"Hey babe?" Angel called, leaning back in his chair to peer out of the door of his office. He didn't see Alastor right away but the deer soon came into view to answer the call.

"What'cha got?"

"Some broad from the news wants to know if we're available to do an interview?" Angel asked, holding up his phone.

"Katie Killjoy?" Alastor guessed.

"That's the bitch!"

"How lucky!" Alastor brightened, looking almost gleeful. "I've been wondering when I'd have reason to meet the lady Charlie humiliated on live television. Quite the fight that started!"

Most demons would say it was Charlie who had been the one who had been humiliated, but Alastor saw it differently. Charlie had taken all of the verbal venom Katie had spat in her direction rather well all things considered, while Katie had been moved to violence at a single vulgarity. That, in Alastor's opinion, made Charlie the clearly emotionally stronger of the two. Violence for the fun of it was all fair and good but violence due to a lack of wit was just pathetic.

"Well fuck. Now I gotta go just to throw a punch for Cha-Cha." Angel snickered, putting the phone back to his ear. "We're in. It'll be funny."

The interview was a wreck before it even started. It began with a handshake and was all downhill from there.

"Charlie said you didn't touch The Gays." Angel huffed, not taking the hand the mantis of a woman offered.

"Oh it's not as if you count. You're really a woman, aren't you?" Katie asked, not without a generous helping of condescension.

Alastor's ambient static picked up a notch and the shadows all around the news station started to shift. Angel subtly tapped his elbow, letting him know to tone it down; Angel could fight his own battles. An honest mistake was fine, but this was hardly the first time someone had played the confusion card as an excuse to be transphobic, homophobic, or both at him. Angel decided not to take her hand after all, wiping it on his sleeve and making a show of checking his nails even though he had his usual gloves on.

"Well I don't touch shit and you seem to be full of it." He bit back.

That wiped the grin off of Katie's face and Alastor laughed as he could see the exact moment she suddenly regretted bringing them both on her show. It was too late to change program scheduling now, since they would be on air in a matter of minutes.

Tom Trench, at least, was more welcoming as Angel introduced himself to the masked man. Or not masked, he amended when he noticed the gasmask actually was the anchorman's face. A bit too welcoming as he kept stammering over his words as soon as Angel Dust was within a meter of him. Angel thought it cute, aware that Tom was probably a fan. He was a bit touchy too, but that was nothing Angel wasn't used to.

"Keep it in your pants you spineless, rotting--" Katie began to bark at her co-host before sitting quickly as a cameraman signalled her.

Alastor and Angel sat as well, letting Katie introduce them to the audience both watching from home and those that had paid to be physically present.

"So how long have you two actually been together?" Tom asked cheerfully before Katie could get a word in.

"Been over a year." Angel shrugged. "It's kinda fuzzy when we actually started."

"We've been officially married for months." Alastor clarified, though he didn't say which month. "We've just kept it quiet."

"I'd keep it quiet too. You actually married a hooker?" Katie taunted.

"Yes." Alastor confirmed, not taking her bait by trying to defend his actions when there was nothing to defend.

"Lucky." Tom muttered.

"It's a bit hard to make personal romantic connections with how many guys--and some girls, those are awkward nights--get a piece of me on the regular. Ain't impossible though." Angel said, taking the bait and twisting it around for his own benefit and, Alastor got the impression, that he may be talking to his former co-workers with that one. "Sex and love are two different things anyway. They're nice together if you can swing it but different shit works for different people."

"What works for the Radio Demon?" Katie asked, probably going for suggestive but only managing to come off sleazy.

"Oh, Angel does this lovely thing where he'll dance with the pig and sing while cooking. His song choices are hit-or-miss but it's fun seeing him have fun even if he's being gross." Alastor answered, causing Angel's fur to rise in his body's version of a blush.

"Let's Misbehave is your favorite and it's about sex too. Shut the fuck up." Angel snickered.

"Or murder!" Alastor countered.

Giving the lyrics a second run in his head with that context in mind, Angel couldn't even argue. He shrugged, and both he and Alastor took some delight in the confused disappointment on Katie's face. Clearly she had been expecting some sort of steamy detail about their sex life. Too bad that the moments where anything that qualified occurred were few and far between and very, very private.

"Aren't you worried," Katie began, recovering quickly, "That some other demons might take the opportunity to take a shot at an Overlord by targeting his whore?"

"The whore is right here." Angel huffed, running a finger along the space between his eyes since he didn't have a proper nose with a bridge to pinch. "And that already happened."

"Oh?"

"Yep!" Alastor confirmed, his grin widening. "And now Vox is dead! Though I expect others will still be stupid enough to try."

"Wondered what happened to Vox…" Tom mused. "Valentino was real quiet about it when we asked if he knew anything."

"Speaking of Valentino!" Katie said in a mix of cheerful and sinister as she clicked a button under the news desk.

There was a screen in front of them to show what the greenscreen behind them, and Angel blanched when he recognised an old clip of him and Valentino that hadn't actually been released to Hell's population. Certain parts were blurred, of course, but that hardly counted as a proper censor when everything around the blur was so obvious. Even worse, Angel-on-screen's eyes were glazed over, making him appear nearly dead if not for the sounds accompanying the video.

"I don't even remember that." Angel deflected, though he honestly didn't. He'd seen the video after the fact, vetoing it for public view since Valentino had favored him enough to grant him that right. "I think that was a meth day?"

Alastor brow furrowed, but that was the only indication that he was uncomfortable. At least until Valentino himself showed up from a side-stage, stepping up to take a seat next to Tom, bringing an abrasive scent with him.

"Oh fuck they Jerry Springer'd us." Angel grumbled, too quiet for the mic to pick up.

"What's Jerry Springer?" Alastor asked, his nose twitching.

"Vox's pride and joy." Angel huffed, then glared over at his former boss and ex-pimp. "Val, what the fuck?"

An argument broke out about the clip and the sharing of it. It mostly angered screeching on Angel's part and laughter on Valentino and Katie's. Tom seemed apologetic so long as one ignored that his hands were below the news desk instead of on top of it.

Angel paused mid-rant when he noticed a faint beeping coming from Alastor. He didn't know morse code by heart, but he knew what an SOS sounded like. They needed to go, and Alastor wasn't about to go showing any weaknesses on live television. So Angel needed to be the one to bail.

"I ain't playin' this game with you Val." Angel huffed, standing and letting himself look a bit more upset than he would normally show. "I ain't takin' any of this shit. Al, can I go home?"

"Of course, my Darling!" Alastor nodded gracefully, standing as well and pulling both of them out of the filming area. Quietly, he added "Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm a fuckin' knight in shining sequins." Angel huffed, but grew serious when he noticed Alastor's smile was dim at best, his ears were low, and he kept scrubbing his palm over his nose like it was severely bothering him. "Al? You good?"

"Valentino smells." Alastor grunted, not bothering to keep the irritation out of his tone.

He pushed away from Angel toward the nearest restroom, letting out a shriek of audio feedback to get the demons in said restroom to leave. Angel followed, startled by the suddenness and volume but not at all put off by it.

"Yeah he reeks like piss." Angel agreed. "Usually he doesn't. Probably had gross shit scheduled for filming earlier today."

"No." Alastor said, like Angel was missing the point. "He smells like a doe."

Angel's brows raised, understanding instantly but withholding his comment as he watched Alastor turn the sink on to rinse his face with cold water. If Angel squinted sure enough there was a darker tint of grey under Alastor's eyes and across his face.

"He, uh…" Angel stammered. "Val uses heat-scents as cologne sometimes if he knows he's gonna be around animal-shaped demons. To get a rise out of 'em."

"A rise." Alastor chuckled bitterly, his claws clicking repeatedly against the sink.

"Pun not intended." Angel huffed, rolling his eyes. "Let's go home?"

"Can't focus…" Alastor sighed.

"It got you that bad?" Angel asked, surprised.

"Hush." Alastor huffed, and locked himself in a stall. "Leave."

"You're gonna do chores in public?" Angel ignored the order, knowing Alastor wouldn't enforce it.

"I'm going to wait it out and your presence is making it worse." Alastor reported, the annoyance in his voice growing.

"I'm down to help if you let me." Angel offered.

"Right now I want to hurt you." Alastor admitted. "Between the smell and the video I don't even know what my body and brain are trying to do but it's very confusing and violence is usually the answer."

"You can play rough!" Angel permitted. "Hurt me, babe. I don't mind."

Silence.

"Do you actually want me to leave?"

"...No."

"Open the door?" Angel asked, and the lock on the stall clicked.

Angel let himself into the stall where Alastor had tucked himself into a corner, almost shaking. Angel frowned, sympathetic. He'd been slipped aphrodisiacs in drinks and drugs plenty of times to know they were no joke. Something that preyed on specifically on Alastor's species, something that got real deer to walk right up to a gun, had to be ridiculously strong.

He didn't have much time to think further as Alastor had him shoved up against the door of the stall, burying his face in Angel's chest and inhaling through the sweetly scented fur, trying to replace the burning smell that had him in such a state in the first place.

"Ain't wearin' panties if you want up the skirt." Angel offered, and Alastor backed off somewhat.

"No. I can't--" Alastor stammered, the grey sort of blush having furthered. "No."

"Want me to su--"

"No." Alastor whined, his ears flat against his head. "I don't know."

"Here." Angel tried, knowing that closeness wasn't a problem even if direct skin-to-fur might be.

He turned them around, boxing Alastor in in a way that if he needed to he could reach the latch on the door and leave the situation entirely. He leaned close, nipping a red ear and pressing a thigh to Alastor's swollen length through his trousers. Alastor bucked against the contact automatically, and his claws dug into Angel's secondary shoulders.

"Shred me if you wanna." Angel allowed, nuzzling Alastor between the antlers and encouraging him to grind my moving his thigh. "You can bite too. Whatever you wanna do."

Usually Angel wouldn't be as vague to say 'whatever' was allowed, but he trusted Alastor not to do any real damage. Despite being a complete sadist with others, Alastor had always treated Angel like glass by comparison. Very thin glass. Sometimes it was even annoying as much as it was sweet.

While Angel's top set of hands were busy holding Alastor upright, his second set found the deer's hips. Alastor was clearly working entirely on an instinct he usually preferred to ignore, so a little guidance was needed. Angel felt claws dig into him further, only to release quickly.

"You're okay, Smiles." Angel cooed.

Alastor shivered, giving in to the need for friction and pulling Angel maddeningly closer but still finding the contact somehow lacking. If only he could open Angel up to settle inside near the spider's heart. But that was an empty fantasy he had no plan of actually enacting. Though the smell of blood was certainly alluring, the thought of Angel in the same state he left most victims was sickening.

Still he couldn't help but bite, the give of Angel's flesh tearing around his teeth being a comfort, even more so the pleased whimper it drew from Angel. He had to force himself to pull away before he did too much damage. Hell forbid he rip his husband's throat out for helping, even accidentally. The sight of it was pretty, Alastor thought, the blood on Angel's fur. Like roses on snow. He whined, partly from a vague sense of guilt at marring his husband's flesh and mostly from the fact Angel's lower hand had found his tail. He usually managed to leave the tail behind in a shift but sometimes the damned thing was stubborn. The fur of it was short and coarse, but Angel didn't mind. It was a nice texture in his opinion anyway.

"You're okay," Angel repeated, shifting to grind back against Alastor's hip while the deer continued to rut against his thigh. "You want me to stop?"

"Please don't." Alastor only just barely managed to utter, his breath short.

Angel hummed, hooking a finger into Alastor's high collar and pulling it down to get at his neck. He kept his tongue to himself, and Alastor didn't protest as Angel started to bite and suck a mark into his skin. At some point they'd managed to fall into a rhythm, like dancing almost, and Alastor could hardly breathe. He felt too hot in his clothes, but not at all comfortable taking them off even if they weren't in public.

They were in public, Alastor realised. He'd already known, of course, but now he was actively thinking about it. He tensed up, and Angel clued into it immediately.

"You okay?" Angel asked, always so careful with him.

Alastor tried to speak, but it came out as a garbled mess of static.

"Nod or shake." Angel suggested. "You wanna stop?"

A shake.

"Keep goin'?"

A nod.

"Can I put my hands down your pants?"

A very quick shake.

"Hands over pants?"

Alastor nodded, but he seemed unsure, so Angel kept his movements slow as he slipped the lower hand not on Alastor's tail between the two of them. He kept the hand over clothing, and relished in the sharp intake of breath it drew out of Alastor as he brushed his fingered over the covered bulge. The nod that got was almost enthusiastic and Alastor's hands moved from Angel's side so one was on his hip and the other on the thigh Alastor had been humping. His claws dug in again, drawing blood instantly.

"I got'cha." Angel assured, not bothered as he added a bit of pressure and began stroking Alastor through his trousers.

Angel's usual policy was if a john jizzed in their pants he was obligated to laugh at them. But Alastor wasn't some john and Angel couldn't say something like that to his husband. Besides, it was a privilege to feel Alastor shudder against him, stifling a groan he couldn't keep to himself in Angel's chest. Angel held him through it, biting his own tongue. Now was not the time for his almost total lack of filter.

"You're really fuckin' cute." Angel's mouth said before his brain could stop it.

Alastor shifted away, grimacing at the mess he'd made of himself. Of both of them, he amended when he noticed the blood all over the wall of the stall. They both needed a good washing. He hated feeling any sort of slimy.

"Home." He exhaled the word almost as if it were a desperate plea, then remembered that teleportation was his own ability and not one Angel had. "I'll take us home in a minute. Let me get my head right."

"Take your time." Angel shrugged. "Might have to find whatever the fuck Val's wearing and buy thirty bottles."

"Do not." Alastor snarled, and Angel laughed.


The closest jeweler lived in a small town north of Resembool. You were there after an hour on the train. It was a small store but had impressive pieces. Rings, necklaces, bracelets and the like glittered in well-lit display cases, each with unique attributes, all handmade. You briefly wondered if the owner was an alchemist. Aside from you and Ed, the store was empty.

The maybe-an-alchemist owner appeared from the back a moment after the door shut, hitting the little bell connected to the doorframe. He was a man slightly past his prime with greying hair and bad posture, probably from leaning over jewelry all day for years. “Hello!” he greeted enthusiastically. “What can I help you two with?”

“He is looking for an anniversary present,” you said, gesturing to Ed. “I am here to make sure he doesn’t get lonely.”

“Or buy something stupid,” he added.

“Or both.” You shrugged as your attention was pulled to one of the cases filled with what you assumed were diamonds. “There’s no telling what he’d do on his own.” The owner seemed amused at your banter but didn’t comment. Instead he jumped into a conversation with Ed about what he was looking for. Your companion was led over to a section of mostly silver pieces as you browsed the more interesting things in the store.

You didn’t often find yourself in jewelry stores - it wasn’t something you were particularly interested in - so the sheer amount of glittering stones in sight was a bit overwhelming. They were in all sorts of colors and shapes, from light blue teardrop-shaped pendants to deep maroon set into a flower ring as though they were petals. Some of the more interesting shapes only added evidence to your owner-is-an-alchemist theory. There were even strings of pearls on display. It was difficult enough to get a single pearl imported through Aerugo, a whole string of them was practically impossible. The owner had to have transmuted them. Or maybe he had a small oyster farm in the back room, you couldn’t be sure.

You turned from the impossible pearls and saw a smaller section with pieces of amber. You found yourself leaving fingerprints on the glass as you admired the honey-colored hues of the smaller gemstones. They were smoother than their faceted neighbors and didn’t have the sparkle of a diamond, but they were charming. They probably weren’t as popular as the more typical diamond, sapphire, and ruby pieces that you’d seen adorning the throats and fingers of the upper class.

Ed’s voice calling your name from across the store pulled you from your thoughts and he waved you over. “I was thinking a bracelet for Winry, and everything I’ve seen her wear before has been silver, so…” he trailed off, biting his lip. You glanced at the display in front of him, which showcased different bracelets and watches, most of which with a silver coloration.

“I haven’t seen much of her jewelry collection,” you pointed out. “What’s her style like? How elaborate, on a scale of one to ten?”

“Uh, like a… four? Maybe? It’s on the lower end of the scale. She prefers things to be practical.” You mentally eliminated a few of the more detailed pieces and those with large charms attached. “Actually, I think-” He stuck a hand in his pocket and pulled out a set of earrings. “Yeah, I still have some of her earrings from when we last went to Briggs.” He handed them to you. They were simple, likely steel. Not something that would draw attention, but they seemed nice enough despite the wear, probably from repeated use. They could use a polish.

“Okay, then.” You handed them back to him and took another look at the display. A thick, segmented bracelet with what looked like a braided pattern caught your eye. “How about that one?”

The owner, who had been silently watching as you debated over his work, pulled it out of the case so that you and Ed could get a closer look at it. It was a little less than an inch thick on its widest point and was held closed by an unintrusive foldover clasp. “Yeah, I think she’d like this,” he said, taking it from its perch. “Gimme your hand,” he said to you.

“What? Why?” You held out your hand to him despite him not answering your questions. He took your hand and secured the bracelet around your wrist.

“How’s that feel?”

“Uh…” The thick piece of jewelry was a noticeable weight on your wrist, but it wasn’t heavy enough to be uncomfortable. You twisted the cool metal around your wrist and found that it didn’t catch on your skin or pinch anywhere. “Little heavy, but it’s not uncomfortable. Winry’s got more muscle than I do, anyway, so she probably won’t notice it.” You reached for the clasp before Ed could and released it. “I like the clasp, easy to use with one hand.” You turned the bracelet in your hand, watching it reflect the light. “Practical, yet elegant. She’ll like it.”

Ed nodded and took the bracelet from you when you offered it and turned to the owner so that he could finalize his purchase. Within five minutes, you were leaving the store together with a nondescript paper bag. This, of course, was just late enough for you to miss the train back.

“So, we have two hours to kill,” you said, sitting down next to Ed on a bench, train schedule in hand. “And there’s nothing to do in this town. Any ideas?”

Ed leaned back and stretched his legs out in front of him. “It’s about lunchtime. We could go find somewhere to eat,” he suggested.

“Sounds better than sitting around here for two hours, in any case.” You stood up and stuffed the schedule in your pocket. “I thought I saw a little family-owned place down the street if you want to check it out.”

“Sure.”

There weren’t many people walking around, probably because there weren’t many people in town anyway. The fact that there was even a restaurant in a tiny countryside town was a miracle in and of itself. There was a sign in the window that caught your eye before you went in. You grabbed Ed by the arm and pointed at the sign.  FREE ICE CREAM DESSERT FOR COUPLES.

“Think you could stomach pretending to be my boyfriend for free ice cream?” you asked.

“Uh…” His cheeks went a pale pink that you could barely see through his tan.

“Free ice cream.”

“I get the feeling they’ll be able to tell we’re not actually together.”

You scoffed. “I will have you know that I am a great actress.  Especially  when it involves manipulating people into giving me free food.”

“You’re starting to sound like Ling.”

“That is a compliment to the Emperor of Xing, but off-topic. We can totally pull it off if you let me do the talking.”

“I don’t even like ice cream,” he grumbled.

“Bullshit, everyone likes ice cream. What’s the real reason? Are you lactose intolerant or something?” you guessed. He averted his gaze to the ground, his silence speaking for him. “Is that why you say you hate milk? Why don’t you just tell people you can’t have it?”

“It’s dumb…” he said, crossing his arms defensively.

“It’s not dumb, it’s a legitimate health concern,” you pointed out. “We can ask if they have a dairy-free alternative. And if they don’t, I’ll just eat yours too. Problem solved.” You slipped your hand into his, intertwining your fingers.  So that it would look more convincing, you told yourself. His palm was rough with callouses, but you attempted to push that to the back of your mind for the time being. “Let’s go,” you said,  pulling him toward the building.

“Yeah, sure.” He didn’t put up a fight as you dragged him toward the restaurant, though you knew you wouldn’t be able to drag him anywhere if he did. “Just don’t tell Winry. She’ll blow a gasket if she finds out I was willing to do this just for ice cream.”

“My lips are sealed.”


It didn’t take much searching to find out where the demons were supposed to be locate. Rumours had spread around the town about the dangers of the forest and the old mining shaft that it didn’t take a genius to piece together that something was up. Like usual, Rengoku lead the way, enthusiastic as they walked through the forest to find the shaft.

Zenitsu looked a tad bit nervous, though that wasn’t unusual but it made Tanjirou feel bad anyway. He reached behind him, wrapping his pinky around his and smiling as he felt the blonde relax at his touch. It was a nice feeling, knowing that you can calm someone down without even needing to say anything.

“I think I see it!” Rengoku exclaimed, running forward.

The group quickly followed, rushing past the trees as a gaping hole in the side of mountain came into view. There was an old mine cart at the front, with a track leading into the cave. Tanjirou frowned, walking over and looking into the cart, stiffening when he realized the inside was full of bones.

Muichiro peered in, picking one of them up and staring at it, “This is definitely too big to be an animal’s bones.”

The group collectively looked to the cave, the sudden realization that there were at least 5 different human skeletons inside and if they’ve been terrorizing the area for a while, that means they’ve eaten well over 10 different humans. Sanemi moved first, unafraid as he headed inside the cave.“C’mon, no point staying.”

The demon slayers all nodded, following the Wind Pillar as they travelled into the cave, the light dimming. Tanjirou sighed, touching over the walls, the rough rocks and minerals brushing against his skin almost painfully, grounding him. The shaft wasn’t very wide, with the ceiling being a little too short for Gyomei, who had to duck his head a bit. Eveyrthing was an erry kind of quiet, with only their collective footsteps echoing against the walls paired along with their breathing.

Tanjirou never usually felt too scared when he was on missions. The awareness that he could die if he made a single wrong move did bother him but often in the moment, his fear would be replaced with blind determination. After all, he has Nezuko to take care, he couldn’t die yet, he’s busy. So, in battles, fear never really hindered him. However, the part that always left him a bit afraid was the beginning, before the battle even starts. The tense feeling of searching for an enemy that he didn’t truly understand.

The redhead paused when he felt a gently caress against the back of his hand, turning to see Zenitsu giving him a shaky smile. He smiled back, letting his fingers to tangle with his. It was too dark and tense for anyone to see anyways.

“It never gets any easier, huh?” Tanjirou mumbled, thinking back to the bones at the front. He was probably never going to get used to it.

The blonde nodded, trembling a bit, “Y-Yeah…”Tanjirou watched him for a moment before squeezing his hand tightly, “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, okay? I’ll protect you.”“I know you will.”As they walked for a while longer, the shaft feeling like it was going on forever, Sanemi stopped. He looked around with a suspicious glare, eyes darting around. The Pillar readied his sword, with the rest of the Pillars doing the same. It felt like eyes were watching them, in the walls and the ceilings.

Inosuke grunted, gripping his swords tightly, “There something wro-!”That’s when the floor cracked open, sending the group shouting in surprise as they fell down into tunnels that they didn’t realize were underneath them the whole time.

Tanjirou shouted as he clung to Zenitsu’s hand tighter, hitting against the sides of the tunnels with his head and body. The rocks cut into their faces and hands, their haoris being torn in multiple places. They suddenly shot out of the tunnel, landing in what seemed to be a chamber of sorts that lead out two ends. Shining gems poked out against the rocks, giving the area a sort of mythical glow.

The redhead groaned as he sat up, rubbing his cheek, the slightest bit of blood seeping out, “Zenitsu? Are you okay?” he heard a groan from his left, letting him breath out a sigh of relief, “Oh thank god.” He stood up, pulling up the blonde, who looked mostly fine, if a bit dirtier. Tanjirou looked around, frowning, “Is there anyone else with us?”

“INCOMING!”

The pair heard the echoing voice before jumping out of the way as Inosuke, Mitsuri and Rengoku fell through the hole and landed in the middle of the chamber.

Tanjirou and Zenitsu rushed to help them up, their eyes silently checking them over for any major injuries. Luckily there were none as Mitsuri brushed out a rock from her hair.

“Well that was unexpected.” She said, shaking off her clothes before looking around, “Wow it’s very pretty down here!”

“Indeed!” Rengoku agreed, “But we must keep going!” He pointed in one direction, “Nowhere to go but forward!”

There weren’t really any better plans so they listened, walking down the path with quite footsteps. Tanjirou held onto his sword, trying to smell the demon before it caught them off guard. As the walked, the gems in the walls started to become a soft pink. It gave off an almost unnatural glow. For a while, it was all quiet until the sound of someone humming faintly in the distance was heard.

Inosuke growled and immediately started to run, making Tanjirou shout in surprise as he ran after him.

“Inosuke, wait!” he called, chasing after him as the gems seemed to get bigger and brighter.

They came into another chamber with cherry blossom petals covering the ground while a man sat in the middle, sipping on some tea. Taking a quick sniff of the air made it suddenly very clear to Tanjirou that this wasn’t a normal guy, he was a demon. The two Pillars and Zenitsu caught up to them pretty quickly, with Mitsuri having her sword out.

The demon looked up, arching a brow with an amused expression, chuckling lowly as he twirled a paintbrush in his hands, “Oh? Looks like we have unexpected visitors. Don’t you know it’s rude to barge in uninvited?”They barely had any time to think before the ground below them started to rumble and large roots burst out of the ground, forcing the group to get out of the way. Tanjirou glared at the demon, watching as he didn’t seem to care, still writing on a piece of paper with his paint brush. He got up, running to get to him until a root flew out and hit him across the room, flying until he hit the ground with a thump.“Tanjirou!” Zenitsu exclaimed, dodging out of the way from a root.

“I’m fine! Just focus on the fight!Rengoku was quick to try and cut through the plants, but as he swung down, his sword lodged into it instead, only giving him a second to get the sword out before the root jumped at him. Mitsuri tried to get as close as she could to the demon, but the roots were growing too fast and too violently that none of the demon hunters could seem to get even near the demon.

“Isn’t it sad how beautiful things never last forever?” the demon mused, humming a gentle tune, “They wither away, disappearing and only lasting for a short amount of time. It’s like an allegory for life.”Tanjirou ducked under a root, sliding through another set that tried to pierce him and lunging over another. He jumped onto a root that lead straight to the demon, readying his blade to try and slice through the demon’s neck. When the root he was on swung up to shake him, he flew forward and went for the killing blow. But the demon moved to the left without a care in the world. He pulled out his paintbrush, whipping it and watching with glee as the paint hit across Tanjirou’s front.

The redhead fell to the ground, gasping as he felt a burning feeling on his chest. He looked down, gulping as he saw the paint burn through part of his haori and some of his demon slayer outfit. It sizzled, the smell of chemicals strong enough that he could practically taste the bitterness.

The demon giggled, holding his brush, “Don’t you love my paint? It’s just like acid, my favourite.”

Tanjirou didn’t get an opportunity to get up as one of the roots slapped against one of the walls, making him shout for a second. He gasped, trying to catch his breath and trying to ease the pain. Warm hands touched his back, making him look up at Zenitsu, who looked worried.

“Can you stand?” he asked, gingerly running his hand down his arm, “Please tell me you can stand, I don’t think I can be brave if you can’t stand.”The redhead shakily nodded, standing up and leaning against the blonde, “Y-Yeah. Watch out for the paint, it’s like acid.”“Noted.”

The demon watched them for a moment before a sick smile came onto his face, “Oh how rude of me, I forgot to introduce myself. I am Ren and I too, loved dearly.”That caught the pair’s attention, looking at him with confused expressions. Inosuke didn’t seem too keen on listening to some demon monologue as he ran up a root, launching into the air and trying to come down with his swords.

Ren turned to look at him before giggling, “Aw, look at you.” He moved out of the way, watching as the boar child hit the ground hard before slamming his foot down onto his back, grinding his foot against his spine, “Didn’t you learn that it’s rude to interrupt?”

Rengoku saw this and rushed to get to the demon, “Let him go!”

The demon seemed to smile as he pulled out a jar of ink, holding it out, “I wouldn’t move, if I were you. One step forward and I’ll pour this acid onto your friend here and let’s just say that it’ll burn and melt through his little human flesh like butter.”

Tanjirou growled, enraged as he froze, “Don’t you dare!”Inosuke struggled under his foot, trying to get out despite the immense amount of pressure being put on his spine, “Get off of me!”Ren clicked his tongue, humming, “I would shut up.” He smirked as he let a drop of acid hit Inosuke’s skin, the sound of the demon slayer’s scream of pain making him giggle, “One more word out of you and I’ll drop this whole thing on you.”

For once, the boy shuts up, biting his lip until it bleeds as he silenced his scream. The group seemed to be frozen, watching as the demon hummed to himself.

“Now that I have your attention…” his eyes darts to Tanjirou and Zenitsu, who tensed immediately. The redhead was quick to stand in front of the blonde, glaring daggers. Ren smiled, “I was saying that I was once loved…not sure by who but I remember that I was loved like you. And yet…” he grinds his foot onto Inosuke’s back, “Love is fleeting. It doesn’t last forever, after all, tragedy always follows happiness.”

Tanjirou clenched his jaw, looking to Rengoku and Mitsuri, who gave him a brief look. Whether or not they understood the full meaning of what Ren means by love is debatable.

The demon grinned, “Happiness doesn’t last forever, little demon slayer. Just because something is going well now doesn’t mean that it won’t all shatter. After nothing lasts forever.”

Tanjirou stared at him, the words feeling way too close to home. Thoughts of the happiness of his family and then the tragedy of losing them came to mind. The thought that something might come and take the happiness he had now was terrifying.

Zenitsu glared, stepping forward, “I would worry about yourself lasting forever, if I were you.”

“Hm-?!”The sound of Mitsuri shouting made Ren turn, the Love Pillar slashing down her flexible blade down and slicing the demon’s torso. He tripped, falling over and Inosuke quickly ran out, landing next to Zenitsu and Tanjirou.

Ren growled out, turning to Mitsuri before being attacked by Rengoku, who slashed at the demon. He grabbed his acid and tried to it splash onto the Pillar while growing the roots up to keep them away.

“I wouldn’t focus on those guys! After all, you’re facing two Pillars!” the Flame Pillar exclaimed, looking to the trio, “Keep moving, we’ll take care of this! There’s must be more demons if you keep going! Go!”

The trio looked to the Flame Pillar, who offered them a confident smile before dodging out of the way of a root.

Mitsuri glanced at her comrade before saying, “I’ll provide cover for you! Go!”

They nodded, running towards to the exit on the other side of the chamber while Mitsuri deflected the roots and acid. As they ran out, Tanjirou could hear Ren shouting out, “Watch out little demon slayer, the end is coming!”As his friends ran down the path, the redhead turned for a moment and said, “If nothing lasts forever, then the end won’t last either.”

He ran down the path, the sound of hard root hitting against metal following him.


The drive home, which would normally be peaceful as he is alone in the car keeps getting interrupted by text message after text message blowing up his phone. The device which he has sitting in the mount he has for the car keeps vibrating and every time he thinks it will finally stop it would buzz again the screen flashing to life.

From what he can see from the short span a text is on his screen nothing much as been resolved at home. Stiles is still apparently in the worst mood anyone has seen, tossing anything within arms reach at them if they disturb him.

Now while Cora was trying to place the blame on Chris from tossing Stiles around a good part of the day. Which he would have to talk to the man about, Stiles was still dealing with a bit a pain from the spell after all and sparing wasn't what he had in mind when he asked Chris to train the boy. He would be there doing it himself but he was still busy with a bit of a legal battle about a property line he knew his family owned.

That being said, he knew his boy was far more stressed then the pack seemed to understand. Not only was he expected to learn how to use his Forest God Powers properly, he also had to weed through thousands of books to find out what was dwelling in the forest feeding on magic. That coupled with the guilt Peter still knew his little mate felt over the loss of life, Stiles was well on his way head first into a melt down.

While he found a bit of enjoyment of him tossing things at the pack, he did not find it funny his boy was so high strung he was bound to reek of anxiety. A scent he didn't enjoy on his mate. Stiles should only smell of happiness and loved. He should smell of contentment and warmth, not inky like his anxiety tends to make him smell.

With that in mind, he decided to be done with his business for the night to help calm his mate. He guessed in turn save the pack, though if they were still failing to pick up the scent of stress a few good pegs with a book or frying pan were warranted.

His phone only stops buzzing the moment in pulls into the garage, the pack no doubt hearing the quite purr his beloved car. Stiles Jeep is parked next to his, though he hadn't driven in it in a few weeks. The Escalade was next to it, and though a three car garage had been a last minute addition he was still glad he did it.

Making his way into the house Peter pause in the kitchen, ears first locking in on his mate down in the library. Who by the way Stiles was grumbling like an angry little goblin was still in a foul mood. Next he hurries up the stairs, by passing the pack who are now all hiding in the media room. Someone shouts for him Erica from the sound of it, though he ignores her. Stopping at a door, Peter quietly pushes it open peeking inside. Zayd was sleeping peacefully oblivious to Stiles anger and the packs disgruntled annoyance at being assaulted with flying objects.

A camera with a speaker attached had been installed the day after Stiles had the room made up, a way for his mate to keep an eye on Zayd if he was down in the basement library. Seeing as his little mate didn't have the bonus of super hearing he liked being able to watch and listen for the boy from the tablet monitor that came with the device. Content the boy would sleep till morning Peter moves back towards the media room and steps inside.

Chris and Allison were on the farthest end of the sectional Jordan to was packed in close to Chris. Peter had noticed the pair of them growing oddly close but has yet to say anything. He knew Stiles was building up to tease his dads deputy so he reframed from doing so himself. Jackson and Isaac sat in the middle, both teens turned to look at him with frowns on their face.

Scott was pouting at him his black eye already healed, though Peter was a bit saddened he hadn't got to see it. Erica and Boyd were curled around one another though they two were glaring towards their Alpha. Cora looked miffed and Derek's eyebrows had migrated into his hairline somewhere probably never to be found.

“So, out of the ten of you, only three can not smell emotions.” Peter states, pointing towards the Argent's and Parrish. “That leaves seven of you who can, so my question is how come no one used their nose to figure out Stiles was stressed?”

The wolves all frown looking properly scolded.

“How about next time instead of texting me and Noah to save you, you all try to ask if he needs help, shall we?”

“Yes Alpha.” Comes the melody of several replies.

“Good, now I'm going down stairs to deal with the little goblin. You are all to stay put up here or go to your rooms, unless of course you want an eye full.”

“Ew, Uncle Peter!” Cora cries as Peter chuckles and makes his way back down stairs.

There was one sure fire way to help his boy relieve stress and he didn't want anyone but himself to have the privilege of seeing that.

*-*-*-*-*-*

He finds his little mate leaning over one of the many tables, books a many opened before him. His laptop sat to one side, a thick notebook and pens close by. The tablet with the video feed to Zayd's room was on the other side, books no where near it to keep it in view. Stiles had a pencil in his mouth, and two more in each hand scribbling down who knows what on a different notebook. There's a steady grumble from behind the yellow pencil in his mouth, his teeth clenches as he bit down on it.

“Now sweetheart.” Peter says, pulling the thing from his mouth. “You're going to make your jaw hurt biting down on that so tightly.

Stiles sighs up at him with a small smile. “Hey Big Bad, when did you get home?”

Peter smiles in return. “Just a few moments ago, I hear you've been assaulting the pack with books and frying pans.”

Stiles snorts, “I wouldn't say I assaulted them, they just kept bugging me for things while I'm busy.”

Stiles glances down at several open books, glaring at them with frustrated honey eyes. “So far I haven't found anything useful, I think the only thing I have accomplished is making my back hurt.”

Hearing this, Peter lets his hand rest on the small of Stiles back drawing his pain. He was in a fair amount of it making the wolf hissed displeased. Once he was down he lets his hand slip under the red shirt his boy was wearing, using his thumbs to work out the knots there. Stiles sighs happily at that, dropping his pencils on the table so he could fall forward to give Peter better access.

“I think it's time you took a break for the night love.” Peter says, stepping behind his mate so he could use both hands to knead the tense muscles in Stiles slim back.

“Mmm, if you keep that up I'll do anything you want.” Stiles hums out, flopping his chest against the table gracelessly.

“Well I have something much better in mind to help you unwind sweetheart.” Peter says, moving his palms farther up Stiles back, his smooth warm skin always felt buttery soft against Peter's palms.

“You gonna spank me?” Stiles asks teasingly, shaking his round as at Peter.

“Not tonight sweetheart, but if you ask nicely maybe another time.”

Stiles grunts when Peter finds a painful knot, and his quick to draw that pain away as he works it out of the muscles. He can't say he's to happy with how tight Stiles back is, and files it away for later to send him to get an adjustment from a chiropractor. While he was sure of his ability to give a wonderful massage, he wasn't going to risk his mate by trying to pop his back.

Stiles glances back at his honey eyes going dark with desire. They had of course falling into long sessions of love making, and each time was more magical than the next but that had always been in a bed. Tonight Peter had plans on taking him hard, knowing Stiles wasn't in the mood for soft tonight. Not with how frustrated he was. Only after they had both found their release, Stiles first of course would Peter take him upstairs for a bubble bath and would give him a proper massage.

Picking his boy up Peter turns placing Stiles on a clear table quickly removing his shirt. His big hands find his way to his mates slim waist all that pretty pale flesh flushed pink for him. He always marveled over how sensitive Stiles was, how the smallest touch made him blush and his heart quicken. His palms travel up his flat belly, while he wasn't packing a six pack and hard muscle he wasn't soft either. He was slim, a runners body if Peter ever saw one, and Peter loved it. While it was possible he had a bit of a size kink he did love being bigger than his little mate.

“Peter.” Stiles whimpers, when the wolfs fingers tweak at his pearled nipples. Stiles arches into the touch, biting into his bottom lip.

“What do you want sweetheart?” Peter asks, fingers trailing between the dip between Stiles collarbones. Leaning forwards he sucks a nipple into his mouth biting lightly, gifted a moan within seconds.

“I want you.” Stiles begs, opening his legs wider for Peter to step in-between them.

Releasing Stiles nipple Peter says. “You have me.”

Stiles growls making Peter grin. “I want you to fuck me Peter.”

In seconds he has his mate naked and spread out before him on the table. Still fully clothed himself Peter's eyes drink in his fill of his beautiful mate. Stiles is staring up at him, pink lips wet from licking and biting at them, watching Peter look at him.

A slim palm slips under his shirt, grabbing the hem till it's ripped off Peter's chest and tossed aside landing who knows where. Stiles hums happily, kissing Peter's bare chest, caressing it lovingly.

“You're so handsome.” Stiles says, kissing at Peter's neck his tongue sweeping out to lick at his pulse point. Clever fingers work their way down his chest, pulling at his belt and unbuttoning his pants pulling them down just enough to release his hard cock.

Stiles grins, stroking him till he's panting and growing. Not one to just take from his lover he pushes his boy back till he's laying across the table, Stiles finds his knees at his chest and Peter's big palms holding him in place.

“Look at you.” Peter praises, eyes on his waiting hole.

“Peter, please.” Stiles begs, big eyes growing bigger as he begs.

Dropping to his knees Peter's buries his face between those lush cheeks, tasting his boy. Teasing him.

Stiles shouts, bowing off the table, slim fingers tangling in Peter's hair, demanding more. Peter grins against his skin, while he did love to tease Stiles for some time, he knew his boy couldn't handle that tonight. Falling forward Peter buries his tongue deep, licking at the soft walls inside his wonderful mate, loving the taste of him.

Stiles screams, whimpering as Peter eats him out, holding onto his wolfs hair for all his worth. Loving every stroke of that clever tongue stabbing into him. Loving every slurp and growl as Peter taste him.

His eyes roll into the back of his head when a thick finger makes it's way inside, it burns slightly but he's always loved it. Loved Peter inside him, no matter what part it was. Loved that his mate took so much time to prep him properly.

One finger became two, stroking and thrusting into him, then two became three, making him pant and moan at being breached. Peter stretches and thrust, working him open so wonderfully he could cum from this alone if he really wanted to. He didn't, he wanted his wolf in him, hard and fast.

“Peter, Peter please!” Stiles begs, pulling on his hair, trying to get Peter do as he wanted.

Fingers rub against his prostate, making him cry out in pleasure, then his wolf was pulling away and standing. Stroking that long thick cock, hovering over Stiles ready hole but not entering.

“Look at you sweet boy.” Peter growls, bending to kiss him. Stiles can taste himself on Peter's tongue and lips. Peter rumbles deep in his chest, fingers sinking into Stiles head to deepen the kiss, loving when he had the chance to worship his boys pretty lips.

Thick fingers bit into Stiles ass as Peter positions himself, cocks rubbing at the waiting hole in front of him. His saliva would have to be good enough for lube at the moment, while he knew Stiles loved the burn, he still preferred to have the extra lubrication to prevent tearing.

Planting his feet flat, and pulling down his jeans a bit more, Peter pops the head of his cock inside, watching Stiles face for pain. Stiles whimpers, pushing back against the cock entering him. There's no trace of pain. Grinning Peter thrust hard, slamming forward till he was buried deep as he could go. Stiles screams, hands falling above his head to hold onto the table, his legs still firmly held in Peter's big hands.

“Yes.” Stiles hisses, “Fuck, you're so big.”

Pleased, Peter pulls back then thrust in hard once more, the slap of skin echos in the library, bouncing of cement walls. Stiles curses, always so vocal when they made love or fucked like animals. Peter loved it, loved to hear Stiles get pleasure from him. He keeps his pace slow at first, pulling out and thrusting back in hard. Loving the blissed out look on Stiles face as he was taken apart.

“Faster Peter.” Stiles demands, “Fuck me faster.”

“Hold on tight sweetheart.” Peter pants, pulling his boy down till his ass was hanging off the table. He spreads Stiles legs out farther, getting a better view of his lovely face. Buried deep within his beautiful mate Peter leans down for a moment to give him a sweet kiss.

Then he lets loose thrusting hard and fast, working his cock harder and deeper. Spurred on by every whimper and every scream of pleasure. Every thrust got him a pretty moan, every retreat a sad sigh. Each slam of that bundle of nerves deep within Stiles lite him up like a firework, had him crying out and begging for more.

“Oh, fuck.” Stiles shouts, holding tight to the table, loving every slam of Peter's cock buried deep within him.

“Oh god, don't stop!” Stiles shouts, back bowed, legs shaking as he took every fast thrust. His cock laid across his belly, bouncing and drooling against his skin.

“Take it.” Peter moans, slamming harder, pushing deeper.

“Love your cock.” Stiles sings, moaning loud, uncaring if anyone could hear them from down here.

Peter suddenly releases Stiles legs, hands and arms work their way around his boys back till he's being lifted off the table and cradled against Peter's strong chest. Stiles cries out at the change in position, think arms making their away around Peter's neck as his legs wrap tightly around Peter's strong hips. In this position Stiles cock is trapped against their bellies, rubbing between warm sweaty skin as Peter's thick fingers take handfuls of his ass bouncing the boy onto his cock.

Stiles can do nothing but hold on for the ride, trusting Peter not to drop him. Loving how deep his cock can reach like this, loved being held as he was fucked into oblivion.

“Oh god!” Stiles cries, head tilted back, mouth opened as he pants through his pleasure. Loving every rumble and growl Peter lets loose as he fuck's up into him.

“Cum!” Peter demands, jerking him down hard onto his stiff cock. Stiles can do nothing but obey. Screaming through his orgasm as it rocks through him. The room seems to darken as he slumps forward against Peter, body shaking with the after shock. He can feel Peter's cock jerk in him, filling him up and he loved every second of it.

“I love you.” Stiles pants, kissing Peter's neck.

“I love you always.” Peter says in answer.


Only once the onigiri was cleared and Osamu had gone back to work, did Atsumu finally decide to regale the others with the basics of his plan. The idea had been floating around in his mind since yesterday morning as nothing but a distant, formless concept. But now that Sakusa was on board and worth every ounce of his salt, it was beginning to take a very real, very solid shape.

‘We’re going classic,’ he told them. ‘A good, old fashioned heist by the book. Hit ‘em with the Uno reverse.’

Hinata’s shoulders sagged. ‘So, no helicopters?’

Atsumu shook his head.

‘No fireworks?’

Atsumu shook his head again.

‘Spray paint?’

‘Nope.’

Sakusa closed the lid of his laptop. ‘What’s the catch?’ he asked. ‘There has to be one. I find it hard to believe you of all people would pull a stunt so… ordinary.’

Sakusa probably meant that in a derogatory sense, but it was actually the nicest thing he’d said to Atsumu all day. If he gave  a single shit about what Sakusa thought, he might have even blushed.

‘I’m glad you asked, Omi-Omi!’ Atsumu interlocked his fingers and stretched them out in front of himself until the bones cracked. ‘But first, answer me this: what is the most humiliatin’ experience known to humankind?’

Bokuto raised a hand and said immediately, ‘Shitting yourself in an inescapable public setting.’

Atsumu snapped his fingers and pointed at him. ‘Correct.’

Sakusa had tucked his mask beneath his chin to eat and forgotten to replace it since, so Atsumu could see the way his face pinched in disgust. ‘You’d better elaborate on that right now, Miya.’

‘Sure, sure. Listen closely, kids.’ Atsumu leaned forward and beckoned the others to do the same. Hinata and Bokuto were enthusiastic and cupped their hands around their ears; Sakusa barely moved an inch. ‘The night of the gatherin’, we’re gonna make the Adlers metaphorically crap their own pants, right in front of the whole damn thievin’ community.’

‘How are we going to do that, Atsumu-san?’ Hinata whispered.

‘Since the Adlers have the paintin’, they’ll be hosting the gatherin’, correct?’ Everyone nodded. ‘Right, so they’ll be the ones to unveil it to the crowd and announce themselves as the winners, yeah?’ They nodded again. ‘But what if the paintin’ they unveil isn’t actually the paintin’?’

Hinata gasped. Bokuto smiled and said, ‘Oh?’

‘What if some Super Sexy Stealth Jackals had already sneaked their way in the night before and—’

‘—and replaced it with an identical replica,’ Sakusa mused.

Atsumu grinned. ‘Precisely, Omi-Omi. What d’ya think? That extraordinary enough? We three hooligans meetin’ yer expectations?’

Sakusa considered him. It was only for a moment, but to Atsumu it felt like an eternity. His gaze was doing that thing again, the thing it had done in the IT office, the thing that made Atsumu feel as though his soul was lying bare on an operating table, and Sakusa was the surgeon picking it apart.

Had Osamu turned the heating up in the restaurant?

‘I think there’s still room for improvement,’ said Sakusa. ‘But it’ll do, I suppose.’

Atsumu blinked. And here he’d been expecting Sakusa to shoot him down, to scoff at him and mock him and offer up a far more boring plan of his own. Instead, he carried on surprising Atsumu by pulling out a small pen and notepad from his jacket pocket and saying, ‘What are we going to need?’

‘Huh?’

‘For the heist and the unveiling.’ He tapped the pen against the paper. ‘We’re working without Meian’s budget and access to MSBY’s supplies, but we’re going to need stuff, right? A convincing replica, a getaway car, earpieces, probably some woollen blankets to avoid the thermal imaging cameras. Make a list,’ he said. ‘I’ll buy it.’

Who the hell did this guy think he was? A fucking billionaire?

Meian’s budgets could stretch hundreds of thousands if the job demanded it; clients paid handsomely for the priceless items the Jackals stole. But The Monster Heist was considered extra-curricular - even when Meian had been on board he’d set them strict allowances. It was why Atsumu had resorted to stealing a fire truck rather than just buying one. There was absolutely no way one person could foot the bill of a heist – not on such short notice. Atsumu had already started forming contingency plans for the things the Jackals combined pockets couldn’t afford.

‘The hell d’ya mean you’ll buy it? That shit’s expensive, Omi, forget it. I was just gonna—’

‘I don’t care what you were just gonna do.’ Sakusa looked bored by the whole thing. He kept spinning the pen artfully around his fingers, and Atsumu was not watching them. He wasn’t. ‘I don’t do things unless I do them perfectly, so tell me what it’s going to take to pull this off, and I’ll take care of it.’

‘Woaaah, Omi-san.’ Hinata’s eyes bulged, and his lip wobbled. ‘That’s the coolest thing I’ve ever heard, and Atsumu-san says cool stuff all the time.’

‘I need a van!’ said Bokuto. ‘A white one! With a minibar in the back.’

Atsumu watched in horror as Sakusa nodded and wrote it down.

‘Wha—’

Hinata threw a hand up. ‘Ooh! I need a pair of suction-cup gloves! To climb the walls! Atsumu-san won’t buy me them because he thinks I’m going to use them to climb the Sky Tree, but I won’t, I promise! Pretty please, Omi-san!’

Sakusa’s scrawled the words suction cup gloves in hideously illegible cursive.

Suddenly, Atsumu felt very left out. ‘Fine!’ he huffed. ‘I’ll bite. What’s yer budget?’

‘There is no budget.’

‘That’s really hot of you to say, Omi, but everyone has a budget.’

Atsumu liked to say that all the time when he was footing Jackals’ food bill because it made him look like the charming heartthrob that he was, but there was always a voice in the back of his head reminding him how much he could spend before it would start to cut into his rent payments.

It was quickly becoming apparent that Sakusa didn’t possess that voice at all. He said, ‘And I’m telling you there isn’t one.’

Was Sakusa secret royalty or something? An anonymous CEO? The son of a president? How could he say shit like that so brazenly? Atsumu narrowed his eyes in a sceptical question. ‘So, what? You’d buy me a building if I asked?’

The pen swapped hands, and Sakusa switched up the pattern he used to twirl it. ‘If you needed it for the heist, then yes.’

Osamu really needed to turn the heating down in this place, why was it so goddamn warm?

With a look of complete exasperation, Atsumu turned to Bokuto and Hinata, offered his upturned palm and said, ‘We did it, boys. We’ve finally bagged ourselves a sugar daddy!’

Hinata and Bokuto took turns low fiving him.

With drawl so deadpan it just sounded dead, Sakusa said, ‘Absolutely do not call me that ever again.’

‘Sure, dad—’

‘I’m serious.’ Sakusa stopped spinning the pen. ‘Say it one more time and the next thing I buy will be a hit on your life. I know a guy who’ll make it so that you won’t even see it coming, and another guy who’ll make it so your body will never be found.’

‘Oof.’ Atsumu fanned his face with his hand. ‘You gotta lay off the dirty talk, Omi, or I’m gonna start thinkin’ you like me.’

Sakusa cleared his throat. ‘It’d be a cold day in hell, Miya.’

Atsumu propped his elbows up on the table and rested his chin in his palm to leer at Sakusa -  his face had reddened, probably because he was angry, or maybe it was because of Osamu’s evident heating problem. Though, it didn't seem to bother Hinata or Bokuto.

‘I wouldn’t sound so sure ‘bout that y’know. I’ve heard global warming is fuckin’ up a whole bunch of things.’

Sakusa gave Atsumu an acetic once over and said, ‘Evidently.’ Then he slid the notebook and pen across the table in Atsumu’s direction. ‘Get me a list by tomorrow.’

Atsumu tucked the notebook into his pocket and the pen behind his ear. ‘Roger that, Captain Moneybags.’

If Sakusa wanted his list so bad, Atsumu would get him his damn list and then some.

Tuesdays were always slow. The office, despite not even being a real office, was so depressingly silent, Atsumu swore he could feel it sucking out his lifeforce. It made the urge to get up and bother Sakusa surprisingly overwhelming, and he had to remind himself more than once that he couldn’t; they were due to meet later at a coffee shop near Atsumu’s apartment for the list handoff and he had a whole speech planned for each of the items he knew Sakusa would quiz him on.

Across the office, Hinata and Bokuto were still committed to their respective sulks, though they had traded sleeping atop their keyboards for sitting up and staring blankly at the walls. Occasionally, one of them would drop the act to pick up their phone and send Atsumu a text.

This time, it was Hinata.

(11:35) From: shouyou

do u really think omi-san is going to buy us all that stuff?????

do u think he’s rich????

???????

Atsumu had contemplated the very same thing the night before as he’d gotten into bed and started writing his list, but no matter how hard he tried to picture otherwise, he just couldn’t envision Sakusa being anything other than filthy rich. He had that laptop and mouse, and God knows how many other gadgets lying about. Atsumu certainly couldn’t afford them on his shaky wages. Everything he used – gadgets, disguises, cars - was a part of MSBY’s stock.

(11:37) To: shouyou

probably

hackers r always rich boys

too much time on their hands

(11:38) From: shouyou

hmmmmmmm

true

(11:40) From: shouyou

do u think u could find a way to make a dog part of the heist so omi-san will buy me one?

i’ll take good care of it

(11:41) To: shouyou

i’ll see what I can do 4 u my precious boy

Chess and minesweeper had lost their touch, so once he’d helped Hinata with picking hypothetical puppy breeds and names, Atsumu loaded up Miami Shark, because there was something entrancingly therapeutic about tearing down helicopters with the digital jaws of a voracious apex predator. It helped clear the mind.

But Atsumu only got as far as sinking a cruise liner before he was interrupted by his mouse suddenly developing a mind of its own, closing the web browser and opening a notepad document.

He pushed himself and his wheeled office chair away from his desk and stared wide-eyed and terrified at the screen as words started to appear. Miami Shark didn’t contain viruses… right?

3F supply room in ten minutes.

Atsumu glanced around, but nobody else seemed to have a computer possessed by the Ghost of Christmas Future. Hinata and Bokuto were sitting like zombified bookends. Adriah and Barnes were busy with calls. The blinds to Meian’s office were half-closed, but Atsumu could still see him through the slats, reading a book with his feet up on the desk, unbothered.

It wasn’t a virus then. It was clearly just an Atsumu Problem. Those seemed to crop up pretty often these days.

He wet his lips nervously and turned back to his screen where the cursor was blinking at him, awaiting a response.

God, he typed cautiously, is that you?

He really hoped it wasn’t. That would probably be really, really embarrassing - blasphemy was his middle name, after all. But maybe it wasn’t a god, maybe it was a ghost. Like the one from that movie Osamu had forced him to watch last Halloween. That would be in line with Atsumu’s luck, for the ghost to haunt the wrong fucking twin.

The reply was fast:

No. It’s Sakusa

Atsumu wheezed and dropped his head atop the keyboard so that the next typed words were just strings of jumbled letters.

Of course it was fucking Sakusa, he scolded himself. Who else would it be? They were unwilling partners now; he was going to need to contact him somehow and he’d run off last night before Atsumu’d had the chance to get his number.

Once his heart had dislodged itself from his throat and returned to his chest, Atsumu rolled up his sleeves and typed earnestly:

if u wanted to get me alone that badly u could have just asked for my number ;)

Sakusa’s next reply took a little longer. If I wanted your number at all, I’d already have it by now.

Because I could hack it, I mean, not because I would ever

The words started to delete themselves. Then Sakusa gave up and just kept typing regardless.

This doesn’t even matter. Just find a way to get to the supply room without raising suspicion. I need to talk to you.

Easy as pie omi. U can watch me from inu-san's monitors if u want. observe the master at work. Ive heard security cameras make my ass look gr8 ;)

I will be busy walking to the supply room, Miya.

oh yea. cool. Of course. Ok. C u ther.

The notepad closed.

Miami Shark resumed.

Atsumu blinked at the GAME OVER screen and wondered what the hell had just happened.

If Sakusa could remotely control Atsumu’s computer, did that mean he could do it to anyone’s? Bokuto’s? Meian’s? The Adlers’? His mind started to burn with questions, the most pressing being what the hell was so urgent that Sakusa couldn’t wait until after work to discuss it with him. He supposed there was only one way to find out.

Without bothering to shut his computer down, Atsumu grabbed his coat and his wallet and made a beeline for Meian’s office door.

‘Mornin’, Meian-san,’ he said as he poked his head around the door. ‘Thought I’d take my lunch early, get the office a round of coffee, liven’ the place up. You want the usual?’

Meian looked up from his book and smiled. ‘Sure, Miya, that’s a great idea. Hey, here,’ he held up a hand to stop Atsumu walking off, then proceeded to fish his own wallet from his pocket. ‘Use the company card. Don’t hold back, yeah?’

Atsumu took the card with two fingers and used it to salute Meian. ‘When have I ever, boss?’

On a separate page of Sakusa’s little notepad, Atsumu made a show of walking around the office and jotting down everybody’s coffee orders, then he took the elevator down to the ground floor, and climbed the stairs two at a time, all the way back up to the third.

Sakusa was already waiting for him outside the supply room, tapping his foot and checking his wrist for the time like Atsumu had kept him waiting two hours rather than two minutes. The moment Sakusa saw Atsumu approach, he turned on his heel and used his lanyard key to open the door. He didn’t bother holding it open; Atsumu had to sprint to catch it with his foot before it slammed and locked again in his face.

The supply room was just that: a room filled floor-to-ceiling with heist supplies. In his time as an MSBY thief, Atsumu had used almost everything inside it at one point or another, from the boxes of rolled up blueprints, to the bags of rope, and tubs full of lockpicks and forged keys. There were racks of clothes in all sorts of styles and sizes, mannequin heads displaying various wigs and caps, and crates of shoes, boots, and slippers to match. Spare console towers were stacked against the walls with baseball bats and wire cutters and sledgehammers resting against them in duffel bags.

Sakusa stalked past all of it to a secluded corner at the back.

The fit for two grown men in a cluttered supply room was tight; they ended up standing as close together as they had done at Onigiri Miya’s entrance last night. Atsumu wondered if that was OK now that they weren’t arguing, but Sakusa didn’t seem to mind.

Atsumu spoke first. He leaned one shoulder against the metal shelves and looked up at Sakusa. ‘Did ya have to contact me so dramatically? I almost shit my—woah, hey, Omi, you doin’ OK? Ya look like hell.’

It wasn’t a jab, or a lie – just an astute observation. Sakusa looked as though he hadn’t slept a wink since they’d parted ways the night before. His hair was ever so slightly askew of its usual parting, his tie was crooked, and there were deep, dark circles cutting lines beneath his bloodshot eyes. He still smelled great -like strong coffee and cologne - but it was the unruliest Atsumu had ever seen him; he hadn’t even bothered to put on a mask. It felt wrong, like Atsumu was seeing something he shouldn’t be.

Sakusa clicked his tongue and tucked his hands into his trouser pockets. ‘Gee,’ he said, ‘thanks.’

‘Hey, I don’t mean it like that, I’m just— You get any sleep last night?’

Atsumu would never admit that it was genuine concern pushing him to ask. He just didn’t want Meian asking questions when he caught Sakusa walking around like a zombie, that was all. He didn’t know how far Sakusa’s acting skills could stretch.

‘No,’ Sakusa admitted. ‘I was busy trying to get into the Adlers’ system.’

‘Shit,’ said Atsumu. If Sakusa had called him here, then that could only mean one thing. ‘How bad is it?’

Sakusa ran a hand through his hair and spoke to the ceiling rather than Atsumu. ‘I’ve made a start on breaking through the code passwords,’ Sakusa sighed as Atsumu counted the moles on his neck. There were four, starting from the base of his throat, and climbing their way up to his jawline that moved each time he spoke. For a brief, mortifying second, he wondered if they continued below the line of his shirt. Atsumu shook the thought away and Sakusa continued, ‘But it’s useless. They’ve got thumbprint recognition technology.’

‘Shit,’ Atsumu said again. With feeling. It was no wonder Sakusa was acting suspiciously like the end of the fucking world was nigh. Atsumu was no expert, but he knew how tough systems like that were to crack. ‘Shouyou-kun mentioned they’d had a new system installed. I didn’t think it’d be that bad.’

‘It’s not just bad, Miya, it’s—’ Sakusa let out a breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘It’s the end of the line. I can’t access anything. You could give me all the time in the fucking world, but the cameras, the lasers, the doors; I can’t touch a single one of them. Not without an Adler thumbprint. Ushijima’s got us.’

Atsumu paused. A thumbprint? All Sakusa needed to force the Adlers’ to their knees was a measly thumbprint? He would have laughed if he wasn’t so concerned that Sakusa might reach for one of the baseball bats and club him with it.

Atsumu shrugged and said like it was no big deal, ‘Then I’ll just get you a thumbprint.’

Sakusa scowled at him. ‘And how the hell are you going to manage that in ten days?’

‘Oh ye of little faith.’

‘I’m serious, Miya.’ The scowl deepened, and Sakusa crossed his arms over his chest. ‘I’ve run jobs like this with Meian-san before. It can take months to get clean prints, and that’s with direct access to the mark. Even worse, the Adlers know us all by face. You’re good, but you’re not that good.’

Atsumu did laugh that time. ‘Y’know, yer funnier than I thought, Omi.’ He reached out, intending to pat him condescendingly on the shoulder, but then he remembered Sakusa didn’t like to be touched and picked up a wrench from the shelf beside him instead. As he considered it, an idea popped into his head. ‘We can go and get yer prints tomorrow, if ya like?’

‘We?’

‘Yeah, Omi, we. It’ll be a two-man job and I don’t trust Bokuto ‘Shovel-Hands’ Koutarou, or Hinata ‘Butter-Fingers’ Shouyou to lift delicate prints.’

‘Why can’t you do it?’

Atsumu grinned. ‘Because I’ll be busy doing something else. You got a kit?’ Sakusa nodded, because of course he had a forensic fingerprint kit just lying about. ‘Great, let’s go. I’ll tell you ‘bout the plan over coffee.’

Sakusa stilled. ‘Just tell me here.’

‘No can do, Omi-Omi. I’ve got orders to pick up and calls to make. Yer gonna have to come with. Betcha haven’t eaten yet either, right?’ He flashed Sakusa the company card. ‘Meian-san’s treat.’

Sakusa looked as though he was about to refuse, but then his stomach growled loud enough for Atsumu to hear. He waved the card again.

‘Fine,’ said Sakusa. ‘Wait outside. I’ll go get my coat.’

Sakusa led the charge towards the door, but he stopped short when he arrived and Atsumu almost crashed into him again. ‘Ya gotta stop stoppin’, Omi! Yer gonna cause a collision one of these days. I’m a big boy, y’know, I might break somethin’—hey, what’s the hold up? You gonna open the door or what?’

‘I can’t,’ was all Sakusa said.

‘The hell d’ya mean ya can’t. It’s just a door, how hard can it be?’

‘I can’t.’ Sakusa rattled the handle so hard Atsumu thought he might break it. ‘It’s locked.’

‘Uh. What? How?’

Sakusa ignored him. ‘Great.’ He turned around, thumped his head back against the door and closed his eyes. ‘This is just great. To be locked in a room with you of all people.’

‘Hey, what the fuck?’ They weren’t friends by any means, but Atsumu had thought they’d made some real progress over the last two days. He certainly didn’t think the idea of his company warranted such a negative response – Sakusa looked a minute away from picking up the sledgehammer and bashing his way out.

‘Lotsa people in this office would kill for this kind of opportunity y’know. I was voted MSBY’s Most Handsome three years runnin’.’

‘Not by me,’ Sakusa grumbled.

Atsumu stuck his tongue out at him. Usually, he reserved such ugly and childish tactics for when he was losing an argument against Osamu, but it hardly mattered now; Sakusa already thought the worst of him. ‘Doesn’t matter,’ he sneered. ‘Still won it.’

‘You also won Most Likely to Lead MSBY into Financial Ruin, and Most Likely to Get Arrested.’

‘Yeah, well, you won Biggest Prick.’

‘That wasn’t a category.’

‘Is now. And you’ve just won it. Unanimously.’ He clapped his hands. ‘Congrats, Omi.’

The last thing Atsumu expected Sakusa to do was laugh. It was more of a huff, really, a slight releasing of air through his nose, but in Atsumu’s eyes, Sakusa might as well have doubled over wheezing. Perhaps more importantly, he caught the beginnings of small smile tugging at the corner of Sakusa’s lips. It made Atsumu pause to see - a genuine Sakusa Kiyoomi smile – even if it was at his own expense.

Somehow, it made him want to delve deep into the recesses of his brain for more jokes, for quips or witty sayings – something, anything, to make the smile last just a little longer—

Did MSBY also have a heating problem? Why did he suddenly feel the need to loosen his tie? Maybe he was just coming down with something.

‘Can’t you, um,’—he cleared his throat– ‘Can’t you just, like, hack us out of here? Isn’t the door digital?’

Sakusa hummed. His smile had faded and Neutral Sakusa had returned. ‘I left my phone in the office.’

Atsumu held out his own phone. ‘So use mine.’

‘I can’t. It doesn’t have the software.’

‘Tch,’ Atsumu scoffed. ‘I s’pose brawn is better than brain after all.’

(12:20) To: the bokkunator

bro I am literally locked in 3f supply room

come get me out

be discreet

(12:21) From: the bokkunator

ON MY WAY CAPTAIN!

Remember to breathe!

But not too fast or you might use up all the air and die?

‘Bokkun’s on the way,’ he said and pocketed his phone again. ‘He’ll get us out.’

‘No he won’t,’ Sakusa said with far too much certainty. Atsumu thought he was about to insult Bokuto’s abilities, but instead he said, ‘We’re not getting out of here until he decides we can.’

So now Sakusa was some kind of prophetic messenger? What next?

‘Who’s he?’

‘Inunaki.’

Atsumu tilted his head. Why would Inunaki lock them in the supply room? He’d given Atsumu his word he’d help them, not hinder them. Was this a double-cross? Was he Meian’s spy all along?

The room suddenly felt even smaller, the distance between them shorter, the mannequin head staring at Atsumu with its fuck-ugly button eyes that much creepier.

‘He betrayin’ us or somethin’?’ Atsumu shifted his weight nervously. ‘We about to get busted?’

Sakusa gave another contemplative hum. ‘No,’ he replied. ‘Inunaki just fancies himself a comedian, that’s all. Don’t worry. once we get out of here, I’ll make sure to tell him not to quit his day job.’

Atsumu didn't know what to say to that, so he pulled the list out of his pocket and handed it over to Sakusa. It was three pages long, double sided.

'Your handwriting is atrocious,' Sakusa said as his eyes scanned the words.

'Thanks. So is yours.'

'Why do we need a Corgi?'

'Shouyou wants one.'

Sakusa narrowed his eyes. 'OK. And the crates of vintage wine?'

'To help us grovel at Meian's feet once we've won.'

Before Sakusa could quiz that any further, Bokuto’s voice came thundering through the doorframe. ‘I’M HERE!’ he shouted, a little out of breath. ‘I’M GONNA GET YOU OUT, TSUM-TSUM!’

Sakusa pocketed the list, but didn’t bother to straighten from his lean against the door. He just shook his head knowingly while Atsumu shouted back, ‘Thanks for being discreet, Bo! Much appreciated!’

‘NO PROBLEM, MAN! HERE, LEMME SEE.’

There was a beep, like Bokuto had just scanned his lanyard against the lock, but it was closely followed by a No Access Buzz.

Maybe Sakusa was right about Inunaki after all.

‘HUH? WHAT’S WRONG WITH THIS THING?’

Four more beeps sounded in close succession - then four denying buzzes.

‘I THINK IT’S BROKE.’

‘Yeah, maybe you should go and ask Inu—’

Atsumu was cut off by a huge thump against the door that rattled it in its frame. Sakusa jumped and turned around to scowl at the noise. ‘What the fuck is he doing?’

There was another thump.

Atsumu winced. ‘Uh, Bokkun?’ Thump. ‘What are ya doin’, bud?’

Thump.

If Meian decided to pay the IT office a visit, they were going to be absolutely fucked.

‘DON’T WORRY! I’VE GOT THIS!’ Thump. ‘KUROO TAUGHT ME ABOUT THIS THING CALLED QUANTUMN TUNNELLING!’ Thump. ‘IF I PUNCH ENOUGH TIMES,’—thump!—‘THERE’S A CHANCE MY HAND WILL EVENTUALLY GO THROUGH THE DOOR CELLS AND I’LL BE ABLE TO OPEN IT!’

Thump.

‘Somewhere,’ Sakusa told Atsumu, ‘that man is depriving a village of its idiot.’

Thump.

‘Don’t tell him that,’ Atsumu replied solemnly. ‘He’s trying his best.’

There was one more thump, and then the door clicked – probably because Inunaki was tired of watching Bokuto mutilate his own fist.

Bokuto shouted, ‘HEY! IT WORKED!’

When the door swung outwards, Atsumu was met by blinding sunlight and Bokuto’s open arms. He got pulled into a bone-crushing hug. ‘You’re safe now, Miyaa-Tsum,’ Bokuto told him. He looked up and found Sakusa standing by awkwardly. ‘Oh hey, Omi! You’re here too.’ He pulled Atsumu around to his left arm and extended his right. ‘You want in?’

‘I would rather die,’ Sakusa said, and then stalked right past Bokuto towards the IT office. Atsumu watched him disappear inside and slam the door behind him so loudly the entire hallway shook.

Bokuto shrugged. ‘Maybe next time.’

‘Yeah, Bo.’ Atsumu patted him on the back. ‘Maybe next time.’

To absolutely nobody’s surprise, Sakusa’s pick from the entirety of the coffee shop’s illustrious menu was a single black coffee and a pistachio cookie. Atsumu couldn’t even find the strength to tease him about it; it was the most ordinary thing to happen all morning.

‘Spit it out, Miya,’ Sakusa said as he squirted a hefty dollop of sanitizer into his palms. It smelled so strongly of pure alcohol that Atsumu had to blink the burn of it from his eyes. ‘What’s the plan?’

Atsumu held out his own palm. Sakusa frowned at it, but gave him some nonetheless. ‘In due time, Omi. First, I need to make a very important call.’

Suna answered the third time Atsumu called him, which was only slightly mortifying when Sakusa was right there opposite him, watching him get ignored.

‘Sunarin! Thanks for finally pickin’ up ya fuckin’ useless piece of shit.’

‘I do aim to please, babe.’

Atsumu made a face at the phone. ‘Ew,’ he said. ‘Wrong twin, dumbass.’

‘Nope. Definitely the right twin. If you were Osamu I’d be calling you sugar ti—’

‘Aaaah! No! Stop! I don’t wanna hear it! I called to ask you for a favour, not turn me off my muffin.’

‘Hmm? Well, whatever it is, it’s gonna cost you,’ Suna replied. ‘My services don’t come cheap.’

‘Yeah, yeah. Just put it on my tab. Where are ya right now?’

‘The restaurant. Why?’

‘I need you to go out and get some things for me.’ Atsumu relayed the list: ten rolls of toilet paper, hair bleach, toner, marker pens, and a heavy-duty toilet plunger.

Sakusa gave him a look as he picked apart his vomit-cookie, one that could only read as: what the fuck does that mean?

Atsumu returned it with a wink that said: trust me, Omi.

‘Is this what I think it is?’ Suna asked.

‘Absolutely, yes,’ Atsumu replied. ‘Tell ‘Samu to book cover for tomorrow and make sure you pick the toilet closest to the door, yeah?’

‘I’ll text you when it’s done.’

The line went dead. Atsumu put his phone down on the table and took a smug sip of his caramel macchiato.

‘A toilet plunger?’ Sakusa asked. He said it like the words were foreign and he couldn’t quite understand them.

‘Yer not the only one with special talents, Omi,’ Atsumu grinned. ‘I’ll have you know that aside from bein’ a thief, I’m also a qualified electrician, dog groomer, and plumber.’

Sakusa’s face cycled through ten different emotions in the space of three seconds. Eventually, it settled on horrified.

‘You’re not going to—’

‘Break another one of the Adlers’ toilets? No, I’m not.’ Sakusa sighed in relief. ‘Suna is.’

‘Wha—’

‘The Adlers are gonna need a plumber to fix it, right? Well, there’s one right here.’ Atsumu jabbed his thumb into his chest. ‘And yer gonna be my apprentice-cum-forensic scientist sweepin’ the entire room for prints while I work.’

‘That’s… actually not half bad,’ said Sakusa. Dare Atsumu say he actually looked sort of impressed?

Damn right he should be impressed. Atsumu was a genius.

‘I thrive on positive affirmation.’ Atsumu cupped a hand around his ear. ‘Keep ‘em comin’.’

Sakusa ignored him and sipped at his drink; he didn’t even blink at the bitterness of it. ‘That explains the toilet paper and the plunger,’ he said. ‘But what about the hair dye?’

‘Don’t worry,’ Atsumu chuckled when he clocked Sakusa’s warning scowl. ‘I won’t be touchin’ a single hair on yer perfect little head, Omi. That shit’s for ‘Samu.’

‘For your brother?’ Sakusa asked. ‘Why?’

Atsumu broke his muffin apart and picked out the chocolate chips to eat first. He popped one into his mouth. ‘Who d’ya think’s gonna be me for Meian-san while I’m off playin’ plumber?’

‘If you fuck this up, the next meal I cook will be yer last.’

Atsumu slapped another dollop of bleach onto Osamu’s head and brushed it through. ‘I ain’t you,’ he spat. ‘I’ll never forget the shitty dye job you did for me in high school for as long as I fuckin’ live.’

Osamu sighed happily at the memory of Atsumu’s piss-coloured nightmare. He still had the video of Atsumu crying at his own reflection in the mirror hidden away somewhere as a deterrent. ‘Neither will I,’ he said wistfully.

They were in Osamu’s apartment, because after a day spent working, Osamu refused to make the journey over to Atsumu’s place. Plus, he had the upper hand when it came to the political sibling minefield of who was indebted to who.

‘I’m already doin’ ya this huge favour,’ he’d said over the phone. ‘Least you can do is come over and bring some food with ya.’

So, Atsumu had brought over all of Osamu’s favourites and once Suna returned from gathering the supplies, they spent the next two hours dying Osamu’s hair to mirror his own.

‘As horrendous as this is going to be,’ Suna said to Osamu from beside his candlelit shrine in memory of Osamu’s dark hair, ‘it’s kinda sexy of you to be going undercover.’

Osamu grimaced. ‘It’s really not, Rin. Actin’ like ‘Tsumu is super hard. Bein’ a brat just doesn’t come naturally to me like it does to him.’

Atsumu slapped his head with his gloved hand. ‘Yer actin’ like one right now, fuckin' scrub.’

Osamu elbowed him in the stomach. ‘That’s because I’m already gettin’ into character.’

Doubled over, Atsumu wheezed, ‘Geez, it’s no wonder you and Omi get on. Yer both fuckin’ evil to me. Actually, Omi’s nicer. At least he doesn’t gut me with his fuckin’ knife elbows.’

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say, because Suna suddenly started to smile at Osamu in a very unsettling way. It reminded Atsumu of that moment in Onigiri Miya yesterday, when Osamu had smiled his secret-keeping smile.

‘What?’ Atsumu asked. He pulled Osamu’s hair back until he was looking him in the eye. ‘What did I say?’

‘Oh nothin’,’ said Osamu. ‘S’just that you’ve been talkin’ an awful lot about Sakusa recently. Like, more than just the usual whinin’ that he doesn’t pay attention to you like everyone else does.’

‘Pfft, what? No I haven’t.’

He hadn’t? Had he? He'd been talking about Sakusa a normal amount. Just as much as he talked about Hinata, or Bokuto. Right?

‘Yer tellin’ me you haven’t been gushin’ about the fact that Omi-Omi basically hacked the Adlers in less than twenty-four hours, ‘Samu, how cool is that? Omi said he was impressed by my plan, ‘Samu. Omi laughed at my joke, ‘Samu. Omi, Omi, Omi!’

Atsumu narrowed his eyes. ‘I don’t like the tone yer usin’, ‘Samu.’

‘Not my fault that’s what you sound like.’

‘You do sound like that,’ Suna added. Atsumu threw the empty bleach box at his head, but Suna ducked just in time.

‘Whatever,’ Atsumu grumbled. ‘Yer makin’ it sound like I like him or somethin’, but I don’t. We’re incompatible. Total opposites. Plus, Omi probably hates me.’

Atsumu thought back to Sakusa’s reaction when Inunaki had locked them in the supply room.

To be locked in a room with you of all people.

Yeah, Sakusa definitely hated him. He was only working with Atsumu to get his revenge on Ushijima. Once they’d won, he’d go right back to pretending Atsumu didn’t exist.

And, Atsumu supposed, he was no better; he’d told Sakusa he’d rather work with a feral goose.

But then Osamu had to go and say, ‘Then why’d ya look at him like he’s the most interestin’ thing in the whole universe?’

Atsumu shook it off by pushing Osamu off his chair at the time, but he thought about that later when he almost drowned Osamu with the shower head.

He thought about it when he bid his brother goodnight, and when he took the taxi home.

He thought about it when he showered, and when he sat at his desk to solidify his plans.

He thought about it when he climbed into bed at nearly two in the morning, and in the moments before he fell asleep.

It was just the bleach fumes messin’ with ‘Samu’s brain, Atsumu told himself. He didn’t look at Sakusa like that.

He didn’t look at anyone like that.


'We'll see,' Sam said with a smirk. 'Go and order two milkshakes, I don't care what flavour, and you can even keep your clothing in order for now. I'll tell you the rest when you get back.'

Sam waited patiently, allowing her heart rate to settle after her previous ordeal, though the thought of what she was going to make Lucy do next made it difficult to stay cool, which she felt was ironic. Simply watching her friend walk in the dress she'd chosen made it difficult to stay cool, in fairness, though. Sam had long considered herself open-minded, curious even, but something about Lucy made her want to put thought into practice.

Whatever it was, Lucy brought it back with her a couple of minutes later when she strutted back to the table along with the two milkshakes.

'Here you go,' Lucy said, putting them both on the table. 'One banana, one strawberry. Take your pick.'

'They're both for you,' Sam replied with a wicked grin.

'What would I want with two whole, large milkshakes?'

'It's your dare. Empty one into your knickers, the other into your bra.'

Lucy looked stunned for a moment. 'Y-you're serious?'

Sam just nodded.

'Oh my God. My underwear can't hold all that,' Lucy laughed. It'll go everywhere!'

'Yep.'

'Sam, come on.'

'We can just say I won if it's too much.'

Lucy paused again, seeming to genuinely consider the prospect. 'Alright,' she said at last. 'Fine. I see how it is. Just remember - you started this.'

'No I didn't. It was your idea!'

'True, but I didn't get you messy. Not yet, anyway.'

Sam laughed now. 'So you were going to get me messy.'

'Well, of course. That's the whole point. But not like this. Not so... obviously.'

'Alright. You've made your point. Now are you going to do it or not?'

'I never knew you were so pushy,' Lucy joked. 'I said I'll do it. Here.' She picked up the banana shake in her right hand, using her left to pull the neckline of her dress even wider than it already was. Sam wasn't shy about enjoying the enhanced view - it was a bit late for being coy after what she'd just done. Lifting the cup, Lucy took a breath, gritted her teeth and upended it all over her chest. The lid immediately fell under the weight of the thick slime within, and yellow gunk splattered pleasingly across her naked flesh.

Lucy let out a high-pitched gasp, then sucked air in through her teeth and gritted them once more. She naturally wanted to gasp and shriek at the cold slime now sloshing around her breasts and down her tummy, but she knew better than to yell out and draw attention to herself. She settled for mouthing several obscenities while alternating between gasps and giggles as semi-melted ice-cream oozed down her stomach. Some pooled around her waist but plenty stayed where Sam had intended - Lucy's impressive, now slippery cleavage.

To the surprise of nobody, but the great enjoyment of Sam, Lucy's nipples were clearly visible now, jutting out through the skimpy, slimy clothing she wore. Lucy noticed Sam looking, but was cut off because she could make any kind of quip. 'Quit stalling,' Sam told her. 'You still have one to go.'

Lucy shot her friend a playful glare, but it was hard to maintain any expression that wasn't some mixture of discomfort and self-depreciating laughter.

'Alright, alright. Hang on.'

Lucy lifted the front of her dress, mimicking Sam's previous ordeal. It didn't take much lifting, thanks to the fact that it barely covered her matching white panties anyway. If anything, Sam enjoyed this view more than the previous one and enjoyed it just as brazenly. It almost seemed like a waste to ruin such pretty underwear - white silky material, edged with sheer lace - but they would look even better filled with milkshake, she knew.

After some understandable hesitation, Lucy poured the second cup and giggled loudly as soon as the slop hit. Sam couldn't blame her. She knew just how it felt, and knew she would have squealed and giggled just as much, if not more. Even Lucy couldn't keep her voice down this time, and attracted several quizzical looks from passers-by. When they looked down to see what she was squealing about, their expressions quickly change to something more like bafflement or, occasionally, excitement.

The knickers, beautiful though they had been, were no match for a large milkshake. They filled and began to sag in no time. About half of the soft ice-cream was oozing down Lucy's thighs and pooling on the floor around her feet. The other half was doing the same, but inside her tights, trapped against her legs and creating a pair of absurd-looking bulges around both of her knees.

'Ah,' interrupted Sam. 'Hold on.'

Relieved, Lucy stopped pouring. She thought for a second that Sam would let her off, since it was clear to everyone that her knickers could take no more.

'Put the rest in the back,' she added with a cruel grin.

'Oh, you bitch,' Lucy shot back, but it was clear from her expression that she had already resigned herself to this messy fate. After all, what was half a cup of strawberry milkshake at this point?

She shifted position in order to reach behind herself with the cup still in-hand. It was much more awkward this way, but Sam offered no help at all. Eventually, Lucy settled for holding her tights and panties open with the thumb and forefinger of her right hand, and propping the cup between them with her left. It meant the cup was almost perfectly vertical. Instead of a steady, manageable flow of slime, the remains came out in one heavy blob, eliciting from Lucy the latest and loudest in a long line of squeals.

Despite the awkwardness of the positioning, her aim had been unfortunately perfect: ice-cream oozed right between her full, fleshy cheeks, coating them both, but also dribbling down the gap between them. Everything between her waist and her thighs was coated in milkshake and her knickers sagged under the weight. In her eagerness to keep it all in one place, she let the elastic of her tights and panties snap back into place and regretted this immediately when ice-cream squelched against her tingling pussy, soft buttocks and everything in between.

'How's that feel?' Sam cooed, her gaze swapping between Lucy's everchanging expression and her messy, bulging underwear.

'I don't even. I can't. Oh my.'

'Alright. Well done. You can stop.'

'Obviously I can stop,' Lucy replied, still a little more high pitched than usual. 'I've run out of milkshake!'

'You almost sound upset about it. You can always go get more.'

'Ha,' said Lucy. 'Not a chance. I think one knicker-full is enough for one day, thank-you very much.

'You're welcome.'

'Funny. We'll see who's laughing after your next dare.'

'Probably both of us,' smiled Sam.

'Probably,' Lucy agreed. She shifted awkwardly as she spoke, this way and that, trying to figure out the best way to move while causing the least amount of unwanted goo motion. Nothing seemed to work, and she soon gave up, accepting that she would have to settle for being constantly reminded of her slimy knickers at every turn.

'You can't just use Maccies again,' Sam interrupted. 'We'll have to go for a wander while you make your mind up.'

'Oh, you bitch,' Lucy laughed, knowing full well that Sam was deliberately trying to make this is as awkward for her as possible. 'Fine, come one. I know where we'll go.'

'Great, lead on. I'll be right behind you.'

'Yeah, I bet you will,' Lucy replied, shaking her hips playfully to make her ass jiggle. She regretted it when the ruined milkshake jiggled and squelched too. 'Oh, god, I wish I hadn't done that.'

Sam, nearly bent double, was too busy laughing to reply with anything sensible.

Even Lucy, usually so full of beans, had nothing to add. She set off across the food court instead, squelching with every step. Sam followed, her eyes begrudgingly leaving her friend's shapely, slimy bum every so often to check she wasn't walking into anything.

Still, it was Lucy who eventually broke the silence: 'judging by the look in your eyes, you must be hungry.'

Sam had the good grace to look embarrassed at being caught gawking, but she smirked playfully. 'I have been staring at some tasty-looking jelly for a while. Can you blame me?'

'Not at all. But didn't Queen Elizabeth once say "I don't think you're ready for this jelly?" Pretty sure it was her, anyway.'

'Sounds about right.'

'I heard you're quite fond of noodles, so...' Lucy trailed off, nodding sideways at a little noodle bar by the name of Naughty Noodles. 'How very appropriate.'

'How did you hear about that?' Sam asked, but quickly realised it was a stupid question. 'Frank.'

'He's very talkative around me for some reason. I can't possibly imagine why.'