8059: The First Time Edition
Ha. Not the first time, but my first time writing these two, lovely snarky awesome boys. <3 OH MY GOD DON'T LET ME KILL THEM D:
Title: ...(I'll figure it out one day soon)
Summary: Burnout is to be expected among assassins, but it's starting to affect Yamamoto's missions too. Maybe if he would just stop thinking about it, it'll go away.
Rating: PG-13 (for mentions of bedding activity...XD)
A/N: Hey. F-list who reads KHR. Anyone want to be my beta? While I have a RL beta, none so in fandom D:[Note: Does not require a lot of time as I never write.] <3<3<3
--
Yamamoto is a natural born assassin, Reborn had said. He knows this and has proven it again and again in the midst of bloody battles and violent disputes. It is a role that he has grown into, one mission at a time. Though sometimes, the role was more of a burden than a source of pride. Sometimes the blood-splattered visages of those he had killed would remain in his dreams, tormenting him with their cries. Sometimes, the cries of the dead would resound over and over in his ears until his mind silently screamed.
At those times, he liked to pretend and dream. It was only a realistic role-playing game that Tsuna had introduced to him. His world wasn’t filled with babies that were hitmen and fantastical weapons and-
“Hey. Snap out it. We’re on a mission, in case you haven’t noticed.” Gokudera’s rough voice broke through his thoughts abruptly, making him realise that they were walking in enemy territory and he should probably have been paying attention.
“Oh. Oops. Sorry.” He grins. “I was just thinking.”
Gokudera turns around and glares at him. “I’m glad that your insignificant speck of a brain has figured out how to think, but we have to act right now. So stop daydreaming!”
Luckily, there was no one around to hear Gokudera‘s caustic remark. They were walking down an ornate hallway with many oil portraits of grim old men and decorative vases worth a fortune. At the entrance where the two came through, a slew of bodies lay on the ground, only unconscious.
Yamamoto nods absentmindedly and tries to focus on what they set out to do. The Perenne family were a somewhat powerful family that had turned malevolent towards them a few months ago. There was no known reason for this turn of events because the two families had polite relations if somewhat stiff. However they were becoming a prominent threat, killing Vongola family members and allies alike, and couldn‘t be ignored any longer.
Yamamoto had hoped that he and Gokudera would be sent on as ambassadors for some type of peace negotiations, but Tsuna, surprisingly enough, had said no. They were to kill the top family members, but leave the boss alive, because they could not afford the chance to let the Perenne grow anymore. Otherwise, a disaster similar to the Millefore could happen again.
He follows along, trying not to think of what he has to do very soon. Ahead of him, Gokudera stops at a heavy-looking wooden door with golden hinges. There are voices, coming from behind it, smooth and lilting with that strange accent that makes them Italian.
“I thought I told you to stop thinking.” Gokudera says. “Nothing good ever comes out of you when you think.”
He almost flinches, damn it. Gokudera was too perceptive, too often. “That’s not true. In fact, I think you quite liked it when I thought of the silk-”
“Shut up.” Gokudera mutters, looking away, cheeks starting to colour. Yamamoto grins. It never failed to amuse him that Gokudera was so - shy whenever the topic comes up. Nothing like that in bed though.
“Come on idiot. I’ll go first today. And don’t think about it. ”
Right, the mission. Yamamoto nods and briefly touches the katana strapped to his back. The boss of the Perenne wasn’t an adept fighter, but the intelligence had said that he had several high-level guards.
Gokudera slams open the door, and Yamamoto chuckles mentally. Never one for subtlety, that was sure.
Heads immediately whipped to see the silver haired man standing there, and a taller Asian man right behind. Both looked rather intimidating.
“Aren’t you going to say ciao?” The boss of the Perenne greeted. He had a silky voice, smooth and dangerous and disgusting.
“There’s no need for us to speak to despicable trash like you.” Gokudera spat, hands reaching into his pocket for his first box.
“Oh I'm hurt, but then in that case, let’s stop the conversation nonsense. I’m sure your boss will be willing to talk when I have two his Guardians held hostage.” He smiled and the guards fire a gun before he’s even done talking.
Gokudera pushes Yamamoto aside even though there’s no need, and they’re off. Yamamoto’s sword slashes through skin so easily and Gokudera’s flames consume so hungrily. The guards are dead within minutes, because they 're still not a match for either of the Guardians. The blood is still flowing quietly from the wounds and there is a smell of charred meat in the air.The Perenne boss isn’t looking too well, face ashen colored and eye wild, though his composure was stable. Gokudera glares at him, and knocks him unconscious with a swing from his fist.
“We’ll let the 10th figure out how to deal with this piece of shit.” He says and dumps the body over his shoulders. Yamamoto nods vaguely, looking around at the bleeding corpses, mind replaying the battle automatically.
“Oi. Idiot. Pay attention. We have to get out of here now. Unless you want to deal with the policia.”
This time, Yamamoto flinches and smiles guiltily. “Sorry,” he says and follows Gokudera out into the hallway again. They walk quickly , the need to get out stronger than all others.
“I thought I had told you not to think.” Gokudera says nonchalantly, stride not breaking.
“I’m not. I mean, I didn’t.”
“Then why do you look like someone stole your sushi for lunch and blew them up using pipe bombs?.”
“Haha. You had fun with that, didn’t you?”
“Stop trying to change the subject, Takeshi.” He says, all of a sudden serious. “You’ve been like this the past few weeks. I know the burnout rate for idiots is pretty high, but you have to stop. You can’t just give up because you go on a huge guilt trip every time you kill someone. We’re mafia. You know that.”
“I know,” Yamamoto says. He doesn’t say anything else, instead staring at the unconscious form of the Perenne boss bobbing up and down along Gokudera’s shoulder. He feels weak and stupid, but the truth is that all of the killings are starting to get to him.
“Well then stop it! Stop this shit! It’s starting to affect our missions, just take a fucking vacation instead of being a martyr. All the martyrs end up dead anyway.”
“Aww…Hayato, I didn’t know you cared.” He grins again and Gokudera scowls, looking anywhere but at Yamamoto.
“I told you not to call me that. Now shut up. Is the car ready?”
They step out into the back courtyard, into the spring afternoon. It was a lovely yard with flowers blooming and tlots of birds singing, but there was no one there to enjoy it.
“The car’s ready. Put him down, will ya? It would look less suspicious that way.”
“There’s no one left to see it anyway. Who’s driving?” Gokudera seems annoyed for some reason, but then again lugging around an unconscious man probably wasn’t very fun.
“I’ll drive. You can keep him company.” Yamamoto grins. They rush into a black car, stereotypical, but easily forgettable. There were also way too many black cars driven in Italy.
Most of the ride was quiet, and the Perenne boss wasn’t likely to wake up too soon because Gokudera had a mean left hook. Yamamoto knows from too many years of experience.
As they pull up to the base, Gokudera breaks the slience, “You better not drag me back to that stupid fishing island for vacation though, because my idea of fun is not watching idiotss throwing balls and whacking them with bats.”
Yamamoto laughs, the damn corpses with way too much blood suddenly forgotten. “We can chop up raw fish and make rice balls instead?”
Gokudera scowls again, but there’s a hint of a smile there and Yamamoto feels really stupid all of a sudden for wasting energy over dead men.
Outside the car, the birds chirped happily, the sun shined and the children yelled. It was a beautiful spring day, not to be wasted with thinking, but to be enjoyed.
--
Was it too choppy? Too OOC? I want your critique please. >.< and when I'm confident enough I'll post it to a comm.
OMFG. YAMA GRINS TOO MUCH.
Title: ...(I'll figure it out one day soon)
Summary: Burnout is to be expected among assassins, but it's starting to affect Yamamoto's missions too. Maybe if he would just stop thinking about it, it'll go away.
Rating: PG-13 (for mentions of bedding activity...XD)
A/N: Hey. F-list who reads KHR. Anyone want to be my beta? While I have a RL beta, none so in fandom D:[Note: Does not require a lot of time as I never write.] <3<3<3
--
Yamamoto is a natural born assassin, Reborn had said. He knows this and has proven it again and again in the midst of bloody battles and violent disputes. It is a role that he has grown into, one mission at a time. Though sometimes, the role was more of a burden than a source of pride. Sometimes the blood-splattered visages of those he had killed would remain in his dreams, tormenting him with their cries. Sometimes, the cries of the dead would resound over and over in his ears until his mind silently screamed.
At those times, he liked to pretend and dream. It was only a realistic role-playing game that Tsuna had introduced to him. His world wasn’t filled with babies that were hitmen and fantastical weapons and-
“Hey. Snap out it. We’re on a mission, in case you haven’t noticed.” Gokudera’s rough voice broke through his thoughts abruptly, making him realise that they were walking in enemy territory and he should probably have been paying attention.
“Oh. Oops. Sorry.” He grins. “I was just thinking.”
Gokudera turns around and glares at him. “I’m glad that your insignificant speck of a brain has figured out how to think, but we have to act right now. So stop daydreaming!”
Luckily, there was no one around to hear Gokudera‘s caustic remark. They were walking down an ornate hallway with many oil portraits of grim old men and decorative vases worth a fortune. At the entrance where the two came through, a slew of bodies lay on the ground, only unconscious.
Yamamoto nods absentmindedly and tries to focus on what they set out to do. The Perenne family were a somewhat powerful family that had turned malevolent towards them a few months ago. There was no known reason for this turn of events because the two families had polite relations if somewhat stiff. However they were becoming a prominent threat, killing Vongola family members and allies alike, and couldn‘t be ignored any longer.
Yamamoto had hoped that he and Gokudera would be sent on as ambassadors for some type of peace negotiations, but Tsuna, surprisingly enough, had said no. They were to kill the top family members, but leave the boss alive, because they could not afford the chance to let the Perenne grow anymore. Otherwise, a disaster similar to the Millefore could happen again.
He follows along, trying not to think of what he has to do very soon. Ahead of him, Gokudera stops at a heavy-looking wooden door with golden hinges. There are voices, coming from behind it, smooth and lilting with that strange accent that makes them Italian.
“I thought I told you to stop thinking.” Gokudera says. “Nothing good ever comes out of you when you think.”
He almost flinches, damn it. Gokudera was too perceptive, too often. “That’s not true. In fact, I think you quite liked it when I thought of the silk-”
“Shut up.” Gokudera mutters, looking away, cheeks starting to colour. Yamamoto grins. It never failed to amuse him that Gokudera was so - shy whenever the topic comes up. Nothing like that in bed though.
“Come on idiot. I’ll go first today. And don’t think about it. ”
Right, the mission. Yamamoto nods and briefly touches the katana strapped to his back. The boss of the Perenne wasn’t an adept fighter, but the intelligence had said that he had several high-level guards.
Gokudera slams open the door, and Yamamoto chuckles mentally. Never one for subtlety, that was sure.
Heads immediately whipped to see the silver haired man standing there, and a taller Asian man right behind. Both looked rather intimidating.
“Aren’t you going to say ciao?” The boss of the Perenne greeted. He had a silky voice, smooth and dangerous and disgusting.
“There’s no need for us to speak to despicable trash like you.” Gokudera spat, hands reaching into his pocket for his first box.
“Oh I'm hurt, but then in that case, let’s stop the conversation nonsense. I’m sure your boss will be willing to talk when I have two his Guardians held hostage.” He smiled and the guards fire a gun before he’s even done talking.
Gokudera pushes Yamamoto aside even though there’s no need, and they’re off. Yamamoto’s sword slashes through skin so easily and Gokudera’s flames consume so hungrily. The guards are dead within minutes, because they 're still not a match for either of the Guardians. The blood is still flowing quietly from the wounds and there is a smell of charred meat in the air.The Perenne boss isn’t looking too well, face ashen colored and eye wild, though his composure was stable. Gokudera glares at him, and knocks him unconscious with a swing from his fist.
“We’ll let the 10th figure out how to deal with this piece of shit.” He says and dumps the body over his shoulders. Yamamoto nods vaguely, looking around at the bleeding corpses, mind replaying the battle automatically.
“Oi. Idiot. Pay attention. We have to get out of here now. Unless you want to deal with the policia.”
This time, Yamamoto flinches and smiles guiltily. “Sorry,” he says and follows Gokudera out into the hallway again. They walk quickly , the need to get out stronger than all others.
“I thought I had told you not to think.” Gokudera says nonchalantly, stride not breaking.
“I’m not. I mean, I didn’t.”
“Then why do you look like someone stole your sushi for lunch and blew them up using pipe bombs?.”
“Haha. You had fun with that, didn’t you?”
“Stop trying to change the subject, Takeshi.” He says, all of a sudden serious. “You’ve been like this the past few weeks. I know the burnout rate for idiots is pretty high, but you have to stop. You can’t just give up because you go on a huge guilt trip every time you kill someone. We’re mafia. You know that.”
“I know,” Yamamoto says. He doesn’t say anything else, instead staring at the unconscious form of the Perenne boss bobbing up and down along Gokudera’s shoulder. He feels weak and stupid, but the truth is that all of the killings are starting to get to him.
“Well then stop it! Stop this shit! It’s starting to affect our missions, just take a fucking vacation instead of being a martyr. All the martyrs end up dead anyway.”
“Aww…Hayato, I didn’t know you cared.” He grins again and Gokudera scowls, looking anywhere but at Yamamoto.
“I told you not to call me that. Now shut up. Is the car ready?”
They step out into the back courtyard, into the spring afternoon. It was a lovely yard with flowers blooming and tlots of birds singing, but there was no one there to enjoy it.
“The car’s ready. Put him down, will ya? It would look less suspicious that way.”
“There’s no one left to see it anyway. Who’s driving?” Gokudera seems annoyed for some reason, but then again lugging around an unconscious man probably wasn’t very fun.
“I’ll drive. You can keep him company.” Yamamoto grins. They rush into a black car, stereotypical, but easily forgettable. There were also way too many black cars driven in Italy.
Most of the ride was quiet, and the Perenne boss wasn’t likely to wake up too soon because Gokudera had a mean left hook. Yamamoto knows from too many years of experience.
As they pull up to the base, Gokudera breaks the slience, “You better not drag me back to that stupid fishing island for vacation though, because my idea of fun is not watching idiotss throwing balls and whacking them with bats.”
Yamamoto laughs, the damn corpses with way too much blood suddenly forgotten. “We can chop up raw fish and make rice balls instead?”
Gokudera scowls again, but there’s a hint of a smile there and Yamamoto feels really stupid all of a sudden for wasting energy over dead men.
Outside the car, the birds chirped happily, the sun shined and the children yelled. It was a beautiful spring day, not to be wasted with thinking, but to be enjoyed.
--
Was it too choppy? Too OOC? I want your critique please. >.< and when I'm confident enough I'll post it to a comm.
OMFG. YAMA GRINS TOO MUCH.