EKOBDAYTHING
Only like a couple days late. Please don't hate me. (I'm so sorryyyyy.)
Title: Untitled
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Pairing: 8059
Rating: T
Summary: In which Yamamoto gets looked after and verbally abused... with love.
Happy Birthday shadbot <3
Gokudera glared at the meat he was cutting and pretended it was Yamamoto’s face. “You,” he said, jabbing it with a knife. “Are.” Stab. “The most.” Stab. “Retarded person ever.” He speared it with a fork and held it up for the stupid fuckwit to eat. “I hate you,” Gokudera added for good measure.
“Aww, c’mon, you can’t mean that,” Yamamoto said, the insults just melting into goo from the intensity of his smile.
“I mean it,” Gokudera said heatedly. “What kind of moron breaks not only one of his arms, but BOTH of them by playing your stupid sport?”
He wasn’t going to mention how his heart had stopped when he saw Yamamoto collapse on the field, arms twisted at an unnatural angle. How everything suddenly went quiet in his head. How the fear he had felt rose thick and fast through his throat and erupted into screams.
It turned out he was okay, or as okay as a guy with two broken arms could be. Yamamoto looked really stupid though, arms useless and mummied in plaster cast.
“Hey Gokudera. Sign my cast! I saved this spot for you.”
“Fine, if it makes you shut up… what the fuck, why are you drawing a heart around it?”
“Haha, no reason.”
And naturally, Tsuna had assigned Gokudera to be Yamamoto’s carer as his father was busy at a sushi convention.
“But hey, Gokudera, this is good too. Spending time with each other like this.”
Gokudera’s expression turned incredulous. “I wouldn’t be here unless the Tenth hadn’t entrusted me with the task of looking after your sorry ass.”
“Haha, you sound kind of stressed. You need more vitamin C-”
“Oi, open your mouth.”
He shoved the fork into Yamamoto’s face, hoping that he’d choke and die.
---
“Hey, Gokudera.”
Gokudera ignored him, knowing exactly what was coming up.
“Hey, Gokudera.”
He couldn’t afford to ignore him for any longer, otherwise he’d be hearing that annoying, piping voice of Yamamoto’s in his head all day. “What do you want?” Gokudera said, even though he knew already.
“I need a bath.”
“Ugh… whatever. And stop looking so happy about it!”
---
“Next.”
Click.
“Next.”
Click.
“Next.”
“For fuck’s sake.”
Click.
“Ne-”
“THEY’RE ALL THE SAME CRAPPY BASEBALL CHANNELS. WHAT’S THE DIFFERENCE?”
“Haha, well to be honest, it doesn’t really matter. I just like seeing you press the remote control for me. It’s really cu-.”
Thwack
---
Gokudera yanked the t-shirt down over Yamamoto’s head a little less roughly than he meant to.
“Okay, into the bathroom.”
Brushing someone else’s teeth was a weird experience, but not as weird as washing someone else’s face. Gokudera took longer than necessary, smoothing suds over Yamamoto’s forehead, tracing down his nose, gently, gently over the silky skin of his eyelids.
‘Huh, he needs a shave,’ Gokudera noted absentmindedly, dragging his fingertips over Yamamoto’s jaw and chin.
“Uh, Gokudera?”
“What?”
“I’m enjoying this and all, but you don’t have to wash my lips.”
---
Yamamoto had been fed, watered and cared for to the best of Gokudera’s ability. Gokudera settled into the futon on the floor. He had made it clear that he didn’t do stories, or goodnight kisses or anything of the sort. He had tucked Yamamoto in and that was enough.
“Hey, Gokudera.”
Oh God. “What? I’m not getting you milk. You can die for all I care-”
“Haha, oh it’s nothing like that.”
“What then?”
And then Yamamoto’s voice seemed to deepen, to smoothen, and Gokudera could almost hear the razor-sharp smile in his voice.
“It’s been a while, you know?”
Yamamoto turned his head, and honey-dark eyes glinted at Gokudera. A pocket of moonlight fell on to Yamamoto’s bared neck, highlighting the muscle, the seductive dip in his collar, the slight sheen of sweat over his skin.
Gokudera flushed a deep red. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Yamamoto just grinned and wiggled his hips from under the bedcovers suggestively.
It took all of two seconds for Gokudera's brain compute that and another two for his lungs to gather sufficient air for an outburst.
“I’M NOT JACKING YOU OFF JUST BECAUSE YOU CAN’T DO IT YOURSELF, YOU FUCKING PERVERT,” Gokudera shrieked. “JUST HUMP A PILLOW OR SOMETHING. UGH.” He huffed and turned over, but felt supremely uncomfortable with the fact that only a blanket and his sweats protected his backside.
Even if Yamamoto was effectively crippled, his ass wasn’t safe.
---
Omake
"Gokudera, ow, be more gentle."
"Shut the hell up, it's not like I shave other people a lot."
"H-hey, OW."
"Oh SHIT. Where do you keep plasters? Fuck, fuck, fuck, you're getting blood on my clothes."
And that was how Yamamoto got his scar.
---
Notes
-Tsuna is a closet 8059 fan
-Yamamoto hadn't actually broken his arms. It was all an elaborate plan to get Gokudera to stay over.
-lolnoproperending. OTL
-Yes there are such things as sushi conventions. At least, there have to be because my mom's going to a cemetery convention. Sooo... :/
Love me now plz
Title: Untitled
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Pairing: 8059
Rating: T
Summary: In which Yamamoto gets looked after and verbally abused... with love.
Happy Birthday shadbot <3
Gokudera glared at the meat he was cutting and pretended it was Yamamoto’s face. “You,” he said, jabbing it with a knife. “Are.” Stab. “The most.” Stab. “Retarded person ever.” He speared it with a fork and held it up for the stupid fuckwit to eat. “I hate you,” Gokudera added for good measure.
“Aww, c’mon, you can’t mean that,” Yamamoto said, the insults just melting into goo from the intensity of his smile.
“I mean it,” Gokudera said heatedly. “What kind of moron breaks not only one of his arms, but BOTH of them by playing your stupid sport?”
He wasn’t going to mention how his heart had stopped when he saw Yamamoto collapse on the field, arms twisted at an unnatural angle. How everything suddenly went quiet in his head. How the fear he had felt rose thick and fast through his throat and erupted into screams.
It turned out he was okay, or as okay as a guy with two broken arms could be. Yamamoto looked really stupid though, arms useless and mummied in plaster cast.
“Hey Gokudera. Sign my cast! I saved this spot for you.”
“Fine, if it makes you shut up… what the fuck, why are you drawing a heart around it?”
“Haha, no reason.”
And naturally, Tsuna had assigned Gokudera to be Yamamoto’s carer as his father was busy at a sushi convention.
“But hey, Gokudera, this is good too. Spending time with each other like this.”
Gokudera’s expression turned incredulous. “I wouldn’t be here unless the Tenth hadn’t entrusted me with the task of looking after your sorry ass.”
“Haha, you sound kind of stressed. You need more vitamin C-”
“Oi, open your mouth.”
He shoved the fork into Yamamoto’s face, hoping that he’d choke and die.
---
“Hey, Gokudera.”
Gokudera ignored him, knowing exactly what was coming up.
“Hey, Gokudera.”
He couldn’t afford to ignore him for any longer, otherwise he’d be hearing that annoying, piping voice of Yamamoto’s in his head all day. “What do you want?” Gokudera said, even though he knew already.
“I need a bath.”
“Ugh… whatever. And stop looking so happy about it!”
---
“Next.”
Click.
“Next.”
Click.
“Next.”
“For fuck’s sake.”
Click.
“Ne-”
“THEY’RE ALL THE SAME CRAPPY BASEBALL CHANNELS. WHAT’S THE DIFFERENCE?”
“Haha, well to be honest, it doesn’t really matter. I just like seeing you press the remote control for me. It’s really cu-.”
Thwack
---
Gokudera yanked the t-shirt down over Yamamoto’s head a little less roughly than he meant to.
“Okay, into the bathroom.”
Brushing someone else’s teeth was a weird experience, but not as weird as washing someone else’s face. Gokudera took longer than necessary, smoothing suds over Yamamoto’s forehead, tracing down his nose, gently, gently over the silky skin of his eyelids.
‘Huh, he needs a shave,’ Gokudera noted absentmindedly, dragging his fingertips over Yamamoto’s jaw and chin.
“Uh, Gokudera?”
“What?”
“I’m enjoying this and all, but you don’t have to wash my lips.”
---
Yamamoto had been fed, watered and cared for to the best of Gokudera’s ability. Gokudera settled into the futon on the floor. He had made it clear that he didn’t do stories, or goodnight kisses or anything of the sort. He had tucked Yamamoto in and that was enough.
“Hey, Gokudera.”
Oh God. “What? I’m not getting you milk. You can die for all I care-”
“Haha, oh it’s nothing like that.”
“What then?”
And then Yamamoto’s voice seemed to deepen, to smoothen, and Gokudera could almost hear the razor-sharp smile in his voice.
“It’s been a while, you know?”
Yamamoto turned his head, and honey-dark eyes glinted at Gokudera. A pocket of moonlight fell on to Yamamoto’s bared neck, highlighting the muscle, the seductive dip in his collar, the slight sheen of sweat over his skin.
Gokudera flushed a deep red. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Yamamoto just grinned and wiggled his hips from under the bedcovers suggestively.
It took all of two seconds for Gokudera's brain compute that and another two for his lungs to gather sufficient air for an outburst.
“I’M NOT JACKING YOU OFF JUST BECAUSE YOU CAN’T DO IT YOURSELF, YOU FUCKING PERVERT,” Gokudera shrieked. “JUST HUMP A PILLOW OR SOMETHING. UGH.” He huffed and turned over, but felt supremely uncomfortable with the fact that only a blanket and his sweats protected his backside.
Even if Yamamoto was effectively crippled, his ass wasn’t safe.
---
Omake
"Gokudera, ow, be more gentle."
"Shut the hell up, it's not like I shave other people a lot."
"H-hey, OW."
"Oh SHIT. Where do you keep plasters? Fuck, fuck, fuck, you're getting blood on my clothes."
And that was how Yamamoto got his scar.
---
Notes
-Tsuna is a closet 8059 fan
-Yamamoto hadn't actually broken his arms. It was all an elaborate plan to get Gokudera to stay over.
-lolnoproperending. OTL
-Yes there are such things as sushi conventions. At least, there have to be because my mom's going to a cemetery convention. Sooo... :/
Love me now plz