I do not own Kateikyoushi Hitman Reborn. Purely fanwork, nothing else.
Warning: Yaoi, possible OOC. Any misspellings or wrong grammar is unintentional. I am my own beta. I could have missed some stuff.
Edited.
LOOK OVER HERE
An infiltration gone wrong resulted in the loss of Gokudera's most beloved sports car. A chase took place, followed by rain, slippery roads and inevitable battle much later on that resulted in the front of the car being smashed, the metal folding and crumpling to an imprint-parody of a huge fist.
As a result, Gokudera had to hitch a ride from their head quarters to their temporary home within the city of Rome in the wee hours of the cold morning, the cold rain pouring with a vengeance. It was because of cold weathers like these did he actually miss his car where he could drive te sleek vehicle in high speeds, Chopin's piano concerto blasting from his music system, smoke in hand and generally feeling relaxed.
But all he could hear right now was the muffled rain pelting against the helmet he had over his head, the rain coat whipping in the wind, along with the distant hum of the Vespa's engine. It all mixed in to one odd noise. It didn't help that the man maneuvering the Vespa was as quiet as the dead too.
Yamamoto - Gokudera could have sworn the name felt foreign on his tongue now - was quieter, more distant, just as strong if not more, presence just as calming, but he was quiet. The laugh was still there but was only reflected in much darker and guarded brown eyes - eyes that no longer looked a people anymore, eyes that were distant. On a really good day, he'd perhaps give an audible chuckle but even that was getting rare.
People say he grew up, people say he's become the perfect hit-man, the perfect Guardian to the Tenth Vongola, that he was a man.
Bullshit, Gokudera thought, scowling whenever people would whisper things about the ex-athlete. It wasn't because Yamamoto grew up to be a man, it was far more simpler than that.
Yamamoto lost everything. Everything that shaped him to be that laughing and charming idiot back in junior high, the rising star of the baseball team, the gentleman of the class, the caring and friendly guy next door - or desk - who didn't hesitate to help when he could. All that was left now was a shadow of what he once was, heart just as big as it was back then, only it was rarely shown to the public eye.
Gokudera hated Yamamoto. Hated this Yamamoto because he couldn't - couldn't - even call him Baseball-Idiot anymore. He didn't have the heart to. That hobby was abandoned years ago after Tsuna finally took the seat of the Tenth Vongola. He was so different, yet still so much like the old Yamamoto that it was hard to separate what was then and now. Despite all the changes, all the bloodshed and dirty deals of the mafia world, Yamamoto remained a simple and rather traditional man.
Which was why he drove a Vespa around - looking like a complete dork in the silly vehicle - as opposed to a normal looking sedan or sports car.
The Vespa took a turn after a signal and then parked in the side-door of an apartment complex, rain momentarily muted from its steady beat against their helmets due to the overhead thick plastic cover that acted as a shelter for those who needed it. Gokudera got off the vespa and tugged the rain coat off, wringing the water off the thick plastic the best he could. He then pulled the helmet off his head, sharp and hooded green eyes starting at the tinted glass of the helmet Yamamoto was still wearing.
Tinted glass turned to face him, a gloved hand lifting the sliding glass open and revealing a pair of brown eyes - tired, hooded - flicked up to glance at him before turning to stare down the street, nonchalant, cool, calm, like it was normal. And to the Rain guardian, it was normal.
Gokudera found himself feeling irritated that the gesture was being directed towards him, no matter how unintentional.
"I'm going to go buy something to eat. You don't need anything?" He asked, voice mild. Calm. Calm like an undisturbed lake.
The hum of the Vespa nearly drowned Gokudera's growl as he scowled, wanting to break that goddamn expression, the goddamn chain of silence and avoiding glances. "Oi." He said, eyebrows narrowing, "Look over here."
Yamamoto turned, blinked, just as fingers lightly caressed his throat and warm lips touched the tip of his nose.
Gokudera found himself smirking at the wide eyed look Yamamato was directing at him, surprised, unguarded, the closest to innocent he can manage in years. In that precious five seconds, that single fleeting moment, Gokudera saw the very core that was Yamamoto Takeshi.
"Gokudera -"
"Get lost, idiot." Gokudera said, pleased, still smirking as he carelessly shoved the sliding glass of the helmet down, effectively covering the slightly blushing face.
He didn't bother to wait to see what Yamamoto would say, or do, as he turned his back to the man on the Vespa and approached the main entrance of their temporary housing. As the Vespa hummed louder and Yamamoto maneuvered it towards the end of the street, to wherever it is the idiot - yes, he was still an idiot to Gokudera - was going, Gokudera could have sworn he heard Yamamoto laugh.
FIN
Uh, yeah. GokuYama. Uh huh.
I found the 30kisses community at LJ, sadly the claims are closed. So I'm just using their titles to challenge myself a bit.