Title: Prelude to Pendulum
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: realistic AU
Notes: written for D18 exchange round II at khr_projects livejournal in 2010. mychemical_lust also made a fabulous, wonderful and spot-on FST: Man of the Hour featuring The Puppini Sisters, Nina Simone, Regina Spektor and Fiest among others! :DDD

Prelude to Pendulum

"Here you go," Dino says and winks, gently sliding the drink in front of the girl sitting on the other side of the counter. She giggles as she thanks him, her lips smiling and cherry red. She's a pretty, bubbly thing lost in the rustic interior of the bar. She's not a regular, but Dino sees the likes of her on a daily basis - one glance at her soft features and a few minutes of flirty conversation is enough to know that Strawberry Daiquiri suits her best. Sweet and easy, but rather simple without the fruit decoration and additional coloring to the mix. Soon she'll be all over one of the men lounging in the far right corner, feminine charm and candied perfume in the middle of cigarette smoke and whisky laughs. Her exit will be subtle just as her entry was, only she'll have company by then. He's prepared enough Strawberry Daiquiri by now to know that much.

Tonight is a slow evening - apart from a few unfamiliar faces only regulars linger, and even they leave the place half empty. Dino is secretly glad for the lag in customers – being the only bartender certainly has its advantages when it comes to salary, but manning full shifts alone when the place is at its full capacity can be rather exhausting – and spends most of his time taking inventory. He's just cleaning a cocktail glass, humming to the low jazz tunes filtering from the hidden speakers when the door opens. He quickly glances up, his lips stretching to a welcoming smile, but when he sees the newcomer his stomach clenches uncomfortably.

The man is in his late teens or early twenties, black suit hugging his frame like second skin as he walks leisurely to the counter. His shoulders are wide and his posture is straight, long legs carrying him forward and Dino almost recoils. The man's whole body is sleek muscle and his every step is calculated like a predator's on the prowl. Dino's instinct are screaming danger and he's been in this business long enough to know when to listen to the warning signs. He puts away the glass and folds the dishrag, the movements mechanical and practiced while he watches the stranger take a seat on the barstool from the corner of his eyes.

"Good evening. Anything I can get you?" he asks, his voice carefully pleasant. He forgoes the cocktail menu and the usual, playful suggestions. With customers like this one it's always safer to ask. Dino may have excellent observation and analyzing skills, honed to perfection through years in the business, but in this case he would rather not be presumptuous and make the mistake to serve something which would not be well received.

"Perhaps," the stranger says and even in the dim light Dino can tell that his features are striking. Golden hue slides from his black locks and rolls down high cheekbones, contouring a strong jaw line, and Dino has the urge to touch and run his fingertips over the surface like he would measure a piece of art. The man's eyes are burning and intent, unreadable and focused only on Dino, so he places his hands on the counter instead, palms flat on the mahogany top. "I'd like to try your special," the customer continues and Dino freezes for a moment. Fuck.

"I have many of those," Dino nods and smiles, hopes that he doesn't seem as nervous as he feels. "One with vodka as the primary tint before something stronger? Or would you prefer something clean and simple for the night?"

"I'd prefer to let you decide," the man says and Dino chuckles, sweat prickling the nape of his neck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He quickly goes through a list of ingredients, a cacophony of colors and taste, and knows without a doubt that his skill is useless. No frilly mixes will suit this customer. Even what he has on hand in hard liquor will be second rate at best. All except one.

He picks a bottle from the back of a shelf on his right, hidden behind flirty tequila and robust rum bottles. The seal is broken but not much is missing from the golden liquid – he rarely uses this one. Single-malt from a Highland distillery, smooth and smoky with a dry finish. It pours rich and beautiful into the glass and the ice cubes crack in its heat.

"Here you go," Dino nods, depositing the drink. Strong and to the point, deadly in its intensity but nothing hidden in its depth. Killer shot. He feels like he just signed his death sentence.

Feminine laughter chimes in the background while Nina Simone's husky voice croaks from the speakers. Dino admires the fingers that slide around the glass, long and elegant as they gently caress the surface. Then his eyes land on the ring. The jewelry is rustic silver with delicate engraving, a sharp and black-stoned signet-ring.

Dino recognizes the design as one of the Syndicate's. Rumor has it that one of the assassins is prowling the region, looking for something secret and long lost. Dino knows from his informants that it's not an assassin but one of the higher Lords, and he's searching for a thief.

Hibari Kyouya lifts the glass and his lips part, but his eyes never leave Dino's. Dino can see his adam apple move as he swallows, can almost taste the liquid on his tongue, sliding down his throat and warming his stomach, burning a fiery path in his veins.

Hibari hums in appreciation, the sound low and filled with pleasure. Dino's heartbeat quickens.

"I'm glad you approve," Dino grins and he feels like laughing death in the face. He contemplates his options and comes up with a few, plausible alternatives. He's glad it's a slow night; he doesn't really enjoy unnecessary bloodshed.

"You're remarkably talented at what you do."

"Oh, I'm the best," he says, his muscles coiling in anticipation. Hibari's eyes narrow and his lips stretch into a smirk. The glass makes a dull sound as it connects with the surface.

Hibari slides from the barstool and leans on the counter, his index finger tapping a steady rhythm on the wood. One, two, three. His eyes burn and he takes a deep breath, lashes fluttering as he exhales slowly.

"As I see it," Hibari breathes, his gaze sizing Dino from head to toe, lingering on his throat and the arch of his hips. Dino swallows and his stomach flips, fear and nervousness boiling under his skin. He doesn't dare to move. "You're just a mere cub with blunt claws and teeth. I don't care for your yipping."

"I think my bite can be quite irritating."

"That may be, bartender," Hibari says and the danger lilting the syllables sends a shiver down Dino's spine. "But mine is quite deadly."

They move in perfect synch, arms lifting and legs sliding, bodies rotating due to force and gravity. There's a few beats of silence before Dino hits the ground with a low thud, rolling to his side and grabbing his whip from a secret compartment while bottles shatter above his head, raining sparkling crystal shards around him as the shelves break. A girl screams and someone shouts; get down, get down, it's the National Guard, it's the Syndicate, it's a settlement between two clans. Amidst all the noise and confusion Dino can barely make out the first gunshot, he's too busy making his way to one emergency exit while fending off the cold metal of Hibari's tonfa twins. People pile out from backrooms and slip on fresh puddles of blood, joining the impromptu battle ground or slinking off to the side, hoping to remain invisible.

Adrenalin makes Dino lightheaded and a bit reckless, it's been a while since he's found a worthy opponent. He sheds his bartender skin quick and easy, and gets into the game. He laughs as he dodges a swing, muscles trembling under the force of the hit. His opponent is less amused as the seconds tick by, his careful mask melting into a mix of slowly building rage and curious excitement. Dino has been many things in his career, from accountant to bartender with petty thief on the side, and he has no doubt that Hibari Kyouya is aware of some of his identities. But Dino also knows that his opponent is not aware of the most important one, and Hibari hates making mistakes just as much as he loathes surprises. They both know who has the upper hand in this fight. The turn of events makes Dino quite giddy and Hibari furious.

"Come on Kyouya, let's play," Dino taunts, with just the right edge in his tone. With his patience quickly diminishing, Hibari takes the bait.

"I'll bite you to death," he snarls, lunges, and Dino grins.

"It won't be long before he finds out who I am," Dino sighs, looking at the garden from the balcony. His left side is still sore and one of his arms still aches a little, but at least all bones have been set. His skin, however, is a rather colorful canvas still.

"True. But until then you can train him."

"I doubt he'll listen to our explanation when he finds out the truth. He can just as well run to the other Lords and inform the Syndicate, or abandon ship altogether and join the National Guard. It's too much risk to take. He's a double edged sword."

"We'll worry about that when we get to that point in time."

"He's unpredictable. I can't control him," Dino hisses and turns around. The man sitting on the sofa is holding a cup in his hand, calmly sipping his tea.

"I'm not asking you to. I'm merely asking you to hold his interest until he's ready to know more."

"Why are you so sure that he'll even listen to what we have to say?" Dino asks, not even trying to mask his frustration.

"That's for me to know and you to wonder," the man smiles, and his eyes glint behind the rim of his cup. The chameleon lying near his elbow flicks his tongue in agreement.

"Fine," Dino says after a few beats of silence and turns back toward the garden.

"Trust me. I know what I'm doing," the man says before taking another sip.

"That's not exactly reassuring," Dino murmurs.

"Stop whining. Romario has the details of your next mission. I believe you have someone to entertain."

Dino snorts, but doesn't make further objections. He knows a dismissal when he hears it.

- end -