Happenstance {Oneshots}

To The Hypocrites (KuroKura)

Kurapika becomes drunk and forms a sort of camaraderie with his sworn enemy.

Or

Alcohol is truth juice as well as a very potent plot device.

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Embers flittered in his eyes like stars in a stormy sea. "Everyone has desires, Lucilfer - you're a fool if you say otherwise." Kurapika spoke slowly, each syllable slurred with drunken exhaustion. "But one cannot recognize it while drowning themselves in self-pity." Sarcasm hovered on the tip of his tongue. Putting the bottle to his lips, Kurapika washed it down.

Chrollo ran his fingers through his hair, barely resisting the amusement that curled his lips. A laugh danced secretly in his chest, waltzing away in a bitter choreography.

"Desire, huh." Chrollo parroted, twirling the bottle of beer in his fingers. The glass felt icy in his hands,- almost freezing as it numbed his fingertips, - but the cold only urged him to grip it tighter. Darkly-stained glass caught the bonfire's light, flickering in the corner of his eye.

"If that's so, then pray tell, what is it you desire most, Pika?" His fingers halted, gripping the bottle's neck. Chrollo led his sight back to Kurapika, who breathed shallowly as he looked upon the fire, - the orange flames illuminated his face.

He didn't reject the nickname this time.

Silence seized their conversation for all but a moment.

"To return what was stolen from my clansmen." He finally said, low and quiet as he looked to the ground. Chrollo put a hand to his lips, expression pensive. He set his beer down beside him, cold and forgotten for the time being. He rubbed his hands that were wet with condensation, looking to Kurapika who averted his gaze.

How strange, Chrollo thought.

Kurapika reacted unnaturally despite the all-too-predictable answer, - his hands too tense, his shoulders too stiff. Even the brief waver in his voice was uncharacteristic of the proud and steadfast warrior he normally carried himself as. Chrollo gave Kurapika a blank look.

"Liar."

Kurapika glared back with drooping lids, his lips forced up into a sneer. "I am not one to rely on deception."

"Then you only deceive yourself." Chrollo concluded, picking up a stray stick from the ground and tossing it into the flames. The scent of burning firewood tickled his nose.

Kurapika scoffed, "And what on earth makes you say that?"

Chrollo almost rolled his eyes. Almost.

"You're easier to read than you think, Pika. It's quite obvious..." Chrollo said, prompting Kurapika to look up at him, a hint of curiosity weaved into his hostile glare.

Chrollo inhaled deeply before continuing, "You want them alive,"

His breath hitched in his throat when bloody scarlet flickered in once-taupe irises.

"Don't you?" His words faded into a near-whisper.

It stayed only for a brief moment, the red of Kurapika's eyes, but Chrollo couldn't help but keep on staring,- in awe of the raging hellfire that seethed as blinding scarlet jewels.

More dazzling than the morning star.

"Hah." Kurapika breathed, - dejected, as if a dying laugh. "And here I thought grief was absent in your emotional vocabulary." He said as he bowed his head into the palm of his hand, cradling his forehead with sluggish care.