Title: Dirty Little Secret

Summary – Yamamoto loves Gokudera. But Yamamoto is nothing but Gokudera's dirty little secret.

Rating – PG - 13

Pairing – 8059, appearance of Tsuna

Warning(s) – Possibly some OOC-ness since this is my first time writing a KHR fic.

A/N – I repeat, this is my first KHR fic but still, I hope you like it. I probably got the characters all wrong, haha. Inspiration hit me when I was in the shower, listening to The All-American Rejects. In my opinion the song fits them perfectly, because I think Gokudera is the kind of person who would be rather nervous to let their relationship be known, but...that might only be me, hahaha! Anyway, enjoy!

DISCLAIMER – I don't own Katekyo Hitman Reborn or any of its characters.

Let me know that I've done wrong
When I've known this all along
I go around a time or two
Just to waste my time with you

"Stop…" he whispers, but his own voice betrays him, it sounds excited, breathless…almost needy. His hands also betray him because they're running through Yamamoto's hair; one stays there while the other moves to hold the back of Yamamoto's neck in order to keep him close. Or rather closer since their bodies are as close as they can be by now. His breath is ragged and coming out in short pants and he can smell the sweat on Yamamoto's skin and the faint scent of raw fish mixed with the generic brand of shampoo he uses.

Yamamoto lets out a hearty albeit slightly breathless chuckle. He doesn't reply; he can't. His mouth is busy with kissing. Their lips kiss, passionate and hungry, before Yamamoto's mouth leaves him gasping and moaning. The Japanese boy tilts his head to the side a little and he plants small kisses on his jaw, leaves a trail down his neck where he can feel the pulse just beneath his lips and down, down to his collarbone, where he sucks gently.

Gokudera shudders, lets out a raspy gasp followed by a soft moan. "S-stop…" he says, whispers really; he can't speak well, not right now. He doesn't want the kisses to stop, he doesn't want the hands to stop touching. The temperature rises and he decides his body isn't betraying him, because after all, he'd been the one to start.

Tell me all that you've thrown away
Find out games you don't wanna play
You are the only one that needs to know

"Yamamoto! Gokudera-kun!" Tsuna waves at the two boys from away, a growing smile on his face as he sees them walking towards him.

"Morning tenth!" Gokudera says brightly, a huge smile on his face.

Yamamoto laughs, good-natured and cheerful as always. "Morning Tsuna!" he says and swings an arm around the smaller boy's shoulder.

Gokudera immediately snarls, how dare Yamamoto treat the Tenth so casually? "Hey, baseball freak, don't touch the Tenth!" he yells and quickly tries to push Yamamoto away from Tsuna's side.

"Ah, ah, Gokudera-kun…!" Tsuna quickly says nervously as he watches the two bickering. It's too early to fight, he thinks, and besides, he doesn't like to see them fighting. They're all supposed to be friends, after all. And friends shouldn't fight.

Yamamoto laughs again, sheepishly when he sees the anger in Gokudera's bottle-green eyes and his slender fingers twitching, about to grab the tubes of dynamite hidden around his hips. He rubs the back of his head and backs up from the shorter boy, rising his hands in a 'there, there' gesture.

"Ah, come on Yamamoto, Gokudera-kun, we're going to be late!" Tsuna says quickly, stepping between the two of them and hoping to stop the fight before it escalates to something more violent and explosive.

"Hmph," Gokudera huffs as he turns away from the baseball player and lets his arms fall limply to his sides. "Just don't touch the Tenth," he says, shooting him a warning glare before looking away.

And Yamamoto can't help but laugh again, that sheepish smile plastered on his face. "You're so funny Gokudera!"

And Tsuna wonders if Yamamoto has a death wish or something of the sort but the explosives expert doesn't do anything else besides shoot him an angry glare. Tsuna sighs, shakes his head and begins to walk away before they lose more time. He doesn't see Yamamoto brushing his hand against Gokudera's, or the way the explosives expert smiles faintly, angry expression all gone, before shoving the other boy away but not in a spiteful manner.

"Wait up Tenth!" Gokudera yells and runs after Tsuna.

Yamamoto merely laughs and runs to catch up to them.

I'll keep you my dirty little secret
(Dirty little secret)
Don't tell anyone or you'll be just another regret
(Just another regret, hope that you can keep it)
My dirty little secret

Who has to know?

He lets out a grunt when his back gets slammed against the cold wall so hard he almost loses his breath. Eager calloused hands begin to take off his black jacket, lips brush against his own and leave faint touches and whispers on his skin. He lets out a breathless moan when he feels the other suck gently on a spot on the junction between shoulder and neck. "We're…in a closet," he manages to say, hands working to get rid of Yamamoto's sweater.

The baseball player laughs softly, "I thought you would like it…"

Gokudera lets out another soft moan when he feels warm hands moving, touching his body, memorizing it; every sensitive spot, every scar, every beauty mark. Yamamoto feels like an explorer of the New World with a foreign land to chart all for himself.

"You…bastard," he says and presses his lips against warm lips, slender hands going for Yamamoto's shirt. "We could get caught," he adds as an afterthought.

"I know," is the reply and Gokudera can sense a hint of childish excitement. Forbidden fruit and all that, he thinks and can't help but think it's rather hot.

"I'll," he pauses to kiss, "Kill you," and another pause to moan, "If we're caught…" his voice loses volume, loses conviction but the words feel strong in his mind. By now they're shirtless and working on belts and pants and it seems a little worthless to say that.

"We won't be caught," is the reassuring reply. He can feel butterfly kisses on his chest, hands on his hips and lips kissing everywhere, but he can't just drop the issue and leave it like that.

He thinks Yamamoto knows but it's always good to remind him again. "We better not."

When we live such fragile lives
It's the best way we survive
I go around a time or two
Just to waste my time with you

"What are you doing here?" he scoffs, can barely stand but he has to try at the very least, and so he gives the other boy the best glare he can muster in his current condition. His cheeks are a bright cherry-red and it makes a high contrast against his pale face. He's sweating, panting softly and holding onto the doorframe because he's afraid of losing his balance and falling.

Yamamoto laughs and smiles, that bright smile that Gokudera hates so much. It's too bright, too happy, too innocent and naïve in his opinion. It's too opposite of what a mafia man should really be like. "Well, you were absent today so I came over to see how you were doing."

He raises a pallid silvery-gray eyebrow at that. He thinks that maybe that should make him happy, but he can't show it yet, "Who gave you my address?" he asks instead, brow creasing with suspicion.

"School had it listed," is the light reply along with a cheerful smile. "So how are you feeling?"

"Does anyone know you're here?" he quickly asks, panic rising at the thought, head swimming with the horrible possibilities of being caught.

"No," there is a pause, a small one and barely noticeable, but to Gokudera it feels like one Hell of a pause, "Of course not."

A sigh of relief quickly turns into disbelief when he feels a cool hand pressed against his forehead. "You're burning up."

He can't deny it; he shouldn't even be out of bed. It's the reason why he missed school in the first place after all. The hand retreats and he almost asks him to give it back because it feels nice against his burning skin. "I brought you some chicken soup," Yamamoto says with a smile. Gokudera wants to wipe that smile off his face; it's too warm, too inviting, too…love struck. And Gokudera's not in love. Yamamoto shouldn't be in love either.

So Gokudera scoffs and retorts with a quick, "I can take care of myself." But then his body fails him when Yamamoto tries to lean over for a kiss and he stumbles back. And he would've fallen had it not been for the quick reflexes of the swordsman, who quickly reached out, grabbed a thin, naked wrist and pulled him close to him. Gokudera grunts softly when he gets slammed against a broad chest. His face is pressed against Yamamoto's shirt and he can smell sushi and cheap Japanese cologne.

"I know," Yamamoto says but really he wants to say 'But let me take care of you just this one.'

Gokudera closes his eyes; he thinks that maybe just this once he can allow the baseball freak to help him out. "Close the door then," he says quickly, afraid that someone might walk by and see them. And Yamamoto does so without protest.

Tell me all that you've thrown away
Find out games you don't wanna play
You are the only one that needs to know

I'll keep you my dirty little secret
(Dirty little secret)
Don't tell anyone or you'll be just another regret
(Just another regret, hope that you can keep it)
My dirty little secret

He is not sleeping, even though he should be. He's staring at the dark ceiling, trying to form shapes with the shadows that dance across it, but he can't even do that. He groans, turns to his side and glances at the dark room that spreads out before him. He sees the glowing numbers of the clock on the night table. They flash a bright crimson two twenty six AM. He shifts again, turns back to the ceiling and tries to close his eyes and sleep. He has school tomorrow. He is close to drifting off, he thinks, but then he hears a loud song ringing. His cell phone. He sits up, panic overriding his tired body and his semi-conscious mind and he grabs the phone. Thankfully it's next to his clock so he doesn't have to get up and walk to get it. He flips it open, blinks as the screen's light blinds him for a couple of seconds and checks.

A text message. He's not the only insomniac that night apparently. He doesn't know whether to smile or scowl. He should be sleeping after all. Shouldn't be bothered at this time. It's too late.

[ Good night, or…is it good morning? Are you up? ]

He knows the question is not really a question and more like that idiot's way of saying hi. He runs a hand through his silvery-gray hair before sending out a message of his own.

[ Night. What do you want? ]

He waits, but he doesn't have to wait much. The cell phone rings again.

[ Nothing, just wanted to say hi. ]

He stares at the screen incredulously and furiously types back with a scowl on his face.

[ It's fucking two AM, we have school tomorrow. What is your mental defect? ]

And again he doesn't wait long.

[ Couldn't sleep, thought you might be up. I'm sorry if I woke you up. ]

And he can't be angry at that, not really. Even though he tries.

[ Count sheep. Drink a warm glass of milk. Read. ]

A minute passes and no message. He waits patiently, phone in hand, set to vibrate so the stupid song doesn't sound anymore. Another minute…and still no message. He waits and waits and doesn't even know how long he waited but he's sure he waited a long time before the phone vibrated again.

[ Didn't work. What else do you suggest? ]

He smiles and then remembers that it's almost three AM, he's tired and he wants to sleep but he can't. He stares at the screen for eight seconds before he pressed down on the green call button.

"Hello?" Yamamoto's voice is low like a whisper but not quite. He hears a happy tone on his voice and is torn between being disturbed and relieved because it's different from his normal cheerful tone. It's softer, more delicate and loving. Gokudera thinks this one is special. It's only his. And that thought scares him.

"Once upon a time…" he begins because he remembers that's what his mother used to do when he couldn't sleep as a child. And it always worked, though that might be a special technique that only works if you're a mother. He doesn't know and he doesn't know if Yamamoto's mother used to do the same thing, but it's worth a shot so he keeps speaking softly as he recalls the story. And maybe he forgot a detail or two…or quite a few and so he had to make it up but Yamamoto doesn't complain so he doesn't stop.

Yamamoto doesn't say anything but Gokudera knows he's there because he can hear him breathing, soft and rhythmic. He can also hear the smile on the boy's lips, almost but not quite. And when he finishes and says, "The end," he waits and waits and no response comes. He thinks that maybe Yamamoto fell asleep but he's not sure. So he hangs up. He stares at the screen before moving to put it back on the night table and stops when the phone starts to vibrate.

[ Thank you. Good night. ]

And that brings a sincere smile to Gokudera's lips. The feeling leaves him feeling warm and fuzzy inside and yet it's not enough to stop him from deleting the messages and the call log.

Who has to know
The way she feels inside (inside)
Those thoughts I can't deny (deny)
These sleeping thoughts won't lie (won't lie)
And all I've tried to hide
It's eating me apart
Trace this life out

He can't ignore it, not when it's so blatantly staring at him in the face. The glances, the smiles, the intimate loving touches, the whispers, the promises, the kisses. He knows it spells trouble with a capital T. Love with a cursive and lower case l is much trickier than friendship with a solid and capital F. Gokudera wants to pull away before he falls in too deep but he thinks it's too late. Yamamoto is always there. All the time. Like a parasitic virus that never leaves. Even worse than STDs. He's there in the morning on the way to the Tenth's house. He's there during lunch on the rooftop to keep him company. He's there at night when there's nothing to do.

Yamamoto's always there. He's always there for him.

Gokudera doesn't like it, not one bit.

"Gokudera," Yamamoto says one day after baseball practice. He's tired and sweaty and he smells of dirt and stupidity. He's also surprised, he sounds surprised and he looks surprised when he sees the shorter half-Italian leaning against the school's wall, nonchalantly smoking a cigarette. "You waited for me?" He smiles and his smile blinds Gokudera. That smile has to be more potent that his usual 100 watt smile, Gokudera thinks.

Gokudera wants to say no, he wants to leave and never look back. He pushes away from the wall instead, hands automatically going deep into the pockets of his low-riding jeans. He begins to walk away from the school and he knows Yamamoto is following.

"Gokudera," Yamamoto says. His voice is heavy with emotion and his eyes glisten with undiluted emotion, not that Gokudera can see that but the tone is enough to send shivers running up and down his spine like sparks of electricity.

"Shut up," he snaps and his muscles tense up. He gets ready to run. Maybe if he gets enough distance between them then he won't have to listen to the idiot.

A short moment of silence and Yamamoto speaks again. "Haya—," he starts, voice softer and tone heavier. It's the kind of tone a person uses on a loved one or the kind of tone someone uses when he's about to confess profound and unconditional 'let's-be-together-forever' love.

It makes his insides twist and his throat tighten. He feels dead cold and burning hot at the same time. Sick and nauseous and ready to throw up breakfast and lunch. It makes him dizzy. He spins around on his heels, punches the Japanese swordsman right on the face, just below the right eye, and snarls, "SHUT UP!"

And then he runs.

Maybe if he keeps enough distance then he can pretend he never heard that tone directed at him. And maybe he can pretend that tone makes him sick instead of hopeful.

I'll keep you my dirty little secret
(Dirty little secret)
Don't tell anyone or you'll be just another regret
(Just another regret)

I'll keep you my dirty little secret
(Dirty little secret)
Don't tell anyone or you'll be just another regret
(Just another regret, hope that you can keep it)
My dirty little secret
Dirty little secret
Dirty little secret

It's a lazy afternoon and instead of going out, (they never go out together after all), they stay in Gokudera's little apartment. They eat sushi from Yamamoto's restaurant, leave the dishes on the sink and move to the small living room. Yamamoto has an arm wrapped around Gokudera's shoulders and Gokudera leans on Yamamoto, his head quite comfortable on the baseball player's shoulder. They're on their second movie, a comedy this time; the first one had been an action movie, and Gokudera starts to fall asleep. He can't keep his eyes open for longer than a few seconds and he keeps dozing off between scenes. Yamamoto doesn't say anything about it, if the explosives expert is tired then he won't keep him up, besides, he thinks it's rather cute to watch Gokudera try to stay awake.

Eventually after a few minutes Gokudera falls asleep, curled up against Yamamoto, one arm lazily thrown around the baseball player's waist, almost as if he were holding a giant teddy bear. Yamamoto smiles, movie forgotten by now, and kisses the top of Gokudera's head. He runs a hand through silvery-gray silky strands of hair and whispers softly, "I love you…"

And to Gokudera it all seems like a dream, because he's not quite asleep by then but he's sure Yamamoto doesn't know that. And so he hears the words that he hadn't heard yet (that he'd been avoiding) and he tries to convince himself that he's already dreaming. But that idea is more disturbing because he doesn't want to dream about Yamamoto saying that, because he doesn't want to dream about himself saying those words back. Because he's not sure if he means them or not, but he thinks that maybe he does. He concludes that his foggy, sleepy mind is obviously playing tricks on him and that he didn't hear that, and that he didn't dream that. It was probably the stupid movie and some stupid love-struck teenager who'd uttered such words. And just as he's about to really fall asleep he also concludes that he didn't hear his name whispered so lovingly. Because Yamamoto doesn't call him by his given name anyway, so he obviously didn't hear right.

Who has to know?
Who has to know…?