[Fic] Windshear [Part 51/?]
About the food poisoning, basically the doc asked me if I'd eaten some of the ice desserts at the new shops nearby or drank bubble tea. Apparently, a few people who've come to him with similar problems lately have attributed it to something of the like. When he brought it up my mind was like, "When do I ever drink - DingDingDing - oh that one time!" But that had been a few days before, so he said, "Well, since it happened so suddenly with you it was probably because that meant you already lowered your constitution a few days before and then you ate the meat buns you mentioned in the beginning." Which were still from nearby shops. Oops. Anyway, I'm okay now. I'm alive, and avoiding those shops now.
Meanwhile, Dream's half-killing herself with school work but she says she enjoys it *huggles Dream* so she's gone to bed early tonight. Send her some love, ne? *hugs ya all*
Thanks for reading. Enjoy~♥
Windshear Part [51/?]
Authors: kagayachou and evocates
Characters/Pairings: Ryohei, Gokudera, Mammon, Reborn, Yamamoto, Hibari. Look, we have Ryohei/Gokudera again. And more Yamamoto/Hibari.
Rating: PG-15
Words: 4016
Summary: In which nothing happens that Reborn has not accounted for - except for the things he just doesn't bother to think about.
When they walked into the lounge, it was empty. Ryohei didn't know whether to be thankful for that or wish that they weren't alone. He glanced over at Gokudera, then walked around behind the bar, fully prepared to water down whatever it was that Gokudera felt like drinking. Or knock him out with something so strong there'd be no problem with just tucking him into bed.
Gokudera strode into the room without even glancing at Ryohei, his back almost unnaturally straight even as he plopped down on a barstool, crossing his arms on the counter top and leaning against them before meeting Ryohei's eyes again.
"So what did you want me to come here for?"
"I dunno," tumbled out of Ryohei's mouth rather quickly. Looking away, he turned to grab himself a bottle of beer. "Wasn't thinking... Why'd you agree anyway?
"And is there really anything you want to drink?"
"Nothing else better to do right now," Gokudera drawled, turning away from Ryohei to lean his back against the counter, his elbows akimbo. There was an almost bored look on his face that belied the fact that far from having time, there was most likely a stack of paperwork that would be coming in tonight back at the office. But he ignored it for now - why should he have to file Yamamoto and Hibari's damage report for them during his after-hours?
He tilted his head back, fixing Ryohei with a flat glare. "Gin and tonic. SInce when are you playing bartender?"
Ryohei shrugged. "Since now?" Thankfully, it was just gin and tonic water... and regular water, not that Gokudera needed to know. And even if he did, Ryohei figured it wouldn't hurt to bring up his misgivings if things got to that. He dropped a piece of lime in the glass, and took it, with his beer, around the counter, putting the drinks down as he sat down beside Gokudera.
"Here ya go."
"Thanks."
Gokudera picked up the glass, sipping on it immediately. His first instinct was to completely drain it, but he knew better than to try to down a mixed drink like a shot- which was the precise reason why he had wanted gin and tonic instead of gin in the first place.
As he sipped on the drink, he started to frown and, after a few seconds, stared at Ryohei, "Hey.
"Did you water it down?"
Damn.
"Wow," Ryohei grinned sheepishly. "You're good."
He wondered belatedly if he went a little overboard with the water. Maybe he completely ruined the drink.
"Yeah, 'cause... I. Don't really want you drunk," he admitted, staring hard at the bottle in his own hand.
Because he'd thought about it, sometimes, trying to figure out whether he could have been able to tell if Gokudera had been drunk that time.
Gokudera hadn't turned excessively red, back then. He hadn't slurred or stuttered or stumbled even once. Most other times, he knew that Gokudera could be provoked into doing something crazy, like having a dance off against an equally drunk Lambo, but that time had been different, and he couldn't tell why.
And thinking about it too hard gave him a headache, among other bodily reactions.
Gokudera glared at him through the top of his glass before turning away, taking large gulps of his own drink and letting the alcohol burn its way down his throat, sufficiently waking him up enough that his eyes darkened and narrowed even further on Ryohei.
"I don't need you to nanny me, lawn head. I can take care of myself just fine."
"Well yeah, you're not as hopeless-" as Hibari. Somehow, Ryohei didn't think he should be bringing that guy up at the moment. Or the other guy.
But that only applied to certain types of caring for one's self. And from Ryohei's point of view, serial smoking negated a good part of the rest.
And perhaps he had jinxed it, because right at that moment, Gokudera slid a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket, drawing one out and placing it between his lips. He lit it immediately, drawing a deep breath and turning his head as he exhaled the smoke out from a corner of his lips.
"No one can be as hopeless as those two," he snorted, shrugging as if he didn't care.
Ryohei felt an eyebrow twitching. It was probably better to let Gokudera get it out of his system.
"Yeah, they are confusing to the limit!" He raised his beer to emphasize the point. "I mean, it's easy to see when Yamamoto cares, but when Hibari does it..."
He didn't know how to describe it beyond Hibari's pretty extreme.
Gokudera snorted again, jumping off the barstool and moving to behind the counter, grabbing an ashtray and putting his cigarette on the edge. Then, he started mixing another drink for himself - gin and tonic again, with much more gin this time - before he answered Ryohei.
"Hell, I don't even know if it's possible for that tonfa bastard to care."
"Oi-" Ryohei stared at what Gokudera was doing with a disproving frown, standing up as well. "...Of course he cares. Look at him with Namimori." He moved around the counter as he spoke, then placed a hand over the glass before Gokudera could pick it up. "You all right?"
"Namimori's a fucking town. Different from a human," Gokudera snapped back, glaring at Ryohei as he tugged at the glass. Was he all right? Sure, he was perfectly peachy. He was not thinking about what the hell was so good about Hibari that Yamamoto seemed so insane over him; he was not thinking about how an absolutely asshole had so many people fawning over him - just look at his damn Foundation, kissing his feet always and worshipping the ground he walked on - while Gokudera...
Well, he didn't want that sort of shit anyway.
He didn't want to own an entire town. He didn't need a fucking hoard of people to boss around. All he ever wanted or needed... well, he has his position as the Vongola Tenth's Right Hand Man.
By all rights, Gokudera should have been completely satisfied, right?
Wrong.
And it was written all across his face.
Ryohei transfered his grip from the glass to Gokudera's wrist. "Slow down with that.
"And is that what you're really worried about? How Hibari sees Yamamoto?"
"Like hell I am," came the reply, as caustic and irritable as ever, even though this time the anger and frustration was very real. But Ryohei didn't know whether or not it was directed at him, or at someone else, or at the situation, or at life in general. There was so much of it burning in Gokudera's eyes that he couldn't help but wince slightly, tightening his grip on the other man's wrist as a precaution.
But Gokudera didn't try to take his glass back. He only frowned deeply, brows creasing as he stared off into the distance, eyes fixed on a particular spot on the wall.
"I don't give a fuck what happens to him."
Ryohei snorted. "'Course you do. ...I do."
When it became apparent that Gokudera had nothing to say to that, Ryohei released his hand, groaning loudly as he scratched his head in frustration.
"You give a fuck," he finally stated. "You extremely give a fuck, okay? I'm no genius, but I'm not blind either."
What harm was there in admitting that he cared anyway?
Gokudera's eyes flickered over to him, staring at him flatly before he gave a hard yank at the glass, pulling it to him and draining half of it, letting the alcohol burn down his throat and settle warmly in his stomach.
He snorted, crossing his arms. "Yeah. I care. So what?
"What the fuck are you trying to prove?"
For a moment, Ryohei just blinked, surprised. "Woah," he said the first thing that came to mind. "I thought it'd be harder to get you to admit it."
He shook his head then. "So, now that we got that out in the open, whatcha want to do about it? I mean, you just worried about Yamamoto being with Hibari, or ya want him back?"
Gokudera stared at him as if he had grown another head. "Like hell I want the baseball idiot back," and he knocked back the other half of the glass, completely and utterly ignoring the first part of Ryohei's words. "He's far too idiotic and troublesome. Leave him with the equally stupid tonfa bastard."
"Oh... Okay." Ryohei didn't know what to say. "Well... if it's any consolation, Hibari specifically said, 'I will not kill Yamamoto Takeshi' right after he told me to leave just now, so!" He shrugged.
Eyeing the empty glass for a moment longer, Ryohei's lips thinned into a grimace. "Come on... back to the bar seat with ya." He took the glass from Gokudera's hand, or tried to.
"I'm not a fucking baby," Gokudera yanked the glass back even harder, turning around as he picked up the bottle of gin again. This time, he didn't even bother with the tonic - why would he, when he was just going to shoot it anyway - simply pouring the alcohol straight into the glass and dumping a few pieces of ice into it.
"Yes you are, 'cause now you're just doing that extremely deliberately."
Ryohei sighed behind him - no wait, Ryohei's in front of me, Gokudera's eyes widened, so who just-
There was a light tug on the glass of gin. Gokudera looked down quickly only to watch it float up in the air and bobbed around the counter. The air shimmered before a black cloak seemed to materialize out of it.
Mammon took a sip of gin and sighed again, in contentment rather than exasperation this time. He held a white envelop up to Ryohei. "From Bel."
"Uh-" Ryohei stiffened. Then, came the ever intelligible, "Huh?"
"Fuck you," Gokudera snapped out grumpily, grabbing for the bottle of alcohol again. Like hell he wanted that glass of gin after Mammon's lips touched it. So he grabbed another glass, pouring out a shot and throwing it back, feeling the alcohol burn down his throat like a trail of fire. Then, he slammed both glass and bottle down decisively against the counter. "Don't come up around me like that. Next time I'll just bomb you to death, Varia-midget."
He reached up and plucked the envelope from Mammon's fingers, turning around - slightly woozily - and slamming it against Ryohei's face.
"Ack!" Ryohei took a half step back and Gokudera's eyes widened in surprise when he overbalanced onto the older man as a result.
"Hm," Mammon observed their awkward closeness - Bel's letter caught between Gokudera's hand and Ryohei's mouth... cheek? Ryohei's hands had lifted, fingers twitching like he wasn't sure whether to steady the other man or push him off his chest.
With a tiny tilt of his hooded head, the ex-midget Arcobaleno continued, "You didn't direct me here for a free show, did you?"
"Wha-?"
"I thought that you'd be able to clear the area," a voice, smooth as silk and dark as bitter chocolate, rang out throughout the room.
How Reborn ended up sitting on the stool at the far end of the bar, a glass of whiskey in his hand, no one would ever know.
Not that Mammon cared. "For nothing in return?" He sighed. "Never."
***
"Let me go, lawn head!" Gokudera growled immediately, trying to pull his arm away from Ryohei's grasp even as he stumbled after the other man, his feet a little too uncoordinated to be able to keep up to the taller man's long strides. "Oy! Why the fuck do we have to leave?"
I want more alcohol, damnit!
"They wanted the room, yeah?" Ryohei answered distractedly, trying to remember were Gokudera's room was. It was supposed to be easy- oh yeah, right side of Sawada's.
"Besides, it was a bad idea anyway." Ryohei had to admit it. Gokudera was getting tipsy and it showed. Which called into question just how drunk he really had been that night that they slept together, when Gokudera seemed completely sober. Ryohei frowned, brows creasing together in confusion.
"They can go fuck off," Gokudera suggested politely, shaking his head hard as he dug into his pocket for his room key, poking it into the slot once, twice- okay he almost broke it- there! Damnit, he really should have drank more; somehow, with only one or two shots of gin in him, Gokudera seemed the typical drunk. With each progressive shot, he got more and more sober until everything seemed perfectly clear and his coordination was perfect.
Except that he would have absolutely no idea what he was doing, and would remember nothing of it in the morning.
But to Ryohei, Gokudera just looked like he was well on the way to being completely smashed, give or take the few more minutes for the gin to spread through his system. As such, he was resigned to the possibility of tucking the younger man in after all.
When Gokudera pushed the door open, it was like when he had shoved that letter in Ryohei's face; he was leaning on the knob too much. The letter however, slid onto the floor, unnoticed, as Ryohei grabbed Gokudera's shoulders and walked him in.
"Oi," Ryohei asked with a rare calmness in his voice. "Were you really drunk that night?"
He couldn't tell what he felt about it either way, but he wanted some sort of an answer, somehow.
Instinctively, Gokudera sent an elbow into Ryohei's ribs. But the blow was blunted by him nearly tripping over his feet as they stepped over the threshold of his room, and he scowled deeply. He didn't need anyone's help, damnit.
Turning around, he was about to tell taller man off when he blinked at those words. "Huh? 'course I was. Was so fucking drunk I didn't even know what I was thinking or doing."
He lifted an eyebrow, tone challenging and sharp as he practically hurled his next words at Ryohei: "What. Regretting it?"
Ryohei stared at first. "... Nope." He still wasn't too sure if Gokudera was going to remain on his feet on his own. "But that's so not the point here. I mean, you're drunk now and... it's not like before."
Maybe, he thought, this wasn't even the best time to ask. "Ya know what, let's just talk about it when you're sober."
"...That's a good idea," Gokudera drawled, looking up at Ryohei. He didn't know what he was doing; the alcohol was sinking in even more and making him straighten up further. The haziness in his eyes was clearing, and Gokudera briefly thought that it was a good thing, since he would stop stumbling now, before all rationality left him.
And he reached out, hands flattening on Ryohei's shoulder and pushing him back against the door.
"Hey."
"...Yeah?"
A large part of Ryohei's head screamed in relief as Gokudera seemed to get a hold of himself, but that didn't explain why he was suddenly getting a hold of Ryohei either.
Does octopus head want to fight me now, too?
It was still a bad idea. In fact, all the ideas that were going through Ryohei's mind were being written off as bad ideas, and all of them involved Gokudera.
Even the one about tucking him into bed somehow seemed wrong at the moment.
But try as he might, Ryohei couldn't seem to tear his eyes away. Those green eyes... It was like they were pinning him in place.
Slowly, Gokudera's grin started to widen, and his hand flattened out against Ryohei's chest, holding him in place for a second before it started to slip downwards. Slowly, gently, almost insidious in his touches before he reached the buttons of the suit jacket, slipping the buttons out one, by, one. Deliberate, lifting his eyes up to meet Ryohei's before he let a canine slip out, biting onto his lip.
"Sometimes when I drink too goddamn much," he said conversationally, "I start to get really horny."
"That," Ryohei's voice cracked. He managed to tear his eyes away from Gokudera's only because watching where his hands were wandering seemed more prudent. "That's extreme," he whined.
Because it was matching up to memory now, the way Gokudera was taking the initiative, and actually looked like he was genuinely enjoying his company. A second later and Ryohei might have thought that it could be a good indicator as to whether Gokudera was piss drunk or sober in the future, but he didn't get that second.
Instead, he received an arm-full of Gokudera, kissing him on the chin, probably because he tilted his head up just in time to avoid it, but that didn't last long. Gokudera nibbled his way up and latched onto his lips soon afterwards and Ryohei's mind momentarily imploded.
But Gokudera didn't seemed to have noticed, tilting his head to the side and nipping on the plush lip before darting a tongue inside when Ryohei gasped. He stroked the roof of the mouth immediately with the tip of his tongue, his hand moving upwards again to curl around Ryohei's neck.
He clearly wasn't thinking anymore - there was no rationality in his eyes. Only lust, and heat.
Ryohei groaned and tried to back into the goddamn door, cursing the fact that he hadn't noticed the first time. And who could blame him, because, damn, Octopussy's hot like this.
With great restraint, he grabbed Gokudera by the shoulders and pushed him away. "O-oi, snap out of it," he demanded, shaking him a little. "This isn't right. I didn't get it the first time, but now I know you're drunk."
"Nah, I'm not," came the reply, sounding perfectly sober as Gokudera's fingers made quick work of Ryohei's tie first, then the buttons of his shirt, tugging them open even as he nudged against those large hands on his shoulders.
"Just get on with it, oi."
"But you just said you get horny when you drink to the limit," Ryohei argued, blushing madly as he pried Gokudera's hands up and off his chest. "And normally, you're body shy, so what do you call what you're doing now?"
"I have no idea and stop making me think," Gokudera said, decisively darting out his tongue and licking up the long column of his neck, tasting the salt of his sweat. "I'm horny, and I want to fuck," he growled against his throat. "You're making it complicated, lawn head."
"Fu-" Ryohei squeezed his eyes shut. Think of not sexy things. Not sexy thing like, like... cigarettes - Gokudera's mouth actually tasted more like gin, just like the last ti- alcoho-shit.
"Kyoko," He desperately exclaimed, although a small voice at the back of his mind said that his sister already knew they had sex, and the small voice despaired before withering to death. "Kyoko heard us the first time, and- and Bianchi's here now!"
Ryohei pushed Gokudera back again, spinning him around this time so the idiot faced the bed instead. "Look, why don't you just go to bed, so she won't force me to marry you or something!"
"I don't really care," Gokudera reached up and started to pry Ryohei's fingers off his shoulders. "I can't sleep like this, so help me take care of it."
After failing to process those words for a long moment, Ryohei finally digested them. "Can't you, uh..." He made a vague up and down gesture with his left hand. "Do it on your own?"
"No." Short, sweet, demanding. Gokudera reached upward again and grabbed Ryohei's wrist as he literally dragged him over to the bed, dropping down onto it immediately and pulling him on top. "Since you're here, then do it for me."
"Wha- Why-" Ryohei's eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets when Gokudera tugged his hand down past the leather belts and directly onto his crotch.
Gokudera threw his head back, hissing, "Yes."
And the rest of 'why do you look so sober' fled Ryohei's mind with the rest of his jumbled thoughts.
***
This is... "Haha, this is fast." Yamamoto mused out loud as Hibari pushed him onto the futon, crawling over and settling down upon his lap.
"Hey..." He sighed the words out softly between nibbles and kisses along his lover's neck. "Can you tell me? What you want?"
Hibari merely panted for a long moment, sitting with his legs spread on top of Yamamoto's thighs. His eyes were heavy-lidded, and it was so terribly obvious that he was aroused from the flush of his cheeks, the lip that he has drawn between his teeth and was biting down on it.
What did he want? He wanted Yamamoto to do something to relieve that heat that was growing in him; to stop simply sitting there and looking at him with that inexplicable look in his eyes. Hibari didn't know what exactly he wanted Yamamoto to do - how could he, when he had no prior experience of this and had always blocked such talk out whenever he heard them - but only that if the other man didn't start moving, Hibari would bite him to death.
Grinding down against Yamamoto's crotch, Hibari's lips drew back into a snarl. "Start moving," he growled, leaning in and jerking Yamamoto's head back, crashing their lips together.
Yamamoto moaned, murmuring something of an affirmative into Hibari's mouth, and moved to accommodate. But his swordhand was starting to ache.
Technically, that was a good thing in the sense that he was recovering quickly, thanks to Ryohei. But it was quicker than normal and as the numbness faded...
Squeezing his eyes shut, Yamamoto resolved to ignore the pain; it was nothing in comparison to quite a few experiences that he was too distracted to relive anyway. Besides, Hibari, not to mention other parts of his own body, were already vying for more attention.
He pulled Hibari closer, until they were chest to chest, their yukatas having long since become no more than bed sheets on the futon, around them.
But Hibari hadn't fought so many men - both carnivores and herbivores alike - for so long without being able to notice the slightest shift in movements or a change in reactions. He caught Yamamoto's flinch immediately, and scowled, his hand moving down to brush across Yamamoto's right arm, squeezing the skin very, very lightly.
"You're bad at hiding. So stop it," he ordered, eyes narrowed on the other man.
Again, Hibari was met with a puzzling gaze: soft, warm and understanding. There was a recognizable weariness too, a vague strain in the muscles around his eyes that spoke of pain.
"It's not so bad," Yamamoto said with a small smile and a slight shrug. "You're here."
"Fool," Hibari snapped immediately, and there was no warmth or indulgence in his eyes when he looked at Yamamoto. "Then you're no better than a weakling."
Yamamoto blinked, not following Hibari's logic. After a moment, he chuckled, and reached up, touching the hand that had been placed over his arm. "I'll get stronger."
Hibari's eyes narrowed, and his hand shook off the one over his, sliding downwards slowly, slowly, until he was grasping it just above the elbow. Then, without looking away, or even giving him a warning, he squeezed.
Hard.
Yamamoto yelped, hand clamping down on Hibari's wrist even as he tried to jerk his arm back. But Hibari was right. At the moment, he had quite foolishly weakened himself, and now, with Hibari on top of him, he couldn't even get away.
And Hibari took that one moment of vulnerability to act, immediately pressing his hands against Yamamoto's chest and shoving him down onto the bed. He loomed above him for a moment, all dark scowls and deadly intent curling around him, even though he didn't hit Yamamoto. Yet.
"Rest," he said, more of an order than a suggestion. "Heal up properly; I won't let this turn you into a herbivore."
Briefly, quietly, Yamamoto closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he nodded once, then grinned.
Back: Part 50
Next: Part 52
Meanwhile, Dream's half-killing herself with school work but she says she enjoys it *huggles Dream* so she's gone to bed early tonight. Send her some love, ne? *hugs ya all*
Thanks for reading. Enjoy~♥
Windshear Part [51/?]
Authors: kagayachou and evocates
Characters/Pairings: Ryohei, Gokudera, Mammon, Reborn, Yamamoto, Hibari. Look, we have Ryohei/Gokudera again. And more Yamamoto/Hibari.
Rating: PG-15
Words: 4016
Summary: In which nothing happens that Reborn has not accounted for - except for the things he just doesn't bother to think about.
When they walked into the lounge, it was empty. Ryohei didn't know whether to be thankful for that or wish that they weren't alone. He glanced over at Gokudera, then walked around behind the bar, fully prepared to water down whatever it was that Gokudera felt like drinking. Or knock him out with something so strong there'd be no problem with just tucking him into bed.
Gokudera strode into the room without even glancing at Ryohei, his back almost unnaturally straight even as he plopped down on a barstool, crossing his arms on the counter top and leaning against them before meeting Ryohei's eyes again.
"So what did you want me to come here for?"
"I dunno," tumbled out of Ryohei's mouth rather quickly. Looking away, he turned to grab himself a bottle of beer. "Wasn't thinking... Why'd you agree anyway?
"And is there really anything you want to drink?"
"Nothing else better to do right now," Gokudera drawled, turning away from Ryohei to lean his back against the counter, his elbows akimbo. There was an almost bored look on his face that belied the fact that far from having time, there was most likely a stack of paperwork that would be coming in tonight back at the office. But he ignored it for now - why should he have to file Yamamoto and Hibari's damage report for them during his after-hours?
He tilted his head back, fixing Ryohei with a flat glare. "Gin and tonic. SInce when are you playing bartender?"
Ryohei shrugged. "Since now?" Thankfully, it was just gin and tonic water... and regular water, not that Gokudera needed to know. And even if he did, Ryohei figured it wouldn't hurt to bring up his misgivings if things got to that. He dropped a piece of lime in the glass, and took it, with his beer, around the counter, putting the drinks down as he sat down beside Gokudera.
"Here ya go."
"Thanks."
Gokudera picked up the glass, sipping on it immediately. His first instinct was to completely drain it, but he knew better than to try to down a mixed drink like a shot- which was the precise reason why he had wanted gin and tonic instead of gin in the first place.
As he sipped on the drink, he started to frown and, after a few seconds, stared at Ryohei, "Hey.
"Did you water it down?"
Damn.
"Wow," Ryohei grinned sheepishly. "You're good."
He wondered belatedly if he went a little overboard with the water. Maybe he completely ruined the drink.
"Yeah, 'cause... I. Don't really want you drunk," he admitted, staring hard at the bottle in his own hand.
Because he'd thought about it, sometimes, trying to figure out whether he could have been able to tell if Gokudera had been drunk that time.
Gokudera hadn't turned excessively red, back then. He hadn't slurred or stuttered or stumbled even once. Most other times, he knew that Gokudera could be provoked into doing something crazy, like having a dance off against an equally drunk Lambo, but that time had been different, and he couldn't tell why.
And thinking about it too hard gave him a headache, among other bodily reactions.
Gokudera glared at him through the top of his glass before turning away, taking large gulps of his own drink and letting the alcohol burn its way down his throat, sufficiently waking him up enough that his eyes darkened and narrowed even further on Ryohei.
"I don't need you to nanny me, lawn head. I can take care of myself just fine."
"Well yeah, you're not as hopeless-" as Hibari. Somehow, Ryohei didn't think he should be bringing that guy up at the moment. Or the other guy.
But that only applied to certain types of caring for one's self. And from Ryohei's point of view, serial smoking negated a good part of the rest.
And perhaps he had jinxed it, because right at that moment, Gokudera slid a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket, drawing one out and placing it between his lips. He lit it immediately, drawing a deep breath and turning his head as he exhaled the smoke out from a corner of his lips.
"No one can be as hopeless as those two," he snorted, shrugging as if he didn't care.
Ryohei felt an eyebrow twitching. It was probably better to let Gokudera get it out of his system.
"Yeah, they are confusing to the limit!" He raised his beer to emphasize the point. "I mean, it's easy to see when Yamamoto cares, but when Hibari does it..."
He didn't know how to describe it beyond Hibari's pretty extreme.
Gokudera snorted again, jumping off the barstool and moving to behind the counter, grabbing an ashtray and putting his cigarette on the edge. Then, he started mixing another drink for himself - gin and tonic again, with much more gin this time - before he answered Ryohei.
"Hell, I don't even know if it's possible for that tonfa bastard to care."
"Oi-" Ryohei stared at what Gokudera was doing with a disproving frown, standing up as well. "...Of course he cares. Look at him with Namimori." He moved around the counter as he spoke, then placed a hand over the glass before Gokudera could pick it up. "You all right?"
"Namimori's a fucking town. Different from a human," Gokudera snapped back, glaring at Ryohei as he tugged at the glass. Was he all right? Sure, he was perfectly peachy. He was not thinking about what the hell was so good about Hibari that Yamamoto seemed so insane over him; he was not thinking about how an absolutely asshole had so many people fawning over him - just look at his damn Foundation, kissing his feet always and worshipping the ground he walked on - while Gokudera...
Well, he didn't want that sort of shit anyway.
He didn't want to own an entire town. He didn't need a fucking hoard of people to boss around. All he ever wanted or needed... well, he has his position as the Vongola Tenth's Right Hand Man.
By all rights, Gokudera should have been completely satisfied, right?
Wrong.
And it was written all across his face.
Ryohei transfered his grip from the glass to Gokudera's wrist. "Slow down with that.
"And is that what you're really worried about? How Hibari sees Yamamoto?"
"Like hell I am," came the reply, as caustic and irritable as ever, even though this time the anger and frustration was very real. But Ryohei didn't know whether or not it was directed at him, or at someone else, or at the situation, or at life in general. There was so much of it burning in Gokudera's eyes that he couldn't help but wince slightly, tightening his grip on the other man's wrist as a precaution.
But Gokudera didn't try to take his glass back. He only frowned deeply, brows creasing as he stared off into the distance, eyes fixed on a particular spot on the wall.
"I don't give a fuck what happens to him."
Ryohei snorted. "'Course you do. ...I do."
When it became apparent that Gokudera had nothing to say to that, Ryohei released his hand, groaning loudly as he scratched his head in frustration.
"You give a fuck," he finally stated. "You extremely give a fuck, okay? I'm no genius, but I'm not blind either."
What harm was there in admitting that he cared anyway?
Gokudera's eyes flickered over to him, staring at him flatly before he gave a hard yank at the glass, pulling it to him and draining half of it, letting the alcohol burn down his throat and settle warmly in his stomach.
He snorted, crossing his arms. "Yeah. I care. So what?
"What the fuck are you trying to prove?"
For a moment, Ryohei just blinked, surprised. "Woah," he said the first thing that came to mind. "I thought it'd be harder to get you to admit it."
He shook his head then. "So, now that we got that out in the open, whatcha want to do about it? I mean, you just worried about Yamamoto being with Hibari, or ya want him back?"
Gokudera stared at him as if he had grown another head. "Like hell I want the baseball idiot back," and he knocked back the other half of the glass, completely and utterly ignoring the first part of Ryohei's words. "He's far too idiotic and troublesome. Leave him with the equally stupid tonfa bastard."
"Oh... Okay." Ryohei didn't know what to say. "Well... if it's any consolation, Hibari specifically said, 'I will not kill Yamamoto Takeshi' right after he told me to leave just now, so!" He shrugged.
Eyeing the empty glass for a moment longer, Ryohei's lips thinned into a grimace. "Come on... back to the bar seat with ya." He took the glass from Gokudera's hand, or tried to.
"I'm not a fucking baby," Gokudera yanked the glass back even harder, turning around as he picked up the bottle of gin again. This time, he didn't even bother with the tonic - why would he, when he was just going to shoot it anyway - simply pouring the alcohol straight into the glass and dumping a few pieces of ice into it.
"Yes you are, 'cause now you're just doing that extremely deliberately."
Ryohei sighed behind him - no wait, Ryohei's in front of me, Gokudera's eyes widened, so who just-
There was a light tug on the glass of gin. Gokudera looked down quickly only to watch it float up in the air and bobbed around the counter. The air shimmered before a black cloak seemed to materialize out of it.
Mammon took a sip of gin and sighed again, in contentment rather than exasperation this time. He held a white envelop up to Ryohei. "From Bel."
"Uh-" Ryohei stiffened. Then, came the ever intelligible, "Huh?"
"Fuck you," Gokudera snapped out grumpily, grabbing for the bottle of alcohol again. Like hell he wanted that glass of gin after Mammon's lips touched it. So he grabbed another glass, pouring out a shot and throwing it back, feeling the alcohol burn down his throat like a trail of fire. Then, he slammed both glass and bottle down decisively against the counter. "Don't come up around me like that. Next time I'll just bomb you to death, Varia-midget."
He reached up and plucked the envelope from Mammon's fingers, turning around - slightly woozily - and slamming it against Ryohei's face.
"Ack!" Ryohei took a half step back and Gokudera's eyes widened in surprise when he overbalanced onto the older man as a result.
"Hm," Mammon observed their awkward closeness - Bel's letter caught between Gokudera's hand and Ryohei's mouth... cheek? Ryohei's hands had lifted, fingers twitching like he wasn't sure whether to steady the other man or push him off his chest.
With a tiny tilt of his hooded head, the ex-midget Arcobaleno continued, "You didn't direct me here for a free show, did you?"
"Wha-?"
"I thought that you'd be able to clear the area," a voice, smooth as silk and dark as bitter chocolate, rang out throughout the room.
How Reborn ended up sitting on the stool at the far end of the bar, a glass of whiskey in his hand, no one would ever know.
Not that Mammon cared. "For nothing in return?" He sighed. "Never."
***
"Let me go, lawn head!" Gokudera growled immediately, trying to pull his arm away from Ryohei's grasp even as he stumbled after the other man, his feet a little too uncoordinated to be able to keep up to the taller man's long strides. "Oy! Why the fuck do we have to leave?"
I want more alcohol, damnit!
"They wanted the room, yeah?" Ryohei answered distractedly, trying to remember were Gokudera's room was. It was supposed to be easy- oh yeah, right side of Sawada's.
"Besides, it was a bad idea anyway." Ryohei had to admit it. Gokudera was getting tipsy and it showed. Which called into question just how drunk he really had been that night that they slept together, when Gokudera seemed completely sober. Ryohei frowned, brows creasing together in confusion.
"They can go fuck off," Gokudera suggested politely, shaking his head hard as he dug into his pocket for his room key, poking it into the slot once, twice- okay he almost broke it- there! Damnit, he really should have drank more; somehow, with only one or two shots of gin in him, Gokudera seemed the typical drunk. With each progressive shot, he got more and more sober until everything seemed perfectly clear and his coordination was perfect.
Except that he would have absolutely no idea what he was doing, and would remember nothing of it in the morning.
But to Ryohei, Gokudera just looked like he was well on the way to being completely smashed, give or take the few more minutes for the gin to spread through his system. As such, he was resigned to the possibility of tucking the younger man in after all.
When Gokudera pushed the door open, it was like when he had shoved that letter in Ryohei's face; he was leaning on the knob too much. The letter however, slid onto the floor, unnoticed, as Ryohei grabbed Gokudera's shoulders and walked him in.
"Oi," Ryohei asked with a rare calmness in his voice. "Were you really drunk that night?"
He couldn't tell what he felt about it either way, but he wanted some sort of an answer, somehow.
Instinctively, Gokudera sent an elbow into Ryohei's ribs. But the blow was blunted by him nearly tripping over his feet as they stepped over the threshold of his room, and he scowled deeply. He didn't need anyone's help, damnit.
Turning around, he was about to tell taller man off when he blinked at those words. "Huh? 'course I was. Was so fucking drunk I didn't even know what I was thinking or doing."
He lifted an eyebrow, tone challenging and sharp as he practically hurled his next words at Ryohei: "What. Regretting it?"
Ryohei stared at first. "... Nope." He still wasn't too sure if Gokudera was going to remain on his feet on his own. "But that's so not the point here. I mean, you're drunk now and... it's not like before."
Maybe, he thought, this wasn't even the best time to ask. "Ya know what, let's just talk about it when you're sober."
"...That's a good idea," Gokudera drawled, looking up at Ryohei. He didn't know what he was doing; the alcohol was sinking in even more and making him straighten up further. The haziness in his eyes was clearing, and Gokudera briefly thought that it was a good thing, since he would stop stumbling now, before all rationality left him.
And he reached out, hands flattening on Ryohei's shoulder and pushing him back against the door.
"Hey."
"...Yeah?"
A large part of Ryohei's head screamed in relief as Gokudera seemed to get a hold of himself, but that didn't explain why he was suddenly getting a hold of Ryohei either.
Does octopus head want to fight me now, too?
It was still a bad idea. In fact, all the ideas that were going through Ryohei's mind were being written off as bad ideas, and all of them involved Gokudera.
Even the one about tucking him into bed somehow seemed wrong at the moment.
But try as he might, Ryohei couldn't seem to tear his eyes away. Those green eyes... It was like they were pinning him in place.
Slowly, Gokudera's grin started to widen, and his hand flattened out against Ryohei's chest, holding him in place for a second before it started to slip downwards. Slowly, gently, almost insidious in his touches before he reached the buttons of the suit jacket, slipping the buttons out one, by, one. Deliberate, lifting his eyes up to meet Ryohei's before he let a canine slip out, biting onto his lip.
"Sometimes when I drink too goddamn much," he said conversationally, "I start to get really horny."
"That," Ryohei's voice cracked. He managed to tear his eyes away from Gokudera's only because watching where his hands were wandering seemed more prudent. "That's extreme," he whined.
Because it was matching up to memory now, the way Gokudera was taking the initiative, and actually looked like he was genuinely enjoying his company. A second later and Ryohei might have thought that it could be a good indicator as to whether Gokudera was piss drunk or sober in the future, but he didn't get that second.
Instead, he received an arm-full of Gokudera, kissing him on the chin, probably because he tilted his head up just in time to avoid it, but that didn't last long. Gokudera nibbled his way up and latched onto his lips soon afterwards and Ryohei's mind momentarily imploded.
But Gokudera didn't seemed to have noticed, tilting his head to the side and nipping on the plush lip before darting a tongue inside when Ryohei gasped. He stroked the roof of the mouth immediately with the tip of his tongue, his hand moving upwards again to curl around Ryohei's neck.
He clearly wasn't thinking anymore - there was no rationality in his eyes. Only lust, and heat.
Ryohei groaned and tried to back into the goddamn door, cursing the fact that he hadn't noticed the first time. And who could blame him, because, damn, Octopussy's hot like this.
With great restraint, he grabbed Gokudera by the shoulders and pushed him away. "O-oi, snap out of it," he demanded, shaking him a little. "This isn't right. I didn't get it the first time, but now I know you're drunk."
"Nah, I'm not," came the reply, sounding perfectly sober as Gokudera's fingers made quick work of Ryohei's tie first, then the buttons of his shirt, tugging them open even as he nudged against those large hands on his shoulders.
"Just get on with it, oi."
"But you just said you get horny when you drink to the limit," Ryohei argued, blushing madly as he pried Gokudera's hands up and off his chest. "And normally, you're body shy, so what do you call what you're doing now?"
"I have no idea and stop making me think," Gokudera said, decisively darting out his tongue and licking up the long column of his neck, tasting the salt of his sweat. "I'm horny, and I want to fuck," he growled against his throat. "You're making it complicated, lawn head."
"Fu-" Ryohei squeezed his eyes shut. Think of not sexy things. Not sexy thing like, like... cigarettes - Gokudera's mouth actually tasted more like gin, just like the last ti- alcoho-shit.
"Kyoko," He desperately exclaimed, although a small voice at the back of his mind said that his sister already knew they had sex, and the small voice despaired before withering to death. "Kyoko heard us the first time, and- and Bianchi's here now!"
Ryohei pushed Gokudera back again, spinning him around this time so the idiot faced the bed instead. "Look, why don't you just go to bed, so she won't force me to marry you or something!"
"I don't really care," Gokudera reached up and started to pry Ryohei's fingers off his shoulders. "I can't sleep like this, so help me take care of it."
After failing to process those words for a long moment, Ryohei finally digested them. "Can't you, uh..." He made a vague up and down gesture with his left hand. "Do it on your own?"
"No." Short, sweet, demanding. Gokudera reached upward again and grabbed Ryohei's wrist as he literally dragged him over to the bed, dropping down onto it immediately and pulling him on top. "Since you're here, then do it for me."
"Wha- Why-" Ryohei's eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets when Gokudera tugged his hand down past the leather belts and directly onto his crotch.
Gokudera threw his head back, hissing, "Yes."
And the rest of 'why do you look so sober' fled Ryohei's mind with the rest of his jumbled thoughts.
***
This is... "Haha, this is fast." Yamamoto mused out loud as Hibari pushed him onto the futon, crawling over and settling down upon his lap.
"Hey..." He sighed the words out softly between nibbles and kisses along his lover's neck. "Can you tell me? What you want?"
Hibari merely panted for a long moment, sitting with his legs spread on top of Yamamoto's thighs. His eyes were heavy-lidded, and it was so terribly obvious that he was aroused from the flush of his cheeks, the lip that he has drawn between his teeth and was biting down on it.
What did he want? He wanted Yamamoto to do something to relieve that heat that was growing in him; to stop simply sitting there and looking at him with that inexplicable look in his eyes. Hibari didn't know what exactly he wanted Yamamoto to do - how could he, when he had no prior experience of this and had always blocked such talk out whenever he heard them - but only that if the other man didn't start moving, Hibari would bite him to death.
Grinding down against Yamamoto's crotch, Hibari's lips drew back into a snarl. "Start moving," he growled, leaning in and jerking Yamamoto's head back, crashing their lips together.
Yamamoto moaned, murmuring something of an affirmative into Hibari's mouth, and moved to accommodate. But his swordhand was starting to ache.
Technically, that was a good thing in the sense that he was recovering quickly, thanks to Ryohei. But it was quicker than normal and as the numbness faded...
Squeezing his eyes shut, Yamamoto resolved to ignore the pain; it was nothing in comparison to quite a few experiences that he was too distracted to relive anyway. Besides, Hibari, not to mention other parts of his own body, were already vying for more attention.
He pulled Hibari closer, until they were chest to chest, their yukatas having long since become no more than bed sheets on the futon, around them.
But Hibari hadn't fought so many men - both carnivores and herbivores alike - for so long without being able to notice the slightest shift in movements or a change in reactions. He caught Yamamoto's flinch immediately, and scowled, his hand moving down to brush across Yamamoto's right arm, squeezing the skin very, very lightly.
"You're bad at hiding. So stop it," he ordered, eyes narrowed on the other man.
Again, Hibari was met with a puzzling gaze: soft, warm and understanding. There was a recognizable weariness too, a vague strain in the muscles around his eyes that spoke of pain.
"It's not so bad," Yamamoto said with a small smile and a slight shrug. "You're here."
"Fool," Hibari snapped immediately, and there was no warmth or indulgence in his eyes when he looked at Yamamoto. "Then you're no better than a weakling."
Yamamoto blinked, not following Hibari's logic. After a moment, he chuckled, and reached up, touching the hand that had been placed over his arm. "I'll get stronger."
Hibari's eyes narrowed, and his hand shook off the one over his, sliding downwards slowly, slowly, until he was grasping it just above the elbow. Then, without looking away, or even giving him a warning, he squeezed.
Hard.
Yamamoto yelped, hand clamping down on Hibari's wrist even as he tried to jerk his arm back. But Hibari was right. At the moment, he had quite foolishly weakened himself, and now, with Hibari on top of him, he couldn't even get away.
And Hibari took that one moment of vulnerability to act, immediately pressing his hands against Yamamoto's chest and shoving him down onto the bed. He loomed above him for a moment, all dark scowls and deadly intent curling around him, even though he didn't hit Yamamoto. Yet.
"Rest," he said, more of an order than a suggestion. "Heal up properly; I won't let this turn you into a herbivore."
Briefly, quietly, Yamamoto closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he nodded once, then grinned.
Back: Part 50
Next: Part 52