Disclaimer: I don't own Reborn.

Summary: Let's just say, Yamamoto had a new found appreciation for being early.

Author's Note: A request fic for Talk Like A Zombie on LJ. This is my first time writing Reborn and anything yaoi-related, so please be gentle. Flames aren't allowed but I will accept constructive criticism, thank you! I just hope I did 8059 justice when I wrote this.

Please note, there's mature content ahead.

Enjoy.

Early Bird

Prompt: Swimming Pool

They had arrived at the pool early.

Well, Yamamoto did anyway—Gokudera just happened to be there at the same time he was. Apparently, this didn't please the other boy. The moment they met at the gates, Gokudera's already petulant frown deepened into what could be described as 'man-slaughter.' It didn't let up—not even the tiniest fracture—when Yamamoto smiled and offered him a cheery 'good morning'. Needless to say his greeting was promptly ignored and returned with silence.

Of course, Yamamoto was used to this and so skipped to the point. "What are you doing here so early?" he asked. "I thought the meeting time was around noon?"

It was already nine-thirty.

"As the Right Hand Man, I have to make sure the place is completely secured before the Boss gets here," he said, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.

Yamamoto knew Gokudera long enough to know he took this Mafia game seriously, so he instead of saying anything that would likely make Gokudera pissed, he simply nodded and smiled again.

"Oh, I see," he said.

That seemed to irk Gokudera anyway. "What are you doing here so early then?" he demanded.

"Had baseball practice this morning," he said, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world, "Thought I'd come here right after."

"Tch. Baseball Freak," Gokudera muttered, with a roll of his eye. He pushed through the gates as Yamamoto followed after him.

The pool area was gigantic (courtesy of the Vongola estates). He could fit three large cars and a truck in this pool if he wanted, and maybe his kitchen. It was also a private pool, quite secure from any outsiders or any would-be assassins—seeing over the verdant bushes, which were spread around all four corners of the lot, was difficult as it is; Yamamoto doubt anyone would try to hurt Tsuna.

"Okay," said Gokudera authoritatively. "I'll take this side of the pool. You take the other."

"And what am I supposed to be looking for exactly?" said Yamamoto, scratching the back of his head. From what he could tell, the place was spick and span. The only possible threat in the area, he could discern, was a kiddie-floating device, and that was made out of air and plastic.

Gokudera gave him his trademark 'oh-I-forgot-you're-a-freaking-moron' look. "Search for traps—anything that might be potentially dangerous. If it's suspicious-looking, dispose of it right away."

He didn't give Yamamoto a chance to say anything else and moved to his side of the pool area to begin investigation. Yamamoto sighed and seeing no way around it went off to his side.

They worked for at least two hours and during that amount of time, Yamamoto had both chucked a rock over the fence—someone could trip, he had thought—and yanked a couple 'lethal' looking twigs from a nearby bush—someone could poke themselves, he had thought—but other than that, he didn't find any hidden traps or anything that would warrant his suspicion.

When he came back, Gokudera was wiping the sweat off his brow.

And he was shirtless.

Yamamoto blinked.

Gokudera was shirtless.

He blinked again.

Nope, still shirtless.

Yamamoto wondered how many times he had to blink in order to believe what he was seeing.

Finally seeing him there, Gokudera walked towards him, the fluctuation of his biceps and his upper torso all the more apparent with each forward step. Yamamoto forced his eyes to remain on Gokudera's face the whole way—even though they were itching to look back down again and stay there.

"Okay, I'm done my end. How's yours?" he said.

Yamamoto swallowed, hard. "Uh… i-it's, uh, okay," he said, voice thick. He cleared his throat. "It's secured."

Gokudera didn't look like he immediately trusted his judgment, but he nodded. "Alright."

He levelled Yamamoto with a hard stare, green eyes like steal—there were times when Yamamoto would have given anything for Gokudera to look at him like that, but at the moment, he didn't think he'd be able to stand the scrutiny, not when he was too busy combating inappropriate thoughts of Gokudera bent against the bush. Yamamoto did his best to stare right back.

"Strip."

Yamamoto choked on air. "What?" he said. Had he… heard right?

Gokudera began to unbutton the buttons of his shorts.

"W-What are you doing?" he stammered. He couldn't look away now even if he tried. Gokudera was removing his shorts—oh, no, oh no, he thought—he's bending down too! And if he angled his head just right he could see—see things that made him want to spread Gokudera on his back and just go at it.

"What does it look like I'm doing, you idiot?" Gokudera scoffed. "I'm getting into the pool. I have to make sure it's secured too." He took the steps down into the pool. When still Yamamoto refused to budge, he snapped, "Well, are you getting in or what?"

He shook his head and waded deeper and deeper into the water.

Yamamoto removed his shirt and shorts mechanically. His arms and legs felt stiff when he entered the pool and joined Gokudera at the center.

The silver-haired boy frowned at his odd behaviour. "What's with you? Water too cold for you?" he said.

It wasn't cold enough, Yamamoto thought, swallowing again, but didn't say that.

"Nothing," he said and attempted a smile. "Why, Gokudera, if I didn't know any better I'd say you were worried about me."

Gokudera flushed. "D-Don't be so full of yourself, you Baseball Freak," he retorted with a defiant glare. "You could drown here for all I care." However, he didn't sound too convincing.

"If you say so," said Yamamoto, his smile widening. He knew better of course. In his weird, unorthodox and sometimes highly unethical way, Gokudera cared. Sort of. Knowing this made the tightness in his muscles loosen slightly. "So what are we looking for this time?"

Still irked at his confidence, Gokudera shrugged one shoulder. "Same idea," he grumbled. "Find any traps and dispose of anything that looks suspicious."

As it turned out, there was nothing even in the pool, save for him and Gokudera, and that was probably what made things so difficult for Yamamoto in the first place. If there was a twig out of place or a piece of rock lying around, he'd gladly give every ounce of his concentration to assure they were taken care of. But as such, the pool area was spotless, and there was nothing—absolutely nothing—to distract him from watching Gokudera swim around, practically half-naked. It was torture.

Once or twice, Gokudera would catch him in the act and to excuse himself the embarrassment of having to explain himself, Yamamoto dove underwater. But even beneath the surface, he could see, and he could see Gokudera's swim shorts hanging precariously to the sides of his hips, but just barely.

One yank and Yamamoto could—he broke off for air.

At this rate, he was unlikely to last before Tsuna and them arrived.

"Okay," said Gokudera, after another hour of pointless wading. "I guess we're done. I'll go call the Boss and let him know."

They started for the steps, but Yamamoto was hardly paying attention. His eyes were on Gokudera's long legs, his small waist and how painfully slow they seemed to move in front of him. Water trickled down the fine contours of his hard shoulders, his back and his arms. Don't jump him, don't jump him, don't jump him—he lost all form of reason when Gokudera bent down to pick up sandals.

One moment he was listlessly clambering up the stairs and the next he was dragging Gokudera back into the water again and pressing the other boy against the wall of the pool.

"What the fuck, are you—umph."

Yamamoto kissed him.

Gokudera immediately stiffened in his arms and made a move to push him away, but all that did was make Yamamoto kiss him harder. His tongue ran across the surface of his lips, grazing and questing; callused hands moving over skin—down his arms, his chest and then finally resting at both sides of his waist, tugging incessantly until Gokudera was pressed up against him like so and he could feel the bulge of the other poking at his leg.

Seeing that he wasn't going to be denied, Yamamoto slowly untied the string of Gokudera's swim shorts, slipped his hand into the waist band, skimmed leg and hair until he was holding it. Gokudera choked back a gasp. At first he stroked it gently with the tips of his fingers, allowing the water to guide him with the flow—Yamamoto raised his eyes to watch the other boy for any negative reactions and when he found none his grip tightened and started moving at a decisive pace.

Gokudera gasped and dug his fingers onto the sides of his shoulders. Yamamoto's ministrations grew faster so that ripples began to swish and form on the surface of the water. When he came, Gokudera fell back against the side of the pool with a barely contained cry of ecstasy.

He threw a glare that wasn't quite as menacing as before. "You idiot, what the fuck was that for?" he hissed, but before Yamamoto could even begin to explain himself, Gokudera had balled his hair in his fists, jerked him forward and shoved his tongue into his mouth—again.

Yamamoto groaned and responded in kind.

"Take these off," Gokudera ordered, indicating Yamamoto's shorts. "Now."

Yamamoto eagerly did as he was told, his hands almost shaking in anticipation. He could tell Gokudera was growing impatient too when he'd nearly torn off his own and threw it over his shoulders. Evidently, he wasn't in the mood for foreplay—neither was Yamamoto—so at least they had that established.

As soon as he they were off, he lifted Gokudera up the wall of the pool and took him. Swift. Hard. It felt absolutely godly. Gokudera was tight and slick and heated and ready.

At first, Yamamoto went at a moderate pace—not too slow and not too fast, but it soon became apparent that Gokudera didn't want that either. He feasted Yamamoto with an iron-enforced glare.

"Either you fuck me hard or you don't fuck me at all," he growled, and Yamamoto saw that same look form earlier—that exact look he'd gave given anything just to have aimed at him. And it was. It was all on him.

With that, Yamamoto's thrusts grew desperate and spasmodic—less even—he was vicious and forceful and Gokudera was basking in it. He was grinding his teeth together, his face pinched with pleasure, trying to stop himself from releasing any vocal appreciation of any sort. But Yamamoto could hear the faint whispers of his name being said over and over again. That made him move even harder—he pushed the other boy tightly against the tiles and put his entire weight into each thrust. Gokudera was gasping now; involuntary cries of passion escaped his lips despite how adamant he had tried to stifle them down.

Yamamoto buried his face into his neck with a loud moan. It felt so good. Being inside Gokudera felt too good. He wanted more, he wanted—

"Harder," Gokudera urged fiercely, as if reading his mind. "Harder, damnit!"

The ripples of the pool were beginning to spill out of the pool, but neither one of them seemed to care. Gokudera was clawing at his back and jockeying his pace now; Yamamoto's grip on his waist bruising and unrelenting—they could both feel their pressures rising.

"Fucking bitch," he heard Gokudera hiss before they finally exploded and came. Yamamoto watched as Gokudera arched back and tilted his head, completely enthralled in the throes of pleasure. Just to ride out and prolong the last few moments of bliss, Yamamoto jerked a couple more thrusts, pressing his face to Gokudera's neck while the both of them cried out and it was over.

It was silent except for their heavy breathing. It took a while for them to finally calm down and when they did, Yamamoto was reluctant to release his hold on Gokudera still. Of course, Gokudera shoved him right off, but he was delighted when he was, at least, allowed to hold him after.

"Well," said Yamamoto, beginning to smile. "That was something, wasn't it?" He chucked. "I didn't take you for a screamer, Gokudera."

"Oh shut up," Gokudera growled, his face turning red. "And stop grinning like that—you look like a moron."

Yamamoto's smile only widened. "But I'm so happy," he said, leaning in to kiss him on the lips. When he pulled away again, Gokudera's face was even redder than before.

"Just because I let you screw me this one time, it doesn't mean you have the right to go kissing me any time you want," he snapped.

"Why don't you just admit it already?" said Yamamoto, grinning. "You're crazy about me."

Gokudera flushed again and jerked his head in the other direction to avoid eye contact.

"The only thing I'm crazy about is how much you piss the living shit out of me—and stop making that face," he snapped again. "It's disgusting! If you don't I'll—I'll—"

"But why not?" said Yamamoto, still grinning. He touched the corners of Gokudera's upturned lips with the pads of his fingers. "I'm crazy about you."

Gokudera sputtered. "I—I…fuck you!" he snapped, face glowing red.

"Didn't you do that already?" he teased.

"Well it has a new meaning now. It means go die a most painful death, you Baseball-loving Freak!"

"I think it means you want to do it again."

"What?! No it doesn't! This was a once in a life-time thing! So there's no way it's ever happening again!"

"…Does that mean you want to do it again?"

"What? No! Didn't you hear me? Why the fuck would I want—"

"Hey look, a floater!"

"Aren't you listening to me, you idiot, I said I don't—umph—get off me, Yamamoto or I'll—oomph—oh… oh fuck it already, come here!"

By the time Tsuna and company arrived, Yamamoto and Gokudera could not explain why the floors around the pool were so damn wet or how the floater winded up looking like road-kill.

AN: Please let me know what you guys think of it! :)