Title: All I'll Ever Need
Pairing: 8059
Rating: M
AN: This is an old work that I am just now posting on FF. Originally on LJ
A man sits in the park, calm and quiet, snowflakes settling onto his still form. The distant look on his face suggests he doesn't realize this, and the slouch of his frame suggests he wouldn't care if he did. His Italian pinstripe suit, liberally dusted with the white of the sky's frozen tears, alerts the man who searches for him. He walks over, an easy gait, and brushes the powder from the bench to sit beside his friend. It never occurs to him to mind the smoke, or the creeping chill through his own fine suit, and he watches the snow in silence, waiting for his companion to come back to the present.
There is a slight pull to his mouth that says he might smile at any moment, melting the ice with the warmth of his innate cheer. As if anticipating—dreading—this looming occurrence, the colder of the two blinks, green eyes snapping sideways to proclaim his borderline-violent mood.
"What the hell do you want?"
"You have two weeks' vacation, one of which includes University, and you spend the first day of it sitting in a park by yourself?"
"What's it to you?"
"I was just thinking maybe you didn't know the good places to have fun at in this town. Maybe this is your first vacation from Family business, because it was a forced vacation, and you might not know how to get the most out of it. Am I wrong?"
As always, the light, friendly tone and happy, shining eyes make him feel even more inclined to frown. The fact that the bastard is right only exacerbates the problem. He flicks the dead stub of his cigarette into the black of a nearby trash can and stands, plotting ways to get the fool to just leave him alone. Sure enough, he attains a tag-along as he makes his way over to a nearby shop. He sighs, but says nothing, knowing that words will not deter him. For now.
Harbor Mountain has been Gokudera's favorite coffee shop and hang-out spot since his first year in high school. The quiet, laid-back atmosphere is always relaxing and enjoyable, and the coffee is always the best in town. It is merely a coincidence that it was also the first part-time job Yamamoto ever had. Getting free coffee because of this, however, was not.
He orders a pumpkin spice latte and hears his straggler order hot chocolate as he waits for the drink. They share a glance and the open affection in those amber eyes makes Gokudera want to curse. It has only been about 2 weeks since the day that Yamamoto spoke the second most blasphemous words he could ever string together.
"Hayato, I think we should go out."
Gokudera broke his pencil lead and whipped his head around so fast his neck popped. The fact that his given name preceded the blasphemy didn't really surprise him, seeing as he had recently gotten used to hearing it from Yamamoto now and then, but it certainly added to the shock. The reality that they were in the middle of the second of the three lectures they shared also contributed, even if it apparently didn't matter to Yamamoto.
"You idiot," he hissed and lowered his head to hide the ensuing flush. "What the hell are you talking about!?"
"I've been thinking about it lately, and I think it would really be worth a try."
He sounded thoughtful, too, as if he really had been sitting there contemplating them as a couple. Gokudera bit the end of his pencil, leaving deep marks in the dull yellow, for lack of anything to punch or yell at. It occurred to him that this was probably Yamamoto's plan all along: corner him someplace where he couldn't explode and commit any acts of unspeakable violence, at least until he'd had time to calm down about it.
"What could possibly have convinced you that having a relationship would ever be a good idea?" He didn't bother mentioning the fact that he never even hinted that he might be anything other than strictly hetero (and since when was Yamamoto not?).
"Well, because I really like you and I like thinking about you, picturing us toge—"
"What the fuck, Yamamoto!?"
"—ther, imagining touching your hair, snuggling on the couch and watching movies, kissing yo —"
Gokudera clamped a hand over Yamamoto's mouth and glanced around to see if anyone had heard the LIES, HORRIBLE LIES coming from that filthy mouth. Yamamoto seemed to think his embarrassment was funny, if his low chuckling and crinkled eyes were any indication.
"Shut up, you freak, or I am going to drag you out of this classroom and use my latest chemical combustion project on my very first test subject." Yamamoto continued to shake with quiet laughter, but he nodded and kept his silent promise when Gokudera removed his hand.
It took a whole five minutes for him to start again.
"You know, at first I thought it was weird that you never dated anyone, not even at University. I figured it was your dedication to the Family, to being Tsuna's right-hand man, but lately I'm wondering if it's because you're ashamed."
"Of what!?" Gokudera successfully managed to convey the force of his shriek through a mere whisper.
"Of being gay, maybe?"
"Who the fuck said I was gay!?"
"No one, but I always thought that it was a possibility."
"You DUMBASS!" He lost the ability to contain his volume on the insult. Everyone in the room turned to glare at them, including the professor, and while Gokudera scowled at his notes, Yamamoto laughed and gave a casual apology.
Despite many attempts to bring up the subject—or any subject—Gokudera had refused to speak to him after that.
Thinking of that horrible day makes Gokudera miss his order being called. It isn't until Yamamoto steps into his line of sight with two cups that he remembers where he is. He takes the offered beverage with a volatile, "Thanks," and stalks off to sit in his favorite corner. He quickly pulls his laptop from a black leather briefcase and proceeds to ignore the gaze he can see from the corner of his eye.
"You never denied it, you know."
"What?" he snaps, still not looking at him.
"That you might be into guys." Yamamoto, eerily perceptive and attuned to other's thoughts as ever, ignores the warning growl and ploughs right on into the danger zone, "So I'm even more convinced now."
Gokudera grits his teeth and attempts to focus on the words on his screen. He sips his latte, reminding himself to actually taste it, and flicks a nearby sugar packet at Yamamoto's forehead.
"Just drink your hot chocolate and go away, baseball idiot."
There goes that laugh again; that laugh he did not miss. He gets a few minutes of blessed silence, Yamamoto just gazing around, sometimes at him, sometimes not, and sipping his chocolate. It gets to the point that he almost manages to forget he's there and focus on his essay, but then it all shatters with the steadfast perseverance that is Yamamoto Takeshi.
"Does Bianchi know?"
Gokudera's fingers claw his keyboard and he comes alarmingly close to chucking the thing at the idiot's head, but he catches himself just in time. Taking a deep breath, he closes it and sets it down on the coffee table and forces himself to relax. Not that he wouldn't be able to replace it, but he has precious data stored in the thing and it would be very inconvenient to lose it to something like Yamamoto's absurdity.
"Look, Yamamoto, not that this is any of your business, but if I were that way, no one but me would need to know about it." An indirect lie, but Gokudera doesn't like to lie to people he trusts. Call him cliché, but wouldn't that defeat the purpose of having someone to trust?
"But—"
"I'm not!" Well, if he is still going to insist, he would rather lie to him than admit it and have the weirdo after him even more tenaciously. "I'm not, okay? So just leave it alone already."
Golden eyes bore into icy green for a moment, and then, "That's not true."
"What? Are you calling me a lia—?"
"Yes. You always do that thing with your right eyebrow when you know you're lying and you don't like it."
Speechless, he gapes at Yamamoto for a second. Since when did the idiot figure out his tell? This is unquestionably disconcerting.
"So the question is: why don't you want anyone to know?"
"That's it," he mutters, gathering his things and taking his leave as quickly as possible. If reasoning and lying won't work, he'll just get the hell away from him. At least that way Yamamoto can't pester him to death.
Figuring he'll be followed, Gokudera takes the alley beside the shop, hoping to lose him before the chase even begins. He hears a, "Wait, Gokudera," but doesn't bother looking back. Once he gets to his apartment, he can lock him out, if nothing else.
Then he stops in his tracks, realizing the foolishness of his thoughts and the situation itself. There is no reason in existence that the Storm Guardian of the Vongola Family should run—from anything—even if it is the Rain Guardian, in all his determined glory. Yamamoto catches up and moves to stand in his way. He wears a strange expression that Gokudera can tell he doesn't want to understand. Anxious anticipation winds its way down his spine because, as soon as Yamamoto opens his mouth, something will change. He can feel it.
"I'm not letting you go." Yamamoto rests his hands on Gokudera's shoulders and steps close enough for their warmth to mingle in the space between them. The way he says it makes Gokudera think he's decided this a while ago, maybe even before that day in class. He wonders how long Yamamoto has thought about this, wonders if it's as long as he's been ignoring it in himself. He sighs.
"I'm not going to date you, Yamamoto."
"Why not?" A hint of frustration, one of the emotions Gokudera has rarely witnessed from him.
"Because the Family—"
"The Family? Is this about Tsuna?"
"What? No, it's just—"
"Because I know he's not gay, he—"
"It's not like that!" Gokudera pushes the arms off and turns away. Yamamoto patiently waits for the explanation. "It's not like that. I just don't want any complications. Did you ever think of what could happen if we ended up hating each other? The right hand man and another guardian with this big rift between them…it would break the tentative cohesion we've managed to maintain."
"But I thought you already hated me, haha." Gokudera shoots him a look and Yamamoto winces. "Besides," he says, "I could never hate you."
When Gokudera remains silent, Yamamoto steps before him again, hesitantly reaching up to twist a bit of silver fringe behind a silver-lined ear. Surprisingly, he frowns but allows the touch, getting one of Yamamoto's rare Gentle Smiles in return.
"Come on, what's the harm in just trying it out? Why don't you spend New Year's with me? Reborn and Bianchi are taking Tsuna and the kids to Italy for the week anyway. No one should be alone for the holidays." Gokudera opens his mouth to spout excuses and refusals, but Yamamoto cuts him off. "And after that I won't bother you anymore, if you really think it won't work."
"I already know it won't work. Weren't you listening?"
"Just give me this chance, Hayato, that's all I ask."
Gokudera sees the particular curl of his smile that says he already knows he's going to get what he wants. He will have to deal with this carefully, like mixing nitroglycerin in with the clay that stabilizes it. If this goes on unchecked, it will only become more dangerous, probably resulting in the very outcome he refuses to allow. Yet, even if he goes along with Yamamoto's plan, they could very well destroy everything they've worked for together.
"Fine. But don't expect me to be happy about it."
"Hahaha, I wouldn't dream of it!"
Yamamoto's grin is brighter than the afternoon sunlight glaring off the snow.
The sky is light and clear in anticipation of the New Year, icicles litter awnings and overhangs, the wind arctic yet refreshing, but Gokudera isn't the type to notice these things. Especially when he's expecting Yamamoto on his doorstep any minute now. It's enough to make him consider backing out.
Thinking idle thoughts helps, as well as the cigarettes, but his nerves are still a mess. It took half an hour just to decide on something to wear—an annoying ridiculousness that he refuses to acknowledge—and the half-empty bottle of Italian wine in his fridge had never looked so friendly. All he wants is for this day to end as quickly and painlessly as possible.
He's pacing between his sofa and the door when the knocks come quiet and sudden. Knowing full well it's still five minutes before the agreed time, Gokudera throws open the door with a scowl and a muttered, "About time." Yamamoto merely steps aside, casual smile in place, and follows him back out to his car. Gokudera slips into the passenger seat before his date can get any embarrassing ideas and try to open the door for him.
"Where are we going?" he demands as Yamamoto starts the engine.
"It's a secret," he replies, eyes securely fastened on the road before them.
"Like hell. No way am I letting you take me somewhere if I have no idea where we're going."
"You don't trust me?" The tone is playful, but there is a tilt to his mouth that has Gokudera taking it seriously.
"…That depends." Fidgets with his rings and glares at the dash.
"On what?" Shifts gears and glances out his rear view mirror.
"On the situation," he nearly shouts, exasperated. "If it's a fight, sure, I know you've got my back, but if it's something like one of your hare-brained notions of fun, they usually turn out to be anything but."
"Really? What about that time we went to the arcade to try that new dancing game that you turned out to be really good at?"
"Well that…that was different."
"And when we went to the carnival because you said you'd never been to one and ended up staying for six hours?"
"That was only because I had nothing better to do and it was too easy beating all of those games and getting prizes."
"But that day at the aquarium when you saw the sharks feeding and thought it was, 'Fucking awesome'…?"
"Okay! So maybe not all of your ideas suck, but there are definitely some stupid ones."
Yamamoto laughs and finally meets his eyes. "Yeah, but I know you're really gonna love this."
"Tch. We'll see."
The restaurant is small and comfortable, run by a family from Italy, and the atmosphere is the best kind of nostalgic. There are candles on every table, a tasteful wine menu, and classic furniture. He can't believe he's never been here before. Their server is polite and efficient, bringing out their orders before they remember to wonder when it will be out. Gokudera takes one bite of luscious, steaming hot Orecchiette col Ragù and falls in love.
"How did you say you found this place?" His voice, he realizes, is saturated with content and appreciation, which almost pisses him off.
"I don't know. I guess it kind of…called out to me, haha!" Gokudera rolls his eyes but keeps his comments to himself. Oddly, he really doesn't want to mess up the mood. "I was walking around, looking for the park when I passed by, happening to glance through the window, and thought it might be pretty cool. It reminded me of you."
Rather than responding to that, he sips his red wine, and falls in love again.
They eat in a comfortable silence for a while, and this sets Gokudera on edge. He mentally sifts through all of the awkward topics he knows, hoping to make the date less successful.
"So, have you ever dated a guy before?" Past relationships are always awkward, right?
"Nope." Yamamoto grins, teeth somehow just as clean as ever, though his dish is filled with herbs just waiting to get stuck between them.
"Why not?"
Gokudera regrets it the instant he asks, regrets it more when he sees the somber expression it causes, and regrets it most when he hears the response.
"Because it was always you."
You're kidding, he wants to ask, but all that comes out is a surprised huff. But Yamamoto's solemnity soon melts into his trademark grin and Gokudera can be annoyed again.
"Shut up, you moron," he grumbles under the other's infectiously happy chuckles.
They have some of the best Gelato Gokudera has ever tasted for dessert. Yamamoto displays his ignorance by calling it ice cream and laughing when he is corrected, but Gokudera can't bring himself to be irritated by it. Perhaps it's the glass and a half of wine he's had. Probably not, but what else could it be? Surely he's not enjoying himself so much as to be in a good mood without the Tenth here! That's just not possible. But then he has just laughed at one of Yamamoto's jokes, so he could very well be going insane. He can't remember the last time he's laughed with him, rather than at him.
And even though it goes against the whole point of his resistance, he wants to stay here and laugh with him until the beautiful sound of it becomes all they'll ever need.
They sit on a fluffy blue sofa, white pillows to match the white walls. The television shows some young couple running from their inevitable death, in the form of the rotting, hobbling undead, and Gokudera would wonder what dufus chose a zombie movie for their first date, but he already knows. The culprit currently has one hand almost permanently buried in the popcorn bowl and the other resting "innocently" on the back of the sofa behind Gokudera. He seems engrossed in the gore before them, but Gokudera has caught him glancing sideways at him thrice now.
He never imagined this could happen to him. Oh, the horrors of spending the day with Yamamoto, trapped in the fierce light of that adoring gaze for hours on end. Only a half hour of movie left and he can be freed from this nightmare. And really, why did he bother to tolerate it as long as he already has? Gokudera can't remember what argument he used, but he is sure it's all his fault.
Just as the girl gets dragged off to her doom, a crafty hand finds its way to Gokudera's shoulder, warmth spreading across his back and creating shivers in its wake. He stiffens, doesn't want to look but does it anyway, and sees those intense eyes staring right into his. Having learned to read all of Yamamoto's smiles as if they are all individual expressions, he can practically hear the thoughts running through his head, and a reasonable amount of dread surges in his gut.
"Look, Yamamoto," he begins, but fingertips are tickling up and down his arm, unfairly distracting him from his protests.
"Hey, Hayato," and the dread flares like one of his bombs, quick and hot. Yamamoto smiles sheepishly and wears the faintest of blushes. "Can I kiss you?"
Against his better judgment, Gokudera does not leap up and shout profanities as he kicks Yamamoto out of his apartment. For some reason he can't fully comprehend, he stays right there and doesn't decline, doesn't give any sign at all.
The smile morphs into more of a smirk and Gokudera swallows, begins to shake his head but doesn't make it past turning it a little to the left. Then it's too late; he's got a mouth on his and a body way too close to being the same. He's leaning backwards and he knows this is only encouraging the decreasing proximity, but he still can't make his brain work enough to push him away. The whole thing gets so much worse the moment he closes his eyes and realizes he's actually enjoying this.
It's too sudden, too intense, and when his back meets the cushion, he feels a small wave of pleasure and calm, rather than the panic he should be feeling. Yamamoto is lying above and beside him, warm, solid, and smelling like the guy he wishes he hadn't fallen in love with. Gokudera lets his mouth fall open on a sigh, the fingers slipping through his hair a little too nice to ignore.
He's two heartbeats away from giving in, soft lips moving tantalizingly slow down his neck, when he hears what is—unmistakably—a groan. Like a wild colt, he shies away from the unknown, eyes wide as he rejects the promise of complicated gratification.
Yamamoto is lazy pleasure and calm acceptance, allowing the space Gokudera demands without complaint, yet unashamed of the lust he harbors for him. For a moment, neither breaks the near-silence of heavy breaths and heady connotations. He feels dark eyes glued to his face, feels the power of that gaze stirring the burning embers to life, whether he wants it or not.
It's frustrating, the way Yamamoto can always get a rise out of him. He's sick of it. He wants to get a rise out of Yamamoto for once, damn it! With that thought firmly in mind, he makes a hasty decision without really thinking it through—something he almost never does—but now he just doesn't care anymore. Tired of being the hunted when he'd like nothing more than to be the hunter. His pulse steadies with the confidence of a resolution, fear fading out as determination trickles in, and the look on Yamamoto's face when he begins to see it is priceless.
"I give up," he says. "Let's do it your way."
And while he is gawking like Gokudera has just told him he's really a mermaid, he pushes Yamamoto down by the shoulders and kisses him fiercely, unforgivably, angrily. There is only a surprised sound at first, body slackened with shock, but then there is a fire in his actions that rivals the very nature of the Storm flame. Lips and teeth and tongue fight the epic battle, casualties of breath and pain lingering only long enough to fall at the hands of the God of Pleasure.
Neither bothers to hold anything back. This is everything that has simmered between them from the moment they met, all the highs and lows of helplessly needing and wanting someone, finally coming to fruition. This is weakness and strength, desire and hate, but mostly this is something that was as inevitable as the rising of the sun.
Clothes swiftly become an obstacle easily overcome, heat an ever-present accompaniment as they search for the ways to be closer. There is a furrow to Yamamoto's brow that reminds Gokudera of desperation, but the shine of his eyes is irritatingly serene. Then it doesn't matter because all he can do is feel. His name is being called, a frantic whispering, and the tip of his tongue tastes of his own version of the same. It happens too fast, stealing his thoughts for one long, still moment, and Yamamoto is the epitome of beauty beneath him.
Deep breaths, shaking hands, and disbelief color the odd moment of resurfacing. When he can think relatively normally, the first thing Yamamoto does is laugh, a joyous cascade that helps bring Gokudera back from the abyss. He pulls him close, messiness and all, burying his nose into soft silver strands, and thinks he would be happy to lie here with him forever.
Gokudera comes back feeling like something sharp and acidic has been pulled from deep within him. It is a relief so profound that it could be an illusion, but the contented adoration radiating from Yamamoto is too strong to be anything other than reality. Now he knows that, no matter what, he will have to try this thing—whatever it is—with Yamamoto. There is no going back.
A new beginning. Something to fight for that is something all his own. Gokudera kisses his boyfriend and makes his first resolution for the New Year.
"I'll never let you go."