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Killua has never celebrated holidays. His family didn’t place value on any particular day of the year aside from their coming-of-age missions or the ascension of an heir so it wasn’t until he ran away that he discovered the novelty of holidays. The first time he walked through a town decorated to the nines for some cheerful winter celebration, he’d been simultaneously confused and awestruck at the twinkling lights and myriad of ornaments on every available surface. Still, he’d chalked it up to that country’s unique traditions and moved on without sparing it another thought.
It never occurred to him to celebrate birthdays either, until Leorio once asked him for the date as well as Alluka’s. When he’d snidely asked why he needed to know, he’d received a flabbergasted, “So I can get your punk-ass a present, duh!” He’d been shocked to find that Leorio hadn’t been messing with him when his birthday came around the next year and his friend had indeed bought him a new pair of trainers, mumbling that Killua’s favorite purple pair had long since passed their expiration date.
As a kind of experiment, he bought Alluka and Nanika matching jewelry for their birthday when it came. The way her eyes lit up with delight paired with her enthusiastic hug, as well as Nanika’s wobbly, thankful smile, was all he needed to decide that he liked it—the whole excuse for giving gifts to people he actually cares about. Granted, he only celebrated the ones his friends did, because none of the others mattered to him, but that was reason enough. (Not that he’d ever let them know that, of course.)
But, he discovered after a while, choosing gifts is hard sometimes, depending on who it’s for. Leorio is pretty easy; Killua can just give him school stuff and his eyes fill with grateful broke-ass-college-student tears. Kurapika, on the other hand, is impossible solely because tracking him down in order to give him anything is a pain, so Killua usually settles for sending him a text without expecting any reply, though sometimes he’s pleasantly surprised when he wakes up to a simple “thank you”.
And then there’s Gon.
Logically, finding a gift for his best friend should be easiest. And sometimes it is. Killua sees things during his travels all the time that make him think of Gon but, just because they bring an image of sunshine smiles and gold-laced eyes to mind, that doesn’t mean that Gon would enjoy it. Alluka tells him that he overthinks it too much, whenever he sees a trinket and inspects it for twenty minutes only to return it, but Killua thinks it’s reasonable. Gon’s not the type to want or need things—Gon lives for experiences and adventure, for the adrenaline-traced thrill of a good hunt, so material objects aren’t as important to him. So yeah, giving gifts can be kind of difficult when it comes to him.
This year though, Killua thinks he’s nailed it. He didn’t really need to get anything; Gon won’t expect it considering they’re celebrating a traditional holiday only really known to Whale Island, but that’s part of the fun. He likes watching Gon’s expression morph into one of surprised joy the most—the way his eyes widen and his mouth pops open in awe every single time—like he just can’t believe Killua thought of him.
(It’s laughable. As if he ever leaves Killua’s mind.)
He’s taking in Gon’s new home while he waits for his friend to return from his kitchen so they can have hot chocolate while they catch up. Killua only arrived a few hours ago so it’s the first chance he’s had to really take it all in now that it’s complete; the last time he’d visited, there’d only been the foundation, skeletal framework, and Gon’s imagination. It’s a nice place, a little cabin nestled in the forest on the outskirts of a small town on the mainland not far from the Kiriko, big enough for Gon to be comfortable and offer a place to sleep for his friends if they want to visit. It probably reminds him of Whale Island in its seclusion, giving him a sense of home away from home while still allowing him the freedom to interact with the townsfolk whenever he feels the itch to socialize. Killua likes it too, from the exposed wooden beams to the handmade rugs gifted by Grandma Abe. It may be new but Gon’s already created a homey atmosphere similar to Aunt Mito’s place, something that Killua always enjoys when he visits.
He’s got some hand-me-down furniture decorating his living room, worn armchairs and a couch that Killua’s made himself comfortable on, with several end tables and a coffee table that Killua suspects Gon crafted himself. The room is dominated by plants housed in pretty pottery (aside from the two that Killua and Alluka had painted themselves a few years ago that look like toddlers got their hands on finger-paints) that sit on any available surface. Some have vines that Gon’s carefully draped over the window frames like curtains while others reach up from the floor. It’s like a makeshift jungle and Killua can’t help but think it suits Gon perfectly.
His favorite part of the room is the fireplace though. Gon had insisted on it when he was building, grumbling under his breath when Killua teased him about his weakness to weather colder than 32C but unable to deny it. He is an island boy, through and through, after all. It’s lit now, crackling merrily as it provides a cozy warmth to the room, battling the evening chill while bathing everything in a golden glow.
“You talk about me but you’re the one who looks like you want to curl up in front of the fire like a cat,” Gon teases as he comes back with two mugs in his hands. His grin is cheeky when he meets Killua’s unamused look and he hip-checks Killua’s shoulder when he stops beside him to place the mugs on the coffee table before sitting down next to him. Killua elbows him in the side, right in the soft spot of his ribs where he’s ticklish, and revels in the giggles it earns him.
“Shut up, yashcheritsa, I bet you sunbathe in the middle of the floor during the winter,” Killua quips back, grinning knowingly when Gon sticks his tongue out at him. They shove one another playfully a few moments before settling down to drink their hot chocolate and talk. Gon scoots backwards across the cushions until his back rests against the armrest and he can face Killua properly over his drawn up knees. Just as he suspects, it’s not long before he’s shoving his toes beneath Killua’s thigh to warm them.
“Shit, did you stick your feet in the freezer before coming in here?” Killua gripes, the chill strong enough that it seeps through both Gon’s socks and his jeans, adjusting in his seat until he’s sitting more fully on the cold appendages in a meager attempt to warm them. Gon laughs, shaking his head as he replies, “No, but that actually reminds me of this time I went to Dnal Neerg—”
It’s late into the evening when Killua remembers his gift, the sun completely beneath the horizon so that the fire is the only light in the room aside from the bit spilling in from the kitchen. He squeezes Gon’s calf—another ticklish spot—just to make him jump as he gets up to retrieve it. Gon whines at the loss of his personal heater, pulling his feet up to cross his legs with a pout that Killua answers by tossing the knit blanket he keeps in a basket at the end of the couch over his head.
“Shut up, I’ll be right back,” he says, rolling his eyes to offset the smile on his lips as he disappears around the corner and down the hall towards the spare bedroom he’ll be crashing in for the foreseeable future. He digs through his bags until he finds the present, haphazardly wrapped in plain parchment with a string of twine to secure it, and heads back to the living rom.
Gon must have left his makeshift cocoon briefly while he was gone because when he returns, the blanket is draped around his shoulders and there’s a palm-sized box in his hands. His gaze is locked on it, brow furrowed slightly above upturned eyebrows, before he lifts his head to greet him with a small smile. Killua frowns curiously at the odd look.
“You good?” he asks as he sits down again, reaching out to snag Gon’s ankle and lead it back to his lap. Gon follows his lead, settling his feet comfortably as he drapes the blanket over both of their legs, leaning back against the armrest again. He runs his thumb over the top of the box as he nods in answer to Killua’s question, expression still a little far away even as he leans his cheek against the back of the couch, eyes locked on Killua. The soft smile on his lips deters him from asking again, though, too sweet to allude to anything but happy thoughts floating through that hard head of his.
“Where did you disappear to?” Gon asks instead with a put-upon pout, digging his toes into the inside of Killua’s thigh and smirking when he jumps. “I missed you.” His eyes sparkle golden in the firelight, trained fully on Killua when he says it, not an ounce of dishonesty to be found. Something about it tells Killua that he doesn’t necessarily mean the short time he was gone from this room.
He scoffs in response, trying and failing to ignore the heat in his cheeks at the thought as he mutters, “I was gone for two minutes, jeez.” He tweaks Gon’s big toe in retaliation before taking the gift from its place next to him, holding it out for Gon to take. He’s pleased to see the exact expression of astonishment that he expected when Gon notices it.
“What’s this?” he asks, taking it gingerly. Killua shifts in his seat so he’s facing him better, propping his elbow on the back of the couch and settling his chin on his fist to watch.
“It’s for Makana,” he answers. Gon lifts his gaze in wonder, mouth popped open in that cute ‘O’ shape he always makes at times like this, and Killua mentally pats himself on the back for a surprise well done. Seeing Gon make this face is probably his favorite part of giving to him.
“Killua, you didn’t have to get me anything,” Gon says, though his smile and shining eyes belie his happiness at his effort to celebrate an important holiday with him. Killua lifts his shoulder in a lazy shrug, motioning with his free hand for Gon to open it. He doesn’t waste any time, pulling off the twine and ripping the paper away with the eagerness of a child.
When Gon pulls two tickets out of their wrapping, brows furrowed in concentration as he reads the words printed on them, Killua’s heart finds a new home in his throat. It hadn’t occurred to him until now to be nervous about this but suddenly there are butterflies flitting around in his stomach as he waits with bated breath for Gon’s reaction. It’s not really something unordinary, at least for most people, but he knows that Gon will understand the implications behind his choice as soon as he sees it. It hadn’t been his primary reason when he bought them—he’d just known it would be something Gon would enjoy, so he’d gotten it. Gon’s happiness is all that matters to him but now he can’t shake the anxiety building up in his chest; he doesn’t realize he’s gripping Gon’s ankle through the blanket until he gently nudges Killua’s wrist with the toes of his other foot.
“Killua, are these—” Gon’s breath stutters as his words peter into silence, his golden gaze lifting to meet Killua’s with an eager sort of hope. Unable to form words with his heart obstructing his throat, Killua just nods. The grin that lights up Gon’s face eases the weight from his shoulders, air finally able to fill his lungs again as his best friend practically begins to vibrate with excitement.
“Holy shit,” he whispers first, startling a laugh out of Killua at the curse, then louder as he exclaims, “Holy shit, Killua! Are you serious? You got us access to Nagab?”
“Yeah, you’ve been talking nonstop about it since you heard about those temples they found,” Killua drawls casually, though he’s grinning too. “And we’re Hunters so it’s not like it was hard.”
“Yeah but I mean, you got us tickets, right? We’re going together, right?” His eyes are so wide, so hopeful, that even if that hadn’t been Killua’s exact intention there’s no way he could have said anything other than yes.
“Well yeah, if you want me to,” he answers, a little caught off-guard by the pure exhilaration radiating from his friend. It’s infectious; it has been years since they hunted together, just the two of them, after all.
“Yes!” Gon cries immediately, almost before Killua’s finished speaking, lunging forward to wrap his arms around Killua’s neck. His elated laughter rings in his ears as they both fall backwards onto the couch. Killua yelps, more on instinct than anything, arms coming up to wrap around Gon’s waist to keep him safely against his chest as they land.
He reaches up to flick Gon on the back of the head with a grumbled, “Idiot, a simple ‘thank you’ would have been fine.”
Gon giggles against his neck, smile pressed sweetly against Killua’s pounding pulse, and he can’t help but think he’d like to have more evenings like these. Nights spent on the couch together, talking about everything and nothing, Gon’s icy toes tucked under his thighs despite the fire just a few feet away. Evenings dancing around each other in the kitchen as dinner cooks, or waking up on the weekends to breakfast, or hastily packing lunches for one another when they’re running late for their next hunt. He wants all of them, mornings and afternoons and nights together, for as long as Gon will have him to share them.
But that’s wishful thinking—he should just be happy with Gon’s excitement to hunt with him again after so long—so he contents himself with holding Gon a little closer than is strictly necessary to prevent them from tumbling off the couch and hums in agreement to all of Gon’s travel plans as he rambles enthusiastically into the crook of Killua’s neck.
“Oh!” Gon pops up in the next second, clambering off of Killua’s chest to sit beside him instead, reaching out to gather the small box he’d had earlier to present it to Killua, who pushes himself back into a sitting position.
“I was kinda nervous before but your gift made me feel a lot better about it,” Gon tells him, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. His gazes softens like warm honey as he watches Killua hold the box with careful fingers, hesitant to reveal what could have possibly had Gon nervous.
He waits a few seconds, inspecting the box curiously, then just purposefully taking his time as Gon starts fidgeting beside him, eyes flickering from his face to the box and back again until he finally shakes Killua by the shoulders with a whine.
“Killua, open it already!”
Chuckling, Killua finally caves and opens the gift only to freeze at what he finds.
A silver key glints in the golden light of the fire from its place against violet tissue paper, completely ordinary and absolutely everything Killua never dared dream he’d have.
He swallows, mouth dry as sandpaper, as he stares in shock. This can’t be what it looks like, can it?
Gon shifts uneasily next to him, his voice small when he calls tentatively, “Killua?”
“Is this—?” he can’t bring himself to ask fully, still reeling from the disbelief. But Gon nods, lips tilting up in a hesitant smile.
“I just…you don’t have to, y’know, move in or anything if you don’t want to but I just,” His hand slides down from its place on Killua’s shoulder, tracing a trail of electricity in its wake as Gon marks a path down his arm until he finally grasps his hand in his own. “I want you to know that this is your home too, if you want it. No matter where your hunts take you, you have a place here.”
With me.
Killua thought that your life only flashed before your eyes before you died but he can see it so clearly—coming back to this cabin after a long hunt, sliding this key into the lock and swinging the door open, calling I’m home to hear Welcome home! and the pounding of feet as Gon rounds the corner wearing one of his trademark sunshine smiles—
Starting dinner together only for it to dissolve into a food fight that ends with both of them covered in flour and the tiles looking like there’s been a fresh snow, racing each other to the bathroom to be the first in the bath until they finally compromise and take it together, it’ll be faster anyway—
Returning home together—home—after a long adventure, curling up on the couch to relax as they recall the most exciting moments before drifting to sleep against one another until one of them wakes to fire embers and gathers the other in their arms to carry them off to sleep in their bed—
“Please say something,” Gon whispers and only then does Killua realize he’s been gripping his hand so tightly that the tips of his fingers have paled.
Feeling as if he’s in a dream, Killua lifts his gaze to meet Gon’s, sees the blend of anxiety and hope looking back at him, and all he can think is—
“Yes.” It’s so quiet, more an exhalation than words, but it’s the best he can do when his heart is thrumming rabbit-fast in his chest, but he knows Gon will hear him. He watches as his expression transforms into relief, then elation, followed by a look so tender that Killua can’t believe he ever thought that they might want different futures. It gives him the courage to say it again, voice stronger this time as he laughs breathlessly, “Yes.”
Gon is on him in a second, a mirror of earlier when he tackles him again, but this time Killua’s still too stunned to catch him properly so they go tumbling off the side of the couch in a heap of limbs and laughter. Gon leans in to press their foreheads together, the bridge of his nose brushing against Killua’s, the warmth of his breath ghosting over his lips when he whispers, “I can’t wait to live with you.”
Chuckling wetly, Killua lifts his hand to curl his fingers in the hair at the base of Gon’s neck, pressing him closer as he murmurs, “Me either.”
“This is the best Makana ever,” Gon sighs, then amends giddily, “No, the best day ever.”
Killua laughs fully now, shaking his head as he teases, “You’re ridiculous. You might regret this in a few months when I’m hiding Chocorobos in the bathroom cabinets.”
“Never,” Gon denies, pushing himself up to hover over Killua, his grin positively blinding in its radiance. “I’ve never regretted a single moment I’ve spent with you. That’s not going to change, even if you snore like a foxbear or accidently kill my plants.”
Heat spreads like wildfire up Killua’s neck to settle in his cheeks in the face of such honest words so he reaches up to press his hand to Gon’s face, pushing him away as he snickers against his palm.
“You’re so embarrassing,” he gripes half-heartedly, unable to hide his smile. His cheeks ache with the force of it. Gon only snorts, taking his hand and bringing it to the side of his face so Killua has a clear view when he tilts his head into his palm fully with a dopey expression.
“You love it,” he says playfully, a touch of smugness in his tone because now he knows he’s right. Killua’s heart pounds a steady rhythm against his sternum as he takes him in—the curve of his lips to the crows-feet crinkle of his tawny eyes, his messy hair and the beginnings of stubble across the line of his jaw, the face of the man he can’t imagine a future without—and the words escape his lips like they’ve been waiting to fall all this time.
“No,” Killua corrects, curling his fingers so that he’s cupping Gon’s cheek, “You. I love you.”
Honestly, he really should have anticipated the tackle that followed that revelation—even if he couldn’t have seen the kiss that came with it.