Author's Note: Happy holidays & merry Christmas, everyone. :] I love Christmas time, even though I'm an Atheist. xD I hope everyone has tons of candy canes, gingerbread men, eggnog and hot chocolate.

Warnings: Yaoi/BL/Boy x Boy. Lemon/lime/fruit/smut/sex. 8059 & slight 1827. Not much plot... not very consistent...

And thanks to jrlrock, for beta-reading this! ^_^

[So this is it, the feeling that I've missed.]

Gokudera made his way down a street. Buildings were festively decorated tinsel, bare tree branches carefully wrapped with colourful lights, the brightness clashing with the soft whiteness of the snow. A hustle of people crowded the street, chatting away happily. It was Christmas Eve, and this year, for some strange reason, he wouldn't be spending it alone - no, he would be on a double date with his Juudaime, and his idiotic baseball-freak of a boyfriend. As he trudged through the snow, his thin, pianist fingers loosely hung onto a plastic bag that he slung over his shoulder, and snowflakes falling gently overhead. Earlier, he had stopped by a convenience store, and purchased a couple of snacks. Gokudera laughed bitterly to himself at the thought.

Oh dear lord. He couldn't believe he was doing this.

Yamamoto and Gokudera weren't on the best terms at the moment… just a few days ago they had gotten into a small (quote, unquote) argument. Yamamoto had accused Gokudera of being too cold, or something of the like.

"Ne, Hayato," Yamamoto called out sweetly, as he wrapped his arms around Gokudera's back from behind, hands resting on his hips, pulling him close.

Gokudera frowned slightly and pried the arms off, "What?"

"Nothing," Yamamoto replied, grinning sheepishly as he placed a hand behind his head, out of habit.

"T-then stop touching me."

Yamamoto's smile faltered, "Would it kill you to be a bit more affectionate?"

"Would it kill you," Gokudera snapped, "to stop being so affectionate?"

And it did not end pretty.

But, here he was, standing in front of the same stupid baseball freak's house, even equipped with snacks. Gokudera let out a sigh. Yamamoto and Tsuna had been planning this double date for a while, and they both were really looking forward to it. He wasn't going to be the one to ruin it. "Che."

Gokudera, however, was far from excited. He fingered the cigarette that was so elegantly perched between his lips, and pulled it out, holding it between his index and middle finger. He looked at his cigarette, trying to see it the same way Yamamoto saw it; with a look of disgust. Yamamoto hated the fact that Gokudera smoked. It was unhealthy for him, or something – not that he particularly cared about his own health. Gokudera let go of the cigarette, and crushed it under his foot as he forced himself to knock on the door.

[A subtle kind of pain that keeps me from sleep.]

Yamamoto sat cross-legged on the carpeted floor of his basement as he examined the several DVDs that lay in front of him, debating which one they should watch. Tsuna, being Tsuna, insisted on Yamamoto choosing the movie. Currently, the brunette was sitting happily on Hibari's lap, a large blush coating his face, and his arms around Hibari's neck.

How cute, Yamamoto thought with a little bit of sadness, and a little bit of jealousy. Though he knew he was pushing it – it was hard enough to get Gokudera to agree to go out with him, – but he couldn't help but feel the slightest bit upset.

He wanted to be able to do that with his boyfriend.

~._.~

When Gokudera entered the room, he flinched.

He did not expect to see his boss, his idol, the one person he looked up to, to be sitting on top of that bastard-of-a-Cloud-Guardian, so openly showing affection. Gokudera could feel the tips of his ears turn red with embarrassment. "Er..."

"Oh, hi, Gokudera-kun," Tsuna's head immediately turned to the bomber, greeting him warmly, as always. Hibari's steel eyes merely flickered briefly over to him in acknowledgement; what little acknowledgement it was…

Gokudera's eye twitched.

That bastard.

He had nearly pulled out dynamite, when Yamamoto caught his attention.

"Hey," Yamamoto said softly, with a small smile on his face.

"Hey," Gokudera replied tentatively, as he awkwardly walked over to him. He held out the bag. "I, uh, brought food."

Yamamoto's smile widened, and he stood up, now seemingly towering over Gokudera, "Thanks!"

As Gokudera handed the bag over to Yamamoto, their hands brushed ever-so slightly, causing Gokudera to jump and retract his hand quickly, as if he was shocked. Yamamoto looked at Gokudera with hurt eyes, and Gokudera looked down, holding his hand protectively. He could feel the tips of his ears turning red – oh god.

[I try to explain how your touch drives me insane.]

"Yamamoto? Did you decide yet?" Tsuna asked, completely oblivious to the tension between the two. The baseball player blinked once. "The movie?" he reminded in attempt to help Yamamoto out of his trance.

Luckily, it did seem to help Yamamoto out of his trance, even if only for a little bit. "Yeah, haha, right..." The laugh sounded forced, and Gokudera bit his lip. He didn't mean to pull away... really. Yamamoto grabbed the nearest DVD to him, "This one!"

"Ehh? A horror...?" Tsuna asked with a hint a fear coating his voice and words.

Yamamoto furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he looked at the case for the first time, realizing his mistake. "Haha... sure, why not?"

Hibari, however, smirked at this as he nodded his head in approval. That Yamamoto Takeshi was pretty smart…

20 Minutes Later

"HIIIIIEEEE!" Tsuna screamed for the 4029573 time that evening, as he clung on to Hibari, hugging him so tightly, it was a miracle Hibari could still breathe. Well, it was a miracle Tsuna could still even scream, but Hibari just smiled and wrapped his arms around Tsuna, making a mental note to thank Yamamoto later. Tsuna snuggled closer into the warm familiarity of Hibari's chest as he tried to tear his eyes away from the horrific scene, without much success.

Creepy, eerie music filled the room hinting at another frightening, bloodcurdling scene. Only the faintest echo of a plastic chip bag and shallow breathing could be heard.

Gokudera sat on the ground next to the couple, with his knees pulled tightly in towards his chest. Instead of watching the movie, being remotely interested in the paranormal occurrences, or leaping up at every change he got to comfort his boss, Gokudera sat, and thought. I really messed up, huh? He blew a single strand of silver hair out of his face. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Gokudera chanted in his head, I'm so incredibly… stupid.

He turned his head to take a peek at Yamamoto, only to see him already looking in his direction. Gokudera quickly turned around. I'm fucking Smoking Bomb Hayato, for god's sake, the Smoking Bomb told himself, I should be able to hold a fucking hand. I should be able to look my lo-love… b-boyfr- him in the eye.

It made Gokudera want to tear at his hair with frustration. He had a 100% average in school, he could solve university level math equations, he was fluent in several languages – Gokudera, to put it bluntly, was incredibly smart. So why couldn't he figure out something as simple as love? Love wasn't supposed to be like this: confusing and just plain painful. It was supposed to make you feel all giggly, and happy, and warm inside.

The hollowness in his body and the burn in his chest told him otherwise.

Yamamoto's eyebrows furrowed as he watched the silverette who was staring at the opposing wall as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. It hurt. For the small fraction of time that Gokudera had turned to look at Yamamoto… the brief second their eyes met, he felt some hope. As if their eyes could convey a message, maybe he'd see the look in Yamamoto's eyes pleading for peace; but all Yamamoto had seen in Gokudera's pale green eyes was panic. But just as quickly as his hopes rose, it crashed when Gokudera so quickly looked away. What am I doing wrong? Yamamoto helplessly pondered. Something big was about to happen – he could feel it in his bones, he just wasn't sure if it was something good.

A storm was coming.

[And I can't spend night without wishing I was with you.]

Tsuna raised his arms over his head and stretched like a cat after their horror movie marathon. "Mm, I'm so tired," he mumbled.

"Let's leave, then," Hibari said, stroking his cheek, the brunette nodded his head. "I hope you're not too tired, I bought a maid costume for tonight. It'd be a shame to let that go to waste."

The other three's jaws dropped open.

Yamamoto coughed awkwardly, "Haha… ha… you guys should head out now… before the snow gets any worse." Tsuna looked up gratefully at Yamamoto.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

After the goodbyes and Merry Christmases, Hibari and Tsuna left, and Yamamoto shut the door. The faint sound of a motorcycle was heard as Yamamoto picked up a discarded chip bag. He better be wearing his helmet, Yamamoto frowned. As he reached for an empty coke can, pale fingers quickly snatched it. The Japanese teen raised his head slightly to the figure standing above him.

"I'll help you," Gokudera said as he bent down to Yamamoto's level, who had nodded his head in appreciation, and they wordlessly continued to clean. When they had rounded up all the stray litter, the two stood around, unsure of what to say. "Um –"

"Takeshi!" Tsuyoshi yelled out as he burst into the room, grabbing him by the shoulders, "Takeshi, it's important." Gokudera slowly began leaving the room, but not so gracefully hit into the couch, letting out a yelp. Tsuyoshi's attention shifted to him. "Eh? You're still here?"

Gokudera opened his mouth, but before he could respond, Yamamoto cut in, "Yeah, dad? What's the important news?"

Tsuyoshi looked thoughtful for a moment. "I forget."

And then he gave a big, hearty laugh and slapped Yamamoto on the back a couple of times. Gokudera sweat-dropped. That almost looked like it hurt.

"But anyways," Tsuyoshi continued, "Huge snow storm. It's coming down pretty hard. Near impossible to drive, let alone walk. Gokudera might want to spend the night… in our house… in your room… on your bed…" Tsuyoshi winked. Gokudera nearly fainted from the blood surging to his face.

"The spare futon, of course," the older man laughed again, before heading back upstairs.

"Well," a stunned Gokudera felt a nudge on his arm, and a quiet yawn, "Let's go to sleep, then."

He wasn't sure when he had replied, or nodded his head, but he seemed to have, as he was gently pushed up the stairs, into the room he knew so well. For someone as idiotic as Yamamoto, Gokudera had to admit; his room was clean. Everything was in order, and nothing was out of place. Books stacked orderly on top of each other, though probably never opened, resting on the empty desk. There were a few posters of the baseball players Yamamoto idolized, and a few pictures of himself with his friends. His sheets were a light blue, almost like the ocean.

Tall glass vases containing a single flower that were artistically places in certain locations helped the ambiance, and overall soothing calmness of the room.

Yamamoto was the rain, after all. And his room definitely portrayed that about him: the requiem rain that cleanses the battlefield, and washes everything away. And Gokudera had everything memorized about the rain. His rain; that seemed much further away now.

[Wanna tell you a secret, and leave it on your lips.]

Unfortunately, the futon could not be located. The laughter from the sushi chef's room was not, in any way, suspicious.

It wasn't him. And it wasn't Yamamoto.

In the dark vicinity of the night, Gokudera was carefully holding his knees again like earlier, making sure not to mess up the perfectly made bed. It looked as though they'd have to share it tonight. Yamamoto was in the bathroom currently, showering.

Maybe it was just… them, together…?

Or rather, he was showering. He now stood in front Gokudera, damp hair, and, as much as Gokudera tried to ignore this fact, only in a T-shirt and boxers.

"So, I've been thinking," Gokudera said.

"Yeah?" Yamamoto sat on the edge of the bed, every muscle in his body tensing up.

"We're completely mismatched," Gokudera said, choosing his words carefully.

"H-huh?" Yamamoto sputtered.

"You and me," explained Gokudera looking downwards in vain attempt to ignore the flash of pain and confusion that ran across Yamamoto's face for the briefest second. Yamamoto seemed to be able to recompose himself, and waited in silence, urging Gokudera to go on. "We're complete opposites. We just don't add up, no matter what formula you use. You're loud and friendly, I can count the amount of people I actually do like with one hand; you are… affectionate, I'm not. I flinch at the slightest contact with you. "

Yamamoto blinked, absorbing the information. "Gokudera – "

"Only," Gokudera interrupted, looking up, "it doesn't matter. What I'm really trying to say, anyways, is, I'm sorry."

Yamamoto lunged forward, pushing Gokudera onto the bed as his arms wrapped around the other's body. "We're not breaking up?" he asked.

"What? No! Why would you think that?"

Yamamoto didn't respond, but instead held Gokudera tighter.

"Idiot," Gokudera said softly into the chest he was currently being crushed in to, "We're not breaking up. I you know… kind of… love you. I can't show it really… But I'll try."

Without warning, Yamamoto's lips hungrily crashed onto Gokudera's. Gokudera would have yelped if it weren't for his mouth being occupied with something else. Yamamoto naturally took an offensive position, his tongue poked out of his mouth, and softly brushed at Gokudera's bottom lip, causing him to gasp in surprise. Taking the opportunity, Yamamoto slid his tongue in smoothly, and Gokudera's eyes snapped opened.

[Wanna sing it through your body, wanna tell it through this kiss.]

"Ow!" Yamamoto pulled away, sitting up, the metallic taste of blood surging into his mouth. "You bit me!"

"Y-you shoved your t-tongue into m-my mouth!" Gokudera accused, trying to sound angry, but his stuttering didn't exactly portray that message. Neither did turning bright red.

Something about that set Yamamoto off. He doubled over with laughter, fits of chuckling, giggling and howling.

Gokudera turned even redder, if possible. "D-don't laugh at me!"

It's not that they hadn't kissed before, but small kisses that lasted only a fraction of a second were all the Gokudera had permitted. And Yamamoto usually had gotten hit afterwards.

It was totally worth it though, in his opinion.

It was only when Yamamoto noticed Gokudera's bottom lip, the one he had just been licking, was quivering and trembling, and his eyes looked like they were holding tears, he stopped. Yamamoto took Gokudera's hand in his own, letting his lips slide over bony knuckles.

"I'm sorry," he apologized sincerely, "Let's try again, yeah?"

Closing off the space between them once again, Yamamoto carefully and gently pressed his lips against the bomber's, before he could protest.

It felt nice, Gokudera admitted, the softness that enveloped his mouth.

When a wet muscle prodded his lips again, he prepared himself, and tentatively opened his mouth, allowing entrance.

There was the faintest, most subtle taste of the remnants of a liquid – Yamamoto's blood, Gokudera noted – as the other's tongue slipped past his lips, and into his mouth. Yamamoto's tongue expertly swirled around, poked, and played with Gokudera's motionless one, taking the lead of a complicated dance that seemed to come naturally to him, like most things.

Moving purely on instinct, as always, Yamamoto wrapped an arm around Gokudera's lower back, and cradled the back of his head with another, bringing them even closer together.

Gokudera's eyes darted around anxiously.

Oh shit.

What was he supposed to do? Getting the hint from Yamamoto's closed eyes, he let his fall shut, and focused on not biting the foreign muscle inside of his mouth, probing everywhere – not that he really minded. Shyly, Gokudera began to push back. It elicitated a low, almost growl-like moan, that completely shocked Gokudera. He was obviously doing something right, and that excited him.

Focusing on the kiss, and how their tongues pushed, and slid against each other, Gokudera also began to notice tingly sensations that rode from the tips of his red ears, to his toes. He allowed himself to lean backwards slightly, as Yamamoto aggressively pushed forward, his arms awkwardly suspended in mid-air.

The seconds after that just kind of blurred for the self-declared right-hand man. He was somehow lying down on the bed again, and his tongue was lost in the warmth that was Yamamoto's mouth. Though his head was on cloud nine, his lungs were very much on earth, screaming riot. Gokudera lightly tapped Yamamoto shoulder, hoping the baseball freak would get the hint, and let go. He needed air, and he needed it now.

When Yamamoto didn't let go, Gokudera all but shoved the figure towering over him. He did, however, roughly pat Yamamoto a couple of times. Finally getting the hint, Gokudera was allowed to breath. Yamamoto, on the other hand, had taken a liking to Gokudera's neck; the velvety tip of his tongue ran against the supple flesh of Gokudera's collarbone, several times.

"Nngh…" Gokudera moaned through gritted teeth as the organ leisurely ran up the side of his neck, and lips attached themselves just below the junction where his neck met his jaw, applying slow, pressured kisses. With his guard relaxed, Yamamoto stealthily pulled the T-shirt Gokudera wore over his head in one motion. Gokudera yelped in surprise. "H-hey! What are you-!"

Before he could finish, lips covered his own for a chaste kiss. Yamamoto grinned, "Shh. These walls aren't sound proof."

Gokudera hands feebly pushed on Yamamoto's broad shoulders. "Get off!"

"Don't wanna," Yamamoto leaned in to Gokudera's ear, licking along the shell of it, "Hayato."

And with that, Gokudera's arms were pinned above his head, Yamamoto's hand securing his thin wrists in place. Gokudera's eyes widened, "Wait – ahhh…"

An array of butterfly kisses ravished his chest, each one applied with just the slightest bit more pressure, building up tension. Yamamoto's mouth crept down the center of Gokudera's stomach, making sure to leave a couple of scattered marks. Gokudera was his and his alone. Making one last love bite on the boy's hip, his mouth retracted and hovered over a quickly hardening nipple, and blew soft stream of warm air down onto it.

"Mmmnn…"

[If I told you my secret, would you swear to keep it?]

Damn it, Gokudera frowned. All these little noises kept coming out his mouth when they weren't supposed to.

Lips gingerly clamped down on the bud, and Gokudera could hear himself gasp. They squeezed at it lightly, and tugged gently, and that was enough to drive Gokudera insane. He could feel the idiot smiling coyly on his chest, his lips turned upwards in what was almost a smirk at Gokudera's state, but nevertheless, he found himself arching up against the tantalizing mouth, yearning for more.

The pair of bruised lips noticed and pulled away.

Gokudera had nearly let out a whine.

Yamamoto leaned back to admire his work, letting go of his hold on the squirming body's arms. He reached over the side of his bed, and turned on a lamp. Gokudera, for a lack of better words, looked erotic. Yamamoto could feel the blood rushing down there by merely looking at him: a thin, but toned stomach and chest, its ivory skin littered with marks, the belt on Gokudera's jeans was undone, and the zipper was pulled down.

Gokudera could feel the intensity of Yamamoto's stare, scanning his body up and down, over and over.

"S-stop staring," the silverette snapped, shyly hiding his flushed faced behind hands.

"But… you're beautiful."

Before Gokudera could respond, a knee nudged at his lower regions.

"Gah! Wa-wait!" he cried out, "Yamamoto, I don't want this!"

"Takeshi," Yamamoto corrected with a mischievous smile, "And I'm sure you do want it, my dear Hayato."

Yamamoto placed a palm, slightly rough from athletics, on Gokudera's skin, and slid it downwards until it rested on top a bulge in his pants that was becoming predominantly more noticeable.

"Ahh," Gokudera shuddered as the hand began to rub circles. The friction seemed to daze him as Yamamoto slid off Gokudera's jeans, and only when he had hooked his fingers into Gokudera's boxers, did he notice. Gokudera grabbed Yamamoto's hands, "S-stop!"

"Nah," Yamamoto said easily, as he leaned in for a kiss, in attempt to distract the bomber once more.

And it seemed to work.

The grip that was once on Yamamoto's hands loosened, and he slowly pulled down Gokudera's boxers, and slid them off his legs. Gokudera hissed slightly at the cold air. "Bastard."

[Would you swear to keep it?]

Yamamoto gave a small laugh and pulled away. He fingered the hem of his own T-shirt before pulling it over his head, nearly giving Gokudera a nosebleed. Yamamoto then ran a hand slowly and seductively down his chest, and onto his hips, swaying them ever-so slightly, teasingly. Gokudera sat up and watched half-mesmerized, half-embarrassed, as his boyfriend slowly pushed down his boxers. Said boyfriend let his last article of clothing fall to the floor, before climbing onto the bed again.

"Hayato, come here." Gokudera tensed and froze for a second, staring blankly at Yamamoto's command. He tentatively shuffled closer, and barely felt Yamamoto's hands as he was lifted placed on Yamamoto's lap, facing him. Yamamoto grinned as the red that painted Gokudera's face became darker, and spread further across.

"A-ah!" Gokudera moaned as he felt fingers grab both of their erections, pressing them together, and giving a small, experimental pump. Such delicious friction. As Yamamoto continued his ministrations, Gokudera wrapped his arms around Yamamoto's neck, holding on tightly as waves of pleasure crashed against his entire body.

The pace varied. Sometimes Yamamoto would give long, meaningful pumps, starting from the base, and ending at the tip. Sometimes they were shorter, more erratic, and harsher. Right now, it was the former. The grip on both of their cocks was feather-light and had Gokudera longing for more. A thumb brushed over both tips, spreading the small amount of precum that had built up around.

"Nngh," Gokudera moaned, and the slow pumping sped up, become faster and faster. And eventually, the burning heat of Yamamoto against his arousal, the stimulation, and the liquid that was coating everything…itwas too much. Gokudera shut his eyes, threw his head back, and let out a soft cry as he came. Seconds later, Gokudera heard a low groan, and figured Yamamoto had probably cum too.

[Watching you dance, seeing you smile, still getting me butterflies every once in a while.]

Gokudera leaned against Yamamoto, drenched in sweat and other bodily fluids, unable to support himself. He breathed in and out with short, shaky breaths, still high from their previous actions. Yamamoto, however, seemed to recover a lot quicker.

"Y-you're still… hard?" Gokudera asked in disbelief before he was pushed onto his hand and knees. A finger slick with cum circled his hole. "H-hey!"

The finger pushed carefully pushed into the extremely tight entrance, causing Gokudera to cringe. "Hayato, relax," Yamamoto cooed, "It'll hurt less if you calm down."

"Calm down? How the fuck do you expect to calm down, when you're… you're... doing that? How much god damn stamina do you have, anyways?"

"Some," Yamamoto answered airily in dismissal as his finger nudged into the entrance a bit further.

Gokudera attempted to distract himself from the feeling of the finger pushing in and out. It wasn't painful, but it was quite uncomfortable.

"Gah!"

A second finger was added, making it incredibly cramped in there. Gokudera dropped to his elbows and bit his bottom lip, pressing his face against the cotton bed sheets.

Scratch that last thought.

It was painful.

"Oh my god," Gokudera panted. He grabbed at the sheets as the fingers relentlessly pushed in and out, occasionally curling, or scissoring.

Yamamoto frowned at Gokudera's trembling form. If he could just find it…

"Mmph!"

[Feelings insist on falling. Twist on lust. A choice to care, a wish to touch.]

Gokudera wasn't sure what exactly but Yamamoto did, but he wanted him to do it again. There were hot white flashes in Gokudera's vision now that Yamamoto's fingers seemed to continue their attack on that particular region.

When the fingers were removed, Gokudera wasn't sure if he should be relieved, or pissed at Yamamoto for stopping. But before he could further ponder this, two hands held the sides of his hips as something larger than fingers began prodding at his hole.

A whimper escaped Gokudera's mouth as Yamamoto continued to push in, his vision blurred from tears collecting at his eyes. Yamamoto let out a low groan at the warmth and tightness that he was sinking into. When he was all the way in, he paused to allow Gokudera to adjust to the size, feeling a bit guilty. After a moment, Gokudera spoke.

"I-I'm okay," he said, his voice tembling slightly.

"Are you sure?" Yamamoto asked hesitantly.

"Move," Gokudera replied.

Yamamoto contemplated Gokudera's words. Only the smallest of tell-tale signs actually revealed that Gokudera's body was screaming pain. Yamamoto noticed how his legs were quivering, how his face was buried in the sheets, how his knuckles turned white from applying so much pressure.

"Move," Gokudera repeated with a forceful hiss.

Obeying, Yamamoto began rocking his hips back and forth, shallowly thrusting into Gokudera, as he hand wrapped around Gokudera's neglected member, in desperate attempt to take away the pain.

And gradually, the pain subsided for Gokudera, with an angled thrust and a yelp indicating that Yamamoto had relocated his prostate.

Aiming for that general area again, Yamamoto pulled out, and continued his advances, at a much faster speed. Soon, both of them were once again reduced to a sweaty, panting mess.

"Nngh…" Gokudera moaned breathlessly, "…hey, T-Takeshi…"

"Yeah?"

"I-I'm sorry… for earlier."

And suddenly, Gokudera was on his back again, and Yamamoto was sucking on that spot of his neck again, inducing a couple of shudders. "Me too."

So this is love?

The sound of skin slapping against skin, and heavy breathing mixed in with moan of pleasure filled the room, and with a couple of more thrusts, Gokudera convulsed with tremors of pleasure, and let out a moan that was met with a lower-pitched one, as they both came simultaneously.

[You say never, I'll say lie.]

It was 3 A.M. when Gokudera's eyes fluttered open, and his sleep, for some unknown reason, was disturbed. He sluggishly rolled over to his to side to face Yamamoto, only to find an empty space of where he was supposed to be. The Italian sat up, rubbing the sleep from him eyes.

Intuitively, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and stood up. The silence was unsettling; so Gokudera slid on his boxers and jeans that hung loosely from his hips, he carelessly pulled on a shirt, completely oblivious to the fact that it wasn't his, but Yamamoto's. He grabbed his leather jacket off the floor, and left the room with a soft click of the door, being careful as to not wake up Tsuyoshi. He shuffled down the hallway, the wood floors felt cold under his feet which were in a warm bed which had a warm body that belonged to his boyfriend just a moment ago. Gokudera was going to find that warm body. He carefully made his way around the chairs and tables of the infamous sushi restaurant, and slid open the Japanese style door.

The coldness of the night hit him immediately, and the wind seemed to cut right through him, sending a shiver up his spine.

"Hayato?" a voice came questioningly. Outside stood a tall figure – found him.

Gokudera blinked a few times, trying to rid the reverie haziness of just waking up. He was greeted with chocolate brown eyes, short black hair, and a wide smile.

"Isn't it pretty?" he asked.

Gokudera scanned his surroundings. Tsuyoshi hadn't been joking about the snow – it literally covered everything in a thick layer of soft, fluffy whiteness that almost reached his waist. A peaceful silence settled over them like a wave, as they stood side by side observing the scenery. The back of a hand knocked against Gokudera's a few times before he finally got the message. After exhaling, and telling himself he could do it, he grabbed Yamamoto's hand, and let their fingers intertwine.

Yamamoto's smile widened.

[You say always, I'll say true.]

The sky was surprisingly clear, and a wonderfully bright, and full moon was seen over head, shining among a million stars that lit up the world. At that moment, everything felt right.

"Haa… haa… haa…"

Gokudera furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he turned his head to Yamamoto who was blowing out little puffs of warm air that immediately condensed into a fog-like thing.

"Hayato, look," Yamamoto said, with a tone of innocence, "I'm a dragon!"

Yamamoto continued blowing out small puffs of air.

Gokudera shook his head, "You're an idiot." Despite his words, Gokudera let one side of his mouth quirk upwards in an amused half-smile.

"Maybe that's a good thing."

"Yeah…" Gokudera hummed thoughtfully, holding Yamamoto's hand tighter, "Maybe it is."

[You say love, I'll say you.]

Author's Note: Well, that was my attempt at 8059 and some angst… and some smut, by request of the poll I had on my profile.

It would help a lot if you could review; constructive criticism is accepted [erm… it would be great if you could do this in the most gentle way as possible.] Well, reviews in general are greatly appreciated and any comments will help me improve, so please do tell me what you think. :]

Oh, and the song is the Taste the Touch by Asteria.

Thanks for reading. :]