~"I was only ordered to kill him. How the hell was I supposed to know that he would end up kissing me? And that kissing me would screw things up, and that screwing things up would make me fall in love with the damn bastard?" Gamma/Gokudera~

AN: I had fun teasing you, Rori~ Don't be too excited, nyeh? It makes me anxious. D:
Sinful Zee: Loove you ~ and tons of t'anks. And I just realized, LOL, this sounds recycled, but the idea is different-ish, anyway. No moar action.
The rest of you: Enjoy the story~! I'm tentative about it. Especially my awkward grammar mistakes. *covers eyes* ALSO, RANDOM OC IS RANDOM. And also not so important, so don't worry.

Tentative rating as well.

Disclaimed.

Trust me, I lie

Chapter One
guys like you make us look bad

It had been a bad day for Gokudera.

His parents were out of the country (since they were always out of the country on business), and one would think that the silver-haired teenager would party with his friends with his time alone. But the parties grew dull, he got tired of cleaning up after his friends, and the house itself was quite lonely most of the time. So he decided that he would sleep over at his friend Tsuna's house instead.

It was then that a chainmail of disasters started to occur. He found that Tsuna had left to visit his cottage, but when he had turned around to return home, he was roughly shoved aside by an unknown stranger, nearly falling down in the process. Gokudera should've known that it was just a guise to steal his wallet. Then, afterwards, he found that his keys were missing as well.

Life sucks, he thought bitterly.

The last thing he did was purely out of instinct; his toe was now throbbing agonizingly from kicking the nearest tree in fury. Now, with no way to get into his house, Gokudera was now huddled underneath the protection of the tree leaves, but trickles of rain still seeped through onto his already soaked hair. He shivered, rubbing his arms in a feeble attempt to stay warm.

Faintly, from his left, he heard the roll of a window and a low voice rumbled, "Do you like the rain, boy?"

Gokudera jerked his head up, his eyes meeting the ones of an old man's. He bristled in annoyance and he chose to ignore the ridiculous question. The man, whose blond hair was already graying, smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. He stared half-sympathetically at the grumpy teen, and even though Gokudera was fighting hard not to tremble from the cold, it was rather noticeable. Somehow, this teenager seemed to spark something in the old man's mind, and the gears started to click in scheming ways inside his head.

"Come, you're going to catch a cold," the man motioned to his limousine.

"I don't need your help," Gokudera snarled, pulling his knees to his chest, bright green eyes never wavering from the other's. The man sighed, rolling the window back up. Just when the teen thought the limousine would drive away, the door swung open and two bulky bodyguards lumbered out. Gokudera gaped at them for a while, but as they advanced towards him, he stumbled to his feet. Unfortunately, he was too late, and the next thing he knew, he was being forcibly dragged towards the car, despite his noisy protests.

"Hey! What the hell are you – " he was unceremoniously thrown in headfirst and he landed in a messy sprawl on the limousine floor. He heard the man's cool, mocking chuckle, and it only made the teen redden in anger and shame. He sat up defiantly, "What – what the hell?!"

"You would've gotten pneumonia."

"So?!" Gokudera spluttered. He felt the car moving. He wasn't complaining inwardly, though; he was now vaguely warmer, although his clothes were still wetly sticking to his skin.

"Pneumonia is—"

"I know what it is. I'm not stupid, old man," Gokudera snapped, indifferent to how rude he was and how he was supposed to be grateful. He turned away from the man, pushing himself up onto a seat. After moments of silence, Gokudera crossed his arms and grumbled, "Where are you taking me?"

"Can you get back home?"

The man was answered with a resolute grunt, and he smiled knowingly, "Then I'll take you to my place, and we'll discuss matters there."

Matters? Gokudera thought wearily, what matters?

"What's your name, boy?"

No answer. The man chuckled, "Well, I'll find out sooner or later."

Gokudera had a dreadful feeling about this; he should have known that he was getting tricked into being used for something else.

"You want me to do what?!"

The rebellious teen didn't even know how he ended up in this situation. Sure, maybe getting into a stranger's car was a terrible plan to begin with, but he had no idea he had gotten into the limousine of Francisco, the head of Aphelandra INC and one of the richest men in the country. He gaped at the man, but he regretted none of the discourtesy he had displayed earlier that day. When he heard the words 'kill' and 'my son' in the same sentence, he was sure something was definitely immoral about this guy.

"There's something wrong with your head," Gokudera accused, slowly backing away from the smiling man. "You're crazy. I'm no assassin and there's no way I'm going to kill anyone for you. I'm getting outta' here. You don't need me to do this type of shit. Get one of your men to do it."

"It's less suspicious if it's a teenager and not a full-grown man. You just happen to be someone I think might interest my son. You won't have a choice," Francisco leaned against his chair languidly, his eyes calculating Gokudera's lean figure, "I called my servants on the way here and told them to find information on you. Based on just your appearance, we found you, Gokudera Hayato."

This was the moment where the teenager was supposed to feel a little frightened, but, no, that feeling wasn't even comprehensible in Gokudera. He glared at the man, irately balling his hands into fists by his side, "What the shit are you spewing, old man?"

The latter didn't answer him; instead, he was studying a few sheets of yellowy paper in his hands, "Your parents are in France on a business retreat, and that's been like that for a while now. You are currently seventeen-year-old, alone, and living just a few blocks from here. Hm, a straight A student in school yet your absence record is…astounding," Gokudera scowled, but the man continued, glancing up, "But you're low on money, aren't you?"

"It's none of your busine—"

"That can all change, you know," Francisco's lips curled, "if you do this one little chore for me."

"Money doesn't matter," Gokudera's fury flared up, "We can always get it back. Don't think you can control us, you –" he stopped the swear word in time; he had to remember that this was a very important man. "I don't care if I'm locked out of my house. I'll work around it."

"What's to work around if you've got no house?" Gokudera was just under the doorframe when he heard him. He froze, trying to fit the words together and to make sense of them, "I can buy your land in a matter of seconds. What are your parents going to do when they find out they've lost their house?"

The teenager could feel his neck warming up at these words, and he used every will in his body not to lunge at the other. Francisco could see the strain in Gokudera's expression, and he smirked, "Oh, yes, everything is possible when you have money. And don't think you can run to your friend's house either," he added, and the flicker of hope in the teenager's eyes disappeared, "I can threaten everything you cherish and take it all away."

"Everything…just for this? You're crazy," Gokudera croaked for a second time. He cleared his throat, annoyed at how hoarse his voice sounded; this wasn't making any sense at all. "Why do you want your son dead?" he demanded. This is so eff'd up!

To fuel his anger even more, Francisco ignored him. He threw the stacks of information papers onto the desk carelessly, and Gokudera waited. Who did this guy think he was, ordering him to kill his only son? Wait, a better question would be how he was going to be able to accomplish this? He wasn't even a professional killer; he was just an intelligent delinquent who got tired of school and just decided to drop out.

This was all happening so quickly.

"We'll cover up the murder for you. All you've got to do is one simple task," the man stood up, cupping the teenager's stiff shoulder and was immediately shrugged off. He smirked, "No need to ask how you're going to do this. A bright kid like you, I'm sure you'll figure something out. However, acting a little civilized and befriending my son is always a good first step, Gokudera Hayato."

An insolent mumbled 'shut up' could be heard. Gokudera shoved his hands into his pockets to prevent himself from lashing out at the elder. Still thinking of ways to loop around this disaster, the teen fell silent. People with this kind of money had power, but it was disgusting how they used this supremacy. The man crossed back to his table and got out a card. Inking the tip of his pen, he addressed the other:

"Have you any talents, boy?"

Gokudera rolled his eyes at the word 'boy', his scowl deepening the crease in his forehead, "What?"

"Can you sing?"

The teenager instantly pulled a contorted face, "Wh-what?! No!" the man waited for an appropriate answer, and Gokudera knew he wasn't going to get out of this if he didn't give him one. Stubbornly, he averted his eyes before muttering, "Just read it, old man. You have all my information, don't you?"

"True," the man stole a quick glimpse, "You're a pianist, then? Good enough." Gokudera wondered why he had asked such a question anyway, but he knew better than to question it. He hadn't played or practiced any piano songs since he was fifteen years old. Hushed silence took over the room just as the man started to leave. Francisco turned around with one final statement, "I'll send you over to his place with a new wardrobe as soon as you're done your little Gethsemane moment."

Gokudera threw a revolted glare at the man.

…Crazy son of a bitch.

Thunderstorms never ruined Gamma's mood. In fact, he liked to say that he enjoyed them, especially when they were during the night. The muffled roll of thunder often reminded him of the way a cue ball would roll across the coarse, woolen baize of a snooker table. His black, leather boots were propped up on his work desk, and his head was lulled sleepily against the back of his chair. Strands of blond escaped the gel that most of his hair was encased in, and it tickled his forehead. He was enjoying the silence when, suddenly, one of his servants barged through the closed door.

"Sir, ah-"

The servant's eyes widened, pausing in his steps before tentatively taking another one. Gamma blearily cracked his eyes open and almost wearily slid them closed again, "Irie…"

"Sorry, it's just – it's just that your father has, er…" Shoichi Irie knew that this was a dangerous topic to tread on; Gamma and his father were not close at all, so what could this be about? He wished he hadn't intruded, but now that he had Gamma's attention, he had to continue, "Your father has sent a card. Says he's got a present for you."

"A present?" Gamma repeated in a drawling tone, his lips almost slipping into a smirk. "Bring the card here."

Irie strode over, the small white card in hand, and Gamma wordlessly took it from him. His steel-blue eyes narrowed instinctively at his father's signature before he started reading the actual message. A taut frown flickered over his lips, but it was gone in an instant. He raised a perfectly arched eyebrow, gazing at Irie inquisitively, "It's a kid?" What on earth…?

Irie blew a wisp of breath from the corner of his lips, "Ye-es…"

"I thought the boy would be able to entertain you, as your father is always busy and has no time to do so himself. The boy's a wonderful pianist," Gamma read aloud, sneering at the fake sincerity in the words. He scrolled down to the P.S, "He's a little wild." Now, he felt slightly curious. His thoughts strayed to the grand piano in his room, lonely and collecting dust. Maybe a bit of music now and then wouldn't be so bad after all.

But a kid…?

"Where is he now?" inquired Gamma as he discarded the card onto the trash can. Irie led the man downstairs, mumbling something about how troublesome the teenager was being. It only intrigued the blond even more. As he walked down the hall, his other servants backed into the kitchen or into the rooms they were previously in. This always amused Gamma; he didn't know why every single one of them was intimidated by him. He thought he was rather lenient with them.

The twenty-seven-year-old man could already hear the kid's voice. "Oi! Let me go, you bastard."

"Master Gamma would not want a mischievous kid running around his house."

"Hey! I'm not a kid!"

As soon as the teenager was in sight, and since his back was facing him, the first thing Gamma noticed was the rowdy silver hair and how lithe the boy's fingers were. Of course…he was a pianist, after all. The blond decided that he liked his hands. However, the moment his other servants fell silent to his presence, the latter whirled around. Gamma was faintly shocked to see bright emerald eyes flashing angrily at him. His own voice remained calm and composed.

"Gokudera Hayato?"

The fury in those jade eyes did not falter. Gamma didn't receive an answer, but he was more than ready to believe that this was the kid his father had sent. He scrutinized Gokudera from head to toe; from his scowling visage, to the loose necklace around his throat, the ebony-black shirt and the tight pants that fit snugly around the teen's slender legs. From the looks of it, the teenager was still wet from the rain outside.

Gokudera spoke up first in his snappish manner, rolling his eyes in contempt, "I don't know why I'm here."

"Neither do I," Gamma mused; he could tell that this kid was already different from the rest. Interesting…

"Oh, good, can I go then?"

"Not so fast," Gamma smirked beguilingly, placing a hand on Gokudera's sturdy shoulder to stop him from leaving. The seditious teenager instantly brushed him off heatedly with his hand, emitting a round of horrified gasps from the other servants. Irie just watched from afar, wary of what the blond was going to do now. A shadow of annoyance crossed Gamma's handsome features, but it was all cleared up with a tense smile. "Ah, you're a wild one, aren't you? Where did my father find you?"

"Around," was Gokudera's short answer. Remembering Francisco's words, the teen sighed wearily, trying to act as remotely friendly as he could, "He hired me for you."

"He gave you to me as a present, actually."

"WHAT?" Gokudera's anger flamed up once again; his stress bar was shooting up and this wasn't good, considering he had a hotheaded temper in the first place. His hands shook and he uttered a stream of colourful swear words under his breath. Gamma chuckled quietly, already entertained by this rioted seventeen-year-old. He listened to the other splutter, "I'm not a thing! He can't just pass me around like—what the hell!" he tugged at his hair stressfully, "I bet you're no better than him, that fu—"

Gokudera immediately ceased when he felt firm fingers clasping his chin and forcing him to look into Gamma's steely eyes. The teen bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from swearing aloud; he didn't like the way the blond was scrutinizing him. He was suddenly aware that the servants were ogling the two of them and he could feel his ears burning. That could only mean one thing: he was blushing furiously. He shoved the blond away, rubbing his chin as if the touch had contaminated it.

"What the hell! Don't—"

"Oi," Gamma interrupted, closing his eyes in exasperation, "Are you done talking?" Gokudera didn't say anything; he clenched his teeth together stubbornly, not wanting to articulate another single word to the blond. He was already majorly pissed that he was here and already being degraded. Gamma took a small breath, turning his heel, "Follow me, brat. I'll show you to your room."

"Wh—" Gokudera snapped his mouth shut as he obstinately trailed behind the taller male. Being called a 'brat' was not one of the names on the teenager's favorite things to be called list. Nonetheless, he knew he had no say in the matter. Thoughts of murdering this man flitted across his mind, but he shook it out hastily. It wasn't time to be thinking of morbid things like that. Just mentally picturing the scenario already made him sick to his stomach. Gamma turned his head to the side, eyeing the silver-haired boy.

"You'll be sleeping in here."

The room was a bit too luxurious for Gokudera's taste. The queen-sized bed was bigger than the one he had back at home, and the lavished area was just…so…spacey… He glowered at the back of Gamma's head and forced himself to ask the question, "I thought servants slept somewhere else, not in this place," he emphasized the word gruffly while waving his hand at the oversized bed, French windows, the door leading to his own bathroom…

Gamma quirked an eyebrow, "You want to be a servant? My father said you were a pianist."

Gokudera's eyes widened considerably, and he quickly covered up his mistake, "Yes, well…" he cleared his throat, hiding his discomfort by stepping into the room and pretending to examine the fancy white windows, "But I still don't like it."

What an ungrateful little brat… The blond drummed his fingers on the doorframe, waiting for another complaint from the teenager, but when he received none, he smirked. "But you'll be eating breakfast with the other servants," ignoring Gokudera's stumbled objections and cussing, he cut him off by closing the door after leaving.

Yes, this was going to be interesting.

AN: Here's to a new story of NightSmex~(don't ask LOL.) Slowly, but surely, with the help of Roriette, we shall corrupt the world into liking Gamma/Gokudera. ;D Hopefully. WE SHALL PREVAIL. It'll be sad if I killed it. Anyway, review maybe and tell me how you liked it? Or what didn't make sense? Because the idea of what I have for this is already exploding my head. S'all good. I'll work around it. ;D

Thanks for reading ! See you when I update. :3