Title : Fireplace

Author : lynlyn

Yahoo ID and email : cloud121383

Warnings : Kuroro/Kurapika slash warning, Killua/Gon if you squint a bit, massive OOC-ness, alcohol warning

Rating : PG-13 for adult themes, some swearing

Disclaimer : I do not own Hunter X Hunter, its characters, or anything associated with it. I'm not writing this for profit; I'm only doing so for personal satisfaction, plus the fact that I want to try my hand at writing semi-professionally. Any resemblance of the characters or the story itself to actual people and situations is entirely unintentional and accidental. Please don't sue – I'm only a tech writer with outrageously low pay.

A/N : And this is a gift-fic that I wrote this year for littlewolfstar. "Fireplace" was her prompt, and this was the result. Again, I thought that I should post this and the previous drabble here to tide you guys over while I'm trying to edit chapter 22 of WH… I'll finish it and upload it as soon as possible, I promise.

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Kurapika awoke with a sense of foreboding.

No, that wasn't right. It wasn't foreboding, not exactly. His sense for danger was calm. He couldn't feel anyone in the immediate vicinity, certainly no one whose mere presence would be enough to rouse him from dead sleep. It wasn't apprehension, either, not the kind he'd feel upon waking up to find his partner doing Things That Shouldn't Be Done In The Morning. So what woke him…?

"–rapikaaaa…"

There it was – a thin, reedy wail of distress from outside the room, and the blond reacted as he would in such situations, quickly rolling out of bed and moving towards the source of the sound on silent feet. He was in the middle of the hallway that branched off to the master bedroom and the guestroom when the second call came, and that was when he checked his speed, stopping to cock his head to listen more closely.

The voice was familiar and dear to him, one that he knew as well as his own, and yet – now that he'd had a few seconds to analyze the situation, he realized that it was also strange and out-of-character. He'd never heard it sound so pathetic before. The owner of the voice wouldn't call for him in such a pitiful manner if there was any danger involved, so the blond concluded that there was no real emergency – or at least, not the life-and-death kind.

Kurapika continued at a more sedate but no less cautious pace. There was no telling what mischief Kuroro could have gotten into while he was asleep, so he had best prepare himself for anything.

… Anything should have included, well, everything, but even that wouldn't be enough to cover all the bases where Kuroro Lucifer was concerned. So Kurapika couldn't be faulted for reacting as he did, when he took the first step out into the den, and despite all his mental preparations still froze at the sight of a pair of legs sticking out of the marble fireplace.

It was quite obvious who the legs belonged to, really, but some distant part of his mind remembered what date it was and instantaneously came up with the explanation that would make the most sense in light of the situation he was faced with.

"… Santa?"

The pair of legs shifted slightly, a jerky, vaguely disturbing movement if Kurapika imagined that they were moving by themselves without the aid of the upper half, but it was more likely that said upper half had just tried to turn around but had to stop in the confines of the flue.

"Kurapika?" the voice called again, with renewed vigor this time around. "Oh, thank god, my shoulders are starting to ache – you think you could – right, laugh at me in my hour of need, why don't you."

The blond didn't quite hear the last indignant sentence; he was laughing too hard, but the injured tone reached him. He staggered upright from where he'd collapsed against the wall in helpless laughter and managed to suppress his mirth long enough to ask what had happened.

"Err. I tried to come down the chimney and got stuck," Kuroro's muffled voice answered. His legs – and the bit of bottom that was sticking out of the fireplace fidgeted, as if embarrassed. Oh, yes, did he have good reason to be embarrassed, the boy thought as he groped for his mobile phone, which was handily within reach on a nearby countertop. Fortunately he'd turned off all but the most necessary of the phone's sound options, so it didn't make the default shutter-click sound when he quickly took a picture of the predicament Kuroro had gotten himself into.

"Whatever possessed you to do that?" the blond asked as he set his phone back down on the countertop.

"Nothing." Kuroro fidgeted again. His voice had gotten very small and subdued – Kurapika had to strain his ears to hear it through the brickwork of the fireplace. "I was reading up on holiday traditions."

"And you suddenly wanted to try going down the chimney like Santa Claus is believed to do?"

"It is weird after all, right?" Kuroro replied in earnest. "I mean, how can people possibly believe that a fat man wearing a red suit with fur trimmings can fit in a chimney and not get soot on his clothes?"

Kurapika shook his head in disbelief. "Soot…? I don't think that's the point, but, why did you still try to do it if you knew that it was impossible?"

Kuroro wriggled his toes – maybe as a substitute for a shrug while his shoulders were still indisposed. "Just curious, I guess?"

The blond warily approached the fireplace, and as he did he spotted the bottle of wine on the coffee table. Kuroro's laptop was nearby, browser open to an article about the mythical figure in question, and there was a tumbler beside it, half-full of a dark red liquid that he assumed came from the bottle, and finally an open box, still with its shiny silver wrapping. His eyes could just make out the pattern on the wrapper – the black and red-colored crest of a certain assassin family.

"You're drunk, aren't you?"

The older man squirmed again at his accusation. "Just slightly," he protested in childish defense.

Kurapika reached for the card tucked into a fold in the silver wrapper. The dedication to one Kuroro Lucifer was written in an adolescent scrawl. "… Will rot your brains and make your teeth fall out," he read out aloud.

"See? I can't back down after reading something like that!" Kuroro called out.

Kurapika shook his head again and hoped to dear god that Killua hadn't been drinking the stuff. He knew for a fact that the younger boy had invited Gon to one of his family's numerous estates for the holidays, and he didn't even want to start thinking about the possible results of mixing the assassin's precociousness, Gon's propensity for reckless behavior, and a second bottle of the same wine that was obviously potent enough to inebriate the leader of the Phantom Brigade after only half a glass.

"Honestly, you should know better than to accept liquor from a Zaoldyeck," he admonished.

"… I'll keep that in mind," Kuroro mumbled after a short pause.

At least he's admitting to his mistake, the blond thought in fond exasperation.

"Well, what do you want me to do?" he asked as he ran his hands over the brickwork.

"Eh – maybe pull me out? I can't get leverage with my arms stuck like this – I don't have anything to hook my feet through, either."

That was awfully vague and ordinary for a suggestion from Kuroro. The man must be seriously drunk if he couldn't think of anything more specific and elaborate. He didn't even give a warning about being careful – if Kurapika pulled too hard or pulled from a wrong angle he might injure the older man, or should he choose to solve the dilemma by attacking the brickwork the fireplace will get damaged.

"Right," the blond muttered after he'd thought for a bit. It should be fine as long as he controlled his strength. He sighted on a spot right above where Kuroro's head ought to be behind the brickwork of the flue, raised his hand, and then brought it down against the wall of the fireplace in an open-handed slap. The dull thump echoed up through the chimney, and the force of his blow jogged bits and pieces of the mortar loose.

Kuroro yelped in alarm. "Wha – what are you doing?"

"Just making sure that you're loose in there," Kurapika replied loudly. "Get ready, I'm going to pull you out."

One hard yank was all it took, and the fireplace spat Kuroro out like how someone would spit out the seeds in a bite of fruit – and along with him a cloud of black soot and powdery white snow that must have fallen on the man when Kurapika struck the brickwork. The blond pulled a face at the mess – and Kuroro was covered in the slush, too.

The Geneiryodan head coughed once, and then raised his arms to inspect himself and his immediate surroundings mournfully. "I've got soot all over," he complained. Kurapika tried not to let his amusement get the better of him again, but it was difficult – the other man looked so adorably dejected. He was also very drunk, and seemed incapable of maintaining his usual dignified air. The boy sighed – partly long-sufferingly, and also to use the action to keep his reactions under control – and reached forward to take hold of Kuroro's very dirty hands.

"Come on, up you go. You need a bath – Ah, no, don't –" Kurapika cut his protest off and looked down at himself and Kuroro's back in dismay. He'd underestimated the degree of Kuroro's intoxication; the man had gotten up, but then he'd immediately draped himself all over the nearest upright object. Now they were both dirty and wet.

"Join me?" Kuroro murmured.

The boy's eyes narrowed slightly. The Geneiryodan leader looked quite pleased, like he'd suddenly stumbled on an open vault full of priceless artifacts. It was subtly different from his normal naughty cat-that-ate-the-canary grins, though. There was a hint of surprised delight, as if he hadn't been expecting to find himself with an armful of Kuruta. Maybe it was the goofy-looking grin; grins were markedly different from conniving smirks, after all.

The blond shook his head again. He was thinking far too much into Kuroro's strange behavior. The man was simply drunk, which was in itself already a very strange occurrence. He should give Kuroro the benefit of the doubt before jumping to conclusions.

"I suppose I don't have a choice, do I?" he remarked. Kuroro grinned even wider. Then he started to nuzzle the side of Kurapika's neck in a fit of drunken affection.

Ah, well. He had insurance in case Kuroro tried to pull anything funny.

--- end ---

I'd posted this and the previous drabble at my LiveJournal, but I'm getting the feeling that not all of you check it on a regular basis, or remember to check it at all, or even know that I infrequently post drabbles up there that I may or may not post here, so, yeah, posting it here.

Hm. Too bad this site can't display different-sized texts. If you'll look at my LJ post you'll see that I wrote Kuroro's "–rapikaaaa…" in smaller-sized text there. Sort of an effect, like how the actual wail of distress might sound like. XD

And in case I still can't finish WH 22 in time to greet you all – have a happy and peaceful new year's, everyone!

Finished December 29, 2007.