Where have you been all my life?
Title: You, you, you. it's always been you.
Pairing: 5927
Rating: PG-13 for BL
Summary: Set in the TYL arc whereby 51 becomes a Vongola ally, 59 is suspicious and 27 doesn't know how to reassure his right hand man.
A/N: HAPPY CHRISTMAS akaru_hana Sorry it's late but ILU like woah. Thanks to elvondyn for steering me in the right direction. I take all the blame for your 5927 fixation now (: Go forth and spread this love! Loyalty so sexy.
*
“You must stop doing this Tenth.”
“It’s gotta stop. This trust-- thing,” the half Italian finishes, for the lack of a better word.
This is a first and Tsuna cannot tear his eyes away from clearest green. Gokudera has never denied him, never refused him, never told him point blank not to do anything.
This is a first and the brunette cannot tell if this change is good or bad. But he cannot stop it and the seconds continue, falling sand in an hourglass. It is ominous like the tick of a time bomb and it takes him a moment too long to realise it is the sound of their collective heartbeats, so loud that the silence of the room cannot hide.
“Some men don’t do things for a reason Tenth. Some men--”
The pause is significant. Gokudera looks away and Tsuna hopes it is not a cue for him to leave. Why can’t we all be friends? Why fight? And a million other things he cannot bring himself to ask.
It is their first conversation in days, ever since that incident. Tsuna is convinced that it is not on purpose. Mobbed after the death of the Ninth, there were just too many questions and so little answers. They are living on borrowed time, stolen moments. But he is the Tenth now and everything rests on shoulders not ready to bear the load.
Urgent. Confidential. Bold red letters compete for his immediate attention and when it finally comes to his right hand man, Tsuna finds that he has only a tired look of hope left to give. Please trust me. Don’t you understand? Only he can do this for us.
A beat, a sigh, a cough, a heartbeat, his or Gokudera’s makes no difference, not when it feels like the rattling of his rib cage.
“Some men just want to watch the world burn.”
Tsuna is no longer sure if they are talking about Irie Shouichi or Millefiore anymore. But Gokudera has a look of deeper understanding with that line of logic and it makes him tremble.
Because flames, chaos, storms, Gokudera's element. His right hand man's gut feel is seldom wrong but Tsuna keeps on hoping. Because hope is all we have left, Gokudera-kun.
Head bowed, fists clenched, he continues, “You cannot trust people just like that Tenth. Not everyone--”
I know, I know. Nobody will die for me like you will.
Tsuna can hear the well-prepared advice yearning to rush through chapped lips, it makes him smile and Gokudera's words don’t come. And it doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing usually does when they are together like this (you, me, us). Tsuna remembers.
No Gokudera-kun. You cannot blow them up just because they said I look too small to be Vongola the Tenth.
No buts.
...
Okay yes, you can tell them off.
Nicely.
*
“Gokudera-kun.”
The air stills and Gokudera looks frozen but if he strains, Tsuna can hear the rhythm of his heart keeping time to the speed of sound. It is a familiar symphony, almost as beautiful as the music that fly out from under the half Italian’s fingertips. Nearly.
“Look at me.”
But the half Italian is a block of ice and Tsuna regrets the times he has told the other off for the fire in his actions. His feet carry him forward, light footfalls against teak, until he is close enough to see the flecks of gold in emerald orbs. A reflection. You see, in the end, we’re all the same. Friends, not enemies. The intensity reels him in, a fish out of water on its own accord.
Tsuna lifts a hand to cradle Gokudera’s cheek, guiding the other to himself. He memorizes this moment, the shutters of his memory clicking a million times. Each line, every curve and the brightest emeralds imprint like a photograph in his head. The brunette only wish pictures have texture because it is soft, like blushing flower petals. The temperature spikes up but all is silent. Heat radiating tenderness and something precious, a sweetest fragility buried in the depths of jaded green.
With the distance between them eliminated, it comes down to this. An inch, a hair's breadth, a gasp trapped in his throat. Famiglia and friends, duty and desire, life and death. Unmovable object meets unstoppable force. Sawada Tsunayoshi, Gokudera Hayato, boss and right hand man. And it is beautiful, their relationship, or the lack of it.
*
Reborn once told him that the most beautiful things in life are usually useless.
Tsuna agrees.
But it doesn’t stop him from admiring beauty from afar, or the camaraderie Gokudera has with Yamamoto, or the light in Chrome’s eyes when Mukuro is mentioned.
Because in the fraction of a second after he decides that Reborn has got to be wrong, Gokudera leans forward and Tsuna meets him halfway. And it is another first.
Their first kiss.
Desperate and hungry, likes kisses pressed for air, for time that neither has to spare. Tsuna’s hand on the half Italian's neck. Gokudera’s lips on his. It is excruciating, the brunette thinks. Like everything about Gokudera, the dynamites, the pained smile, the anticipation and the love veiled behind devotion. Gokudera does not know, that as excruciating it is for him to keep it in, it is more excruciating for Tsuna to watch, to wait.
Bated breath, hot on skin, skin on skin, lips on lips. It is a heart song, a cross between delirium and a realisation of finally, finally, finally. Where have you been all my life?
Here, Gokudera-kun. Right here.
Waiting for you to realise.
*
Pairing: 5927
Rating: PG-13 for BL
Summary: Set in the TYL arc whereby 51 becomes a Vongola ally, 59 is suspicious and 27 doesn't know how to reassure his right hand man.
A/N: HAPPY CHRISTMAS akaru_hana Sorry it's late but ILU like woah. Thanks to elvondyn for steering me in the right direction. I take all the blame for your 5927 fixation now (: Go forth and spread this love! Loyalty so sexy.
*
“You must stop doing this Tenth.”
“It’s gotta stop. This trust-- thing,” the half Italian finishes, for the lack of a better word.
This is a first and Tsuna cannot tear his eyes away from clearest green. Gokudera has never denied him, never refused him, never told him point blank not to do anything.
This is a first and the brunette cannot tell if this change is good or bad. But he cannot stop it and the seconds continue, falling sand in an hourglass. It is ominous like the tick of a time bomb and it takes him a moment too long to realise it is the sound of their collective heartbeats, so loud that the silence of the room cannot hide.
“Some men don’t do things for a reason Tenth. Some men--”
The pause is significant. Gokudera looks away and Tsuna hopes it is not a cue for him to leave. Why can’t we all be friends? Why fight? And a million other things he cannot bring himself to ask.
It is their first conversation in days, ever since that incident. Tsuna is convinced that it is not on purpose. Mobbed after the death of the Ninth, there were just too many questions and so little answers. They are living on borrowed time, stolen moments. But he is the Tenth now and everything rests on shoulders not ready to bear the load.
Urgent. Confidential. Bold red letters compete for his immediate attention and when it finally comes to his right hand man, Tsuna finds that he has only a tired look of hope left to give. Please trust me. Don’t you understand? Only he can do this for us.
A beat, a sigh, a cough, a heartbeat, his or Gokudera’s makes no difference, not when it feels like the rattling of his rib cage.
“Some men just want to watch the world burn.”
Tsuna is no longer sure if they are talking about Irie Shouichi or Millefiore anymore. But Gokudera has a look of deeper understanding with that line of logic and it makes him tremble.
Because flames, chaos, storms, Gokudera's element. His right hand man's gut feel is seldom wrong but Tsuna keeps on hoping. Because hope is all we have left, Gokudera-kun.
Head bowed, fists clenched, he continues, “You cannot trust people just like that Tenth. Not everyone--”
I know, I know. Nobody will die for me like you will.
Tsuna can hear the well-prepared advice yearning to rush through chapped lips, it makes him smile and Gokudera's words don’t come. And it doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing usually does when they are together like this (you, me, us). Tsuna remembers.
No Gokudera-kun. You cannot blow them up just because they said I look too small to be Vongola the Tenth.
No buts.
...
Okay yes, you can tell them off.
Nicely.
*
“Gokudera-kun.”
The air stills and Gokudera looks frozen but if he strains, Tsuna can hear the rhythm of his heart keeping time to the speed of sound. It is a familiar symphony, almost as beautiful as the music that fly out from under the half Italian’s fingertips. Nearly.
“Look at me.”
But the half Italian is a block of ice and Tsuna regrets the times he has told the other off for the fire in his actions. His feet carry him forward, light footfalls against teak, until he is close enough to see the flecks of gold in emerald orbs. A reflection. You see, in the end, we’re all the same. Friends, not enemies. The intensity reels him in, a fish out of water on its own accord.
Tsuna lifts a hand to cradle Gokudera’s cheek, guiding the other to himself. He memorizes this moment, the shutters of his memory clicking a million times. Each line, every curve and the brightest emeralds imprint like a photograph in his head. The brunette only wish pictures have texture because it is soft, like blushing flower petals. The temperature spikes up but all is silent. Heat radiating tenderness and something precious, a sweetest fragility buried in the depths of jaded green.
With the distance between them eliminated, it comes down to this. An inch, a hair's breadth, a gasp trapped in his throat. Famiglia and friends, duty and desire, life and death. Unmovable object meets unstoppable force. Sawada Tsunayoshi, Gokudera Hayato, boss and right hand man. And it is beautiful, their relationship, or the lack of it.
*
Reborn once told him that the most beautiful things in life are usually useless.
Tsuna agrees.
But it doesn’t stop him from admiring beauty from afar, or the camaraderie Gokudera has with Yamamoto, or the light in Chrome’s eyes when Mukuro is mentioned.
Because in the fraction of a second after he decides that Reborn has got to be wrong, Gokudera leans forward and Tsuna meets him halfway. And it is another first.
Their first kiss.
Desperate and hungry, likes kisses pressed for air, for time that neither has to spare. Tsuna’s hand on the half Italian's neck. Gokudera’s lips on his. It is excruciating, the brunette thinks. Like everything about Gokudera, the dynamites, the pained smile, the anticipation and the love veiled behind devotion. Gokudera does not know, that as excruciating it is for him to keep it in, it is more excruciating for Tsuna to watch, to wait.
Bated breath, hot on skin, skin on skin, lips on lips. It is a heart song, a cross between delirium and a realisation of finally, finally, finally. Where have you been all my life?
Here, Gokudera-kun. Right here.
Waiting for you to realise.
*