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It had been a long few days; spending those few days holed up in a dilapidated building did not help, nor did the pay, which was much too low for a mission that took nearly a week. His body ached even as he sat in the taxi, bypassing his pre-arranged hotel room in favor of a more familiar location. Hisoka’s apartment was preferable to a hotel room; a large shower filled with expensive soaps, a home-cooked meal or hot take-out, and a warm body beside him on the couch. It was, to Illumi’s surprise, quite a pleasant place to be.
After a cold shower, Illumi stole a fluffy bathrobe from Hisoka’s bathroom closet and dried his hair. Upon exiting the en-suite bathroom, Illumi noted a steaming mug on the bedside table and immediately, that pleasant feeling set in. He settled on top of the plush comforter and held the warm mug between his hands, a long sigh releasing at least a fragment of the tension accrued during his most recent job. Half-way through his tea, Hisoka peeked his head in and the rustle of a plastic bag indicated the presence of take-out. Illumi sat up a bit as Hisoka swung the door open fully and flashed a toothy smile.
“You’re not dressed yet? I got us food,” he said, raising the bag a bit and stepping closer carefully.
“I’m tired,” Illumi responded with a shrug.
“Well,” said Hisoka, smile somehow growing. “We can eat in here. There’s a TV in the wardrobe if you’d like to watch something.”
Illumi nodded. He watched Hisoka open the wardrobe, revealing a flatscreen, and was soon tossed the remote. While Hisoka tore open the take-out bag, Illumi scanned through the channels until landing on a documentary about jellyfish. He instantly found himself absorbed in it as he ate and leaned his shoulder against Hisoka’s as he did so, feeling lazy. Hisoka did not seem to mind, the two of them sitting in amicable silence even after the food had been finished.
Eventually, Hisoka fixed Illumi a fresh cup of tea and Illumi let it cool on the bedside table as Hisoka slid back into bed next to him, albeit a couple inches farther from where he sat before. Maybe he had minded the leaning, after all. Illumi chided himself, reminded himself not to be inappropriate. They’re not friends— can’t be; Illumi said it himself: Assassins have no need for friends, And he was not in the habit of contradicting his values.
“Illu,” Hisoka said. “Are you planning on staying the night?”
Illumi hummed in consideration. He had not planned to stay, but he had grown comfortable and he had not the energy to dress himself, much less get across town to the hotel room Milluki had booked for him. “Would it be an inconvenience?” He finally asked.
“Not at all,” Hisoka laughed. “I’ll even let you have the bed.”
“We can share the bed,” Illumi proposed. Hisoka’s eyebrows raised a bit, so Illumi felt the need to justify himself. “It is large and I do not want to put you out after showing up without proper warning or permission.” Hisoka’s brief confusion morphed into amusement and he laughed at him some more. Hisoka seemed to find him very funny; Illumi did not understand it. He didn’t comment on this, however; he didn’t understand most jokes and at this point, he refused to reach up and grab them before they flew over his head.
“For the record, I love when you show up out of nowhere.” He lifted his knees to his chest and leaned his arms on them, craning his neck to lay his sharp eyes onto Illumi’s profile. “It lets me know you’re thinking of me.” His voice was more of a sigh, as dreamy as Illumi currently felt.
“I was thinking of your designer body wash.” Illumi quickly retorted. He could feel the heat of Hisoka’s hand next to his own and he shifted his hand until his pinky brushed a sharp knuckle, seeking out the warmth.
“And it smells lovely on you,” Hisoka said. He didn’t pull away from the contact, instead flipping his hand so he could take Illumi’s.
They sat like that, once again drenched in a comfortable, easy silence, hand in hand, watching jellyfish drift about on the screen. Illumi didn’t know how to feel about it; it was enjoyable, he couldn’t deny that. He also knew it was something he shouldn’t be doing, that it was a very bad idea to be getting this close; to be so comfortable; to be so casually intimate with someone like Hisoka. Cold anxiety threatened push away the warm lethargy that had settled in his body and Illumi outright rejected it, settling further into the bed and shutting his eyes with a long sigh.
“Are you injured?” Hisoka asked. Illumi blinked open his eyes to actually look at Hisoka for the first time that entire evening. Illumi caught him off guard showing up out of nowhere, his normally coiffed hair loose and free of product, hanging in messy curls around his face and neck, not a speck of makeup on his face. Hisoka almost looked human, though the predator in him showed itself through an ever-present, threatening gleam in his eyes. There was no way to hide the strength that lay below his skin, either; thick muscle made itself known under a white tank-top and pink sleep-shorts. Illumi secretly enjoyed the fact that he was likely one of the only people to see Hisoka in this state.
“No. My mission was tiring and I am sore.” He admitted. The mission had called for physical stealth, which meant a lot of crouching and fitting his long limbs into small spaces; it left Illumi’s legs and back screaming for reprieve.
Hisoka gave a brief hum of consideration, his thumb making soft circles against the back of Illumi’s hand. Illumi found it strange, but too pleasant to pull away from. “Would you like a massage? I’ve been told I’m quite good.”
“I’m sure you have,” Illumi said; it was more of a scoff. He didn’t know what he meant by it until he’d already said it. It was something he’d written in Hisoka’s file that bounced around his brain whenever they were together. Hisoka has strong, agile hands. Always keep an eye on them. “It is mostly my legs.” He didn’t mention his back, not keen on the idea of shedding the bathrobe. Surely, that would be crossing some line.
“Okay, sit tight,” Hisoka said, releasing Illumi’s hand and disappearing into the bathroom. Illumi let his eyes shut, keeping them closed even as footsteps indicated Hisoka’s return, even as Hisoka carefully rearranged the pillows behind his back and slid back into place next to him. Illumi’s eyes only flew open when Hisoka hooked his hands under his knees and laid his legs over his lap. Hisoka was wearing his kindest smile, a tight-lipped, untrustworthy thing.
Illumi didn’t have the tact to hide how nice Hisoka’s hands felt, melting away the stress in his muscles with gentle, warm pressure. The bottle of lavender-scented oil Hisoka had retrieved from the bathroom made the room smell pleasant, and let Hisoka’s hands move more smoothly over his skin. Illumi’s eyes were shut, the drowsy feeling becoming warmer than simple sleep-deprivation as Hisoka’s fingers worked out the tension in his adductor muscles. A particularly soft brush of a thumb against the sensitive skin of his inner thigh sent a shiver through his body and made his breath catch in his throat.
“Feels good?” Hisoka chuckled, pausing the motions of his hands. He almost sounded nervous; Illumi knew better than to believe it.
“Yes,” Illumi breathed. “It—” Illumi swallowed the lump in his throat; he couldn’t believe he was going to admit this out loud. “It’s nice.” He felt like a sunning cat, warm and floppy, and like a lazy house cat, he wanted to curl up closer to the warmth. “I may fall asleep,” he confessed.
“That’s okay,” said Hisoka, resuming his massaging. “I’ll make sure to get you all tucked in if you do.”
“Thank you,” Illumi sighed, allowing himself to relax. When his eyes grew tired of being open, he let them shut; when his brain grew tired of thinking, he let it go quiet. He felt small and safe, soon drifting off into the deepest sleep he’d had in years.
Either the cacophony of city birds greeting the morning outside the modestly cracked window or the encroaching rays of sun awoke Illumi. The comforter he’d fallen asleep on top of now pulled up to his shoulders, the sun pressed it’s warmth against his back and whispered that it was only a few minutes past dawn.
“Hisoka?” Illumi whispered. Hisoka’s back was turned to him and he lay unmoving, breathing softly. Illumi watched the rise and fall of his shoulder beneath the blankets for a few minutes before he deemed it safe to inch closer. Hisoka was like a heater beneath a kotatsu; his body heat seeped through their clothes as Illumi pressed his forehead against the back of his head, carefully placed an arm over his middle and slotted his knees behind Hisoka’s.
Hisoka stirred but didn’t seem to wake up, spurring Illumi to wiggle even closer, to squeeze Hisoka even tighter. While he knew it was inappropriate, he couldn’t help but take a long inhale of the curly strawberry hair in front of him, floral and sweet; Illumi wanted to drown in it. He wanted to be even closer, as close as possible. He knew he shouldn’t want these things; he knew he should’ve pressed a pin into the back of Hisoka’s neck and made him the ideal business partner; he knew he should’ve already dressed himself and left.
Something magnetic kept him from doing anything but stay and enjoy his moment of selfishness.