![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
The cigarettes are Gokudera's one vice, and they litter the apartment, stubbed out butts in ash trays and coffee cups. The empty packages always end up in the wire trash basket, the plastic covering crackling when Gokudera crumples the empty boxes. The wire trash basket is Gokudera's, the white plastic trash can with an orange sliding lid is Spanner's. It is collapsible, or in this case, expanding. The trash can is on the second setting, nearly halfway filled with plastic lollipop wrappers and chewed white cardboard sticks. Spanner's vice is his lollipops, specially ordered because he can only find the wrench looking lollipops in one place. They're not expensive, not pricy like Gokudera's cigarettes. They won't kill Spanner in the long run either. Shouichi has a clear plastic trash can set by his work area, but the contents are sheets of printer paper, black and red lines and figures marring the pristine surface. Shouichi's vice is coffee, the empty coffee cups that sit on all the surfaces in the apartment, with brown rings inside and Gokudera's used cigarettes.
Oddly, the one pristine room is the kitchen, because none of the men can cook.
Yamamoto, when he's come over with Tsuna, teases them, calls their apartment the home of the Intelligentsia, asks if any of them have seen sunlight in weeks. He wears a light brown tan, as tan as Yamamoto ever gets, and there's always the faintest whiff of cut grass and open skies, possibly pertaining to the grass stains set deep into his pants. Gokudera is always curt with Yamamoto, attempting to shuttle the man out of the apartment as soon as possible. They're busy, they're working, doesn't Yamamoto know what work is? Oh right, he's never worked a day in his life, he's a professional baseball player. It doesn't work, Yamamoto easily evades Gokudera's pushes and putters around the apartment. Tsuna's leaning over their drafting table, his eyes following lines and calculations of Irie's print outs, the careful notes put down in Gokudera's hand. Spanner walks by with a wind up robot, he places it on the coffee table so that it maneuvers its way haphazardly around filled ash trays and empty mugs.
When they're done, they're done. Spanner sits on the left side of the couch, his spine straight, but his shoulder's hunched slightly. Gokudera sprawls in the center, his legs stretched out and planted on the coffee table in front of him, his toes twitching and wiggling, his feet bare. Shouichi has one leg thrown over the arm of the couch and is half asleep as he rests against the back, slipping so he hits Gokudera's right side.
"Sorry." Shouichi says, pushing himself back upright, and it's the first word they've exchanged in three months that didn't concern the project. The word doesn't break the silence in the room so much as sit on top of it, floating on an imagined haze, perhaps on top of Gokudera's smoke. Spanner laughs first, and Gokudera follows with a short chuckle. Irie smiles, and manages to shove himself off the couch.
"Scrabble?" Spanner offers, picking up some of the empty coffee mugs and carrying them towards the kitchen.
"Too much effort." Gokudera fishes out his last pack of cigarettes, makes a frustrated noise when he realizes he's actually run out. He tosses the empty box at the wire trash can, and it bounces off the rim, landing with a soft crackle on the floor. "Don't we have Trivial Pursuit somewhere?"
Shouichi dumps an ash tray into Spanner's trash can, and then another. "We have the Book Lovers edition, but the last time Lambo and I-Pin came over they managed to destroy the Genus edition."
Gokudera snorts, and finally joins the other two in cleaning up the room. "I keep telling you not to let the brats in."
Spanner walks over to the windows and opens them up, letting a balmy summer breeze swim into the apartment, washing away the scent of recycled and smoky air conditioned air. "We could always just play cards." Spanner offers, and conveniently all three forget the debacle that came about the last time they played cards. None of them could ever agree on which version of the card game they were playing, having never bothered to establish it in the first place, and alternate rules or play styles always popped up before they were half way through. Card games like Go Fish could expand to take hours instead of wasting a few minutes. Once they had engaged in a game of Bullshit that lasted 63 hours, at which point they had all passed out.
"Or we could sleep." Shouichi suggests, stifling a yawn.
"Or eat." Despite past traumatic experiences at his sister's hands and his rabid smoking habit Gokudera retains the stomach of a teenager, he's almost always hungry.
Spanner considers both options. "Take out was getting a little boring."
"Sawada's?" Shouichi offers, and even while he starts berating Shouichi for his informality and his rudeness Gokudera's stomach growls at the thought of Tsuna's mother's cooking.
Oddly, the one pristine room is the kitchen, because none of the men can cook.
Yamamoto, when he's come over with Tsuna, teases them, calls their apartment the home of the Intelligentsia, asks if any of them have seen sunlight in weeks. He wears a light brown tan, as tan as Yamamoto ever gets, and there's always the faintest whiff of cut grass and open skies, possibly pertaining to the grass stains set deep into his pants. Gokudera is always curt with Yamamoto, attempting to shuttle the man out of the apartment as soon as possible. They're busy, they're working, doesn't Yamamoto know what work is? Oh right, he's never worked a day in his life, he's a professional baseball player. It doesn't work, Yamamoto easily evades Gokudera's pushes and putters around the apartment. Tsuna's leaning over their drafting table, his eyes following lines and calculations of Irie's print outs, the careful notes put down in Gokudera's hand. Spanner walks by with a wind up robot, he places it on the coffee table so that it maneuvers its way haphazardly around filled ash trays and empty mugs.
When they're done, they're done. Spanner sits on the left side of the couch, his spine straight, but his shoulder's hunched slightly. Gokudera sprawls in the center, his legs stretched out and planted on the coffee table in front of him, his toes twitching and wiggling, his feet bare. Shouichi has one leg thrown over the arm of the couch and is half asleep as he rests against the back, slipping so he hits Gokudera's right side.
"Sorry." Shouichi says, pushing himself back upright, and it's the first word they've exchanged in three months that didn't concern the project. The word doesn't break the silence in the room so much as sit on top of it, floating on an imagined haze, perhaps on top of Gokudera's smoke. Spanner laughs first, and Gokudera follows with a short chuckle. Irie smiles, and manages to shove himself off the couch.
"Scrabble?" Spanner offers, picking up some of the empty coffee mugs and carrying them towards the kitchen.
"Too much effort." Gokudera fishes out his last pack of cigarettes, makes a frustrated noise when he realizes he's actually run out. He tosses the empty box at the wire trash can, and it bounces off the rim, landing with a soft crackle on the floor. "Don't we have Trivial Pursuit somewhere?"
Shouichi dumps an ash tray into Spanner's trash can, and then another. "We have the Book Lovers edition, but the last time Lambo and I-Pin came over they managed to destroy the Genus edition."
Gokudera snorts, and finally joins the other two in cleaning up the room. "I keep telling you not to let the brats in."
Spanner walks over to the windows and opens them up, letting a balmy summer breeze swim into the apartment, washing away the scent of recycled and smoky air conditioned air. "We could always just play cards." Spanner offers, and conveniently all three forget the debacle that came about the last time they played cards. None of them could ever agree on which version of the card game they were playing, having never bothered to establish it in the first place, and alternate rules or play styles always popped up before they were half way through. Card games like Go Fish could expand to take hours instead of wasting a few minutes. Once they had engaged in a game of Bullshit that lasted 63 hours, at which point they had all passed out.
"Or we could sleep." Shouichi suggests, stifling a yawn.
"Or eat." Despite past traumatic experiences at his sister's hands and his rabid smoking habit Gokudera retains the stomach of a teenager, he's almost always hungry.
Spanner considers both options. "Take out was getting a little boring."
"Sawada's?" Shouichi offers, and even while he starts berating Shouichi for his informality and his rudeness Gokudera's stomach growls at the thought of Tsuna's mother's cooking.