After Dark
After Dark
Disclaimer I don't own KHR. :|
Warnings Vampires, language, blood, Christmas-y things, out of character-ness and a few other things you may or may not approve of?
Author’s Notes This is a Christmas drabble for my Waifu delightfulwind that she asked for here. I’m not really one for 8059 [ Yamamoto x Gokudera ] but I tried. Please pardon the massive amounts of faaaaail.
---
He let out a long breath, the delicate curls of smoke rolling from his lips in obscure patterns. Slowly, he lifted the cancerous stick back to his lips, taking another thoughtful drag before breathing out once more, watching as the smoke vanished into the darkening night air. The cigarette fell from his fingertips easily, bouncing once on the moist concrete before the toe of his sneakers shifted to grind it out entirely before reaching into his pocket in search of his pack. “Tch,” Gokudera breathed faintly, lifting a gloved hand to tug the dark scarf up and over his lips as his other hand lifted from his pocket - the white and gold packing empty. “Are you fucking serious,” he rumbled irritably, tossing the package roughly into the nearest waste bin as he started along the familiar path towards his apartment.
“This sucks,” he continued darkly, shoving his hands into his pockets after pulling his hood up and over the silvery hair, hoping to trap some of the escaping warmth. He hoped he had another pack at the apartment, he mused darkly, head lowering slightly in an attempt to block out the bright, cheerful colors that edged into the corners of his vision in a demand for his attention. There was something strangely disheartening about Christmas this year; though he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Perhaps it was that lack of company - he could have cared less about the presents. Juudaime was busy and he needed his rest or else he would have considered asking to spend the holidays with him. There weren’t many other options either, he noted. Bianchi was with Reborn-san doing who knew what and Shamal had gone back to Italy for the holidays. There was always the fucking turf head - though a shiver of disapproval rolled down his spine at the idea.
He didn’t need anyone for the holidays, he decided coldly. “It’s not that damn important anyway,” he mused coldly, hurrying his pace towards his apartment. In the distance, the cheerful holiday colors of bright lights and gleaming decorations edged into his vision and he paused - the green-grey eyes lifting to sweep across the décor in the distance. He spared himself a few seconds to wonder if there was another route back to his apartment; the last thing he wanted was the blinding remind of holiday spirit that lurked on the balcony of every apartment he would pass or hung in the windows of shops and buildings. All the holiday cheer was suffocating, he decided, more pressing then the cold or stress from his lack of available nicotine. The idea of turning around and going the long way home was becoming more and more tempting the more he thought it over - the more he stared at the glare of lights and listened to the faintest hum of familiar holiday caro-
Something passed across his line of vision. It was a dark, distinctly human blur across the blinking lights, but it was entirely too fast to have been a person. Instinctively, his hands moved, diving under his clothing for the familiar feel of stiff dynamite. The gloved fingers found them quickly and no sooner than he was preparing to pull them out to light them, another shadow shot across the corner of his right eye. A cautious stiffness rose to his muscles and he took in a faint breath through his nose in an attempt to quiet any noise he could make - listening for any sign of the strange movement. “What the fuck,” he groused sharply, teeth clenching together with a ferocity that surely would have snapped any cigarette were it hanging from his lips. Was it a ghost or something, he wondered a bit too eagerly, though the excitement of the thought was lost to the pulse of irritation with this strange fucking thing.
Any further thoughts let him once more as the shadow shot past - only to pause a few feet away from him. The angle was strange, he noted instantly. Whatever it was had shifted to the perfect position to be through into the shadows despite the flash of Christmas lights. Whatever it was - it was smart, cautious in its own right. But it didn’t make a difference to him, he noted quickly, watching as it stepped forward with a deathly silence that caused the tension in his being to boil deeper and his grip to tighten on his dynamite. Slowly, its feet passed into the colorful flash of lights and he shifted back out of reflex, his hands moving in preparation to light the deadly sticks in his hands. No sooner than he started to move, it moved as well - with a deadly swiftness that caused the faintest flicker of distress to shine in the back of his mind.
“Gokudera.”
The voice was familiar - though it was low and void of the familiar happy lilt. Though he didn’t find that nearly as pressing as the hands that were suddenly on his wrists, holding them in place with a steel grip. “I have something for you,” the voice continued faintly and slowly, the grip on his wrists loosened after a few, long seconds - as if gauging the other’s anger, his mood.
No sooner than the grip was loosened, Gokudera responded, his anger flaring in deadly pulses. “You fucking bastard!” He tucked a few of the sticks away - though he was beginning to wonder if upsetting Juudaime was worth taking out his anger on him. “Juudaime has been fucking worried! Where the hell did you run off t-” He was shifting as if to turn when those hands were on him again, grabbing his shoulders from behind and keeping him from moving. His breath caught at that and his fists shook with the need to lash out, to slam his fists into the shadowy face that was spouting off that damned depressing voice.
“Don’t turn around,” he ordered faintly, keeping his hold on Gokudera’s shoulder, “I don’t have a lot of time. I just came to give you something.” Gokudera took note of the hand that lifted from his shoulder - listening closely for the shuffling of clothing or a bag to tell him that bastard was looking for whatever it was that was so damn important. “Here,” he continued not even a second later, sliding his arm around Gokudera’s waist to flash the delicately wrapped, crimson parcel and its blue ribbon. “It’s not much, but its hard to find a lot of stores that are open late at night,” he continued with a faint, familiar chuckle.
“Dammit, Yamamoto, this cryptic shi-” Gokudera’s words died on his tongue as he felt familiar arms wind around his waist, pulling him back against the too familiar, hard chest. Another sharp breath and the world around him came to a crashing hold as he felt Takeshi shift to bury his face into his throat. The cold brush of skin was too strange, he found himself musing. It was cold, but his skin was like ice. “Shit, you’re freezing, let go!” He shifted in the nearly forgotten hold but Takeshi tightened his arms, head lifting to brush his lips along the pale throat, pressing to flutter of pulse that beat faster under the brush of lips. “Yamamoto!”
The lips pressed harder and Gokudera shifted further in the hold he’d been taken in. His hands tightened on the box they were holding, fighting the hands suddenly moving to keep him from squirming away. “Yamamoto, I’m going to kick your a-.. ah…” His head fell back with a sharp cry - a strange mixture of surprise and pain as ivory teeth took hold of his skin. The need to try and escape the hold rose in his being once more but he found himself frozen, locked in a dangerous hold that was more than the tangible force of the Rain Guardian restraining him. His mind raced with a way out, a whimper squeezing from his throat as he felt the trickling warmth leaking from the tears in his flesh. He cursed loudly as those teeth pressed harder, a low noise lifting in Takeshi’s throat at the taste.
“Merry Christmas,” Takeshi whispered faintly as his teeth relinquished their deadly hold, the tip of the moist tongue sliding across the broken skin.
Disclaimer I don't own KHR. :|
Warnings Vampires, language, blood, Christmas-y things, out of character-ness and a few other things you may or may not approve of?
Author’s Notes This is a Christmas drabble for my Waifu delightfulwind that she asked for here. I’m not really one for 8059 [ Yamamoto x Gokudera ] but I tried. Please pardon the massive amounts of faaaaail.
---
He let out a long breath, the delicate curls of smoke rolling from his lips in obscure patterns. Slowly, he lifted the cancerous stick back to his lips, taking another thoughtful drag before breathing out once more, watching as the smoke vanished into the darkening night air. The cigarette fell from his fingertips easily, bouncing once on the moist concrete before the toe of his sneakers shifted to grind it out entirely before reaching into his pocket in search of his pack. “Tch,” Gokudera breathed faintly, lifting a gloved hand to tug the dark scarf up and over his lips as his other hand lifted from his pocket - the white and gold packing empty. “Are you fucking serious,” he rumbled irritably, tossing the package roughly into the nearest waste bin as he started along the familiar path towards his apartment.
“This sucks,” he continued darkly, shoving his hands into his pockets after pulling his hood up and over the silvery hair, hoping to trap some of the escaping warmth. He hoped he had another pack at the apartment, he mused darkly, head lowering slightly in an attempt to block out the bright, cheerful colors that edged into the corners of his vision in a demand for his attention. There was something strangely disheartening about Christmas this year; though he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Perhaps it was that lack of company - he could have cared less about the presents. Juudaime was busy and he needed his rest or else he would have considered asking to spend the holidays with him. There weren’t many other options either, he noted. Bianchi was with Reborn-san doing who knew what and Shamal had gone back to Italy for the holidays. There was always the fucking turf head - though a shiver of disapproval rolled down his spine at the idea.
He didn’t need anyone for the holidays, he decided coldly. “It’s not that damn important anyway,” he mused coldly, hurrying his pace towards his apartment. In the distance, the cheerful holiday colors of bright lights and gleaming decorations edged into his vision and he paused - the green-grey eyes lifting to sweep across the décor in the distance. He spared himself a few seconds to wonder if there was another route back to his apartment; the last thing he wanted was the blinding remind of holiday spirit that lurked on the balcony of every apartment he would pass or hung in the windows of shops and buildings. All the holiday cheer was suffocating, he decided, more pressing then the cold or stress from his lack of available nicotine. The idea of turning around and going the long way home was becoming more and more tempting the more he thought it over - the more he stared at the glare of lights and listened to the faintest hum of familiar holiday caro-
Something passed across his line of vision. It was a dark, distinctly human blur across the blinking lights, but it was entirely too fast to have been a person. Instinctively, his hands moved, diving under his clothing for the familiar feel of stiff dynamite. The gloved fingers found them quickly and no sooner than he was preparing to pull them out to light them, another shadow shot across the corner of his right eye. A cautious stiffness rose to his muscles and he took in a faint breath through his nose in an attempt to quiet any noise he could make - listening for any sign of the strange movement. “What the fuck,” he groused sharply, teeth clenching together with a ferocity that surely would have snapped any cigarette were it hanging from his lips. Was it a ghost or something, he wondered a bit too eagerly, though the excitement of the thought was lost to the pulse of irritation with this strange fucking thing.
Any further thoughts let him once more as the shadow shot past - only to pause a few feet away from him. The angle was strange, he noted instantly. Whatever it was had shifted to the perfect position to be through into the shadows despite the flash of Christmas lights. Whatever it was - it was smart, cautious in its own right. But it didn’t make a difference to him, he noted quickly, watching as it stepped forward with a deathly silence that caused the tension in his being to boil deeper and his grip to tighten on his dynamite. Slowly, its feet passed into the colorful flash of lights and he shifted back out of reflex, his hands moving in preparation to light the deadly sticks in his hands. No sooner than he started to move, it moved as well - with a deadly swiftness that caused the faintest flicker of distress to shine in the back of his mind.
“Gokudera.”
The voice was familiar - though it was low and void of the familiar happy lilt. Though he didn’t find that nearly as pressing as the hands that were suddenly on his wrists, holding them in place with a steel grip. “I have something for you,” the voice continued faintly and slowly, the grip on his wrists loosened after a few, long seconds - as if gauging the other’s anger, his mood.
No sooner than the grip was loosened, Gokudera responded, his anger flaring in deadly pulses. “You fucking bastard!” He tucked a few of the sticks away - though he was beginning to wonder if upsetting Juudaime was worth taking out his anger on him. “Juudaime has been fucking worried! Where the hell did you run off t-” He was shifting as if to turn when those hands were on him again, grabbing his shoulders from behind and keeping him from moving. His breath caught at that and his fists shook with the need to lash out, to slam his fists into the shadowy face that was spouting off that damned depressing voice.
“Don’t turn around,” he ordered faintly, keeping his hold on Gokudera’s shoulder, “I don’t have a lot of time. I just came to give you something.” Gokudera took note of the hand that lifted from his shoulder - listening closely for the shuffling of clothing or a bag to tell him that bastard was looking for whatever it was that was so damn important. “Here,” he continued not even a second later, sliding his arm around Gokudera’s waist to flash the delicately wrapped, crimson parcel and its blue ribbon. “It’s not much, but its hard to find a lot of stores that are open late at night,” he continued with a faint, familiar chuckle.
“Dammit, Yamamoto, this cryptic shi-” Gokudera’s words died on his tongue as he felt familiar arms wind around his waist, pulling him back against the too familiar, hard chest. Another sharp breath and the world around him came to a crashing hold as he felt Takeshi shift to bury his face into his throat. The cold brush of skin was too strange, he found himself musing. It was cold, but his skin was like ice. “Shit, you’re freezing, let go!” He shifted in the nearly forgotten hold but Takeshi tightened his arms, head lifting to brush his lips along the pale throat, pressing to flutter of pulse that beat faster under the brush of lips. “Yamamoto!”
The lips pressed harder and Gokudera shifted further in the hold he’d been taken in. His hands tightened on the box they were holding, fighting the hands suddenly moving to keep him from squirming away. “Yamamoto, I’m going to kick your a-.. ah…” His head fell back with a sharp cry - a strange mixture of surprise and pain as ivory teeth took hold of his skin. The need to try and escape the hold rose in his being once more but he found himself frozen, locked in a dangerous hold that was more than the tangible force of the Rain Guardian restraining him. His mind raced with a way out, a whimper squeezing from his throat as he felt the trickling warmth leaking from the tears in his flesh. He cursed loudly as those teeth pressed harder, a low noise lifting in Takeshi’s throat at the taste.
“Merry Christmas,” Takeshi whispered faintly as his teeth relinquished their deadly hold, the tip of the moist tongue sliding across the broken skin.