Kuroro awoke that morning feeling sated and content. There was something warm against his front, something that shifted and moved against him to the sound of deep breaths taken in slumber. He recognized Kurapica's scent right away. How odd that he would even feel this comfortable sleeping next to someone as he has just done, especially considering just how dangerous the younger man was. It wasn't something that he would have thought even possible, until recently.
Kurapica sucked in a breath and stirred in his arms, and Kuroro found himself automatically tightening his hold on the Kuruta. He could feel the fabric of his own shirt on the younger man; it was such a heady feeling. He wasn't sure what it was about Kurapica wearing something that belonged to him that made him react this way, but it made Kuroro want to just take him again and again, until they were both exhausted and spent. Ah, if only they didn't have so much to do.
They had to get Kurapica some new clothes, now that all of what he had travelled with had been left after the attack. He would have to pay for them if he wanted to keep the younger man happy and compliant. Sometimes, pleasing him was a drag, yet it wasn't all that bad. If Kuroro was perfectly honest with himself, he was having quite a lot of fun. Anyway, he could easily steal whatever money he used on the Kuruta, so he didn't dwell on it too much.
Kurapica stirred again and made a soft sound in his throat, slowing coming awake. Kuroro's arms tightened around him of their own accord once again.
"What time is it?" the blond asked, his words slurred and heavy with sleep.
Kuroro glanced at the alarm clock.
"Seven-thirty," he answered.
Kurapica groaned softly and tried to extirpate himself from Kuroro's embrace. The Spider Head held him a moment longer, then finally let him go. What was even stranger than feeling at peace with a person sleeping next to him was the fact that he had released his hold on Kurapica regretfully.
This was getting dangerous.
Kurapica sat up, made an annoyed little sound and pulled at the shirt, which had fallen off from his left shoulder.
It shouldn't have been so sexy.
The blond sighed, glanced at Kuroro, then, just as he was turning his head to look away, stopped and his eyes slid over to meet the Spider Head's once more.
"What is it?" he asked, somewhat hesitantly.
"Nothing," Kuroro lied, sitting up so that the younger man couldn't study his face too closely.
He pushed himself to his feet and went straight for his bags. He took out two sets of clothes – one for him and one for Kurapica. He could feel the weight of the blond's gaze on his back, but he ignored it.
"I'm going to take a shower," he said without turning around. "Can you make some coffee?"
"Sure," Kurapica answered, the word slightly drawn out.
There was a curious tone in his voice, one that Kuroro couldn't decipher. He paused, finally turning to look at the younger man. Kurapica's gaze was puzzled and confused. Kuroro knew that he was acting strange, quite at odds with his usual self, but he needed to think; he needed to be alone and think.
He made his way into the bathroom and quickly got out of the previous day's clothes. To think that he'd fallen asleep just like this! It was completely uncharacteristic of him. He really needed to get a grip of himself.
He stepped into the shower and set the water to run as hot as he could bear it. He washed his hair slowly, trying to put his thoughts in order.
Contrary to what the blond might be inclined to believe, he wasn't completely immune to sentiment, and he did get attached to a few select, extraordinary people. He had created his own family, in a way, and the deaths of two of its members had affected him. The difference with the wilful Kuruta was that he did not let his emotions control him; he controlled them.
The previous days had been intense. When he had heard Rizzoli give the order to kill the blond, Kuroro had moved entirely without thinking. The idea that someone might harm his travelling companion had made him angry, as angry as if someone had taken a knife and slashed a painting that he'd taken great pains to steal. It was a peculiar mix of possessiveness and a need to protect – only it turned out that this particular work of art did not need to be protected. Kurapica had been more than able to take out all of his attackers. Kuroro should have believed in the younger man's abilities. The fact that he had been able to defend himself against so many people instilled in Kuroro a very odd sort of pride.
He was proud of all of his Spiders, of course, but this was a little different. Not for the first time, the thought came to mind that Kurapica had become like this because of him, that he was the reason why the Kuruta had become this strong.
Leaving this particular line of thinking aside, he focused instead on his reaction to Kurapica wearing his shirt. He rinsed out the suds in his hair, pondering over the surge of desire that had risen inside of him at the sight of the blond wearing something of his. Stronger than the desire, he'd been overtaken by a strong wave of possessiveness. It had been overwhelming, nearly violent, and he'd barely managed to control himself long enough to be at a safe distance from the Rizzoli's men. The man was dead, but people would be looking for his murderer, and they would remember the visit from the so-called art dealer.
The minute that Kuroro had felt far enough from the reach of their potential pursuers, he'd just snapped, so to speak. Days of keeping himself under control had just ended in a feverish fit of passion. Perhaps he ought to put an end to this, to his strange relationship with the Kuruta. Focus on making him a Spider, on leading him, moulding him, forming him. Stop desiring him like he had been. Put some distance between them.
Kuroro washed himself quickly, mulling over his options. When he finally stepped out of the shower, he still hadn't decided on a course of action, but perhaps he could think a little clearer with some caffeine in his veins. He towel-dried his hair, patted himself dry and quickly got dressed in dark denim pants and a black V-neck top.
When he walked out of the bathroom, Kurapica looked up from his book. There was a searching look in his eyes, but this time, Kuroro felt back on his game and he met his gaze with casual ease.
"All yours now," he told the blond, and was careful not to stare too openly.
Damn, Kurapica was still wearing his shirt.
Well, he had none of his own to wear now, so it was only to be expected. Worse, however, was was the fact that he hadn't bothered to put his jeans back on. The shirt was long enough to cover him properly, but the sight made Kuroro want to reach for him and have a repeat of the previous night. He somehow managed to control himself.
"We're going to buy you some clothes as soon as we find a shop," he added. "Just enough to get us to Iono. We can buy more once we're there."
"Buy?" Kurapica asked, placing a bookmark to keep his page.
"Yes," Kuroro confirmed, spotting the cup of coffee on the dresser, clearly set out for him. When the silence dragged on and Kurapica didn't move, he looked up from his beverage to find the blond staring at him. "I've told you, if I have to lead an honest life to –" He suddenly stopped himself. "In any case, yes, I will indeed buy you some clothes." He stuck his thumb towards the bathroom that he'd just vacated. "Go shower so we can get going."
Kurapica didn't respond, and for the longest time he simply sat as he was, his eyes studying the Spider Head in silence. There was a pensive look on his features, something that Kuroro found rather uncomfortable. He didn't want the younger man to make outlandish and probably false assumptions about Kuroro's current dispositions, but there was little he could do about any of it. Finally, Kurapica wordlessly got to his feet, picked up the pile of clothes left for him and disappeared into the bathroom. Kuroro stared after him for a moment, then returned to his morning coffee.
He took a few sips and slowly made his way to the nightstand where he had left his phone. Picking it up, he glanced at the screen, clicking it on to check that he hadn't missed any message. It was unlikely; he would wake up at the faintest sound, but he could have missed one while showering. There was a small icon on the task bar. Intrigued, he went into the application, tapped a few things and brought the phone to his ear.
When Kurapica came out of the bathroom, he suddenly stopped short.
"What is it?" he asked for the second time.
Kuroro lowered his phone and locked the screen again.
"Nothing," he lied again, careful to brush the dark look off from his face. "Just some bad news that I will have to deal with. It shouldn't affect our journey too much. Are you ready?"
Kurapica studied his face quietly, obviously aware that he was being misled by the older man. Eventually, he turned away.
"Yeah, let me just pick up my phone."
The blond walked around the bed to pick up the pair of jeans he'd worn previously. He took his phone out of the front pocket, then folded the pants and looked around, somewhat hopelessly.
Kuroro extended his hand. Kurapica – looking decisively tempting in a shirt that seemed a little too large on him and pants that only just barely managed to stay above his hips with the pathetic help of an ill-fitting belt – handed the Spider Head all of his dirty clothes, which Kuroro shoved into his bag. The blond slipped his phone into the front right pocket of his jeans.
They were soon on the road again, driving through a desolate country, with gnarled little shrubs that seemed to be perpetually dry and lifeless. The land was completely flat, with nothing to break the monotony of the landscape. They drove on for a few hours, Kuroro mulling over what he had just learned from his phone application, Kurapica reading quietly.
Finally, Kuroro saw a large sign announcing the name of a town and he took the exit indicated. It took another hour before a few buildings came into view. Surprisingly, the place was rather populated, although not enough to call itself a city. They were a few restaurants, two or three grocery stores and, Kuroro was glad to see, even a used car dealership.
They changed cars first. The Spider Head chose a sturdy, four-wheel drive SUV with working air conditioning and tinted windows. The car they were leaving behind was worth quite a bit more and the dealer had no objection to the exchange. He directed them to a strip mall where they could find places to eat and, more importantly, shops where they could replace Kurapica's clothes – which, Kuroro explained, had been stolen at the airport, a story he was ready to tell anyone who got a little too curious. It was perfectly mundane and wouldn't draw too much attention.
Kuroro barely spoke to the blond, and he could feel the weight of Kurapica's gaze on his back as they did all necessary shopping. Once they had food enough to last and Kurapica had clothes to wear – Kuroro was quite thankful to see that the blond had taken a liking to casual clothes and had not insisted on buying those terrible tribal clothes he'd worn before – they allowed themselves an hour to eat lunch at a small family-type restaurant.
As they sat, waiting for the waiter to come take their order, Kurapica finally broke the silence.
"That must have been some exceptionally bad news," he commented. "You rarely stay silent unless you have a book in hand and now you haven't said a word since we left the hotel."
"I had a lot to think about," Kuroro explained. "You seemed engrossed in your book anyway, so I didn't think that it was a problem."
"It wasn't a problem," Kurapica assured him, "but it was uncharacteristic and I was concerned that you might need to pull out of this trip we're on."
"No, no," Kuroro quickly reassured him, "nothing of the sort."
The waiter returned with their water and their order. Kuroro waited until the man was out of earshot before continuing the conversation.
"So, we're heading to Iono now," he said, brushing the topic of his thoughts under the metaphorical rug. "Have you decided whose help you want to request?"
"Actually," Kurapica began, then wavered a moment before nodding resolutely and continuing, "I would rather call on the help of someone who isn't one of your," he cut himself short, glanced around and amended, "one of yours."
Kuroro tilted his head to the side.
"Who would you want instead?" he asked. "One of your friends?"
"No," Kurapica answered hastily, "I wouldn't call him a friend. Not at all." He seemed to shudder. "I want to ask for Hisoka's help."
The tension that had built in Kuroro's shoulders eased a little.
"Why him?" he wanted to know. "I'd think, with his bloodlust, that he would be the very last person you would want to have travel with us."
Kurapica's expression turned pensive and he was silent for a few moments.
"Have you ever heard the expression, better the evil you know?"
Kuroro nodded.
"That is why I want him rather than one of your men," Kurapica explained.
Well, that did make sense. It was entirely possible that this was indeed Kurapica's reasoning, but there was something bothering Kuroro about this entire thing.
He was going to watch the Kuruta very, very carefully.