Summary: AtoYuu, in which Atobe does everything backwards and somewhat underhandedly, but who's to say whether doing things the right way would have resulted in as sweet an outcome anyway? AU.
Notes: This began as a drabble for the prompt 'ninja' and evolved into a longer fic.
Equivalent Exchange
By Miki
Yuuta, if asked, would have said his initial plan was never supposed to have entailed being caught, anymore so than being tied to a chair, threatened with a kitchen knife or then stared at, as a result of being caught.
The funny thing was that when he found himself straddled, sitting with his back against something hard, head throbbing and his eyes blearily (and slowly) adjusting to the bright fluorescent light above him, he wondered if he shouldn't be the one staring instead.
"So you caught me, huh?" he managed, throat a little raspy and dry. He'd been nervous before and he was nervous again now, and the intense gaze of his sudden companion wasn't doing anything to help.
"It would appear so," the man responded, and Yuuta took note of the slightly amused note in his voice as he climbed off him. "People usually are when they're handcuffed to a chair."
Yuuta wriggled his hands behind his back, noting that, yes, there was the rather unfamiliar feel of metal around his wrists, hard and jarring in the wrong spot, now he was actually paying attention.
"So may I ask why you have handcuffs in your kitchen?" he ventured, wondering if there was already a police car on its way. Should he be busy trying to get away or did he have more time than that?
The man shifted slightly, hip against the edge of the kitchen counter; hard, smooth granite.
"Perhaps you can ask... after you tell me exactly what you're doing in my kitchen."
"And if I don't tell you?" Yuuta countered, wary of the telephone he could see on the far wall.
The man shrugged. "I wasn't about to go to bed anyway, so I have all night. You can think about it, hm?" he smirked, and turned around to where a coffee machine sat.
Unwatched, Yuuta let a scowl of annoyance slip onto his face, jiggling his cuffs to get the feel of how sturdy they were.
"You can't slip those," the man mentioned, turning back around, one coffee in hand. "Tried and tested," he added, a slight smirk on his lips again.
Yuuta watched him sip at his coffee, feeling no need to wipe the scowl off his face now he'd realised the predicament he was in. He hadn't ever considered the possibility he'd be caught by anyone other than the police, and the man in front of him in his suit and slippers, as though he'd only just gotten home, presented Yuuta with a weird problem. And he had no idea what to do about it.
"I haven't called the police on you, in case that's what you're thinking," was the amused drawl Yuuta next heard. "And if you tell me what you're doing in my kitchen, I may just let you out the front door at your own leisure... if you have a good enough excuse."
Yuuta swallowed, suddenly realising he still had a chance at escaping. He'd fail his task and suffer the consequences tomorrow, but there was always another way to do things and perhaps if he could convince his boss...
"Or out the window, if you'd prefer," the man added. "Since that's the way you came in."
Yuuta glanced up at his face, unsure for a split second just how serious he was, and finding a pair of twinkling blue eyes laughing at him, dipped his head, intent on boring a hole in the man's foot instead. Brand name slippers, he noted a little miserably. At least his boss was right about this place – the painting he was after should be just down the hallway in the main bedroom, and yet, there was no way he was going to be able to get there at all tonight. Which meant he was screwed.
"So." A smirk. "Would you like to start with your name? Or should I give you one myself? Cat burgler doesn't quite suit, of course. You'd have to be wearing something a little more fitting for that..."
Yuuta was not amused. Not at the double-entendre, not at the fact that his shirt was twisted uncomfortably and he couldn't even move to adjust it, not at the fact that his head still felt fuzzy. "Why should I tell you anything, since you'll just use it to hand me in?" he demanded grouchily.
There was a moment of silence. Then the man set aside his coffee; a strangely loud clink that echoed in Yuuta's ears.
"As I've said before," he said slowly, "Let's start with introductions, shall we?"
Yuuta stared at him, holding his stony expression.
"My name's Atobe Keigo. I'm the president of Atobe Co. And if I press this button..." he paused and slipped his phone from his pocket... "You'll be off to the station and into a cell faster than you can blink."
He took a step closer, slipping his phone back into his pocket as he did, Yuuta not unaware of the line of his figure when he shifted aside his jacket for a moment.
"You're an amateur," Atobe said straight out, shaking his head slightly. "Why would you accept a job like this?"
Yuuta winced, but amateur though he was, he didn't allow the embarrassment to seep into his voice.
"How do you know?" he asked, a tiny bit of curiosity evident in the way he looked up at Atobe.
"Well, if you were a professional, you'd have come in through the bathroom window or the back door even," Atobe replied dryly. "It's been done before."
"You've been burgled before?" Yuuta blurted, a feeling of guilt suddenly seeping in.
Atobe shrugged, picking up his coffee again and leaning against the wall.
"I'm a person of interest," he smiled somewhat wryly. "I'm sure there's a list out there somewhere of everyone who's anyone of interest to a burglar, and I'm probably at the top."
Yuuta frowned a bit, pursing his lips as he stared at the slippers. The statement was egotistic, of course. Had he not been sent to take this particular painting, his boss could have asked him to go anywhere else and he'd still have done it. There was nothing special about Atobe's case.
"I took this job because I need to pay off my debts," he murmured, eyes narrowing at Atobe. "Eight million, plus interest," he added, his voice hard as he recalled everything which had led him to this point.
Atobe eyed him carefully. "Interest rate?"
Yuuta looked away. "Thirty-five percent."
"And how long since you stopped repayments?"
"Two months," Yuuta winced, closing his eyes. He let out a slightly shaky breath. "I can't even pay the interest anymore... Boss told me if I took this job, my debts would be wiped clean and I could get out after this."
His brow crinkled a bit.
"I didn't want to be a thief," he said bluntly.
Atobe looked at him and walked around behind him, making Yuuta's skin crawl with a sickly kind of anticipation, wondering just what Atobe had in mind. The only thing worse than having the man in front of him was having him behind him, where he wasn't able to see what he was doing.
His ears pricked at the sound of the cup on the counter again, and then he felt something brush his arm fleetingly.
"What are you doing?" he demanded tersely, jerking his wrist. It only made the metal dig deeper in, uncomfortably.
"Uncuffing you," Atobe replied, voice close to Yuuta's ear. His simple proximity worried Yuuta it distracted him just long enough that he felt one cuff loosen before he could ask the question 'why?'. The ticklish sensations running over his skin disconcerted him, and he hoped Atobe was fast about the other cuff, not liking the way his body was actually responding to the inadvertent touches.
It was probably only a matter of seconds, yet it seemed to take an eternity as Atobe unlocked the other, Yuuta first flinching at a feathery touch, and then almost holding his breath until Atobe was in front of him again and he could pull his arms back in front of his body and shake his hands.
"How do you know I won't just attack you?" he frowned, eyeing the door more so than watching Atobe.
Atobe played with the cuffs as he replied, locking one again and twirling it around a finger. "I don't," he answered simply. "But you'd be stupid to do so, since I have a proposition for you."
Yuuta stiffened where he sat, hands frozen rubbing each other.
"What?" he asked. He'd honestly had enough of fishy propositions. They were what had gotten him into this whole mess in the first place and he hated that part of himself which still felt gullible to them – hated that part of him that almost hoped the next offer really would solve all his problems, because they only seemed to get him deeper and deeper into it every time.
Atobe smiled very slightly, knowingly. "You want one of the two paintings in my room, don't you?"
Yuuta took a moment to nod his head ever so slightly, not even bothering to ask how Atobe knew. Perhaps it was the most valuable item in the house, or perhaps it had been targeted before. If it had though, whoever had tried had been unsuccessful, so why was Atobe propositioning him as though he were almost prepared to trade it away?
He watched Atobe close his eyes for a second, and when he opened them again, he spun around on his feet. "Then follow me," he directed, and Yuuta felt himself standing and following, walking stiffly as he trod down the hallway. Why had Atobe turned his back to him now he was uncuffed? He could move freely; he could grab Atobe just like this from behind – there was nothing to stop him. He could still get those items and make it out of here!
But even as his fingers twitched, he pushed them quickly into his pants' pockets, forcing himself to wait, wait, wait. Every step felt like it might be a step further into a trap, but he told himself against all his better instincts to trust Atobe for the moment; the tantalising thought of being free and rid of his debts was enough to make him keep walking, even as he visualised the route back to the kitchen window, should he need to escape quickly.
Paintings hung either side of him, a statue marking the end of the hallway where Atobe turned, leading him into the main bedroom, a momentary glance over his shoulder the only time he turned around to check that Yuuta was following. His trust, if that's what it was, was astounding to Yuuta. It was a stark contrast to the number of times he'd been flanked by guards when he stepped into his boss' office, or the number of times he'd found himself shivering under the gazes of the men who frequented the hallways, sure that they were all staring at his every move. And yet, here he was as a complete stranger – a stranger even who had already been caught climbing into the kitchen no less – and Atobe was either too confident that he wouldn't do anything further, or too stupid to realise the possibility that he was behaving like this.
"Are you coming in?" Atobe asked, voice slightly clipped as he watched Yuuta standing in the doorway.
Yuuta stepped in further, making sure to keep his distance from the other man.
The bedroom made him feel more nervous still; too enclosed, the door too far away from where Atobe now stood in front of the wall. But Atobe paid no mind to the fact that Yuuta was standing stiffly, hesitant to come further into the room.
"This one alone is worth more than your debt multiplied by ten," he murmured and stepped up to a glass panel in the wall. Taking a few steps closer, Yuuta realised the painting itself was set back slightly, allowing for glass to run flush with the wall. He'd realised the painting wouldn't be likely sitting around by itself, but the set-up didn't so much spell 'security' to him as it seemed to point to a moisture and heat controlled environment. The sort of thing he'd expect in a museum, seriously.
He looked closer, semi-conscious of the brush of his shoulder against Atobe's until Atobe stepped away from his side so that he stood between Yuuta and the painting. His fingertips trailed lightly down the glass.
"It's stunning, isn't it?" he asked, eyeing Yuuta suddenly as though appraising him and not the painting. "One of only a few originals of the man's work remaining in the world. But of course, if you want it, you have to pay a price."
Yuuta's eyes shifted once again to the painting, eyeing the inner trim of the glass fitting. There seemed to be sensors set inside the case; he could see them from an angle, obscured very slightly but still there. His boss hadn't said much about the alarm system and Yuuta doubted he had the ability to disarm it in his current state. Nor did he have the opportunity anymore; if he wanted to get this by any other means than whatever Atobe was offering, he'd have to come back...
But the deal with his boss was that he had to get it by tomorrow – this and the other one he could see further in.
He crossed his arms, daring to meet Atobe's gaze again, though he couldn't keep the frown of apprehension from his face. "What do you want?" he asked, his tone clearly giving away that he knew all too well the trappings of this sort of a deal.
Atobe chuckled, his voice low and eerily soft, sending tickles and shivers along Yuuta's skin. "What can you give me in return?" he asked. His gaze dipped slightly.
Yuuta wished he'd never set foot in the room. He wasn't prepared for any of this, not if it was what he thought it was.
He shifted his feet from side to side momentarily, wishing he hadn't ever got himself involved in this mess, wishing he'd had the common sense to say 'no' rather than wish eternally that something stupid might come to anything good, cursing himself for not obeying his instincts and simply leaving when he'd had the chance.
But what was to stop him from leaving now? He wondered. He knew the bedroom door was still open behind him. He hadn't seen any signs of security, and from what he understood, the only security for the house were monitored cameras and he'd avoided those on the way in.
Atobe alone wouldn't be able to stop him if he did simply turn and dash out the way he'd come in... would he?
"If you're thinking of running, I really wouldn't advise it at this point," Atobe said then, Yuuta's eyes blinking wide.
So there was something else he wasn't aware of. Of course.
He wanted to kick himself. Atobe had probably called security just in case the moment he'd caught him in the kitchen. He'd be stupid to think anything else. Not that he wasn't stupid already. Oh fuck. How the hell was he supposed to get out of this at all?
"I'm sure you're used to dealing with businessmen of the unsavoury sort..." Atobe said quietly, "But I'm not one of them. If you strike a deal with me and keep your end of the bargain, I'll keep mine."
He was stepping closer to Yuuta, and Yuuta was trying desperately not to step back as Atobe invaded his personal space.
"And trust me, this is a bargain," Atobe added dryly.
"I don't have anything," Yuuta responded, his voice hard. He was trying to keep the worry from it, trying to keep his desperation from showing, because he realised the moment Atobe knew he was wavering on giving in, he'd have won. "I don't have anything I can give you," he said again, louder.
And when Atobe still didn't stop moving forwards, he felt his brow crease before he felt his mouth move. "I don't have any money! I'm so fucking far in debt that I can't even give you the time of day anymore! I can't give you anything!" And he yanked up his long sleeves to show Atobe his bare wrist; watch gone a week ago, pawned for little more than ten thousand yen. He'd tried desperately to hang onto it as long as he could, but in the end, the rumbles of his stomach and the possibility of being evicted from his sorry lodgings had taken precedence over a gift someone had given him once upon a time.
Nervousness and frustration and sudden hatred surprised him now, his own voice so vehement that for a moment, he was too shocked to say anything more.
But Atobe barely shifted at the outburst, and if anything, it only seemed to make him more determined to trap Yuuta in whatever deal it was he wanted. And Yuuta, tired and cornered and increasingly thinking of how much longer he could tough it out like this before he found himself out on the streets, finally squared his shoulders and demanded the question again.
"So what do you want? Tell me already!" he snapped out, even as Atobe came so close that his face was merely inches away.
"I want you," Atobe said simply. Making it sound so easy that Yuuta almost couldn't believe his ears. Making it sound so straight forward as though it were perfectly reasonable that Yuuta almost considered opening his mouth to agree.
Then he stopped himself and frowned.
"I can't work for you," he objected. "I have my contract still with my–"
A flicker of frustration crossed Atobe's face and a chill ran down Yuuta's spine.
"Forget Yuushi!" Atobe interrupted quickly.
Yuuta swallowed. Maybe this guy wasn't as clean cut as he passed himself off as. And... wait...
"How do you know who my boss is?" he demanded.
"If I know of him, it's only because he plays people for idiots and uses all kinds of underhanded methods to achieve his means," Atobe answered, not even skipping a beat. "And does it matter who your boss is right now?" he continued. "No matter who he is... If you go back right now having failed your task, you'll be paying a consequence. Can you afford that?"
Yuuta looked downwards, closing his eyes momentarily. "I don't have a choice, do I? I'm not taking your offer. I can't... I can't get involved in anything more," he insisted, stepping backwards finally, and letting out a breath. He could do this. He could walk away from Atobe's offer.
"That's why I'm offering you the choice of getting out of it all, right now," Atobe said clearly, shaking his head. "You do something for me and I'll give you that painting. Just one alone should be enough to square your debts to Yuushi and you'll be off his books. You won't ever have to see him again if you don't want to."
Yuuta was sure it would end up biting him in the arse later (like everything else always did), but looking at Atobe, he couldn't help but waver again and again. Every time he felt he could turn and leave, he realised he couldn't.
"So what kind of work do you want me to do?"
As long as it didn't involve killing anyone, he could probably do it, right?
...Right?
"I wouldn't actually define it as work per se, but I was thinking something along these lines," Atobe murmured, arm reaching around Yuuta to pull him back towards him again. Yuuta felt his hand – fingers splayed – flat against his back, and their torsos pressing together as Atobe closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to Yuuta's, not even giving him enough time to react. His feet were the slowest part of him to register the yank forwards, and when they did, he found himself stumbling, lips sore when they bumped Atobe's and he felt a little blood in his mouth.
Atobe at least had the decency to look surprised at that, their kiss broken and he lifted his hand to his mouth. It was just enough to give Yuuta the opening he needed to push the other man away in shock.
What the hell did he think he was proposing? That Yuuta prostitute himself?
"No," Yuuta said clearly, loudly. "I'm not..." he shook his head, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed slowly. "I'm not doing that."
"And why's that?" Atobe asked, arching an eyebrow as he pursed his lips.
Yuuta snorted, turning on his heel and walking. Someone like Atobe wouldn't get it. Even if all he had left were the clothes on his back, he still wouldn't abandon his pride for something like this.
"I have my dignity," he said, pausing in the bedroom doorway. "So I'm leaving now because I'm not interested. If you want to call the cops on me, fine, go ahead and see if they can catch me, but I'm not sticking around to screw you, not even if you wipe my debt."
"Wait," Atobe called out.
"Go fucking use your handcuffs on someone else," Yuuta spat back before walking quickly down the hallway, but Atobe was out of the doorway quickly, grasping his wrist so hard that Yuuta let out a gasp of pain.
"Yuuta! I said wait!" Atobe snapped, losing his temper as he spun and thrust the other man up against the wall.
Yuuta stared at him, both of them breathing hard; Atobe with adrenalin, Yuuta in shock and confusion. Even this close, face to face, Yuuta couldn't place the man in front of him, couldn't even recall having him seen him once before. But then why...?
He frowned and twisted his wrist out of Atobe's grip, catching it in his own hand just as quickly. He gave Atobe no room to move, wrenching his arm around until he knew it had to be hurting.
"How do you know my name?" he demanded.
Atobe was silent this time, not offering up any excuse or any reason.
And like that, they might have stayed if Yuuta's stomach hadn't chosen that moment to rumble.
(S)
"You realise, my house has been burgled twice before," Atobe mused, shaking his head. "Yet this is the first time I've had anyone taking food in preference to a painting."
"Shut up," Yuuta grunted irritably, face and ears flushed with embarrassment. He shovelled rice into his mouth and swallowed it down just as quickly, squirming just a bit in the chair where he sat. "Did you actually offer them food too?" he asked, glancing up.
"Of course not," Atobe responded, almost looking insulted at the idea. "Do I look like a philanthropist to you?"
Yuuta looked around. "Not really. You look like the other end of the spectrum to me," he answered and shoved another mouthful of food in. "So tell me how you know my name already."
Atobe let out a slight sigh, as though irritated Yuuta had brought up the topic again. "Would you believe me if I told you?" he asked.
"Probably not," Yuuta quipped.
"Exactly my point," Atobe responded.
"But you can tell me anyway," Yuuta frowned.
He was quickly coming to the bottom of his bowl and was wondering where the catch to all this was or if he'd already been ensnared and simply hadn't noticed. Having Atobe know his name freaked him out at the same time as instilling a strange sense of calm in him, but it worried him that he was behaving quite so normally about everything. Normally, as in... he was sitting in Atobe's kitchen and eating dinner which Atobe had pulled from a container in the fridge and reheated in the microwave. (He had informed Yuuta he didn't like having a maid around but he hated to cook for himself either, so this was as close to a compromise as he could get, and why Yuuta had actually bothered listening to the other man, he wasn't quite sure. He was supposed to be stealing a painting there, not nodding his head along to some rich guy's woes about the troubles of storing caviar-topped dishes in the fridge because there was no way someone who didn't even have a fridge anymore could empathise with that.)
As he watched Atobe, the other man gave a slight shake of his head and made himself another cup of coffee again.
It was probably the first time he'd had a full stomach in a few days and, contented, he pushed his bowl away across the tabletop, folded his arms and placed his chin on them. The clock on the wall ticked away rhythmically as Atobe fiddled with his machine and placed a violet coloured cup under the nozzle.
It was already past two in the morning, well past the time he'd meant to be in and out of this place, and well past the time he'd meant to be back at home, calling up his Senpai to let him know he'd gotten the piece Boss had asked for. The breeze he could feel from the still open window behind him reminded him why he'd come in the first place, as if he could ever let it slip from the back of his mind at all...
Maybe he'd wait. Wait a bit and consider Atobe's offer.
Maybe he could talk him out of whatever it was he wanted and talk him into something he could actually give the guy. Something that didn't involve anything like... that...
Yuuta let his eyes close for a second – just a fraction of a second, he swore – and when he opened them, Atobe was still there, fiddling with his cup, searching about in one of the cupboards with his back to Yuuta. So he let his eyelids slip closed once again. Just for another second...
He really was beyond tired.
(S)
It was bright when Yuuta opened his eyes again.
He jerked slightly, seeing something blue beneath his cheek, and as he raised his head and felt a tweak in his neck, he realised he'd had a pillow under his head. He touched it blankly, wondering what it was doing there.
Then he felt a brush at the back of his neck – something warm sliding across his skin, and he spun around quickly, almost stunned to see Atobe standing there, blinking back at him in surprise.
"What are you doing?" he asked, frowning and flicking his hand at the warmth at his neck.
"I wasn't trying to wake you," Atobe answered, raising an eyebrow. He stepped away, across to the counter where he picked up a discarded newspaper. "I thought your blanket was about to fall off."
"Blanket...?" Yuuta frowned, pushing his chair back and standing up quickly. True enough, what had been touching him had been a thick quilt, but why had Atobe bothered? And what time was it? It was bright outside already.
After six, by the clock on the wall.
"Have you been up all this time?" he asked Atobe, slightly nervously. He'd been sleeping for hours not minutes!
Atobe gave a quick shrug in response. "I had work to do. I'll take a nap for an hour before I go back to work."
Yuuta's brow creased before he could catch himself. "Nap?" he frowned. Atobe had not only given him a blanket and pillow while he slept at the table, but now he was going to go and take a nap himself? Didn't he have any sense? Here was someone who'd tried burgling him (and for all intents and purposes still needed to burgle him to get out alive) and Atobe was arming himself against the imminent attack by taking a nap?
"I can hardly go to sleep on no sleep what – a-ah – soever," Atobe drawled, his statement and tone somewhat ruined by the yawn that punctuated his last word and the fact that his sentence didn't make any sense. "You're welcome to help yourself to breakfast, if you're still hungry, and you probably have another hour or two to decide whether you're interested in taking the deal, don't you?"
Then he flicked his newspaper, Yuuta close enough to him to read the date nervously.
The deal... Right... He'd been thinking about it when he'd drifted off to sleep, hadn't he? He could either take it or leave it at this stage – it seemed too late for negotiations now. His boss would be in his office in a matter of hours and he needed that painting or he was not only deeper in debt, but deeper in shit too.
He let out a sigh, raising his hands to his face. What should he do?
He'd hardly been working for his current boss long enough to know what he'd do if he failed to bring back the painting today, and did it really need to be done today? Couldn't he just have a few more days to do it? ...Could he do what Atobe was asking?
He looked up again, rubbing his eyes and noticing Atobe still watching him, standing near the doorway to the kitchen.
"You really don't recognise me at all, do you?" he asked, somewhat archly, arms crossed.
Yuuta frowned. "Why should I? I've never seen you before," he answered quickly. What could he give Atobe other than that, he wondered? Could he simply wait until Atobe was napping and then take the painting?
How did he even know Atobe was being serious? The painting was worth... well, for his boss to be wanting it, it had to be worth millions and millions. There was no way Atobe was being serious about any of this, Yuuta realised. He was just playing him for an idiot, the same way he'd said Yuuta's Boss did.
"Never seen me before?" Atobe asked, tone seeping dry amusement. "You obviously go about your work with blinders on, hm?"
It took a second for the comment to sink in, and a second for the feeling of indignity to hit.
"Why would you say that?" Yuuta demanded. "You don't know me. You don't know how I work."
"Don't I?" Atobe returned quickly. Yuuta wasn't unaware of the touch of derision in his tone, and it irritated him, even as Atobe walked quickly across the kitchen floor to him, his slippers not making a noise on the cold marble tiled floor.
The silence heavy and ringing in his ears, Yuuta allowed him to get so close to him that he could feel the other man's breath on his cheek. But concentrating so much on holding Atobe's gaze, he failed to notice the hands lifting up to his shoulders until they touched him and he flinched involuntarily; an instinctive response.
"I've seen you at work," Atobe said evenly. "I know what sort of work Yuushi's asking you to do, and unless you get out now, you're never going to get out."
Yuuta couldn't answer, only dipping his eyes so he could avoid the stare Atobe was giving him. How could he have seen him at work? It wasn't possible – he shouldn't even know he was working for Yuushi in the first place, not unless he was involved somehow... But even if he'd come into the office, Yuuta probably wouldn't have noticed him, he'd been so busy trying to learn things from Choutarou, tying to keep out of Shishido's way and trying to remain inconspicuous.
He swallowed nervously, wishing the puzzle pieces would fit together already. He could hear the wall clock ticking away, the noise reminding him of the time slipping through his fingers as he stood indecisively, unsure whether or not he could even trust Atobe to begin with. His proximity made it impossible to ignore his touches and just try to think straight, and Yuuta found himself paying more attention to the warmth in front of him than the issues he knew he had to think over sooner rather than later.
What was Atobe thinking? And why wasn't he saying anything anymore? Was he –
He moved against Yuuta, opening his mouth momentarily, and the thought flashed through Yuuta's head – Atobe was going to kiss him. Again.
He tensed so quickly that he even startled himself, and yet, he realised afterwards, the thought never occurred in his head to step away.
He wasn't sure if he kissed back out of confusion or because of the split second it took him to register Atobe really was suddenly kissing him again and he hadn't just thought it was going to happen, but the reason didn't matter. He'd gasped before he knew it, and Atobe had slid his hands up the sides of his neck to cup his face as their lips connected and tongues entangled.
Atobe's mouth tasted of coffee, of that sweet and slightly bitter aftertaste of caffeine and sugar. His arms and hands and embrace were warm, and his touch more arousing than Yuuta wanted to let on. His fingertips ghosted against skin that hadn't felt anyone else's touch in a long time and Yuuta found himself shivering in anticipation as he found Atobe pulling back from their kiss, clearing a few inches of space between them as he unzipped Yuuta's jacket.
Yuuta took a cursory glance at the other man's parted and reddened lips, and at the glimpse of collarbone he could see through his partially unbuttoned shirt, and reached his arm around to pull him back to him again. Screw his pride, he thought. He didn't care why Atobe wanted it, but he was too far into it now to stop, and the thought of marking that perfect skin on Atobe's neck was only spurring him on.
And as for what lay below the rest of his clothing? Yuuta was positively burning to find out.
(S)
Atobe stirred as his phone buzzed, yet again, on the floor. The rattle against his belt buckle where he'd dropped it earlier was what woke him and finally had him irritably being pulled out of his slumber and dropping his arm over the side of the bed. He fumbled and grasped the gadget, lifting it up to stare at the screen, and, even upside down, he read the name and decided he needed to take the call.
It couldn't be avoided – not coming from this number.
He reached for his dressing gown, sliding it over his shoulders and tying it roughly at the waist when he climbed out of bed, shivering.
"I thought you'd call sooner or later, Yuushi," he smiled, shutting the bedroom door behind him and walking to the study. "But you could have waited a little longer, don't you think? A man needs his sleep," he admonished lightly.
Oshitari snorted on the other end of the phone. "I waited quite long enough, don't you think? It's hardly my fault if you're romping around in bed when you should be at work."
Atobe let his smile widen to a grin as he stepped into his study and closed the door behind him, leaning back. "I've already made up for it. I won't be too behind if I go back to the office this afternoon, and besides, since when do you concern yourself with my working hours? You realise you're in part responsible for the fact I'm taking the morning off," he chuckled.
"Responsible how?" Oshitari snarked. "So why were you interested in the boy in the first place?"
Atobe shook his head slightly. "I have my reasons," he answered vaguely, sinking down into his desk chair. He imagined the perplexed look on his friend's face and smirked, wondering if Oshitari would bother biting and pestering him about it.
But instead, the response he got was an irritated one.
"Well, fine then," Oshitari responded. "I got your painting this morning, delivered by Kabaji, no less. What on earth happened to giving it to Yuuta? But I shouldn't complain; perhaps I should thank you for getting him out from under my feet. Choutarou and Wakashi were getting a little too attached to him and spending too much time not doing much work," he said, sounding miffed. And at the mention of those two names, Atobe could guess very well why. Oshitari never had coped well with rivalry in that department.
"Well then, in that case, wasn't I doing you a favour?" Atobe responded. "I really rather liked that painting, you know, so if you wouldn't mind giving it back..."
Oshitari laughed. "Of course not! I need something to balance out Yuuta's debts after all. I took him on with debt, and now you're taking him off my hands, you can consider all his accounts settled and the whole business over and done with... But you won't be getting your piece of art back. And besides, you'll be claiming it on insurance, won't you, just to make my end of the deal harder." And he sighed. "I won't be able to sell it on the black market for a good couple of months, pushing a year even, depending on the amount of press attention a theft like this attracts. Oh, the things I do for you. I hope you appreciate this."
Atobe smirked. "Well, perhaps I'll just steal it back from you then."
Oshitari chuckled lightly. "And who would you have do that for you?"
"Oh, I don't know," Atobe mused. "With a little work, I'm sure Yuuta could be highly capable."
"You try that then," Oshitari snorted, but laughed all the same. "Before you worry about having him steal anything for you, you'd better tie him down first because he's pretty good at running. Watch your own property before you watch someone else's."
And with that, he hung up, Atobe treated to the repetitive beeping of a one-sided phone call for a moment.
When he slowly made his way back to his room, stifling multiple yawns now he was awake, he found himself lingering in the doorway for a good five minutes. Yuuta made a novel sight in a bed which was almost always empty, a funnily shaped blob under the quilts and blankets, curled up on his side with the pillow a good half a metre down from the bed head, pushed in as far as it could go against his shoulder and under his cheek.
Padding back towards his side of the bed, he looked at the now-empty inset shelf on the wall. He nearly touched the glass with a hand, sorry to see the painting go, but then he snorted a bit and turned back to face the bed. The scene in front of him now really made a nicer picture than the painting that had been on the wall for years anyway.
(S)
A few hours later, Atobe awoke. Sleepily reaching over to the other side of the bed, he found it cold, Yuuta long gone.
He sat up staring down at the empty space between the sheets, and after hurrying through his apartment and finding himself in the kitchen doorway, he let out a breath.
Nothing in his apartment was missing but Yuuta, and the open kitchen window attested to how he'd let himself out of the house.
Atobe really ought to have taken Yuushi more seriously, after all.
(S)
A month later found Oshitari tapping his fingers on his desk in anger. The more he tapped, the more irritated he felt, and yet, it took Choutarou nearly ten minutes to tell him to stop, and even then, Oshitari was almost inclined to take his head off for it.
"S-Sorry," Choutarou blinked. "But Boss, tapping your fingers isn't going to help. Isn't there something else you can do?"
Oshitari snorted. "I already rang Atobe. I told him the results had come back and the painting he gave me was a perfect fraud. You know what he said? He said he never promised the real thing anyway and what I asked for was what I got. I asked for the painting on his wall, but who knew the bastard had had a fraud hanging on his wall all this time? Apparently the real one is somewhere off in Europe!"
"I'm sorry," Choutarou bowed his head, placing Oshitari's coffee on his desktop with a clink. "Would you like anything else?"
Oshitari sighed, eyeing the worried look on Choutarou's face. "Not particularly, unless you're volunteering yourself."
Choutarou's ears pinkened, but Oshitari didn't exactly get a 'no', which was just the way things ought to be. Good riddance to Yuuta and all the time Choutarou and Wakashi had spent doting on him, he thought. Perhaps he ought to be grateful just for that alone.
And where was Wakashi, by the way? He was missing out.
(S)
Two months later, Atobe sat back on the end of his bed as he eyed the new frame on his wall, covering up the place where he'd formerly had a painting hanging.
Yuuta had protested he liked the old hanging better and that this new one was downright awful, but Atobe hadn't bothered listening. He'd anticipated the objections when he'd had the photograph taken to be printed and enlarged, but really, even Yuuta ought to be able to appreciate the pretty picture he made with a pair of handcuffs.
It was, after all, how he'd managed to tie down the other man in the first place.
Fin.