(no subject)
A sigh. A term used for expressing relief, sadness, exasperation or of tiredness. For this silver haired Italian however, it meant something else. Something less used for befitting a sigh; submission.
It was considered rare to say the least for Gokudera Hayato, the proud Storm Guardian of Vongola, to permit the baseball nut of a boyfriend to cuddl- nestle next to him as their fingers entwine. They did nothing. Lazily they sat there in comfortable silence, having nothing but the pleasure of the other’s warmth. (for Yamamoto’s part anyway)
Gokudera shifted uncomfortably as an arm attempted to draw his head closer to his chest. His put up a feeble protest before allowing the elder to proceed.
His little devil shouted in frustration,”What the hell are you doing!? What happened to the mafiaso that surrendered to no one, Hurricane Bomb, huh!? Was he always such a wimp?”
“Shut the fuck up..!” Gokudera snapped back, pissed at himself.
He should have never agreed to that little angel in his head. Now the damned devil won’t stop pestering him.
“Sheesh. Can’t a guy get a piece of mind?” he brooded over.
But on the other hand, he had a rare optimistic way of thinking of taking in the scenario at hand.
“Perhaps an UMA had abducted me and with their highly sophisticated persuasion methods, they have successfully lured me into doing this for that idiot! Yes! That’s it!” he told the voice in his head. “So there is no way I did it on my FREE will!”
Indeed the voice silenced. It was impossible to rationalize with this stubborn boy. Really, UMA abductions even at the age of 17?
But in all honesty, it truly was as though the teenager had undoubtedly been exchanged with some exciting life form from another nebula.
You see, for the past fortnight, the silverette had been working his brain to its core. He made sure that tonight, the 23rd of April, would be a night of flawlessness. Logistics, probabilities, weather forecasts, behavioral patterns, etc... Nothing was to be off. Not even by a fraction. All those late nights were going to be worth it.
A few days before…
“Gokudera!!!” the English teacher, Mr. Ishiwara yelled. “Stop sleeping in class!! What have you been up to all night?!”
The recipient hadn’t even moved an inch let alone attempted at a reply.
“Hiiii---!” the brunette beside him cowered. He leaned over his seat to tentatively shake the snoozing man’s left shoulder.
“Gokudera-kun… Gokudera-kun…!”
Gokudera cursed groggily as he raised a mussed hoary head not the very least pleased that he was reluctantly dragged out of a dream involving him conversing a real UMA with his G-Code. Yawning, he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands before noticing Tsuna looking rather apologetic next to him.
“Ah- ‘m sorry, Tenth. I seemed to have fallen asleep.” he muttered, a lopsided smile on his lips.
He heard the lecturer yelling from the front of the class again but he chose to ignore it; per usual speaking to Tsuna instead.
That ticked him off “KORA! GOKUDERA!!!” the teacher went ballistic on the teen, going to an extent of throwing the class duster.
Effortlessly, the green eyed man dodged it and in place of Gokudera’s forehead, the flying projectile landed smack on an unlucky student’s face instead. Funny how the utterance of the word ‘Kora’ made him think of the Rain Arcobareno (Colonello). Speaking of Rain… He briefly glanced at the empty seat behind him. Empty…
“Fuck off,” he shot, ringed middle finger erected in the direction of Ishiwara before he stormed out via the back door of the class.
Soon after, the room burst into life with whispers, squeals and mummers. Events such as these were far from abnormal whenever some brainless teacher or students alike was to piss the bomber off but it was definitely worth gossiping over lunch break for the next few days.
“Honestly, Sawada, I don’t see any merit in you mingling with such a hooligan…” the exasperated man reasoned prior to sighing, long and heavy. His hand came up to his forehead, kneading comfort into it. A migraine was brewing, he could feel it.
Despite the teachers’ disapproval towards Gokudera, the girls were a totally different issue all together. They preferred bad boy types, Gokudera being an ideal example for that genre. And amongst those girls, it included the vice head prefect. She was a prim and proper girl, well mannered and such but came nothing short of a fangirl when it involved the Italian.
“Sensei,” she stood up, “With all due respect, Gokudera-san is not a hooligan. He’s merely a young man with remarkable style and serious attitude. Having those does not make one a rebel of society!” her tone was defensive and she looked as though she meant very well what she spoke.
The females chorused in unison.
“Scary…” The boys of the lot thought, reminding their selves not to cross them any time in the near future.
“Besides,” Another girl voiced with an Osaka accent. “It’s not like he’s failing you’ classes, sir.”
A vein snapped, “ENOUGH! I am fully aware of that and if it weren’t for that…! I would have happily expelled him months ago!!” roared the man, caught in the heat of the exchange with the group of Gokudera’s unofficial fangirls.
The Vongola boss cringed as a mild sweat drop came rolling down the side of his face, his eyes drifting in the direction of the rows of cherry blossom trees that lined the pathways. It seems that the flowers were beginning to bloom, albeit early, streaking the pavement a radiant pink whenever a subtle spring breeze came blowing.
“Gokudera-kun sure has been restless these days. I wonder if he’s alright.” Tsuna monologued. “Chances it has to do with Yamamoto coming home from Koshien training camp either today or tomorrow evening is pretty high or is it because his birthday is almost here too?” he chuckled to no one in particular.
“Gokudera-kun should be more honest with his feelings.”
The hyper intuitions of the mafiaoso’s had developed vastly in these three years after the dreaded incident with Byakuran. After such a life and death situation, such trivial things regarding his Rain and Storm guardians were plain as day. Not to mention, two years ago, he caught the two in the passion of the moment when he was cleaning the sports backroom. Besides, those two were too obvious anyway.
“Oi Sawada! Stop daydreaming and read the 1st paragraph on page 69!”
“Ah! Hai! The wind blows south---”
When night fell, the atmosphere was a 360 degree change in Namimori Municipal Park. It was chilly this early spring but serene all the same. It had a somewhat romantic feel to it. Not that Gokudera liked it or anything like that… It was just that it was conveniently quiet and that they were alone. There was a reason behind it and it’s because it was a step of precaution, a smaller percentage of being exposed. NOT because he was secretly planning it or anything like that.
A gale of winter’s last breath bustled past the bench, accompanied by freshly blossomed sakura petals. Without so much as noticing, the smaller Italian snuggled closer to the warmness that was being emitted by the taller. He never liked the cold.
“Dera…?” the man with black spiky hair enquired, a bit surprised at the development.
Facing away, the man in a grey hoddie replied with a poorly disguised “What?” faking as though unfazed and bored but in truth, his cheeks were a blaze, flushed with embarrassment.
But the rain guardian saw through that… Yamamoto Takeshi could be a dolt sometimes but it was sure as hell that he wasn’t stupid or naïve. It was a key trait, you see. A near perfect façade was essential to walk a path of a hitman. And Yamamoto had that, right from the start.
No one really knew how deep this well was and Gokudera was tempted to find out.
“You do know that I'm reallllllly~ happy that I could die because Dera’s being so cute, right?” cooed the Namimori pitcher.
Gokudera’s eyebrow ticked. It took every single fiber of his being to restrain himself from murdering Yamamoto then and there.
“Shaddup, you moron… Just… Shut up…” trailed ‘Dera’, not having the strength or composure to throw a proper retort at him.
The frail looking man shuttered when the other’s nose nuzzled its way into those impossibly silver mop of hair to his hair line. Yamamoto absolutely adored the scent of those tresses. His breath tickled its way down to his backbone and he hated how much he liked that. Damn that baseball freak.
A single mechanical beep resonated from the left pocket of the silverette’s faded jeans causing several sparrows to awake. They chirped angrily at Yamamoto and Gokudera as they disappeared off into the darkness that was the sky. And as if rehearsed, the shit eating grin that Gokudera so very much despised( well not really, the boy was stating to grow accustomed to it--- Oh God…) surfaced on that tanned face. He need not even look up to know he was smiling- no beaming at him, eager as if anticipating something from the Storm Guardian.
Seconds seemed like endless hours to the bomber as he scroungered his brain for a believable reason for him to say something, all the while under that\amber brown’s expecting gaze.
“I'm not going to say it.” his pride complained. “No way in hell.”
For a split second, he glanced upward. Wrong move. It was then when ambers clashed against emeralds.
Yamamoto had one heck of an exceptionally stupid grin plastered on his face. Gokudera swore that if he grinned any wider, his ears would fall off. That was how moronically huge his god forsaken smile was. It didn’t help that resembled a lost puppy, begging with those big brown eyes to be picked up, cuddled, and all that sappy shit he was use to.
Gokudera had already lost the battle when the elder flashed that lost puppy look. It worked like a charm every time so much so that he would gladly hit himself.
“It really isn’t fair” the defeated man reflected.
The swordsman could defile him (in more ways then one) with so much as a single look. Really, what was becoming of the prided right hand man of Vongola, Gokudera Hayato? He questioned himself.
Try as he might, the silverette couldn’t even advert the heated gaze that was currently being innocently shot at him by his lover. His mind was utterly blank.
“Quit being a wussy and kiss him already, Decimo.” You know you want to.” an all too familiar voice pressed.
Figuring that there was a negative chance of escaping, he sighed and thickly swallowed his pride. Not so much as thinking anymore, he roughly grabbed the fabric of baseball player’s jacket, lips crashing onto the other’s colder ones. He knew full well that he would never hear the end of this from his Primo if he wasn’t going to go through it. No matter how you look at it, it was a lose-lose situation.
A blush crept like wild fire across the paler’s cheeks as soon as the Japanese licked the upper rows of teeth then proceeding to suck on his tongue. He heard a distinctive moan. Yamamoto’s curved into a satisfied smirk as he cradled the silver head, attacking the younger’s mouth with even fiercer kisses.
“St-p Ya-to…Ahh-…” All that came out of the boy’s mouth were incoherent gibberish.
By the time they parted, both their lungs burned for oxygen after being forcefully deprived. Panting, Gokudera was reduced to a figuratively speaking puddle in Yamamoto’s arms. Funny thing was, the profanity prone Italian did not even try to retaliate. No shoving, no protests, not even a curse. All he did was sitting in Yamamoto’s lap, obediently like a house cat.
“Na, Dera” he trailed, a tad bit surprised at the youth’s unusually docile behavior. The ‘you’ve completely fallen in love with me haven’t you’ was tactfully left out lest he intends on having a black eye at school tomorrow.
Instead of answering or at the very least throwing him a retort, he stood up, facing away.
“Ha-Happ-”
Gokudera felt his face flush a deeper red (if that even possible) as he sought for the words that died premature in his throat. He clenched and unclenched his fists, frustrated and embarrassed at himself. Why couldn’t he just say it? “Happy Birthday, Takeshi” wasn’t that hard. And yet it wouldn’t come out. Fuck.
The Shigure successor’s default grin broke into a gentle and genuine smile. It was so apparent what the dynamite expert was trying so hard to gesture. Honestly, that made him feel as if he was on cloud nine. To have his introvert of a boyfriend try so hard for him, it made him ridiculously euphoric. It was a sign. Little by little, he was opening his heart; the cage that he set up to protect himself was slowly torn down. Now he was sure. In ten years, they’d still be together, stronger then ever.
Twin arms wound themselves around the scarf-covered shoulder blades of the Italian, closing whatever distance between them. He whispered tenderly into his ear “It’s alright, Hayato. I understand what you wanna say… Thanks.”
“…”
It was good enough. He would be patient. After all, he was sure. One day in the nearest future, Gokudera would be able to say it, unreserved. Five, eight, ten years, it didn’t matter. He will wait for as long as it took. There was no need for haste because haste only makes waste; he remembered his dad say once.
The calmness of the moment broke when an annoyed voice heaved “You’re really useless aren’t you, Decimo?”
As if on cue, the Decimo Storm Guardian burst into life for the first time that night, knocking the Rain’s chin as he flew into a rage. He began yell at erm… well, crotch. ( actually its directed at his Vongola which houses G but hey, it’s a low riding belt so yea, pfft)
“Haha~!”
The two heard the man laugh whole heartedly at their shenanigans but chose to ignore it. G had materialized out of the belt and now was spewing Italian words that were along the lines of monello, inutile and such tongue tying verses.
It didn’t take too long for the tallest of the trio to step in and placate his storm before he could try to do some bodily damage to his ancestor’s lover.
“Maa maa,” came his signature phrase. He hooked both his arms underneath Gokudera’s, successfully restraining the said man from launching himself and a few dozen explosives at a mildly amused G.Archery.
“Yamamoto!” he thrashed. “Lemme go! I’ve got a bone to pick with this bastardo” snarling in his mother tongue on reflex.
“Hmph, dream on. Its 100 years too early for you to even dream of beating me, Decimo,” G stated haughtily, flicking the restricted man’s forehead. “For now, why don’t you just focus on your true feelings?”
Finally it dawned on the two teenager’s the primo storm’s intentions behind those words. He meant well, he always did. But that didn’t mean Gokudera was going to accept it.
“Ugh, the nerve of that man! I swear I’ll beat the crap out of him when I get the chance.”
“Haha, maa maa, isn’t it fine?”
The arms that were previously restraining him loosened and traveled south where they settled on that slender waist. A soft sigh escaped the parted lips of the sword expert as he rested his chin on the shorter’s head. Much to the annoyance of the said man. That sigh signified not relief, exasperation, submission but something simpler; contentment. If granted, he wished he could celebrate his special day graced with the presence of his beloved. Just a simple date like this was more then enough for him, he wasn’t one for materiality anyhow.
“Let’s go home, Hayato.” he uttered unabashedly, unwinding his long arms at his waist and grabbing a hold the other’s gloved hand instead.
“Tch, who gave you the permission to call me that?” a glimmer of cheekiness present in those emerald orbs. Noticeably, Gokudera had gotten into a good mood after the encounter with G. Perhaps that gave him the push he needed, after all, he did let off quite a generous amount of steam.
“Haha, G-san maybe?” his merry voice carrying across the park walkway and onto the noiseless alleys.
“Ah?! Since when his words became mind, you dolt-”
The two laughed and cursed their way home to their shared apartment two roads down the park, blissfully unaware of the other duo seated atop a roof, watching fondly over them.
“They really do resemble us, de gozaru” commented a polite speaking voice.
“Hmph, yeah… Wouldn’t have it any other way.” sniggered the other, cigar dangling at the rim of his smirking lips.
“We’re the Rainstorm after all.”
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Thanks for reading 8D <3 Kudos to you for having made through reading all that <3