Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

le.oreo: okay but maybe its not about the people you meet but the connections you make

Leorio’s days usually start like this: wake up at the ungodly hour pf six in the morning, he showers and eats and then trips over himself trying to get to work on time. Work is always the same, the intern who sits at the front desk is always blowing bubbles with her gum as he arrives and his patients are as friendly as ever (some are a little stingy and rude, but no one’s focusing on that right now), his office is an organized mess as always. And his lunch break would be the same as always, down the street, make a right, bother Kurapika and order the most caffeinated beverage on the menu with extra shots of espresso.

Today, Leorio’s lunch break is the same and different.

Kurapika’s already there, like he has been since he was fired a week and a half ago (Kurapika “claims” he’s been suspended for a short while. Leorio calls it bullshit. Kurapicka’s been fired and he just needs to man up and say it!).

Kurapika’s standing behind the counter and Leorio swoops in past the non-existent line, the rush hour is a good forty-five minutes from now and the shop is empty save for a few customers scattered here and there.

Kurapika doesn’t even look up from his book. “Kurapika! My dear—”

“Say what I think you are about to say and you will regret it,” Kurapika says as he hands Leorio his usual.

(His usual! Ha! Leorio could just laugh at that! Kurapika claims he’s only working here to help his friend and just until his suspension is over. If that doesn’t say fired then Leorio doesn’t know what does).

Ah, the beauty of hazelnut coffee with enough shots of espresso to kill a man, the miracle of coffee and keeping people awake. It was truly god’s gift to mankind. A truly lovely gift.

Leorio joins him behind the counter, sipping his coffee and leaning over Kurapika’s shoulder.

“Would you quit that,” Kurapika complains, fed up with Leorio breathing down his neck as he scrolls through his phone. “Can’t you just use that somewhere else? Hey—what are you even doing? You haven’t paid that much attention to anything since you decided gambling would be such a great way to pay for med school.”

“I’m on Tinder,” Leorio says before realizing his mistake. Because Kurapika has shut his book with a loud thud and is now glaring at him with that I-will-fucking-murder-you-in-a-way-that-not-even-professionals-could-identify-and-then-send-you-someplace-that-makes-Hell-seem-like-paradise-so-choose-you're-next-words-wisely face.

“Are you forgetting that you’re already dating someone? Or am I just missing something.”

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

Leorio waves his arms, while trying not to spill his coffee, “Kurapika!” He downs the last gulp of coffee in his cup (because if he’s going to die today then he would at least like to finish his damn coffee, thank you very much). “I promise it’s not like that! I just made this for a friend, well he’s not really a friend, but a brat, actually a little shithead is a better term for him but he really just needs to get laid and I made it for him and please don’t kill me,” Leorio squeaks.

He scrambles to pick up his phone from where it had fallen and goddamn it, his hot sweaty fingers are making it way too damn hard to unlock his phone.

Leorio pulls up Tinder and shoves the phone into Kurapika’s hands. “See that’s the profile I made for him! You should help me look for assholes to set him up with.”

Kurapika shakes his head, golden blond hair brushing against the black apron of his uniform. Leorio watches him as he leans his hips against the counter and watches with judging eyes as he miserably explains the situation.

“You really should help. It's sorta hard trying to pick just the right brand of asshole for him. The brat is an asshole too so I need to find someone even asshole-ier than him. It’s going pretty well so far, you can’t believe how many jerks have sent me a dick pick—”

Shit. Shit. Shit. Wrong choice of words.

Leorio is so dead.

What had he done to deserve this. Was it the Baccano scandal from—crap he can’t even remember when that was—he does (two years, three months, eight days)—or maybe it was the time when—

Leorio laughs, high pitched and squeaky as the sound of his impending doom becomes louder and louder as he further tries to explain. “The dick pick was for him—not me, y’know there are a lot of stupid idiots on Tinder looking for an easy lay and and”

Kurapika uncrosses his arms with a long sigh and his eyes soften around the edges as he scrolls through the phone. Just like that Leorio knows that he will be granted the honor of living another day.

Kurapika’s rings glint as he scrolls through the phone. “So who’s the potential candidates? And what’s his type?”

Leorio grins as he takes his phone out of Kurapika’s hands and scrolls through the app, with Kurapika leaning against him, Leorio’s suit jacket wrinkles a little bit as Kurapika rests his hand against his arm.

“Okay, so, so far we’ve got this asshole who goes by the name of Seventeen,” Leorio angles his phone so Kurapika could see the profile picture of a man with shoulder length black hair and sky blue eyes, “he’s a park ranger or something, but I don’t think he’s the one. Yeah, he’s got a pretty asshole-y vibe, but at the same time not really. There’s also the few dicks who sent dick pics that could be potential candidates but…”

Kurapika’s brow twitches at the mention of the pictures and Leorio dies a little bit on the inside, mind you, he doesn’t lose his composure, he just feels like he’s threading on thin ice with his boyfriend right now even when he’s innocent in all of this.

“We should probably just scroll through and look for someone we want,” Leorio suggests. God, Leorio is starting to make Tinder sound like a place to buy boyfriends instead of an actual dating site. “It’s not like we need to look for someone with an actual personality, the less of that the better. We just need someone hot like that guy who plays the Fox Sin of Greed or like that football player Knuckle Bine, I think was his name. If we can just get someone hot and an asshole then we’d be all set, simple and easy!.”

A smug grin makes his way onto Leorio’s face at the thought of setting his friend up with an extremely hot jerk that would make him regret ever messing with Leorio. That’ll show that little prick for sure!

(Hopefully)

The brat will be coming in on Sunday night for a job interview on Tuesday, Leorio recalls from his earlier conversation with him over the phone. He should set the date on Monday night, spring it onto him at the last minute possible and hopes the date goes well. Well, as in terrible, horrible, a disaster of disasters.

Kurapika nudges his side, pulling Leorio out of his thoughts, “Look at this,” he says.

“Holy crap,” Leorio’s eyes pop out of their sockets as Kurapika moves his hovering finger away from the phone’s screen. Staring up at him is an all too familiar face, with amber eyes and green-tipped hair. “Is that…”

“Yup,” Kurapika affirms. “It’s Gon.”

Chapter Text

kill.u.a: look, how many times do i have to tell you, it wasn’t my fault!

Shopping used to be one of his favorite past times. It used to be something that distracted him, rifling through different styles and brands, finding something unique and him. It’s not really the same right now, especially with the fact that he feels like he could right about pass out.

Leorio meets him a few minutes after he arrives at the mall. Killua’s still groggy and jet lagged, his flight had landed this morning and only a few hours later he had walked through the glass doors of an expensive apartment complex, wearing the first stuffy dress shirt he could find, for his job interview.

He’s walking dead right now and if it weren’t for the desperate need to actually have something to wear instead of starting his new job wearing a shirt now designed with stains and black jeans with a thousand small rips that weren’t there when he first bought them.

Killua throws another random shirt into the cart, its balck with a small gold design of something in the corner, he can’t bother to remember what its called. “So is there a reason you couldn't pick me up from the airport this morning, old man? Or is you making me pay fifty bucks on an Uber your grand revenge scheme.”

Killua watches as Leorio almost trips over his feet. “What?” Leorio adjusts his glasses. “You never asked me to pick you up. And please I have way more class than that.”

“You really are old, gramps,” Killua pushes the cart deeper into the racks of clothes. “I called you like three hours before my flight-”

“That was during the middle of the night!” It was actually at eleven. In the morning.

“And you said that you would pick me up.”

“Okay well,” Killua watches as Leorio fidgets with the items in the cart, throwing what he deems ugly out and just messing with them in general. Killua knows that Leorio’s just trying to buy some time to come up with a remotely believably BS-type of excuse. “That was before I knew your flight was delayed. And besides How’s your sister?”

Ah, so that's the way it is, come out with a lame ass excuse before changing the topic. Yeah, because Leorio hasn’t done that like every time before this.

“She’s fine,” Killua says.

The tiny voice inside the back of his head pushes out lies, lies, lies.

Killua pushes it back down. Away and gone.

(Chubby fingers, a locked door, a throat retching scent, foul and putrid)

Killua drags a hand down his face as he yawns, his fingertips along with a bit of nail digs into his skin.

Shut up, go away. Shut up, go away.

Deep breath. In and out. One, two, three.

(Chubby fingers, a locked door, a throat retching scent, foul and putrid)

One, two, three. In and out. Breathe.

His back is facing Leorio as he dumps a couple of skinny jeans and sweatpants into the cart. Honestly, he’s probably never going to wear half of these things, but Leorio has been filtering out his clothes for him as they shopped and Killua would much rather keep Leorio’s sharp mind—not that he’d ever tell the old man that he thinks he’s smart—away from focusing too closely on him.

One, two, three.

“Why do you even need so many clothes?” Leorio says as he throws a pair of bright neon green sweatpants back onto its shelf. “You can’t seriously need this much. It’s unnatural to buy this much in one shot, even for you. And I thought you said you were broke. And shouldn’t you, well, first find out if you even got the job.”

“Oh, yeah, I got the job—“

“What?” Why does Leorio sound so surprised. He couldn’t have thought that Killua wouldn’t get the job. Could he? “When?”

“This morning,” Killua says and then remembers to add, “Oh, and my apartment burned down.” He shrugs as if it were no big deal.

“What!” Leorio’s eyes are almost five times their normal size, his glasses are crushed between his fingers and Killua’s begin to worry that he didn’t just break one of his closest friends. Man, that would seriously suck.

“Yeah, my new boss had me come in after my flight for an interview,” Killua explains. This morning had been serious hell. Spending almost an hour in an Uber, before remembering he needed some actual clean clothes for a job interview and not his chocolate finger print stained shirt. So he had turned around into the nearest clothing shop and bought something suitable, but then (and this is where it gets good) his potential boss calls him for the interview after he arrived at the address. He fucking calls him.

The interview was taken via phone. From the damn phone. And after all the trouble he went through.

“Okay, okay, just wait,” Leorio suddenly stops. “Just back the hell up for one second. Your apartment burned down?”

Killua rolls his eyes. That’s what he had just said not even two minutes ago. “Yes. Now can we move on. It’s nothing big.”

It’s not like it’s the first time it’s happened. Leorio’s making such a big deal out of nothing. Really, it’s nothing. His apartment just burned down, but then again it wasn’t really his apartment per se.

“No, we can’t!”

“Yes, we can.” Killua angrily shoves something in the cart. He can’t tell what it is but he needs to get Leorio’s attention, he could filter everything out later. “It’s not like it was even my damn house,” he grits out.

Leorio explodes, not in the angry way, but in the way that he’s having trouble processing the information, it’s like med school all over again.

“What do you mean not your house?” Leorio looks right about ready to strangle Killua, not like the old man could even lay one of his twitching fingers on him.

“Exactly what I said. You’re a doctor shouldn’t your ears be up to date, old man,” Killua bites out.

“So…” Leorio shifts from side to side and Killua’s eyes follow the sudden change in behaviour. Leorio’s acting guilty for some reason, like he’s hiding something. “Were you staying with a boyfriend? Was that his house?”

Killua shakes his head. Leorio’s known him for what, ten, eleven years now? And he still doesn’t understand that sometimes he has to live with some of his clients or that the last time he had a boyfriend was around a year ago, though that one didn’t last more than a couple of weeks.

“Leorio,” Killua says his name as if that would help him understand things. “I’m a home nurse or an in care nurse, call it what you want, but,” he drags out each word slowly, using his hands to gesture a bit, “some patients need me to stay with them almost 24/7. Which means I have to stay overnight.”

“I know that,” Leorio sighs. “How’d the house burn down?”

As they walk toward the check out line, Killua has to explain how his client had died a few days prior to the fire and how there was a gas leak at the apartment complex and poof, the rest is history: Killua applies for a new job here and now he’s moving here permanently or maybe just until his new patient no longer needs him.

“Do you have to stay with your new patient all the time?”

Killua sighs. Leorio never quits worrying, does he. “Yes, she’s not even much of a patient. I’m like an overqualified nanny now.”

“Just…” Leorio looks torn. His face is making that annoying expression, when he doesn’t know what to do or when he’s trying to cover up the fact that he actually does care about Killua. It’s all twitchy and gross, like he’s thinking too hard. “Just be careful, alright.”

“I always do.”

(Chubby fingers, a locked door, a throat retching scent, foul and putrid. A small voice calls out, “daddy?”)

Killua blinks. Let’s Leorio filter in his vision for a minute. There, gone, and back.

“I’m serious, kid,” Leorio places a hand on his shoulder. “You know I just worry about you, and with all of the recent violence…”

“I know.”

“Oh and by the way,” Leorio claps his hands together as if he has world breaking news. “I’m setting you up on a date—“

And just like that their moment has been ruined.

“What the fuck? Why are you setting me up on dates when you don’t even have a boyfriend or girlfriend?”

There Killua’s got him now. If Leorio doesn’t someone, what gives him the right to set Killua up.

“I do.” See he doesn’t. Wait.

He does.. Leorio just said he does.

“You,” Killua points an incredulous accusatory finger into Leorio’s direction. “You’re dating someone?’

“Yes. I have a boyfriend.”

Shit, how is that possible.

How could the old man, have a boyfriend. He’s—he’s—he’s Leorio. And oh shit, Killua really really doesn’t want to think about Leorio’s possible love life.

“And he’s real,” Killua questions. Because he still can’t believe that Leorio has maybe actually settled down with someone. He still remembers all of the times Leorio has embarrassed himself trying to pick someone up with those crappy one liners of his. Is it possible that someone actually fell for it?

“Yes, he’s real. And your date is tonight. The Boar Hat restaurant on Masadora Boulevard at eight.” Leorio interrupts Killua’s inner monologue.

A beat. And Killua catches on. Right, Leorio’s setting him up on a date.

“I’m not going.”

“You are.”

And that’s that. Just another day with Killua and Leorio.