"Delivery!" Takeshi called, cheerfully, banging on Gokudera’s door. It took a few minutes for Gokudera to answer the door, and another for him to finish staring in disbelief.

"What are you doing?"

"Bringing you dinner." Takeshi dangled the bag of carryout from raised fingers.

"Why?" Gokudera asked, after another long pause.

"Because you skipped lunch today." Takeshi smiled with sunny obliviousness, hiding his amusement as Gokudera scrubbed a hand over his face.

"Fine, whatever, get off my stairs before the neighbors try to kill you for making such a racket." Gokudera took the bag ungraciously, muttering under his breath as Takeshi came in, toeing off his shoes and closing the door. Gokudera turned his back pointedly, taking a step toward the kitchen.

It was too perfect an opportunity to resist, and Takeshi was making a policy of taking all the opportunities he could, these days. If he didn’t, Gokudera slid right back into hissing and bristling.

He wound an arm around Gokudera, drawing him back against his chest, and dropped a light kiss on the curve of his neck. He was elbowed in the stomach for his trouble. All right, so there was still some hissing and bristling in any case.

"Oof," he said, ruefully, and smiled as he watched Gokudera stalk across the room, back straight.

"Why do you keep doing that?" Gokudera muttered, smacking containers down on his tiny span of counter.

Hissing or not, Gokudera gave him a lot of opportunities, and this was one Takeshi had kind of been waiting for. "Because you’re cute."

Gokudera stopped and turned to stare at him. "I am not cute!"

"Adorable?" Takeshi offered, grinning.

Gokudera sputtered at him, glaring and Takeshi laughed, reaching out again to gather him in.

"Gorgeous?" he murmured, settling the lean, elegant line of Gokudera’s body against his.

Gokudera’s cheekbones turned pink, which absolutely was adorable. "You say the most idiotic things," he said, looking aside.

"True things."

Gokudera humphed, but it slid into a softer sound as Takeshi turned his head back and kissed him, fingers sliding into his hair, cradling his head. A shiver rippled through Gokudera, but he also relaxed. Touch was the language Gokudera really believed; Takeshi just had to speak it clearly enough. When Takeshi drew back Gokudera’s eyes were dark and thoughtful.

"True things," Takeshi told him again, gently, thumb stroking the nape of his neck.

Gokudera shrugged a shoulder and looked down, but didn’t deny it. Takeshi chalked up another scrap of progress on his mental scoreboard.

This was not Takeshi’s favorite way to spend the term break.

Gokudera was wound up tighter than usual, and it was making Takeshi nervous. Theoretically the lawn of the Vongola headquarters contained only Vongola allies, here for another meet-the-Tenth gathering, but if Gokudera had seen something to alarm him Takeshi wasn’t going to second guess him. Gokudera was the one who knew this world.

It took him a while to work his way casually over, but finally he was close enough to murmur, "Anything wrong?"

Gokudera started and looked around at him, eyes abruptly sharpening. "What?"

Takeshi relaxed. If Gokudera had seen something, he’d already have been sharp and focused, as, indeed he was now. "Just wondered. You seem kind of tense."

Gokudera’s gaze turned distant and dark again, and he shrugged a shoulder, sharp and jerky. Takeshi frowned. Something personal, then? "What is it?" he asked, softer.

Gokudera looked at him for a long moment, mouth tight. Just as he was taking a breath, though, and Takeshi was calculating the odds whether it would be to spill or to tell Takeshi it was none of his business, another of the gathering stopped beside them.

"Gokudera Hayato, isn’t it?" The man was older, hair just starting to gray, and neither his tone nor his expression was what Takeshi would call friendly. A moment fishing through his memory tossed up the name Spigola, though he was pretty sure this wasn’t the boss.

Gokudera’s shoulders were stiff again. "Yeah?"

The man looked him up and down. "I hear you plan to be the Vongola Tenth’s right hand."

Gokudera’s chin lifted a hair. "That’s for the Tenth to say." His voice was hard and level.

The man’s mouth twisted. "I hope he has better sense than to take a punk like you’ve always been. The Vongola are better than that."

Takeshi frowned after the man, as he stalked past, and edged closer to lay a hand on Gokudera’s back.

Gokudera flinched.

Takeshi was starting to think he’d been right the first time, about Gokudera having spotted trouble. It just wasn’t the kind he’d expected.

"You asked what was wrong?" Gokudera said quietly, through his teeth, not looking at Takeshi. "There are too many people here that know me, is what’s wrong."

Takeshi’s frown deepened. How was he supposed to make any progress when jerks like that came along and set Hayato back? "With that kind of attitude, he can’t know you very well."

Gokudera made a harsh sound, shoulders shaking. It took Takeshi a long moment to realize it was a laugh.

Gokudera would probably kill him if Takeshi kissed him right here, which wouldn’t do at all. Instead Takeshi rubbed his back slowly, turning to stand between Gokudera and the rest of the gathering. "What does it matter, what they think?" he asked. "Tsuna is the only one who has any say in it, isn’t he?"

"It wouldn’t be entirely wise of him to ignore the opinion of his allies," Gokudera said in a stifled tone.

Takeshi thought about that. "He did, though. You are. I mean you were. Will be. Kind of." Okay, he probably deserved the look Gokudera was giving him. "In the future. Remember?"

Gokudera blinked. "Oh," he said at last.

Takeshi smiled. "Yeah, oh." He slid his hand up under Gokudera’s hair to knead his neck. "He wants you. We want you. And we’re the ones who know you."

Gokudera looked uncertain, now, but that was better than the harsh expression he’d had. He leaned just a little into Takeshi’s hand. "Mm."

"If we weren’t in public, I’d show you," Takeshi murmured, coaxing.

Gokudera flushed. "Don’t even think it," he hissed, glaring.

Takeshi grinned. That was much better. "Sure." He let go with a last brush of his fingers and wandered off, casually.

But not very far off.

He stayed close enough to slide into the path of the next person to head toward Gokudera and look at the man the way he looked at his targets for cutting practice. When the man flinched and veered off, Takeshi nodded and let the still poise run out of him again and looked around for a drink tray. He figured he’d be here a while.

From the corner of his eye he watched Gokudera’s shoulders relaxing from their over-straight line and smiled.

It was all about body language.

Takeshi perched in the window across from the school’s music room and listened to the music winding down the empty hall.

He had been there for almost an hour, he thought. He wasn’t sure; he hadn’t looked at his watch for a long time.

When the music ended, this time in a definite scraping of furniture and shuffling of paper, he sighed. Well, hopefully he’d get to hear more some time. And when Gokudera emerged from the music room and stopped short, staring at him, it was worth it. Takeshi grinned and hopped down.

"That was great."

Gokudera waved a hand, looking uncomfortable. "I’m not professional grade or anything. It’s just a hobby, really."

Takeshi cocked his head. "You don’t have to be professional to be good."

Gokudera snorted. "Says the man who insists on playing a ball game professionally?"

Takeshi allowed the point and tried another tack. "That first one you played was… well it was something else." He frowned for a moment, fishing for the right words. "It kept my attention. It… didn’t let go."

"Chopin’s Fantaisie?" Gokudera smiled. "Not surprised. A lot of his pieces are that way, but the Fantaisie especially. You’re never sure what’s coming next."

"What was the second thing you played?" Takeshi asked, wanting to keep Gokudera going. It fascinated him when Gokudera forgot himself and showed this side.

"The Nocturne in C Minor." Gokudera’s eyes brightened. "I like that one. It’s the last of his Nocturnes. There’s some speculation, lately, that it was based on an Italian opera."

"It reminded me of you."

Gokudera blinked and Takeshi shrugged. He was just about positive he wouldn’t find the words to explain this, but it was true. "The way it moved. It just… felt like you." His mouth quirked. "The last one reminded me of you, too."

Gokudera’s brows rose. "The Waltz in A Minor?"

"Not exactly the same way," Takeshi allowed, and chuckled as Gokudera frowned. "It made me think of you in other moods." He reached out and stroked the backs of his fingers down Gokudera’s cheek.

Gokudera’s breath hitched. He always seemed so startled by this, and Takeshi was starting to think very dark thoughts about the people Gokudera seemed to have encountered before coming to Japan. He reached out and drew Gokudera close.

"We want you," he murmured. "I want you. The elegance and the explosions and the growling and all of it."

"Yamamoto…" Gokudera’s eyes were wide and unguarded, and it drove Takeshi a little wild to think that something so simple was such a revelation to him. He caught Gokudera tight against him and kissed him, deep and intent and hungry, parting Hayato’s lips and twining their tongues together, more demanding than he’d dared be before, trying to show what words apparently weren’t quite getting through. Again.

And maybe his instincts were right again because Gokudera answered the kiss, finally, hesitant but wanting, fingers winding tight in Takeshi’s shirt. He kissed Gokudera until they were both breathless, hands kneading slowly up and down his back. He kissed his way down Gokudera’s neck and made a pleased sound at the way Gokudera relaxed against him, head tipped back with a faint, startled sound. This was what he wanted, yes.

"I’ll show you some more, if you want," he said against the curve of Gokudera’s neck.

"Maybe not right here in the school hallway." Gokudera’s voice was dry, for all the husky edge to it. "Hibari would probably kill us."

Takeshi laughed. "Good point." He lifted his head to smile down at Gokudera. "You mind if I come visit this evening, then?"

Gokudera stared at him for a moment before he glanced aside and swallowed. "I wouldn’t mind." His voice was huskier than it had been while they were kissing.

"I’m glad," Takeshi said softly.

Gokudera reached for his bag to sling over his shoulder and glanced up at Takeshi with a tiny smile. "Come on, then."

Takeshi smiled in complete contentment and tucked his hands in his pockets and followed along.

He didn’t think for one moment that he was done, but this time he was sure that Gokudera had heard what he was saying.

End

Takeshi thought he and Gokudera were making good progress. When Reborn stopped by their practices to work with them, these days, they actually made him move pretty briskly.

Of course, he made them flat, exhausted, dripping with sweat and repeatedly, if virtually, dead. But it was progress.

"Hey," he said, rolling over, halfway between panting and laughing as he watched Gokudera eye a handful of muddy, paint-dyed hair glumly. "Come back with me today. Tou-san will feed us and the bath is bigger than the one at your place."

Gokudera only hesitated a moment. "Okay." Takeshi smiled.

It was definitely progress.

Gokudera hissed when he tried to reach his back with the sponge and Takeshi looked up from rinsing his hair and shook his head at the black and blue starting across Gokudera’s ribs and shoulders. "You’re going to have a lot of bruises."

"Yeah, I got that part," Gokudera grumbled, twisting gingerly on the bath stool.

Takeshi shook his head with a wry grin and came to take the sponge away. "Here."

Gokudera twitched. "You don’t have to," he muttered.

"Why shouldn’t I want to?" Takeshi asked, reasonably.

Gokudera didn’t answer, sitting stiff and hesitant as Takeshi ran the sponge over his back, and Takeshi sighed to himself. Every new touch needed new reassurance. He could do that just fine; he just wished Gokudera didn’t need it. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Gokudera’s neck, where wet hair parted over his nape. "I do want to."

Gokudera shivered. "Yamamoto…"

"Let me?" Takeshi asked, softly, hands sliding down Gokudera’s arms, one still full of the sponge.

After a moment Gokudera nodded. He didn’t make a sound as Takeshi gently washed his back, though he settled back slowly when Takeshi pressed against him, reaching around to soap his chest. He was a little flushed, but almost anything could still cause that.

And Takeshi still thought it was adorable.

The flush turned deeper when Takeshi scooted around to run the sponge down his legs and Takeshi was careful not to tickle. He didn’t want Hayato tense. Gokudera kept his head down and didn’t look at Takeshi as he set down the sponge and reached for the water.

"Here. Hold still." Takeshi washed the suds away, fingers stroking over the fine, lean lines of Gokudera’s body. It felt good to be able to do this for Gokudera, something simple and caring.

The one thing he didn’t like was how flustered this made Hayato, how unfamiliar it seemed to him. He was definitely going to have to think about hunting a few people up—or down—the next time they were in Italy. Carefully smoothing away the hard line from his mouth he turned off the water and regarded Gokudera.

He knew touch would reassure if he was clear enough. But maybe it was time for something else, too.

Gokudera still wasn’t looking up. Takeshi took a slow breath and set his fingers under Hayato’s chin, lifting his head. His eyes were dark and hesitant.

"Hayato," Takeshi said.

Gokudera’s breath drew in and his eyes widened. After one shocked, still moment, he reached out a hand and Takeshi promptly gathered him up, holding him close, hands sliding over damp skin. "Hayato," he murmured again.

Hayato pressed against him, almost huddled into him, and Takeshi’s arms tightened. "You didn’t think I would?" he asked, softly. Hayato made a noncommittal sound, and he had to smile; Hayato went to such trouble to seem casual, even when he was pressed tight against Takeshi and breathing quick and unsteady. "Shh," he soothed, one hand spreading warm against Hayato’s back, over his heart.

It took a while for the tightness of want and fear to ease out of Hayato’s muscles, and Takeshi’s knees were complaining a bit about the hardness of the tile, but he ignored them. This was more important. Feeling the clutch of Hayato’s hands loosen and his breath slow as Takeshi held him was much more important.

Finally Hayato stirred and Takeshi felt the slow intake of breath against his shoulder. Quietly, a little shyly, Hayato murmured, "Takeshi."

Takeshi couldn’t stop the smile that pulled at his lips. "Yeah."

Hayato was quiet in his arms for another breath before he lifted his head and pushed a little against Takeshi’s chest. "I want some hot water before all these bruises stiffen up," he said softly, still not quite looking at Takeshi.

"Good idea." Takeshi eased back onto his heels, a bit slowly. He had to laugh at the way they both creaked, getting to their feet. "Here," he held out a hand to Hayato. "So neither of us falls getting in."

Hayato looked at his hand for a long moment before taking it, face flushed again thought a tiny smile tugged at his lips. "Yeah. Okay."

Takeshi smiled back, satisfied.

Definitely progress.

End