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When Gon is kicked awake in the middle of the night it takes him only a second to realize why as Killua gasps for air beside him.
The moon is still high in the sky as she lends her light through their bedroom window to illuminate Killua’s struggle with their blankets. They twist around his body in makeshift binds despite his frantic flailing, which he must have been doing for some time now judging by the way his sweat-dampened bangs stick to his forehead. His chest heaves with shallow, too-fast breaths as he grits his teeth hard enough to be audible. Gon pushes himself up with a frown, reaching out only to carefully untangle the blankets so that they’re less constrictive. He’s careful not to touch Killua even though every instinct screams at him to do something, anything, to calm him down. It’s not the first time he’s woken to something like this but Killua usually comes to in a matter of minutes or relaxes enough to drift off into an easier sleep. When he does wake, he tries to play it off as no big deal, but Gon knows it’s only because he still doesn’t like to be caught in a vulnerable position—not even by Gon, even though he doesn’t give a damn about that. Still, he does love Killua, so he wants to respect his boundaries as much as possible.
But then—Killua makes the most heartbreaking keening sound, like a wounded animal, and Gon doesn’t care if he’ll be mad when he wakes up because he’s hurting. He just wants to save him from whatever memory turned nightmare is haunting him, if only for a night. Mind made up, Gon leans closer and calls softly, “Killua, wake up.”
Unsurprisingly, his call falls on deaf ears. Killua tosses and turns under the remaining sheet covering him until he finally manages to throw it to the side with clawed fingers. Gon helps by pulling all of them down to the foot of the bed so that his thrashing doesn’t wrench them closer again and tries calling to him a few more times with no success, only more whimpers of distress that leave his heart aching. Finally, Gon can’t help but reach out for him.
“Killua, shh. It’s okay, you’re just having a bad dream,” he says calmly as he places a gentle hand on his partner’s shoulder. He purposefully keeps his touch light—barely a brush of fingers—in an effort to minimize startling him, so when he makes contact and Killua stills he thinks hopefully that he’s managed to rouse him.
In the next moment the room whirls around him as he’s shoved on his back, Killua straddling his waist with one hand around his throat and the other poised with sharpened claws to strike. His eyes are open but blank and unseeing, devoid of the mischievous sparkle that Gon is used to. It’s that look, that complete detachment, which alarms Gon more than the precarious position he’s in now. He knows in his gut that it’s a product of Illumi—he’s seen it enough times over the years to recognize it for what it is. His jaw tightens as renewed disgust for Killua’s brother surfaces but he fights back the tension that anger often stiffens his body with. The last thing he wants to do is agitate Killua further. He makes a conscious effort to relax until his body is completely placid beneath Killua’s weight.
“Killua, it’s me, it’s Gon,” he explains soothingly, keeping his voice soft and low as he lies still. He doesn’t attempt to remove Killua’s hand from his throat—he’s not really applying any dangerous pressure, anyway, just enough to keep Gon in place—and focuses his aura on emitting the sense of calm and safety as he speaks. “You’re safe. No one’s going to hurt you. It’s just you and me, in our room in Litolas. You’re okay, Killua, it’s okay.”
It takes a few moments of soft reassurances but in the end his words seem to reach his partner. His eyes clear and he blinks a few times, confused by the sight before him as he comes to. Then they widen in horror, his mouth dropping open with a gasp, and suddenly Gon can breathe again because Killua launches himself backwards until he’s across the room in the furthest corner he can reach. He hunkers down there, arms encircling his knees to his chest, and trembles.
“Killua?” Gon sits up to crawl across the expanse of their bed towards him. He inches his way onto the edge to set his feet on the cool floor and waits but there’s no response, only the sight of his best friend cowering alone. He takes half a second to debate how to approach before sinking slowly to the ground until he’s on all fours. He knows better than to stand; he’d learned the hard way growing up that looming over injured creatures only heightens their anxiety. Even so, Killua stiffens as he nears, peeking from behind his arms to watch Gon’s advance until he’s kneeling a few feet away. Gon places his hands on his lap, palm up and open, and concentrates again on keeping his intentions clear through his aura.
“I’m sorry,” he apologizes softly. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to help.”
“Idiot,” Killua rasps, voice hoarse and wavering. “Why should you be sorry? I’m the one—I attacked you, I—” He chokes on his next words, tears springing to the corners of his eyes as he whispers, horrified, “I almost killed you.”
“No you didn’t,” Gon assures him immediately. It’s true. Killua’s hold on him had been easily breakable and he hadn’t even tried to strike him. If he’d truly intended to kill Gon, he’d be dead now. “You were in the middle of a nightmare. It’s okay, Killua.”
“It’s not okay!” Killua snaps, half a yell, half a sob. He lifts his head fully to glare at him. “I—I could have killed you, I almost—I was choking you, how can you say it’s okay when I—” The words spill from his lips as his voice pitches into something terrified. “I’m dangerous, I’ll hurt you, you shouldn’t—”
“Killua, kiwaha, that’s enough.” Gon interrupts, tone firm enough to cut through Killua’s panicked tirade though he tries not to be too loud. He can’t stand hearing Killua talk about himself like that, using Illumi’s words to describe himself as if they hold any grain of truth to them. Taking a deep breath to ground himself again, he notices with some satisfaction that the endearment seems to have caused Killua to pause, although his lower lip quivers at the sound of it. Gon offers an encouraging smile and an open hand as he says, “None of that is true. Can I come closer?”
“You shouldn’t,” Killua warns though it’s half-hearted at best. Gon chooses to overlook it since it’s not an outright refusal—he knows he won’t get any better affirmation right now—and crawls forward again while making sure to keep his movements clear and predictable until he’s directly in front of his partner. He lifts his hands slowly to beckon for Killua to take them. His eyes widen a fraction at the request. He shakes his head.
“I’m not afraid of Killua,” Gon assures earnestly, putting every ounce of love and trust into his tone that he can. Killua still doesn’t budge, stubbornly holding on to his misplaced sense of protection. He’s so kind, Gon thinks a little sadly, that even in the midst of his own turmoil he thinks first of keeping Gon safe. So Gon waits patiently. He’s willing to sit here all night until Killua gives him his hand; he refuses to allow Illumi’s lies to take root any deeper than they already have.
His best friend knows him well enough to realize he’s fighting a losing battle because eventually he gives in with a heavy sigh, offering his hands reluctantly. Taking them in his own, Gon wastes no time in bringing one to his lips to place a kiss to his palm. Killua jolts at the touch as if shocked by his own electricity.
“G-Gon, don’t.” He shifts uneasily, even tries to tug his hands back again as he eyes Gon with an uncertain, wary gaze. His next words are so soft that they’re barely audible when he mumbles, “They’re dirty.”
Gon hates that, that Killua still only sees blood on his hands after all these years, that he can’t see the strength in them that Gon does. He loves Killua’s hands, with his long fingers and scarred knuckles and callused palms and neat nails that look so pretty after Alluka’s painted them. Hands that are achingly gentle when he braids his sisters’ hair, carefully supportive when he helps Abe down the stairs, reliable when he totes groceries for Aunt Mito. Hands that have been broken and charred for him, have knocked sense into him, have carried him away from danger and away from death and have touched him with so much love that he sometimes feels close to burning alive when they grace his skin.
“They’re perfect,” he corrects him, pressing a kiss to Killua’s other palm. He gets an unamused huff in response.
“I’ve killed hundreds of people with them,” is his argument, eyes flashing in the moonlight in an effort to be intimidating. “I almost killed you with them, in case you somehow forgot already.”
“Didn’t forget because it didn’t happen,” Gon argues resolutely, lifting a brow at his stubborn partner. Killua grits his teeth at his blatant refusal to agree with him, mouth opening to refute him again, so Gon cuts him off. “Besides, you’ve saved more people with these hands than you’ve killed.”
That stops the oncoming outburst, brows furrowing in confusion at the statement. “What?”
Nodding, Gon slides their hands together so that their fingers intertwine, squeezing lightly. “It’s true. You’ve saved me more times than I can count, you helped win the war against the Chimera Ants, you rescued Alluka and Nanika from your family. From Illumi. Just those last two alone have saved countless lives, lives we don’t even know exist, because of you.” He lifts one of their joined hands to his mouth to press a lingering kiss to the back of Killua’s as he breathes, “Of course I’m not afraid of hands like yours.”
Silence drifts between them though it’s not uncomfortable or taut with tension like earlier. Gon doesn’t mind, content to let Killua process while he uses the time to show his unwavering affection with another kiss, this one to the fluttering pulse of Killua’s inner wrist. He smiles against his skin at the sensation, like butterfly wings against his lips.
“You’re such a sap,” Killua finally says with a thick voice. He lowers his knees from his chest, drawing one hand out of Gon’s hold to briefly rub at his eyes before reaching out to lift Gon’s chin. His gaze is regretful when he trails his fingers down the line of Gon’s throat, pausing to sweep his thumb over one particular spot as he bites his lip. Gon quickly grabs the back of his hand to redirect it to his face, leaning his cheek into it as he smiles. Killua sighs, shaking his head in defeat, and leans forward to rest their foreheads together.
“I’m still sorry,” he whispers, nudging apologetically with his nose. Gon chuckles, nudging back as he squeezes their still joined hands.
“I know, kiwaha. It’s okay.”
Warm air puffs against his lips when Killua huffs, grumbling, “Ugh, stop being—” He tilts his head so he can press a chaste kiss to Gon’s lips. “So good to me.”
“What do you mean?” Gon asks, kissing him again. “I just love you, that’s all.”
Killua groans, pulling away only to hide his face in the crook of Gon’s neck as he laughs quietly. He can feel the heat of the flush on his partner’s face. Squeezing his hand again, he releases the one cupping his cheek to card his fingers through Killua’s hair the way he likes until his shoulders droop, lethargic once again.
“Come back to bed,” he urges softly, turning his head to nose at his temple. Killua sighs heavily against his neck but nods. With an impish grin, Gon wastes no time scooping him up in his arms to carry him there, laughing at Killua’s indignant squawk and fully flushed face, discernable even in the dark thanks to the moonlight filtering in. He ignores the demands to put him down except to place him on the mattress, sticking his tongue out cheekily when Killua swats at him before tugging on Gon’s shirt hem in a silent request to lie with him.
When he does a familiar, pleasant warmth blooms in his chest as Killua immediately crowds in close to wrap his arms around his waist and tangle their legs together, head tucked securely beneath his chin. He giggles at the ticklish sensation of Killua’s hair but doesn’t hesitate to bury his nose in it with a tiny grin. He can imagine perfectly the eye roll he’s undoubtedly getting based on the snort he hears. There’s the briefest touch of cool lips on his neck, a final, silent apology before Killua’s whole form relaxes against him.
With a content hum, Gon kisses the crown of Killua’s head before nuzzling his cheek against his hair as he closes his eyes. He won’t sleep, not until Killua does, but he’s happy to settle down and hold him all night until that happens. And if it doesn’t, that’s okay too. They don’t have anywhere to be except with one another, right where they belong.