The three laws of this Series are as follows:

I. No heterosexual. All pairings will be boy on boy.

II. No pedophilia. All pairings will be within legal age limits, or will have found loopholes.

III. All pairings within the above laws are fair game.

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i r i e . s h o u i c h i

. s . a . n . i . t . y .

"This world is the only one…where I met you, Sawada Tsunayoshi. You don't know it yet, but when we were in high school, I helped fix your bike…"

Actually, it was a lie. He did remember, after all. That first day. The day that changed everything. When the strange black-broccoli-cow-combo object that was Lambo arrived at his house via the Grenade Air Express, and he found himself in the midst of momentary chaos…

"Hey! Who blew stuff up?" Out stomped an angry brunet, his face in the universal frustrated-housewife expression: furrowed brow, angry blush. "If weird rumors spring up, I can't go to school!"

He won't lie this time. At that very moment, Sawada Tsunayoshi looked to him like an angel, a lone oasis of sanity in this ocean of madness. Of course, the image was quickly shattered (Reborn and his Leon gun took care of that), but was still a lasting first impression that made it to ten years later—

"Are you sure?" he demanded, uncharacteristically angry. "You're risking your life!"

A gentle smile. "If it's for my family, then I'll do it. With all my heart."

And then, at that moment, the one that he claimed was their accidental first meeting but was really only their second. Or perhaps just another of the countless ones, the ones that he made accidental.

A brunet, staring at an obviously useless bike with with an adorably hopeless expression on his face like that of a kicked puppy. Someone cleared his throat.

"Um, excuse m-me." God, he was stuttering—this was what being an antisocial nerd did to you. (At least, that's what he thought then. He knows better now.) "M-Maybe I can help?"

The hopeless expression immediately transformed into an even more adorable expression of joy. Like someone who had found salvation (just like he did, all those years ago). "R-Really?"

So, okay, Tsuna was cute. Really really cute. So cute, in fact, that he found himself blushing and stuttering his way through the tremulous, carefully balanced relationship that was part boss-and-subordinate, and part friend-and-friend.

"This is why I don't want to be a mafia boss!" Lips half- pursed, half-pouting in indecision. "Shouichi has done a lot of bad things to us—"

Stab.

"-…but he's done a lot of dangerous things for us, too." And then Tsuna beamed shyly up at him. "S-So from now on, please continue to lend us your strength."

Tsuna tilted his head and stared up at him with wide, curious brown eyes. "Shouichi-san? Is something wrong?"

Oh. Right. Past and future were all very well, but in the present, he had to actually pay attention. Present, focus on the present.

Sweaty hands felt empty at his sides, a fiery blush crept up his neck; he swallowed. "U-Um, Ts-Tsunayoshi-kun—"

A brief, flitting smile, and he found himself mesmerized. "What is it?"

"I—that is, um—" Shouichi took a deep breath, clenched his fists, squeezed his eyes shut, and fairly shouted: "I LOVE YOU, TSUNAYOSHI-KUN!"

There was a very abrupt and very long silence.

Then,

"Join the fucking bandwagon," Xanxus snorted from his spot in his couch behind them, as Gokudera started screaming threats and insults at the redhead, (Yamamoto held him back. The swordsman was fairly used to this by now.) Hibari twitched and his tonfa lit up with purple flame, Mukuro took over Chrome with a nasty smirk on his face, and Reborn cocked his Leon gun.

Shouichi paled, while Tsuna turned and slowly, but surely, banged his head on the nearest wall.

And here he had thought this whole time that Irie Shouichi was sane…