Title: Corrective Measures
Pairing:
Yamamoto/Gokudera
Summary:
Takeshi was pretty well convinced that he was going to spend the rest of his life trying to figure Gokudera Hayato out. Most of the time that didn't seem like a bad prospect, but there were times when he had to stop and ask himself whether he was sure he knew what he was getting into.
Notes:
Adult for smut. For KHRfest, prompt V-2: Yamamoto/Gokudera – glasses . Future fic, diverges from canon at chapter 282, fluff wrapped around a cranky Gokudera core. 2560 words.


Corrective Measures

It took Takeshi what he felt was a regrettably long time to discover that Gokudera Hayato wore glasses, especially considering that stretch of months in the future where he'd bunked with Hayato, and, oh yes, the fact that they'd been sleeping together on a fairly regular basis by the time he found out. It probably would have been even longer, had Takeshi not decided to surprise Hayato by swinging by his apartment and caught him in the act of reading with a pair of glasses perched on his nose.

"You wear glasses?" was the first thing Takeshi said, staring at Hayato and absolutely charmed by the sight. Hayato had his hair pulled back to keep it out of his face, and the frames were black and narrow. It was funny how that changed his whole look to something softer than his usual hard-edged style, something that was slightly bookish and definitely hot.

Takeshi freely admitted (to himself, anyway) that he kind of lost his brain around Hayato sometimes. This was one of those occasions; he was too caught up in ogling his boyfriend and being surprised that he didn't notice how red Hayato was getting until Hayato tried to blow him up.

It'd been a while since Hayato had gotten that annoyed with him, but Takeshi hadn't forgotten how to duck or the trick of bringing Shigure Kintoki up and around to deflect the cluster of bombs and snuff out their fuses. "Hey," he said, laughing a little, not taking the flare of Hayato's temper entirely seriously yet, "if you blow this place up, you're going to have to move again, and you hate moving—"

"Shut. Up." Hayato followed that up with another fistful of bombs, which, okay, was a sign that he was not in any mood to be placated. At least he hadn't pulled out his box weapons or gone for his Flame, Takeshi consoled himself, and wondered what exactly had set Hayato off this time as he ducked again.

What followed wasn't exactly the brisk round of exercise that Takeshi had been hoping for when he'd decided to stop by. But sparring had its good points, too, especially with the extra challenge of having to dodge explosives without wrecking the apartment just to keep things interesting. Takeshi was enjoying himself, at least until Hayato managed to snap a mini-bomb at him that he didn't have the room to dodge.

It probably said something about him that getting a little bit blown up didn't really faze him any more, Takeshi thought as the smoke began to clear and he could stare up at the scorch marks on the ceiling. "So... what?" he said, watching the last little eddies of grey smoke curl and creep along the cornices. "Is this a bad time? Because I would have gone away if you'd just asked."

Hayato didn't answer. When Takeshi lifted his head to look, all he saw was a glimpse of Hayato's back disappearing into the bathroom before the door slammed after him hard enough to rattle the walls.

This was baffling behavior, even for Hayato.

Before Takeshi could give it very much thought, someone knocked on the door and he had to pick himself up off the floor to answer it. It was Hayato's neighbor Tanaka-san, who did not look particularly convinced by Takeshi's explanation that the noises and the bang from their scuffle was just a bit of rough-housing and a kitchen experiment gone wrong. She didn't look particularly placated, either, even when Takeshi mustered every bit of his charm for the apology, striving to look as innocent as he could, and she went away again still frowning.

When Takeshi shut the door after her, Hayato had emerged from the bathroom sans glasses, though his scowl was firmly in place. "Just remember that you promised to hire someone else to move the piano this time," Takeshi told him, disappointed by the disappearance of the glasses and still not entirely sure what it was he'd done to provoke Hayato's temper so badly.

He'd thought he'd figured out where most of the landmines were, after all.

"Screw you," Hayato said, tone absolutely flat. "I did no such thing."

"Yes, you did," Takeshi argued, because he remembered it distinctly and had considered getting it in writing at the time. "It was just after Lambo from the future disappeared and we nearly dropped it down the stairs again, and you swore that next time you would get professionals to do it." In retrospect, using the ten-year bazooka to get an extra set of hands hadn't been a great idea—it had just seemed like a good idea after nearly squishing Tsuna that second time.

"And you believed me? Dumbass." Hayato folded his arms. "Also, who said I was moving?"

"Well, your neighbors didn't seem real thrilled about the noise from the bombs." Takeshi set his fists at the small of his back, stretching the kinks out, and added, "I apologized, but I don't think it went over real well."

"Great." Hayato gave him a narrow-eyed look. "What are you even doing here?"

"I missed you." He would have smiled, but Hayato really didn't take those well when he was in a bad mood, so Takeshi shrugged instead. "So I thought I'd stop by." It had been a week, after all, and the training camp had kept him too busy to call Hayato to talk. "Guess I should have called ahead first?" Though he'd surprised Hayato a couple of times before, and it'd never bothered him then.

"Yeah, you should have." Hayato made a face and turned away, flapping a hand at him. "Anyway, come in since you're here."

Takeshi was pretty well convinced that he was going to spend the rest of his life trying to figure Gokudera Hayato out. Most of the time that didn't seem like a bad prospect, but there were times when he had to stop and ask himself whether he was sure he knew what he was getting into. "So, do anything interesting while I was gone?" he asked, coming away from the door again.

"You were only gone a week, Christ." Hayato dug around in the fridge and produced a couple of sodas. "What do you think?"

"A week can be a long time." Takeshi caught the soda Hayato pitched at him and claimed his usual seat on the couch, glancing at the book that Hayato'd been reading—no, not for school, and not actually in any language Takeshi read himself, but maybe Hayato was just annoyed at being interrupted?

He wondered, sometimes, what it would be like to be as smart as Hayato was, to always want to read and read and then read some more, and then be able to put it all together in the end and come up with something new. It wasn't his gift and hadn't ever been, and it never ceased to amaze Takeshi that Hayato didn't seem to realize that it was something special.

At least the worst of Hayato's temper seemed to be past. He came stalking back to the couch and flopped down, not quite out of Takeshi's reach, like he was maybe willing to consider being coaxed closer. "It was quiet. You picked a good week to be gone."

"Wasn't really me who picked it," Takeshi pointed out, opening his soda. They'd been through this argument a few times now, Hayato complaining about his dereliction of duty and Takeshi reminding him that he wasn't quite willing to give up baseball yet, not completely. He was starting to think that the argument wasn't really about his job as Tsuna's Rain Guardian, though, and was about something else that bothered Hayato. What that something else was, he didn't quite know, yet, and Hayato sure wasn't talking about it.

Anyway, that would keep; back to more important things. Takeshi eyed Hayato, who was frowning at his soda, and asked, "So how long have you worn glasses?"

But perhaps he shouldn't have asked; Hayato went tense all over. "One, fuck you, and two, fuck you a whole lot." Red was beginning to creep up his throat again.

It didn't make any sense for him to look so embarrassed. Takeshi cleared his throat and carried on, because what was getting blown up a second time in one night? "I was just wondering. They look good on you, you know? Really hot. All sexy intellectual and stuff."

The look Hayato turned on him then was made of purest disbelief. That was about a million times better than rage or embarrassment, so Takeshi was willing to call it a win. "'All sexy intellectual and stuff'?" he repeated. "What the fuck?"

Now Takeshi did permit himself to smile. "It's hot," he said, and gave him the look that Hayato insisted made him look like a dim-witted but earnest golden retriever. "If I ask you really nicely, will you wear them again sometime? For me?" He didn't have to work at sounding wistful.

Hayato stared at him, jaw hanging open, struck speechless. That didn't happen often, so Takeshi tucked the moment away to savor. "I—you—what?" he finally sputtered.

"I told you," Takeshi explained, willing to be as patient as it took. "They look really good on you." Sometimes it made him sad how hard he had to work to persuade Hayato that he really was attractive. Other times it just made him angry. "Why wouldn't I want to see you in glasses?"

"Pervert," Hayato declared, looking away from him and taking a drink of his soda as he turned pink.

It was like Hayato thought he minded being called that. "Well, yeah. When it comes to you."

Hayato turned pinker. "I can't believe you."

It seemed like it might be safe to approach him, so Takeshi scooted down the couch a bit and set his fingers on the nape of Hayato's neck, stroking them through the wisps of hair that were too fine to stay pulled into a tail. "What, just because I have the sense to appreciate how mind-blowingly hot my boyfriend is?"

Even the back of Hayato's neck went warm with his blush. "Seriously, how can you possibly—augh, why do I even bother?" Hayato glared at him, though it had lost some of its edge with how high his blush was running.

And he hadn't pulled away, which was the important part. Takeshi grinned at him. "Comes easy. It's you." One of these days, the stuff he said to Hayato would get through to him and stick, too.

In the short term, though, he didn't entirely mind how Hayato went about shutting him up whenever he'd embarrassed him too much, since his normal strategy was to cut Takeshi off by grabbing a handful of his shirt, hauling him close, and kissing him.

It was definitely better than the bombs; Takeshi leaned into him, kissing back enthusiastically and not worrying about the sodas they were going to have to mop up later. A week really wasn't all that long, but could feel like forever. Hayato seemed to think the same thing; his kisses were just as hungry and his hands were just as eager as Takeshi's as they groped at each other, pushing their shirts out of the way and tugging at belts and flies. The couch creaked under them as they fitted themselves against each other, Hayato's leg hooked around Takeshi's hip as they ground against each other. Hayato groaned breathless curses in his ear when Takeshi got a hand between them, wrapping it around their cocks and stroking them together, fast and hard. It was over too quickly, but it was difficult to mind that in the hazy aftermath following the heat that seared through him, with Hayato arched under him, body straining against his for an endless moment, before he relaxed and went loose and boneless under the drape of Takeshi's body.

Takeshi lounged over him, warm and content, and studied the half-veiled gleam of Hayato's eyes as he did. "Contacts, huh?" he murmured, when he was satisfied by what he was seeing.

Hayato groaned beneath him, squeezing his eyes shut and grimacing. "Don't you ever fucking let anything go?"

"Not when it's important." Surely Hayato ought to have realized that by now.

Hayato glared at him, narrow slits of green glittering at him from his narrowed eyes. "And my eyesight qualifies as important?"

"Well, yeah. It's you." Takeshi considered his answer for a moment and added, "Everything about you is important." Though getting Hayato to believe that was a lot more work than he'd ever expected it to be.

Hayato glared at him for a moment longer and then lifted a hand to cover his eyes, like he had a headache. "Yes," he said, gritting his teeth. "I wear contacts. They let me see just as well as anyone else. I always keep them in and I always carry a backup pair and a pair of glasses, just in case, and no, it's never been a problem on a mission. Ever."

The recital of facts threw Takeshi at first, until Hayato got to the end of it and everything snapped into place. Oh, man. No wonder Hayato had gotten so angry.

"Hey," he said, and touched Hayato's cheek, waiting until he'd uncovered his eyes and was looking at him again, however reluctantly. "Not that kind of important. Important because it's something about you that I didn't know before. That's all. The rest is... well, of course you'd be careful, right? Because you're Tsuna's right hand, and you're just careful, you know?" Hayato was still looking suspicious, so Takeshi added, "And you know I won't tell anyone, not even Tousan, if it bugs you this much."

Considering how Hayato had taken it when he'd come in, it probably did.

Hayato looked at him for a long time before he finally let out a breath, but that seemed to have helped. "Yeah, don't." He leaned his head back, looking at something that must have been on the ceiling. "It's... it's just better not to."

Hayato never talked about the years before he'd fallen in with Tsuna, but then, he didn't have to when the things he didn't say spoke such volumes. "Right. I won't say a word." Takeshi stroked Hayato's cheek, careful. "And hey, now you can take your contacts out while I'm around. That's good, right?"

He'd only meant that Hayato would be able to relax a little bit more, but Hayato rolled his eyes. "Pervert."

If it worked, it worked. "Well, yeah. Duh." Takeshi grinned at the faintly exasperated look that earned him. "What else did you expect?"

"I ask myself that a lot."

That was fairly standard Hayato-kvetching, so Takeshi grinned and made himself comfortable. "Yeah?"

Hayato snorted. "Yeah, whenever I'm not tearing my hair out and wondering why me."

Takeshi snickered. "Admit it, without me, you'd be terribly bored."

"Why you persist in believing that boredom is such a bad thing, I don't know."

Takeshi grinned at the complaint and stole a kiss instead of answering. Hayato made a noise against his mouth, but it wasn't a protest. After a moment, his arm tightened around Takeshi's back, and that was good. "It's good to be home," Takeshi told him, before kissing him again.

Hayato snorted at him, but didn't disagree, which was even better.

end

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