Chapter Text
People are the same everywhere. It's a basic law of nature that Kuroro has seen confirmed time and time again. Beneath the different clothes, languages, skin colours and other insignificant details, personalities are always boringly similar from one place to another.
It makes most people easy to read. It also makes it easy to notice the very few people who stand out from the crowd.
And right now, the blond young man before him in the queue at the bakery definitely falls in the second category. He puts up a good facade, looking polite and a bit uptight, but there's something in his posture that betrays him. His blond hair is just a bit too neat, his repressed frown a bit too obvious, his lips one second away to purse in frustration. Everything about him screams constant control over his emotions.
Kuroro is fairly confident this young man is someone with a clear objective in life, and that all his actions are made accordingly to said objective. There's power in him, along with anger and a striking desire to get better until it's enough to achieve his goal.
Although, right now, the frown that finally shows on what is visible of the blond's face displays how out of his element he is, and how lost in the sea of sugary possibilities he feels. Kuroro takes the offered occasion to put his perfect gentleman act on and takes a step forward.
"Do you need any help ?" Kuroro smiles amicably. "You seem to have trouble deciding what to buy."
The young man turns to him, looking surprised, and Kuroro takes a second to appraise a rather beautiful face, now that he sees him fully. The frown disappears, and the young man sighs.
"I apologize for the inconvenience my hesitation puts you through. Truth be told, I was only asked to bring back good things for teatime" the blond quotes. "I'm not one for sweets, and I must confess I don't know what to order."
"Then let me help you" Kuroro offers gallantly. "Just tell me how many people will attend this teatime, and what kind of person they are."
The blond looks at him dubiously for a second, then seems to decide he's got nothing to lose with accepting the unexpected help, and a grateful expression brightens his features.
"Thank you" he smiles warmly. "There should be around ten participants, myself included. Four men, five or six women, all between seventeen and thirty years old. I don't really know of their preferences, though."
Kuroro thinks about it for a minute, all the while trying to not let himself being distracted by the way a genuine smile lights up the blond's face and makes him look absolutely adorable. Then, he makes a gesture to call the woman behind the counter, who seems relieved to see her customer finally ready to order.
Kuroro carefully selects an assortment of various pastries that should fit the wide variety of tastebuds. Then, he orders a slice of brownie and a cinamon roll for himself, and joins the blond when he's paying for his command. The young man smiles at him, and looks at his order.
"I'll pay for his as well" he indicates to the pink-haired woman in front of him, then turns to Kuroro with a gentle expression. "It's the least I can do to repay your kindness."
The Spider Head arches an eyebrow. "I'd argue it's nothing, but something tells me you're not going to accept it."
"And you would be right" the blond chuckles softly, apparently amused by his correct assumption.
A minute later, they're both outside the bakery with their bag, and Kuroro finds the blond's hesitation delightful. It's just the right amount of showing he would like their conversation to continue, without wanting to overstep any boundaries or being disrespectful.
"Thank you again for your help" he ends up saying. "My name is Kurapika, by the way."
"It was a pleasure to help you, Kurapika. You can call me Kuroro" the Spider Head answers, using the convenient way the blond avoided saying his last name to do the same. "I wish you a good teatime."
At this, Kurapika shakes his head and a mischievous spark flashes in his blue eyes. "If I'm lucky, someone will have an allergic reaction and I'll be able to volunteer to get them to the hospital."
"Are you saying you've been using me to provoke food poisoning and get away with it ?" Kuroro asks, more amused at the idea than he probably should be.
"Actually, if it happens, I'll probably send you a thank-you card for giving me the opportunity to escape" the blond chuckles.
The leader of the Phantom Troupe tilts his head curiously. "If you dread this teatime so much, why are you even attending ?"
There's a flicker of hesitation, subtle enough to go unnoticed if one isn't used to detect the smallest hints in others' behaviour. But Kurapika answers nonetheless, as soon as he finds words he deems safe enough.
"It's pretty hard to avoid it when the host is my boss" he admits.
"Maybe you should find another job, then" Kuroro suggests lightly, and doesn't miss the way Kurapika's eyes are suddenly clouded with a somber emotion. One second later, his face is scolded in a polite mask, and just like that, the moment is gone. "I didn't mean to offend you" the Spider Head adds softly.
That makes Kurapika reacts, and blue eyes widen slightly. "You didn't. I just..." he sighs, then averts his eyes. "Nevermind. Thank you again. Have a nice day" he adds with a nod, then turns around and disappears in the crowd.
Kuroro follows him with his eyes for a couple of seconds, then turns to leave as well. Still, as he walks, his thoughts keep coming back to Kurapika. There's something about him that screams secrets, and it tugs at Kuroro's curiosity. Not enough to go out of his way to search for the young man, but still.
For now, the Spider Head is satisfied with his pastries and a pleasant encounter. He'll let the chance of a second one to the Fates.
The Underground Auction is an event for the higher-ups of the underworld, and as such, every mafia family sends at least a couple of men to check the security beforehand. It's both a tradition and a way to assess the strength of potential competitors. This year, Dalzollene has asked Kurapika to come with him as the representatives of the Nostrade family.
The Kurta has agreed, much to Basho and Squala's disappointment. Neon has been more excited than usual at the idea of getting new items for her morbid collection, and as such, she's become even harder to deal with.
According to Dalzollene's amused grin in the car, he's perfectly aware of the fate he bestowed upon their colleagues. Kurapika pretends he doesn't notice, which is his way to silently thank the man for saving him from the little mafia princess. Neon isn't a terror per se, but her tendancies to throw a tantrum everytime things don't go accordingly to her whims can be quite exhausting.
They arrive at the Cemetery Building to find a dozen of other men and women waiting. Dalzollene greets a few of them, but since the Nostrade family is rather new in the mafia game, they're quickly done with the introductions.
A bald man arrives, so skinny that he's almost floating in his tailored suit, and politely asks them all to follow him inside so they can inspect the security measures. At some point, they are allowed to split up, and Kurapika uses the opportunity to check the rooms behind the scene. He understands in a couple of minutes that no one bothered to check further than the space where the items and artifacts will be stocked during the auction.
"Not a lot of cameras here" the blond Hunter murmurs disapprovingly as he notices the obvious lack of surveillance.
"Probably because no one cares about this part of the building" someone answers on his right, and Kurapika turns just in time to see a black-haired man with a white headband walking out of a room.
"Kuroro ?" the blond asks in surprise, his eyes widening at the same time. He hasn't seen or heard of the man since their encounter in the bakery, and was definitely not expecting to meet him right before the Underground Auction.
"Kurapika" the man greets him with a charming smile.
"What are you doing here ?" the Kurta asks, then composes himself and lets go of the suspicious undertones of his question to apologise. "Pardon me, it's none of my business."
"Don't worry about it. I'm only here to check the security system of this place before the big day" Kuroro answers, and there's an amused glint in his eyes, like he just made a joke Kurapika can't understand. However, he seems to be saying the truth, and the Kurta has no reason to believe the man isn't a member of one of the organisations participating in the auction.
"As you can tell, so am I" Kurapika eventually answers.
"I had assumed that much" the man replies, still smiling, and there is something about this smile that makes Kurapika the slightest bit flustered. Kuroro leans on the wall, arms crossed on his chest, looking perfectly at ease and right out of a fashion magazine. "And I dare say you're doing a better job at it than most people I've seen today."
Kurapika arches an eyebrow, and feels the corner of his lips stretching in a playful smile. "And how many people have you seen so far ?"
Kuroro's smile turns into a seductive smirk, his stormy eyes glinting with mischief, and Kurapika fights the blush he feels coming up on his cheeks. Just because science says that at eighteen years old, his hormones are supposed to make him act foolishly, doesn't mean he has to let them rule his interactions with Kuroro.
"I'm afraid the answer to that question would significantly reduce my next one's chances of success" said man replies smoothly.
"What is your next question ?" Kurapika asks, confused by the strange phrasing.
"Can I buy you a drink once we're both done with our task of the day ?" Kuroro asks in a low voice that has definitely no right to sound as alluring as it does.
It would be nice. Dalzollene wouldn't complain about Kurapika taking the evening off, the Kurta is certain of that. There's enough bodyguards at the hotel to ensure Neon's safety, and Light will only arrive tomorrow morning. Plus, Kuroro is undeniably handsome with his stormy grey eyes and jet-black hair falling on his white headband, and from the few exchanges they've had so far, he seems nice and nothing short of charming.
Then, in a second, a flash of blood and ashes passes through Kurapika's brain. People he loved, and lost because of a group of murderers. He sees Gon, Killua, Leorio and Melody, the few people who crept their way into his heart since then, those precious friends he cherishes and is now scared to lose as well.
Friendship is something he let himself fall into without realising it, but right now, Kurapika understands he can't take the risk to develop romantic feelings. Even if Kuroro is strong enough to be an important member of an underground organisation, even if he's handsome and respectful and just the right amount of mischievous to make Kurapika wish they could spend hours learning about each other... Kurapika can't - won't - make him a target of the Phantom Troupe by accepting his invitation. He simply can't put such a burden on him.
"I'm afraid I must decline your offer" Kurapika says, and forces his expression to remain as neutral as he can to avoid showing his sudden burst of fear.
In front of him, Kuroro doesn't move, but his eyes focus on Kurapika's face like they can see through his act. His charming smile is gone, replaced by a serious expression.
"You know" Kuroro states slowly, "I'm not one to insist when I'm turned down. But it's the first time I see someone looking terrified at the idea of sharing a drink with me."
The implied question is hanging heavily in the air, and Kurapika avoids the grey eyes focused on his own. He ponders about it for a minute, before admitting to himself that so far, Kuroro has been nothing but courteous. Given their respective profession, the blond can probably get away with a rather general idea of the reason behind his refusal.
"If it's any consolation, my reason to decline has nothing to do with you" Kurapika eventually states. "If I were to say that I don't want you to become a target, would it be enough of an explanation ?"
Kuroro obviously relaxes at Kurapika's words, and the seriousness in his expression recedes to his eyes.
"It would" the black-haired man nods in understanding. "Now, if I were to say that I can assure you very few people are powerful enough to constitute a threat for me, would it be enough to make you to reconsider your decision ?"
Kurapika smiles, but it's tainted with a sadness that he doesn't bother to hide. "Even if I were to take your words as an objective truth and not an excess of confidence, the... persons I'm talking about are undoubtedly in the very few people you mentioned. I'm sorry, Kuroro" the blond replies softly.
The man sighs, but seems to accept the outcome anyway. "So am I. If you're that determined to not put me in danger, I will not insist" he admits, a soft, comprehensive smile back on his face. "But let me tell you that I appreciate your consideration for my well-being. I hope your... reasons won't prevent us from another chat if we meet again."
The blond Hunter feels his normal expression coming back. "I think a quick chat is pretty safe."
Then, the Kurta's phone buzzes, and he checks it. It's a message from Dalzollene, asking to meet him on the third floor's ballroom in five minutes.
"I have to go" Kurapika says, quite regretfully. "It was nice seeing you again, Kuroro."
"It was" Kuroro approves, and there's a hint of disappointment in his voice. "Until next time, Kurapika" he says as the blond walks away.
Kurapika waves in his direction with a smile, then inwardly curses the Phantom Troupe once more for preventing him from having even a small moment of happiness with someone else.