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Hanamaki stood at the top of the Goldenrod Radio Tower, hands clasped behind his back and a smile on his face.
He felt like he had finally made it. He was the top executive of the new and improved Team Rocket, and he was successfully taking over the largest city in the region.
This was it.
“Hey.”
Hanamaki looked over his shoulder at his second-in-command slowly approaching him. His eyes were tired, and his lips were curled into a frown. Hanamaki looked out the window once more.
“What are you doing here?” He was supposed to be at his post.
“Came for a good luck kiss.”
“Shouldn’t it be a celebratory kiss?” At this, the man didn’t reply, and Hanamaki turned to face him. He averted his eyes. “Matsukawa…”
“We have a problem,” Matsukawa admitted, rubbing the back of his head. Hanamaki groaned, bringing up his hands to rub at his temples. “We’ve been infiltrated – same kids as last time, and they’re not alone.”
“Who- where- shit, Issei,” he hissed, pushing past him. He needed to get to his computer, contact the other executives, send out their grunts, view their security footage. There was too much to do, and too little time.
Where were they? How did they get here? Who were they with?
Matsukawa stopped him with a hand on his arm. He turned to protest, but his eyes were on the ground. Hanamaki’s face softened.
“Where are the others?” Hanamaki asked, and Matsukawa seemed to snap back into reality, ready to report.
“Kyoutani and Yahaba are stalling. Oikawa and Iwaizumi are on their way up. It’ll be harder for them to take on all four of us.” Hanamaki waited for him to continue, and Matsukawa sighed. “The others… well, I don’t know where they are.”
He thought they had done it.
“Takahiro, we might not make it out of this.”
It wasn’t supposed to be this way.
“We’ll be outnumbered,” Matsukawa continued, taking a step closer. Hanamaki stared at him. “They’ll force us to disband. They’ll probably lock us up forever.”
“Stop it,” Hanamaki snapped. He couldn’t give up now.
“I know this is out of line,” Matsukawa said, looking at him straight in the eyes. Hanamaki could see the pink blooming on his cheeks. It made his heart pound. “But I might not get another chance. I – fuck – I love you. I love you, ‘Hiro.”
Hanamaki froze, heart hammering in his chest, as he held Matsukawa’s unwavering gaze. His mind wandered back to the years they had spent together, from where they had first met, as Team Rocket recruits, to now, as Rocket executives. What was originally an office fling had been teetering on the edge of something more for years. They both left it unsaid for a reason. Hanamaki’s fist clenched.
How dare he do this now? He didn’t need to worry about this, on top of everything else. He now had so much extra weight on top of his shoulders. They might not even make it out of this alive.
Hanamaki wanted to slap him. He kissed him, instead.
He threw his hands around his neck, pulling him in close and smashing their lips together. Matsukawa wrapped muscled arms around his waist, kissing back fervently.
They had done it a thousand times before, in closets or on desks or in the middle of the woods, high on the adrenaline of a finished battle, stolen Poké balls on their belts.
This time was different.
They clung onto each other tightly, mouths moving desperately against one another, like this would be their last opportunity to do so. (It very well may be.) Tears pricked the corners of Hanamaki’s eyes as they kissed, but he wouldn’t let them fall. He only kissed him harder.
They panted into each other’s mouths, and every time Hanamaki would pull away to take a breath, Matsukawa’s mouth would chase him. Matsukawa reached out to grip his thigh, pulling it to his side in an attempt to get impossibly closer to him, and Hanamaki moaned into his mouth, fingers reaching up to grip his hair.
The door opened, and they stilled.
“Yoo-hoo~” came from the doorway. Hanamaki broke the kiss reluctantly, letting his hands slide down Matsukawa’s chest. Matsukawa’s arms loosened around him, but he kept his hands on his hips. Hanamaki turned his head to see the other executives walk in through the door, Iwaizumi with crossed arms and Oikawa with a pleased smirk on his face. “I wish you would kiss me like that right before we go into battle, Iwa-chan.”
“Can it, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi grunted, cheeks pink. He sniffed. “This is hardly battle, anyway. We crushed these guys to a pulp last time. What makes this time any different?”
“They’re not alone,” Matsukawa said, pulling away from Hanamaki and stepping around him. Hanamaki felt cold. “By any means, actually.”
“Well,” Iwaizumi said quietly, meeting each of their eyes. “Shit.”
“We have to go for a full-on offensive,” Hanamaki said, and he could already hear the distant echo of footsteps in the stairwell. “Let out all of your Pokémon. Don’t play by the rules. We attack as soon as they open that door.”
The three of them nodded obediently, releasing their Pokémon from their balls. Oikawa stroked his Arbok proudly, Iwaizumi patted his Houndoom, and Matsukawa placed a kiss on both of his Weezing’s heads. Hanamaki released his six Pokémon along with his Crobat, which landed on his head and rested there.
The door was kicked open, an orange-haired boy leading a group of twelve into the room, and the four of them ordered their Pokémon to attack.
They won by the skin of their teeth.
If it weren’t for the element of surprise, they would have lost without a doubt. The trainers were bombarded with the twenty-four Pokémon they had sent out, each of them charging at them, spitting out attacks in a chaotic, unorderly assault.
But there they stood, chests heaving, two Pokémon that were barely able to stand left between the four of them. Iwaizumi had escorted the remaining trainers out of the building, his Houndoom beside him, a threatening snarl on its face. Oikawa cheered at their victory and saluted when Hanamaki told him to go to the second floor and broadcast a message in search of recruits, now that they had taken the radio tower and inevitably, the city. Kyoutani and Yahaba contacted them shortly after their battle, giving their location and affirming their safety.
Oikawa left the room, closing the door behind them with a wink over his shoulder, and they were alone.
Hanamaki finally let himself relax. He took a deep breath, shoulders slumping. He crossed the room to stand by the window overlooking the city, and Matsukawa followed, stopping behind him.
“Come here,” Hanamaki said, turning and offering his hand. Matsukawa took it with a hesitant smile. He returned the smile assuredly and turned his head back to look out the window. “This is ours, Issei.”
Matsukawa lifted his hand and placed a kiss to it. Hanamaki met his twinkling eyes.
“There’s no one else I’d rather share it with,” he said honestly, and Hanamaki swallowed, his throat dry.
“First, Goldenrod,” he said. “Then, Johto. Then, the world. All in the palms of our hands.”
“I’ve already got the world in the palm of my hand,” Matsukawa whispered, his eyes shining, searching for something in Hanamaki.
Hanamaki opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. He leaned forward, planting a kiss on his lips, unlike the one before. Their mouths moved slowly, gently, certain and unrushed. When he pulled away, Matsukawa’s eyes were still closed.
“I love you.”
Matsukawa’s eyes opened slowly, and he smiled.
The world was theirs.