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Chrollo’s fingers skim across the pages of their book, hovering over the right corner in preparation to turn it. The hotel room feels tight and claustrophobic—the queen size bed only a meter away from the little table in the kitchenette where they were currently situated, but they’ve never minded tight spaces so it’s no issue.
Hisoka, however, couldn’t exactly say the same. It was made abundantly clear that he’s bored out of his mind with nothing to do after a mission, that agitation only exacerbated by the enclosed area he found himself stuck in for the night. He tapped his fingers, hummed, clicked his tongue, and even chewed some Bungee Gum with his mouth open—much to Chrollo’s annoyance—but those were all sounds they could tune out and ignore. It was alright.
For a while.
And then Hisoka started… talking. At first it was nonsense rambling about things Chrollo couldn’t be paid to take interest in, like how the magician saw a dead sparrow on the sidewalk and reminded him of how he’d spent his childhood flinging rocks at birds. Or how he went to a restaurant the other day only to be denied service for ‘dressing inappropriately’, so he snuck in through a window and beheaded the manager with one of his cards.
But then, he began to ask questions, simple ones that demanded only a fraction of Chrollo’s attention. So they entertained it. Just to get Hisoka to stop talking.
“Out of all the troupe members, Danchou, why is it that you choose me to make love with? Is that why we’re sharing a room now? Are we going to have another little session tonight?” Hisoka grinned, making no effort to hide the lustful way he stared at Chrollo’s bare chest.
That one (despite being perverse and inappropriate) was easy to answer—all they had to do was be honest and shut it down. “No, Hisoka, we aren’t fucking tonight. We’re only in the same room because the other members paired up amongst themselves while we weren’t there. And, I chose you because you have a nice body and good stamina. Nothing beyond that.”
Hisoka sprawled himself out on the bed where he was laying. “Boooring. At least make me feel special.”
“There’s nothing special about you.” Chrollo answered simply, keeping their eyes on their book.
“Not even the way you let me call you by your first name? Or how we go on dates all the time? Or how we’re deeply, obsessively in love with one another?”
“Ugh. No.”
“Fine.” Hisoka settled, pausing as he contemplated Chrollo’s response. “But you know, Danchou, I sometimes imagine my hands around your neck. Well. More than sometimes.”
“What does this have to do with anything?”
“It’s the greatest act of love, my dear.”
Chrollo stopped reading for a moment, somewhat shocked, and Hisoka caught it. He smiled, knowing that his charm was enough to fluster even the leader of the Phantom Troupe.
“And… what would that be, Hisoka?” Chrollo carefully questioned, not looking at the magician but not reading either.
“Killing you. Or, being killed by you. Whichever one works in the end, I’ll accept it. I just think about digging my nails into your arteries, lapping your blood up with my tongue as you choke on your own fluids. It would make quite the show, Danchou. I’m sure people would pay to watch it.”
Chrollo’s attention is fully on Hisoka now, abandoning the book and making calculated eye contact. They tread lightly, thinking of the best neutral response that wouldn’t give away the fact that they felt the same way. That they wanted to take Hisoka’s life in the same manner Hisoka wanted to take theirs.
But, before they could answer, Hisoka spoke again.
“I know you want to kill me too. I can see it in the way you look at me.”
“I… would never want to kill a spider. You know that.” Chrollo denied, remaining calm despite being found out.
“I also know that I’m more than just one of your spiders, Chrollo. ” Hisoka smiled, using the boss’s name for the first time that night. Somehow, it made everything feel realer; closer; more intimate.
Chrollo swallowed, making sure not to break eye contact.
“Hm, fine. Let’s entertain that idea and say that you mean more to me than the rest of the spiders. What now?”
“You’d want to destroy me. You know how you’d do it. Tell me, Chrollo.” Hisoka hummed, golden eyes boring into gray.
The air around them intensified, feeling three times as thick as usual.
“I’d take away everything you love.” They said after a brief silence. It was true; they’ve thought about it before.
“But I love only you, my dear. How would you do that?”
“I suppose I’d disappear from your life, vanish somewhere you can’t find. Then… no. ” Chrollo stopped abruptly. “It wouldn’t be wise to tell you of my plans to kill you—even if it’s only a hypothetical scenario."
Hisoka clicked his tongue. “And here I was getting excited.”
“Too bad I have a working brain, clown.”
“Magician.” Hisoka corrected firmly, and Chrollo huffed air out of their nose—their version of a laugh.
“So, you really aren’t going to continue? I’d love to hear about how my dearest Chrollo would want to destroy me.”
“Why would I even want to destroy you, Hisoka?” Chrollo challenged, their hands completely off their book and turned to face the older man. They knew the answer—they just wanted to see if Hisoka knew too.
He did.
“Because I make you feel human.”
“I’ll accept that answer.” They hummed, surprised but not showing it in the slightest.
“So you feel as though you’re not human, then?” Hisoka questioned further, still laying down on the bed as if he didn’t have a care in the world. As if this conversation was mere small talk.
“I don’t feel as though I’m not—I’m simply not. ” Chrollo shrugged. “I’ve known from an early age that God didn’t make me in His image.”
“Why? You walk, you talk, you weep. That sounds human to me.”
“Angels do all the same things.”
“Are you implying that you’re…”
“Just musing.” Chrollo sighed.
“But aren’t angels made in God’s image too?” Hisoka countered, his posture stiffening.
“I subscribe to the idea that angelic imago Dei doesn’t exist. Because then, how would you explain Lucifer?”
“Or Judas.” Hisoka added.
“Judas isn’t an angel, though. He’s just a man. A mere mortal incapable of resisting fate.”
“Do you think I’m human, Chrollo?” Hisoka suddenly said, in a different tone than how he’d been speaking. It felt curious; genuine—not sly or teasing.
“I don’t know, Hisoka. Perhaps we both aren’t.”
“Hm.” Hisoka hummed, thinking about it. “How I love your mind, my sweet, fallen angel.”
“Oh? I’m fallen?” Chrollo’s eyebrows raised, puzzled.
“I like to think I am too, if it’s any consolation.”
“I wasn’t upset.”
“Then won’t you smile a little?”
“No.” Chrollo said, impassively and looked at Hisoka with more silent fervor. “Not even for my angel.”
“So you admit that I”m yours? My, what a night…”
“You’re mine to kill, Hisoka. And vice versa. Though, I wonder if angels can kill another one of their kind. If the answer suggests otherwise, I’ll be stuck with you for all of eternity.”
Hisoka sat up and climbed off the bed, making strides towards Chrollo.
“That doesn’t sound so bad.” He chuckled, placing his finger under the younger’s chin and making them look up at him. “I’d love to roam Earth with you for the rest of time, even if it isn’t Heaven.”
“I suppose we’ll just have to find out.” Chrollo said, their voice slowing as their breathing intensifies. Hisoka is dangerously close now—their heart feels like bursting and the feeling is so authentically human that it makes them want to take their knife out right here and now and just… kill the man. But they don’t do that. Instead, they smiled, and craned their neck up to get closer.
“Together.” Hisoka smiled, and kissed his angel.
“Together.”