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“I’m sorry,” says Leorio, not for the first time and not actually feeling the least bit sorry, “and then we light the what on fire?”
“The fishing pole,” Gon tells him. Behind him, Killua snorts and (also not for the first time) Leorio really debates the ethical ramifications of pumpkin-chucking a child into the water. “So you can have good luck for the next year!”
“Right.”
“And then we can go inside and make the rolls Kurapika told us about! That are,” Gon pauses, cocking his head to the side, “also for luck?”
Kurapika appears to be taking this whole thing in much better stride than Leorio is. “For fortune, yes.”
“I see.” Leorio turns to Kurapika as Gon pivots away to pull on Killua’s sleeve and point something out to him on the far end of the lake. It’s less of a lean down than it had been before, with Kurapika shooting upward to meet Leorio’s height halfway over the years, but Kurapika still rocks forward on his heels. The gesture is simple and sweet and takes the strain off Leorio’s back as he leans down to hiss, “Why are we doing this again?”
“Getting into the holiday spirit. Celebrating the new year with—” Kurapika hesitates, a brief twist to his mouth, “—with family. To remind us what’s important.” He glances significantly at the fishing poles. “And to have good luck in the next year, apparently.”
“Oh yeah? Whose bright idea was that?”
“I don’t know.” Kurapika shrugs. “Some idiot doctor, wandering around lecturing the lot of us like he knows best.”
Leorio scoffs, bumping Kurapika’s shoulder as Gon bounces back over to them. He looks pointedly at the cup of hot chocolate in Leorio’s hands and frowns when Leorio takes an equally pointed sip. (He’s seen Gon do things that defy human biology and probably also basic physics, but Leorio doesn’t need a medical degree to know keeping Gon from following Killua’s descent into sugary depravity is a matter of public safety.)
Kurapika chuckles as Killua pulls Gon away again before he can argue. “You monster.”
“Hey, I earned this!” Leorio risks pulling a hand away from the cozy warmth of his mug to jab a finger at the glow of lights peeking out of the snow on the cabin roof. “This hot chocolate’s a reward for my suffering!”
Hanging lights hadn’t been part of the original plan, on account of the last thing Leorio expected to find in some remote Zoldyck-family cabin in the woods was any modicum of holiday cheer. But as soon as they’d arrived, Gon and Killua had torn through the entire place to look at all the (admittedly cool) things squirreled away to gather dust on the outskirts of Yorkshin. Including the rickety old shed just off the cabin, standing on its very last legs and probably full to the brim with the non-homicidal variety of spiders, which had yielded a massive tangle of string lights. The small debate about whether or not the lights would even work after so many years was something that Killua put to rest easily, with a furious scowl and a dose of liberally applied Nen to both the string of lights and the outlet in the shed.
(Kurapika had been gracious enough to turn his laugh into a cough as the lights in Leorio’s hands had lit up with a shock so strong that the fringe on his scarf stood on end.)
“Now we just need a ladder!” Gon had sprinted back to the shed while Killua craned his head back to get a good look at the eaves, stray sparks still crackling in his hair. Glancing down at the snarl of lights in his hands, Leorio’d turned to Kurapika with a (really clever, in his humble opinion) joke about just how good Kurapika must be at untangling anything vaguely chain-like, but—but Kurapika was leaning against the porch rail, looking Leorio up and down. It was a look that Leorio would’ve call highly fucking suspicious, partly because Kurapika also took a moment to glance at the roof, but mostly because the last time Leorio had been on the receving end of it, he’d ended up driving a getaway car to kidnap a Spider.
Kurapika arched an eyebrow; cold dread stomped down Leorio’s back. “Oh, I don’t know,” and that bastard had been grinning, “somebody tall enough could just stand up on the porch railing, don’t you think?”
Gon and Killua turned to look at him in eerie unison. Leorio had debated walking into the nearest snowbank to wait for spring.
“Now listen,” he’d started, “just because you’ve all dedicated your lives to beating the snot out of people for money doesn’t mean that one of us doesn’t have a brain he needs—”
“I guess we don’t have to have the lights up,” Kurapika cut in, and how was it he could look sly and solemn both at once? “I just thought that, since you wanted us together for the new year, it would be nice to do some traditional things.” Kurapika wasn’t pulling at Leorio’s heartstrings, he was using them to string a goddamn guitar. “It’s not something the Kurta did, but isn’t hanging up lights traditional?”
“Well, when you put it like that—”
“Yeah, Leorio,” Killua had added, with the smug smile of a kid routinely referred to as ‘precocious’, “if you don’t think you can do it, you can just say so.”
And curse his stupid pride but that had gotten Leorio up on the slippery railing almost faster than they could scramble to brace his legs. Now though, safely back on solid ground, he can admit that they look nice. Homey, almost, between the lights and the thick blanket of snow and the promise of sharing traditions (no matter how bizarre) from all their far-flung corners of the world. Mindful of the ice where the ground turns from snow to rocky shore, he spins around in a leisurely circle. Gon and Killua are picking their way back over to them, Gon gesturing emphatically with the fishing poles he’d picked up again. This is nice, Leorio thinks again, for as long as it’ll last them. Kurapika’s already lost back in his thoughts, staring out over the water at the far-off lights of Yorkshin without really seeing them.
(Something in his bag had clinked together and sloshed as he’d set it down when they’d arrived—Gon hadn’t noticed and Killua had pretended not to and Leorio hadn’t said anything, had made a joke instead about hoping Kurapika had brought the ingredients for his super special Kurta snacks in a different bag and looked away from Kurapika's tight smile.)
“It’s nice,” Leorio says apropos of nothing, looking out over the water. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Kurapika glance at him.
When he doesn’t elaborate, Kurapika sighs heavily. He shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “Oh?”
“This, us—together.” Leorio blusters, words catching up to his ears. “I mean, not us—well, not just us, I mean Gon and Killua too—” He heaves a sigh of his own and runs a hand across his face. He scowls when it knocks his glasses askew. “You know what I mean.”
“No,” says Kurapika, grinning because he’s a little shit, “I absolutely don’t.”
“Fine,” Leorio grumbles as Kurapika finally cracks and starts laughing, “I try to spread some holiday cheer, lay my feelings at your feet and bare my heart, and this is how you—”
A sharp crack from behind them drowns out Leorio’s truly masterful griping—he’s pretty certain he hasn’t had an unexciting day in his life since the day before he left for the Hunter’s Exam, but really he must be due for one at some point—Kurapika whirls with his chains already in hand as they scramble around in time to see the string lights in the cabin eaves burst into flames.
There’s an incredulous pause where nothing but the fire makes a sound, and then Killua shouts, “That looks awesome!”
“Oh,” Leorio rubs the bridge of his nose, “that can’t be safe.” Something in the shed groans, probably in agreement. “We’ve got to get those down.”
Killua throws his hands up with a huff, but Gon looks thoughtful. Leorio feels a burst of pride; how great that Gon’s mature enough to know they have to put the lights out, no matter how (admittedly) cool they look.
Tilting his head to the side, Gon finally asks, “Do you think you could make them different colours?”
Or maybe not.
Killua holds his breath, cheeks puffing out as he glowers at the roof in all its fiery glory. An ominous pop comes from the direction of the shed but sure enough, the flames shudder and start to flicker red and green and blue.
Leorio watches the string of lights a moment longer, the flames in the broken bulbs crackling merrily but not threatening to spread. (Unlike the pounding in his temples, which threatens to turn into a full-blown headache any minute now.) Finally, he shrugs and knocks back the dregs of his hot chocolate, gritty and sweet against the back of his teeth. Kurapika watches him, smug smile playing on his lips, and Leorio shakes his head. “Wanna tell me what the hell we’re doing again?”
“We are,” Kurapika tells him, holding out the fishing pole Gon hands him for Killua to set it ablaze, watching it lick down the wood before hurling it into the lake, “getting into the holiday spirit.”
“Ah,” says Leorio, taking a pole of his own. His mouth tastes like chocolate and the air curls with ozone and Kurapika’s smile is so very fond. “I see.”