Reborn Drabbles (8059 challenge: the stairway)
Title: I don't get it yet, but I will
Series: Katekyou Hitman Reborn
Pairing: 8059
Rating: NC-17
Notes: haven't written for the 8059 challenge lately. My finals week contribution, haha. Basically this entire fic is about Gokudera getting jealous. Yep, that's about it.
I don't get it yet, but I will
(Theme #11: the stairway. 08.07.12)
It was fact of life: the ex-baseball idiot never said anything that really mattered. He would prattle on about anything until someone stopped him or he said something vaguely intelligent. And then that was when, like some mad parody of Japanese Osakan humor, Gokudera had to shut him up, because he was going crazy if he was stringing "Yamamoto" and "intelligent" in the same sentence.
Right now though, Gokudera's hands were frozen to wheel, watching the traffic light as if he could laser-beam it with his eyes. Yamamoto was talking about his latest foray into the city's current favorite club, chattering about how he got the assignment finished only after about a hundred people asked him to dance - but Gokudera focused just on the "there was this guy and I said yes" part, feeling the frustration build in him like a tidal wave.
Didn't Yamamoto see that there was someone waiting for him to wake up and see them, standing right next to him? Gokudera didn't know when it started, but he did know he couldn't take his eyes off of the swordsman when he grinned, couldn't help but lean a little into that casual arm around his shoulder. Sometimes his heart burned so fiercely in his chest when he thought about it, that he thought it had to be some sort of sick disease, being attracted to such a lump of obliviousness - but other times, seeing the Rain Guardian just laugh for him, he thought that maybe - maybe - it could be worth it.
He was tempted to say something cutting and sarcastic so the idiot would just shut up, but when he glanced over at the other Guardian he couldn't help but notice that Yamamoto looked as if he really did have fun last night. Not that he shouldn't while Gokudera was still at the office, triple-checking the summit handouts before they went out this morning, but he was a little alarmed by the...well, happy sort of light in the swordsman's eyes. He bit down bitterly to stem his jealousy, and listened a little closer, hoping to hear whom he should tie to a stake with a couple of dynamite sticks down his pants.
But either Yamamoto was more perceptive than he looked, or he forgot or something, because all the way back to the house he never said who it was. He chattered all the way to the front door, when he laughed and Gokudera shoved him grumpily inside in front of him. Something ugly built up in him as Yamamoto began to go into detail about how they'd danced for a long time, and then had a drink, and haha wasn't it funny but the guy made his shirt disappear -
- "What?!," Gokudera spat, the jacket in his hand still dangling halfway to the closet. Yamamoto laughed at that, but the bomber threw the offending piece of clothing in favor of the swordsman's own coat lapels. Shaking him hard against the wall, he repeated his question, biting into each syllable, "Who-was-that-GUY?!"
"Ahaha ow, that hurt." Yamamoto rubbed the back of his head ruefully, but Gokudera was sure he could tell the bomber really was angry, because in the next moment he answered more seriously, "Don't know, honestly. He just asked me to dance and we had some fun, you know."
Some fun. Gokudera felt a lump of disappointment gather in his throat and bloody hang there like some ghastly Christmas ornament. What the hell did Yamamoto mean by 'fun'? Did they do more than dance? Or did they part ways straight after Yamamoto lost his shirt, like Gokudera REALLY hoped was the case?
"Gokudera?" And Yamamoto was inching out from under his hold to hang up his own jacket. The Storm Guardian retrieved his own and shut the closet with a bang! and a snarl.
But as much as he wanted to let it go - who was he to care what that sword-for-brains did in his spare time? He wasn't his mother, he couldn't dictate where he went or what he did when he wasn't in the office - his curiosity wouldn't let him. So it was with some self-directed annoyance that he gritted out as they were going up the stairs, "What the hell does that mean."
"Huh?" Yamamoto's brain was probably already on the Tigers' game that was scheduled for later that night. "What does...I don't get it."
And as the dumb lug just stood there looking all cute and confused, Gokudera felt his irritation reach a breaking point. God, he tried so hard to tell himself he didn't care, that he wasn't attracted, but at times like these how could he say that stupid lie any more when it was plain to see what he wanted? Oh but he hated his heart for being so goddamn fickle and settling on the one person who still had time to make him laugh once in a while, on top of all the other hair-tearing, frustrating things he did.
He whirled around, clenching the banister so hard it creaked in dismay. "I mean, what did you do! With that guy! Did you - go somewhere after that or something!" Did you find yourself in some stranger's bedroom? Did that guy touch where I've wanted to since we were sixteen? Did that bastard finally take you away from me?
"Oh! Well, no..." Gokudera relaxed minisculely, until Yamamoto's next words. "I mean, yeah, we did - he said he didn't have a ride so we waited until I was sober enough to drive. We hung out in one of the rooms above the club and played poker for an hour, or at least I think that's what happened..."
But that was enough. Really, Gokudera's imagination could supply the rest, thank you very much. He could almost see some stranger's hands ghosting along Yamamoto's bare chest, dipping into the hollow of that collarbone, following the lines of muscles and bone to the sensitive areas of the swordsman's lean body that not even Gokudera knew. The indignant feeling swelled with desperation until he squeezed his eyes tight and he couldn't hold it back anymore, that stupid lug was the most infuriating being in the planet, no, in the entire universe, but the worse part was he didn't know someone very near him had lit a candle it was really hard to keep it blowing out sometimes.
"You don't remember? Or do you not even care?" Yamamoto looked surprised at the bomber's outburst. "Do you even - of course not. You're a fucking idiot and a dense douchebag full of happy shit that makes me feel like killing you sometimes, you know." Gokudera took a shuddering breath and he wondered if Yamamoto could see his fist before it smashed into the stupid swordsman's face.
Both of them fell in a heap on the stairs, Yamamoto from Gokudera's punch and Gokudera because he couldn't aim when he was emotional and on uneven footing. "Owww!," the Rain Guardian yelped for the second time that day as he rubbed his cheek ruefully, "Gokudera what was that -"
But Gokudera had crawled down the last couple of steps by then and straddled one leg over his partner's hip. Then it wasn't so much kissing as it was trying to eat each other's mouths, all teeth and lips and bewildered tongue before Yamamoto threw back his head against the step and coughed. The bomber let him have five seconds of air before he shoved his tongue down the other Guardian's throat again.
This time it got a little more reaction - Yamamoto flailed, pushing fruitlessly at Gokudera's shoulders, but either he was enjoying the attention a little too much or he was too afraid that if he pushed too hard, the Storm Guardian would go flying down the stairs, because after a while his hands just tightened on Gokudera's biceps instead. Through the white-hot static pulsing through his veins like lava, the bomber divined the swordsman was actually moaning or trying to say his name or something, but all it sounded like now was little shuddering sounds of hesitating pleasure as if Yamamoto wasn't sure if he should really be here doing this.
They broke so Gokudera could stare down at the mess he'd made of Yamamoto's red lips, and this time the swordsman was ready. "Gokudera, what are you...," he trailed off, watching with wide eyes as Gokudera neatly popped all the buttons his shirt and leaned down to nibble on his collarbone.
And then there wasn't any question where Gokudera was going anymore. The bomber's hands wandered to map the chest under him, broken here and there by occasional scars, flickering briefly over taut nipples and tan flesh. Yamamoto ached to tell the Storm Guardian that it really hurt, being on the stairs, but on the other hand he'd never seen Gokudera like this, furiously concentrated towards doing anything but paperwork. Both were afraid to speak, breaking the silence only to pant and groan.
Trailing his tongue down the expanse of Yamamoto's stomach, Gokudera unlatched belt and pants without looking. He might have heard the swordsman choking out a shocked "Whoa!" before he shoved Yamamoto the last couple of steps up to the landing above. He crawled on top and yanked down slacks and underwear in one go to expose the other's sex, clearly not disinterested. As the incredulous Rain Guardian watched, Gokudera lavished it with his tongue and then with his mouth. Mouth dry, the swordsman moaned to see his partner swallow him inexpertly but with plenty of enthusiasm.
"Go - Gokudera," he hissed, and the Storm Guardian actually paused for a moment to look at him. And then he returned to his attention back to the all-consuming task of driving Yamamoto crazy. The sensations that were vibrating through the swordsman made him glad he was lying down, because if he would have collapsed already if he'd been standing. It was just so impossibly good, he could feel a yell building up in his chest, but all he could manage right now was to breathe and remember not to grip Gokudera's hair too tight.
He felt dynamite-burned hands squeeze his thighs, whether in reassurance or in reflex, he wasn't sure. But he did shift back and open his legs a little bit in response. The consigliere's response hitched up another level, not that Yamamoto was a sure of judge of everything his partner did. Certainly with the way he watched Gokudera's hair swing back and forth, tickling the insides of his legs, he felt he was going to explode in a tiny little pieces there, because he was so confused yet not unhappy like when he only hit to first base instead of a homerun why was he thinking about baseball -
- he had the grace to gasp, "Gokudera I thinkyoushouldstop" before he was gone. His head clacked against the ground and he felt himself curl with ecstacy. He was still floating slowly down from his high when he felt his shirt being used as a facecloth. The bomber's hands cupped his cheeks before he leaned down and Yamamoto's eyes flew open, because he was tasting himself for the first time and he tasted weird.
"Uhn," he muttered, and Gokudera's face split into a wide smile in response. They kissed again, Yamamoto slowly finding all of his limbs intact again as their tongues dipped in for another tantilizing taste. Groggily the swordsman reached up to grip the other Guardian's shoulder, tightening on the silk weave he found there. A bulge still bumped against his leg, but when he reached for it, Gokudera slapped his hand away impatiently.
The swordsman was still in a half-daze when the Storm Guardian asked sweetly, "What was his name?"
"Huh?"
"The guy at the club."
"Oh." Fuzzily Yamamoto thought about it. "Ricardo. Ricardo de Fresco, I think."
Gokudera gave him one last kiss and bestowed a dazzling smile on him as he got up. The Rain Guardian wondered for a full twenty seconds where Gokudera was going and why was he still lying on the cold wood floor before he shot up and dug out his cell phone. As the car pulled out of the driveway, the Rain Guardian tried to fasten his pants over his shirt as he fit phone between shoulder and ear.
"Hello?," he greeted, inwardly panicking for an innocent's life. They hadn't even done anything but play freaking cards, not that Gokudera was ever going to believe him. "Ricardo, it's Yamamoto. Listen, you have to get out of there in the next five minutes or else my psychotic partner is going to kill you in the worst way possible..."
--------
Ahaha. I bought more doujinshi. And I really should have gotten Hage's "Kazakana HELL" before it sold out, it was only 550 yen on Mandarake. Grrr, the mistakes I make...
Series: Katekyou Hitman Reborn
Pairing: 8059
Rating: NC-17
Notes: haven't written for the 8059 challenge lately. My finals week contribution, haha. Basically this entire fic is about Gokudera getting jealous. Yep, that's about it.
I don't get it yet, but I will
(Theme #11: the stairway. 08.07.12)
It was fact of life: the ex-baseball idiot never said anything that really mattered. He would prattle on about anything until someone stopped him or he said something vaguely intelligent. And then that was when, like some mad parody of Japanese Osakan humor, Gokudera had to shut him up, because he was going crazy if he was stringing "Yamamoto" and "intelligent" in the same sentence.
Right now though, Gokudera's hands were frozen to wheel, watching the traffic light as if he could laser-beam it with his eyes. Yamamoto was talking about his latest foray into the city's current favorite club, chattering about how he got the assignment finished only after about a hundred people asked him to dance - but Gokudera focused just on the "there was this guy and I said yes" part, feeling the frustration build in him like a tidal wave.
Didn't Yamamoto see that there was someone waiting for him to wake up and see them, standing right next to him? Gokudera didn't know when it started, but he did know he couldn't take his eyes off of the swordsman when he grinned, couldn't help but lean a little into that casual arm around his shoulder. Sometimes his heart burned so fiercely in his chest when he thought about it, that he thought it had to be some sort of sick disease, being attracted to such a lump of obliviousness - but other times, seeing the Rain Guardian just laugh for him, he thought that maybe - maybe - it could be worth it.
He was tempted to say something cutting and sarcastic so the idiot would just shut up, but when he glanced over at the other Guardian he couldn't help but notice that Yamamoto looked as if he really did have fun last night. Not that he shouldn't while Gokudera was still at the office, triple-checking the summit handouts before they went out this morning, but he was a little alarmed by the...well, happy sort of light in the swordsman's eyes. He bit down bitterly to stem his jealousy, and listened a little closer, hoping to hear whom he should tie to a stake with a couple of dynamite sticks down his pants.
But either Yamamoto was more perceptive than he looked, or he forgot or something, because all the way back to the house he never said who it was. He chattered all the way to the front door, when he laughed and Gokudera shoved him grumpily inside in front of him. Something ugly built up in him as Yamamoto began to go into detail about how they'd danced for a long time, and then had a drink, and haha wasn't it funny but the guy made his shirt disappear -
- "What?!," Gokudera spat, the jacket in his hand still dangling halfway to the closet. Yamamoto laughed at that, but the bomber threw the offending piece of clothing in favor of the swordsman's own coat lapels. Shaking him hard against the wall, he repeated his question, biting into each syllable, "Who-was-that-GUY?!"
"Ahaha ow, that hurt." Yamamoto rubbed the back of his head ruefully, but Gokudera was sure he could tell the bomber really was angry, because in the next moment he answered more seriously, "Don't know, honestly. He just asked me to dance and we had some fun, you know."
Some fun. Gokudera felt a lump of disappointment gather in his throat and bloody hang there like some ghastly Christmas ornament. What the hell did Yamamoto mean by 'fun'? Did they do more than dance? Or did they part ways straight after Yamamoto lost his shirt, like Gokudera REALLY hoped was the case?
"Gokudera?" And Yamamoto was inching out from under his hold to hang up his own jacket. The Storm Guardian retrieved his own and shut the closet with a bang! and a snarl.
But as much as he wanted to let it go - who was he to care what that sword-for-brains did in his spare time? He wasn't his mother, he couldn't dictate where he went or what he did when he wasn't in the office - his curiosity wouldn't let him. So it was with some self-directed annoyance that he gritted out as they were going up the stairs, "What the hell does that mean."
"Huh?" Yamamoto's brain was probably already on the Tigers' game that was scheduled for later that night. "What does...I don't get it."
And as the dumb lug just stood there looking all cute and confused, Gokudera felt his irritation reach a breaking point. God, he tried so hard to tell himself he didn't care, that he wasn't attracted, but at times like these how could he say that stupid lie any more when it was plain to see what he wanted? Oh but he hated his heart for being so goddamn fickle and settling on the one person who still had time to make him laugh once in a while, on top of all the other hair-tearing, frustrating things he did.
He whirled around, clenching the banister so hard it creaked in dismay. "I mean, what did you do! With that guy! Did you - go somewhere after that or something!" Did you find yourself in some stranger's bedroom? Did that guy touch where I've wanted to since we were sixteen? Did that bastard finally take you away from me?
"Oh! Well, no..." Gokudera relaxed minisculely, until Yamamoto's next words. "I mean, yeah, we did - he said he didn't have a ride so we waited until I was sober enough to drive. We hung out in one of the rooms above the club and played poker for an hour, or at least I think that's what happened..."
But that was enough. Really, Gokudera's imagination could supply the rest, thank you very much. He could almost see some stranger's hands ghosting along Yamamoto's bare chest, dipping into the hollow of that collarbone, following the lines of muscles and bone to the sensitive areas of the swordsman's lean body that not even Gokudera knew. The indignant feeling swelled with desperation until he squeezed his eyes tight and he couldn't hold it back anymore, that stupid lug was the most infuriating being in the planet, no, in the entire universe, but the worse part was he didn't know someone very near him had lit a candle it was really hard to keep it blowing out sometimes.
"You don't remember? Or do you not even care?" Yamamoto looked surprised at the bomber's outburst. "Do you even - of course not. You're a fucking idiot and a dense douchebag full of happy shit that makes me feel like killing you sometimes, you know." Gokudera took a shuddering breath and he wondered if Yamamoto could see his fist before it smashed into the stupid swordsman's face.
Both of them fell in a heap on the stairs, Yamamoto from Gokudera's punch and Gokudera because he couldn't aim when he was emotional and on uneven footing. "Owww!," the Rain Guardian yelped for the second time that day as he rubbed his cheek ruefully, "Gokudera what was that -"
But Gokudera had crawled down the last couple of steps by then and straddled one leg over his partner's hip. Then it wasn't so much kissing as it was trying to eat each other's mouths, all teeth and lips and bewildered tongue before Yamamoto threw back his head against the step and coughed. The bomber let him have five seconds of air before he shoved his tongue down the other Guardian's throat again.
This time it got a little more reaction - Yamamoto flailed, pushing fruitlessly at Gokudera's shoulders, but either he was enjoying the attention a little too much or he was too afraid that if he pushed too hard, the Storm Guardian would go flying down the stairs, because after a while his hands just tightened on Gokudera's biceps instead. Through the white-hot static pulsing through his veins like lava, the bomber divined the swordsman was actually moaning or trying to say his name or something, but all it sounded like now was little shuddering sounds of hesitating pleasure as if Yamamoto wasn't sure if he should really be here doing this.
They broke so Gokudera could stare down at the mess he'd made of Yamamoto's red lips, and this time the swordsman was ready. "Gokudera, what are you...," he trailed off, watching with wide eyes as Gokudera neatly popped all the buttons his shirt and leaned down to nibble on his collarbone.
And then there wasn't any question where Gokudera was going anymore. The bomber's hands wandered to map the chest under him, broken here and there by occasional scars, flickering briefly over taut nipples and tan flesh. Yamamoto ached to tell the Storm Guardian that it really hurt, being on the stairs, but on the other hand he'd never seen Gokudera like this, furiously concentrated towards doing anything but paperwork. Both were afraid to speak, breaking the silence only to pant and groan.
Trailing his tongue down the expanse of Yamamoto's stomach, Gokudera unlatched belt and pants without looking. He might have heard the swordsman choking out a shocked "Whoa!" before he shoved Yamamoto the last couple of steps up to the landing above. He crawled on top and yanked down slacks and underwear in one go to expose the other's sex, clearly not disinterested. As the incredulous Rain Guardian watched, Gokudera lavished it with his tongue and then with his mouth. Mouth dry, the swordsman moaned to see his partner swallow him inexpertly but with plenty of enthusiasm.
"Go - Gokudera," he hissed, and the Storm Guardian actually paused for a moment to look at him. And then he returned to his attention back to the all-consuming task of driving Yamamoto crazy. The sensations that were vibrating through the swordsman made him glad he was lying down, because if he would have collapsed already if he'd been standing. It was just so impossibly good, he could feel a yell building up in his chest, but all he could manage right now was to breathe and remember not to grip Gokudera's hair too tight.
He felt dynamite-burned hands squeeze his thighs, whether in reassurance or in reflex, he wasn't sure. But he did shift back and open his legs a little bit in response. The consigliere's response hitched up another level, not that Yamamoto was a sure of judge of everything his partner did. Certainly with the way he watched Gokudera's hair swing back and forth, tickling the insides of his legs, he felt he was going to explode in a tiny little pieces there, because he was so confused yet not unhappy like when he only hit to first base instead of a homerun why was he thinking about baseball -
- he had the grace to gasp, "Gokudera I thinkyoushouldstop" before he was gone. His head clacked against the ground and he felt himself curl with ecstacy. He was still floating slowly down from his high when he felt his shirt being used as a facecloth. The bomber's hands cupped his cheeks before he leaned down and Yamamoto's eyes flew open, because he was tasting himself for the first time and he tasted weird.
"Uhn," he muttered, and Gokudera's face split into a wide smile in response. They kissed again, Yamamoto slowly finding all of his limbs intact again as their tongues dipped in for another tantilizing taste. Groggily the swordsman reached up to grip the other Guardian's shoulder, tightening on the silk weave he found there. A bulge still bumped against his leg, but when he reached for it, Gokudera slapped his hand away impatiently.
The swordsman was still in a half-daze when the Storm Guardian asked sweetly, "What was his name?"
"Huh?"
"The guy at the club."
"Oh." Fuzzily Yamamoto thought about it. "Ricardo. Ricardo de Fresco, I think."
Gokudera gave him one last kiss and bestowed a dazzling smile on him as he got up. The Rain Guardian wondered for a full twenty seconds where Gokudera was going and why was he still lying on the cold wood floor before he shot up and dug out his cell phone. As the car pulled out of the driveway, the Rain Guardian tried to fasten his pants over his shirt as he fit phone between shoulder and ear.
"Hello?," he greeted, inwardly panicking for an innocent's life. They hadn't even done anything but play freaking cards, not that Gokudera was ever going to believe him. "Ricardo, it's Yamamoto. Listen, you have to get out of there in the next five minutes or else my psychotic partner is going to kill you in the worst way possible..."
--------
Ahaha. I bought more doujinshi. And I really should have gotten Hage's "Kazakana HELL" before it sold out, it was only 550 yen on Mandarake. Grrr, the mistakes I make...