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There was something stupidly romantic about the seaside. That was why couples came here, after all, wasn’t it? To gaze out with their lover at the distant horizon, at the vibrant colors reflecting off the cresting waves and pour their hearts out to each other. Cheesy lines like, ‘You complete me, I can’t go on without you, you’re the only one .’ All that sappy, lovey-dovey shit that some people actually bought into.
But not Raihan. He’d picked the Captain’s Table in Hulbury because it was the one place in Galar they could go to be alone, not out of some sudden latent romantic inclinations. The head chef there respected the privacy of his guests, and all but guaranteed that even the most rich and famous could enjoy a meal there in peace.
Now, as Hammerlocke’s gym leader (and with easily the most Rotogram followers of anyone in the league), Raihan figured it’d cause quite a stir if his fans found out he was on a date. Combine that with the fact that he was on a date with another gym leader , and the crowds would likely go rabid.
So, yeah, the choice of venue had been practical. As was his attire for the evening: a simple black turtle neck, dark jeans, sleek black flats. Even his hair was tied back simply, as casual a look as he could manage while staying photo-ready for his social media fans. After all, just because he was on a date didn’t mean he had to be exclusive.
That thought had him reaching for his phone out of habit, smirking as he swiped straight to the camera app. Rotom buzzed for a few seconds before flitting into the air and hovering there, auto-adjusting the lighting, the filters, the zoom. Raihan flashed his best and most practiced grin at the screen. Click. Another pose, this time with his tongue just barely peeking out from his teeth, accentuating the sharp edges that his fans always went wild for. Click click. Distracted, he didn’t notice the shadow approaching in silence.
“Hm. They said this was the right table, but it looks like you’re already pretty occupied without me.”
The low, humorless voice came from his right, catching Raihan off guard mid-shot. Rotom whizzed in surprise, and flew back into his pocket just as he affected a playful smile up at his date….
And suddenly forgot how to breathe.
Piers always looked good. He had a nonchalance about himself that lended to the appeal of slender shoulders, lanky limbs, that almost perpetual pout. He was effortlessly alluring, Raihan had always secretly thought, which is why he’d found himself attracted to him in the first place.
But this?
He’d traded in his jacket for a black sweater that hung perilously off one pale shoulder. The material clung to the thin frame of his body like an intimate caress, accentuating every sharp curve, every dip and valley in his skin that always got Raihan’s blood racing. All the way down to his hips, where a heavy, studded belt threatened to pull his tight, leather pants right off instead of holding them up. Even his boots (once Raihan’s eyes managed to travel down that far) were new, hugging his thin ankles and adding more than a few inches to his already impressive height.
He was, in two words, fucking gorgeous.
Long fingers raked back the bangs that had fallen into his face, and Raihan was forced to swallow back a very inappropriate sound.
“...Were you maybe expecting someone else, or can I sit down?”
Blinking, he offered what he hoped passed as a normal human smile, and gestured to the empty chair across from him. “Uh huh. All yours, mate.”
“How thoughtful.”
“Yeah. So, uh.” He watched Piers slide into the seat (did he always make such simple things look so graceful?) and fold his arms over his stomach, before digging for something poignent to say. “Thanks for coming tonight. Here, uh. You know. With me.”
... What the hell ?
Thankfully, Piers brushed him off with a shrug. “You invited me. I didn’t even think you liked places like this.”
“I don’t,” Raihan said, inserting his foot right into his mouth not five minutes into the date. Wincing, he shook his head and tried again. “I mean, usually I don’t. It’s nice sometimes, though, right? Feels, like, special or something.”
Large, mesmerizingly green eyes weighed on him for a moment. PIers’ mouth twitched at the corners, and he looked away again. “Special, huh?”
“S-sure. Like, different, I guess. When we usually hang out, it’s in a stadium, or, you know, someplace” My place. Your place. Leon’s place that one time. He let the words hang between them, unspoken, but the effect was immediate. Both on Piers, who blushed softly right down to the neckline of his sweater, and on Raihan’s already uncomfortably tight jeans. “It’s about time we at least had dinner, dontcha think?”
Those lovely eyes held the answer even as they stared pointedly down at the table. With a single nod, Piers quickly deflected. “Let’s order then. I came hungry.”
Me, too, Raihan thought to himself, and shifted in his chair.
The chef’s special was a full seafood course: crisp seaweed salad, grilled Alolan fish with sweet Mago berry sauce, fragrant vegetable and Pincurchin soup. Each dish that reached their table was more exotic than the last, and all came paired with a seemingly endless flow of white wine.
For Raihan, whose tastes usually ran more to red meat and stronger drinks, the meal was...underwhelming, to say the least. But more importantly, he was surprised (and quite pleased) to see Piers tucking into his own plate. As he watched, his date chased down a mouthful of fish with the last of his wine, tossing his head back to drain the glass. Above the thick metal of the collar he wore, his throat gave a delicious, decidedly sinful bob in the process.
Raihan’s lower body pulsed in sympathy. “I, uh, caught your show last night, by the way,” he said, searching desperately for conversation before his problem became too evident. “The stream, anyway. It was good. You had a huge crowd.”
PIers rolled the stem of his wine glass idly between his fingers. “Oh? Thanks. Marnie did some promotion stuff at her last tournament, I guess it worked.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, mate. You’re talented, you’ve got a lotta real fans.”
“Raihan….”
“I’m just saying, Have you been thinking about doing tours soon?” Leaning back in his chair, he picked at a piece of seaweed stuck in his teeth. “You could go anywhere. Johto, Kanto. I bet Kabu could hook you up with some contacts.”
Again, those green eyes focused in on him, concentrating as if looking for something hidden behind his words. “I don’t know if I’m ready for all that. A tour would...take me away from Galar for a while.”
“Yeah? Your sis can look after herself, y’know.” In his pocket, he felt his Rotom phone buzz with a notification, but ignored it for now. “She’d want you to chase your dreams, see the world. Become a big shot rock star who everyone wants a piece of,” he added with a sly grin.
That had the desired effect. Piers’ skin flushed with color again, and though he narrowed his eyes, the green of them popped vibrantly against warm pink. “Maybe that’s not what I want.”
“Don’t tell me you’d rather stay here and perform in Spikemuth forever?”
“What’s wrong with Spikemuth?”
“N-nothing,” Raihan offered quickly, sensing the trap he was falling into. “I just...want you to be happy.”
“...I am happy.”
“Good.”
Something tugged at the back of Raihan’s mind. Something important, as serious as the look Piers was still giving him from across the table. This happened all too often between them, he realized, almost everytime they tried to have a conversation outside of tournaments and pokemon and the work that had first brought them together. Almost like they were both dancing around something when they spoke, always talking in circles until one or both of them gave up and took off their clothes.
Here, in the middle of an expensive, exclusive restaurant, that was (unfortunately) not an option. As much as Raihan would love to sink his teeth into that spot just above the line of Piers’ sweater, they still had more drinks and dessert to sit through first. And since they couldn’t very well spend that time in silence, he resigned himself to rewind and take the bait.
Let no one say he couldn’t be a gentleman when he tried.
“Alright, fine. What is it that you want, then? Really?”
There was no answer right away. As the waiter brought over their dessert - two slices of cheese cake, one with chocolate, the other plain - PIers toyed with the ring that hung from the collar around his neck. It was a habit of his, Raihan knew well, one he did mostly subconsciously when that mind of his wandered too deep.
“What I want.” He repeated the question softly. Seemed to chew on the words for a moment, until Raihan (ever the gentleman) slid the chocolate-covered slice of cake in front of him. The movement broke through clouds of his thoughts. He blinked, muttered his thanks, and scooped up a bite.
Fork prodding at his own unappetizing piece of cake, Raihan attempted the question from a different angle. “What’s keeping you in Galar?”
“I….” Piers swallowed, stabbed off another bite of cake, and sighed without lifting it from the plate. “Look, let it go, alright?”
“Is it Marnie?”
“No, just--”
“The gym? Your fans?”
“Just forget it.”
“Me?”
Piers couldn’t have gone more still if he’d been hit with a static charge. His eyes went as round as his dessert plate, and his fork clattered forgotten to the table. In an almost comically small voice, he said, “What?”
“Is it me?” Raihan repeated. The reality of his own question had hit him, too, sunk in along with Piers’ subtle-as-a-Loudred reaction to form a sort of warm, airy tightness in his chest. Hope , his brain supplied, most unhelpfully, and he found himself setting down his own plate again before he could fumble it all over his lap.
The date could have ended there. Maybe if they were anywhere else, they could have laughed it off, forgotten it over a few drinks and a quickie in the shower. But not this time. Not anymore.
“It’s only ever been you.” Piers met his gaze at last, just as the sunset bathed him in a startlingly beautiful array of hues. Raihan felt utterly breathless watching him, listening to him as he opened up his heart, and offered him his own piece of real estate inside it.
“There. You asked me what I want,” Piers finished quietly. “Now you know. Maybe...it was never supposed to mean this much, but...somewhere along the way, I guess I….”
“Yeah. I think I, uh, know what you mean.” A few silent heartbeats. Then: “Could this…. Could we actually work?”
Piers blew a weak laugh out of his nose. “Who knows?”
“Yeah.” The sunlight was fading, but Raihan could swear Piers was still glowing anyway. He cleared his throat. “You wanna give it a shot anyway?”
“If...you want to?”
“Yeah. Definitely. I’d be down for a second date.” Raihan grinned, a sappy, lovey-dovey kind of grin that matched the way he was feeling right down to his toes. It was stupid, really, like something out of a cheesy romance flick. But he was beginning to think he understood the appeal, after all. “You know, my followers are gonna be real disappointed when they find out I’ve fallen for someone.”
And then something so rare happened that even Rotom couldn’t resist whizzing out of his pocket, twirling in the air, and snapping a shot of the scene as proof that it even happened at all.
Piers smiled.