Rule Three: There will be no offensive slurs hurled while Vongola Decimo is in the room. Not to his admittedly and proudly gay Mist Guardian. And especially not to his little brother.(Fuuta shows up in a dress. Because that's what Fuuta likes)

Hey Guys! This ones for the legalization of Gay marraige! I figured I'd shout out to the different spectrums of identity, sexuality, and gender! Enjoy!

Fuuta is thirteen. Tsuna is 22. Work it out if you have to, accept it if you don't!

...

Fuuta shows up to Tsunayoshi's wedding in a dress, because that's what Fuuta likes. Tsuna helped him pick it out and smiles at him when he twirls in the pretty sky blue dress and even jokingly kisses his white gloves. Tsuna had offered to get him a tiara put Fuuta had thought it to be over the top. Tsuna had smiled at him when he hesitantly said that and said, "Ah, of course! Wouldn't want you to outshine me at my own wedding! Kyoko would be inconsolable if that happened!"

So Fuuta shows up in a dress, minus a Tiara, and goes to stand by Tsuna's best man, Gokudera. He shows up in a dress, because that's what Fuuta likes.

The rest of the Mafia apparently does not get the memo.

For a moment, it's all alright. Fuuta watches as Reborn leads Kyoko down the aisle and tries not to remember the way she cried when she realized she didn't have a father to do it with (Kyoko and Ryohei's father had died a long time ago. Before Fuuta was even born). He watches I-pin gently toss out beautiful violet rose petals, her hair down in an elegant braid, adorned with flowers. And he cries when Tsuna breaks out into a wide, elated smile at Kyoko's "I Do" and kisses her before the priest says so.

They break for dinner and cake and dancing.

Fuuta has wandered away from his family in a happy daze and doesn't notice the invited mafia men sneering at him in disgust. He doesn't notice until they crowd around him, casting shadows over his surroundings.

He looks up at them demurely, trying to play his part, and crosses his hands at the wrist, delicately holding a clutch bag.

"May I help you," he says. He's mastered the art of looking down on someone with his words. Reborn taught him well.

One of the men in a red three piece suit, sneers and it looks almost audible. Like Fuuta can hear the distaste from that one curl of the lips.

"No you can't, Fag-boy." he sneers.

Fuuta looks at them blankly though his hands have begun to tremble the slightest bit. He tries to remember what Nii-san told him about trauma and PTSD. Trys to tell himself it's normal not to like confrontation, normal to shake after they years he'd spent on the run. He does this so he doesn't hyperventilate at how strange he's gotten, how strange he's always been.

He raises an eyebrow coolly, "Then why are you here?"

"We just want you to know that your kind ain't appreciated here," jibs one.

Fuuta smiles. "Well, considering it's my brother's wedding, I think I've very much appreciated here. Otherwise I wouldn't have gotten that pretty, gold-emblazoned invitation, hmm?"

One of the snorts. It's the one he's had his back to, so he shifts so he can see him. "What a shame you must be to him, ey? Tarnishing the Decimo's reputation with a fucking disgrace like you,"

"That's not-" Fuuta starts.

"Tis a shame the Decimo's to good and noble to tell ya how much of freak ya are and how much he don' want cha' here,"

"That-!"

"He must go around so ashamed of having this thing for a fucking brother, doncha think? This hellish walkin' sin!"

A lot more than Fuuta's hands are shaking now and he doesn't want to give them the satisfaction of seeing him cry but, he really can't help it. He knows it's not true but he can't help but feel that stabbing pain in his heart as he bows his head and lets the tears fall on his pretty white gloves.

Tsuna-nii had said he could come like this, didn't he…?

Of course, he'd bought the dress.

But he probably didn't want to right…? He just didn't want to hurt Fuuta's feelings. He probably really is ashamed.

The men jeer and laugh as Fuuta cries little droplets, clutching his purse and they feel on top of the world for putting this fag in his place.

Time for someone to knock them down.

They don't notice how the entire reception has gone silent, listening with an intensity that would frighten them away from saying anything like that if they knew. They don't notice the Guardian's clutching their wine glasses with bone white knuckles, rage plain as day in their eyes.

They don't notice.

But they can feel the hateful glare of Sawada Tsunayoshi on their necks. They can feel it.

They do notice him. They hear his dress shoes click on the floor in a slow, predatorial approach. But they don't think anything of it. They think the hate is for Fuuta, that the approach is for Fuuta. Poor little Fuuta who doesn't even realize his brother is stalking over.

It doesn't register until he's right behind him and shoving two of the men out of the way, in a rough, shoulder bruising way. The men stumble out.

Tsuna silently approaches the inside of the circle and carefully winds his arm around Fuuta's hunched, trembling shoulders. He wipes tears with his other hand and tilts Fuuta's face up.

"Your mascara is running," Tsuna comments. He pulls out a white handkerchief and hands it to Fuuta and he makes sure that Fuuta has stopped crying and sniffling by the time he faces the mafia men.

He turns slowly and the entire room feels the oppression under his gaze. His eyes are dark with hate and distaste and his mouth is set in this ugly little upticked thing that make him look ten times more upset. It might be the only thing about him that accurately expresses his distaste and utter hatred right now.

"Now," he says slowly, "What did you say to my brother?"

One man rushes to explain. " Vongola Decimo we-we were just talking to Fuuta about his dress, see-"

Red three piece snorts and mumbles "Talking about what a fucking disgrace he is wearing it,"

The temperature in the room drops and Tsuna's lips curl into a snarl.

In a blink he's got red suit by his tie, bending the tall man down to his level, and deliberately choking him.

"Now you listen and I pray to God you understand," he hisses, "My Fuuta is not a disgrace just because he's bigendered. My Fuuta is one of the greatest things I've ever had. And if you ever call him names or harass him again I'll personally drag out your bloody intestines and strangle you with them! Slowly."

The man swallows thickly and nods minutely, terrified. Tsuna slowly lets him go and straightens out his own suit, the mn scurries back, horrified.

He turns to face the room, filled with influence mafia members stunned into silence and slightly terrified.

"If any of you ever slurs insults at a member of my family- no anyone, I will know. You will be punished for this discrepancy dearly and severely," he says, "If I ever hear of one such incident I will do worse than make you eat your own spleen. I will do worse than kill you. I will do worse than torture you. Do you know what I will do?" he asks.

Tsuna smiles.

"I'll make sure you live long enough to suffer."

…..

Fuuta goes home in that dress holding new, ruby red shoes and toting a Tiara on his head given to him by a terrified Russian Mafia Prince. Then he asks Tsuna what he could possibly do to those people that just the threat of it could make them terrified. Tsuna smiles.

"I'd do anything to keep you safe, Fuuta. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. Anything," he says.

He then kisses Fuuta on the forehead and turns to watch the scenery pass by in the car, a dark smile toying at his lips.

"And they know that,"