Work Text:
“That’s it,” screams Hisoka. He jerks the steering wheel, hard, to the right, causing the car to slam into the curb. “If you know so much about my hometown, then you can drive yourself around.”
He exits the car with a dramatic slam of the door, turning his back in a violent stomp down the sidewalk.
“God damn,” hisses Illumi, jumping out and racing after him. “Control yourself. You've been in a piss-ass mood all day. You were making wrong turn after wrong turn. I have the address on my phone.”
“I know shortcuts,” Hisoka tosses over his shoulder. “Did that not occur to you? I’m the Glam Gas native, you little rich Padokean fuck. Next time I need some help farting around Den-to-ra”—he pronounces the region’s name in a whiny sing-song—“I’ll be sure to let you take charge.”
Illumi catches up, grabs his shoulder, and spins him around, nearly knocking Hisoka off-balance. “Rich little Padokean fuck, eh?” he spits, then punches Hisoka square in the face.
“Shit,” curses Hisoka. “You’re really asking for it, Princess.” He returns the punch, which lands with deadly accuracy on Illumi’s chin. “They teach us a few things, growing up in this city.”
Illumi spits a mouthful of blood, some of which drips onto his jacket. “This is my best suit, you cretin.” He leaps, brandishing nails like claws, at Hisoka’s throat.
“Big deal. Go call your parents and have them buy you another, mama's boy.” Hisoka aims a vicious kick at Illumi’s kneecap.
The two commence rage-filled sparring in a blur of fists and bared teeth, splatters of blood and tufts of hair flying through the night air.
“Hey, hey, hey!” A shrill whistle pierces their litany of cursing and panting. “Police! Break it up.”
Hisoka and Illumi feel hands on their shirt collars, roughly yanking them apart.
“Cool down,” says the first police officer. “What seems to be the problem?”
Illumi, dripping sweat, spits another mouthful of blood onto the sidewalk. “No problem, officer. Just a little personal altercation.”
“Try and keep it off the streets next time,” says the second police officer. “Had a little too much to drink?”
“The night hasn’t even started,” sighs Hisoka, in disgust.
“Look, guys,” says the first officer. “You’re both dressed up, obviously going someplace nice. How about you take a walk, simmer down a bit, then go clean up and get yourself to wherever you’re supposed to be going?”
“And, just a warning—we generally issue citations for this kind of public behavior.“ The second officer fingers the gun in his holster. “But you appear to be tourists, so we’ll let you off this once.”
Hisoka’s face flushes crimson. “Tourist?” he sputters. “I was born and raised in this shithole—“
Illumi, who has abruptly calmed down, pats Hisoka on the back in a series of rapid taps. “Enough, enough.” He gives the officers a beseeching look. “We’ll go for a walk, chill out, as you suggested.” In a hasty grab, he drags the still-infuriated Hisoka away from the police.
“This is all your fault, Illumi,” fumes Hisoka, once they are a slight distance down the sidewalk. “And we still aren’t anywhere near the location.”
Illumi dabs at his oozing mouth, reluctantly using the sleeve of his expensive jacket. “We should have taken care of this whole thing in Dentora. I don’t know why you insisted on Glam Gas, especially given the way you obviously feel about your hometown—“
“Because it’s easier to move it along here. A lot simpler.” Hisoka wipes his nose with his own suit sleeve. “Shit. Why did I wear my hot pink suit? I’ll never get the bloodstains out. Let’s turn around, and get back to the car.”
“Wait.” Illumi stands stock-still. “You were right, after all.” He gestures to the building one block ahead of them. “Isn’t that the place?”
Hisoka squints. “Well, well,” he drawls. “Look who refused to listen to the Glam Gas native, who had us pointed in the right direction all along. Yes, indeed, it is the place.” He swipes another trickling streak of gore with his sleeve. “Let’s go get it over with.”
“Do you have that thing?” Illumi spits a final wad of bright red onto the pavement. “You know, the thing we got downtown this afternoon. Don’t tell me you forgot to bring it.”
“I have the thing,” Hisoka says, dryly adding, “It probably has fucking blood all over it now. I hope it’s still usable.”
“How much do we need?” Illumi fumbles for his wallet.
“Thirty-nine Jenny. Put your wallet away. I’m getting this.”
“The hell I’m going to let you pay,” growls Illumi. “You’ll hold it over my damn head for the rest of our lives. That you were the one who paid.”
“Fine, brat. Whatever. We’ll each pay 19.50. That work?”
They approach the entrance. Illumi stops again and looks Hisoka over, head to toe. “Good God, you are a mess. You’re covered in blood.”
“You look like shit, yourself,” snaps Hisoka. “It just doesn’t show up as much on a black suit. And can’t you do something with your hair? It’s a rat’s nest.”
They both give theatrical groans, then link arms. “C’mon,” says Illumi, rolling his eyes.
As they enter the building, they are greeted by a chirpy receptionist. “You have your paperwork? From the downtown office?”
Hisoka pulls the folded paper from his pocket. “There’s a little…uh….stuff that got on it.”
“No problem. As long as it’s legible.” The receptionist pops on a pair of reading glasses. “Yep, you’re good. Thirty-nine Jenny, please.”
The two reach for their wallets.
“Oh, pardon me, I didn’t even ask,” says the receptionist. “Did you want the photo package? You get your choice of portrait backdrop and print-size selections.” She hands over a brochure. “It’s an extra 50 Jenny.”
Hisoka and Illumi gaze at each other, eyeing their torn and stained suits. Illumi runs a self-conscious hand through his tangled locks. “Pass,” they say, in unison.
The receptionist taps on her computer. “Well, you guys are in luck—it’s a slow night tonight. You can go right on in.” She gestures to a door. “Just go through that doorway, out to the courtyard, and you’ll see the sign to the chapel.”
Hisoka and Illumi look at each other yet again, this time locking eyes. Both break into blood-smeared grins.
As they walk into the courtyard, Illumi snaps a spray of blossoms off of a flowering bush and hands it to Hisoka, who jauntily tucks it behind one ear.
“Congratulations,” calls the receptionist cheerfully, through the open door.