1. Yamamoto/Gokudera
The Assault
They're watching a symphony when realization hits Yamamoto with all the power, the impact of the violins crescendo.
Beside him, Gokudera's eyes are shut, softly, his mouth is parted, and Yamamoto can hear clearly over the music, the frantic beating of his heart. The music awakes him; the eight year old boy with a love for Bach, for Beethoven, for piano. When the percussion instruments are storming the stage, the lightness of the piano sounds shrill and haunting into the hall. A high E, the last notes in utter dissonance. Their sickening combination brings Gokudera's eyes wide, and he stares almost fearful down at the orchestra, so alive his fingers twitch for the soothing coolness of keys, the dusty slide of old compositions at his fingertips.
And Yamamoto watches him, completely besotted. World-class arrangements may be quite something, but nothing attacks his senses, attacks him at all the way Gokudera can, in all his violence and lingering tenderness, all his brutality and care. His face is raw and beautiful, and this is the moment Yamamoto chooses - above the hum of a cello and the shaky aftermath of a tympani - to lean closer to him and brush his mouth against his ear; this moment, after six years of effort and hard-work, could collapse down on Yamamoto like a flood, and he gambles it away. He knows it would be worth the risk. He's a hard-worker; he can try and try again.
It would be lovely though, if he got it perfect the first time around.
"I love you," he breathes, low as a bass, the rumble of his voice warm on Gokudera's tensing shoulder.
It's sudden and heart-achingly terrifying, but Yamamoto knows it would be worth it. He swallows fear, and it rises like a stone back up, catching in his throat.
Gokudera is perfectly sated, more relaxed than ever, and his cheeks only colour faintly, eyelids lowering as one pale hand snakes over the arm of his chair to capture Yamamoto's.
'I know,' he mouths, and he squeezes Yamamoto's hand like a vice in his own.
Gokudera tries to regain calmness, but Yamamoto hears his heart hammering, hears the excitement with his own ears; he feels Gokudera's trembling breath on his own lips.
Nothing attacks his whole self quite the way Gokudera does.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
AN: After a long while of bemoaning the quiet in the fandom, I cranked out some drabbles - all of them extremely sappy. This is my perfect Yamamoto/Gokudera moment, and by far the gayest thing I've written in life. It had good competition though, it really, really did.
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