Chapter Text
Robin woke up feeling like his head was splitting in two. Which, if he was being completely honest, is a weekly, if not daily, occurrence. So was having no recollection of the previous night, which, as you guessed, he did not. The only reason he was even awake was because his phone was ringing off the hook, and had been for the last ten minutes.
“What is it, Griffin?”
”You know, you don’t always have to sound so upset with me. I mean, I basically do your job for you. And you should really start texting me when you get home safe. I thought you were dead.”
Robin rolled his eyes. “Can you get on with it?”
”There’s an auction tonight over on the north side. I’m sending you the address now. Oh, and Finney will be there.”
“I don’t care about Finney.”
”Sure you don’t.”
Robin hung up the phone without a goodbye, falling dramatically back onto his pillow, rubbing his hands down his face. It was a little past three, which means he had about three hours to get over this hell of a hangover, draw up a plan, and make himself look presentable. For the sake of the job of course, not for Finney Blake.
He brushed his teeth for as long as he could muster, and splashed cold water on his face in a desperate attempt to wake himself up. It was unsuccessful.
He moved himself into the living room, setting himself down on the couch and opening his laptop to see the map Griffin had sent him.
Robin’s apartment was unnerving. There was never any background noise, for starters, and he had never taken it upon himself to decorate. The place was gorgeous, of course, considering the amount of money he had, but it wasn’t home. He loathed being there. No amount of money would halt his feeling of existential dread, no matter how hard he tried.
Finney, well, Finney made him feel whole. (Not that he would ever let anyone know that.) He didn’t really know how to describe their relationship. Enemies? Definitely not. Rivals? Not strong enough a word. Criminal acquaintances who always happen to come across each other and flirt on occasion? Close enough.
After intensely studying himself in the mirror for half an hour, he combed his shoulder length dark hair into a ponytail, and put on his signature all black outfit for these occasions, a long sleeved button-up with dress pants that were a little too long for him, but he never had the energy to get them tailored.
“What now?” Robin sighed, as he answered one of Griffin’s calls for the second time today.
”Are you on your way?”
“Yes.” He actually wasn’t even out the door because he had spent ten minutes picking out a pair of shoes, but Griffin didn’t need to know that.
”No you’re not. I can see your location.”
“What the fuck? Why can you see that?”
”Do you need Vance to come? He said he would be very happy to!”
“He did not say that,” Robin said, putting his phone on speaker while looking for a setting to turn off whatever Griffin was using.
”You’re right, but he would come.”
“I don’t need him.”
”Are you sure? Because you’ve really been slacking lately. You know who isn’t slacking? Finney. I saw Billy at the coffee shop earlier and he’s sold like, thirty things in the last month. You know how many we’ve sold? Zero! I’m broke! I’m not even going to be able to pay rent.”
He found it funny how Griffin acted like he wasn’t just as obsessed with Billy as Robin was with Finney. “Griffin, I hired you. I can fire you.”
”Yeah, but what would you do without me?”
Prick.
”Anyway, I’m sending Vance. Okay, bye!”Robin was going to kill him.
It’s not that he didn’t like Vance. It’s just that Vance did not want to listen to anyone else. He never cared about Robin’s plan, he just did whatever felt right in the moment. And the worst part was, it always seemed to work, which is why Griffin absolutely loved him.
He didn’t have the energy, or the patience to fight with Griffin on this, today, or ever, so he prepared himself for a very exhausting night with Vance at the auction.
Robin was good at being confident, making himself seem like he belonged. It was a very important part of his job, of course. If someone suspected anything out of the ordinary, you were out of there.
Which is why he was fine with Vance being late. He easily engaged in popular gossip with these people he had never met before in his life. He let the women flirt with him, and, if he was telling the truth, flirted back just a little. It was exciting, and these things were so, so boring. Plus, it gave him practice.
He excused himself from one of these conversations when he saw a familiar head of slightly curly, dirty blonde hair. He took it upon himself to slide into the seat next to him.
“Hello, beautiful,” Robin whispered, leaning close to speak directly into Finney’s ear.
“You know, you’re not as hot as you think you are,” Finney replied, unmoving his head from the front of the room.
“Well, by the way your face is turning red, I’m pretty sure I am.”
Finney leaned away from him. Robin smirked to himself. Finney was flustered. He wasn’t cocky (well, maybe a little bit), but he knew he had that effect on people. But having that effect on Finney? He was almost flustered himself.
At the near end of the auction, the most valuable item, that the two were present for, appeared on stage. It was a painting, which in Robin’s opinion, was horrendous, but he never did have an eye for design. He knew from his time in his line of work, though, that rich people would fight over anything.
As he was going over his plan in his mind, the lights went out. “May the best man win,” Finney whispered.
The obvious blackout. He should’ve known.
He immediately jumped up from his seat, not bothering to find Vance. He heard some grunts from the other side of the room, assuming Finney was probably in a fight over there. Robin and Finney weren’t the only people who came to rob these kinds of places. There was usually at least one other person, or group, that Robin would have to ward off.
Like they had read his goddamn mind, he was stopped by one of these people. Now, Robin could fight very, very well, but he was also fairly short. The man that had come up to him was tall, and bulky, and could probably squash him like a fly.
Robin threw the first punch, but the man dodged it, punching Robin in the stomach. He regained his stature quickly, going in for a kick. It made the man stumble a little bit, thank god.
He was about to go in for another when the man pulled out a knife. What ever happened to being civil?
He wasn’t really sure what to do now, and he knew he was taking way too long to decide. Suddenly, the man fell to the floor, and Robin looked up, seeing Vance right in front of his face.
“I had that,” Robin muttered.
“Yeah, sure you did.”
Robin was about to tell Vance to fuck off and go get the painting, when the lights flickered on. His eyes glanced to the stage and the stand previously holding the painting was empty.
Griffin was going to kick his ass.
Robin had taken a taxi, and Vance had not. Vance didn’t care about being discreet, because he was an idiot, so Robin said fuck it and rode with Vance, because getting a taxi in New York City was hell.
As he suspected, he was already receiving an incoming call from Griffin. He put it on speaker so Vance could listen in. If he had to, so did Vance. He didn’t even have time to speak before Griffin began shouting.
”ARE YOU GUYS SERIOUS? YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELVES.”
Robin didn’t respond, letting Griffin continue his rant.
”WHAT WERE YOU TWO DOING?”
“Vance wasn’t with me.”
”Vance, I’m going to be calm about this. WHERE WERE YOU?”
Vance shrugged, even though Griffin couldn’t see him. “I was busy.”
”BUSY WITH WHAT? SOMETHING MORE IMPORTANT THAN A MILLION DOLLARS?”
“It’s none of your goddamn business,” Vance spit. Now Robin was intrigued.
”When I have to start sleeping on your couches you two will regret ‘being busy.’”
Robin hung up, putting his head in his hands and muttering Spanish curse words to himself.
“Do you know Bruce?”
There it is.
“Why? You have a crush?”
“Forget it,” Vance gritted.
Vance Hopper had a crush. Robin smiled to himself. He could let the fact Vance ditched him slide, just this once. Because he, himself, had forgotten every aspect of his plan when Finney’s cheeks turned red.
Robin spent the night on Vance’s couch, because Vance had told him he was not driving out of his way for him, even if it was only five minutes. This was perfectly fine with Robin, because he hated being home by himself anyway, but he wouldn’t tell Vance that.
Griffin had shown up banging on the door at a time that was earlier than anyone should be awake, and thoroughly went through a plan for an event on the weekend with them. Robin hated letting Griffin boss him around like that, but they needed his help.
There was going to be a party on Saturday, some rich assholes just wanting to spend money, he assumed. He honestly wasn’t sure how Griffin found all of these places and knew all of these people, but he was grateful.
He could tell Vance was thinking the same thing as him - would Finney, in his case Bruce, be there? The two were partners, so if one was there, the other would be. But he figured if Griffin knew, he would say it. So they would just have to wait and see.
“Everyone got it?”
The ‘everyone’ was unnecessary, considering the only people in the room were Vance and Robin. “Yeah, Griff. We had it the first six times.”
“Fuck you and fuck you,” Griffin stood up, pointing to each of them as he spoke.
“Aw, the little guy is angry,” Vance made a pouting face.
“Billy said Bruce was asking about you.”
“He was?” Vance nearly dropped the beer bottle he was holding (Robin wasn’t the only borderline alcoholic), and his eyes lit up in a way no one had ever seen them do before.
“No,” Griffin smiled.
“Damn, Vance. He really got you there,” Robin smirked.
“And now I know you’re both fraternizing with the enemy!”
“Like you don’t just happen to go to the coffee shop at the exact same time as Billy every day.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Griffin crossed his arms.
Robin checked his watch. “It’s almost eight.”
Griffin’s eyes widened in fear. He tightened his arms even closer to his chest. “I don’t care.”
“Okay.”
They sat in silence for approximately three and a half minutes, while Griffin tapped his foot anxiously. “You know, he’ll be expecting me.”
“Right, of course.”
Griffin couldn’t contain himself any longer as he gathered his materials off the coffee table and ran out the door, not giving them the time to say anything. Vance and Robin bursted into laughter as soon as the door slammed.
The days leading up to Saturday felt like they had gone by faster than normal. Most likely because Robin really did not want to go. He was just so incredibly tired of this job. It used to be exhilarating, a rush, and now it was something he was constantly dreading.
He felt like he needed a purpose - to do something that actually meant something to people. Whenever he mentioned this to Griffin, he told him to shut the fuck up and stop watching so many soap operas.
He wondered if Finney ever felt this way, but it wasn’t his place to ask. Flirting was okay, but asking him questions like that would be a step too far. He wanted, he craved, that kind of intimacy.
Griffin took it upon himself to drive Robin and Vance to the house himself, as if they were dogs that couldn’t find their way. He said he wouldn’t pick them up though. Asshole. He would never let himself be put in the line of fire.
Most of the party seemed to be outside in the courtyard, with just a few people inside. Vance and Robin made their way in, clearly both amazed at the size of the house. This person was rich rich.
Robin looked around at the walls as he made his way to the back with Vance. The faces that were hung on the walls looked oddly familiar and- Oh.
Robin frantically began hitting Vance’s arm. “What?”
“This is Finney’s house,” He whisper-shouted.
“Oh shit. Are you sure?”
“Pretty fucking sure,” Robin replied, gesturing to the pictures on the wall. Robin looked out through the back window and pointed. “And he’s right there.”
“Do we leave?”
“No! No. Fuck, okay. Let’s just follow the plan.”
The plan was Robin would go upstairs, and Vance would keep watch. Griffin had even invested in ear pieces for them. It should still work out fine, as long as Finney, or nobody else that knew who they were, saw them.
He honestly felt guilty stealing from Finney. I mean, he wasn’t going to take a lot. Just his most valuable things and-
Okay, maybe he was going to take a lot.
But he had to do it. It’s not that he needed the money, Griffin was just overdramatic about that. He just wanted Griffin off his ass so that he could go back into his hole of pity and self-wallowing.
This was going to be more difficult than he thought, considering Finney’s house was a goddamn mansion. Robin knew Finney would be smart enough to keep his most important things hidden away. A safe? Probably a secret room with the size of this place. God, Griffin really hadn’t educated him enough.
He was pressing walls on room number three (yes, he was still sure about the secret room), when he heard footsteps. He could be so anxious he was imagining it, but he didn’t wanna take the risk. Especially if the steps were the sound of Finney.
“Vance?”
No response.
“Vance, seriously. Come on.”
Vance sat at the very bottom of the stairs, tapping his foot on the hardwood floor so hard he might break it. His head snapped up when he heard the voice that had recently become his favorite.
“Vance? What are you doing here?”
“Oh, um, hi,” Vance cleared his throat. Could he be any more obvious? “I’m just, you know.” Okay, apparently he could.
“Do you wanna go get a drink?”
“Yeah, sure. That sounds... good.”
Jesus, Vance, be cool.
He didn’t think of Robin at all as he took Bruce’s extended hand and made his way to the open bar.
Fine, fuck you too, Vance. He didn’t need him anyway. The footsteps seemed to have dispersed, so he should be fine. Plus, who would be upstairs anyway? Everything was fine.
He had about thirty seconds of reassuring himself before everything went black.