I want to start by thanking for the guest reviews! They keep me motivated =D
Sorry for taking so long with this chapter, but life wanted some attention. The next one will probably take just as long since examinations are coming up here in Japan.
What on earth had he been doing last night? Gokudera buried his face deeper into the pillow, praying that the last part of the evening had been his imagination. Making a complete fool of himself in front of Yamamoto's friends was not especially high on his list of desirable achievements throughout life. Deep in his foggy mind he also had a very vague recollection of running around an awful lot on the way home, with Yamamoto hot on his heels. Had they been playing tag or something? The thought had him cringing and he desperately hoped it had not been the case.
He let out a soft groan, which only succeeded in making him aware of the dull throbbing of his head. How it had eluded him before was a mystery, because now his body was practically screaming at him with sore muscles and the headache had stopped being polite and was now pounding against the inside of his skull. The fact that his throat felt as if he had ventured across a desert without any water was not helping. Gokudera tried to wriggle himself further down beneath his comforter, hoping that it would somehow bring him out of his misery. His attempts were futile, however, as the comforter seemed unwilling to move anywhere but off of his body. The soft fabric slid down over his shoulder blades, causing him to shiver as his skin made contact with cold air. His entire body was telling him not to move, to let the comforter lie where it was, while his hammering head insisted that he pulled it back up. The headache was far more convincing than his sore body. Mustering up enough strength to will his arm to bring the cover back up and over his head, Gokudera sighed in relief as he was safely cocooned in its warmth.
The mattress was soft beneath him, soothing his aching limbs and Gokudera found himself relaxing, despite the headache and the burning throat. The world was warm and gentle around him, blurring into a comfortable haze. He was vaguely aware that something was missing. There should be more heat he realized, the sticky kind that forms from skin against skin and is so hard to pull away from. Once again he moved his arm, reaching out from underneath the safety of his comforter and flailing around in a haphazard attempt to locate the body that should be lying next to him. His hand found nothing, however, awkwardly patting the crumpled sheets.
"Takeshi?" his voice was rough, rasping against the inside of his throat. Gokudera did not move from his shelter, but a sense of dread filled him as no reply came.
With the unsettling feeling lingering in his chest, he slowly pulled the fabric off his head, opening his eyes ever so slightly too peek out into the room. The curtains were drawn, but he still winced from the faint light flittering through them. Gokudera scanned the room with half lidded eyes, searching for any trace of the baseball player. What if he had done something stupid last night, causing the other to go home on his own? It would not have been the first time and, knowing himself, certainly not the last one either.
Clothes were scattered across the floor, but the dim light made it difficult to distinguish whether there were any that did not belong to him in the mess. Gokudera squinted at the disarray of clothing as his eyes gradually adapted to the darkness of the room. It did not look much different from the chaos he had left the previous morning, he noted with a scowl. Whatever had elapsed between running around in the streets and reaching the apartment had apparently been bad enough for Yamamoto to leave him in this miserable state. He swore under his breath and was just about to retreat into his cocoon when he noticed some clothes hanging off of his desk. Relief washed over him as he spotted a pair of jeans that were definitely not his own, probably thrown there along with what Gokudera recognized as the shirt he had worn the day before. As he heard the bathroom door close and the familiar sound of footsteps against the floorboards, he let himself sink back into the mattress.
The bed dipped slightly from Yamamoto's weight as he settled beside him. He felt fingers gently threading through the hair at the base of his neck and soft velvety skin pressing against his shoulder.
"Morning." Yamamoto murmured against his skin before trailing kisses up his neck. Gokudera grumbled into the pillow in response. "I was just about to make breakfast. Do you want anything?" The sudden sound tore into his head, despite the softness of Yamamoto's voice. He offered no response, instead clutching the pillow tighter and burrowing deeper into the sheets. Sounding so happy and blissfully unaware of the horrors of hangovers in the morning should be illegal. Could Yamamoto not see how he was suffering?
Apparently he could, because the most beautiful words in the universe left his lips in the next instant.
"I can make some coffee if you like?" Gokudera gave him an affirmative grunt, to which he was awarded with a light chuckle. Yamamoto's hand shifted, burying deep in his silver strands and his fingers started moving in circular motions against the curve of his head. As Yamamoto's fingers worked their magic upon his scalp, tension being drawn away by the gentle and steady force, Gokudera let out a content moan. He did not know how such a simple motion could do this to him, but it felt amazing. The raspy, breathy noises resounding deep in his throat seemed to encourage Yamamoto, because another hand joined in on thoroughly massaging his scalp. Gokudera found himself craning his head up so that the other could get better access. "Does it feel good?" Yamamoto sounded somewhat surprised, but at the same time amused.
"What do you thin- ohh…" a strangled and extremely embarrassing sound left his lips. The hands in his hair stopped momentarily, as if Yamamoto was stunned and had not elicited similar humiliating moans from the Italian before. Gokudera reached up and grabbed his wrists, pulling them away from him. "Just get me that coffee." He lifted his head and faced Yamamoto, eyes still scrunched together and already feeling the effects of the massage wearing off. "Please."
With both hands encircling his mug and nose hovering just above it, Gokudera closed his eyes and sighed in delight. He took a deep breath, inhaling the aroma of the dark treasure in his hands and leaned back against the pillow propped between him and the headboard. Yamamoto settled next to him, bare legs skimming against his under the covers.
"I think we need to restock your kitchen again, but I found some toast if you want." He felt a movement and assumed that Yamamoto was holding up the plate he had brought. He did not answer. Instead his grip tightened around the mug, trying to still the slight trembling of his fingers. "Hayato?"
"I thought I made you leave again." The words left his lips as a hoarse whisper and he felt the knot in his stomach tighten. Each word quivered ever so slightly, betraying the conflicted storm swirling beneath the surface. Never before had he heard fear so evident in his own voice. Turning his attention back to his coffee, Gokudera took another sip, hoping that Yamamoto would pick up the conversation so that he would not have to continue. If he had to, he was not sure what would accidentally slip out. Thankfully he did, like he always did because Gokudera was too awkward with things like emotions.
At first he had thought that the Japanese youth simply liked hearing his own voice or perhaps that he was one of those people that could not handle ticklish silences and blabbered on as soon as one arose. Then one day when Tsuna had unknowingly shifted their conversation towards something that was too personal, too uncomfortable for him to handle, he had realized that Yamamoto talked so that Gokudera would not have to. He consciously twisted his words to become dumber, laughing and effortlessly steering away from any touchy topics. That was when he realized just how well Yamamoto had come to know him, how he saw the parts that Gokudera was desperately trying to conceal from everyone, the parts he was refusing to let even Tsuna see. The insight had left him scared out of his mind.
"Hayato." Yamamoto's voice was firm, but soft around the edges, just like the steady hand that cupped his cheek and gently turned his head. Gokudera hesitantly opened his eyes, taking in the man before him. Yamamoto was watching him with those eyes. The kind of eyes that he wore as soon as his fingers touched the handle of his bat or the hilt of his sword. The kind of eyes that broke past the happy façade and meant that he would stop playing foolish, that he was being serious. Those somber brown eyes bore into his and Gokudera felt his mouth run dry. He had not voiced his concern before, but he was sure the tremble of his voice had given it away. Now he was suddenly afraid to search for the answer lying deep in those eyes. His gaze flickered back to his half filled mug, not daring to hold Yamamoto's. The other seemed to have noticed his uncertainty, because the hand threaded into his hair and he felt Yamamoto lean towards him.
Their foreheads met and Gokudera's hands shook so violently that he almost dropped his coffee. "I'm not going to leave you." Surprised, because the sudden leap in his chest was only that, he told himself, Gokudera looked up at Yamamoto again. The other youth's features had morphed into something more akin to affection and with a touch of something eerily similar to sorrow. "I'm not going to leave you." Each syllable was uttered slowly and carefully, as if to make sure he heard them properly. Yamamoto repeated the words as if saying them again would be enough to reassure years of unspoken worry. Somehow it was, because the knot in Gokudera's chest started to loosen. " Sometimes I just need to cool my head before either of us start saying things we'll regret in the morning." He fell silent, tenderly running his fingers through Gokudera's hair. His eyes never wavered and when he spoke again, it was with a smile gently tugging at his mouth. "I love you Hayato. That's why I'm still here."
"I love you too." He managed to choke out in response, before furiously blinking back the wetness burning behind his eyelids.
For a while they just sat there, foreheads touching and staring into each other's eyes. Yamamoto kept on smiling softly and brushing through the silver strands with his fingers, patiently waiting for Gokudera to calm down. He was not sure who moved first, if Yamamoto had tugged on his hair or if he had started leaning forward. Not that it really mattered. He let his eyes fall shut as their lips met. At first it was nothing more than a brush of skin against skin, lips slowly grazing against each other without fully touching. There was hot breath ghosting against his mouth and he felt his own getting quicker, more erratic as they continued their delicate dance. He felt Yamamoto's lips parting and edged forward, imitating the motion. Then the cup was being eased from his hands and he felt Yamamoto shifting his weight without pulling away. There was a soft clank of ceramic against wood and then Yamamoto leaned forward, fingers burying deep in Gokudera's hair and heated lips pressing against his. Rough fingers ran along his collar bone, against the curve of his shoulder and down against his shoulder blade as the other arm moved forward, encaging him.
Gokudera's fingernails raked against Yamamoto's back as and he groaned into the kiss as the other tugged his head back by his hair. His back pressed against the headrest as Yamamoto leaned over him and he shuddered as he felt the other's tongue slipping past his lips. He pulled Yamamoto closer, palms pressed tightly against his muscular back and pushing forward with his own tongue, slowly sliding it along Yamamoto's lower lip. The other let out a low, guttural sound before capturing Gokudera's tongue in his mouth, entangling it with his own. Yamamoto tasted sweet against his mouth, strawberry jam he realized, and he stroke his tongue hungrily against the other's. One of his hands slid down along Yamamoto's back, fingers skimming against the tan skin. He ran them down the side of his ribcage, over the slight curve of his hip bone and along the smooth skin just above the hem of his boxers. He felt the Japanese tremble at his touch and tasted the moan deep in his troat.
"We… we should stop." The words were breathed against his lips between kisses, Yamamoto's voice low and laden with lust.
"Yeah…" He whispered and recaptured the other's lips, one hand moving up to nestle in dark locks. They shared one final, lingering kiss before pulling away from each other.
By then Gokudera's coffee had gone cold, but he gingerly gulped it down. He eyed the toasts that had miraculously managed to stay on the plate with skepticism. They were probably cold too by now, but his stomach seemed to have awakened and was now expressing a desire to be fed. He grabbed one of the slices and nibbled on it. Deciding that he might as well ask the question that had been nagging his mind since waking up, he peered at Yamamoto.
"Did you make me play some silly game with you on the way home last night?" the other youth narrowed his eyes in contemplation, before shaking his head. "Then why was I running around like a fool and why is my body freaking sore?" he questioned and took a large bite of his toast. That seemed to ring a bell, because a highly amused expression flashed across Yamamoto's face before changing into a more tentative one.
"Ahaha… You were convinced we were being tailed by an assassin and tried to shake them off, I guess?" the bread almost caught in his windpipe as he inhaled sharply and Yamamoto quickly handed him his glass of milk. He downed the liquid in one gulp, grimacing at the sourness it had attained from standing on the nightstand.
After his wheezing and coughing calmed down he turned to face the other, but Yamamoto was looking everywhere but him, probably not sure how he was going to react to this piece of information. Gokudera opted for giving him a wide-eyed, incredulous stare. "You wouldn't listen to me and did some really crazy maneuvers while trying to shake them off." he added and the Italian almost smacked himself. That would explain the soreness. He brought his hands up to his face and sighed heavily against his palms in exasperation. As much as he did not want to believe what he had just been told, in fact he just wanted crawl back under the covers and pretend he had not heard anything, he knew that Yamamoto was not one to make such things up.
"Please, tell me that we at least had amazing sex when we got back." He whispered against his hands, not daring to look at Yamamoto.
"Well… you sure tried before you collapsed." Gokudera groaned and let his head fall against Yamamoto's shoulder. Had he not managed to do anything properly last night?
So this was only supposed to be half of the chapter (they were actually supposed to get to school), but it kept on getting longer and longer =P And it was going to be super fluffy and somehow it got serious for a moment there instead and I was so close to turning it angsty. I want this fic to be rather light and slice of life-y, so I decided against it.