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They burst onto the platform just as the train is gearing up to pull out of the station, flashing the passes they'd bought not half an hour before at the conductor before tripping up the stairs into their train car. Killua hadn't expected them to need to rush; they should have had plenty of time. He frowns for just a moment at the indignity of having to run for their train, but of course Gon isn't flustered at all. He takes a moment to catch his breath, grinning like he's grateful for the sprint, before starting to walk down the aisle between the seats.
Killua follows after Gon, his hands in his pockets and his eyes cast toward the floor. He's more sedate about it, strolling past the other passengers without looking at anyone because he's actually watching the sure steps of Gon's boots moving just ahead. There's no sound of footfalls; Gon walks just as silently as Killua does. Instead, there's only the little "A-ha!" from Gon when he finds their seats at last, toward the back of the car.
Killua darts past him at the last moment, sliding across the bench to snag the window seat. He pulls a smug face about it; Gon just sticks out his tongue.
"Try not to be so slow next time!" Killua jokes, as he makes himself comfortable next to the window ledge.
Gon drops onto the other half of the seat with an audible thump, letting his feet kick for a moment in the empty space of the foot well before leaning back against the bench and turning his face up. Killua can't help but watch as Gon's bright grin returns to his lips, propping his elbow against the ledge so that his body cants toward the window, but his face tilts back toward Gon. There's a softer smile starting to tug at the corners of his mouth.
"That was dirty," Gon says, more factual than accusatory. They've known each other this long, and still he seems impressed with Killua's sneakiness far more often than he ends up irritated by it. "I didn't know it was a race."
Killua has a smart response on the tip of his tongue, but it fades to ash in his mouth when Gon grabs his free hand right out of his lap. Gon laces their fingers together, letting their joined hands fall to rest on the little, bare stretch of bench between their thighs. Killua can feel his knuckles rub the seat cushion as Gon settles.
"You need to always be prepared," Killua says.
But it isn't with the snappy air he'd intended, his voice coming out softer-edged than the teasing tone he'd meant to invoke as a means of goading Gon into a play-argument. Killua is restless after having to race for their train, and he can feel the pent-up energy humming through Gon, too. It's a three-hour train ride to the next city, a stretch of time that would be best spent in calmness, challenging though it is to get Gon to relax about anything.
Gon's thumb strokes across the back of Killua's hand, before his fingers collectively squeeze.
"I know that," he says, staring ahead more than looking at Killua. His mouth starts to set into a determined line, though he's still grinning. "Once we get into the city, we'll both need to be on our guard. No one else is going to look after us, and some people will try to trick us."
He turns his head back to stare at Killua directly. "But right now it's only us, and I can always trust Killua."
Gon's eyes squinch at the corners when he grins more kindly, and his hand gives Killua's another, almost reassuring squeeze. That moment of astuteness, of Gon's understanding that they may have responsibilities ahead but that the train ride is a brief interlude during which they can rest themselves in preparation for challenging work that awaits them, takes Killua briefly by surprise. He doesn't think at all to protest it, when Gon lifts their hands from the seat and into his lap.
This time Gon's hand is the one palm-up, its back resting on his thigh while his fingers loosen and he switches to cradling Killua's palm with his hand. All of his motions are idle ones, without any definite purpose Killua can deduce, though there is a certain air of concentration to it. Gon throws himself into anything he does with a single-minded focus, and while the intensity is less than when he's fighting or training, the quiet way he absorbs himself in tracing his thumb down the unbent line of Killua's first finger is still consuming enough to rivet Killua's attention.
Though, his own narrowed focus might be more the result of the way one touch to his hand sends a reactionary shiver all the way up the length of his arm.
Delicacy isn't usually a trait Killua would attribute to his best friend. Gon's choice in nen abilities alone speaks loudly against it – he's more likely to go off with a bang, to use absolutely as much force as is necessary to get the job done. But Killua remembers Gon teaching him how to cast a line, his fingers wrapped sure but gentle around the grip of his fishing pole, and with that task the precise twitch of Gon's hands was absolutely dainty.
He's dainty like that now, taking Killua's one hand between both of his, his gaze long since dropped from Killua's face to instead regard the puzzle cupped there in his lap. In tracing down the length of each finger, his touch is feather-light. He flips Killua's hand over, both of his thumbs kneading into the meat of Killua's palm. That's more like Gon, firm and forceful, but there's still obvious restraint. He could squeeze hard enough to break every bone in Killua's hand if he tried. Instead, he presses only hard enough to work out tension, to loosen any underlying muscle aches.
He presses Killua's knuckles between thumb and forefinger, and without intending it, Killua's nails extend, like a cat exposing its claws.
Gon gasps at that, soft and curious. His grip loosens, and Killua's own fingers relax, his nails returning to their usual – neatly trimmed, impeccably groomed – state. The way Gon's face falls in disappointment is unexpectedly charming.
"Sorry," Killua says, though he doesn't sound like he is. He sounds too fond, voice a little rough, a little bit throaty, but all of that will be lost on Gon. "Don't do that. I might cut you."
"I'll be careful," Gon says, entirely unconcerned. His eyes flick up to Killua's face for a single moment, able to take in the entirety of him in the brief span of one heartbeat, before his gaze lowers again to the hand he's holding. "You have really nice hands. Can you do that again?"
Killua wants to say no, that he hadn't meant to let his biology alter like that for no reason at all the first time. He wants to say that it makes him feel weird, the way he trusts Gon enough for Gon to manipulate him so easily, to touch and explore until he figures out every last trick of him. Instead, he just tenses his fingers, the points of his nails all hardening down to wicked blades.
When Gon touches them, he's so careful that he doesn't cut himself, not even once.
His fingernails tap against Killua's, so softly that it might have gone unnoticed any other time. In the quiet between them, though, each tap makes a dull little sound, just as each impact sends a vague little shiver to continue down the length of Killua's fingers so he feels it in his bones, feels it center in his wrist. Gon kneads the bases of his fingers, and his hand slowly relaxes, his fingers and nails again returning to normal. There's an unforgivably soft smile playing around Gon's lips. Killua's heart swells heavily in his chest, rises up in it like it wants to burst.
Gon slides sideways in the seat, just the slightest bit, and tilts his head to the side until it rests against Killua's shoulder. The bottlebrush of his hair grazes Killua's cheek in a butterfly kiss. Gon's fingers are still cupping Killua's hand, tracing the outsides of his palm, running down the narrow, pale stretch of his wrist that extends past the end of his sleeve. Gon's mouth is close enough to Killua's ear that he perfectly hears the soft little sigh that slips past Gon's lips.
It's a good thing Gon is still holding his hand, otherwise Killua would have been very tempted to slide his arm around Gon's back, and he still isn't certain he's allowed.
"Did you finish your exploration?" he asks, voice so low it's almost a whisper. He'd meant to tease but once again, he misses his mark by a mile.
"I don't know," Gon says, so that he's the one who succeeds in sounding impish. "It seemed like Killua liked it, so I thought I might keep going."
Killua feels his breath catch in his throat, a little hitch he can't swallow down, and for a long moment he gives no reply at all. He can feel the tip of Gon's pointer finger moving in a slow circle against his palm.
"...Yeah, I guess I might like that after all."
It's the quietest train ride Killua can remember them spending together, and he savors every minute of it.
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