Oho oho oho, Merry Christmas!
From: aceazumane To: sakunamikosuke
Message: Have a Merry Christmas! I had a really great time writing everything and putting the playlist together for you (I hope you like jazz, hehe). I chose your TeruMisa ship because I hadn’t seen much work of it, and I kind of wanted to pioneer the ship, to be honest. Thanks to you, I’ve started shipping them together, and I can’t wait to keep writing about them! I really hope you have a swell Christmas, and a happy New Year. I hope we can become friends too! (and talk about DUMB TERUMISA STUFF TOGETHER UGH THEY’RE WONDERFUL) (ALSO I’M SORRY IT DOESN’T GET CUTE UnTIL THE END)
Fanmix
Fanfiction:
Title: Thick As Thieves (A Thief/Con Artist AU)
Ship: Terumisa
Word Count: 4598
———————-
It was a chilly fall night in the city of Paris. Leaves were flitting and dancing across the cobbled streets and around the feet of well-dressed people. Tonight was the night of a private art gallery. Only a hundred or so people were invited to attend, and to receive one of these invitations meant a great deal to one’s reputation.
One young man didn’t have an invitation, but he planned on getting in his own way. He had been waiting for twenty minutes in a hiding spot before zeroing in on his target, an older woman in her mid-40s…she was alone, and he could tell that wherever she lived probably had an abundance of either alcohol or cats. “Or, maybe both,” he muttered to himself before stepping out into a streetlight wearing a well-fitted, yet simple black tuxedo, black tie, and black dress shoes.
He thanked himself for investing in the tuxedo early on in his career as a con artist as he made his way across the street. The woman didn’t acknowledge his appearance until he was practically on top of her, “stumbling” into her as he walked. Upon impact, the woman gasped with surprise, and immediately went on the defensive. “Watch it!” she yelled, and stared at him for his response. The young man smiled sheepishly at her and placed his hand on her shoulder, saying, “I’m sorry about that, I must not have been paying attention to where I was going. I have a bad habit of running into beautiful women, it seems.”
With his last words, he squeezed her shoulder, and her expression became flirtatious almost instantaneously. He was astonished at his handiwork—any normal woman would’ve taken about five minutes longer to seduce, but he already had her in the palm of his hand. Either that or she just hadn’t had anyone flirt with her in a while. He felt bad for her, she wasn’t bad looking, and she didn’t seem to be crazy. Yet. His mind was already trying to figure out a way to ditch her once he got into the gallery, not focusing at the task at hand…and inevitably not hearing what she had said. Twice.
“Young man…What’s your name?” She demanded for a third time, and he had finally snapped out of his own plans long enough to answer. “I’m—” he paused, since he had forgotten his fake name. He had to go with the real one this time, and he hoped she wouldn’t recognize it. “It’s Yuuji, Yuuji Terushima,” he replied, and let his hand trace down her arm. He could almost see her shiver at his touch, and it grossed him out, visibly so. “What’s wrong?” She asked, and he had to compose himself. “I just thought of my dinner from yesterday. Awful stuff—but don’t change the subject on me ma’am—what’s your name?”
❃❃❃
Misaki Hana had just finished her final preparations before the art gallery was to begin. She had chosen a seldom used closet to set up her base of operations, and she hoped that no one would try to wander in there. No one had the whole time she had been there, and to make sure of that fact, she had left a strange object in the closet that would alert everyone (including herself) that someone uses that closet. It had been an old doll that she found in a trash can outside of the art gallery’s location, complete with foul odor and soulless eyes. She had thrown it out before she occupied the room herself, and sprayed and considerable amount of Febreeze in the room as well; she didn’t want to suffocate of horrible garbage smell while she was preparing for her heist.
Her setup consisted of a laptop, her escape bag, and a tube to roll the painting, her target, into. She had had this whole thing planned weeks ago, and she had been working undercover as Ann Thomas, a young French girl who wanted to get into the catering business. Or something like that. She had forgotten her identity by now, as she needed to fulfill her job.
Misaki had been contracted by someone to steal the painting. Easy enough, and she was to be given 15% of the painting’s value. A bit much, she thought, but considering the client, she wasn’t going to say so.
The laptop had the security feed of the whole building up, as well as the room that had the painting in it. Instead of having the painting out in the open, the artist wanted it behind closed doors for additional security. It was a live feed shown on a projector in the main area of the gallery, where Misaki was about to venture. After running a few more checks on her replacement feed for the projector, she returned to the kitchen, where she was handed a plate and told to circle the room until she ran out. Misaki nodded curtly and zipped out of the room to fulfill her duties.
When she walked in, the splendor of the event made her catch her breath. There were shining gowns everywhere and even some sparkly tuxedos, but most men had gone the typical black tuxedo route. And they had the gall to try to talk to these beautiful women. If Misaki had gotten all dolled up to come out, she wouldn’t even stand near a man. But alas, it wasn’t her night, and she had other things to worry about.
One thing that Misaki didn’t know was the key code to get into the room where the painting was being held. Sure, there were ways she could do it, but her contractor told her that using her code breaker would set off the motion sensor on the door—and it was to be heavily guarded. That was news to Misaki, but it didn’t matter to her. It made things more interesting, and her contractor was going to help with this matter, anyways. It was odd to have a client help her out—actually, there were a lot of strange things about her client she didn’t understand. As long as they didn’t get in her way, she was fine with it.
As she wandered around the room, she noticed a man who held himself quite loosely on another woman—but he seemed strong. Too strong to be here without another motive. He couldn’t be trying to steal the painting like she is, would he? He looked too wild with his blond hair styled into an undercut to be a professional thief—but she kept that thought in her mind. Maybe it was someone undercover? She made it a point to keep her eye on him as the night progressed.
“Waiter! Waiter! We need drinks over here please!” called a voice from the sea of people to her right. She pinpointed the exact location where the voice came from, and skittered over to the group of three, who took drinks off her tray, causing her to raise her other hand to stabilize the tray. They laughed as she faltered, which caused Misaki to run away, flushed. That was terrifying. If her drinks had fallen over, she would’ve gotten chewed out and lost valuable time that she needed to complete this heist.
And her strong man was on the move. She followed him through the crowd and back to the hallway where the painting was being held. He took a quick, suspicious glance behind him before going through the door. Amateur. Now, Misaki’s curiosity was peaked, not only because he was going back to where the painting was being held, but he suddenly became more familiar. She abandoned her tray somewhere and followed him through the dimly lit hallways until he balked at the sight of security guards. That confirmed her suspicion. He was competition.
At the very least, she had to beat him.
❃❃❃
Yuuji had to break away from this woman. She was getting handsy in all of the wrong places, and he was tired of feeling uncomfortable for the sake of this job. He tried to move away from her, but she just kept after him like a fly on honey. He finally excused himself to the bathroom, and he hoped to god she wouldn’t try to follow—after a few steps, she kept her position. He sighed to himself and got on task.
The first thing he noticed was that the painting wasn’t in the gallery. Second thing? It was getting sold tonight. He had to grab it immediately. His original plan was to scope out the place and make a better plan for the next day, when they were going to prepare it for shipment back to the owners. Tonight he had to be especially crafty if he wanted that painting.
Yuuji wandered back to a door that seemed to lead somewhere, and he figured if he found guards, he’d find where the painting was. Once he opened the door, he took a quick glance back, to make sure no one was following him—nothing. He continued on his path to the back hallways of the establishment, and failed to notice the woman trailing him until he turned around to avoid being seen by all the guards posted in front of the door to the painting.
“Wha—Misaki?!” Yuuji whispered. He had jumped back a few feet with the discovery of an old high school flame—both his ex -girlfriend and volleyball manager. Misaki seemed just as perplexed as he was, and she just sighed at his clear incompetence so far. “Yuuji—you’re really bad at this, you know?”
And he gave the age-old shrug response and Misaki continued on to say, “You haven’t changed one bit, have you? Why are you trying to steal this painting?” She prodded at his shoulder, and couldn’t stop herself from blushing at the sight of him. Last time they even spoke was bittersweet. They parted ways because their lives were going to be different, but here they were, together, again. Now wasn’t the time for all of that nonsense, but she had to admit to herself, it was nice seeing him again.
“I’m broke. I was doing pretty good doing hitter jobs, but I’ve been in a drought…so I decided to try thieving. Didn’t expect you to be here, though!” Yuuji said, flinching at her touch. Things weren’t as awkward as he was expecting from her. He actually imagined their reunion with a lot more slow motion running and floating petals. Maybe a beach or something?
“This is my job, Yuuji! Don’t get in the way, or I’ll—”
“What, punch me? I’m the hitter here, not you. And it looks like you’re going to need my help!”
Yuuji gestured to the congregation of guards just around the corner, but he already realized what he brought up was a moot point. Knowing Misaki, she had made this kind of work her life, and she had planned this whole heist out. Hell, she probably already knew the guards were there. Everything was probably already set up, she was just killing time until it was time for her to perform.
Misaki scoffed at his recommendation. She had sleeping gas ready for the guards, and it was a lot more reliable than Yuuji. Plus, she didn’t know how good of a hitter he was. He would be useful, for cover, maybe, but nothing else. At least for this job. “Yuuji, I’m stealing this painting. If you want to leave this place unscathed, you’d better listen to me or face the consequences.”
Yuuji didn’t remember her being this assertive when she was managing their team. He could feel himself smiling because he could always tell she could do something like this. Maybe not as a thief, but as a leader. “Lead the way, beautiful,” he cooed, which prompted Misaki to giggle for a brief moment and then quickly run off to her hideout.
Misaki made sure to avoid any of her coworkers on her way back to the closet. She checked her watch, and decided it was time to contact her client. Misaki opened her phone, texted “2130” and then closed her phone, and started changing into a solid black skin tight outfit. Yuuji watched her for a few moments before realizing what was happening. His eyes squeezed shut so quickly, when he opened them, black spots danced around in front of him. “Give me a warning next time!” he exclaimed.
As Misaki pulled her boots on, she looked at him with faint disdain on her face. Her phone beeped twice, with the confirmation response, and the numbers, “8384198.” She held the phone in her hand and her eyes shot to Yuuji. “The sale for the painting is in 30 minutes. We have about two minutes to get in and out before anyone notices. The idea is to steal it right after it’s sold and the money is transferred into my client’s account. After that, my payment gets transferred into my account, and the payment is non-refundable after that point. Buyer gets screwed, I go home, take a bubble bath and have some dinner.” Misaki rambled on to herself for a while longer, and Yuuji nodded just to seem somewhat interested.
Yuuji wasn’t too happy that his entire plan (or lack thereof) was foiled by his former flame. He actually was thinking about somehow getting her out on a date later. But, he supposed he had to get out of here first before any of that could happen. His eyes followed her as she sat down on her computer and started frantically typing.
“Misaki—how’d you even end up doing this?” he inquired, watching Misaki work on her laptop. Her eyes darted across the screen before she slouched back with a delighted expression on her face. “Some things happened, Yuuji. I’m assuming something along the same lines happened to you, too. Now isn’t the time to discuss that. W-what?!”
Misaki started panicking, and her hands froze over the laptop. Skulls and other terrifying symbols started popping up on her screen, and she sat back in her chair again, with her palm resting over her eyes. “This can’t be happening. The loop I had set up got shut out of the network. I can’t tell if it’s a security measure or someone else far more advanced at hacking than I am.” Her hands started shaking, and her mind started looking for alternative solutions. She didn’t want her client to know that something this detrimental had happened, since there was a promise that if this went down smoothly, she’d have a steady job.
And that’s something she couldn’t pass up. Her client didn’t know her plan, so she had room to improvise. What to do…what to do… ”Hey, why don’t we just find the transformer and turn the power off for a short amount of time? It’s sloppy, but it’ll get the job done—might make whatever your escape plan is a little more difficult, but it’s an option.”
Misaki’s entire body shot out of her chair at the sound of his words and said, “That’s…not bad. How are we going to get the door open without the power on, though?” Yuuji took his jacket off, untucked his shirt and pulled out charges from his pants. “These,” he sang, handing them to her. Misaki started doing the time calculations in her head—and everything had sped up tenfold. Reaction time for more guards to come in was sliced in half. She was better off just taking the whole frame instead of wrapping it into a tube. That would mess up her escape plan, and things would get a lot more complicated. No, she would have to make time for that. Shorten the time on the charge—
“Misaki, slow down! I can practically watch your brain overheating. Let’s just do it.” Yuuji spoke, trying to calm her down. His hand rubbed her shoulder lightly, and it brought her back to reality. Misaki took in a deep breath and after a few moments, she released it. “It’s go time. First, we’ve got to find that transformer. You’re gonna stay there, and when I text you, wait, give me your number,” she paused for him to put the burner phone’s number into her phone, “When I text you, you’re going to shut everything down. I’ll blow up the door, get in there, and somehow, in under a minute, get the painting into the tube, out of the room, and onto the roof. That’s assuming I don’t run into any guards. Oh, god.”
A hand ran through her bangs, which were getting a little too long again, and she slid the laptop onto the floor. She proceeded to destroy it, and motioned for Yuuji to follow her out of the room. At this point, they had about 15 minutes until sale, and she wasn’t sure where the transformer was.
“This is going to be fun!” Yuuji jumped into the air with delight as he followed Misaki, who motioned for him to quiet down. “Now where would a transformer be in this building…hmhmhm…Yuuji, we should split…up…” He was already gone. Misaki instantly pulled out her phone and texted him, “where the hell are you?!” She could’ve did it in shorthand, but she wanted Yuuji to understand how angry he was with him. (She used to do that when they were together.) She ran around by herself, checking every wall for the transformer. Then, a loud voice made her jump out of her skin.
“Misaki! Misaki! Over here! I fooooound it!”
Misaki scoffed and ran towards his voice, and then promptly pinched him in the arm. “Hey! The first rule about being sneaky is being quiet!” Yuuji didn’t seem affected by her pinch or her statement, and pointed at the transformer. Misaki had to be pleased with him, if only for a moment. “Good work,” Misaki said as her phone beeped. “Oh, shit!” She started to sprint in the direction of the painting. That beep was the text that the auction for the painting had begun. It was going to take her 30 seconds to run to the hall where the room was, and another thirty to knock out all of the guards.
As she was running to the guards, she prepped the sleeping gas grenade to fire. When she arrived at the hallway, she threw the grenade around the corner, and pulled a gas mask over her face. The grenade started to hiss as the gas released into the noses of the panicked guards. She could hear cursing in French as one…two…three…four bodies hit the floor. Misaki turned the corner and stood right next to the door, prepping the charge to explode the lock. Misaki knew the motion sensor would go off on the door, so she decided to place it after the power went out. She held her phone out and waited for the texts to come.
“SOLD”
A few moments later, another text came.
“TRNSFRME”
Another few moments.
“DONE.”
Misaki texted Yuuji to go ahead with the power outage, and the sound of electricity leaving the building was the best sound she had heard all day. She set the charge and sprinted back around the corner, hearing it explode. The door creaked open, and she went inside to do her job. “I’m not going to have enough time, shit! Shit! Shit!” She threw her mask off and took the painting down from the wall, basically ripped it out of the frame, rolled it up, and put it in the tube. But, by the time she was done with that, two guards were outside the door.
While she was training to be a thief, they hadn’t really covered self defense, since, if you were any good, you’d be able to avoid these situations. Misaki’s phone was going off the hook, as she was sure her client was panicking at the noise.
“Um, hey guys, how ya doin’? Look, I’m getting out of here, so if you could just…move…” Both of them grunted as Yuuji jumped them from behind, taking one guy’s feet out from under him, jabbing at his throat. He swung around and kicked the other guy in the head, knocking them both out instantly. “Told you I’d protect you, Misaki,” he panted, walking towards her. She squinted and shook her head, and as she tried to catch her breath, “You never said that, but thanks anyways. You should get out of here.”
She slid the tube into her backpack and ran out the door, but Yuuji decided to follow her to make sure there weren’t any more guards. “Yuuji, you’re going to get stuck where I’m going!” Misaki called behind her, but Yuuji shook his head. “I feel obligated. I’ll find a way out, by this point, you know I’m resourceful,” he said, jogging behind Misaki.
Misaki ran up the stairs, and Yuuji couldn’t help but smirk as it reminded him of the time when they were trying to watch the meteor shower on the roof of Yuuji’s apartment complex. Of course, they weren’t the only ones that had the idea, but watching as Misaki’s eyes lit up with the light from the meteors. Her hand squeezed his, and when she turned to look at him, he felt as if the lights had decided to linger. He remembered her face turning from elated to confused, as his looked dumbfounded. He knew his expression had turned to mush, but whenever she looked at him, it was always a surprise.
He wasn’t sure why he never expected her to look his way the entire time they were together. It always made him ecstatic every time she did, like it was a gift, and even now, even as she was glaring at him, it was something. He wondered if she even had those kinds of wistful thoughts when they had been together.
Misaki kept running until she reached the top, and she texted her client “done” and waited for the final response. She turned around to Yuuji, whose shoulders were heaving from running up the stairs. She was a little exhausted herself, but she was used to this kind of stuff. Plus, god knows what else he had done between the transformer and the room. The way he was standing was the same way he had been standing after his last match of high school volleyball.
Of course, at that point, Misaki had already left for college, but she was still close enough to come to matches and watch him play. And to visit, often. It was hard for her once she left, and she felt like she took the time that they did have together for granted.
Misaki had been watching the rally go on for an insane amount of time, as was Johzenji’s style. But once that final point hit the floor, she could see the utter defeat in Yuuji’s stance. For just a split second, he was destroyed, but he picked himself back up for his team. He gave them all high fives and congratulated them before thanking the other team for the match. Misaki stood up and abandoned her friends for him.
She knew how he felt, and she didn’t want him to fall apart again, alone. She almost ran into several people, and with many apologies, she kept on running, towards the locker room, or where she thinks he may be. There was significantly less traffic once she got back to the team areas, and as soon as she neared Johzenji’s, she saw Yuuji sitting inside of a windowsill, looking out with a blank expression. A dead expression. He had removed his jersey, and it was balled up around his fist. Misaki could tell that he noticed her, because his hardened expression began to melt into frustration. She sat next to him with her arms open, scooting closer as he leaned into her chest. It hurt her to hear his sobs, and how they racked his entire body.
She even asked him if he was going to be okay today. He told her he would, she guessed so she wouldn’t be worried. Her hand rubbed his back in a circular motion until she could feel him calm down. The front of her shirt was soaked with a combination of sweat and tears, and now that she thinks of it, probably snot, but that was okay. He needed her to feel better, and she couldn’t shy away from that responsibility.
They stayed like that, somehow uninterrupted for 15 minutes, and all of a sudden, he started laughing. Misaki moved her hand to his head, ruffling his hair a bit. “Are you okay, Yuuji?” she asked, as he readjusted himself to a regular sitting position and put his forehead to hers. He nodded, his forehead rubbing sweat all over her hair. “You’re so disgusting,” she breathed, before pecking him on the lips. “You love it,” he replied, not only with words and his own kiss. It was a bit deeper than the one she gave him, and when they parted, he got up and skipped back into the locker room, thanking her along the way.
Those were good times.
And here they were, back together again. Albeit, within odd circumstances, but together again. They both felt warmth growing in their stomachs from their time together, and Misaki was about to approach him when her phone went off, this time, a phone call. “Meet me at the safe house in 30,” said a feminine voice, belonging to the artist of the painting, Kiyoko Shimizu herself. “Roger,” Misaki responded, and hung up the phone, promptly throwing it on the ground and stepping on it.
The whole heist was based on getting the painting sold to an unassuming rich person, taking a large sum of money, and then donating the money to charity. The con had been done multiple times around the world, but at small enough venues, so word didn’t get around that it was happening. The best part was them thinking they received the real one months later, after the police “located it” in some shady marketplace somewhere. There were four or five Shimizu fakes hanging around in mansions around the world, and the thought of it made Misaki laugh to herself from time to time.
She locked eyes with Yuuji for a few moment before rushing up to him and hugging him. She knew they didn’t have much time together before the police came running up there, but she had to. She still had feelings for him after all this time, and it was frustrating to not be able to catch up right at that moment. Yuuji squeezed her as tight as he could, trying to make up for all that lost time within a few moments, but as she released him, it wasn’t enough. “I’m going to go now,” sighed Misaki, as she backed away from Yuuji. They kept eye contact until she turned around to jump off the building, and Yuuji ran after her, looking to find out how she landed. There was a huge air-filled balloon of some sort there to cushion her fall, and she waved as she rolled out of it. She proceeded to slash it, and then throw it in the Dumpster in the same alleyway.
Yuuji smiled as he watched her run away, again. Now he had to get out, and find Misaki again, wherever she was going.
Because, in that last moment, he knew what his eyes were saying, and he knew what hers were saying too:
“I still love you.”
