Gokudera stretches his hand across the table -
Yamamoto’s - and leaned his head against that arm. The seat was still warm and he delighted in it in a girlish way. His nose took in the leftover scents, something distinctly fresh that made him feel rejuvenated everytime. His free hand traced over the doddles on the table for that day and noticed how they were mostly baseball related - again. That baseball idiot, he chastised him in his thoughts.
They had to do laboratory work that day together. Yamamoto was horrible with them. Because everything about instincts for him, and everything included the quantity of chemicals to put into the test tubes. Gokudera had to teach him how to use the micropipette properly and get the exact amount in. Obviously the idiot didn’t listen, and they ended up having a mini explosion at the end of the day.
But it was fun.
They had lunch with Tsuna and fought over him again. Apparently the Vongola Tenth had accepted Yamamoto’s lunchbox rather than his. Gokudera could not forget the smirk that Yamamoto had – it was as though he was doing that on purpose to see the bomber lose his temper.
That guy.
After lunch they had math and that included Gokudera feeding answers to him again. He liked how the swordsman immediately looked towards him when he was called upon to answer the question. And he was proud of himself to be able to provide him with the necessary answers.
The wind blew from the open windows, ruffling his silver shoulder length hair. He wished that
his hands would be the one to mess up his hair instead but one shouldn’t ask for too much. It had been a good day, he told himself, simply because he could see the idiot.
And his lips curved into a smile.