Chapter Text
“Does Killua have a favorite food?”
“Hm?” Killua had only been half paying attention as he scrolled through available hunter jobs on his laptop. He took a moment to look up at Gon, his eyes adjusting to the warm light of the kitchen after staring at the blue screen for however long he’d been searching. Was it really half past five?
“I said,” Gon feigned annoyance with a huge eye roll which was weakened by his teasing grin, “does Killua have a favorite food?”
“Sure, but you already know it.”
“Chocolate doesn’t count. I’m talking about real food.” Gon wandered to the fridge and began to peruse its contents. Before Killua could interject that chocolate WAS, in fact, a “real food”, Gon cut him off with a knowing glance. “For instance, Aunt Mito used to let me help her make pasta and garlic bread, so I like it a lot because it reminds me of those memories.”
“Well,” huffed Killua, “there was a splendid arsenic casserole my mom used to throw together…” Gon froze by the fridge. Killua caught a worried look from him and realized maybe that wasn’t an appropriate joke to make. He released a long sigh. He shut his laptop with an audible click then rested his head on his hands, anxiously running his fingers through his hair. He muttered a quiet apology.
“No, no, Killua!” (When had Gon gotten so close to him?) “There isn’t anything to apologize for. I should have thought that question through. I am the one who should be sorry.”
Gon rested a firm hand on Killua’s shoulder. Killua couldn’t help but feel guilty.
This happened more often than he wished it did: Gon would say something that would spark Killua’s memories from his childhood and Killua would either try to turn it into a joke or otherwise spiral into an especially anxious mood (a panic attack, Leorio had called it). Killua hated it about himself. He hated that he had the ability to wipe the shining smile off of Gon’s face, to kill the mood of any conversation, maybe even to scare away his friends who had been so kind to him. That wasn’t what he was trying to do.
Gon squeezed his shoulder, pulling him out of his thoughts. Blue eyes met gold when Killua looked up, and he felt a sudden rush of calm run down his spine. “It’s okay, Killua. You don’t have to talk about it now, if you don’t want to, but you don’t have to avoid it, either.” Avoidance. That is what he’d been doing, wasn’t it…
Gon grinned and stood up straight. His hands shifted to the table to grasp Killua’s pale hands and pull him up, too. His movements were clear and certain, and he pulled Killua into a quick hug before dragging him playfully back toward the fridge. Killua hovered, confused, as Gon shuffled around and shoved random foods into his arms. A stick of butter, a box of spinach, a bag of mozzarella cheese, a head of garlic…
“Gon,” Killua pulled away with a chuckle when Gon offered a carton of cream, “my arms are full! What are we even doing?”
Gon closed the fridge and brought the carton to the counter himself. “We,” he emphasized with a wiggle of his eyebrows, “are going to make dinner.” Then he offered a wink and Killua almost dropped all of the ingredients he was holding. Thankfully, Gon’s hands were there, catching the rolling garlic and setting it next to the cream with an apologetic smile. Killua steadied his arms and fought back the rush of heat that was spreading like a wildfire across his face.
In the next five minutes, Gon was telling Killua what to do, step by step, and with suspiciously little judgement at all when Killua didn’t know that you can’t use a fork on teflon pans or when he wasn’t sure which powdery substance was the flour. (Thank goodness Gon stopped him before he added powdered sugar to the melted butter in the pan…)
In fact, Gon was incredibly patient and supportive without making Killua feel like a child. He was thankful for that.
“That looks perfect, Killua,” Gon grinned as he pulled a warm pan with a cooked chicken breast out of the oven.
Killua swelled with pride. He clutched the rubber spatula he’d been using over his chest and bowed theatrically. “Oh, this? It’s nothing at all. Everyone knows I make the best roulette.” He paused when Gon let out a cry, tossing the hot pan onto the counter as he doubled over himself, trying despite himself to stifle his laughter. Killua narrowed his eyes, attempting to puzzle out what exactly was so damn funny.
“It’s-” Gon inhaled deeply to try to speak between fits. He tried again. “Killua, it’s a roux! Not a roulette!” He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. Gon squeaked as Killua jabbed him in the side.
“When I make it, it’s a roulette,” he grumbled, turning back to the pan. Gon looked like he was about to say something more, but, when his eyes fell on Killua aggressively stirring the roux (it really didn’t need any more stirring at the moment), his mouth closed and was replaced with a drunken smile. Killua felt himself shiver at the awareness of Gon’s gaze. He could feel the eyes on him, and so he distracted himself by pushing the thickening roux around the pan, from one side to the other.
He wasn’t prepared when Gon was behind him (when had he moved?!) and his arms were on top of Killua’s. Killua froze. His eyes were as wide as saucers as they watched Gon’s right hand cradle his own, catching the spatula when Killua nearly dropped it. Gon’s left hand appeared with the carton of cream, pouring it slowly into the pan.
Killua watched without breathing, Gon’s right hand guiding his own to stir in small, circular motions. He shuddered from head to toe when Gon’s chin rested gently on Killua’s shoulder. The two breathed at the same tempo and Killua felt something warm and insistent burning in his chest. He nearly lost track of the cooking process as Gon added several seasonings Killua had never heard of and then a handful of cheese to the concoction in front of them.
“Could you add the spinach and the chicken, Killua?” Gon pulled away to grab a pot of pasta from the other burner and drain it at the sink. Killua tried not to sulk at the loss of contact. He was immediately aware of a coldness on every part of his body where Gon had just been touching and he was embarrassed at how sad and empty it made him feel.
A pressure built up behind his eyes, a symptom of something terrifying and primal within him: shame. He forced his hands to do as Gon had asked, dumping the spinach into the sauce and stirring before adding the chicken. Gon was next to him again, tipping the strainer by the pan and letting the curly pasta settle into the white sauce. He grabbed the spatula and gave it a few final stirs before grinning at Killua. “Bon appetit!”
There was an awkward silence as Killua tried to decide what to do. Should he grab the plates? Prepare the drinks? He hadn’t helped Gon make the dinner before and hadn’t anticipated this moment to be the most stressful…
Gon must have read his uncertainty because he made a thoughtful look then raised his hand, pointing in the air as though struck by a sudden realization. “Before we eat, we’ve got to taste test it,” he declared.
The food smelled amazing, and it certainly had a taste to match. Killua eyed the spoon leaning against the edge of the pan. “Do we just lick the spoon or what?”
Gon glanced at Killua thoughtfully, then at the pan on the stove. Several emotions passed over his face, too quick for Killua to make any sense of, though he was certain he’d registered something bashful in there somewhere. But then Gon’s golden eyes settled on a look of resolve. He swept his index finger through the sauce and brought it to his lips.
Killua almost laughed at him, noticing he’d mostly missed his mouth and had smeared quite a bit of it on his lips. The word “idiot” rose through his mouth but was swallowed by Gon as he pressed his lips to Killua’s and he tasted garlic and oregano and cheese and warmth. Killua could have combusted from whatever he was feeling at that moment - the same pressure in his chest from earlier returning with a vengeance.
Killua’s body reacted on its own, his hands coming up to rest on either side of Gon’s face before his fingers made their way into coarse, dark hair. He had never kissed anyone before, but this somehow felt natural, and the kisses were less awkward the longer they stayed there, Killua’s mouth somehow adjusting on its own to Gon’s movements. Gon made a noise from somewhere deep in his throat as Killua’s fingers tugged lightly at his hair. Gon’s own hands found their way to Killua’s waistline, his thumbs rubbing small circles on his hips. Killua found himself curling instinctively into Gon’s touch.
Gon broke the kiss, but hovered close to Killua’s face. “How’s it taste?” he asked in a hoarse voice.
Killua blinked once. Twice. Dazed for a moment before he registered the question. “That tastes really fucking good.”
Gon grinned. “Okay, then! Let’s eat!”
As he began to pull away, Killua whined and wrapped his arms around the other’s torso before he even realized he’d done it. Gon responded with a chuckle.
“Can’t we just…” Killua trailed off, his face flushing red again. He felt guilty, but he also felt something else that yearned for more affection. “Can we just stay like this?” he asked, finally, pulling himself closer to Gon so their chests were together and his own head rested on Gon’s shoulder. He couldn’t see the other’s expression from here, and he hoped beyond hope that it wasn’t one of disappointment or - worse - annoyance.
That thought dissipated in his mind, however, when Gon returned his hug and more - his chapped lips finding Killua’s ear and planting a firm kiss on its shell. “Do you really like this that much, Killua?”
Killua shuddered again as he felt teeth nip gently at his earlobe. He couldn’t stop the pleased groan that his body made in response, or the breathy “yeah” that came out as Gon began to make his way down his pale neck, leaving kisses and warmth the whole stretch. Killua wasn’t used to the sound of his own voice like that, so he cleared his throat and added, “My family wasn’t much for physical affection… or, I guess, not like- not like this.”
Gon pulled back again, looking a bit sad but also completely entranced. He’s pitying you, Killua’s mind supplied. He closed his eyes, fighting back tears once again. The tears broke free when Gon pulled Killua into a firm and comforting hug. They stood there for way too long, saying nothing. But somehow, Killua didn’t feel like anything needed to be said. Somehow, he felt that Gon understood and Gon was there for him.
When eventually Killua loosened himself from Gon’s arms, he sniffled and rubbed his fist under his eye. “It’s probably cold now,” he looked at the pasta thoughtfully. “But we should eat.”
Gon nodded. He pulled two bowls from the dish rack and two forks, wasting no time in dishing up a large portion for each of them. It was then that Killua realized just how hungry he was. They sat at the small dining table and dug into the dish.
“This is delicious!” Killua said between shoveling food into his mouth.
Gon nodded in agreement. “It is! Killua is such an amazing chef!”
It hadn’t occurred to Killua until then that this was his first time making a meal (well, Gon just told him what to do, but still…). He stared for a moment at the plate in front of him, then at the identical one in front of Gon - Gon watching his friend silently with a knowing smile.
“Thank you, Gon,” he whispered, lowering his head to hide his embarrassing sappy expression. “For helping me and for- well. You know…”
Gon did know. Killua didn’t have to say another word because Gon was smiling like a sunshine and placing his hand comfortably over Killua’s and saying “you really are amazing, Killua.” And, for once, deep down under his embarrassment, Killua believed him.