Written for shellsenji's prompt: "Reunion"


.*Terms of Endearment*.

"Getting to travel for work! How lucky!"

Bullet train, local train, and then the pointed taps of a brisk gait—of freshly shined shoes hurrying over pavement scorched by late afternoon sun. The stale July air was anything but suit and tie weather, and perhaps slowing down would have been prudent to benefit his comfort…however, a little extra sweat was worth it if it made Kondo's arrival any sooner.

Despite his already heightened efforts, the anticipation brimming within him could barely contain itself as it was, and nothing short of a full-on sprint would satisfy the pressing urge to move faster and faster yet. Or, as fast as his bulky shoulder bag would permit him, in any case.

"Seeing so many different places, meeting so many different people. Do you know how great that is?"

Desire and need, necessity to throw his arms around the most valuable treasure and hold tight…to feel himself held back and clung to just as ardently after all this time… These were the impulses that drove him, were what had Kondo Isami pounding the sidewalk hard while decked head to toe in professional attire.

A briefcase rocked in the grip of his left hand and keys already drawn from a breast pocket clamored in his right, all as he laser focused on powering his way through the oppressive swelter. It didn't matter how ridiculous he looked to anyone else dressed appropriately down and drifting lazily about their Saturday with uchiwa¹ and cool packs. Kondo had long been past giving thought to the generic critical gaze of society, especially when there were more pressing matters vying for his attention.

"Oh, and eating all kinds of new things, too. Psht, how nice it must be."

He was thirty years old, after all—thirty and already entitled fourth successor of the Tennen Rishin-Ryu. Thirty and leader of a fighting style he could now call his own, one that had erred on the edge of struggle but began flourishing anew after transfer to his name. It was because he was thirty and trekking all over the country to aggressively spread renown, to secure its position and vitality for the next heir and hopefully even the one after.

Indeed, Kondo was only thirty and yet felt he'd traveled enough to satisfy the rest of his life at this point, if he had any say in the matter. Alas, none he had, as it was crucial to answer that beckon of responsibility which ensured the livelihood he'd made for not just himself. It was no longer about only his future but theirs, and there could be no greater duty to fulfill than safeguarding that.

…Even if it meant frequent trips and cold hotel beds and meals eaten with those of a much lesser quality of company.

"I wish I could just take off like that…"

So, frequent travel it was. Of course, he dreaded it—dreaded that last hug and the small kiss which always followed. Dreaded the be carefuls and see you soons. But for every difficult parting, there was a return that much sweeter awaiting him. Absence only put in perspective what he was missing when he went without, and made him infinitely appreciate what he had when it was back in his clutches.

It was sensible, therefore, to rush even under such uncomfortable conditions—quirked eyebrows and pensive stares be damned. For the sooner Kondo's arrival, the sooner he could embrace everything that mattered most, and hold it like he'd never have to let it go again.

"…get away from my family without any questions asked…"

At last, Kondo veered about a corner, the soles of his shoes skidding along concrete as he came face-to-face with the sight for which he'd so vehemently yearned: Makoto Heights. Sleek and minimalist, the apartment building stood ten stories high with an entryway of heavy charcoal double doors embellished by diamond-shaped windows. There was no time to spare for appreciating pleasant architectural design choices, however; he bounded through the entrance with reckless abandon, heaving heavy breaths into his lungs while punching in his entry code and sending the automatic door sliding aside.

"…have my own adventures without all the annoyance and hassle…"

Naturally, the elevator was parked at the top floor. Kondo jabbed the call button, the keys in his hand jingling with restlessness while his heart pounded its ribbed prison. Shoulders rose and fell. His foot began to tap.

"…do whatever, or heh, whoever I want, y'know? No consequences."

Just standing around, even for a few seconds, was a challenge. He dabbed at the beaded moisture on his forehead and then glanced at his watch. It had all turned insufferable by now: the need for patience he didn't have, the rise in sheer excitement, and oh, the exhaustive heat made so much worse in this enclosed space with no moving air.

Still panting, Kondo flicked the tip of his nose and his focus shot to the staircase in temptation. Just as he started considering if a marathon climb would be quicker, the pleasant chime rang out with the elevator's arrival: an invitation he eagerly accepted.

His pointer finger depressed the fourth floor button—and thrice thereafter for good measure. And when the doors closed in again and Kondo's reflection came into view, he was rudely reminded of what unfortunate consequences racing around on foot this time of the year could have on one's appearance.

The neat look he'd fixed this morning had gone rogue in some places, disheveled locks betraying the commanding rule of all that meticulously applied styling wax. Kondo lifted his chin and gave his head a shake, then quickly ran fingers over his hair to fix what he could. Surely, he'd looked better, when his face wasn't red from exertion and his appearance not unkempt from an impromptu workout.

But it had all been worth it.

Because it was never about sight-seeing or meeting new people…

The chime rang, the doors split. With his heart beginning to hammer again, Kondo nearly tripped over his own feet while making for the left, toward the numbers 401 written in dainty silver font.

…It'd never been about trying new dishes or having so-called freedom he didn't even want in the first place…

Key into the keyhole, a fast turn, and once the door was sent flying open, Kondo's breath caught in his throat.

Natural light permeated gleaming floor-to-ceiling windows, flooded the inner spaces with an ethereal softness that left everything within glowing and glinting and warm. And there, in the middle of it all—Hijikata! Stupefied and rendered frozen, he stood with a clipped manuscript in hand and wide eyes fixed toward the entrance.

"…Kat-chan?!" The exclamation was breathless as the stack of papers he'd been narrating from fell limp, curling over backward from the top edge.

"Toshi!"

Luggage crashed to dark floorboards just beyond the genkan² and the keyring flew haphazardly atop the slipper nook, while Kondo's legs nearly entangled from the haste with which he stumbled out of his shoes. Etiquette and conventionality meant nothing up against the urgency of needing purchase—to finally, finally pull Hijikata into his long bereft embrace and feel him, smell him, hold him.

Pages of writing fluttered free through the air, cast off as though they were meaningless, as Kondo sprang over the threshold with his hands held out. Their bodies collided and his arms snapped tightly around Hijikata, hauling him forward and squeezing as tightly as permitted without causing pain.

Kondo took fistfuls of shirt, clenching the material while feeling himself enveloped in turn with mirroring strength, then nosed his way into sleek black hair to inhale. The scent he loved most inundated him so that his knees nearly gave way, overwhelmed by waves of satisfaction and gratitude and relief battering him and making him cling even further.

"Kat-chan." His name was muffled into his suit jacket, and though it'd been spoken in that ever soft and baritone voice so distinctly Hijikata, Kondo felt the unadulterated emotion it rode out on thrumming along the fabric of his soul.

Distantly, he became aware that he might have been holding with too much strength. Kondo clenched the shirt once more before releasing it and relocating his grasp to smaller shoulders, pushing back just enough to free up space for their lips to crash together.

The instant of connection was demanding and insistent, fueled by the racing of Kondo's pulse and every ounce of insufferable buildup burning this perfect moment into the depths of his memory. Palms rose to cradle Hijikata's cheeks, thumbs pressing gently beneath closed eyes as their mouths broke contact and immediately met again, over and over in a dizzying torrent of desire and exhilaration–until Kondo's lungs starved and he was forced to breathe.

He gasped upon drawing back, his forehead immediately pushing unto Hijikata's as he was unwilling to forfeit such closeness, while fingertips flexed and intertwined with locks of chin-length hair.

Hijikata's exhalations fell with matching intensity and his hands rose to clamp onto Kondo's forearms. "Wow." He huffed through a gentle smile. "Welcome home."

Kondo laughed once, just as softly and with a twinge of mortification for his lacking in self control. "…I'm home."

The corners of Hijikata's lips pulled a little further outward into his cheeks, his eyes managing to grow even more tender. "And early at that."

Letting his lashes fall, Kondo nodded and couldn't prevent his own grin from widening as well. "I, uh." He chuckled. "I skipped out a little prematurely."

A snort. "I'm sure Ito-sensei was thrilled."

"He'll get over it."

Hijikata returned the next kiss bestowed upon him, shorter and more disciplined this time—and with eyes remaining open. When their mouths parted, his brow suddenly furrowed then and he pulled back with a squint. "Wait. Did—did you run here?"

Heat of a different kind flashed across Kondo's face and his eyes shifted to the left before finding Hijikata's again. "…Maybe."

"Kat-chan! It's the hottest day of the year yet!" Hijikata released Kondo's arms, his nimble digits set to unfastening the suit jacket and shoving it off his shoulders. The escape of pent up heat felt heavenly as Kondo shook himself free, not particularly caring where the garment ended up while he began loosening his tie. "No wonder you're all flushed."

"And here I was thinking that was your fault."

"Taku³…" Ah, the sound of vexation laced with fondness—so typically Hijikata and how Kondo loved it. Through rims of dark lashes, he peered at him with adoration, which resulted in an epiphany of his own.

"Speaking of clothing…" Kondo pressed his fingertips to the light blue shirt Hijikata wore and took hold of the unbuttoned edges; he ran his hands down each side, then pulled gently at the bottom hem. "This isn't yours, Toshi-san."

Blush threatened to creep across Hijikata's cheeks. His brows pulled in and he tossed his face aside. "It was…convenient."

"Ahuh." Exhaling through his nose, Kondo's brows raised with a knowing smirk. "It looks good on you, even if it's a little big."

"…Well, there's no use standing around at the door," Hijikata declared in an airy tone, and Kondo had to bite his lip to not laugh—or abuse his power of so easily flustering a generally unflustered man. Reaching for Kondo's fingers and entwining them with his own, Hijikata gave a squeeze before releasing them and stepping off to the side.

He heaved the shoulder bag up, swatting at Kondo when he tried to take it, and then set off across the apartment. "I wish you would've told me you were coming in early, though. I wanted to meet you at the station."

Kondo followed in his footsteps, stopping short in the living space as Hijikata disappeared through an open door across the way. "Not feeling the element of surprise, Toshi?" It was a jovial inquiry, posed as he began collecting the papers that had been scattered over the floor. "I knew you'd be busy with writing so—"

Hijikata scoffed from the bedroom and called out, "Please."

Shuffling through the pages, Kondo's eyes lifted as Hijikata reemerged. "How's it going? Progress, or…?"

"Heh. How's it going?" Hijikata reiterated over a breath. One corner of his mouth pulled upward in discontent and reaching for the stack, he rifled a thumb through it. "It's not."

"Ah." Kondo slouched his shoulders. "Writing is hard."

"At this rate, this novel is never getting done." With an aloof shrug, Hijikata clipped the manuscript back together, despite still being out of order, and let it flop on the glass coffee table. His palm rose to press to his forehead and then stroked back through his hair. "Yet another WIP on the pile, I guess."

Kondo's lips pursed in a sympathetic pout and he closed the space between them, extending a hand to stroke along Hijikata's cheek and then pulling him into another embrace. "Ne…" he exhaled, his lips close to an ear. "How about this? I'm gonna shower and then cook dinner for you. And you can tell me all about what you're stuck on."

Hijikata's spine straightened and he lifted his eyes to find Kondo's. "How the hell is that fair?" he protested, his voice managing to sound both soft and agitated at once. "You were traveling all day. Why should you have to cook?"

Letting his lashes fall for a beat, Kondo shook his head as a tiny grin twitched at his lips. "Toshi-san, you misunderstand." He gave a squeeze to his hips. "It's not a matter of having to but wanting to."

Hijikata's brows pulled inward, studying Kondo in minor discontent, but he at last relented with a nod. "Fine. As long as I help, then."

"Deal."

A beat. "And shower with you."

Kondo lifted his chin, openly wearing his interest. "I'm liking these terms. Anything else?"

"Cht." Knuckles hit softly against Kondo's chest and Hijikata groused, "Shut up." Their lips met in one more brief kiss as fingers entwined yet again, and hand-in-hand, they made a beeline for the shower room.

And though Kondo was fully present in the present itself, his mind revisited that conversation from last night, if only for a moment.

"It's just that my dojo is so busy that sensei never allows me to leave for long. I'm stuck in one place forever," Katsura had said at the networking dinner, red-faced and with sake cup raised. "Yes. You guys who get to traipse around in the name of business" His eyes had drifted to Kondo and Saigo, to Ito and Sakamoto. "You really have all the luck."

While Kondo undid the intricacies of Hijikata's attire…while Hijikata undid the intricacies of his own, he had to acknowledge just indeed how lucky he was—not because of the reasons Katsura had cited, but because he could always come home to this.

"You're smiling, Kondo-san," Hijikata noted without lifting his gaze from the line of shirt buttons he made quick work of undoing.

And that…well, that only made Kondo smile even more.


Thank you for reading!

¹ uchiwa: A traditional fan that doesn't fold, and an essential item in the hell known as Japanese summer
² genkan: The recessed part of the entryway where one removes their shoes before entering a home or some businesses
³ taku: Shortened from mataku. Used to express annoyance