Work Text:
The text arrived at 10:54 PM, the message short and to the point as usual. "It's done. I'm on the 12th floor. Come here quickly."
It was honestly impressive how much personality Kurapika could put into a text so efficient and emotionless. It was also impressive how quickly Leorio moved the moment he received it.
Hurriedly, he shot out of the taxi, promising the driver he'd be back, kicked opened the thankfully unlocked fire door of the abandoned building and shot up the stairs as fast as he could. When he reached the twelfth floor, Leorio realised he would no longer be able to run – not just because of his heaving breaths and heart that rabbiting too fast inside his chest, but because the corridor, or what remained of it, was a shattered unnavigable mess.
The wall at best was covered in deep grooves and slash marks and cracks, and at worst had been turned to nothing more than rubble. Debris covered almost every inch of the floor and in some places the ceiling had completely caved in, leaving whole sections of the floor above blocking his path that he had to carefully clamber over. There was a good chance that if he didn't find Kurapika soon and get out of there the whole floor above would come down on them since the structure didn’t look like it would stay intact for much longer.
If he was being honest, he was surprised that the damage was only this much. The destructive power of the Spiders and Kurapika themself was enough to bring down ten buildings, not just one. That it was limited to one corridor suggested that this had been a very different type of battle to what he would have expected.
What had he expected, exactly? He never knew what to anticipate from these fights. Kurapika's wars always seemed so beyond him, in power, in tactics, in brutality. When it came to the Spiders, Kurapika made it very clear that they fought alone, broke their own bones, bloodied their own hands, carried their own burdens. A friend, a lover, whatever Leorio was had no place in the middle of their endless battle, the seemingly unending ruthless dance with the Phantom Troupe, not as a spectator or as a performer. The most Kurapika would accept from him, never ask or demand but permit, was to care and provide healing in the aftermath. That was all the doctor could hope to do to help them, all he was allowed to.
And god Leorio wanted to help. One look at Kurapika's cryptic text, a location and a number signifying which spider he was engaging with, and Leorio had instantly dropped his responsibilities for the night, begging his friend to take his shift at the hospital and desperately scrambling to find his one card that wasn't overdrawn and the nearest cash point to take out just enough for the taxi fee.
Getting this much information, this much freedom to help had been a battle. It had only been after the fourth Spider Kurapika had killed that they'd admitted to how much of a mental and physical burden killing one put on them, and only after the sixth (and countless arguments with Leorio) that they'd finally agreed to let Leorio do this much.
They had a routine, as well as you could have one when fighting an enemy as chaotic and elusive as the Spiders were. Kurapika would send Leorio the info he needed and if Leorio could, he would come join them (he always found a way one way or another, all his unavoidable responsibilities seemed trivial in comparison to this deal of theirs). Leorio would wait out of range, out of sight, out of harm’s way until Kurapika would send a simple text confirming that they were done and it was ok for Leorio to come find them.
This time had been quick, it had barely been an hour since Leorio had arrived before he'd received Kurapika's message and started making his way up the abandoned block of flats to find them. Other times hadn't been so lucky. He remembered one time when Kurapika had fought in the middle of a large empty forest, tall trees tightly packed together so that even during the day little light penetrated the thick leaves, yet rain always seemed to make its way through, leaving Leorio's suit drenched as he sat there waiting.
That time the fight had lasted 3 days. What they spent that 3 day battle doing, Leorio had no idea, but he knew he had sat there hour after hour, not a single word out of Kurapika. He had been so sure they must have been have been dead or dying but he knew that looking for them would be suicide. Many times he'd thought of fucking it all, letting the Spider kill him if it meant he'd have a chance to save Kurapika. Not once did he think of leaving.
When Kurapika had finally come stumbling towards him (luckily not in the middle of him pissing or sleeping), they were heavily wounded, so much so that even their nen couldn't heal them. At that time, Leorio had just passed his last exam and was technically a doctor now, but he still felt so inexperienced when faced with someone he loved so much bleeding from seemingly everywhere, hardly able to walk, hardly able to breathe.
Now, though, he was far more used to these situations, both with Kurapika and hundreds of other patients he'd treated in far worse conditions than that. Routine, however bizarre and irregular it was, was a powerful thing and treating all manners of trauma was an everyday affair to Leorio now, no matter how personal it was to him.
He knew it was a risk. He knew this was probably more of a burden on Kurapika than a help, more for his own sake than anyone else's. Kurapika had worked with him until he could perform an almost infallible Zetsu for hours before they agreed to this arrangement, but even then, they both knew that if caught he wouldn't stand a chance against even the weakest spider. There were hundreds of ways they could use Leorio against Kurapika, and not one of them they wouldn't be willing to do. Saying it was a risk was an understatement, having Leorio even in the same country – hell, in their life at all was a glaring sickening vulnerability that could destroy everything Kurapika had fought for.
But Leorio couldn't just leave them, couldn't just stay out of the way. If he hadn't been there that time, Kurapika would have died alone, rotting in the undergrowth of an empty forest, with the only creatures to notice his passing the maggots and slugs that digested his corpse. The two years Kurapika had been gone from his life had been torture, no idea if they were alive or dead, how they were doing, if they had made any progress towards their goals, if they had anyone by their side, if there was some dark deep pressing matter that was rendering them so unable to answer their goddamn phone. He couldn't let that happen again, he couldn't let that be their lives, their relationship until whenever the fuck they were finally done with their all-important bloody revenge quest. Maybe he couldn't really help, really be of any use but he refused to not be there.
So there he was, even if it meant going to an abandoned block of flats in the middle of a neighbourhood so derelict the taxi driver had looked at him like he was a nutter when he gave the address, without so much as a shop he could pass time in in while he waited for Kurapika. Even if there meant treading through pile after pile of rubble and dust that could have originally been a ceiling or a floor or a wall for all he knew thanks to how thoroughly wrecked it was.
He heard Kurapika before he saw him, heard the sickening drip drip drip of a viscous liquid that had to be blood hitting the floor from a meter or so above.
They were suspended in the air by their own chains, multiple blades fixed firmly into the ceiling and the chain attached to each one wrapped around their arms to support them. The reason why was clear.
Around his neck was a noose made out of what looked like a spider’s thread, hanging from the ceiling. But based on the way it dug into their neck, sharp enough to leave marks, it had to be nen threads, sharper and stronger than piano wire. The noose was too tight to be shrugged off and Kurapika seemed to be having difficulty taking even the shallowest breaths, barely enough to keep themselves alive. Without the support of the chains on their arms – the only thing that was keeping them upright – those ridiculously strong and sharp nen threads would slice their head clean off as well as a sword could. With all their nen being used to support their weight there was nothing they could do to get out of this situation and it was a real wonder how they had even managed to send a text to him.
At their feet lay a broken and still body that he recognized as the female spider Killua and Gon had been tailing in Yorknew City all those years ago. Her pink hair was matted with blood, but it wasn’t the only bloody thing. In fact her, whole body was covered in blood, shallow wounds covering her muscular arms, chest and legs, clothes torn, face bruised. None of the wounds looked like they'd killed her which made sense, as Kurapika did prefer to end the spider's lives with a nen blade straight through the the heart – Leorio knew that much. Regardless, it must have been a pretty ferocious battle since both her and her killer were covered in blood from head to toe, although with Kurapika's healing abilities it was impossible to tell if all the blood on them was their own or the Spider's.
That wasn't his business, it wasn't his job to know how the fight had gone down and by now he knew better than to ask. He didn't have to be told what Kurapika wanted from him now either, the pleading look in those scarlet eyes was more than enough.
After thinking about it for a split of a second, he gathered some of the bigger bits of rubble so he could make a vaguely sturdy pile to stand on. It didn't have to be very high since he was tall enough that he could reach Kurapika without too much assistance. He quickly took his knife out of his briefcase and attempted to cut the thread Kurapika hung from. It wasn't much of a surprise to him when the knife failed to do its intended job.
As an emitter, enforcement type nen was far from impossible for Leorio – theoretically he had a 60% ability to master it. So he poured as much of his nen into the knife as he could and concentrated on enforcing it, making it stronger and sharper. It was a technique he used often at the hospital, it made slicing through bones during operations much more efficient and a lot less messy, also helping when treating enforcement users whose skin automatically hardened when they felt under threat. During his practice he'd found that while he was far from the strongest enforcer, he could easily cut through stone, steel and other types of metal.
But even with his full strength the thread wasn't cutting, refusing to tear, not even an inch. He may not be an expert on nen (he was busy enough trying to remember all the medical knowledge he needed without forcing himself to learn the complexities of all the bizarre powers at work in their world) but he knew enough to know that in many cases nen could become stronger in death. There were few things more powerful than a last action, a dying will, the final grudge of a ruthless killer who'd lost so many of her friends to the person before her. If the Spider had put all her strength and hatred and grudges into her residual nen then – Leorio came to the realisation with a sickening admission of defeat, there was no way he'd be able to cut that thread.
But there was something else he could do. It wouldn't be easy, he'd only ever used this technique with much smaller and simpler objects, a piece of shrapnel embedded in someone's back, a tumour in one of their organs, but never in anything like this. If he messed up and left something behind... He forcefully stopped his trail of thought there. He didn't have any other choice.
Slowly he put his hands on Kurapika's cheeks, ignoring the confusion in their red eyes. Taking a deep breath he closed his eyes and began to concentrate on everything he knew about their body. Every bone, from their phalanges to their cranium, how they all fitted together. Every muscle, the complicated systems they made up, every organ, how the intestines connected to the stomach, how the nerves went from the brain to the spinal cord to all over their small body. He thought about their short fingernails and toenails, their skin and all the blood vessels underneath it, their ragged blonde hair, the short, almost invisible hairs on their arms and legs, their eyebrows their eyelashes. The blood in their veins and arteries, the cartilage in their ears and nose, each one of their teeth, every single part of their body that came together and made them the person they were. He even thought about their clothes, the nen chains, their earring, everything he could think of. As he concentrated he let his aura envelop their body, surrounding every muscle and organ and bone as he focused on it, until a complicated network of nen enveloped every inch of them. Once he was sure, absolutely certain, that he hadn't forgotten anything, that there was no essential part of them he'd overlooked and could leave off them, rotting in the rubble, he took another deep breath. He opened his eyes and looked into Kurapika's, trying to communicate his confidence in this ability, reassuring them that everything would be okay.
Then he projected his aura. It was only a few meters, but emitting something so complicated that wasn't himself took an immense amount of nen, made it feel like every joule of energy in him was being drained right out of his body. Still, he concentrated, made sure everything in his web of nen was being emitted, until there were no longer cheeks between his hands and all that remained in front of him was the noose of nen thread.
Kurapika slammed onto the floor a few metres away and despite feeling unsteady on his feet, Leorio quickly ran over to them to check if they were ok. They were breathing fast, chest heaving up and down from adrenaline but didn't seem to have any physical damage to their respiratory system. They weren't showing any signs of pain that suggested anything was missing, and a quick check over of their body suggested the same. They were okay. He'd done it.
Relief swept his body, causing him to almost collapse as the tension drained from his muscles. The same seemed to be true of Kurapika, but he doubted relief was the emotion causing their body to sag the way it was.
As their breaths became more regular, their body became more and more still as if they’d lost all will to move. Their scarlet eyes had faded to brown and seemed dull and unseeing, their arms hanging limply by their sides, chains sprawled across the ground instead of neatly tucked away the way they usually were when Kurapika was out of action. They were pale, their expression blank, blood dripping slowly from the wound on their neck.
This didn't come as a surprise but it still made Leorio's stomach do a violent lurch. It was always hard seeing Kurapika like this, the dull emptiness that enveloped them once the excitement of the fight wore off. With every spider they killed they seemed to fall somewhere deeper, lose something else of themself. It was painful to see how numb they looked, how unfeeling, how uncaring, how empty they were until they remembered there was still another spider, another enemy, another thing to fight for. In truth, Leorio was scared of what would happen when the last spider's body lay at their feet, cold and still and dead, when there were no more scarlet eyes to collect or plans to make, no more revenge to strive for. What would they do then?
Kurapika didn't need him to think about that right now, though. They needed to be taken care of and goddamn, he would do it. He helped Kurapika get up to their feet, supporting their weight, checking they weren't too disorientated to stay up on their own. When he confirmed that at least physically there was nothing wrong with them, aside from the wound on their neck, he let go for a brief second to get his supplies from his briefcase, starting to apply disinfectant and bandages. It was a fairly quick job, this was his area of expertise after all, so he didn't think he'd need to worry too much about it for now since the wounds definitely weren't deep enough to need stitches.
He then turned his attention to the Spider's body, even though it was of a lot less interest to him than Kurapika. They were always sure to dispose of the bodies of each Spider they killed, not wanting to risk the other members of the Phantom Troup finding the corpse and being able to deduct more about Kurapika's powers from it. However, there was nowhere to bury her on the premises and Leorio really didn't fancy dragging a body around in search of a place that would work for their needs, so cremation would have to do.
He had a lighter on him but no fuel and he'd never really tried making flames with nen before. He'd never needed to. Luckily, Kurapika wasn't too out of it to miss the dilemma Leorio was going through, so they limply raised a hand and with a small spark flames began to envelop the body. They were a conjurer, after all, so transmutation was something they could do without too much effort.
The two stood there, Kurapika leaning against the wall and Leorio swaying on his feet, finally having time to acknowledge how much moving Kurapika with his nen had taken out of him. They were both silently staring at the fire, the only sound in the room their heavy breaths.
Leorio dealt with death a lot, it was part of his trade, but it was still odd to look at a body and be glad of its passing, not mournful and frustrated with himself for not being able to do more to save them. The dead should be respected, their bodies treated with care. That was the philosophy anyone who dealt with death in their careers should follow, but somehow he couldn't find it in him to do that right now. She hadn't had any respect for the bodies of Kurapika's clan after all, she'd torn their eyes from their skulls and sold them like ornaments. Why did she deserve any better than burning alone in an abandoned building with only her killer and the man who'd helped them to watch?
That was another thing that frightened him – the cold resentment towards the Spiders that had taken over him over the years he’d spent with Kurapika. He didn't know the Kurta clan, hadn't been injured once by the Spiders, they were just an abstract threat to him and those he cared about. They were so much stronger than him, so beyond his comprehension, that it would make as much sense to hate a tornado for destroying everything in its path, or lightning bolt for striking a tree.
But seeing what the troupe had done to Kurapika, the look on their face, full of emptiness and despair, the way they feared having loved ones in their life, trying to withdraw from all contact, tearing themself apart in a desperate attempt to always be on guard, always getting stronger. Seeing the way slowly but surely their quest against the Spider was destroying them... That brought up hatred from inside him.
It wasn’t a blazing hatred, wasn’t something he engaged with or had any plans to act on other than to disdainfully watch them burn after Kurapika did the work but... He couldn't say the same would still be true if the Spiders were to kill Kurapika. If that ever happened, no amount of logic, no knowledge of how beyond his power they were would stop him from doing everything he could to tear out their throats, his own safety be damned.
And that was why he couldn't bring himself to stop Kurapika, not that he'd be able to if he tried. He couldn't understand but he could imagine, and that was enough for him to realise this was something they needed, no matter how much it destroyed them in the process.
When the body was finally sufficiently burnt, Kurapika turned away and began walking, only to trip and almost fall to the floor. Quickly, Leorio caught them and bent down far enough to allow them to put their weight on his shoulder, which was pretty far.
They made their way along the corridor, over and through the rubble towards the stairs, before beginning the ever difficult task of walking down them. He noticed at this point that Kurapika's chains had vanished from sight, a very rare occurrence as they were second nature to the Kurta, who almost never dispelled their nen. They really must have been in a bad state.
The journey down was slow, so much so that Leorio considered carrying them, before realising that he probably didn't have the strength right now. He wondered how much longer either of them could stay awake.
After almost falling down the final flight, they made it outside through the fire exit and headed towards the cab he'd paid extra to wait for them. The driver looked suspiciously at the state both of them were in, not to mention the blood all over Kurapika's clothes, before deciding that the money he was getting for this was enough to justify turning a blind eye. Such was the way of the world.
When the driver asked where to head to next, he considered going to a nearby hotel, but eventually relented when he realised how much money he'd already spent tonight. He may have had a steady and not underwhelming wage from his work at the hospital, but he poured almost all of his funds into running his own fee free clinic and couldn't afford to be throwing around his hard earned money like that.
Instead, he accepted that they'd both have to sit through the long drive back to his shitty apartment. He spared himself one glance back at the building that would be the Spider's tomb. It seemed so lonely, no other blocks of flats around it, a sole tower ready to collapse any minute now, probably at least a full hour sooner after that fight.
The journey back felt longer than the journey there had. Kurapika was staring forward but their eyes weren't meeting anything, least of all his own. There was no conversation between the two, and the driver wasn't too talkative either, at most humming out of tune along with his cheap radio that was so screechy it was giving Leorio a headache. There wasn't much scenery to look at either, ugly grey houses with ugly grey cars parked on ugly grey roads that connected to ugly grey motorways. Instead, Leorio occupied himself by thinking about his responsibilities, what his shift was tomorrow, how much overtime he'd have to work to make it up to the friend that had covered for him tonight, whether the supplies he needed to treat his patients at his clinic would arrive in time by tomorrow morning, how early he'd have to get up, if he could afford his rent money this month, all the mundane but oh so difficult tasks that consumed his life.
Kurapika too. He thought about Kurapika, and god there was nothing mundane about them at all. How many days would they stay? Would they stay at all? They were the kind of person who came and left as they wanted, some days sleeping in during the morning after, more often than not, disappearing with no warning before he was even awake. They tended to stay longer after their run ins with the Spiders, but there was no reliability to that either. At least they answered their goddamn phone half the time these days, so that was progress.
Leorio checked his own phone, sending more apologetic texts to his friend, promising to buy her a drink to make it up to her, checking if his clinic's nurse/receptionist (the same person, since he couldn't afford too much staff) could collect the delivery tomorrow so he could spend the morning looking after Kurapika, texting various arrangements back and forth until his phone died and he was stuck with his thoughts again.
Finally, they reached familiar territory, the small but cozy cheap houses of his neighbourhood, familiar both to him and Kurapika after all the time they’d spent in his apartment one way or another. He paid the driver, gratitude in his voice and eyes, along with a sizeable tip for how far he'd been willing to drive, before moving around to the other side of the car to help Kurapika out. They didn't seem to be thinking too much, moving on autopilot as they walked up the two flights of stairs and down the corridor and waited for Leorio as he fiddled with his keys. He worried that someone would see him walking around with a blood stained person, but luckily it was late enough that no one was there to take in the out of place sight.
The apartment was tiny, one room which barely fit a bed and a TV, Leorio's clothes laying either in a pile or draped across a single chair, or even hung from the curtain rail since there was no room for a wardrobe, while his other possessions were scattered across the floor. The cramped bathroom had the toilet, shower and sink so closely packed together that it was almost impossible to move between them, while the mirror was clearly meant for someone half his height which made shaving in the morning a nightmare, where he often ended up with backache from bending over for so long. The kitchen, if you could call it that, was practically a closet with no room for a toaster or kettle, meaning he had to make his coffee and toast on the small hob which worked poorly on a good day and not at all on a bad one. There was only a mini fridge and two small cupboards to store food and plates in (though most of the time his plates and cutlery were just stacked in the rusty sink, no time between hospital shifts, the few hours of sleep he got and days at the clinic to wash up) meaning he really didn't have much to feed Kurapika. He put a small coffee pot on the hob anyway, and turned his attention to his partner.
While he didn't mind blood dripping on the carpet, (the mangy thing was so stained from god knows what over the years that it didn't make much difference) he didn't feel comfortable leaving them like that. And since Kurapika themself didn't seem ready to make any moves to clean themself, he took their hand softly and lead them into the bathroom so he could begin stripping them.
When he had first undressed Kurapika, he'd had massive difficulties with the intricacies of their traditional Kurta clothes, not knowing where to start, how to navigate the unusual buttons and ties. They'd both become very familiar with each other's clothes and the act of taking them off since then however, and he quickly had their tabard and suit removed and neatly folded on the toilet, shoes on the floor next to it. He carefully removed Kurapika's binder and placed that on top of their clothes too, sliding their underwear down, leaving the bandages on their neck the only thing stopping them from being fully naked.
He considered taking the bandages off, for a second – hands hovering Kurapika’s neck reverently before deciding that no, it wasn’t time yet. Too soon. He guided them into the shower instead, turning on the water (lukewarm, the temperature that was the closest it ever got to hot) then shut the shower door and inspected the bloodstained clothes. It would be better to start washing them now, the tabard had to be hand washed and he'd need to wash the blood off the suit before he could take it to the laundromat, since bloodstained clothes were just a little bit suspcious, but he knew from experience that turning on the sink would make the shower water go cold. He was waiting patiently until he realised that Kurapika was making no effort to wash themself, simply standing there in the shower beneath the barely hot stream of water.
Sighing, Leorio started undressing himself, a lot less gracefully this time, his own suit and binder tossed into the bedroom and shoes and socks kicked off into a random corner. He joined Kurapika under the water and bent down so they were face to face, a hard task with limbs that long and a shower that small.
Kurapika didn't meet his eyes, but that was fine. He got to work washing the blood off them, rubbing shampoo into their hair and raking his fingers through it to remove all the tangles, pulling tenderly at the strands, running soapy hands down all the nooks and crevices of the body he knew almost as well as his own. When all the blood was gone, the water down their feet light pink, they both continued to stand there, water running down their faces and bodies, pressed close together in a halfhearted attempt to fit in such a small space.
There was a vulnerability to Kurapika that few saw, few were allowed to see, but at that moment – hidden in a tiny shower in a tiny apartment in a rundown neighbourhood in an unremarkable city, Kurapika let their youth and weakness show. There were no powerful chains, no contacts to hide whatever shade their eyes may turn, no fancy clothes to hide all the ways their small body was as vulnerable as it was strong. Leorio found himself taking in that body, that never stopped being so wonderful to him no matter how many times he saw it, no matter how much he touched it. The same was true about their face, their large emotional eyes, their small mouth, the blonde wet strands framing it. They finally looked at him now, looked at the way he looked at them. They opened their mouth to say something, but Leorio stepped forward and put a hand on their jaw, a thumb brushing against their bottom lip, feeling the soft skin beneath it, a silent reassurance that they didn't have to say anything, not right then, not yet. They nodded in understanding and reached up to Leorio's hand, guiding it along their pale cheek for the second time that night, brushing his large thumbs across their eyebrow, trailing his fingers down to their chin. Their other hand reached towards the back of Leorio's head, pulling him down near them – the message was clear, and Leorio tilted Kurapika's chin up until they were close enough to kiss.
The kiss was gentle, no rush, just care and understanding, lips that knew each other so well doing what they did best together. Kurapika's hands moved down his back, caressing the sharp lines of his shoulder blades down to his hips, Leorio mirroring their movements with his own hands. He embraced Kurapika, bringing them closer together, mouth to mouth, toe to toe, heart to heart, every part of them together.
When the kiss ended, Kurapika pushed himself on their tiptoes so they’d be able to bring their mouth closer to Leorio's neck, waiting there for a moment, their breath against his skin, causing him to close his eyes, settling into the feeling. When they kissed his neck, gently, Leorio pulled them even closer, stroking their hair softly, hugging Kurapika for a few seconds before letting go and kissing their forehead, softly.
They continued, planting light kiss after light kiss on various parts of each other's bodies: Kurapika's cheek, Leorio's collarbones, Kurapika's neck, Leorio's chest until Leorio was on his knees, hands on their hips, a question in his eyes as he gazed up at Kurapika. They simply nodded in response, so he got closer to allow them to wrap their legs around his head, sitting on his shoulders. His hands were gripping soft white thighs, smooth skin under his fingers. He could feel Kurapika shaking just a little bit out of excitement and even though he couldn’t see their face, he pictured it inside his head, their eyes closed and head thrown back against the shower tiles, cheeks just a little bit flushed, their neck sticking out like an offering, hands moving towards Leorio’s head so they could grip at his head, something to hold on to, something to ground themself with.
He thought about it, for millisecond maybe, before finally diving between their legs, nose against their pubes. He first drew his tongue along Kurapika's cunt, licking around inner lips teasingly, tongue lapping up at their opening, going slow at first before getting faster, harder, fucking them with his tongue until he felt Kurapika’s thighs shaking around his head, their legs clenching, hands pulling at Leorio’s hair forcefully in a halfhearted attempted to get him to go deeper, to do more.
Above him Kurapika shivered as he continued licking at their entrance appreciatively. Usually they were both fairly giggly during sex, but the mood was somber this time, nothing but sincerity and unspoken but unhidden love in every movement of his tongue along their cunt, their lips, their clit. As he focused his attention on their clit, his hands gripped their thighs tighter, fingers sinking against their skin, sturdy and comforting. He flicked their clit with his tongue, kissing the place softly before quickly circling the clit again with his tongue, savouring the moans that came from above, soft breathy gasps slipping out of Kurapika’s throat, stumbling their way up to the mouth until they finally resonated in the tiny cramped bathroom, the only other sound besides their racketed breathing the weak shower steam.
It was nothing new, but still every time he got to do this, to watch Kurapika unfold and bend, to watch how wet they got so quickly, how their toes curled against his back, it always made him feel something akin to getting high, a feeling stirring on the bottom of his belly, something that made himself so wet too, just to the picture of how much Kurapika was enjoying this, enjoying him.
He knew Kurapika as well between their legs as he knew the rest of them, knew exactly what to do and when to do it, sucking when he had to and licking, running his tongue around their clit right on time. He knew just how to make the gasps and moans cascading from above him like the shower water hitting his back come quicker and quicker, how to make Kurapika’s chest heave up and down, make their body shake and teeth sink into the softness of their bottom lip. And when he felt their hands clutch his hair tighter than before, pulling at it as if they were trying to somehow, in some way, steady themself, to be able to hold on to something, he just knew that if he could look up, he’d be faced with the image of their eyes blazing scarlet red and tiny, mumbled moans spilling uncontrollably from their mouth, a sign that they had reached their edge, orgasm hitting them like a train, random babbling coming out of their mouth, mostly pleas and Leorio’s name being whispered over and over again like a prayer. Even though it was something he had seen many times before, it still was a sight that astounded him, still made him feel like he was lost in a manipulator’s enchantment nen, transfixed and unable to look away. The person who he loved so much and would do anything for, seeing their eyes shining with so much passion, not out of rage or fear or adrenaline but pure love and pleasure that he had been able to bring them was entrancing, addicting and sometimes even more important to him than his own orgasm.
This was one of those times. When Kurapika's toes had finally stopped twitching and they shakily slipped off Leorio’s shoulders, dropping down to their own knees so they were standing in front of each other, he simply hugged them before kissing their neck again, holding and supporting them until they were ready to stand again.
He turned off the shower (he was so going to be out of hot water tomorrow) and abandoned his plans to slowly dry off Kurapika and walk him to the bed when he heard the hissing noise that reminded him that he'd completely forgotten the pot of water he'd put on. He really did not want it to boil over and fuck up his electricity again.
When he had handled that and finished chastising himself for being so damn distracted that he didn't hear a fucking screeching pot, he saw that Kurapika had helped themself to one of his towels and had made their own way to the bed. That was a good sign, a sign that meant they had things a little more together by now. In fact, when he brought them (admittedly not his best) coffee, there was even a weak but genuine smile on their lips. He couldn't stop himself from kissing their cheek and running his hand along their shoulder as he got into bed next to him. They were both still pretty wet (in the just got out of a shower way, not the far more exciting way) but he couldn't bring himself to care. With the hand that wasn't holding his own coffee he put an arm around Kurapika, letting them rest their head on his shoulder. Kurapika didn't seem too interested in their own coffee, gingerly holding it in their hands and taking small polite sips. When Leorio was done with his own mug, he took both their cups and dumped them unceremoniously in the sink before climbing back into bed again.
Kurapika lay down and Leorio did too, tangling their limbs together, trailing his hands down their spine as the two clung together, taking in each other's faces, the expressions the other made as their heartbeats leveled and their eyes slowly drifted shut.
Coiled together, two bodies breathed evenly, as if connected, as if each of their breaths and every single heartbeat was shared between them as if they were only one.
In the corner of the room, a spider dangled from down from the ceiling on a single thread. It hang still from the line, only the wind from the fan heater causing it to move, before lifting itself back up to get to work killing a fly that had become entrapped in its web. The fly desperately tried to escape, squirming against its holds, but soon it had been paralyzed and silk had been wrapped around its frozen body. The spider waited patiently, knowing that as the fly lay blissfully still the time when it would finally get its meal came closer and closer.
But it was of no matter, as the only two people in the room who could witness it were both fast asleep.