Reborn! fic - Invincible
Title - Invincible
Author - makeste
Rating - PG-13 for language
Characters/Pairings - Yamamoto and Gokudera, gen
Warnings/Notes - Takes place about a year or two after the Future Arc (that is, they're around 16/17), and there is one slight spoiler for that arc as well. Also, I know nothing about cars or driving mechanics, so I’m pretty much just winging it.
Summary - It's the mafia. At some point or another, there has to be a car chase.
EDIT: NOW WITH ADDITIONAL VISUAL GOODNESS because chibikaya kicks ass.
---
It’s a new element to the game, and Yamamoto isn’t quite sure how it happened, except he’s pretty sure that the car is real and so are the cars chasing them, and they’re going pretty fast. And also that if his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel is anything to go by, Gokudera hasn’t ever done this either.
It’s Yamamoto’s second time in Italy, and the first was less a tour of the country and more a visit to Dino’s house, so he’s liking the trip a lot more this time around. Or at least he was, until the shooting started and things became a little confusing. Judging from the way that nearby bystanders in the crowded Via Carmine market screamed and ducked behind vegetable stands, he guesses the bullets are real too, but it’s not the first time the game has been taken up a notch. And he’s always liked the adrenaline rush, even when he’s still trying to figure out the rules.
Gokudera surprised him too, because when the other boy grabbed his arm and ducked down a narrow alley, Yamamoto thought they were looking for an out-of-the-way place to fight. But Gokudera kept running all the way down through the alley, ducking stray shots as they went along, and when they came out the other side, he went straight toward the row of parked cars. And suddenly Gokudera was shoving him into a convertible, and then hopping over the side into the driver’s seat. And then he did something with wires, and the car started like in the movies, and even in the chaos of things Yamamoto had time to be impressed.
He’s also impressed Gokudera knows how to drive a manual. Actually, he’s impressed he knows how to drive, period.
They’re speeding through the narrow streets of Palermo now. It’s loud and crowded and things pass in colorful blurs. Somehow the shooters caught up to them again, and Gokudera is in the unenviable position of having to zig and zag to avoid getting their tires shot out from under them, while still maintaining their speed and somehow steering clear of the numerous pedestrians who are out and about on the street. It’s the crowded time of day, and there’s a lot of swearing and shouting and ducking for cover as they pass. It’s the first time Yamamoto has heard someone besides Gokudera curse in Italian. And Gokudera curses right along with them as he spins the wheel to avoid a few stray chairs and tables from an outdoor café. They swerve around a corner, and somehow Yamamoto finds his mind flashing through scenes from his favorite movie car chases. Ronin. The Bourne trilogy. The Italian Job. Ha ha, Italian.
This is a real car chase. In a Ferrari 360, no less. It would be really cool if Gokudera’s jaw wasn’t clenched so tightly that it makes Yamamoto wince. And if Yamamoto didn’t feel a funny sort of hiccup in the pit of his stomach when he thinks of the crunching sound the car might make if they crash into something at this speed. And if there wasn’t that little voice of Don’t Forget in the back of his head reminding him that people can still die in this game.
There’s a sound like a pop and then a clang of metal, and Gokudera swears much more emphatically.
“Shit. The fuel.”
Yamamoto turns and sees that gas is leaking out behind their car at a steady rate. Probably fast enough that they won’t get more than another mile or so before they run dry.
Probably this isn’t good.
Gokudera is looking half a dozen places at once-the street; behind them; the dripping fuel; the fading fuel gauge. He looks like he’s thinking very fast.
Then suddenly, he grabs Yamamoto’s wrist and pulls him sharply to the side, putting Yamamoto’s hand on the steering wheel.
“Take the wheel, moron.”
Yamamoto blinks. Gokudera shoots him a You’d better not fuck this up glare, then shifts in his seat. Yamamoto can’t see what he’s doing, because he’s too busy trying not to hit the other vehicles coming at him as he makes a wrong turn down a one-way street.
A bullet whizzes by his ear and impacts the windshield in front of him. And suddenly adrenaline is rushing through him and his reflexes are charged and he’s intensely aware of everything around him. The grip of the steering wheel. The smell of burning rubber and leaking fuel. The sound of the engine rumbling and the wind whipping past. The pressure as Gokudera turns and hunches forward on the back of the leather seat.
He thinks wildly for a second that if they’re going to die, it’s strange to feel so alive right beforehand.
Then he realizes what Gokudera is doing, and makes a sharp turn onto the first nearly empty street he sees. Another alley. The walls are tight around them but they just barely fit, and Yamamoto speeds up and thinks, Go, Gokudera.
And then a blast of heat behind him, and a jet of fire in the rearview mirror, as Gokudera lets loose with his favorite box weapon. It hits the trail of fuel, and-
An explosion.
The cars on their trail go up in flames behind them, and Yamamoto presses the gas pedal as hard as he can. Then suddenly, Gokudera shoves his head down, just in time as bits of wreckage hurl forward toward them. He tries to peer up again, because he can’t see-not that it matters, because they might blow up too at any second. A sharp curve looms up in front of them, and there’s no time to slow down.
Gokudera grabs the wheel again, and jerks it all the way to the right. The rear of the car shifts violently to the left, and they come about-face just as he slams on the brakes. There’s nothing else they can do, so Yamamoto grits his teeth and shuts his eyes.
And then, miraculously, the car skids to a stop.
Yamamoto can’t find his breath. Then he remembers what sometimes happens when cars with leaking fuel tanks sit too close to piles of fiery wreckage, and he grabs Gokudera and opens the door and pulls them out of the car. And down the corner of the alley, until finally they’re far enough away that his breath comes back in a shudder and he leans against a wall, and after another moment finally remembers to let Gokudera go.
And then, slowly, he starts to laugh.
Gokudera, still breathing hard himself, stares at him like he’s crazy. “What the hell is wrong with you, Baseball Freak?”
Yamamoto can’t explain it. So finally, he just grins.
“Ha ha… that was my first car chase.”
Truth is, he’s laughing because for a moment he really thought they were going to die. And it’s funny, because now the thought seems ridiculous.
How could he have forgotten that they were invincible?
Gokudera is still staring, but a grin is slowly tugging at the corner of his mouth. And then finally, he begins to laugh as well. They’re too young to think much about near misses and close calls, after all.
So they laugh. And Yamamoto really is liking Italy better this time around.
---
I FAIL AT WRITING ACKSHUN uh, concrit is much appreciated? And since it's still April 24 in some timezones for several more hours, Happy Birthday, Yamamoto. <3
Author - makeste
Rating - PG-13 for language
Characters/Pairings - Yamamoto and Gokudera, gen
Warnings/Notes - Takes place about a year or two after the Future Arc (that is, they're around 16/17), and there is one slight spoiler for that arc as well. Also, I know nothing about cars or driving mechanics, so I’m pretty much just winging it.
Summary - It's the mafia. At some point or another, there has to be a car chase.
EDIT: NOW WITH ADDITIONAL VISUAL GOODNESS because chibikaya kicks ass.
---
It’s a new element to the game, and Yamamoto isn’t quite sure how it happened, except he’s pretty sure that the car is real and so are the cars chasing them, and they’re going pretty fast. And also that if his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel is anything to go by, Gokudera hasn’t ever done this either.
It’s Yamamoto’s second time in Italy, and the first was less a tour of the country and more a visit to Dino’s house, so he’s liking the trip a lot more this time around. Or at least he was, until the shooting started and things became a little confusing. Judging from the way that nearby bystanders in the crowded Via Carmine market screamed and ducked behind vegetable stands, he guesses the bullets are real too, but it’s not the first time the game has been taken up a notch. And he’s always liked the adrenaline rush, even when he’s still trying to figure out the rules.
Gokudera surprised him too, because when the other boy grabbed his arm and ducked down a narrow alley, Yamamoto thought they were looking for an out-of-the-way place to fight. But Gokudera kept running all the way down through the alley, ducking stray shots as they went along, and when they came out the other side, he went straight toward the row of parked cars. And suddenly Gokudera was shoving him into a convertible, and then hopping over the side into the driver’s seat. And then he did something with wires, and the car started like in the movies, and even in the chaos of things Yamamoto had time to be impressed.
He’s also impressed Gokudera knows how to drive a manual. Actually, he’s impressed he knows how to drive, period.
They’re speeding through the narrow streets of Palermo now. It’s loud and crowded and things pass in colorful blurs. Somehow the shooters caught up to them again, and Gokudera is in the unenviable position of having to zig and zag to avoid getting their tires shot out from under them, while still maintaining their speed and somehow steering clear of the numerous pedestrians who are out and about on the street. It’s the crowded time of day, and there’s a lot of swearing and shouting and ducking for cover as they pass. It’s the first time Yamamoto has heard someone besides Gokudera curse in Italian. And Gokudera curses right along with them as he spins the wheel to avoid a few stray chairs and tables from an outdoor café. They swerve around a corner, and somehow Yamamoto finds his mind flashing through scenes from his favorite movie car chases. Ronin. The Bourne trilogy. The Italian Job. Ha ha, Italian.
This is a real car chase. In a Ferrari 360, no less. It would be really cool if Gokudera’s jaw wasn’t clenched so tightly that it makes Yamamoto wince. And if Yamamoto didn’t feel a funny sort of hiccup in the pit of his stomach when he thinks of the crunching sound the car might make if they crash into something at this speed. And if there wasn’t that little voice of Don’t Forget in the back of his head reminding him that people can still die in this game.
There’s a sound like a pop and then a clang of metal, and Gokudera swears much more emphatically.
“Shit. The fuel.”
Yamamoto turns and sees that gas is leaking out behind their car at a steady rate. Probably fast enough that they won’t get more than another mile or so before they run dry.
Probably this isn’t good.
Gokudera is looking half a dozen places at once-the street; behind them; the dripping fuel; the fading fuel gauge. He looks like he’s thinking very fast.
Then suddenly, he grabs Yamamoto’s wrist and pulls him sharply to the side, putting Yamamoto’s hand on the steering wheel.
“Take the wheel, moron.”
Yamamoto blinks. Gokudera shoots him a You’d better not fuck this up glare, then shifts in his seat. Yamamoto can’t see what he’s doing, because he’s too busy trying not to hit the other vehicles coming at him as he makes a wrong turn down a one-way street.
A bullet whizzes by his ear and impacts the windshield in front of him. And suddenly adrenaline is rushing through him and his reflexes are charged and he’s intensely aware of everything around him. The grip of the steering wheel. The smell of burning rubber and leaking fuel. The sound of the engine rumbling and the wind whipping past. The pressure as Gokudera turns and hunches forward on the back of the leather seat.
He thinks wildly for a second that if they’re going to die, it’s strange to feel so alive right beforehand.
Then he realizes what Gokudera is doing, and makes a sharp turn onto the first nearly empty street he sees. Another alley. The walls are tight around them but they just barely fit, and Yamamoto speeds up and thinks, Go, Gokudera.
And then a blast of heat behind him, and a jet of fire in the rearview mirror, as Gokudera lets loose with his favorite box weapon. It hits the trail of fuel, and-
An explosion.
The cars on their trail go up in flames behind them, and Yamamoto presses the gas pedal as hard as he can. Then suddenly, Gokudera shoves his head down, just in time as bits of wreckage hurl forward toward them. He tries to peer up again, because he can’t see-not that it matters, because they might blow up too at any second. A sharp curve looms up in front of them, and there’s no time to slow down.
Gokudera grabs the wheel again, and jerks it all the way to the right. The rear of the car shifts violently to the left, and they come about-face just as he slams on the brakes. There’s nothing else they can do, so Yamamoto grits his teeth and shuts his eyes.
And then, miraculously, the car skids to a stop.
Yamamoto can’t find his breath. Then he remembers what sometimes happens when cars with leaking fuel tanks sit too close to piles of fiery wreckage, and he grabs Gokudera and opens the door and pulls them out of the car. And down the corner of the alley, until finally they’re far enough away that his breath comes back in a shudder and he leans against a wall, and after another moment finally remembers to let Gokudera go.
And then, slowly, he starts to laugh.
Gokudera, still breathing hard himself, stares at him like he’s crazy. “What the hell is wrong with you, Baseball Freak?”
Yamamoto can’t explain it. So finally, he just grins.
“Ha ha… that was my first car chase.”
Truth is, he’s laughing because for a moment he really thought they were going to die. And it’s funny, because now the thought seems ridiculous.
How could he have forgotten that they were invincible?
Gokudera is still staring, but a grin is slowly tugging at the corner of his mouth. And then finally, he begins to laugh as well. They’re too young to think much about near misses and close calls, after all.
So they laugh. And Yamamoto really is liking Italy better this time around.
---
I FAIL AT WRITING ACKSHUN uh, concrit is much appreciated? And since it's still April 24 in some timezones for several more hours, Happy Birthday, Yamamoto. <3