blood-drunk anyway. Hayato hooked his finger through the pin of a flash grenade and judged his distance coolly.
The cool wavered a bit when a second vampire faded out of the shadows, but this one put a hand on the first’s shoulder. “Don’t bother. That one is tied up with the Vongolas.” Too-bright eyes flicked over Hayato, dismissive and wary at the same time. “And he’s that new watcher’s prey. Not worth it.”
“No accounting for taste,” the drunk snarled, but let himself be tugged off, and Hayato relaxed a little.
“Maybe I should eat them tonight.”
Only to nearly jump out of his skin when Yamamoto’s voice came from behind him. “Fuck, are you trying to give me a heart attack?!” And then the fact that Yamamoto was apparently shadowing him some nights came together with what the vampires had said, and he glared at Yamamoto for all he was worth. “And does the entire world now know I’m having dinner with you?”
“Well, you are.” Yamamoto sounded reasonable enough, but he also reached out and pulled Hayato firmly against him. His next words were low and intent. “You’re mine.”
Hayato banged his head against Yamamoto’s shoulder a few times and reminded himself strenuously that for all his apparent control Yamamoto was still a very young vampire with instincts still screaming in his ears at top volume.
Yamamoto’s fingers touching his hair were light, though, and his voice turned just a little hesitant as he asked, “You are, aren’t you?”
Hayato sighed, defeated by that tone. “Yeah,” he muttered. And he would deny until the day he died the warmth that thought lodged in his chest. He had a dark suspicion Yamamoto could smell it, though, because he made a satisfied sound.
“Where were you going?” Yamamoto finally asked.
“Downtown. For dinner.”
“Okay.” Yamamoto let him go and smiled faintly. “I’ll watch.”
Hayato opened his mouth to protest that pathetic excuse for a pun, but Yamamoto was already gone, at least to his senses. “Smartass,” he said anyway, pretty sure Yamamoto would hear it, and turned back down the street.
And tried really hard to ignore the heat at the idea of Yamamoto watching over him.
Double Your Pleasure
Everyone knew that Tsuna had impeccable manners, and Hayato had had plenty of evidence over time that he was no exception to them in Tsuna’s eyes. It could still fluster him a little, though, especially when Tsuna courted him for dinner. He certainly couldn’t deny how much he liked it, how good it felt to know his clan lord very definitely wanted him—to be kissed and charmed and settled gently back on Tsuna’s large, low couch—but he was usually flushed and shy by the time Tsuna bit down.
After that, of course, he was generally too busy with sensation to be flustered any more.
Tonight, though Tsuna had barely started to drink when he tensed and raised his head just a little. His voice was low and sharp as he said, “Hibari. I’m occupied tonight.”
“I see you are.”
Hayato flushed again, uncomfortable and embarrassed at having this moment seen and watched by Hibari of all people. Tsuna’s arms tightened around him, though, and he relaxed again, comforted. He gave himself to Tsuna when they did this, and Tsuna wanted him.
Hibari, predictably, sniffed. “Very well. Come along, then.”
“I’ll, um, catch up with you, okay?”
Hayato started, looking up, and sure enough that was Yamamoto with Hibari. Hibari was eyeing his fledgling with a dubiously raised brow. Yamamoto was only looking at Hayato.
“We need to educate your palate,” Hibari declared, sounding faintly disapproving, and vanished out the window.
“Kyouya,” Tsuna murmured, exasperated and affectionate, and added politely. “What was it you wished, Takeshi?”
Yamamoto took a slow step toward them. “Gokudera,” he murmured.
Hayato made a breathless sound as the weight of Tsuna’s power in his senses abruptly increased.
“Gokudera Hayato is one of my people,” Tsuna said, low and even. “I will not allow him to be harmed.”
“Boss,” Hayato managed, husky. “It’s all right.” His face turned hotter as Tsuna looked down at him, brows raised a little. “It’s… Please.” He was definitely crazy, but there it was; the idea of both of them feeding on him made him almost too hot to think.
“All right. If it’s what you wish.” Tsuna caught his chin and added firmly. “I still will not allow you to be harmed.”
That was just fine with Hayato, actually, and he breathed, “Yes, boss.”
Tsuna looked up and held out a courteous hand to Yamamoto. “If you care to join me, then.”
“Mmm.” Yamamoto settled down beside the couch. Long fingers stroked down Hayato’s throat, and he moaned softly as Tsuna’s tongue lapped at his bite, coaxing the blood to flow again. When Yamamoto leaned in and bit down on the other side, Hayato couldn’t hold back a sharp gasp, arching taut against the couch.
Two sets of arms closed around him, supporting him, and Hayato lay back in them, lax and panting. His senses spun as their mouths moved on his throat, and he shuddered and closed his eyes. The power of them was heavy in the room, pushing against each other, slowly building over him until he could hardly breathe. Their occasional, barely voiced growls plucked at his nerves with little twists of fire and thrill, and he moaned whenever a growl was followed by a sharp nip. He couldn’t even tell whose hands were stroking over him, because they were each just as possessive as the other.
And he belonged to both of them.
The thought pushed him over the edge, and he gasped, shuddering between them as an extra edge of pleasure washed through him. And again. And again. On and on, until he was crying out, half voiceless.
It was Tsuna who drew back and reached over him to press Yamamoto gently and firmly away. “Enough.”
Hayato lay in their arms, dazed and dizzy and wordless. Slowly their power concealed itself again, at least somewhat, and he managed to smile up at them. Yamamoto smiled back, the bared edge of hunting, of having, fading from his gaze. Tsuna kissed his forehead and reached for the side table. Hayato winced a little as small gauze pads were pressed to his throat; he was definitely going to be a bit sore after this.
“Are you all right?” Yamamoto murmured, starting to look just a little concerned and maybe a tinge guilty.
“Fine,” Hayato whispered, husky. “No, I’m good.” Really good. More than good, even.
“I know you want this,” Tsuna told him softly, “but you can’t do it often. Give me your word you’ll take care.”
Hayato was pretty sure he’d be blushing if he had the blood for it right now. “I promise.” Tsuna always saw right through him.
And Tsuna was giving Yamamoto a thoughtful look. “You are welcome here, this evening, if you wish to say with Hayato.”
“Of course. Yes, I mean, I’d like that.” Yamamoto gathered Hayato closer and Hayato caught Tsuna’s smile. There was some kind of maneuver or politics behind that, but if Yamamoto wanted to be possessive of Hayato he’d have to deal with Tsuna’s hand on the reins sooner or later.
The thought of getting to watch that kind of amused him.
Hayato wondered, sometimes, if he should just accept Tsuna’s offer of a place to stay, here in Tsuna’s house. He wound up sleeping here half the time anyway, when he’d been to report in, and tonight—he yawned as he trotted down the hall—was going to be no exception.
“Boss?” he called softly as he opened a door and slipped into Tsuna’s sitting room. “You wanted…”
He trailed off staring, because Yamamoto was kneeling beside Tsuna’s chair, head bent over Tsuna’s wrist as he drank.
It was entirely possible that Hayato shouldn’t be watching this. Shouldn’t be watching the way Yamamoto sat back on his heels, spine straight, the way his hands curved under Tsuna’s arm, the way his throat moved when he swallowed. But he couldn’t pull his eyes away. And when Tsuna looked up, eyes dark and half closed, he merely smiled and Hayato stood rooted to the spot by the sight of Tsuna wrapped in the lazy heat of being fed from.
Finally Yamamoto drew back and straightened. “Thanks,” he murmured, and the satisfied purr in his voice made Hayato shiver.
“You are welcome.” Tsuna laughed softly. “And so are you, Hayato.”
“Oh.” Yamamoto turned his head. “It was you.”
Hayato firmly suppressed the warmth at the thought that Yamamoto noticed his presence through the haze of feeding and stepped further into the room. “Yeah. I was going to report in tonight.”
“Hmm.” The speculative hum sent another shiver down Hayato’s spine, and somehow he wasn’t surprised when Yamamoto came to him and drew him in close. He tipped his head back with a gasp as Yamamoto’s lips brushed down his jaw, hands spreading against Yamamoto’s chest.
“No, Takeshi.” Tsuna’s voice slid between them like a blade, and Yamamoto looked up, frowning. “You have no need of more tonight,” Tsuna told him inflexibly, “and Hayato is still in his recovery time.”
Yamamoto’s hands tightened on Hayato and a faint growl rose in his throat. Tsuna’s mouth quirked, more amused than threatened, and Hayato wondered for the umpteenth time exactly how strong his boss was.
“You don’t need to draw blood just to mark your territory, you know.”
The growl faded and Yamamoto looked down at Hayato with a suddenly speculative light in his eyes.
“Um,” Hayato started, husky, only to break off on a moan as Yamamoto bent his head and the points of his teeth closed on Hayato’s throat, holding him sharp and sure. Up and down his throat those teeth moved, biting without penetrating, only promising. Only leaving Yamamoto’s mark on him. Some other time Hayato would have to try to be indignant about that, but right now he just hung on to Yamamoto’s shoulders and shuddered with the heat curling down every nerve.
By the time Yamamoto stopped it was a very good thing he was holding Hayato up, because Hayato’s knees sure weren’t going to. Hayato made a protesting sound, though, when Yamamoto let him slip down into one of the soft armchairs. “That’s it?” He aimed a swat at Yamamoto and glared when it was dodged. “You fucking tease! You’re just going to leave me to die of blueballs, is that it?” Which was not actually that much of an exaggeration, and he shifted a little uncomfortably.
Yamamoto slid a thoughtful glance at Tsuna, who was still sitting with his arm curled up and a cotton pad pressed to his wrist. Tsuna gave him a stern look back. Yamamoto looked thoughtful for another moment and then pleased.
“Well, if that’s the problem.” He sank down between Hayato’s knees, fingers busy undoing Hayato’s pants.
Hayato stared, stunned. He wasn’t really going to… Disbelief evaporated in the leap of his pulse as Yamamoto’s fingers curled around his cock. “Yamamoto…!” His eyes flicked up to Tsuna, watching them with a tiny smile, and then Yamamoto’s mouth closed on him, hot and wet and so very good Hayato just sank back with a moan.
The slow, wet slide made him shudder and when the edge of Yamamoto’s fangs brushed against him it brought him up half out of the chair. And there was something very familiar about this, about the feeling of Yamamoto’s mouth moving on his cock. It was… Hayato’s eyes widened. It was the same way Yamamoto’s mouth moved on his throat, and the wild rush of heat at that thought nearly made him scream. His hands clenched on Yamamoto’s shoulders as pleasure raked through him over and over and left him absolutely limp.
Too limp to bawl out Yamamoto properly for the smug look on his face when he sat up and tucked Hayato back away, which was a shame. Hayato made a slightly light-headed note for later. He seemed to do that a lot with Yamamoto.
“Better?” Yamamoto asked brightly, in one of those flashes of his old self that always made Hayato’s chest try to squeeze.
“I suppose so,” he said as forbiddingly as he could manage while sprawled back in the chair and still panting.
“Good.” Yamamoto finished fastening him up and stood, nodding quite calmly to Tsuna before he strolled out onto the veranda and vanished.
Tsuna looked awfully pleased about something, and frankly Hayato didn’t think it was because of the view; that would have been too simple.
“What,” Hayato finally managed, “was that all about?”
Tsuna waved a hand. “Watchers tend to be quite territorial.”
Which was pretty rich coming from a vampire. Or possibly just pretty scary. And it didn’t explain everything. “And?” Hayato asked quietly.
Tsuna smiled at him. “And I am making sure that Hibari’s fledgling is raised with better manners than Hibari himself. I’m sure you’ve noticed that he’s a bit rough around the edges.”
His boss had a positive genius for understatement, Hayato reflected. “Was he an orphan?”
Tsuna folded his hands, looking down at them. “In a way, I suppose he was. He wasn’t exactly turned unwillingly, but he never did get along with his progenitor at all. He and Mukuro fight whenever they meet, and always have.” His smile showed his fangs fully. “It appears to be a source of some entertainment to both of them. Mukuro says that’s why he turned Hibari in the first place.”
Hayato considered the degree of respect Tsuna’s show of teeth indicated, applied the principle of understatement to his words, and concluded that it would be terminally unwise for Hayato to dispute this Mukuro’s version of events if they ever met. “I see.”
Tsuna’s smile warmed and gentled. “Yes, I’m sure you do. You see many things clearly.” He stood and was beside Hayato’s chair in that unthinking flicker of speed he let show when he was in private and relaxed. His fingers ran through Hayato’s hair. “Go sleep, now. You can tell me what you’ve found in the morning.”
Hayato flushed. “Yes, boss.”
All right, so, clearly it was going to be a bit of a juggling act, letting himself be fed on by both Tsuna and Yamamoto. He didn’t actually think he’d trade in a second of it, though.
"I really don’t see how you can abide feeding on him. Human blood tastes dreadful."
Hibari was at it again, and Hayato glared at him over his orange juice, hunching down a bit further into his chair.
"Gokudera isn’t human," Yamamoto pointed out. "I like how he tastes."
"As do I, I must say," Tsuna put in, smiling at Hibari with his teeth hidden, which Hayato swore he sometimes did just to provoke Hibari. "He has a very pleasant spicy taste."
Yamamoto looked interested. "Really? I think he has a really light taste."
Gokudera put a hand over his eyes; he couldn’t believe he was actually hearing this.
"Perhaps that’s not surprising." Tsuna looked thoughtful. "Vampire blood rather burns the mouth of another regular vampire, which I suspect contributes to his taste to me. And the human elements of his blood would make the flavor lighter to a watcher."
Actually, Gokudera could perfectly well believe he was hearing this from Yamamoto the Clueless. What he couldn’t believe was that Tsuna was egging him on.
Hibari’s lip curled as he looked at his fledgling. "So you like bland food."
"I am not bland!" Gokudera finally burst out, at the same time Yamamoto said, "Stop being a snob, Hibari-san."
Gokudera swore he was never accepting an invitation to a vampire dinner party ever again.