I've read probably one too many fics where this pair doesn't get their 'happily ever after' so I've decided to take it upon myself to make it up to them. Very short and kinda fluffy, but hey, anything looks good at one in the morning! Hope you like it!
DISCLAIMER: You know this, yes? I don't own anything.
Haru stormed out of the house fuming. Gokudera looked positively murderous as he stalked off to the other end of the Vongola mansion, several doors banging on his way. Yamamoto and Tsuna looked at each other.
Those two would never see eye to eye. It seemed they never could. This time was no different than usual. Only Tsuna's calmly spoken words could possibly stop Gokudera in the middle of a heated argument and they had. Yamamoto watched the cloud guardian leave and sighed as he looked at the door Haru had just exited. Poor Haru would be stinging after a verbal battle of that magnitude...
"I'll go and see that she's alright," he said rising from the table with a smile. Tsuna nodded and got up to go and follow Gokudera. If he didn't cool off soon, whoever got in his way would get a piece of his mind. Only Bianchi could stop him then and even that wasn't a pretty sight.
Yamamoto put his hands in his pockets and sighed. If only they didn't fight so much. This time it was over something so meaningless he had forgotten. He followed the path down through the garden. She wasn't there. She would usually be brooding on the bench facing the beautiful expanse of land. No matter. He knew all her haunts at times like these.
He walked further and came to the log she sometimes liked to sit on as she swung her legs and hit her heels against it. She wasn't there either. He walked further down the grounds and found her sitting beside the waters of the lake. She was hurling rocks into the water and each one landed with an angry plop. He shook his head and picked up a few pebbles of his own.
Standing a ways to her right, he skipped one of the pebbles past the remnant ripples of an unfortunate rock making its way rapidly to the bottom of the lake. She gasped and paused then looked up to see Yamamoto smiling at her. She smiled back and got up to run into his arms. Then the sobs began.
He smiled and wrapped his arms around a very tearful Haru gently stroking her back. After a while, she sniffled and looked at his shirt which she had soaked with her tears.
"I... I'm sorry Yamamoto," she said softly getting her hankie to try and absorb some of the wetness.
"What, for this? It's nothing," he said stopping her hands. She smiled up at him and sniffed. At least she wasn't so upset any more.
"Why isn't he more like you? He's so foul-tempered! I've tried you know. I have! But at every single turn, he rounds on Haru with 'stupid girl' again!" she said with a little frustrated growl. Yamamoto chuckled and led her to a nearby grassy patch and sat with her.
"If he was more like me, I'd have to be more like him. We have to balance, you know. I don't think you'd like that very much, would you?" he asked with a lop-sided grin.
Haru smiled and shook her head.
"No. Haru likes you just the way you are," she said and leaned her head on his shoulder. This was comfortable. She had lost track of the times Yamamoto had come after her when she'd walked off in a huff. He always knew just what to say. It was amazing that she hadn't noticed until then how often this scene was replayed. By the time they walked back to the mansion, she was always smiling or laughing. He'd never failed to cheer her up.
"Thank you," she said and raised her head to meet his gaze. In that moment, the light touched his eyes and made them glow a soft shade of amber as he looked at her. Usually, all she saw reflected there was comfort and friendship, but this time there was something else; something significantly more... He reached up and brushed a lock of hair out of her face and his smile widened a very little bit when he noticed she wasn't upset any more.
"No problem," he said gently and took her hand in his. He lifted it to his lips and kissed it then lay it back down imprisoned in the firm grasp of his own warm one. She didn't resist or question it. It felt like the most natural thing in the world.