Chapter Text
The first girl isn’t bad.
She’s beautiful in a very natural way. Her golden hair sweeps off her forehead and swirls around her shoulders in gentle curls. Her eyes are a summer sky blue—lighter than Alluka’s and his own, closer to an aquamarine than indigo—and her smile is equally captivating. She’s the picture perfect porcelain doll. Any guy would be thrilled to pay for her dinner just to stare at her for the entirety of the meal.
But her appearance isn’t the problem. The two of them barely have any interests in common and the conversation stalls more than once. Killua has to stop himself from checking the clock one too many times.
At least the restaurant is good. Canary had recommended Kite’s Crazy Slots to Killua, knowing full well that he’d grown up with a personal chef and never liked restaurant food by comparison. But Killua surprisingly enjoys the unconventional menu options, the pleasant but not too romantic atmosphere, the helpful staff and the comfortable booth they are sitting at. Killua would come here again. Just not with the same girl.
Eventually—mercifully—the date ends. Killua pays for the bill and nods at their freckled waiter before walking out of the restaurant with the girl at his side. They exchange goodbyes and head towards their respective cars.
And Killua never sees her again.
-o0o-
The second girl is...interesting.
She’s incredibly smart—maybe even as smart as Illumi—with straight, dark hair and sharp, manicured nails. But she’s only interested in the stock market and shares and finance and the discussion becomes forced halfway through their appetizers. Killua talks business enough at home and he doesn’t want a repeat of that when he’s supposed to be having fun. So he mostly answers her questions with vague hums and counts the seconds until their food arrives.
The waiter throws him a grimace when the girl gets up to go to the bathroom. It’s the same waiter as the last time Killua came to Kite’s—he recognizes the warm brown eyes and freckles upon freckles dotting round cheeks.
Killua leaves a sizable tip for the waiter as he and his date prepare to leave the restaurant. As long as someone benefits from tonight, it won’t have been a total waste.
-o0o-
The third girl is someone Killua would have avoided altogether, even if they were the only two people locked in a room for the rest of eternity.
Killua’s stomach churns as he subtly stares at her over the top of his menu. Her skin is dyed an unnatural brown from tanning. Her hair is a platinum blonde piled into a ridiculously high bun. Her face is caked with makeup. She’s complained nonstop since they arrived, first about the atmosphere then the booth they were seated at before whining about the meal options. And her loud gum chewing is so annoying that Killua wants to bang his head against the table.
But he can’t. This girl is the niece of one of his father’s friends. He can’t outright reject her like he so desperately wants to. Could he even ghost her like he had the other two girls? What ramifications would he face at home if he does?
“Wuh—woah!”
Something moves out of the corner of Killua’s vision. There’s a shout, a clattering, a horrified gasp. Killua lowers his menu and gapes at the scene in front of him.
The waiter—the same waiter from the last two ‘dates’—is on the floor beside their table, rubbing his head with a groan. There are empty cups and straws littering the floor, a soaked notebook scribbled with orders. He must have tripped and dropped the drinks he was carrying.
Killua stands. He rushes to the waiter’s side and kneels on the wet floor, ignoring how the sticky liquid from the spilled drinks seep into his pants.
“Are you okay?” he asks. He grabs the waiter's hand and elbow to steady him. Together they move to a wobbly stand. “Did you hit anything?”
“Not sure….” the waiter says, wincing. The other restaurant staff appear to usher Killua and the waiter to the side as they start clearing the mess. “I think I might’ve hit my head a little, but I’m fine, really.”
“You’re fine?”
Killua turns and his stomach drops. His date is now a multicolored mess—makeup runs down her face, stains soak into her clothes, liquid drips out of her hair. The spilled drinks must have landed mostly on her.
Killua’s date pushes herself out of the booth and stomps over, shoving a finger in the waiter’s face. “You—You’re going to regret this. Where’s your manager? I want to speak to him. Now.”
“Hey.” Killua lets go of the waiter to push his date’s hand away. “There’s no need for that. It was just a mistake.”
“A mistake? Do you see my dress? My hair? My makeup? It’s all ruined! I can’t sit here for the rest of the night like this!”
Killua scowls. “Then leave.”
The girl’s jaw drops. Killua just glares back at her, planting himself firmly between his date and the waiter. He can’t stand people like this. Sure, the waiter made a mistake but there’s no reason to jeopardize his job over it. This girl could easily replace the ruined makeup and clothes with a quick call to her father, but who knows what situation the waiter might be in. He might really need this work.
The girl lifts her nose into the air. “Fine. If that’s how you see it—” She snatches her bag off the seat, “—then I will leave. Goodbye, Killua. Don’t bother texting me because I won’t respond!”
She turns on her heel and storms off. Killua glowers at her retreating back, not moving a single inch to stop her.
“Um. Thank you.”
Killua looks over his shoulder. The waiter gives him a grateful smile.
“No problem. I’m sorry for—” Killua waves his hand in the direction of his ex-date, “—y’know. All that.”
“There’s nothing for you to be sorry for. It was really my fault, anyway.” The waiter’s nose wrinkles. “She didn’t seem very nice though, if you don’t mind me saying.”
Killua snorts. “Yeah, well. She wasn’t.”
“Mm. I figured. It’s too bad I spilled those drinks and she had to leave….”
Killua pauses. There’s something odd about his phrasing. Something purposeful. He looks at the waiter—really, really looks at him—and is only slightly surprised to see the hint of a smirk in his smile.
A realization hits Killua in the chest. “Did you spill the drinks on purpose?”
The waiter blinks innocently. “Of course not! I’d never do that to a customer. But I’m not sorry she’s gone, either.”
Killua couldn’t agree more. Not only is she gone, but she’d been adamant that Killua never contact her again. And that’s something he is extremely grateful for.
Killua grabs his wallet off the table. He takes out a fifty and shoves it into the waiter’s hand.
“Here. For you.”
The waiter takes one look down and gasps. “I can’t accept this!”
“Yes, you can,” Killua says, already backing towards the exit. “Consider it a tip for all the trouble my ‘date’ caused you.”
The waiter’s fingers curl around the money. He repeats, “Thank you...Killua.”
Killua nods before turning on his heel and passing through the restaurant’s front door. He whistles on his way to the car, sliding into the backseat with a lightheartedness that wasn’t there when he was last here.
Canary turns around in the front seat to frown at him. “Did something happen? I saw your date leave the restaurant a few minutes ago without you. I can follow her car if you’d like to speak with her.”
“No, it’s okay.” Killua buckles his seatbelt and relaxes into the leather. “I don’t think I’ll be seeing her again.”
-o0o-
His father isn’t happy when Killua knocks on his office door that night.
“Killua.” He pinches the bridge of his nose between two large fingers. “This is the third date we’ve tried to set you up with this month.”
“It’s not my fault,” Killua says, arms folded and feet planted firmly in the carpet. “The drinks spilled and she stormed out of the restaurant. She was the one who decided to leave, not me.”
His father lowers his hand and looks at Killua. There’s a piercing, intense edge to his eyes. It’s a stare Killua’s seen hundreds of times, will see hundreds of times more. So he doesn’t flinch or buckle under the pressure, doesn’t show any sign of weakness. He just stands his ground and doesn’t budge.
Ding!
His father breaks the stare. Killua internally sighs in relief as his father picks up his phone and taps the screen a few times.
“I have to take this,” he says, not sparing Killua another glance. “We’ll talk more later, Kil.”
“Okay.”
Killua bolts out of the room before his father has the opportunity to change his mind.