Leopika Oneshots

Drunken Stranger

Kurapika POV

New York City is a magical place. One second you're watching a movie on your couch, then the next, you're standing on your back porch wondering why some random stranger is trying to pet your dog.

"Sir," I said, "excuse me, sir. Who are you?"

The man pulled my dog into his lap, "Dawgs, are greattt. I don' have a dawg, I wan' one. Not one like this, he ugly, crusty wite boy."

He was drunk, I could tell. He was slurring his words. He was in my backyard, and he was fucked up. He spoke with a heavy accent, I couldn't tell where it was from, but it sounded Latin-American. His accent and slurred speech made it hard for me to understand him. I want to know who he is and why he's on my property at one in the morning.

My dog growled, startling the man.

"Why are you in my backyard?"

"'Cause I eard this dawg barkin', and I want to know why," He slurred.

"My dog was barking because you trespassed on my property," I sighed.

"Ow! He bites me!" The man yelled while dropping my dog.

"Sweetie, come here," I called, "He isn't a threat. He's a drunk man in New York."

I picked up my dog and checked him out. It didn't look like the guy hurt him; he had no scratches or anything like that.

I put Sweetie back inside and then shut the door. It was a see-through sliding door, so the dog could still see me.

I took a step off my porch and made my way over to the drunk stranger in my backyard.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"What's your name?"

"It's...Sunshine, now you?"

The man struggled to stand up. Every time he tried to stay up, he fell right back down. Even though he couldn't do it, he was persistent in trying.

"Do you need help?" I questioned.

He glanced up, "Yes."

I walked over and slung his arm around my shoulder, "Look, Sir, I'll let you stay at my house until you sober up, but if even one thing gets stolen, misplaced, or scratched up, it will be the end of you. Do you understand?"

"Mhm," He yawned.

Good, he was getting tired. I won't have to put up with him for that long.

I don't know how I didn't see this sooner, but this guy was towering over me, making it almost impossible for me to help carry him. He was also somewhat muscular, which made him a bit heavier. Which also made it hard for me to help.

Once we made it inside, I sat him down on my couch.

I tapped my foot, staring at him. I have a lot of questions. For starters, who is he? Why did our higher power (whoever it may be) send him to me? Why was my dog being so aggressive to him? And what fucking genes did he get to be that fucking tall?

"What's your name," I asked one more time.

"Leorio, my name's Leorio."

Okay, he is Hispanic.

I nodded and went into the kitchen. The quicker he sobers up the quicker he can get out of my house.

"So, Leorio," I said, "Is there anyone I can call?"

I brought the water out to him and set it on the coffee table, "A partner, mom, dad, siblings, maybe a friend?"

"No, my friends all got drunk with me, and I have no idea where they are."

I sighed, "Dating anyone?"

"Nuh-uh."

"Parents?"

"Hell no."

"Siblings?"

"Yeah, my closest sister lives at Long is land," He took a sip of water.

"You mean Long Island?"

"Mm, if you think."

Leorio grabbed a blanket and pulled it over him.

"What's her number–are you kidding me," If a drunk guy ever stumbles into your house, there is one thing you need to do. Pray. Pray that he doesn't fall asleep while you are trying to get him out.

Now I gas two options here:

One, look for his phone and break in to call his sister.

Two, look for some form of ID and take him to the police.

Or three, let him spend the night.

Three looked like a pretty good option to me, considering how tired I was. I just couldn't sleep in my bed, so I fell asleep in my chair.

* * *

I woke up at least five minutes before the stranger. Once he realized he wasn't at his own house he wouldn't shut up. But, I will admit, he looks cuter when he can think clearly.

"Sir," the man said, "I am so sorry if I caused–caused you any trouble. I'm so very sorry–"

"It's fine," I lied, "the most you did is harass my dog."

The man bolted up and ran outside, I watched as he leaned over the porch and began to puke his guys out.

I wasn't angry at him for barfing in my yard, he definitely had a lot to drink.

Leorio came back into grabbing his head, "My name is Leorio. Thank you so much for letting my drunk ass stay here." He chuckled.

"My name is," I hesitated, "Kurapika. You're welcome."

"If there is anyway to repay you let me know–"

"Oh please, no need to–"

"–I'm a doctor. If there's any medical stuff you need help with. Your...boyfriend is hurt, your hurt, maybe you need prescription weed?"

"No– did you just say boyfriend?" I asked, "Are you assuming I'm gay or are you flirting?"

He shrugged, "Assuming, but either way, anything you need is on me. I could take you out to dinner to repay? I'm sure you need a break from cooking–"

He was definitely flirting now.

I sighed and grabbed a piece of paper. I quickly jotted down my number and smiled, quickly, I handed it off to him.

"Once you think of a favor," I chuckled, "Call me. I do like the sound of a free dinner. Now, get out my house!"

Leorio shoved the paper into his pocket, "Again, thank you–"

"Out!" I laughed.

That Friday night Leorio took me out for dinner. Two weeks later we went out for lunch. The following weekend a movie. And skipping ahead by two years, today we go to the church.