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Killua hates the cold. He knows it’s dumb and he’s sure there’s a cliche in there somewhere, but being cold fucking sucks and there’s nothing in the world that can get him out of bed on days where it’s cold enough for snow to stick to the ground and ice to freeze over every road.
Well. There is a someone that can.
He supposes that right there is his cliche.
“Are we almost done yet?” Killua grumbles into his nearly comically-sized scarf. A gift from Alluka, bless her heart and soul, that even has strategic pockets for heat packs or possibly even snacks. “I think I might die out here, you know.”
Gon, that jerk, stops walking and starts laughing at him. “Killua! We’ve only been out for an hour, we still have way too much shopping to finish to go home now.”
The bags of gifts and food weigh heavily on Killua’s arms–-he’s insisted on carrying the cargo because as much as he loves to watch Gon prance around without a care in the world, some of this stuff is fragile and would definitely not survive being crushed under Gon’s ass when he inevitably slips on the ice. Killua sighs and shifts the weight around, his elbows and wrists are already sore and the weight really isn't helping. Which is stupid, he thinks, given just who the hell he is.
“I’ll buy you some coffee from that cafe over there.” Gon points to a gleaming display window for a little coffee shop on the corner. He tries to take some of the bags from Killua, perhaps noting some grimace he didn’t quite conceal well enough, but Killua shoos him away and hikes a few of the bags onto his shoulder. “A hot drink and a pastry might turn that frown upside down!”
Now, Killua will be damned if he turns down an invitation for some coffee and a treat, so he nods and he jams his mittened hands into his pockets and he keeps walking. “I’m gonna order the most expensive latte they have, I don’t care that you just spent half a fortune on Kurapika’s host gift.”
Despite the crinkling of paper bags and the dangerous clinking of glass inside of them, Gon slings an arm over Killua’s shoulders and steers him toward the warm glow of the cafe. “Let’s get you inside, sourpuss. And would you just give me one of these bags already? You’re not my pack mule, you know.”
“If one of us is going to be held responsible for the survival of these gifts, I’d rather it–-”
Killua is not cut off by Gon’s proximity (this is something that he’s finally, finally gotten used to), nor is he cut off by the ringing of a bell overhead or the smell of hot coffee and freshly baked bread. No, he’s cut off simply by the warmth of this establishment and, by god, does he desperately need to stop going out in the winter.
He makes a beeline to the nearest booth and (carefully) drops all of their shopping in a heap on the floor, crawling onto the plush bench and reveling in the heat that ascends from a vent underneath the table. This is what heaven must feel like, he’s certain of it.
“You’re so dramatic,” Gon chides, undoing his scarf and tucking it into the pocket of his coat, which he also slings across the other half of the booth. “I’m going to order, preference on your treat for being so brave?”
Killua shoots daggers in Gon’s direction, rather weakly, he assumes, as he reaches for the discarded coat and drapes it over his legs like a blanket. “You know my policy on chocolate. But something with cranberries if they have it.” Gon nods and makes for the counter. “Hey! Don’t forget what I said about the latte, get me the most expensive one they have!”
The sound of Gon apologetically asking the girl behind the counter about their drink selection hardly reaches Killua as he rubs at his arms and legs in a desperate attempt to get some warmth into his joints. It’s been a while since it’s been this bad, but Killua’s feeling quite like a rusted robot on a fruitless search for an oil can right about now.
You see, this is what Killua hates the very most about the cold.
Every time the temperature drops, or even when a particularly rainy afternoon transpires, Killua’s wrists, his knees, the deepest scars on his back, they all ache and throb in a way that makes him feel like he’s ninety-five years old and only moments away from falling apart. He can largely ignore the pain on days where he makes every excuse not to get out of bed, but on errand days where Gon keeps him out of the house from breakfast until dinner, it becomes a little more difficult to dismiss.
It’s not like Gon would think him weak or weird if he knew, probably, but Killua just doesn’t want to worry him with something so stupid and situational. It’s dumb–-leftover conditioning from the days when he would get punished for showing any signs of fragility, but Killua has grown used to keeping attention off of himself and not burdening others with things he can’t hope to change anyway.
“One salted caramel lavender latte with an extra caramel drizzle and nutmeg on top,” Gon says as he sets a grey mug on the table, drawing Killua from his thoughts. “And, they had a white chocolate and cranberry tart that checked all of your boxes, so I got you that too.”
Killua sheds his mittens and envelops the hot mug with both hands, drinking in the heat of the ceramic before he even thinks about taking a sip of the ridiculous drink that’s inside. “You know, I was kidding about the coffee, anything would have been fine.”
Gon hums. “You were only half kidding, I could see it in your eyes. Plus, you would’ve complained for the rest of the day if I didn’t get you something over-the-top. Think of it like a pacifier for a whiny baby!”
“I am choosing to ignore that last statement,” Killua says, peeling his hands away from the drink to reach for the fork. In the process, all of his knuckles pop loudly, and Killua grimaces at the pain that shoots through his fingers.
Gon’s eyebrows shoot up and he reaches over to place a hand over Killua’s. “Are you okay? That sounded painful.”
“Oh that?” Killua asks, doing his best to sound nonchalant. “Happens all the time, no big deal.” He wriggles his hand out from underneath Gon’s and takes an exaggerated bite of his pastry. Gon watches him for a few more seconds, eyes flicking between Killua’s face and his hands, before smiling softly and taking a sip of his own drink.
“So long as you’re fine to keep going.” Gon sets down his mug with a devious grin. “We’re not done with our errands yet, bag boy.”
Killua groans and rolls his eyes, “Hey! You literally just said I wasn’t your pack mule not ten minutes ago. Watch yourself or I’ll give you all the fragile ones and laugh as they break in your clutches.”
Gon reaches out again with less mischief playing on his face and takes Killua’s hand gently. “I know, I know.”
Before they even make it home, Killua’s already dreaming of the skin-melting shower he’s going to take. Over the years, he’s found that nothing really helps his aching body as much as a nuclear bath and some weird tea Gon’s aunt made him one time. He’s not really sure how Mito knew to make it for him, but her discretion and generosity nearly brings a tear to his eye every time he asks Gon to brew him a cup.
Now, he sits in bed, skin still pink from the shower and hair slightly damp, waiting on Gon to come back with his steaming mug.
“I don’t know why you drink this stuff,” Gon says when he sets the mug down on the nightstand beside Killua. “It smells terrible and you don’t even sweeten it. Just because Aunt Mito made it for you that one time back home doesn’t mean you have to keep drinking it here–-you won’t offend her, I swear.”
Killua takes the mug in both hands like he had at the cafe and breathes in the strange, almost spicy aroma of the tea. “It’s not that bad Gon, you really ought to try it sometime.”
Gon wrinkles his nose and throws himself down on his side of the bed. “It reminds me of the stuff grandma Abe used to drink. I tried it once as a kid and I swear I almost died!”
“Drama queen.” Killua takes a big sip, wincing as he burns his tongue. “Thanks.”
There’s a pause and Killua can practically hear the thoughts threatening to spill out of Gon’s head. He looks over and there he is, looking both like he’s got a terrible secret and he’s just been told his dog died.
“What’s the matter?” Killua asks. “You’re making a face.” He sets his mug back on its little knitted coaster and turns to face Gon fully.
Gon picks at the edge of the blanket for a moment, as if unsure whether he wants to voice his thoughts at all. “Well, I was going to ask you the same thing earlier. Are you sure you’re doing alright?”
Killua studies Gon, heart absolutely swelling in his chest at the sincerity in Gon’s voice. He’s still worrying the blanket between his fingers and his eyebrows are knitted tightly as he stares back at Killua.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Killua all but whispers. He thinks back to all they’d done today and can’t find a single moment when he was unhappy. Sure, he could’ve done with a couple less stops, and, yeah, the cold was a bitch today, but there’s nothing that Killua could pinpoint as a real low for the day.
“It’s just–-” Gon sighs and bites his lip. “You were kind of limping toward the end of the day, and I’m scared that I might have made you do too much today or maybe that you hurt yourself and didn’t tell me? I know I worry too much about you sometimes but you need to tell me if I’m being too much or too pushy or if you need a break from me or–-”
“Hey, hey,” Killua says, stopping Gon before he starts to spiral. He places a light hand on Gon's arm and rubs gentle circles with his thumb. “You haven’t done anything wrong. It’s just… I’m me, that’s all.”
Clearly, that was not the right thing to say, because Gon looks at him with panicked eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean? This isn’t an ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ moment is it?”
“No! No, absolutely not!” Killua can’t believe this is the stuff Gon worries about–-that he thinks he’s too much or that Killua would want to end things with him over a stupid errand trip. He also can’t believe he’s been so careless as to let Gon see him in one of these ridiculous pain episodes. Killua had had his porcelain mask on today, the one he had beaten into place so many times before; or so he thought.
“Then what’s wrong? You know you can tell me anything, right?” Gon scoots a little closer, so that their knees are touching under the covers, and Killua can see every last little freckle that dots his face. He screws his eyes shut for a moment and puts himself in Gon's shoes: if it were Gon who was in pain and didn't tell him, Killua might just throttle him with the same hands that he'd use to hold him gently and try to make it better. He's been unfair, both to Gon and to himself, by keeping these aches to himself.
Killua sighs. “When it gets cold, or I guess when there’s a bad storm too, everything just hurts.” He avoids eye contact with Gon, opting instead to reach back for his mug and take another long drink. “I’ve never really figured out why, and, honestly, I never looked it up on the net because I figured I would either convince myself my bones are rotting and I'm about to die, or it would just go away. It sucks, but it’s just a part of who I am, I guess.”
The tea is getting cold, so Killua knocks it back and finishes the rest before it gets too gross.
“I just didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t to be another one of the things you worry about, or for you to think I'm weak for feeling like this all the time. Or something.”
Killua finally looks up at Gon, fully expecting him to be frowning or looking at him with pity in his eyes. Instead, though, Gon looks like he’s deep in thought; the tip of his tongue is barely poking out from between his lips and he’s staring off into some unknown distance.
“Hello? Earth to Gon?” Killua waves his hand in front of Gon’s face to catch his attention. “Are you listening?”
Gon snaps to attention, face morphing into the frown Killua had been expecting. “In what world would I think you’re weak, Killua? Are you not the same person I met in some ridiculous tunnel all those years ago, who’s stuck by my side through everything since that moment?”
“I mean–-”
“You’re allowed to feel pain, love. And you should tell me about it, so I can help you through it or find a way to make it go away for good.” Gon almost looks upset with Killua, and instantly Killua feels his face heat up from embarrassment. "And of course I worry about you, just like you worry about me! It would be sad if we didn't look out for each other, that's what makes this right here so special."
“It’s stupid,” Killua says. “I’ve been through all this shit and the cold is the thing that takes me out? How is that even fair? I’ve survived everything, and here I am, hiding from the snow because it makes me feel pain I hoped I would stop feeling years ago.”
“It isn’t fair,” Gon starts, “and I don't think I can make it go away, but I think I might at least be able to help you a little.” Killua snorts a little, ready to hear whatever whackadoo solution Gon has that he doubts will truly work.
“Hey, don’t give me that snort of disbelief yet, you haven’t even heard what I was going to say!” Gon protests. Killua puts his hands up and shakes his head, laughing slightly. “Anyway, grandma Abe used to have really bad arthritis in her hands and fingers, so I learned how to massage away most of the pain–-at least for a little while. I always heard arthritis is an old-people disease, and maybe that's not what you have going on, but I could at least try. ”
Killua clicks his tongue. “Gon, I’ve tried everything, believe me. Boiling myself in the bath and the tea you think smells like shit are the only things that have even mildly helped, I don’t think a massage is going to do anything.”
“Come on Killua, let's just see if it helps!” Gon tries to take one of Killua’s hands, but Killua pulls it back just as their knuckles brush. “If it doesn’t work, then you still get a massage out of it–-it’s not like you lose in either situation.”
“But–-” Killua can feel his blush, his heart pounding, his joints aching. He wants to let Gon do this, he wants to melt under his no-doubt magical hands, but there’s something stopping him. It’s not so much the threat that it won’t work, he expects this over the alternative at this point. No, he’s afraid it will work, and that it won't just be the knowledge of these aches that Gon will be burdened with. Gon already does so much for Killua, it wouldn't be fair to place his comfort at the top of his to-do list.
“I want to, Killua,” Gon says softly. “You’re not a bother to me, and you deserve to at least have a shot at being comfortable in your own body. Let me, please.”
A few moments of deliberation later, Killua reluctantly sits up. The honey smoothed over Gon’s words is enough to make Killua give in to anything, and the earnest way in which Gon looks at him makes him feel warm and exposed. He wordlessly offers Gon his left hand, the one whose fingers had so audibly cracked in the cafe before and had certainly sparked Gon’s worry in the first place.
Gon’s hands and fingers are so warm against Killua’s skin that he could dissolve just from this soft touch alone and be in complete bliss. Gon works gently and slowly, starting with Killua’s palm, and then his wrist, before moving back to his knuckles and working heat into each finger. He hits all the right pressure points and pays special attention to where Killua says it hurts the worst. It’s heaven, and Killua can’t believe Gon’s been holding onto this secret talent for so long.
Before long, the pain in Killua’s left hand has mostly dissipated, and he’s left feeling just a fraction lighter than before. Gon silently asks for his right hand and Killua all but thrusts it into his own, desperate for more of the same magic to be applied.
And it is.
Gon relieves almost all of Killua’s aches and pains with just a few moments--albeit long ones--of rubbing warmth into the spaces where the cold has taken up residence for far, far too long. He makes his way, slowly, over Killua’s entire body, taking great care to apply the same amount of nurturing to all of his joints and muscles. Gon asks, repeatedly, if this hurts or if that makes it worse, continuously checking to be sure he’s not hurting Killua and that he's getting it right.
Killua has never in his life been touched so gently. Of course, Gon has never come at Killua with anything but a loving embrace or delicate caress (unless, of course, they are mid-playfight like the brazen thirteen-year-olds they used to be), but the way Gon’s hands are moving now is something entirely novel to Killua. It's a utilitarian purpose, yes, to relieve Killua of his pains, but there's also something deeply intimate and vulnerable about it that makes Killua's heart race.
“Any better?” Gon asks, finally finished with his labor of love. “Grandma Abe always said she felt the best about ten minutes afterward, so it might take a bit to take full effect.”
“I don't think I've ever been this relaxed before,” Killua says dreamily. He stops to assess and notes that there’s still a pang of discomfort hovering somewhere in the middle of his back, right between his shoulder blades. “Actually? There’s another spot that always bothers me. That is, unless your hands are about to fall off. You can stop now, if you want.”
Gon cracks his knuckles in a way that’s entirely disquieting to Killua and he grins. “And you didn’t even want to tell me about this.” Killua does his best to swallow the sour comeback that’s sitting at the tip of his tongue, along with whatever is left of his pride, and scoots a little closer.
“You know that big scar? On my back?” Gon nods solemnly, giving Killua a look like he would murder the person who gave it to him. Wordlessly, Gon leans back against the headboard and opens up his arms, beckoning for Killua to crawl into his lap and curl up, very much like a koala might. Killua finds himself physically unable to resist and folds himself into the warmth and comfort that is Gon Freecss.
Very slowly, and very gently, Gon snakes a hand up the back of Killua’s shirt and finds the offending feature. It’s a massive scar Illumi had given him when Killua was very little and Illumi had lost control. He remembers the way their mother had reacted and the look of panic that had crossed Illumi’s usually composed features when it had happened, but what he remembers most is the sheer amount of blood and the depth of the pain he felt. Despite the years of torture and training that followed, Killua has never been in such excruciating pain as he was that day.
And Gon’s delicate touch is almost enough to make him forget it entirely.
Killua feels Gon’s fingers pressing deep into the skin around the scar and tracing soft patterns over it. He feels Gon’s palm flat against the raised skin, working in circles to banish the soreness that his family began and the cold ensured he would never forget. It is now that a few hot tears prick at the edges of Killua’s eyes and seep into the front of Gon’s shirt. If Gon notices, he says nothing, and continues to work.
Gon ends up tracing loving patterns over all of Killua's scars, despite weak protests on Killua's end that anything beyond the biggest one is too much. He doesn't know how long he spends curled up in Gon's arms, and Killua doesn’t know at what point he falls asleep, but he thinks it a shame that he did so before Gon's hands stilled.
Ever since that night Killua confided in Gon about his aching joints, Gon has definitely been up to something. Killua has been seeing it in the way Gon has nonchalantly put his phone away every time Killua enters the room, and he’s seeing it now in the way Gon shifts from one foot to the other as they wait for Kurapika or Leorio to answer the door.
“What is your problem?” Killua hisses. “You’ve had ants in your pants for a week, love. Out with it.”
Gon flashes a weak smile in Killua’s direction. “Nothing! It’s–-”
Saved by the bell. Well, the door, rather, as Kurapika opens it and welcomes them in warmly.
Gon hands Kurapika the host gift they had brought, a rather nice decanter and a bottle of red wine, and avoids eye contact with Killua for much of the rest of the evening. It’s not until Gon wanders into the kitchen to help Kurapika with the dishes that he realizes why.
“Hey kid,” Leorio prompts, jerking his head in the direction of the living room. “Gon said you were experiencing some pain during the winter? When did that start?”
Killua rolls his eyes, not so much out of annoyance at Leorio’s care, but rather at Gon’s inability to just keep this between the two of them. “Ever since I was little, but it’s gotten worse as time goes on,” he says, crossing his arms and sitting in an armchair that Kurapika must have picked out. It’s plush and a deep purple, perfect for curling up in and reading a good book.
Leorio pulls up a stool, looking more like a doctor to Killua than he ever has in his life, and takes one of Killua’s hands. He doesn’t stop him, knowing full-well that Leorio can and will lay him out if he needs to, focusing instead on the interesting mix of cultural history and medical books that his friends have neatly arranged on the bookshelf.
“I’m guessing you put a lot of strain on your joints as a kid?” Leorio asks, poking and prodding him gently, his hands, like any good doctor’s, feeling like ice against Killua's skin. Leorio gives him a look accompanied by, "And in your line of work, you've never really taken a break, right?"
“I broke my fingers plenty and dislocated everything else as part of training,” Killua replies, trying to keep his voice level as he remembers. “Illumi had me get flexible enough to get out of any ties or chains, and whatever I couldn’t get out of easily, I had to brute force my way out by bending in ways I probably shouldn’t have. Lots of broken bones and messed up shoulders, and now, being a hunter, things can still get pretty dicey. You think that’s what’s causing it?”
Leorio clicks his tongue. “I know that’s what’s causing it.” He folds his ankle over his knee and leans in a little more. “Is it just the cold that causes flare-ups, or do you hurt more often than not?”
“The second option.” Killua shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “But I can handle it, it’s no big deal. Baths and tea help.”
“It kind of is a big deal,” Leorio sighs. “While I can’t be sure until I get a better look, I’m almost certain you have osteoarthritis. It usually affects older people, but with the abuse your body has been put through, it doesn’t surprise me at all that you’re feeling this kind of pain. Your joints are shot, they’re worn down to nothing, and that’s why you’re always hurting and that’s why the changes in pressure that come with winter and storms affect you so much.”
Killua doesn’t know if he ought to be relieved or upset or what, now that he has a name for the terrible ache that follows him around. “So it’s normal?” he breathes.
“To an extent,” Leorio replies. “Your age and the amount of pain you’re in is concerning, but it eventually does happen to most folks.” He pauses and sighs. “As much as I’d love to Remote Punch Illumi and your old man, I don’t think that would help you much now.”
Killua snorts. “It would help more than you’d think. I’d pay real money to see you kick Illumi’s ass, don’t think the world has forgotten about how you dealt with Ging.” Leorio blushes and grins, no doubt remembering the satisfaction that knocking Gon's father flat on his back must have brought.
“Jokes aside, I’m kind of the best person to help you out here.” Leorio pushes up his glasses dramatically and smirks over at Killua. “You’re looking at the first doctor in the world to develop their nen around easing pain and healing from within! I could charge you millions for this state-of-the-art ability!”
“But you won’t, because you’re such a pushover and a people-pleaser,” Killua drawls. He’s always found Leorio’s feigned interest in money and being rich intriguing. Over the years, he's grown to understand that this pretend obsession is just a product of his suffering as a child, and it breaks Killua's heart that all these years later, Leorio is still clinging to this made-up personality trait. Killua knows Leorio is a gigantic softie behind the false greed and inflated ego–-Leorio’s willingness to go to the ends of the earth for a friend (and open a two-ton, stone gate practically on his own) is one of the many qualities Killua admires about him. Though, he'd be hard-pressed to voice this admiration out loud, he can't let Leorio's head get too big.
Leorio’s shoulders sag. “You could have let me brag a little more, you brat.” He lifts his head and flashes Killua a blinding grin moments later, and it’s reinforced in Killua’s head that he’d do anything for Leorio in return.
“Without further ado, I present to you my Super-Sonic, Soft and Soothing Therapeutic Nen!” Leorio lets his hands hover palm-down over Killua’s body as he prepares to send his comfortingly bright green nen to dissipate any and all pain clinging to Killua’s joints.
Killua doesn’t even have time to take a jab at the stupid name before he’s floored by the sensation of Leorio’s nen rippling through him.
It feels incredible, as though Leorio were actually reaching through Killua’s skin and repairing all of the physical trauma of his childhood with his frigid yet gentle fingers. It occurs to Killua that Leorio was truly made to be a doctor, and it tugs at his heartstrings that he’s decided to base his entire nen ability on helping others rather than helping himself. The progress Leorio’s made in just the time since Killua had seen him last is astonishing, and it’s nearly no time at all before Killua feels almost brand new, with only the dullest of aches still stubbornly refusing to let go in the deepest parts of his bones.
“Leorio, you’re incredible,” Killua praises, flexing his hands and rolling his ankles in disbelief.
“Nah,” Leorio replies, bashfully running a hand through his hair. “It’s really nothing. I’m not even able to fix you for good yet. With my power where it is now, I’m only able to dull the pain for a while-–it’ll come back in a few months and you’ll have to sit for another treatment.”
“Hey.” Killua grabs onto Leorio’s forearm tightly and looks him dead in the eye. “Don’t sell yourself short like that, you’ve worked too hard to downplay how amazing what you just did is. You’ve managed to get rid of practically all of this misery in a matter of minutes--I haven’t felt this good since I was ten. I don’t care if it’ll come back or that you couldn’t get it all to go away because I know you’ll figure it out eventually and then you will fix me for good. You’ll charge me a shit ton of money for it, but you’ll do it.”
Leorio almost looks like he’s about to cry, but he grins and says, “You’re damn right I will. The friends and family discount won’t even help when I’m through with you.”
They dissolve into quiet laughter for a moment, Killua in disbelief at his friend’s skill and Leorio seemingly in agreement. He and Leorio chat for a little while longer before Killua notices Gon standing in the doorway watching with a soft smile playing on his lips. He excuses himself and crosses the room to stand with him.
“Thanks,” he says meekly. “I was kind of annoyed at first that you went to Leorio about this, but I am so grateful you did. Like, did you know he could do that?”
“I had a hunch,” Gon replies. He reaches down to tangle their fingers together and squeezes Killua’s hand gently. “I thought if there was anyone that could help you, it would be Leorio. I’m sorry for going behind your back, though. I figured you didn’t want anyone else to know, so I had to be kind of sneaky.”
Killua hums. “I also had a hunch,” he says, “but it’s okay. As long as it stays in the family, that is.” He taps his foot against Gon’s shin softly. “Don’t think that Leorio’s treatments relieve you of massage duty, though. You’re not off the hook that easily.”
Laughing, Gon nods. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Besides, you’re so cute when you fall asleep on me!”
Killua feels his cheeks flush, and for the first time in a long time, that’s largely all he feels. Well, beyond the swell of affection for his friends that threatens to spill out of his chest, but he figures that’s preferable to crippling aches in any measure. He lets the warmth of Gon's and Leorio's love seep into his bones, and for once, he feels like he's finally able to stave off the cold.