Summary/Prompt: Gokudera forgets they’re in public and kisses Yamamoto.
A/N: Ficlet with a dumb chibi fanart at the end.
Tuesday afternoons tend to be slow days at Takesushi, when the dust motes floating in the air are the only patrons besides the two boys reading magazines in the corner over a plate of tuna maki, and Tsuyoshi lets his son choose the background music, as long as it is in Japanese and is inoffensive to any older customers who happen to stop by. Such afternoons are peaceful affairs, interrupted only by petty arguments between the boys, but those have grown fewer and further between as they have aged. Most of the time the shop is silent, excepting the soft strains of plunking strings sifting from the speakers behind the counter.
Gokudera breaks the quiet with a low grunt and slides out of the booth. As he shoves his hands in his pockets, and turns for the door, Yamamoto leaps up the follow him.
“Wait, you’re leaving already?” Yamamoto asks, catching up and standing between Gokudera and the exit. “You usually stay until at least five.”
Gokudera shrugs his shoulders. “Yeah, I’ve got some errands to run today.”
“Oh, I’ll come with!” Yamamoto offers, his expression brightening.
“What? Why not?”
Gokudera raises a eyebrow. “You still have that essay to write for History.”
“Oh, yeah.” Yamamoto scratches his head, rumpling his hair even worse than it already was in the process. “Can you help—”
“No, I’m not helping you. It’s your own damn fault you were caught sleeping in class.”
Yamamoto makes the wise decision not to mention any of the times Gokudera has not paid attention in class and instead simply replies with a heartfelt, “Awww…”
Gokudera does not respond for a second, and Yamamoto knows there is either more verbal abuse in store for him, or Gokudera is going to give in. Maybe if he pulls out the big guns (i.e. puppy dog eyes), he’ll get Gokudera to at least help him out with an outline for the paper. He just needs to make sure he doesn’t overdo it, otherwise Gokudera will call him out on being a moron. The combination of contrition and pitifulness seems to work.
“Jeez, you baby. I’ll stop by later.” Gokudera finally concedes.
“Ok! I’ll see you then!” Yamamoto thinks Gokudera is just going to leave after that, but instead the boy lightly touches his elbow and leans in.
“Bye,” he says and lays a soft kiss to the corner of Yamamoto’s mouth, a habit he has fallen into since they finally decided to put words to what they are to each other. The kiss is warm, and Yamamoto smiles into it before—
“What are you boys doing?”
The boys spring back from each other as if literally shocked by the sound of Tsuyoshi’s voice. It takes a full thirty seconds of awkward staring and foot shuffling under the man’s curious gaze before Yamamoto finally finds his voice.
“Uh…Gokudera was just showing me how Westerners say ‘good-bye’!”
Yamamoto Tsuyoshi does not bother telling the boys that he already knows about their relationship. Quiet afternoons were nice, but having the Italian boy come is good for keeping his son and him on their toes.