Fangirls....

The Issue of Stóri Bróðir

2009-09-24T23:15:00Z

Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Pairing: ...Hinty!Norway/Iceland
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,450
Worksafe: Yes
Warning: Nope?
Author's Note: A little bit of Denmark-abuse, not a lot, though.... This takes place right after Himaruya's newest nordic Strip of Awesome. (Found here.) I had to write this right after I read it, so ... pretty much wrote the whole thing while at school.... 8|a Hm.... Regardless, I hope you like it...! (BTW, "stóri bróðir" means "big brother" in Icelandic.... Just ... in case you couldn't figure it out....)

The Issue of Stóri Bróðir

☽✩☾

The slam of the door raised more than just a few eyebrows—it raised 4 sets; you just had to look closely for 2 of them.

"Well gee…. What a spoil-sport!" Denmark pouted into his drink. The liquid left a light froth on his upper lip which only served to take away the … um … would-have-been-apparent seriousness of his statement. A moment later he mused quietly in a sing-song voice, "But I kneeew iiiit~!"

"No one asked your opinion. …Treat's on you now, anyway," Norway said, motioning for another drink. Maybe he'd ask for several more…. "…He did say it, after all."

Despite the whining from Denmark, Norway made sure to order an extra two drinks for Sweden and Finland and he continued staring to the door where Iceland had made his exit. The thumbs-down didn't sit well with him, but…. With whom would it? It wasn't really even the principle of Iceland returning to calling him 'Big Brother,' but the fact that he didn't seem to want to. Norway wondered briefly what it meant. Iceland, even without knowing for sure that they were brothers, had never shown him a lack of respect and had always treated him as a big brother anyway. Would this mark a change in Iceland's attitude at all? He certainly hoped not; he was rather fond of Iceland—clearly.

He stood silently, grabbing his coat and throwing it around him.

"Norway, where are you going?" Finland asked, his eyes echoing the question. "Are you following Iceland?"

Norway stopped, blinking. "How did you know?"

Finland only offered a slightly exasperated laugh and a quiet, "I only guessed…." Sweden remained silent, drinking his beer in peace.
"Dunno why ya'd wanna…. He's mean." Denmark only continued to pout. Though Norway knew his opinion on the matter was exaggerated only by the fact that his wallet would be significantly lighter once everything was paid for.

"I'll see you all later. I have things to see to."

☽✩☾

The only things ruining the perfection of the setting sun on the ocean's smooth surface were the rocks being skipped upon it. The gold, violet, and pink paint rippled with each rock's skip, dancing out only a little further from the source of the initial spill.

Finally, after tripping over a rock, however ironic it may have been, Iceland stopped and sat on the sand. His knees were drawn to his chest and his eyes were narrowed at the ocean. He watched the water calm down from the last skipped rock as he played with another in his hand, flipping it between his fingers and running the pad of his thumb on the smooth sides.

Stupid bet…. Now his reputation was ruined. Absolutely dashed. He was an adult now—! He shouldn't be reduced to—!

To…!

To revert back to calling Norway Big Brother….

It was humiliating! Who back at his place actually used 'big brother'? Or even 'big sister'?! They just didn't! At least … not most cases….

…Right?

Regardless: That parting salutation of "Big Brother" was the one and only time Norway would hear it. Norway had best to cherish that moment—it wouldn't be happening again if Iceland had anything to say in the matter. Which he did. In fact, he had an immense say in the matter.

But … a bet was a bet….

No!

No! This was a matter of integrity! He finally was on his own, and independent, and self-efficient, and his own nation, and—! Well…! Wouldn't calling Norway "Big Brother" be like turning back the clock? Not that he'd minded being with Norway when he was younger and he certainly didn't mind being with him at all throughout any part of his life, really. It was just…. It was a childish thing to do anymore. And … even just knowing and admitting that they were brothers made it a little more than awkward….

"Iceland?"

Norway's voice echoed down to where Iceland sat on the beach, making him flinch slightly. He'd traveled there to sit and think. Not that his progress was very significant; it was more or less repetition of "nooo" and "whyyy" instead of actually analyzing very deep. But he soon sighed and responded with a near-emotionless, "Já."

There was no vocal response from the elder: Just the sound of rustling grass, and crunching rock and sand as Norway approached. It wasn't too long before his … brother … stood beside him. Iceland could feel that familiar stare to the top of his head and cringed a little inside. These … physical situations happened often—the two of them being on the beach and enjoying the sunset together, but…. Why did it now have to be so awkward? Was it awkward for Norway? …Because if it wasn't then Iceland had plenty to spare him.

"What prompted your hasty departure?"

"Nothing."

There was a bit more silence right then before Norway stepped forward and began copying Iceland by grabbing a small, smooth rock and skipping it across the water. The sunlight being reflected had diminished a little bit—probably a little less than half an hour of light remained.

"It can't be just nothing."

Iceland grumbled to himself and looked the opposite direction. "Well it is nothing."

Norway paused in his rock-skipping to glance at Iceland for half a moment and then threw the last remaining stone before sitting down next to him.

"You know, a bet is a bet."

It was a feat for the record books, Iceland decided as he spoke with little mouth-movement. "Yeah, I know." Maybe he should have considered ventriloquism…. "But I'm not going to say it anymore!"

"Why?"

Iceland turned back to look at Norway. A faint blush reached his cheeks, his mouth gaped for a moment, and his eyes glared—softly—until he snapped his mouth shut and determinedly fixed his stare to the open waters. "It's … stupid," he finally said. He didn't see Norway blink with soft eyes at the comment. He just heard that silence that Norway seemed fond of.

"…Fine. Maybe it's not stupid, but…. I've grown out of that."

"It's okay."

Even though he wanted to, Iceland resisted looking again at Norway. He felt the familiar warmth of a blush returning to his cheeks regardless—maybe he shouldn't turn around just yet…. "How is it okay? You were determined to get me to say it."

"You said it, didn't you?" Norway asked him. "I just wanted to make sure you remembered our bet from back then."

It was then that Iceland buried his chin and mouth into knees. His following words were subsequently muffled into the fabric and nearly incomprehensible. "Ffksemmm."

"…Come again?"

Iceland … muffled … louder.

"I still have no idea what you're saying."

Iceland sighed—still into the fabric—and continued then to rest his chin atop his knees. "…I said, 'Of course I remember.'" He risked a glance to Norway, who was grinning minutely. Iceland's heart-beat intensified just as minutely as Norway's grin.

"That's all I needed to know."

"But—!"

"I wouldn't mind if you called me 'Big Brother' but I can't make you. …Besides—who knows what America would think at hearing 'big brother'. I hear his people are getting antsy."

"…He's an idiot, anyway. More than Denmark, at least."

"That's saying something."

The next bout of silence after a shared laugh wasn't so much uncomfortable so much as just … empty.

…Before Iceland's stomach growled.

Norway looked at him as he tried to play it off like nothing had happened. "…I'm fine," he insisted.

"…It is Denmark's treat, you know."

"Well, it wouldn't hurt to eat, I guess."

☽✩☾

"Whaaaat?! No—! Norway, this is where I draw the line! Keep your little brother to yourself!"

"But you were saying earlier that you thought of all of us as brothers."

"No! He was complainin' earlier that he's an adult! If he is then he can take care-'a himself!"

Iceland had rejoined the table just as Denmark, Finland, and Sweden were getting ready to clean up and leave, but Norway's and Iceland's arrival had settled them back to order more drinks—to Denmark's chagrin. He now fixed his gaze on Denmark, garnering his attention.

"…Please? …Big Brother…?"

And the silence was tense for a moment before Denmark pouted some more. "You're n'evil kid, y'know that?"

"I never claimed to be above doing what I have to in order to succeed."

Norway smirked slightly. "You did want him to call you that, didn't you?"

"…Corrupt. The both-'a ya…. …Hey, Sweden! Ya wanna help an ol' pal out?!"

"No."

Iceland grinned. It didn't take away how awkward things had become but he would learn to get through it.

Ice Cream Land

2009-08-12T23:20:56Z

Fandom: VOCALOID x Axis Powers Hetalia
Pairing: Kaito/Iceland
Rating: G
Word Count: 259
Worksafe: Yes...
Warning: Blame it on microwave. ~~Although this is fast becoming my absolute OTP. And to think it all started with a boba lid....~~ UM. WELL. IT'S KAITO. FROM VOCALOID. AND ICELAND. FROM APH.
Author's Note: ...idefk....

Ice ~~Cream~~ Land

☽✩☾

For a few brief moments Kaito found himself stunned. The mountains, fields, meadows, and trees.... Beautiful. Never before had Kaito seen anything so beautiful. The wind was refreshing and seemed so natural and real. The trees were so green; birds' music was sharp and so impeccable he found it difficult to not sing along. (Miku had given in with Meiko who sang along with a slight lisp.)

Everything about this place was beautiful. Even all of the people. He was sure he'd yet to actually see an 'ugly' person.

"Hvað? Hver ert þu?"

What lo--this voice. It's gentle yet demanding tone. The flow of those syllables and consonants. He had no idea what those foreign sounds meant but it mattered not to Kaito. As a music-lover and maker he knew that language was naught but a superficial boundary. It could never stop true love!

He turned; his blue hair flying wildly about. His blue gaze locked with violet.

"Svo...?"

Oh, that voice! This was it--what he'd been waiting for since before he could remember!

White hair. Purple eyes. Pale, flawless skin. And that voice. Kaito could just imagine the music this young man could speak.

"Perfect!" he announced to himself.

"Hvað?"

"Love! This is love! Tell me! Who are you?!"

For a few moments the other remained silent as if slowly coming to a realization and then another to say anything. With an accent (though beautiful) he said, "I am Iceland."

Kaito stared. Then blinked.

"Wonderful!" he exclaimed. "Amazing!"

Surely 'Iceland' was code for 'Ice Cream Land', right?

Jackpot.

ACCOUNTABILITY: 0

2009-08-12T02:53:38Z

Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Pairing: 8059
Rating: PG
Word Count: 601
Worksafe: Yes
Warning: Not very shippy, I'm afraid. >: DX Sorry about that....
Author's Note: This was written veerrrrry quickly, it is not beta'd (therefore not cross-posted anywhere), and is from a recent meme. The prompt (4-6 years later: failed mission) is from thisistony. I have several ~~thousand~~ more prompts to write and post. This really helped to start things flowing again. \o\

ACCOUNTABILITY: 0

☽✩☾

"Dammit...."

The word had been repeated several times now, over the last several hours, in several different tones, in several different languages. It was back to Japanese, now; Yamamoto hadn't needed it in Japanese: when paying attention to context he found it amazing what he could understand. (The fact that it was one of Gokudera's favorite words was also a significant help.) The word in question, while being used rather liberally, was a rather nice way of putting things.

The situation was much more than grave. A failed mission? For the Storm and Rain Guardians? It was unheard of. They always won, and completed their missions with rousing success. This time it was not so. This time the enemy got away. This time they had just put their entire famiglia in danger. What was this? They had underestimated their foe--something they never did. How did such an adversary get past them?

"Gokudera...?"

They were unable to collect much data. The stealth and ease that had been undetected slipped past like whistling wind playing in the grass.

All Gokudera was doing was blaming himself. It wasn't new, but Yamamoto knew he was at fault as well. Those qualities were closer to the Rain than the Storm. The difference was that Yamamoto was ready to go and try again.

Gokudera was ready to continue berating himself.

"What?" he snapped.

Yamamoto rested his sword over his shoulder. He did not attempt a grin; he simply nudged his head, wiping away at the blood on his chin. The only physical mark either had received in the non-existent battle.

"Ready to go?"

Gokudera scoffed. It was a sad attempt at his usual, however. Filled more with loathing directed at himself than at anyone else (in most cases Yamamoto).

"'Ready to go?'" Gokudera repeated. Under his breath he muttered something in Italian---something close to, "Bastard," most likely, knowing Gokudera. The next few moments were filled with silence until Gokudera's scoff was closer to normal. Not 100%, of course, but closer. Even if only a little.

The young man looked up, his grey-green eyes giving Yamamoto a once-over. Yamamoto was used to this glance, but at a quirked, silver eyebrow his own stare became uneasy.

"What's wrong?" he asked. A half-smile formed on his face.

Finally a smirk graced itself upon Gokudera's lips and he stood. He gave his thumb a quick lick and half-a-moment later Yamamoto felt a pressure on his chin followed by a harsh sting that he was sure wasn't there before.

"Idiot. Don't let your guard down so easily. They actually nicked some skin offa you."

Despite the bravado Gokudera presented, Yamamoto could still hear the wavering notes of self-disappointment underneath Gokudera's voice. But by now Yamamoto knew that this wasn't the time to bring it up, and he knew that Gokudera was at least trying.

"Haha, sorry 'bout that."

With a turn on his heel, Yamamoto followed Gokudera side-by-side.

"It wasn't anything entirely too malicious. We can relax for a bit before we report at base. Want something to eat?"

Yamamoto was taken for a bit of a surprise, though not completely against the idea. "Sure! Sushi?"

"What is it with you and sushi?"

"Gokudera--! You know--"

"It was a rhetorical question! Dammit." Gokudera sighed. "Fine, I guess we can go get sushi."

Gokudera walked ahead a bit. Yamamoto knew that posture, and it still wasn't 100% fine. Until Gokudera could complete this mission (and with too much exuberance he was sure) Gokudera was going to be having mood swings worse than usual. And Yamamoto knew he'd be the one to help him out.

Drabble prompt; Scarf

2008-12-24T11:56:39Z

Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Pairing: USxUK
Rating: G
Word Count: 909
Worksafe: Yes
Warnings: Short; badly written. Ice. Scarves. Fluff.
Author's Note: Written as a small drabble to try and get my back into my writing weehah-ness. \o/ Moe has her version right here. It's RussiaxLatvia; she's slowly making me like that pairing.... B|

☽✩☾

He supposed that being further north than that rebellious fool would mean he was more prepared for colder weather, but he had also assumed that Alfred wasn't such an idiot that he'd forego proper winter wear; and in Boston, no less. The clouds were dropping heavy snowflakes and the bitter wind from the icy harbor was not helping at all but to keep Arthur's cheeks and nose a raw shade of red. He pulled his particularly long scarf up, keeping his narrowed eyes on that bufoon waiting for him at the end of the walkway. The only things on his body keeping him warm were a pair of jeans, some ... college team sweater, and that jacket from--how long had it been?--nearly 70 years ago. (Really; one would think it would be shred and tattered by now.)

He sighed into the soft fabric now covering his mouth, shaking his head slightly and fixing his earmuffs. The wind was sharp and already he could barely feel whatever part of his ear wasn't covered. But ... he could help but feel warmer whenever he looked to see Alfred's skin start turning a darker shade of blue. He heard the clack of his shoes come to a stop as he stood before Alfred. Hands on his hips now, staring boredly into Alfred's eyes.

"What on earth are you supposed to do with so little to keep you warm?"

For a moment or two, Arthur nearly believed that maybe Alfred had gone deaf, but upon seeing him grin he was proven wrong. No; instead, all Alfred could do was stutter worse than Raivis on a particularly bad day.

"W-winter jus-st kind of r-r-really hi-hit y'know-w?"

England rolled his eyes. "It's a season--! It doesn't just 'hit'! It comes every year! Just how do you plan to stay warm in that?"

At that, Alfred grinned. "W-well, your sca-a-arf i-is pr-retty l-long...!"

It took a small moment to process what Alfred had said, but Arthur got it well enough. "...Get your own bloody scarf!"

Alfred chuckled a bit at that, but held his arms out as he took a few steps forward, causing Arthur to step away a few paces, his scarf held out of reach. "Aw, c-come on, Arty--! Y-you can sh-share...!"

"No--! Buy your own!" Unable to see where he was stepping, Arthur's foot landed on a very slick patch of ice, and his shoes were not made to grip anything; much less ice. A slip, and a stumble, complete with waving arms and a few uncensored curses, followed a second later by a firm grip on his jacket sleeve and arm. He was at an odd angle, yes, but his head wasn't crashing with concrete and for that he would be grateful. Despite being (somewhat) comfortable in his winter-wear, Arthur couldn't help but feel a comfortable warmth from Alfred as he was helped to his feet. He glanced up (making sure to look nonchalant about the small ordeal), then away as he walked off, muttering a, "Thank you." He couldn't make it far; not without America catching up. "You owe m-me," he said. "I just s-saved your-r life--"

"A trip like that would not have killed me. I owe you nothing."

"Then I s-saved you a lot of pa-ain...!"

Arthur was not exactly (ever) in the mood to listen to this; he ripped off his scarf and lightly tossed it at the American. "Shut your mouth; I can barely hear you, anyway." He motioned to his earmuffs, and started walking off. He immediately began to regret the sudden lack of fabric, but he would not be deterred; there was a car waiting for himself and Alfred, and it would be warm inside--at least, he hoped so. And thus he continued on until Alfred came up beside him to stop him, wrapping the scarf around them both several times and making sure it was secure, and, of course, warm. Despite the warmth he felt rush through him, thawing out even so deep as his bones, Arthur scowled.

"What are you doing?" he growled. Alfred just grin; all traces of stuttering suddenly gone.

"Nothin'," he said. "Making sure you're warm, is all. ...Though, with as hot-headed as you get, I don't think you'd ever be too cold."

Another grimace settled across UK's face, as he started walking again, dragging Alfred along with him. "I am not hot-headed!" he insisted. He felt Alfred dragging behind, and at that he felt amused; albeit in a slightly darker way.... Alfred managed to match the pace, and began grinning again.

"Sure you are! Your face is all red, isn't it?"

Arthur had to roll his eyes at that. "It's cold, you idiot. Of course my face is red; just as yours is."

Alfred didn't seem to hear him as they continued on. The car awaiting them was visible, and coming closer. He started unraveling the scarf from his neck so slide in the car when the door was opened, promising warmth, but--alas. The inside of the car was not too much warmer than the outside world. ...And so he sat discontentedly, arms crossed, and face in a pout as Alfred slid in right next to him with a wide smile and holding up the scarf.

"Would you like to share?"

A Student's Duties

2008-11-23T02:19:46Z

Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Pairing: 8018
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2,479
Worksafe: Yes
Warnings: Hibari.
Author's Note: My first ever 8018!! >D (Please be gentle with me...) For kyokou_kuroda for being awesome, and amazing, and all kinds of other words that aren't in my vocabulary. Anyway, it's for her birthday, which was... a long time ago (like Neku's |D;;). Not that either of them are old—!! ;_; Anyway: I was given the prompt, 'Get well soon', and our own Hibarin helped me out. *bow* Thank youuuu...! >///< And of course, MAAANNNNY thanks to my beta, thisistony for reassuring me it's okay to post, and for the title!! ♥

☽✩☾
Despite the fact that the breeze was nice, it wasn't the reason Hibari traveled to the highest point of Namimori Middle. Instead, it was so he could keep watch over his school, making sure students were following the rules and upholding the honor of Namimori. If something wrong happened, he was ready to go and sort out the issue. Right now, though, his eagle-eye gaze was centered on the baseball diamond where the Namimori team was competing against a neighboring school. The Nami team wasn't bad, but they certainly weren't the best. Only one player on the team truly gave it his all, and Hibari respected that. (Even if he was a herbivore.)

Generally a pitcher, it was odd seeing Yamamoto Takeshi at bat, but he was also the best batter on the team, so he supposed it didn't matter.

"Strike 2—!"

And that was also very strange to hear when Yamamoto was at bat. He could almost feel the discontentment coming from Yamamoto at the announcement. This was almost unheard of: Yamamoto? About to strike out? It was unacceptable. Hibari might have had to start planning some kind of meeting with him after the game, making sure he knew just what was at stake if he struck out again.

The pitcher threw the next ball and less than a third of a second later Hibari watched the crowd breathe together in surprise as Yamamoto fell to the dirt and sand beneath him, unmoving. The umpire called a time out, the catcher ripping his mask off. Hibari caught sight of Sawada Tsunayoshi and several of his friends rush out of the bleachers and onto the field towards Yamamoto. ... Herbivores. Yamamoto Takeshi was made of stronger stuff than that. The fools.

Hibird flew onto Hibari's head, chirping something along the lines of, 'Out! Out! Foul ball! Out!'

A sneer graced Hibari's face as he glared down to the opposing team. Their actions were unacceptable. Taking out the one person who could still bring fame and (most of all) honor to Namimori Middle School was not something anyone wanted to do on Hibari's watch, and he was always on watch. Hibari left his perch, Hibird flying around him, and made haste to the visitors' locker room.

☽✩☾
As it had turned out, all wasn't exactly well. He'd just woken up from a concussion in Namimori Hospital (he'd been unconscious; for how long he didn't know), and was currently suffering a rather painful headache. He could feel something very sore pounding just above his right eye (why was it always his right eye?), but when he'd lifted a hand to test its tenderness, all Yamamoto could feel was gauze. He finally took note that his entire right eye was covered, but... he was getting used to the patches over his eyes. Maybe he could talk to Chrome about it, and see what she had to say....

"—Unfortunately, Dr. Shamal was unable to give you any kind of medication that could possibly help dull the intensity of the pain, but we administered some darvoset, so you shouldn't be in too much pain. In fact, how are you feeling right now?"

Yamamoto blinked a little bit, staring at the doctor. He shrugged. "I'm okay, I guess," he said. "I have a bit of a headache, but nothing I haven't had before." Yamamoto glanced up at the clock after watching the doctor scribble down some notes. The hands were a little blurry. Probably from the time he spent unconscious. "Say—how long was I out? And why didn't Shamal give me anything?"

The doctor pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, flipping the papers on the clipboard. "You were unconscious for about 3 hours. And... the only diagnosis Dr. Shamal gave...." The doctor licked his thumb, continuing to search the papers. He glanced down his nose, reading what must have been the scribble-mess Shamal left. "... is that you're a male human being."

Yamamoto grinned blankly while trying to do math in his head. Three hours... it had only been the very beginning of the game; maybe he could make it in time for the end of the game.

"Hey, Sensei—! D'you think I could get back to the school real quick so I can finish up my game?" he asked. His smile was wide, and he was more than ready to throw the bed blankets off of himself. He could even see his baseball uniform folded neatly in the corner over there next to the bathroom. He could change as he ran all the way back to the school, right?

The doctor's eyes widened, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. "I think not—you were brought here to be taken care of, not thrown aside. You should stay the night, Yamamoto-kun. You were hit with a 45 km/h ball right next to your temple; we're keeping you under watch. On top of that, we're watching your contusion. The capillaries don't want to heal as they should." The doctor stood, brushing off some imaginary dust from his white coat. "It's only 4:30 in the afternoon, but you should take a nap and sleep off your headache. Then you can eat dinner, watch some TV, talk with some visitors, and then go to bed for the night."

Yamamoto was not happy, but he wasn't going to argue with the doctor. He wouldn't admit that maybe he was kinda-sorta groggy, and okay, yeah, his headache wasn't pleasant in the least. He sighed, leaning back in the hospital bed. "Yes, Sensei."

"Good, good. We'll wake you up in a few hours to eat. Sleep well, Yamamoto-kun."

With that the doctor left, leaving Yamamoto to sigh again. He wasn't exactly sure if he completely understood what the word 'contusion' meant, but he had a feeling it was to do with that very large bump above his eye. But what the doctor didn't seem to understand was that really: He'd been in far worse shape than this.

Yamamoto came to one conclusion: Games were a lot more dangerous in this day and age.

☽✩☾
As a surprise when Yamamoto woke up from his two-hour nap, he found his dad, Tsuna, and Gokudera there waiting for him with a ton of sushi. They were busy talking (more like Tsuna asking Tsuyoshi questions and Tsuyoshi answering with the happy vigor he'd passed to his son while Gokudera sat flipping through an issue of National Geographic), but when he moved to sit up, Tsuna turned with wide eyes and a smile.

"Ah, Yamamoto-Kun! You're awake! How are you feeling?"

Yamamoto smiled, giving a light chuckle. "I suppose I've felt better, y'know? Haha, I think the pain killer's wearing off, though."

His dad rushed to his side, giving several hearty thumps to Yamamoto's back, a determined and strong smile in place. "You'll be doing fine in no time, Takeshi! I brought all of your favorite sushi, along with your friend and Gokudera-kun."

"Tch—I don't want your shitty sushi, old man."

"G-Gokudera-kun...."

Yamamoto grinned as his dad brought over a small tray, filled with fish, some wasabi, and shouyu. "Hey, Pops... how did you get all this in here? I thought they didn't allow anything except their own food in a hospital room."

Tsuyoshi shook his head. "That stuff'll kill you. I brought you healthy food!"

After an hour of pleasant talk and finishing up their sushi, his dad, Tsuna, and Gokudera left the room, telling him to get better (or die, if Gokudera had his way) and to get some sleep. They'd ask a doctor to see him and give him some more pain medication. He hoped that was soon; he was getting a killer headache.

The door shut, and Yamamoto sighed. Sure, he enjoyed the hour he'd just spent, but... he wanted to be back out on that diamond! He needed to make up for nearly striking out, and he wanted to know what happened to the pitcher that landed him in the hospital. Parts of his pride crumbled away, but that just made his resolve stronger to fix what he did wrong!

Sighing, he made his way to the open window. He gazed at the sakura, and watched as the clouds drifted slowly across the sky, the petals from the cherry blossoms sometimes dancing by on the wind. Yamamoto grinned at the simplicity, glad that something so natural could be so beautiful. He continued to hold his gaze on the outside; it was much better than the sterile and stuffy white. Almost groaning, Yamamoto bowed his head while trying to keep his grin in place. He stayed like that for several moments, asking himself (again) why he just couldn't be out on the field! He asked himself numerous times more, still finding no good reason. He felt fine! So he got a bump on the head—was that so disabling? He could think straight, and the rest of his body felt just fine. Yamamoto tried to look up at the trees and sky with the same enthusiasm but found that it was just not going to happen, especially with his head pounding as it was. Though, there was a little yellow puff of feathers on the window ledge, looking up at him.

"On his way! On his way!" it chirped. Well, if the fact that it was a little yellow bird hadn't given it away, the chirping did. Yamamoto's eyes widened slightly as he blinked. 'On his way'? 'His way' couldn't possibly mean... well, 'his way', could it? Why would he be on his way?

Yamamoto offered Hibird his finger, which the bird happily took, still chirping here and there with a few notes from the school anthem. Yep. He was definitely on his way. He (being Yamamoto) turned back to face his room and walk back to his bed, still staring at the little bird. It was probably wasn't allowed in the hospital (sanitation, and all), but Yamamoto didn't think having a little bird on his finger was going to really hurt anything.

He made it about three steps closer to his bed before he heard the slight shuffling of feet behind him, causing him to turn back; Yamamoto knew those weren't his feet making that noise. Upon completing his turn, Hibird flew off of his finger, and after a short flight landed and nestled right on to the top of one Hibari Kyouya's head.

Hibari's gaze was bored (maybe a little mad, but that was generally a difficult emotion to determine from others when it came to Hibari), his arms crossed, and his jacket blowing a little bit with the wind from the window behind him. Yamamoto stared, blinking, as Hibari simply stood there.

"Um..." he began. "What are you doing here?" Yamamoto asked. "I mean, not that it's not a pleasant surprise, it's just... well, surprising—"

"You just about struck out."

"Hm?" Yamamoto's eyes widened minutely, and he felt his pride being threatened again. But was that the only reason Hibari came to see him? (And... through the window, no less?)

"Are you thankful to the pitcher for knocking you out to stop you from doing so, or are you repulsed by the fact that you allowed yourself to get hit?"

Well... he hadn't really thought about it that way at all. He supposed... "I guess I'm—"

"Humiliated?" One of Hibari's eyebrows arched in question, and before Yamamoto could even open his mouth to speak he continued. "By allowing yourself to end up here, you've allowed Namimori's reputation to fall."

So that was why Hibari was there! And of course that was Hibari's number one concern.

Half a moment of silent passed between them before Hibari asked, "You do understand the consequences, correct?" There was a familiar gleam of light reflecting from the long, steel weapons Hibari brandished from his jacket. Immediately Yamamoto's hands came up in defense; he had no desire whatsoever to be on the receiving end of those tonfa. He'd seen before what those things could do, and truth-be-told, he could live without seeing it again. "W-wait a minute, now—!"

"As gratifying as it would be, I can't. You are (unfortunately) the only one who manages to get anything done in Namimori's sports field. Ridding the earth of you would only prove even more devastating for Namimori."

Hibari walked past him towards the door, but stopped and turned to face Yamamoto once more.

"I suggest you get more sleep. The longer you're here the longer the longer my school suffers."

Yamamoto nodded without question, and hurriedly crawled back into his bed. Hibari turned once more and was on his way out when Yamamoto found it too late to keep his mouth shut.

"The other team—! Did... did they win, then?" he asked. He had to know. He'd understand if they'd won, but... he'd really prefer that Namimori won. Hibari stopped dead in his tracks and Yamamoto attempted a smile. It was very shaky, and fragile, but... maybe it would, in some way, save his life...?

Hibari turned his head towards Yamamoto, a creeping smile stretching over his face and he released a small chuckle. "They... met a few difficulties in their locker room."

...Yamamoto didn't want to venture any further and ask just what kind of 'difficulties' the other team had 'met'. "So then they didn't—?"

"It was a draw. You'll be playing them again next week. ...If they'll be able to walk by then."

That was more information than Yamamoto cared to know. But if they could replay the other team soon he was more than fine with that. Hibari now had his hand on the door knob, but he was (as good as) glaring in Yamamoto's direction.

"What...?" he asked. Hibari didn't just stop what he was doing for others. The whole visit was very... not-Hibari.

Hibari's gaze returned to the door. "Just get better. And hurry about it." With that he opened the door and left, seemingly angrier than when he'd entered. Yamamoto then rested back on his bed, blinking at the ceiling.

That... well, in all, it was almost pointless. Granted, he knew what had happened, but for Hibari to have gone out of his way for something like that... didn't it seem fruitless, more or less? Yet, he couldn't stop the grin on his face on his own. Instead, he needed the sudden help from the yelling and screams coming from the hallway outside his room. He quickly jumped out of his bed and jerked his door open to peer out at the disruption. Before him lay several people, grabbing at various spots on their body that were either bruised, bloody, or, well, broken. Looking up he found Hibari angrily storming out of the hospital in a rush, throwing the doors open and leaving.

Well, he supposed that Hibari was back to his old self. It was a settling fact, and while the moaning people in front of him didn't exactly bode well, at least they were already at the hospital, right? Yamamoto smiled, laughing, and crawled back in bed, grateful for Hibari's visit.

Communism < Crossdressing

2008-11-20T20:30:06Z

Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Pairing: USxUK
Rating: PG+
Word Count: 998 (w00, under 1,000!)
Worksafe: Yes
Warnings: Men cross-dressing with guns! =DDD And, since I'm American, bad ~~British~~ Arthurian slang.
Author's Note: HOLY CRAP, YOU GUYS, IT'S NOT KHR! BUT LOL. Look at the last four numbers in the URL. xD (Mostly) based off of evilapple513's doodle cube here! (I just kinda made it more 1950's instead of 40's, with hints of McCarthyism.... |D;) Please enjoy my first APH fanfic (amongst all the KHR...), and please treat me kindly! Crit is very much appreciated! (P.S. Kyokou, Jay... your fics are coming soon—I swear! This was just spur of the moment...!)

☽✩☾

America grinned, exhaling as he put his gun to safety mode and blew smoke off of the barrel. "And that's why you don't make me waste my time," he said, leaning forward at his waist. "I'm the United States! I can't get bogged down to let everyone start getting ahead, hm?" His grin was wide and friendly as his set his hands on his hips, the gun held at a near-threatening angle.

The fallen man beneath him looked petrified, a smoking and very fresh bullet hole not even three inches from his head. His teeth clattered loudly as he attempted a fifth time at nodding. America continued. "And I just can't have these people threatening to take over what I've worked so hard to gain. Now, what was so hard about handing over those few names? Oh, and look—you made me get dirt on my skirt. Now go so I can find these others."

America stood up straight, watching the man scramble to his feet and stumble as he ran. He sighed, wiping whatever was on his skirt off and placed the gun in his holster. "Man, I hate this," he said. "Way to go, McCarthy.... Hey, England, you still there?"

Stumbling out from somewhere behind him was England; scowl in place and holding on to whatever he could find to keep himself upright. "Fuckin'—! How the hell do you manage this?!"

America grinned as he fixed his pink blouse, and cocked a leg out to show off his easily-attained skill. "What? It's not that hard."

England glared. "Toss off."

At that America shook his head. "I dunno what you're talking about. I can't toss anything anywhere—unless you want me to toss my gun at you." He pulled his gun out for emphasis.

"Whatever, Joey."

"But that's not my name...!"

"I don't care!" England yelled. He let go of whatever he was grasping on to, tumbling into America and hanging on his arm. "Oh, bugger.... Why did you even need me here to deal with your problems? And was it truly necessary to cross-dress?!"

After helping England to stand, America shrugged it off with a grin. "Not really," he said. "I just thought it would be more fun!"

"Bloody hell, Man, this is why your country has issues!" England exclaimed. He waved his gun up and down several times.

Still America grinned. "What? You look great! Yellow is your color, and that dress really brings out your curves!" America paused to snicker to himself. "Not to mention your purse is a nice accent. You just need to learn how to walk in high-heels."

"I swear by the Queen I will shoot you—!"

"You could even pass for a nice-looking woman, if it weren't for your eyebrows...."

The next second was silent as England's eyebrows furrowed together and a very menacing growl erupted from his throat. "There is nothing wrong with my eyebrows!" His own hands flew to his hips, his purse swinging back dangerously. America kept grinning, trying not to laugh. "At least I'm not in pink, you drag queen."

"But you have one hell of feminine figure and pose; congrats, there, Iggy! I think you win the drag queen prize." While England was grinding his teeth, America ran his gun along England's jaw line and in a slightly huskier voice said, "And, besides all that, I think you have sexy eyebrows, so don't worry." He stopped the gun under England's chin, lifting his face up with it. Furious blushing aside, England glared at America with an intensity the younger hadn't seen for almost 200 years.

England stepped backwards, almost tripping on his heel but kept himself upright as his pointed his gun at America. "I AM GOING TO SHOOT YOU!" he yelled. "I AM GOING TO SHOOT YOU RIGHT NOW!"

America waved his gun, laughing. "You have no bullets, and I only had the one."

England smirked, cocking his gun. "Who said I didn't put my own in?" he asked.

Gulping, America took this moment to hold his hands up, and tossed his gun behind him with a wavering smile. "E-England, aw, come on, it was just for the heck of it! You look nice, I look fantastic—! Why can't we just play nice?!"

"Bloody hell, America! I'm not you—! I don't want to stick my nose in your business, so don't drag me in!" England threw his hands up, then stuffed the gun in his purse muttering to a questionable expression on the American's face, "It's not loaded, don't worry," and began to stomp away. America stared for a moment, watching England walk off.

"Woohoo, strut your stuff! Show it off!"

England kept walking, flipped him off, then tripped to the floor rather unceremoniously (and amusingly, but America would never admit how hard he was laughing on the inside). America rushed over (expertly, of course, in those shoes) and crouched down (lady-like, of course, in that skirt) to check him over.

"You okay?" he asked.

"No," was the answer, smothered into the floor. "No I'm not. I'm stuck in women's clothing—with you—with an unloaded gun and a twisted ankle. You tell me if I'm okay."

"Guess not. Well, come on." America took the heels off of England's feet and helped him up, wrapping England's arm around his shoulders. "Just keep off it and we'll get you some help."

"Bastard. This is your fault. I hope you're happy! I thought you were the hero, huh?" Despite this, England seemed to have no trouble accepting the aid.

America grinned. "Happy as a fiddle. And I'm helping you, aren't I?"

England rolled his eyes. "You'd better help me." He went hopping along with America, muttering something like, 'how can women wear those things' and similar insults towards female-wear. Of course, it was in addition to any kind of rude comments he continued making towards America, though America took them in stride. Maybe he should have just kept to sticking his nose in others' business, and not forcing others (i.e. England) into his own. Though, he did have to admit, if he could get England to loosen up and wear women's clothing, it was all worth it.

A Study of Why Hibari Kyouya Is the Way He Is

2008-11-08T22:01:37Z

Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Character: Little kid Hibari
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,508
Worksafe: Yes
Warnings: Deadly little thing at such a young age... |D;;
Author's Note: For NaNoWriMo! I'm just collecting words. =3 Also, the puppy's name in here is the name of my friend's puppy. |D;; This was prompted by Tony (thisistony), so... if you die of fright, blame her!

☽✩☾

The Hibari's made a nice family. Well, every family had that strange uncle that appeared every so often, but... apart from that, they were pretty normal people. Mr. Hibari was a proud man who provided for his family, and Mrs. Hibari was a dutiful wife and while working alongside her husband managed to keep her family close and loved them all dearly. They ran a pet store in Namimori, filled with cats, dogs, birds, snakes, hermit crabs, fish.... Rodents of unusual sizes.... All stuffed into a simple 1,500 sq. ft. building.

How they got business, and how Mr. Hibari managed to provide for his family through this method was completely unknown to the general public. The pet store was always so crowded (just with animals, even), and things were in general chaos, what with the dogs barking and cats mewling.... Birds chirping and cursing at customers.... The word 'mayhem' not even beginning to describe the going-ons of the Hibari family's pet store in Namimori.

Yet, twice a week when they brought their son in on Sundays and after school on Thursdays, the animals would calm down, and little Hibari Kyouya would play with them.

It was this particular Thursday that Kyouya shared what he learned at school.

"Sensei said that animals who eat only meat are called carnivores, and that animals who eat only not-meat are called herbivores. Is that true?"

Mrs. Hibari looked down at her son, blinking. Being taught that in first grade? "Yes, that's true."

"Sensei said that for herbivores to get not-meat, they need to eat plants, and that for carnivores to get meat, they need to eat other animals." This time Kyouya looked up at her, his stare nearly blank. "Is that true, too?" he asked.

"W-well, yes.... Yes it is."

"And that animals who eat both are called omnivores."

"Yes, they are. Humans are also omnivores."

Kyouya's eyes returned to the front, and after a few steps said, "... I want to be a carnivore." His voice was eerie as it floated on the air up to his mother's ears. Mrs. Hibari shivered. A seven-year-old's voice should not be so... well, scary....

The two walked into the shop where Mr. Hibari was trying to coax one of the cats back into its cage with the other cats. Mrs. Hibari noticed (with much of what might be called fright) that once her son had made eye contact with the cat and her sons eyes narrowed, the cat immediately joined its fellow felines as though that had been its plan all along. It was only... slightly disturbing....

But, things went back to normal within the next hour: Mr. Hibari was helping a customer, Mrs. Hibari was cleaning up around the shop, and Kyouya was drawing a picture as homework with his set of crayons. Mrs. Hibari was sweeping by, and then knelt down next to him, trying to peer over his shoulder.

"Kyouya, what are you drawing?" she asked.

"Homework."

"What do you have to draw?"

"Anything we learned today."

"... If I could ask, could I see it?"

It was just a few moments later when she had the paper in her hand that she regretted even wondering what it was her son was doing. On the paper, in crayon, were what could very possibly be the animals in the pet store... attacking the other animals and... were those people supposed to be customers?! A lot of the color on the page was red. As Mrs. Hibari glanced down, she noticed the red crayon had been worn down to half of its original length. She just bought those the other day!

"K-Kyouya.... I think...."

"Do you like it?"

Mrs. Hibari was stopped by the question, instead forced to answer with, "You used a lot of red."

Kyouya didn't move much; he just kept his gaze on his mother. "I like red. But it's very bright."

My child...! My only son...! My cute little boy...! Mrs. Hibari despaired. What happened to him...?!

Mrs. Hibari was pulled from her thoughts as she felt Kyouya brush past her with the picture. He approached his father, holding up the paper for him to see and praise. However... the customer was still there, and how could the customer not look? Mrs. Hibari covered her face, hearing even more people enter the store, causing the animals to go nuts.

"Father, will this picture get me good marks with Sensei?" Kyouya asked. Mrs. Hibari stared at the interactions, and the customers' baffled reactions to the rather... gory doodles of a seven year old. It was the end of the business forever, wasn't it?!

"What was that, Kyouya?" Mr. Hibari asked. "The animals are too loud, and you're too quiet."

From there, Mrs. Hibari watched her son turn his upper body to face the rest of the shop. His eyes narrowed as they had outside, and said, still in a soft voice, "Be quiet."

The barking stopped, as the cats' hissing fizzled out to nothing. The birds kept to simply twitching their heads, and any of the other animals kept whatever noise they made down to a minimum.

... There was clearly something not right about her son.

The following Sunday proved similar, only... minus the picture. (Kyouya's teacher wrote a letter of concern to the two parents, and asked Kyouya to draw a picture of a food chain--with no violence. Just arrows.) So now Kyouya sat in the middle of the store, the puppies and kittens playing around him, and napping, and crawling over him while he discontentedly drew circles and arrows (in black) pointing to and from a small range of mammalian creatures.

He paused working on his homework, yawning. Mrs. Hibari was very much relieved upon seeing that Kyouya hadn't found the red crayon (she'd carefully stolen the primary color), and continued on, picking up here and there, making sure everything was tidy should anymore customers arrive.

"Hn.... Aki-Chan." Mrs. Hibari turned, finding Kyouya speaking to one of the puppies. "Go fetch me my snack."

Careful not to blink, Mrs. Hibari watched as the puppy happily bounced off, its ears flopping, to go grab Kyouya's school bag and dutifully drag it back to him. She was too enamored in watching her son and the animals over the next hour and a half. If Kyouya told them to do something they did it, and there was something about the look in their eyes that... well, it was unsettling. It was as though they were afraid they might be in danger if they didn't listen to Kyouya. Kyouya was indeed surprising from time to time (especially recently...), but... surely he wouldn't let any harm befall anyone? Or animal?

The bell to the shop rang as several people entered. Immediately Mr. and Mrs. Hibari were up and greeting them to the shop. Kyouya, who'd been about to doze off for a small nap with the animals around him, was roused. Before his glare could intensify at the customers Mrs. Hibari turned around to focus better on the newcomers. Mr. Hibari was guiding them along, answering questions they had and giving input on the best kind of pet for different situations.

They came around near Kyouya who now stood, his glare very present. The puppies and kittens stood around him (one kitten on his shoulders), the lowest of growls only just barely noticeable. Mr. Hibari stopped, and began talking about the small creatures guarding Kyouya, about their... obvious loyalty to those who earn it.... Eventually the pet-babble died down, and the customers looked and smiled down to Kyouya.

"You're too close," he said. "It's too stuffy with just the puppies and kittens. We don't need people, too."

The adults all blinked, but the customers laughed. One of them extended a hand to ruffle Kyouya's hair. "Well then, aren't you just adorable?"

The cat on Kyouya's shoulder jumped off, hissing as Kyouya glared up, pouting. "If you don't take your hand off of me, I'll bite you to death."

The customer's friend grinned. "Isn't that cute?" he asked. "He's taking after the pets!"

Except... he wasn't. He was being dead serious. Quickly, Kyouya dodged and then lunged forward, biting down on the customers hand, hard. The offender yelled in fright and then pain as Mrs. Hibari shrieked, running to grab a first aid kit just in case. Mr. Hibari's eyes widened, and attempted to tug Kyouya away without cause further pain or damage to the customer. Eventually Kyouya released the hand in his mouth, tasting just a bit of blood and finding its coppery taste rather satisfactory for a self-appointed carnivore. Mrs. Hibari returned, bandages and disinfectant in hand, but... Kyouya was already smirking and pointing to the frightened customers. In that low, scary voice he whispered a harsh,

"Get them."

... Mr. and Mrs. Hibari closed their pet store soon after rounding up the last of the snakes and kittens three hours later, and made sure to move to a nice large house with no pets, and bought lots of meat.

Your Inflight Lullaby:

2008-10-28T06:20:50Z

Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Pairing: 8059 (mostly gen, though)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,622
Worksafe: Yes
Warnings: Bit of cursing, and sliiiiiiight fluff?
Author's Note: A very very very very very very late fic for Neku...! (ch1zuru) It's a birthday fic for her, based off of this picture...! I hope you enjoy this fic—I'm so sorry it took this long...! ;___; Three months late.... T__T Also, wrote the 7th and final version—yes, 7; 7 versions/revisions—listening to Gotta Be Somebody by Nickleback. Seriously? GOOD SONG. Love it!! So touching... *sniff* ♥♥ Helped inspire me to FINALLY FINISH. @_@ Also, we need more fics mentioning Yamamama. (All right! Kyokou and Jay are next!! xD!)

☽✩☾
Yamamoto peered out at the rest of the plane's passengers. Everyone was either upset (to some degree) or sleeping. It was mostly the older people sleeping, and the kids complaining about being unable to play with their DS or PSP and finish their case in Gyakuten Saiban or work on that puzzle. Some of the teenage passengers were simply aghast that they weren't allowed to use their iPhones during takeoff and landing. There were babies abound, crying, giggling, or sleeping.

Meanwhile, right next to him, stuck in the aisle seat, was Gokudera: It might bother him a little bit to say it (well, think it, as the case may be), but... he was being the biggest baby on the plane. Nothing was right: His ticket landed him in the aisle seat, the stewardess kept ignoring his requests—how many times had he asked for some kind of drink?  A little five-year-old boy was running up and down the aisle with gum in his mouth. He'd stopped next to Gokudera, saying something in Italian that irked the elder, but he didn't respond. Instead, the boy looked as though he was contemplating decorating Gokudera's pants with his chewing gum. Gokudera (literally) growled at the child, saying something in Italian to which the small child was sent back to his mother, clinging to her the rest of the ride.

"Haha, it looks like you threatened to push him out of the plane."

"I did."

Gokudera was also unpleased with the fact they were stuck on a completely different plane—in coach, no less—with the rest of the Guardians while Tsuna and the kid were in their own special jet. (Hibari, of course, got an exclusive ride all to himself, Hibird, and Kusakabe.) As the Right-Hand Man, Gokudera felt the need to be at his boss' side, protecting him. Not that Reborn-San couldn't do the job just fine—he'd just try something illogical, like actually pushing Tsuna out of the plane, to see if he could fly.... But that was also besides the point. Gokudera wanted to be at Tsuna's side. Especially for a trip such as this! (Tsuna's Guardians were going to see the Ninth and his Guardians for a party and somewhat of a Passing-Down-the-Torch kind of thing. Yamamoto didn't really grasp it all in its entirety, but... that was okay, right? He'd just play along and do as he was told.)

Yet, to top it all off, what bothered Gokudera was the addition of getting to sit next to the friendly, neighborhood Baseball Nut. When Yamamoto had taken his seat and looked up to find Gokudera glaring daggers down at him, all he could do was grin.

"You mean I get to sit next to you?"

"Haha! Well, what does your ticket say?"

"'Not next to an idiot,' that's what."

Yamamoto laughed again. "No, really."

Gokudera had glanced several times between his ticket and the seat marker above them. The glances became quicker, as if the numbers and letters would change if he moved his head and eyes fast enough, yet....

"Fuck you."

And now, two taste-bud-ruining meals and several-plus hours later, the sky had darkened. Yamamoto and Gokudera had been too busy to notice, working on schoolwork, playing simple games like tic-tac-toe, or Italian hangman to keep what Yamamoto managed to learn up to par. Despite all the things distracting him, Gokudera was still in a foul mood. The kids were grating on his nerves (Lambo had taken this opportunity to rally them together as some kind of horrific brute squad), teenagers were whining (one girl was sobbing particularly loudly), and just one baby was still crying. Yes: Still.

Gokudera sighed loudly, but only just enough to grab Yamamoto's attention. "Dammit, I'm tired. Why do planes always make people tired? It's not like you actually do any kind of physical labor...." A moment passed in which Gokudera fiddled with several of his rings, then finally stood and searched in the overhead compartment.

A curse echoed in the overhead space, and Yamamoto had to ask, "Are you okay?"

"I'm just peachy," he answered. A second later, a muttered, "Moron..." reached Yamamoto's ears. The 'moron' grinned to himself.

"What are you looking for?"

"It's not obvious?"

"Haha, I'm not Superman; I don't have X-Ray vision. I can't see what you're trying to get."

Gokudera stopped his movements and sighed. "I'm trying to get the pillow and blanket so I can try to get some sleep before we land." He resumed his efforts, jumping this time.

Yamamoto watched the chains on Gokudera's belt bounce up and down with the momentum of his movements. "Will you grab mine, too?" he asked. Gokudera grunted in response, though Yamamoto was unsure of whether that meant, "Sure," or, "Go to Hell," but... it was worth a shot. The chains made a bit of a racket but Gokudera stopped his jumping, and cursed again.

"What?"

"I pushed them back even further...."

Yamamoto laughed loudly, catching several passenger's attentions. He stood up next to Gokudera and peered into the compartment, spotting the folded blankets with the pillows on top of them. "Haha, Gokudera—they're right there. You can't reach them?"

He glanced down to the clearly shorter of the two, smiling in an openly teasing way. Gokudera snarled. "I'll cut off your legs, and then we'll see who can't reach."

Chuckling now, Yamamoto stood on his toes and reached forward, easily grabbing the soft materials. He offered Gokudera his share, still grinning, and as he moved to take his seat he accidentally brushed against Gokudera who just glared back at him, obviously disgruntled with the fact that Yamamoto had once again one-upped him.

Yamamoto settled into his seat once more. He wasn't particularly tired, so he set his pillow and blanket at his feet for later, just in case. Gokudera... despite now having the pillow and blanket he'd previously desired... dropped his to the floor unceremoniously and sat, pouting. Yamamoto didn't say anything; just let him calm down over the course of several minutes near the end of which Yamamoto had heard several mutters of, "Can't believe I agreed to this." The eleventh time he heard it, Yamamoto inquired just what it was he was so adamantly and suddenly despising.

"Italy."

He supposed it made sense; he just had assumed it was that he'd subjected himself to the torture of the plane's passengers. But from what he did know of Gokudera's life pre-Tsuna... it made sense. Gokudera mellowed out, staring at the plane's ceiling with a blank look in his eyes. Yamamoto kept his own stare on Gokudera's eyes; he'd seen many emotions cross Gokudera's face before, and something about this look tugged at Yamamoto's gut. Something was missing from Gokudera's life, and it pained Yamamoto knowing that the only one who could ease that away was gone forever, except for in Gokudera's memory. Even then, the memories were grainy; frames were missing, and the script was all wrong.

"What are you staring at, Baseball Nut?" Gokudera asked. The question wasn't harsh. It was just flat.

Yamamoto blinked, caught. "Ah, nothing—! ... Sorry...."

At that Gokudera smirked, and went looking at the passengers as Yamamoto had hours previous. The kids and Lambo were finally sleeping, and the teenage girl had calmed down considerably. The crying baby was being held by a plump, olive-skinned Italian woman. Her hair was kept back by a babushka, and she'd taken to rocking the baby gently.

The noise in the plane died out, and a whispering voice rose up, singing a gentle curve of notes.  A lullaby. Yamamoto turned back to his window, a frown in place. He slumped a little bit, trying hard to pick out certain words (he recognized 'moon', and 'stars', and 'sun') but he was busy trying to remember his own mother.  He couldn't really remember her singing him anything. He remembered her somewhat, but the all of the details were fading: Was she tall? What color were her eyes? Did she tell him bedtime stories more than sing him songs—was she even good at singing? Did she love him just as much as his dad did? What things did she personally teach him? What had she admonished him for? Was she still there when he started playing baseball? Would she be proud of him? Support his dream? And what about Gokudera and his mother? What kind of sorrow and heartbreak did his mother feel, and what kind of regret was eating Gokudera's heart? How did their curiosity about their mothers even out?

Accompanying his sigh, Yamamoto felt something slump on his side. A glance of silver told him all he needed to know. Gokudera looked as though he'd been right in the middle of pulling his blanket up from the floor but had fallen asleep mid-pull. He was now almost snuggled against Yamamoto's side. Well, if his arm would suffice as Gokudera's fallen pillow he had no qualms about it. He moved his arm a little, but Gokudera didn't move. He'd fallen asleep to the lullaby. Yamamoto carefully reached over to grab the blanket and carefully fixed it, laying it over Gokudera.  He dreaded landing, especially if Gokudera was still asleep. It was probably the one and only time he'd ever fallen asleep to a lullaby, and Yamamoto didn't really want to be the one to ruin that. At least they still had several hours of flight-time.

That in mind, Yamamoto carefully adjusted his position without disturbing Gokudera while sneaking a gentle kiss to the top of his head. Something like a grunt exited Gokudera's throat that sounded suspiciously close to 'idiot', but Yamamoto grinned, and let himself fall asleep to the last few melodies of the lullaby.

2+2=5

2008-09-01T22:52:48Z

Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Pairing: Slight and teasing hints of 8059 and 27K (and slight teasing hints of others?)
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~~8,590~~ 8,105 ~~(Sorry, guys... T_T)~~ For coomasieblue's Mini-Bang Challenge! And the picture for this was drawn by ch1zuru~!! ♥♥♥ So much love~! The prompt I chose was Body Swap, so... good luck!! The picture is in this fic, but you can also find it at Neku's art journal, nocturne_rain, by following THIS LINK. (This story was originally so much more confusing before I decided, '... Nawww... they won't be included....' @_@ count yourselves lucky....) AND! many many thanks go to dear Tony (thisistony) for helping me with the ending that would so not be what it is without her!! ♥ Love you, BB~!!

☽✩☾
As per usual, Tsuna wasn't quite sure what had happened. Things were apt to fly over his head and, right now, he wasn't too sure he minded being in the dark. He could understand easy things: simple math, how to speak, the fact that he was the Tenth Boss of the Family Vongola, and the fact that sometimes Lambo overreacted and he switched places with his future self for five minutes.

Simple things.

What he didn't really get at the moment, however, was the current ordeal in which he and several of the others found themselves. Like the fact that his legs felt a little colder than they should or that he felt like he'd just suffered five weeks of a hellish virus.

Upon lifting his head, he found his body was moving differently, and he heard a few groans floating around him after Bianchi's yell of, "STUPID COW!" (?!) and the slam of a door followed after a small Lambo-sized flash of black and white. Tsuna groaned himself, some loose and light honey-colored hair falling in his eyes. He lifted a soft hand to brush it back. His eyes fell on his companions, who seemed to be having issues moving, and were testing out how their arms and legs were supposed to move. (Shouldn't they already know...?!)

Bianchi laid there in a cold sweat, her eyes closed behind yellow-orange goggles and a hand pressed to her forehead. Gokudera was checking his hands out, flipping them over with a confused look; he even grabbed a lock of his hair to gaze at for a moment, before a look of utter amusement crossed his features and he laughed. Yamamoto seemed to be doing the same thing to himself, sans hair-tugging, but remained confused and if anything, slightly worried. Haru looked shocked, looking at her hands, and checking her skirt. He looked all around for Kyouko-Chan but couldn't find her, instead finding himself glaring daggers at Bianchi.

How he was looking at himself as if in third person was confusing as Hell, but more importantly: Where was Kyouko-Chan? Did she accidentally get sent to the future? Where was her future self?! And if they were already 'back', And why hadn't she returned? Surely the five minutes could be squished into five moments?! Tsuna's heart pounded against his chest in worry. He could barely remember his heart ever beating so hard. His hands rested at the top of the small table he sat at and stood up to his knees. His brow was creased in worry.

"Kyouko-Chan! Where did she--?!"

Tsuna stopped himself, his eyes widening, and grabbing at his throat. What was stuck in his throat? His voice was far too high-pitched, wasn't it? Much more than he remembered.

"Kyouko-Chan?"

Tsuna turned to Yamamoto, and he tilted his head slightly. Did Yamamoto just call him 'Kyouko-Chan'? And what was with his inquisitive tone?

"Kyouko-Chan," he continued. "You're right there."

"Yamamoto?!"

Yamamoto's eyes widened, and his hands came up to guard infront of him. "Hahi--! Of course I'm not! I mean, I don't think I am. No! I'm Haru!" Yamamoto's hands formed upright fists, proclaiming he was Haru, though he looked and sounded like Yamamoto. His actions were a little feminine, but....

"Haru?! But--! No--! And, I'm--! I'm...!"

Tsuna paused a moment, looking back to where he saw himself before he began worrying about Kyouko. Instead of glaring at Bianchi he was now glaring completely and totally at himself--he was glaring at himself! ...What?! Tsuna fell back in surprise; his arms reached out behind him to catch himself. His body was awkward in movement, and when he looked forward he found two slim, smooth and silky legs in front of him, protruding from his skirt.

...

As stated above (see paragraph 1; sentence 3.2), Tsuna was fine with simple math. 1+1=2, 2+2=4, etc, etc. But, he was pretty sure that none of what was happening added up to him wearing a skirt. Tsuna sat up straight, and looked at his legs; they were nothing like he remembered! His legs were not nice looking, or smooth! He was a teenage boy! His legs were not attractive! They had a light covering of hair! Not this Venus Fresh-glide feeling! (Oh, but he pressed a hand to a shin, and boy, were his legs soft...!) But then, the skirt.... Oh, the skirt! Why was he wearing a SKIRT? He grabbed at it with his nicely manicured hands and nearly facefaulted at finding something (or somethings) on his chest obscuring his vision.

"N-No waaaaay!!" he yelled, in his brand new high-pitched voice. He stumbled clumsily to his feet and made it an entire foot to his door before he lost balance in his new body and began falling to his table. Bianchi jumped up, straightening her back and stared worriedly at him--her--him.... (Him. Definitely 'him'.) Gokudera's eyes widened just a little, reaching out a bit, and Yamamoto's hands flew to his mouth with a sharp intake of breath and a, "Watch out--Kyou--!"

Unfortunately, Tsuna hit the table face-first before Yamamoto's warning could have any kind of effect other than to sufficiently worry Tsuna further. His forehead hit with a 'bang', followed by the rest of his body crashing down. Tsuna would be used to the pain (he was 'No Good Tsuna' for a reason), but this particular crash hurt more than the others. Yamamoto hurried up along with...himself, Tsuna...to help him to his feet.

"I think..." Tsuna began. "...Something's not right...."

☽✩☾

No one was quite sure what to do, but one thing was certain:

It was weird.

Eventually, Tsuna made sure everyone was okay because these were his friends. But more importantly he wanted to make sure he wasn't going crazy, which he most definitely thought he was. And here he had begun to believe that Vongola was normal. If it was normal at all, Tsuna would hate to have to find a new category for what just happened.

He called out, "Gokudera-Kun!", as though calling roll. Bianchi sat up and raised a hand, wrapping the other arm across her front. Her forehead fell to the desk, her hair falling in a damp curtain to obscure her face. Tsuna felt his face pale; it wasn't just him that this had happened to.

"Um... I'll... actually--here; paper..." he mumbled, digging through the nearest book bag (which he knew wasn't his due to the presence of tampons.... He blushed.) He found a spare piece of paper and a pencil tucked neatly away. It took a moment but after a few scribbles on the side his hand became accustomed to the new feeling. "Gokudera-Kun...." His fingers sloppily wrote out Gokudera's name, followed by an arrow where he wrote out 'Bianchi'.

"Ah...Ya-Yamamoto...?" he called next. He looked up and found Goku--er, Gokudera's body shooting a hand up with a large smile on his face.

Yamamoto's enthusiastic, "Yo!" was joined with a disparaging groan from Bianchi's fatigued body.

Finally, fifteen minutes later, Tsuna had some kind of a list.

Kyouko=>Haru
Haru=>Yamamoto
Yamamoto=>Gokudera
Gokudera=>Bianchi

Looking through the list so far, his mind began swimming. All these people...it always happened to him and his friends! Why not other people? He could imagine it being worse if Hibari-San was mixed in--say if he became Bianchi, or even I-Pin. He'd be a Femme Fatale! The thought alone was dangerous, and could give nightmares. ... Tsuna wasn't quite so sure he knew how to piss his pants now that it seemed he was in a female body, but he didn't think it would take too long to learn. Thankfully his pants--er, panties--stayed dry.

Haru, upon finding out she was not in her own body and Kyouko-Chan inhabited hers, sighed in relief, glad that no boy had inhabited her body (despite the fact she was now in Yamamoto's, of course).

At his table sat Yamamoto, Gokudera, and Bianchi's bodies, but their mannerisms had changed, making it seem much more believable that in Yamamoto's body was Haru, in Gokudera's Yamamoto, and Gokudera in Bianchi's. (Poor Gokudera....) Tsuna didn't really have much to say to comfort the older boy/girl/he-gave-up-on-picking-a-gender. What could he say, anyway? 'Don't worry, it'll be okay?' He hardly thought so. Gokudera had a hard enough time being within ten feet of his sister, but now for him to be trapped within her.... Odd. At least he couldn't see his new face unless he looked in the mirror.

"Hey, Gokudera--are you all right?" Yamamoto asked from within the Italian's body. How strange it was for it to look like someone was talking literally to themselves. A hand landed on Gokudera's back, rubbing in small circles; Gokudera visibly flinched a little bit and scooted another entire inch away, but Yamamoto just scooted closer with a smile. Seeing that happy smile of Yamamoto's on Gokudera's face, Tsuna was... more than slightly disturbed, but then again he was stuck in a female body so he supposed he couldn't talk too much.... Haru left the table to go sit with Kyouko-Chan. It was... cute, almost, to see (visually) Yamamoto and Haru sitting together talking (though... Yamamoto's now-feminine actions and way-of-speech were something to get used to). Bianchi stood in Tsuna's stolen body and went downstairs, "To cook something up."

Not with my body...!

When the real Yamamoto stopped scooting and kept rubbing, Gokudera forced his sister's head up, and glared at his possessed body. There was a slight sheen of perspiration over his forehead, and he panted lightly. "You...!" he growled. It was odd to hear Bianchi's voice be released in something other than her usual soft and seductive tones. Tsuna watched Gokudera's eyes narrow and watched him shake his head. A hand came up, and ripped off Bianchi's goggles with a mumbled, "How does she see with these things on?!"

"There--now I can see you better so I call yell at you properly!" His head shot back to Yamamoto and he opened his lip-sticked mouth (which was WEIRD) to yell some more. Yet, time stilled for those few seconds where Yamamoto's and Gokudera's eyes caught. Yamamoto's disturbingly innocent eyes widened with a sharp intake of breath, and Gokudera's eyes widened in surprise as Yamamoto doubled over choking.

"Ya-Yamamoto...!" Tsuna yelled. Yamamoto was clutching his stomach, a forearm in front of him supporting his upper-body weight on the ground. Tsuna jumped up to his friend's side. "Yamamoto--! Are you okay?!"

Gokudera stared with his lips slightly parted, surprised.

"Guuuuhhh...!" he moaned. Now it sounded as if Gokudera was still in his own body. "Go... kudera...! Is this what it feels... like each time...?" Yamamoto asked, strained. He coughed several times. "I think... I'm gonna...-- Sorry, Tsuna--!"

Yamamoto was standing and rushing out faster than anyone had seen Gokudera move in regards to Bianchi. They heard the bathroom door slam shut, and that was the end of that. Tsuna turned his head to see Gokudera staring at his hands and the goggles with wonder.

"Gokudera-Kun...? Is something wrong...?"

"'Wrong'? Tenth..." he began. the softer tones Tsuna was used to hearing from Bianchi's body returned. Gokudera's head dropped, hair obscuring his face once more. Tsuna heard what sounded like small, muffled sobs escape and he stood to go comfort Gokudera. "This power...." He made it two and a half steps when Gokudera's head shot back, hair flipping in a wave. A manical smiled adorned his face and his new... erm... chest... heaved up and down with mad laughter. "I FINALLY HAVE THE POWER TO BRING YAMAMOTO TO HIS KNEES! I HAVE DEFEATED HIM!"

Tsuna gulped and could have sworn that he heard a crash of thunder somewhere in the distance.

☽✩☾

After managing to convince an entirely-too-excited Gokudera to keep the goggles on and not try to completely incapacitate his good friend Yamamoto (the 'good friend' part was especially emphasized), the first order of business that needed to be taken care of was Yamamoto. He came out of the bathroom looking worse for wear: Almost as white as Lambo's milk and with his now-silver hair dampened and not-so-shiny, he didn't look in top-physical condition as either Gokudera or Yamamoto himself usually looked. Tsuna jumped to his feet (still getting used to maneuvering Kyouko-Chan's body) and, making sure his skirt didn't fly up (how did girls keep them down?!), he readied his bed for Yamamoto to recover on.

Haru and (the real) Kyouko left the room to go find (read: comfort) Lambo when Yamamoto fell on the bed, groaning and still clutching his abdomen. "Yamamoto!" Tsuna called. "Are you feeling any better?!" His voice cracked girlishly, but now was hardly the time to focus on that. He had Yamamoto's current health to worry about.

Yamamoto attempted a grin, but it was mostly a failure. "I'm--fine...!" he gasped. Yamamoto's lie didn't go unnoticed, and Gokudera stood, fixing the goggles and keeping his face from Yamamoto as best he could. ('Tenth's orders.... Tenth's orders...!')

"I'll be right back, Tenth," he groused. "I'll go get a wet cloth for him."

With no answer, Gokudera left the room (not that Tsuna would have stopped him, anyway) and returned just a moment later with a warm, damp, wash cloth. He passed Tsuna and knelt down on the floor to arrange the cloth on Yamamoto's forehead. "If you honestly think you're going to throw up again, I suggest you run really quick back to the bathroom, because there's no way in Heaven or Hell I'll let you throw up on the Tenth's bed."

Yamamoto attempted another chuckle. "No worries, Gokudera. I think I got it out." He wriggled a bit more and groaned. "Man, is this what you feel like every time?" Yamamoto asked.

Gokudera shrugged, standing. Tsuna was amused at how similar the pose was to Bianchi's. "Not to that extreme. It probably has to do with you not being used to it, and then I always expect it on some level."

"But, Gokudera-Kun--you're stuck in Bianchi's body," Tsuna said. "What about you? Aren't you a little...queasy?"

Tsuna and Yamamoto focused their stares on Gokudera. He blinked back at them.

"A little, I suppose. But, I haven't seen my sister's face yet; I'm just in her body. But, even so... that reaction is a bodily reaction, and not as much a psychological one. I'll probably be okay after a little bit. Probably."

There were two 'mm's, and a nod before Haru (Tsuna had to remind himself it was NOT Yamamoto) poked back in. "Tsuna-San, I have a question..." she began, hesitantly. Tsuna turned to find her messing with the bottom hem of Yamamoto's shirt.

"What is it, Haru?"

Haru blushed, and bit her bottom lip (again Tsuna wondered why it was so disturbing to see it as Yamamoto doing it). "Um...! How...how will we...take showers...?"

There were several moments in which eyes widened, gazes fell to the floor, and cheeks became a bright pink. It took all Tsuna had to prevent a nosebleed--that, and a sudden 'flump' sound from where Gokudera stoo--

Er...lay. From where Gokudera lay, unconscious and twitching.

☽✩☾

Reborn arrived half an hour later when they gave up hope of the (normal) time limit of... kicking in.

Tsuna greeted him with the real Haru and real Bianchi. Bianchi's eyes widened in absolute joy.

"Oh, Reborn--! You're still the same!" she rejoiced. She lunged forward, hugging Reborn as though she herself had been struck with the Dying Will bullet (meant for the body she was in). Tsuna grimaced at the sight of himself hugging Reborn in such a manner. If it was him inside that body he'd be dead.

Once Bianchi had given her fill of love and set Reborn down, the pint-size assassin peered up looking at Tsuna. The discomfort Tsuna felt at Reborn's large black eyes drilling into his was immense; all Tsuna could think of to do was run because really--what would Reborn say, or do, or think?! (He was more worried about 'do' in concerns to the small hit man....) He felt his legs trembling, and he kept his hand clenched tight at his sides. He tried so hard, willing his legs to move and run away before Reborn tried to hurt him in some new fashion, but, really: What were women's legs made out of, anyway?! Lead?!

One second Reborn was still and unmoving, and the next all Reborn had done was open his mouth and Tsuna had his hands flying infront of him.

"...It really is No Good Tsuna in there," Reborn remarked. "You're disgracing Kyouko's image. And besides," he continued with a smirk. "I wouldn't mark Kyouko's body with an injury meant for you."

"Re-Reborn...!" Tsuna wailed, falling to his knees. "I--!"

"You need to make the most of this opportunity," Reborn told him. Tsuna's eyes narrowed, and he went to yell, but Reborn interrupted him. "Not everyone gets to experience life as both genders, let alone mafia bosses. You can learn a lot from this."

"But--! I don't want to be a girl!" he stressed. "Let alone Kyouko-Chan! It's not right! If I wanted to be a girl I'd get a sex-change!" Tsuna leaned forward slightly, so his face wasn't far from Reborn's. "What could this possibly teach me?!"

"Tolerance," Reborn said simply. "Respect."

Tsuna blinked, amazed. As if he didn't have enough to tolerate! He had baby hit men living in his house, his self-proclaimed Right Hand Man was close to becoming a pyromaniac, and his house couldn't stand in one piece for more than a week anymore. Tolerance. He could show Reborn a thing or two about tolerance....

"Suck it up and be man. Well..." Reborn grabbed the brim of his fedora, then looked Tsuna straight in the eye. "As much as you can, at least."

"This has become boring," Bianchi remarked. She stood up from beside Reborn, and began making her way to the kitchen with an, "I wonder how the food's coming along...."

Bianchi passed, Haru following after her. Tsuna sat up, trying to stop glaring at Reborn because that kind of face just shouldn't be on Kyouko-Chan's nice features. 'Learn a lot', Reborn said. Sure.... "Reborn...are you really getting this at all? I'm stuck in Kyouko-Chan's body. How am I supposed to do what I do? How do I shower? What do I do for school? And... how do I go to the bathroom?!" The last question was whispered almost silently, and with a fresh screen of red over Tsuna's face.

"Don't be so selfish, No Good Tsuna. You're not the only one who's changed. This happened to your family, too. Figure it out for them before yourself."

Those statements brought Tsuna's anger down only a little, and he realized that the others had the same predicament; they had to be uncomfortable, too. Especially the girls and Gokudera-Kun. He groaned, and carefully brought his knees up to his chin. It was difficult--how did girls manage with skirts?! "Yes, Reborn, I got it. I'm sorry. But...." Tsuna stood up, nearly tripping once again. He felt his face warm up again and he asked, "How...how do I take a shower...?"

He looked expectantly at Reborn but all he got in return half a second later was a snot bubble. W-what?! Here when Tsuna needed him in quite possibly the strangest occurrence yet, and he fell asleep! Some 'tutor'! Some 'hit man'! Fine! He'd figure it out on his own, and then brag about it to Reborn. Of course, Reborn would probably find something in said bragging to yell at Tsuna about. He turned on his heel to head back upstairs. Things needed to be resolved, and now.

☽✩☾

Before the day had ended, only one thing was successfully figured out:

They'd all be scrunched together in the living room, sleeping in a tight space, and Tsuna refused to try and wonder just who he was going to be squashed under when he woke up in the morning. But there was one problem.

They couldn't safely go to Kyouko-Chan's house for a change of clothes, which meant... shopping. For clothes. Girly clothes. And he had to go with Kyouko-Chan herself--! Since she was in Haru's body and had to do shopping for Haru, as well, since Haru was in Yamamoto's body and it would be awkward for people to see Yamamoto looking to buy girls' panties. Scary.... He changed into a pair of his pants instead of staying the skirt; that would take some getting used to.... (He made sure to look away and not stare at Kyouko-Chan's legs in the mirror--!) As for Kyouko-Chan's shirts, he just took off the wool pull-over of the uniform top, leaving the dress shirt in place. He tried fixing the bow, but he couldn't get it to tie correctly so ended up just leaving it off.

For Tsuna, hanging out with Kyouko as a guy was hard enough, but to hang out with her... in her body... when she looked like Haru.... Talk about awkward. Of course, it wasn't until they stood infront of the panties display that he realized that Kyouko-Chan could probably have gone shopping for both him and herself.

So, why Tsuna had been dragged into this (Reborn) he'd really rather not think of, and just... get it over with. It was for the best.

There were all kinds of panties... so many kinds...! There were pink ones, blue ones, polka-dotted ones, striped ones, ones with chibi-fied anime and manga characters on them. Panties with English written on them, panties with lace, and panties with a noticeable lack of lace (and a very large and unsettling lack of fabric altogether...). Tsuna willed himself to stay calm and surprisingly enough it was easier than usual. Maybe it was being in a girl's body? Whatever it was, he was glad he didn't have to worry about dripping blood over Kyouko-Chan's shirt.... Kyouko-Chan grabbed a few packages of some light purple and light green panties with a large blush on her face. Tsuna glanced away, nearly ashamed of himself. This was Kyouko-Chan's personal business, and here he was, stuck in her body, invading that business. It was uncomfortable and Tsuna almost wanted to die. He almost did die when they had to search for bras.

He would never in his life call this a date. Here he was, finally alone with Kyouko-Chan, and.... He sighed. Karma was not his friend.

After the shopping was done, however, Tsuna could relax, and have a fun time. The two headed to the downtown area of Namimori (not far from Tsuna's house) to buy some chocolate crepes. Sitting down and nibbling on them, they spoke about how absolutely strange the new assistant in the school office was (of course, Kyouko-Chan made fun of him in a polite way), and then played a few games in the arcade. (No Good Tsuna got the crap beaten out of him, but he admitted his defeat instead of taking the normal-guy route and saying, 'Aw, I let you win.' Not that... he was exactly a 'normal guy' at the moment.)

They were walking by a picture booth when Kyouko stopped him, saying, "Oh, Tsuna-Kun--we should take some pictures! What do you think?"

Tsuna felt his cheeks brighten and he smiled. "I... I think that'd be fun," he said. He pulled several hundred yen out of his pocket, counting out the 600 he'd need. "Come on!" he called, taking their bags (with panties, bras, and... other girly things) with him into the booth. Kyouko-Chan followed after, giggling. She played with a few of the settings once Tsuna entered the fee, and true to form the camera was quick, catching Tsuna off guard and blinding him momentarily. Kyouko-Chan laughed, pressing into him with a smile. Tsuna blushed heavily, grinning. He finally smiled widely, joining in with Kyouko-Chan's laughter and took the pictures properly.

On the way out of the booth, Kyouko-Chan grabbed the strip of pictures. "Oh, Tsuna-Kun, these are the nicest pictures I've seen of you; you're smiling, and having a good time!" she said. "Look...!"

Kyouko-Chan held the small pictures out to him, and Tsuna chuckled half-heartedly. He was with Kyouko-Chan. How could he not have been having a good time?! "Heh-heh..." he began, sheepishly. "I um, it's only because I look like you right now, you know! And--and you still seem the same in the picture, even though you look like Haru." For a moment, Tsuna thought the comment could have a negative outcome, so he quickly tacked a, "I mean--! I think it's really admirable that you can still be Kyouko-Chan in Haru's body, whereas I... um... yeah." Tsuna turned his face from Kyouko-Chan. She hadn't said anything; she just grabbed his hand with a 'thank you', and walked home alongside him, grinning and giggling.

☽✩☾

Two days had passed since Gokudera had been stuck in his sister's body, and they weren't great. He'd had to somehow figure out how to clean himself (it took him several tries), and then to try and forget his newly acquired girly parts that he'd really rather not have.... He shivered. He had no idea how to put any of his sister's bras on, or how to apply her makeup, and not being able to look in the mirror for fear of passing out he was sure he'd managed to make Bianchi look like a buzzed and homeless drug dealer from the ghetto.

He, the Tenth, and the others had been instructed by Reborn to not go to school--grades would go haywire, and people could slip up on the confusion with names--so they were to stay hidden somewhere during the day (at least). The baseball nut insisted he go and stay at his own house for the day and Gokudera had been ready to say 'Absolutely not, you retard,' but Yamamoto made a comeback consisting of the words, 'free', and 'food'.

Gokudera wasn't exactly hurting for money, but the allure of those words was too much to pass up. Granted, Yamamoto rejoiced, but Gokudera could come up with an excuse other than, 'free food'.

"How else am I going to make sure you don't do inappropriate things to my body, huh?" he said.

Yamamoto's face turned red and his eyes widened. "No way, Gokudera...! Why would I--?! No! I swear!"

"Then why are you trying to come up with an excuse like that with your face that color? Pervert," he muttered walking into Takezushi. Yamamoto followed, still insisting otherwise. Gokudera tuned him out, flipping his sister's hair behind his shoulder (of course, it was in a very manly fashion that would never be mistaken for 'feminine') and all but demanded that Yamamoto get behind the counter and prepare some sushi. "It better be free, too. You said it was free and if I'm going to be stuck here, babysitting you, I can take it as compensation. ...Unless it tastes as shitty as usual."

So, Yamamoto shrugged, grin back in place and all perverted comments to the side, and went about his way preparing sushi for himself and Gokudera. He joined Gokudera a few minutes later on the stool next to him, and began to talk about the most random things. Gokudera had a half a mind to take any intelligence points off of Yamamoto's score, shoving the next piece of sushi in his mouth. Even though he hated it. It wasn't like he normally went to Takezushi, oh no....

"Yamamoto-San!"

Yamamoto spun around in his stool as the tail of a piece of shrimp stuck out of his mouth. Gokudera craned his head back to see who was there, and upon seeing Haru standing there in Yamamoto's body he groaned. Gokudera rolled his goggled eyes; just what he needed. Idiot 1 and Idiot 2 in the same place.

"Haru! Hi!" he smiled. He swallowed down the shrimp, rice, and whatever the baseball nut smothered on it. Wasabi. Gokudera shivered. Couldn't Yamamoto show even the tiniest hint of respect for his body? He could at least chew his food. ...Weren't the Japanese supposed to be kind and polite like that? Slow, and thoughtful, and taking everything in? Enjoying what they ate, to get each flavor out of their food?

...But, he supposed stereotypes could only be based on truth; not necessarily true.

Gokudera focused on his food again, sipping now on his green tea, and listening in on the conversation.

"Um, I was wondering, Yamamoto-San. Would you teach me to play baseball?"

Gokudera promptly spat out his tea over the last piece of his sushi, and over the counter.

☽✩☾

It was a glare. Most definitely a glare. It wasn't just a narrowed gaze, or squinted eyes from the sunlight. It was a glare.

Yamamoto could feel the glare from behind those tinted goggles, and suddenly his hands got a little shakey.

His left hand was on Haru's wrist (though technically it was his own wrist, but he knew....), and his right was directing the bat she was (finally) holding correctly. He was grinning, she was grinning, and Gokudera, trying to hide behind in the stands...was not grinning. Yamamoto shook his head, and pushed all nagging thoughts about Gokudera out of his mind. He turned back to Haru, and smiled.

"So, when you go to swing," he began. He stepped back a few steps, imitating the movements. "Swing it forward like swish--no, a little lower...there you go. Now, when the ball's coming at you, swing, and then hit the ball, like BAM! Hit it out of the park!" he happily explained.

Gokudera didn't stay out of his head for long (even though he supposed that the irony was that he was in Gokudera's head; quite literally), and when Yamamoto sneaked a glance, Gokudera's eyes had gone wide and if he narrowed his eyes just right (Gokudera needed glasses for more than just reading...) he could see him shaking. (Or her? He still couldn't decide.) He looked as though he'd been shown a horrible, and scarring future.

Haru gave a few more practice swings as he walked to the mound, ball in hand. He tossed the ball up and down several times (having removed Gokudera's bracelets--how did he do normal everyday things with those on, anyway?).

"I'm ready, Yamamoto-Sa~n!" Haru called. Her hand waved in the air, smile wide and bright on her face.

"Okay!"

Yamamoto fixated his feet, making sure they were firm in the ground. Even though he was in Gokudera's body, the familiar feeling boiling through him felt good. He brought his arm back, and felt how his mucsles shifted as his arm flew forward, pitching the ball to Haru. He felt his perfect follow through; stood up straight. The rush of blood left his ears just in time to hear the end of Gokudera's 'Idiot--!' and a loud high-pitched 'HAHI!' that SURELY didn't leave his body's mouth. He knew he couldn't ever hit a tone that high.

"YOU IDIOT! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? YOU'RE TEACHING BASEBALL--NOT RECRUITING FOR WAR!"

Yamamoto snapped out of his Baseball Mode, and his eyes widened upon seeing Haru standing on Home Plate. She was pale, shaking, and staring at the ball--well, the dent in the fence the ball made.... What was the difference, anyway?

"You shouldn't be afraid of the ball, Haru..." he tried. He heard Gokudera scoff from the bleachers.

"Don't listen to him, Haru! He's an idiot! (Well, you are, too, but at least you're not a baseball nut--even though you look like one.)" Gokudera walked out from behind the bleachers, arms crossed below his chest and scowled in that all-too-familiar-way of his. He joined them, muttering something about, "Can't believe that's my body playing this ridiculous sport," and, "People are gonna get the wrong idea, seeing our bodies out there like that."

Yamamoto furrowed an eyebrow in confusion, but faced Haru. "You can't be afraid of the ball. That's why you have the bat!" he said encouragingly. "To hit it away!" Haru didn't look convinced, staring a little more than apprehensively at the ball in her hand and her grip on Yamamoto's bat was tight. When Yamamoto peeked a glance at Gokudera he found that Gokudera's expression had changed from 'annoyed' to 'amused'. Not a genuine amusement, of course, but more like a discouraging amusement, disheartening Yamamoto's vigor. He sighed, but looked back to Haru with a smile and a, "Let's try again!"

"It's not like she's going to get it."

"She might! She's got the determination to do it, and besides--she's the one who wanted to learn, remember?" Yamamoto smiled.

Gokudera blinked several times, and shook his head. His new hair of pink and purple hues fanned out behind him (It was quite pretty; Yamamoto wondered why he'd never really noticed it on Bianchi before.) as he spun away to go sit instead on the bleachers instead of lurk behind them. Yamamoto watched him walk away, not entirely sure when he'd noticed the swing of hips. (Did Bianchi normally walk like that or was it a Gokudera thing? He did sometimes wear baggy pants....) Yamamoto shook his head, getting all thoughts of Gokudera's body movement and clothing out of his head and instead focusing on the task of teach Haru baseball. Baseball was good. Always good....

Haru shrieked two more times before Gokudera yelled, 'THROW SLOWER BALLS,' and Yamamoto fumbled the third pitch. Instead he found himself falling to the ground in front of him and the ball bouncing towards Haru, who performed some kind of a golf swing with the bat when the ball approached.

"I did it!" she exclaimed. "Haru-Chan did it!" She bounced happily in place, spinning with fists pumping the air. Yamamoto spit dirt and sand from his mouth and sitting up a little bit--almost like a dog. Well... that was humiliating. Star of the Namimori baseball team. Couldn't even throw a pitch. Well, he was in a different body--Gokudera's, at that. He probably did anti-baseball exercises. Yamamoto sighed, shaking earth from his hair and dusting himself off. He heard snickering from Gokudera's direction, and he glanced forlornly in that direction. That was a little unnecessary....

"Good job, Baseball Star; you're just full of faults lately, aren't you?"

Haru stopped her little dance, looking between Gokudera and Yamamoto. She then pouted at Gokudera (so odd to see that look on his own face...) and stomped her foot down. "Gokudera-San! You shouldn't be so mean to Yamamoto-San! He's doing really well in your body! It's your body's fault!" she yelled. She was pointing the bat in Gokudera's direction, looking especially frightening. "You're just jealous of Yamamoto's body, aren't you?!"

There was a screeching sound, like sneakers on aluminum and when Yamamoto glanced he found Gokudera trying to crawl back up between the bleachers, gripping the ends of the cold, silver seats. His face was a bright red, and his hair was everywhere.

"What?!" he demanded. "Me?! Jealous of his b-body?! You're dumber than I thought!"

Haru let Yamamoto's physical face turn a little... scary, if Yamamoto did say so himself. That smirk, and the sudden dark tint to his eyes.... Yamamoto shivered.

"Of course, Gokudera-San," she said. Her smirk grew wider, and she shrugged, her hands palm-up with an, 'I-don't-know-what-you're-talking-about' kind of flair. "If you say so." Haru purposefully (Yamamoto was sure) moved a little more... questionably--which was highly unsettling for Yamamoto. Finally it clicked in his head what Haru must have meant, and recalling Gokudera's comments from earlier made him blush a bright red.

"I do say so--!" Gokudera growled. Yamamoto looked back over to him, trying to fight the blood out of his face but it was becoming futile. Gokudera's arms were still crossed beneath his chest, pushing Bianchi's boobs up and out. ... No! No no no! Chest--but the word was so flat (no pun intended) and 'breasts' was so scientific, and 'bosom' was so old-fashioned--! ... Things. 'Things' should definitely work. 'Gokudera's arms were still crossed beneath his chest, pushing Bianchi's things up and out.' ... It still sounded so wrong.

"Yamamoto-San--! Haru-Chan is ready, again!"

Yamamoto didn't turn, instead just looking at Gokudera (who seemed to finally notice that he was staring at him). Gokudera glared in return, baring a bit of his sister's teeth. Yamamoto gulped. He knew Bianchi was a pretty woman, but having Gokudera's rebellious nature added to it just made it... well, hot.

As a young man, Yamamoto had surely felt urges and he'd never before felt shame in that. He was human, and every man had 'those' moments. (Hell, any creature with a penis.) But now, stuck in another's body, and to feel those urges... that was just downright humiliating; not only for himself (which would admittedly be so much easier) but for Gokudera. He felt blood start to gather, uh, down there, and... it was... it wasn't right! He wasn't sure what he was getting like this over (Bianchi's 'things', Gokudera's attitude, or both?) but it was highly uncomfortable. ... This wasn't going to go away by itself....

He dropped the baseball in his hand, and wrapped an arm across his stomach, faking a cough. "S-sorry, guys--!" he gasped. "Still getting--u-used to this-s!" He began running to the small rest area just at the edge of the field. Haru's calls of concern went unnoticed, but Gokudera's silence was what worried him. Gokudera wasn't dumb; he had to know what his body looked like when that happened.

Once inside the boys' bathroom, Yamamoto hurriedly locked the door behind him. His heart was beating faster than when he hit a home run and ran around the field several times--and it was beating pretty fast then. He gulped, feeling a shiver wrack his--er, Gokudera's... --body. Yamamoto carefully stepped forward further into the bathroom. His mouth went dry, and a bead of sweat rolled down his face. The guilt was already nagging at his conscience, and he hadn't even unbuttoned his pants yet.

☽✩☾

Haru wasn't quite so sure what happened the other day, but now she was lost as all get-out. Yamamoto avoided Gokudera's gaze and left the room each time he entered. Was Gokudera really that mad over Yamamoto-San's having to go to the bathroom? It seemed rather rude to her, but their business was their business. Tsuna-San seemed to be nearly nondetachable from Kyouko-Chan's side; but then, Tsuna-San was in her body and was probably highly uncomfortable. (Of course, she was in Yamamoto-San's, but she wasn't clinging to him like that at all....)

Bianchi-San appeared in the room with a large platter of (admittedly frightening looking) sushi. They were all back in Tsuna-San's room; Yamamoto-San at one end of the room, moving whenever Gokudera-San moved, and Tsuna-San was next to Kyouko-Chan laughing about something. Bianchi set the platter down. Several people donned sickly looks, but all Bianchi had to say was, "Eat up." She leaned against Tsuna-San's wall after serving the rest of the room.

Tsuna-San's and Kyouko-Chan's laughter died out to silence, leaving the room bathed in it and uncomfortable for a few moments. Haru had taken to nibbling the cuff of Yamamoto's shirt during moments like these (there were plenty). The fabric was slightly worn from it.

"... This is stupid."

Haru turned to look at Gokudera on Tsuna's bed. His arms and legs were crossed, his goggles reflecting the light dramatically. He had Bianchi's hair up, and had finally somehow managed to get the makeup on correctly.

"I'm sick of you ignoring me like the plague! What's wrong with you?"

Haru and some of the others shared a wide-eyed stare, before looking back at Gokudera. It was obvious who he was talking to, but shouldn't he be rejoicing over the fact that Yamamoto-San was leaving him alone? He was always complaining about it, after all.

"I dunno what you're talking about."

"Bull. What happened that you feel the need to rush away each time I'm within sight? (Honestly, though, I'm surprised you haven't made an escape this time.)"

Yamamoto turned his head away, a little pink. "Nothing," he muttered into the palm of his hand. He stared determinedly at the base of the wall, where it met the floor. Everyone felt Gokudera's anger rise, and he pulled out a spare stick of dynamite from his belt. (He must have customized Bianchi's....)

Tsuna nearly squeaked in fright (No, no--! They were doing so well before, with the lack of explosions...!), but Haru sat closer to him. This could get ugly.

The dynamite twirled between Gokudera-San's fingers. "It's obviously not 'nothing', or you wouldn't be like this." Gokudera-San was silent for a few moments before he stood. He stomped over to Yamamoto, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, and dragged him to the door. Yamamoto did not go quietly; he protested rather loudly (fitting for someone in Gokudera-San's body). Haru had always taken Yamamoto-San as someone who knew nothing but calm, but his current actions said otherwise and made Haru re-evaluate her previous judgment.

"Gokudera--stop! Would you leave me alone?!"

Gokudera growled, tightening his grip on Yamamoto's shirt. "No! You obviously won't tell me anything in here! So we're going to another room!" Gokudera continued dragging him along, and kicked Tsuna's door open. Tsuna squealed once more, staring at his broken door in sorrow and horror. ("M-my door...!")

"Pukkya...! L-Lambo-San wasn't doing anything...!"

Haru's eyes widened when she found Lambo standing at the door, staring at Gokudera (to him, Bianchi) with a look similar to Tsuna-San's; though his depressed gaze was fixed on his door, and not on Gokudera. The aforementioned reason of Lambo-Chan's fear glared at him.

"Move, you stupid cow!"

Lambo was nearly petrified. Bianchi had never really spoken to him in that way--well then. Time for her to do her thing.

"Gokudera-San--! Leave Lambo-Chan alone! He didn't do anything!" Haru stood and quickly traveled to pick Lambo up, patting his head and hoping that the tears gathering in the kid's eyes wouldn't spill. She glared at Gokudera. "And leave Yamamoto-San alone, too! He didn't do anything to you either!"

Haru didn't miss the sudden pink haze cover Yamamoto's face, and Gokudera scoffed as though he knew something he shouldn't. "You'd be surprised," he muttered. Yamamoto grit his teeth, glaring down at the floor.

"Actually...."

Haru turned around to Tsuna's window in time with everyone else, finding Reborn-Chan standing on the sill. He had that blank stare directed at Lambo. "He's the one responsible for all of this, remember?"

Haru looked regrettably down at Lambo. "Hnn... well, it's not like he meant to--!" She directed an upset glare at Gokudera. "If it wasn't for Gokudera-San reacting like he always does to a small child then we wouldn't be in this mess! It's all Gokudera-San's fault!"

"It is not, you stupid woman! If the stupid cow hadn't bugged me I wouldn't have gotten mad!"

Gokudera had released his death grip on Yamamoto, allowing him a chance for escape but Gokudera blocked any exit with his leg, keeping him contained. "You're not getting away from me," he growled. His attention was redirected to Lambo and he quickly grabbed him by the back of his outfit. "You dumb bovine! You got us into this! Now find a way to get us out! It's obviously not going to fix itself."

Haru's fists clenched at her sides as soon as Lambo began wailing. "Gokudera-San! Stop yelling at him!"

"No! I'm sick of being stuck in this body! I want mine back!"

"I understand that, but Lambo-Chan's only 5 years old!"

"Haru--! Gokudera-Kun--! Please, stop!"

At Tsuna's request, Haru stopped yelling, but she didn't stop glaring, and Yamamoto grabbed Lambo from Gokudera, handing him off to someone else so Gokudera could continue his staring contest with Haru.

It was only another request from Tsuna that made Haru and Gokudera quit altogether. When Haru refocused, she found Reborn had ventured further into the room, but now he was baiting Lambo. Haru sighed. It would never be over for poor Lambo-Chan. At least with Reborn Lambo didn't cry (until he actually hit him...). Instead they just threatened each other.

Finally Reborn kicked Lambo across the room (though 'finally' probably wasn't the right word...). When Lambo hit the wall, the bazooka fell out of his hair and clattered to the floor. Everyone stared at it for a few moments while Lambo sniffled and slowly reached for it. "Must...! Stay...! Calm...!"

Bianchi reached the bazooka before Lambo, picking it up and peering down the shaft, studying it. "Amazing that this is what stuck me in this puny body."

Haru watched Tsuna blanch.

"What do you expect we do, Reborn?" she asked, setting the purple weapon down beside her. Reborn stood on the table between Tsuna and Kyouko, staring at the bazooka.

"Hn," he snorted. "Find out what made it malfunction. ... Unless you'd rather try it out on yourselves."

No one said anything; what could they say?

"Or we could re-enact history, and throw Lambo into the bazooka." Reborn smirked. "I wouldn't mind that method."

"No, Reborn-Chan!" Haru cried. "We can't throw Lambo-Chan at all!" she insisted.

Reborn fixed his stare on her. "Would you like to be stuck in Yamamoto's body for the rest of your life?" he asked. "How long would you like Kyouko to inhabit yours?"

Haru calmed down considerably. "N-no," she said. "I'd like my body back."

From there everyone silently agreed on Reborn's method. Lambo was unaware (he'd been too busy crying to himself to notice) of the plan and was rightly confused when he was suddenly in Yamamoto's hands, the words 'toss', and 'target' mentioned, and felt himself flying somewhere. Haru winced when an explosion sounded and smoke and dust took over the room for a moment. She coughed, eyes winced, and waved her hand back and forth to clear it around her faster. She blinked her eyes open, blinking them wide, and looked around her to see what happened. Unfortunately the smoke hadn't yet cleared completely, so she opted to look at her hands instead. Upon seeing the rough skin and familiar calluses she sighed. It hadn't worked...!

Before she could say anything, Haru heard some more shuffling, followed by a click, and another explosion. This time, though, she felt her gut tug and felt sicker than she ever had. A serious bought of nausea swept over her and once the dizziness kicked in, her head fell to the table in front of her. She groaned, willing the discomfort to pass. She slowly lifted her head, finding herself at the table in Tsuna's room. There were several 'clunk'ing noises, forcing her to put a little more effort into understanding what was going on again. She opened her eyes blearily, looking at her hands once again, finding them soft, slim, and normal.

"Hahi--! I--! I think we're back to normal--!" she announced happily. She shot her head around around her, finding Kyouko-Chan lying her head on the table, moving a just a little bit. Haru reached her hand on, giving Kyouko-Chan's shoulder a shake. "Kyouko-Chan? Are you okay? Kyouko-Chan...?"

Kyouko looked up at Haru, rubbing her eyes. "Haru-Chan? Are you back to normal?"

Haru smiled widely. "You're back to normal! Tsuna-San?"

She continued calling out everyone's names, making sure they were back in their own bodies. Everyone was accounted for, and Haru clapped in happiness. Tsuna didn't have long to stand once he had before Haru knocked him back to the floor in a hug. She hugged him tightly, but crying reached her ears and she quickly looked around for the source. Her eyes caught sight of Yamamoto dragging Gokudera out of the room, and Lambo looking very... upset and deadly. If it wasn't Lambo, then who was crying? She pinpointed the sound, and found Reborn sniffling and biting his bottom lip.

"Oh, hell no."

Everyone turned to face Lambo.

"L... Lambo...?" Tsuna stuttered. Lambo walked forward and jumped on the table next to Reborn, and flicked his forehead. Lambo shook his head.

"No," he said. "Lambo stole my body. I'm Reborn."

Haru's eyes widened in shock, and she watched Tsuna's face turn completely white. "N... no way...!"

Tsuna's eyes promptly rolled, and he fell backwards with a loud 'fwump'.

"Hahi--! Tsu--! Tsuna-San! Are you okay?!" Haru lunged forward, only to find Tsuna passed out from shock.

Zero to 80 in Less Than 6

2008-08-26T21:43:08Z

Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Pairing: TYL!5980 (<—YOU CANNOT DOUBT IT THIS TIME!! I SWEAR!!)
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,510
Worksafe: ... N-no...
Warnings: Badly written Sex. Swearing. Badly written Man-Porn. =D *shot* Also, random car info for you, too. |D;; OH. And since I'm American I know jack-shit about converting miles into kilometeres and gallons into liters; my apologies to everyone who agrees that America is ass-backward with all that.... (But the title is in the American conversion, and I like it too much to change it. D=)
Author's Note: *sigh* As this is much more explicit than the last one I did I'm telling you now: After a week, if you are not over 14 years old you will not be able to read this after a week. I'm sorry; that's just how it goes, and I don't want to my journal to get deleted. DX Anyway, more important stuff!! For 8059challenge, I bring you prompt 5: In the car. =3 w00! (Being a millwright's daughter has its perks. ;D)

☽✩☾
He was pretty sure he was drooling. In fact, he was pretty sure could have come right there—right when the dealer handed him his keys.

He stared at his new car. His new fast and sportsy new car. That new Ford Mustang ZX⁵? The black one? With the customizable dashboard? Best speakers on the market and with soundproof windows and doors.... A 2-door, seats 5, 0 to 130KM/H in less than 6 seconds.... 16 kilometers for each liter and an 800 horse-power V10-302 engine.... It screamed under that hood. And just the aroma of that new leather...

Beautiful. (Okay, so it wasn't a Ferrari like Gokudera insisted he get, but... 'Built Ford Tough'! 'Tough' was in their motto—! It obviously wasn't going to fall apart right away....) Yamamoto wasn't much of a car-guy, or a grease-monkey, but damn—anyone could tell that this new... God-Given Gift was everything Holy. (Or maybe so cool it was unholy, but who really cared? It was cool, and it was his.) And damn did he love technology's advancements....

He was beginning to think Gokudera was telling the truth when he said he liked it. When Gokudera had begun unbuckling Yamamoto's belt as they pulled into the apartment complex's parking lot, Yamamoto had asked him what he was doing. The car was still running, with the volume of the radio on full-blast and the hum of the air conditioning buzzing in tune to the music.

"Christening your car," Gokudera had said.

That was just a moment ago and Yamamoto got the feeling that they'd be cleaning the car much sooner than he'd anticipated. Gokudera pushed him into the backseat, following a moment after, accidentally kicking the volume down by half and taking the opportunity to tug Yamamoto's slacks down just a little. Yamamoto felt the cold air hit him, mixed in with Gokudera gripping his dick and tugging just a little bit.

"Gokude—"

"Shut up," he said. "I don't have the patience to listen to your voice during this today."

Yamamoto would have sighed if he'd had the time, but Gokudera got right to business. Slippery fingers felt around him, finally finding what they were seeking and invading. Yamamoto's eyes shut slowly with the first finger, and when Gokudera added a second his breath hitched momentarily, eventually resuming a somewhat normal rhythm when Gokudera's fingers found theirs. But then Gokudera started scissoring and stretching, and Yamamoto chuckled.

"Gad damn it, what's so funny?" Gokudera snapped. "You cannot tell me that tickles."

"You're all ready to go. Eager?"

Gokudera promptly shoved in a third finger a bit more forcefully than the first two. Yamamoto yelped in surprise (Or maybe pleasure? He wasn't sure), biting back another small laugh.

"Does that answer your question?" Gokudera asked, nonplussed. Yamamoto bit his lip, nodding, willing himself not to talk and just enjoy the feeling. He had to stop himself from moving—Gokudera was getting closer to that spot, and Yamamoto was finding it harder to restrain himself. Gokudera continued his ministrations, and Yamamoto hurriedly freed Gokudera of his restraints, grabbing his dick jerking him off. Gokudera fumbled in his movements, apparently finding it difficult to keep a steady rhythm. Yamamoto grinned to himself (giving a particular rub to Gokudera's head) but after something that sounded like a growl from the older man, Yamamoto found his front pressed to the seat, trousers and briefs gathered at his ankles, and Gokudera pressed behind him.

Yamamoto heard Gokudera open a condom. It wasn't long before Yamamoto felt those familiar hands gripping his ass, and the tip of Gokudera's cock pressing at and teasing his opening. He contemplated just sinking down onto Gokudera, but the latter's hand was pressing just beneath a shoulder blade, preventing that from happening.

"I have to make sure you know you're my territory," he whispered hoarsely into Yamamoto's ear. Yamamoto shivered; Gokudera's breath was warm against the nape of his neck, and gently blew at the short hairs, making them tickle the sensitive skin there. "I know you're excited; this is a nice car, but—"

Gokudera shoved in with no restraint. Yamamoto bit at a knuckle.

"... Don't think that I can't make you that excited."

Gokudera pulled out and pushed back in again, still showing no sign of affection. (Granted, Gokudera wasn't much of an affectionate person....) Yamamoto turned his head as best he could before Gokudera's teeth found his earlobe, gently biting and successfully stopping any previous movement from Yamamoto.

"Are you jealous of my car—?"

"I said not to talk, didn't I?" Gokudera interrupted. He moved, now, out of Yamamoto and back in, finally starting a steady motion. But it was by no means any less aggressive than before. Yamamoto couldn't find it in him to complain; he liked it when Gokudera was rough. It was who he was. He wasn't soft, and he wasn't about to show too much care or tenderness, even to those he obviously harbored more-than-friendly feelings for. So his question would go unanswered, but Yamamoto knew, regardless of a response or not.

The music in the background was forgotten; the only sounds that mattered at the moment to Yamamoto were their ragged breathing, their grunts and moans, and the slapping sound their skin made with each thrust from Gokudera. The aforementioned dynamite wielder shifted his position just a bit, finally hitting Yamamoto's sweet spot. Yamamoto gasped in surprise at the sudden feeling, and could restrain himself no more. For each upward motion from Gokudera Yamamoto met it with a downward push. It made Gokudera's movement seem more primal, trying to stay balanced, and with each caress against that spot Yamamoto came closer and closer to release. It helped his case none when one of Gokudera's cool hands wrapped around his cock once more, sliding up and down and teasing him all he could in all the right spots. Gokudera was playing a dangerous game.

Gokudera took a rattling breath against Yamamoto's ear. "When you come," he ferociously growled. He gave a particularly strong thrust into Yamamoto. Yamamoto shivered—he was so close to coming and with Gokudera right there, nearly threatening him... his gut clenched but he had to withstand it—he could not come yet. But he was so hard it hurt; the pressure Gokudera's hand applied to his length... Yamamoto couldn't decide if it was a welcome pain or pleasure. "You fucking come for me."

Whatever Gokudera did Yamamoto wasn't sure but he did it wonderfully and beautifully. It was impossible to hold it any longer and impossible to let out anything less than a strangled moan accompanied by several gasping noises as he came into Gokudera's hand and over the black leather of the seat. Gokudera's motions became more jerked and he finally stopped all movement; he must have finished as well.

Gokudera flopped down on the other side of the seats, legs spread and hands working on getting the condom off of himself as Yamamoto leaned against the back of the driver's seat, calming down and staring at the white goo decorating his less-than-an-hour-old leather. He sighed. Oh well; it was leather: It would clean off easily.

"Hey, Gokudera." Yamamoto turned to him as he finished fixing himself back into his pants and wiping Yamamoto's come off on a handkerchief from his jacket's breast pocket. He grunted in acknowledgment, pulling out a cigarette and lighter after tossing the cloth to Yamamoto. "Are you seriously jealous of my car?" he asked.

Gokudera choked on the first drag he took and fixed Yamamoto with a baffled stare. "Me? Jealous?" he asked as though the idea was absolutely preposterous. Yamamoto nodded, receiving an, "Of course not, you idiot. You're crazy if you think I'm jealous of a vehicle."

A grin graced Yamamoto's face as he took the handkerchief in hand, cleaning up the mess Gokudera made him leave, and fixed his slacks, re-buckling his belt. "Well then," he began. "If drooling over a new car is all it takes to get you to act like that more often, I may have to start taking out leases."

"If you cause any kind of financial trouble for the Tenth I'll see to it you won't have anything to use for something like this."

Yamamoto chuckled a little bit, climbing upfront to turn the car off and get out. He fixed the seat, reaching a hand back to help Gokudera out. "Any other sports cars you recommend?" he asked. Gokudera straightened himself out, brushing his hair back and blowing out a cloud of smoke.

"I'm telling you. A Ferrari."

"People go pretty fast in those, don't they? How fast do you think you can get?"

Gokudera smirked, taking another drag. "I dunno," he said. "I reckon we can get pretty fast fucking done—er, I mean, I think we can get pretty fucking fast in there."

Yamamoto laughed, earning a hit to the back of the head but he smiled and led the way up to his apartment, locking up his pretty new car with a 'beep'.

Ich Kann es Nicht Wieder Gut Machen

2008-08-22T17:10:18Z

Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Pairing: TYL!5980 (I swear. DX)
Rating: PG (pushing PG-13)
Word Count: 1,360
Worksafe: Yes
Warnings: Yaman's being assertive. =o
Author's Note: This was one was also part of the prompt and fic-bit exchange with Tony (thisistony), but she said to post this one separately, so... I am.

☽✩☾

Yamamoto was not a 'drinker' by any means. He knew that alcohol was bad for you, and killed your liver; deteriorating it cell by cell.

Yamamoto was also not a scientist, but he was taught the disadvantages of alcohol when he was on the baseball team and anything taught within those practice hours was engraved forever in his mind, never forgotten.

Yamamoto was also not completely against alcohol. He didn't think that a couple sips was enough to really affect anyone. Besides; social drinking and wine was part of his job description. He wasn't expecting anything too exciting to happen when he poured himself just a few sips of white whine into a large plastic cup grabbed at Yankee Stadium just two years ago. (Any kind of fancy drink ranked above Coca-Cola was usually a gift from someone visiting.)

The day had been uneventful, and he had nothing big planned for the evening. The day was dreary, gray, and rainy, and interaction with people went just as normally as it had any other day. Hibari kept his distance from everyone, Senpai was going on yet another trip to Italy to see Lussuria (which usually frightened most everyone else), Lambo was stuck inside moping about being unable to go try and find a date, and Tsuna was trying to convince the Varia, No--do not go and kill everyone just because some kids stole your raccoon tail... thing! ... And how did it get stolen from you in the first place?! By kids?!

And of course, there was Gokudera. Ever since he'd returned (maybe?) 2 months ago from whatever stint he was on there had been no interaction between them. The older of the two left one morning before the younger could wake up and leaving him unable to ask where he was going for the next six weeks with no word. Which... was probably 3 and a half months ago in all.... Regardless, the last two months were spent with Gokudera evading him, and Yamamoto unable to talk to him calmly. It was probably better for everyone at the Vongola base that they kept their distance. But today Gokudera seemed eager to talk to him. There was a part of Yamamoto jumping with ecstacy and another... that wasn't exactly jumping but more like turning, and completely ignoring Gokudera's existence. All Yamamoto could do was ignore him to avoid losing his temper infront of everyone. Surely... surely Gokudera knew how these things worked; he was well-versed in losing his temper.

Yamamoto was pulled from his thoughts by his doorbell. He left the last few drops of his wine in the cup, opened the door, and behold: Speak of the Devil and He shall Appear.

Silence, accompanied by rain hitting the gutters and cement, and then a shaky breath.

"Takeshi, I'm--"

"What do you want, Gokudera?"

Gokudera's eyes narrowed, and it looked like he was about to yell something like, 'I was about to say it,' but a sharpened glare from Yamamoto and probably realization of the use of 'Gokudera', and the tone he used to say it stopped him, making him shut his mouth, and soften his eyes.

Despite his anger at the other man, Yamamoto had never forgotten the stormy gray-green eyes Gokudera possessed, and how striking they were, and just how frightening they could be. He'd seen so many emotions pass through them from anger, betrayal, hurt, amusement, trust, happiness, and lust, and love. Yamamoto had been witness to all of these, and a part of him yearned for more than just the current apprehensiveness and fear in them right now.

He looked so pathetic, right now, in his mud-decorated oxfords, the soaked hems of his whatever-brand-he-decided-to-wear slacks. His soaking wet hair was being pounded upon and sticking to his skin, framing his face and falling into those gorgeous eyes of his. Yamamoto leaned against the door jamb, arms crossed and his eyes calculating.

"I... I want to return."

Yamamoto crossed one leg over the other at the ankle. "Why are you telling me that? Ask Tsuna. But then, you've been back the last two months; I'm pretty sure he's used to having you around again."

"Takeshi, don't put words in my mouth--"

"When did I do that?"

"You know exactly what I mean!"

"No! I don't know what you mean!" Yamamoto yelled, despite knowing exactly what Gokudera wanted. He straightened out, grabbing Gokudera by the collar of whatever designer jacket he had on and jerking him forward slightly. "Tell me what you mean! And tell me what you meant when you left! You were the one always calling me an idiot, or a moron, so please: Enlighten me and tell me what I don't know."

Gokudera looked at a loss for words. His mouth open and closed, and his eyes darted everywhere on Yamamoto's face.

"I went to Italy with Bianchi to settle things with my old man's death."

"Bull shit! And you couldn't have told me that before you left?!"

"I was on a job--!"

"No you weren't. I'd have known," Yamamoto hissed.

"Takeshi--!"

"Gokudera, just... I don't know. What do you want?" His hands released their hold on Gokudera slowly returning to himself and rubbing at his temples.

Gokudera's eyes narrowed, now. "I told you--I want to return. Here, with you--I won't leave this time--!"

"'I won't leave this time'? What's that supposed to mean? That what you did was excusable, and you don't have to worry about it anymore? Or make amends?"

"I never said that--!"

"And I suppose you didn't mean to leave, either?"

Gokudera reached a pale, wet, and cold hand out, grabbing Yamamoto's sleeve. "I hadn't planned it," he said quietly. "I left because I was scared. I'm always running away from something; and I didn't know what to do--"

"You couldn't talk to me?" Yamamoto interrupted. "Come to me? That's why I was there, Gokudera; for you to talk to, and confide in." Yamamoto didn't pull away, but he certainly wasn't offering.

Gokudera looked to the ground. "You... you're not a worrier, you don't worry and I didn't want to worry you with my own stupid problems."

"Gokudera. What part of 'relationship' do you still not understand?"

"I don't like it when you're worrying--! It doesn't suit you at all!"

"Maybe I wanted to worry! Because that's what I'm supposed to do; it's what I knew I'd be doing when we started this." Yamamoto paused for a moment. "Why couldn't you trust me to help you? Why did you need an entire six weeks in Italy, and why didn't you come back when you returned instead of wait another two months?"

"Because--! I was still scared, and--"

Yamamoto sighed. "I'm sure you have other places you could stay," he said, rubbing at his temples again. Gokudera's hand released his sleeve, and he blinked several times and looked left and right. His voice was slow, as if trying to think of what to say without stuttering in surprise.

"Uh, yeah... I could stay at Shamal's, I guess, and... there's always... I guess... Haru might let me stay the night. F-forgot, heh.... I guess I'll see you later, then. Um--"

Yamamoto sighed, shaking his head. "Gokudera, I just wanted to make sure you had somewhere besides here. You can stay, but you're on the couch." He may have been mad, but that didn't mean he was going to just turn him down a place to sleep for the night, and besides: It was raining and it would be cruel to send him out again in a downpour after interrogating him. Yamamoto turned, missing the look caught between hurt and relief cross Gokudera's face. "Go take a shower; I'll get you some clothes. I put yours away, so you have some kind of wardrobe."

Gokudera squished his way in with a 'thank you,' and Yamamoto thought determinedly of things not-Gokudera. He felt torn down the middle but... he supposed he could figure that out in his sleep while he wished he could still hold on to Hayato like he used to.

•END•

Set It and Forget It

2008-08-22T17:09:02Z

Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Pairing: TYL!8059
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,072
Worksafe: Yes
Warnings: Oh it's... spicy. *SHOT*
Author's Note: =D;; HAHAHA~! I owed a fic to pollinia for... ever ago, with the prompt, 'cooking'. And then thisistony gave me a very similar prompt, so... two birds with one stone!! *is stoned* But anyway... here you go--! Please enjoy, too--!! And... it just kind of ends. It was going to become the KHR! version of Ratatouille, or something if I didn't stop myself. *facepalm* That or a novel.... Please forgive the amount of fail in here--!!

☽✩☾

"You can't just keep feeding the Tenth sushi, and raw fish all the time!" Gokudera yelled. "He needs something with substance--something that'll keep him going strong!"

"But fish has lots of protein, and it's good for you--"

"It's not real food! Do you know why you're here, at my apartment, today?" Gokudera had a dish rag thrown over his shoulder, and a plain white apron on. Yamamoto was surprised--where was the toque?

"You said we were going to move all of your stuff to a different apar--"

"Lies", Gokudera interrupted. "I'm teaching you how to cook good food. Not that shit your dad serves, and certainly nothing similar to anything Aneki produces...." Gokudera turned a slight shade of green, shivering. But he shook it off and pointed at his counter. "We have: Onions, garlic, seasonings you probably didn't even know existed, zucchini, squash, Hungarian peppers, olive oil, tomato sauce, whole peeled canned tomatoes, and, of course, pasta." He turned on the sink, filling a pot with water. Yamamoto watched the water fill the pot, and eyed everything on the counter. Gokudera sure did go all-out....

"When shopping for these things," Gokudera interrupted his thoughts. "Settle only for the best! It's hard, here, in Japan, whereas if we were in Italy it's only common knowledge that you are surrounded by the best of the best and there's no need to worry. (Unless of course you're in the worse parts of the south....)" The water turned off, and Gokudera set the pot on his stove with a 'clank' before pulling out a (very large) frying pan. "Buy only the freshest vegetables, and the best oil, sauce, and pasta."

Yamamoto was pretty sure he was going to have to bring an audio recorder to the next lesson. There was no way he was going to remember any of this....

"For the sauce and tomatoes, Dei Fratelli will do. For this dish you only need a small can of sauce, but get the large can of whole peeled tomatoes. And of course, buy only extra virgin olive oil with the brand name, Delallo. It even says on the bottle--" Gokudera almost shoved the bottle into Yamamoto's face, forcing him to take a step back and blink to focus his eyes. He tried to read it, but his English wasn't much up to par recently. Gokudera read it aloud for him.

"Delallo 100% Italian Extra Virgin Olive Oil. It's a tad bit expensive, but it's all that matters in the way of culinary arts." Gokudera had an air of... not 'arrogance', but... something close to that. He was smirking, his hands on his hips, and one leg cocked out. Yamamoto wouldn't be surprised if someone mistook him for a table-waiter at some fancy-shmancy French restaurant (or, in this case, Italian). Unfortunately, they were not at either of those places: Just in Gokudera's apartment, learning how to cook 'something with substance'.

Gokudera cleared his throat, opening the bottle. "The three most important ingredients in proper cooking are (and take notes!): Salt, garlic, and extra virgin olive oil."

"Delallo olive oil."

Another smirk from Gokudera. "I should have been a teacher," he mused. But he turned serious once more. "The first step is cutting your vegetables. Peel your onions, and petal the layers like this." He held up a 'petal' of an onion from the counter. "Mince your garlic, and slice your zucchini and your squash. You should cut each slice into quarters. You can peel them beforehand if you like, but that's a matter of preference."

"What if I prefer nigiri over pasta--?"

"Blasphemer! Do not speak such travesty in my presence when I am doing my Samaritan duty!" Gokudera took his dish towel and whipped Yamamoto's arm. "Do not speak forbidden words here. Your treasonous words have been stricken from the record. Now," Gokudera continued. "The peppers can be tricky. You don't know how hot they'll really be, but I'm warning you now: The seeds WILL make them hotter. Very hot." He held out a slice of the pepper. "Cut of the top, cut the pepper down the middle so you have two halves. If you don't want to risk having a Cajun-Spicy dish, shell out the seeds under cold water. If you do want to risk it, shell them out under cold water, set them out to dry, and sprinkle them in with the seasonings (which we'll get to). Once you have the two halves, cut them across into half-an-inch pieces." Gokudera demonstrated. "Oh--! And once you're done with the peppers, for God's sake and DON'T forget this--wash your hands. I know you're an idiot but the Tenth finds you useful for some reason. If you rub tears away from your eyes without washing your hands (and believe me--you'll tear) your eyes will sting like Lucifer's pitchfork in your ass and you won't be able to open them for a good half-an-hour at least."

Yamamoto stared at Gokudera for a moment before nodding. It took him a minute, but... sure. Okay....

"You'll have your cans opened, but don't drain the tomatoes! The water and juice in there with them will add flavor to the dish. Um... seasoning. You should ALWAYS have in your pantry or spice rack: Italian seasoning, parsley, oregano, and basil. In fact, add those to the 'most important' list--"

"Haha! Oregano and Basil?"

"NOT CEDEF, YOU DEFECTIVE ASSASSIN." Gokudera whipped him with the towel again. "Those are their code names, you idiot. I'm talking about the actual seasonings."

It was at this point that Yamamoto's mind began to drift off towards better, more simple things. Like... the aforementioned nigiri, or inari, or even temaki. They were simple and easy to make. All he had to do was nod and make some kind of committal noise of agreement at just the right time. For about... forty-five minutes.

And what could he really say? Just about an hour after letting his mind fantasize about his sushi, he was greeted with a really good dinner, and a free one at that. (He liked his sushi, but it didn't mean he had to turn down good food of any kind!) Plus, having a home-cooked Italian meal with Gokudera, alone, was kind of romantic, and he was enjoying their time together.

He just hoped Gokudera didn't plan on giving a quiz on everything he just tried teaching him....

•END•

Exchanged Ficlets

2008-08-21T03:45:49Z

Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Pairing: 8059, 5980 (and their TYL! counterparts =D)
Rating: G-R
Word Count: Too lazy to go through each one... |D;;;
Worksafe: Yes, and no. The eighth ficlet is NSFW, so you have been forewarned.
Warnings: See above, and OOCness. T_T
Authors' Notes: Right, so! Welcome to the fic!binge everyone :3 Basically, we (thisistony and binnin) gave each other prompts and then wrote ficbits on those prompts They are below (titled with the prompt) for your reading pleasure. HOWEVER (!), if you, in your comment, guess the author of each ficbit correctly, WE'LL EACH WRITE ONE FOR YOU. We each wrote four ficbits out of the eight below and that's your only hint Please enjoy because we had a lot of fun writing these up :3 (And plz to be writing more 5980)

TYL!5980; Ballroom Dancing
Rating: G

"What's wrong? Did something happen? Why couldn't you report it over the headset?" Gokudera, dressed (distractingly well) in his custom tailored Armani suit, demanded in the anteroom just off the north end of Vongola Manor's grand ballroom. Soft ballads from the live band playing for Tsuna and Kyouko-chan's first wedding anniversary permeated the side room where Gokudera found Yamamoto.

The taller man sauntered over and put his hands on his lover's waist. "Maa, maa, Hayato, after watching everyone else all night, I just wanted a dance with my own special someone." With a grin and a wink, Yamamoto swayed their bodies to the soft music coming from the other room.

"W-what are you doing, idiot?" No matter how long they'd been together, Gokudera still blushed at every overtly romantic gesture. "We're supposed to be protecting the Tenth!"

Yamamoto pulled his lover closer and said softly, "Half the family is in there protecting Tsuna and we've been watching everyone else for the last two hours. We can take five minutes for a dance."

"Che, you're such a woman sometimes, Takeshi." Despite his words, Gokudera put his arounds around his lover's waist, while Yamamoto obligingly moved his to Hayato's neck, where he played with the short, silver hairs. "We're together all of the time, we don't need this sentimental crap."

Nuzzling against Gokudera's soft hair, Yamamoto said, "Mm, maybe, but sometimes I like being just a normal couple."

"We're not normal people, moron."

"But isn't it nice, just like this?"

Uninterrupted, the music played around them, bodies so close Gokudera could hear Yamamoto's heartbeat echoing his own. Making only a token effort to move with the music, they danced slowly until the set ended. "It is nice."

•END•

8059; Yamamoto Eating Gokudera's Bread
Rating: G

Gokudera didn't know why he tolerated the idiot on days like these. Days when Reborn-san dragged the Tenth away for secret. He didn't know why he sat up there on the roof with him during lunch instead of finding some nice corner to smoke without getting bitten to death by Hibari. Though, really, getting bitten to death by Hibari was almost preferable to listening to the idiot go on and on about Baseball and sushi and other idiot-like things that he didn't care about. He'd been glaring at his melon bread for a good five minutes before the Baseball idiot finally got the point and shut up.

But since it was Yamamoto, Gokudera knew he couldn't trust the silence, so he dared a look up at Yamamoto whose gaze was now centered on his, Gokudera's, melon bread. "That must be really good, the way you're trying to savor it."

Torn between throwing his hands up in frustration at Yamamoto's idiocy and just leaving, Gokudera wasn't paying enough attention and the idiot managed to grab the wrist of his hand holding his bread. That the idiot was now taking a bite of.

"What the hell?! That's mine! You can't just eat other people's food!"

Wiping crumbs off his face, Yamamoto just ignored him and grinned. "That was good!"

•END•

TYL!5980; Pictures on Gokudera's Phone

Rating: PG

Death. Death was imminent.

So close, and palpable. His fingers were itching--groping at an invisible throat nearby him. Kill... destroy... Unfortunately, the only thing his fingers could wrap around was his cell phone, where the reason behind Gokudera's blood-lust lay.

He'd been about to dial Yamamoto's number so the sword master could come pick him up after this job (he never really used speed-dial despite having everything set up and ready to use), but when he flipped his phone open... it.... His greeting screen... it was....

Yamamoto.

In an open shirt showing off his chest and (rather nice, actually...) abs, and open slacks, making his dark boxer-briefs visible, and just hinting that he might be hiding something....

Gokudera had quickly dashed the feeling of amusement, letting it be overcome with anger. How dare that idiot take his phone and change his settings! He knew his phone had a camera, but he never had any use for it.... And for it to be used for this....

He quickly found the gallery, and scrolling through... Yamamoto sure did have a good time messing around! So many pictures taken--and how did he take them like this--?! Did he get someone to take the pictures--? Probably Haru... that stupid woman--! He was lucky she didn't change the language of his phone....

Despite being upset that his phone had been used for such... lewd reasons, Gokudera couldn't find it within him to hate the pictures. They were rather (dare he say it) sexy, and he found himself slightly ashamed to be turned on by such a small amount of skin being revealed like that. That one of Yamamoto on the bed with that towel wrapped around his waist and another draped over his shoulders... and the one with his kimono open and his hakama just a little looser than normal....

Gokudera bit his lip, and quickly pressed the '3' on speed dial.

"Hello--?"

"You. Get here now."

"Ah, Gokudera--!"

"Now. Speed. I know the way to get to the closest (and cleanest...) hotel. You have less than ten minutes to get here."

Gokudera hung up the phone and pocketed it, jogging down the calletta and waiting near the main road.

•END•

5980; Yamamoto Sleeping on Gokudera
Rating: PG-13

Gokudera could easily register that Yamamoto was bigger than him: It was obvious; he was taller, much more athletic, and nowhere near as lean as himself. So... why was it that he was unable to register, even after several minutes of making out and a (particularly good...) blowjob, just how much heavier the younger man would be?! Granted it was muscle, but damn--! (Then again, Yamamoto usually put those muscles to good work....)

Yamamoto had decided to fall asleep on him, snoring and everything. And while asleep, Yamamoto couldn't do much about how much weight he was applying to Gokudera's body--chest in particular. He was beginning to find it hard to breathe.

If he'd just... wriggle down a little bit... so that maybe just that empty skull of his was on his chest... it'd lighten the load. Gokudera tried pressing down on his shoulders; it helped a little. Except Yamamoto's chin caught on Gokudera's shoulder. That'd been easily remedied, and finally his head rested upon his chest. The weight was relieved (the idiot's brain was pretty nonexistant, afterall), and Gokudera could relax.

But then he started snoring.

"Oh, hell no. No way are you snoring--I'll never get any sleep--!"

Gokudera went to kick him off, but his skin touched a cold bit of sheet, and Gokudera realized just how warm and comfortable he was with his Yama-Space-Heater on top of him. But then Gokudera felt a bit of drool leak onto him. He was a little disgusted for a minute, but then he remembered that he'd definitely had more... 'disgusting' bodily fluid on his skin before.

Yamamoto's arms began moving, wrapping as well as they could around Gokudera's torso, and a muttered, "Hayato..." reached Gokudera's ears. Despite all the Crimes Against Humanity Yamamoto had ever commited against Gokudera in the last five minutes, Yamamoto only loved Gokudera and was open about showing it to him.

Gokudera grinned, letting a hand nestle in Yamamoto's hair, and the other rest on Yamamoto's back.

•END•

59fem!80; First Kiss
Rating: PG

Yamamoto was too happy.

Way too happy. Even in her training. (No, he hadn't stopped by to peek; he wasn't a voyeur!) With her hair done up in a ponytail on top of her head (loose, and black strands were falling out), and her kimono sleeves dancing as she moved with her sword... it was hard not to get distracted. He went to turn away and hide from Bianchi some more, but when he completed his turn and opened his eyes, infront of him was Yamamoto.

"Ah, Gokudera-Kun--! How's your training been?" she asked. She took her hair out of the tie, letting it fall loose around her.

"Er... fine. You're in my way."

Well, she technically was....

She just offered up a trying grin, not really moving or doing anything. Gokudera supposed that deep down he didn't really mind. Yamamoto certainly didn't have a bad body, and with how she was wearing that kimono... with her, erm... breasts... binded down.... (Not that it helped too much....) Gokudera didn't have it in him to make her move, really.

"... Whatever," Gokudera muttered, and turned the other way. It took willpower, but... he did it.

"Ah, wait--! Gokudera-Kun...!"

Gokudera heard her feet start running on the tile and turned to see her coming after him. Unfortunately, Gokudera didn't side-step in time, and Yamamoto was bent at just the right angle, allowing their lips to crash against the other's when they collided.

They were frozen like that for a moment, almost scared about what had just happened, but when Yamamoto straightened, blush covering her face, fright left Gokudera, and he smirked.

"Um... that...! It wasn't really, you know--! I didn't mean to--!"

Gokudera shook his head. "Stop worrying about it; it's not like you can change the past--well... depending on how you look at it."

"Um... haha...?"

"Not really, but... to make it softer, I guess."

Gokudera stepped closer, kissing Yamamoto gently this time, and before he turned to walk away he tugged gently on a lock of her hair.

•END•

5980; Shooting Star
Rating: G

Yamamoto wasn't sure what spying on Tsuna and Sasagawa-chan's date had to do with the mafia game, but Gokudera had insisted that it was a mission of utmost importance, so he had just smiled and followed along. Pretty quickly he had realized that mission was just to "be there" and yet "not be there" at the same time so that Tsuna could have his date and still get away without calling it a "date" (which Tsuna seemed deathly afraid of doing.).

So, he and Gokudera had tagged along a good fifteen meters behind their friend all through Namimori's summer festival. Walking past the festive boths, Yamamoto explained the cultural elements behind the various masks and traditional snacks to his mostly Italian friend (even though Gokudera probably already knew, haha!). After a few hours of walking, snacking and simply "being present" the four of them ended up halfway up the grassy knoll in the middle of the park.

Relaxed, Yamamoto leaned back on his hands and looked up at the unusually clear night sky, trying to spot constellations he knew. (Or thought he knew, his astrology was poor and the one time he'd tried to point one out to Gokudera, the other had scowled and said "That's a winter constellation, dumbass.") Seemingly unable to sit still, Gokudera leaned back and forth, tilting his head this way and that, grumbling about how he couldn't hear anything Tsuna was saying to Sasagawa-chan.

"Haha! Just leave him be, Gokudera. He won't be able to confess if he knows you're listening. He's bashful like that."

"Shut up, idiot. You don't know anything doesn't take place on a baseball field."

Yamamoto laughed in response before grabbing Gokudera's shoulder and forcing him to lean back and enjoy the night sky. "Stop thinking about Tsuna. Just enjoy the- Oh! Look! A shooting star!" Laughing, Yamamoto closed his eyes and made a wish before looking over at Gokudera to see if he'd done the same (he hadn't. Gokudera had only turned his silver head to look Yamamoto in the eye).

"I don't need some stupid star to make my wishes come true, idiot." And then Gokudera leaned in to grant both of their wishes.

•END•

TYL!5980; Yamamoto's Bored and Bothers Gokudera Who's Reading
Rating: PG-13

The day had started dull--nothing exciting going on. They had the day off (finally, after three months without) and all Gokudera had decided to do was read a book. Yamamoto had tried to watch TV but go figure: There was no baseball on even after having bought almost all the extra sports channels (which had infuriated Gokudera to almost no end when he'd seen the cable bill and the addition of 20+ specialized channels). Gokudera sat in the large, leather, could-be-big-enough-for-two-but-with-the-way-he-threw-his-legs-over-the-arm-of-it-there-was-only-room-for-him chair, and Yamamoto was laying down and lounging on the couch almost bored out of his mind, and staring up at the white ceiling. He supposed he could go train, but it was his day off and he didn't want to be doing anything related to work. Training was one of those things. So, Yamamoto decided to start humming, 'Take Me Out to the Ball Game', even conducting himself with his hands and closing his eyes with a grin of tentative amusement. He was almost to, '... And I don't care if you ever get back,' when he heard Gokudera cough.

Yamamoto opened his eyes to find Gokudera staring at him: Glasses having slipped half-way down his nose, and his left eyebrow propped about half an inch higher than the right as if inquiring the reason for the sudden outbreak of Baseballitis.

"Ye--?"

"Do you mind?"

"Not really, no--"

"Too bad; now shut up. I'm reading."

"But I'm bored--!"

"And I'm supposed to care? Go hum your little anthem in the park, or zoo, or somewhere where people will care." Gokudera fixed his glasses, crossed his legs over the arm of the chair he occupied, swept his bangs out of his face, settled his book, and began reading once more.

Yamamoto might have been a bit put out if he wasn't used to Gokudera. But then... Gokudera should be used to him, too, right? It wasn't like they didn't live together, or basically grow up together, or mature together, and it wasn't like they weren't... you know.... 'Personal', or anything.

"... So. What are you reading?"

Gokudera's head fell back. (His hair was really nice like that, Yamamoto noticed.) He groaned and without doing much else replied with, "A book, Moron. What does it look like?"

"Haha! Come on. I know it's a book, but which book? What's the title?"

"How to Handle Baseball Idiots for Dummies."

"But it doesn't look like it. Doesn't that series have a yellow cover? Your book looks like it's bound in leather."

"Special edition."

"Seriously."

"I'm reading Wuthering Heights, are you happy, now?"

Yamamoto paused, furrowing his eyebrows for a moment. "Isn't that a girls' book?"

"And that stops it from being a good book? Not that you know how to read much more than the points in baseball."

"They're not points; they're homeruns," Yamamoto sighed, rolling off the couch to crouch at Gokudera's side.

Gokudera lifted his head up to stare blankly at Yamamoto. "... What?" It didn't sound like much of a question.

"I'm bored."

"What do you want me to do about it?"

"Make me un-bored."

"Make you un-bored..." Gokudera muttered. "That has got to be the most stupid phrase to have ever left your mouth. Don't ever speak again."

"But I'm bored, I have nothing to do--!"

"Then go jerk off to a dirty magazine, or some porno-flick! Don't bother me--! I was happy and content right here learning about Heathcliff!" Gokudera finished his sentence with a hit from his book to Yamamoto's cranium. It wasn't a hard hit; mostly a strong tap, but Yamamoto grabbed the book and set it aside. "W-what the hell! You lost my page--!"

"Haha, sorry...!" Yamamoto jumped up on top of Gokudera, smiling widely. "But I think I found a way to not be bored!"

Gokudera's gaze narrowed. "And just what did you find to do--?"

"Well, more like, I found something you can do."

"Read? I'd love to."

"No no no! You can do me."

Gokudera sat up as well as he could, his glasses settling awkwardly. "What--?!"

"You heard me!" Yamamoto insisted. His hands started working on getting Gokudera out of his tee-shirt, but it was proving to be difficult.

This might take some convincing.

•END•

TYL!5980; WRITE ME THE PR0NZ? =D;;
Rating: R

There were a lot of things Gokudera hated. Stupid allies, international flights, idiot soldati that felt the need to check his, the Tenth's Right Hand Man's credentials: and those were just the things piling up in the last two hours. Fortunately for the structural integrity of the Vongola Manor, there was one thing that could divert that anger into something less destructive. And that thing was sprawled, naked and drooling, across his bed. Idiot probably just took a shower and passed out.

The grin from the sight of Yamamoto sleeping transformed into a smirk once Hayato noticed the one part of his lover's body that happened to be awake. So, after hanging up his suit jacket and precious red silk tie (a gift from the Tenth), he climbed onto the bed and greeted Takeshi's erection with light kisses better suited for other body parts. It only took three long licks for the stupider brain to wake up and for Yamamoto to start laughing.

"What the hell is wrong with you?! You don't laugh when someone's giving you a blow job!"

"You should have said "Hello" to my face first." Yamamoto pulled him up to the head of the bed by his shoulders and skipped past the casual "Welcome home" kisses and right into the tongue-in-cheek "Why are you still dressed?" kisses.

While Yamamoto twisted his hands in his hair to hold Gokudera's head in place, Hayato put his own to better use, rubbing a nipple here, tickling a muscle there... Before long, he had one hand skimming up and down Yamamoto's erection with teasing touches and the other sliding further between Takeshi's legs to slip in and- He jerked his hand back and shoved his lubricrant slicked fingers into his lover's panting face. "What is wrong with you?

Grinning like the stupid idiot he was, Yamamoto redirected Gokudera's hand to the fastenings on his pants. With half lidded eyes and voice far too husky, Yamamoto said, "Tsuna said you'd be back around now. I wanted to be prepared. (But then I fell asleep, haha!)."

"Prepared? You're a fucking insatiable pervert is what you are." But that didn't stop Gokudera from opening his pants as fast as possible with one hand. In record time (things usually stalled when the idiot started laughing), Gokudera pushed himself through Yamamoto's self-prepared (somewhat overly prepared) entrance. Of course, that also lead to Yamamoto coming faster than he had since they started having sex during the last year of middle school. That, coupled with the satisfied, sated look on Takeshi's face made him almost want to give his lover a black eye.

"Mmm, Hayato. You should go away more often. That was-"

Pulling out, Gokudera interrupted to murmur, "Get on your stomach, so I can finish saying 'Hello.'"

•END•

Per Favore Non Dimenticarmi

2008-07-18T09:02:35Z

Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Pairing: 8059/5980
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: (around) 9,833 (Italian was edited~)
Summary: Gokudera's realized something about himself, and denial is his new best friend. And it doesn't help that Yamamoto's got a girlfriend, either....
Worksafe: Yes
Warnings: Language, Mad and Frothing Squirrels, Italian....
Author's Note: Based on the song by THSK, どうして君を好きになってしまったんだろう？, (Why Did I Have to Fall in Love with You?). It's basically an 'AIM Fic', written through AIM between myself and Tony (thisistony). She wrote the Yamamoto PoV (found here [MAKE SURE TO READ HERS FIRST!!]), and mine, here, is the Gokudera PoV~! I hope you enjoy it a lot--it was really fun to write! Also, there's an OC in here, but Tony and I think she's pretty likable~ =3 ALSO: the Omake at the end was also, written by Tony~ // ALSO!! ch1zuru made a doujin of one of the scenes in here, and dtn is doing several fanarts which should be available soon--! Make sure to check it out when you finish reading! The link is at the bottom!!

✩✩Crits are welcomed and encouraged!✩✩Translation Notes are at the bottom~✩✩

☽✩☾

It wasn't as if it was a conscious thought. He’d just heard the song and liked it. It wasn’t as if he’d seriously be playing it on the piano; it was just to make sure he didn’t lose his touch.

At least that was his defense against himself when familiar deep amber eyes flashed across his mind’s eye, accompanied by coal-black hair, and tanned skin. Something in his chest gave a particular ‘thump’ and he shook his head. No, he told himself. That’s NOT it…!

He looked back to his radio, surrounded by ramen cups, and San Pellegrino bottles. The music coming from the small speakers was rhythmic, and enchanting (if he dared to use that word). He pressed STOP, and rewound a few bars back (he would NEVER admit to having recorded the song—that was a sappy thing to do) so he could listen to the music again: It was just in this phrase that the harmony was hard to catch. The rest was simple.

Before long he caught himself humming along and muttering, “Kimi ga iru koto ga touzen de….” He, of course, knew that this was absolutely unacceptable. He would stick to just humming the song for now.

School proved to be difficult: His teachers didn’t bother calling on him. (Which was good; and probably because his nose was buried in a book. Granted it wasn’t his math book but rather a few sheets of printer paper stuffed in a loose-leaf notebook that said nose was buried in, transcribing more chords and slurs and staccatos.) However, his proximity to a certain someone was too close for comfort at the moment (he was determined to ignore any kind of excitement his brain might be trying to convince him of feeling). He felt those eyes land on him, accompanied between classes with comments such as, ‘Haha, so even Gokudera needs to take notes, now,’ and responses such as, ‘Shut up, Baseball Nut, I’m transcribing music from memory.’

The transition from memory-to-paper continued into lunch. He’d have to go find some new paper soon—if he erased any more his paper would become illegible, let alone useful. Lunch began normally: Sitting in their normal spots, doing what they normally did. Gokudera thought he might have heard Yamamoto ask something like, “What’s transcribing?” to the Tenth. He didn’t answer because the Tenth obviously could since he was smart in all things Yamamoto didn’t know—which was most things. Stupid Baseball Nut.

In the back of his mind, he thought he heard giggling, but it was probably just a few girls thinking they could hang out on the roof. If they annoyed the Tenth, however….

There were four girls and one of them was standing in front of Yamamoto holding something out at him, and saying something very rushed. Gokudera supposed she was a cute girl; the pink in her cheeks matched the color of the letter Yamamoto was grabbing.

A pink letter…. Gokudera stopped his eyes from widening (they narrowed instead) and watched as Yamamoto read the short letter and stand, smiling.

He wasn’t sure what it was but as he watched as Yamamoto’s mouth move up and down, still smiling and the expression on the girl’s face light up a thousand times brighter. Something, however, grew a little dimmer for Gokudera. He had a feeling he might know what it is, but he’d rather not focus on something so entirely depressing at the moment.

And so, he returned to copying the music onto the paper. The staff lines he drew and the stems of notes were shaky—he’d have to re-copy it later.

☽✩☾

The next day found Gokudera still copying the music. He was almost finished and he was almost 95% sure the transliterated music was at least 80% correct; perhaps he’d find the music room later and hear how it sounded. He had several new sheets—most of which had already scoffed with stubborn graphite, ripped with tears and scarred with thinned, rubbed sections.

He hadn’t noticed when lunch came around until he heard chairs scraping against the floors. He mechanically picked his things up to throw in his bag and joined the Tenth, waiting for the Baseball Idiot to come out of whatever daydream he was having. He was NOT explaining ANYTHING about their Trigonometry review—unless it was for the Tenth.

Following behind the Tenth and Yamamoto, his eyes stared at the back of The Idiot’s head. They were nearly to the roof when he suddenly said, “Aren’t you going to go sit with your girlfriend?”

It surprised him how easily it came out. None of his trademark attitude or disdain trickled in—just a flat sentence. Yamamoto paused for a moment, the Tenth stopping with him.

“Haha. I didn’t even think about that. Do you guys think I should?” he asked. Gokudera wanted to kick himself—not that he wanted Yamamoto to stay. It was for the Tenth. The Tenth! For the Tenth…!

“She’d probably like that,” said the Tenth. “I mean, she went through so much to come see you at lunch, yesterday.”

Yeah; like what? Gokudera asked himself. Writing a love letter is haaarrrd work…. Stupid girl. Probably can’t think too hard if she’s got a crush on the Baseball Freak.

He stopped all line of thought right there.

“Haha, all right.” Yamamoto turned and stepped down a bit past Gokudera. “I’ll see you guys back in class!”

Gokudera and the Tenth watched him hurry down the stairs and out of sight. The Tenth was grinning happily.

“I’m really happy for Yamamoto. Aren’t you, Gokudera-Kun?”

“Huh? Me? Well….” His thoughts were jumbled: He knew what he wanted to say, but he would never say that, especially to the Tenth. He shouldn’t be bothered with these things. But for his feelings on the matter…. “I guess so,” he conceded. “It means he won’t be such a bother and….” A smile lit up on his face. “We can focus on the Vongola!”

He supposed part of it was true—he was always ready to talk Vongola, but it didn’t seem the same without Yamamoto there.

Oh well. He and the Tenth continued to the roof, ate lunch, and when the Tenth asked for help while reviewing his math notes he gladly did so. Any time not spent helping the Tenth was spent continuing to transcribe the music.

☽✩☾

Later that week Gokudera finished copying the music and making any corrections he felt necessary before finding a piano to test it out on. He took an ink-well pen to darken the notes and ties, embellish the clefs (because it was just something to do) and emphasize the pedals; the main reason had been so he could read over the gray smudges over the worn paper and eraser-marks but…may as well do it all….

Class ended the same as any other. “Bye, guys, see you later--!” “I’ve got a good feeling about practice today…!” and more recently (and perhaps a little infuriatingly), “I wonder if Michiko-Chan will be there, haha!”

So Yamamoto left, hurrying a little faster than usual to practice. Obsessed moron…. Gokudera felt a grin beginning to form on his lips; he quickly suppressed it in favor of a scowl.

“Idiot doesn’t even bother to properly say farewell to the Tenth…” he muttered.

“Gokudera-Kun, are you doing anything today?”

Before settling on the Tenth, all Gokudera saw was his hair as he spun around to face the Tenth, smiles and all.

“I was going to try and find the music room.”

The Tenth made an ‘O’ with his mouth, then grinning said, “For that song you were working on?”

“Yes!” Gokudera nodded. It was only then he realized just how foolish and feminine it sounded: ‘Oh, yes, I’m going to go play this pretty piece of music because it won’t leave my head and makes me think about him.’

Far too feminine for his comfort….

“Okay. Well, when you’re done will you stop by my house? There’s an English question I’m not quite getting….”

Gokudera nodded enthusiastically. “Of course, Tenth! I’ll be over as soon as I’m done! It won’t take long!”

After parting with the Tenth and after he made sure no one was on the third floor, he began his search. It didn’t take too long to find a piano—a fact that displeased him greatly—and he made sure to lock the door behind him.

No one needed to hear what he was about to play.

The piano was nothing fancy. Just a school’s piano—it was rough and worn with age and use, and the once-white keys were yellowed and chipped in several places. He approached the piano with caution as if it held his own dynamite stock and gently placed the music sheets on the front of the piano. He pulled the bench out, sat, and stared at the keys for a moment before sighing. As soon as that first chord sounded it would all be over; there was no turning back. He’d have to admit everything to himself. His heart gave a particular throb and his fingers caressed the keys, pushing them down to do their thing.

…But he was pretty sure that that was not the right chord….

He could wait to admitting his downfall to himself later after he invested more time into righting out the damn song!

As it turned out, less than 80% of the music was correct—several of the chords he’d written were minor (fucking half steps…) and the keys had been wrong. Oh well—it was easily fixable.

But he’d needed to invest in staff paper and three more packs of cigarettes before he even dreamed of stepping into the music store.

☽✩☾

Nearing the end of the second week, Gokudera was nearly positive he’d finished correcting the music. Eight revisions and suddenly 17,500 Yen poorer (there were more than just 3 packs of cigarettes and several packs of staff paper…), Gokudera made his now-routine route to the music room. He knew this would be the day that it would flow, and match the song he’d heard what seemed like so long ago on the radio.

The piano greeted him in the same manner it always had; unmoving and silent—promising something Gokudera couldn’t quite make out. On his part he eyed the piano a little more than warily, hoping that promise wasn’t something dark, or foreboding.

Routine went normally: Sitting down at the piano, looking at the keys and staring at the notes he’d written, hoping they were the correct ones as he ran through several scales and exercises—just making sure he knew what he was doing. A moment later, he took a few deep breaths, and began playing something that FINALLY resembled the music that played in his head. His fingers did their acrobatics over the keyboard and a sense of accomplishment and pride swelled within him. His grin went unnoticed to himself and he didn’t realize he was humming along, singing the lyrics in his head. His eyes eventually closed when he played through the chorus and for those 3 minutes and 20 seconds had forgotten how much he didn’t like playing the piano, or getting a feeling of such contentment from playing said piano.

Upon the deaths of the last notes Gokudera groaned, resting his elbows on the piano keys with force and withdrawing horrific sounds. He glared now at the paper in front of him.

“Dammit!” he cursed. He gripped his hair, finally relaxing just a little bit.

He was always there. He was always smiling. He was always forgiving him or was always nice to him or always helping him in some way. It was infuriating and yet so wonderful at the same time.

Gokudera groaned, once more staring placidly at the music. He read the title, scoffing. Doushite Kimi wo Suki ni Natte Shimattandarou? Che. How typical. Once more, the eyes that had been haunting him flashing before him, followed by full images of the boy. Dammiiiiiit, he thought. I can’t escape it. Fuck it, Yamamoto! I can’t decide if it’s just actual hate, now…!

He paused a moment and sighed. It wasn’t hate. It wasn’t hate at all. Jealousy and anger were long past. Toleration was past. Contentment was present; maybe a little bit of jealousy? He’d been jealous before of Yamamoto—if there was any jealousy now it was of ‘Michiko-Chan’. Yamamoto was just involved in it. Yamamoto was involved with her. Well, he hoped he enjoyed ‘The Game’! With Michiko-Chan. (Not that he’d voluntarily go to a baseball game, but that was beside the point.) He stood, closing the cover for the keys, and packing his things away before Hibari decided to bite him to death, or whatever it was he did.

He had to get to the Tenth’s for a study session and make sure the Tenth knew the difference between convex lenses and concave lenses. Maybe he could give an example with his glasses.

He turned the light out to the room, and with a last glance at the piano a word started to bug him, unrelenting in trying to come to full consciousness. He tried to fight it down, but he eventually conceded to himself, admitting that Yamamoto was driving him crazy and that maybe what he felt for the moron was softer than what he showed. That what he felt was more than just camaraderie or friendship and that what he yearned for from the Rain Guardian was more than just a smile and laughter.

But that was a secret to only him and the piano.

☽✩☾

Three days later found Gokudera, Yamamoto, and the Tenth sitting around the table his room (the Tenth’s, of course) talking, eating popsicles, and forgetting the test they were supposed to be studying for. Well, two of them at least--Gokudera had begun (the day before) translating the song into Italian. (He'd been listening to the Japanese lyrics over... and over... and over... and over again. For several parts he had to brave the internet for the lyrics just to make sure what he was hearing was correct.)

He heard the Tenth and Yamamoto talking but as he was trying his best to ignore Yamamoto (it would be better for both of them, really) they sounded more like mumbles in the background.

He was about a fifth of the way through plus one phrase of translation when Yamamoto said, "I don't really get it."

Gokudera cursed himself for listening in at that moment, but continued on translating. Yamamoto's next question didn't go unheard, either.

"You already speak Japanese, so why are you translating the song into Italian?"

Gokudera looked up, his glasses almost halfway down the bridge of his nose.

"It's just a song,” said Yamamoto.

Gokudera straightened up, fixed his glasses and with his eyes closed and that usual look of disdain asked in return, "You already play baseball, so why do you also play volleyball?"

"Mm? But--ah, Gokudera...! That's a sport, not a song.... Why are you translating it?"

A scoff sounded from Gokudera, and he resumed the translating. "Nothing you need to worry about—shut up and keep studying!"

That was that, and Gokudera continued with the next phrase.

☽✩☾

If one looked at Gokudera's house, they'd see a mess. Yet, if they looked at Gokudera's mind and how it worked, 'organized' would be on everyone's list of things Gokudera's mind was.

So, if one were to evaluate his actions over the span of x-amount of days, they'd be almost shocked to find how... 'out of tune' he was. It was harder and harder to be around Yamamoto lately; be it his own fear of making it look as if he felt something for the baseball nut, or maybe that Yamamoto was catching on and avoiding him so that it wouldn't look as if Gokudera felt something for him. It wasn't a stab in the gut for any clichéd reason—that would be foolish—but the fact that Yamamoto was usually around him: Next to him, in front of and behind him... hell, even hanging off of him. It was slightly insulting, he supposed.

So, there were moments that Gokudera would (understandably, of course) get upset and maybe accidentally set off an explosion or two, or just punched him to release some steam. Any marks left upon Yamamoto's body were NOT his fault, and besides; Yamamoto wasn't exactly fighting back.

Regardless.... No matter how upset he may still have become, nothing about his revelation had changed, and he still went each day to the piano after class. He'd sit there, perfect any mistakes in playing, and make sure that he could fix the Italian to match the rhythms of the Japanese counterpart. By now the translation was nearly complete; it was just making sure it fit with the music.

It was during a session similar in routine that he'd been interrupted. He was nearly finished running through a different piece on the piano for warm-up (slower, and it had more minor keys) when a creak of the door stopped him and he froze for a moment before his hands automatically began playing The Song. He knew who was standing there--there was no need to turn. He cursed his hands--why did they automatically start playing the song...? Yet another plan of his had been foiled by Yamamoto when the fool laughed. Gokudera turned sharply to gaze at Yamamoto with narrowed eyes.

"What are you laughing at, Baseball Idiot?"

"The song is just so nice and gentle, but it's you playing it. Even you can admit that's funny."

Gokudera's stare was the same as it had been before any of this confusing and emotional bullshit had begun, and Yamamoto just grinned, laughing to himself. Of course he would. Gokudera had obviously been a fool to think Yamamoto knew what was going on. He rolled his eyes, turning back to the piano with a, "Forget I said anything."

His fingers automatically found the opening notes on the keyboard to The Song, and he started from the beginning as Yamamoto joined him soon after with a folding chair. Gokudera almost grinned but held it back. He made sure Yamamoto could see the way his fingers maneuvered their way up and down.

Yamamoto wasn't saying anything; he just sat there, looking around (from what Gokudera could tell), and his eyes said that he was thinking of that Michiko-Chan. His mind had only semi-registered that he was only a few measures from finishing the song, but....

He slammed the key-cover shut with a snap, and stared at Yamamoto. "Did you have a reason, or did you just come here to annoy me?" He was hoping for the former, but the latter seemed more positive than negative.

Yamamoto was quiet for a moment, but said, "You've been acting depressed lately, and Tsuna's starting to get worried."

"Che, as if," he commented rudely. "If the Tenth was worried he'd ask me about it; not act like a pansy and have someone else do it for him." Gokudera began picking up his things as Yamamoto shrugged minutely.

"The little guy stepped in and said Tsuna should let you work it out on your own."

"And it didn't occur to you that maybe you should do the same? Did you lose what few brain cells you had left?"

"Haha, come on, what are friends for? You don't have to do anything your own."

"Just shut up, you have no idea what you're talking about. Friends...."

Trying to ignore any kind of Shoulder Devil vs. Shoulder Angel commentary in his head, Gokudera stalked out of the room leaving Yamamoto at the piano.

☽✩☾

The cigarette in Gokudera’s mouth gave a particular wince when he heard Yamamoto’s shout of, “Oi, Gokudera!” He groaned a little bit, and looked up to the sky. Now was not a great time. He’d avoided the Tenth’s house (never to offend the Tenth!) just so he could walk to school alone that morning to clear his head and think straight—especially after helping the idiot plan his own date with Michiko-Chan. The ashes of the cigarette fell when an arm draped over his shoulders.

“So, Michiko-Chan and her friends invited me and my friends to karaoke and since Tsuna’s busy with special training from the little guy anyway, I thought you should come.”

Gokudera furrowed his eyebrows, asking, “Why would I want to tag along on your date?”

“Haha, it’s not a date, it’s a bunch of friends hanging out. And singing karaoke.”

His eyebrows relaxed, instead lifting just slightly in question. “And what makes you think I want to sing?”

Yamamoto was unrelenting. “You really like that, Why—whatever whatever song. You spent three weeks copying it down and! you were playing it on the piano the other day in the practice room. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

Fun? Gokudera thought. Fun? Try, ‘miserable’. “Shut up, Idiot.” He shrugged Yamamoto’s arm off, walking ahead a few steps. "I was practicing converting songs into piano arrangements." Lie. "And even if I did want to sing karaoke--" Unlikely. "I wouldn't tag along with you and your girlfriend." Definitely not.

Gokudera stalked off. He didn't want to just be his friend, but what was he going to do? How weird it would be for them to both be boys and to be together like Yamamoto and Michiko-Chan--granted he didn't think anything between them (he and Yamamoto) would be quite so... pink sounding and full of hearts.... He mentally shivered at the thought. That and he hadn't allowed himself to think about anything beyond 'friendship'. It was bad enough he knew that he wanted that.

He entered the school gate and saw Michiko-Chan standing there with a friend. She looked up at him, grinning.

"Hi, Gokudera-San...!" she called, waving her hand high. Gokudera quirked an eyebrow. He didn't stop walking, and gave a small grunt in return before throwing his cigarette butt to the ground before Hibari's Prefect Senses started tingling. "Wait, Gokudera-San--! Gokudera-San...!"

Pretending he didn't hear her, he kept going. His plan for today was to finish the last few translations and phrasing them. He didn't need to be worrying about Michiko-Chan and The Idiot right now. He entered the school, ready to find the Tenth and ignore lessons again.

☽✩☾

Gokudera seriously had no idea what he was doing. He was in Yamamoto's room, buried in clothes. He was only just through a third of the pile of the idiot's clothing, cursing him and all these clothes. Shouldn't it be the other way around? Sure, Gokudera had clothes, but he didn't have this many, and he was the Italian one...! Well, he supposed that might be part of the reason Yamamoto had him come over and help dress him up for his date.

"Hey, Gokudera, teach me something in Italian."

...That might also be why.

"Are you--?" He sighed. "Nevermind, I know you're an idiot." Gokudera shook his head, and shook one of Yamamoto many shirts. Looking it over, he said, "As much as I'd like to imagine you want to learn Italian to help the Tenth, I unfortunately know you better, so what is your inane reasoning behind this?" He held the shirt up to Yamamoto, hoping that Yamamoto wouldn't respond with something about 'girls like it'.

"Girls like that, don't they?"

Oh, right on the money. Gokudera mentally face palmed as Yamamoto turned to the mirror, checking out his shirt. Gokudera peeked at him. The blue shirt wasn't bad, he supposed, but it could be a lot better. Compared to the rest of the Japanese Male Fashion Sense Yamamoto looked normal.

"They think European languages sound romantic, right? Haha, you still have a fan club, you know."

Gokudera almost snorted. "Vaffanculo."

Yamamoto grinned in the mirror. "Haha, be serious. I know what that word means, and it's not something I would say to a girl." He laughed some more, and Gokudera was caught looking at him. It didn't register, really, and he found that he didn't mind. "Teach me something good. 'You're beautiful,' or, 'Your eyes are like stars'.... Something like that."

Gokudera sighed, breaking eye contact and saying, "Ti penso sempre.... Mi piaci sempre di più--mi sto innamorando di te." A moment later he added on, "Non dimenticarmi." It came out a little sad, which wasn't his intention, but it wasn't like Yamamoto would pick up on it.

"Haha, that sounds great, too, but I don't think I can remember all of that!" Yamamoto looked at him once more, and said, "Just tell me the first part again."

"Ti penso sempre."

"Chi... penso senpure"

Gokudera suppressed a grin. "No, no--ti. Not 'chi'."

"Tchi."

"Ti."

"Ti."

"Si!"

"Eh?! Now it's 'shi'?!"

"No--! It's 'si', and 'si' is 'yes'."

"Oh! Okay! So, 'Ti penso senpure'!"

Gokudera shook his head, hoping his hair hid his face. "Sem. Pre."

"Senpre."

"Mm. Not 'nn'."

"Ti penso sempre."

At hearing the language come from Yamamoto, Gokudera felt his face start to warm up a bit, but he ignored it, forcing it down. "Close enough," he said. He made sure he sounded impatient. He stood, hoping that his face wasn't red or pink or anything like that, and fixed Yamamoto's shirt before handing him his coat and pushing him out before he (Gokudera) said or did something stupid. Yamamoto grabbed the doorjamb, looking at Gokudera.

"Wait, hold on, tell me what it means, first."

Gokudera shook his head, letting his hair fall in his face. "You can look it up when you get back. Don't expect me to give you all of the answers."

"What do I tell Michiko-Chan when she asks me what it means?"

Gokudera scoffed. "Just be mysterious. Girls love that crap."

"Haha, okay. Whatever you say." They continued to the main entrance of Takezushi, where Yamamoto would be departing from. "Since you know all this stuff, you should get a girlfriend of your own. It'll make you happier."

Gokudera rolled his eyes, thinking, I don't want a girlfriend.... He pushed Yamamoto out into the street. "Just go already. Never be late. I'm going to see if you own any other decent clothes so we don't have to go through this every time you take her out."

Yamamoto grinned back. "Thanks for doing this, Gokudera. You know you're my best friend, right?"

"Whatever, just go."

Yamamoto waved, and left. Nothing else passed through Gokudera's mind as he grabbed a piece of sushi from the counter, and continued back to Yamamoto's room to do as he said. Back in the room, door shut and staring at the clothes, he asked himself aloud, "E' questa la tua risposta...?"

Pushing it from his mind, Gokudera walked to the clothes to organize them. There wasn't much else in his life that was organized anymore; he may as well help Yamamoto out.

☽✩☾

The following week was rather miserable for Gokudera.

More often than not, he found his mind preoccupied, and not with school as it should be. (Well, that, and Vongola and of course serving the Tenth in any way he needed serving.) Instead, he found it full of overly familiar tunes and a mesh of Italian and Japanese lyrics and Namimori's Star Baseball Player.

'Best friend'...? He caught himself wondering one day after school. He was going to the Tenth's house to wait for Yamamoto to get there after practice, which was when Reborn-San would be taking them somewhere to train. That's almost worse than if he was a girl and said, 'Oh, sorry, but you're like my brother...!' He scoffed. Che. 'Best friend'.... He is not my best friend.

He finished tying his sneakers, throwing his bag over his shoulder. No piano today. Oh well: It just meant he'd have to work harder later when he did go to practice. There were several phrases his hands kept tripping on as he tried to make it a little more advanced to match the more inter-woven rhythms and cadence of the actual song. Gokudera attempted to throw any more thoughts of The Song out of his head, especially when Yamamoto joined them. Gokudera glared in his direction. He was saying goodbye to Michiko-Chan and before he could turn, Gokudera caught Michiko's eye. Her smile faltered for a moment as they stared; her eyes were wide whereas his were narrowed. "Tch."

Gokudera turned abruptly and walked around the corner and down the hall; the most he heard of Yamamoto's and the Tenth's conversation was that after practice he had a date with Michiko-Chan. Stupid idiot. Wasn't the Tenth more important? What about Vongola? The entire Family? He was going to just throw all that away for some girl? He shook his head, not really sure where his legs had taken him. Only when he looked up did he discover where he was. It was a three-way hall hub, and coming from his right was Yamamoto--smiles and grins and all. Gokudera's stare settled, his anger rising.

When Yamamoto turned and began walking down the hallway in front of Gokudera, the latter growled and stomped forward in anger. He reached forward to grab Yamamoto's arm and shove him against the wall. Yamamoto's eyes were wide in surprise and before Gokudera allowed him to say anything, Gokudera began yelling at him.

"Do you still think this is a game, Baseball Freak? You think you can just pick and choose when you're going to participate?" Gokudera gripped the front of Yamamoto's shirt, pushing his fists against his chest. "Just because we took care of that Irie brat doesn't mean that there aren't people hunting the Vongola. Those assholes, and other Families, too, are after your life and the Vongola Ring. They will hunt you down and whether or not you're prepared to defend yourself and the Tenth won't matter to them." Gokudera couldn't feel his hands much anymore, and they were a brilliant white. His voice calmed down some in volume, but by no means did his tone change. "They will kill you and your little girlfriend, steal your ring and then rub it in the Tenth's face. How do you think Tsuna's going to feel when you're the one in the coffin, huh? You were the big man with the speech about how I was the one weighing down the Tenth--well now you're the weak link."

They stayed like that for another few moments, until Gokudera relinquished his grip and turned around to walk back to where the Tenth was probably waiting for him.

Stupid Yamamoto.

"Go on and have fun with your game, and your girlfriend. Your identical, stupid, and brainless smiles make you perfect for each other."

☽✩☾

"Gokudera-Kun...."

Gokudera jumped slightly. He was supposed to be walking to the Tenth's house to discuss the lectures they'd been subjected to that day.

"Gokudera-Kun, are you okay?"

The Tenth's question didn't go unheard, but Gokudera wasn't sure how to respond. He should trust the Tenth with his problems, but that would be bothering him. The Tenth didn't want to hear such petty problems, or be traumatized with the fact that his Right Hand Man might have more-than-just-friendly-feelings for a certain Rain Guardian of Vongola. Or... well... how confused he was about what was going on within him, and how he'd treated Yamamoto the other day and it.... He sighed. He was miserable.

But the Tenth needn't know! Gokudera put on a wide smile. "Of course I'm fine, Tenth! I was just thinking! Sorry for worrying you...!"

The Tenth didn't look 100% convinced (barely 58%), but he nodded in affirmation, and continued his previous conversation with Sasagawa.

Both of the Sasagawas were supposed to join them, but Turf-Top mentioned something about needing to scout out first years and the like, so it was just Kyouko with them. Miura hadn't been invited to their little study session, but with his luck, she'd already be there waiting for them.

And as if on cue just five minutes later she burst out of the Sawada household, arms thrown open wide.

"TSUNA-SAAAANNN...!"

The Tenth's eyes widened as he was attacked, and pushed down to the street below him. Gokudera rushed forward, trying to pry the stupid girl off of his boss. He succeeded only after three attempts and distracting her with enough insults to make her forget her original goal.

So now he and Sasagawa sat waiting for the Tenth and Miura to return with drinks (Gokudera had offered to spare him the trouble, but then Miura intervened and... yeah....) Sasagawa sat opposite of Gokudera, glancing between him and the notes she took that day whereas Gokudera twirled his pen between his fingers and stared blindly at his papers.

"Gokudera-Kun... are you okay?"

Upon hearing his name, the addressee looked up and found her staring rather... pathetically at him, actually; it was slightly disconcerting.....

"I'm fine," he said.

"Oh."

Another few seconds passed and Sasagawa sighed. "It... doesn't seem like you're okay. If you'd like to talk about it you can talk to me," she said slowly. "But I'll understand if you don't!"

"What?" He had to show a certain amount of respect for Sasagawa; she was the Tenth's crush, after all. Plus, she wasn't stupid. Like Miura. He sighed. "It's nothing. Really."

She looked a little lost, almost, but determined. "You look a little distracted, and we were worried since it's not often that you show anything so... melancholy."

"Geh...!" Since when were people so perceptive to him? And Sasagawa, of all people?! Something about that just seemed wrong.

"I mean--!" Sasagawa continued. "Everyone's been worried about you, lately. Tsuna-Kun, and Yamamoto-Kun.... Have you spoken to them about anything?"

His gaze narrowed slightly at his paper. The pen in his hand twirled faster. "The Tenth doesn't need to worry about me! And as for Yamamoto he can go worry about his girlfriend and baseball." He focused back on his paper and twirling his pen.

Sasagawa made a sound that sounded almost like a squeak, but settled back and nodded. "It... seems like Yamamo--"

"And you don't need to worry, either," he interrupted. "It's something I'll get over on my own."

"Gokudera-Kun...! It's obviously not something that'll be over quickly...!"

"Are you a counselor, now?"

Perhaps it was a sharp remark, but he blamed that on his personality. Sasagawa would know that, right? She looked a little putout, but it didn't seem to deter her. "Well, no, and I know we're not close friends or anything, but you can still talk to me if you'd like." She was quiet for a moment; Gokudera didn't say anything, and she continued. "It... it seems like it has to do with Yamamoto-Kun."

Gokudera froze for a split second and hoped that Sasagawa hadn't noticed, but he was sure she had: She was a female, after all.

"Michiko-Chan's a really nice girl."

Not what he wanted to hear.

"And really smart, too...! I'm happy for Yamamoto-Kun, even if it means he has to miss out on sumo practice with you and Tsuna-Kun."

She... still thinks it's sumo...! "Yeah, well, he's missing out on extremely important training!" he snapped. "There's no excuse, even if he was dating some princess from some faraway land...! He needs to be here with m--us!"

Gokudera gulped, looking much more intently at his paper. His pen was gripped firmly in his hand, and she had to have gotten it. Had to have!

Yet, again, if she did pick up on it she didn't speak on it. She just grinned a little bit and nodded as the Tenth and Miura came back with drinks, Lambo and I-Pin running around them. (They'd grown too big by now to run between their legs.)

Regularity resumed--apart from the whole 'Yamamoto's Not Here', of course--and his and Sasagawa's conversation wasn't brought up again.

☽✩☾

"You should be able to keep each flame lit as you cycle through. Five minutes. Keep each flame alive, cycling through, for five minutes."

Gokudera stared at the trees around him, running Reborn-San's words through his head over and over again.

"Cycle them through.... Keep them alive.... Five minutes..." he muttered to himself. He stared at each of this rings, then back at the trees. He wondered how Reborn-San expected him to do this; the other day he'd been instructed to cycle through them once every 5 seconds for 3 minutes. Now he was supposed to cycle through so quickly that no flame should die out. For five minutes.

Nice. Real nice.

At the end of an hour, Gokudera was close. He was exhausted and spent, but there was no killing his determination. This was for the Tenth, and for the good of Vongola. He could do it. He could do it, he could do it, he could do it! He was so close...! He started focusing so much on getting them to just cycle, his concentration on the growth of the flame fell. The purple color of the Cloud Flame died. The cycling stopped, and he stared at his hand, breathing a little heavily. Fucking cloud attribute. 'Isolation'. That should be perfect for me right now.

"That was amazing!"

Gokudera's eyes widened and he stumbled forward a bit after being slapped in the back. He caught himself before falling completely, and caught sight of Yamamoto next to him. He was soaking wet (but he was an idiot so Gokudera didn't worry much about the 'how'), and his smile was wide--probably at seeing the Right Hand Man's greatness, of course.

Several other things passed through Gokudera's mind, and he couldn't decide what to say. Did he welcome him back as if nothing had happened? That was surely how Yamamoto planned on going about it. Did he ignore him, as Yamamoto should know Gokudera would most likely do? Nor was he sure how to feel upon seeing him all of a sudden after determinedly ignoring his existence (which was a very hard thing to do when infatuated with the person whose existence you're trying to determinedly ignore).

So, in the end, Gokudera settled with remaining quiet, and glared super-hard at Yamamoto.

"What, I'm being serious! I wish I could do that."

The grin Yamamoto wore began to fall into something resembling a frown and a pout. "You can't still be mad about me missing training the other day."

What an idiot.... Can't believe Reborn-San let him stay. He turned. He needed to focus on getting these rings lit up before Reborn-San came and saw him slacking off.

"Gokudera--"

"Are you really so stupid you don't even realize when someone is ignoring you?"

A spin, shove, and flash of red later, Yamamoto stood several paces back. His smile was gone, and he was just staring at Gokudera. It made Gokudera uncomfortable, but....

"I told you before," he continued. "You can't only be in this sometimes. Either commit yourself or give up your ring."

It wasn't often Yamamoto got mad; it was a little scary when he did. When his gaze sharpened, Gokudera wasn't sure what to say to stop Yamamoto's next words.

"You're the one that doesn't learn anything," Yamamoto said. "At least you had an excuse when we fought Gamma, but what are the extenuating circumstances this time?"

Gokudera almost stopped listening--who knew Yamamoto knew such big words? Then again--Yamamoto was smart. He just didn't apply himself as he should.

"Do you think you can just 'pick and choose' when you're going to act like the Right Hand Man and when you're going to be so pig-headed you can't tolerate anyone that doesn't agree with you?"

Stab.

"There's more to life; there's more to the mafia than being strong--you need balance."

Gokudera grit his teeth, forcing out, "Like you know anything about it."

Yet, Yamamoto continued as if he hadn't said anything. "You like to act like you're so high above the rest of us because you already knew this life before Tsuna came along, but what has that short window of experience gotten you? You're not making any friends or connections that can benefit Tsuna later on. The only thing you're doing to stalking Tsuna so closely he can't take a breath without you knowing. And I'm sorry to be the one to tell you, if you didn't already know, but Tsuna is going to have a relationship with Sasagawa-Chan. What are you going to say then?"

But how does that...? "That's different."

"Why, because as the boss, Tsuna's the only one allowed to have a personal life?"

"Shut up. It's not like that."

"Then what is it like, Gokudera?"

You have no idea what it’s like—if you just knew! Gokudera bared his teeth in anger, reaching for a stick of dynamite. He could show him what it was like, but that would earn him a lifetime of humiliation. Even more inner turmoil, if nothing else. He snapped around away from Yamamoto once more, scoffing out, "Just fuck off and go do your own damn training."

"Fine."

The crunch of twigs was loud in Gokudera's ears, along with his angry pulse.

Idiot! He knows nothing! Nothing! Nothing nothing God damn fucking NOTHING!

Similar mantras ran through his head as he stared at his rings, trying to get them to cycle again. The only ones lighting up were storm and cloud.

☽✩☾

It's, 'The cats have eaten everyday this week.' Moron.

Despite Gokudera's best attempts at ignoring one Yamamoto Takeshi, it wasn't. Working. True, he didn't outwardly show how affected he was, but nothing Yamamoto said or did went unnoticed by Gokudera. School was reminiscent of Hell (not that he'd physically been there himself, but Mukurou's illusions were pretty scary); their proximity was too close for Gokudera's liking, and after class that day he went back to the music room to practice the Why whatever whatever song.

It wasn't pleasant. He stared at the keys in anger. It wasn't his fault he wasn't playing well. Someone had obviously messed with the chords and hammers in the piano's body. Yes. Definitely.

The next day things had gotten worse.

Yamamoto announced that Michiko-Chan had broken up with him. Of course, Gokudera didn't say or do anything (he was still determinedly ignoring his existence, after all) pertaining to the information. In fact, he tried to forget it altogether. It had nothing to do with him, and he didn't need to get involved. The Tenth didn't say much, other than, "Oh, I'm sorry, Yamamoto...!" He felt Yamamoto's stare hit him, but Gokudera wasn't going to give in.

Again, Gokudera went to the music room after classes were over (after saying farewell to the Tenth, of course). He ran through several scales, played a few small pieces, and then looked at the music he placed in front of him.

The translation into Italian was complete, as well as the process of making it fit in time. The composition was complete; each note, tie, slur, key change... any crescendo, or accent.... Any D.C.s.... It was all there. Waiting to be played.

Gokudera made it through a quarter of the music before his pinky failed to reach the F# key.

"Dammit!" he yelled. Again, his elbows landed hard on the keys, his head in his hands. His hair was gripped between his fingers and he glared at the keys beneath him. He stood up quickly, shoving the music into his bag in a crumpled heap. Gokudera slammed the cover down with a (rather loud), "Fuck this!" and headed straight for his house, not bothering to go see how the Tenth was doing on his history.

The next day, Wednesday, was rather similar to the preceding day, but instead of storming out in a rage, he played the measure sixteen times until he hit the right key. Once he was sure he wouldn't miss the note again he went back to the beginning, playing from there. Unknown to his own conscious, he began humming along with the music. Eventually a grin began to grow across his face (the first one in a while) and he didn't get so angry if Yamamoto popped up in his head. In all truth, he did feel bad that Michiko-Chan had broken up with him. But Gokudera was stubborn and still mad at him nonetheless.

Thursday followed the same routine, but halfway through the music he was interrupted. By quite possibly the last person he thought he'd be interrupted by.

"So--this is the song Takeshi-Kun was talking about. (I mean, I kind of already knew which song, but... you get what I mean.)"

Gokudera looked back to the room's door, and found Michiko-Chan beginning to walk forward. Gokudera's heart beat faster than he could remember it ever beating and he was stiff as stone--unable to turn around and ignore her.

"Will you play it again? It's a really pretty song! And to hear it on the piano's really nice, too." Michiko-Chan grinned. It was very similar to Yamamoto's and Gokudera just continued staring for a moment before starting the music once more. Michiko-Chan took the seat Yamamoto had sat in, watching with the same happy enthusiasm Yamamoto did when Gokudera played the (admittedly easier) version of Why whatever whatever. (He'd kill himself later for sticking with that name, rather than the (admittedly harder) name.)

The notes once more filled the room, and Michiko-Chan started talking as the music kept playing.

"I'm not really a musically-inclined person, but I think you're putting just the right amount of sorrow into it," she said. "For as upbeat as the music itself is, the song is still really sad. I think you're conveying it really well."

Gokudera took in the comment, unsure of whether or not to take it as a compliment or otherwise.

"It's... hmm." She paused for a moment, giggling. "Sorry, I just really like it."

I... didn't say anything.... Gokudera thought. He continued playing, however.

"Takeshi-Kun mentioned something about you playing the song a while ago. He was really worried about you."

Great. She came to preach about what an asshole Yamamoto must have been to make her break up with him--that, or what an asshole he, Gokudera, was to make her break up with him. It was coming; he could feel it. ...How did she find him, anyway?

She turned in her chair to face the opposite way, glancing up at the ceiling with a thoughtful expression on her face, eyes wide and wondering.

"I told him it was probably something he did." She sighed. "But he's a guy." She grinned, kicking her legs out like she was on a swing, or something. "I broke it off with him so you guys could mend your relationship."

Gokudera nearly skipped a beat in the music.

"But you know him, he said it was nothing; that everything was okay and we didn't need to break up. I wanted to give him his way, but no matter how good that made me feel, I knew it'd just hurt him more in the long run."

Michiko-Chan began sounding a little sad. "I really like him, but I like him happy. He's always kind, laughing, and smiling--"

Letting things anger him when it's almost too late.

"He acts clueless sometimes, and he might be clueless about some things, but he's pretty smart."

He should show that side of himself more often.

"But he's also a good friend. He's always ready to listen."

There were a few moments of silence from her in which only the piano was heard. She had a small grin on her face, listening to the music, and Gokudera found the company wasn't bad. It was pretty similar to Yamamoto's presence.

"Hey, Gokudera-San.... You wrote this piano part, right? It must have taken a while. The song's pretty full of tongue-twisters, so the melody can get a little confusing."

Oh, it only took me about a month... he thought sarcastically.

"You know what's happening in the song, right? Takeshi-Kun said it was hard to follow because they sung the melody so fast."

Gokudera fought back a grin. "The title makes it pretty obvious," he said. His voice was low and gravely, portraying nothing soft. But Michiko-Chan didn't seem to notice.

"Haha, I guess it does." She was silent once more, just listening to the music.

Gokudera looked blindly between the music and the keyboard, sighing inwardly.

"He's really worried about you, Gokudera-San."

"I know. You said that."

"...Right."

"Yamamoto's an idiot." With that, Gokudera let the last note of the song die. "You probably saved yourself a lot of brain cells."

Michiko-Chan laughed. "I don't think so. I do think that I saved us both a lot of drama in the future though. I mean...."

She paused, as if debating whether to say the next part or not. Gokudera grabbed the music and (carefully, this time) placed it in a folder to put in his bag. "For you to have done this much for this one song.... And the timing of it is too great to really be a coincidence, right?"

The timing is coincidental, but okay.

"I think it's obvious what it is that's bothering you."

"Heh. And what is it you think that's bothering me?" He turned to her. He was itching for a cigarette but... Hibari would probably be up on the floor soon.

She locked his gaze and said, "I'm not going to say it. You'll deny it, even though I'm pretty sure I'm right."

Gokudera could respect that, he discovered, shutting the cover of the keys. "Okay, fine," he said. "But then you don't have a right to say much else."

"Maybe. But... I said that Takeshi-Kun was clueless about some things. I think something like this.... I think he would definitely let it fly over his head like some foul ball, or something."

Even the baseball references...!

"You can't let him remain clueless. It's not fair to either of you."

Gokudera stood up and finished cleaning up. He slung his bag over his shoulder and though he didn't feel much contempt at all towards the girl, he couldn't help but get a little upset.

"I'm not going to tell him anything. He's dense. If he can't realize something that's his own fault."

Despair crossed Michiko-Chan's face and she jumped up. "But that's not fair! To him or you! You know him better than anyone--!"

"Life's not fair. You wasted your time with him if you broke up for that reason. Especially if he said he didn't want to in the first place."

With that, Gokudera left, trying his damnedest to forget anything that had just transpired in the music room.

☽✩☾

Sleep was hard to come by for Gokudera that night--he didn't think he got much more than maybe an hour of rest. Actually, sanity was a bit hard to come by as well after he'd stepped out of the music room, leaving Michiko-Chan alone and probably a little more than hurt. Her words haunted him and gave him no more than half a minute of rest at a time. That half a minute didn't come often, either. The words were driving him crazy. She was right, but so was he--what was he supposed to do? Kill his pride? He didn't think so. There was no way in Hell....

So, when he saw Yamamoto the next day he immediately avoided his eyes, and pretended to have not seen him at all. He wanted nothing to do with Yamamoto, and was better off without him.

Unfortunately, Yamamoto-less moments were just as hard to come by anymore. Lunch was difficult to get through. He remained silent, trying so hard to drown out Yamamoto's voice when he was talking, but then the song began playing in any language he knew any words to, and then Michiko-Chan's words took over that. There was no escape--especially when he began remembering bits of conversation between himself and Sasagawa.

After school, Gokudera didn't bother even thinking about going to the music room. He had a strong feeling he knew someone might be there skipping her softball practice. Plus, the Tenth mentioned something about reviewing their English homework so he was obligated to go and help his boss.

But, of course, Yamamoto joined them not too long afterward.

In a further attempt to drown out Yamamoto's annoying baseball voice (he had to come up with something...), Gokudera had taken to talking over him. He'd ask the Tenth if there was something he didn't understand, or if there was anything he could get the Tenth, like a drink, or snack. Yamamoto didn't seem pleased with these outcomes, but Gokudera wasn't paying attention to him, so he didn't care. He also drowned out the little Shoulder Angel telling him he did care.

So he most definitely and determinedly did not care.

There was no sleep that night, either. Not even the hour he might have gotten the previous night. He felt like he was on the brink of madness. Virtually no sleep for the last two days, and voices, and songs, and emotions running rampant within him. It was unpleasant and he wanted it to stop now. He didn't ask to harbor feelings for baseball nuts--they were shoved upon him like some mad and frothing squirrel. (Which was a scary thought but to his sleep-depraved mind it fit rather well.)

So he continued to ignore Yamamoto, and with his irritability up by 134%, no one was very happy. The Tenth tried his best to help ease the tension--Gokudera appreciated the effort, but it was nothing he needed to get involved in. If he met someone's eyes in the hallway, all he did was glare--even at Sasagawa and Kurokawa, and people he didn't even know. He even passed by Michiko-Chan, but she glared back just as hard if not harder.

Lunch on the roof began with Reborn-San dragging the Tenth away from the roof for 'Private Training'. Gokudera nearly mourned the loss more than he usually did. Surely Reborn-San didn't expect him to eat lunch alone with Yamamoto? Unless it was a test, checking his ability to ignore annoying presences? He could do that. He could prove that. They moved to their respective 'seats' and sat there, pulling out their lunches in silence and trying to see who could make the least amount of noise.

It was hard for Gokudera to tell how much noise he was or wasn't making. The voices grew louder, and his blood was pumping louder than he could remember--Yamamoto couldn't hear it? Oh well, he was an unobservant idiot with sod-for-brains, anyway. As he chewed his lunch, Gokudera could feel his eyes start to shut, and his mind begin to shut down--he was so tired. He didn't know how much more he could take. But--! He had to look alive! He was NOT going to lose to the baseball idiot.

"This has gone on long enough, Gokudera. Just tell me what your problem is."

That jolted him awake--to his feet, even. Gokudera glared down at Yamamoto (it was an automatic reaction--he swore), soon to Yamamoto, once he had risen to his feet as well. Gokudera couldn't take it much longer, but he had to stay mad. He had to. His pride was at stake and he would not lose it....

As he had the other day with a wall, Gokudera shoved Yamamoto against a fence, his shirt in his grasp. Glare intensified, and almost barking like a dog yelled, "You wanna know what my problem is, baseball idiot? You. You are my fucking problem. You always tag along with me and the Tenth, trying to be a part of the Famiglia, but only when it's convenient for you. You think you can throw your arm around my shoulders, smile that stupid, brainless smile, call me your God damn best friend and think that that makes everything okay!" Gokudera wasn't sure when he lost track of his argument, or when he'd snapped, but Yamamoto's eyes had widened slightly as if he'd gone crazy and lifted a hand to his face.

"You're crying."

Gokudera hadn't felt anything like tears fall down his face; only when Yamamoto's hand made contact with his cheek did he feel anything. The air in Gokudera's lungs left in a rush, leaving his heart to give a particularly odd thump. Though he felt the fatigue rush through his body he tightened his grip with a soft, "You fucking idiot." He yanked Yamamoto down, kissing him. Forget the air leaving his body, and the tempo his heart was beating. Their lips parted just enough for, "You stupid..." before he kissed him again. Instead of his own hair twisted between his fingers in frustration it was Yamamoto's in what felt like fear, excitement, and anxiety in one--Yamamoto was not getting away. Just small snippets of familiar phrases, such as, "Amo--", "--Mi sto----", "--Innamorando--", and "Non dimenticarmi" were whispered on their lips.

Now Gokudera could feel as more tears spilled from his tired eyes, and Yamamoto wiped them away still with a slightly surprised grin, and an unsure one at that. Gokudera stared at him worriedly until Yamamoto kissed him back softly, and Gokudera, feeling absolutely wiped out, rested his head on Yamamoto's chest. The voices in his head stopped, and that blasted song had finally stopped playing in the background.

Gokudera was about ready to call it a night.

--END—

OMAKE:

A little stunned (and almost deliriously happy--it was Gokudera, how could he possibly have even dreamt something like this would happen?), Yamamoto rubbed Gokudera's back and rested his cheek on his silver hair. It felt like the closing credits to some epic romance... All up until Gokudera went limp in his arms. Nearly falling to the ground with the sudden dead weight, Yamamoto panicked.

"Gokudera? Are you all right?"

Of course, his only answer was a snore. Heart still racing, but relieved, Yamamoto sank down onto the roof, so he wouldn't drop his friend (Gokudera would kill him if he even thought of calling him his boyfriend). He laughed softly (affectionately) and smoothed the hair out of Gokudera's fa--

"Eh?! What happened?! You didn't hurt him, did you, Yamamoto?" Tsuna yelled, running back across the roof with Reborn (smirking) on his shoulder. Yamamoto watched as what little color Tsuna had left in his face drained once he was close enough to realize a few things about the situation. "Wait! No. No, no no no no...! You and Gokudera-Kun...! But--! No."

Reborn perfunctorily kicked him in the head. "The boss shouldn't be so ignorant of his subordinates that these things shock him."

And Yamamoto just laughed.

✩☽✩☾✩

Congratulations for reading through all of that! You get a cookie~♥

Be a dear and crit? ✩

Ti Penso Sempre: a short doujin made by ch1zuru!!
click image to view

-and-

Two Fanarts by dtn!!
click image to view

Trans. Notes:

The Italian has been corrected by Karijin Aska Shangel at FF.net~! Thank youuuuu~!! ♥

San Pellegrino: A bottled Italian Mineral Water. You can sometimes find them at gas stations, or convenience stores. They're not bad, but require a certain taste. It's kind of (but not really? o_0) an inside joke between myself and a friend based off a doujin where Gokudera goes crazy about San Pellegrinos.... >_>

Doushite Kimi wo Suki ni Natte Shimattandarou?: The name of the song~ See A/N above. *points up* (You can find various links to the song [streaming media, downloads, etc.] at the bottom of Tony's Fic, and going through some of the comments~)

Kimi ga iru koto ga touzen de....: A lyric from the song this fic (and its counterpart) is based off of. It means, 'It was so natural for you to be with me.' Thank you, Janet, for your translation!! \(^.^)/

I love this game:
Vaffanculo: (Doesn't everyone in the Reborn! fandom know this one by now?) Rather, erm, rude, and basically means, 'fuck you up the ass'.
Ti penso sempre: 'I think of you always'
Mi piaci sempre di più: 'I like you more and more'
Mi sto innamorando di te: 'I am falling in love with you'
Non dimenticarmi: 'Don't forget me'
E' questa la tua risposta...?: 'Is that your answer?'
Amo(re): 'Lo(ve)
(Mi sto) innamorando: '(I'm falling) in love'

And I think that's it for the 'Guess What Gokudera's Saying' game.... >_>;;

Pervenche

2008-05-24T17:28:15Z

Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Characters/Pairing: TYL!Yamamoto, Gokudera; mention of TYL!8059
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,371
Worksafe: Up to your discretion. (Read warning)
Warnings: It's not really pedophilic; but it kinda touches on it?
Author's Note: For templated. From...looooong ago, in a galaxy far, far away from reality.... Also, reading through the timeline here and the character info here, it seems to me that Gokudera should be around 16 when they go to the future, so...YEAH.

~*~

"...Gokudera--?"

"The tenth was upset; he cried himself to sleep. I want to be strong so I can let him relax. I want to know what to do different than my future self so that he doesn't...cry."

Yamamoto sighed. He knew this was coming--how could it not? It was Gokudera, whose only friend (currently) was his world. He felt duty-bound to protect Tsuna; to serve him, and to follow his every whim (even if Tsuna was a little freaked out by it most of the time). But...hadn't he just spent the last five minutes yelling, having locked himself in Yamamoto's room, destroying things? Emptying his drawers? Yamamoto supposed responsibility and respect would actually one day stick to Gokudera and hold. Gokudera was strong willed--Yamamoto had faith in him. "This may sound pretty weird coming from me, but.... You're still just a boy."

Gokudera's shoulders slumped in disbelief. "What the hell?! Ten years later and you're still an idiot!"

"No no no!" Yamamoto protested. He held his hands up in defense. "I just meant that you're allowed to be scared. You don't have to showcase pure bravery for the world to see. Tsuna will more than understand, I think."

Before Yamamoto could translate the look on Gokudera's face, he felt a small fist connect with his side. He stumbled back a bit--more surprised at the force than actually moved (or rather, budged) by the hit.

Gokudera glared up at him. "I don't know what's gotten into your head these last couple years, but I'm never scared! Especially when it comes to protecting the Tenth!"

"Okay, fine," Yamamoto conceded. It was easier to let Gokudera spew the words and let him attempt to believe them. Gokudera was more inclined to learn things the hard way, but hey--to each his own. "But don't forget that you exist as well. You like to forget that."

Gokudera turned scoffing, and lit up a cigarette. Once more he entered Yamamoto's room, followed closely by the older man. Yamamoto nearly stalked Gokudera back to the middle of the room where Yamamoto got a first-hand look of the damage Gokudera caused. His glass baseball cabinet was in shatters; glass glittered like pristine ice from the floor, with several autographed baseballs having rolled to random spots in his room. Two sat near the door (they must have been the ones Gokudera threw while Yamamoto tried to converse from the other side of his locked door), and a pile of clothes and loose drawers hung in front of his dresser. How nice.

Realization clicked, and he chanced a second glance. The Drawer, where he hid Things-that-Should-Not-be-Found-by-Sixteen-Year-Old-Boys, had been opened. But whether by chance or the grace of God it didn't seem like anything had been found. Yamamoto took this short chance to pray to any religious deity he'd ever heard of in thanks. When his eyes opened again he found Gokudera sorting through the clothes, and fixing the drawers.

"I'm...sorry I ruined your room like that," he muttered. Almost silent enough to not have been heard. Gokudera, even his older counterpart, wasn't one to apologize and even when he did things continued as though nothing had been said. Yamamoto grinned in return, and sat down next to the clothes to start folding them back into the drawers. His katana lay next to him, and Gokudera sat on the opposite side of the pile folding up a pair of jeans with a grimace on his face. "So," he began after a moment had passed. He placed the jeans back in to a drawer. It was the wrong one, but Yamamoto would rather not get a specially reserved glare.

"Get a girlfriend yet? Or are you not that cool?"

...Screw the Things-that-Should-Not-be-Found! Just outright ask about his personal life. Yamamoto cleared his throat, tossing a few shirts in the drawer.

"Erm, no. I don't have a girlfriend," he answered.

Gokudera raised an eyebrow, and his lips quirked into a grin. "Player, then?"

Yamamoto's face reddened. "No. Where is this coming from?"

Something caught in Gokudera's throat; Yamamoto saw him flinch a little bit over the shrinking pile of clothing. "Well, um, when I was emptying your drawers...."

Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no....

"I, er, I kinda found a box of, erm.... Well, you know. And then a small bottle of...something, but I'm not quite sure what that is."

Yamamoto's eyes widened, and as he saw Gokudera raise the items up for him to see, Yamamoto lunged forward, snatching them from Gokudera.

"Dont--! Don't...!" Yamamoto straightened up, trying to hide the things in a different drawer. "Don't worry about those."

"Don't just blow it off! Why the hell are you so defensive over them?!" Gokudera threw a pair of socks at Yamamoto's face. "They're just condoms! And...I still don't know what the bottle is for!"

Yamamoto tossed several shirts and a pair of boxer-briefs on top of the box and bottle. He cleared his throat and sat up straighter, trying to retain any kind of dignity he could. "Don't worry about it, Gokudera. They're normal things for a fully grown man to own. You too, one day, will be a fully grown man."

Folding production from Gokudera's side of the pile increased in speed, as did the pink tint of his face increase in intensity. He hurriedly filled the first drawer, and opened another to throw more clothing in. Yamamoto sighed, and continued in a calmer fashion on his side.

"So, the Tenth," Gokudera began. "How...was he, you know...."

"I don't know," Yamamoto lied. "I just got here, remember." Yamamoto didn't think Gokudera would really be able to handle it. He stared intently at the shirt he was folding. (Did the left go over the right, or did the right go over the left? He'd have to ask Haru or Kyoko--whenever they returned from wherever it was they were.) He blindly hoped Gokudera would quit questioning, but he knew that the young boy would continue until he got what he wanted. It was that undying determination within him. Yamamoto didn't look up at all as he grabbed another shirt, but there was a 'thunk' that caught his attention. He was worried for a second when he snapped his gaze towards the sound, but upon seeing a photo album fall on to Gokudera's lap he relaxed, and continued with his shirt. Of course, Gokudera didn't continue with folding the clothes--Yamamoto didn't much mind--and instead opened the album.

"Hey, it's us at school!"

Yamamoto grinned to himself. "There are a bunch of school pictures in there."

Indeed there were a lot of school pictures, ranging from middle school, up to graduation, and finishing through a couple months of college until he'd been drafted into a Major League team. There were some landmarks from American cities, too.

"You sure do get around a lot. No wonder you have the large box."

"Go--Gokudera...!" Yamamoto dropped the shirt he'd been folding. "I'm not--!" He just couldn't think of anything to say to placate Gokudera's seemingly convinced mindset that he was often out and having sex with other women.

A few more page turns. "Well, I would think that women would be jumping you. Star Baseball Nut, and all. But, what's the bottle for?"

"Aren't you just a little too young to really be worrying about these things?"

"I'm sixteen!"

"Too young."

"Che. Bastard. Emba--?"

Gokudera paused, and when Yamamoto looked up the eyes on Gokudera's face widened exponentially, snapping up from the photo album in mid-turn. What had he come up with n--?

"Do you have--!" He paused again for a moment, Yamamoto's eyes narrowing. Gokudera's voice fell to a harsh whisper. "Do you have ED...?"

"..."

Yamamoto nearly died; he swore his heart stopped for what felt like nearly an hour. He tried breathing a couple times: Just barely successful. "Go-Goku...dera...." It was tough, but he'd fight through. "M-most men my age have no worry of getting ED...."

The page Gokudera had been turning fell open. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, nutter," he mumbled and looked down at the album as Yamamoto began folding again. Ah, a blue shirt. Blue was such a cool, calming color. It really matched his rain attribute rather well, he thought. He set the shirt in a drawer, getting ready to fill a new one. Even though he was turned away from Gokudera, Yamamoto felt something hit him. Something hard, and sharp. Though not something tangible, it was very, very solid. He almost didn't want to turn, but the hit was a lure and all be damned if his head didn't turn of its own volition.

The gaze that his eyes met was strong, and the jagged glare did not allow him to avert his eyes.

"Yamamoto," Gokudera said slowly.

"Go...kudera...?"

Without moving at all Gokudera held up the album, pointing to a picture. Yamamoto quickly glanced down at it.

"Who is that?"

"You. The future you. The you from 'now'."

"Right." Gokudera pointed to another photo, on the bottom of the page. "And who is this, exactly?"

Yamamoto looked down to the image pasted in the book. "That's me--"

It was an evening of realizations for Yamamoto, and this one was not a pleasant realization at all. Not in the least.

"You, huh?"

All Gokudera had to do was turn that page....

"You do look a lot cooler than your teenage self, I have to admit."

Just turn it, and it'd all be over. The secret would be out, and it could change his future. Well, his younger self's future. But it was still 'his'!

"But this..." Gokudera continued. The page was turning, turning...45°...90°.... 130°....

Sure enough.

"What is this?!" Gokudera yelled, exploding.

There it was. Plain as day.

"Why is the future me making out in a corner with you, huh?! And whose idea was it to sneak pictures of it, huh?!" Gokudera pointed repeatedly, his glare more piercing than Yamamoto could remember.

"Haha...!" was the feeble attempt Yamamoto gave for a laugh. "Well, that was actually your idea--!"

"Bull!"

"No really! And I think Romario was taking the photos for blackmail or something. (Though they got out anyway....)"

"Stop lying! You drugged me! What the hell did you drug me with?! Vongola doesn't deal in drugs! Where did you get them?!"

Several pairs of socks and a pair of (the older Gokudera's) boxers to Yamamoto's face later, Gokudera had calmed down a little bit though his face was a loud and screaming red. Yamamoto would attempt once more a civil conversation, and explain. ...Kinda.

"In this time..." he began. "The adult you and I are, er, a lot...'closer' than...yourself and my teenaged counterpart...."

Gokudera was quiet for a few moments. The book was still held open and visible beyond the diminishing clothes pile, allowing Yamamoto to look at the pictures on the page. Ah, the memories.

"So then...."

Yamamoto's eyes ripped from the pictures and upon landing on Gokudera's, the jade eyes he met glanced away. Gokudera scratched a bit behind his ear, still refusing to meet Yamamoto's eyes. The elder couldn't blame him. "I guess that means.... Ah--! Wait a minute...! NO! NO NO NO! IS THAT WHAT THAT BOTTLE IS?! AND THE CONDOMS?!"

...Ah, to just throw serenity out the window....

"ARE THEY?!"

Yamamoto sighed, hoping Gokudera knew what he was talking about. "Yes," he said. "Yes they are."

Gokudera seemed to be fighting words, or trying to sort them out to yell at Yamamoto some more. If Yamamoto had just taken the book away while he could, things may not have turned out this way, but...too late to do anything about that now.

"You...."

Yamamoto looked up as Gokudera began talking again. It was a lot calmer, but it still held that same ferocity as if he was yelling.

"...Are a pervert! I can't believe I let myself stay in the same room as you for this long! I can't believe you didn't try to rape me, or something!"

"You're sixteen!! I'm twenty-five!! I'm not a pedophile, you know!"

"Sure! Uh-huh! I saw the way you looked at me in the forest! You had those come hither eyes! NOW IT ALL MAKES SENSE!"

"Gokudera! It was nostalgia! It's been ten years since I've seen you and Tsuna that young!"

The two held a staring contest. Yamamoto was used to these, and could win them often. More often than Hayato would like to admit.

Eventually Gokudera gave up, snapping the album shut with a 'che' and standing, setting the book on top of the dresser. "Whatever, pervert. I'm going back to bed."

"Okay; sleep well."

"I can't with a pedo like you around. The only reason I'm sorry for ruining your room is cuz I had to learn the truth the hard way! So don't think I'm getting all sentimental or whatever!"

Yamamoto was only slightly amused with how Gokudera picked up his pace to get past him, his cheeks still a blazing red.

"But...."

The current shirt in Yamamoto's hands fell back to the pile as he turned to look at Gokudera. "Hm?" he grunted softly, urging Gokudera to continue.

Gokudera hadn't turned; instead he just bent down slightly to pick up the baseballs he'd thrown earlier, and gently tossed them to Yamamoto. Yamamoto caught one deftly with his right hand behind his back, and the other he let bounce and roll towards the others. "Thank you for talking to me about the Tenth and all, even if you didn't say or do much, you freak."

Yamamoto grinned. "No problem. I know it's tough."

His attention returned to the small hill of clothes before him, though his stare was blank. The grin on his face was soft, and the opening and closing of his door was heard mere moments later without a final 'good night', or anything from Gokudera. But that was okay, because it was Gokudera, and Gokudera was always like that. Just because he didn't say it didn't mean he didn't mean it. Yamamoto understood it, and he understood it well. All that needed to happen was Gokudera getting to understand the world around him and himself. Then maybe things would be okay. Yamamoto had faith in that.

Malato

2008-05-14T06:10:48Z

Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Pairing: gen!8059 (potential fluff is prevalent)
Rating: G
Word Count: 855
Worksafe: So worksafe it's sad....
Warnings: Bring along some Benedryl.
Author's Note: These two cute and adorable doodles were my inspiration. suikka drew them back in February, and here I am in mid-May...finally posting the drabble.... Forgive me!!! >.<

~*~

Walks to Yamamoto's place aren't what you'd call fun, but they certaintly weren't the worse fate the heavens could bestow upon you. However right now, at this moment in time, you suppose you've had better walks to the sushi restaruant with him. He's blathering on and on about some team and the progress they've been making recently. Just as usual you find it hard to really care too much. Baseball was just never your thing.

It isn't raining--it's just a light drizzle--but it's cold and windy in spring. There are light little feathers floating heavily on the wind along with seeds, and anything else botanically related. You can't recall a time ever having allergies, but your nose is getting stuffy, and something's tickling the back of your throat. A wonderful time to get sick.

The tickle in your throat grows and climbs its way into your sinuses. You find your eyes suddenly watering, and something begins to seize near that tickle until--

"Ha-ttch!"

You pause for only a second in your walk, but that stops Yamamoto as well--both in movement and speech.

"Gokudera?" he begins again. "You okay?"

You offer a sniffle in response and go to keep walking. Yamamoto follows, and maybe he'll stop talking if he coincidentally trips over into one of the puddles on the side of the walkway. No--you can't do that; the Tenth would not be pleased at all. Instead you walk a little faster, but Yamamoto also picks up pace to keep up with you.

And bless it all if he doesn't keep talking.

He leans forward and tries to make eye contact. "Gokudera--are you getting a cold?" His voice holds the usual kindness, but there's still that cluelessness and naivety about it that makes you annoyed and amused at the same time.

You finally meet his eyes, and scowl. "No, you idiot. I sneezed. Is that so wrong?"

Yamamoto smiles widely as per usual and straightens up. "No, I guess not, haha! Sorry!"

Your eyes meet the sky as you roll them, but you mentally deadpan as Yamamoto begins talking--again. But now you're not so annoyed. After so much time around him, you suppose you've built up some kind of an immunity.

"Too bad we don't have an umbrella! Even if it's just a little bit of water, we'll be soaked by the time we reach my place."

You sniff hard to keep snot from running out of your nose, but it's an impossible feat at this moment in time. So, you try again, but this time you breathe in a small little water droplet and it tickles you just as earlier. You can feel yourself getting ready to sneeze again, and you curse the heavens above and the hells below as that large intake of breath signals to Yamamoto that you may in fact be getting a cold.

A sneeze and a groan later you drop your head, wiping at your nose with a 'damn it' let out in what may as well have been a growl. You shake your head, and your hair is just slightly damp and just a little stringy. In between another sniff and light groan, you hear ruffling to your left as sudden chill overtakes your body. Damn it--you are getting a cold. Your shaking continues for a moment until you feel something soft fall over your shoulders and a firm hand pat the soft something down to keep it in place. You look up to find a slightly dubious looking Yamamoto attempting a smile for you.

"Just in case so you don't catch a cold, heh heh. We're almost there."

You almost say, 'I know, idiot, I've been there plenty of times,' but he's being kind enough by offering up his jacket so you can stay warm so you spare him the comment. You grab the jacket's lapels to hold together, and the gentle hand rubbing your back sends a feather-soft warmth permeating the coolness in your body. In a selfish move you almost move closer to the idiot grinning down at you but you're already at Takezushi and the chances that either the elder Yamamoto or the younger Yamamoto will offer something warm to eat or drink, or somewhere soft and warm to sleep are high. You can spare this chance to be selfish (according to your standards with Yamamoto) and rest up.

After a cup of tea and a few sips of ginger soup your eyelids start to fall, and you're not quite sure just how but you're being ushered around; you can't tell if you're still on one floor, or are on some kind of staircase rollercoaster, but you're pretty sure you don't want to go on that ride again.

There's something soft now cushioning your head, and something warm covering you. You bury into it, whatever it is, but there's a familiar feeling surrounding you and your earlier idea drifts back into mind. Attempting to snuggle further you hear a light chuckle and something clicking but you pay no mind and let the comfort surrounding you lull you to sleep.

8059challenge - Prompt 114 - Test on Monday

2008-04-07T08:48:30Z

Challenge: 8059challenge 'Sex Anywhere, Sex Everywhere'
Prompt: 114: Intercom Room in a School
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Pairing: TYL!8059
Rating: R (not TOO graphic)
Word Count: 610
Worksafe: Noooooo
Warnings: Well...pretty sure that there's some adult activity going on in this one. So...yeah. Oh, and there's a test on Monday.
Author's Note: I...totally screwed this one up. As you can see, the prompt was 'Intercom Room in a School'. Stupid me read it as just 'Intercom Room'. So, this went through 2 large(ish??) revisions and editing. It is still not the 'hawt', but that's fine with me. Maybe the next one? Also, this is probably closer to 23!8059. ALSO: AS WARNING. This is an adult oriented work of fiction. I've placed this under the 'Adult Concepts' flag so as long as you're 15 or older (right?) you can read this. I do not want to use the 'Adult Content' flag. My reason being that anyone 15 years or older has read/watched something of this nature, so hey.

"H-hurry up," one voice panted, quickly followed by a soft grunt from another. Gokudera was pushed up hard against the control panel in the principal's office of the college, shifting it slightly, with his arms wrapped around Yamamoto's neck, scrunching up his jacket between his clenched fingers. With no hesitation, Yamamoto hooked his arm under Gokudera's leg, lifting it up to wrap around his waist and positioned himself at Gokudera's entrance. So much for getting scholarship papers for I-Pin.

"You ready?" he asked, almost breathless. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face. He found himself abnormally impatient, but he supposed that running the risk of being caught was enough to make anyone hasty. His hands would be shaking if not for the firm hold on Gokudera's hips.

"Yes, just get in already," Gokudera urged.

Yamamoto let Gokudera drop a little as he thrust upwards, filling him in one stroke. He didn't move for a moment, allowing the two of them to adjust to the feeling. He felt Gokudera's leg tighten around him, and allowed Gokudera to breathe in and out heavily several times before Yamamoto began moving at all. Gokudera didn't say anything--he just pressed closer to Yamamoto. He gladly took that as his sign to move.

What little help Gokudera could offer, balancing between the control panel behind him and Yamamoto with just a foot to steady himself, he gave. Of course it wasn't much but Yamamoto seemed to be doing a fine job on his own. He slid in and out of Gokudera just in small increments, eliciting small and sharp breaths from him. Yamamoto turned his head a little to play with Gokudera's earrings, the flesh holding them still tender from the recent piercings.

"M-more...Ya-Yamamoto..." Gokudera panted. His fingers scratched at whatever they could find, his teeth digging in just slightly to Yamamoto's flesh at the base of his neck. Yamamoto thrust a little harder, trying to go deeper, and just a few moments later....

"Yamamo...moto.... I...."

In a flash and without much movement between the two, Yamamoto shed his black suit jacket and shoved it between them to catch any bodily fluid that would look highly suspicious covering their fronts. He could always fold his jacket over his arm without worry.

Yamamoto's hands grabbed at Gokudera's waist once more. He pushed him down hard and with a raspy moan Gokudera came, Yamamoto following soon after; except he managed to keep quiet with minimal noise.

The two's breathing was calming down, and Yamamoto snickered, pulling out of Gokudera. "I like it when you're louder."

Gokudera, however, scowled as he regained his footing. "Then fuck me harder next time."

"In all honesty, actually...."

There was a screeching noise accompanying the sudden voice, and rush of hurried words from different people after it. The voice continued.

"It would be greatly appreciated by all else residing here if you could keep that down to a minimum."

The voice belonged to an old man, and he did not sound like a happy old man. The voice was broadcasting through the whole of the college campus, and the eyes of Yamamoto and Gokudera widened horrifically. After sharing a look of fright, Gokudera moved away from the panel he leaned against. He and Yamamoto glanced around the board, and sure enough--the 'broadcast' switch was turned on.

Gokudera was at a loss for words which Yamamoto found a little saddening, but he grabbed the microphone with a smile, and asked loudly, "Tell me--did you all enjoy our show? And I hope you all paid attention: There'll be a test on Monday."

Students' groans echoed through the speakers.

Falling

2008-02-19T07:38:45Z

Title: Falling
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Pairing: TYL!8059
Rating: PG
Word Count: 3,290
Worksafe: Yes
Warnings: Bit of swearing and implied adult acts.
Author's Note: A really late Valentine's fic D= 'Why did this take you so long?' you ask? Tis simple: What was going to be a 300-word drabble made like rabbits and multiplied to that horrendous word count you see above. It kills me a bit inside. It was also a little tough to write at parts and the ending did not want to be written. I could have probably gone on and on.... *sob* And a little dictionary reference, since Italian is scattered throughout this (please tell me if I got something wrong!):
Nonna/Nonno: Grandma/Grandpa
Sedutorre: Seductor/Seductress
Cara Mia: My Darling
Ti penso sempre: I think of you always
Comme sei bella: You are beautiful/a beauty
Ti Amo: I love you (A more intimate 'I love you')

--~~*~~--

“If you can blow me over with something romantic, then yes. I’ll consider telling the Famiglia.”

Gokudera knew he should never have spoken those words, but he honestly didn’t think he’d have to eat them.

It was supposed to be a ‘romantic trip’, as foretold by the Now-an-Adult-Should-Have-Grown-Out-of-it Baseball Nut, since Gokudera had used ‘romantic’ in his requirements; see Section A. And, well….

Gokudera had to admit, it had been rather romantic. The foolishly hopeless dork Yamamoto had been in middle school had grown into a foolishly hopeless dork with sometimes-suave-and-dashing moments that almost made Gokudera forget about the dork that Yamamoto truly was. In fact, Yamamoto’s ‘suave and dashing’ moments were almost suave and dashing enough to make him forget to untangle his thought process so as to not think in run-on sentences about said suave and dashing moments. Because if his mind was too caught up about said suave and dashing moments, his tongue may have slipped and let something regarding the suave and dashing moments escape. Luckily for him (‘him’ being Gokudera), Yamamoto was still too much of a foolishly hopeless dork to allow Gokudera to over-think his (‘his’ being Yamamoto’s), suave and dashing moments.

However, Gokudera was unable to determine if he should be scarred or amused at that thought: Thinking of the Baseball Nut as ‘suave and dashing’ put images of those romance novel covers in his head, except with Yamamoto being the suave, strong, dashing, and handsome hero of the story with the petite and sexy redheaded woman draped in his arms with her bosom just about bursting out of her corset. In a sense it was scarring, because Yamamoto was the last person he’d ever expect—or even want—to see on his sister’s, or Miura’s, or even Sasagawa’s book covers. But it was highly amusing all the same: He’d seen Yamamoto naked before, and Yamamoto was not the big muscle-y man with the petite and sexy redheaded woman draped in his arms with her bosom just about bursting out of her corset. Nay. Yamamoto, while having muscle, was more lean, if anything. Gokudera supposed this came with being a swordsman, but he just couldn’t picture him truly as the big muscle-y man with the petite and sexy redheaded woman draped in his arms with her bosom just about bursting out of her corset.

Instead he was more like the foolishly hopeless dork obsessed with baseball trying to get Gokudera to envision him otherwise. However, right now Gokudera was envisioning him more like a romantic klutz which brought him back to his original train of thought:

Their ‘Romantic Trip’.

That day, early in the morning, Yamamoto had hurriedly woken Gokudera and pushed him along in getting ready for something Gokudera hadn’t even known was happening. If he hadn’t known better, he’d say that Vongola was under attack or something with how Yamamoto had been rushing him. Instead, after Yamamoto had shoved their luggage into his car and sped towards the airport, Gokudera finally caught hold of the date, and the destination of the gate they’d entered. He was not happy to see that grin on Yamamoto’s face when they took their first-class seats in the plane, and frowned, and was determined to be miserable the entire flight in an attempt to bring Yamamoto’s high hopes down. Alas, Yamamoto’s spirits were about as high as the plane was off the ground over Korea and did not fall even as the plane descended and landed in Rome hours later. Gokudera’s spirits, however, were about as low as the opposite side of the world, and did not rise. At all.

Yamamoto’s points in Gokudera’s notebook (titled as ‘Baseball Idiot’s Baseball Points’) were already in the negatives by noon, Japan time. (Although he reasoned later to turn it back to a flat ‘0’ when Yamamoto complained that there were ‘no such things as points in baseball, it’s just home runs’.)

Of course, the first thing they did after getting off the plane was rent a car and go off to a hotel to drop off their things since Yamamoto had a ‘romantic trip’ planned out. Yamamoto was grinning and laughing, and Gokudera was determinedly not-amused and grumbling. At first they traveled around Rome, just seeing sights that Gokudera hadn’t the heart to tell Yamamoto he’d already seen (as he’d lived in Italy for the first fourteen years of his life), and truth be told Yamamoto was just too enthusiastic and excited and sure, yeah, he’d been to Italy as well but it was never for long and he’d only been to the Cavallone estate and to Vongola HQ. “Oh, look at that!”, “Hey, Gokudera, isn’t it awesome?”, “How do they get it to stay like that?”, and “Wouldn’t it be cool to fight the Varia in the Coliseum like the Gladiators?” were questions often shot at Gokudera and Gokudera was unable to decide if he just wanted to laugh in amusement with Yamamoto and relax, or to grit his teeth and punch the freak in the arm for being so excitable.

The day was only a little more than halfway through, probably 3 PM Italy time, but with the time change and being awoken in such a rush, Gokudera was exhausted and demanded sleep ‘right now, damn it before I make you explode from the inside—no, not that way, stop grinning like that.’ So they traveled back to the hotel to their lavish suite (as provided as a guarantee by Vongola) and Gokudera promptly fell upon the giant bed and fell asleep not a moment later after threatening Yamamoto to not wake him up for at least an hour.

So Yamamoto had waited. And waited. And waited. And how many minutes had passed by? Five? So he continued waiting, deciding that even though he too felt a little drowsy, he would stay up, because if he fell asleep then the rest of the evening was ruined. Yamamoto dilly-dallied about the room, checking out the closet (a very large closet, probably as large as his childhood room back at his dad’s sushi restaurant), and the bathroom (pure marble and porcelain with a very soft, warm, and fuzzy rug for stepping out of the shower) was extremely elaborate and he decided that the bathroom was the entire reason a single night in this hotel cost so much (despite the fact that they were Vongola, and as Mafia probably owned all the hotel chains in the whole of Italy). Not that he’d had to pay, of course.

Yamamoto hadn’t noticed when Gokudera woke up not too much later, but thankfully close enough to an hour to not give a real-life-human demonstration of exploding dynamite. Gokudera had been quiet, and Yamamoto had felt a slight shock as Gokudera’s arms had wrapped around him from behind, slowly working on unbuttoning his shirt as his mouth seemed determined on leaving an impressive hicky right there for the world to see. Normally Yamamoto wouldn’t mind, but this time was different.

“Gokudera,” he began, pulling away and turning to face a slightly disgruntled explosives expert. “Not right now. Later.”

“But I want to now. Not later.”

“Later. If we get started now who knows when we’ll finish.”

Yamamoto ginned at Gokudera, whose hair resembled that of a dirty over-used mop, and covered his eyes, save for the flash of a tint of green between his bangs. His shirt was a little messy, though not wrinkled (that fact astounded the baseball player), and his skin looked as though it was shining a little bit as though in anticipation for that which he was denied.

Yet, for as much as that image of Gokudera turned Yamamoto on, and as much as that image of Gokudera made him want to rip Gokudera’s clothing off and simply ravish the wits out of the poor young man, Yamamoto’s resolve was firm, and he would not be swayed from his original plans.

At all.

So by the time they finished up and were cleaned up and dressed up back in their suits (clean ones, of course) it was almost 5:00 PM, and Yamamoto’s reservations were for 5:30. So again he rushed Gokudera, much to Gokudera’s chagrin, and sped through the Italian streets to a very small and hidden pizzeria. So small and hidden, in fact, that Gokudera thought it was just a closed up shop that the owners had forgotten to take the ‘Open’ sign down.

But Gokudera had indeed been surprised: While the pizzeria was indeed small, it was homey, and comfortable. There weren’t many tables, and they were the only ones there, besides the old nonna and nonno that owned the place but they hung out in the back making pizzas and pastas and whatever else it was that old nonnas and nonnos made.

It had started as a simple cheese pizza. Then they decided that an Italian dinner like this wasn’t complete without a good antipasto salad, or bread, or at least half a glass of wine. After a few bites of the pizza they discovered that cheese on its own was kinda plain, so they asked for a small grilled chicken (Gokudera) and some raw tuna (Yamamoto) to decorate it with. The old man and woman looked at them oddly what with their sudden request, but they were more than happy to provide them with what they needed.

Gokudera had nearly burned the roof of his mouth with how hot the cheese had been, and cursed Yamamoto when he’d begun laughing, but Gokudera fought back a grin himself, and instead of retracting points—er, ‘home runs’—from Yamamoto’s score, he added to them with a silent, smiled, and whispered ‘fuck you’ into his wine.

But then it came time to pay the bill. Gokudera made to grab the slip of paper, but Yamamoto was too swift and snatched it away, reading (or at least attempting to read) through it.

“Oh, they knocked half of it off!” Yamamoto had happily exclaimed.

“Let me see it, Baseball Nut,” Gokudera said, trying to grab it back. “You’re probably reading it wrong.”

“Numbers are universal.”

“And that’s supposed to change the fact you’re still an idiot? Give it to me.”

“No! Besides, it’s my treat—I’m the one trying to woo you.”

And so all had been settled for just a few moments, until Yamamoto began looking for his wallet. This task, Gokudera decided, was taking too long at the third minute in Yamamoto’s search.

“…I can’t believe you lost your fucking wallet. Dumbass.”

Yamamoto grinned and tried to attempt a laugh. “I think I left it back in my other pants….”

Again, a part of Gokudera was giving Yamamoto points, simply because it was so Yamamoto to leave his wallet where he was not. Yet, the fact remained that Yamamoto was supposed to be ‘the one trying to woo him’.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, surprising both himself and Yamamoto. “I’ll get it. You just owe me extra,” he added quietly, pulling his own wallet out, and asking the final price of their bill.

Not long after paying off Nonna and Nonno Yamamoto hurriedly led Gokudera out near a park to walk, relax, and stare up at the stars. Unfortunately there was too much light pollution to really make out any of the constellations, and though they were Mafia, the high school freaks with the weird hair-dos and funky techno music were coming out and scared (which of course was just a front since they were mafioso) the two out of the park. Not that they ran or anything. They were much too dignified for that.

So they instead walked along the riverside for a bit on their way back to the hotel, mostly in silence save for Yamamoto mentioning something about the health hazards of smoking when Gokudera popped one in his mouth. But Gokudera did not heed any of the swordsman’s warnings, and continued to hit his cigarette.

“So,” Yamamoto had begun several minutes later. Gokudera spared a glance in his direction, catching the way the moon reflected off of the clear, dark water. “What kinds of words would you like to hear me whisper into your ear?” Yamamoto leaned down to Gokudera’s ear, and whispered gently, “Seduttore.”

Something that Gokudera related akin to a ‘ping’ shocked itself up Gokudera’s spine, and charged through his body all the way to the very end of his fingertips. “When did you learn that…?” His near-finished cigarette hung fragile between his lips.

Yamamoto just grinned, pressing his lips to Gokudera’s temple. “The internet’s really great, isn’t it? Haha!”

“That’s romantic!” Gokudera yelled sarcastically, turning sharply to face Yamamoto. “You could at least pick stuff up from me, or at least go through an Italian-Japanese dictionary…!” His hands flailed hopelessly as he began walking forward, muttering, “The internet…how absolutely romantic. The internet!” He grabbed the butt of his cigarette, threw it down, and smashed it between his oxfords and the cobbled pavement.

“Aw, Gokudera! Come on…!” Yamamoto continued. Gokudera, however, refused to stop and continued to walk ahead, mumbling until Yamamoto caught up.

“Cara mia…!” he said beggingly. This made Gokudera stop, but he tried his damnedest to ignore the little butterflies in his stomach. Yamamoto kept talking, this time in Japanese, but with Italian thrown in at the oddest of times. Phrases like, “Ti penso sempre,” and “Comme sei bella.”

Gokudera grinned, his gaze narrowed in order to hide how...amused he was, though that wasn’t the right word. “Shut up, you idiot. What do you think you’re doing, turning me into a woman, huh?”

Yamamoto’s gaze widened, and just the expression and surprise on his face was enough to make Gokudera’s expression soften and give him more points. “Never mind,” he said with a rare grin, and continued walking with a considerably quieter Yamamoto at his side. The silence was nice, allowing the two to listen to the way the wind played in the trees and the way the water danced in its current, but Gokudera had become accustomed to Yamamoto’s light and fun chatter and had begun to miss it.

“Did you learn anything else in Italian that I can make fun of your accent for?” he asked teasingly.

Yamamoto smiled sharply, shrugging his shoulders in a playful manner. “Just one more.”

“Let’s hear it.”

Gokudera brushed his hair back to better glance at his surroundings up ahead to make sure they were actually on the right way to the hotel.

“Ti amo.”

But, Gokudera had been looking too far ahead so wasn’t able to see the dislodged stone his foot hit, dragged, and tripped upon—sending him to the ground with all the grace and beauty of a dragonfly about to hit a windshield.

…Just without all the blood, guts, and smushing.

And so Gokudera landed on his side after a mid-air twist and relaxed to his back just as Yamamoto—who’d been rather close in proximity at the time of tripping—landed on top of him.

The silver haired man spent several moments trying to regain the breath that had been knocked out of him, whereas the black haired man spent several moments coughing. When he’d recovered just after Gokudera, he mumbled something about swallowing a bug to which the bomber said “You are a bug, now get off of me you overgrown worm.”

Yamamoto was unmoving, instead just staring at Gokudera, a grin slowly spreading across his face and sending a slightly questionable chill down Gokudera’s spine—though it could have just been the chilled stone beneath him. It was February, after all. “I don’t want to. You’re comfortable.”

…What? Gokudera was a lot of things, but ‘comfortable’ was definitely not one of them. “You idiot. I am not comfortable.”

“Aw, yes you are,” Yamamoto smiled. “You’re soft and warm.”

“…It’s cold outside, I’m not soft, and my hands are callused. I’m not comfortable.”

“Not as callused as mine, I bet.”

The conversation continued about their callused hands, and debated over Gokudera’s comfortableness. To outsiders this seemed rather odd: Two fully grown men, one on top of the other, lying on the path in the middle of February comparing injuries, and discussing the smaller’s comfort. But to the two fully grown men, one on top of the other, lying on the path in the middle of February comparing injuries, and discussing the smaller’s comfort, this was perfectly normal. To an extent.

Finally they gave up on trying to defend their own side, just going into silence as more and more people began to leave and go home (not that there were many to begin with). Neither really moved, but Yamamoto crossed his arms across Gokudera’s chest, grinning his ever-present grin, and Gokudera was unable to not grin back.

“So—how far in the negatives am I in home runs there, Umpire?”

“You’re not in the negatives.”

Yamamoto’s eyebrows shot up a bit higher in surprise. “Really? I’m in the positives?!”

“Yes, you bothersome bastard.”

Yamamoto’s grin widened, making Gokudera wonder if maybe he’d already shared too much information. Yet, part of him was just really happy and didn’t mind the fact that his entire backside was very cold and almost numb, especially when Yamamoto reached forward and pressed his lips softly to Gokudera’s.

And this brought it round to the fulfillment of Yamamoto’s supposed ‘romantic trip’.

“I just didn’t know you were going to take it so literally,” Gokudera said. “I had assumed you’d just meant a date in Rome, but you used your brain, didn’t you?”

Yamamoto’s soft laughter rang out around them as he rolled himself off of Gokudera to stand and pat the dust off of himself. “Well, you added the actual tripping, but I didn’t know it was romantic.”

Gokudera flexed his fingers, feeling the bitter cold of the rings against his skin, and if he didn’t know better he’d say his entire backside was wet simply for how cold he was. “No,” he insisted from the ground. “It was your fault. If you hadn’t used such…stimulating words then I wouldn’t have tripped. It’s your fault.”

“You hinted that it was romantic, right?”

“I do believe I did.”

“And?”

Gokudera sighed. “Yeah, you win,” he said with a grin. “Of all the things I was expecting, I didn’t expect to enjoy time with you on stone cold pavement in the middle of February literally freezing my ass off, but hey. Surprise surprise.”

Yamamoto grinned, offering his hand. “Well then, let’s get you warmed up, hm?”

Despite the kindness proffered by the taller or the two like the suave and dashing men on those book covers, but Gokudera swatted his hand away. “I can do it myself, baseball freak.” And, despite the rather painful affects of lying flat on cold stone for a good while, Gokudera sat up and eventually stood, using Yamamoto to steady himself, and then pat the dirt, pebbles, and dust off of his once-clean suit. “All right. Let’s go,” he said.

The silver-haired man walked on, Yamamoto beside him, his grin continuously growing until he finally laughed out loud, and slung his arm across Gokudera’s shoulders, eliciting a “WHAT THE HELL, FUCK TARD? MY LIMBS AREN’T THAT MOBILE YET,” but that just made Yamamoto laugh even more and make a comment regarding Gokudera returning to normal.

So, as they arrived they left. Yamamoto’s determination ended as accomplishment, and Gokudera’s mood…while it had fluctuated during their stay…had gone back to miserable (especially with his now-very-sore body). But Gokudera wouldn’t let Yamamoto see the random grins that graced his face on their flight back to Japan as random memories from their little romantic trip resurfaced in his mind’s eye.

But now…just to let the whole of the Vongola family know….