Reverse Psychology - Yamamoto/Gokudera (8059)
Title: Reverse Psychology
Author/Artist: kirishimaayama
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Smut, but different from how I usually write it, is all I can say..
Prompt: I-24. Yamamoto/Gokudera - Earrings; “I’m not a girl, baseball-idiot!” (fic)
Word count: 2, 634
Summary: It’s a special day for someone, but an unexpected present may just spark another..
Author’s Note: Sorry for lateness… orz I hope you like it anyway... =A=;
----
Reverse Psychology
The day dawned unspectacularly like any other, sun bright in an almost cloudless sky and birds chittering away as usual in the morning’s air as Gokudera promptly greeted Tsuna on his doorstep, addressing Nana politely before they went on their way. Neither of them made any sign that there was anything particularly special about this day, even though it was circled on both their calendars.
Stalking casually into the classroom close on the heels of Tsuna, Gokudera almost collided with the shorter teenager directly in front of him as Tsuna stopped, stock-still in the doorway of the classroom, at the sight of a small and easily-recognisable box placed in the direct centre of Gokudera’s desk. Without a word, the brunette hurried over to his own desk with a quick backward glance at his silver haired companion. The future Mafia boss had quite a good inkling who the item could be from, but refrained to comment as he hung up his bag and retrieving a textbook from inside his desk. He had insightfully recognised a potential explosion from the bomber.
It took a few beats for Gokudera to process the reason Tsuna had stopped in the doorway as he had instinctively watched his Jyuudaime retreat from his side in concern, before his eyes captured the image of a small box covered in black velvet sitting on his desk in all its glory. With quick and controlled steps, he tried not to hurry as though he had something to hide, but his hands were shaking with undefined emotion as he snatched the box up and shoved it into his pocket almost violently, glowering out the window at the small figures in white and black that lined the oval below. His sharp eyes sought out who he was looking for immediately with long ease of practice, although he would never admit the hours that he spent glancing out that same window for a glimpse of that person as they sent the ball soaring with a resounding crack and raced around the bases.
Shaking the thoughts from his head, the bomber sat down heavily in his seat, dumping his bag onto the floor next to him, rather than use the handily provided bag hook on the side of his desk. His gaze burned into Tsuna’s back for a few minutes, but he was diligently ignored as Tsuna pretended to read from his Japanese History book for their upcoming pop quiz in the first period. In truth, very little was absorbing into Tsuna’s mind as he waited for that feeling of being watched to dissipate, sweating slightly. Well, it would just be yet another test of many that he had failed. And this would be just one of many … whatever it was.
Although the Storm Guardian felt compelled as usual to offer his help to his Jyuudaime, his curiosity overcame him for once, so he excused himself on the reasoning that since Jyuudaime seemed so absorbed, his concentration should not be broken. With a quick look about the still moderately deserted classroom, Gokudera drew the small box from his pocket slowly, running his fingers over the silky black velvet cover, something else similarly black and with the same degree of softness running through his mind before he violently shoved that thought away. He was in a classroom for god’s sake. It wasn’t the time to remember smooth black strands running through his fingers as he was pounded with a delicious pleasure, sweat running down their both their skins, tan on pale white…
No, stop that train of thought right there.
Clenching his teeth at his own lack of restraint, the Italian shelved his thoughts and opened the box slowly, not knowing what he expected inside, but the two gleaming silver studs in there roused a strange feeling in him that could not quite be placed. The queer knot of emotion was baffling and foreign, so Gokudera grasped at the only emotion he could recognise and accept, not wanting to acknowledge the others.
Anger. Annoyance.
Snapping the lid shut again and drawing the attention of some of those in the room, he enclosed the box in his clenched fist and stood up shaking with the force of his emotions, as though of half a mind to throw the present right into the trash, but he his legs did not budge from where he stood. Tsuna cast Gokudera a cautious backward glance from behind his Japanese History book, but Gokudera was too caught up in his internal battle to notice.
Finally the bomber looked up with distant eyes, intent clearly written on his features as he turned on his heel with a loud clatter of his chair and left the room without another word or look to anyone, jamming the box back into his pocket carelessly. All the students present watched him leave with somewhat baffled expressions. Tsuna set down his textbook and wondered if Gokudera would return for the rest of the day, his eye catching his Storm Guardian’s bag sitting haphazardly next to his askew chair.
The other students, used to pretty radical behaviour from Gokudera, returned to their respective activities within seconds, the mild volume of chatter restarting again without regard to Tsuna in its midst, as usual. With a sigh, Tsuna resigned himself to moving Gokudera’s bag to a less noticeable location and tucking his chair back under his table to look less conspicuous before returning to his textbook for more fruitless studying. No doubt Gokudera would apologise profusely later, as he was prone to.
Gokudera hurried along the corridor now, moving through new waves of students that were beginning to arrive as the time for the Home Room bell drew nearer. Most avoided him automatically simply because of the glowering look he graced any in his path, or perhaps they could even feel the emanating waves of negative emotion from him. Either way, he broke through their ranks fairly easily and headed down the well-trodden path to the oval where the figures that had been so small before were still playing their game of baseball.
As he watched, one last player was caught ‘out’ and a whistle was blown. The coach gathered all the team members and gave them all a quick talk before the members disbanded, all heading to fetch up their water bottles or towels from a small seating area close to where Gokudera stood now before they continued on to the showers before Home Room. The silver haired teenager scanned the group before quickly spotting the person he was searching for.
Although Yamamoto had noticed Gokudera before the Storm Guardian had reached him, he scarcely had time to bite out a cheerful, if puffed, greeting before he was pulled bodily over to an area just behind the showers, covered with enough brush for the place to be mostly secluded. Gokudera pushed the taller male against the bricked wall and reached a hand into his pocket to withdraw the velvet box. He thrust it into the baseballer’s face confrontingly.
“I’m not a girl, baseball-idiot!” Were the first words that left his mouth as he glared into the other’s face, seafoam green eyes sparking with anger.
“I just thought it would look good on Gokudera.” Yamamoto smiled with his customary carefree nature so that despite everything, Gokudera wanted to hammer the baseball-idiot’s head against the wall until he learnt some sense.
“What business do you have giving me jewellery in the first place?” Gokudera bit out angrily, only quietening his tone as he heard the other members of Yamamoto’s baseball team pile into the showers with great chatter and clattering, and from the sounds of water beginning to splash against the tiled ground inside.
“Besides which…” Gokudera scowled and looked away as the Japanese baseballer merely grinned patiently and waited for him to continue. The shorter teenager was forced to plough on.
“Isn’t it your birthday?”
Yamamoto only smiled serenely again at his shorter companion and bent down to nibble on the shell of Gokudera’s ear tantalisingly, causing the silver-haired teen to instinctively set hands on the other’s chest to force the better-built teen off. Even as his hands moved, however, he was assaulted by the scent of Yamamoto’s sweat that simply brought back too many memories of hot, sweaty nights spent in a darkened room, limbs knocking together as they each sought out as much pleasure as possible, just the two of them locked in a heated embrace...
No, those thoughts were not for now!
Again, Gokudera pushed against Yamamoto’s chest ineffectually, the baseball player not budging an inch, as strong hands that were clamped down on Gokudera’s shoulders also prevented the silver-haired teen’s escape. Slowly, the Japanese male nibbled along to the lobe, taking it into his mouth to suck gently on it, and thrust a tongue into the other’s ear, ignoring everything around him but Gokudera.
Once again assaulted by memories of such unforgettable nights, Gokudera could feel himself reacting to the motions of the taller teenager’s tongue against his ear as it imitated what he would have very much liked another part of Yamamoto to do to another part of himself. Unknowingly, he clutched at the Rain Guardian, a sound suspiciously like a moan tearing from his throat as his fingernails dug into the other’s back through his baseball uniform.
Somehow they had sunk down to the ground, Gokudera was straddled on Yamamoto’s legs and the Japanese teen had a self-satisfied smile across his features as he looked wickedly into Gokudera’s face only inches from his own, despite the fact that the silver-haired boy did not seem coherent enough at that point to really notice. Wantonly, he was pressing his body against the other’s and, taking that as a hint, the dark haired male spared no time but began to divest them both of their clothes.
Gokudera felt as if he’d lost his sanity as he drowned himself in the other’s scent, resting his cheek against the baseballer’s sweat-dampened collarbone and inhaling. When had he begun feeling his way, he did not even understand. Yamamoto was the most aggravating person he had ever known, yet somehow they had still reached this kind of crossroads. When had the other teenager crept under his skin so much?
A long finger slid under the elastic band of the pianist’s briefs to slip into a place that was, by now, most familiar to the Japanese teen. Gokudera’s back arched, hands that had shifted to the Rain Guardian’s shoulders clenching to leave deep crescent shaped marks on the tanned skin. Even as Yamamoto’s fingers dipped again into that honey-sweet warmth, he let his mouth linger on the Italian’s nipples, sucking on them before leaving a trail of kisses across the other’s heated skin, earning himself further ‘markings’ that he seemed not to notice.
“Gokudera is nice and cool.” The raven-haired teen, very much a man in his own right, whispered against the silver-haired teen’s rib cage as he scored the pale skin there with his teeth.
Gokudera looked at the baseballer doubtfully for a moment, trying to regain his sanity in his situation, but it was hard. He was cool in comparison to the ballplayer, still hot and sweaty from his morning practice, but he was hardly ‘cool’, he thought, as he felt sweat bead against his forehead.
Why he could not explain, but he had not felt so aroused before. Never by simply the other nibbling his ear of all things…
Was it because he was actually very happy about the present?
The pianist promptly rejected the idea and hid his face against the other’s shoulder to hide his expression as well as to muffle his moan as Yamamoto stroked again with fingers expert from practice. He easily grazed the delicious spot inside Gokudera a couple of times before he withdrew his fingers to taste them languidly, smiling to himself. Carefully lifting the bomber’s face from his shoulder, he urged Gokudera to take those fingers inside his red, red mouth and made sure they were coated thoroughly in saliva before sliding those digits back into Gokudera’s tight depths, eliciting another throaty moan from the silverette that he desperately tried to mask.
As Yamamoto released himself from the remaining confines of his own clothes, all Gokudera could do was clutch at his partner, in more need than he had ever been before as the fingers slipped out of him, leaving behind a moist reminder. He was almost burning with his desire, but he knew not why, strange and unsettling emotions a troubling weight in his chest. The minute the ballplayer’s aroused length was free, Gokudera set his long, skilled pianist’s fingers along the length and began to guide it into his welcoming entrance, slick with his saliva, any thought process long stopped.
There was a sweet, sweet burn as he speared himself on Yamamoto’s length. His partner, too, seemed different from usual today as Gokudera stifled a gasp at the new fullness inside him. Too engrossed in his own sensations, he did not notice Yamamoto reach up with something as he thrust upwards against Gokudera’s hips again. Only when he felt the strange combination of pain and pleasure did he raise a startled hand to his throbbing right ear, only to feel metal embedded into his lobe.
His eyes flying open, he only had time to meet the other’s eyes accusingly with his own before again there was the mix of pleasure and pain that sent the bomber’s eyes closed again from the onslaught of sensation, except that it was in his left ear this time. When he had scarcely recovered, he clawed at the ballplayer’s shoulders like an enraged feline.
“That was dangerous!” He almost shouted before he remembered in a split second of the other members of the baseball team still inside the showers and hissed the words instead.
Yamamoto countered with a mischievous smile that bordered on a smirk, as different from his accustomed smile as one could get. There was a familiar, yet unfamiliar, glint in his eyes.
“I know what I was doing.” He assured the pianist confidently, dropping the white plastic piercer back onto the tracksuit jacket he had stretched out across the grass, before wrapping both of his large, callused hands on the silver-haired male’s bony hips again, flipping them over in an instant so that Gokudera was the one pressed against the brickwork this time, legs drawn up to expose his blushing entrance.
They aligned themselves and pounded into each other, building again, the Storm Guardian threading his fingers into spiky black hair as he bit his lip until he drew blood to contain his voice. The rain kissed the storm one last time, coming away with the taste of copper on his lips as they both had an explosive finish that overwhelmed their senses and had them clutching at each other frantically before they collapsed together onto the grass.
Gokudera gasped air back into his lungs like a drowning man before he boosted himself up on one elbow and punched Yamamoto on the arm in annoyance.
“You planned this!” He accused, shooting a deadly glance at the white plastic piercer which lay atop the tracksuit jacket. The opened zipper on the left pocket showed where it had been previously stowed.
“Haha. Maybe.” Yamamoto grinned innocently from where he lay, his expression reverting to its customary carefree cheer. He reached up with one hand to cup Gokudera’s lobe, smiling as he admired the glitter of silver in the silver-haired teen’s ears.
A bell rang in the distance.
“Hey Gokudera?” A voice brightened with a smile asked.
“What.”
“Let’s skip class today and stay here all day.”
The bomber stared down at the ballplayer for a moment dubiously before a slow smile spread across his features.
“Fine... Happy Birthday…. idiot.”
Author/Artist: kirishimaayama
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Smut, but different from how I usually write it, is all I can say..
Prompt: I-24. Yamamoto/Gokudera - Earrings; “I’m not a girl, baseball-idiot!” (fic)
Word count: 2, 634
Summary: It’s a special day for someone, but an unexpected present may just spark another..
Author’s Note: Sorry for lateness… orz I hope you like it anyway... =A=;
----
Reverse Psychology
The day dawned unspectacularly like any other, sun bright in an almost cloudless sky and birds chittering away as usual in the morning’s air as Gokudera promptly greeted Tsuna on his doorstep, addressing Nana politely before they went on their way. Neither of them made any sign that there was anything particularly special about this day, even though it was circled on both their calendars.
Stalking casually into the classroom close on the heels of Tsuna, Gokudera almost collided with the shorter teenager directly in front of him as Tsuna stopped, stock-still in the doorway of the classroom, at the sight of a small and easily-recognisable box placed in the direct centre of Gokudera’s desk. Without a word, the brunette hurried over to his own desk with a quick backward glance at his silver haired companion. The future Mafia boss had quite a good inkling who the item could be from, but refrained to comment as he hung up his bag and retrieving a textbook from inside his desk. He had insightfully recognised a potential explosion from the bomber.
It took a few beats for Gokudera to process the reason Tsuna had stopped in the doorway as he had instinctively watched his Jyuudaime retreat from his side in concern, before his eyes captured the image of a small box covered in black velvet sitting on his desk in all its glory. With quick and controlled steps, he tried not to hurry as though he had something to hide, but his hands were shaking with undefined emotion as he snatched the box up and shoved it into his pocket almost violently, glowering out the window at the small figures in white and black that lined the oval below. His sharp eyes sought out who he was looking for immediately with long ease of practice, although he would never admit the hours that he spent glancing out that same window for a glimpse of that person as they sent the ball soaring with a resounding crack and raced around the bases.
Shaking the thoughts from his head, the bomber sat down heavily in his seat, dumping his bag onto the floor next to him, rather than use the handily provided bag hook on the side of his desk. His gaze burned into Tsuna’s back for a few minutes, but he was diligently ignored as Tsuna pretended to read from his Japanese History book for their upcoming pop quiz in the first period. In truth, very little was absorbing into Tsuna’s mind as he waited for that feeling of being watched to dissipate, sweating slightly. Well, it would just be yet another test of many that he had failed. And this would be just one of many … whatever it was.
Although the Storm Guardian felt compelled as usual to offer his help to his Jyuudaime, his curiosity overcame him for once, so he excused himself on the reasoning that since Jyuudaime seemed so absorbed, his concentration should not be broken. With a quick look about the still moderately deserted classroom, Gokudera drew the small box from his pocket slowly, running his fingers over the silky black velvet cover, something else similarly black and with the same degree of softness running through his mind before he violently shoved that thought away. He was in a classroom for god’s sake. It wasn’t the time to remember smooth black strands running through his fingers as he was pounded with a delicious pleasure, sweat running down their both their skins, tan on pale white…
No, stop that train of thought right there.
Clenching his teeth at his own lack of restraint, the Italian shelved his thoughts and opened the box slowly, not knowing what he expected inside, but the two gleaming silver studs in there roused a strange feeling in him that could not quite be placed. The queer knot of emotion was baffling and foreign, so Gokudera grasped at the only emotion he could recognise and accept, not wanting to acknowledge the others.
Anger. Annoyance.
Snapping the lid shut again and drawing the attention of some of those in the room, he enclosed the box in his clenched fist and stood up shaking with the force of his emotions, as though of half a mind to throw the present right into the trash, but he his legs did not budge from where he stood. Tsuna cast Gokudera a cautious backward glance from behind his Japanese History book, but Gokudera was too caught up in his internal battle to notice.
Finally the bomber looked up with distant eyes, intent clearly written on his features as he turned on his heel with a loud clatter of his chair and left the room without another word or look to anyone, jamming the box back into his pocket carelessly. All the students present watched him leave with somewhat baffled expressions. Tsuna set down his textbook and wondered if Gokudera would return for the rest of the day, his eye catching his Storm Guardian’s bag sitting haphazardly next to his askew chair.
The other students, used to pretty radical behaviour from Gokudera, returned to their respective activities within seconds, the mild volume of chatter restarting again without regard to Tsuna in its midst, as usual. With a sigh, Tsuna resigned himself to moving Gokudera’s bag to a less noticeable location and tucking his chair back under his table to look less conspicuous before returning to his textbook for more fruitless studying. No doubt Gokudera would apologise profusely later, as he was prone to.
Gokudera hurried along the corridor now, moving through new waves of students that were beginning to arrive as the time for the Home Room bell drew nearer. Most avoided him automatically simply because of the glowering look he graced any in his path, or perhaps they could even feel the emanating waves of negative emotion from him. Either way, he broke through their ranks fairly easily and headed down the well-trodden path to the oval where the figures that had been so small before were still playing their game of baseball.
As he watched, one last player was caught ‘out’ and a whistle was blown. The coach gathered all the team members and gave them all a quick talk before the members disbanded, all heading to fetch up their water bottles or towels from a small seating area close to where Gokudera stood now before they continued on to the showers before Home Room. The silver haired teenager scanned the group before quickly spotting the person he was searching for.
Although Yamamoto had noticed Gokudera before the Storm Guardian had reached him, he scarcely had time to bite out a cheerful, if puffed, greeting before he was pulled bodily over to an area just behind the showers, covered with enough brush for the place to be mostly secluded. Gokudera pushed the taller male against the bricked wall and reached a hand into his pocket to withdraw the velvet box. He thrust it into the baseballer’s face confrontingly.
“I’m not a girl, baseball-idiot!” Were the first words that left his mouth as he glared into the other’s face, seafoam green eyes sparking with anger.
“I just thought it would look good on Gokudera.” Yamamoto smiled with his customary carefree nature so that despite everything, Gokudera wanted to hammer the baseball-idiot’s head against the wall until he learnt some sense.
“What business do you have giving me jewellery in the first place?” Gokudera bit out angrily, only quietening his tone as he heard the other members of Yamamoto’s baseball team pile into the showers with great chatter and clattering, and from the sounds of water beginning to splash against the tiled ground inside.
“Besides which…” Gokudera scowled and looked away as the Japanese baseballer merely grinned patiently and waited for him to continue. The shorter teenager was forced to plough on.
“Isn’t it your birthday?”
Yamamoto only smiled serenely again at his shorter companion and bent down to nibble on the shell of Gokudera’s ear tantalisingly, causing the silver-haired teen to instinctively set hands on the other’s chest to force the better-built teen off. Even as his hands moved, however, he was assaulted by the scent of Yamamoto’s sweat that simply brought back too many memories of hot, sweaty nights spent in a darkened room, limbs knocking together as they each sought out as much pleasure as possible, just the two of them locked in a heated embrace...
No, those thoughts were not for now!
Again, Gokudera pushed against Yamamoto’s chest ineffectually, the baseball player not budging an inch, as strong hands that were clamped down on Gokudera’s shoulders also prevented the silver-haired teen’s escape. Slowly, the Japanese male nibbled along to the lobe, taking it into his mouth to suck gently on it, and thrust a tongue into the other’s ear, ignoring everything around him but Gokudera.
Once again assaulted by memories of such unforgettable nights, Gokudera could feel himself reacting to the motions of the taller teenager’s tongue against his ear as it imitated what he would have very much liked another part of Yamamoto to do to another part of himself. Unknowingly, he clutched at the Rain Guardian, a sound suspiciously like a moan tearing from his throat as his fingernails dug into the other’s back through his baseball uniform.
Somehow they had sunk down to the ground, Gokudera was straddled on Yamamoto’s legs and the Japanese teen had a self-satisfied smile across his features as he looked wickedly into Gokudera’s face only inches from his own, despite the fact that the silver-haired boy did not seem coherent enough at that point to really notice. Wantonly, he was pressing his body against the other’s and, taking that as a hint, the dark haired male spared no time but began to divest them both of their clothes.
Gokudera felt as if he’d lost his sanity as he drowned himself in the other’s scent, resting his cheek against the baseballer’s sweat-dampened collarbone and inhaling. When had he begun feeling his way, he did not even understand. Yamamoto was the most aggravating person he had ever known, yet somehow they had still reached this kind of crossroads. When had the other teenager crept under his skin so much?
A long finger slid under the elastic band of the pianist’s briefs to slip into a place that was, by now, most familiar to the Japanese teen. Gokudera’s back arched, hands that had shifted to the Rain Guardian’s shoulders clenching to leave deep crescent shaped marks on the tanned skin. Even as Yamamoto’s fingers dipped again into that honey-sweet warmth, he let his mouth linger on the Italian’s nipples, sucking on them before leaving a trail of kisses across the other’s heated skin, earning himself further ‘markings’ that he seemed not to notice.
“Gokudera is nice and cool.” The raven-haired teen, very much a man in his own right, whispered against the silver-haired teen’s rib cage as he scored the pale skin there with his teeth.
Gokudera looked at the baseballer doubtfully for a moment, trying to regain his sanity in his situation, but it was hard. He was cool in comparison to the ballplayer, still hot and sweaty from his morning practice, but he was hardly ‘cool’, he thought, as he felt sweat bead against his forehead.
Why he could not explain, but he had not felt so aroused before. Never by simply the other nibbling his ear of all things…
Was it because he was actually very happy about the present?
The pianist promptly rejected the idea and hid his face against the other’s shoulder to hide his expression as well as to muffle his moan as Yamamoto stroked again with fingers expert from practice. He easily grazed the delicious spot inside Gokudera a couple of times before he withdrew his fingers to taste them languidly, smiling to himself. Carefully lifting the bomber’s face from his shoulder, he urged Gokudera to take those fingers inside his red, red mouth and made sure they were coated thoroughly in saliva before sliding those digits back into Gokudera’s tight depths, eliciting another throaty moan from the silverette that he desperately tried to mask.
As Yamamoto released himself from the remaining confines of his own clothes, all Gokudera could do was clutch at his partner, in more need than he had ever been before as the fingers slipped out of him, leaving behind a moist reminder. He was almost burning with his desire, but he knew not why, strange and unsettling emotions a troubling weight in his chest. The minute the ballplayer’s aroused length was free, Gokudera set his long, skilled pianist’s fingers along the length and began to guide it into his welcoming entrance, slick with his saliva, any thought process long stopped.
There was a sweet, sweet burn as he speared himself on Yamamoto’s length. His partner, too, seemed different from usual today as Gokudera stifled a gasp at the new fullness inside him. Too engrossed in his own sensations, he did not notice Yamamoto reach up with something as he thrust upwards against Gokudera’s hips again. Only when he felt the strange combination of pain and pleasure did he raise a startled hand to his throbbing right ear, only to feel metal embedded into his lobe.
His eyes flying open, he only had time to meet the other’s eyes accusingly with his own before again there was the mix of pleasure and pain that sent the bomber’s eyes closed again from the onslaught of sensation, except that it was in his left ear this time. When he had scarcely recovered, he clawed at the ballplayer’s shoulders like an enraged feline.
“That was dangerous!” He almost shouted before he remembered in a split second of the other members of the baseball team still inside the showers and hissed the words instead.
Yamamoto countered with a mischievous smile that bordered on a smirk, as different from his accustomed smile as one could get. There was a familiar, yet unfamiliar, glint in his eyes.
“I know what I was doing.” He assured the pianist confidently, dropping the white plastic piercer back onto the tracksuit jacket he had stretched out across the grass, before wrapping both of his large, callused hands on the silver-haired male’s bony hips again, flipping them over in an instant so that Gokudera was the one pressed against the brickwork this time, legs drawn up to expose his blushing entrance.
They aligned themselves and pounded into each other, building again, the Storm Guardian threading his fingers into spiky black hair as he bit his lip until he drew blood to contain his voice. The rain kissed the storm one last time, coming away with the taste of copper on his lips as they both had an explosive finish that overwhelmed their senses and had them clutching at each other frantically before they collapsed together onto the grass.
Gokudera gasped air back into his lungs like a drowning man before he boosted himself up on one elbow and punched Yamamoto on the arm in annoyance.
“You planned this!” He accused, shooting a deadly glance at the white plastic piercer which lay atop the tracksuit jacket. The opened zipper on the left pocket showed where it had been previously stowed.
“Haha. Maybe.” Yamamoto grinned innocently from where he lay, his expression reverting to its customary carefree cheer. He reached up with one hand to cup Gokudera’s lobe, smiling as he admired the glitter of silver in the silver-haired teen’s ears.
A bell rang in the distance.
“Hey Gokudera?” A voice brightened with a smile asked.
“What.”
“Let’s skip class today and stay here all day.”
The bomber stared down at the ballplayer for a moment dubiously before a slow smile spread across his features.
“Fine... Happy Birthday…. idiot.”