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Hisoka asked Machi to stay for dinner as a bluff. He did not plan for her to say 'yes'.
She stands in the doorway, her bag loosely hanging from her shoulder with a look of impassivity. He immediately becomes suspicious and laughs outside of his head. Machi is colder than a dead body. Like Hisoka, she doesn't act upon things without a motive.
Hisoka plays coy about his abrasive nature, but he isn't a moron. Far from it. Machi thinks he is, so that begs the question—why?
"Does this place have room service?" She gently shuts the door behind her. Her expression remains unchanged.
"Of course! I'm a rolling stone but I do have standards." Hisoka can't stop smiling. He loves being surprised.
Machi throws her bag into the shadows of the couch but makes no other movement. She stares back at him, waiting...
Hisoka's smile grows. He could outright ask her. That's what he really wants to do.
He doesn't. Things never go as planned when he's impatient.
"By the phone, there's a menu and the room service extension." He points to the dimly lit corner by his bed. The window absorbs their translucent reflections, stretches their bodies across the night sky. Hisoka watches her journey to his nightstand through the window. Admiring and exciting himself.
Machi opens her hands to pick up the receiver but she stops mid reach and looks over at Hisoka.
"You're a horrible host, Hisoka. You should be the one to order the food." Her hand falls back to her side.
Looking thoughtful, Hisoka stops grinning. He leans back in the chair and crosses his arms.
"I was honestly hoping you'd choose our meal. I'm not good at picking and choosing. What if I order the whole menu..." He tells the truth with a watery sigh.
Machi picks up the laminated menu. For a place that is far from a bed and breakfast, Heaven's Arena has a wide variety of food.
"They treat you guys well huh?" She scans down the row of desserts.
"Sure." Hisoka rests his chin in his hand.
Machi appears to freeze as she weighs her options. He can't help but lap up the strong scent of her aura. It amazes him, really, how feminine she is on the surface, but her energy smells like fire scorching a forest. A small pinch of cinnamon is there as well.
She is always expecting confrontation.
"What do you want?" Machi asks him quietly.
"Surprise me!" Food is just a means of not dying. His real appetite cant be satisfied with a trip to the corner store.
Machi picks up the phone at the very end of his sentence. After three oppressive rings, someone finally answers and Machi's voice goes up two notches. The way she orders the food sounds like she's giving a man instructions on how to kill himself. Machi speaks very specifically about how she wants her steak cooked—no mashed potatoes. She prefers steak fries. If she wanted to eat her food mashed, she'd run to the supermarket and buy baby food. She robotically articulates her grievances. How rich is your chocolate cake? If it doesn't taste like the bottom of a bowl of sugar, they can keep it...
Hisoka tries to envision what fighting Machi might actually feel like if she's so particular about her food. She doesn't order a steak for him with the same directness.
"Steak is so pedestrian..." Hisoka bemoans.
"Sorry. You didn't strike me as a tilapia type of person." Machi hangs up the phone.
Hisoka presses his tongue against the inside of his jaw. His throat rattles with a honey-like hum.
"Don't think I've ever had it..." He sucks his teeth.
"It won't be ready for an hour."
"I'm not surprised considering how much you ordered. You're trying to break my wallet." Hisoka sighs again.
"You don't really care about those kinds of things, Hisoka."
He thinks arguing with her about it would be funny but he doesn't bother denying it. Hisoka shrugs his shoulders and gets up from the table, turns his eyes away from the window.
"You're absolutely right." He begins to tug his shirt over his head. She flinches.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm going to take a shower—I lack the attention span required to sit and stare at you for an hour." Hisoka hiccups and continues to undress himself.
Machi has nothing to counter him with. Very few things cause her to be speechless. Hisoka's incredible eccentrics always leave her a bit more confused than their last interaction. She doesn't like him. That much she is sure of—hasn't since the day she laid eyes on him.
Although Hisoka isn't her favorite person, Chrollo suggests often that she open up more and she trusts his judgement of character. She trusts him with her life so why wouldn't she take his advice?
Be a little more open to those who care about you.
But she doesn't believe Hisoka cares about the Spider.
"Machi?" He stands in the doorway of the bathroom. The fluorescent lighting doesn't reach the naked spots of his body she wishes not to see. She could've continued to live her life without knowing how well defined his v-line is.
"No." She says with a dark quickness.
"Is tilapia any good?" Hisoka asks anyway.
Machi inhales hard enough that her shoulders rise. He isn't going to move until she answers. It's possible that Chrollo is wrong. After all, he is still a man in a world much bigger than he is. There are things he doesn't know.
"Wouldn't know. I've never had it." Machi puts her pride away.
Maybe Hisoka needs the same amount of time it took her to be more receptive. He is still an interesting person.
And he is satisfied with her answer, disappearing behind the door.
Then, Machi knows that this is going to be the longest night of her life. She could leave, but she is here because she is curious. Something about Hisoka is damaged in the unfixable kind of way. People who don't talk about themselves typically are that bad-off. Broken people see each other.
She isn't going to leave until she has at least a better understanding of his baggage. Obtaining clarity will end her worrying.
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One hour becomes an hour and thirty minutes. Listening to Hisoka move around in the bathroom, she keeps her head down, hidden in her arms, nose pressed against the cold surface of the table. For a man, Hisoka takes a ridiculously long shower. She wonders if the water is still hot. Does he even take warm showers? He seems like the type of guy who can only rub one out in icy water.
When the sound of water pounding against the bottom of the tub stops, she perks her head up with one eye open. She watches the shadow of his feet flutter back and forth through the line of light peeping under the door. All she can hear is the echo of his shallow breathing and feet sliding against the wet floor.
The door opens and she presses her face back against the table. Her shoulders tense. She is really anticipating her steak. From the cave of her stomach, a growl shakes up her rib cage.
"Still not here yet?" Hisoka has a warm quality to his voice. Machi can't quite put it into words. She can, however, associate it with feelings. Like waking up to the sun on your eyelids. Keeping her eyes closed could be to bridge that brings them together.
"Nope." She clears her throat.
"Just when I was starting to work myself up to an appetite." Hisoka smells like artificial strawberries. He shakes the table as he reclaims his seat.
"So you weren't even hungry!?" Machi shoots her head up.
Hisoka's wet hair curls around his face. Squinting at her as if he can't quite grasp the question, he shoves a pinky finger in his ear. Soap foam drips from behind his lobes, vanishing under the white towel-like robe. Heaven's Arena is meticulously sewn on the chest of it with gold thread.
"Not particularly. I just wanted your company." If Hisoka weren't himself, she probably would've fallen for it completely. Almost but she catches herself. He gives her an 'emotionless' smile—sincere nevertheless.
"Hisoka." She conveys her dislike with each syllable.
"Machi. By no means did I force you to have dinner with me. I didn't even coerce you like a proper gentleman. I asked and you, against your better judgment, accepted the invitation." Hisoka looks less like an odd stranger and more like a vulnerable person without the gimmick.
"My question to you is, why?" He points a finger at her. Machi focuses her vision on the sharp end of his fingernail. Everything else fades, like the darkness of his room begins to swallow him. He had left the bathroom door open and its the only source of bright light.
Machi sits straight in the chair. Crosses her legs too. She makes him wait a long time before answering.
"I don't like you." Machi's tone never changes. Regardless of her mood.
"Obviously."
"But..."
"But...but...?" Hisoka sort of sings. If he stays exposed like this for the rest of the night, its very likely she will walk away thinking he's a reasonable person.
"I want to change that." It isn't that hard to be honest after all. Chrollo said it wouldn't be.
"Well I'm flattered." He couldn't care less. The Phantom Troupe is supposed to be an assemblage of soulless freaks. Hisoka knows the truth—they're a bunch of sociopath's robbed of purpose. When he laughs, Machi thinks he is ridiculing her.
Hisoka may not know all of the world's secrets, but he is absolutely certain of one thing. He is highly self-aware while Machi...not so much.
"So change my mind." Machi makes the demand unfeelingly.
Hisoka sits his arms on the table. The robe opens when he leans forward, revealing the stretch of his wet chest. Machi wonders if he hadn't bothered to dry off, then what was he up to for so long when he got out of the shower?
"Challenge accepted." His eyes change with his mood but Machi hasn't been able to figure out what he's been thinking since she arrived.
Room service finally knocks on Hisoka's door.
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He wants to point out that Machi isn't properly using her knife and fork. She doesn't realize that the way she cuts through the meat is primitive—clearly, no one has corrected her. Hisoka wouldn't label himself as arrogant, but he is aware that his brand of 'certainty' comes of this way. It's more amusing than it is pitiful. It gives her an air of innocence that is unbecoming of her persona.
"Machi..." He swallows his food before he speaks.
Struggling to chew a wad of meat, her resting bitch face contorts. She makes a humming noise.
"It's already dead." Hisoka can't help himself.
It takes her a moment to understand what is 'dead'. She swallows the chunk and glares down at her plate. Confused, she misunderstands him.
"You're stabbing at it..." He looks at her seriously, sort of mirroring her bewilderment.
"Why am I shocked that making fun of the way someone eats is not beneath you?" She proceeds to stab the fork into the steak again.
"No. If I were making fun of you, you'd know it. I'm making an observation."
"Suddenly I'm not hungry." Machi leaves the fork erect.
Hisoka's shoulders sag. Looking at the wall behind her, he pretends to think deeply about something, twisting his lips to one side of his face. His true thoughts are that he doesn't think he's better than her when it comes to their upbringing. That's not how he determines people's worth.
Unfortunately, Machi doesn't know that he is a man of nuance. Hisoka sits down his fork and runs a hand through his wet hair. A light cough escapes him.
"C'mon. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings." And then he manages a smile.
"You didn't."
"I've unsettled you. Therefore, I've hurt your feelings."
Machi just takes a long sip of water, glaring at him with narrowed eyes. He begins to wonder why she continues to torture herself being in his presence if they aren't making progress.
Hisoka takes a sweeping look at the five slices of cakes she had ordered and a plate of cinnamon rolls.
"Let's play a game." He begins.
"What kind of game?"
"Two truths, one lie."
"Why?"
"Because you don't like me but you're trying to overcome it," He says matter-of-factly. Machi doesn't counter him. She swipes at a cinnamon roll—she isn't going to bother with the steak while he sits across from her.
"Are you going to humor me, Machi?"
"Sure." She swats at a loose strand of her hair.
"You start us off. Tell me two of your truths and one lie. I will figure out the lie."
Machi doesn't like that Hisoka hardly breaks eye contact when he talks to her. She feels like he can read her mind. He can't but he has a very knowing look—he always looks like he is withholding some dark secret. Without the makeup, she can stomach his face. She is even willing to acknowledge that he is attractive. It's likely that the cinnamon roll has turned her mind soft with it's sweetness.
She tries to think of one thing to lie about. Lying is something she hasn't made a habit. For the most part, Machi is transparent to those who know her.
Holding up an index finger, she starts with, "I'm a virgin."
Then there is a light pause. Hisoka doesn't laugh like she had expected him to. He keeps an unusually serious straight face instead.
"I've never peed in a sink." Machi lifts her middle finger.
Still, Hisoka does not change his expression.
"And my favorite color is indigo." She has a steely expression as well, holding three fingers up in the air.
Hisoka scratches the bare stretch of his neck, then slithers his hand under the fluffy white robe to scratch at his chest.
"You've absolutely peed in a sink at least once," he says without a hint of emotion.
"Geeze..."
"Am I right?" And just like that, in an instant, his eyes lighten up.
"I don't know whats worse. You thinking I'm a virgin or that I'm uncivilized enough to piss in a sink."
"You come off very chaste."
"What is that even supposed to mean, Hisoka?" Her voice rises.
"Machi. It's a compliment."
"You're implying that I don't know how to have fun." She notices how often Hisoka punctuates her name.
"As someone who doesn't know you—you come off as a humorless person. Always so serious." This moment is indicative of that, so he feels, but Machi has reasons for being the way that she is.
"Your turn." She defeatedly shoves another cinnamon roll in her mouth.
Hisoka resumes cutting at his steak, "Alright."
He eats a piece before telling three lies.
"I'm allergic to peanut butter." He washes the meat down with the longest gulp of water, his Adam's apple dips.
"When I was a kid, I was inappropriately touched and now I have intimacy issues."
This is what Machi had wanted but she isn't fond of how it's all unfolding. She hated that at some point, she had let go of her control on the situation. Hisoka has the keys to this prison.
"My body count surpasses fifty."
"Your body count for what?" He's killed more people than that of course. She's killed more people than that.
He just smiles. The darkness of his room emphasizes the sharp dip of his nose. The bright depth of his eyes like two full moons.
"I don't like this damned game."
"We are getting to know each other."
"You're not actually allergic to peanut butter!" She sputters.
"Correct." None of it is true, but his skin still tingles as if he had readily exposed himself naked. She thinks he is someone's traumatized lost son. "Your turn."
"I've never done drugs." Machi licks the sugar around her mouth.
"Interesting."
"I'm happy."
"Hm. Ok." He mutters with a mouthful.
"Now is the only time I've ever told a lie."
"Oh, this one is easy!" Hisoka sings.
"How do you figure?"
Footsteps thunder down the hallway on the other side of the door. Hisoka allows it to capture his attention. How should he go about 'not' offending her?
"You're a professional thief. Is it really possible to be happy with other people's belongings. You don't even covet the things you steal. You just take because you can." He no longer wants to finish his plate, wasn't all that hungry from the start. Not for food that is.
Machi's anger wafts around him like smoke. He flicks his tongue across his teeth when she stands, knocking the chair back. Holding her fists tight, she doesn't say anything. Sweat collects around her brows.
Indeed, she smolders. He can imagine flames eating up an expanse of foliage.
"That was your lie? I was bluffing." His eyes widen with fake incredulity.
"Then what does the Spider mean to you if we're not cut from the same cloth?" That has been the question lingering above everyone's head. Hisoka has this unwillingness to participate in their togetherness.
She knows it has nothing to do with the title. He doesn't need it. If he wanted to, he could punch a hole in the sun. He doesn't need the Spider like she does. Perhaps this is why she dislikes him. He is unabashedly free while they've all be struggling to figure out what exactly freedom means.
"I never said we weren't cut from the same cloth, but I know you of all people aren't happy. I'm not happy. Happiness is just an unending race after an orgasm for people like me and you." Hisoka's joy can't be quantified with warm feelings. Sentiment doesn't move him. "We are more alike than we are different, Machi."
"Don't compare me to you."
"Humans are always looking for purpose. I'm not exempt from that. Neither are you. What really separates us from the rest is how we go about achieving the fleeting bursts of dopamine." Hisoka really looks like a normal person for the first time and not split between motives.
Machi hasn't even bothered to consider that she isn't the only one on a mission here. It then occurs to her that she had mistakenly told him what she believed were all truths. How horrifying it is coming to terms with the wisest person in the room being the person you loathe.
"We have two completely different definitions of happiness."
"I doubt it." Hisoka folds his arms across his chest. Her anger so thick in the air, he can taste it on his tongue. He salivates.
Machi stops herself from arguing with him. A light flickers on in her head, shining through her wide gaze. Hisoka smiles with all of his teeth.
Her hip nudges against the table as she storms away. Their silverware clatter against the plates.
"I didn't mean to rub you the wrong way." Hisoka watches her gather her belongings, unable to mask his amusement. She doesn't dignify him with a response. Her aura fills the room to the ceiling. Warmth expands in his gut, morphing into a hot tornado of butterflies. The sensation reaches the inside of his thighs.
When she slams the door, she leaves behind a potent cloud of her energy. Hisoka inhales it all into his chest until his erection is solid.
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A/N: So I couldn't help but fantasize about what would've happened if Machi had stayed for dinner with Hisoka. One day I might revisit this and make it a longer fic and actually attempt to sail the ship. It's going to take more than a one shot to do that. Thank you for reading, leave a review if you like!
