Author's Notes:
PAIRINGS: Leorio/Kurapika (Leopika); Killua/Gon (Killugon)
RATING: Mature
NOTE: This is an anniversary gift for applecidrdonut. If future chapters are missing here, check the fully updated version on Archive of Our Own (AO3 username: lemonpika).
Chapter 1: This isn't romance, just a medical affair
There's nothing like a late Sunday afternoon to stock up on twin popsicles a single man can scarf down alone like a glutton. On his way back from the convenience store, Leorio leans against the facade of his apartment building and lights up a cigarette.
Just as he takes a drag, a motorcyclist pulls up at the near-empty intersection. He admires their sleek motorbike. When he was younger, he flipped through countless auto magazines and dreamed of owning a vehicle just like this — a roaring affair to make all the birds scatter and all the pussies yowl.
Despite the dearth in traffic, the driver's waiting for the red light to change. Leorio's tempted to ask them how much a beauty like this will set him back. But the flipped-down visor of the driver's fiberglass helmet, tinted an impenetrable black, makes him hesitate.
Disregarding their skin-tight blue jeans, the driver's dressed in nearly textbook-perfect riding attire. This includes their synthetic-fiber jacket, black with red accents. The garment features subtle padding on areas especially prone to injuries — the shoulders, elbows, and spinal column. As for the driver's buckled black boots, they're reinforced over the ankle and toe regions. The stiff rubber-based soles are meant to be resistant to cuts, scrapes, tears, and crushing impact.
The traffic light switches now to green. Leorio's chance to strike up a conversation with the stranger has come and gone. Or at least it should have.
The driver isn't stomping down on the pedal or revving the engine. They're not moving a muscle, but their body isn't in total stasis. They're tipping forward on the motorcyle's seat, ever so slowly.
Leorio inadvertently spits out his cigarette as he hollers at the driver. "Oy! Are you drunk or something? Wake up!"
The driver snaps to attention, but they're too late to stop themself from falling. Their body spills on the pavement. Throwing out their arms at the last moment, they manage to land on their palms and knees.
Behind them, the motorcycle teeters. Leorio rushes forward in time to steady the vehicle before it crushes its owner.
"Thanks," the driver breathes, more than a little shaken.
Their voice is a soft alto that dispatches an arrow straight toward Leorio's chest. He's always been a sucker for low yet effeminate voices. Ignoring the sudden dryness in his throat, he half-carries the limping driver to the sidewalk beside his apartment.
He hurries back to steer the motorcycle beside the curb. The driver reaches for the handlebars, as if wanting to mount their vehicle once more, but Leorio urges them to remain on the sidewalk.
"I wanna check on you and make sure you're okay," Leorio explains.
"I'm one-hundred-percent fine," the driver insists.
"I'll be the judge of that. Believe it or not, this happens to be my job."
"You're a doctor?"
"Right you are. I run my own clinic a few blocks from here."
The driver pries off their helmet. Their hair is gold, almost like a halo around their angel's face. They shake their head to cast off excess sweat. A salty droplet lands inside Leorio's slackened mouth. The arrow that pricked his heart earlier burrows deeply now.
He should've guessed that the owner of this gorgeous ride would themself be a beauty of another caliber. My, my. He's in trouble, isn't he?
Before the driver can catch wind of his ogling, Leorio blurts out, "Name and pronouns?"
The driver cocks their head to the side. "That's not a question I'd hear from most medical professionals."
"Ah, I'm not the most politically correct person around, but my assistant's in tune with that stuff. She keeps me in line. So I guess I should introduce myself as Leorio Paladiknight, M.D. He/him."
"My name's Kurapika. They/them."
No last name? Leorio wishes he could ask, but he's already been intrusive enough in this interaction, hasn't he? He should simply proceed with the impromptu checkup.
The accident has torn through the knees of Kurapika's jeans and has left scrapes on their skin. Thankfully, there's no excessive bleeding or swelling.
"How are your hands?" Leorio asks.
Kurapika flexes their fingers. "They're all right. These gloves cost me a fortune, but they're clearly doing their job."
"Let me guess. Kevlar fabric, padded palms, hard knuckles, and gauntlets for wrist protection."
Kurapika raises their eyebrows. "Very astute. You drive too?"
"Nah, I'm just an appreciator of motorcycles and the related personal protective equipment." Since everything else appears intact, Leorio turns his attention toward the abrasive injuries again. "Can you bend both your knees for me?"
Kurapika winces upon doing so, but demonstrates no limitations to their range of motion.
Leorio gives a satisfied nod. "You have soft-tissue contusions at the worst, but those should fade within a couple of weeks."
"Good to know. Does this mean I can go now, Doctor Paladiknight?"
"Not so fast! I still have to patch up your wounds! I live right in this apartment, so this will take no time at all."
Refusing to be dissuaded, he helps Kurapika park their motorbike then ushers them inside the building. They take the elevator to the fourth floor and enter Unit 403.
Leorio instructs Kurapika to rinse their wounds in the bathroom then take a seat on the couch in the living room. In the meantime, he puts away his snacks in the freezer. Maybe he can ask Kurapika to split a popsicle with him later? No! What the heck is he thinking? It's been so long since he's dated that he's lost all knowledge of how to woo anybody!
Sighing, he fetches his first aid kit then goes to sit beside Kurapika on the couch.
With permission, he hooks Kurapika's left leg over his own thigh. "You don't mind if I cut a bit of fabric in this area, do you? Unless you wanted to take off your pants?" It's only after his words hit the air that he realizes how suggestive he's sounding. "Uh, I didn't mean —"
"I know what you meant. And yes, I don't mind. These jeans are a lost cause either way."
Leorio snips a swath of denim to allow him more access. He then cleans the abrasions with antiseptic ointment and dresses them with gauze. "When you arrive home, remember to get some RICE."
"Rice?"
"It's an acronym. Rest, ice, compression, elevation. Easy-peasy, right?"
He sets down Kurapika's left leg then drapes the next over his thigh. He gives Kurapika's right knee the same treatment.
"You have my sincere gratitude, Doctor," Kurapika says once it's over. "How much is your usual fee?"
Leorio stops them before they can extract their wallet from an inner pocket of their jacket. "No need! I feel like I should be the one paying you the big bucks for letting me indulge in my uncontrollable urge to patch up every wounded creature on earth."
"Doctor Paladiknight, the medical profession is blessed to have someone as selfless as you in its ranks."
Leorio's face reddens. He scratches his nape in embarrassment. "Ah, come on. You're praising me too much. You're gonna make my head blow up."
"That would be unfortunate, as we've already established that the world is better with you in it." Kurapika rises from the couch. "I should go. I've troubled you enough."
Already? What can Leorio say to make them stay? The rusty cogs of seduction tactics are clanking within his skull as he walks Kurapika to the door.
"Oh, wait. Lemme give you my card." He has to check all his wallet's compartments before he locates a business card, folded in half. "Call me ASAP if you notice any signs of infection. Redness, swelling, fever, intensifying pain. Stuff like that."
"Understood. Thank you, Doctor."
To Leorio's infinite disappointment, Kurapika's gloved fingers don't brush against his upon taking the crumpled card. Before he can stop himself, he's saying, "Shouldn't we shake hands?"
Kurapika's brows furrow. "Why should we?"
Smiling brightly, Leorio sticks out his right hand. "Because it's what people do when they meet for the first time!"
After a moment's hesitation, Kurapika takes off their left glove and extends their palm. Leorio switches to his left hand so they can shake. The simple skin-to-skin contact causes something to stir between Leorio's legs. God, he really needs to get laid.
He clears his throat to distract from the semi-stiffy in his sweatpants. "So you're left-handed, huh?"
"No."
As Kurapika utters this concise answer, their right arm shivers. No, that's not an accurate description. It's more like something underneath Kurapika's right sleeve has suddenly rippled for no discernible reason.
Is Leorio only imagining what just happened? Before he can pose any questions, Kurapika turns away and heads down the corridor, where the elevator swallows them within seconds.
That night, the motorcyclist is lying beside Leorio in bed. The driver's wearing their riding jacket unzipped, with no shirt underneath.
Kissing down their neck, he coasts his palms over the muscled planes of their abdomen and over the pillowy expanse of their chest.
The driver's brown gaze is steady on him as they begin to undo their belt.
He settles between their legs. He shucks off their clunky boots and casts them to the floor. He inches down their ripped blue jeans, then their underwear.
Their riding jacket is all they have left. Lovingly, he strips the left sleeve from the driver's arm. He then moves to their other side. He tugs the synthetic fabric over the driver's right shoulder and —
Leorio's alarm clock rings, wrenching him rudely into reality. He's back in his actual bed, where the right side is always cold and unruffled by hands other than his own.
It's a slow day at Leorio's little clinic at the strip mall. No walk-in patients at all.
After he's through with his scheduled morning appointments, he hurls himself down on the sofa in the waiting room. He unlocks his mobile phone to see whether he's received any missed calls or messages. The absence of notifications on the screen greets him like a slap on the face.
Over the past week, how many times has he put his life on hold just to check if an unknown number has finally reached him? He's always yanking his phone from his pocket in between appointments. Making periodic stops on walks to and from his apartment. Pausing whatever random series he's watching in bed and smearing microwave popcorn butter all over his phone in the process.
That motorcycle driver never stops racing around the pathways of his mind. Leorio's always berating himself for not taking the opportunity to snag their contact details when they were right in front of him. Maybe doing so would've betrayed how much he yearned for their company. Maybe it would've made him appear desperate, as a recent involuntary celibate. But desperation be damned — anything would be better than never knowing whether their encounter could've amounted to something more!
Call me if you notice an infection, Leorio said that day. Why did he have to phrase it that way? Of course no infection would arise after he himself cleaned and dressed their wounds with the utmost standard of care!
He jams his face against a sofa cushion and groans to the high heavens.
"What are you doing over there?" Alluka, who's just returned from lunch, eyes Leorio with suspicion. "Are you crying 'cause your girlfriend dumped you?"
Leorio lifts his face from the cushion. "She did dump me, six months ago. But thanks for reminding me out of nowhere, you good-for-nothing assistant."
Alluka takes her seat behind the receptionist's desk. "Are you still cut up about that? Did you even like her that much? Remember how you'd stay out late drinking 'cause you were dreading heading home to her? Think about that before you waste any more tears on that woman. You can do without the dehydration. Your skin's already dry as a desert."
Leorio sniffs. "Truly, nobody can cheer me up like you can, Alluka. But if you must know, I'm agonizing over another —"
"Tell me later. Go get your lunch, Doctor." With one hand, she dismissively waves him away. The thumb of her other hand is tapping lightning-fast over her phone.
"Ugh, fine." Leorio shoves himself off from the sofa and stretches. "Hey, ask your brother if he wants to grab beers with me this Saturday."
"Which one?"
"You know which. The only one among your siblings I can stand."
"Already itching to get hammered, Doctor?" Alluka says snidely. "It's only Monday."
"All the more reason to find something to sustain me till the weekend, right?"
Once he departs from the clinic, he steers away from the strip mall's wide array of restaurants. He doesn't relish the prospect of hogging a table to himself amidst all the doting couples and happy families.
The vending machines will do nicely. He punches the numbers for an egg salad sandwich and a canned espresso.
Perhaps he should eat his lunch on a park bench? The open air and verdant scenery just might lift his spirits.
But before all that, he has to indulge in another sort of stimulant. He stops by the mall's nearest smoking area and takes out his trusty pack of cigarettes. Wait, where did his lighter go? He pats down all his pockets. Nada.
"Do you need a light, Doctor?" a voice next to him says.
Mumbling his thanks, Leorio leans in to press the tip of his cigarette to his neighbor's. Then the realization sinks in. This appealing alto voice. This acknowledgement of his occupation although he left his white coat at the clinic. These elegant hands in riding gloves.
"Kurapika?" Leorio inquires, swathed in a cloud of smoke. "It's you, isn't it?"
Kurapika bows their head to confirm this. The silver fixings of their gemstone earrings glitter in the sunlight. "I've been standing here debating with myself on whether I should pay your office a visit."
"No kidding?" Leorio's mind is reeling. Part of him has already made its peace with the reality that he's missed his shot with the person of his dreams for good. But here Kurapika is now. Can it be that their shared moment in the apartment meant the world to both of them?
"I just —" Kurapika pauses to stub out their rose-colored cigarette on the ashtray. "I just thought it would be best if you could check my injuries from last time. I haven't been able to put your ominous spiel about potential infections out of my mind."
Of course. Leorio should've guessed this visit would be something of the sort. No romance. Just medical affairs. "Sorry if I gave you a scare. I'll make it up to you by providing another free check-up, all right? Technically, I'm on my break, so do you mind if I eat my sandwich on the way?"
"Eat whatever you want, Doctor. I don't wish to trouble you any more than is necessary."
Leorio takes a couple more puffs from his cancer stick before crushing it out. There are numerous rose-colored cigarette butts in the ashtray, he notices now. He's never seen this peculiar shade of smokes before, let alone enough of them to constitute a pack. Exactly how long has Kurapika been lingering here, wrestling over the question of whether he wants to visit Leorio?
Alluka glances up from her phone as Leorio returns to the clinic with a never-before-seen person in tow. She pushes away from her desk and reaches into a filing cabinet.
"This is just a friend," Leorio informs her. "No need to make them fill out any forms. Get back to whatever you're doing and don't pay any attention to us."
But she tracks them both with her blue eyes until they disappear into Leorio's office.
After making Kurapika sit on the cot, he comments, "Your pants aren't as tight as last time."
"I've learned my lesson. Before seeing a doctor, I should select my pants accordingly unless I intend to take them off."
Is that an innuendo or not? Who even knows anymore? Rather than analyzing their every word, Leorio concentrates on rolling up their pants so he can get a good look at their knees.
"As advised, I followed the steps of RICE," Kurapika tells him.
Leorio hums in approval. "Yeah, I can see that. Your knees are looking great."
"I've also been changing my bandages daily, but I'm uncertain whether I've been doing it right."
"Observe how I patch up your wounds now. This way, you know what to do in case — God forbid — another emergency happens. But starting tomorrow you can probably go without the gauze. Your wounds have healed, more or less. You've got no infections or any other issues requiring medical attention."
Is he only imagining the way Kurapika's face falls? How can he discern between wishful thinking and objective reality?
Fuck it. He should seize this opportunity, shouldn't he? He'd much rather live with the embarrassment of being rejected than with the regret of never shooting his shot. "You know, I operate this clinic from nine to five, but I'm not opposed to making appointments after hours, medical emergency or not. For special cases."
"Special cases?"
"You're the only special case in my records at the moment." He lapses into silence. Rather than meeting Kurapika's eyes, he busies himself with redressing their wounds.
His heart leaps to his throat when he hears Kurapika speak.
"I confess that I'm interested in setting up an after-hours appointment. To tell you the truth, there's no shortage of medical facilities close to the area where I reside. Still, I found myself coming all the way here. You're my favorite kind of doctor. Rough hands, gentle touch."
Their gloved palm settles over Leorio's hand, which is resting over their freshly bandaged left knee.
Swallowing, Leorio looks up now. Kurapika's brown eyes, kindled with curiosity, are watching him. What do they want to know? His body must understand the answer to this question although his brain lags behind. Before he realizes what he's doing, he's leaning in to get a taste of those lips and to grant them a sample of his own.
With not a molecule of space between them, he inhales Kurapika's essence. Nicotine, rose petals, and an undercurrent of something else he can't identify. Instinctively, he reaches up to grasp that fragile face between his coarse hands. He wants to tug it closer, to savor all its secrets forever. Then his mind catches up to what he's doing. Namely, sucking face in the middle of the day in his office.
He breaks the kiss to take a sizable step away from the cot. Kurapika's cheeks are flushed, though they can't possibly be redder than Leorio's. His face is so hot that he must be spewing steam from his ears.
"Did you not want to?" Kurapika asks, their voice uncertain.
"I'm the one who initiated," Leorio points out.
"I believe we both did, in our own way. I was begging for your lips with my eyes, and you graciously gave me what I wanted."
Forget steam — if Leorio's face gets any hotter, he'll be leaking lava from his ears in no time. "Um, whoever's to blame for starting something, I gotta cut this short. I can't do this stuff right now. While we're here, I'm Doctor Paladiknight. And you're my patient, for all intents and purposes."
"Am I? You never made me accomplish any forms or pay any fees."
Shit. They're right. "Regardless," Leorio sputters, "I'll feel better if we continue this in another context. What time are you free tonight? I want to see you again."
"Is this going to be — how did you phrase it? — an after-hours appointment?"
"No, I wanna take you on a date," Leorio says firmly.
Kurapika hesitates. Has their interest in Leorio waned now that they've gotten a taste?
Before Leorio can fret, Kurapika snatches the pen poking out from his breast pocket. They grab Leorio's hand to scribble a time and a place on his palm.