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maysbanks · 4 years

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hypersonic missiles. (jj maybank)

hello ! some of you may recognise this fic and that’s bc it’s currently being rewritten as an oc fic rather than a reader insert fic which it was before. i can’t wait for you to read this and introduce you all to haley who i love dearly, so pls enjoy and lemme know what you think !!

warnings: swearing, mention of sex, sexual innuendos, drug use, underage drinking, violence etc

summary: after the death of her father, haley grubbs is determined to get the answers her mother seems to be keeping from her, seeking help from a group of pogues (which just happens to include her weekly hook-up) and unknowingly throwing herself into the midst of a treasure hunt.

( gif isn't mine! please let me know if it's yours so i can credit you. )

The gang gathered around John B's porch, spaced out in various positions amongst the furniture. Silence engulfed the group, the air thick with tension as none of the four teenagers dared to speak.

"JJ should be the one to go." Kie broke the silence, her words hanging in the air as the group processed them.

Said boy whipped around in his place, golden hair falling in his sea blue eyes as they widened, glancing wildly between each of his friends. "What?" He demanded. "Why me?"

"Because you're the one that's hooking up with her," Pope reminded, matter of fact. As if JJ needed to be reminded. The dark skinned boy gestured between him and the remaining two. "She's gonna trust you more than any of us."

Kiara and John B murmured their agreement, JJ scoffing as he flapped his arms, beginning to pace in his spot. "This is ridiculous," he muttered between gritted teeth. "She won't wanna talk to me any more than she'll want to talk to you guys. I mean, we've only hooked up like," JJ paused - raising a hand to count on his fingers. "Maybe like, eleven times, twelve at a push!"

Kiara scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Wow, how chivalrous of you to keep count, JJ," she drawled sarcastically, the blonde boy simply shrugging in return as he took his formal position of leaning against the Chateau's wall. "Look, the thing is you know her better than the rest of us. You're familiar, we're not. We can't just go up to her and start asking questions about her dead dad and John B's compass."

JJ stared in disbelief. "And you think I can?" He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know if you guys realise this, but hooking up doesn't really require much talking. I barely know her."

"But you know her enough to warm her bed every week," John B piped up, narrowing his eyes at his best friend. JJ sighed, lighting a fresh blunt as he refused to meet any of the gang's eyes, staring ahead. John B stepped over and beside the blonde, arm thrown over his shoulder. "We need answers, JJ. Answers she could have. I mean, it was her dad right? She must know something about why he had my dad's compass."

JJ nodded along, but the uncertain feeling bubbling in his chest didn't cease. Thoughts of the two men that had chased the group the day before, guns blazing, entered his mind. Then the memory of him and John B showing up at the Grubbs' residence, only to discover they had been beaten to it by the very same men - he'd heard them threaten Lana and Haley Grubbs, demanding questions about the same compass that lay heavy in John B's pockets. He knew his best friend deserved answers, why did Scooter Grubbs have Big John's compass the night he died? Why was Scooter Grubbs out in the storm that night anyway? Hell, even JJ wanted answers. But he couldn't shake the doubtful feeling, thoughts of Haley Grubbs swirling in his head.

"I don't think this is a good idea." He tried once more, voice small and defeated. The Pogues shared a glance, and he knew they'd already come to a decision. Sighing, he flicked the butt of his blunt, sending it flying in the opposite direction. "Fine, I'll go talk to her. But I'm not making any promises that she'll talk," he frowned. "Sometimes I kinda get the feeling she doesn't like me."

Kie snorted. "I wonder why."

What the gang hadn't bargained for, however, was that the same person who'd they been talking about was already on their way to them - boots stomping across the ground in a determined stride, their mind a whirlwind of series of memories, scenarios, and all the events that had happened in the last twenty four hours.

Haley wanted answers, and she wanted them soon. (Sooner rather than later, if she was being precise.) The series of misfortunes events had all begun with the disappearance of her father - for whatever reason, he'd gone out in the storm that raged against the Outer Banks the night prior, and that, unsurprisingly, had led to his death. Memories of his body, washed up on the shore, cold and blue, eyes open but completely lifeless as they stared up at nothing and everything at the same time. Her heart wrenched at the sight, and she still hadn't been able to get the scene out of your head - her mother breaking down in a heap of sobs, Haley’s body following along with her as the pair both held each other and cried, Sheriff Peterkin's voice echoing in Haley’s mind, over and over again, like a siren. “I'm so sorry. There's nothing we could have done."

Haley knew that, of course. But it didn't explain why he was out in the storm in the first place. She had tried to question her mother, because she knew her dad wasn't a fool. Storm Agatha had been reported for weeks following up to it, he'd even made off-handed comments about it over dinner a couple of times. Her dad was aware about the storm, but had still risked his life (and coincidentally, ended it) to take a boat ride, or so that's what her mother told you.

Bull-fucking-shit. Haley knew there was more to the story, the appearance of two men breaking down her door and trashing her whole house was enough proof of that. And the fact that they were asking about a compass, of all things, didn't sit right in Haley’s gut either. Why the hell would two thugs want a compass, and why would her dad have it anyway? To her knowledge, her dad had never owned a compass in his damned life. (He also never owned a boat, which raised the suspicion of how the hell had he even gone out on a boat ride in the first place.) But the pair were persistent, and she was forced to watch as they threatened her and her mom, their last words sticking with her, sending a shiver of dread up her spine every time they echoed in her head; “We'll be back."

It was something straight out of a king-pin movie, and yet Lana Grubbs still wouldn't talk. She knew something, Haley knew it, and why she wouldn't share whatever information she knew with Haley was beyond frustrating - so she decided, fuck it. If her mother wasn't gonna give her her answers, then she was gonna go out and find them herself. Starting with John B. Routledge.

As if things couldn't have gotten any weirder, the teenaged boy had shown up not a minute after the two guys had left, appearing in Haley’s not-so-much of a doorway with the exact thing the thugs were after: the Compass. To her chargin, she hadn't had time to ask any questions though, her mother was quick to dismiss him (and JJ Maybank of all people, but she didn't really want to think about him at the moment) and warned him not to let anyone know that he had the compass, and Haley could see why - those guys were not to be messed with.

And so, John B. Routledge had left the Grubbs’ home, JJ Maybank in tow, and Haley was left to clean up the mess the bastards had left behind them. Her mothers warning rang in her ears; "Stay away from them boys. Do not get involved in this, Hales.” But alas, there she was, storming towards the property she knew the guys would be. Her mother didn't know, of course, and she was determined to make sure Lana never did. (Haley would be the next person she'd be burying if she ever did find it.)

All Haley wanted was answers, and if John B had even a couple, she was going to find them out. Her father had died, and there was more to the story than anyone was letting on. If it was up to her to piece the puzzle together, then so be it. She would, gladly.

So she marched in the direction of the Routledge residence, more determined than ever. As she walked, people gave her pitying looks, obviously recognising her as Scooter Grubbs’ daughter (the newfound bastard of the Outer Banks, sarcasm intended.) and she simply ignored each and every one of them. She didn’t need them, she thought. She was going to find out the truth, and each step Haley took she was closer to uncovering it all. Some people walked towards her as if to stop and talk, probably attempting to give her some kind of condolence, but each time a person did she hurried her pace; she couldn’t be stopped now, she was too close to getting where she wanted to be for some middle-aged folk tell her they were sorry about her loss, even though they couldn’t have cared less about her dad when he was alive.

Fucking bullshit, she thought.

Haley’s stride slowed however, when a familiar looking van made it's way into her vision, memories of it parked outside the very same house she was planning on going running through her already overactive mind. Her stomach churned, thinking she had missed her chance to interrogate the poor unsuspecting boy, before it seemed to slow down and pulled up to right where she was standing on the curb. Her respectively plucked eyebrows raised as the window rolled down, revealing none other than John B sat in the drivers seat, Kiara Carrera in the passenger, and Pope Heyward's and JJ's heads peering around the pair from the back of the van.

John B leaned out, his mop of wavy brown hair entering Haley’s brown eyed gaze, tight smile on his lips. "Haley,” he greeted. “Hey, where are you off to? Need a ride?"

"Actually," Haley drawled as she stepped closer, right arm leaning on the window as she sent a forced smile the teenaged boys way. “I was just heading over to yours. What a coincidence, huh?"

She never missed the look Kiara shot the two guys seated in the back, all of their eyes seemingly communicating in their own weird little telepathical way. John B blinked, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water for a few seconds before he seemed to compose himself, clearing his throat. "Oh, really?" He asked, as naturally as he could. (It wasn't very natural at all.) “How, uh, how come?"

"Oh, you know," Haley started, shrugging a shoulder nonchalantly. "Just thought I'd pay you a visit, y'know, like the one you paid me this morning. Remember that?" She asked as innocently as she could manage. (It wasn't very innocent at all.) “Just wanted to ask you a few questions, s'all. Like why you have the one thing those meatheads that trashed my house were after. How you got hold of it, stuff like that."

And then she smiled like they were all sharing a perfectly civil conversation, as if the underlying threatening tone in her voice didn't exist at all. John B sighed, his head turning towards the rest of the group, catching their eyes and seeming to have another one of their telepathic conversations before he turned back to her figure, his head nodding towards the back of his infamous Volkswagen.

"Get in the back," he said - and she did, shooting him a smile that resembled one of a Cheshire Cat, satisfied as she moved to the other side, walking around the van and hearing him mutter from inside, "What? This is the perfect opportunity to ask her." She didn't need to look to know the rest of the gang were probably objecting her presence, but she couldn't care less. This was just the first step to getting what she wanted.

The door to the van was pulled open from the inside, JJ's head popping out and thrusting a hand out towards her to help her climb into the vehicle. Haley swiftly ignored the gesture, missing the flash of confusion and offence that appeared on the blonde's face, climbing into the van and seating herself beside Pope who smiled rather awkwardly toward her.

"I'm, uh, sorry about your dad," he said softly, fidgeting under her gaze. She smiled slightly at him in return, lips quirking more so in amusement at his obvious discomfort at either having her join them, or her being seated so close to him.

"Yeah, me too," Kiara piped up from the passenger seat, glancing over her shoulder towards her. "It must really suck, to just lose him like that."

Haley nodded, head turning in the direction of where JJ sat across from her, rubbing the back of his head as he muttered quietly, "Yeah, I'm sorry too." before averting his eyes when she looked at him, raising her eyebrows.

Kiara ignored him, the awkward silence that presented itself to the pedestrians inside the van only lasting a couple of seconds as she spoke up again. "I can't imagine what you and your mom are going through," she said, soft brown eyes darting to John B quickly before they returned to catch Haley’s once more. "We're always here if you need anything. Pogue's look out for each other, right?"

Haley forced a small smile, not bothering to bring up the fact that Kiara was technically not a Pogue, seeing no point in the matter as she sent her a small nod of appreciation, silently grateful for her words. Haley had always liked Kiara, or Kie, as she was more commonly known as. She had spent many times sat around a fire with her, listening to her rants about the environment and what everyone could do to help it, as an infamous Pogue kegger loomed around them. Haley was grateful for her presence amongst the guys, unsure of the fact that if she wasn't there, she probably wouldn't have entered the van. She was determined, but she also wasn’t stupid. Despite knowing the guys well and practically all her life, (it’s a small town kinda thing), she would never willingly get in a van with them and let them drive her to an unknown destination. Which reminded her suddenly - where the hell were they going?

"We're lucky we got each other, I guess," Haley said in relation to Kie's words. Kie nodded as her eyes darted to John B again. "But thanks, I really appreciate it." She fiddled with the hem of her faded out jean shorts, her next words directed towards John B. "So, care to tell me where we're going? Or better yet, why you have the damned compass my house was trashed for."

Silence filled the air of the Volkswagen. It was suffocating, the air thick with unspoken tension as everybody refused to meet her eyes. Haley was beyond frustrated, incredibly so, and she made a point to catch John B's eyes in the rearview mirror, an eyebrow quirking as she awaited an answer.

Finally, he sighed.

"The compass was my dads," John B revealed. Haley’s mouth opened in shock for a second before she clamped it back shut. "And for whatever reason, your dad had it. We uh, we found it at the wreck of your dads boat yesterday."

"Wait, what?" She demanded, blinking. She glanced between the gang, eyes accusing as she held each of theirs. "You guys found the wreck? And you didn't tell anyone?" She questioned, tone dangerously low. "And you stole from it?"

"It's not technically stealing if it was his compass," JJ defended, shrugging. Haley shot him a glare, feeling a bubble of irritation build deep in her gut. "And anyways, we tried to tell the coastguard about it after we first found it, but the guy was having none of it. They were hounded with the storm."

Her eyes narrowed. "First found it? Exactly how many times have you guys been at the wreck?" She demanded, tone accusatory.

The gang all swivelled to send JJ their own respected glares, Pope's voice small from beside her as he tried to explain. "Only a couple," he started, startling as her head whipped around towards him. "We're really sorry, okay! We didn't know it was your dads when we first found it, if we did, we wouldn't have snooped in his room either!"

Pope seemed to make note of his mistake as the rest of the gang did, Kie letting out a little frustrated groan from the back of her throat as JJ cringed, pointedly avoiding Haley’s gaze. John B's hands gripped the steering wheel tight, a warning "Pope" leaving his mouth.

Haley laughed, though it held no humour. She clasped her hands together, the slap of her palms meeting echoing in the confine space. "Let me get this straight, you guys not only found the wreck of my dads boat and didn't tell anyone about it, but also obviously found where he was staying and snooped in his room," she listed, feeling the familiar build of rage pulse through her body. “I mean, what the fuck you guys?"

"We're sorry," Kiara turned in her seat, meeting the Grubbs’ girl angered gaze. "We swear, if we had any idea it was your dad we wouldn't have. We were just, curious, I guess. We found the key on the boat when Pope first spotted it in the marsh, and before we even snooped we tried to tell the coastguard, but like JJ said, they weren't interested. So, John B and JJ went to look in the room."

Haley sighed heavily, leaning her head back to rest against the wall of the van. She tried to tell herself to calm down - hell, she probably would have done the same thing if it was her in their position, she couldn't get mad at them over that. "And did you guys find anything?" She asked quietly, the gang seemingly relaxing as they recognised her calmer tone of voice.

"Did we find anything?" JJ snorted as he repeated her words, grin falling from his lips at the glares the rest of his friends shot him. Haley sat up straighter, taking note of their warning glances. JJ awkwardly coughed, rubbing the back of his neck as he once again avoided her honey coated eyes. "Uh, not really."

"Not really?" She asked, frown on her plump lips. JJ nodded, tongue darting out to wet his pink lips, uncharacteristically quiet once more. "Okay, what the hell is going on? And no more bullshitting me, I've had enough of that from everyone else for the past forty eight hours. I came to you for answers, I'm not going anywhere without them."

She looked to John B then, hoping, pleading, that he would understand. He'd lost his dad too, nine months ago, supposedly lost at sea, believed to be dead. Haley knew he never believed that though, refusing to agree that his father was dead, insisting that he was simply missing. If there was one person that could understand her need to know about her dad, it was John B. And he knew it too, as he sighed and nodded.

"There was a safe," he started as she listened intently. "There was money inside it, I don't know how much. The cops kinda showed up when we were in there," he admitted sheepishly. "We had to hide before we could count it or anything. But there was also, um, a gun in the safe too."

"A gun?" Haley deadpanned. John B raised his eyes and caught hers, nodding. Haley scoffed in disbelief, running a hand through her almost waist length hair. "Why the hell would my dad have a gun?"

"Um, there's something else you should probably know," JJ blurted. "I kinda, uh, took it."

The Pogues glared at him again, Kie spitting a warning of his name, but the blonde just looked at the girl seated in front of him. Her eyes widened as he brandished the piece of metal, black in colour and daunting in shape. Of fucking course JJ Maybank had stolen her dads gun, she thought. It was so... JJ.

"You stole that from a crime scene?" She sputtered, heart squeezing uncomfortably in her chest as she eyed the object with disdain. JJ nodded, looking almost guilty. "My dads crime scene? What the fuck JJ? Do you realise how much trouble you could get into from taking that? For having that?"

Haley was unsure as to why she seemed to care so much about that, rather than the fact that he'd taken it from her dads motel room, and that the gun was technically her fathers. She didn't want to ponder too much about that, though, there was bigger fish to fry in that moment.

"Sorry," he said, rather dumbly. "You can have it, if you want?"

She stared at him incredulously as he held the gun out towards her, quickly shoving it away from her body as she shook her head forcefully. "What the fuck would I want with a gun, JJ?" Haley demanded. The blonde boy shrugged, suddenly sheepish.

"It was your dads," he stated simply. From the corner of her vision she could see Pope sending him a wild look, brown eyes blown wide as he tried to be subtle and shake his head at his friend, silently warning him to shut the hell up, or so she presumed. "I just thought, y'know-"

"You thought wrong, JJ," Haley interrupted him before he could continue. His eyebrows furrowed as he noted her hostile tone, but let it go as he simply nodded, swallowing thickly when she turned away from him. “So, what happened, after the motel room?"

John B looked glad to be back on the original topic. "Well, it wasn't long after that we found it was your dad. We were gonna tell the police, but uh, we had this crazy idea that there might have been more on the boat, like money or something? I don't know, we just thought-"

"Your dad might've been a straight smuggler," Pope piped up. Haley’s glare made him shrink in his spot. "Sorry, sorry. Not the time, I get it."

"Right," John B said curtly as Kie groaned softly. "So we went to look again, and I found a duffel bag. The marsh was closed, obviously. But we weren't the only ones out there," his voice turned deadly serious. “After I got it, these two guys appeared on a boat. The same two guys that were at your place earlier."

Haley exhaled shakily at the information, memories of the two men entering her mind unwelcoming. The image of them carelessly tearing apart her house, screaming threats at her and her mother, gun held to her temple as their fists left holes in the walls and bruises on her mothers skin. She shuddered and hoped the rest of the gang hadn't noticed, but she could see the pity in John B's eyes as they reconnected with her own.

"They chased after us, and they were shooting at us too. We managed to escape them, and when we got back on land I looked in the bag, and all that was in it was the compass. My dads compass. It's a Routledge family heirloom, and your dad had it."

His tone held accusatory, though she couldn't blame him for it. It was a mystery to even her as to why or how her father had gotten hold of the compass, and she knew John B wanted answers just as much as she did. Haley felt almost guilty that she couldn't give him any as she spoke up, “I didn't know anything about it, I swear. The first time I've even heard of it was today when those guys showed up. I'm sorry, John B."

Said boy nodded, seemingly believing her as he sent a small smile her way, reassuring her. “Anyways, that's why me and JJ went to your place, I just wanted to know if maybe you or your mom knew anything about it or why your dad had it," he shrugged a shoulder, trying to come off as non-chalant. "And that's when we saw those guys again. I'm sorry about that, by the way."

She shrugged too, an expression of what-you-gonna-do on her face. Though she desperately wanted to know more about the compass, and why it could be so important to the thugs, she withheld her questions for the moment, deciding they could come later.

"And then they arrived at mine," John B revealed. Haley’s yes widened in surprise at the sudden revelation, churning of fear twisting at her gut. "They did the exact same at my place that they did to yours; tore the whole place apart, looking the compass I guess."

JJ burst then - Haley jumped as his voice echoed in the van, much more louder than what John B's had been, excitement lacing his tone as he began to recite the story of the two thugs and their mission of tearing John B's poor beloved Chateau apart, hands gesturing wildly around him.

"Yeah, they were fucking crazy man! We were all locked in Big John's office, no way out apart from the window that was fucking painted shut. We could hear them, taunting us, y'know. Like, 'you better not be in there', they even knew John B's name!" JJ rambled, excitable expression painted on his boyish features. "They come in, guns-a-blazing and we're all tryna figure out how the hell to get out of there, before we finally manage to open the window and hide in the fucking chicken coop of all places. It was fucking insane, man. I had to kill a hen just so we could make it out alive."

Haley blinked at that, her jaw dropping slightly as she tried to process all the information he'd thrown at her all within a minute. JJ calmed down from his passionate retale, chest heaving slightly as he took in her dazed expression, sea blue eyes catching hers and holding them. Kiara said his name in a warning tone from the passenger seat, and he snapped out of his stare-off with the olive skinned girl, but she was still looking at him in disbelief.

"That's basically it," John B said from the front of the van, though his face held a slight grimace at his best friends rather dramatic recite. "But yeah, they practically stripped my dads office bare. They took everything, all of his books, research, everything about the Royal Merchant."

If anybody had noticed her sudden stiff posture at the mention of the Merchant, they never spoke on it. The Royal Merchant. Something Haley was all too familiar with. It had been something of a fascination to her father for a while, especially in the weeks leading up to his death. She just thought it was a weird hobby, a strange interest of his that she never really thought much of. It was nice to see her dad passionate about something, she’d thought. No matter how strange she believed it to be, he had a hobby and she was happy for him. But, sitting in the back of John B. Routledge's van, surrounded by a group of teenaged Pogues, one of which she was were all too familiar with, to put it simply, her throat tightened.

Surely the Royal Merchant couldn't have had anything to do with her dad, right? She was just thinking too much, more than likely. But something in the back of her mind was nagging, unforgiving as the thoughts whirled in her head.

"But before the guys showed up, we found something," she focused back her attention as John B continued. "There's something engraved on the compass. Redfield. It's my dads handwriting, he must have put it there for me, before he disappeared."

Haley shared a glance with JJ as John B said the word. Disappeared. Ever the hopeful, yearning boy. She couldn't doubt his wish, she wished for nothing more for her dad to appear back in her life - but she knew that hers was dead, officially. How could she forget, she saw his lifeless eyes every time she closed hers.

But John B didn't have that, he never knew, really, if his father was truly dead or alive. The records said so, but he'd refused to sign them, or so she heard. He was still hopeful, so certain that his dad would just appear back at the Chateau one day, like he'd never disappeared in the first place. But Haley - and many others - were realistic, and the reality was there was very little to no chance that Big John Routledge was alive.

(Her heart broke for the boy.)

She tuned out the rest of the conversation for the remainder of the drive, her head leaning back on the cool metal of the wall as she closed her eyes and allowed her mind to wander with all the possibilities. Could the Royal Merchant really have been a factor in her dads death? She couldn't shake the feeling, as she could hear vaguely the conversation of the gang. John B insisting that his dad was leading him on a mission, Kiara trying to be supportive but anyone could pick up on the doubt in her voice, Pope piping up with rather unhelpful scenarios like Big John having been kidnapped, (Haley had rolled her eyes), and JJ adding his input, multitasking with rolling a blunt. (She’d rolled her eyes harder.)

The thing was, Haley and the Maybank boy had a little deal going on. She could remember the exact day it had begun, at an infamous Pogue kegger, the sun having set and leaving the sky coloured in perfect hues of pink, purple and yellow. It had been a beautiful night, she had to admit. The party had gone strong to the early hours of the morning, and she’d somehow found herself leaving with JJ Maybank. He'd approached her after she witnessed him striking out with a Touron, (surprisingly), eyes narrowing at her when she’d let out a giggle at his misfortune. He had been hostile at first, demanding what she was laughing at, grinning slightly when she informed him simply 'you'.

The rest of the night had been spent in each others company, and Haley could recall the exact moment where they were dancing closely, bodies pressed tight against each other, her arms thrown over his shoulders and wrapped around his neck, his own around her waist, fingers digging into her hips. Their breath mingled together, his forehead leaning against her own, and she’d expected the moment his lips fell on herd, slightly chapped but impossibly soft against her own as they danced in a passionate embrace that secretly took her breath away. She’d let him lead her to John B's Chateau across the beach, hand gripped in one another’s, as he pressed her to every surface until they managed to stumble their way into the spare bedroom.

She had told herself the next morning that it would only be a one time thing. Haley wasn’t one for random hook-ups, not that no one had tried to coax her into one. She was kinda known amongst the island as being this untouchable, obtainable person that nobody could ever get close to. She wasn’t sure what it was about her that made everyone label her as this being - maybe it was the fact that she was a loner and didn’t stick to one friendship group and spent most of her time to herself, maybe it was the fact that people thought she was weird because her dad was known to be such a loser (God rest his soul), or maybe it was the fact that she skateboarded around town morning till dawn, earphones plugged in and music blasting so loud that passerby’s could hear every word clearly.

The point was, she wasn’t known for getting close to anyone. And yet, she had found herself drifting back to JJ Maybank many other nights after that first one, and that’s where their little deal came into play.

But that's where it began, and also where it ended. Hers and JJ's relationship (if you could even call it that) never went beyond that. Random hook-ups here and there, whenever JJ struck out with a Touron and found himself soughting Haley out amongst the crowd to fill the space in his bed. Of course they were always friendly with each other, they’d known each other for so long, that it would have been silly not to continue being friendly. But they never hung out, not with his group, not with him alone apart from their many nights of endeavours, until now, she supposed. She thought it might have been weird, and she thought correct. Neither of them really looked at each other head-on, the air awkward and thick as the driving continued.

Haley was thankful when John B seemed to finally arrive at his destination, and she leaned forward with Pope to glance out the window, spotting the tall lighthouse stood proud in front of the group. Redfield, the name was written boldly on display.

"Redfield Lighthouse," John B spoke. "My dads favourite place."

She clambered from the van as the rest of the guys did, gazing up at the high building with her hand shielding her eyes from the bright sun from where they all gathered at the clearing. John B turned to face JJ. "Right, you're gonna post up and look out for bogeys, okay?"

JJ's eyebrows furrowed as he demanded, "Wait, why me?" His expression only darkened when Pope informed he wasn't to go in the Lighthouse, Haley watching from the sidelines, unsure where to put herseld in the situation. "Why?" He continued to argue.

Pope grabbed hold of JJ's shoulders. "There are independent and dependent variables, you're an independent variable-" he tried to explain but was quickly cut off as JJ began to yell over his words. "We don't know what you'll do!"

"Shut up!"

Haley awkwardly scuffed her boots on the ground as Kiara sent her a small smile from ahead of the boys, rolling her eyes dramatically when Haley caught them. She smiled at the gesture, once again appreciative of her presence. "Listen to me for a second," John B cut in their argument, stepping forward. "Pope, you stand look out with JJ, okay?" The pair in questioned seemed reluctant, but both nodded at John B's persistent glare. The tall brunette turned to her next, gaze softening immensely when he caught sight of her uncertain posture. "Do you mind keeping an eye out here?"

She shook your head immediately, sending him a reassuring nod. "Yeah, sure. That's fine by me. Heights aren't really my thing anyway," she told him as she looked up at the Lighthouse, nausea hitting at a slight force when she stared at the very top of the building amongst the blue sky. "Yeah, I'm good here."

He nodded back at her, a thankful smile on his lips. "If we split up, we meet back at JJ's house." He spoke, directing the words to the whole group. They all nodded their agreement.

"Great." Kie finalised, shooting Haley one last small smile before her and John B began to walk off, jumping the small fence that blocked their path, their stride quickly entering them into the lighthouse. Haley exhaled as they disappeared into the door, and moved her gaze to return on the two boys she was stuck with.

"I'm gonna work on my merit scholarship essay." Pope informed, before he turned and entered back into the van, leaving her and JJ stood on the outside of it, alone and deadly quiet. She looked at the golden haired boy as he pulled out a happy sack from his pocket, beginning to kick it around with his booted foot.

Haley sighed as she leaned on the passenger side door, her teeth biting down on her watermelon flavoured chapstick covered lip as she stared at the grass beneath her feet, her mind racing. A thud caught her attention and she glanced in the direction of where it had come from, a happy sack laying at her feet. She looked back up to JJ, who sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "Um, sorry about that."

She huffed out a small laugh, bending down and snatching the sack from the floor. "You don't have to apologise to me JJ," she said softly. Throwing the sack back to him, his large hands reached out and cupped it, bringing it back to his chest. “I'm sorry about this, y'know, gatecrashing your friends' little adventure."

JJ's lips quirked, his muscular arm reaching back and throwing the sack into the air, Haley catching it and holding his eyes. "You're not gatecrashing anything," he assured. In the sunlight, his skin cast a golden glow. "And 'sides you deserve to be here. You're looking for just as much answers as John B is."

"I'm not sure about that," Haley told him and threw the sack to him. "I mean, I'm looking for answers, of course. That's why I'm here. But I'm pretty sure John B needs them more than I do," she glanced at the lighthouse momentarily. "I know what happened to my dad, pretty much. He died while being out in the storm, I know that, I just don't know why he was out in the storm or what he was even up to in the weeks leading up to it. John B doesn't even know for sure if his dad is dead or alive." She shuddered at the thought, shaking her head. "He deserves answers way more than me."

JJ nodded, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek as he paused in throwing the sack back towards her, looking at her small figure thoughtfully. "Do you think they could be connected?" He asked suddenly. Haley stared at him, confusion painted on her face. "Your dads, I mean. Yours and John B's. Do you think they could be connected, like your dads death and JB's dads disappearance?"

She stopped. Could they be, really? She had to admit she thought about it in the van on the journey there, but as quickly as it came it passed. To her knowledge, her dad and Big John didn't really know each other - of course they knew each other, but they didn't mix, or so she believed. But her mind replayed the moment John B mentioned the Royal Merchant, the way her stomach had filled with dread immediately, and she had the sinking feeling that it was very possible that what JJ was hinting at could be true.

"I don't know, maybe," she said instead, not wanting to voice her thoughts. JJ nodded thoughtfully, finally throwing her the sack back. She caught it, and repeated the process back to him again.

"I am sorry, though. About your dad," JJ's voice was soft, careful as he watched her pause, taking in his words. "I was gonna say more before, but with the guys... I know how much he meant to you."

Haley smiled gently, a sudden flutter in her chest alarming her as she nodded appreciatively at his words. "Thank you, JJ," she said quietly, sincerely. "It means a lot."

JJ nodded too, chapped lips pulling into an uncertain half-grin. "And I just wanted to say as well, that uh, I don't want things to be like, weird between us or anything," he stated awkwardly, clearing his throat. Haley almost laughed at the look on his face. "I mean, like, with us hooking up and stuff-"

"It won't be weird," Haley quickly interrupted him, grin overtaking the features of her face despite her better thoughts. "It was just hooking up, right? Not like we're exes or anything. No need to make it weird."

"Right," JJ voiced his agreement. Head full of long blonde locks nodding along at her words, dimples winking at her as they made an appearance in his cheeks when he smiled. "Not making it weird. Here's to that."

She laughed as the happy sack landed in her hands, holding it there as she squinted in the sun, grin cheeky as she gazed at him from her small distance. "Yeah, we'll just have to pretend we've never seen each other naked." She joked as she finally threw him his toy back.

The golden haired boy returned her smile, eyes mischievous as they made a show to glance at her figure from head to toe. "Trust me, I'll have to pretend a lot more beyond that to stay civil."

And before she could even think to voice her thoughts of Fuck, how did that almost kinda turn you on, a sudden and loud blare of a familiar siren startled, Haley’s and JJ's eyes widening as they met, a panicked expression matching in their features.

"Shit!" Haley uttered as JJ dropped the happy sack, her head turning to catch sight of the impending police car making its way towards where they were parked. She quickly glanced to the lighthouse, her heart dropping when she saw no sign of John B or Kiara, JJ grabbing her by the arm suddenly and practically dragging her into the van in the passenger seat, him running to occupy the drivers as Pope's head popped up between the seats, questioning them both erratically. She could give him no answers however, having no idea what had prompted the police to arrive. Haley had no time to think about what could have happened as JJ slammed his foot down, peeling out of the grassy area and away from the scene. "What about John B and Kie?"

"They'll be fine," JJ assured her, though they were empty words. He had no clue what had happened either, or if his friends would make it out and away from the lighthouse in time, but he still reached over and squeezed Haley’s knee gently when he saw her worried look. He caught her gaze and held it. "They'll be fine."

She could only hope that was true.

It was hours later when Haley and the Pogues gathered around John B's kitchen table, deadly silent as everyone processed what had just transpired.

She’d had JJ and Pope drop her off at home after escaping the police at the lighthouse, aware that she had been gone a long while and her mother was probably sick with worry by that point. If she wasn’t home within the hour, Haley had no doubt that she would have the police patrolling the streets, searching for her. When she toldthe boys this, they chuckled as she ordered them to park around the corner from her home, not wanting her mother to spot her leaving the van. She’d told them to call her when they heard from either John or Kiara, and they'd both agreed as she climbed from the van and walked the familiar path to her house.

Sure enough, Lana practically collapsed into her when she’d entered. Her arms were wrapped around Haley so tightly as they squeezed all the air out of her lungs, her mothers voice in her ear a jumbled mess of words laced in a frantic tone. Haley assured her she was fine, that no harm was done, and that she had just gone for a walk around the Outer Banks. Lana seemed hesitant, but had allowed Haley to ease her worries as she led her towards the couch and sat her down, letting her mom hold her for as long as she needed to assure her mind that she were really okay.

Haley felt almost bad, seeing her in such a panicked state. But then she remembered if she had just answered her questions truthfully instead of hiding everything from her than she wouldn't be sneaking around in the first place. And then the guilt subsided, if only a little. (Haley still felt awful.)

It was a couple of hours after that when a knock had sounded on her bedroom window. She had startled, her heart racing as she wondered who the hell could be knocking on her window, at night, too. She almost very nearly didn't go towards it, in fear of the two faces of the men from earlier that day greeting her, but she’d exhaled a sigh of relief when her eyes landed on the face of JJ Maybank.

"Care for a late night drive?" He'd asked, and she’d rolled her eyes. His grin never faltered as he watched her put on her boots, checking in on her mother and determining if the coast was clear to sneak out, before she’d climbed from her window, thankful that the house was only one story as she did so. Despite that fact, JJ's hands still gripped her hips as he helped her (though he didn't have to) down from the window.

She’d felt instant relief when she spotted Kiara and John B sat in the van, having resumed their earlier positions. Kie grinned at her as she got in the back along with JJ and Pope, who smiled at her also, as Haley began to question the both of them on what had happened after they’d fled the scene.

They'd been caught, of course. But they'd also been released, and that was the main thing. Haley decided to focus on the positives as John B drove them all off, this time to a cemetery of all places - leading the way towards a specific grave that he informed them all was his great-great grandmother, Olivia Redfield. Her maiden name, apparently.

And of fucking course inside that crypt was a white FedEx envelope, addressed to Bird, which they would later discover was actually John B's nickname given to him by his dad, who'd actually left the envelope there - hoping one day that his son would find it. (Because of fucking course Big John would do that.)

The pieces to the puzzle were all coming together, bit by it, slowly but surely. They’d all returned to the Chateau upon the discovery of the envelope, which contained a map, the sight very familiar. (The Royal Merchant, of fucking course it was.) And there was a very obvious X displayed on it too, X marks the spot. Along with that, a tape recorder fell into the palm of John B's hand.

"Dear Bird," the voice had started, vaguely familiar to Haley’s ears. There was no question as to who the voice belonged to - Big John Routledge was speaking directly into the room, all five teenagers gathered around listening intently. "I didn't expect to find the Merchant either."

Haley’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, her breath catching in her throat as she glanced at JJ who was beside her, his own face a perfect replica of confusion and amazement.

"There she is, the wreck of the Merchant. If something happens to me, finish what I started." Big John's voice continued to fill the deafening silence of the room. "Go for the gold, kid. I love you, Bird, even if I didn't always act like it. I'll see you on the other side."

The recorder clicked off after that, once again silence engulfing the room. Haley felt her stomach churn, her heartbeat to quicken, her palms beginning to sweat. She couldn't believe it. Big John Routledge had gone and found the Royal Merchant. The Royal Merchant, of which her own father had spent months obsessing over. The Royal Merchant, as in the ship that had sunk over two hundred years ago. The Royal Merchant, in which had bought her and this ragtag group of misfits together.

They all littered around the pontoon close to John B's house, beers in hand as Kie strummed softly on her ukulele, the night air a welcome comfort to Haley’s clammy skin, her heart having still not calmed from when she’d first come to the realisation that Big John had found the Royal Merchant, and now she was joining the Pogues on finishing what he had started - for her own father, she thought as she looked towards the stars in the summer nights sky, smiling softly up at them. For you, dad.

"How much was it again?" JJ broke the silence, the golden haired boy seated closest to her.

"Four hundred mil," John B reminded, though he said it dreamily, almost as if he still couldn't quite believe it. She couldn't, either, in all honesty. Five teenagers, about to charge head-first into a treasure hunt? They had to be crazy. But for four hundred million, anyone would be.

JJ's head turned at rapid speed, before he let out a sigh and clasped his hands together, looking between them all. "Alright, let's talk the split. Now, before we say 'evenly' may I remind you that I am the only one that can properly defend us from those groupers who were after us," he branded the gun, waving it around as he spoke. "Protection? Not cheap, okay?"

"Technically, that should be my gun," Haley pointed out, shrugging a shoulder and smiling cheekily when he turned to glance over at her, frown etched on his lips. "You said so yourself, remember?"

"You said you didn't want it!" He protested instantly.

She licked her lips as she teased him, "Well, maybe I changed my mind."

JJ shook his head, tongue running over his teeth as he stared at her in disbelief, though his smile was enough to let her know he found humour in her actions. "You don't just get backsies on a gun," he deadpanned.

Haley rolled your honey coated eyes as Pope quickly interrupted the two of them. “You haven't trained," he directed towards JJ. "You've done zero training."

"YouTube, bro!" JJ countered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "This," he pointed to the gun. "Is at least a five percent bump right there."

The group collectively ignored him, though Haley sent him a smirk when he looked at her, an expression of am-I-right or am-I-right on his pretty face. Kie tilted her head towards Pope. "What are you gonna do with your eighty mil, Pope?" She questioned.

"Pay for college in advance," the boy answered immediately. "And also, textbooks. Those are expensive."

Haley couldn't help but smile at him, Pope, ever the thoughtful one. She knew if she had half the brains Pope had she’d probably be the exact same as him - planning ahead, working towards college more than anything. She admired the boy, truly. But her future wasn't nearly as bright as Pope's, she was aware of that. Which made the desire to find that treasure from the Royal Merchant all that more huge.

"What about you, Haley?” She was broken from her thoughts as Kie suddenly directed her words to the other girl, raising an expectant brow as she came to, noting the rest of the gang all looking at her with similar expressions.

What would she do with her money? Honestly, she had no idea. She felt incredibly lucky to even be considered to get a share of it, given that she had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, demanding answers about her dead dad and the damned compass that had started it all in the first place. She’d questioned the guys immediately after the discovery of Big John's reveal, telling them that she was totally okay with not getting a share, had even told them she’d back off and leave them to it, though so many more questions needed answering in her mind. But they'd all immediately disagreed, letting her know that she were apart of this just as much as they all were. This was her journey, too.

"Move me and my mom out of our shitty house," Haley decided. "Get a huge ass house on Figure Eight, buy anything that we wanted. Treat her to everything she could have ever dreamed of. Maybe buy a holiday home in Italy, visit there every year and have a holiday romance with an insanely hot Italian guy."

Her and Kiara shared a giggle at that, missing the way the blonde beside her shifted almost uncomfortably, eyes downcast towards the water for a second before he licked his lips, proclaiming loudly, "I know what I'll do. I'm gonna get a big ass house on Figure Eight, and go full Kook," JJ announced, eyes meeting hers and sending her a wink. "We can be neighbours."

Haley laughed outright, shaking her head at his dramatics as he continued. "Gonna get a marble statue of myself, and then I'm gonna get a koi pond, put a bunch of those fish-"

"I'm never visiting." Kie mumbled, interrupting his sentence as they all shared a laugh, gazes suddenly turning to John B who hadn't spoken in a while, the tanned brunette simply staring off into space, almost seemingly lost in his world.

"What about you, John B?" He looked back towards the four of them sprawled out on the pontoon, his eyes catching Haley’s own for a millisecond, the pair of them understanding exactly what was going through both their minds in that moment.

"To going full Kook," he raised the hand that held his beer, the group of Pogues wasting no time in following the action, all their hands raising, beer cans glinting under the moonlight as they all exclaimed, "To going full Kook!" into the summer nights air, the excitement and anticipation present in all of their voices.

And she grinned as she clinked her beer with JJ's, the blonde throwing a careless arm over her shoulder as he tugged her closer to him; Haley’s own naturally wound around his waist in return as they all laughed and joked into the night, the promise of an adventure and bright future's ahead of them all.

She failed to notice that their arms never really left each other until later that night, when her departure from the gang forced her to unwind her limbs from his, their gazes catching, secret smiles on both their faces.

Oh, this would be fun.

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kaiunkaiku · 6 years

Text

Would you fucking look at that, it’s an actual fic! I have been working on this for so ridiculously long and I’m so happy I finally managed to finish it! Hope you like some Hunter x Hunter because that’s literally one of my favorite series ever.

Warnings include my dialogue writing bc we have already concluded that I absolutely suck at that, illness, more hurt than comfort for the most part, disgustingly tooth-rotting last few paragraphs and some shipping because I’m literal trash.

This is set a few years into the future from canon so they are not twelve years old anymore. Let’s say late teens.

Killua stares at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He can’t believe this, just can't, this isn't supposed to happen. He’s a trained assassin, immune to most poisons in the world and able to withstand most of the torture methods known to man. He can work with broken bones and pierced limbs, hell, he can do his job with his arm hanging from his shoulder by little more than a strip of skin (very unpleasant and painful, yes, but he can complete a job). He hasn't been sick since he was two years old.

Now, though, there's a flush on his pale cheeks, and this isn't the type he has when Gon tells him he’s cute or that he wants to introduce him to Ging. This is the kind that has his head swimming full of cotton and eyelids drooping. His stomach is in knots and it’s three in the morning and Gon is sleeping behind the wall to his right in the large double bed. His throat feels funny and his neck feels like he’s been sleeping in a wrong position for hours and hours straight, unmoving, but he hasn't, he hasn't slept all night and it honestly scares him. He’s not used to this, and this is not exciting unfamiliar like the hunter exam was, no, this is his own weapon of a body doing something it isn’t supposed to do and he’s terrified. He’s considered waking Gon up, too, but it’s better if even one of them gets a decent amount of sleep.

The only reason he’s not completely panicking is because he’s seen this - sick people - before. He doesn’t remember any of his family members ever being ill, but he can easily enough recall Leorio standing by Kurapika’s bedside after the whole Phantom Troupe thing in Yorknew City. He remembers the shadows under brown eyes, sheen of sweat on pale skin and Leorio carefully setting a damp cloth onto his forehead.

Killua is exhausted. He stares at his reflection in the mirror and it stares back, eyes glassy and the lack of color on his face matching his hair even better than usually. Under his eyes there are dark circles that blend into the flush on his cheeks.

He looks so much less miserable than he feels.

It takes him a second to realize that his vision is starting to distort. It takes him another second to react, and by then it’s too late - his knees buckle under him and black spots cloud his eyes. The barely-there effort he puts into remaining upright doesn't pay off and he crashes onto the floor, unable to control his fall like he’s used to. His head hits something and the black spots get stars to keep them company for a moment. There's pain, nothing he can't handle but pain regardless, and then footsteps hurrying to the bathroom. Gon’s bare feet against the tiled floor sound louder than they probably are and there’s a weird echo to his voice as he shouts Killua’s name. Warm hands - always warm, Gon is always warm - lift him from his sprawled position on the floor so that his head in resting in Gon’s lap.

Gon’s voice is rambling are-you-okays and what-happeneds and why-didn’t-you-tell-mes at a rapid pace, barely giving Killua enough time to process the questions. The second he manages to make out what he was asked Gon is already going with the next, and Killua’s head feels lead-heavy and feather-light at the same time and he doesn’t want to do this. He squeezes his eyes shut against the bright lights of the bathroom.

Killua feels a hand on his forehead and realizes that the rambling has stopped. He forces his eyes open and finds himself staring right at Gon’s. His hair is a mess and there’s an awfully worried look in his eyes. For a second Killua thinks Gon looks surprisingly alert, but he shakes the thought almost immediately - it would be ridiculous for either of them look sleepy three seconds after a surprise wake-up call.

“Killua, you have a fever,” Gon tells him, as if he hadn’t already come to that conclusion. “Why didn’t you wake me up? How long have you been sick?” There’s a demanding tone to his voice, the kind there is when Gon needs to know instead of just wanting. A little more panicking and it would sound exactly like his demand for Kite’s whereabouts all that time ago.

Killua opens his mouth to answer but only air comes out. It quickly turns into awful, dry coughs, every breath triggering a few new ones and his chest burns. It takes Gon barely a second to turn him on his side, hand resting on his upper back. His throat and chest are both on fire and the whole thing feels to just go on and on and on until he can finally draw a decent breath again. Gon is rubbing his back behind his lungs.

“‘m not supposed to be sick,” Killua rasps, voice rough and barely audible. Gon tilts his head and blinks in confusion.

“What do you mean not supposed to? People get sick all the time, Killua!” Gon’s brows furrow like he’s trying to think about something. Killua props himself on his elbow to get even a little bit off the floor so he can look at Gon better.

“Gon, I haven’t been sick since I was a toddler. I’m immune to basically everything.” His arm is trembling under him, bad, like his legs were when he first recognized Illumi at the hunter exam. He hates it. He’s afraid. He wants it to stop, all of it, from the fuzzy feeling in his head to the pain in his neck and the sudden lack of physical control, he wants it all to just stop and go away. Taking a deep breath, Killua closes his eyes against the spinning world and lowers himself back to the floor. He doesn't crash-land, thank heavens.

And now Gon is scared, too, great fucking job, Killua, he thinks to himself as Gon’s suddenly tightened voice asks him if he got hurt in the fight they had yesterday against these three guys and a kid, a frigging child. Killua is so done with children on the battlefield. He’s been there himself and it sucks.

It takes Killua a second to come up with a reason for Gon to be asking that, because getting injured shouldn't have anything to do with his current condition, until he remembers the shocked look on one guy's face after he got his ankle pierced by some kind of a needle-weapon-thing. At the time he’d thought it could have been because of a mistake in the location of the hit, but now he's starting to realize; he didn't die immediately. The logical conclusion is that the needle was laced with some kind of a deadly poison, but somehow it’s still affecting him.

Lethargically, Killua lifts his leg so that Gon can take a look at his bandaged ankle. He’s tired and there’s a vague feeling of his insides burning and his muscles hurt like they used to when he was six and making his way up the Heavens Arena and it’s absolutely ridiculous how he’s remembering things like this right now.

Gon unwraps his foot gently like only he can, careful not to hurt him. It's clear he’s worried, but he keeps his hands steady as the bandages fall to the tiled floor.

Killua knows he cleaned the wound thoroughly. He's a professional and he knows how to take care of his physical health. Now, though, from what he can see, the area around it looks swollen and red. It doesn't hurt - in fact, he can barely feel the whole foot. Killua wonders when that happened, since he's pretty sure he could still feel it when he came to the bathroom earlier.

All the numbness disappears, however, the second Gon takes a poke at the tissue near the wound itself. His touch is painful, like freezing fire, burning ice, and Killua chokes back a scream. His body jerks and he instinctively tries to pull his foot back from Gon’s grip, away from the pain. A voice at the back of his skull is telling him that he's endured much, much worse in the hands of his family but it doesn't seem to matter. Gon’s hands are strong, thankfully, and used to holding flailing limbs in place thanks to his experience with injured animals. It's not something Killua likes to think of himself as, but it's not like his brain is allowing him to think of anything else, either.

Gon hushes him quietly, keen eyes still observing the obvious infection as his other hand reaches for Killua’s. He squeezes his fingers, offering reassurance, but it does very little to actually help. Killua tries to squeeze back, but even his fingers won’t move on command as they should. He’s cold, colder than he should and Gon is wearing just as little clothing as he is and it’s pretty clear Gon isn’t cold. Not fair, Killua thinks. His ankle hurts.

Gon looks at the injury from all sides, twisting Killua’s ankle as gently as he can, until he finally sets the foot down.

“Killua, let’s get you back to bed, yeah? I’m gonna go call Leorio real quick,” Gon tells as he gathers Killua up from the floor. Killua is trying his best to stand up, is trying his best to remain upright and even take a few steps, but he ends up being practically carried by Gon as his knees refuse to support him. He’s cold, but the blankets feel suffocating and he still feels overall a lot worse than he can remember ever feeling.

Every second seems to make him feel exponentially worse than before. He can hear blood rushing in his ears in a deafening volume and the churning of his insides is getting worse and he’s still getting colder, which probably means that his fever is still rising. Gon is on the phone with Leorio, his tone frantic and worried and his words incomprehensible through the noise in Killua’s head.

Before he knows it, there's a hand shaking his shoulder. He doesn't know when that happened, because he’s sure Gon was just talking on the phone. Large, brown eyes stare into blue, worried.

“Leorio said he’s coming over right now,” Gon tells, words spilling out of his mouth rapidly, almost like he’s afraid Killua will slip away before he manages to finish his sentence. And maybe his fear isn't irrational, at least not completely, because Killua can feel his consciousness fading in and out, and out seems to be winning.

“He’s just a few towns over,” Gon continues, trying to push some reassurance into his voice, “and he said Kurapika is driving, so they’ll be here in no time.” If the reassurance is for Killua or himself, that Gon isn't certain of. Maybe both, maybe neither, perhaps just the other. It is there, though, and that's what Killua clings to, the attempted shred of hope Gon seems to have in this thing ending up okay.

Gon climbs to the bed and gets behind Killua, pressing his face into soft whiteness as his arms wrap around Killua’s torso.

“You're shivering,” he whispers into Killua’s hair. He pulls Killua’s body closer, shivering back against strong chest, as Killua nods shakily.

“Cold,” he whispers. Killua lets his eyes flutter shut - his eyelids feel heavy, or maybe it's his lashes that are pulling them down. He feels like he's freezing, but Gon’s touch is like fire against his skin. He thinks he can hear his own breathing. He's not quite sure, though, since if anything, the blood rushing through his veins sounds even louder than before.

Gon’s hand moves to his forehead, and for a moment Killua can feel Gon’s arms tensing.

“Killua, you're burning up,” Gon tells. “Even worse than before.” He pulls Killua closer, like he’s trying to protect him from something, or someone.

Gon slides his hand into Killua’s hair before promptly getting up, almost jumping off the bed. The sudden absence of warmth makes Killua shiver, but mostly it just makes his head heavier than it already was, sends his vision into a spinning motion and throws him off balance even lying down. He grits his teeth to prevent them from clattering and curls up. He doesn’t have the energy to search for a blanket, even though he knows there are two of them in the bed. His fingers feel icy against his biceps.

He’s slipping again, he knows that, but keeping his eyes open and mind focused on something requires energy his brain isn’t willing to produce. Killua nearly misses the fact that Gon has appeared next to him again.

“We need to get your fever down, Killua,” Gon whispers, hand reaching for Killua’s hair. “So you’re gonna take a bath before Leorio and Kurapika get here, yeah?”

The following moments are, in Killua’s head, nothing but haze and coldness. There’s a series of events starting from somehow getting out of bed, then he's suddenly freezing even worse than before, ice cold water surrounding him even though it’s actually probably lukewarm, a soft towel, Gon yelling, familiar voices. Everything goes by fast, throws his thoughts into a whirlwind of confusion and exhaustion and general haze of not being able to distinguish what’s happening around him.

At some point, he finally passes out.

When he comes to, an indefinite amount of indefinite measures of time later, head throbbing and lungs fighting against breathing, there’s a pair of storm gray eyes observing him from behind a curtain of blond hair. Kurapika has a book in his hand and there are dark circles under his eyes, making Killua wonder if he’s been out for longer than a few hours. Or maybe it’s Leorio’s fault, who knows.

“Good to see you awake, Killua,” Kurapika smiles, setting his book down and standing up gracefully, as he usually does. “How are you feeling?”

Killua turns his eyes to the ceiling, taking a second to assess what his body is doing. He feels exhausted, at least that’s for sure, and it feels like there’s a heavy weight sitting on his chest. His muscles ache all over, especially, well, everywhere, and his head is pulsating along to his heartbeat.

But he isn’t burning and freezing anymore, and the world has stopped spinning even when he moves his head.

“Better,” he whispers in conclusion. Apparently, his throat is still not working. He turns his gaze back to Kurapika, who has moved to stand next to the bed. “What happened?”

Now it’s Kurapika’s turn to look away. His eyes seem to find the bathroom door, behind which Killua can faintly hear water running. He assumes it’s probably Leorio taking a shower. He briefly wonders where Gon might be.

“It appears you were poisoned,” Kurapika answers, not taking his eyes off the door. “I don’t think you would have died, but you’d be in a lot more agony if Gon hadn’t called us.” The water stops running. It takes a few moments for Leorio to emerge from the bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. From what Killua can see, he looks quite exhausted, too.

“And I say it’s a miracle you’re still alive,” Leorio says, apparently having heard what Kurapika said. “I hate to say it, kid, but you gotta thank that screwed-up family of yours. If you weren’t immune to most poisons, you’d have died when that happened.” He points at Killua’s tightly bandaged ankle. “Thank your maker that we weren’t in another country,” Leorio finishes, and moves to press a quick kiss to Kurapika’s lips.

Killua can feel his eyelids sliding shut, heavy as if weighed down by something. He still has questions to ask, like where Gon is, what’s going to happen next, why are Kurapika and Leorio always inclined to act so disgusting around other people. But Gon, Gon isn’t here even though he was earlier, and Killua has known for a long time that Gon does stupid things and makes stupid decisions and suddenly he’s scared, terrified, that Gon has gone off to do something profoundly idiotic.

Killua forces his eyes open and tries to sit up. His arms feel like jelly and his surroundings are spinning again, but he makes it to the edge of the bed before there’s a hand on his chest, pale fingers pressing him back and a soft voice telling him that he needs to rest, asking him what’s wrong and the next second yelling for Leorio.

He tries to fight it, but he’s too exhausted to stay upright when Leorio rushes from the other end of the room to prevent him from getting up, he succumbs to his fate of lying down for the time being.

XxX

Kurapika sighs in relief when Killua settles down and doesn’t try to sit up again. His breathing is labored and sounds overall just very difficult, and there’s a new sheen of sweat on his pale face. Leorio moves back to the side of the room where he just ran from to put on a shirt - something that he didn’t quite have the time to do earlier before Killua tried, for some godforsaken reason, sit up right after nearly dying.

Not that there’s anything new in that.

“Killua,” he starts softly. “What’s wrong, aside from the obvious?” Sometimes he just doesn’t understand either of the kids.

Killua peers at him, his eyes barely open. “Gon,” he manages to mumble, or groan, or whatever. It takes Kurapika a second to realize what Killua is trying to get to, until it dawns upon him that Gon indeed is not in the room. He can understand Killua’s distress concerning the topic, though. Kurapika allows him a soft smile.

“Where he is?” he asks, still, to confirm that he really got the question. When Killua provides him with a grunt that could be taken as an affirmation, Kurapika sets his hand to Killua’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry about him, Killua. He just went for a supply run, since we didn’t have time to grab everything when we left. He should be back soon,” he reassures him. Killua seems to be okay with his explanation, because he stops fighting his exhaustion.

Killua falls asleep fast and Leorio takes over the watch, allowing Kurapika some sleep himself.

XxX

When Killua wakes up the next time, there’s sunlight filtering through the blinds. He still doesn’t know what day or time it is, but there’s definite warmth around him. He opens his eyes to see tan, muscular arms embracing him, and when he turns his head, he meets hazel eyes.

“Good morning, Killua,” Gon whispers into his ear, the smile on his face reflecting relief, and Killua allows the corner of his mouth to curl up.

#my writing #fanfiction #hunter x hunter #sickfic #poison

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