Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Where are we supposed to meet them?” Leorio asks, attempting to watch his map and phone simultaneously. Kurapika sighs and readjusts his travel bag. They’ve been on the road for the better part of a week, switching from blimp to train to the back of a particularly kind farmer’s pickup truck in order to arrive at this quaint city. Why Gon and Killua have selected this particular location as a suggested meet-up can only be as revenge for years ago, when Leorio took the two twelve year olds gambling and Gon had to drag a complaining and entirely broke Killua out by his curly white hair. 

Kurapika hasn’t seen either Gon or Killua for far too long, for months that feel like years. Ordinarily, the boys drop by Yorknew whenever they can, together or individually, dragging Kurapika out with a mix of eager smiles and brute force. This trip, halfway around the world it seems, is a rarity for Kurapika in that he even comes. To his initial disgruntlement, his semi-forced vacation was not blamed on the invitation from Killua and Gon, or Melody's unsubtle hints that Kurapika needed a break away from the office, but on Leorio.

Leorio, who marched Kurapika out of his office before either of their bags were packed and only belatedly realized he'd left all of their things with Melody. Who has made sure that Kurapika is given the choicest patches of dirt for sleep, the first chance at a bath whenever they can, the best meals they can afford, a shoulder to lean on during the long rides from place to place. It’s a far cry from the stark necessities of his office in the Nostrade estate, or the overindulgent splendors of the Kakin royalty’s Black Whale ship. But Kurapika feels this trip is more comfortable, more real. There’s no falseness to Leorio.

The city they find themselves in is a maze of thousand year old brick buildings and archaic storefronts, cobbled streets flecked with color from every window and all leading towards the park’s gateway. What few locals out today bustle in and out of their shops, preparing for the evening’s festivals by stringing lanterns and white flags in and out of every opening. Fabric draped over stained glass windows turn the same colors as the windows, as though staining themselves with light. The park seems ever-present in the city’s streets, massive trees visible over even the tallest buildings and birdsong echoing like bells between the buildings, but actually locating the entrance is less simple. The street signs in particular are the most frustrating—not that they are written in a different language, but each letter is made of shards of colored stone or covered with vines.

Kurapika knows he could have found it on his own, but he can admit only to himself that the trip would not have been made as quickly or as cheaply as it has been with Leorio. Over the last week, he’s seen more of the countryside, experienced more rough roads and starry nights outside, than Kurapika thinks he can remember. Not since he was a child and unaware of how the wonders of the world are often drowned by its darkness.

Kurapika will be the first to admit he has never been quite as forthcoming in his affection for his friends over the years as Gon or Leorio, or even as blatantly obvious in it as Killua. But he does find his closest friends to be greatly important to him, and Leorio in particular has wormed his tall, gangly self into a significant portion of Kurapika’s heart. Stubborn like Gon, like Killua, like Kurapika himself, but with a heart and soul as open as a well-loved book. To Kurapika’s surprise, he hasn’t found traveling with Leorio to be onerous at all. If anything, he’s been…happy?

Happy.

“Kurapika!” Leorio says, pulling Kurapika out of his thoughts. There’s a half-serious scowl on Leorio’s face drawing out wrinkles that weren’t there when they first met, laugh lines and frown lines alike. Kurapika sometimes wants to reach out and smooth those lines away, if only Leorio weren’t so terribly tall.

Instead, Kurapika pulls out his own phone, the GPS confirming quickly what he suspected already. “Just around this corner, I think,” he says, pointing to a flowershop boasting an overflowing array of colors spilling out of its windows.

Leorio glares back at his map and scribbles something on the paper. “If you say so,” he mutters, and follows along as though this were his idea in the first place. Kurapika does not hide the smile on his face. They’re in no rush, after all. They can take their time.

But after the final turn, the park is immediately in view, and the tiny cafe in its front, iron-wrought tables and chairs scattered around cobblestone patios, bustles with enchanted customers as people enter and exit the park’s massive shadow-speckled gateway. Servers dressed in suits of every color flit between the tables, each one carrying a tray of sweets and coffees crafted in the form of a series of birds in flight. Beyond, an avenue of trees in all shapes and colors beckons like a living stained glass window. A step behind Kurapika and somehow ignoring the almost overwhelming display, Leorio remains nose-deep in his maps, muttering about Killua’s last series of coded numbers and letters. Kurapika has to gently prod him in the side to regain his attention. “We’re here,” he says quietly.

Leorio’s smile lights up his face immediately, although he doesn’t bother to look up. “Can you see them yet? Gon said they were going to try to get an upstairs table, something about a better view of the fountains.”

Kurapika glances up, squinting against the afternoon sunlight. A familiar pair of teenagers sits on one of the topmost platform, spiky black hair and messy white curls nearly tangled where they lean against each other, shoulder to shoulder, nose to nose, mouth to—

Kurapika halts so suddenly Leorio crashes into him, bouncing a bit off of Kurapika’s back. He steadies both of them with a hand to Kurapika’s shoulder, large and comforting in a way that Kurapika is certain he will never quite become accustomed to. The servers closest to them freeze mid-step, looks of dismay and concern on their faces as they balance the pros and cons of assisting potential customers with dropping carefully crafted multi-tiered serving trays. A moment passes before they begin to move again, the cafe returning to its buzzing hum.

“Hey, what gives?” Leorio demands, utterly failing to look threatening as he glares down his nose. It’s kind of adorable and so very Leorio that Kurapika can’t help but smile.

“As I said, we’re here,” he repeats, and gestures up and up to where their friends are sitting, still close but no longer that close. Killua waves down lazily, and Gon nearly falls off the platform in his attempt to grab their attention. And if Killua is holding Gon’s hand, and Gon’s laced his fingers with Killua’s, that’s nothing out of the ordinary. Leorio does not seem to notice, certainly.

Both Kurapika and Leorio forgo the ordinary way of ascending to the cafe’s upper levels via moving staircase or lift, simply jumping up with a carefully-placed leap. The boys laugh with delight, welcoming their friends with open arms but never once letting go of each other. They’ve grown in the last few years, so much that even Gon is taller than Kurapika now. But their warmth hasn’t changed.

Part of Kurapika still wants to flinch away from it, but he has a feeling that Leorio won’t let him, not that he’s got his hands on Kurapika. A bit like a wolfhound, Leorio can be, holding on to the ones he loves even if it’s by the skin of his teeth or the edges of his fingers.

Gon and Killua plop back into their seats, Killua’s sundae long since demolished and Gon’s tea half-gone. Kurapika has never noticed before, but they always sit this close, closer than anyone else. “What’s up?” Killua asks.

Leorio pulls his seat out only to use it to gain a bit of extra height. “You’re the ones that invited us!” he declares, finger jabbing at the two teenagers. “You go first.”

Gon laughs, and Kurapika is surprised at how familiar it sounds and yet how different. “Well, we wanted to tell you something,” he says, and glances at Killua as though waiting for him to say something.

Not that Killua does, although he goes a little pink around the edges. After an awkward silence, Gon prods him with an elbow. “Killuaaaaa—”

“They have to know already, right?” Killua says. “Alluka does, and Zushi too.”

Gon sighs. “Only because they found out on accident,” he says. “We haven’t even told Aunt Mito.”

“But isn’t the point of the game to see who figures it out?”

“It’s not a game anymore, Killua,” Gon says quietly, and Killua’s expression seems to soften.

“You’re right,” he says and ruffles Gon’s hair affectionately. Kurapika gets the feeling that this is a conversation that has been occurred on multiple occasions in a very short timespan. “So what do we tell them?”

Gon opens his mouth once, twice, but nothing comes out. Killua snorts. “We didn’t work that out, did we?” he says.

Leorio’s ears are all but steaming with confusion at this point. “Tell us what?” he demands.

The two exchange a look. After another pause, Killua begins to ramble. “Well, Gon and me…I guess it’s easier to start when we met up again last year, and Gon didn’t have his nen, but it wasn’t like that was what did it because—”

Gon prods him again, this time more firmly, in a way that clearly states I got this. Killua’s mouth snaps shut and he turns a little red. “Killua and I are dating!” Gon says.

There’s an abrupt beat of silence before Leorio blurts out, “Really?!” He rocks back in his chair like he has been hit over the head.

“Well, of course!” Gon says, and smiles at his best friend—his boyfriend. “I love Killua.”

“Yeah, yeah, I think they get it,” Killua says, but his grin is just as blindingly bright as Gon’s.

Leorio is still processing this development. “Wait, so, you two haven’t told anyone else…”

Gon blinks too innocently and Killua rolls his eyes. “Only Alluka and Zushi know,” Gon says. But the grip they have on each other’s hands is hard enough that Kurapika can almost hear their bones creaking.

Leorio turns to Kurapika, equal parts helpless and bemused. “Kurapika, did you know?”

There are dozens of ways to respond. It’s not so much that Gon and Killua’s relationship has ever been something normal, or that it is any of Kurapika’s business to know just what that relationship is supposed to be. It never seemed important to ask—it’s been their concern, after all, and Kurapika is intimately familiar with the difficulties of navigating a long-distance relationship. And the boys have always been close, and very much full of love for each other.

But dating? It’s certainly not unexpected. In some ways, it feels like it has always been a matter of time.

So Kurapika says, “I saw you kissing as we arrived.”

Both boys turn bright red. Killua’s mouth draws into a thin line, and he straightens like he’s prepared to fight at the slightest wrong move. At his side, Gon doesn’t look as panicked, but he tightens his grip on Killua’s hand and moves protectively against Killua’s side.

It takes Kurapika a moment to realize what is wrong—they are nervous. While it seems others already know about the change in their relationship, they have not actually told anyone, or at least no one they care for. They don’t need approval—if anything, disapproval would only make them both more stubborn. But sharing their happiness with their friends, with the people they love, means a lot to both of them. And with Leorio struggling to contain what might be shock but is more likely a terrible case of the giggles, it’s down to Kurapika to determine the best course of action.

This is not a difficult task at all. Kurapika smiles broadly. “I’m glad for both of you. You deserve to be happy.”

“You deserve it,” Leorio echoes. He looks a bit faint, but that evaporates instantly as he launches himself across the table to hug his friends. Both boys relax entirely, laughing as Leorio reaches out to drag Kurapika into the dogpile of limbs.

By the time they’ve untangled themselves from each other, the waiter arrives up the moving stairs with a new set of menus and a second sundae for Killua, who dives into it enthusiastically. Gon’s attempt to steal some wins him a glower and a bit of whipped cream flicked at his nose. From the waiter’s smirk, this doesn’t seem to be the first time this has happened.

“And what about you two?” Gon asks as the waiter drops back to the ground to pick up the next round of drinks and sundaes. He and Killua still haven’t let go of each other’s hands.

“Us???” Leorio chokes out about five octaves higher than normal. “You mean, us us?”

Kurapika blinks once, twice, feeling like he's been given a missing piece to a puzzle he's been working on for weeks but still needs to sort out where it belongs. “Are we?” he asks.

Leorio throws his hands up, like he’s on the edge of throwing any one of his closest friends off of the platform in sheer frustration. “What the hell gave any of you that idea?”

“You did come here together,” Killua says. "Like every other time."

Gon adds, “The only time you didn't, Leorio wouldn't stop talking about you, Kurapika.”

“Not like that's any different from any other time the old man's around."

"Kurapika, you don't say as much but you miss Leorio when he's not around, we can tell!"

"Both of you are gross—worse than trying to get Bisky to stop cooing over her gemstones.”

“Melody thinks it’s good you two are spending more time together.”

“You get this stupid look on your face when you look at each other—”

The boys keep going, marking off reasons like they’ve been keeping score. Leorio tries to speak but all that comes out is spluttering. It’s adorable. Kurapika is only mildly flabbergasted at the realization that he thinks it’s adorable.

It doesn’t feel like a revelation. He and Leorio have been through enough, separately and together. This merely feels like a shift, a realization that what he wants from Leorio, and what Leorio might just want from him, is more than either of them understand just yet. Kurapika doesn’t know if he will be able to follow through on it, old anger and new wounds still wound like barbed wire around everything that he is. But with Leorio, he feels some of that loosening. Like it’s possible for him to be himself.

“So?” Killua is asking, propping his chin up on his and Gon’s intertwined hands. “Are you dumbasses dating?”

“Come on, really???” Leorio says, looking like he’s gone from throwing someone else off the platform to jumping and running for it himself. “Kurapika, tell them.”

There are many ways Kurapika could respond to this, some more truth than others. He could deflect, wait for a better time. He could joke simply to watch Leorio become even more flustered, if that is even possible. But with Leorio, a metaphorical brick to the head always seems to do the trick.

“Well,” Kurapika says, utterly failing to keep a smile off of his face. It’s possible that Leorio abruptly stops breathing.  “What on earth do you think the two of us have been doing all this time?”

Leorio actually falls out of his chair, forcing Kurapika to dive for his foot before the fool tumbles headfirst into the diners below them. Killua laughs hard enough that he chokes, Gon patting him sympathetically on the back as he laughs and coughs and laughs some more.

Later, after their friends have left to further explore the park (it turns out the primary reason they are in this park in the first place is for a migration of rare multicolored fireflies that congregate around the fountains) Kurapika and Leorio are still sitting at their table, conversation long since faded into comfortable silence. Around them, the cafe begins to slow as customers trickle out and away, further into the park or back to their homes and hotels in the city. Kurapika watches the sun set over the park, the colors of the trees refracted through the fountains at the center of the park. They play across Leorio’s face, turning his glasses into rainbows and his cheeks into peaks of light and shadow.

Leorio catches him staring. Rather than turning away or making some sort of flustered comment, he simply smiles. Leorio has a wonderful smile. It makes him seem softer, younger, more carefree. Kurapika’s heart aches a little at the sight, but in a way that feels more good than bad.

“Yes,” Leorio says as though answering a question.

Kurapika raises an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“To us,” he says, and holds out his hand. “If you want to?”

Kurapika smiles back and takes it. It feels warm in his. “Yes.”