Chapter Text
If someone asked Oikawa Tooru what he did for a living, he would probably say he worked at a bar.
It wasn't a lie.
It just wasn't the whole truth.
The bar was called **Set Point**, though Oikawa had never been particularly fond of the name. It sounded more like a sports bar than an actual bar, and considering the amount of volleyball merchandise hanging on the walls, he supposed that was probably the point.
The place wasn't huge, but it stayed busy.
There were six employees who worked most nights.
Six employees who happened to be bounty hunters.
And, unfortunately for Oikawa, five of those people were people he'd somehow ended up considering family.
The first one was Sugawara Koushi.
Suga was currently walking between tables with a tray balanced perfectly on one hand, smiling politely at a customer who had apparently decided that flirting with him was more important than actually ordering something.
Suga smiled.
The customer smiled.
Oikawa watched from behind the bar.
He already knew how this was going to end.
"Can I get another—"
"Of course," Suga said pleasantly.
The customer leaned closer.
"And maybe your number?"
Suga's smile didn't change.
"No."
The customer blinked.
Oikawa nearly laughed.
That was Suga.
Sweet.
Friendly.
Approachable.
Until he wasn't.
He was also the one Oikawa trusted most when a bounty required someone to get information without making the target realize they were being questioned.
People talked to Suga.
They always had.
Maybe it was because he made everyone feel comfortable.
Maybe it was because he looked harmless.
Either way, Oikawa had watched him get an entire confession out of a man while casually refilling his drink.
Oikawa still thought it was terrifying.
Next was Kageyama Tobio.
"Kageyama!"
"What?"
"You're putting the glasses in the wrong place."
"They're glasses."
"They have a place."
"Why?"
"Because I said so."
Kageyama stared at him.
Oikawa stared back.
Neither moved.
Finally, Kageyama sighed and moved the glasses.
Victory.
Kageyama was technically their barback, which meant he handled supplies, cleaned, restocked, and did whatever else needed doing.
He was also the youngest-looking person behind the counter despite the fact that he had the personality of a forty-year-old man who had just discovered someone had touched his thermostat.
He was blunt.
Terrible at small talk.
And somehow even worse at dealing with customers.
But give him a target to track and he became a completely different person.
Focused.
Quiet.
Fast.
Oikawa had once watched Kageyama follow a target through an entire train station without losing sight of him once.
It was impressive.
Oikawa would never tell him that.
He'd become unbearable.
Then there was Kenma.
Kenma was supposed to be working the register.
Technically, he was.
In reality, he was sitting behind the counter with his phone in one hand and three security camera feeds pulled up on the computer in front of him.
"Kenma."
"Hm?"
"Are you working?"
"Yes."
"You're playing a game."
"I'm doing both."
Oikawa sighed.
That was Kenma Kozume.
The quiet one.
The genius.
The human equivalent of a locked door.
Kenma didn't like crowds, didn't like unnecessary conversation, and definitely didn't like customers asking him questions.
But computers?
Give him a computer and suddenly he became terrifying.
He handled surveillance, tracking systems, databases, communications, and basically anything involving technology.
If Oikawa needed to know where someone had been three days ago, Kenma could probably tell him before Oikawa finished asking.
Which left Akaashi Keiji.
Akaashi was standing beside Oikawa, quietly organizing bottles that were already organized.
"Do you ever stop working?" Oikawa asked.
"No."
"That's unhealthy."
"So is whatever you're doing."
Oikawa looked at him.
Akaashi looked back.
Oikawa smiled.
Akaashi returned to organizing the bottles.
Akaashi was the calm one.
The planner.
The person everyone went to when things got complicated.
If Kenma found the information, Akaashi figured out what to do with it.
He rarely raised his voice.
Rarely lost his temper.
And somehow managed to make Oikawa feel like a child whenever he made a bad decision.
Oikawa hated that.
He respected it too.
And finally—
"Where's Atsumu?"
Everyone looked around.
Silence.
Oikawa frowned.
"He was here five minutes ago."
Kenma didn't look up from his phone.
"Kitchen."
"Why?"
"Stealing food."
"I am not stealing!"
Atsumu's voice came from the back.
He appeared a second later holding a plate.
Oikawa stared at him.
Atsumu stared back.
"It's mine."
"You didn't make it."
"Doesn't mean it isn't mine."
"Atsumu."
"Tooru."
"Put it back."
"No."
"Put it back."
"No."
Akaashi sighed.
Sugawara laughed.
Kageyama muttered something about idiots.
And Kenma didn't even look up.
Miya Atsumu.
The loud one.
The annoying one.
The one who could somehow turn absolutely anything into a competition.
He worked behind the bar with Oikawa, although Oikawa sometimes questioned whether "worked" was the correct word.
Atsumu was good at what he did, though.
Very good.
He could talk his way into almost anywhere.
He could lie without blinking.
He could charm information out of people who wouldn't give it to anyone else.
And when things got dangerous, he was fast enough to make even Oikawa nervous.
Together, the six of them made up the Pretty Setter Squad.
A ridiculous name.
A ridiculous group.
And, somehow, a very effective one.
To the customers, they were just six employees working at a bar.
Bartenders.
Servers.
A cashier.
A barback.
Nothing suspicious.
Nothing unusual.
Nobody would ever look at them and think—
*bounty hunters.*
That was exactly how they wanted it.
Because Set Point wasn't just a bar.
It was their base.
Their meeting place.
Their cover.
And when the lights went off at the end of the night, the liquor bottles were put away and the doors were locked, the real work began.
Tonight, however, Oikawa had no idea just how quickly things were about to change.
Because at 9:17 p.m., six strangers were going to walk through the front door.
And none of them were going to leave Oikawa's life quite the way they entered it.