Death's Door // COMPLETED ✔

Gon Freecs: On Call

The morning after Killua's night out, Gon woke up relieved to have slept the entire night through in his own bed and not inadvertently on Killua's couch.

    He all but melted into his pillows, relaxed, and sighed, "Oh thank God."

    It was a miracle Gon had slept at all. His anxiety was through the roof—next thing he knew, he'd be dropping in on his third floor neighbor doing some nefarious act in the dead of the night. There was no telling when the ghost in him would come to haunt his sleeping hours.

    But yet, there he was, awake, alive, and visible in his bathroom mirror. It was a Christmas miracle in May.

    It was Gon's first day on the job, and he was due to report in T-8 hours. Until then, the city was his oyster and by God, Gon was going to get his fill of it.

    It started with a café near the park and a quick run to a thrift store. He'd received a message on his machine detailing his uniform: all black, whatever that meant. Unfortunately for Gon, he didn't own much black.

    The thrift store was shortly followed by his first real attempt to use the subway. It was the station Death had followed him to, and standing in it now felt far more comfortable than the first time. Spring kept the air crisp, but underground, even that particular chill didn't compare to the one Death froze over.

    Gon returned from people-watching to find Killua smoking out on the stoop.

    "Hey," Gon greeted, picking up his pace. He jogged to claim the step just below Killua.

    Killua just watched him, cigarette pursed between his lips.

    "Listen," Gon started, clearing his throat. Don't people usually say hi back?! "I just wanted to thank you for yesterday. And apologize again for dropping in on you... like that."

    "Like that," Killua repeated, slowly.

    Gon swallowed hard. He liked the sound of Killua's tongue pressing gently to the back of his front teeth when he spoke. His voice was so sharp it stung Gon's heart in all the best ways.

    "You still falling through objects, ghost boy?"

    "Not yet today, no. But I'll keep you posted if that changes."

    Killua glanced down the street in the direction Gon jogged from. "Don't tell me you were patrolling the city."

    Was it that obvious? Gon wondered. "Sort of. Not exactly a professional at it."

    "Anything out of order?"

    "Just the price of coffee."

    "That's just New York."

    "I like your accent."

    Killua paused. His eyes were bleary in the sunlight, and Gon realized then that it was probably rude of him to stand in the direction of the sun. He passed Killua to head for the door so that when Killua answered, he was in the shade.

    "Thanks," he said. "You sound a bit southern."

    "Carolinas," Gon said.

    "Ah. That tracks."

    Gon grinned, amused. "It does?"

    "Sure."

    They stared at one another until Gon managed to fight back all the mania in his brain telling him to ask Killua out on a date. "How was work last night?"

    "Good."

    "Where do you work? I thought you write."

    "I do write, and that pays most of the bills," he said. "I'm a bartender."