Disclaimer: i do not own khr or any of its characters. also, i freakin love mojitos

Warnings: alcohol and terrible fathers don't mix well

In forbidden spirits

Chapter 1

"Refill, Young Master?"

Tsuna flinches at the sudden accented voice behind him, even as he recognises it immediately. Camilo waves an opened bottle in the direction of Tsuna's empty champagne flute with a huge grin on his face.

Tsuna smiles back at him, subtly pulling his glass away from the man's reaching hand.

"Sure, but open a new bottle for me?"

Camilo's grin doesn't lose even a fraction of its radiance.

"But Young Master, this is a new bottle! It's full, isn't it?"

"It is. It's also spiked."

Camilo gasps, covering his mouth in mock indignation. "I am an innocent man, Young Master! A professional! I would never do such a thing!"

"Uh-huh. In that case you won't mind opening a new bottle for my peace of mind, right?"

He pauses for a moment, then lets out a warm, bellowing laugh.

"Hey, Ricario! Toss me another Young Master's Speciality, will ya?!" he shouts across the hall.

Ricario, the bartender's assistant fumbles with something under the counter. Then a bottle is sent flying over people's heads. Camilo catches it without even watching and immediately opens the new bottle with a small elegant opener.

"Is this more to your taste, Young Master?"

"Absolutely." Tsuna finally lets his glass be filled with light golden liquid.

"Can't fool you, can I, Young Master?"

Tsuna shakes his head. "Why do you keep trying? You know I can tell if you mess with my drink."

"Because—"

Ricario shouts something in Italian, too fast for Tsuna to follow.

"Ah, duty calls." He smiles again, a bit softer, less mischievous now. "Young Master, you are amongst friends and family tonight. You can let loose and have fun, too. Perhaps the Old Lion will calm down then, too."

He leaves Tsuna alone with a last wave over his shoulder.

Tsuna sighs, leaning against the nearest wall and takes a sip of lemonade.

He's been trying to tell people that he really doesn't like alcohol. Didn't like it when he was five and Iemitsu gave him a try, and didn't like it when Xanxus forced him to share a toast after the Arcobaleno battles as a sign of reluctant acceptance of him as Vongola Decimo.

Now, two years later as the official heir of Vongola, he's standing near the wall of Vongola's ballroom in Venice, watching people in masks and gowns and tuxedos devour both snacks and alcohol at nearly the same speed. There's an extra private bar for Xanxus and a collection of imported Japanese rice wine for Iemitsu. Camilo is putting up a show in the corner, mixing shots and cocktails in all the colours of the rainbow and with names that Tsuna doesn't want to repeat. His assistant is being kept busy with decorating the drinks and refilling the fridges and shelves as needed.

There's live music, and while the band started off with classical ballroom music, the party has gone on long enough that they're now taking in requests for generic pop, giving the songs their own twist to make the overplayed tunes sound fresher.

It's… not really bad. People are having fun, they dance and socialise, alcohol smoothing up their interactions. And Tsuna can handle drunk people. They mostly only talk more and dance almost as clumsily as Tsuna himself would.

Really, there's only one he has a problem with.

It's the man who got dead drunk fifteen minutes into the party, told bad jokes about his useless son, and once it got through his haze-filled brain that no one important enough was listening to him, started dancing with every masked person in the vague shape of a lady.

He is loud, he is obnoxious, but he does dance good, as far as Tsuna can tell.

He hides a deep sigh pretending to adjust his pale orange domino mask with bright feathers like flames on the top when Iemitsu twirls past him with his fifteenth partner, yelling something in Italian about clumsy antisocial tunas.

And, well, as obnoxious as he is, his father does have a point. It's one of the rare parties where Tsuna has no obligations other than having fun. And yet here he is, wallflowering in the corner with his champagne glass full of lemonade, unjustifiably annoyed at people who are just having fun.

He really is being a clumsy antisocial tuna.

"Heeeey, Tsuna!"

Yamamoto slides up next to him with his bright blue mask paired with a huge feathered hat, a silky cape, and a fencing sword strapped to his waist. His eyes shine a little and his speech is just the tiniest bit slurred. Tsuna doesn't have a problem with that. He does not.

"Whatcha moping here for?"

"I am, aren't I?"

"Hmm, a little bit. You wanna bail?"

"No, no. It's okay. You guys are having fun."

"Yeah, but you're not. And the whole point of this thing was to let you relax between studies. So it's kind of pointless if you're not having fun."

"It wasn't just for me, though. You guys have worked so hard. And it's... unfair of me to be brooding like this."

"Not so much unfair as more like… Well, we get kind of worried? Gokudera can't focus on his game at all, he keeps looking this way. Sasagawa, too. And we don't want to hover, but do you think you could join us? Or we can take it somewhere more quiet and have our own private party? The house is big enough and we really hate to see you being left out."

Tsuna smiles. He's blessed with the best friends in the whole world.

"Yeah, you're right. This isn't getting me anywhere. Thanks, Yamamoto."

He looks over where Gokudera and Ryohei are gathered around a small round bar table.

"So what's going on there anyway? Blackjack?"

"Yeah! I've been watching them for a while. It's hilarious. Gokudera's been losing every single game. Wanna go see?"

His father's boisterous laughter echoes from the other end of the enormous room and Tsuna flinches.

"Tsuna? You okay?"

He takes a deep breath, holds it in for a few seconds, then lets it go.

"Yeah, sorry. Let's go see." He says and walks off, Yamamoto rushing to catch up with him.

"Wait!" Yamamoto catches his shoulder, his hand heavy, but not restrictive. He could shake it off with no effort at all. "Are you sure you're okay? We really can leave if you're not feeling up for it."

Tsuna smiles. His friends really are the best. "Yeah, I'm okay, thanks."

He sees his father approaching a young lady in a knee-length embroidered light purple dress with a black bow around the waist and a flowery mask that covers tthe upper part of her face, a large flower hiding one of her eyes.. The lady tries to blend in with the crowd, but Iemitsu is not so easily deflected and follows her until she's cornered between a wall and a snack table.

Tsuna doesn't bother hiding the sigh this time.

"Tsuna?"

"Uh, before we go, let's rescue Chrome, okay?"

Yamamoto immediately scans the room, then tilts his head in confusion. "Sure? Lead the way?"

"Eh? But she's right over... Ah, never mind, just follow me?"

"Of course."

Tsuna ditches his glass on a nearby table and rushes through the hall, avoiding people by going around or ducking under flailing hands, Yamamoto hot on his heels.

"You don't happen to remember how to ask someone to a dance in Italian, do you?" he asks when he's getting close.

"Uhhh no clue. I think there was a weird bow for that, though?"

"Mm, yeah, something like that. Well, I hope it works."

He slides past his father's blocking arms and bows towards Chrome with one hand reached out. "Signora?"

Chrome hesitates for a moment, then slides her hand into Tsuna's. He kisses the air right above her hand, a blush creeping up onto his cheeks at the action. Luckily, his mask hides the most of it.

Iemitsu gasps indignantly, then nudges Tsuna's ribs with his elbow, almost knocking him off his feet. "Stealing women from your old man, Tsuna? I didn't know you were such a player!"

Chrome's hand relaxes into his. Tsuna doesn't say anything, simply leads her away from the drunk man and towards the table where Gokudera and Ryohei are at.

"Good luck, tuna fishie! Use a condom!" he yells after them.

Tsuna clicks his tongue even as the blush grows darker. Chrome doesn't look much better under her mask.

"I'm sorry about him, Chrome. You could've just punched him for harassment."

She shakes her head. "He's your father, boss. I don't want to be rude."

"It's not being rude. It's protecting yourself from a drunkard."

"Yeah, Chrome," Yamamoto adds. "Being Tsuna's dad doesn't give him the right to make you do anything you don't want to."

"You could punch him with an illusion, too, if you want. I'd cover for you."

Yamamoto whistles. "You're really pissed at him, aren't you?"

"Just a little. I didn't ask him to announce to the world that I sometimes still sleep with my plushies. Besides, unless he does something really stupid, it's not like Chrome would actually cause irreversible damage. I'd be more worried about it if it was Mukuro."

"I could make him feel like his zipper is always open," Chrome suggests quietly. "For eternity."

Without meaning to, Tsuna glances at his zipper. He sees Yamamoto do the same from the corner of his eye.

"Oh. Okay, yeah. That is good," he admits.

He releases Chrome before they make it to the table, hoping to avoid Gokudera's outburst. As usual, though, he's not very lucky.

Gokudera has his gauntlet out and pointing at Chrome as soon as they reach them.

"Who are you and what do you want from Tenth?" he snarls, making Chrome retreat behind Yamamoto's back.

"Aah, it's okay, Gokudera-kun!" Tsuna says, trying to push his hand down. "It's just Chrome."

Gokudera lowers his gauntlet slowly.

"Oh. Carry on, then," he says, shrugging. He's wearing a large black cloak over his full body and a leather mask with a long beak and ominously glinting goggles. There's studs and belts and jewellery all over him, clinking with his every movement.

"Extreme!" Ryohei bellows behind his black and yellow fabric mask that covers his entire head, leaving only his eyes, mouth, and nose free. The rest of him is in a regular formal suit, though he's wearing a silken cape similar to Yamamoto's. "You finally joining us, Sawada?"

Gokudera pushes Ryohei out of the way to get closer to Tsuna. "Tenth! You want to play Blackjack with us?"

Yamamoto laughs. "Sounds fun. I wanna play!"

"I wasn't asking you, idiot," he scoffs.

"Yeah, join us, Sawada! Octopus-head is extremely bad at this game!"

"What was that, you—" Gokudera starts.

"Okay, okay, I'll play," Tsuna says quickly and loudly, before they can really start fighting. "Chrome? What about you?"

Chrome nods, sliding soundlessly to the table between Tsuna and Yamamoto.

"So who's the dealer?"

"I am," a deep voice says right into his ear and Tsuna shrieks, jumping at least half a metre into the air.

He turns around to see a young tall man with a top hat and a very simple black domino mask.

"Reborn!" Tsuna hisses. "Don't scare me like that!"

"Oh?" Reborn tilts his head. "You can tell who I am that easily?"

Tsuna frowns. It's not exactly hard to tell Reborn apart, even if he has changed his outfit seven times during the night. In fact, it's not hard to tell anyone apart in this party. Mask or no mask, people's personalities are too big to be covered up. Though, somehow it seems that he's the only person to be able to do that.

"That's Reborn-san? Huh, I didn't recognise you at all, sir." Gokudera says respectfully.

"I know," Reborn answers with his trademark smirk. He gathers up all the cards on the table and shuffles them with all the grace and confidence of a professional casino dealer.

He's just finished dealing the first two cards to everyone and Tsuna peeks at the card Reborn gave him face down, noting that the score of his two cards is low enough that he'll be safe to draw, when a heavy hand lands on his shoulder and forcefully pulls him away from his friends.

"Tuna fishie!" Iemitsu exclaims, leaning his arm over Tsuna's shoulders and speaking into his face. His breath stinks. "To celebrate you graduating from being a wallflower, here's a drink, specially made for you! No alcohol. I promise."

Tsuna glances at the glass full of crushed ice, peppermint, and lime in a clear liquid, a fancy straw poking out of the mixture. Then he glimpses at his friends, all looking helplessly as he fails to communicate with his father.

He sighs.

"You do know I can tell you're lying, right?"

Iemitsu deflates at that, hand with the drink going slack. Tsuna plucks it out of his hand before he can drop it. At that the man hoots victoriously and skedaddles away before Tsuna can say anything else.

He grimaces, looking around for somewhere to dump the cocktail. Reborn stops his hand before he can leave it on an empty table.

"There will be times when you can't refuse a complimentary toast, Dame-Tsuna," he says. "You don't have to like it, but you should at least get used to the taste. And it's a mojito. Perfect for fussy princesses."

Tsuna sighs again. Reborn is right, as always. Except about the part where he's a fussy princess. He's a man, goddamnit, and he will prove it by drinking an alcoholic beverage.

He raises the straw to his lips, trying to smuggle the liquid through the crushed ice and peppermint. He drinks fast, hoping to get it done as fast as possible. At first it's fine. Good even. The mojito is fresh and sweet and the taste of alcohol is just like an afterthought behind the lime and mint. Then, all of a sudden, there's something bitter and burning on his tongue and Tsuna rips the glass away from his face, scrunching his nose.

"Well? That bad?"

He shakes his head. "Too bitter."

"Still a brat, huh? Mojitos are sweet, not…"

Reborn stops abruptly, his expression perfectly frozen. Then he carelessly drops the cards onto the table.

"Give me that!" he snaps.

He rips the glass out of his hand and for half a second Tsuna gets the weirdest urge to smash it against the ground just to keep it out if his tutor's hands. Though, he doesn't get the time to ponder over that reaction because Reborn smells the drink once, then curses sharply. And between one moment and the next, the hitman's hand lands on his upper back as if offering support.

"Reborn?"

"Party's over, Tsuna. We're leaving."

"Huh? But—"

Reborn doesn't let him finish, just pushes him towards the nearest door leading out the ballroom and into the house, his confused friends trailing after them.

"Gokudera!" He shoves the glass towards the boy. Tsuna gets the strange urge to snatch it from his hands, too, but Reborn keeps him still. "Do not smell it, definitely do not taste it, just find Spanner or Irie and get it tested."

Gokudera shrugs. "Why?"

"No time for questions. Move!"

All of them pause at that. Reborn doesn't give orders to his Guardians. Giving out orders himself is the easy way out and Reborn never goes for easy with Tsuna. He twists and squeezes Tsuna until he reluctantly takes over and gives suggestions on what should be done.

For Reborn to take the lead, something must be terribly wrong.

Gokudera glances at Tsuna and his face turns pale so abruptly that Tsuna reaches out to offer him support. He doesn't get that far, though, as Gokudera turns on his heel and runs.

Tsuna doesn't even get to look after him, as Reborn insistently pushes him along.

"Chrome! Find Shamal and get him to the infirmary. I don't care what you do to get him to agree. You have less than five minutes."

Chrome disappears without a word.

"Ryohei! Run ahead and clear up the path to the infirmary."

"Extreme!"

"Yamamoto! Guard duty. Keep your nose sharp. There might be a Mist nearby. No one except Shamal or the other Guardians come near."

"Got it."

With a flash of blue, Yamamoto's dog Jirou appears and takes up the spot in front of them while Yamamoto stays back.

Tsuna trips on nothing, but instead of falling flat on his face as he usually would, Reborn reaches out and steadies him from the shoulder, ignoring all curious glances from the crowd.

There's suddenly a faint pain growing in his stomach and an intense headache spreading from his forehead into the rest of his head and even down to his neck, and despite the open windows and the AC blowing at full power, the ballroom suddenly feels too stuffy and hot. There's simply not enough air for him to breathe.

He tries to loosen up the old-fashioned cravat around his neck, his fingers pulling weakly at the silk, but doesn't quite manage it until Reborn pulls it off for him. He even opens the first buttons on his shirt.

"What's—"

"Keep walking, Tsuna. Just out of those doors."

And Tsuna can't do anything but follow as his head spins and his legs are so weak that the only thing keeping him up and moving is Reborn's two hands, one on his back and other on his shoulder, herding and supporting him through his stumbles. He tries taking deeper breaths, but even with the cravat gone, all the oxygen seems to dissipate somewhere between his throat and lungs.

He feels bad, and it's not the kind of bad he'd feel if he was drunk. This is something else.

"R'born, s'mthing's wrong."

"I know, Tsuna. You'll be fine," Reborn reassures him with patience he's never exhibited before. It doesn't exactly make Tsuna feel better.

Yamamoto runs ahead to open the door for them. Reborn pushes him through it.

His mask is pulled off the moment the door closes. The dim light of the hallway doesn't do much to alleviate the headache. Instead his stomach cramps, the world tilts, and the next thing he knows is that he's leaning heavily over Reborn's arm, a puddle of bile at his feet, staining both his and Reborn's shoes.

Yamamoto is hovering at his other side, Jirou whining at his ankle.

"Uh, s'rry, I—"

"Don't worry about it."

Tsuna's legs lose the last of their strength and he almost falls on his knees. Reborn pushes him back against his arm, the other one goes under his knees and he lifts him up before Tsuna can even think of protesting.

He honestly doesn't want to, either. As weird as Reborn carrying him feels, he doesn't think he could keep on walking. He feels too dizzy and out of breath for that.

"You've been poisoned, Tsuna. You'll be fine. Just stay awake and try to take deep breaths."

The information registers in his brain with a delay and Tsuna is… kind of not at all surprised. Now that he thinks back at it, he probably already knew the moment he felt something off with the mojito.

"Stay sharp, Yamamoto. You're his only line of defence right now." Reborn's voice rumbles through his chest, both too loud and too quiet at the same time.

Someone else appears in his line of vision, seemingly dropping from the ceiling. The figure is blurry, but there's something distinctively red on his sleeve.

"Hibari," Reborn continues. "You can bite anyone who tries to leave the party to death. No one leaves until we know who's behind this."

Hibari nods briefly, then disappears as quietly as he arrived without a single snarky remark about Tsuna being weak or about him listening to no one's orders.

He lets his head hit Reborn's shoulder with a dull thump. It nearly slips off, but the hitman swiftly adjusts his hold and long fingers come up to support his head.

He's talking again, but the words are distant and Tsuna can't understand them anymore. He closes his eyes, letting himself drift.

When he opens them again, the scenery has changed. He's laying down in a small white room and Reborn is setting a clear mask over his mouth and nose. It's uncomfortable, but it does make breathing a little easier. Ryohei is at the other side of the bed, pulling some machines and equipment closer. He can't see Yamamoto anymore, but he's probably nearby.

"There you are," says Reborn, staring at him with dark eyes. "Deep breaths."

Tsuna nods, or at least tries to, but his head probably doesn't move at all. The mask doesn't really do that much to help him catch his breath. He tries to breathe deeper and slower, but still ends up hyperventilating.

His vision swims.

Then Reborn grabs his face between two hands and looks him straight in the eyes.

"Pop quiz, Dame-Tsuna. What's the characteristic of Sky?"

The answer comes to him immediately, and he tries pressing it out behind the mask.

"Ha'mny," he croaks, not sure if he managed to be clear enough or if he made a sound at all.

Reborn seems to understand anyway.

"That's right. Use that. Harmonise your body. Harmonise the poison, if you have to."

Tsuna digs through the hazy memories in his brain, trying to remember if anyone has taught him how to do it. It sounds like something he might be able to do, but he has no idea how.

He peeks up at Reborn, wondering if he'll spare some hints.

"I don't know how, Tsuna. I'm not a Sky. You have to figure it out yourself." He brushes back the hair on his sweaty forehead, the action somewhere between startling and comforting to Tsuna. "Do it with your dying will."

Dying will, huh, he thinks, both drifting and sinking, the force of the darkness pulling at his thoughts too strong to fully resist this time. Dying will means resolve, but he's way too exhausted for that. Maybe if Reborn shot him with a bullet? Maybe that would reignite his flames? He definitely can't do it alone.

"Should I… guard the widows?"

"No. He's losing consciousness. Be prepared. We may need you to reactivate his heart or lungs if they stop working."

"…Okay."

It's incredibly disturbing to hear Ryohei being so low and defeated and Reborn so… desperate. The others, too. They shouldn't be so scared.

Tsuna needs to fix this.

He's so tired.

He'll fix it…

Right after a short nap…

Author's notes: About this fic, I got the idea while reading through my snippet wip doc. There was one paragraph that I really wanted to use in a fic and so voila, I built a whole story to go with it. (I might end up not using that snippet at all. That's life for ya.) Also, this time, I did NOT plan this to be gay at all. Though, if you think this is gay then I don't mind.

I probably won't be able to work on anything much for a while. This summer's gonna be insane. I'll be flying halfway across the world in July for a wedding, then flying back to Canada a week later, then travelling around this place with friends 'cause they gonna be visiting, and also working enough hours to pay rent. Ugh. So much to do. But despite all that, I am still slowly working on this fic and all my other KHR fics and will update them all eventually.

Pleaaaase leave a review! They make me write more!