Chapter Text
Gokudera fumbled with the cables. It was hard to tell them apart in the dark, with just a flashlight wobbling between his teeth. The constant drizzle and the chilly night air were not helping either.
"Twenty seconds."
Gokudera spat out the flashlight. "Will you get off my back? I'm trying to work here."
"Work faster."
He briefly considered murder via flashlight but then decided against it. He was in enough trouble already. He was a convicted criminal in the service of the FBI, attempting to break into a warehouse in the wee hours of morning, with the most unlikely partner in crime imaginable: Hibari Kyouya - who was being a fucking pain in the ass.
"Here," Gokudera shoved the flashlight at Hibari. "Hold this."
He quickly glanced at the camera above the shutter gate. It rotated from side to side with a low whirring sound. Hibari's estimate seemed disturbingly accurate. Gokudera frowned in concentration, plucking two cables from the box, and freeing them from their plastic shielding. Hibari was observing him like a Powerpoint presentation on the migration of sea sponges. Either he was not worried at all about getting caught or he had more faith in Gokudera's abilities than expected.
Something behind the gate clicked and Gokudera smiled. "See? If you stop bugging me I work far b- Whoa!"
Hibari practically tossed him into the warehouse before the gate had even rattled all the way open - as it turned out just in time before the camera completed its cycle. All it caught were two sets of fading footprints in the mud.
"Fuck," Gokudera flapped his jacket, shooting Hibari an angry glare. "You could have said something."
"Would that have made you move faster?" Hibari didn't look at him. He was busy examining their surroundings - as much as could be seen in the dim emergency lighting.
"Asshole," Gokudera said, just to make a point. He glanced around, his gaze following the slow path of Hibari's flashlight. The beam of light bounced off of hundreds of stacks of paper, carefully packaged in foil. There had to be at least a dozen rows of it.
"Seems like we've come to the right place," Gokudera stood next to Hibari, who nodded. His eyes were narrowed as if he was trying to read the labels on the racks. "What now, Sherlock?"
"We get some evidence," Hibari said, striding forward to the nearest rack, but Gokudera held him back.
"And do what with it? Dump it on the field director's desk and hope that he's just going to roll with it?" Gokudera shook his head. "Do I need to remind you that you're not an FBI agent anymore?"
Hibari's look was that of a kid who was resolutely refusing to accept that Santa was only uncle Bob in a costume, "Temporarily suspended."
"And you think grand theft will help you get back in?"
"I will not let him get away this time," Hibari snarled and Gokudera sighed. In this state Hibari was like one of those trained Rottweilers that only let go if you remembered a certain command. Fortunately, Gokudera knew of ways to circumnavigate getting bitten in the first place: Throw the dog a bone and you might get to keep your extremities.
"Look," Gokudera turned to face Hibari and prevented him from venturing any further into the warehouse. He started ticking off bulletpoints with his fingers. "If we nick something now he will a) know about it sooner than anyone can start a proper investigation and he'll just move the stuff elsewhere. And b) even if your goddamned ex-agency accepts the evidence by way of some kind of biblical miracle it would still not hold up in court because guess what? Stolen evidence is still not legal, no matter how much you want it to be, Matlock."
Hibari said nothing; Gokudera was familiar with his current expression. He was weighing sensible arguments versus a hefty blow with his tonfa. When his weapons remained hidden Gokudera continued, "We can't take anything but we can make your FBI friends discover this place themselves. All we need to do is make it look like we took something."
Hibari inclined his head, his eyes suddenly glinting in the stark glow of his flashlight, "He will think he was found out and will try to move his stash."
Gokudera nodded, triumphantly waving his arms around, "And thanks to a very helpful anonymous tip, the FBI will be here to help him with that."
"Alright," Hibari agreed, pointing his flashlight at a random stack of paper. Gokudera stopped him before he could trash the entire warehouse though.
"Wait a minute. You don't have to go all Godzilla on this place," he pulled a small Swiss Army Knife from his pocket and handed it to Hibari with a sly grin. "Just slice the plastic wrapping. He won't bother counting the sheets, trust me."
Hibari took the knife, holding it up like a father confronting his son about the stash of porn under the bed, "You should not be having this."
Gokudera smirked and shrugged, "I know. There's a lot of things we shouldn't be doing or having right now."
Hibari scowled but firmly grasped the knife and made his way to the first rack. Something clicked. It was a small sound, like someone playing with a ball-pen.
"Did you hear that?" Gokudera breathed, rooted to the spot.
Hibari stood stock-still a few feet from him. Both of them slowly looked down. The thin silver wire gleamed in the beam of the flashlight; it travelled off into the darkness, after making a tiny crook around Hibari's leg.
"Get out!" Gokudera screamed, launching himself forward to grab Hibari's arm. He dragged Hibari with him towards the exit just as the first beep resounded through the hall.
There was no second warning. The warehouse burst into a ball of flame like a cram-full waterballoon under pressure.