AN: So this is pure crack, plain and simple. Reborn! crack, even. I have no excuse for it, except that vampirepenguin is good at feeding my crackHibirds. But I'm still the one that wrote it, so... Anyway, there's a bit of swearing, (Gokudera, after all), and potential brain-scarring ahead. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Not mine, not in the least.
"Dance with me, darling."
Gokudera knew something was wrong when Yamamoto positively purred in his ear, but in his current, rather befuddled state, he wasn't quite able to pinpoint exactly what.
"…Bwuh," was the best response he could come up with, mostly because all of his higher brain functions had been fried by the sight of Yamamoto in a ruffled black shirt and the tightest pants Gokudera had ever seen. Hell, they were tighter than any of his had ever been, and that was quite a feat. They were also black and shiny and ohgod, he was not looking down there anymore, that was just wrong.
It was a fresh new horror when he looked down at himself, however, and saw that his favourite pair of jeans and tee shirt had somehow vanished and been replaced with a red, lacy dress that barely managed to have more ruffles than Yamamoto's shirt, but only by dint of serious effort. And…oh god, was that seriously a stick of dynamite in his teeth?
Gokudera nearly swallowed the dynamite when Yamamoto, who had apparently gotten tired of waiting, grabbed him by the waist and swung him around into a tango. Where the music was coming from, he wasn't exactly sure, and it sure as hell wasn't his first priority. No, that was reserved for escaping the clutches of a be-ruffled Yamamoto, who didn't show signs of wanting to let go any time soon.
"Let me go, you frilly bastard! This is wrong on so many levels….", his voice trailed off into a wail as Yamamoto whipped him into a turn. Their legs tangled together for a moment, and then they were off again, stalking across the curiously deserted dance floor.
The nightmare wasn't over yet, though, as the baseball freak apparently decided they weren't close enough, grabbed his ass, (and that was it, Gokudera decided, he was going to kill him no matter what the Boss said), and yanked him hard up against the shiny pants and the frilly shirt.
Gokudera sat bolt upright in bed, pouring sweat from every pore in his body, and still shaking from the dream. It wasn't until he'd patted himself down thoroughly and assured himself that no, he wasn't wearing a lacy dress, that he was able to take stock and realize it had just been a nightmare. The most horrifying nightmare imaginable, yes, but still a nightmare.
Yamamoto and Tsuna were quietly eating breakfast in the kitchen when Gokudera, practically radiating fury, stalked in. Tsuna dropped his spoon and tried to stammer out a greeting, but Gokudera completely ignored him in favour of jamming his finger into Yamamoto's face and snarling, "I am never. Ever going to tango with you. Ever. If you ever try it, I will blow you up, ass-first!"
Completely and utterly at a loss for words, Tsuna and Yamamoto watched him stride stiffly out. They turned to one another and were about to say something, anything, when he tossed off one final comment.
"Also, you look like shit in frilly shirts!"
Notes: ...Yeah, no excuse. Hope you enjoyed the crack! Concrit and reviews will be adored, as always.