It was early March, and Tsuna and Gokudera were among many that filled the Namimori High Baseball bleachers.

Gokudera was, of course, not there of his own free will. Not that he was there against it either – more or less, he was only there because Tsuna was. Oh, and because Yamamoto was. It so happened that Gokudera had made it his person goal to keep them separated whenever possible and Yamamoto knew it.

Tsuna knew it too. He had had to tear the two apart just this morning before either of them had been able to inflict some serious damage on each other. Or themselves, for that matter.

Three months since Gokudera fell on him and the two still couldn't get along unless Tsuna was there to referee.

But that was beside the point because, though it would break Gokudera's heart if he said it out loud, the silverette wasn't the most important person at the moment. He had his times when he was, like two weeks ago when he had gone to one of Gokudera's piano recitals, but today was Yamamoto's day!

It was the top half of the last inning, playing against another high school team that had been, for the past five years, undefeatable. The pitcher on the mound was known for his curveballs, not that anyone could hit them, and, also, for his less than flattering insults about the male anatomy of his foe.

So far, he had called Yamamoto, in such subtle ways as to seem almost helpful to the gathered audience and game officials, a woman three times and then had caught onto that why Yamamoto kept looking to his right before going up to the pitch or the mound was because, and this was amazing on the asshole's part, of his boyfriend, which he made sure to point out very loudly in almost a conversational tone.

Tsuna had been singled out and more than thirteen people had moved away from him while seven others (mostly older guys) suddenly became very interested in keeping his company. Not that they got close to enough to do that either, what with Gokudera on the watch out.

Thank God for Gokudera being so temperamental, if only this once.

But that had really offset Yamamoto. Tsuna could tell. He refused to look over and give the pitcher anymore ammo to damage Tsuna with, but, in the process, he wasn't turning to Tsuna for motivation.

Yamamoto kept playing a good game, sure. But not as good as he had been doing. His team knew it and threw Tsuna, more than once, desperate looks.

Gokudera snapped out a cigarette, lit it, and threatened to burn the next motherfucker that thought to get near to Tsuna. "Tsch! That Yakyu-baka, doing things like this to you! These assholes should be showing you respect, not beating the air with their fucking dicks!" He took a long puff from his cancer stick. "He should lose already so we can go home, right, Jyuudaime?"

Jyuudaime – because Tsuna had broken ten ribs "saving" Gokudera and now he was officially Gokudera's "boss". Terrible, right?

But Tsuna was distracted. He had an idea, one that he was pretty sure would work, but also one that scared the hell out of him.

The pitcher was bad talking him again with the air of someone who was as kind as sunshine on a cloudy day.

"So, how'd you two meet? Bar? Street? Was it 'love at first sight'?"

Translation as he knew Yamamoto perceived it to be: Gay bar? Working as a male hooker at a corner street? Perfect strangers having sex?

"He looks sweet. Maybe you wouldn't mind if we get together?"

Translation as heard by Yamamoto: I'm going to screw your boyfriend.

The bat snapped in Yamamoto's hands as the sports star closed his eyes tightly, lips pursed. Dead silence filtered through the small outdoors stadium and the Namimori coach called a hesitant, then louder, timeout before leading Yamamoto back to the pit.

Tsuna turned to Gokudera. "Stay here, okay? I have to do something."

"Jyuudaime!" Gokudera whined because he was so much like Yamamoto that he wanted constant attention – his constant attention – and being apart made him look like the world's most abused puppy.

"It's okay, Gokudera-kun. I'll be right back. Meanwhile, er, would you mind…" He tried to single out the guy he would feel least guilty about having nearly slaughtered by his friend. That thought process didn't work, he felt bad no matter how many lewd smirks were thrown his way. So, finally, he just sighed. "Would you mind protecting my coat? I-it has my pictures in it…"

He hoped, even as he hoped against it, that someone would try to make a grab for his coat. Gokudera would be ecstatic if he could pick a fight.

The thing was, though, that Gokudera would win the fight, hands down, no competition. Tsuna was just worried for the poor fool Gokudera went up against.

So much for not being mean, huh?

He dashed into the pit for the Namimori team. The coach was yelling at Yamamoto, telling him to get back in the game, not just physically, but with his soul, like he did during all the previous games and all the practice sessions!

Then the coach saw him and immediately retreated, tilting his cap to him. "He's all yours, Sawada." He ushered the rest of the players to the opposite end of the pit, giving an inspirational speech that could be heard across the baseball field.

Tsuna knelt down next to Yamamoto. "Takeshi…"

"I-I'm losing it…" He opened his eyes and they bled scarlet red as he searched the field and found the pitcher with such an aura of murder that Tsuna had to stop breathing or suffer its intent. "I'm going to kill him. You're mine, Tsuna, mine…"

That was the baby in him talking, even if he had admitted to always being jealous when others took an interest in Tsuna. He had learned to tell the difference between that of which that was instinctive and that that was emotional.

This was just a baby, trying his hardest to make sure his parent didn't leave him for someone else. It was irrational and Tsuna couldn't quite get it, but the desperate, needy look in Yamamoto's gaze as he turned to look hopelessly at him told him that getting it would not make it any better.

"What he's saying – It's not making you feel bad or anything, right?"

He shook his head and reached out, taking Yamamoto's shaking hands in both of his. "No." He was thrown off by how calm he felt. He had to stop for a moment and rethink his plan. There was fear and anxiety, but he felt overall warm with the knowledge of what he was going to do. Giddy, even.

Tsuna smiled at Yamamoto and sat down on the bench next to him. He tipped his head back and put his mouth against Yamamoto's ear, who tilted his head to accommodate him. "He can say all that he wants, but you're still going to win. Do you know why?"

The sports star shook his head with a bemused grin. "Why?"

Tsuna took a deep breath, centered himself, and then whispered shyly, "Because you're my mate and I love you." Yamamoto's breathing stopped. He looked like a frozen statue as he stared wide-eyed into nothing. Tsuna grew bolder and pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips. "So don't give in, alright?" He rushed to his feet, nearly fell over his own shoelaces, and then ran out of the pit, shouting behind him at the still unmoving Yamamoto and the rest of the team, "Good luck!"

The coach gave him a thumbs up before turning back to Yamamoto and demanding he get back to home and not break the baseball bat this time.

Tsuna was startled to see what had happened at the bleachers while he was gone. None of the perverts were dead, luckily, but Gokudera was moping on one end of the third rise while someone else Tsuna knew slouched in the middle of the same bench.

Lambo waved lazily at him, drinking, and Tsuna was shocked, black coffee by the looks of it. "Yo, Fledgling. This is the last game, right?"

"Fucking catalyst…" Gokudera was muttering to himself. "Took Jyuudaime's coat from me."

Lambo handed over the jacket and Tsuna carefully took it. "Thank… you?"

Gokudera's obvious despair became even more so. "Jyuudaime was supposed to thank me," he went on, as if he had forgotten that he wasn't the only one around with enhanced hearing.

Tsuna sighed and smiled at the silverette. "Thank you, Gokudera, for… saving my seat!" That would work.

Gokudera brightened up like a Christmas tree. "It was no problem, Jyuudaime!"

"Oh, look, your baby's getting back to pitch." Lambo sipped his hot beverage. "He looks deadly serious."

Tsuna sat down and watched. Lambo was right, deadly serious defined Yamamoto perfectly in that moment, posed at the pitch with a new bat in hand, a glare cut so sharply into his features, he could have shattered a diamond.

That was determination down to the N. If there was a way to defeat that, Tsuna wouldn't know it.

He doubted the pitcher would know either, not that he didn't try to figure it out.

"Did your boyfriend give you a good luck kiss? Man, I could use one."

Translation: I'm going to screw your boyfriend.

Somehow, Tsuna understood that every other statement out of that pitcher's mouth was "I'm going to screw your boyfriend". Or, maybe, after spending so much time with Yamamoto's territorial jealousy and Gokudera's all-around paranoia, he had simply come to expect the worst to come out of anyone's mouth.

That could be really bad.

"I think that pitcher's planning on getting intimate with you," Lambo drawled after a few more sweetly sour comments.

"Really?"

"Really, Jyuudaime!" Gokudera answered him. His eyes were a green-gold, a growl resounding in his chest. "I'll make him pay for insulting you in that way!"

Tsuna grabbed him by the wrist before he could go flying into the field. "L-let's wait a bit before we do something drastic, alright?"

"… Only for you, Jyuudaime."

"Thank you, Gokudera-kun."

The silverette sulked in his little corner again. Tsuna sighed.

The gathered audience was getting impatient – the pitcher didn't seem pressed for time on throwing the damn ball. Seconds ticked by as he tried to hold a conversation that was secretly made of only insults and threats.

Tsuna had to wonder, was that allowed?

The opposing team's coach roared for the pitcher to fucking throw already.

And he realized that, if it was, then nobody cared for it.

The pitcher wound his arm back. "I guess this is it. Good luck, Mr. Dude."

"Translation: I'm going to annihilate you, fag."

Wait, how did Tsuna know he was secretly saying that word?

"Because I'm the one who said it." Lambo shook his head. Tsuna flushed, wondering when he had started talking aloud. "Yare yare, I try to have fun with telling you what the bastard's actually saying and you're off in LaLa Land. So rude."

"S-sorry."

"Don't bother apologizing, Jyuudaime! The catalyst is obviously in the wrong."

"Wow, you're really starving for attention, aren't you? I'm sure mommy will give you a nice treat if you stop being such an –"

Tsuna shushed the two. "It's happening!"

The pitcher pulled his arm back.

Yamamoto slid into position.

The audience held his breath. What would happen?

What was going to happen?

The pitcher threw his signature curveball, so perfect and flawless, Tsuna couldn't even track it – especially after Yamamoto hit it so hard, it flew right out of the baseball field into the cloudy sunset.

"HOMERUN!"

Against all odds, the undefeated team was defeated. Namimori reigned supreme.

Yamamoto, after completing his run, leaped over the fence, dashed up the bleacher, and swung Tsuna up into his arms, laughing and whooping. "I love you too, Tsuna!" He dragged him into a long, deep kiss.

Gokudera gagged, somewhere in the back of his mind where he could barely focus long enough to hear anyone else that wasn't Yamamoto Takeshi.

Lambo sighed and said something like, "Young love".

And Namimori screamed and cheered and whooped and screamed some more.

They separated slowly, a sliver of blue light slipping into Tsuna's mouth at the last possible second. Yamamoto looked up at him, slightly paler but not by much, as Tsuna looked down at him, brighter, healthier, a warmer weight against him.

"That's good to know, Takeshi, because I plan on loving you for a long time."

~::~

Author's Note: And now it is the end…