Chapter Text
"Isn’t this a little bit hypocritical? ♥” Hisoka said casually.
Illumi looked away from the window, his impossibly large eyes piercing Hisoka. No words were needed, it was evident he didn’t know what the extravagant magician meant.
“You know,” Hisoka’s lips curved into a small smile, “dining with your dear friend while telling your little brother,” he put down his mug, “Assassins don’t have friends, Killu, you don’t have the right to make friends,” he mimicked Illumi in an expression as robotic as his tone. He crossed his leg and rested his elbow on the chair, his shoulders slightly shaking in laughter over his own joke.
Illumi, no response, continued staring at him. Hisoka, not allowing the cold assassin to make him feel uneasy, fixated his eyes on him as well.
“Do you always go out looking like this?” Illumi broke the silence.
Hisoka rose a brow, sipping his cappuccino. “Excuse me? ♠”
Illumi blinked. “Do you always go out looking like this?” he repeated.
Hisoka resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Sometimes Illumi could be so dense. He chose to offer a smile instead. “Yes, I heard you. But I meant excuse me, as in, what do you mean? ♥”
“Then why didn’t you ask what I meant instead?”
“What? ♠”
“Why didn’t you straight-up ask what I meant instead of excusing me?” the unbelievably dense assassin stirred his hot chocolate.
Hisoka’s eyes sunk, his lips drooping. He seemed utterly unimpressed. Should he argue semantics with Illumi right now? He refused to. He proceeded by chuckling, drumming his nails on the wooden table.
“Illumi,” he smirked “you are most correct. Now, what did you mean by that? ♣”
Illumi brushed his hair back with his fingers, his raven mane cascading down his back. He was wearing a grey collared polo and black jeans. He looked casual but relatively elegant and intelligent.
“Well,” Illumi placed both hands on his mug and blew his beverage to cool it, “you’re wearing that strange jester outfit again, and those arm-bands too.” Hisoka blinked. “And you’re wearing make-up.”
Hisoka felt somewhat offended. “It’s not a jester outfit,” he thought his extravagant sense of style was fabulous, “that's just the pants.” He huffed and looked to the side. “You simply can’t understand fashion. ♠”
Illumi was still staring at him.
“Besides,” Hisoka squinted his eyes, smiling at him, “you wear similar outfits when out on a job, dear Illumi. ♥” he placed a hand on his chest, feigning pride. “I dare to say that you Zoldycks have copied my style.”
“What are you talking about?” Illumi moved a strand of hair behind his ear. "I," he tapped his chin with his index finger and looked up, pondering for a couple of seconds. “I suppose the crop top and undershirt I wore during the Hunter Exam may be similar, but I don’t see how that’s copying your style.” He sipped his beverage. “And why do you call me dear?”
Hisoka was endeared. One would think that Illumi, being the perfect assassin, was a man of few words. It would also be normal to believe he’s socially inept, as he was isolated from the world his entire childhood and teenage years, and would only be face-to-face with other people when assassinating them. However, this ceased to be the case when he turned eighteen. Since he was older, his contracts would turn out to be more complex in nature. While the simple assassinations would be left to Killua and Kalluto for training, he would take on the bigger jobs: politicians, governors, CEOs and, sometimes, celebrities.
Due to the nature of these jobs, and the status of the victims, he had to be well prepared. A lot of these assassinations were easier when made in exclusive events, such as galas. His social etiquette, lexicon, behaviour—he had to be perfect.
So, Silva and Kikyo put him through extensive training. Some contracts involved dissatisfied wives of rich men that were interested in young heartthrobs, so he had to be perfect. He was provided women that he didn’t know how his parents found—though they weren’t prostitutes, as it would be risky and ungraceful, and Kikyo insisted it would be an insult to her precious son’s body—and was forced to engage in all kinds of sexual acts with them. Some contracts were long and required months, so he had to find what made a woman tick. Every assassination had to be flawless. No specks of blood, no chaos. Every single one had to be quiet and smooth. Perfectly planned.
Other contracts involved important people from other countries. In preparation for this, he had private tutors that taught him various languages. If the target was a politician and the contract demanded infiltration, he hit the books and learned every political affiliation and history from said target.
He knew what made every person tick, and he was prepared for any situation.
Illumi was, quite simply, perfect.
But when he wasn’t forced to be focused on a job, he was… well… simple-minded.
Hisoka opted to laugh.
“No reason in particular. ♠”
Illumi nodded. He sipped his chocolate again, sighing. He enjoyed hot beverages.
To Hisoka, he was quite pretty.
“I have a job tonight,” Illumi announced.
Hisoka, scouting the diner for their waiter to ask why their food was taking so long, hummed in acknowledgement.
“I want to take you with me,” he sipped.
Hisoka’s brows rose slightly, finding those two voids for eye-contact. “Oh? ♥” he smirked.
“It’s in a warehouse. It belongs to a drug-lord that’s rising in narcotrafficking, so, as you can imagine,” he leaned on his right hand, “the competition wants to squash him by taking out the drug source and his subordinates.”
“Hm. ♠” Hisoka imitated Illumi’s posture, lips curved in a coquettish smile. “That does sound fun, but it doesn’t seem to be anything you can’t handle. Is there any reason, in particular,” he rested his chin on both hands and leaned forward, “to why you want me there with you? ♥”
“You’ve helped me keep an eye on Killu by your own volition,” Illumi leaned back. “There will be a lot of people in that warehouse, possible Nen users, too, that you can kill. I wanted to return the favour.”
“So,” Hisoka licked his lips, “as a token of your gratitude, you want to take me out on a date? ♠” he pestered.
Illumi blinked. “It’s not a date.”
“Is it not? ♥” he chuckled, hoping to annoy the eldest Zoldyck. “because it sounds like one. You and me together, at night…”
“How could it be a date?” Illumi inquired. “It’s on a filthy warehouse full of drugs and sweaty, uncomfortable people. That would be a horrible date,” his expression was blank.
“Oh,” Hisoka pursed his lips in annoyance over his attempts of jesting failing, “of course.” He pressed a hand to his chest, running fingers through his hair. “Well then, I would most enjoy accompanying you on this job, dear Illu. ♣”
The assassin nodded again. It was a cute gesture he performed when he had nothing to say. Hisoka moaned and squinted in pleasure, anticipating the image of Illumi’s graceful moves in battle. Oh, how he'd love to fight him. Illumi observed, from the corner of his eye, the disgusted expressions of other customers elicited by the gesture from the strange man in extravagant make-up and clothing.
He stared at the diner’s counter. “I wonder what’s taking so long.”
Hisoka interlaced his fingers, eyes squinted in a long smile. “I can’t wait for tonight. ♠”
“Hm?” Illumi looked back at him. “Me too. It’s a boring contract, I want to get it over with quickly.”
Hisoka moaned again, the customers behind them looking back in disgust with widened eyes. Illumi found it amusing.
Oh, they were most definitely friends.