"Well, this is our room," Leorio declared, flinging open the rustic door. He threw his briefcase carelessly on the bed (something inside it rattled worryingly at the impact). Kurapika entered the room after him, a comment about how he should treat his possessions better dying on his lips when he got a good look at the place.
The view wasn't the problem (though it wasn't anything great—beneath their window was a busy city street, cars honking occassionally at each other like angry geese).The decor was certainly a problem (really, the only thing tackier than hotel art was Hisoka's Bungee Gum), though not the one Kurapika was concerned with at the moment. No, the problem that had captured Kurapika's attention was currently in the center of the room.
"This can't be our room," he reasoned aloud. "We are important guests, aren't we?"
Leorio snorted. "Not here, we aren't. This place gets so many travelers that I'm sure they're all the same after a while. They don't care whether we're Hunters or fishmongers—it's all the same to them."
"But...there's only one bed," the Kurta protested weakly.
"What?!" the taller man roared, as if only just noticing this. "I paid for a two-bed room!"
"I'll go talk to the front desk," Kurapika said quickly, happy to have an excuse to escape for a little while.
A short while later, the blonde returned, opening the door quietly and slipping in with his typical catlike gait. "They say the other rooms are full," he said in a defeated voice, a voice not commonly heard from Kurapika. He routinely faced dangerous murderers, impossibly heavy obstacles, and heart-pounding intrigue unflinchingly, but he had apparently met his match in stubborn hotel managers.
"What a load of shit..." the aspiring doctor sighed, sitting down heavily in the single chair in the corner of the room. "I'll sleep here then." He adjusted in his seat, which was very inflexible and uncomfortably firm. "Or on the floor; that would probably work better."
"I don't want you to have to do that," said his friend graciously. "I will sleep on the floor."
Leave it to Kurapika to try to be all self-sacrificing. "Don't be stupid," Leorio grumbled. "This floor is solid concrete covered with a half-inch of carpet!" He stamped one foot on the impossibly hard floor to demonstrate the muffled knocking sound it made. "If you sleep on it it'll be a chiropractic nightmare!" Leorio would know. He has had a few of those, being a medical student (the nightmares about oncology and optometry were worse, however).
"But weren't you ready to sleep on it just a minute ago?" Kurapika pointed out, crossing his arms and leaning against the peeling olive-green and rusty-orange striped wallpaper (seriously, who picked that color scheme?!). Leorio hated when Kurapika made things like sense and good points.
"That's different," said the other man, unconsciously mirroring Kurapika by crossing his arms as well.
"How?" the blonde shot back, before seeming to collect himself a bit and sighing. "Look, I'll... I'm telling you, the floor is really all right with me."
"And I'm telling you: Not gonna happen!" Leorio said obstinately.
The Kurta rolled his brown eyes in exasperation. "Why must you be so stubborn?"
"Right back at you!" he retaliated. Hm. Not one of his better comebacks. He scrubbed a hand through his short black hair, wondering if he should put forth the obvious solution. A moment later, he decided to do so. He was nothing if not daring. "Why can't we just share the bed?" he suggested, in what he thought was a convincingly casual tone.
"No," came the instant reply.
Leorio didn't know whether to be relieved or offended. "Wha—you didn't even pause to think about it!" he complained. He crossed his arms again, leaning back into his chair and slumping petulantly. "Didn't realize my presence was so offensive," he mumbled.
Kurapika frowned disapprovingly. "Don't pout. You're too old to pout."
"I'M ONLY TWENTY-ONE!" the older shouted defensively.
"Which is too old to pout," the Kurta boy maintained.
Leorio would not normally take such an insult without protest, but his age wasn't the issue at the moment. "Forget that!" he said, waving an arm around dismissively. "Why is it such a big deal if we share the bed? We slept beside each other all the time during the Hunter Exam!"
Kurapika shifted from foot to foot, a strangely human behavior that the medical student had seen so infrequently from his friend that it took him a moment to register the reaction as being one of discomfort. "Well, that's true, but..." The blonde was speaking with uncharacteristic hesitance. "It was never on a bed."
"Oh, is that the issue?" asked Leorio, sounding more carefree than he felt. "That it's a bed? I mean, it doesn't bother me if it doesn't bother you." Realizing that may have sounded a bit odd, he quickly backtracked. "I mean, uh," he corrected, "we're friends and it's okay to share with friends, right? I mean, true, that's usually for grade-schoolers, but it looks like this bed is plenty big enough, and—"
"You're rambling," his friend said, giving a half-smile that was both exasperated and a little fond (Leorio's heart did a funny little flip).
"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled. "Look, share the bed, Kurapika," he insisted. "It's just for one night." What was Kurapika's problem anyway? It's wasn't like Leorio had a drooling problem, or that he snored... "Do I stink or something?" he wondered out loud, glaring at the cheesy picture of a barn on the opposite wall as if it was the problem (who knew, maybe it was). "Geez you're picky," he added as a mumble.
"That's not the issue!" Kurapika said sharply, and Leorio looked up to see that the younger man was clenching his fists. He continued in a more controlled voice, "This has nothing to do with you." The other boy was staring at the floor with an expression that indicated that either a) he was really upset or b) he hated the peach-colored carpet way more than Leorio did. Leorio was banking on the former. It was so rare to see this kind of reaction from his friend (well, at least when there were no Spiders involved) that he had no comeback at the ready. He merely blinked a little in confusion. Perhaps he'd inadvertently said something insensitive? He was quite good at that.
After an uncomfortable pause, Kurapika took a calming breath and released his clenched fists. "Forgive me," he murmured. "I...it's nothing. You're right. It's not a big deal."
Leorio stared, unaccustomed to hearing the words "you're right" from the other. "...Are you sure?" he asked suspiciously.
"Yes," Kurapika assured him, pushing his blonde bangs aside to massage his forehead. "I'm just...getting tired." Now that he mentioned it, those brown eyes did seem to have some dark shadows under them. "I'll use the shower first, if that's all right."
"Sure," he said from his chair. "I'll probably be asleep when you get out—I like my showers in the morning." This was true, but he also wanted to give Kurapika a little time to himself to think. He patted himself on the back internally for being such a considerate friend.
"Oh, all right," Kurapika nodded. "Thank you. Good night, Leorio," he said before disappearing behind the bathroom door.
"Good night, Kurapika," Leorio told the door.
He really is asleep, Kurapika noted, observing the way his friend's ribcage rose and fell with each deep breath. He'd removed his suit jacket. Half of his shirt was unbuttoned, but he seemed to have given up midway and fallen asleep. At least he had taken off his shoes and socks, as well as his trademark sunglasses. His face looked surprisingly young without them (despite the stubble that never left his jaw), unlined and relaxed.
The Kurta peeled back the covers as soundlessly as possible and slipped into bed. His white-and-green training suit rustled slightly against the sheets. It'll be okay for just one night, won't it? he attempted to reassure himself. He hadn't shared a bed with anyone since his childhood, so he had no idea if he even still had that...unfortunate habit anymore. It would be a disaster if it happened here, especially with him, Kurapika thought. But he supposed there was no helping it—the floor really did look uncomfortable, and they had important business tomorrow.
Well, I'll just sleep on the very edge of the bed, he reasoned, his eyelids starting to feel heavy. It'll be fine. His eyelids fluttered once, twice. It'll be fine...
Leorio woke to two sensations, one of which was familiar and the other of which was most certainly not. The familiar sensation was that he needed to pee. The unfamiliar one was feeling like he was wearing a straightjacket.
He looked down. He was not wearing a straightjacket. That was a relief. He did, however, have a small, delicate form wrapped around him. This was not exactly a different sensation either, but when he saw a blonde head under his chin, felt a small puff of breath against his chest, realized whose body was plastered against him, he only just managed to stifle a flabbergasted squawk.
Kurapika had flung one arm over Leorio's neck. The other was curled in front of him, resting near one of Leorio's own. One of the blonde's legs had wedged its way between Leorio's, and his head was nestled under Leorio's jaw, his soft breaths tickling the larger man's exposed collarbones.
A thousand different reactions and questions crashed into each other in the Hunter's brain, each struggling for dominance. Competing for the top spot were WHAT THE F—?! and AM I STILL ASLEEP?, but Was I drunk?! and His ankles are really fucking bony! were also formidable contenders. After a few seconds, the uncontested winners emerged: Do I wake him up? and I really need to pee.
Oh man. This is so awkward, he thought, his brain now fully awake. Did he have a nightmare or something? That didn't seem likely—he couldn't see his unshakable, fearless friend succumbing to a scary dream. Then again, one couldn't really control what they dreamed about, and the kid certainly had experienced ample nightmare material. Maybe he was cold? That was also a possibility. Yeah, that's gotta be it. I mean, it's not like he'd do this sort of thing because he...
Leorio cut off that train of thought before it could leave the station. "Because" nothing. The other boy was cold, end of story. He couldn't apply his own pathetic needs to someone polished and perfect and independent like Kurapika. That said, it would be cruel to deprive him of the warmth, right? At least he could offer some measure of comfort to his troubled friend. Plus, he added to himself, the warmth does feel kind of nice for me, too.
...His hair's soft, he thought, feeling it against his neck. Leorio always thought it would be. It was shiny and silky-looking, like a girl's. He wondered if it would feel as pleasant against his fingers. Before he could stop himself, he'd brought a hand up to stroke it. It felt just as fluffy and smooth as he'd imagined. Kurapika made a small sighing noise and snuggled against him even tighter. Gghk, he's got quite a grip! the medical student observed mentally, starting to feel a little smothered.
After a few more seconds—or a few more minutes; Leorio wasn't actually too sure—he started to grow a bit restless. Okay, pal, seriously, he thought, I've been lying here for a while now. I kind of have to take a leak. He wiggled his toes (proximal, middle, distal), which were beginning to feel a little numb. Plus this is kind of an invasion of my space, he added. Not that Leorio typically minded that.
...Kurapika was small, compared to him. I mean, I knew that already, he reminded himself, but with his hand (soft, pale, narrow; deceptively strong carpals and metacarpals tapering into delicate phalanges) right next to mine it's even more obvious. Leorio's eyes roamed over his friend's face. His eyelashes are so long, he noted with something like awe. They're practically resting on his cheeks. His cheeks were smooth, a perfect curve down to his tapered chin and relaxed mouth, his lips slightly parted. Part of Leorio wanted to trace the curve with one finger, feel that smoothness and softness just once—
Wait. What the hell was he thinking? What was wrong with him? I need to get laid or something, clearly, he thought in a mild state of panic. Thinking like this about my best friend is messed up!
A few more moments passed, silence broken only by Kurapika's steady breathing and Leorio's heartbeat pounding in his ears. I should probably wake him up before this gets any more awkward, the older Hunter reasoned. How should I do it? Shake him? Talk to him? Just try to wrench free? The first option would probably be fastest, but it might also trigger some kind of survival reflex whereby Leorio would end up with multiple injuries. Talking to him would require the least effort, but Kurapika wasn't a champ at listening to Leorio when he was awake, so why would it be different when he was asleep? As for wrenching free... he twitched one shoulder experimentally. The blonde's grip around his neck tightened momentarily. Nope. Wrenching free was not going to happen.
For some reason, he had started absentmindedly stroking Kurapika's hair while he thought, perhaps because the soft texture was soothing to his frazzled mental state. He only noticed what he'd been doing when the Kurta wriggled, leaning into Leorio's touch and pressing against him as he made a noise halfway between a sigh and a purr—a sound that was a little too attractive. Holy crap, it really has been too long for me, Leorio thought hysterically, starting to sweat. Oblivious to his discomfort, his friend squirmed a bit in response to the lack of petting, twisting his toes against Leorio's calf and sending a shock up the taller man's spine. OH-kay, cuddle time is over! he decided, cursing his stupid human reflexes. I'm ending this before he wakes up and calls the cops on me or something.
"Hey," he began, as gently as possible. "Kurapika."
"Mmmm," the blonde purred in response (Leorio gulped and listed the muscles of the arm mentally).
"Kurapikaaaa," he tried again.
"Nnnn..." a little reluctantly this time.
"Kurapika," he said, quietly but firmly. "C'mon. I have to go to the bathroom." It was still a valid excuse.
"Mm," said Kurapika, in a tone that suggested he was agreeing to something he wasn't listening to.
"Kurapika," Leorio intoned, louder this time. "You're strangling me. Can you please wake up already."
He was adrift, a small boat on a calm sea, weightless. He felt protected, complete, comfortable with being only one small person—a nostalgic feeling that he had almost forgotten, like a song sweeping through him, suddenly fresh and potent again after years of silence.
A familar voice spoke to him. A comforting sound. He sighed and relaxed into that voice. It spoke to him again, but it sounded more insistent—was something wrong? Surely not. Everything, for once, was right.
"Kurapika," said the voice, and the Kurta became more aware of individual words this time. "You're strangling me. Can you please wake up already."
He blinked his eyes open halfway. Leorio's face swam into view.
For a moment, he didn't even react. Oh, right, there's Leorio, he thought. Right where he should be, next to me. His warmth beside me. My arms around him.
...Wait.
Suddenly his eyes snapped open, and he flailed away from the other so forcefully that he kicked him in the gut by accident. The force propelled them both out of bed on opposite sides, Kurapika landing on his side with a thwump and Leorio falling gracelessly backward onto his back (THWACK, "Oof!"), coughing from having the breath knocked out of him.
In that moment, both Hunters began apologizing frantically at the same time.
"GAH, KURAPIKA, I'M SORRY—"
"—Leorio, I'm so sorry!—"
"—I CAN'T HELP IT, OKAY?!—"
"—I meant no disrespect—"
"—YOU WERE CLINGING TO ME LIKE AN OCTOPUS—"
"—I didn't mean to kick you and—"
"—IT'S A TOTALLY NATURAL REACTION, OKAY?! PLEASE DON'T BE MAD!"
"I'm sorry if I invaded your—" the blonde interrupted himself, confused about Leorio's last statement. "Wait, what?"
His friend had turned an interesting shade of pink, still holding his stomach where Kurapika had kicked him. "Uh, never mind," he muttered awkwardly, and cleared his throat. "What were you saying?"
Kurapika decided not to pursue the matter further and instead focused on properly apologizing to the person he had so rudely just abused (albeit accidentally). He sat up straight, resting on his heels. "I deeply regret any discomfort I may have caused," he began in a deceptively composed voice, trying to control his breathing, which was still a little fast. "When I lived with my clan..." His fists clenched, as they often did when he was trying not to let any emotion escape (though it was pointless to restrain himself around Leorio—Leorio always knew anyway, somehow). "When I lived with my clan, it was common to share a bed with family members for safety, warmth, and comfort. And the habit never really left me."
He could feel his cheeks getting warm. He must look like a helpless child, clinging to someone like a teddy bear ("You're like a baby koala," he suddenly remembered his mother laughing one morning). How could he have let himself do that? "I've made it a point to never sleep in the same bed with anyone ever since, and since it had been so long, I thought I would have grown accustomed to never moving in my sleep," he explained. There was also the fact that he had never wanted to share a bed with anyone since losing his clan, but he didn't tell his friend that. "I guess I was wrong," he finished, the words leaving a slightly bitter taste in his mouth. Of all the ways to preserve the memory of his people, why did it have to be with his sleeping habits?
Leorio had initially looked surprised when Kurapika began talking about himself (he always did that, Kurapika thought in the back of his mind; he always looked so taken aback and fascinated and awed to learn anything about his past and he just couldn't figure out why— it wasn't as if Kurapika's past mattered to anyone but Kurapika—but the reaction always made something gentle and bright glow inside the Kurta's chest), but now his expression was softened, brown eyes open and accepting, brows lifted in concern, the perfect model of both a concerned doctor and a close friend. "Kurapika," he said gently, and the blonde wished he would say it again, because somehow hearing his name in that voice made him feel a little calmer, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to force you into a situation that brought up bad memories or anything."
"You didn't!" Kurapika said quickly, perhaps a little more forcefully than he'd intended, since the taller man looked a little startled. "I mean," he tried again, in a much quieter voice. "It was..."—a little awkwardness was seeping into his voice, he noticed with distaste—"...almost like being home again."
"Huh?" the aspiring doctor murmured in surprise, as if he was still processing whether or not he had heard Kurapika correctly. There was a silence, during which Leorio made that face again, that one of wonder and worry and fascination all at once, as if he was waiting for Kurapika to give him more pieces of his history, bit by bit; looking at a half-burned picture and thinking the jagged edges and blackened spots beautiful, even if he couldn't see what the picture showed anymore. Kurapika felt that warmth in his chest again, a flickering light.
He felt compelled to speak again. He felt as if he owed it to the man who was currently devoting all of his attention to him, who he had strangled in his sleep and then kicked in the stomach. "Having someone next to me again..." he mumbled, staring at the unsightly pinkish-orange carpet, "It was...kind of nice."
"Oh?" the other man said, though it came out as more of an strangled squeak. He cleared his throat, scratching the back of his head in an imitation of nonchalance. "That's...that's good," he said, speaking in a deliberately deeper voice to make up for his earlier undignified squeak. The Kurta repressed a smile. Leorio was so easy to read (most of the time). "Um..." the taller man stammered, rising to his feet and then sitting again on the bed. "I thought it was kind of nice, too," he admitted. He picked at the duvet cover, as if choosing his words from the bits of pilled fabric. His eyes glanced up to meet Kurapika's. "...You're warm," he informed the Kurta awkwardly.
"You too."
The medical student ran a hand through his hair (he did that whenever he didn't know what to do with his hands), looking around the room in embarrassment (looking at anything besides Kurapika). He squinted at one wall, and the blonde followed his gaze to the circular analog clock hanging there: 4:13 AM. "Dammit, it's only 4 in the morning?" He sighed. "It's so much harder to get back to sleep once you've already woken up once." He yawned, though, and Kurapika got the impression that it wasn't really that much of an issue for Leorio.
Suddenly, the other man sprang to his feet. "Ah, that's right!" he exclaimed. "I had to go to the bathroom!" He quickly vanished behind the door, but a second later had poked his head back out to address his friend. "Listen, go back to sleep, okay?" he said. "We've still got a few more hours. Better get all the sleep we can." With that, the door clicked shut and Leorio was gone.
Kurapika stared at the awful barn picture on the wall in thought. Go back to sleep?... he thought. Does this mean he really doesn't...mind that? He ran through the other man's words in his mind: You're warm. It was nice. Go back to sleep.
He smiled. Maybe he could let down his guard for one night, at least. After all, he thought, climbing back into bed and settling against the pillow, he's always got my back.
When Leorio returned from the bathroom (and a quick shower he'd taken to freshen up, among other reasons), Kurapika was already asleep again. He was somewhat surprised--he'd never known his friend to be one who fell asleep quickly.
Carefully, as quietly as he could, he slipped back into bed. The smaller form automatically shuffled closer to him and clung to him in the dark, as if equipped with a heat-seeking sensor or something. Leorio didn't push him away. He let Kurapika settle against him, his head—with his soft, sweet-smelling blonde hair, dammit—fitting perfectly into the hollow under the larger man's chin again.
The last Kurta would never know about the soft kiss that was pressed onto the top of his head, but he sighed and smiled a little in his sleep, remembering the feeling of sleeping next to someone who loved him.
Maybe he still was.