Straight To Your Love


Gokudera sighed heavily, blowing his heated breath as well as cigarette smoke into the air before him, where it clouded and evaporated. He rubbed his tired eyelids with his thumb and forefinger, footfalls purposely heavy through the deep snow.

It was 2 AM. Two. In. The fucking. Morning.

Despite his inner self screaming at the injustice of it all, on the outside he was past spent. It was almost Christmas. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve.

'God I hate Christmas.' His expression soured rapidly.

Some said he was Scrooge. Some said he was the Grinch. He said they should make up their fucking minds.

Granted, he hated Christmas because it wasn't even about the birth of Christ anymore, but it ran much deeper than just that.

He swallowed thickly and rubbed his eyes again, red-rimmed from only one thing. Not that he would ever verbally state it.

He came upon a bench and sat down heavily, finishing his smoke and snuffing it out in the snow alongside him before he let his head fall back.

Tiny snowflakes were making their merry way down upon him, and he stared almost cross-eyed at them as they drifted around him.

His eyebrows furrowed together and his eyes began to sting in a most unpleasant manner. He felt one, then two hot tears fall from the corners of his eyes, and he let out a noise that was halfway between a sigh and a sob.

"Gokudera?" The utterance was so soft Gokudera thought he must have been hearing things, but when he heard the soft footfalls approaching, he jerked his head up to find…

'Oh my fucking God you have got to be kidding me.' He gnashed his teeth and immediately stood up, walking in the other direction.

"Gokudera wait! What're you doing up so late…er, early?"

Gokudera whipped around and spat venom at the baseball idiot who had caught up behind him. "I could ask you the same thing! Isn't it past your bedtime?"

But instead of answering, Yamamoto reached up and gently brushed his bare fingers along Gokudera's cheek.

Gokudera pulled back as if Yamamoto's touch was a hot iron, but it was too late. By the look of unconcealed shock, he knew he had been found out.

He turned and made as if to walk away, but a gentle hand on his wrist made him tense and glare back.

"You know, if you ever need to talk to someone, I'm always here."

That did it. With a glare that could liquefy metal, Gokudera ripped his hand from the other's grip, and with the same hand made it into a fist and mercilessly connected it with Yamamoto's nose.

Yamamoto let out a small yelp, but didn't look away from Gokudera's retreating figure, even as blood began to drip onto the white snow.


Gokudera kicked the door of his apartment shut forcefully, not giving a literal fuck that he would probably catch shit from his stupid landlady tomorrow for it.

He ripped off his jacket and collapsed into bed still wearing his clothes, burying his face in his pillow.

He felt beyond pathetic.

The pillow muffled his sobs, but just barely. He had a sudden image of a tree in his mind, covered in ornaments and swathed in lights.

There was a woman standing next to the tree. A woman with a red ornament in her hand.

A woman with silver hair and green eyes.

'Mom…'

The woman turned her face to him and smiled sadly, shaking her head.

She gestured to her right, behind the tree, and as much as Gokudera wanted to look at where she was pointing, he was rooted to the spot.

But he didn't need to move, because a moment later another person peeked around the tree and smiled brightly at him.

'Yamamoto…'

When Gokudera woke up, it was to harsh sunlight, even brighter from the pure white snow outside.

He groaned loudly and sat up. Running a hand through his hair, deciding upon that action to immediately take a shower. He sniffed; his nose was so stuffy he couldn't even breathe. Jesus.

'Merry fucking Christmas.'


Christmas Eve came and passed with little difference to any other day, albeit a little slower and with the lovely addition of a miffed landlady who couldn't fathom why he was making such a racket at such a late hour.

But she had dealt with an oddly subdued Hayato, so she kept her song and dance short.

Christmas morning Gokudera contemplated not even leaving his bed for the entire day, but he decided against it in favor of a hot shower and making himself a hot cup of coffee instead of his usual cigarette and drank it at his tiny kitchen table in a huge, fluffy sweater and sweatpants, not even bothering to comb his damp, ruffled hair.

He finished his coffee quicker than usual and preoccupied himself with washing the few dishes in the sink. Somewhere along the line he had decided to clean his whole apartment, and by the time he was done, it was dark already.

The early darkness pissed him off. It was barely four thirty for chrissakes.

But even the darkness seemed to glow purple from all the snow piled outside. Typical wintry night, and he caught sight off little flurries of snow in the light of the streetlamps.

With a resigned sigh, he decided to take a walk. With any luck the extra fresh air and exercise would tire him out enough that he might get to sleep before 1 AM.

His walk took him past Jyudaime's house, but the sight of warmly glowing windows and people passing said windows behind curtains just made his chest tighten painfully, so he rushed past quicker than he would have any other time.

When he was on the last stretch before the block that led back to his apartment, he stopped. He just looked up into the light of a streetlamp, watching the snow flutter down in large clumps.

He blew out a breath and closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the cold flakes catch on his eyelashes.

There was suddenly a door opening somewhere behind him, and Gokudera was about to start walking again when someone softly called his name.

Puzzled, Gokudera had to look around for a moment before his eyes fell on the owner of the voice.

He kept his face neutral, even as Yamamoto jogged up to him. "Hey." Yamamoto smiled at him.

Gokudera fixed him with a steely glare that had little to no effect.

"I saw you from the window. Do you want to come in?"

Gokudera stared at him incredulously. "What? Why would I do that?"

Yamamoto shrugged. "You don't have anyone to spend Christmas with, do you?"

Gokudera snarled. "Why don't you march your happy ass back inside and spend it with your dad? Leave me alone." Gokudera practically spat his words and turned to walk away.

"Actually, my dad isn't here…"

Gokudera snorted. "So what? You just wanted some company? Well you came to the wrong fuckin' place dumbass."

Yamamoto shook his head. "I don't mind it too much. But you just looked…lonely."

Gokudera paused, suddenly remembering the odd dream he had Christmas Eve morning.

"Your mom…"

Yamamoto perked up. "Huh?"

Gokudera's eyes were downcast. "Your mother. Do you ever miss her?"

Yamamoto smiled sadly, nodding. "Every day."

He hesitantly rested his hand on Gokudera's shoulder. "Come on. I'll make you some hot cocoa."

Gokudera nodded silently, walking inside first when Yamamoto held the door for him. 'I never noticed just how polite this guy is.'

Yamamoto took his coat and led him into the living room, making his way to the kitchen with a promise of hot chocolate.

Gokudera was about to sit down when he caught sight of a picture frame.

He recognized Yamamoto's father right away, but had to look closer to recognize the other two.

Gokudera's eyes widened when he realized who the woman must be. She had the most serene smile, and Gokudera had a feeling she would have had Rain flames just like her son.

She had light brown hair that fell just below her shoulders, and kind hazel eyes.

There was a small boy, no more than eight, nestled in her arms, and Gokudera stared at the boy's radiant smile until the present Yamamoto came back with two mugs.

When he saw what Gokudera was looking at, he placed one mug on the table and sat down on the couch.

Gokudera, with some difficulty, tore his gaze from the photo and slowly walked over to the baseball player, sitting next to him and taking a tentative sip from his mug. "It's good. Thank you."

Yamamoto smiled and nodded, and silence fell for a moment before Gokudera suddenly said. "You have her laugh."

Yamamoto tilted his head. "What?"

"Your dad's is too loud. I think you have her laugh…"

After a couple minutes of the both of them embarrassedly hiding their faces in their mugs, Yamamoto asks. "You really think so?"

Gokudera glanced over at him before nodding.

"I can't remember what her laugh sounded like…I'd probably forget her face if not for pictures. I'm sure you can relate."

Gokudera nodded miserably, putting his only half-finished drink onto the table.

"S-sorry. I didn't mean to…"

Gokudera waved his apology away, and such rare, absolute silence from the bomber alarmed him somewhat.

Gokudera pulled his feet onto the couch and leaned back as far as he could, closing his eyes, with the gold-trimmed tree in the corner the last thing he laid eyes on before they closed completely.

"It's a pity you don't look more like her. N-not that I don't think you're fine the way you are…" Gokudera trailed off, feeling immensely stupid, and his furrowed eyebrows got that across.

Yamamoto laughed a tiny laugh. "Whereas you're the spitting image of your mother. Though she looked far too sweet for you to get most of your personality from her."

Gokudera's gaze snapped towards him. "Where have you seen my mother?"

"Ah, Bianchi showed a picture to me once. I'm still not sure why. She's very beautiful."

Gokudera grimaced. "Anike or my mother?"

Yamamoto laughed, normally this time. "Your mother."

Gokudera huffed a small laugh and closed his eyes again.

"But you know…I think…"

Gokudera turned to look at him when he didn't finish. "What?"

Yamamoto waved it off. "Ah, never mind."

Gokudera scowled. "No, you don't start saying something and then just leave the other person hangin'. Spit it out."

Yamamoto…was he blushing? "I was just gonna say that I think you're more beautiful…"

He stared down into his mug and Gokudera felt his ears burn. "Oh…"

Another silence came, this time broken by Yamamoto. "So what's the deal with you anyway?"

Gokudera looked up. "I mean, you were crying…Never thought I'd see the day. And no I will not tell another soul, before you can threaten me. But…why? I know you wouldn't cry over something stupid."

Gokudera sighed. "Christmas is just…ugh. I hate it. It's supposed to be the time you spend with your family and well…my real family…you know how that is. And the Family I have now, the Guardians, we all have our own lives. And I just really fucking miss my mother." Gokudera rubbed his eyes, but started slightly when he felt Yamamoto gently touch his hand.

"Here." He took Gokudera's in his own, and before Gokudera could pull away he said. "Just hang on, let me try something."

Yamamoto closed his eyes, and suddenly Gokudera's hand felt very warm. The warmth spread through his entire body, tingling at the tips of his fingers and the ends of his hair. He felt so…peaceful. He hadn't felt this good since December started.

He sighed in contentment and sank down once more into the couch. Yamamoto smiled and rubbed soothing circles on the back of his hand, and Gokudera wondered why it didn't piss him off. "Hey Gokudera, look."

Gokudera peeked open one eye, following Yamamoto's gaze. Above them there was, imminently, mistletoe.

Gokudera eyed him dryly. "Well played Yamamoto. Real smooth."

Yamamoto grinned. "You know it."

He suddenly leaned forward, capturing Gokudera's lips in his in a gentle, chaste kiss.

The bomber started, staring a bit in shock. Maybe he should have taken the baseball idiot a little more seriously. There was a part of him that wanted to shove the idiot away and punch the living daylights out of him, but that part was quickly being overtaken by, what he assumed to be, the other's Rain flames.

The more he contemplated murder, the more, he would call it calm for lack of a better word, he became.

Yamamoto pulled away and analyzed his face, but before he could do anything more, Gokudera leaned forward, took the initiative, and pressed their lips together again.

He was fairly certain that his actions had nothing to do with the calming influence of the flames, but it was thanks to them that he had his head clear enough to know what he wanted.

Yamamoto deepened the kiss, but it was slow, unhurried. When they pulled away a second time, Gokudera huffed quietly, as if contemplating something.

Yamamoto smiled, the hand around Gokudera's waist gently tugging him closer. "What?"

Gokudera brought his face closer so their noses brushed. "I liked it…" Gokudera blushed brightly at his own words, but managed to keep a straight face. "…Do it again?"

Yamamoto's smile left the silverette nearly breathless. "I can't say no to you, Hayato."

He leaned in again, but instead of going for his lips like Gokudera thought he would, he kissed his cheeks, then his nose, then his eyelids.

He peppered Gokudera's face and neck with light kisses, and then brought his eyelashes to Gokudera's cheek below his right eye, leaving tiny butterfly kisses.

Gokudera giggled at the feeling, earning another radiant smile from Yamamoto. The raven placed his lips gently over the silverette's, feeling Gokudera's smile pressed against his own and sending a pleasant warmth up to his cheeks.

He felt Gokudera's cool fingers at the back of his neck, softly dragging through his hair, and Yamamoto pulled the silverette's legs across his lap when he pulled away, moving to lay down along the couch with Gokudera resting on him.

The silverette sighed quietly and rested his head on Yamamoto's shoulder, smiling when he felt Yamamoto's arms wrap around him and pull him closer, gently rubbing up and down his back.

"Thanks for making this Christmas bearable Takeshi."

Yamamoto chuckled. "Merry Christmas to you too, Hayato."


A/N

Becuz I can relate to Gokudera like a motherfucker and I wanted something longer than the first one X3 take THAT JeanMarco! (Sorry. YamaGoku is AND ALWAYS WILL BE my #1 OTP and it hasn't gotten NEARLY enough love of late *kicks self* ) Sooooo…yeah. Might be a little OOC again, but not as much this time ^^ And the title comes from the song 'Lift' by Paul Stanley because it is what this was written to at 2-4 AM and it is splendid in many ways when applied to many things, including this pairing. Enjoi

Characters © Akira Amano

Story © MarluxiaSutcliff116