title from "This Feeling" by The Chainsmokers
leopika has me by the throat right now, oml
Kurapika won't call it a mistake. And it's not fair to say it's an accident. It's more of a moment of weakness.
(A glorious, self-indulgent, foolish moment of weakness.)
It's no one's fault but his own. He'd willingly followed Leorio home after a chance meeting in a crowded market, too exhausted to combat both Leorio's brusque concern and his own inner desire to spend time with his friend after so long. He's practically dead on his feet by the time they arrive at Leorio's apartment, stumbling alongside him into his kitchen with only a quarter of his consciousness functioning, sight bleary through heavy eyelids as he fumbles for the countertop to steady himself. Leorio notices, mutters something under his breath—probably a snub about his poor state and lack of self-care—turning in the dim light leaking in from the streetlamps outside to stabilize him with a hand to his hip. Kurapika looks up—to snap at him or thank him, he can't be sure—only to find him leaning down for a better observation. Their noses brush in passing, a shiver racing down his spine when he realizes he can feel the fine stubble of Leorio's five o'clock shadow scratching his chin before they simultaneously pull away, wide-eyed.
Despite that, there's only a few centimeters of space between them and they remain close enough that Kurapika meets Leorio's widened gaze, enough that he sees the way his Adam's apple bobs when he swallows harshly in the quiet. Enough that he's able to watch as Leorio's eyes flicker down to catch on his mouth with an expression so full of longing that his own chest begins to ache in kind before sliding back up to meet his again.
"'Pika," he whispers, voice hoarse with restraint and all the things he won't say, somehow a question and an apology wrapped into a single endearment, and gods that's it. That's all he needs to push up on his tiptoes, reach out to grasp the back of Leorio's neck to bring him down to meet him, and take.
He relishes in Leorio's sharp inhale, the way the hand on his hip spasms before tightening, fingers gripping him hard enough to surely leave marks beneath the rumpled fabric of his shirt. He tips his chin so he can slot their mouths together more comfortably, fully, leaving no room to misinterpret what this is or pretend he meant to do anything else. Leorio's stubble scratches Kurapika's cheek, drawing an approving hum from his throat, and he can't help but lift his hand to cup his palm around Leorio's jaw to rub his thumb along the rough line of it.
They break apart with a small gasp, chests heaving in a way a chaste kiss should not allow for, eyes meeting in the orange glow of the streetlamps just long enough for a silent conversation—is this okay, I want you, please, again again again—before diving right back in. All caution, all hesitance and control, thrown to the wayside as long buried desire breaks down their carefully built walls the way an imprisoned animal leaps at the first chance of escape. He feels Leorio's hands everywhere—his waist, his back, up and down his sides—until he's gripping his hips and lifting him effortlessly onto the countertop so he can slip between his thighs which Kurapika eagerly wraps around his waist. The sensation of Leorio's hand splayed across the small of his back, warmth emanating from every point of contact, gives him goosebumps; he feels small in Leorio's hands in a way that makes him feel safe instead of cornered, free instead of trapped.
Kurapika takes advantage of the moment to do his own exploring, hands roaming the broad expanse of Leorio's chest the way he's only imagined in his briefest of indulgences, fingers trailing every dip and curve of his biceps and shoulders until he finds himself right back where he started. There's a certain kind of power, he thinks, in evoking the tremor that runs through the man at his touch. He cups Leorio's face in both hands to hold him there against him, keep him right where he wants him as he kisses the breath from his lungs and bruises his lips with his teeth, dizzy with the knowledge that he can make Leorio react this way.
He feels more than hears the groan in Leorio's chest against his own, maybe even echoes it in reply, and the way Leorio's hand cups the side of his neck, fingers tangled in the too-long length of his hair, has his stomach doing flips. And then he pulls away, thumb sliding tenderly over the swell of Kurapika's cheek as he leans in to press the sweetest of kisses to his face—at the corner of his mouth, over his cheek and up to his temple, against the sensitive edge of his jaw, beneath the curve of his ear and down the line of his throat—each burning more than the last despite the gentleness with which they're placed.
It makes his heart race in his chest, the way Leorio showers him in such affection, the way he likely would all the time if they were together the way normal people get to be—
But he's not, Kurapika remembers, he's the furthest imaginable from a normal partner. The reminder is like ice down his spine and suddenly the butterflies in his stomach disintegrate into ash. He feels sick.
"Wait Leorio," he wheezes, though it's more breathless than he intends. He can't help it when Leorio's lips caress the soft skin of his neck like he's handling the finest of treasures. It takes more effort than he wants to admit to unclasp his fingers from around his neck and settle his palms against his shoulders to push him away. "Stop, stop."
The response is immediate and it's almost worse because of it. Leorio jerks away from him as if he's been shocked, gaze searching his for the reason Kurapika's suddenly objecting. He looks so stricken that he may have done something to offend him that Kurapika's guilt is suffocating.
"Shit, are you okay? Did I hurt you?" he asks frantically, hands hovering over him as if he wants to check for nonexistent injuries despite having handled Kurapika with the utmost care. His throat feels tight with regret watching him fret, knowing he's about to shatter both their hearts and unable to stop himself from it.
"No, I'm fine," he reassures, withdrawing his hands reluctantly. It must be done, he chastises himself, he can't very well push Leorio away while still clinging to him. "It's just—we can't do this."
"What?" Leorio stops searching for injury to snap his gaze back to Kurapika's, brow furrowed in confusion. "What are you talking about?"
"This," Kurapika gestures between the two of them, drawing in a deep breath to compose himself so he can continue, "I apologize. I shouldn't have allowed it to go so far." The words taste bitter but he forces them out anyway.
His stomach drops at the way Leorio's jaw tightens with understanding, his hands clenching at his sides where he still stands between Kurapika's legs. He knows this look, recognizes the stubborn tilt of his head as he stares down his nose at him and the way his upper lip curls when he's about to snarl in a fit of temper. He's probably the one who knows this expression best, considering he's often the one causing it.
"You shouldn't have allowed it?" Leorio growls, then snorts derisively. The sound of it has Kurapika's shoulders rising around his ears defensively. "Excuse me, O mighty Mafia Boss, how dare I place my lowly hands on you."
"That's not how I meant it and you know it," Kurapika snaps back. "I only meant that I should have exhibited better self-control to prevent this from happening."
Leorio's gaze narrows. "So you regret it already."
Kurapika kicks him in the thigh as he snarls, "Stop putting words in my mouth!"
"Well, I'd rather have my tongue in your mouth right now but someone is being an idiot about it!"
Heat sears across his face like wildfire at such blatant honesty and he's embarrassed when he stutters, "Wha—I'm not being an idiot, I'm being reasonable!"
"Oh come off it, Kurapika," Leorio has the gall to roll his eyes at him, "You're being a coward and we both know it. I don't need your apologies or half-assed motives."
Indignation adds to the flush in his cheeks at such a declaration. He purposefully keeps his tone low and even when he replies through gritted teeth, "I am trying to protect you."
"From what?" The exasperation in his voice tugs at Kurapika's heart as he steps forward again, effectively pinning him to his place on the counter, although he knows that's not Leorio's intention. Still, he tenses on instinct, and he hates that he does. "I swear, if you say some dumb shit like 'yourself' I'm gonna—"
"What's so wrong with that?" Kurapika interrupts, heart heavy in his chest as he forces his reasons into the open. "I'm no good for you, Leorio. My line of work is dangerous. I can't—you deserve someone who can give you everything you want—someone you don't have to worry about bleeding out in a ditch somewhere, someone who can at the very least answer a fucking phone call—"
"Now who's putting words in whose mouth?" Leorio sighs, scrubbing a hand through his hair as he shakes his head. "I took that exam same as you, y'know, I can hold my own." Kurapika scoffs and gets an irritated glare for it. "Also, I'm twenty-two years old, Kurapika. I can make my own decisions. Who are you to tell me what I should want? What I'm allowed to feel? I can't help being in love with you."
His reply dies on his tongue as those last few words register. The world seems to tip on its axis, slowing to a standstill until all Kurapika can focus on is the way Leorio is looking at him, orange light splashing across his tired, open face and highlighting the loosening of his shoulders as they drop. It's a helpless kind of expression, a blend of relief and surrender.
"You're…" he trails off, words tangled in his throat, suffocating him. He gets a long, knowing look.
"Don't act surprised. You wouldn't have kissed me if you hadn't known."
"Yes I would have. I kissed you because I'm selfish," he replies but even he can taste the lie on his lips. He can't deny noticing the looks Leorio sends his way whenever they're together, can't pretend that a lesser man wouldn't have given up after the hundredth unanswered phone call, after the thousandth ignored text. He has no choice but to acknowledge that only people in love touch one another the way they had, with reverence normally reserved for precious things.
It's easy to persuade himself that he's imagining these things, that Leorio's feelings towards him are wishful thinking, when he's a thousand miles away from the man with only a phone to connect them that he has the freedom to ignore; it's much harder to accomplish with him mere inches from reach.
This is why he keeps his distance. Leorio brings out the weakness in him. Makes him wish for dreams long since burned to ash.
"Yeah, you are. Selfish and stubborn, brave and determined. You drive me fucking insane," Leorio huffs, too much fondness in his tone for his choice of words to insult. He reaches out to tuck some of Kurapika's hair behind his ear, knuckles catching on his earring, as his dark eyes rove over his face as if waiting for him to shove him away again. He should; he should push him as far away as possible, jump down from this counter and disappear into the night the way he has countless times before. Break his soft, honest heart and pray it's enough to prevent him from reaching out to Kurapika ever again.
It won't work, his heart whispers, you know it won't. He may be stubborn but Leorio is just as tenacious. He has stuck by Kurapika's side in whatever way possible since the beginning, a constant presence at the edge of his life that he can't shake no matter how much he wants to or should. He could leave this very second and whenever he arrived at his next destination he'd have a voicemail full of irate lectures waiting for him, an inbox packed with increasingly concerned texts asking whether he's okay, did you make it back safe, don't forget to rest.
Even if he had it in him to throw away Leorio's heart he knows that Leorio doesn't have it in him to throw Kurapika away right back.
He wishes he did. He's grateful he can't.
"This isn't going to work," he argues weakly, shuddering at the way Leorio's thumb sweeps across the swell of his cheek. He closes his eyes (just like the coward Leorio had called him out to be) to avoid his searching gaze but it only enhances his focus on the warmth of Leorio's breath as it washes over him. Somehow his fingers have found the edge of Leorio's shirt, gripping so hard it's painful. He tries again. "We can't—"
"C'mon 'Pika," Leorio murmurs, so close and still too far away. "You're the most persistent bastard I've ever met. I've never seen you give up a fight for something you want."
Kurapika counts his heartbeats, pounding loud in his ears in the silence that follows until Leorio finally asks, "You gonna lie to my face and say you don't want this?"
You don't want me?
He snaps his eyes open to glare at the man (and he knows they're a burning scarlet, as telling of his inner thoughts as if he'd screamed them instead) as he reaches out, snatching the collar of his jacket in his fist and yanking him forward with a hissed, "I told you to stop putting words in my mouth" before dragging him in for another kiss. This one is all heat and tongue and teeth, impatience and snapped restraint, a foolish decision disguised as a sweet relief.
Every sweep of his hand, every trace of fingers and brush of lips, is a stain against the pure soul of this man. Leorio belongs to a different world, one where he saves the dying instead of causing it, one where his presence inspires hope and relief in others instead of fear and scorn. He is so good and Kurapika knows that he is the easiest avenue for enemies to bring him to his knees.
Leorio brings out in him all of the things Kurapika can't afford to be—brash, reckless, vulnerable. His world does not allow for weak things, for soft people with huge hearts of gold and little self-preservation; it takes those forgiving souls and grinds them to dust in front of the people that hold them most dear. Leorio has the potential to shatter Kurapika's entire life all over again. It's the most frightening aspect about him and still Kurapika hasn't the sense or willpower to resist his orbit. This is dangerous. He is dangerous.
But it's impossible to remember any of this when Leorio's teeth catch on his bottom lip, tugging him out of his thoughts and back into his embrace as easy as breathing.
It's still dark when Kurapika decides to leave. He knows it's wrong to slink away into the night after tearing down the barriers between himself and Leorio without a single word of farewell, but he's afraid that if he doesn't escape right now he'll be persuaded to stay. Falling into a comfortable routine here would be all too easy, he thinks, and that's exactly why he can't afford to linger.
Now that he's had a taste of this life he can only hope the memories will be enough to satisfy him and not evolve into a temptation to venture back for more.
He's just reached the door when the floor creaks behind him with the weight of another. Kurapika's shoulders fall in defeat.
"You don't have to do some midnight walk of shame, y'know." Leorio's sleep-rough voice sends tingles over his skin. He glances over his shoulder to find him leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest with a knowing lift of his brow. "I won't ask you to stay. I know you got shit to do, people to piss off." His lips quirk briefly at Kurapika's unamused stare before he adds quietly, "I just wanted you to get some proper rest first."
"I slept," he argues, knowing it's weak. He slept for maybe three consecutive hours but that's more than he can remember for a long time, although he has enough sense not to say so out loud. Leorio just sighs through his nose before he steps forward until they're face to face, the warmth of his body seeping into Kurapika's cold chest like a soothing balm.
"Guess I'll pretend you mean that," he mutters, grumpy and entirely too perceptive. It makes Kurapika's lips tilt upwards in a small smile, glad that at least this hasn't changed between them. Then his heart leaps into his throat as Leorio lifts a hand to cup the back of his head, fingers sliding gently through his hair as though he's savoring the sensation, and he leans down.
"Leo—" His voice catches in his throat at the press of lips to the crown of his head, firm and lingering and so fucking tender it makes the corners of his eyes burn. And then Leorio releases him, taking a long step back to put more distance between them than they've had since he arrived, and offers him a bittersweet smile with his signature two-fingered salute.
"Don't die out there," he says, his tone just a touch too playful to be genuine, as if he's swallowed the words he really wants to say. Kurapika hears them anyway. Be safe. I'll be waiting. He can't promise him anything, that would be cruel considering the world he's returning to, but he can acknowledge them at the very least.
"Right." With one final, lingering gaze he sears this image of Leorio into his memory—hair in disarray as he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his ratty sweatpants, eyes a little brighter in the dark than they should be—before turning on his heel and disappearing into the shadows without a backwards glance.
He's homesick already.
i will neither confirm nor deny what happened during that scene change :3⊂
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