[024] a silly conversation
I've been in a rut. :'D Feel free to criticize the fuck out of this one, ughglkjflalaaaaa. MAYBE I NEED A BETA, Y/N? I don't know.
Title: Hierarchy
Author: ME LOL
Rating: PG-13
Series/Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Characters/Pairings: Gokudera/Yamamoto
Warnings: LANGUAGE and incredible amounts of GAAAY.
Summary: In which Yamamoto is a retard and Gokudera is a jealous retard. (More or less related to this fic.)
Dedications: lolol happy early x-mas, Sharingank. The quality of this fic does not in any way convey the quality of my uhh love.
RANDOM NOTE BEFORE THE FIC : This song reminds me so much of this couple. Here are the lyrics, hee which are different from Billy Joel's original version. ♥HAHA Anyway.
Deep hues of red, blue, and purple blemish the area affiliated around a squinting green eye; and before Gokudera knows it, Yamamoto's cupping his cheek with the palms of his calloused hands, gently blowing the hair from his face and staring at the frivolous wound with more intensity than any normal person would be comfortable with. The tip of their shoes touch, and Gokudera rolls a cigarette between his teeth, eyebrows furrowed and lips tugged down to an affronted scowl.
"I'm sure Dad keeps some extra slabs of meat in their freezer, if you want," offers Yamamoto, smile thin on his lips as he presses their foreheads together, the smell of borrowed Italian cologne growing stronger with every invaded millimeter of personal space. Gokudera's used to it; a decade spent with the other man teaches Gokudera how to not blow off those handsome good looks off that sturdy body of his every time Yamamoto decides to get all soft and affectionate.
Not that anyone could see them in the alley they were in anyway. A hideout wouldn't be a hideout if people could fucking see you.
"Tch." Gokudera pulls away and leans back against the brick wall, taking a long, deep drag on his cigarette and breathing out a circular puff of placid gray smoke in Yamamoto's general direction. "The hell's that gonna do?"
Mouth still stubbornly curved upwards, Yamamoto dispels the cloud of cancer with a wave of the hand and moves to stand next to the smaller man, far so that their fingers have no excuse to brush and intertwine sans tradition. Gokudera scowls and glares daggers at the suddenly horribly offensive streetlight ahead of them.
"Why'd you do that, huh?"
For some stupid reason, looking Yamamoto in the eye isn't something he can really manage at the moment. "What? I'm not putting tomorrows fucking lunch special on my eyeball, dumbass."
"No, no," replies Yamamoto, light hearted tone poorly hiding his amusement. "Why'd you punch him?"
A pause.
"Sasagawa's an idiot."
Yamamoto makes that annoying noise with his tongue clicking against the back of his teeth, the one that says 'Wow, Gokudera, you sure are a funny guy, but mostly kinda dumb', and Gokudera's clenched fist barely resists the urge to punch him, too.
"Maa, Ryohei only gave you that black eye cause you were startling the girls," says the swordsman, quick to defend his friend as he remains painfully ignorant to the fact that the girls in their 'family' giggled or otherwise remained entirely and utterly apathetic during the entire duration of the event. "We're lucky that Tsuna wasn't there to see all that..."
"Don't mention the Boss!" roars Gokudera, dropping his cancer stick to the ground and crushing it violently with the sole of his shoe. "What does he have to do with anything?!"
"What did that guy have to do with anything?" counters Yamamoto softly, head tilting innocently as he gazed up at the stars above. "Did you know him?"
"Did I know him?" Right now seems like a good time to throw his hands up in the air dramatically and maybe let out a particularly incoherent vehement string of Italian curses, and so he does, which only ends up with Yamamoto poorly hiding a laugh under the guise of a series of back breaking coughs. "If I knew him, why the fuck would he go and hug you?"
Yamamoto blinks, chuckles quickly fading in the depths of his chest. Stupidly, "Ah?" He pockets his hands in his brand new slacks and shrugs. "Well, he did say that he thought I was someone else."
"Yeah, after I broke his nose, maybe," huffs the other man, and the way his shoulders rise and the way his fingers shakily search for another cigarette to place between his grinding teeth, tells Yamamoto that reaching over to hold Gokudera's hand would be a good idea at the moment. Gokudera scoffs at the touch and hurriedly looks the other way, but the grip he has on Yamamoto tightens, nails digging red crescent moons in the skin of his hand. "Of course he thought you were someone else, after I fucking rattled his brain against his goddamn skull."
"Maa, calm down, Gokudera." Yamamoto winces, yet his beam refuses to falter in the slightest. "It's not that big of a deal. Bad enough that we got kicked out, yeah, but if that building wasn't run by one of our people, I'm sure the police would've gotten involved--"
"Not a big deal!? He. Fucking. Touched. You." With every word, Gokudera's volume gains more and more vehemence. "Doesn't that bother you?!"
"A lot of people touch me," replies Yamamoto bluntly, and apparently, that's the Wrong Thing to Say, because Gokudera curses again, loudly. "Maybe he was just an affectionate kinda guy. When drunk."
" So? Out of all people-how did he-he coulda-what the hell, I'm the right hand man, not you! Why'd he go to you instead of me?!"
"So you wanted him to touch you?" The swordsman sounds a bit not confused, if not considerably amused.
Gokudera recoils at the mere thought, and Yamamoto gently wrenches his aching hand away from his grasp to throw an arm around the shorter man's shoulders. "No! Fuck no!"
"Then what?"
"Okay, look," announces Gokudera, retarding his speech at a speed that he supposes Yamamoto can comprehend. "That guy could've fraternized with someone else, see? Like-the cow or Sasagawa or something, cause y'know, they've been looking really gay recently, see?"
Yamamoto barks out laughing. "What the fuck?!"
"You're not the only only pretty boy in the family any more, idiot." Gokudera pokes him in the chest and makes more hand gestures that are more into venting and less into having a real purpose in the conversation. "Don't be so selfish."
"Of course not I'm not! You're pretty, too!"
"Oh my god, shut the fuck up! Do I looking fucking pretty to you?" A pause. "Wait, don't answer that."
"You're such a funny guy, Gokudera."
"Tch!" And it's here that Yamamoto bites back a yelp, because the hand so mysteriously placed on his hip decides to pinch that sensitive bit of flesh on the underside of his pants. "You don't get it!"
A raise of the eyebrow, and Yamamoto's patience finally caves, if just a by a margin. "Then explain yourself."
"Why'd he go out to you, when everyone fucking knows that you obviously belong to me?"
Silence.
Oh.
Oh.
" I belong to who--"
"Shut up."
"Uhh…okay?"
Gokudera pulls him closer, hand drawing lower on his hip and closer to an entirely different part of his body. "You're my subordinate, idiot. Who the fuck said that they could touch you?"
Yamamoto processes this with visible difficulty, pointedly ignorant to the new warm presence in his back pocket. "Are you… under the influence, Gokudera?" He leans in, sniffing the air for hints of alcohol. Should he laugh, or should he go call Ryohei for help? Honestly, he really isn't sure.
Again, the Vongola's right hand man scoffs, eyes rolling in their beat up sockets. "Don't mistake me for the Perverted Old Man.
“But Doctor Shamal’s cool. He’s a cool perverted old man.”
“And you’re an idiot.”
"Yeah, but," murmurs Yamamoto, tugging Gokudera closer to plant a kiss on the side of his head. “I’m your idiot.”
"Ugh."
Title: Hierarchy
Author: ME LOL
Rating: PG-13
Series/Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Characters/Pairings: Gokudera/Yamamoto
Warnings: LANGUAGE and incredible amounts of GAAAY.
Summary: In which Yamamoto is a retard and Gokudera is a jealous retard. (More or less related to this fic.)
Dedications: lolol happy early x-mas, Sharingank. The quality of this fic does not in any way convey the quality of my uhh love.
RANDOM NOTE BEFORE THE FIC : This song reminds me so much of this couple. Here are the lyrics, hee which are different from Billy Joel's original version. ♥HAHA Anyway.
Deep hues of red, blue, and purple blemish the area affiliated around a squinting green eye; and before Gokudera knows it, Yamamoto's cupping his cheek with the palms of his calloused hands, gently blowing the hair from his face and staring at the frivolous wound with more intensity than any normal person would be comfortable with. The tip of their shoes touch, and Gokudera rolls a cigarette between his teeth, eyebrows furrowed and lips tugged down to an affronted scowl.
"I'm sure Dad keeps some extra slabs of meat in their freezer, if you want," offers Yamamoto, smile thin on his lips as he presses their foreheads together, the smell of borrowed Italian cologne growing stronger with every invaded millimeter of personal space. Gokudera's used to it; a decade spent with the other man teaches Gokudera how to not blow off those handsome good looks off that sturdy body of his every time Yamamoto decides to get all soft and affectionate.
Not that anyone could see them in the alley they were in anyway. A hideout wouldn't be a hideout if people could fucking see you.
"Tch." Gokudera pulls away and leans back against the brick wall, taking a long, deep drag on his cigarette and breathing out a circular puff of placid gray smoke in Yamamoto's general direction. "The hell's that gonna do?"
Mouth still stubbornly curved upwards, Yamamoto dispels the cloud of cancer with a wave of the hand and moves to stand next to the smaller man, far so that their fingers have no excuse to brush and intertwine sans tradition. Gokudera scowls and glares daggers at the suddenly horribly offensive streetlight ahead of them.
"Why'd you do that, huh?"
For some stupid reason, looking Yamamoto in the eye isn't something he can really manage at the moment. "What? I'm not putting tomorrows fucking lunch special on my eyeball, dumbass."
"No, no," replies Yamamoto, light hearted tone poorly hiding his amusement. "Why'd you punch him?"
A pause.
"Sasagawa's an idiot."
Yamamoto makes that annoying noise with his tongue clicking against the back of his teeth, the one that says 'Wow, Gokudera, you sure are a funny guy, but mostly kinda dumb', and Gokudera's clenched fist barely resists the urge to punch him, too.
"Maa, Ryohei only gave you that black eye cause you were startling the girls," says the swordsman, quick to defend his friend as he remains painfully ignorant to the fact that the girls in their 'family' giggled or otherwise remained entirely and utterly apathetic during the entire duration of the event. "We're lucky that Tsuna wasn't there to see all that..."
"Don't mention the Boss!" roars Gokudera, dropping his cancer stick to the ground and crushing it violently with the sole of his shoe. "What does he have to do with anything?!"
"What did that guy have to do with anything?" counters Yamamoto softly, head tilting innocently as he gazed up at the stars above. "Did you know him?"
"Did I know him?" Right now seems like a good time to throw his hands up in the air dramatically and maybe let out a particularly incoherent vehement string of Italian curses, and so he does, which only ends up with Yamamoto poorly hiding a laugh under the guise of a series of back breaking coughs. "If I knew him, why the fuck would he go and hug you?"
Yamamoto blinks, chuckles quickly fading in the depths of his chest. Stupidly, "Ah?" He pockets his hands in his brand new slacks and shrugs. "Well, he did say that he thought I was someone else."
"Yeah, after I broke his nose, maybe," huffs the other man, and the way his shoulders rise and the way his fingers shakily search for another cigarette to place between his grinding teeth, tells Yamamoto that reaching over to hold Gokudera's hand would be a good idea at the moment. Gokudera scoffs at the touch and hurriedly looks the other way, but the grip he has on Yamamoto tightens, nails digging red crescent moons in the skin of his hand. "Of course he thought you were someone else, after I fucking rattled his brain against his goddamn skull."
"Maa, calm down, Gokudera." Yamamoto winces, yet his beam refuses to falter in the slightest. "It's not that big of a deal. Bad enough that we got kicked out, yeah, but if that building wasn't run by one of our people, I'm sure the police would've gotten involved--"
"Not a big deal!? He. Fucking. Touched. You." With every word, Gokudera's volume gains more and more vehemence. "Doesn't that bother you?!"
"A lot of people touch me," replies Yamamoto bluntly, and apparently, that's the Wrong Thing to Say, because Gokudera curses again, loudly. "Maybe he was just an affectionate kinda guy. When drunk."
" So? Out of all people-how did he-he coulda-what the hell, I'm the right hand man, not you! Why'd he go to you instead of me?!"
"So you wanted him to touch you?" The swordsman sounds a bit not confused, if not considerably amused.
Gokudera recoils at the mere thought, and Yamamoto gently wrenches his aching hand away from his grasp to throw an arm around the shorter man's shoulders. "No! Fuck no!"
"Then what?"
"Okay, look," announces Gokudera, retarding his speech at a speed that he supposes Yamamoto can comprehend. "That guy could've fraternized with someone else, see? Like-the cow or Sasagawa or something, cause y'know, they've been looking really gay recently, see?"
Yamamoto barks out laughing. "What the fuck?!"
"You're not the only only pretty boy in the family any more, idiot." Gokudera pokes him in the chest and makes more hand gestures that are more into venting and less into having a real purpose in the conversation. "Don't be so selfish."
"Of course not I'm not! You're pretty, too!"
"Oh my god, shut the fuck up! Do I looking fucking pretty to you?" A pause. "Wait, don't answer that."
"You're such a funny guy, Gokudera."
"Tch!" And it's here that Yamamoto bites back a yelp, because the hand so mysteriously placed on his hip decides to pinch that sensitive bit of flesh on the underside of his pants. "You don't get it!"
A raise of the eyebrow, and Yamamoto's patience finally caves, if just a by a margin. "Then explain yourself."
"Why'd he go out to you, when everyone fucking knows that you obviously belong to me?"
Silence.
Oh.
Oh.
" I belong to who--"
"Shut up."
"Uhh…okay?"
Gokudera pulls him closer, hand drawing lower on his hip and closer to an entirely different part of his body. "You're my subordinate, idiot. Who the fuck said that they could touch you?"
Yamamoto processes this with visible difficulty, pointedly ignorant to the new warm presence in his back pocket. "Are you… under the influence, Gokudera?" He leans in, sniffing the air for hints of alcohol. Should he laugh, or should he go call Ryohei for help? Honestly, he really isn't sure.
Again, the Vongola's right hand man scoffs, eyes rolling in their beat up sockets. "Don't mistake me for the Perverted Old Man.
“But Doctor Shamal’s cool. He’s a cool perverted old man.”
“And you’re an idiot.”
"Yeah, but," murmurs Yamamoto, tugging Gokudera closer to plant a kiss on the side of his head. “I’m your idiot.”
"Ugh."