Title: Green Eyed Monster

Rating: PG

Pairing: pre-yamagoku

Summary: In which Gokudera is a complex study of envy and want and Yamamoto is a complex study of how to make things a little better.

AN: Just to warn, my canon knowledge is not as firm as I'd like. This was niggling at me to write since I caught up on the future arc, where I pretty much gathered that a)Gokudera needs to stop being such a weenie to Yamamoto b) Yamamoto watching Squalo's videos is somehow crazy-hot. While yes, Gokudera has toned down his weenie-ness, I still wanted to write this.

Warnings for some very loosely connected thought tracks and Gokudera and Yamamoto being teenagers who generally don't know what they want.

It wasn't something that was ever going to happen, not in his lifetime, not with the way people worked and things progressed. There was simply not a line of reality that would allow Yamamoto (yes, that fucking happy retard), tall and growing and dull, and Squalo, bitter and brilliant and goddammit, beautiful- there was just nothing on the good green earth that would allow them to come together.

That knowledge, firm and guaranteed, did nothing to dissuade the pure, red-hot annoyance that Gokudera felt when he walked in on Yamamoto watching one of Squalo's videos- again.

Again, again, again.

Because for all of the improbabilities of the situation, things were setting up in a manner that was almost unbelievable- that Squalo could hold some sort of interest at all in Yamamoto was enough to make Gokudera spit nails. Even if they were in a hellish future that would never be (if he could help it) and this whole situation was a huge hypothetical mess, nothing about it changed the fact that Yamamoto was watching that damned video. That video, where Squalo was leaping and hissing and drawing blood, reveling in the fight with brittle enjoyment. His eyes, his hair, the quick glimpse of his tongue, shining and quicksilver as it licked blood from his lips, these were all things even Gokudera couldn't help but be entranced by as he stood in the doorway.

And this man saw something in Yamamoto, could offer him a challenge that Gokudera never could.

"Turn that fucking thing off and come to dinner," the words forced themselves from his throat, growling and totally uninvited in his mouth. He had planned on slamming the door and leaving Yamamoto wondering, not bringing attention to himself, not when his face was twisted in some kind of bitterness. If the girls really wanted the asshole at dinner they could get him themselves, or something like that. But now it was too late, because Yamamoto was looking at him, his eyes still sharp and alert, something deadly behind them.

Gokudera wondered briefly how Yamamoto would look after watching him, if the same wanting and strange pride would be there, or if something less smoldering, less sharp would be there instead. Soft admiration perhaps, or the gentle sheen of their fucked-up friendship?

Whatever, however he looked at Gokudera just wasn't the same. Wouldn't be.

"Gokudera," he said, standing up. He didn't bother to turn off the tv, his attention caught by Gokudera in the hallway, backlit by the harsh light of the underground facility. "Dinner done already? Haha, I didn't even realize the time."

You wouldn't, Gokudera thought. He shifted from the doorway, not knowing whether he wanted to wait for Yamamoto or to walk off without him- parts of him yearned for different things. He settled on shuffling slowly towards the dining room, aware of Yamamoto finally turning off the tv to follow him, closing the door softly behind himself.

"Your shoulders are tense," Yamamoto notes as they pace almost-together towards whatever the savory smell twisting down the halls is, observing from half a step behind Gokudera. "I guess we're all so worked up, it shows."

Gokudera can't help but raise his shoulders like hackles, an involuntary reaction that has him frowning so hard his teeth ground together. "Don't look at me," he said in a tone underlined with concrete shards. "Don't look at my shoulders, don't look at me."

The silence that followed did little to affirm whether Yamamoto had heard him or not, whether the moron was still smiling as always in face of Gokudera's bitterness. He probably was. He probably was still back in that room, watching that fucking Vongola bastard chop away at shit.

It wasn't until they were almost to the dining hall that Yamamoto spoke up, voice soft and so, so close to Gokudera. Beyond their vision the rest of the family was creating a pleasant background hum, interlaced with one of the kids yelling. Gokudera didn't stop, didn't want to, because everything Yamamoto could say really couldn't clear anything between them, from the stupid video to everything else between them that garnered Gokudera's jealousy.

"Stop," Yamamoto didn't ask, he ordered, and Gokudera was yanked back into the forest, back to the Yamamoto that had let himself get half-killed by that crazy electricity bastard. Gokudera didn't know what would happen if he pushed this, didn't think he could take it if Yamamoto didn't take it like he was supposed to, so he turned around.

Yamamoto was frowning, a face Gokudera had been treated to more often as of late, an expression that he was surprised he didn't like at all.

"What?" Gokudera said, voice soft and hard at the same time. "What do you want, we're almost there-"

"Stop being so mad at me," Yamamoto said, hooking his hands in his pockets, then taking them out, gesturing at Gokudera with them. "Just… stop."

Gokudera's eyes made a vibrating transition between Yamamoto's hurt face and his hands, which were fisted now.

Then, of all things-

"If I…" Gokudera knew how dumb, how banal the words that were about to come out were, but there was nothing to do short of slitting his throat open to tear them out to stop their occurrence. He would rather bleed his heart onto the floor instead of Yamamoto's hands. "If I made a video, would you watch it?"

The look on Yamamoto's face was priceless. Then he laughed in a really disconcerting manner, and Gokudera swore that the background noise had ceased. It wasn't until Gokudera fisted his hand, his fingerless glove creaking angrily, and punched Yamamoto solidly in the chest that he stopped.

"I don't know how to take that, haha," Yamamoto said breathlessly, hands still clenched.

Then a silence fell, and Gokudera realized that he had just revealed something very intimate, though he could not name what, and the fact that Yamamoto maybe didn't want the information hit him like a second blow.

"Just fucking forget it," He growled, helpless. He could feel his face, it was on fire, and his chest was most likely speckling with red, and god, he had to get out of the damn hallway-

And damn it all if Reborn's training wasn't paying off, because the next moment, right when Gokudera was about to turn heel and run, Yamamoto had him pressed into the wall, his clenched fists unfurled to cup at Gokudera's shoulders.

Gokudera hadn't even seen him move.

"When this stuff is over," Yamamoto said quietly, "We will have to talk."

Gokudera couldn't even speak- his heart was exploding and he didn't know whether he wanted to be pissed or alarmed that it seemed as if he were undergoing cardiac arrest. He shrugged his shoulders and wondered at the chafe of Yamamoto's calloused palms against the soft leather of his shirt.

"Talk," He scoffed, closing his eyes. Talking wasn't a notion he wanted to follow through with Yamamoto, because enough of it might fix things, and if things were fixed…. Well, the possibility of someone wanting to get up to that point with him wasn't something he had very much considered. "We can talk."

The last part was said plainly, but Yamamoto still found Gokudera chewing at his lip, sharp green eyes meeting his own.

Then it was as if Yamamoto had some split personality switch, because in the next moment his hands were back at his sides, thumb catching at his pockets and smile catching at his lips.

Gokudera almost smiled too, but caught himself. "Let's get to dinner," He said in the closest to kind he had ever used on Yamamoto, believing that they were now on good enough terms to continue onto dinner. He was stopped once again, and the kindness was bumped out of his voice by annoyance as he turned to regard Yamamoto once again, taking in the other boy's too-wide smile with some hesitation. "What now?"

"About the video," Yamamoto said, eyes slimmed and smile crooked. "Are you going to make me one?"

Gokudera stared dumbly, a piece of hair drifting into his open mouth. "What- what?"

"I'd watch it," Yamamoto affirmed, shrugging. "If you made one."

"You are so retarded," Gokudera said in disbelief, shaking his head. "Whatever, you stand here or whatever. Dinner is probably over by now."

But he was pleased.

AN: And that's what I did while I was supposed to do math homework. DISAPPOINTMENT IN SELF