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“Spit the gum out Hisoka. I don’t want to spar with you when you have a choking hazard in your mouth”
“I don’t think I will Illu-chan,” the clown smiled at him in that annoying mischievous and smug way that made Illumi simultaneously want to punch Hisoka’s teeth out and also pin him down by the throat and watch him choke and grow aroused under his touch.
“You might choke Hisoka,” Illumi repeated his point, “and don’t call me Illu-chan.” He shook his hair out, brushing a hand through it. Hisoka watching him peevishly, “I’m not going to choke on gum Illu, you don’t have to worry,” Hisoka tilted his head to the side, with a smile that was both noncommittal and carefree, “but are you sure you want to fight me with your hair down like that?”
Illumi felt annoyance, hot like fire blow through him. Hisoka wasn’t taking this seriously and Hisoka was the one who had asked to spar in the first place.
“You think I can’t beat you? You think I won’t hit you hard enough till you choke?”
“I’d prefer it if you did after all-” Illumi lunged, cutting Hisoka off. Hisoka of course, dodged this, it was a sloppy attack, made out of annoyance. They exchanged blows for a while, Hisoka noisily chewing the gum to annoy Illumi.
Illumi let out a noise of resignation before pulling off his long-sleeved top, leaving him shirtless.
Hisoka faltered, distracted.
Illumi was in front of him in an instant, palm slamming into Hisoka’s chest, sending him flying back, something in Hisoka’s body breaking with an audible crack that resonated in the concrete room in the Zoldyck Manor that was specifically designed for brawls like this.
Shlop.
Illumi froze.
Something had landed in his hair.
No.
He looked at Hisoka, who had stopped chewing his stupid gum.
No.
“Eh? Where did my gum go?”
NO.
He looked down, trembling.
Oh. It was in his hair. Pink and still moist with Hisoka’s spit and blood, it was stuck in his precious hair, the hair that he spent a copious amount of money on, the hair that he had grown out over the course of six long years.
IT WAS IN HIS HAIR.
“HISOKA!” He roared, “GET IT OUT OF MY HAIR!” His hair rose, beginning to fly up as it did when he was angry. Then the gum yanked on his scalp. “Ow!” He whined, placing his hands over the spot that was hurting, ignoring Hisoka’s bellowing laughter, echoing through the room. ‘I’ll kill you,” he threatened, “help me get it out Hisoka!”
Oh god, Hisoka could get it out of his hair, right? What if he couldn’t? Illumi ran through the list of Nen users he knew in his head, was there anyone who could get gum out of hair? Maybe oh there was that one who could turn back time on objects, the gum was stuck in the hair that fell around his biceps, cutting it would mean half of his hair would have to go.
He felt a tug on his hair, Hisoka was sitting, looking up at him with a shit-eating grin. Of course, the bastard was turned on by Illumi’s rage. “This is your fault,” he hissed angrily at the clown. Hisoka began to pick at the gum after Illumi knelt unhappily, curled in a bell of distress at the thought of losing his hair, head on his knees, arms wrapped around himself.
“I’m sorry Mon coeur~ but in my defence, I did ask if you were sure if you wanted to fight me with your hair down- okay my fault yes yes sorry sorry,” Hisoka backtracked as Illumi’s hands sharpened to their clawlike state.
After about twenty minutes Hisoka let out a little sigh, stretching lazily. “Illu-chan, it’s not coming out, I think we have to cut it-”
“NO!” Illumi yelled, up and on his feet, already moving away, “I’ll find someone, maybe a nen specialist or-” Hisoka cut Illumi off by flicking out a card, throwing it in Illumi’s direction, remarkably fast for someone with a broken rib. There was the sound of card stock tearing clean through hair, and Illumi’s dark hair fluttered to the ground.
He gasped in horror, one hand coming up to feel the loss of his hair, a chunk now significantly shorter than the rest. Hisoka moved to touch the choppy and sloppy cut, “I could cut the rest off for you~” He offered. Illumi frowned. If there was one thing Hisoka had, it was the audacity.
“You sleep on the couch tonight,” Illumi turned on his heel, walking out the room, “wait for me Mon Coeur! I’m sorry! Don’t make me sleep on the couch- wait Illu-chan what happened to death do us part-”
Illumi slammed the concrete door close on his husband, heading to their bathroom, where the scissors for his trimming his hair were.
“Wahhh it’s so pretty dad!”
“You can blame your papa for it,” Illumi responded as he and Hisoka’s five-year-old pulled at his new hair, their face full of wonder, hands brushing over Illumi’s new mullet. “Are you gonna make papa sleep on the couch?”
“Hmm…” Illumi tilted his head back, “he has a broken rib so I won’t make him sleep on the couch-”
Sleeping on the balcony would be much more fitting.