Dsiclaimer: KHR belongs to Amano Akira.
A/N: ConCrit is appreciated, point out any mistakes I missed/made, and uh... check out my other fics?
Two men emerged from their respective places, stepping out of the cloak of darkness. If one had noticed them, they might have thought these men were otherworldly creatures; one with the night and invisible to all unless they wished to reveal themselves.
They fell into step with each other, leisurely strolling to a nearby café. Neither looked at the other.
It was only after they had occupied a booth, did the fairer of the two speak up.
"Your men have been causing a problem for mine. Just a few weeks ago, they messed up the agreement I had with a business partner."
The waitress came by to take their orders, and returned quickly with a cup of steaming hot espresso.
The black-haired man watched his companion sip the beverage, an expression of discontent on his face. "You should be thanking my men instead. They saved you from getting double-crossed by that untrustworthy scum."
The brunet put down his cup, delicately. "So you mean to say that you were doing it in my interests?"
Lips pulled back into a feral grin. "Hell no. We were contracted for it."
Brown eyes hardened, boring into apathetic crimson ones. "You should stop interfering with my plans. It isn't wise to incur my wrath."
The grin widened. "Since when did I give a shit about you, Sawada?"
Hazel eyes softened in resignation, and Tsuna exhaled slowly, deeply. "That's true," he admitted. Slender hands reached out for the cup, but were caught by larger, coarser hands.
"Tell me, when did you grow up and throw away your naïve beliefs?"
"What do you –"
"Come off it." Warm hands tightened painfully, threateningly. "Purchasing shipments of firearms, from our enemies, no less? I don't see you planning anything, Sawada, except perhaps for war. Weren't you against weapons, wanting to settle matters peacefully? What's so special about those shipments, that you must have them?"
The petite man's facial expression didn't change, other than pressing his lips together. He wrenched his hands away, finally giving in to his ire and glaring at the taller Italian.
"What I do is none of your business, Xanxus. For your information, those were going to be given to my men, as a means of self-defence. Mainly because you don't keep your subordinates on a tight leash."
The scarred man looked amused at his outburst. "Is that so."
The skinny male frowned, looking away for his wallet. He placed a bill on the table and gathered his stuff. "Well, I asked you out today to see if we could come to an agreement. Evidently, we can't."
"I would rather not waste time defending against you, but it seems I have no choice. I'll see you around, Xanxus."
He was about to walk away from the table, when the other man gruffly said, "You forgot something."
The tanned man was holding up a small microphone. One that had been hidden under his cuff. As the sienna haired male watched, the jet-haired man crushed the device and scattered its remains carelessly onto the table.
"Let's get this clear, Sawada. The rest of the trash under you may believe your crap about using firearms for self-defence against a hostile Varia. But I'm not an imbecile like them, and I know you're planning something. You would know when the independent assassination squad of Vongola had been assigned a hit, even if you could do nothing about it. You've made an elaborate plan to frame the Varia and call me out to talk, and I've played along as you wanted. So come clean right now, before I lose my patience and blow your head off."
They stared evenly at each other, then Tsunayoshi inclined his head once.
"Thank you. A short warning and a plea: Beware the Millefiore."
The Vongola Decimo abruptly swept out of the café, leaving the Varia boss to stare at his retreating back, an inscrutable look in his eyes.