Title: Inside The Tempest
Author: Nagi Kokuyo
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn!
Characters: TYL Yamamoto, TYL Gokudera
Warnings: Mild spoilers, homosexuality (meaning boy x boy love, people), mild language, innuendos and mentions of sex
Disclaimer: As much as I wish it was different, I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn!, nor any of its characters, and I'm not making any profit out of this (Puh-leeze, I wish!)
Summary: Past and future, love and hate, joy and pain; 50 sentences of YamaGoku
A/N: Please review! Tell me what you think, and flames are welcome (though I forewarn you, flames will be used to roast Byakuran)! This is my second 8059 fic. To make it easier, they're "Yamamoto" and "Gokudera" when I'm referring to the teenagers, and "Takeshi" and "Hayato" when they're TYL. Not necessarily part of the Silver Lining series.
There was only one place where Takeshi's dusty old car deserved to be, and it was certainly not the apartment complex parking lot.
In Gokudera's defense, he had warned the guy that putting lawn gnomes in the hallway was just asking for trouble.
Takeshi had learned the hard way not to put his fingers in the lasagna before his boyfriend was finished.
It wasn't until the feeling of Yamamoto's arm around his waist became a little too familiar and a little too comfortable that Gokudera had a panic attack.
When Yamamoto first dared call his boyfriend by his first name, Gokudera slapped his hand away and snapped, "You don't call me Hayato. You haven't earned that right."
Hayato gasped and writhed under his lover in pain and pleasure as Takeshi moved inside him, his nails leaving angry red lines down the swordsman's sinewy back.
After the Tenth's funeral, Takeshi pulled Hayato's head gently towards him by the chin and found that the unshed tears that glittered in his eyes only made their green so much more striking and beautiful.
The rain never bothered Hayato, just as long as he could see his lover standing under it with him.
Committed is when you're bound to someone through loyalty or a physical bond, devoted is when you're bonded to someone on a far deeper level—Takeshi knew without a doubt that he was completely, helplessly devoted to Gokudera Hayato.
Tsuna didn't know if it was his Hyper Intuition at work or just plain, old, regular understanding, but he'd known long before they did that Yamamoto and Gokudera were meant to be together.
Gokudera had always felt his childhood ended when he'd overheard the truth about his mother from gossiping maids, and though he wouldn't admit it to anyone, he'd always envied Yamamoto his childhood, the one Gokudera had never had; he was shocked, then, to suddenly find himself in Yamamoto's embrace, crying into his shoulder.
Gokudera seethed silently and took a furious drag of his cigarette as he watched Yamamoto laughing and smiling with the ladies at the party.
Gokudera always smelled like cigarette smoke and gunpowder, and even though it sometimes made Yamamoto's eyes water, he wouldn't change it for the world.
The first time Yamamoto kissed Gokudera—under a tree near the baseball field after practice—was also the first time the baseball idiot was ever punched in the face.
Hips swaying as he fixed their lunch, Takeshi belted out an old Queen's song at the top of his lungs; Hayato figured that he should just be grateful that it wasn't Britney Spears.
Whenever girls from visiting families flirted shamelessly with Takeshi, the mood swings Hayato was prone to had come to be known as JMS among the Vongola: Jealous Maniac Syndrome.
Outside the warm interior of the car, the sky was cloudy and warned of incoming snow; inside, however, two heated bodies moved against each other in a frantic need.
Hayato took one look at the beat-up, crappy red truck that was the focus of Takeshi's affections and folded his arms over her chest: "No."
When Yamamoto made the mistake of groping Gokudera in public (though he wouldn't exactly call the movie theater bathroom "public"), there was a brief pressure on his chest and he learned how to fly; then he learned how to fall.
After Yamamoto found out about his pops' death in the future, he managed to make it to his room before breaking into ragged sobs; he barely even noticed when strong arms pulled him against a body smelling strongly of gunpowder and smoke—he simply buried his face in their shoulder, wrapped his arms around their neck, and cried.
Yamamoto stared down at his new lover tenderly, gently brushing a strand of sterling silver hair away from Gokudera's sleeping face; he could wake up to his beautiful angel for the rest of his life, and it still wouldn't be enough.
"What are you doing?" Gokudera asked Yamamoto uneasily when the baseball idiot, dressed as a vampire complete with cape and plastic fangs, started biting his neck; his response was a predatory grin and a seductive, "Nomming you. You taste excellent."
Watching Yuni and Gamma was like watching a Disney movie; Hayato had to swallow down the barf and settle for grimacing.
Gokudera tentatively touched his fingertips to Takeshi's scar, feeling the rough skin under them; the much-older yakubaka smiled and kissed his fingers, telling him silently that it was nothing to worry about.
25. Sticks and Stones
Whoever said that words couldn't hurt obviously never saw Yamamoto angry.
26. Shut Down
For Yamamoto, it was the normal reaction of seeing his boyfriend lick ice cream off his fingers.
Tsuna shook his head in amazement at the sight before him—the room was now a fresh shade of white, but both Takeshi and Hayato looked like they'd contracted terminal leprosy.
They both seemed to glow inside and out as they lay together on the grass, limbs intertwined and hidden from all except the stars above.
Gokudera was stretched out on his stomach, almost purring with pleasure as his baseball idiot's hands ran over his naked body.
Gokudera had at least two dozen reminders strewn throughout his apartment, all screaming one very important date that if not remembered would cause extreme yakubaka pouting.
Yamamoto didn't move and didn't make a sound as Gokudera removed his layers of clothing before he pressed his lips to warm skin.
Invariably, whenever they needed it most for either a baseball game or Doctor Who, the TV remote would magically disappear, not to be found until hours later when it was discovered sitting on the coffee table under a pile of ignored paper work.
It tingling like nothing Gokudera'd felt before when those callused hands brushed slightly against the base of his spine.
34. Broken Down
The only time Hayato's car ever broke down was in the most isolated part of Wales imaginable, where a particularly daring sheep had tried to eat the tires.
Gokudera had tried to protest, but Yamamoto knew that he hated the cold and held him close until the sun came up.
No one in the Vongola dared mention the silver bands on their fingers, as it had been plain as day that they'd have done it eventually; Dino, however, did not get the message.
No matter how much Tsuna loved his best friends, he had to admit that they were probably the weirdest dysfunctional functional couple he'd ever met, or was likely to ever meet.
They were both soaked from head to toe, but they didn't seem to notice as they walked through Rome; at least the rain washed most of the blood off.
Takeshi couldn't help the shiver that ran down his spine; Hayato looked drop-dead sexy painted in the blood of his enemies.
While Hayato found their American counterparts bothersome, Takeshi had to hand it to them—they made good cheeseburgers.
Because it was so incredibly rare, the sound of Gokudera's laughter was music to Yamamoto's ears.
Yamamoto was so surprised when his blushing boyfriend shoved a box of chocolate intro his hands that he couldn't help but dissolve into hysterical laughter.
It was amazing how fast Takeshi could move when he heard three shots in swift succession and a shout of pain that sounded way too much like Hayato.
Yamamoto's hair looked totally coarse and unruly, but when Gokudera ran his hand gently through it, he found it surprisingly soft.
Takeshi rather enjoyed moments like these; quiet ones where he and his boyfriend could just hang out together without fearing who may be watching, if there is a particularly ambitious cop nearby, or if someone is going to try to kill them.
It was late afternoon after practice when Yamamoto heard the enthralling melody drifting out of an upstairs window, and he glimpsed the telltale flash of silver through the opening—when he asked Gokudera later what song he'd been playing, he said gruffly, "Yours."
The way Gokudera arched under him, a most heavenly moan escaping wet lips, and how his soft, perfect hands gripped Yamamoto's tanned skin as the Japanese teen thrust into him—Yamamoto would never grow tired of it.
"So…this is Wisconsin…wonderful."
It was ugly and lumpy and the most awful plaid, but neither of them could bear to throw it out—they'd first had sex on that couch, and no matter how horrible it was, they knew they had to keep it.
Takeshi pushed open the apartment door and was greeting by the smell of gunpowder, burnt coffee, and spoiled Chinese, and knew that he was finally home.