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"You guys all set?"
"Of course we are. Who do you take us for? We’re professionals ."
Tooru doesn’t know if he should take Atsumu’s words to heart — the instances when his intuitions about a mission’s outcome turned out to be far from right were starting to make a nice uncomfortable pile in his mind. But well. This time, Tooru really thinks there’s no reason for this to go wrong.
They’ve thought this through together, for hours.
(It had just been a whole week of them staying together 24/7 to make their plan - they’d done worse before, and his phone still rings from occasional mournful texts from Bokuto. He’s tired of it. He’s not a boyfriend’s thief.)
"Nervous, Tooru-kun?" Atsumu’s voice is snarky. Tooru huffs, and resists the urge to pinch the man’s cheek.
"You’re cute sometimes, Atsu-chan." The smile the blonde gives in response is anything but genuine - it even shows a little bit too much of teeth to be considered anything but aggressive. Tooru hides a laugh behind his hand. Kuroo, on the other hand, doesn’t hide his for one bit (as he ever does, really). He’s actually fully cackling, even, but still manages to sound serious with his next words.
"Let’s get this bread."
-
Ushijima Wakatoshi is a renowned literary critic who’s been known to live in Ginza, one of the fanciest and expensive neighborhoods of Tokyo. Despite his soft spot for detective novels - which, according to countless interviews he’d given, were his absolute favorite, the man’s reviews covered all genres and were pretty iconic among Japanese readers. Ushijima had been at the origin of many endings and beginnings of literary careers.
His interests do not only lay in books, they had found out. Apparently, Ushijima was also a big fan of chocolates, volleyball and art. Everyone that knew Ushijima knew that he loved art - more precisely, that he loved to collect art. Critiques weren’t the only domain he could be harsh and ruthless in: Tokyo art auctions were notorious for his biddings there.
The last piece Ushijima got his hands had been bestowed with the name of Sniveling Spoils. It’s a contemporary painting Tooru doesn’t exactly understand and doesn’t exactly see the appeal of. (Tooru also finds the name terribly lame but maybe art was simply just not his thing.) Apparently, some genius hyped reclusive artist ("It’s not just anyone, Tooru'', Kuroo’s voice had chimed in, "Bo couldn’t stop talking about it and you know he’s got an eye for these things") had finally relented in the public’s demands and put it up for sale.
Naturally, it hadn’t escaped Ushijima’s connaisseur’s ears. The auction had been quite of a publicized event for anyone that cared for the arts in Tokyo, Ushijima fervent and relentless in his bidding. He’d ended up acquiring the painting for not more than thirteen millions of yen. Tooru was pretty sure you could buy yourself a house somewhere for that price. Maybe it was an offer and demand thing - it’s not as if Tooru would know.
To celebrate his fresh, new, trendy, extraordinaire acquisition, Ushijima apparently decided to throw a little soirée. It was, supposedly, not a big affair, and would mostly concern his circle of close acquaintances; but the list of guests Kuroo managed to get his hands on still displayed more than 250 names, so Tooru didn’t really know what to make of Ushijima Wakatoshi’s wording for things. Yeah, personally, his circle of close acquaintances consisted of three people - maybe four with Bokuto, but even then, that’d be almost one hundred times less than Ushijima.
They weren’t even supposed to find out about this party. Actually, it had been quite the shot of luck. It was all thanks to Bokuto Koutarou, well-established boyfriend of one Kuroo Tetsurou, who was a true amateur of art. What had started out as some random support for a friend turned into a true, genuine passion for the domain. In all the time they’ve been dating, Bokuto would often drag Kuroo to galleries, museums and expositions in Tokyo and constantly was on the look-out for rising promising artists, be it through in real life events or through social media.
Apparently, Sniveling Spoils’s painter, Konoha Akinori, was a good friend of Akaashi Keiji, Bokuto’s artist friend who got him into the painting scene. They’d met a couple of times, the three of them, and Bokuto had ended up learning through Konoha himself that Ushijima was planning a party to celebrate his new purchase - Konoha was the guest of honor, after all. Naturally, Bokuto, ecstatic for his friend, had spilled the news to his boyfriend, who’d immediately sensed the opportunity it represented.
So, fresh of all this information, they’d plotted, the bunch of them - minus Bokuto, who, bless his soul, didn’t know he was dating a kind of wanted thief. Tooru was so glad to not be in Kuroo’s shoes.
It’d been decided that Kuroo would not attend the party: as charismatic and charming as he could be amidst a crowd of strangers, his tech skills were more valuable than his social ones in that scenario. He was the one who’d be able to remotely bypass any eventual alarms and to guide Tooru and Atsumu throughout Ushijima’s fancy penthouse - Kuroo had managed to both hack into the security systems of Ushijima’s home and to create a very precise 3D map of the critic’s flat all thanks to security footages, random vlogs and pictures the man had posted on his socials. It was pure madness and had taken him two whole weeks to achieve. Even Kenma had been impressed.
Tooru and Atsumu, however, would be the ones to physically attend the party, posing as some film critics, supposedly well acquainted with Ushijima. It was actually a risky bet, creating fake identities and undergoing the threat of having their cover blown just by being in Ushijima’s vicinity, but Tooru and Atsumu were both incredible actors, and the number of guests was playing in their favor. They’d run a background check on every guest, and it turned out that some of them weren’t even that close to Ushijima, like, at all. This truly gave them a chance to succeed.
It hadn’t been hard to create fake invitation cards for them and to hack their names onto the real list of guests. Overall, it had been weeks of preparation, but everything was set out for this mission to work.
-
It’s a chill night. Ushijima’s building is located in a rather quiet part of Ginza, but the street’s still quite noisy because of the queue of waiting people. It seems they were not the only ones that had not exactly showed up at eight on the spot.
"Names, please?"
Tooru glances at Atsumu, who’s fully beaming at the security guard guarding the entrance of Ushijima’s building.
The blonde pockets out a mid-size card - it’s made of carton and is adorned by fancy prints, a perfect replica of all the invites Ushijima’s actual guests received. The fake’s a courtesy of Ennoshita, who also prepped them on their movie culture for the night. Atsumu hands the card to the security guard, who grabs it with two steady fingers. His face remains stoic as he reads out the content of their fake card and scans through his list afterwards. After a few seconds, a small but gentle smile appears on his lips.
"Alright, all good. Elevator’s this way," the man says, pointing to the end of the entrance hall, "someone will take you to Ushijima-sama’s apartments."
Tooru and Atsumu bow in recognition, uttering their thanks, matching charming grins on their faces. The man nods, before addressing the people behind them, not sparing them any more glances.
The pair doesn’t wait any longer and is quick to head for the elevators in front of which another man awaits. He’s obviously young, his eyes wide with unconcealed excitement and admiration for his surroundings, his fringe almost touching his eyes.
"Hello sirs," he says, voice loud, face crunching in concentration, "I’m Goshiki Tsutomu and I am glad to be of assistance."
Atsumu discreetly snorts, his expression a bit conceited. Tooru rolls his eyes at his antics and gives the kid the sweetest smile he can muster.
"My, thank you, Tsutomu-chan." He’s delighted when he sees a blush appear on the kid’s cheeks.
"This way, please," Goshiki says, gesturing for them to enter the elevator, doing his best to maintain his composure.
The ride to the elevator’s not long - not even a minute, really, and is spent in silence, Goshiki looking straight at a fixed point, diligent and serious in his work. Tooru and Atsumu face the elevator’s mirror, and share a glance through their reflections. Tooru inspects his outfit one last time - a dark blue suit he’d acquired specially for the occasion, one that kind of matched Atsumu’s maroon suit in the way they complemented each other - and checks his watch. 9:04PM. Hopefully, all of this would be over in a little bit more than three hours. The elevator pings, announcing their arrival, and Atsumu and Tooru subtly nod to each other.
"Have a nice evening, sirs!" Goshiki fervently bows, and the two men bow in return.
The soirée was officially set to start at eight in the evening, so it made sense that the penthouse was already starting to buzz with people when Tooru and Atsumu stepped out of the elevator.
As soon as their feet are on Ushijima’s floor, a butler offers to take their coats and scarves to a special dressing room. They couldn’t really say no, but deep inside, Tooru struggles to hide his reluctance and his want to follow the man.
"Focus guys, that painting’s worth far more than anything you could find in that dressing room."
If it wasn’t for their years of experience with Kuroo and his wicked ways, both Tooru and Atsumu would be leaping off their feet. Tooru, on his end, holds back a hiss. He hates it when Kuroo purposely remains silent for a long amount of time, enough to get their minds used to the silence, only to surprise the hell out of him with a cheeky voice.
"Sick son of a bitch," mutters Atsumu through gritted teeth, fists clenched. Kuroo cackles and Atsumu’s left eye seems to twitch, a vein almost bursting through his forehead. On his side, Tooru sees a plump woman look over them in what seems to be concern. He charmingly beams at her.
"Anyway, listen to me guys," Kuroo says, voice serious once more.
Both men navigate their way through the flat, progressively splitting from each other, - that place is ridiculously huge, what the hell - accepting a champagne glass from some smiling servers, nodding to other guests and giving small greetings when they’re called for.
"I don’t know if it’s feasible, but the best case scenario is for you to not encounter Ushijima. Like, it’d be a dream and make the mission a guaranteed success if he’d never see you at all."
It’s kind of hard to focus on two voices at once, but Tooru thinks he’s doing a pretty good job so far. A sports journalist (and what was a sports journalist doing here? He’d have to ask Kuroo) had indeed struck up a conversation with him (and Tooru failed to see the reason why), so he’s stuck listening to his commentary about Simone Biles’ latest olympic achievements. Nevermind that Tooru has no idea who that is.
Well, at least, he hasn’t seen Ushijima yet. That was a good start.
"I don’t need to tell you this, but if Ushijima sees you, don’t panic. Just try not to speak to him and you’ll be fine. And even if he does speak to you, I’ll ring you and you can pretend to make a phone call to get away."
It seemed simple, so far. They had been through this already, but it was reassuring to see that they were not going in blind, and that Kuroo was still there to help.
The journalist was still ranting about Simone - turns out she was an American gymnast, not that he really cared - and Tooru let out the occasional hum and nod to pretend he was invested in the conversation.
"I know we went through this a lot of times already, but it doesn’t hurt to say it one more time. You guys will have to split for this one." Well, that was expected. "Tooru, you’ll have to deactivate the security system, so that when the time comes, Atsumu can safely retrieve the painting. Atsumu, you’ll have to access the kitchen and do your part there."
In all fairness, Tooru didn’t know if he had complete faith in their plans. So many things could go wrong. But it was too late for doubts anyway.
"Okay, now that we’ve got that covered, I’ll start speaking to you individually to give you indications. Guys, you know I trust you with my life-” “That’s a lie, Kuro.” “- shut up Kenma, but for the love of God, please do not ever, ever take off your earplugs. It’d be a catastrophe otherwise!"
Well, it wasn’t like they had any reason to. They’d be pretty much lost without Kuroo’s indications.
"Tooru-kun," Kuroo purrs after a few minutes,"it’s just you and me now, babe."
The journalist had finally released him, so Tooru did not hide his snort and discreetly hummed, starting to walk again.
"So the good news is that you won’t have to deactivate the cameras. I got it covered - me and Kenma managed to hack through them. So really what you need to do is access Ushijima’s gallery room and deactivate the movement sensor there."
Kuroo had the courtesy to wait for his current conversation to be over this time - after the journalist, it was a sculptor who'd approached him. They seemed a bit of a loner, all by themselves. Tooru was actually surprised they’d found the courage to approach him.
While Tooru engaged himself in the conversation, he threw a glance around, on the lookout for Atsumu. After a few seconds, he found him near some buffet, highly gesturing to a masked man who looked deeply exasperated with the blonde.
Wait.
A masked man.
Shit.
Tooru hastily apologizes to his interlocutor, ending the conversation, and abruptly turns to access a more private space - only to bump into someone, proceeding to spill the content of his flute onto the unfortunate stranger.
"I’m so sorry," Tooru starts, inwardly wincing, "I really-"
Oh.
"-should have been more careful," he finishes slowly, gulping when he realizes who is standing before him.
Ushijima Wakatoshi.
In his ear, Kuroo cackles. Tooru, never one for violence, suddenly wants to grab the other by the neck and squeeze the life out of him. Kuroo Tetsurou was a dead man, never mind what Bokuto had to say about it.
Ushijima was quite impressive from up close. He stood even taller than him - which really wasn’t a frequent sighting. His shoulders were broad, his eyebrows furrowed, his eyes cold. His shirt, initially white, was stained .
"Oh my god," Tooru brings a hand to his mouth, "I’m a complete idiot."
"It’s no-"
"Hey, who even are you?" Ushijima’s deep voice is interrupted by a smaller man by his side, who sounds just as angry as he looks.
"-problem."
Tooru laughs nervously. He’d really love it if Kuroo could call him, like, right now.
He doesn’t think he’s ever smiled this angelically. The angry dude’s eyebrows seem to furrow even more, if that was possible. Tooru fixes his collar - it’s all pretense: in reality he’s fiddling with the hidden mic that enables Kuroo to hear him. He truly, really hopes that the parasite noise will disturb his friend enough for him to remember about him.
“Stop being a bitch!” Kuroo growls immediately. “I’m fixing something with Atsumu right now, hold them off for two more minutes. I’ll promise it’ll be fine.”
Tooru resists the urge to grit his teeth at Kuroo’s words. He never should have accepted to take this mission.
“I’m really sorry,” Ushijima replies, “I don’t remember ever seeing you. I think I would remember a face quite like yours.”
What the fuck.
Ushijima’s tone is soft, and his eyes are wide. And if he focuses, he’s sure he can see some pink on his cheeks. The champagne stains on his shirt are enormous. What the fuck. Was the man flirting with him? Could this all work out in his favor, in the end? Tooru doesn’t waste any time pondering the question.
“Ah, Ushijima-san,” he says as nicely as he can, eager to find a way out of that mess, “it’s quite okay if you don’t remember me.” Tooru allows himself to pause for a few seconds to find a decent excuse. “I looked quite different when we met all these years ago, but I could tell you all about our encounter if you will. But maybe you should change, first?”
He’s not completely sure he’s doing a great job - looking at the man next to Ushijima (come to think of it, why did he look kind of familiar?), it was not the case at all - but judging by his small smile and his nod, the literary critic seems enthusiastic about his reply.
“Wait,” the stranger says in a firm voice. “You didn’t tell us what your name was. Who are you.” This time, it’s not a question, not really. Tooru knows a threat when he sees (hears) one.
“Oh, it must have slipped!” It’s taking everything for Tooru to not let his nervousness show. He bows apologetically. “My name is-”
“HELP!”
A guttural scream echoes through the room.
Tooru pretends he’s not relieved by that - he can clearly feel the weight of the stranger’s eyes on his back when he turns to look at the commotion that has started to rage in the room. Tooru throws a glance at one of the glass doors leading to one of the wide corridors of the penthouse. And of course, Atsumu’s standing near that door, staring directly at Tooru. He winks when their eyes meet. Around them, chaos reigns.
“A rat, there’s a rat in here!”
The piercing shriek, along with that exclamation, had both come from the same person - the masked man he saw Atsumu talking to earlier. This had caused more people to scream, hustle and bustle, and a general messy atmosphere that had Ushijima’s eyeballs almost gouging out of his eye sockets.
“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”
Tooru really, really wants to roll his eyes, but appreciates the distraction nonetheless.
-
It turns out there was no rat, but at least Tooru has been able to escape Ushijima.
Tooru’s on a balcony, admiring the view, sipping on a cocktail. Tokyo’s Skytree is actually visible from here, surrounded by thousands of lights coming from the skyscrapers around. It’s not exactly quiet - Tokyo’s nightlife is always buzzing with energy, and this night is no exception. The air might be polluted, but it’s fresh - a nice contrast to the hotness of Ushijima’s penthouse, especially after the commotion that just transpired there.
“So this is where you’ve been hiding.”
Tooru was starting to get accustomed to that voice. Usually, Tooru was not prone to anger - that was more of Atsumu’s thing, or even Kenma’s on some rare days. That man, though, was seriously starting to get on his nerves.
“You again,” he sighs, taking a larger sip of his drink. Might as well make this more tolerable with alcohol.
“What, you’ve dropped the nice act now that Ushijima’s not here anymore?”
Tooru seriously didn’t know what this man’s problem was. It’s not like he had done anything wrong. Well, not yet. Well, he had spilled some expensive champagne on Ushijima’s shirt, but that was an accident, so it didn’t count. But still, he’d been perfectly complacent so far. So there was really no reason for that guy to antagonize him like that.
Therefore, the way Tooru saw it, there were two ways to handle the stranger. The first solution - the recommandable, rational, advised one - would be to politely tell the brunet off and try his best to remain discreet for the rest of the night. In Tooru’s noble opinion, it completely sucked ass. That’s why he went for the second one - annoy the hell out of him.
“Hey,” he starts, grinning again, downing the rest of his drink in one go - and ouch, he hadn’t expected his Peach Fizz to be so loaded, “why are you so obsessed with me?”
Yeah, acting petty and being a nuisance was right up Tooru’s alley. In fact, it was his specialty. So, if that’s what the man wanted from him - he would give him just that .
“Excuse me?”
“Tooru, careful. Remember the mission.”
It sounded like Serious Kuroo was back, but alas for him, Tooru really couldn’t give two shits about his warning. He had been provoked. It was war, now. And he wouldn’t jeopardize the mission - he wasn’t Atsumu, and the implication kind of pissed him off.
“You heard me perfectly,” Tooru says, smiling with all his teeth. “What’s your deal? Have I done something wrong?”
The man’s face was getting red - from embarrassment or from anger, Tooru didn’t know. He took a minute to assess his looks. His hair was really dark and assembled in some spikes - it would have looked ridiculous on most, but it somehow suited the man. His eyes, although probably darker with frustration, were actually clear - it was probably some sort of blue or gray or green but it was kind of hard to see from his place. He was smaller than Ushijima and smaller than him too, but he didn’t think he could be considered as, well, puny, for all that. He was wearing a classic, black suit, but had taken off the vest - it was currently hanging off his arm, making direct contact with his white shirt. It all complimented his muscular frame perfectly.
It was infuriating how such a handsome and attractive man could be such a brute. This was going to be fun, Tooru was sure of it.
“You haven’t,” the man reluctantly admits, “but I still don’t trust you. Why won’t you tell me your name?”
“Why do you want to know this bad?” Tooru approaches the other and slowly points at him. “Interested?”
The man’s cheeks are crimson now. He looks furious. Good. Flirting was always the best distraction. Tooru knew that very well.
“You’re unbelievable!” the other angrily blares.
“That’s not a no,” Tooru winks.
“Tooru, the mission,” Kuroo says, a hint of amusement in his tone. What a buzzkill. He’d certainly hear of him the next time he was alone with Bokuto and Tooru happened to be nearby. As if he would forget the mission.
“Why won’t you just tell me! Stop making this weird!”
“How about you tell me yours first?”
“Iwaizumi,” Iwaizumi huffs. “Iwaizumi Hajime. I’m Wakatoshi’s friend. I’m also his personal trainer.” He crosses his arm and looks away petulantly. “Now it’s your turn.”
Tooru feels like he’s heard the name before. Weird.
“Well, Iwa-chan,” he beams, savoring Iwaizumi’s murderous expression, “I have decided that because you were mean to me, if you want to know my name, you’ll have to earn it.”
Then, Tooru goes back inside, giggling, without waiting for any reply.
-
It doesn’t take long for Iwaizumi to find him.
“Just how old are you, exactly?”
“What is this, twenty questions?”
Tooru accepts the two drinks the bartender hands him with a thankful nod and some polite words. Then, he turns to face his new arch-nemesis.
“Why are you so weird?” Iwaizumu looks exasperated. “How did you even pass security?”
“My, my, Iwa, you’re gonna get crinkles at an early age if you keep being so anxious. Here, have a drink,” he says, shoving the glass into the man’s hand.
“Thanks, but it’s not-”
“Oh, you can’t hold your liquor? It’s fine, I’ll drink it for you,” Tooru interrupts him, taking back the drink and - downing it in one go.
He coughs once he’s done. What a terrible idea.
“You’re gonna get yourself in trouble.”
And “You’re actually insane. That drink was full.”
Somehow, Kuroo and Iwaizumi talk at the exact same time.
“Shut up,” he says to Kuroo while looking at Iwaizumi, who raises his eyebrows in return. “Drink,” he says to Iwaizumi in defiance, “I will tell you my name.”
“Yeah, I really don’t believe you’re an adult.”
Tooru says nothing and keeps looking at Iwaizumi expectantly, arm extended.
“You’re not being serious, right?”
Tooru keeps quiet.
“Tooru. Careful. It’s the second time I’m telling you. Don’t make it a third.”
“I can’t believe this.”
Tooru arches an eyebrow.
“I really can’t believe this.”
After a whole good minute of Tooru saying nothing - sixty seconds when Tooru could start to feel his head spinning just a little bit - Iwaizumi finally sighs.
“A true menace,” he grumbles, grabbing the drink and taking it to his mouth.
Tooru admires the man’s Adam’s apple movements as he takes some quite big gulps from it. Maybe it’s the alcohol in his blood, but Tooru finds it way more attractive than it should be. Once the content of his drink’s gone, Iwaizumi produces a little napkin from his pocket and dabs it around his mouth. How sophisticated .
“Wow, Hajime-kun, that was impressive,” comes a voice Tooru’s never heard before.
Two men approach them. One has pink hair, the other black sophisticated curls. A matching set of mischievous grins adorn their faces.
“Yeah,” the pink-haired guy says, “I really had no idea you could drink like that.”
“Not you guys,” Iwaizumi groans. “Go away.”
“That’s not a way to treat your friends,” the other man - the one that had spoken first - tuts him.
“Yeah, especially in front of such a fine man,” Pink nods gravely. “Do you think you can woo him by being so rude?”
Tooru can’t help but to chuckle at that. Iwaizumi’s aggressivity wasn’t reserved just for him, apparently.
“That’s right Iwa-chan,” he says mockingly, “you’ll need to work on your manners if you want me to give you a chance.”
Iwaizumi groans. “I’m gonna get another drink. I don’t want to deal with all of you sober.”
They all cackle at that. Tooru almost forgets he’s on a mission. Almost.
-
For some reason, it turns into a drinking contest. Tooru 100% blames the two strangers - Matsukawa Issei and Hanamaki Takahiro, affectionately nicknamed Mattsun and Makki - who are terrible influences. They all feel like long lost friends, never mind that they still don’t really know his name. He’d eventually told them to call him Tooru. Kuroo had sighed in his ear, but he had dismissed his friend. He knew what he was doing.
He kind of wishes they had all met under different circumstances, because he’s having the time of his life, they’re all hilarious. Yes, even Iwaizumi, who looks quite tipsy by now - but it’s not like Tooru can judge him, he’s quite tipsy too. He’s really not that bad - he’s actually quite charming, had a lot of funny anecdotes to share about past relationships (like that security guard downstairs, Sawamura Daichi, who was his ex) and anecdotes about Ushijima. He was also really fucking nice to look at.
“Guys,” Tooru says suddenly, overwhelmed by that admission. “I have to pee.”
The others look at him in confusion.
“Okay?”
“Guys,” Tooru repeats, realizing something. “I don’t know where the bathroom is.”
Mattsun and Makki glance at each other, smirk, then look back at Tooru.
“Hajime will go with you,” Makki says. “You can stand, right?”
Iwaizumi huffs. “Of course I can.”
To his own merit, he does manage to get up and walk without stumbling once. He places himself in front of Tooru and stares at him. It’s sort of intense. Tooru’s a bit lost. He almost feels himself blush.
“What are you waiting for, idiot. Bathroom’s this way.”
Iwaizumi grabs him by the arm and drags him through the corridors.
“Iwa,” Tooru admonishes, “easy!”
Iwaizumi stops in the middle of the corridor. It’s so abrupt that Tooru almost falls on him.
“Hey! Careful.”
Iwaizumi’s looking at him with the same intensity he displayed back with Mattsun and Makki. Tooru doesn’t know how he feels about it. He’s not sure he’s a fan of what's happening in his stomach.
Iwaizumi steps closer.
What the hell.
Tooru steps back, heart racing.
Iwaizumi takes another step.
Before Tooru can do anything, Iwaizumi points at something behind Oikawa, still staring at him with that weird intensity.
“That’s the bathroom. I’ll wait for you here.”
Tooru’s eyes widen. He’s so terribly confused right now. He quickly turns and makes a beeline for the bathroom, getting away from Iwaizumi as fast as he can.
He guesses this is a bathroom accommodated for events such as this one - there are several stalls, as well as several faucets and mirrors. It’s all really fancy and clean though, unlike common public bathrooms. Tooru immediately heads for one of the faucets, and splashes some tap water onto his face.
One of the stalls’ door opens behind him.
To his surprise, two people come out of the stall. To his biggest surprise, Atsumu comes out of it, (previously) masked man in tow. The flush in their cheeks, their swollen lips, their messy hair - it’s all obvious what they’ve been up to. They don’t even acknowledge him and leave the bathroom with very quick steps, hanging on to each other.
Well, that settles the problem of the mask.
Tooru looks at his reflection. He looks. Well. He looks drunk.
“You’re drunk, Tooru. That’s not good,” he slowly says to himself, shaking his head.
“No shit.”
“Tetsurou?” Tooru tries to whisper.
“That’s me, yes.”
“You sound pissed.”
"Being pissed would do that to you, yes.”
Well shit. It’s not as if Tooru had forgotten the mission. He got distracted for a bit, that much he could not deny, but worse had happened before.
“Are you mad at Atsumu?”
“No. I’m mad at you. Atsumu did his part, and he even did yours - you’re welcome by the way, since you were so busy and did not listen to me once .”
“Tetsu, you’re overreacting. There’s still time. I know what I’m doing.”
“Are you really?”
Tooru’s seriously getting pissed by Kuroo’s condescending tone. He’s confused, he’s tired, and there’s a fine man waiting for him out of that bathroom. He didn’t like it when people doubted his abilities. He knew what he was doing.
“Tetsu-chan,” he says, tone sickenly sweet, “you can kindly go fuck yourself.”
Before Kuroo can say anything, Tooru removes his earplug and retrieves the mic hidden in his collar to turn it off, then hides both objects in the pockets of his vest.
Maybe he was overreacting. He didn’t care.
In some quick, assured strides, he leaves the bathroom, plants himself in front of Iwaizumi, grabs him by the collar and looks at him in defiance.
Iwaizumi looks at his lips, then back at him. Tooru nods. Iwaizumi doesn’t wait to press their mouths together, placing one hand in Tooru’s hair, the other on Tooru’s hip.
The kiss quickly turns into a full making out session - it doesn’t take them long to find the guest room Iwaizumi usually stays in.
-
Oikawa wakes up when he feels someone tap on his head. He cracks an eye open, and is immediately greeted by Atsumu’s face being way too close. He holds back a scream.
Iwaizumi’s naked arm is holding his waist in a firm grip. He can feel all sorts of aches in his body.
He hasn’t forgotten how they got here. He did, however, very much forget about his mission. Panicked, he looks back at Atsumu, who’s shaking his head, amused. Atsumu places a finger on his lips and - got it, he needed to be as silent as possible for this one.
Oikawa gently removes Iwaizumi’s arm from his waist and replaces his body with a plump pillow that the other immediately latches onto. It feels weirdly wistful to let go of the man. Atsumu hands him his clothes, and silently leaves the room.
A minute later, Oikawa joins him, completely dressed. He’d thrown one last glance at his night companion, before leaving for good.
“Dude, Kuroo’s so pissed,” Atsumu whispers.
“I know,” Tooru cringes, whispering too, “let’s not talk about it. Did you spot where the gallery was?”
Atsumu nods. Ushijima’s penthouse already looked huge with hundreds of people in it, but now that it was mostly empty, it seemed gigantic. Atsumu leads them to the gallery, where numerous art pieces are exposed in some sort of smaller rooms.
“Painting’s this way. We’ll get out through the window.”
Tooru nods. That had been planned from the start.
The Sniveling Spoils' retrieving is not much of a big affair with all the security systems deactivated. It’s really dark and Tooru pretty much doesn’t see anything, but he trusts Atsumu when he tells him it’s the right painting. They cover the thing in some large piece of fabric.
“Okay, they’re waiting for us, window’s this way.”
It’s all very underwhelming. They access the window without any issue, and sure enough, the helicopter’s there. It’s astonishing how efficient the soundproofing system is here - as long as the window’s closed, the helicopter doesn’t make any noise at all. Atsumu hands off the painting to Oikawa and opens the window.
“We’ll have to jump,” Atsumu says, “I’ll go first, you hand me the painting, then it’s your turn.”
“Okay.”
The lights of the gallery suddenly turn on.
“Shit,” Atsumu curses, “we're seriously running out of time.”
“Who’s here?” Oh no. Tooru knows that voice. He knows it very well by now, even.
“Atsumu, hurry.”
Atsumu jumps and lands without breaking anything.
“Hey! Who’s here! Tooru! Is that you!”
Shit, shit, shit.
“Tooru, you’ll have to jump with the painting, there’s no time anymore.”
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. His heart’s racing. He can still feel the alcohol in his veins.
“Okay, I’ll jump in 3.”
1.
Tooru steps on the edge. He hears someone enter the room.
2.
Tooru squats down, preparing to jump. Iwaizumi yells his name, anger prominent in his tone.
3.
Tooru jumps, heart breaking. He lands on his back and immediately places the painting next to him.
A few seconds later, Iwaizumi, wearing nothing but briefs, lands on him too.
Well, shit.