Characters: Gokudera, Yamamoto, OFC
Pairings: Gokudera/Yamamoto, Yamamoto/OFC [implied]
Disclaimer: Amano owns. I only play. You do not sue.
Length: 2000 words
Summary: With a little help from a love-struck classmate, Gokudera Hayato comes to a startling -- although not altogether surprising -- conclusion about Yamamoto's true origins. And maybe his own feelings, but we don't talk about those.
Note: For khrfest; prompt: Gokudera/Yamamoto – jealousy; another classmate helps Yamamoto with his homework and Gokudera HATES it.
Concrit: Always welcome and appreciated.
Hayato was definitely not holding mental conversations with the pigeons in this park. He was just trying to project his mind onto their consciousness. Although, were he to succeed in this brilliant plan, he had no idea what he would do with an army of bored pigeons.
"There you are, Gokudera!" That voice. That damnably happy, carefree, annoying voice. "I was wondering if you had time to help me with this physics assignment--"
"Get off my case, baseball brain. Look it up on the Internet or something; I'm busy." Hayato took a deep drag and refused eye contact.
"Sorry, sorry," Yamamoto said. "I'll see you later, then."
Hayato had half a mind to chase after the idiot and clobber him for his still-cheerful tone. Yamamoto never got pissed off at things that pissed off normal people -- like obvious lies. Maybe he was an alien from another solar system. In which case Hayato really ought to try to be nicer to him, since alien cultures, unlike baseball, were relevant to his interests.
Hayato considered this for a moment and decided that Yamamoto couldn't be an alien after all. Everyone knew that all self-respecting aliens always said "take me to your leader" to any humans they encountered. Though maybe Yamamoto was from a non-self-respecting alien race; it would explain all the self-deprecating nonsense. Or maybe Yamamoto didn't need to say "take me to your leader" because he already knew the best possible leader humanity could ever offer. But that would make Yamamoto insightful enough to recognise the Tenth's greatness, and Hayato didn't like that idea much. Maybe--
His cell phone beeped, and Hayato fished it out of his pocket, hoping that the Tenth had finished his errands and wanted to hang out. But the message was from his sister, asking what Hayato wanted for his birthday.
My birthday isn't for another five months, Hayato texted back and put the phone away. The best gift ever would be Bianchi leaving Japan and never returning, but she wouldn't do that as long as Reborn remained here.
"You're lucky you don't have my life," Hayato said to the nearest pigeon.
The next morning, Hayato walked into the classroom just ahead of the Tenth as usual, making sure the way was clear.
Yamamoto, for a wonder, was already there. A girl Hayato didn't recognise had her chair pulled up to his desk. The physics textbook which lay open in her lap concealed a lot more of her than her skirt could ever hope to. Is that even regulation-length? Hayato thought, eyeing the pair of them. Then he wondered what the hell had come over him: he never noticed the girls in their class unless they were in his way. Fuming, he stalked towards his desk.
"Hey, Gokudera!" Yamamoto called. "Good morning!"
Hayato scowled in his general direction. "I see you didn't manage to finish your homework on time."
"I did, though!" Yamamoto protested. "I bumped into Ishihara at the cake shop on my way home. She helped me."
He smiled down at the girl, who looked about to swoon. Hayato's stomach felt unpleasantly tight all of a sudden. Probably shouldn't have eaten those two-day-old rice balls. He looked around, but the boss was already chatting to Sasagawa Kyoko and either ignoring his subordinates or skilfully pretending to.
"I feel sorry for Ishihara," Hayato said. "Having to explain everything to an idiot like you."
Ishihara waved her hands in protest. "Not at all, not at all," she said. "Yamamoto-kun knows all the basics, and that's what's important." Her smile was sunny and warm, so why did Hayato want to end her? Probably because smiling like that, she was just like Yamamoto. A matched fucking set, these two.
"Tch, whatever." He turned his back and slumped down into his chair.
Hayato had been planning on going home with the Tenth, so why was he tailing Yamamoto and Ishihara instead? Her giggling was driving him fucking batshit.
He couldn't hear what they were saying, but Hayato had already determined that the broad was at least as dumb as Yamamoto, though not so stupid as to let an opportunity pass her by. She was clearly using the homework as an excuse to get close to Yamamoto.
One of the Tenth Vongola's subordinates, get a girlfriend? Hayato didn't fucking think so.
Girlfriends did nothing but distract a man from his work. Not that Hayato had ever had one, but he'd watched enough mafia movies to know women were nothing but trouble. They begged you to spare the lives of dirt-faced street urchins, demanded you kill their rivals, and tried to meddle in family affairs from the bedroom. In the end, they either stayed faithfully by your side or stabbed you in the back; the chance was about fifty-fifty and definitely not worth the risk.
This Ishihara woman looked like the backstabbing type, anyway. She would just create problems for the Tenth. For all Hayato knew, she was secretly working for another family, trying to win her way into Vongola's midst through the weakest link in the organisation. Yamamoto may have been a skilled swordsman, but he was a rotten judge of character.
So what if Hayato would need to tutor Yamamoto in physics? If it was for the sake of the family, he'd throw in chemistry and algebra, too.
He watched them part ways near the shopping centre and hurried to catch up to Yamamoto, who had paused in front of the arcade, wearing a stupid grin and examining the contents of his pockets.
"Where do you think you're going?" Hayato demanded. "You've got homework."
"Oh, hey, Gokudera," Yamamoto said, his smile widening. "So you came too."
"What do you mean, 'too'? I was in the neighbourhood." It was true enough. Yamamoto didn't need to concern himself with why Hayato had been in the neighbourhood. He grabbed the strap of Yamamoto's schoolbag and began dragging him out of the shopping centre. "We're going to my place."
"But I told my dad I'd help--"
"Shut up. You need to do your homework, and if you spend all your time helping at the sushi shop, you'll never graduate."
"I'm glad you changed your mind," Yamamoto said as they sat on the floor in Hayato's room. Some American actor was on TV, with the tarento jumping around him in some kind of interpretive dance. Hayato had half a mind to turn the volume back up to find out what the fuck they were trying to accomplish.
"Ishihara is nice, but I don't think she's very good at physics," Yamamoto continued. "I was checking my answers in the back of the book, and they didn't match..."
"Wonders will never cease," Hayato remarked, turning to look at Yamamoto. "He can take initiative and use rudimentary logic."
"She did ask if I'd like to kiss her," Yamamoto said with an expression reminiscent of a befuddled goldfish. "Do you think that would have helped me understand the assignment better?"
That tight, uncomfortable feeling returned to Hayato's stomach. He had skipped lunch, and the rice balls from this morning had surely travelled further than his stomach by now. Maybe he was just hungry. Yeah, that had to be it.
"I still wished I were with you," Yamamoto babbled on. "Er. I mean-- for the physics. Not the kissing. I think."
Hayato stared at him.
Yamamoto stared back, no longer smiling.
The rest of it was so messed up that Hayato simply opted to turn his brain off, because in no rational universe did he ever lean across the table and press his mouth to Yamamoto's. In no rational universe did Yamamoto kiss him back. In no rational universe did Hayato force Yamamoto to the floor and straddle him, unbuckling their belts in turn. In no rational universe did he make Yamamoto moan like that, with just his hands, and in no rational universe did Hayato even imagine going further than handjobs and kissing.
Such things only ever happened in Hayato's imagination, and only when he wasn't careful enough to shove them far from his mind. They definitely weren't supposed to happen for real.
Hayato didn't go to school the next day. He didn't think he could face the Tenth after what had happened. He certainly couldn't face Yamamoto.
He had pretended to be asleep last night when Yamamoto left. All day, he thought he could still feel Yamamoto's warm breath on his neck, from when Yamamoto had leaned in to whisper he was leaving.
They hadn't actually gone beyond handjobs and kissing, but now it was all Hayato could think about. As formidable as Yamamoto was on the battlefield, he'd gone all pliant in Hayato's hands, letting him take the lead as if it were the most natural thing in the world. As if he wanted it that way, too.
Hayato was preparing a double shot of espresso for himself -- extra sweet, so he could at least try to start thinking about something else -- when the doorbell rang.
Fucking useless potato-sack of a landlord. "I put the money under your door three days ago, old man, what else do you--"
It was Yamamoto. Hayato sagged a little against the door he'd just flung open. "You."
"I come in peace," Yamamoto said, grinning and holding up a Takezushi plastic bag. "Plus, you said you'd help me with homework, remember? May I come in?"
Wordlessly, Hayato stepped aside and gestured vaguely towards the table. "I'm making coffee," he said, looking everywhere but at Yamamoto. "So just wait. Tell me if you want any."
Yamamot laughed. "Thanks, but the coach told us no caffeine."
Yamamoto didn't seem any weirder than usual; he was acting as if he showed up bearing gifts of sushi every day, but at least he wasn't trying to do anything girly, like kiss Hayato hello or something equally moronic. A part of Hayato was relieved at the anticlimactic-ness of it all.
Hayato glanced over. Yamamoto was examining the antennae Hayato had received after mailing in all fifty-six product barcodes from Spacemen's Sour Candy. Despite being attached to a hot pink headband, those antennae were potentially a highly valuable artefact, and Hayato wasn't about to let Yamamoto wreck them, kissing or no kissing.
He lunged, but Yamamoto dodged and snapped the headband on. "Take me to your leader!" he demanded in a high-pitched, nasal voice, grinning like the lunatic he was.
Hayato sighed. "Definitely an alien," he muttered, pulling the antennae off Yamamoto's head.
Seconds later, Yamamoto's arms were around him, his tongue doing things to Hayato's neck, and Hayato forgot all about putting the precious artefact back where it belonged. The antennae bounced off the floor and landed in the cat food.
This is all for the sake of good interplanetary relations, Hayato thought fuzzily as Yamamoto's lips met his. I can live with that.