My love is a subtle adoration: treatment that can be misinterpreted and affection that can seem not so affectionate.

In this case, my treatment for my love is ignorance and my affection abuse. My subtle adoration is my wish to keep him near.

As an arcobaleno, my love had begun as annoyance and I had omitted him from my mind, moved to the back of my awareness if only for his ill-planned ambushes.

And then it had come to choose a thunder guardian – of course, who else was there?

I began to take notice; realized that I was not completely right in my judgment, that, aside from his uselessness and stupidity, he could actually become a descent assassin if trained right.

I took less notice of his faults, numerous though they were, and began to keep track of his perks. A five year old that was bilingual despite not even able to count to 200? A strange feat, but a noticeable one. A five year old that could hide from the airline officials but could not shut up for three minutes no matter his state of consciousness? Again – odd but different in a good way.

Two different things Dame-Tsuna would never had been able to do at the cow's age.

And, certainly, he made a beautiful teenager. Beauty, never mind male or female, attracts my attention. Maybe not my obvious attention, but attention nonetheless.

Twelve years later, Verde finally pulls through.

Bianchi cooed and Dame-Tsuna applauded. Ryohei wanted a match as did Hibari. Yamamoto and Mukuro congratulated – one with good intentions and the other without. Gokudera was silent with awe and Chrome waited patiently for Mukuro.

The cow stood in the back, a coral blaze to his soft, vanilla shaded cheeks. His emerald green eye was wide and… my, my – lust, was that? Dirty Lambo.

It was a very pleasing thought.

His hands played nervously with the ends of his cowprint shirt as his eye skittered away. His teeth nibbled his bottom lip a raw red.

He looked back.

With a smirk, I had labeled him mine.

And he had run away.

No worries – I caught him before too long.

And then I made him mine with more than a smirk; with my body, I made him undeniably, irrevocably, irreversibly mine.

And that brings us to this moment.

His head rests on my hip, his arms are around my waist, and his legs are thrown over my calves. He mumbles such things as 'Thank you, Vongola, for realizing my usefulness' and 'Shut up, Stupidera' as well as other things that concern other guardian members. 'Hibari, stop being so scary…' 'More grapes, please, Yamamoto…' It goes on.

He no longer talks of world ownership or enslaving us all in his dreams. He no longer talks about me. Why?

It's almost too easy to find out.

I whisper into the silence of the room, loud enough for him to hear me but not to wake up: "What do you think of Reborn?"

"Reborn…?"He mumbles in his sleep; a frown turns his lips and he nuzzles into my hip. "Reborn…"He sounds almost as if he's trying to remember who that is. He sighs and hunches closer. "Love Reborn… Wish he loved me too…" A tear slips over the bridge of his nose, curves over his cheeks, and touches my skin.

Pleased, I stroke back his hair. Yes, that is a good answer – that is the perfect answer.

After all, it wouldn't be fair if I was the only one who loved. The stupid cow has to do his part as well.

He has to love me.

Author's Note: I have wanted to write of a gentle Reborn, but I just can't seem to get it right… I was close… right? Any ideas?