He tucked one end of the tie through the loop, then straightened it and pulled until the knot was tight against his throat. Alluka cooed and ran her hands over his shoulders, smoothing out the creases that came from a long, long while without the need for a tux. "Onii-chan looks so handsome!" She beamed up at him, sweet, innocent eyes taking in the sight of her brother with combed-back hair, gelled to a clean, polite style. "Like a prince!"

"Hah, just for you, Alluka. You and Nanika," His cheeks warmed as he patted her head, watching with proper satisfaction and adoration as she stood on the tips of her toes to butt her head against his hand. Yes, he may look the part of nobility for this girl- this door to a new arc of himself, who would likely be his first soiree into the truly adult world, tonight, if he could manage to get out of his head- but for Alluka and Nanika, he would always, always act as her prince. He would come at beck and call, protect her, love her, watch her grow until some hapless knight came along to sweep her off her feet and beg at his for her hand.

Huh. That was a thought that hadn't occurred to him before. What happened when Alluka fell in love? Well, he would hope not much, but he imagined there'd be times she'd want to be alone with him (over his dead body- no, no, Killua; we are assuming he is a good man because if he isn't he will bleed from the eyes before he ever is alone in a bedroom with Alluka-). Would there be two suitors? For Alluka and for Nanika? Would that get complicated? How many men should he prepare to beat off with a muddy, bloody stick? Well, in any case, if that day did come, it was more than likely he'd just… end up traveling with Gon for that time. Which brought him back to this square one. Just to prove to himself that he could do it. To prove he was not so hung-up on Gon that he couldn't have a fling here and there. Especially when- not if- Gon started bringing girls back.

The thought made him wince, heart recoiling at the pain he'd just dealt it with a stupid hypothetical. But it would have to get over it, because he'd seen the way Gon looked at these girls. Gon's eyes sparkled, lit up like twinkle lights over a garden at dusk, so innocent, and good, just because he'd been recognized. Gon Freecs, one of the best Hunters in the world, The Prodigy Boy, The Son. He soaked that attention up like sun over water on a sidewalk in summer and he got close to them. He touched them. His smile was so gentle, and he bet that's the kind of lover Gon would be, too. And oh, that was a line of thought. What Gon would do with a girl, the way he'd kiss her. He imagined him stumbling over every step, sweet, overly careful. He'd keep asking her if this was okay, keep kissing her because, to him, (he was sure of this) the kissing would be Gon's favorite part. Right up until they were fumbling with oil or water or whatever, up until he was inside of her and she was gasping. Gon would… Gon would make love to her. This made-up, purely-speculative girl would get to call Gon hers, because Gon would be. He'd be hers from that point forward, no questions asked, no need to think about it. He was sure. How funny, then, that he'd never get to see it firsthand.

He would get over him if he died trying. Wilting away while Gon explored his desires was not an option.

Gon hummed and set his hands at his hips, in a rare display of critical thought. He raised an eyebrow, and Gon hummed, again. See something you like? Nope, no, absolutely not, he was not about to waste his flirtatious, sexy headspace on flirting with a guy who thought staying away til the morn' meant to stay up all night talking. "What, Gon? If you have something to say, spit it out!"

"Mmm, I was just thinking…" Gon's lips pursed in a pout, eyes almost distant as they perused the full length of his body, snug in black and white. He clenched his hand, then stuck it into his pants pocket to hide the way it shivered. He reminded himself that this was Gon, Gon who would leave him behind if it meant enacting righteous judgement. The same Gon who had years to notice him, who never did, who cared about him but not enough, never enough. When Gon spoke, it actually took him by surprise, "You don't look very much like Killua."

"Huh?" He couldn't help the incredulous, unattractive face that he made.

Gon frowned, "You don't look like Killua. You look like somebody else." It was Gon's simplistic, innocent way of calling him out. For the sudden interest in a girl. For the fancy restaurant he'd picked (that he'd never go to with Gon because he would embarrass both of them). For the way he just started spouting nonsense about his taste in women, how he'd treat one, sudden musing over imaginary lovers when the reality was that he wouldn't have the faintest clue what to do with… all of that. He had to admit, even to himself, he'd sounded more like Leorio the last day and a half than he'd ever care to say aloud.

But still. It rubbed him the wrong way. Because the tux wasn't abnormal, or it wouldn't be if he had a reason to wear it. He'd take that kind of care with his hair, too, if he thought there was any reason to. He'd go to fancy, romantic restaurants if he had somebody to go with. But he didn't. Not until now. He exhaled, stuffed his other hand in his pocket and turned away, sticking his nose in the air for good measure. "Gon, just because it's a side of me you haven't seen doesn't mean it isn't me." Because it all could have been his if he'd just given him a sign. But Gon wasn't interested, even in this side of him, with all of this effort. Hah, you are so pathetic. C'mon, why would this change his mind? What did you think, he'd see you dressed up and realize he couldn't take his eyes off you? Please, what fairytales have you been reading?

Gon made some noises, throaty and croaky, as if hurrying to find words. He didn't give him the chance, raising one hand to wave. "I'm off, then. Don't wait up!" Because now, more than ever, he wasn't planning to come home tonight.

This girl was a lot less innocent than she'd originally let on.

She was well aware of her, er, assets, and wore a small blue dress ("That matches your eyes, neh?" she'd said) that dipped at the center-chest to show off what was surely her breasts in a push-up bra. Smooth, round-looking hills that made his face go red if he stared at them too long- which he kind of had, at first, and because of which she'd giggled and squeezed his arm between them like a very stiff sandwich. The skirt wasn't obscenely short as he'd originally been nervous to consider; it sat not shorter than the very top of her knees, it was just tight enough that it hid nothing.

If he'd been planning to lose his mind, tonight, she'd been planning to steal it.

She was a good conversationalist, as far as a normal man might go. She teetered to letting him steer the conversation, listening intently and only speaking when spoken to. That, he thought, might have been ideal for other men. For him, it was actually a little disorienting, as much as he loooved to hear himself talk. But when he did ask her to speak, when she did open her mouth to share her opinions, of which she had a lot regarding- politics, philosophy, her ambitions- he found she, too, was captivating to listen to. Passionate, educated, sexy, sweet, and there she was on a date with him. Yeah, he'd hit the jackpot, all right.

Adalet reached across the table, took his hand under hers (she stroked his skin up and down with her middle finger, right at the dip of his knuckle where the nerves were tender, and it made him shiver). "Hey, tell me something, how many have you had?"

"Huh?" He blinked at her through the candlelight, not quite sure how to answer. Part of him wanted to play it off ("I haven't had any drinks, you know"), but his pride wouldn't let him play that stupid. With that route dismissed, did he tell the truth, or did he lie? Would it be a turn-on for her to know he was new at this, or would it make him undesirable? He chuckled and leaned back, one hand still under soft, manicured nails while the other arm set against the back of his side of the booth. He twisted the other hand palm-up, lacing their fingers together. Bedroom eyes, just like he'd actually practiced in the mirror this time, much to Gon's confusion. "I see, want to know what the competition is like, huh?"

"Oh no, there is no competition," She whispered. She leaned over, and he startled as her nose brushed against his, with her back bent over the table, rear pressed against the backrest of her side of the booth. Her eyes narrowed in a much more effective come-hither stare, gazing from his wide eyes to his parted lips. She exhaled through her mouth and he could feel the heat of that breath on his lips, "I wanna know if you can handle me."

Gulp.

"Sir, I must insist you get down from there!"

"WAH!"

Adalet blinked; a quick turn of her chin to give him a full profile view (which was beautiful, really, even without red lipstick, she still came pretty close to his ideal woman), but he, too, found himself interested in the commotion. He turned to look, and almost immediately regretted it. Upon one of the fake palm trees adorning the restaurant, Gon hung from one branch with both hands, aggressively kicking his feet to avoid the five or so waiters trying futilely to grab at him. He grunted and winced as some got closer than he probably would have liked. "Sir!"

He. Didn't. Killua felt his eye twitch, as did the hand under Adalet's. Tell him Gon hadn't because if he had-!

"Uh, could you excuse me for one sec?"

He waltzed up to the spectacle, hands in his pockets, and glared up at Gon as he swung side to side, barely avoiding increasingly desperate hands. He looked like he was working up a sweat, playing keep-away. Good, he had half a mind to let him suffer up there, like an animal loose in a zoo, but then his date would be really put off by the screaming, plates-and-people-flying utter-chaos, and he really, really needed to blow off steam like a normal man and Gon was not going to ruin this. He cleared his throat.

Gon looked down at him, pausing in his escape attempts. He realized, upon further inspection, that it was indeed Killua under him, eyes thunderous, sweet carol of death incoming. At least, that's what he was going for. Gon winced, shooting him what was likely supposed to be a sheepish, apologetic smile.