Reborn! fic - In the Meadow We Can Build a Snow Cat
Title - In the Meadow We Can Build a Snow Cat
Rating - PG-13 (for Gokudera’s mouth)
Characters - Yamamoto + Gokudera gen.
Notes - Written for Round 2 of khrfest; prompt was “Yamamoto/Gokudera - Fluff; snow day.” Also, this is hella late, so I apologize.
Warnings - Fluff. Of the trite and insipid variety.
Summary - In which Yamamoto drags Gokudera out into the cold frozen wasteland of their stupid snowed-in neighborhood against his will. That jerk.
Yamamoto is like some sort of virus; once he gets in, he just hangs around refusing to leave until he’s made everything else around him just the way he likes it. He’s a big, dumb, annoying thing that never shuts up and never takes a hint and hell, even if you skip the hints entirely and tell him to get lost straight to his face, he still ignores you. If anything, he gets even worse.
This is why Gokudera lets him into his apartment, in spite of his better judgment, which had pushed him to send the Rain Guardian packing as soon as he’d answered the door (he’d half-heartedly hoped that it might be Tsuna, even though he knew Tsuna was still in Italy, where Reborn had taken him for some special training over the winter break) and found him standing there, grinning as stupidly as ever. He could have told Yamamoto to fuck off, yes, but it would have been like talking to a brick wall. A brick wall with a smiley face painted on it.
“Ah, sorry, did I wake you?” Yamamoto asks as he takes in Gokudera’s rumpled attire and, a few feet into the apartment, the head-imprint on the pillow Gokudera has just vacated. The pillow is lying next to a kotatsu, under which Gokudera has thus far spent the vast majority of his own winter break, curled up and reading to his heart’s content. Warm and quiet. It was a nice thing he’d had going on, once.
In response to Yamamoto’s question, he simply fixes him with a glare. Yamamoto, apparently not getting it at all, continues: “I tried to call you but I only got your voicemail.”
Gokudera reaches into his pocket and pulls his phone out; a glance at the screen tells him the battery is dead. Huh.
“Why are you here?” he asks after a second, since… why is Yamamoto even here?
“Well, I haven’t seen you in a few days, and you weren’t answering your phone, so I wanted to make sure you were all right.”
“There’s no school and the Tenth’s out of the country. Of course you haven’t seen me.” He raises an eyebrow. “Why would I be wasting my holiday hanging out with a moron like you?”
“Hey now, ouch!” Despite the protest, Yamamoto doesn’t seem the least bit offended. “Well, why shouldn’t we hang out? We’re ‘family’, after all, right? And friends too, ha ha!” He drapes an arm over Gokudera’s shoulders; bristling, Gokudera tries to shove him off.
“We are not friends.”
Ignoring him (which is typical, the asshole), Yamamoto takes a longer look around. “So, what’ve you been up to?” His eyes fall on the the stack of books piled atop the kotatsu. “Oh, reading? Ha, looks cozy!”
“Well, it was until you showed up,” Gokudera mutters.
“Hey, but didn’t you know it snowed yesterday? There’s almost half a meter of snow outside everywhere! It’s great!”
Shit. So that’s where this is going. Well, virusy smiley-faced brick wall or not, there are still times when Gokudera needs to take a stand and put his foot down before the idiot’s nonsense can get any more out of hand. This is one of those times.
Crossing his arms and looking Yamamoto square in the eye, he says, firmly, “There is no way I’m leaving my nice, comfortable, warm apartment to go outside and play in the snow like a six-year-old with you.”
---
“I really hate you.”
They are standing outside in the snow.
Fucking hell.
“Hey, now!” Yamamoto says with one hand raised to forestall yet another round of complaints. “Come on, you could use the fresh air. The smell of smoke was really strong back in there.”
“It was my smoke. I liked it.”
“Ha ha! But this is nice too, right?”
Is he insane?? “It’s fucking freezing and the damn glare is hurting my eyes. I’m going back.”
He starts to turn and, almost casually, Yamamoto reaches an arm out and redirects him. “Hey, c’mon! Since we’re out anyway, why don’t we go and get some tea or hot chocolate or something?”
Gokudera ponders killing Yamamoto, which is one of the most cathartic things to do when you’ve been forced to go outside in the freezing cold against your wishes.
“…Coffee. And you’re buying.”
Yamamoto actually beams. “Sure.”
Doing his best to ignore the unsettling waves of joy emanating from his companion, Gokudera starts to walk in the direction of the nearest coffee shop. “And we’re drinking it inside.”
---
They are outside. Again.
Though this time on a bench, at least. Yamamoto stretches contentedly, finishing off the last of his hot chocolate and tossing the cup into a trash can with a mittened hand. Next to him, Gokudera is currently occupied by holding his coffee and brooding. Brooding, not sulking.
“Are you still mad?” asks Yamamoto after a few moments. “I didn’t know it would be so crowded in there, you know.”
“Rather have drunk it standing up in the corner than sitting out here freezing to death.” This isn’t quite true, but he’s still annoyed enough to say it.
“Come on, now, it’s not so bad. It’s relaxing, don’t you think? Everything’s so clean and white and you can see your breath.” He inhales deeply, then breathes out slow, chuckling like an idiot at the little puff of white vapor.
“That means you’re losing body heat,” Gokudera feels the need to point out.
Yamamoto shrugs. “I always thought it was fun.” He exhales again, grins, then looks at Gokudera. “Kind of like your cigarettes.”
…Now that he mentions it. Reaching into his coat pocket, Gokudera pulls one out, sticks it in his teeth, and fumbles in his other pocket for a lighter.
Yamamoto makes a slightly pained expression. “Ah, you don’t have to do that now, come on.” Ignoring him completely, Gokudera lights up, breathes in, and smokes away. It’s immensely satisfying. Feeling much more relaxed now, he leans back on the bench.
After a moment, Yamamoto shrugs and relaxes too. “Ah, well. It’s still nice.”
Gokudera keeps on smoking and doesn’t comment either way. So the baseball idiot’s not wrong for once. Yeah, it’s not bad. Not quite nice, exactly, but it isn’t terrible. And for once, it’s quiet too, which has to be a first with Yamamoto around.
He glances over curiously, wondering what’s up with the sudden silence, only to find that Yamamoto is watching him, head tilted back against the bench, with this weird, sort of quiet expression. He gives a start as Gokudera catches him, then smiles sheepishly and looks away.
Gokudera stares at him for a moment, heat rising to his cheeks for no reason he can explain, then turns away himself, feeling odd.
He finishes the cigarette a few minutes later, and douses it in the snow. Rising to his feet, he rubs his hands together in an absentminded attempt to keep them warm. Yamamoto stands up as well, stretching a little, and then fixes Gokudera with another one of those weird grins.
Then he tugs on Gokudera’s arm and starts walking, not pulling Gokudera, exactly, but more like leading him. It occurs to Gokudera that he ought to be protesting this. But for some reason, he’s just going along with it.
Brick wall, he reminds himself. In the end, he’s just saving his energy, since it’s not like Yamamoto will listen to him anyway.
So he allows himself to be led several blocks from the café, until finally Yamamoto slows to a stop. They’re at the main gate of Namimori Junior High. Just beyond, the schoolyard sits under a blanket of white, pristine and untouched in the morning sun. Yamamoto stares out onto the snow, then grins at Gokudera again.
“Wanna have a snowball fight?”
Christ, it is like being with a six-year-old. Gokudera gives him the most dubious look he can muster. “No.”
Yamamoto continues to grin, unfazed. “Make a snowman?”
“No.”
Still grinning, Yamamoto looks around like he’s pondering for a moment. Then he takes a few steps into the yard, turns around, and abruptly topples over, like he’s collapsing onto a water bed.
Confused, and briefly concerned (very briefly-very, very briefly), Gokudera starts forward. “Are you-?” Then he realizes Yamamoto is fine, and a wave of perplexed annoyance strikes him. “What are you doing?”
Yamamoto starts moving his arms up and down in a jumping-jack motion. “Making an angel,” he replies, seemingly oblivious to how much he looks like a mental patient.
Gokudera rolls his eyes and wonders how the hell he ended up stuck here with this cheerful freak. Yamamoto continues to flail his arms and legs like an overturned penguin until the snow angel is finally complete. He then hops to his feet, and turns to admire his handiwork. “Heh, pretty good!”
“You’re retarded,” Gokudera informs him.
Yamamoto laughs, then takes another look around. “Come on, let’s make a snowman.”
“I told you, no!”
“We could make a snow Tsuna?” the Rain Guardian suggests, apparently at no loss for any number of incredibly stupid ideas.
Gokudera stares at him, appalled. “I am not making a snow effigy of the Tenth.”
Yamamoto cracks up at this, which is infuriating, but before Gokudera can attempt to throttle him, he lifts his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay! Uh, well maybe…” He seems to be racking his brain for more absurd suggestions. “Oh, how about a snow Uri!”
What. “I’m not making a snow cat! The fuck is wrong with you?” Seriously.
“Come on, it’ll be fun! Look, we can make the head like this…” He fumbles for a ball of snow, then starts packing it and shaping it with furious concentration. “And ears…” He shapes it some more, then holds up the result for appraisal.
“…That looks nothing like her.” It looks like a misshapen teddy bear. This shit is insulting.
“Sure it does!” Yamamoto insists.
“No, it doesn’t. The shape’s all wrong-the ears are too close together, they should be more like…” He hesitates for a moment, then makes a noise of disgust. “Oh, here.” Grabbing the snow head angrily, he starts rounding out the rough edges and making adjustments, ignoring the delighted way Yamamoto is watching him work.
“Too bad we don’t have kool-aid or something. Then we could even dye the flames red.”
“That’s the stupidest fucking thing I ever heard,” Gokudera tells him. “Go find some snow for the body. And the tail.”
Yamamoto laughs, and obliges.
---
The finished result is, admittedly, not bad. Way better than if Yamamoto had been in charge, of course. They’re both looking at it thoughtfully, Gokudera thinking that it might have come out a little better if he’d upped the scale a size or two, and Yamamoto thinking only God knows what.
“Do you think she’d like it?” Apparently he is thinking stuff like that.
Gokudera just shrugs. “She’s a fucking cat. Who even cares?”
“Ha ha! Think we should leave it up?”
Gokudera considers this; they’re at the school, after all, so there’s Hibari to consider. Who knows if he’d find it objectionable or not, but if he did, he’d probably skin them alive. He shakes his head; not worth the risk. “That nutjob would probably kill us if he found it here.”
Yamamoto laughs, because of course the idea of Hibari beating them up is always hilarious. “I guess you’re right. But let me take a picture first, okay?”
Wait, what? “No!”
Ignoring him, Yamamoto whips out his phone. “To show Tsuna!” he explains as if that doesn’t make it even worse.
Damn it-Gokudera grabs for the phone and tries to wrestle it out of Yamamoto’s grip. “I said no! Hey!”
Infuriatingly, Yamamoto’s arms are longer than his and the struggle is proving difficult. As Yamamoto gets ready to snap the photo, Gokudera abandons the battle entirely and instead moves to stomp the snow cat in a desperate last-ditch play. The camera clicks right as Gokudera smashes its head.
Yamamoto makes a disappointed face. “Aw…”
“I told you, no pictures, idiot!” Gokudera takes a livid step back toward him, hands automatically diving toward his pockets. He needs to blow something up. Perhaps sensing this, Yamamoto backs up with his hands defensively in the air.
“Sorry, sorry! I just couldn’t resist! But it came out blurry anyway,” he adds quickly.
Gokudera hesitates.
“…Let me see it.”
Yamamoto pauses, then sort of shiftily starts to edge the phone away, but Gokudera grabs it-finally, success. He quickly searches through the photos until at last, he finds it.
It is not blurry. At all. Gokudera is pictured mid-stomp, with his foot hovering right over the snow-Uri’s head.
He directs a particularly hateful glare at Yamamoto, who makes an innocent face. Still glaring, Gokudera deletes the picture.
“Awww…”
Gokudera shoves the phone back into Yamamoto’s hands, then stalks toward the schoolyard gate. “I’m going now,” he announces curtly.
“Hmm?” He can hear Yamamoto jogging up behind him. “Where?”
“Home.”
Yamamoto drapes an arm over him. “Come on, what’s the hurry? Let’s go to Dad’s and get some sushi.”
Shoving him away, Gokudera continues determinedly. “I’m going to my place and I’m going back to sleep.”
Yamamoto drapes on him again, this time turning him the other way round as he does so. “Aren’t you hungry at all?”
“No.” Gokudera tries to pry him off again.
“Not even a little? I know I am.”
“Let go of me.” Damn it, they’re heading in the wrong direction.
“Come on, just a little bit. It’ll be my treat again, okay?”
Fuck. “Do you even understand the word ‘no’ at all?!”
“I’m sure Dad can whip up something really great.”
“I don’t care!”
“It doesn’t have to be sushi, even! We can make something else. Maybe even something Italian, if you want.”
“I’m not going to let you butcher the food of my homeland.” Truthfully, by this point he’s pretty much given up, but still.
“Or soup, or curry…”
“Will you get your arm off of me?”
“And I can show Dad the picture…”
“I deleted that picture!”
“Oh, right.”
A pause. “-Give me that phone.”
“But you deleted it!”
“I said, give me that…”
---
In the end, Gokudera was kidnapped and taken to Takesushi and forced to eat delicious food and have a good time entirely against his will.
The next day, having found a decapitated snow cat on Namimori school grounds, Hibari visited Yamamoto’s and Gokudera’s respective homes and broke their noses.
The End.
The moral of this story: It is impossible not to be Yamamoto's friend.
Anyway, so this is, what... two months late? Give or take? And this is all I have to show for it. That's pretty horrible. XD