Sort-of Liking

Honestly, he didn't even know why he wasn't topping in this relationship. Everyone who knew Gokudera knew that he was dominant, fierce, and hid everything that contradicted that—like the fact that he actually enjoyed playing the piano, studying for a quiz because he liked feeling smart, and other not-so-manly interests like being amazed at a really good painting. It was really such a damn inconvenience for him that Yamamoto could see through this façade.

But, in his defence (he would never say so, of course), he never imagined that he would be doing it with a guy. He never really realized he was into guys until Yamamoto came out of nowhere and confessed that he had a sort-of crush on him. Gokudera had punched him, told him not to come up with such stupid jokes.

The first time he realized he might be into guys was the first time he discovered that Yamamoto wasn't joking at all—or anymore, he couldn't tell. It was some time around that bastard, Chikusa, defeated him and left him bleeding. He woke up in the middle of the night, on a hospital bed, and expected the room to be empty. He hid his smile behind a scowl when he saw Yamamoto hunched over the side of the bed, probably dreaming of something stupid like Baseball.

"It's because you like Tsuna, right? Haha. It's okay, I can take it."

"What? I like girls. Get that through your thick skull." Gokudera was beet red and he wondered how the Baseball Idiot could talk about such a thing like it was a casual matter.

"Tsuna's kind of like a girl. Haha, have you ever imagined him in a dress?"

When Tsuna entered the room, Gokudera was threatening Yamamoto with sticks of dynamite. He was also yelling that the Tenth was a Man among Men, the Best Boss of Vongola. Tsuna was just about to ask what was going on when Gokudera added, "Fucking no, I've never imagined the Tenth in a dress, you asshole!"

Tsuna walked away as silently as he could and he no longer wanted to know what was going on.

Well, okay, Yamamoto had some confessions he would never say out loud. Maybe the first time he teased Gokudera, it was only because he thought it was funny. The Italian was so amusing to tease. He teased Gokudera about so many things, and when he said he had a sort-of crush on him, it had been a joke. He smiled all the way home as he held an icepack up to his swollen cheek and remembered the way Gokudera sputtered.

Yamamoto realized that maybe it wasn't so much of a joke was when he watched over Gokudera for the night. He hadn't really expected to fall asleep, on the edge of Gokudera's bed nonetheless. His eyes drifted half-open when he felt a hand on the back of his head, fingers light against his neck and simply resting there. Gokudera said, "You're an idiot," and Yamamoto smiled and pretended to be asleep.

"I like you."

"I've heard that fucking joke of yours a thousand times."

Yamamoto smiled, silently, painfully. "This time I mean it."

Staying quiet, Gokudera exhaled a long trail of smoke. He wasn't even looking at Yamamoto now, couldn't even think of a good retort for that one. Well, maybe he didn't want to make a retort.

"Yeah, well, what do you want to do about it?"

Yamamoto was surprised. He wasn't expecting an answer like that. He was expecting something along the lines of Fuck Off, or maybe dynamite shoved in his mouth. Gokudera saw the apparent shock in his face and grinned, triumphant, as if he finally won The Game. His grin spread over his face and Yamamoto simply stared, realized that he liked Gokudera the most when he was like this, not shouting and just being who he was.

Gokudera thought he won, that he was finally in-charge, until Yamamoto reached forward and snagged the cigarette between his own fingers. He kissed Gokudera on the lips and nibbled on his chin, his hands clutching at the cloth of the Italian's back.

"The fuck?" Gokudera yelled afterwards. He complained and insisted never to bring that incident up again, that it was stupid, and Yamamoto thought that he would have been more convincing if he hadn't kissed back.

He probably shouldn't have gulped down those two bottles of beer. Maybe Yamamoto didn't have to be such a sport about it and drink his own share.

"Where are Yamamoto and Gokudera?" Tsuna asked Reborn. He didn't understand the knowing smile that Reborn answered him with.

"Gokudera, Gokudera…" Yamamoto repeated as he nibbled on Gokudera's neck and slurred on his words.

"Nn." The Italian replied as one of his hands held unto Yamamoto's shoulder, his nails digging deep into skin and leaving crescent marks. His other hand was clutching something, anything, maybe the bedsheets. "Don't be so noisy."

"Okay." Yamamoto agreed, a bit too quickly, and it was unlike him but Gokudera didn't think about it. The Baseball Player grabbed the hand on his shoulder and kissed the too-thin wrist, nibbled in-between the number of black skull bracelets and rings that he wore.

Gokudera was silent the whole of next day. Everyone else noticed how he avoided Yamamoto more than usual, saw the scarlet on his face. Bianchi threatened Yamamoto and Yamamoto laughed nervously, lied and said he had no idea what was going on with her brother. Bianchi knew he was lying, but she let it go.

He should have known that Gokudera was going to be like this. He had always been shy. Yamamoto thought it was cute.

The Italian was in the kitchen when Yamamoto ambushed him, kissed him fully on the lips for a few seconds. Gokudera scowled and pushed him away, told him to at least be a bit subtle.

Of course it was never said, but maybe that sort-of crush developed into something more. Yamamoto couldn't think of the right word and Gokudera said it didn't matter and that it was a stupid thing to think about.

"Adoration?"

"No. Shut up."

"Are we dating? Does that make us boyfriend and… boyfriend?"

Gokudera ignored him, tried to drown his voice out.

"…Lovers?"

"God, shut up!"

Maybe he didn't have a name for what they had, but Gokudera didn't care. Why the hell should they name it, anyway? That was stupid and just damn girly. So he cared for Yamamoto (just a bit, he insisted) and missed him when he was sent to the future. He hated that tall guy in front of him who seemed much more confident, didn't even tell him what went on for the past ten years.

The stare that man gave him was menacing, made him look away in a childish manner. Even if it was just for a day, he missed the Yamamoto that laughed so much and made so many odd comments that he had to try so hard to look like he didn't find it funny.

He crawled in that man's bed that night, anyway, and the older Yamamoto made room for him. He didn't try anything funny, knew that Gokudera was way too young, even though he was still his Gokudera and it probably wouldn't make a difference. Gokudera sensed this and didn't mind, didn't say a thing when Yamamoto played with the strands of his silver hair between his fingers and pressed light kisses on it. The Italian's hand was clutched against the front of his shirt, and this time, he didn't care if he looked clingly. Yamamoto smelled different, but he was just as warm. That made it okay.

Yamamoto said, quite softly, his breath warm against Gokudera's ear, "I like you, and you know it." and Gokudera believed Yamamoto just a bit more—both versions, or maybe just the same person, technically.

So maybe he sort of liked Yamamoto, sort of cared for him. Big deal.

End.