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Suna doesn’t really like rich people.
They are lame, and miserable, and greedy, and in his experience, far too touchy.
He only tolerates them because he gets to steal from them on occasion. It’s a nasty habit of his, one that often results in a stern talking-to from Kita-san. But, it keeps the job fun.
“It's not bad if ya steal from a guy worse than ya,” Atsumu famously quotes every time they take on a task involving such a crowd. Suna has been meaning to turn that iconic statement into a magnet. He wants it on his fridge.
Considering the importance of this particular mission, the high stakes involved, and the sheer number of lame rich people around him, Suna feels surprisingly calm. His leisurely position against this mansion’s extravagant bar is quite open and inviting, especially for someone who’s supposed to be laying low. Those were orders. But, business has been slow, and he thinks orders can get boring sometimes.
So instead of laying low he butters up those around him, a handful of people expressing some sort of interest in him even though the night has barely started. They try to charm him with words that have no real meaning, compliments that are shallow at best, or offers of a good time, away from the rest of the crowded room. He couldn’t care less about what they have to say but he entertains them anyway, playing his part perfectly and sticking to his fabricated life story as if it were truly his own.
There are two bracelets and a watch sitting heavy in the pocket of his suit jacket. All things considered, he isn’t having as shitty of a time as he thought he would.
Atsumu has been roaming around elsewhere for the past fifteen minutes or so, and Suna notes that he should be returning to him soon if scoping out the place is going well. There are so many far-off corridors in this mansion that Suna would easily get lost in, but Atsumu is smart and also damn good at his job.
He takes in the scene before him for the nth time that night, knowing he will hardly see anything like it again. A dull chatter engulfs the faintly lit hall, creating an atmosphere that boasts elegance. The dim, intricate lights decorating the walls and the delicate chandeliers adorning the ceiling paint a picture of irrefutable status. Various ornaments scatter the tables hosting the guests, all pretty and poised as they talk among themselves as if they’ve known each other for years.
Fancy watches and rings embellish the wrists and fingers of those dancing in the center of the room, not so subtly gleaming with every movement. It’s a pickpocket’s paradise, a sea of riches ripe for the taking, every item practically begging to be stolen. If this mission wasn’t being overlooked by Kita-san, Suna would definitely snag more items just for shits and giggles. Make it something of a game, perhaps, considering every person in the room is foolish enough to think that superficiality in the form of sparkly dresses or pressed suits could gain them respect. Or, win them the heart of the dignified host of the event.
Almost everyone casually asks about his whereabouts throughout the night. The man in question is very unlikely to show up, considering he is very busy being a highly wanted criminal. Otherwise, the guests would probably be desperately attempting to get on his good side, each of them naive enough to think that he even has one.
It’s rare that he would even consider hosting such an event since he doesn't particularly care for those beneath him. Yet, there are many arguably crazy people present that desire to work with such a heartless, formidable man, given the size of this upscale gala. Crazy desperate, crazy rich, or just plain old crazy — all of them are present.
But, considering Atsumu and Suna are bold enough to show up to a masquerade party of his uninvited, they seem to be just the right amount of crazy to seamlessly blend in with the dressed-up crowd.
Suna’s mask, a beautiful navy blue fit with golden paisleys, somehow emphasizes the already stunning green of his eyes. His suit is a sleek black, his navy tie complementing the blue adorning his face. Elsewhere, Atsumu is sporting a deep maroon mask with similar golden accents around the eyes, a matching suit hugging him in all the right places.
Atsumu and Suna fit in perfectly from the moment they walked through the grand doors of the establishment, both of them sporting very believable images of wealth. Suna checks his watch with a sigh. Atsumu should have been back four and a half minutes ago.
He takes a sip from his glass, held with delicate fingers, surveying the crowd for a head of blond hair. Taking another minute to scan the room with a squint, he breathes a small sigh of relief when he sees Atsumu at the far end of the room, squeezing past people left and right to make his way toward Suna.
“You look like you had fun,” he says, eyeing Atsumu up and down. “Your hair is a mess.”
Atsumu groans, smoothing out the stray strands atop his head. “Oh, well ex-fucking-scuse me for doing my job,” he murmurs. “I’m tired of this gala shit, people are too damn handsy.”
Suna snickers. “Ah yes, getting handsy with rich women for insight must be simply awful.”
“Shut up. While I was doing something useful you were just sitting here, looking pretty.”
“Don’t act like you don’t love me when I’m pretty,” he hums. “What did you find? Any info? Bodyguards?”
“Turns out our big bad man was supposed to show up, but got caught up in some last-minute big bad man things. Luckily, the hard drive Kita-san was telling us about should be upstairs, last door on the left side of the hall. It should have all of the contacts involved in his last job on it, so I have a hunch it’ll give us some good info on future locations too. There are five bodyguards in this room, three upstairs, at least,” Atsumu sighs. “Definitely more outside.”
Suna hums, satisfied, fiddling with the glass in his hand as his eyes wander over the busy crowd around them. “Nothing on the lower levels?”
Atsumu shakes his head, snatching a flute of champagne from a passing waiter. He tips the glass to his lips, downing the whole thing in one go before setting the glass on the bartop behind him.
“If we have time, we should check the private suite too,” he says lowly, leaning into Suna’s space. “See if there is anything else worth finding. Most of his things are here.”
“Agreed,” Suna says, making eyes at the guard on top of the staircase. “He’s cute. Should be easy.”
Atsumu smooths out his suit, running a final hand through his hair for good measure. “Sure, you get the cute guys and I get the overzealous women. Seems fair to me,” he grumbles.
“It’s completely fair. I go do all the hard work to fetch the drive, you can sit here and make sure no one follows. After that, we’ll be leaving in no time.”
Atsumu groans, ever the dramatic partner. “Why can’t I go? Ya made me scope out this stupid place even after memorizing it inside and out, at least let me use what I learned instead of being bored.”
“You only got to work on getting the floor plans so fast because Kita-san was looming over you earlier, so that’s on you,” he says, poking a finger into Atsumu’s chest. “You looked like you were seconds away from shitting your pants before we left, honey.”
“Fucker,” he murmurs, batting Suna’s hand away. “Don’t ‘honey’ me.”
Suna sips at the last of his champagne, a teasing smirk on his lips. “Listen, I offered to drive here so we wouldn’t be in this… unfair predicament. We could’ve been even, but no,” he drawls. “You just have to do everything.”
“I would rather die on my own accord than die at the hands of a shitty driver. If I had a couple yen for each time you’ve run a red light within the past week I’d be as filthy rich as these bastards,” he murmurs, gesturing to the room around them.
Suna chuckles, satisfied. “Well,” he says, handing Atsumu his glass, “I’ll be back before you know it. Don’t have too much fun without me… honey.”
He smiles to himself as he hears Atsumu let out a sigh behind him.
Atsumu grumbles as Suna walks away, eyes trailing after him as he makes his way to the staircase at the opposite end of the room. There are a few people on the upper level casually looking upon the crowd below, and one bodyguard standing in front of a pair of double doors at the far side of the second floor, almost out of sight. Atsumu can instantly see the effect Suna has on him.
It’s impossible not to be affected when he runs his graceful fingers along the railing with a delicate touch, batting his eyelashes until he comes face to face with the man, engaging in some small talk before playing with the lapels of his suit. He whispers something into the man’s ear, and the poor man opens the door, hands basically shaking in some sort of pathetic anticipation.
Atsumu rolls his eyes as they disappear, taking note of the time.
He gives Suna a generous ten minutes to deal with the cute one, and another ten to find the drive, but after a dreadful twenty-three minutes of small talk with the people around him, Astumu begins to grow impatient.
After grabbing another glass of champagne he wonders how much trouble he would get into for abandoning his post to make sure everything is okay. Suna usually works fast, but maybe he made a wrong turn or something. It happens to everyone.
Still, he can’t shake the lingering feeling in his gut telling him to go upstairs.
Another minute passes, and Atsumu can feel his shoulders tensing as the seconds drone on. He can’t help but worry, since things have been going a little too smoothly. He and Suna are damn good at what they do, but something about the ease of this mission just rubs Atsumu the wrong way.
With a deep breath, Atsumu sets down his glass and begins to make his way upstairs, hoping that the hurriedness in his steps isn’t drawing any attention his way. He takes the stairs one at a time, checking his surroundings before slipping into the slightly ajar double doors, closing them behind him.
With the music and chatter downstairs now muted behind him, it feels like everything is a bit too quiet.
He slips the mask off his face, tossing it aside next to the knocked-out body of the poor bodyguard from earlier. The hall is dim and empty, aside from the three men splayed on the ground. Atsumu can’t help but breathe out a small sigh of relief. All the doors are closed, except for the last one on the left.
He cautiously makes his way over to the door, shoes barely making any noise on the carpeted floors. As he slowly reaches for the doorknob, he hears a strangled grunt come from one of the rooms behind him. He freezes in his place, blood running cold.
That was Suna.
He rushes down the hall and against his better judgment throws the door open in a panic, feeling all the color drain from his face as his eyes focus on the scene before him.
His fingers tighten around the cold grip of his gun before he can even think about reaching for it, honing in on the man with a barrel pointed at Suna’s head.
“Atsumu, leave,” Suna grits out, the arm around his neck tightening. “I’m fine,” he whispers, and Atsumu knows it to be true, but all rationale leaves his body at the sight of Suna struggling against the brute of a bodyguard.
Everything was supposed to go smoothly, but Suna has a bloodied lip and a bruise blooming on one of his cheeks, an ugly shade of purple. The man behind him wears a smug grin that Atsumu would love to rip off his face.
“I would drop the gun if I were you,” the man sneers, his arm around Suna’s neck taunting Atsumu. “This,” he says, nodding to Suna, “is a game you don’t want to be playing.”
Atsumu’s shoulders tense even more, feeling like lead as he stands his ground. Suna doesn’t look Atsumu in the eyes, his gaze focused on a point behind Atsumu’s shoulder instead, jaw clenched tight.
“I’m going to take a wild guess and say you don’t want me to put a bullet through his pretty head. Drop it,” he warns, nodding to Atsumu’s weapon.
Atsumu stiffens, not saying a word.
“Now. Along with the drive.”
After a silence that stretches on for ages Atsumu relents, placing his gun on the floor and kicking it to the side with raised arms. “I don’t have the drive.”
The man almost laughs. “I know I don’t have it. He doesn’t have it. If you don’t have it then who does?”
The question hangs in the air between them, a taunt. Suna’s breath hitches in his throat, startling Atsumu.
“Rin?”
He hears it before he sees it, the deafening sound of a gunshot ringing through his ears.
It’s as if time slows as the grip around Suna’s neck goes slack, the man behind him falling to the floor with a ugly thud.
Relief floods Atsumu’s body. He doesn’t bother addressing the man he knows to be behind him, instead rushing to Suna and crushing him in a tight embrace, letting out a shaky breath. “Fuck, don’t scare me like that,” he says. “What were you thinking?”
“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Suna whispers, heart racing in time with Atsumu’s. “Got ahead of myself.” Carding his fingers through brown hair, Atsumu screws his eyes shut with a sharp exhale, memorizing the feeling of Suna in his arms.
“Seriously, you two idiots can’t do one thing right can you?” Osamu says, securing his gun at his hip. He stares distastefully at the man he just shot, letting out a sigh. “C’mon, I’m hungry. Let’s get outta here.”
Atsumu loosens his grip on Suna, turning around to face his brother with a frown. “Samu, the drive is that way,” he says, pointing to the other end of the hall.
Osamu reaches into his pocket, a smug expression on his face. “Nope,” he replies, pulling out the damned thing. “In nearly getting yourself killed,” he says, glaring at Suna, “you served as a nicely timed distraction. So your stupidity served a purpose, at the very least.”
Atsumu and Suna can’t help but stare as he tucks away the drive, wordlessly walking off as he tugs a mask over his face.
Suna drops his head onto Atsumu’s shoulder, breathing out a long sigh. “I think that means we owe him dinner.”
Atsumu nods in agreement. “Yeah. He’s gonna hold this one over our heads for a long time.”
They pick up their weapons and the masks previously discarded in the hallway, Atsumu insisting on putting Suna’s on for him. He does so slowly, thumbing at a bruise forming on Suna’s cheek. “You’re not allowed to die, okay?” he says, voice quiet. “You scared me.”
Suna takes Atsumu’s hand from his face, intertwining it with his own. “I know. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”
He leans in and gives Atsumu a small kiss, leading them away from the middle of the hallway.
“Hey, Atsumu?”
That gets his boyfriend's attention, his honey eyes focused on Suna. “Hm?”
“Can I drive?”
Atsumu scoffs in disbelief, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “After all that you wanna put us in more danger? I love you, but no, I’m taking away your driving privileges for the next week.”
Suna smiles, shrugging. “It was worth the shot.”