Disclaimer: If Katekyo Hitman Reborn were mine, I wouldn't need to write fanfics. If any of these songs were mine, I wouldn't be writing fanfics.

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Minimal fluff 09!

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Native

"I'm really excited to be here."

"Psh. You act like such a tourist."

"This isn't the first time I've been here, you know!"

Gokudera rolled his eyes, wishing Yamamato could get so wrapped up in his surroundings that he wandered off and he would be lost of the damned baseball idiot. He hadn't wanted to come back home with such a traveling companion (really, the Tenth would have been more fun to go with, since he hadn't ever been in Italy before) but Reborn had wanted him to visit the Italian branch of the Vongola to check in and insisted Yamamoto tag along. After all, last time, Yamamoto had been there on holiday.

The road was comfortably cobbled, the uneven stones beneath their feet were a welcome feeling to their shoes. The sun was beaming down in an almost picture-perfect travel brochure way, the wonderfully bright colors in the air betraying the Mediterranean atmosphere. There was a pleasant smell in the air, lingering with snatches of conversation happening nearby.

"It's so warm here, I wouldn't know why you would ever come to Japan!" Yamamoto said cheerfully, decked in a cheesy short sleeve button up. It was painfully obvious he was not a native; Gokudera had lived in Italy long enough to know that being Italian required some sort of ability to look good. It was easy to compare the passing girls, wearing professionally applied makeup and chic clothing, not to mention himself, with his messy sort-of-a-punk-very-much-a-gangster style. Next to Yamamoto, it seemed clothes went to die on that body.

"It wasn't my choice," Gokudera said coolly, keeping his hands in his pockets, looking as if it just so happened that Yamamoto was walking next to him. "The new Vongola boss was named and I had to check it out."

"I couldn't imagine going across a whole continent to play a game like that," Yamamoto mused, staring through a shop window. Gokudera didn't bother reprimanding him; if the idiot was too dense to see what was happening around him, he was just a lost cause.

"I kind of want to play baseball here!" Yamamoto suddenly said, looking excited. Ignoring the pitying look Gokudera gave him, he went on, raising his hands to the sky. "I mean, the sky in Japan is so different. It seems to go on for miles here!"

Gokudera scoffed. "You're such a commoner."

"I'm hungry," the boy said next, hoping from one topic to another, oblivious to Gokudera's shut-downs. "Last time, Reborn told me this little shop where you could get gelatin!"

"It's gelato," Gokudera corrected, wincing at Yamamoto's accent. "Honestly. If it's not baseball, it's food with you. Kindly I will remind you we have a meeting to attend, and…"

"It'll only be a few minutes!" Yamamoto protested, grabbing Gokudera's arm and starting to drag him up a street as if he knew the city backwards. "Come on. I know you're getting upset with the heat, or else you wouldn't be so testy!"

"Testy?" Gokudera sputtered, trying to pull away as Yamamoto pulled at him. "Testy? I'm just being responsible! Do you even know why you're here? You don't even know where you're going!"

It seemed that Yamamoto didn't remember where the gelato shop was, but any would do as he couldn't tell the difference anyway. Gokudera cursed inwardly for wasting precious time as Yamamoto pestered him to translate the menu hanging over the cashier, taking forever to decide and finally settled on a flavor the silver-haired bomber had translated ages ago. As Gokudera was placing the order and paying, a pair of girls who had been watching this spectacle from a distance suddenly approached the Japanese boy, sashaying up slyly and batting their dark eyelashes.

"Ciao," one of the brunettes said coyly, fingering a bangle around her wrist. "Da dov'ẻ?"

Yamamoto's eyes widened, although his smile hadn't gone away and he put his hands up in surrender. "Non Italiano!" he laughed, his accent giving it away horribly and the girls giggled. They looked at each other and leaned in closer, typical distance for speaking.

"Can you speak English, then?" the other asked, her eyes awash in gold eye shadow, her voice thick with an Italian accent.

"A bit," Yamamoto shrugged, his voice tangled with Japanese.

"We could teach you Italian, if you'd like," the first girl said, touching his arm flirtatiously, the gold flower barrette in her hair sparkling in the light. "If you're here for a while, you might as well learn the local language."

Yamamoto gestured back at Gokudera, watching them from the counter with a hard stare. "Not here alone," he nodded, putting his hands up with a what-can-you-do? air.

The girls looked past him at Gokudera and they exchanged looks that clearly portrayed a level of achievement. "Ciao," Gold Eye shadow called, waving her fingers. "Per quanto tempo rimane?"

Gokudera's eyes narrowed. The cashier held out two cups of gelato expectantly and frowned when the boy snatched them from his hands and marched up to Yamamoto and the girls.

"Pensate agli affair vostri," he snapped, shoving the gelato into their hands as a bribe. The girls blinked surprisedly, unused to such rudeness from potential boyfriends. Bangles stared down at her melting gelato and back to her friend, who nodded briefly toward Gokudera, made a face, and nodded to the door.

"It was nice meeting you," Gold Eye shadow said, aiming her compliment at Yamamoto, who was still trying to decipher what had just happened. "Hopefully, the next time we meet, your friend…will be…how can I say it…occupato." Giving Gokudera a disgusted look, she turned on her heel, casting her hair in a smooth cascade as she left with her friend.

"What did you just say?" Yamamoto asked, following Gokudera out.

"We're here for business," Gokudera said curtly, refusing give Yamamoto the privilege of being looked at. "You can't just go around being frivolous whenever you want to. You give the Vongola a bad name."

"They seemed friendly!" Yamamoto declared, struggling to keep up with Gokudera's quick pace down the street. In the back of his mind, he mourned the loss of the gelato, but if Gokudera was upset, he wouldn't be able to go anywhere without a translator. It was best to soothe the boy and have a good time. "Why did you chase them away?"

"Why can't you be more Japanese?" Gokudera barked, turning briefly with a glare. "You know, be more composed, reserved, and just quiet?"

Yamamoto blinked, before cocking his head confrontationally. "Well, why can't you be more Italian? You know, friendly, cheerful, and just open?"

"I believe in being modest," Gokudera sniffed, ready to lose Yamamoto in the close crowd of the market.

Something clicked, almost inaudibly in the bustle of the streets, and Yamamoto reached out and grabbed Gokudera and pulled him into a nearby alley, where the alley cats mewed at their interruption and leapt away as the dark haired boy smiled knowingly.

"You don't have to be jealous, Gokudera."

"I'm not jealous at all." Gokudera responded, a look of contempt on his face. Yamamoto challenged him with a look, reaching forward to loop a finger behind the stubborn boy's belt and pulled him closer.

"You aren't?"

"No," Gokudera maintained, untroubled by the way they were flush against each other, Yamamoto's finger curled around a belt hole. His arms were crossed and pressed against the latter's chest. "I could get with those girls by myself."

"You know what I mean."

"Hmm." Yamamoto leaned forward and stole a kiss, feeling Gokudera reluctantly lean into him. He liked it when Gokudera pretended he wanted nothing to do with him but kiss back voraciously whenever anything happened. He'd been with enough Japanese girls to know restraint and meekness. It was different to be with a hot-blooded Italian.

Gokudera had just run a hand down his chest, tilting his head so Yamamoto could kiss him more, when a shadow fell in the alley. "So that's how it is," Gold Eye shadow said, her voice high with suppressed laughter. Bangles didn't hide at all and burst out in giggles, grabbing her friend's arm as they dashed off, shrieking with disbelief and amusement.

"They were nice," Yamamoto grinned, and almost laughed when Gokudera turned on him and attempted to suck all the air out of his lungs as punishment for such a comment.

Owari

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Note: You can bet they were late for the Vongola meeting. I felt like writing a 8059, and let's face it, they're too canon to ignore. And Yamamoto isn't your stereotypical Japanese and Gokudera is hardly the typical Italian. In fact, their personalities are sort of reversed. Maybe it's just me. Hetalia warps me like that. Review, please? Alley shenanigans are delicious, more so than gelato.

Translations:

Da dov'ẻ - Where are you from?

Per quanto tempo rimane? – How long are you staying?

Pensate agli affair vostri – Mind your own business (because Gokudera's tsundere like that)