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Kurapika could kill him. He should, actually, be killing him. Chrollo deserved Kurapika’s hands wrapped around his throat, squeezing the life out of him and wiping that smug smile off of his face for good.
Yet the more Kurapika found himself around Chrollo, the less he could bring himself to hate him.
It was disgusting, completely out of his character to be falling out of hate with the Phantom Troupe’s infamous leader. Chrollo was charismatic, though; Kurapika would give him that. Able to talk himself out of any situation. He charmed people anywhere the two of them went— from the waitstaff as they sat down to dinner, to people on the street who they’d accidentally bumped into. It made Kurapika wonder: if they knew who this man was, a thief and a murderer, would they be so easily charmed?
Possibly. Kurapika knew exactly who he was, and yet he was falling victim.
It was his job to get in close; to feign a friendship with the man in order to get proof of his crimes and his involvement with the Phantom Troupe. Kurapika, they’d said, had been perfect for the job. His hatred for the Troupe was well known among his colleagues. When Cheadle gave him the assignment, he felt proud that he was given such an important task.
“Find proof,” Cheadle had said, “and help bring the Troupe to their knees.”
At first, Kurapika had trailed him. He followed at a safe distance as Chrollo went about his daily errands. If he went to any suspicious places—a hideout, perhaps?— Kurapika surely would see. It would have been a foolproof plan had Kurapika not fallen asleep in his rental car as he waited for the man to emerge from a convenience store.
He was woken up by the sound of knuckles rapping on glass. It startled him out of his brief nap. None other than Chrollo Lucilfer stood at his window, motioning him to roll it down. Kurapika cracked it.
“Are you following me?” Amusement clouded his voice, a smile at his lips.
“Absolutely not.”
“I saw your car earlier, in the hotel parking lot,” he continued. “And then again at my doctor’s office.”
Perhaps Kurapika hadn’t been as careful as he had thought.
“If you’re following me, then do you mind giving me a ride back to the hotel? Since you’ll be heading that way.”
Kurapika hated that he hit the unlock button, but he was already caught. As Chrollo climbed into the passenger seat, he wondered if he should call Cheadle, let her know the situation. Could he admit to her that he’d failed on his first day?
Just because he was found out didn’t mean he couldn’t still get proof.
He drove Chrollo back to his hotel, deciding on the way that Cheadle didn’t need to know, because he was going to complete the assignment. He wouldn’t let this minor setback get in his way.
“See you around,” Chrollo called, walking to the front door. Kurapika narrowed his eyes at his retreating back.
Game on.
Kurapika was there when Chrollo exited the hotel the next morning, but this time he was leaning against his rental instead of hiding inside. Kurapika hated the smug smile Chrollo wore as he made his way over. “Well, now,” he said, “this is a surprise.”
“I was thinking we could get breakfast,” Kurapika said. “I’m new to the area, so you’ll have to tell me what’s good around here.”
The smile stayed steady on Chrollo’s face. “Gladly,” he said. And for the second time in under twenty-four hours, he climbed into Kurapika’s car.
He directed them to a hole-in-the-wall diner in what Kurapika would describe as a sketchy part of town. Kurapika thought about the hotel Chrollo was staying in— towering, with a doorman and a valet— and wondered why this was his dive of choice. As if reading his mind, Chrollo remarked, “They have excellent omelets.” He led the way inside, and then again led the way to a booth in the corner. Kurapika didn’t fail to notice the whole in the bright red upholstery.
A waitress brought over menus, and Chrollo wasted no time in opening his and reading it over. “I always get the same thing,” he informed Kurapika, “but I have to make sure it’s what I want first.” Kurapika didn’t bother answering his dining partner or opening his menu. He would just order a coffee.
“So,” Chrollo began after their orders were put in, “tell me why you’re following me.” He interlocked his fingers, resting his chin on the back of his hands.
“Did you really think that would work?” Kurapika’s back was stiff, pressed hard against the back of the booth. At his side, his fingers drummed.
Chrollo shrugged. “Everything is worth trying,” he said.
“A philosopher.”
“Something of the sort.” The waitress brought over their coffees, setting the two mugs in front of both of them with a clack. Chrollo turned his attention to her. “Lovely,” he hummed. “Thank you, miss.”
Kurapika watched as her cheeks dusted with pink. “Y-you’re welcome,” she stuttered. “Are you sure I can’t get you anything else?” This she directed to Kurapika, index finger gesturing to the plain white mug.
“No, thank you,” he answered. His hands closed around the ceramic. “This is enough.”
Chrollo waited until they were alone before speaking again. “You really should have tried an omelet.”
“You should watch your familiarity,” Kurapika retorted. He stared at him from over the rim of his mug.
“What’s the plan from here? Follow me on my shopping spree? Or maybe you’d like to accompany me instead, since you were kind enough to invite me to breakfast.”
Kurapika leaned slightly forward. “Be your chauffeur.”
“Is that what you took from that? I was under the impression I was asking for a companion.”
“You won’t charm me, Lucilfer.”
“All I’m saying is if you are following me anyway, you may as well be my companion.” Chrollo raised an eyebrow, smirking at the detective across from him. “Don’t hide in the shadows. There’s no point, since I know you’re here.”
Kurapika hated that he couldn’t think of a reason to refuse.
And that’s how it started, how Kurapika began to go with Chrollo Lucilfer, criminal, on his daily errands. They traveled to grocery stores together, to coffee shops, to the bank. Normal, everyday errands. Kurapika was beginning to lose hope in finding something condemning.
“You don’t have to sit out here tonight,” Chrollo said to Kurapika as he gathered his three plastic bags from the floor of Kurapika’s car. Today was his fourth day straight in Chrollo’s company; the fourth day with no leads, nothing to pin the title of Phantom Troupe leader on the man. “It must be uncomfortable sleeping in your car night after night… Not to mention bad for your back.” Chrollo opened the car door, looked back at Kurapika. “Why don’t you sleep in my room tonight? There’s a couch, separated from the bed area by a wall. Semi private.”
Kurapika hated that man’s smile— the softness of it. How it was never mocking and always inviting. He weighed his options. In the car, he risks falling asleep and missing Chrollo leave the hotel in the dead of night. But in the hotel, he ran the risk of growing closer to this man… and he was already getting used to their daily outings, the casual lunches and simple trips. He shouldn’t further familiarize with Chrollo.
His back twinged. He ached for a bed. A proper night’s rest.
He cursed at himself as he followed Chrollo into the hotel.
Kurapika had fallen asleep as soon as his back had hit the cushions of the hard hotel couch. This week had driven him to exhaustion. He had reassured Cheadle hundreds of times that he was fit for this job, and this was the first time he had began to doubt himself.
He woke with a start, his entire body spasming as he jumped up. He blindly grabbed for his phone, missing it several times in the dark. Finally, his fingers closed around the device, and he quickly checked the time. 3 AM? He’d been asleep for nearly five hours.
Sitting up on the couch, Kurapika listened carefully for the sound of Chrollo breathing. To his greatest dismay, he heard nothing. “Damn it,” he muttered, standing up and moving to the other side of the wall. He flipped on the light and cursed again.
The bed was empty, perfectly made, with a note sitting on the pillow. Kurapika snatched it up and immediately wanted to throw it back down. It was addressed to him.
Be back soon, it read. Signed with a fucking heart. Kurapika ripped it in half, his anger rising from his feet to the top of his head. He ripped the note in half again.
Okay, he told himself, make this an opportunity. Do not let him win.
Kurapika pulled the bedside table drawers open, riffling through the contents and looking for any clue he could find. Anything that screamed “PHANTOM TROUPE” to him.
“He keeps all of his receipts?” Kurapika whispered to himself. This is all he could find? Receipts and copies of checks he’d written? Normal, everyday things. Damn it. He knew, in the depth of his heart, that Chrollo was the man they were after. So why couldn’t he just catch him?
The door of the hotel room opened. Kurapika scrambled to shove the bits of paper back in the drawer, slamming it shut. He pushed himself out of his crouching position on the ground and sat on Chrollo’s abandoned mattress just as Chrollo rounded the corner.
He didn’t even look surprised. He just wore that goddamn smile. “Did you miss me?” he asked as he came into the room.
“Where did you go?” Kurapika asks immediately. Chrollo doesn’t grace him with an answer; instead, he just glances at the bedside table, his permanent smile widening. Kurapika follows his gaze, and his heart drops. There it was— a receipt closed into the drawer, just asking to be looked at. And then Chrollo looks at the floor, and the pieces of the torn up note.
“I take it that you missed me,” Chrollo said. He took a spot next to Kurapika on the mattress.
“Where did you go?” Kurapika hissed through gritted teeth.
“Oh, I wasn’t too far,” Chrollo said. “Just down the block, really.”
Kurapika jumped to his feet. “Down the block?” He was shouting, unable to hide the anger he felt at himself for failing once again. “At 3 AM you felt the need to go down the block? Tell me the truth.”
“Well, I left at midnight,” Chrollo answered. Kurapika watched as his pleasant smile turned smug. He was mocking him. Kurapika’s fist closed around the front of Chrollo’s shirt, jerking him towards him.
“Am I some kind of joke to you?”
“Why are you so upset?” Chrollo asked. His index finger hooked in the belt loop of Kurapika’s jeans. He tugged, and Kurapika’s knee hit the mattress, effectively straddling Chrollo’s leg. Chrollo moved his head closer to Kurapika’s neck, his lips at his ear. “Are you jealous?” The words moved across Kurapika’s skin, caressing him. Kurapika hated the shiver that went down his spine, the weakness he felt. “You have nothing to be jealous of; I didn’t meet anybody.”
“You make me sick,” he spat. His grip on Chrollo’s shit relaxed slightly. Chrollo chuckled, and his teeth nipped at Kurapika’s earlobe.
“Pity,” he said. His free hand slipped beneath the hem of Kurapika’s shirt.
Kurapika was absolutely paralyzed. He couldn’t move.
He didn’t want to admit to himself that he didn’t want to move.
Chrollo’s lips moved from Kurapika’s ear and across his jaw, planting little kisses on his way to Kurapika’s mouth. Kurapika’s breathing sped up, grew heavier the closer Chrollo got to taking his lips with his.
Chrollo moved his leg up, pressing against Kurapika. His hand moved from Kurapika’s belt loop and settled on his ass instead, squeezing. Kurapika gasped at the sensation, and Chrollo chose that moment to kiss him.
It was all heat and fire. Kurapika’s anger and hatred meeting Chrollo’s smugness and charm. Their lips moved together as if they knew each other, Chrollo’s tongue sweeping inside of Kurapika’s mouth as Kurapika’s hands tangled in his hair. They fell back on the bed, Chrollo maneuvering their bodies so that he was on top. He rolled his hips against Kurapika’s, and Kurapika wrapped his legs around Chrollo’s, mirroring his movements.
Kurapika could kill him. He should, actually, be killing him. Chrollo deserved Kurapika’s hands wrapped around his throat, squeezing the life out of him and wiping that smug smile off his face for good.
But he didn’t want to stop feeling this way.
Chrollo broke the kiss, eyes glinting. Kurapika could almost make out his reflection in them, a mess of tumbled hair and unkempt clothes and saliva coated lips. Chrollo’s fingers unbuttoned his jeans, and Kurapika lifted his hips for him to pull them down.
This was a mistake, he knew. He had come here to help put a stop to the Phantom Troupe’s crime (and maybe eventually get a promotion) and yet here he was, enamored by the Troupe’s probable leader.
But this didn’t change anything, he told himself as Chrollo’s lips covered his once more. This didn’t mean he still couldn’t find proof of who Chrollo was and get him locked behind bars for good. In fact, he mused, this could work out to his advantage. He could use this new aspect of their relationship to find what he needs.
Not tonight, though. It’d been a hard week, after all. He needed this.