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When the official assembly of their unit - or what's left of it anyway - is over, and the soldiers under Tsurumi's command are brought up to speed, it's finally time to meet in private. Away from prying eyes and curious ears. They choose an unassuming inn's room for that purpose. Or more like Tsukishima does, having prepared everything beforehand, anticipating that his superior officer would expect the unabridged version of the report afterward.
Tsukishima has been looking forward to this reunion. For more reasons than one.
All four of them gathered with First Lieutenant Tsurumi at their centre, it almost feels like they reversed the flow of time. Back to good old days. Except Superior Private Ogata has been permanently replaced with his equal in rank - Usami, Warrant Officer Kikuta couldn't look more out of place if he tried and Tsukishima... Tsukishima is someone else entirely now.
Then there's Tsurumi.
Once upon a time a distant and unreachable star - or at least that's the impression he adamantly showed to the outward world - you could gain access to now and bask in his light if only you knew how to ask. How to approach. And Tsukishima wasn't afraid to get burned. Not anymore.
He can't resist - doesn't want to - the pull of gravity and steps forward, with purpose. The initial surprise in First Lieutenant's gaze vanishes as quickly as it appears and he allows Tsukishima his forwardness. Following the impossible compulsion, he cradles his face reverently. Finally. Having confirmed the tangible presence of his Lieutenant with his own touch now, he feels something akin to relief.
Tsukishima's calloused fingertips begin to map out the familiar expanse of Tsurumi's face under the latter's watchful gaze - the high cheekbones that have become so pronounced over time, the dimples, the impeccable skin giving way to angry red of scarring. His superior closes his eyes and hums approvingly when Tsukishima's thumbs rub tenderly the place where the circles under his eyes would be, his attention drawn to the taller man's eyelashes that were inexplicably still present.
It'd be a lie to say he ever minded the difference in their height, and yet presently there's an undeniable curl of frustration in his gut at this mere fact. It won't do. So Tsukishima takes a deep breath and letting go of Tsurumi's face, grasps firmly at his forearms instead. He ignores the questioning glance. For his purposes, he needs to tower over the man. The next course of his actions already settled in his mind, he maneuvers him around and pushes into nearest beat-up wood chair, none too gently. The aged furniture creaks in protest.
There's an immediate if rather subdued reaction coming from his right, Usami's offended voice of upset, at his audacity no doubt, and Kikuta's almost inaudible gasp. Their worry relieved with Tsurumi's flick of hand in a dismissive gesture. It's alright. Do not interrupt.
Persistently paying others no mind, Tsukishima simply locks his eyes with his Lieutenant's. Finding nothing but approval in the intense stare directed at him, he presses forward, resting his right knee on the front edge of a seat, and spreading Tsurumi's legs in the process. Just a hint at his intentions.
He leans further down, one hand supporting his weight on the left armrest - mindful to not block the view of the other inhabitant of the room - he relishes the idea of having Tsurumi trapped under him, only mere inches between them. Tsurumi's arms, on the other hand, remain still, compliantly, at his sides. He doesn't need a worded command to understand his needs, he knows him so well, and Tsukishima's pleased.
Gradually, Tsukishima can feel the dreadful cold seeped into his bones melting.
It's been a couple of excessively long months and every tiny gesture feels like too much, too little. He tangles the fingers of his other hand gingerly between Tsurumi's silky hair strands and pulls his head up just a fraction to press his lips to the cold headplate, absent-mindedly noting the almost invisible trace his breath leaves on its surface.
He'd rather be kissing the actual skin of his scarred forehead, the threat of infecting the wound be damned.
Toying with the idea, he lets his fingers play with the leather straps. He's perfectly aware of how these are constantly grinding into Tsurumi's skin, his hair, rubbing it off in spite of Tsurumi's best efforts to prevent that. So futile. For his sake, Tsukishima wishes he could allow himself to take off this forehead protector more often. It'd be so easy to undo the clasps now.
Ultimately it's the presence of others in the room that helps him resist the temptation. This is a sight reserved for Tsukishima's eyes only (or at least it's what he tells himself, he's come to realize the reality doesn't matter nearly as much as your assumptions about it).
The atmosphere spreading around the room is thick, somewhat tense, yet Tsukishima couldn't feel more at ease. The insistent silence of his comrades is almost deafening and at odds with the muffled sounds reaching his ears, as if through a wad of cotton, that Tsukishima has been purposefully ignoring this entire time. He wills himself not to make eye contact.
It's Tsurumi's rather impatient huff that finally takes him out of his reverie. Tsukishima takes note of his dilated pupils and slightly parted lips and just like that, everything else ceases to matter. Almost without meaning to he brushes his thumb over Tsurumi's bottom lip, feeling the edge of his teeth, before finally diving in for the open-mouthed kiss.
He swallows the hitched breath and the following moan. Encouraged, he adjusts the angle so he can kiss him raw, desperate.
Oh, Tsukishima has missed this sensation, badly.
It ends far too soon, when he registers the palm at his chest and a slight push, prompting him to regain control of himself. Tsukishima does. It takes them both a moment to compose themselves.
"Care to explain yourself, Sergeant Tsukishima?"
First Lieutenant Tsurumi inclines his head to the side, indicating the pitiful young man sprawled on the floor, bound tightly and securely, a gag in his mouth. Tsukishima meets his expectant gaze and then reluctantly follows his line of sight, finally acknowledging his other superior - in rank at least - registers the glistening sweat and helpless look on his face, but doesn't linger. Koito's no doubt in great deal of discomfort but otherwise unharmed. For the time being.
"You gave me the authority of final decision making, sir."
"That I did."
"Then I ask you to trust in my judgment."
Tsurumi draws out his breath leisurely, sounding almost exasperated. Tsukishima can't begin to guess what kind of tale will he have to spin to get out of this predicament, however, he's certain he'll manage.
"Very well."