an umber visage once abetting a rose-white naivety — tapers, the slight of his frame leans into his guardian; as he is unsteady on his feet, legs unable to hold him any longer. there are hands on him, calloused and warm, and they touch - feather light - his shoulder blades and the backs of his knees, and then he's ascending. a decade as a mafiosco leader and still prone to being carried bridal. if his complexion could flourish any more rubescent in color, he is sure that it would. but for now, he is drunk and there is no denouement in his mortification.
"I thought you didn't drink," said guardian says huskily into his ear. simplicity of the statement somehow made Tsuna even more so remorseful and so he cringes in on himself in response.
"I don't drink, I indulge until I can't any longer," quiet murmur, barely audible, as he is willful and petulant in this current demeanor. and with his head where it currently is, he can feel the vibrations in Gokudera's chest, the tremor of amusement as the other laughs at him - cadence wry. "L-l..let me down, I can't have the others seeing me so.." vulnerable.
Gokudera snorts lightly.
he feels himself placed down - a polite way of thinking of it, as he was really unceremoniously dumped, and despite himself, he makes a surprised noise in reference to the caprice gesture. the diversity of mixed signals as he's being hushed, fingers under his chin, maneuvering and demanding as lips press into him.
and then they're gone and slowly his lids flutter open again. he hasn't realized that they were truly closed. he's adjusting again, to new surroundings. his office. he's sitting in his chair. his guardian wets his own lips with a flick of his tongue and Tsuna is staring, dream-like.
"Juudaime," those tantalizing lips say. "Try and get some work done already."