#standing between kurapika and killua... rude | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sweetchup · 5 years ago

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Not A Chance!!

Type: Shalnark x reader

Prompt: O’Inari’s Wisdom — On any day during this week, people of the ages of 19-30 years old will go through a walk in the woods carrying a clear ornament (Traditionally it used to be a Jar). The ornament is usually filled with the person’s favorite scent or perfume, Name and Phone number on paper slip, and their dream type of lover on a rose petal. When walking through the woods, the person allows the God/Goddess of the woods O’inari’s Imps to trick them into meeting their soulmate. It is a must to switch ornaments with that first person they see for it is said the imps won’t allow them to leave the forest unless they do so.

Author Note: I decided to try a different writing style with the kiss scene this time. Tell me what you guys think.

(Prompts/Rules) (Masterlist)

“Hey (y/n), Bisky, What’s this?” Gon asks. His voice was hardly heard over the many chattering of the NPCS and other players in the city as you looked at him. Gon first shows Bisky, who was closer to him, a baby blue flier that you couldn’t quite read from where you were standing. “Is it some sort of Greed Island event?”

“Wait a minute. Gon do you not know what O’inari’s wisdom is?” Bisky questions, shocked. Walking over closer and looking from behind Bisky, you realize that the Winter Holiday of O’inari’s Wisdom was indeed taking place on Greed island. You were slightly surprised for a second but it soon started to make sense the more you thought about it. It had started snowing on the island recently and if the game was parallel to the times in the real world then it should also be December in the game. So it just made sense that Holidays were also coded into the game to match the changing seasons.

“Oh, so it’s a Holiday,” Gon says surprised once Bisky explains it to him, “We didn’t celebrate it on Whale Island. Maybe it’s because I was so young. But, at the very least, (y/n) will be able to celebrate it with us.”

“Huh?” You murmur confused. You never mentioned anything about doing it, “I’m not doing it. Actually, why would you think I would do it?”

“Well, you don’t have a boyfriend right? So you must have not done it yet. So you should do it! It will be fun!” Gon explains enthusiastically as Bisky nods in agreement. Of course, it was just straightforward thinking done by Gon, not thinking of other possible possibilities. Man, why exactly did Killua have to leave you to take the Hunter exam again?

“I actually have done the Holiday before,” You tell the two as you start to walk away, calling forth “book” as you do so. As you examine through your binder, you continued to explain what you meant to the younger boy, “I’ve actually done it many times. Sometimes doing a full week some years. Other times going to different locations from other cities or towns. But in all the years I’ve done, I never once heard nor bumped into anyone else in the forest. So I just gave up on th—”

Bisky suddenly cuts you off with a loud exaggerated gasp.

“Oh My~ Then that must mean you really do have a soulmate out there (y/n)! What powerful young love!!” Bisky states dreamily as sparkles and flowers seem to dance around her. All you can do is sigh at the older woman antics and continue on your way. Honestly, to you there was no way Soulmates could exist. Not a chance! There was just no science nor reason behind it. Nen could be explained. Monsters could be explained. But soulmates, not at all. It was just some made up myth with no hard facts.

As you make your way to the gate of Aiai, you feel Gon tug at your top to catch your attention.

“But, (y/n)?” You take your eyes away from your binder to look at Gon. “Do you think you could try? Perhaps one of the needed 99 slot cards is given at the event.”

“Oooo, good thinking Gon,” Bisky states looking at the flier and then looking at you. “With that possibility, I order you to do it then (y/n). Afterall, you are the only person who could do it out of us.”

You and Bisky stare at each other tensely for a little. Slightly challenging each other to step down until eventually you give up and finally look away. Even though you aren’t looking at her, you can hear Bisky doing a dance in success. “Fine then where do we go to take place in this event?”

“Apparently, you can get there by using an Accompany to Winterfell. We don’t even need to go there beforehand to use the accompany card.” As Bisky explains, you flip your binder and grab a spare accompany card. This is the last one from your binder so Gon and Bisky will have to start using their ones from now on. Well, Until you can get to Masadora to get some more.

“Okay then, let’s get this over with,” You state. Though for some reason you have an uneasy feeling in your stomach as you hold the card up. You wondered why, perhaps you felt nervous? But why would you? Greed Island was hardly crowded so this is the lowest chance of meeting someone during the Holiday. Maybe it was just the fact you haven’t done this tradition in a while. Yeah, that was probably just it, “Accompany on! To Winterfell!”

—.—.—.—.—

The crunching sound of snow is the only thing you hear as you walk through the forest. For what felt goes on for miles, all you have been seeing was snow covered pine trees. Not even birds or other sources of life have been spotted while you have been walking in this forest which was quite strange. How long have you been walking you wondered. It was hard to tell but you guessed maybe an hour or so?

Stopping next to a tree, you run your hand up it’s trunk somewhat tracing the engravement in it. You had already seen this before. It was like you have been going in circles, even though you have actually only been going straight. Was this some sort of test in the game? Maybe Gon was right about a specified slot card being here.

“Book!” In a poof, your binder opens up. Or, at least that's what you expect to happen. However, it doesn’t pop up. After calling the book a couple more times, you realize it was no use. It just doesn’t work. Was this some glitch in the game?

All of sudden, a rush of wind catches you off guard. It wasn’t just any breeze however, this gust of wind was similar to that of a giant icy blizzard. You cringe as the snow in the wind pricks and scratches at your skin. You needed to take cover from the harsh wind before you freeze to death.

Quickly, when you try to look around to find somewhere to take cover, something whips into your face, blinding you. As you struggle to pull it off of you, the wind suddenly comes to a complete stop. Weird, very weird. Finally getting it off of you and taking a good look at the item, you realize it was just an in-game scarf. Actually, you weren’t even sure it was an item from the game since it had a tag from the real world.

“Hey! That’s my sc—“ Turning around at the cheerful voice behind you, you see a familiar man a couple of feet away from you. You don’t understand why you recognize the man until he suddenly goes on guard and realization hits you. Wait a minute you remember that stance. He was a member of the Phantom Troupe wasn’t he? Shalnark, right? You quickly get on guard as well when he grabs an antenna from his pocket. An manipulator, huh? In a one on one fight like this, he has the clear advantage on you.

“Hey, I’m not here with the chain user,” You state, breaking the silence between you two. You weren’t usually someone to give up but avoiding a fight with him and going your separate ways is the best way to go in this situation. Afterall, the last thing you needed was to become his newest puppet. “I’m with the kids and all we are doing is playing the game by collecting cards.”

You wrap up Shalnark’s scarf and lightly toss it in front of his feet.

“I have no problems with you guys and I don’t want to fight you.” You continue as you start to walk backward, away from him. Hopefully, that woman, Pakunoda, told the other troupe members how you deteratarted Kurapika away from the option of placing a Nen dagger in her heart and helped spared their boss’ life.

It’s quiet and tense for a couple of minutes, not even the wind was blowing, before the blonde nods in agreement to your idea. You watch as he carefully picks up his scarf and then both of you two turn away from each other at the same time to walk away. Thankfully, counting on that woman seemed t—

All of sudden, after a couple of steps, the large gust of wind returns. You tried to fight against it and continue forward but it only seemed to grow stronger the more you tried. It grew so strong in fact that it lifted you right off your feet and threw you backward. You hoped to land on the soft snow but, of course with your luck, you hit something else very hard with a loud thump. Originally, you thought it was a tree that you hit but once you roll onto your side, you come to the realization that whatever you landed on doesn’t feel anything like tree bark.

“Ow! What was that…” Shooting up at the voice, You realize it was Shalnark that you had hit. You attempt to scurry away from him fast however, as soon as you get too far away, a gust of wind drags him back towards you. You pause as Shalnark lifts his head from being buried in the snow and looks at you confused.

“I-It’s some sort of error in the game. I swear. Maybe with the coding? Or—“ You blab out in a tangent trying to explain what was going on. Soon however, Shalnark sighs loudly, cutting you off.

“That’s a really stupid conclusion you cam up with. If you had once stop to look around you in this game, you would have realized this place, Greed Island, actually takes place in the real world. Specifically a straight shot east of York New.” Shalnark explains, somewhat sarcastically. All you do is roll your eyes. Of course you got stuck with the jackass of the troupe.

“Well then since this game isn’t actually a game, what do you think is going on, if you think you are oh so right?” You spat back at him. For some reason, you just couldn’t understand why he was being so rude in this situation, it was clearly neither of yours fault.

“Simple. This,” Shalnark states confidently as he takes the ornament from his pocket and lifts it up to you. You can’t help but laugh loudly at the idea, causing him to scowl at you.

“Y-You can’t be serious?! You and I? Soulmates!?”

“Of course! You do realize that in the myth it’s impossible for us to leave until we exchange our ornaments.” Shalnark explains, tossing his ornament at you. Clutching it in your hand, you quickly examine the ornament before scoffing.

“Yeah, not a chance,” You state as you toss his ornament back to him, causing Shalnark to sputter confused. “In no ways am I giving my personal information and phone number to the tech expert of the phantom troupe. That’s just plain stupid.”

You and Shalnark bicker on back and forth for a while until eventually he goes quiet and just glares at you. Honestly, in your opinion, it was better if he just chose to quit talking. He snaps his fingers catching you off guard, “Okay I have an idea! How about I try to convince you we are destine—”

“Soulmates?” You finish for him, slightly cringing.

“Yeah, that! And if I can convince you, then you can feel safe to give me your ornament so we can both leave.”

You ponder a little on the option he suggested. Honestly, you actually didn’t have much of any others option to begin with, “Fine. What do you got to convince me?”

“Well, first,” You watch closely as Shalnark grabs the Rose petal out from his ornament. Oh, you knew where this was going, that was actually a smart idea. Maybe this guy actually had some brain cells. “I’m going to read off my dream type of lover. I bet this will describes you.”

Reading off his petal to you, you listen carefully. As the more he goes on, you can’t deny that it did somewhat describe you, almost on the dime. As Shalnark shows the petal to you to prove he wasn’t making stuff up, You decide to grab your own petal. He seems to get excited that you finally understood what he was saying.

“See I tol—“ Shalnark is cut off when you let out a loud laugh.

“Yeah no way. Mine is ‘Someone who is like the sun; always cheerful as well as mentally bright.’” You read off, chucking it back into the ornament.

“Hey! I’m pretty cheerful! And bright!” Shalnark states, finally flashing you a smile for the first time you’ve been with him.

“Ha, I doubt that.” You say, though you can’t help but feel your heart skip a beat at how handsome he looked with a smile on his face. Your eyes go wide and you mentally slap yourself. What in the world were you thinking just now? You were flustered over him?!, “N-Next! What’s your other ideas?!”

“Aw come on!”

After a couple of more attempts from Shalnark to prove you two are soulmates, as well as many more confused borderline bipolar back and forth feelings on your end, Shalnark has run out of ideas and you two sit in silence as he tries to come up with more.

“Is that all the ideas you have?” You ask him shivering slightly as you pull your jacket closer for warmth. Looking up towards the sky above the thick pine branches, you see that it had just started to get darker out, effectively making it ten times colder as well. It now dawns on you that at this rate with your progress, you two could possibly freeze to death out here if you couldn’t get to a warm shelter before night.

“Shalnark. Here I—“ You suddenly pause what you were saying as you turn to face the man, “what the hell do you think you are doing…?”

You looked confused at Shalnark, who had moved closer to sit next to you. You didn’t know what he was up to but you definitely still didn’t trust him. As you try to lift yourself up to move away, Shalnark quickly grabs your wrist to keep you put where you were. Oh hell no. You struggle against his grip, attempting to pry his fingers off of your wrist but while you are distracted he uses his other hand to grab your arm. Effectively trapping you.

You struggle against him a little more but it only causes him to push you backwards down into the snow, him slightly leaning over you. Now nervous about what Shalnark was possibly doing, you shout out to him, “H-hey! I’ll give you the ornament okay? I don’t want—“

You feel the rest of your words die in your throat as Shalnark leans his forehead against yours, causing him to get very close to your face as well. Biting the inside of your mouth, you close your eyes tightly as a way to try calming your pounding heart. You couldn’t tell if your heart was racing out of fear or possibly something else. Though, again, it wasn’t like you could think straight at this point on time to figure which one. Cutting off your thoughts, Shalnark lets out a boyish giggle and tells you, “For someone who says they hate me and doesn’t believe in soulmates, your face sure is feeling quite hot. It’s almost as if you are flustered by me.”

Quickly, most likely in an attempt to save your dignity, you turn your face away to him so his face could no longer touch yours. As you do so, your heart leaps out of your chest when you hear him let out a small aww in disappointment.

“H-hey! I said I’ll give you my ornament so let go of me!” You sputter out, trying and likely failing at keeping yourself composed. You know it’s hard for you to think logically in a situation like this but you would’ve thought you had enough common sense in you to not get flustered by a mass murder.

“Hmmmm… Nope” Shalnark answers, popping the “p” at the end. Surprised and bewildered, You whirl your head around back to look at him. He seemed to get a kick out of your reaction because he can’t help but laugh. “You are correct by the fact that all I wanted originally was to take the ornament and leave. But the more we went on, talking and bickering, I realized I wanted something else.”

“H-huh? What? I don’t have much of anything else.” You questioned. Was he talking about cards in the game? Gon carried all of the number slot cards so you didn’t have anything that was useful to Shalnark.

“Silly girl~ It’s simple.” Shalnark flashes you a smile as he boops your nose with each next word, “I. Want. You~”

As you give a weird expression in response to Shalnark flirting attempt, he looks at you confused as to why you looked like that before full on laughing, when what looked like steam started to flow from out of your head. He couldn’t believe he fried your brain with a silly pick up line. It wasn’t even a good one either.

“Adorable~” Shalnark whispers out so softly and quietly that you almost don’t hear it. You go to ask him to repeat what he said again, but stop when he leans down. He wasn’t—

You can only watch as he inches closer and closer to your face. You don’t get why you don’t stop him, you know you probably should. But you just couldn’t for some reason you didn’t quite understand.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Shalnark kisses you. Stealing your first kiss, a precious thing you could never be able to get back from him. Though you doubt you would even try if you were able to.

As his lips moved against yours, you had to admit they were surprisingly soft, not at all rough or chapped like what the very few romance books you’ve read over the years described. Though you had to admit those boorish books were right about one thing, kissing someone was a feeling you’ve never once experienced before in your life. Authors have described the experience in many different ways but as Shalnark pulls away from your lips only to dive it once. Twice. And so many more times that you’ve lost count, you realize yours wasn’t like the ones written down. It didn’t take your breath away, it wasn’t rough or deep, it wasn’t messy or desperate.

But, it was yours. A feverish kiss if you must find a word to describe it. A kiss that even while pushed down into the freezing cold snow, you felt you were burning up inside. So much so, that your brain seemed to melt and your muscles turned to jelly from an non existent heat.

Finally after a while, you two pull away from each other, still in a trance like state from what happened. It’s quiet, nothing is heard nor said between you two as you just stare at each other. You know it is now dark out. You know you should be trying to get back to Gon and Bisky before they worry. You know it would be in your best interests to try to get away as far as you can from the dangerous man before you. You know you shouldn’t be feeling such feelings for him, for it is too soon and he probably doesn’t even deserve to be able to experience a pleasant emotion like this one. You know all these things almost as if they are engraved in your heart.

But, even when knowing all these things, you can’t stop yourself from dragging Shalnark back in to give you another kiss.

#hxh #hunter x hunter #phantom troupe #shalnark #shalnark x reader

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fulloffloweryprose · 8 years ago

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Sanhitori City - II

Three years later!!!!! [read it on AO3] Or you can read it under here. (part one here) ---

Kurapika’s bare feet hit the carpet floor before six the next morning, hair falling in a messy flop until he runs his fingers through it. He hadn’t slept particularly well, and the light breaking through the windows stings his eyes.

The lump on the other side of the bed groans and shifts. Kurapika smiles at the sound, low and rumbling over the soft noise of sheets gliding past each other. It makes the morning feel slow. He wishes it could last all day, the ease and tranquility found in the few minutes before the day sets in. Even after a restless sleep, waking up with Leorio in the same room has Kurapika feeling more calm than he’s felt in months.

“Will you… coffee…” The med student mumbles into the pillow.

Kurapika lifts himself up and stretches, clad only in a large t-shirt and shorts. Being located in the south, Sanhitori City is warm; part way through the night he’d debated sleeping topless. A quick reminder of whom was lying next to him quelled the desire.

Sort of.

Kurapika sighs and heads downstairs. For the rest of the time he is with Leorio, he will do a more efficient job at burying these inclinations. Last night had been too close, he’d loosened up too much, and had nearly given in. No more near-flirting or movie-watching. No more calm, collected peacefulness. He won’t let himself be pulled in further. If that means he has to push Leorio away at every turn, that he must be overtly rude, even hurt him, so be it. It will be better for the both of them in the long run if Kurapika distances himself.

He still makes coffee for him, however. He does it without thinking. Leorio is extremely disagreeable without caffeine, and Kurapika has no desirer to deal with it. He’s partial to hot drinks in the morning too, anyway.

The smell fills the white kitchen slowly. The rising sun sifts through the open windows, covering the apartment with orange light. It’s warm on his neck and cheeks, and Kurapika walks over to the large window next to the couch to look out over Sanhitori City. Their apartment is at the mid-point of a tall skyscraper, so he can see along the rooves of a great deal of other buildings. They all glisten white and silver back at him.

Staying here, in the centre of the city, had been a good plan. The large apartment complex is located near the lower ring, and no one of this Rutherford man’s social standing would dare be seen so close to the impoverished areas.

He shifts his gaze westward. The market street is coloured in reds, blues, violets, and pinks, workers just waking up to tend to their small shops. He watches a child trip while carrying an arm full of fresh fruit, flat on their face; the fruit spills everywhere, and the child scurries to gather it up, likely holding tears in as they apologize to an old woman, bowing repeatedly. She only ruffles their hair. Kurapika can’t make out any expressions from so far away, but he imagines they’re both smiling.

He sets his forehead on the glass and hugs his elbows, watching the scene. It’s good to have people in your life who care for you, who you care for as well. He’d never deny that.

But what can he do? He doesn’t want to let him go, or give up on it, watch him go through life with someone else. Yet he won’t let himself become distracted. Wont let him in. Not now. Not yet. If Leorio finds someone else while Kurapika isn’t around, then that’s merely circumstance and life and nothing less than he’d deserve for pushing him away. He will accept it.

He closes his eyes, teeth grinding, his heart inarguably aching at the thought. So stop thinking about it.

Just… stop.

“Kurapika…?” His name is spoken in a sleepy haze, and the blond turns away from the window to see Killua standing in the middle of the hallway. He’s rubbing one eye and yawns slowly, looking for all intents and purposes like the young boy he’d been when Kurapika had met him.

“What are you doing up so early, Killua?” He asks, walking back into the kitchen to pour himself a small mug of coffee.

The white haired boy follows him, sitting up at the island Kurapika had sat at last night. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“It will take me longer to get ready than the rest of you,” he explains. Killua gives him a disbelieving look. Kurapika breathes out slowly, acquiescing. “And I suppose I had a difficult time sleeping.”

“Why?” He asks with a raised eyebrow.

“I imagine the bed was uncomfortable.”

Two blue eyes scrutinize him thoroughly. “Right.”

Perception is one of Killua’s best traits, Kurapika knows, so it’s no surprise if he’s noticed things are strange between Leorio and himself. Still, Kurapika tries to brush over the issue. “Why are you awake, then?”

Killua looks at him evenly, light eyes vibrant in the morning sun. They flicker down the hall, towards the room he’d shared with Gon, then back at Kurapika. “My bed was uncomfortable too,” he says, frowning.

“I see.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a bout of silence, neither of them looking at the other.

Killua scratches the back of his head, staring at the wall to his left. His voice carries a dark tilt to it, forced and indignant, “I used to do Alluka’s hair, I mean, I’ve done it before, so, if you want, I could do yours or whatever.” The white haired boy’s gaze falls on Kurapika, the bored expression on his face clearly forced.

Kurapika blinks, slightly surprised by the offer. “You want to do my hair?”

The embarrassment that spreads over Killua’s face is more akin to shame than anything, his jaw stiffening. Kurapika finds himself overwhelmed with the urge to make him feel at ease again. To show him that he won’t be judged for speaking his mind, not here.

“Well you won’t convince anyone you’re a girl with hair like that,” he snaps, folding his arms in a huff and looking away.

Killua is actually a little like Leorio in this respect, becoming defensive the moment his ideas aren’t accepted. Kurapika smiles at the thought. “Forgive me, Killua, I was only surprised that you offered,” he says. He lets his eyes soften when Killua looks at him again. “I would be grateful if you’d lend me a hand.”

There’s a faint pinkness on his cheeks. “Alright,” he says, slipping off the island seat quickly, “I’ll go get the stuff - I can do it in the living room, just take a seat on the couch.” With that, he’s off scurrying down the hall, footsteps as silent as ever.

What’s this all about? Kurapika thinks to himself as he makes his way into the living room, coffee in one hand. It seems completely impossible that the ex-assassin would feel anything particular for Kurapika, anything more than friendship, and certainly their prior conversation had implied that the reason for his sleepless night concerned Gon, but with the way Killua has been acting around him… There’s something going on. He never did get around to asking Leorio his opinion on the matter.

He sits on the couch, waiting patiently.

Killua comes into the room moments later, hair straightener and brush in his hands, and hair clips clasped along the hem of his shirt. It’s a genuinely incongruous, yet endearing, sight. After such a heinous upbringing, it’s nice to see Killua doing something typical of someone his age. His lips are drawn into a concentrated line as he plugs the straightener in and sets himself on the back of the couch, legs falling down either side of Kurapika’s arms.

“Move forwards.”

The blond complies, giving Killua easier access to his hair.

“I’m just gonna straighten it.”

“That’s fine,” Kurapika replies, taking a sip of his coffee.

Killua pins the upper layers of his hair back, brushing the bottom parts out and then taking the straightener to it. He’s gentle, likely from doing this for his little sister; his hair is warm when it falls back down along his neck. The room is silent. Kurapika feels entirely relaxed within minutes, the morning stretching out before them like an endless dream, comfortable and slow. It’s been so long since a morning was just a morning like this.

“Um, you know…” Killua starts after a few minutes, letting the top layer of Kurapika’s hair down.

“Hm?”

He brushes blond locks out, quiet for a few beats too long. “When I was a kid, like when we all first met…” He stops. His words are more timid that usual.

“Yes?” Kurapika says to encourage him.

Killua’s tone is indicative of a frown. “Look, don’t get the wrong idea or anything, it’s different now, but I…” His grip on the brush tightens and he pulls a little roughly through blond hair. Kurapika does his best to ignore it. Clearly the ex-assassin needs to speak his mind. “I used to… It’s just, you were older, and independent in a way I couldn’t imagine, and you could really kick ass, you know? And I mean, I was a kid,” he says, more like he’s talking to himself, rationalizing. “I was impressionable,” he finishes with an angry pout.

“What are you saying?” Kurapika asks, though he’s figured it out by now. Suddenly, that time Killua had called to tell him about the possibility of Chrollo’s nen returning makes a great deal more sense, as well as few other instances, flustered looks Kurapika remembers from years ago.

Killua sighs indignantly, voice low. His words are sharp. “I used to have a crush on you, okay?” He practically throws the sentence at Kurapika, clearly disliking the admission. “But I don’t anymore.”

“Why are you telling me now?” He asks with a small smile, guessing the answer to that, too.

“Don’t ask when you already know the answer!” Killua says, reeling forwards to glare at the side of Kurapika’s face. “The old man’s right, you’re arrogance really is unbelievable.”

Kurapika laughs lightly, the sound not breaking through his lips. “I’m flattered by your past feelings.”

“If you ever bring it up again I’ll kill you.”

“Understood,” he says with a nod, taking a long drink of his coffee. “So, are you going to tell him?”

“What’s the point.” Killua leans back to a sitting position, returning to Kurapika’s hair. “I don’t think Gon thinks about stuff like that.” He’s gentle again with his hands, but his tone sounds depleted, compressed. “And definitely not with me.”

Kurapika hums. “He would if you said something.”

“Hn.”

Killua continues straightening his hair in silence, obviously not wanting to talk about it any longer. He’s parted it from the left. It will look odd, at least very different, but that’s the purpose of this, Kurapika supposes. Still, he’s not really used to a side-part.

After a few moments, the blond hears heavy feet stomping down the stairs. Leorio blinks at them when he reaches the bottom floor, still looking tired but freshly showered, hair dripping, until his lips twitch into a wide grin.

“Well this is cute.”

“Shut up, old man,” Killua snaps, still focused on Kurapika’s hair. “Be useful and make us food.”

“Watch the attitude.”

“No.”

Leorio glares at him. “You could be nice to me too, sometimes.”

“You’re not dead, are you? That is me being nice.”

The med student growls and gives up, stomping into the kitchen with a frown. He pours himself a coffee and then takes a seat along the kitchen’s island, turning to face his two friends where they’re sitting in the living-room, his back to the island. Kurapika notes the strong scent of his cologne - it’s not offensive, persey, but isn’t he overdoing it?

“We can go out to eat after we’re ready,” he says. “You know where he’ll be today, right?”

“Of course,” Killua replies. “I had my brother dig up information on him, so I know all of his usual hang outs.”

When Killua is finished his hair, he races down the hall to the bedroom. After a few silent seconds Kurapika hears Gon shout in surprise and then start laughing uncontrollably, pleading for the white haired boy to stop tickling him. Laughing quietly to himself, Kurapika stands and heads up the stairs to finish getting ready. He walks back down the stairs about thirty minutes later in a dual-coloured summer dress, the top half white and the bottom blue, giving the illusion of a high-rise skirt. It emphasizes what curves he does have. Added to the fake-breasted bra he’d purchased and the elongation of his straightened hair, Kurapika is confident he looks every part the wealthy daughter to an overseas businessman.

He feels like one, anyway.

“Kura…”

“Woah!” Gon says from the couch with open glee, leaning over the arm rest, “Kurapika! You look really pretty!”

The blond stills a moment, not expecting the reaction. It’s not as if they’ve never seen him in women’s clothes before. But he supposes this dress (and the others he’d bought) is a little fancier than what he’s worn in the past, not to mention his hair is different.

Relaxing, Kurapika smiles. “Thank you, Gon. Killua is partly to blame,” he adds, keeping his expression polite and appreciative, “I don’t think I could have managed to do my own hair nearly half as nicely.”

Brown eyes jump towards light blue ones, “You did Kurapika’s hair, Killua?”

“Y-Yeah…”

“You’re always good with your hands,” Gon says, smiling brightly at him.

The blunt compliment - though customary of the younger man - makes Killua’s cheeks flush dark pink. Kurapika looks cooly away when Killua turns to glare at him, knowing the older hunter had sent the conversation in that direction deliberately. Well, what’s wrong with giving them a push? Gon is fairly oblivious. Not when it comes to how other people feel, but when it comes to realizing whether or not other people know how he feels. Gon is likely to assume that Killua already knows that no matter his feelings or Gon’s own, he’s in it for life; yet Killua clearly doesn’t know this, based on his prior conversation with Kurapika. Gon, without being selfish, is highly self-centred, and thus Kurapika thinks that nudging him towards realizing that Killua is uncertain about Gon’s feelings is prudent.

And he also very badly needs a distraction from the way Leorio is looking at him.

“I’m gonna go get ready,” Killua says, stomping down the hall away from the other three - but not before flashing bright eyes at Kurapika and adding, “Gon, come on!”

“Okay!” The black haired boy says, skipping after his friend. Leaving the two older hunters alone together in the middle of the main room.

Kurapika takes back anything pleasant he’s ever said about the ex-assassin.

---

Leorio has never minded Kurapika wearing women’s clothes. The first time, he had barely registered it. He’d honestly not noticed anything different. It was just the same Kurapika, but in a skirt, or with different hair. But now something’s different. Maybe they’d been busy trying to rescue Gon and Killua, and it wasn’t really the time for anything like gawking at your bestfriend cross-dressing. Or maybe it’s something else. Ether way, Leorio is having a bit of a freak out.

Kurapika doesn’t look like a guy at all. There’s no mistaking him for a ‘him,’ which is the point, he guesses, but it’s doing weird things to his head.

Somehow, with Kurapika looking absolutely female, Leorio feels off. Lost, or completely taken. Can’t look away for the life of him.

He guesses he doesn’t have a reason to, anyway. Kurapika’s the one always pushing them apart - Leorio can’t think of why they can’t just relax and be friends like always.

“Kurapika…”

“What?”

“You look…” Pretty? Convincing? Leorio feels his heart speed up. “Good,” he says finally, throat tight.

The blond smirks. “Thank you,” he says, relaxing.

There’s an awkward beat of silence with big feet shuffling and a blond eyebrow raising; Leorio halts his foot (what is he, a ten year old?) and clears his throat, nerves jittering, joints wobbling - why - what’s going on? - He folds his arms to get himself steady, feeling flustered when blue eyes smile at him in charmed amusement.

The med student clears his throat again and says, “Just don’t let your temper get the better of you and kick this asshole in the face when he says something disgusting.”

Because really, as pretty at Kurapika might look, he’s got a huge temper and an even stronger kick.

Kurapika looks stunned. “I don’t have a temper.”

“Like hell you don’t!” Leorio says, gawking. “I’m surprised you’re so willing to do this, really.”

“It’s like I told you before. Setting my pride aside for this, for my people, is nothing.”

Leorio’s surprised by how easily the memory comes to him, from the beginning of the Hunter exam all those years ago. Still, isn’t this a bit different? It’s not pride, not exactly. It’s more complicated than Kurapika’s strong sense of self.

“But what if he grabs you?” Kurapika looks like he hadn’t thought of the possibility. “What if he does something to some other woman? What if you find out he hits his girlfriends? I know you, you’ll snap and kick him in the face. I’ve seen you do it!”

Kurapika folds his arms. “Fine, I see your point. What would you suggest?”

Leorio sighs in mock-exasperation, then flashes a cheeky grin at Kurapika. “I guess I’ll just have to be there to stop you.”

“What?”

“You know, calm you down.”

Two grey eyes widen, as if Leorio had said something completely insane or impossible, instead of the simple truth it is. It’s how it’d always happened in the past - Kurapika would be about to lose it and Leorio would shout at him to pull himself together. He’s always liked being that person for Kurapika - seeing as how his fighting skills aren’t exactly to par with his three companions, it feels good to be useful in other ways. But why would that shock him so much?

“Kurapika?”

“Oh-” His eyes lose their glaze and he shakes his head slightly. The morning sun dances through his blond hair, cascading down his bare arms. “Sorry.” He places the palm of one hand on his temple, pressing as if he has a headache. “You should go get ready. We need to be in the city centre by nine.”

They’re in the car they rented by eight-thirty, Leorio driving, Kurapika in the middle as the wealthy oujou-san, her two attending guards in the very back seats of the long sports car. Leorio isn’t entirely sure what the plan is, because he’d been distracted and the other three seemed to have it under control. But he does know they’re going to the centre of Sanhitori City to let Kurapika get picked up by Rutherford, who is, Killua had said, notorious for flirting with wealthy, beautiful women in public (and wealthy beautiful men, not in public). As far as Leorio knows, his only job is to stand around and act the part of an attendant and driver.

Sanhitori’s city centre is a large expanse of shopping districts, entertainment, and recreations facilities. On the outskirts of this area there are kilometres upon kilometres of markets, ranging from flower markets to food, to books to bootlegged movies and anything illegal people can get away with selling. It’s packed full, noisy, and hot.

“This place is a lot bigger than my island,” Gon says.

Killua whacks him over the head. “Shut up! We’re in disguise, you idiot. Don’t talk about your home.”

“Aren’t you just making it worse by saying that?” He says, pouting and rubbing his head.

“Well you…” Leorio tunes them out and looks at Kurapika, who is walking in the middle of the three of them, as is custom for any high-class young lady in the midst of a busy city. They really do look the part, even with Gon and Killua bickering.

“Do you know where to find him?” Leorio asks, scanning the busy shopping district around them. They’re only about five minutes from the very heart of the city according to his phone, but it’s not as if they have a tracker placed on this rich bastard.

Kurapika doesn’t look at him when he talks, and Leorio assumes it has something to do with social protocols he doesn’t understand or give a crap about. All this haughty high-class bullshit is beyond him, and he’s perfectly fine with that. “The Hunter website said he frequents the cafés on main street. So we’ll check there, first.”

“How are you going to… like… do this?”

The blond laughs lightly. “You mean get him to ask me out?”

“Yeah.”

Kurapika hums, and then does look at Leorio. His eyes are the same as ever, nothing masculine or feminine, just completely Kurapika. Completely non-confusing, unlike the rest of him now. “It should be simple enough. According to Killua, I’m exactly his type.” He turns back to look at the street. “If I act the part of a docile, controllable young lady, we’ll be able to play him like a violin. We’ll use his ego against him.”

Ah, there’s the Kurapika I know. “That’s pretty conniving.”

“This isn’t the worst thing I’ve done to reclaim a pair.”

For a moment, Leorio doesn’t catch the weight of his words, thinks nothing of them. But when he looks over at the blond, his eyes are downcast and his shoulders are stiff, remembering god knows what about the past four years of his life. How many people has he cheated? Stolen from? Killed? Has he had to? Melody had told Leorio that Kurapika is willing to kill anyone who gets in his way - but Leorio had never believed it. And Kurapika definitely would never hurt his friends or let anything bad happen to them for the eyes — he has more than one first-hand account of that. They’re only here now because Kurapika refused to let Leorio die.

Which reminds me, this is all my fault.

Looking away - being as inconspicuous as possible and very thankful that Killua and Gon are still too busy arguing to notice - Leorio sets his hand on Kurapika’s bare lower arm, pressing in. “We’ll get them back.” Kurapika pulls away from him sharply. Leorio guesses it isn’t normal for a servant to touch his charge or whatever the hell, but he’s still a little annoyed at being rejected. He feels cold, despite the tropical weather. Even more so angry because what the hell? Aren’t they over this? Yesterday evening had been- they’d- They were them. So what’s his deal?

He glances at Kurapika’s blond (straightened and styled) hair, the only view available as his head is turned away from Leorio.

Worry wades through him like a slow, heavy nausea. What can he do? How can he… How is he supposed to make everything alright? Because that’s all he wants, for his friend to be happy, laughing, at peace finally. This little mission might get him another pair of eyes, might give him a break from constantly working alone, but it won’t fix anything. Leorio can’t help him the way he wants, as much as he wants, and seeing him so angry and being pushed away because of this anger and realizing that there is nothing Kurapika needs from him, nothing at all, is the worst thing Leorio has ever felt.

“He’s there,” Kurapika says, nodding towards a small, ritzy café and bar across the packed street. The café is called The Tiger Lilly, adorned with white marble and green accents, and outdoor seating. Leorio can’t see anyone who fits Saul’s description - an old slimey jerk - but he also isn’t really paying attention.

Before Kurapika can walk them towards the sitting area, Leorio gently takes his arm and says, “Wait.”

“Leorio,” the blond says with warning, eyes levelled and stern.

“Just for a sec!”

“We don’t have time for this.”

“Yeah.” Leorio nods half-attentively, and takes the few steps needed to be close enough to his friend. “Just-” He feels his cheeks heating up, but powers through his embarrassment, knowing this is important. He reaches out and starts moving hair away from Kurapika’s face, re-setting locks that had blown around in the wind. Kurapika’s eyes widen for a moment and Leorio knows his face has to be red, can feel two blue orbs boring into him. Then he walks around behind Kurapika to check and be sure that the dress is done up completely, that the bra is covered, and that everything is set right along his body to make him as curved as possible. If Saul were to notice something less than feminine about him straight away, Leorio doesn’t trust that he’d just let it slide. He knows these type of people. Rich, entitled, don’t like to be made a fool of -

“Leorio.”

“I’m just making sure! Is your eye-gunk fine?” He swings Kurapika around to look at his makeup.

The blond’s eyes are wide for a moment while he’s twirled around. “You mean mascara?”

“And your contacts?”

“They’re fine.” Kurapika’s expression deflates, turning into something amused. “Everything is fine.” Leorio reaches out a moves another lock of hair around, setting it carefully on Kurapika’s shoulder. Then he frowns and moves it back to the other side of his head again.

Just as he’s about to move it a third time, the blond sets his hand on Leorio’s wrist and pushes it away. “Leorio.” If Leorio didn’t know any better, he’d swear Kurapika was trying really hard not to smile.

Going with this assumption, he smiles at Kurapika. It’s a lopsided goofy one, the only kind he can manage when he’s worried about something. “I know, I know. You’re tough as nails.”

Kurapika opens his mouth to say something, his eyes lighten and his hand grips Leorio’s wrist a bit tighter and Leorio feels his heart vibrating for some reason - feels the earth shake and wonders if this is really because because Kurapika looks so much like a girl, when no girl’s ever made the ground shake under his feet.

But all he does is nod once and say, “We’ve got to move.” Then clamps his mouth shut, drops Leorio’s hand, and turns on his heels to march across the street.

The two youngest of their group follow him and, once he’s got his bearings again, Leorio scampers along behind them. Like they’d agreed on from Killua’s instructions, the three fake bodyguards walk only a few feet behind Kurapika in a line, like a wall. Killua had insisted that Leorio stand in the middle because you’re so damn tall, old man. Leorio had grinned and taken it as a compliment.

Kurapika waits patiently in front of an outdoor table of the café, arms folded and eyes closed. Leorio and Gon look at each other, confused, and then both of them look at Killua who huffs, rolls his eyes, and goes over to Kurapika and pulls a chair out at the table. Kurapika sits - and there’s no other word for it - daintily, crossing his legs and folding his hands neatly on his lap. Then Killua shuffles Leorio and Gon to stand with him behind Kurapika, mumbling something about the two idiots who are going to blow their cover.

Leorio scans the few people sitting at the café, but doesn’t see anyone who matches the rich bastard’s description. On one table there’s a couple sharing a sunday piled at least two feet high. On another, a woman sitting by herself and talking into a phone. And another, the last other customer, a middle aged man with brown skin and sunglasses, reading a newspaper. None of them seem like a rich slimey old bastard who, honestly, four years ago Leorio might have admired - wealthy and surrounded by women - but things have changed and while he still holds money in a certain regard and women are, well, women - he is now, sometimes, more mature than his teenage self.

And so Leorio thinks this guy must be an asshole to treat people the way Killua had mentioned, and so already hates him. Or maybe it’s just that he has Kurapika’s eyes. Which would be a little less than mature, given that Saul might have no idea where the eyes came from, of the massacre, of the hatred that engulfs his closest friend with every breath he takes. Some people tell Leorio he’s a bit hapless when it comes to emotional awareness, and he’s sure they’re right; but he’s not a complete idiot and it’s impossible for him not to hate, just a little, every person who steals or purchases a pair of the scarlet eyes. Who has added to their value and so to Kurapika’s pain. It’s… reflexive.

So maybe he’s not any more mature than four years ago.

“So… How are you going to do this, anyway?” Gon asks.

Kurapika smiles, eyes still closed. “Just wait.”

Not thirty seconds pass and, after Kurapika orders himself a herbal tea, the middle aged man who had been reading a newspaper strides confidently towards them. He’s tall - maybe even taller than Leorio - with wide shoulders - definitely wider than Leorio’s - and his skin is dark like caramel, something rugged and chiseled about his features, handsome in a way only a middle aged man can be. He has two rows of perfectly straight, white shining teeth. He doesn’t give Leorio, Gon, or Killua so much as a glance as he stops across the table from Kurapika, one hand held out to take the blonde’s.

“I hope the sun knows it has competition for the brightest star in our universe,” is Saul Rutherford’s version of a smooth pickup line, Leorio guesses. To the man’s left, Killua makes a gagging face. Leorio does his best to hold back a snicker for fear Kurapika will stomp on his foot for potentially blowing their cover.

“Oh - thank you,” Kurapika replies in the most uncanny, out of character voice and intonation Leorio has ever heard from him. He could never imagine it. It’s not just polite - Kurapika is often polite. It’s… cutesy. Modest. Bashful. And when he places his hand in Saul’s delicately, Leorio realizes who he’s imitating. The psychic girl with the pen. Lestrode? Nostrade.

“And what do I have the pleasure of calling the lady?”

“Neon - Neon Nostrade,” he says, voice small and docile. Kurapika blushes when Saul kisses the top of his hand.

Somehow, it’s making Leorio feel a it sick, seeing his friend act so submissive.

“Well hello miss Nostrade. If you don’t mind me saying, it is obvious from your attire you and your subordinates are from out of town. May I ask what brings such a lovely young woman to my humble chain of islands?”

“Oh! Your islands?” Kurapika blinks rapidly, eyelids fluttering. Never mind ‘a bit’ sick - Leorio is encroaching full-on nausea.

Saul nods graciously. “Would you mind…?” He gestures towards an empty seat.

“Please.”

Saul then dives into a lengthy explanation about the three islands he owns, about the main city, how he came into money, and just generally being the perfect example of the worst date ever. You’re not supposed to talk about yourself the whole time! And especially not about how great you are! And yeah, Leorio does that all the time, goes on about money and babes and his doctorate skills or being good with a knife, but Kurapika always shuts him down with something snappy! Because that’s how it works, that’s how they work, and they have fun that way! They’re- they both like it, right?

Wait - where was he going with this?

Kurapika is just acting. Relax.

It’s just - he’d expected some short, ugly, old geezer and instead Saul is rugged, tall, lean, and - cheesy or not - confident with his come-ons. Wouldn’t Kurapika like someone like that? Confident, strong, dependable. It’s not a real date! His mind rushes out, nearly screaming in his head. But so what if Kurapika did like him? What’s it to Leorio? He already knows Kurapika is about as concerned with gender as a fish is with aerobics, so it’s not about that. And wouldn’t it be a good thing if the blonde found more love in his life?

He watches Saul run fingertips along Kurapika’s bare shoulder, saying something about his skin being as pale as moonlight; watches Kurapika giggle - freaking giggle - in return; and feels something hot and spindled spike up his spine like burning magna, sharp, viscous and blunt. Has to swallow to keep it from showing.

It doesn’t mean anything. It can’t. Leorio’s just - like he said - protective of Kurapika. The guy’s not very good at taking care of himself! He needs help! He needs friend to text him and tell him to eat dinner, to remind him to sleep regularly, and to be there so he never forgets that he does, actually, have friends. That’s all.

“You simply must come by my manor and let me give you a proper tour of the city. And dinner as well, if it would not take up too much of your time.”

“That would be lovely,” Kurapika says, giving Saul a shy smile. “As long as it’s not too much trouble?”

“None at all.” His voice is so smooth - like good brandy, Leorio thinks. And then wonders at his own scratchy tone. “May I call you in the morning?”

“Certainly.”

“Then with that miss Nostrade, I bid you a farewell and wish you a present day in my city.” After smiling at Kurapika, Saul nods once to the three bodyguards before he leaves. He walks like an arrogant SOB, in Leorio’s opinion.

The four of them remain there in silence for a moment - somewhat stunned - before Killua pipes up. “Idiot. The sun isn’t the brightest star.”

“He seems nice,” Gon says with a big smile.

Killua turns to him. “Of course you like him.” He rolls his eyes. “He’s just like you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Corny.” Killua hums thoughtfully and, with a smirk, adds, “And cheap on first dates. He didn’t even buy Kurapika a drink.”

“I’m not cheap!” Gon pouts. “Anyway how would you know? We’ve never been on a date, Killua.”

“Still,” Killua says, turning away from Gon.

The white haired teen goes silent then. While Leorio is wondering if he’s missed something between their younger friends, Kurapika speaks up. “Sit down and eat something, you three. We should explore the city for the afternoon to keep up appearances.”

—

They arrive home later that evening, Leorio carrying what feels like six billion shopping bags as he trips through the door to their apartment. He isn’t buying Kurapika’s ‘It’s to keep up appearances’ bullshit - the guy just likes to shop and make Leorio’s arms fall off in the process.

he drops the bags of who even knows what (what did they even buy? He remembers some clothes, sweets… fishing line?) unceremoniously on the floor with a gigantic sigh, just to make sure the other three know just how exhausting it is to carry their stuff around. Really, what is he? The family mule?

Killua and Gon race past him where’s stood in the entry way, causing Leorio to teeter a bit off balance. “Hey!” he snaps at the teenagers.

Gon shouts a happy, “Sorry Leorio!” from the bedroom down the hall. Two seconds later they’re running out of their room, Gon pushing Killua into a wall to get by him and pulling a shirt over his head as he runs. Killua laughs - malevolently in Leorio’s opinion, and a little less than sane - and throws himself off the wall, trailing behind his friend.

“Beat you!” Gon shouts, slamming his hand on the wall next to the front door.

Stopping behind him, Killua huffs and raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, by cheating.”

“Dunno what you mean,” Gon replies with an overblown toothy grin.

“Uh huh.”

“You two going out?” Leorio asks, still standing in the entry way.

Gon turns his smile towards the older hunter. “Yup! We’re gonna explore the city at night, right Killua?”

“Better than staying in with grandma and grandpa.”

Leorio mocks him under his breath - to which Killua only grins - and then rolls his eyes before saying, “Make sure you find something to eat.”

“And don’t stay out too late!” Kurapika calls from somewhere up stairs. He appears at the top, looking down at them over the railing. “There are plenty of people here who could give even you two a hard fight.”

Killua scoffs. “Yes mom.”

Kurapika sets his eyes at the white haired teen, not angry or demanding, just intent and informative. “If you run into trouble, call us.”

“Yeah yeah,” Killua says. Leorio can tell he’s a little riled at being unable to tease the blond. Kurapika has always been a bit above that, anyway. “You guys too,” Killua adds, probably to feel less patronized, Leorio guesses, but hopefully also because he means it.

“Come on, Killua!” Gon slides his arm around his friend’s, pulling them close. The white haired boy’s face goes pink and Leorio wonders for the second time if he’s missing something between the two. “Let’s go now so we’ll have lots of time to look around! I want to check out those flower markets, the toy store, that electronics store, and maybe we can find some street venders to try and…”

His voice fades as the two exit the apartment. Leorio lets out a weary sigh, then lifts the bags into his arms again and carries them onto the living room coffee table. Then he heads into the kitchen, feeling oddly domestic as he opens the fridge. This is normally something he does on his own - come home from classes, back to his dorm, and cook himself dinner. Cooking for others - it’s nice. Not studying alone for hours in his room is beyond nice. And seeing people he’s been through hell and back with, the three people in his life he would trust with anything, getting to live with them - and seeing how much taller Gon and Killua have gotten - is twice as beyond nice.

Crap those kids shot up like bean sprouts! They’re nearly as tall as Kurapika.

Leorio rubs at some dust - definitely nothing else - in his eye.

Kurapika comes down a few minutes later.

Watching him walk down the stairs, Leorio feels strangely right, like a piece of a puzzle was put into the last empty space. He wants to pour him a glass of wine again. He also wants to set him in a chair and check his vitals, because it’s only been two days since he’d been working the underground.

“So,” Leorio starts when Kurapika takes a seat at one of the high stools. He’s still in the dress, which is fine except that Leorio can’t think of a reason for it. “What do you think?”

“Of Saul?”

“Yeah.”

Kurapika hums thoughtfully. “He doesn’t appear to be the man we had assumed. I don’t enjoy taking these eyes from people who are otherwise amicable.”

Leorio frowns. “I don’t like him.” He leans his elbows along the counter, watching the wide windows salon the living-room half. “And,” he continues, “If the reports we have on him are true, then that was all an act. We’ve got to keep our guard up.” He eyes Kurapika warily. “It’s not like you to be fooled by someone like that.”

“I wasn’t fooled.” Kurapika bristles like a bothered cat, fur on end. “He was just…” Just what? Leorio thinks, head spinning with frustration. Confusion more than anything. If he would just take that dress off, then Leorio’s sure he could calm down. “Different. From the people I normally deceive.”

“Different?” Leorio’s voice hikes up at least three octaves too many, and he reels on Kurapika, standing straight up. “He sought out and paid for a pair of eyes known to be from a klan slaughtered by the Ryodan - your clan, in case you forgot - everyone you loved, a whole culture, not giving a shit who he hurts in the process - and he knows, Kurapika, everyone knows where those eyes are from! He’s -” Around the time Leorio had said ‘in case your forgot’ Kurapika’s expression has dropped, fallen into that same deep dark pit he always ends up in, a place Leorio can only sort of understand from losing Pietro. His voice dies in his throat and, abundantly, Leorio hates himself. “Shi-”

“It’s okay,” Kurapika cuts in quickly, eyes hardening.

“It’s not, it’s not,” Leorio rounds the island in a clumsy rush, not contemplating the act, hands shaking when he stops in front of Kurapika who is still sat on the stool. He glues his hands to his sides but wants, more than anything, to hold the face in front of him. Can practically feel everything Kurapika is keeping locked away. But something stops him. Like the action has a different connotation, like he’d be pushing them along to somewhere he isn’t ready to go.

“Fuck. Me and my stupid mouth.”

Kurapika’s hard expression breaks then, a jittered laugh tumbling past his lips. Not a happy one, but the kind that comes from being over stressed for too long, nervous. “Well, you’re right about that.” Leorio watches water well up in two grey eyes, his own widening in surprise and then, realizing he’s the cause, mild horror. “You’ve definitely got no tact.”

“Kurapika…”

“It’s just because you’re here, you big idiot. It’s you.” The blond pushes Leorio’s face away, but not harshly. “I hear people talk about my clan all the time when I’m working.” He wipes the tears from his eyes before they fall, and takes a slow breath to calm himself. Leorio turns his head to look at him again. “And they say ruder things than you could ever come up with.” He snorts at the shot to his mental prowess. “But I never - It doesn’t get to me. I mean, it makes me angry, but it doesn’t…” Kurapika gestures to his glazed-over eyes, “You know.”

“Sorry,” Leorio says, soft and low. He knows it comes up short but the idea of saying anything else, doing anything else, freaks him out. He scrunches his eyes closed, upset at himself and his inability to think before he speaks and mad at whatever this thing is between them that is making everything weird. “Sorry,” he says again, frustrated.

Kurapika shakes his head. “It’s fine. I probably deserved it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” The blond puts a hand on Leorio’s shoulder, smiling a little. The med student has a suspicion it’s a bit forced. “You’re right, about Saul I mean. We can’t trust him.”

Leorio looks from Kurapika to the hand on his shoulder and back to Kurapika again. Feels far out of depth, unsure, like he’s tripped into something new; Kurapika’s gaze in unwavering and trusting and focused. “Uh.” He clears his throat, suddenly realizing that grey eyes look nice with blond hair. When had Kurapika taken the contacts out? Leorio doesn’t see his natural eye colour often. Why does the hand on his shoulder feel so steadying? “Um.” Leorio clears his throat again. Meets Kurapika’s gaze, finally, and wonders if his cheeks are red. His face feels on fire. “You… want a glass of wine?”

“Just let me change first.”

Kurapika comes back downstairs in a simple back sleeveless shirt and the white pants he usually wears. Leorio finds his eyes stuck on the rounding muscles of his arms, up to his collar bone and up his long neck.

What the hell is this? Gawking at him while he looks like a cute wealthy city girl is one thing - but right now Kurapika looks about as plain as he gets but Leorio can’t stop looking. Still feels off-kilter. Tilting.

He watches Kurapika rake him up and down with grey eyes, his lips parted; their eyes meet and lock and suddenly Leorio is thinking about how they’ve got the place to themselves for at least three hours -

What the fuck what the fuck what -

“I think I’ll drink that wine in the bath,” Kurapika says, curtly, closing his eyes as he walks behind the kitchen island.

Leorio’s chest feels like a balloon full of too much hot air. It dissipates as he speaks, rushing out. “Yeah?”

Kurapika marches out of the kitchen, wine bottle and glass in hand, and Leorio watches him go. All he can picture is Kurapika drinking alone in the bathroom, wonders how many nights he spends alone in dark places that teach him only how to hate the world more and more. Fuel his rage, which is what the blond wants but isn’t at all what Leorio thinks he needs. Doesn’t want him to leave because they have the place to themselves-

Groaning loudly Leorio grabs at his hair in frustration and throws himself on the couch in an exhausted poof. “What the hell is happening,” he mumbles under his breath into the empty room.

—

Killua grins wide as he chases after Gon along the low roof tops of Sanhitori’s outer ring, swooping from worn house to house with the wind beating at his back. While he knows upper-class niceties inside and out, Killua would always rather be doing this, nightrunning with his best friend somewhere new and foreign - sneaking over quietly sleeping families. He’s always loved racing around at night, even when he’d worked for his family; now at last he can do it without murdering anyone.

They’d already stopped at the toy store. It was just full of junk, basically. But for a guy who grew up on a far away, non-commercialized island, he guesses it must be interesting. Absolutely ancient gaming councils, wooden toy trains, dolls with dead eyes that follow you around the room - somehow it was more like a small shop for horrors than any toy store Killua’s ever seen. Gon didn’t have any clue about electronics or gadgets, though, so Killua let it slide. And his brown eyes were so huge, gaping openly at something as small as a a tiny terrarium or an old arcade game. He wouldn’t, couldn’t, snuff out any light from his best friend, not now that things were finally good.

With their exploration of the city at dark over, Gon had taken them galavanting across rooftops of the poorer districts. Abruptly, Gon changes their direction, heading toward the city centre they’d come from. Killua doesn’t question it really - definitely used to his friend’s persistent spontaneity.

That is, until he looks up at where Gon has stopped.

“What’s this?” Killua asks, looking up at the ritzy, high-class restaurant, wondering what Gon is up to.

The black haired boy turns to face him pointedly. “Killua.”

“What?” He looks, lost, back at brown eyes.

“You wanna eat here?”

They’re not quiet in the centre of the city. The restaurant isn’t as nice as the places Killua’s family would visit - but he hadn’t liked going out to eat with them. And why is he thinking of ‘family’ right now anyway? Gon’s big brown eyes bore into him, as if an answer to this wayward thought.

“Do you? Killua?”

He shrugs. “Whatever. You hungry?” Gon only nods, lips clamped together like he’s trying to hold back a roar of joy. Is this place special to him or something?

Gon holds the door open for Killua, who walks into the warm restaurant affecting a typical aloof air, though he’s growing more worried about his counterpart’s odd behaviour by the minute.

They’re seated by a very formal server who lifts her nose at their attire, which Killua admits is lacking considering their surroundings. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Is he going to ask them if they can afford this meal? God, what does he even care for? What is going on! Blistering, like a cat with its hair standing on end, Killua sits up straight and opens his mouth to order drinks. Because out of the two of them, he’s the one with the know-how in this situation.

Gon beats him to it. “Two glasses of coeval blanc, please,” he says.

Killua’s eyes widen, slightly. He hadn’t even read the menu. How…?

Their server’s disdainful expression fades. Only members of the high class would know what to order here without looking, and so she’s assured of their social standing - or probably thinks they’re the kids of wealth. Which is true in Killua’s case but…

“Gon, how…”

He’s cut off. Or maybe the other boy just hadn’t been listening. “Do you know that Leorio’s in love with Kurapika?”

Killua snorts. “Does Leorio know he’s in love with Kurapika?”

Gon laughs, before speaking again. “It’s kind of sad… Why doesn’t Kurapika say something?”

Killua eyes his friend. “We can’t get involved.”

“So you know why?”

“I’m surprised you even noticed there’s something going on.”

Gon sneers playfully at his friend, the jab at his less-than-perfect perception a normal occurrence between the two. His expression softens slowly. Like falling snow, Killua thinks, before retracting the thought and glaring intently at the table. Never mind Leorio and Kurapika’s love problems, he’s got enough of his own to deal with. Waxing poetic like some love-struck teenager. Well, he is a love-struck teenager, technically.

“Leorio looks at him differently,” Gon says.

Killua rolls his eyes. “They’ve had it for each other since the Hunter exam.”

“What!” The boy opposite him gawks. “That long ago? And I just noticed now?”

“Yet again your Powers of Perception prove non-existent,” he says, waving a hand in the air as he speaks and smirking at his friend.

“But something’s different.” Gon frowns, folding his arms in deep thought. “Maybe they just kind of liked each other back then, and now they’re really in love. And how do you know why Kurapika won’t say anything? Did he talk to you about it?”

Killua shakes his head. “No. It’s just obvious.” Before Gon can ask about it (because Kurapika’s desire to stay enraged and the fact that Leorio negates this feeling are not things he likely wants others to know), he continues. “Why do you care so much anyway?”

“They’re our friends,” Gon says, “And I don’t understand what’s stopping them.”

“Med school and a scavenger hunt.”

“Killua.”

The white haired boy sighs in exasperation. When Gon says his name like that, it means ‘be serious please,’ and he’s found he’s helpless to ignore the request. “Fine, sorry. They’re both really independent people working towards life-long dreams, and one of them, guess who, is too stupid to even realize he’s enamoured.” Killua snorts.

“But it’s been four years!”

Killua shrugs.

“They were basically the age we are now when they met.”

Before Killua can ask how exactly that matters, their server comes back with red wine and takes their order. Surprising him again, Gon orders them both meals without having looked at the menu. He asks for something Killua not only likes but also fits this high-class situation they’re in. What the hell is going on? How does Gon know what to order, the social customs required to be served here? Killua had assumed he’d need to step in and order for them, stop Gon from doing something “common.”

Once the server is gone again, Gon flips Killua a huge smile. And why should it be so expansive? And why must he noticed it so completely? His own mind is turning on him, teaming with this stupid poetic crap about a smile like sunshine eyes as open and accepting as any galaxy, the warmth and love behind them utterly honest; and what is Killua supposed to do? He’s felt this way since they were kids. His cheeks heat up as Gon’s smile slips into something lower, a calm gaze shared between them that says a million things more than words. But nothing close to what Killua means.

“Do you remember when we finally saw each other again, after?”

“Don’t you dare.”

Gon grins at him. “You couldn’t believe my muscles!” He flexes, showing off his - relative to his eleven year old self - larger forearms. “Your face went bright red!” He laughs again. “Just like now!”

“Shut up,” Killua develops an intense interest in the candle centred on the table, “You were- are- You just grew up, that’s all.”

“You’re taller than me now. Do you think it’ll stay that way?”

“How should I know?”

Their meals come and Gon goes on about their past, asks about Alluka and, specifically, how she feels about weddings. Killua expects a certain amount of randomness from Gon, but this is way beyond that. Bringing up Leorio and Kurapika’s choking romance? But he doesn’t mind it. The black haired boy is bright, speaking rapidly and fully.

When they get the bill, Gon pays for them both.

—

Idiot! Kurapika thinks for the millionth time. Saying he thinks Saul is a good man, just to get a reaction from Leorio. Sick, twisted, idiot! He sets his forehead on his naked knee, curled up in the warm bath water. Reduced to the tactics of a jealous child, after only a few days with Leorio. How affected he is. How impossible it is proving to ignore his heart. The man’s smell, his warm body, the care behind his eyes, fretting over his clothes to make sure he stays safe - it’s too much. Kurapika can lock himself down when set against anyone else, in any other situation, but his longing is proving to be too heavy. He is in love, so far gone into it that even though he doesn’t want to be, his chest positively swells with the admittance.

And it isn’t an awestruck love. The kind that sweeps people off their feet for the first few months of a new romance. No, Kurapika loves Leorio like they’ve already spent a lifetime together. An ancient, weighted love, older than either of them.

There is a word for it in his mother tongue, useless dead language that it is.

Wine bottle half empty, Kurapika stands and exits the bath. He pulls a warm robe on, grabs the bottle to return it to the kitchen, and leaves the bathroom. Wet footprints stamp the hallway. It’s late, well past midnight, but there is a light on in the kitchen half of the main room.

He thinks it must be Leorio and, if it is, Kurapika knows he’ll give in.

But it isn’t. Instead, Gon and Killua are in the dark living room, kitchen light shining across the room, falling over them. They’re standing close, not speaking, air around them quiet and clearly delicate. Unable to help himself, Kurapika slinks back into the shadowed hallway to watch. Only for a moment, he thinks, hearing distinctly a certain medical student snickering at him in his head. (Leorio can stuff it! With such abysmal parents, Kurapika can’t not feel a little inclined, on occasion, to fill the gap).

Is this…?

“Did you have fun?” Gon says, his head dipping low and voice teeming with a flood of affection. An earnest wondering.

Killua’s face is bright red. “Yeah.”

“Sooooo….”

“What?”

Gon grins in a way that Leorio would call ‘shit-eating.’ His hands move to rest on Killua’s hips and he says, “I told you I wasn’t a bad date.” And before Killua can roll his eyes in a act of exasperation, Gon leans in and kisses him. Evident by the widening of two blue eyes, it’s their first.

Kurapika smiles as he turns to leave, worlds of happy for his friends despite the hopeless longing in his own heart.

#leopika #hunter x hunter #writing #this isnt my main blog... my main wont show up in tags for whatever reason

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