Tease

{ Snitches Get Stitches }

chapter summary: Kurapika and Gon, telepathically: "We should BOTH give Killua a heart attack." Killua, sweating, near tears: "Please don't."

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Friday. An entire week later.

Kurapika responded to Killua's third query, which was how Killua became subject to a surprise visit from the blonde-haired androgynous goddess that was Gon's best friend.

Killua leaned away from the peephole on his apartment door with a frown. How did he even get in the building? he thought, but unlocked the door anyway.

He opened it a crack, and Kurapika barged right in. "I've got twenty minutes. Tell me what you need and I've probably got it, just don't shoot me for it. I've got a fucking blackbelt, dude, so don't even try me," he said, hands up.

Killua stared at him in shock. The door was still half-open, and Killua felt somehow intruded. He gestured vaguely into the room and said, "Hello, yes, welcome to my home. How did you...?"

"Oh, I just snuck in. Some places have cameras timed to buzzers so I was as swift as the wind, as the kids say," Kurapika said. He put his hands to his hips, eyebrows raised, and said, "So what'll it be?"

Killua shut the door, brow furrowed, and said, "I'm not—I'm not hear to buy shit off of you. I just need to ask you something. Personal."

Kurapika squinted at him. "Oh," he huffed, and went to take a seat at Killua's dingy kitchen table. He crossed an ankle over his knee and said, "Well, fuck, we coulda done this sooner. Why didn't you say so?"

"What difference does that make?"

"I can't sell shit at all hours of the day, you know. This isn't exactly an on-call gig I'm running," Kurapika explained. He put an elbow to the table propped his fist against his temple, and motioned for Killua to join him in this charade. As if Kurapika owned the place. "So, what is it?"

Killua stared at him. Maybe I shouldn't... he thought, but then his eyes were flitting to his bed, where his phone was. Where every part of him yearned to go back to it. Every fiber of his self control was fraying, splintering, splitting off.

And, so, he sat down across from Kurapika, sighed, and hoped he wasn't about to ruin Gon and Kurapika's friendship with this massive bomb.

"Is—Do you think Gon's bi?" he asked, raising an eyebrow up at Kurapika.

Kurapika furrowed his brow at Killua. "Why, you wanna fuck him?"

Killua blushed and said, "That—I mean—I don't have to answer that."

"I don't know if he's bi," Kurapika said. "I don't even know if he's straight, if I'm being honest. The guy's never been in a relationship before."

Well, that was certainly new information. Killua blinked, startled, and then said with an accidental note of disgust, "Really?"

"Yeah, what's wrong with that?"

"Nothing! It's just... surprising."

"Why, because he's attractive and you'd fuck him?"

Killua rolled his eyes. "Why does everything go back to fucking the guy? Would you fuck him?"

"Oh, yeah, one hundred percent," Kurapika said. He leant over the table, reaching for the window sill. He unlocked the window, opened it, and reached into the front breast pocket of his jacket for a pack of cigarettes. The moment he lit it, though, Killua could tell that it wasn't tobacco from the earthy, sour scent that blew out through his apartment screen. He offered one to Killua as he said, "Gon's the perfect specimen. He's just an airhead sometimes, especially when it comes to shit like labels."