Saving Nickels, Saving Dimes

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Branch

Gokudera is extremely prickly, and Yamamoto eventually decides this is more a cause for concern than amusement. He has his work cut out for him, to do anything about it, though. Slow building Yamamoto/Gokudera.

Ink Burns

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

This is a work of fanfiction, produced according to the principles of transformative fair use as put forward in US copyright law, and abiding by the custom and practice of fan-produced work in Japan, where the source texts were created. No author is in any way affiliated with any of the creators of the source texts, nor with the companies who distribute their products, nor any other rights holder, and these stories were not authorized by either the creators or the producers. Ink Burns is a fan site and the material here is freely provided for the enjoyment of fellow fan-community members; there is no commercial infringement.

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 US license at the Ink Burns fanfiction archive (http://www.branchandroot.net/archive/).

"Gray Willow Catkins" published on 2009-03-12 14:29:53.

"Body Language" published on 2009-03-13 14:30:18.

"Comfort Food" published on 2009-03-16 16:00:20.

"Some Sweet Day" published on 2009-05-12 19:08:00.

"Going Back Someday" published on 2009-03-18 16:10:57.

"Working Till the Sun Don't Shine" published on 2009-03-20 11:30:01.

Attributions can be made by author's name and a link to the archive.

This ebook edition was published on September 6, 2019 by the Ink Burns fanfiction archive.

Cover illustration is "ObstblÃ¼te an der Kyll bei Lissingen" by Fritz von Wille, public domain (http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Fritz_von_Wille_0246.jpg).

Cover design by Branch.

Gray Willow Catkins

Yamamoto decides Gokudera is broken and needs to be fixed. It takes a while to find the right opening. Drama with Romance, I-3

Takeshi lay on his bed, arms folded behind his head, and stared up at his ceiling, thinking.

Gokudera had argued with him earlier, and Takeshi had teased him a little by smiling agreeably the whole time. Finally Gokudera had run his hands through his hair, looking like he was two breaths away from trying to pull it out, and yelled "Don't you ever get mad, you idiot?!" before stomping off.

And now, for the first time in years, Takeshi was thinking about the things he'd said to Gokudera in the middle of their fight with Gamma years ago... or yet, depending on how you looked at it.

Gokudera's constant growling had always kind of amused him, and he admitted that every now and then he sort of poked Gokudera just to get him going. Like playing with a cat; a few scratches were fair trade for getting to watch it flail at you. Actually, Gokudera reminded him a lot of a cat, sometimes, a feral cat that would only let one person pet him without biting, and that person was Tsuna. Even when they'd just met it had made Takeshi wonder a little how often Gokudera must have gotten kicked, to be that way, and now he was wondering more seriously.

Often enough that Gokudera didn't understand not getting mad all the time?

Takeshi frowned at his ceiling. He didn't like that idea.

...often enough that Tsuna doing something, unthinkingly, to help Gokudera had knocked down every wall he had and set him following Tsuna with his heart in his hand?

Takeshi really didn't like that idea. It just wasn't right for anyone to have something like that done to them.

Well, if that was the case, then something would just have to be done to fix it. After all, Takeshi liked and respected Gokudera, trusted him with Tsuna's welfare and Takeshi's own back. It shouldn't be too hard to show him that. Takeshi nodded firmly at his ceiling, satisfied with this conclusion, and reached for his homework.

"You want to what?"

"Practice." Takeshi smiled at Gokudera and, when this only got him a dubious stare, amended. "Train. Together. For next time. You know there's going to be a next time, and it might need two of us at once."

Gokudera couldn't deny that, though he looked like he wanted to. "And who do you think we can train against?" he asked, arms crossed.

"I bet Reborn can find people."

Gokudera opened his mouth and closed it again. "Hm." He glowered down at his folded arms for a while before muttering. "Probably a good idea. I guess."

Takeshi didn't press for anything more enthusiastic. That kind of was enthusiastic, coming from Gokudera. And now he would have more opportunities to show Gokudera that Takeshi wouldn't kick him, and he really didn't have to bite preemptively. It was a great idea if he did say so himself.

Of course, Reborn wanted to test them himself, first.

"Hopeless," he pronounced, landing with a light tap of shoes beside them while Gokudera swore—at least Takeshi assumed he was swearing from the tone, he'd reverted to Italian—and Takeshi tried to figure out how to untangle them without slicing anything off. "You'd better start with targets instead of opponents. Leon."

Takeshi couldn't help laughing at the beady look Leon gave them before he transformed into a projector and a vaguely person-shaped red light flickered against the trees.

"Shut up, you idiot," Gokudera snarled, finally hauling himself out from under Takeshi. His eyes narrowed on their target and more explosives appeared between his fingers. "And this time just go and let me take care of not hitting you."

Takeshi grinned at that and agreed easily. "Sure thing ." He'd been right; practice would make good opportunities to prove his trust in Gokudera.

Gokudera paused and gave him a longer look. "Yeah, whatever," he muttered finally, and lit his bombs.

It took weeks before Reborn declared them ready for a live opponent.

"Fuck," Gokudera muttered, eyes just a little wide.

"I guess Reborn wanted us to practice for so long first so we didn't get killed," Takeshi speculated.

Hibari pushed away from his lounge against a tree and looked them up and down. "Hm." The corner of his mouth curled.

"Okay, look," Gokudera muttered, low, "either one, he goes after you for a good fight or two, he goes after me to get me out of the way. My weapons are mid-range, and in close I'm no match for him. So if one, can you hold him while I get a target and if two, can you distract him so I can open the range again?"

Yamamoto considered. "I can't hold him for long, but yeah. And I'm pretty sure I can be distracting."

Gokudera snorted. "Don't know why I bothered asking." He sighed and flicked out a handful of explosives as Hibari started tapping his foot with impatience. "Kind of hope it's two."

Takeshi looked at him, startled. "You do?" He had never thought of Gokudera as one of the ones who liked this kind of fight for its own sake.

Gokudera gave him a dour look. "If he's looking at you for a good fight, he'll pound me into fucking paste for interrupting. Crazy bastards, all of you," he added under his breath.

Takeshi considered Gokudera for a long moment. "You know, you're really good at this."

"Notice that afterwards!" Gokudera snapped as Hibari stopped waiting for them and they dodged back and apart.

Takeshi laughed. "Okay!" He would, too. And bit by bit he'd get through.

A month later he was starting to have some doubts about that.

Oh, they were getting to work pretty smoothly as a team, at least when there was an opponent in front of them. They were having some really fun matches on the way, too, though Gokudera gave him dark looks whenever he said anything about that. The problem was that, the more time he spent with Gokudera, and the better able to work together they got, the clearer it became that Gokudera was still holding himself apart. He might not be the best fighter among them, but when it came to his heart, he left absolutely no openings, sliding by every overture Takeshi made, slick as ice. It was starting to get frustrating.

Takeshi probably shouldn't have taken that out on Shamal, but when he emerged from Gokudera's smoke screen right behind the man and heard him muttering about his precious girls choking and whippersnappers too smart for their own good, it annoyed him.

"All clear," he called, as Shamal went down in a heap, clouted smartly with Takeshi's hilt. "Don't suppose you can get rid of the smoke?"

"What do you want me to do, blow it away?" Gokudera grumbled.

Takeshi shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

There was a moment of silence. "Why not? Why not throw a bomb in there when I can't actually see where you are? Gee, I can't imagine." Sarcasm dripped off Gokudera's voice.

Takeshi's mouth quirked. "I trust you."

The smoke was thinning enough on its own for him to see Gokudera, standing a dozen paces away, staring at him with a now-familiar expression of wary puzzlement. Takeshi sighed to himself and waited for the usual sort of comment about baseball-addled brains.

Instead Gokudera shook his head and asked, "Why?"

The question, the moment he'd been waiting so long for, sang down Takeshi's nerves and made the world sharp, and now Gokudera was looking at him even more warily. He took a breath for control. The words were sure as a sword stroke in his mind, though.

"Because you see the big issues and you think about them for all of us. Because you'll shoot without a second thought, if it's to protect us. I've watched you give everything you are to Tsuna, and you never hold back. You snarl all the time, but you can't pass by a stray or a kid. You act like a thug, but you read physics for fun. You have a temper hotter than those bombs, but you'd die for any of us; you've proved that."

Gokudera actually backed up a step, eyes wide with shock. Takeshi spread his hands.

"I trust you because you're you."

He could see Gokudera swallow before he managed to speak. "Yamamoto..."

Shamal groaned, between them, and rolled over, squinting up. "Remind me not to underestimate you brats any more," he husked and put an arm over his eyes.

When Takeshi looked up, Gokudera was collected again, face closed, and he sighed. It had been a step, at least, he was pretty sure, and he didn't want to mess that up by pushing Gokudera too far.

At their next practice, though, he decided he should have pushed, because Gokudera was completely distracted.

And Colonello was not someone even both of them together could be distracted, against.

"Gokudera!"

Gokudera hauled himself out of the splinters of a tree, wincing. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine, you have a piece of tree in your arm," Takeshi pointed out, just a bit exasperated. Then he had to bite down a yelp as Gokudera reached around and yanked it out.

"Enough for today," Colonello told them, shaking his head. "Get that fixed." He frowned at both of them, though it didn't have quite the usual coach-scowl impact, on a baby's face. "And get your minds on your training, kora!"

"I'm not going near Romario," Gokudera muttered, as Colonello's eagle flapped off with him.

Actually, Takeshi couldn't blame him for that. "Do you have an emergency kit at home?"

Which was how they came to be in Gokudera's tiny apartment kitchen, Gokudera seated on his table, swinging a foot and watching with rather alarming disinterest as Takeshi cleaned and wrapped the gouge in his arm.

"There." Takeshi tied the bandage off.

Gokudera slid to his feet and flexed his arm a lot more freely than Takeshi would have thought wise when it wasn't absolutely necessary. "Yeah, that'll do." He looked aside. "Thanks."

Takeshi sighed softly. He knew it was possible to get through to Gokudera; Tsuna had done it more or less by accident.

So maybe the question was, what did Tsuna do that he wasn't? He thought about that as he put the emergency kit back in order. Tsuna was diffident, unthreatening. Except when he was in the grip of his Will, and then he got less diffident and more threatening than any two of his Guardians put together, and Takeshi had seen Gokudera watching when Tsuna was like that. If anything, Gokudera's focus on Tsuna got even tighter, then. Tsuna was accepting, but Gokudera wasn't responding to simple acceptance from Takeshi. Of course Tsuna was so completely transparent about it...

Takeshi paused in the act of stowing the kit back in Gokudera's rather bare cupboard. "Gokudera." He turned to look at him, wondering if he'd gotten it at last. "Do you think I'm lying?"

Gokudera blinked at him. "Huh?"

"When I say I trust you. Do you think I'm lying?"

Gokudera's shoulders jerked and pulled tight. "I'm sure your word is good," he said flatly, staring out the kitchen window.

Takeshi had a feeling he'd just stepped in another mafia custom of some kind, but he'd figure that out later. The important thing was that, obviously, his word alone really wasn't enough. He chewed on his lip for a moment, thinking. He didn't think he could be as clear as Tsuna was, but maybe... maybe Gokudera would accept a different kind of evidence. Something that wasn't just words.

And he could think of one thing that Gokudera couldn't possibly misunderstand, no matter how determined he was.

Gokudera looked around again as Takeshi came closer, frowning a little. "What?"

Takeshi smiled, just a little wry. "You can hit me for this, if I'm really wrong." He lifted Gokudera's chin and bent his head to kiss him gently.

Gokudera froze, staring at him. But not slugging him, which Takeshi took as a good sign. He slid an arm around Gokudera and drew him closer, slow and careful.

"What...?" Gokudera was stiff as a board, eyes wide and a little wild.

"I thought you might believe body language more than words," Takeshi explained, one hand rubbing Gokudera's back.

"You can't... It's not..." Gokudera shook his head violently, though he wasn't pulling away, which made something in the back of Takeshi's head sit up and take notice. "You can't."

"Can't what?" Takeshi asked, quietly.

"I'm not... You don't..." Gokudera's jaw tightened. "You can't think I'm worth anything."

Takeshi considered that for a moment, head cocked. "Why not?"

Gokudera opened his mouth and closed it again, looking rather lost. Finally he glanced aside and mumbled, "No one does?"

Takeshi took a slow breath, fitting pieces together in his head. Gokudera might think that was true but he had to be desperate for it not to be, or else Takeshi would have eaten dynamite the second he touched him. "Tsuna does," he pointed out, hoping to springboard from this inarguable fact. Before he could, though, Gokudera spoke again.

"No one else." He wasn't stiff any more, but he was still, completely still, eyes dark and cold as he gazed blankly over Takeshi's shoulder. Takeshi almost shivered at that cold, except that a spark of genuine anger was starting to warm him up.

No one should have something like this done to them.

"Someone," he corrected, firmly, turning Gokudera's head back toward him and gathering him closer.

Gokudera started, jarred out of that frozen stillness, and and still not socking Takeshi one for doing this. Takeshi nodded.

"Someone," he repeated, softer, and kissed Gokudera again, deliberate this time, coaxing, because he'd be damned if he let Gokudera go on thinking like that. This time he was rewarded with a quick, uneven breath and Gokudera's fingers tightening in his shirt for a moment.

"Yamamoto..."

Takeshi wound his arms snugly around Gokudera. "Hmm?" He could feel tiny shivers running through Gokudera and lifted a hand to knead the nape of Gokudera's neck, slow and firm.

"You really...? I mean..." Gokudera looked up at him, conflicting expressions tangling in his eyes—tense fear and disbelief and a tiny glow of wonder.

"I really mean it," Takeshi told him gently. "We're all in this together. I'm glad we are." He smiled, brushing back Gokudera's hair. "You're amazing, you know."

A faint pink crept across Gokudera's cheekbones and he glanced aside again. Takeshi resolved to tell him that was adorable, some time when it wouldn't undo months on end of work.

"Okay," Gokudera said softly. "I... I believe you."

Takeshi smiled. It was a good start.

End

Body Language

Gokudera's trust issues are Yamamoto's new hobby; he has his work cut out for him. Drama with Romance, I-3

"Delivery!" Takeshi called, cheerfully, banging on Gokudera's door. It took a few minutes for Gokudera to answer the door, and another for him to finish staring in disbelief.

"What are you doing?"

"Bringing you dinner." Takeshi dangled the bag of carryout from raised fingers.

"Why?" Gokudera asked, after another long pause.

"Because you skipped lunch today." Takeshi smiled with sunny obliviousness, hiding his amusement as Gokudera scrubbed a hand over his face.

"Fine, whatever, get off my stairs before the neighbors try to kill you for making such a racket." Gokudera took the bag ungraciously, muttering under his breath as Takeshi came in, toeing off his shoes and closing the door. Gokudera turned his back pointedly, taking a step toward the kitchen.

It was too perfect an opportunity to resist, and Takeshi was making a policy of taking all the opportunities he could, these days. If he didn't, Gokudera slid right back into hissing and bristling.

He wound an arm around Gokudera, drawing him back against his chest, and dropped a light kiss on the curve of his neck. He was elbowed in the stomach for his trouble. All right, so there was still some hissing and bristling in any case.

"Oof," he said, ruefully, and smiled as he watched Gokudera stalk across the room, back straight.

"Why do you keep doing that?" Gokudera muttered, smacking containers down on his tiny span of counter.

Hissing or not, Gokudera gave him a lot of opportunities, and this was one Takeshi had kind of been waiting for. "Because you're cute."

Gokudera stopped and turned to stare at him. "I am not cute!"

"Adorable?" Takeshi offered, grinning.

Gokudera sputtered at him, glaring and Takeshi laughed, reaching out again to gather him in.

"Gorgeous?" he murmured, settling the lean, elegant line of Gokudera's body against his.

Gokudera's cheekbones turned pink, which absolutely was adorable. "You say the most idiotic things," he said, looking aside.

"True things."

Gokudera humphed, but it slid into a softer sound as Takeshi turned his head back and kissed him, fingers sliding into his hair, cradling his head. A shiver rippled through Gokudera, but he also relaxed. Touch was the language Gokudera really believed; Takeshi just had to speak it clearly enough. When Takeshi drew back Gokudera's eyes were dark and thoughtful.

"True things," Takeshi told him again, gently, thumb stroking the nape of his neck.

Gokudera shrugged a shoulder and looked down, but didn't deny it. Takeshi chalked up another scrap of progress on his mental scoreboard.

This was not Takeshi's favorite way to spend the term break.

Gokudera was wound up tighter than usual, and it was making Takeshi nervous. Theoretically the lawn of the Vongola headquarters contained only Vongola allies, here for another meet-the-Tenth gathering, but if Gokudera had seen something to alarm him Takeshi wasn't going to second guess him. Gokudera was the one who knew this world.

It took him a while to work his way casually over, but finally he was close enough to murmur, "Anything wrong?"

Gokudera started and looked around at him, eyes abruptly sharpening. "What?"

Takeshi relaxed. If Gokudera had seen something, he'd already have been sharp and focused, as, indeed he was now. "Just wondered. You seem kind of tense."

Gokudera's gaze turned distant and dark again, and he shrugged a shoulder, sharp and jerky. Takeshi frowned. Something personal, then? "What is it?" he asked, softer.

Gokudera looked at him for a long moment, mouth tight. Just as he was taking a breath, though, and Takeshi was calculating the odds whether it would be to spill or to tell Takeshi it was none of his business, another of the gathering stopped beside them.

"Gokudera Hayato, isn't it?" The man was older, hair just starting to gray, and neither his tone nor his expression was what Takeshi would call friendly. A moment fishing through his memory tossed up the name Spigola, though he was pretty sure this wasn't the boss.

Gokudera's shoulders were stiff again. "Yeah?"

The man looked him up and down. "I hear you plan to be the Vongola Tenth's right hand."

Gokudera's chin lifted a hair. "That's for the Tenth to say." His voice was hard and level.

The man's mouth twisted. "I hope he has better sense than to take a punk like you've always been. The Vongola are better than that."

Takeshi frowned after the man, as he stalked past, and edged closer to lay a hand on Gokudera's back.

Gokudera flinched.

Takeshi was starting to think he'd been right the first time, about Gokudera having spotted trouble. It just wasn't the kind he'd expected.

"You asked what was wrong?" Gokudera said quietly, through his teeth, not looking at Takeshi. "There are too many people here that know me, is what's wrong."

Takeshi's frown deepened. How was he supposed to make any progress when jerks like that came along and set Hayato back? "With that kind of attitude, he can't know you very well."

Gokudera made a harsh sound, shoulders shaking. It took Takeshi a long moment to realize it was a laugh.

Gokudera would probably kill him if Takeshi kissed him right here, which wouldn't do at all. Instead Takeshi rubbed his back slowly, turning to stand between Gokudera and the rest of the gathering. "What does it matter, what they think?" he asked. "Tsuna is the only one who has any say in it, isn't he?"

"It wouldn't be entirely wise of him to ignore the opinion of his allies," Gokudera said in a stifled tone.

Takeshi thought about that. "He did, though. You are. I mean you were. Will be. Kind of." Okay, he probably deserved the look Gokudera was giving him. "In the future. Remember?"

Gokudera blinked. "Oh," he said at last.

Takeshi smiled. "Yeah, oh." He slid his hand up under Gokudera's hair to knead his neck. "He wants you. We want you. And we're the ones who know you."

Gokudera looked uncertain, now, but that was better than the harsh expression he'd had. He leaned just a little into Takeshi's hand. "Mm."

"If we weren't in public, I'd show you," Takeshi murmured, coaxing.

Gokudera flushed. "Don't even think it," he hissed, glaring.

Takeshi grinned. That was much better. "Sure." He let go with a last brush of his fingers and wandered off, casually.

But not very far off.

He stayed close enough to slide into the path of the next person to head toward Gokudera and look at the man the way he looked at his targets for cutting practice. When the man flinched and veered off, Takeshi nodded and let the still poise run out of him again and looked around for a drink tray. He figured he'd be here a while.

From the corner of his eye he watched Gokudera's shoulders relaxing from their over-straight line and smiled.

It was all about body language.

Takeshi perched in the window across from the school's music room and listened to the music winding down the empty hall.

He had been there for almost an hour, he thought. He wasn't sure; he hadn't looked at his watch for a long time.

When the music ended, this time in a definite scraping of furniture and shuffling of paper, he sighed. Well, hopefully he'd get to hear more some time. And when Gokudera emerged from the music room and stopped short, staring at him, it was worth it. Takeshi grinned and hopped down.

"That was great."

Gokudera waved a hand, looking uncomfortable. "I'm not professional grade or anything. It's just a hobby, really."

Takeshi cocked his head. "You don't have to be professional to be good."

Gokudera snorted. "Says the man who insists on playing a ball game professionally?"

Takeshi allowed the point and tried another tack. "That first one you played was... well it was something else." He frowned for a moment, fishing for the right words. "It kept my attention. It... didn't let go."

"Chopin's Fantaisie?" Gokudera smiled. "Not surprised. A lot of his pieces are that way, but the Fantaisie especially. You're never sure what's coming next."

"What was the second thing you played?" Takeshi asked, wanting to keep Gokudera going. It fascinated him when Gokudera forgot himself and showed this side.

"The Nocturne in C Minor." Gokudera's eyes brightened. "I like that one. It's the last of his Nocturnes. There's some speculation, lately, that it was based on an Italian opera."

"It reminded me of you."

Gokudera blinked and Takeshi shrugged. He was just about positive he wouldn't find the words to explain this, but it was true. "The way it moved. It just... felt like you." His mouth quirked. "The last one reminded me of you, too."

Gokudera's brows rose. "The Waltz in A Minor?"

"Not exactly the same way," Takeshi allowed, and chuckled as Gokudera frowned. "It made me think of you in other moods." He reached out and stroked the backs of his fingers down Gokudera's cheek.

Gokudera's breath hitched. He always seemed so startled by this, and Takeshi was starting to think very dark thoughts about the people Gokudera seemed to have encountered before coming to Japan. He reached out and drew Gokudera close.

"We want you," he murmured. "I want you. The elegance and the explosions and the growling and all of it."

"Yamamoto..." Gokudera's eyes were wide and unguarded, and it drove Takeshi a little wild to think that something so simple was such a revelation to him. He caught Gokudera tight against him and kissed him, deep and intent and hungry, parting Hayato's lips and twining their tongues together, more demanding than he'd dared be before, trying to show what words apparently weren't quite getting through. Again.

And maybe his instincts were right again because Gokudera answered the kiss, finally, hesitant but wanting, fingers winding tight in Takeshi's shirt. He kissed Gokudera until they were both breathless, hands kneading slowly up and down his back. He kissed his way down Gokudera's neck and made a pleased sound at the way Gokudera relaxed against him, head tipped back with a faint, startled sound. This was what he wanted, yes.

"I'll show you some more, if you want," he said against the curve of Gokudera's neck.

"Maybe not right here in the school hallway." Gokudera's voice was dry, for all the husky edge to it. "Hibari would probably kill us."

Takeshi laughed. "Good point." He lifted his head to smile down at Gokudera. "You mind if I come visit this evening, then?"

Gokudera stared at him for a moment before he glanced aside and swallowed. "I wouldn't mind." His voice was huskier than it had been while they were kissing.

"I'm glad," Takeshi said softly.

Gokudera reached for his bag to sling over his shoulder and glanced up at Takeshi with a tiny smile. "Come on, then."

Takeshi smiled in complete contentment and tucked his hands in his pockets and followed along.

He didn't think for one moment that he was done, but this time he was sure that Gokudera had heard what he was saying.

End

Comfort Food

Gokudera is sick and being stubborn, and Yamamoto decides to step in. Unmitigated Fluff, I-2

Warning: May cause tooth decay. To prevent cavities, brush thoroughly after every reading.

"HA-CHOO!"

Tsuna almost flinched at the violence of Gokudera's sneeze. "Are you sure you're all right? I mean, shouldn't you be staying home?"

"'mb fide," Gokudera muttered around his wad of handkerchief. It hadn't moved far all day, but when it had his nose had looked absolutely raw. "Not goig to slack off by job 'cause of a code."

Takeshi sighed and made a note to himself that Gokudera got more stubborn and foul-tempered when he was sick. He wouldn't have thought it was possible if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes.

"Don't worry," he told Tsuna. "Gokudera is going home now."

Tsuna blinked. "He, um, is?"

Takeshi tucked his hands in his pockets and smiled, serene and immoveable, ignoring the evil glare Gokudera was giving him. "Yes. He is."

"Fuck you." It would have been more impressive if Gokudera hadn't had to blow his nose so hard before he could manage to enunciate it. Takeshi decided it was time to bring out the heavy weaponry.

"When you're better, if you like," he said, agreeably.

Tsuna and Gokudera both turned red.

"In the meantime, though, you should be resting, right? Tsuna is home and safe, you've done your job, time for dinner." Takeshi took ruthless advantage of Gokudera's flusterment to steer him on down the street, waving goodbye to Tsuna over his shoulder. Tsuna stood at his gate, watching them and shaking his head, but Takeshi thought he was smiling.

Gokudera called him names most of the way to his apartment. Takeshi smiled and agreed with every one, even the ones in Italian he still didn't understand. Though, after this long, there weren't many of those. Gokudera's energetic stomping lasted all the way up his stairs. Takeshi took over, though, when Gokudera fumbled with the buttons of his coat.

"You're taking a long, hot bath," he said firmly, unwinding Gokudera's scarf. "And then you're going to eat something. And then you're sleeping however long you need to. Got it?"

Gokudera snarled at him. Takeshi ignored it. "Bath," he repeated, turning away to rummage in Gokudera's cupboards for anything resembling food. "You can't guard Tsuna if you're this sick." He tracked Gokudera's steps across the apartment by the shuffling and banging into the few furnishings, and breathed a sigh of relief when the water went on. He hadn't been positive even the ultimate appeal to the Tenth would work this time.

Eventually he assembled rice that didn't seem to have dried out yet, some eggs, not too old greens, and rather a lot of pickles. Tamagoyaki and onigiri it was. He kept half an ear out while he cooked, listening to the water eventually turn off and the silence the followed. When it had gone on for a while he left off pressing the rice and tip-toed across to sneak a look in on Gokudera, long enough to see that his head was still above the edge of the tub, at least. He was cleaning up when Gokudera finally emerged, flushed and damp and breathing easier if the lack of handkerchief was any indication. Takeshi smiled and set Gokudera's plate out for him before turning back to the sink.

He listened to Gokudera's grumbling and stifled a chuckle when it turned muffled, as around a mouthful of food.

Eventually Gokudera brought his empty plate to the sink and elbowed Takeshi for room to wash it. Takeshi stood firm. "I'll do that. You go to bed before you lose all that heat from the bath."

Gokudera scowled at him, but didn't fight this time, dropping his plate in the water with what was probably a deliberate splash and trudging toward the bedroom.

Takeshi finished up quickly and brewed some tea and slipped into Gokudera's room with a cup, quietly in case he was already asleep.

He made a grumpy sound, so probably not.

Takeshi set the cup down beside the bed and eyed the thin blanket with disapproval. Gokudera was shivering, curled up with his back to the door. He'd gathered by this time that Gokudera would just get more stubborn if he pointed it out, though, so he went rummaging again, this time for covers. Hauling his finds back he silently spread out two more blankets and a very large towel.

And then he eased down onto the bed behind Gokudera and curled up around him, carefully bracing an arm over him so its weight wouldn't come down too heavily.

Slowly the shivers stopped.

Gokudera finally stirred. "You'll get sick, too," he husked.

"If I do then you can have your revenge, and make me take care of myself," Takeshi said lightly.

Gokudera snorted silently, just a huff of breath under his arm. "'Kay."

Takeshi lay quietly, and listened to Gokudera's breath finally evening out into sleep, and smiled, and didn't move.

End

Some Sweet Day

After a hard workout, some privacy finally leads Gokudera and Yamamoto to a significant intimacy. Takes place some time between Comfort Food and Going Back Someday. Drama with Romance, I-3

Takeshi thought he and Gokudera were making good progress. When Reborn stopped by their practices to work with them, these days, they actually made him move pretty briskly.

Of course, he made them flat, exhausted, dripping with sweat and repeatedly, if virtually, dead. But it was progress.

"Hey," he said, rolling over, halfway between panting and laughing as he watched Gokudera eye a handful of muddy, paint-dyed hair glumly. "Come back with me today. Tou-san will feed us and the bath is bigger than the one at your place."

Gokudera only hesitated a moment. "Okay." Takeshi smiled.

It was definitely progress.

Gokudera hissed when he tried to reach his back with the sponge and Takeshi looked up from rinsing his hair and shook his head at the black and blue starting across Gokudera's ribs and shoulders. "You're going to have a lot of bruises."

"Yeah, I got that part," Gokudera grumbled, twisting gingerly on the bath stool.

Takeshi shook his head with a wry grin and came to take the sponge away. "Here."

Gokudera twitched. "You don't have to," he muttered.

"Why shouldn't I want to?" Takeshi asked, reasonably.

Gokudera didn't answer, sitting stiff and hesitant as Takeshi ran the sponge over his back, and Takeshi sighed to himself. Every new touch needed new reassurance. He could do that just fine; he just wished Gokudera didn't need it. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Gokudera's neck, where wet hair parted over his nape. "I do want to."

Gokudera shivered. "Yamamoto..."

"Let me?" Takeshi asked, softly, hands sliding down Gokudera's arms, one still full of the sponge.

After a moment Gokudera nodded. He didn't make a sound as Takeshi gently washed his back, though he settled back slowly when Takeshi pressed against him, reaching around to soap his chest. He was a little flushed, but almost anything could still cause that.

And Takeshi still thought it was adorable.

The flush turned deeper when Takeshi scooted around to run the sponge down his legs and Takeshi was careful not to tickle. He didn't want Hayato tense. Gokudera kept his head down and didn't look at Takeshi as he set down the sponge and reached for the water.

"Here. Hold still." Takeshi washed the suds away, fingers stroking over the fine, lean lines of Gokudera's body. It felt good to be able to do this for Gokudera, something simple and caring.

The one thing he didn't like was how flustered this made Hayato, how unfamiliar it seemed to him. He was definitely going to have to think about hunting a few people up—or down—the next time they were in Italy. Carefully smoothing away the hard line from his mouth he turned off the water and regarded Gokudera.

He knew touch would reassure if he was clear enough. But maybe it was time for something else, too.

Gokudera still wasn't looking up. Takeshi took a slow breath and set his fingers under Hayato's chin, lifting his head. His eyes were dark and hesitant.

"Hayato," Takeshi said.

Gokudera's breath drew in and his eyes widened. After one shocked, still moment, he reached out a hand and Takeshi promptly gathered him up, holding him close, hands sliding over damp skin. "Hayato," he murmured again.

Hayato pressed against him, almost huddled into him, and Takeshi's arms tightened. "You didn't think I would?" he asked, softly. Hayato made a noncommittal sound, and he had to smile; Hayato went to such trouble to seem casual, even when he was pressed tight against Takeshi and breathing quick and unsteady. "Shh," he soothed, one hand spreading warm against Hayato's back, over his heart.

It took a while for the tightness of want and fear to ease out of Hayato's muscles, and Takeshi's knees were complaining a bit about the hardness of the tile, but he ignored them. This was more important. Feeling the clutch of Hayato's hands loosen and his breath slow as Takeshi held him was much more important.

Finally Hayato stirred and Takeshi felt the slow intake of breath against his shoulder. Quietly, a little shyly, Hayato murmured, "Takeshi."

Takeshi couldn't stop the smile that pulled at his lips. "Yeah."

Hayato was quiet in his arms for another breath before he lifted his head and pushed a little against Takeshi's chest. "I want some hot water before all these bruises stiffen up," he said softly, still not quite looking at Takeshi.

"Good idea." Takeshi eased back onto his heels, a bit slowly. He had to laugh at the way they both creaked, getting to their feet. "Here," he held out a hand to Hayato. "So neither of us falls getting in."

Hayato looked at his hand for a long moment before taking it, face flushed again thought a tiny smile tugged at his lips. "Yeah. Okay."

Takeshi smiled back, satisfied.

Definitely progress.

End

Going Back Someday

Yamamoto comes to visit Gokudera and they navigate around their trust and need for each other—indirectly as always. Drama with Romantic Porn, I-4

A knock at the door pulled Hayato out of the depths of differential equations and he glared at the blank wood for a moment before getting up, grumbling under his breath the whole way, to see who it was.

"Takeshi?" He blinked, hands full of his front door and his math textbook, neither free to adjust his reading glasses the way he felt a momentary need to.

"Hey." Takeshi leaned in the doorway, grinning. "Thought it was about time I stopped in for a visit."

After over a month away. Hayato sniffed, but stood aside for him. "I suppose you might as well come in, yes."

Takeshi sprawled out on Hayato's couch. "So? How's the university thing going?"

Hayato gave him a resigned look and set aside his book. "Pretty well. You've checked in with the Tenth?"

Takeshi chuckled. "I think maybe he's not having as much fun as you are." He stretched out long legs, crossing his ankles. "He was looking kind of frazzled over the, um," Takeshi frowned, faintly puzzled, "the macro?"

"Macroeconomics," Hayato translated.

"Ah." Takeshi looked dubious. "Okay."

"Look it up yourself."

Takeshi laughed. "Caught me. Okay, I will."

Hayato shook his head. He was never sure whether Takeshi was genuinely lazy about these things or just doing it to tease him. "So?" he sighed. "How's the idiot ball game going?"

Takeshi's smile quirked. "It's going well. We might actually make it to the Nihon Series this year."

"Good luck." Hayato stood up and went to fetch tea.

"Hayato."

"The Tenth approves," Hayato said, quietly. "That's all that matters. It's true, we aren't under as much threat as long as we stay in Japan for now." He poured and handed Takeshi his cup before going to the picture window that was the one extravagance in his latest apartment. The city lights were starting to come on, as the sun set.

There was a sigh behind him. "I live close enough to come quickly when he needs us. And you can't think I would let a game stop me, if he did."

Hayato's mouth tightened and he lowered his head. "No, I don't think that," he said to his cup.

After a moment Takeshi said, "You know, I've never heard you complain about Ryouhei-san's career."

"Yeah, well, that's him," Hayato muttered and took a sip of tea to loosen the slightly trapped feeling in his chest.

There was a click of porcelain on wood and then Takeshi's arms were sliding around him, easing him back into the lean solidity of Takeshi's body. "So what's the difference between him and me?" he murmured.

"You're the other person the Tenth really depends on." Hayato looked straight ahead, over the city.

Takeshi's arms tightened. "Yeah?"

Hayato was silent. Takeshi waited, just holding him, and finally he sighed and growled, "You're other the person I depend on, too."

"I'll be here when you need me," Takeshi murmured against his hair. "Promise."

Hayato rested his head back on Takeshi's shoulder. "I've got to be a complete idiot to believe that," he complained to his ceiling, because of course he did. Takeshi had the temerity to chuckle and Hayato elbowed him.

"Careful." He could tell Takeshi was smiling. "You'll spill the tea."

He let Takeshi take the cup and set it on the shelves by the window and a low sound caught in his throat as Takeshi folded him more firmly into his arms.

"Do you need me to come back now?" Takeshi asked, softly.

Hayato wrestled with temptation for a moment and finally sighed. "Not really. I just..." he bit his lip.

Takeshi pressed a kiss to his neck. "I'll stay for a while."

Hayato closed his eyes and breathed out. "Yeah." Takeshi always knew.

"Besides," Takeshi's voice lowered, and one hand drifted up to start unbuttoning Hayato's shirt, "I've missed you."

The breath was a laugh this time. "Takeshi..."

"What? I did." Takeshi's lips curved against his neck. "And I missed this, too." His hand spread open against Hayato's stomach and slid up over his chest, warm and slow.

Hayato made a husky sound, unwinding into the stroke of Takeshi's hands, sighing as they slid over his ribs, down to his hips, strong and gentle. The steadiness of Takeshi's touch untangled his thoughts, smoothed them into calm, and he had to admit he'd missed this too. His breath caught on a small shudder of heat as long fingers undid his slacks and slid inside to wrap around his cock, familiar and knowing.

"Easy," Takeshi breathed against his ear, and Hayato made a breathless, amused sound.

"When you're doing this?" But it was true.

"Mm. Especially while I'm doing this." Takeshi's fingers worked over him slowly and he drew Hayato more snugly back against him.

Having made his token protest, Hayato let himself settle into Takeshi's arms and rested his head back. "Okay." Takeshi just about purred as he let himself be supported, and Hayato's mouth quirked even as his hips rocked up into Takeshi's hand. Sometimes he wondered if Takeshi made it so clear he liked it when Hayato relaxed so that Hayato could feel a little less needy for wanting it so much himself. It would be like him.

Right now, though, pleasure was unraveling his mind, so he let the thought go and just sighed as Takeshi's hand stroked his cock slow and firm, building heat in him.

"Mmm, there." Takeshi's mouth moved down his throat, open and wet, and he caught Hayato closer when he shuddered, arching, tipping his head further back. It felt so good to be held, tight and sure, and know Takeshi had him. It felt even better when Takeshi's thumb rubbed slowly over his head.

He opened heavy eyes and saw their reflection in the window, the white of his shirt hanging off his shoulders; the darkness of Takeshi behind him, head bent; the movement of the strong hand between his legs, and heat spiked through him. He moaned as Takeshi's hand tightened, pushing wantonly into that grip as pleasure rose and rose and spilled over, pulling him taut against Takeshi's body, gasping for breath as heat wrung his nerves again and again.

Takeshi made a satisfied noise as Hayato slumped back against him, and cradled him close.

When Hayato had caught his breath he asked, "How long do you think you'll stay?"

Takeshi was quiet for a moment before he said, "As long as I'm needed."

Hayato turned in Takeshi's arms, leaning his head against Takeshi's shoulder, and sighed. "Idiot. You're always needed."

"Really?" He could hear the smile in Takeshi's voice and a warm hand slid up to curve around the nape of his neck.

"The Tenth relies on you." And if Hayato's voice was huskier than that statement called for, well.

"All right." Hayato made a startled sound as Takeshi lifted his chin and kissed him softly, breath catching into quiet when he saw how dark and serious Takeshi's eyes had turned. "When you and Tsuna graduate from here. I'll come back for good."

A shudder ran through Hayato as one thread of tension, years long, finally unwound. He buried his head against Takeshi's shoulder and when he spoke it was muffled. "About time. Fucking baseball idiots, you just can't do anything with them."

He wouldn't be alone, at Tsuna's side.

A chuckle ran through Takeshi's chest. "So, I guess I'll just have to see about the World Series before then. Since I'll have other things to concentrate on after."

Hayato looked up with a wry smile, and this time he meant it when he said, "Good luck."

Takeshi kissed him again, lightly, and tugged up Hayato's pants, refastening them. "So what do you have around here for dinner?"

"Probably nothing you'll approve of." Hayato pushed back and buttoned his shirt himself, face hot.

"Probably not. Grocery shopping tomorrow," Takeshi declared, strolling toward the kitchen while Hayato reflected on the unexpected pitfalls of hanging around the son of a sushi chef. He smiled, though, and followed along to perch on the table and watch Takeshi rummage through his shelves. He had more reading to do, but the books would keep for later.

Later would be all right.

End

Working Till the Sun Don't Shine

Gokudera has a stressful day and wants Yamamoto to help him unwind, which Yamamoto is perfectly happy to do. Pure Porn, I-4

Hayato closed the door to his office carefully, breathing deep and slow.

"That didn't go very well," Takeshi observed from where he stood looking out the window.

"No. It didn't," Hayato said, with what he thought was a commendable lack of screaming rage, under the circumstances. He hung his jacket on a chair and undid his tie with short, precise movements, eyes narrowed at empty air.

"Think we're actually going to wind up in a war with the Barassi?"

"At the moment, I would welcome it," Hayato said through his teeth. "But right now I really don't want to talk about those motherless bastards."

Takeshi looked over his shoulder, brows lifted inquiringly.

"What I want right now," Hayato said evenly, unbuttoning his shirt and stripping it off, "is for you to fuck me."

Takeshi's eyes darkened with heat, and what Hayato suspected was his own reaction to the afternoon's disastrous negotiations coming to the fore. He reached up to pull his own tie loose, voice turning husky. "Sure thing."

Their clothes went all over the room, and Takeshi chuckled as Hayato ripped open a packet of lube and turned up Takeshi's hand to pour it pointedly into his palm. Hayato growled and pressed against him, pulling him down to a kiss. The fierceness of it, the strength of Takeshi's arm tightening around him, soothed him a little, enough to relax and sigh as long, slick fingers stroked him. The sigh turned into a moan as Takeshi rubbed slow, hard circles over his entrance, working the muscles until he could press his fingers in.

"Yes," Hayato said, husky, pressing his forehead against Takeshi's shoulder as those fingers worked in and out of his ass. "Yes, that."

"Mm, thought so." Takeshi twisted his fingers slowly, deep inside Hayato, and caught him closer as he shuddered. Another few strokes and he murmured, "Turn around. Against the wall."

Hayato turned and leaned against the wall, panting, taut with lingering tension and rising anticipation. Takeshi's hands closing on his hips made him shiver and the slide of Takeshi's cock between his cheeks made him moan. "Takeshi..."

"Shh." Takeshi pressed up against his back and dropped a kiss on his shoulder. "I've got it."

Hayato spread his legs wider and moaned as Takeshi's cock pushed into him, opened him up, sliding hard and big inside him, perfectly distracting. "God, yes..."

Takeshi growled soft agreement as he pulled Hayato tight against him and drove into him deep and hard, again and again. Hayato gasped with each thrust, heat coiling tighter and tighter in his stomach and spine. "Yes, harder..."

"Yeah." Takeshi gathered him close and fucked him hard and fast, each stroke rocking Hayato up against the wall, against the surety of Takeshi's arms around him. His ass felt hot and stretched with how hard Takeshi's cock was pounding in, and pleasure tingled down his nerves. It was exactly the release, the intensity, the shelter, he needed, and he wished it could last forever; the sound he made when Takeshi's hand, still slick, closed between his legs was half hungry and half disappointed. And then it was nothing but raw want as Takeshi's fist closed around his cock and stroked him hard.

Sensation burst through him, hot and wild, and he cried out. Takeshi caught him tighter still, groaning against his shoulder as his hips jerked short and hard against Hayato.

Hayato leaned against the wall, panting, eyes closed. He made a soft sound as Takeshi's weight settled against his back and Takeshi's hands, gentle again, slid up his chest.

"Better?" Takeshi murmured against his ear, husky.

"Mm. Yeah." Hayato sighed, finally able to think without a red haze around everything. "I guess the Tenth wouldn't really like it if I just shot them."

Takeshi chuckled, nuzzling his neck. "Probably not. Though, give it another few days like this and you never know."

"I'd really rather not," Hayato said, dryly.

"Me either. Guess we'll have to figure out something else."

Hayato snorted a little, relaxing into the support of Takeshi's unshakeable optimism. "Guess we will."

"Okay, then." He could feel Takeshi's lips curve against his skin. "First, though, we probably need pants."

Hayato laughed.

End