Chapter Text
Being a PE teacher - even just a substitute one - turns out to be pretty fun.
Before you know it, a whole week passes by, and you’ve managed to go on another three - uninterrupted - dates with Karamatsu in that time.
You’re almost disappointed. You’d been extra careful for the other dates, making sure that nothing fishy is going on each time, but everything had gone smoothly normal. You think Karamatsu’s brothers had finally stopped plotting against you two, and the thought both elates and pisses you off.
If a little pushing around is all it takes to get them to leave you and Karamatsu alone, you wonder how much they really actually care about your boyfriend, and if all of Osomatsu and Ichimatsu’s big talk before had been nothing but hot air.
They don’t even give you any shit during your classes with them, although you’ve caught Ichimatsu glaring daggers at you once or twice now when he thinks no one else is looking. Besides that, they’ve left you two alone, treating you like a normal teacher and behaving normally with Karamatsu (from what you’ve seen, anyway).
You kind of forget who the brothers are - what they might be capable of - after a while, and a few days into the third week of your career as a substitute teacher, you find yourself regretting this mistake immensely.
---
Your aniki has been pestering you about a job at a gambling den downtown for a few days now, so on your next weekend, you decide to shut him up and do it for him. You tell the school you’ve got a family emergency and might not be able to come back next Monday, and then you tell Karamatsu that you’ve got work to do so he shouldn’t worry if he can’t contact you for a few days.
Karamatsu’s worried, cute little thing that he is, and makes you promise to come find him the second you’re back. You do, with a kiss and a hug, and then you’re off.
Your aniki has you checked into a hotel and briefs you about the job. It’s simple enough; he thinks that the den’s owners are skimping on the boss’s money, but the boss doesn’t want to risk losing an outlet without any hard proof. Since no one downtown really knows you that well, your aniki wants you to go in and pretend to be a customer while digging as much as you can into the den’s business.
It’s not the first time you’ve had to act a part for the gang, and it’s definitely easier than simply picking fights with a rival. You make your way to the den your first night there, dressed to the nines in your aniki’s suit, pocketful of the boss’s cash.
The den is run from the basement of a love hotel and a bar, but despite its sleazy outward appearance, the inside looks like a fancy casino straight out of the movies. You feel a buzz of excitement at the prospect of playing the part of the rich, spoilt brat burning his parents’ hard earned money, and it doesn’t take long for you to get high off the rush of winning a couple of games in the first hour since you’d arrived.
Still, you remember acutely why you’re here, so you lose a couple of rounds of blackjack and pretend to be sulking because of that, and sit back with a glass of champagne at the bar while discreetly observing what the dealers are doing.
Nothing suspicious seems to be happening - besides the fact that most of the tables are rigged but that’s nothing new in these kinds of joints - and after a while, you’re more watching the people around you rather than the people working there. The crowd is a fair mix of the rich and the middle working-class, and you find yourself getting annoyed with how fucking pretentious some of them are behaving.
Most of them are really into the games, but it’s obvious that a few of them are simply there to wave their money in other people’s faces. You’ve always hated those kinds of assholes, since you came from a dirt-poor family yourself, but you need to maintain a low profile if you don’t want to piss your aniki and boss off if you’re caught.
You’re about to call it a night and go back to regroup with your aniki for a better strategy - maybe break into the owners’ office instead, check his books and shit - when a commotion at one of the poker tables draws your attention.
You can hear people talking loudly, some sounding amused and others annoyed if not outright pissed off, and you subtly peer over the rim of your champagne glass to see what’s happening there without looking too obvious about it. You almost choke on your drink when the crowd there parts a bit and you catch a glimpse of a familiar face.
In seconds, you’re striding over to the table, scowling and tensed, concern and confusion making the blood pump in your veins furiously.
“...WIN AGAIN, LUCKY~!” you hear a familiar voice cheer before you manage to nudge your way between a couple of bodies and you’re finally at the table, standing across from none other than Oso-fucking-matsu.
Karamatsu’s eldest brother is cheerfully gathering chips on the table in his arms, unaware - or uncaring - of the dirty glares that he’s receiving from the other players around him. Even the dealer looks perturbed, and you understand why because he’s won a lot. There’s a legitimate mountain of chips in front of him, more than you’ve ever seen anyone win at a single table, and it’s impossible.
No one is that lucky or that skilled, and even if they were, the house would never let them get away with it. You know, however, that Osomatsu doesn’t have a single clue about this unspoken rule.
“You guys are really bad at this, hahaha,” he’s chortling carelessly as he pats at his pile of winnings. “You might as well just throw all your money at me and save me the trouble, old timers.”
“Why you little brat,” one of the other players snarls, standing up and slamming a hand on the table. “Someone ought to teach you some fucking manners.”
Osomatsu pouts at him, waving a hand in his direction. “Ne, nobody likes a sore loser, old man,” he taunts.
“You little-!” the man growls, slamming a hand on the table again before he points a finger at Osomatsu and glares at the dealer. “It’s obvious the little shit isn’t playing fair! I demand he be thrown out!”
The dealer looks like a deer caught in the headlights, staring wide-eyed at the man as sweat breaks out on his forehead. “Wi-without proof, I don’t have the authority, s-sir,” he stammers out, glancing over at Osomatsu. “I mean, he’s just playing...”
“Yeah, maybe you just suck, you old geezer,” Osomatsu taunts with a shit-eating grin on his face and the man shouts unintelligibly, reaching a hand inside his suit jacket.
“That’s it!” he yells, and you finally decide to intervene before the little shit gets his face blown off.
“Darlin’, there you are,” you say loudly, and everyone freezes, turning to look at you. You feel the gazes of the angry ones - including the man that had been about to no doubt pull a gun on Osomatsu - burn into you like laser beams and it takes a lot of effort to keep a sheepish and relieved expression on your face as you look over at Osomatsu. “I’ve been lookin’ all over for ya, ya lil’ minx. We need ta leave, the car’s here.”
“This kid’s yours?” the man with the gun demands, scowling at you.
You shift your gaze over to him, and nod curtly. “He’s mine,” you affirm, smiling wider. “Sorry I gotta ruin your fun. Early day tomorrow,” you say with a chuckle, and then to Osomatsu, you jerk your head towards the stairs and say, “Now c’mon, we don’t wanna get caught in traffic.”
Osomatsu, the motherfucking stupid piece of infuriating shit, scowls at you petulantly. “But I was cleaning them out!” he protests, wrapping his arms protectively around his mound of winnings, like as if either of you need to draw any more attention to it and remind everyone exactly why he’s on the shitlist of everyone at the table.
You feel a vein twitch on your forehead, but you maintain your smile and bare a little bit of teeth at the idiot. “We’ve talked about this, darlin’. Now, give the nice gentlemen all their money back and come over here.”
Osomatsu glares at you, but before he can argue further, two large brick walls dressed in all black appear behind him, each of them grabbing a hold of his shoulders on either side, and Osomatsu makes a sound of indignation as he’s pulled off his stool and firmly led over to you. You wrap and arm over his shoulder and pull him into your side, pinching his cheek to shut him up while smiling at the bouncers pleasantly.
“Thanks for the hand, fellas,” you tell them, and they both remain silent behind their thick sunglasses. But you know what their looks mean; leave, or you’ll get trouble. To Osomatsu, you say, “Calm down, baby, I promise I’ll treat ya to somethin’ nice after this, ‘aight?” as you start to drag him towards the stairs.
You don’t let the little shit go until you’ve got the two of you a fair distance away from the building, and you’re wincing with pain by the time you do. Even though Osomatsu doesn’t look like much, he can definitely kick like a professional footballer, and your shin feels like it’s already starting to bruise.
“What did you do that for!” Osomatsu yells at you as he rubs at his cheek, glaring like as if you’re the one that’s giving him trouble.
You finally lose your composure and yell right back at him, “Me?! What the fuck are you doin’ here?!”
“That’s none of your business!”
“It is if you’re gonna go around messin’ with dangerous men until they pull out guns on you, you fuckin’ moron!” You’re about this close to punching him in his stubborn face, especially with that undeserving glare he’s got thrown your way, but you know exactly what can put him in his place - something that will hit harder than any physical blow, and hiss darkly, “How do you think your brothers are gonna feel if I drag you back to Akatsuka in a fuckin’ body bag, huh?”
He doesn’t expect that at all, and it shows clearly in his startled expression as he draws back from you like you’d really punched him. His eyes stare, blank and wide-eyed, and, satisfied that you’d driven home your point, you grab his arm and pull him across the street. He doesn’t struggle, stumbling after you weakly, and you don’t relent until you’re back in your hotel room.
Osomatsu hasn’t said a word the whole journey, and you push him onto the sofa where he stays like an obedient dog. You shrug off your jacket agitatedly, tossing it onto the bed and running your hands over your face and through your hair, trying to calm your fuming anger. Your phone’s vibrating incessantly in your pocket and you pull it out, knowing full well it’s your aniki.
You see the caller ID and, growling angrily, you toss the phone across the room, where it bounces off the wall and lands pathetically onto the carpeted floors. You glare at it, wondering how on earth you’re going to explain all this to your aniki and the boss, when a sudden thought occurs to you and you stride over to the sofa until you’re standing in front of Osomatsu.
“Are any of your other brothers here, too?” you demand, calming down somewhat when Osomatsu shakes his head mutely. “Thank fuck,” you mutter to yourself, running your hands over your face again. “God damn it, Osomatsu, what the fuck were you thinkin’?”
It’s a rhetorical question, but Osomatsu has the grace to duck his head further down his shoulders and miserably answer in a shamed voice, “I thought I’d follow you here and get proof of the bad things you do so I could show to Karamatsu…”
You can’t help but burst out laughing sardonically at his explanation. “Karamatsu knows what I do,” you tell him. “I don’t keep secrets from him, and that’s exactly why he doesn’t get involved in my business.” Osomatsu flinches, shrinking into himself and the couch, still not daring to look up at you. Your anger dissipates almost completely at the sight, and you feel bad for the kid instead.
Rolling your eyes, you sigh. “Look, kid, when I said you had to do better than that shitty stunt your brothers pulled at the café, I didn’t mean you should sneak into an illegal gambling den and mess around with fuckin’ criminals. Got it?”
“Got it,” Osomatsu agrees meekly.
“You’re in fuckin’ high school, for fuck’s sake. You should be at home studyin’!”
“Yeah…”
“I mean, do your parents even know you’re gone?”
“I told them I was staying over at a friend’s house…”
“What if I hadn’t caught you in time, huh? You could’ve seriously gotten hurt!”
“I know…”
“Karamatsu would kill me if anything had happened to you!”
“...”
“He’d be devastated, too! Heartbroken! Betrayed! Fuckin’ ripped apart from the inside!”
“... Isn’t that a bit much?”
You glare hard at Osomatsu, who’s finally looked up to meet your gaze. He still looks cowed, but there’s that shine of rebellion in his eyes again, the one that had landed him in this situation right now.
“You’ve no idea how much Karamatsu cares about you dumbasses, do you?” you ask him flatly.
“Of course I know,” he replies haughtily, and now his whole demeanour is back to his usual, irritating self. “He’s my little brother!”
“If you knew, you wouldn’t fuckin’ be here right now!” you snap back at him.
You’re startled when he jumps to his feet, his face pushing right up into yours as he glares and shouts, “That’s exactly why I’m here right now! If you’re so worried about Karamatsu, why don’t you just stay away from him?!”
Your anger returns again, and you hate that; you hate how easily this kid is riling you up, how much his words really ring true. It’s not like the thought hadn’t crossed your mind before, not even just once, but to hear it thrown in your face like this - and especially after your cover had almost been blown earlier - is way too much.
Before you know, you’re pulling back a fist and grabbing Osomatsu by the front of his shirt, uncaring of the sudden, terrified expression that forms on his face.
Fortunately, you’re stopped by a knock on the door, and you both freeze, glancing over at it at the same time.
“Sir, sorry to interrupt but we’re receiving complaints from the other guests on your noise level,” you hear a nervous voice saying. “Is everything alright?”
You click your tongue in annoyance, and let go of Osomatsu, pushing him back onto the sofa. “Everything’s fine!” you call out. “Sorry, we’ll keep it down from now on!”
“...Of course, sir, thank you for your consideration,” says the hotel staff outside after a beat of silence, and then you hear footsteps thudding away into the distance.
“Fuck,” you mutter to yourself, rubbing at your face. You glance over at Osomatsu, and he’s staring down at his shoes, his hands clenched tightly over his knees. Taking a deep breath, you tell him, “Look, I know you mean well. But I know what I’m doing. And you can believe me when I say, I’d never put Karamatsu in harm’s way. Why do you think I’m all the way over here, huh? Nobody knows me here. Or him. I’d sooner die than let anything happen to him.”
Osomatsu doesn’t say anything for a long while, and you wish you could go over to the fridge and get a beer. Or something stronger. You’re tired and annoyed and all you really want is for Karamatsu to be here so you could hold him to your satisfaction, but all you’ve got is his older brother.
When it doesn’t seem like he’s about to say anything, you sigh heavily and make your way over to where your phone had landed. You pick it up, and walk over to the sliding doors that lead to the balcony.
“I’ll send you home tomorrow morning,” you tell the back of Osomatsu’s head. “Take the bed, I’ll sleep on the couch. And don’t go fuckin’ off without tellin’ me, ‘aight? I need to go make some calls.”
You’re halfway out the sliding doors when a hand grabs at your sleeve, and stop and turn your head to look down at Osomatsu over your shoulder.
“... Thank you,” he mutters, eyes still downcast, his fingers gripping tight onto the material of your shirt. “I’m so- sorry I caused you trouble tonight.”
Your heart melts immediately at the sight - he does look exactly like your boyfriend, and that’s not even taking into account your natural weakness to cute things - but you try not to show it too much. After all, you’re trying to teach him a fucking lesson.
But you’re also a huge fucking softy, so you lift your hand and ruffle his hair gently. “It’s fine,” you tell him. “You’re a good brother, Osomatsu. You’re really fuckin’ stupid, but you’re a good brother.”
To your shock, Osomatsu’s shoulders start trembling visibly, and you hear quiet, muffled sniffles coming from him. You withdraw your hand quickly, alarmed, but before you know it, Osomatsu’s thrown his arms around your waist and clings onto you tightly.
“I just want Karamatsu to be happy and safe!” he wails into your side. “Everyone expects me to be the eldest and take care of everybody but nobody tells me how to do it! It’s not fair! It’s not fair!”
You’re at a loss for words at the unexpected confession, but you’ve been through enough younger brothers to know that you don’t really need to say anything, that what Osomatsu needs right now is just a shoulder to cry on.
Osomatsu- you’d never have thought he’d say such things, or even have such thoughts running through his mind, and you gain a newfound appreciation for the dumbass things the brothers have been doing so far.
Fucking kids. Honestly.
“You really are just a kid,” you mutter to yourself as you wrap your arms around Osomatsu’s shoulders and pat at his back comfortingly.
He cries himself to exhaustion, falling asleep against you when his tears run out, and you carry him to the bed, tucking him in and taking off his socks. Asleep, Osomatsu looks as young as the things he’d said earlier, especially with his reddened nose and his swollen eyes, and you sigh again as you make your way out to the balcony.
You press your speed dial and wait for someone to answer, smiling to yourself when you hear a familiar voice say, “Hello, Ma-Matsuno residence...”
“Hey, babe. I’m coming back early tomorrow. Can we meet? There’s some things I need to talk to you about…”