Work Text:
“You aren’t going to work today, right?” Leorio asked as he leaned against the doorframe.
“I am. Like I said, it’s just a 24-hour bug. I’ll be fine,” Kurapika muttered as he slid his arms through the sleeves of his suit jacket.
“Kurapika. You’re sick, you need to stay home. You could get other people sick. What’s that thing you always say…? Pikachu…?”
A smile pulled at the corners of his lips. “It’s pikuach nefesh1,” Kurapika laughed.
“Yeah, that. Does that not apply here? If you got someone else sick who’s immunocompromised, they could die,” Leorio said.
Kurapika sighed and placed his hand on the doorknob.
“You need to stay home, baby.” Leorio came up behind Kurapika and placed his hand on the curve of his waist, pressing a kiss against the exposed skin of his neck.
“You feel hot, by the way. There’s a good chance you have a fever,” Leorio said.
“I feel fine.”
Leorio knew he was lying. He could tell by the sweat collecting under the collar of Kurapika’s shirt and against his forehead, as well as the unusual flush that painted his tan cheeks.
“You might feel fine, but you were up all night last night. Do you think I didn’t notice?” Leorio asked, gentle but laced with sharp concern.
Kurapika clicked his tongue. “Probably just ate something bad.”
“Huh? Is my cooking that shitty?” Leorio whined as he rested his chin on Kurapika’s shoulder.
“It isn’t that bad,” Kurapika reassured.
Leorio clutched at his chest in dramatics, gasping as if Kurapika had just insulted his entire bloodline. “Isn’t that bad?!”
“I’m going to be late. I won’t get anyone sick, I promise.”
Leorio grabbed Kurapika’s arm. “You need to stay home if you aren’t feeling well.”
Kurapika let out an exasperated sigh and combed a hand through his hair. “Jesus. I forgot you’re more of a hardhead than I am.”
“But you love me,” Leorio smirked.
Kurapika groaned as his hand fell from the doorknob. “I told you, I’m f—” he slapped a hand over his mouth and gritted his teeth as his stomach churned violently, bile rising into his throat. He pushed past Leorio and ran to the apartment’s single bathroom.
Leorio cringed as he made his way towards the bathroom. He gave a light knock on the door and called to Kurapika. “Hey, are you alright?”
A few moments of silence followed before Kurapika’s reply came muffled through the door, his voice shaking. “I’m fine.”
“What happened? Did you throw up?”
A soft sigh followed by a sharp inhale answered him. “Yeah. Maybe I should stay home from work.”
Leorio shook his head. “You think? You were sick last night, too.”
“I don’t remember. No surprise there.” The sound of water splashing into the sink interrupted the stream of Kurapika’s voice.
He stared at his reflection in the mirror, dark circles drawn sharp under his eyes from the nights of sleep that he missed, blond hair tousled and tan skin shiny with a thin layer of sweat.
“Fuck,” he muttered as he left the bathroom, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve.
“You okay? Do you need me to clean up anything?” Leorio asked as his hands hovered over Kurapika’s trembling body.
“I took care of it. Nothing got on the floor or anything.”
“You should go lie down. I’ll call out of work today,” Leorio said.
Kurapika pinched the bridge of his nose. “I need to call my boss and tell him I won’t be in.”
“You and your coworkers really need to unionize,” Leorio added as he motioned for Kurapika to enter the bedroom down the hall.
Kurapika scoffed. “Don’t be silly, Leorio. If we don’t like it, he’ll just tell us to quit. There’s no unionizing in my field of work.”
Leorio shook his head. “Unionizing is a human right.”
Kurapika nodded and entered the bedroom, half-closing the door as he did.
Leorio went into the kitchen and called into his clinic, leaving a message that stated only ‘my husband is sick and I need to take care of him. Not coming today, sorry. I’ll work a double shift tomorrow, promise!’
Eager to get the happiness-induced adrenaline rush of caring for his husband, he retrieved a bowl from the kitchen and filled it with cool water. On his way to the bedroom, he got a towel from the bathroom and tucked it under his arm.
As he entered the darkened bedroom, he had to squint to make out Kurapika’s thin form sprawled across the bed, still dressed in his work uniform.
“Babe?” Leorio said.
Kurapika groaned in response, face pressed into the pillow. “I’ve been saying Shema2 for the past hour.”
“It’s been five minutes.”
“Oh.”
Leorio chuckled, and Kurapika’s heart fluttered in his chest.
Fuck.
He turned over to look at Leorio, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion.
“You should change into something more comfortable. And more importantly, get out of your binder. You shouldn’t be wearing that when you’re sick.”
Kurapika loosened his tie and tossed it onto the flood, unbuttoning his shirt, trembling hands fumbling with the buttons. “It doesn’t hurt.”
“It doesn’t matter. You need to take it off, even if it doesn’t hurt. I can help you if need be,” Leorio said.
Kurapika sighed and shrugged off his suit jacket. Leorio took it and folded it, placing it on the floor beside the rest of Kurapika’s clothes.
“Come on, get undressed so I can put this on your head.”
Kurapika laughed weakly. “This is the worst foreplay ever.”
He swore he could see Leorio blushing beneath the cover of darkness, but it was equally likely that his eyes could just be playing tricks on him.
Leorio leaned forward and turned on the lamp on the nightstand beside their shared bed. Tacky, faded paper Magen Davids decorated the shade, a reminder of a Hanukkah long since passed.
“I’m not even wet.” Kurapika mumbled as he sat up, gritting his teeth as a spark of pain shot through the muscles in his back.
“Please,” Leorio said.
Kurapika took off his shirt, coldness soaking into his skin like rain. He shuddered at the suddenness of it, the way it consumed his entire body.
Leorio placed his hand on Kurapika’s leg. “Binder off.”
This was always the worst part.
“Easy for you to say.”
By some miracle, he managed to remove his binder without too much of a struggle, considering how sweaty he was. Leorio looked at him for several moments before Kurapika folded his arms across his chest in a desperate bid to keep himself warm and because it turned his stomach when his husband looked at the parts of himself that he hated, the parts of himself that he just wanted gone.
“I’ll get you a change of clothes. Take your pants off,” Leorio instructed. He placed the bowl of water and the towel on the floor and got Kurapika something to wear that was more suitable for a day of napping in bed. Behind it, he heard the sound of fabric brushing against fabric, followed by the soft metallic clinking of Kurapika’s belt.
He had to remind himself to calm down, that Kurapika was sick.
“Did you use Emperor Time yesterday?” Leorio asked as he handed the clothes to Kurapika.
“No.” He put the shorts on, followed by the oversized shirt that hid his chest well.
Leorio always knew how to make him happy, even on the days when he couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed.
“Okay. Lie down.”
Kurapika sighed and did as he was told, pulling the thick layer of blankets up over himself. He knew better than to argue with Leorio, especially when he was in no physical or mental shape to do so in the first place.
Leorio rolled up his sleeves, and Kurapika watched the muscles in his arms rippled beneath his sepia-colored skin, both covered wrist-to-shoulder in tattoos.
Despite that, he was gentle. So gentle. His strong, calloused hands squeezed the excess water from the towel with a grip that Kurapika was sure could break bones if he tried hard enough.
Leorio turned to face him and brushed Kurapika’s hair aside as he placed the towel on his forehead, it’s coolness a relief against the heat radiating from his skin.
Tender.
That was the word. Leorio was tender. So tender. So gentle and kind and full of love, for the world and for Kurapika and for everyone who was suffering.
“It kinda feels like my brain is melting,” Kurapika mumbled.
“You just have a fever. You’ll feel better soon, I promise. I’ll get you a glass of water.” Leorio took Kurapika’s calloused hand in his own and stroked the top of his hand with his thumb.
Kurapika mumbled something inaudible as his eyes fluttered closed.
Leorio stared at him for several moments before getting up and going into the kitchen. He got a cold glass of water for Kurapika and brought it back to the bedroom.
“Hey, you should drink something. You need to rehydrate.” Leorio sat on the bed beside Kurapika.
Kurapika groaned and sat up, the towel sliding down from his head and falling into the blanket.
Leorio took Kurapika’s hands in his own and cupped the glass between it. “Little sips. Don’t drink too much at once or you’ll be sick again.”
Carefully, he lifted it to Kurapika’s mouth. He drank a few sips of the water, eager to drink the whole thing but knowing he’d regret it.
Leorio took the glass and placed it on the nightstand, atop one of those silly coasters decorated with notable landmarks from across the world, a wedding gift from a friend in college whose name he didn’t remember.
“Lie down, baby.”
Leorio’s voice was deepened from years of T, yet still gentle. Kurapika had seen him in the deepest depths of his anger and the height of his elation, and nothing came close to the tender, loving way he spoke during their intimate moments alone together.
Oh G-d.
“Baruch Shekacha lo be’olamo.” The ancient language of Kurapika’s people danced across his tongue like birdsong, the language that bridged the gap between humans and their Creator, the language that survived a thousand years of seething hatred and bloodshed, flickering in darkness like a quiet flame and dancing in the sunlight like autumn leaves.
Several moments of silence passed before Leorio spoke up. He relished the moments that Kurapika slipped into his first or third or fourth tongue, a silent reclamation of the things the world had tried to kill, the things that it had tried to take from him.
“What’s it mean?” He asked.
“Blessed is the one who has such in his universe.”
Leorio wanted to cry, for some reason.
“I see,” was all he could manage.
Kurapika squeezed Leorio’s hand. “It’s something you say when you see an especially beautiful sight, or upon seeing something amazing for the first time.”
Leorio couldn’t keep from chuckling. “You have a prayer for everything, hm?”
Kurapika’s lips twitched with a hint of a smile. “I guess, but you know how ritualistic we are. My dad...when I was a kid and things were hard, he’d sometimes say that all we could do is pray. Even when we did nothing and the world had its boot on our throat, all we could do was hold on to the thing that kept us alive.”
It was a part of Kurapika that Leorio loved. Deep and mysterious, on either side of the sharp line he’d reconciled between his faith and the person he couldn’t keep himself from being, yet untouchable and distant.
Even despite that, it wasn’t cold. There was no coldness at all in the rituals Leorio found silly at first, or the words passed down from the beginning of time’s mouth itself; no coldness in the holidays that sometimes threw a wrench into his plans or the foods he ate, because they were all part of the things that kept him alive.”
“It’s beautiful.”
Kurapika nodded. “It is.”
Leorio remembered why he wanted to cry.
Kurapika had said the same thing at their wedding. There were lots of things said he didn’t understand, some in Kurta and some in Hebrew, but he remembered what Kurapika had said like it was yesterday, even if he didn’t understand.
“When we got married, you said that to me when you first saw me.”
Kurapika’s brown eyes shifted to the ornate ketubah3 mounted and framed on the wall beside their bed, a reminder of the union between the two.
“I did, didn’t I?” He said, his eyes fluttering closed as exhaustion again overtook his body.
“Looks like last night’s lack of sleep is doing a number on you,” Leorio said gently. “I’ll leave so you can rest.”
Kurapika grasped at Leorio’s shirt. “No, stay. Just until I fall asleep.”
Cute. Even in his disheveled state, Kurapika was adorable. Leorio knew there was nothing that could happen to him that would make him any less beautiful.
“Okay. I’d lie next to you, but I can’t afford to get sick,” Leorio said as he took Kurapika’s hand into his own.
“It’s okay, I don’t mind...as long as you’re with me, it doesn’t matter,” Kurapika mumbled. “Lying beside me or not, just knowing that you exist...and that you married me...out of everyone you could’ve possibly chosen…”
Leorio couldn’t help but smile. “I wouldn’t want to have it any other way.”
A curtain of silence fell over the two, and for a few moments, Leorio thought Kurapika had fallen asleep before he spoke up again, voice quiet and hoarse from exhaustion.
“For a long time, I wasn’t sure if G-d existed. I...I wasn’t sure how a loving G-d could let my people be killed without mercy...I wasn’t sure how They could let Their own people be struck down...but I met Gon and Killua...and Melody...and everyone from temple...and then I got to marry a handsome man...and…” Kurapika paused, his lower lip trembling, “I finally found that doctor for Pairo. And he helped show me that G-d does exist, even despite all the horrible, undeserved things that happen to us.”
Leorio swiped at the tears rolling down his cheek with the back of his arm, and he gave Kurapika’s hand a gentle squeeze.
“Thanks, Leorio.”
Leorio’s other hand pressed against the soft curve of Kurapika’s cheek. He wiped away the single, silver tear like a droplet of concentrated diamond beneath Kurapika’s eye.
“Anything for you, my dear,” Leorio whispered.
And with that, he let go of Kurapika’s hand and left the bedroom, turning out the lamp and pressing a quick kiss to the top of his husband’s head before leaving him to sleep in peace. G-d knows he needed it.