Ich Kann es Nicht Wieder Gut Machen
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Pairing: TYL!5980 (I swear. DX)
Rating: PG (pushing PG-13)
Word Count: 1,360
Worksafe: Yes
Warnings: Yaman's being assertive. =o
Author's Note: This was one was also part of the prompt and fic-bit exchange with Tony (ravenlock_3), but she said to post this one separately, so... I am.
☽✩☾
Yamamoto was not a 'drinker' by any means. He knew that alcohol was bad for you, and killed your liver; deteriorating it cell by cell.
Yamamoto was also not a scientist, but he was taught the disadvantages of alcohol when he was on the baseball team and anything taught within those practice hours was engraved forever in his mind, never forgotten.
Yamamoto was also not completely against alcohol. He didn't think that a couple sips was enough to really affect anyone. Besides; social drinking and wine was part of his job description. He wasn't expecting anything too exciting to happen when he poured himself just a few sips of white whine into a large plastic cup grabbed at Yankee Stadium just two years ago. (Any kind of fancy drink ranked above Coca-Cola was usually a gift from someone visiting.)
The day had been uneventful, and he had nothing big planned for the evening. The day was dreary, gray, and rainy, and interaction with people went just as normally as it had any other day. Hibari kept his distance from everyone, Senpai was going on yet another trip to Italy to see Lussuria (which usually frightened most everyone else), Lambo was stuck inside moping about being unable to go try and find a date, and Tsuna was trying to convince the Varia, No--do not go and kill everyone just because some kids stole your raccoon tail... thing! ... And how did it get stolen from you in the first place?! By kids?!
And of course, there was Gokudera. Ever since he'd returned (maybe?) 2 months ago from whatever stint he was on there had been no interaction between them. The older of the two left one morning before the younger could wake up and leaving him unable to ask where he was going for the next six weeks with no word. Which... was probably 3 and a half months ago in all.... Regardless, the last two months were spent with Gokudera evading him, and Yamamoto unable to talk to him calmly. It was probably better for everyone at the Vongola base that they kept their distance. But today Gokudera seemed eager to talk to him. There was a part of Yamamoto jumping with ecstacy and another... that wasn't exactly jumping but more like turning, and completely ignoring Gokudera's existence. All Yamamoto could do was ignore him to avoid losing his temper infront of everyone. Surely... surely Gokudera knew how these things worked; he was well-versed in losing his temper.
Yamamoto was pulled from his thoughts by his doorbell. He left the last few drops of his wine in the cup, opened the door, and behold: Speak of the Devil and He shall Appear.
Silence, accompanied by rain hitting the gutters and cement, and then a shaky breath.
"Takeshi, I'm--"
"What do you want, Gokudera?"
Gokudera's eyes narrowed, and it looked like he was about to yell something like, 'I was about to say it,' but a sharpened glare from Yamamoto and probably realization of the use of 'Gokudera', and the tone he used to say it stopped him, making him shut his mouth, and soften his eyes.
Despite his anger at the other man, Yamamoto had never forgotten the stormy gray-green eyes Gokudera possessed, and how striking they were, and just how frightening they could be. He'd seen so many emotions pass through them from anger, betrayal, hurt, amusement, trust, happiness, and lust, and love. Yamamoto had been witness to all of these, and a part of him yearned for more than just the current apprehensiveness and fear in them right now.
He looked so pathetic, right now, in his mud-decorated oxfords, the soaked hems of his whatever-brand-he-decided-to-wear slacks. His soaking wet hair was being pounded upon and sticking to his skin, framing his face and falling into those gorgeous eyes of his. Yamamoto leaned against the door jamb, arms crossed and his eyes calculating.
"I... I want to return."
Yamamoto crossed one leg over the other at the ankle. "Why are you telling me that? Ask Tsuna. But then, you've been back the last two months; I'm pretty sure he's used to having you around again."
"Takeshi, don't put words in my mouth--"
"When did I do that?"
"You know exactly what I mean!"
"No! I don't know what you mean!" Yamamoto yelled, despite knowing exactly what Gokudera wanted. He straightened out, grabbing Gokudera by the collar of whatever designer jacket he had on and jerking him forward slightly. "Tell me what you mean! And tell me what you meant when you left! You were the one always calling me an idiot, or a moron, so please: Enlighten me and tell me what I don't know."
Gokudera looked at a loss for words. His mouth open and closed, and his eyes darted everywhere on Yamamoto's face.
"I went to Italy with Bianchi to settle things with my old man's death."
"Bull shit! And you couldn't have told me that before you left?!"
"I was on a job--!"
"No you weren't. I'd have known," Yamamoto hissed.
"Takeshi--!"
"Gokudera, just... I don't know. What do you want?" His hands released their hold on Gokudera slowly returning to himself and rubbing at his temples.
Gokudera's eyes narrowed, now. "I told you--I want to return. Here, with you--I won't leave this time--!"
"'I won't leave this time'? What's that supposed to mean? That what you did was excusable, and you don't have to worry about it anymore? Or make amends?"
"I never said that--!"
"And I suppose you didn't mean to leave, either?"
Gokudera reached a pale, wet, and cold hand out, grabbing Yamamoto's sleeve. "I hadn't planned it," he said quietly. "I left because I was scared. I'm always running away from something; and I didn't know what to do--"
"You couldn't talk to me?" Yamamoto interrupted. "Come to me? That's why I was there, Gokudera; for you to talk to, and confide in." Yamamoto didn't pull away, but he certainly wasn't offering.
Gokudera looked to the ground. "You... you're not a worrier, you don't worry and I didn't want to worry you with my own stupid problems."
"Gokudera. What part of 'relationship' do you still not understand?"
"I don't like it when you're worrying--! It doesn't suit you at all!"
"Maybe I wanted to worry! Because that's what I'm supposed to do; it's what I knew I'd be doing when we started this." Yamamoto paused for a moment. "Why couldn't you trust me to help you? Why did you need an entire six weeks in Italy, and why didn't you come back when you returned instead of wait another two months?"
"Because--! I was still scared, and--"
Yamamoto sighed. "I'm sure you have other places you could stay," he said, rubbing at his temples again. Gokudera's hand released his sleeve, and he blinked several times and looked left and right. His voice was slow, as if trying to think of what to say without stuttering in surprise.
"Uh, yeah... I could stay at Shamal's, I guess, and... there's always... I guess... Haru might let me stay the night. F-forgot, heh.... I guess I'll see you later, then. Um--"
Yamamoto sighed, shaking his head. "Gokudera, I just wanted to make sure you had somewhere besides here. You can stay, but you're on the couch." He may have been mad, but that didn't mean he was going to just turn him down a place to sleep for the night, and besides: It was raining and it would be cruel to send him out again in a downpour after interrogating him. Yamamoto turned, missing the look caught between hurt and relief cross Gokudera's face. "Go take a shower; I'll get you some clothes. I put yours away, so you have some kind of wardrobe."
Gokudera squished his way in with a 'thank you,' and Yamamoto thought determinedly of things not-Gokudera. He felt torn down the middle but... he supposed he could figure that out in his sleep while he wished he could still hold on to Hayato like he used to.
•END•
Pairing: TYL!5980 (I swear. DX)
Rating: PG (pushing PG-13)
Word Count: 1,360
Worksafe: Yes
Warnings: Yaman's being assertive. =o
Author's Note: This was one was also part of the prompt and fic-bit exchange with Tony (ravenlock_3), but she said to post this one separately, so... I am.
☽✩☾
Yamamoto was not a 'drinker' by any means. He knew that alcohol was bad for you, and killed your liver; deteriorating it cell by cell.
Yamamoto was also not a scientist, but he was taught the disadvantages of alcohol when he was on the baseball team and anything taught within those practice hours was engraved forever in his mind, never forgotten.
Yamamoto was also not completely against alcohol. He didn't think that a couple sips was enough to really affect anyone. Besides; social drinking and wine was part of his job description. He wasn't expecting anything too exciting to happen when he poured himself just a few sips of white whine into a large plastic cup grabbed at Yankee Stadium just two years ago. (Any kind of fancy drink ranked above Coca-Cola was usually a gift from someone visiting.)
The day had been uneventful, and he had nothing big planned for the evening. The day was dreary, gray, and rainy, and interaction with people went just as normally as it had any other day. Hibari kept his distance from everyone, Senpai was going on yet another trip to Italy to see Lussuria (which usually frightened most everyone else), Lambo was stuck inside moping about being unable to go try and find a date, and Tsuna was trying to convince the Varia, No--do not go and kill everyone just because some kids stole your raccoon tail... thing! ... And how did it get stolen from you in the first place?! By kids?!
And of course, there was Gokudera. Ever since he'd returned (maybe?) 2 months ago from whatever stint he was on there had been no interaction between them. The older of the two left one morning before the younger could wake up and leaving him unable to ask where he was going for the next six weeks with no word. Which... was probably 3 and a half months ago in all.... Regardless, the last two months were spent with Gokudera evading him, and Yamamoto unable to talk to him calmly. It was probably better for everyone at the Vongola base that they kept their distance. But today Gokudera seemed eager to talk to him. There was a part of Yamamoto jumping with ecstacy and another... that wasn't exactly jumping but more like turning, and completely ignoring Gokudera's existence. All Yamamoto could do was ignore him to avoid losing his temper infront of everyone. Surely... surely Gokudera knew how these things worked; he was well-versed in losing his temper.
Yamamoto was pulled from his thoughts by his doorbell. He left the last few drops of his wine in the cup, opened the door, and behold: Speak of the Devil and He shall Appear.
Silence, accompanied by rain hitting the gutters and cement, and then a shaky breath.
"Takeshi, I'm--"
"What do you want, Gokudera?"
Gokudera's eyes narrowed, and it looked like he was about to yell something like, 'I was about to say it,' but a sharpened glare from Yamamoto and probably realization of the use of 'Gokudera', and the tone he used to say it stopped him, making him shut his mouth, and soften his eyes.
Despite his anger at the other man, Yamamoto had never forgotten the stormy gray-green eyes Gokudera possessed, and how striking they were, and just how frightening they could be. He'd seen so many emotions pass through them from anger, betrayal, hurt, amusement, trust, happiness, and lust, and love. Yamamoto had been witness to all of these, and a part of him yearned for more than just the current apprehensiveness and fear in them right now.
He looked so pathetic, right now, in his mud-decorated oxfords, the soaked hems of his whatever-brand-he-decided-to-wear slacks. His soaking wet hair was being pounded upon and sticking to his skin, framing his face and falling into those gorgeous eyes of his. Yamamoto leaned against the door jamb, arms crossed and his eyes calculating.
"I... I want to return."
Yamamoto crossed one leg over the other at the ankle. "Why are you telling me that? Ask Tsuna. But then, you've been back the last two months; I'm pretty sure he's used to having you around again."
"Takeshi, don't put words in my mouth--"
"When did I do that?"
"You know exactly what I mean!"
"No! I don't know what you mean!" Yamamoto yelled, despite knowing exactly what Gokudera wanted. He straightened out, grabbing Gokudera by the collar of whatever designer jacket he had on and jerking him forward slightly. "Tell me what you mean! And tell me what you meant when you left! You were the one always calling me an idiot, or a moron, so please: Enlighten me and tell me what I don't know."
Gokudera looked at a loss for words. His mouth open and closed, and his eyes darted everywhere on Yamamoto's face.
"I went to Italy with Bianchi to settle things with my old man's death."
"Bull shit! And you couldn't have told me that before you left?!"
"I was on a job--!"
"No you weren't. I'd have known," Yamamoto hissed.
"Takeshi--!"
"Gokudera, just... I don't know. What do you want?" His hands released their hold on Gokudera slowly returning to himself and rubbing at his temples.
Gokudera's eyes narrowed, now. "I told you--I want to return. Here, with you--I won't leave this time--!"
"'I won't leave this time'? What's that supposed to mean? That what you did was excusable, and you don't have to worry about it anymore? Or make amends?"
"I never said that--!"
"And I suppose you didn't mean to leave, either?"
Gokudera reached a pale, wet, and cold hand out, grabbing Yamamoto's sleeve. "I hadn't planned it," he said quietly. "I left because I was scared. I'm always running away from something; and I didn't know what to do--"
"You couldn't talk to me?" Yamamoto interrupted. "Come to me? That's why I was there, Gokudera; for you to talk to, and confide in." Yamamoto didn't pull away, but he certainly wasn't offering.
Gokudera looked to the ground. "You... you're not a worrier, you don't worry and I didn't want to worry you with my own stupid problems."
"Gokudera. What part of 'relationship' do you still not understand?"
"I don't like it when you're worrying--! It doesn't suit you at all!"
"Maybe I wanted to worry! Because that's what I'm supposed to do; it's what I knew I'd be doing when we started this." Yamamoto paused for a moment. "Why couldn't you trust me to help you? Why did you need an entire six weeks in Italy, and why didn't you come back when you returned instead of wait another two months?"
"Because--! I was still scared, and--"
Yamamoto sighed. "I'm sure you have other places you could stay," he said, rubbing at his temples again. Gokudera's hand released his sleeve, and he blinked several times and looked left and right. His voice was slow, as if trying to think of what to say without stuttering in surprise.
"Uh, yeah... I could stay at Shamal's, I guess, and... there's always... I guess... Haru might let me stay the night. F-forgot, heh.... I guess I'll see you later, then. Um--"
Yamamoto sighed, shaking his head. "Gokudera, I just wanted to make sure you had somewhere besides here. You can stay, but you're on the couch." He may have been mad, but that didn't mean he was going to just turn him down a place to sleep for the night, and besides: It was raining and it would be cruel to send him out again in a downpour after interrogating him. Yamamoto turned, missing the look caught between hurt and relief cross Gokudera's face. "Go take a shower; I'll get you some clothes. I put yours away, so you have some kind of wardrobe."
Gokudera squished his way in with a 'thank you,' and Yamamoto thought determinedly of things not-Gokudera. He felt torn down the middle but... he supposed he could figure that out in his sleep while he wished he could still hold on to Hayato like he used to.
•END•