Chapter Text
Killua spent his Tuesday morning watching the new recruit, Zushi, quake in his corduroys. A long, glossy table stretched between them, lined with team members that could be working on the kid’s project within the hour.
He kicked back in his chair and inhaled some hot chocolate, nodding to Leorio as he plopped down beside him. The lanky 30-something was head of the design team and an embodiment of suits, grumbles, and leather folders.
But most importantly, he was Killua’s favorite person to mess with.
“Sup, old man,” Killua greeted, nose still deep in his mug.
Narrowed eyes glanced over him. “Not today, punk. Not today.”
Killua snorted. “So soon?”
Leorio responded simply, “I need coffee before even looking at your snarky kid face.” He flipped open Zushi’s presentation packet and itched at his nose.
“All right then, let’s start this up,” Zushi called from the podium up front. He did a quick scan of the room to make sure everyone was settled in, then clicked the slideshow to life. Knuckle—his certified goofball sidekick—offered enthusiastic thumbs up from the sidelines.
“Hey everyone. Most of you know me way too well, but I’m Zushi, and after 6 months working and learning here, I’ve put together my very first game proposal,” he declared. His excited smile was up and raring, starting to overpower the nerves.
“So—I’ll dive right into the main point. With the recent surge in hero movies, comics, books, and every other form of media, really, I thought it was only fitting to pitch this company’s very first,” he clicked to a new slide and flung one arm out to the screen, “hero video game.”
Killua’s head dipped to the side, not not interested.
“The real-world hero on everyone’s radar right now is none other than the famous hunter, Gon Freecss,” he continued, motioning to the screen where a young man waved at the camera, hanging from the side of the World Tree. “He’s all anyone can talk about. The Hunter Association, the news—his name is on the lips of every possible demographic. Adults rely on him, grandparents respect him, children idolize him.”
He clicked through news articles with heroic headlines slapped across the top, adorned with pictures of Gon taking down corrupt leaders, rescuing locals, regrouping animal sanctuaries. Almost every picture was illuminated by the same vibrant smile.
Killua’s chest and neck warmed. He set down the hot chocolate, pulling idly at his collar.
Zushi stopped the slideshow to make more points, but his words were a jumble of nonsense outside the small fraction of reality that Killua inhabited. Everything seemed to fade and blur beneath the grin that stretched across Gon’s face, glowing out at him from across the room.
The picture depicted Gon having just stepped off a ship, an arm reaching to run fingers through dark spikes, looking out into a forested island. Zushi had apparently decided to be an overachiever today and Killua was not a fan; the photo quality was so intense that he could see every fucking freckle, every bead of sweat and ocean spray that dripped down muscled arms.
His heart stuttered. His hand slapped to his chest in reflex.
What was wrong with him today?
“—and he’s agreed to give us the rights to make a whole series depicting him as the main character. We can include all his adventures, and I mean all of them—stories no one has even heard before. We have complete access to exclusives on his life and history.”
Enthusiasm rippled through the room, whispers shooting between team members, one small squeal. And while Killua knew he should be thrilled too, while he knew that this was, quite frankly, a brilliant proposal—he wanted to tear down that projector screen with his bare hands.
“This company made a quick jump to popularity in the last few years, but a game with this beloved of a public figure and this level of exclusivity could spike us to the very top,” Zushi continued, fully animated. His energy was flooding the room.
Meanwhile, Gon’s striking face stared out at Killua, taunting him. He fiddled with the follow-along papers on the table. This had to be almost finished. How many more points could the kid make, anyway?
“Plenty. It’s only been ten minutes,” Leorio answered, then grumbled to himself, “Millenials and their attention spans, I swear.”
Killua shot him an unenthused look. A blank corner of the room became his refuge, and he sipped his hot chocolate for extra comfort. Instead of Gon’s sharp jawline and tanned dimples, he’d fill his mind with thoughts of his favorite things . . . like Alluka, choco-robos, his new comics, office aesthetic Pinterest tabs, the badass games he’s coding, new and fresh ideas—Gon Freecss.
“Fuckin—” he cursed and clamped his mouth shut. But it didn’t slip past Leorio, who looked at him like he was a proper lunatic.
“The hell are you cursing at, kid?” he whispered. “You realize this is genius work going on right now, right?”
“I know, I know, it’s fucking fantastic,” Killua whispered back hotly.
“. . . Oh, then what’s your deal?”
“His, it’s just,” he wheezed a little, faltering and motioning to the screen, “his face .”
This left Leorio stupefied. “His face ? Is he not pretty enough for you, shallow bastard? You hired him.”
Killua ran an exasperated hand through his hair. “ Not Zushi,” he hissed.
But in the time they spent arguing, both men missed Zushi’s toothy smile as he clicked the presentation slides to an end. They missed the flicker of his eyes to the doorway, the slight bounce in his toes that insinuated a twist. They didn’t, however, miss his last four words:
“Oh, and he’s here.”
Blue eyes snapped to the front of the room. Leorio turned his head so hard his glasses flew into the lady next to him.
Then the door swung open and none other than Gon fucking Freecss waltzed in beside Zushi.
The space between Killua and the podium that Gon slapped his hands and forearms on, was suddenly too vast. But at the same time, far, far too close. Too far to tell if freckles splayed across Gon’s cheeks, but close enough to feel his warm and wild energy raise every defense Killua ever wielded.
“Hey everyone!” the man grinned out at them, “I’m Gon, and if you’d all be so kind as to accept this proposal, I’ll be working with you super soon on this project.”
The team, having essentially died of a group seizure, just stared at the guy who was smiling at them like a cute and explicitly handsome puppy. But after ten whole seconds of silence, Gon’s expression began to drop into awkwardness.
At that, a few team members shook off their nerves enough to muster up some questions for the two men. Zushi did the majority of the answering, leaving Gon to scan the room.
Killua’s leg uncrossed and fell as Gon’s gaze reached him. And just—stopped there. He wasn’t sure if it was insanity taking the reins, but the hunter’s lips seemed to perk in the corners, dimples pressing into his cheeks.
He was torn away by a “hey, hey ” not-so-subtly whispered from the corner of Leorio’s mouth.
“What.”
“I think that hunter kid is checking me out,” Leorio started warily. “Which I mean, I get it—but how do I emphasize my straightness?”
His eyes slanted at the suit-laden disaster-adult beside him. “He’s probably just counting your wrinkles. Your straightness is a beacon.”
Before Leorio could strangle him, Gon’s voice cut through the room, “So I think that pretty much concludes this shindig. I’m hype to come around and get to know you all today!”
He bowed, with one last little curious look at Killua.
When Leorio choked, “ See? Did you see that?” Killua wanted—with all of his being—to smack him across the back of the head with one of those leather folders.
But, it was . . . maybe, Gon had to know he’s the CEO, right? Right. Of course you’d smile at the CEO if you wanted a video game about you to be approved, he reasoned, mentally slapping himself to reality.
The rest of the team seemed to be mentally slapping themselves as well, before finally shuffling their files and folders, scuttling off to their usual schedules. Killua, drenched in confusion and and a heavy dose of self-awareness, watched all the chairs push out and in before even beginning to gather himself.
He leaned to peer around Leorio’s in-the-way body, to catch one last glimpse of that brilliant smile as Gon left the room, talking animatedly with Zushi.
The proposal was brilliant. People would pitch up tents outside game stores for days. Gameplay footage would run rampant through the Twitch and YouTube communities. His company would be thrust into the spotlight. Merch, seasonal content—god, he could do anything with this. Zushi, the buzzcut dork, basically skipped into work today and slapped millions of dollars onto Killua’s open palms.
These were all good things. But still, Killua felt short of breath. That last glance Gon gave him replayed on a loop in the thin air in front of him.
There had to be some sort of catch to this whole thing. How did Zushi know this guy, anyway? Wasn’t he, like, famous? Curiosity flooded him, and he leaned further to follow Gon’s frame down the hallway, chair wobbling dangerously.
“Whoa, kid!” Leorio’s arm shot out to steady and drag an unflustered Killua back to safety. “What the hell is up with you today? You’re acting unhinged.”
“Just stretching my back,” he replied curtly. The white-haired man brushed off his slacks and opted to pretend that nothing out of the ordinary was afoot. He went on slyly, “thanks for the quick-save though. For an ancient artifact you have pretty decent reflexes.”
He swiped his phone from the table to slip it into his pocket—
Leorio swatted the phone from his hand, eyes twitching. “I’m one of the youngest bachelors in this office! Just because you’re a damn baby boss doesn’t make everybody else—”
“I emailed you yesterday that if you mentioned Boss Baby and/or the uncalled-for sequels one more time, I would literally fire you.”
Leorio squinted at him and leaned in, one hand flat on the table. “I said baby boss. Loophole , punk. And it’s an excellent piece of cinema.”
Killua’s phone gave a vaguely distressed beeping from the floor, so he reclaimed it and flapped a dismissive hand at the door. “I’m adding that whole sentence to the fire-upon-hearing list. Now buzz off, I’ve gotta answer this.”
Leorio begrudgingly stalked off, leaving Killua to catch up on his texts before following suit. He sidled along the glass walls, bangs-deep in his phone.
Ikal-bro: Can’t make it today. Eat double the pizza slices in memory of me (do not just eat chocolate for dinner).
Killu: Me? Chocolate? For dinner, the most important meal of the day?
Ikal-bro: I’m going to say this again because I feel like you didn’t hear me: do noT just eat chocolate for dinner.
Killu: Fite me. Can’t hear a text message.
Killu: If you want my night to be void of joy, you have to rip it from my cold hungry hands.
Ikal-bro: I would 100% be ripping your joy away if I wasn’t buried in work, breathing through a bendy straw. No joy for you.
Killu: 🙅 Reverse Marie Kondo.
Ikal-bro: XD Leave my beloved Marie out of this, you savage. This is about you and diabetes.
Killu: Marie thinks I should throw you out with my old rollerblades.
Ikal-bro: She would never. Wait you used to rollerblade?
Ikal-bro: Without me??
Killu:
Killu: Nod once for choco-robos, nod twice for chocolate bunnies.
Ikal-bro: God damnit Killua.
Killu: Just keeping it seasonal.
Ikal-bro: Aashfgsdhgf I’m calling your sister. Alluka isn’t too busy to bike over and square up.
Killu: Lol no no I’ll be good. Don’t tell on m
Killua was mid-snort as he full body collided into someone, finding his head tucked rather intimately into the crook of their neck. He got a deep whiff of Hot Dude and his own shame before flinging himself backwards.
“Shit, dude, sorry—”
“No worries, it's f—I mean, wow, hi. Are you okay?”
As he blinked away the dizziness, Killua found himself face-to-face with none other than the famous hunter. Right in front of him, in all his 20/20 high-quality glory—freckles, dimples and all. He exuded a mixture of bashfulness and dogged confidence, heavy in the air like a magnetic field.
“Wasn’t prepared for the surprise hug. I’m usually a lot better at them, I promise,” Gon laughed with a little wink.
Killua watched Zushi’s spirit float into the ceiling tiles beside Gon; the kid was clearly not expecting the subject of his chances at a bright future to flirt with his boss. Killua’s own spirit was about to follow suit, but he metaphorically snatched that mofo back into his body.
“I wasn’t trying to—I wasn’t paying attention, it’s my bad,” he responded, “No worries.” He swallowed and gave his best casual, dude-in-charge, not-at-all-flustered look.
“No worries back at ya,” Gon grinned, bright enough to knock Killua off his toes. It took every ounce of his dignity to remain firmly attached to the ground. “I don’t think we’ve officially met yet! I’m Gon, Gon Freecss.” He offered a hand, “You were in the meeting, right?”
Zushi raised his eyebrows at the hunter, because he knew that he knew Killua was in the meeting. He literally told him Killua would be in the meeting. And then they talked about Killua right after the meeting (if he looked impressed/convinced/interested at all).
Killua’s hand met Gon’s, finding his head utterly empty while in the bright man’s center of gravity. He had to pull himself together. He was the CEO of this company. He was cool, calculated, and he ran this shit . So he would speak words, damn it.
“Yeah, hey. I’m Killua Zoldyck. I run this shit.”
Fuckin— not those words.
But then Gon laughed and said, “I guess you’re the right guy to be hugging then, huh?”
Killua swallowed the flush before it could crawl into his cheeks, and responded, “Probably. Feel free to start sucking up to me.”
Gon paused for a second, but quickly recovered with an “On it” and a two-fingered salute. “But before I get to that, I should probably—”
“Let Zushi show you around?” Killua cut in. A valiant effort to escape.
“For sure,” Gon nodded, “. . . And then maybe convince you to have lunch with us, and then maybe convince you to be my boss.” He went right in for the kill, lightheartedly and with a brilliant smile.
Killua shrugged and took a few steps backward, beginning his departure. “Fine. If your life doesn’t suck too hard to make a good game, you can buy me pizza.”
What? He would what?
Gon positively beamed, apparently a lover of challenges. “Don’t you worry, I’ve been on so many wild adventures you’ll be choking on your cheese.”
Killua took a few more steps back. “And if I choke, who’s gonna make your game, hah?”
The ridiculously handsome guy in the green sweater laughed again. “You’ll make it out alive. I’m a hero, y’know,” he leaned forward and grinned, “I wouldn’t let anything hurt you.”
Forget cheese. Killua was choking on air.
He couldn’t suppress his emotions much longer, not like usual, not with Gon looking at him like he was the most interesting person he’d laid eyes on in the last century. So he gulped and shook his head, letting loose a small smile.
“Yeah yeah, just go—do whatever crap you have to do today.” He gave a small, casual wave. “See ya, Freecss.”
Gon waved with both arms as he walked backward beside a flustered Zushi, who was all but dragging him down the hallway. “Bye Killua!”
His cheeks warmed. Killua . Who did he think he was talking to, a friend from school? He was the damn president of the company.
But . . . to be honest, he hadn’t heard anyone say his name in a while. And the way it fell from Gon’s lips felt refreshing. Almost like—
No. Just no. Killua shook the thoughts from his head and made his way to his office. He dropped into his chair and threw his phone to the table. It was time to stop wheezing and brace himself for the day ahead.
Killua stretched out his arms, cracking his knuckles, preparing to read the comments on the company’s anonymous message board to see what the other employees thought of the hero game. Instead, he found his gaze resting on a black envelope, tucked between his keyboard and monitor.
Curious, he picked it up and checked for the sender. But this envelope was . . . completely blank. He flipped it over a couple times.
His brows pulled together. Mail was usually delivered by his secretary, decorated with cute sticky notes describing who the sender was so Killua had context. But nope, nothing.
Annoyed at the shadiness of it all, he ripped it open. Within was a single piece of paper. Printed on it in basic typewriter-format was:
I strongly advise you to decline the proposal. If you continue, expect consequences.
Killua’s face hardened. What the actual fuck. The meeting had only been 30 minutes ago, so this meant it had to have been . . . someone in the room? Someone who knew Zushi or Gon? It wasn’t exactly public knowledge yet, just an idea shared with a room of people who would all benefit from it.
And he wasn’t about to reject it for no reason. So he dropped the letter into his drawer and slammed it shut.
Consequences. Seeing as Killua’s whole life was a consequence, he wasn’t exactly shivering in his Gucci loafers.