[fic] Vodka
Title: Vodka
Pairing: 5980/8059
Rating: PG-13 for alcohol and BL
Prompt: 5drunkfics "Drunk"
Word Count: 1,157
Disclaimer: Katekyo Hitman Reborn! is owned by Amano Akira
Summary: Gokudera can't hold his alcohol
Part 1 of the series is here (Punch), if you'd like to read it first.
Letting Iemetsu be in charge of the beverages for their son’s seventeenth birthday party had not been the most lucid decision Nana had ever made. The results found Gokudera slumped in the seat across from Ryohei with a hand of playing cards laid out in front of him.
“Twenty-three. Drink to the extreme, octopus head!”
Gokudera tried to grab the shot glass from the table but his hand kept overshooting to the left of it. When he finally succeeded in grasping it, it took him three tries before he managed to pour equal amounts of vodka into the glass and on the table.
“You…you are. Cheating. God’amn dealer.” The grin that was splitting his face didn’t quite fit with his words, but Ryohei wasn’t paying much attention.
“Yamamoto! Come play Blackjack with us!” The black haired boy had made his way over to the pair and was trying to help a listing Gokudera to his feet.
“Haha, maybe another time, Sempai. Tsuna asked me to take Gokudera home. C’mon, Gokudera, let’s say goodbye to Tsuna.”
Gokudera stumbled across the room despite his death-hold on Yamamoto’s arm. When they were finally within range of the host, the silver haired boy launched himself at him.
“Happy burstday-I mean birfday-Tenth! You’re a, you’re a great, I mean a really super friend, Tenth, and you’re the besht mafia boss ever and I’m so proud’t’be you man hand right and-“
“Ah, thank you, Gokudera-kun,” Tsuna managed to gasp from under the tangle of limbs. He turned to Yamamoto and whispered, “You’re sure you’ll be fine taking him home?”
Yamamoto just chuckled. “I’ve had a little to drink, but not as much as he has. Don’t worry, it’s just a ten minute walk.” After prying the inebriated bomber off their friend, he guided him out the door. As soon as the cool night air hit their faces, Gokudera sagged against Yamamoto’s body. He made a small humming noise and craned his neck up to look into the taller boy’s eyes.
“Nngh, why’d we leave th’party, Yam’moto? I wanna say g’dbye to th’Tenth,” he whined.
Yamamoto grinned down at his friend's pouting face. “You did say goodbye to Tsuna. You drank a little too much, so he asked me to take you home, ‘kay?”
A sigh mixed with another whine was all the reply he got. Gokudera’s alcohol induced personality change never ceased to amuse him, and he enjoyed the quiet walk to the bomber’s apartment. The further they walked, the more Gokudera began to resemble a ragdoll, until Yamamoto finally had to stop to position one of the drunken boy’s arms around his shoulders while wrapping his own arm around the thin waist. He couldn’t tell if the heat in his stomach was from the alcohol or the warm body pressed against his. When Gokudera’s head lolled onto his shoulder, he found his answer.
Until they reached Gokudera’s apartment, the rest of the walk was uneventful. The stairs leading to the front door, however, presented a formidable challenge, and Gokudera finally resigned himself to crawling up them with Yamamoto rubbing soothing circles on his back and giving him words of encouragement. Normally Gokudera would have given him a black eye for such attention, but at the moment he was using Yamamoto as a support to haul himself up on the top step.
“Haha, I need your key now. We can’t stand out here all night!”
Gokudera didn’t seem be listening; his eyes kept flicking in and out of focus on the lips of the other boy.
Yamamoto looked at him concernedly. “Umm, you okay? Goku-“ he was interrupted by a set of warm, wet lips suddenly pressed to his. All of the blood rushed to his head as Gokudera slobbered into his mouth in a deadly combination of drunkenness and lack of technique. They really shouldn’t be doing this, they were going to regret it later, didn’t Gokudera hate him-a jumble of thoughts raced through his mind; he knew he should push the drunken boy away, but despite the sloppiness and consequences it felt so good.
At this point, Gokudera slammed Yamamoto’s back against the door and reached his hands around him to grope the baseball player’s ass through his pants, making him moan.
Yamamoto felt Gokudera smirk against his lips, but when he pulled back the bomber’s expression had already changed and his face looked pale. Just as the taller boy was about to ask what was wrong, Gokudera threw up between them. Yamamoto tried to jerk away on reflex, but the door prevented his escape. Listening to Gokudera’s pathetic whimpers as he began to dry heave, Yamamoto fumbled in the other boy’s pockets for the keys. Although he tried not to think of the source of the heat his hands felt, it was a losing battle. When he finally found what he was looking for, he opened the door and guided Gokudera over the threshold.
Once inside, he dragged the sick boy to the bathroom to help him rinse the bile out of his mouth. The boy’s green eyes kept drifting shut; it was obvious that he wouldn’t be able to take care of himself any time soon. Yamamoto swallowed thickly, ignoring the way his heart beat in double-time when he undressed Gokudera to wash him off. His fingers itched to run through the soft hair in front of him, but there was no way he could take advantage of his friend at such a time-no, at any time. Instead, he scrubbed the vomit off Gokudera’s face and chest before wrapping him in a towel and dragging him to the main room to search for some clean clothes. After finding some pajamas in the dresser, he carefully helped the incapacitated boy slip them on before setting up the futon and tucking the warm body under the bedcovers on his side. Gently stroking Gokudera’s back, Yamamoto debated for a few moments about whether he should go home or stay at the apartment in case his friend need more help. The feel of Gokudera’s back rising and falling rhythmically under his palm calmed him down. With a sigh, he grabbed another set of oversized pajamas and headed to the bathroom to wash himself up. Taking care of Gokudera had relieved him of having to confront the boy about what had happened outside, but that just meant he would probably have to deal with it the next morning.
At least I can use the excuse that we were both drunk, he thought as he pulled the T-shirt over his head. There was no way he could admit to Gokudera how much he had enjoyed the kiss-not unless he wanted to bid farewell to his nether regions. Yawning, he curled up in the old armchair next to the futon and fell asleep to the sound of Gokudera’s soft breathing and thoughts of silky silver hair between his fingers.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Part 3 is here--> Sake
Just a heads up that it's rated R for sexual situations.
Pairing: 5980/8059
Rating: PG-13 for alcohol and BL
Prompt: 5drunkfics "Drunk"
Word Count: 1,157
Disclaimer: Katekyo Hitman Reborn! is owned by Amano Akira
Summary: Gokudera can't hold his alcohol
Part 1 of the series is here (Punch), if you'd like to read it first.
Letting Iemetsu be in charge of the beverages for their son’s seventeenth birthday party had not been the most lucid decision Nana had ever made. The results found Gokudera slumped in the seat across from Ryohei with a hand of playing cards laid out in front of him.
“Twenty-three. Drink to the extreme, octopus head!”
Gokudera tried to grab the shot glass from the table but his hand kept overshooting to the left of it. When he finally succeeded in grasping it, it took him three tries before he managed to pour equal amounts of vodka into the glass and on the table.
“You…you are. Cheating. God’amn dealer.” The grin that was splitting his face didn’t quite fit with his words, but Ryohei wasn’t paying much attention.
“Yamamoto! Come play Blackjack with us!” The black haired boy had made his way over to the pair and was trying to help a listing Gokudera to his feet.
“Haha, maybe another time, Sempai. Tsuna asked me to take Gokudera home. C’mon, Gokudera, let’s say goodbye to Tsuna.”
Gokudera stumbled across the room despite his death-hold on Yamamoto’s arm. When they were finally within range of the host, the silver haired boy launched himself at him.
“Happy burstday-I mean birfday-Tenth! You’re a, you’re a great, I mean a really super friend, Tenth, and you’re the besht mafia boss ever and I’m so proud’t’be you man hand right and-“
“Ah, thank you, Gokudera-kun,” Tsuna managed to gasp from under the tangle of limbs. He turned to Yamamoto and whispered, “You’re sure you’ll be fine taking him home?”
Yamamoto just chuckled. “I’ve had a little to drink, but not as much as he has. Don’t worry, it’s just a ten minute walk.” After prying the inebriated bomber off their friend, he guided him out the door. As soon as the cool night air hit their faces, Gokudera sagged against Yamamoto’s body. He made a small humming noise and craned his neck up to look into the taller boy’s eyes.
“Nngh, why’d we leave th’party, Yam’moto? I wanna say g’dbye to th’Tenth,” he whined.
Yamamoto grinned down at his friend's pouting face. “You did say goodbye to Tsuna. You drank a little too much, so he asked me to take you home, ‘kay?”
A sigh mixed with another whine was all the reply he got. Gokudera’s alcohol induced personality change never ceased to amuse him, and he enjoyed the quiet walk to the bomber’s apartment. The further they walked, the more Gokudera began to resemble a ragdoll, until Yamamoto finally had to stop to position one of the drunken boy’s arms around his shoulders while wrapping his own arm around the thin waist. He couldn’t tell if the heat in his stomach was from the alcohol or the warm body pressed against his. When Gokudera’s head lolled onto his shoulder, he found his answer.
Until they reached Gokudera’s apartment, the rest of the walk was uneventful. The stairs leading to the front door, however, presented a formidable challenge, and Gokudera finally resigned himself to crawling up them with Yamamoto rubbing soothing circles on his back and giving him words of encouragement. Normally Gokudera would have given him a black eye for such attention, but at the moment he was using Yamamoto as a support to haul himself up on the top step.
“Haha, I need your key now. We can’t stand out here all night!”
Gokudera didn’t seem be listening; his eyes kept flicking in and out of focus on the lips of the other boy.
Yamamoto looked at him concernedly. “Umm, you okay? Goku-“ he was interrupted by a set of warm, wet lips suddenly pressed to his. All of the blood rushed to his head as Gokudera slobbered into his mouth in a deadly combination of drunkenness and lack of technique. They really shouldn’t be doing this, they were going to regret it later, didn’t Gokudera hate him-a jumble of thoughts raced through his mind; he knew he should push the drunken boy away, but despite the sloppiness and consequences it felt so good.
At this point, Gokudera slammed Yamamoto’s back against the door and reached his hands around him to grope the baseball player’s ass through his pants, making him moan.
Yamamoto felt Gokudera smirk against his lips, but when he pulled back the bomber’s expression had already changed and his face looked pale. Just as the taller boy was about to ask what was wrong, Gokudera threw up between them. Yamamoto tried to jerk away on reflex, but the door prevented his escape. Listening to Gokudera’s pathetic whimpers as he began to dry heave, Yamamoto fumbled in the other boy’s pockets for the keys. Although he tried not to think of the source of the heat his hands felt, it was a losing battle. When he finally found what he was looking for, he opened the door and guided Gokudera over the threshold.
Once inside, he dragged the sick boy to the bathroom to help him rinse the bile out of his mouth. The boy’s green eyes kept drifting shut; it was obvious that he wouldn’t be able to take care of himself any time soon. Yamamoto swallowed thickly, ignoring the way his heart beat in double-time when he undressed Gokudera to wash him off. His fingers itched to run through the soft hair in front of him, but there was no way he could take advantage of his friend at such a time-no, at any time. Instead, he scrubbed the vomit off Gokudera’s face and chest before wrapping him in a towel and dragging him to the main room to search for some clean clothes. After finding some pajamas in the dresser, he carefully helped the incapacitated boy slip them on before setting up the futon and tucking the warm body under the bedcovers on his side. Gently stroking Gokudera’s back, Yamamoto debated for a few moments about whether he should go home or stay at the apartment in case his friend need more help. The feel of Gokudera’s back rising and falling rhythmically under his palm calmed him down. With a sigh, he grabbed another set of oversized pajamas and headed to the bathroom to wash himself up. Taking care of Gokudera had relieved him of having to confront the boy about what had happened outside, but that just meant he would probably have to deal with it the next morning.
At least I can use the excuse that we were both drunk, he thought as he pulled the T-shirt over his head. There was no way he could admit to Gokudera how much he had enjoyed the kiss-not unless he wanted to bid farewell to his nether regions. Yawning, he curled up in the old armchair next to the futon and fell asleep to the sound of Gokudera’s soft breathing and thoughts of silky silver hair between his fingers.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Part 3 is here--> Sake
Just a heads up that it's rated R for sexual situations.