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Bede could hear the rush of blood flowing along the coos and awws in his ear from every gym leader and guest at this party. He frantically looked everywhere and anywhere but at the shorter girl in front of him.
It was all still new to Bede; celebrating the holidays, surrounded by people, being invited to events-- “ you want me to attend the Christmas party ?” fumbling from his lips in disbelief when Gloria looked up at him with those unobstructed telling eyes. In her hand a sophisticatedly decorated invitation being pressed into his.
“Turns out it’s annual, and since we just joined, we’re kinda expected to be there,” Gloria said matter-of-factly, as he glanced over that the event was being held at Miss Magnolia’s this year. His mouth was ready to let out a flat ‘no.’ Parties were crowded and noisy, and by the few months he had been in his position he had learned that the other gym leaders were definitely loud .
But then he sees her stare fall, her boot kick a small pebble away, her fingers fidget with the straps of her backpack.
“Parties aren’t really my thing...I was hoping you would go in solidarity with me?”
Yet, even with their truce, he didn’t expect to see her eyes staring at him so brightly as they were trapped underneath a miniscule green plant with white berries. Christmas lights reflected off the amber, off the sparkle of her green dress, off her peachy lips.
Mistletoe. Lips. Kiss.
Bede could feel himself freeze in place, flush rising from his neck to his face. Gloria’s tranquility unnerving him more and more until she stifles a laugh, a gentle hand landing on his deep purple sweater.
(He didn’t get the memo to dress up in shades of Christmas.)
“You don’t know what mistletoe is at all, huh?”
A valid assumption.
His own throaty, “no, I...recognize the tradition.” Only audible for Gloria, accepting that if he was to be made fun of, it would only be acceptable from the one he considers an acquaintance. He braces for the snicker, or even a scoff at his ineptitude--he never had celebrated Christmas before--but he doesn’t even get a cheeky grin out of the Champion. Her face only shifting into something more comforting and welcoming like the cup of hot chocolate she had handed him earlier.
“We don’t have to Bede, I understand.”
And with disappointed hums, and onlookers turning away, all he’s left is with is the lingering warmth of her hand patting his cheek; her body navigating the crowd, his head following her every movement.
“Bede, you Slowpoke c’mon, I want to show you how to build a gingerbread house!”
It would be a lie to say Bede didn’t stay by Gloria’s side the whole event.
It’s during the second Christmas party where things got a little more interesting .
Despondency replaced with impartiality, acquaintanceship had turned to friendship, holiday traditions ingrained. He got the memo this time for the theme-- “An Ugly Christmas Sweater Extravaganza,” in gaudy letters on the invite made by Leon this time.
And he was so close to throwing it away--He didn’t enjoy the small-talk. He didn’t desire to spend another evening awkwardly standing by the punch bowl like the Halloween party. And he definitely didn’t like seeing Gloria beaming cutely at everyone in with her subdued, yet still happy, holiday cheer.
But she asked nicely, hands gripping his in a near plea the day prior.
So he came.
And now he stands directly in the way of her curved lip as her eyes flicker to the ugly Ponyta christmas sweater he was wearing underneath a black blazer, cheesy fairy lights strung within the seams blinking in and out, hues of deep pink and purple the only sign of his typical aesthetic.
His brow furrows defensively, aware that he wore this cause she reminded him of the detail. So he looks down onto her tiny frame in an attempt to tease her own choices of fashion (really Gloria, a Deliberd sweater, could you be any more cliche?) when he catches glimpse of something menacing hanging above her, above them.
Green and white, again.
It was clearly too high for Gloria’s vantage point, but it was at the perfect height for him to notice. And as he gapes, Gloria couldn’t help but to tilt her head back to see what has made him of all people so silent.
“So we meet here again, huh, Bedey? ”
The dreaded nickname she had donned on him that year euphonious to his ear like the bells and chimes he heard all over Galar.
And it was this year he had found that this wasn’t the only thing about her that made him yearn for more. If anything there were a series of reactions he had to the Champion that were strange and unsettling. His heart was always racing. His hands always clammy. His throat would go dry. Arceus, sometimes he believed he couldn’t even think straight when she sat across from him at tea.
He had assumed it was a simple consequence of their growing camaraderie. But never, until this moment, did he think of wanting to kiss that undisturbed grin off her face.
Yet she stands there calmly with her hands clasped behind her back, her chin tilted up, a devilish sparkle in her eye.
He opens his mouth to excuse the silly tradition for the second year in the row. His mind may be in the gutter, but it by no means meant hers was on the same page.
But then it happens in a flash.
Her hands firmly land on his chest. Her height raising ever so slightly to reach her target.
Soft pink lips touch his cheek.
His hand clamps over the spot, throat lodged unable to question her decisions.
She laughs once more, lowering back to her usual height.
“That should do, right? For avoiding traditions sake?”
His head nods yes. His heart screams no.
365.
That’s how many days Bede regretted not acting on that whim that overcame him on Christmas.
365.
That’s how many days he got playful shoves, sly comments, all too obvious: “oi, you wanna keep your eyes in your head oh Elite one? ” from Hop or Marnie or for Arceus’ sakes, Opal, whenever Gloria would be in the same vicinity.
365.
That’s how many days Bede has actively admitted to himself he was in love with Gloria.
If he was honest, he knew it had been much longer.
But hiding his emotions and swallowing them down was much easier than even fathoming the idea of telling Gloria, let alone believing that any of it was reciprocal.
But it was 365 days way too long. And this time the invitation was written by Gloria herself. It was delicately decorated and personally handed to him with a blush and a hopeful, “I hope you come this year too!”
So with no fuss or fight he knew he was going, because this tradition between them had to end.
It’s on the third Christmas party that he arrives fashionably late.
Not because of his wardrobe, traffic, or anything reasonable--but because he spent far too long pacing outside of Gloria’s house wondering how this would go down.
Is it the first thing he should do? To set the mood of the whole night?
Or should it be the last thing? To run away when it all hit the fan?
He takes a deep inhale in, a slower exhale out. Knocking on the door, anxiously waiting to be let in. The moment the door swung open he realized that things may not go according to plan. Gloria flings herself into his arms, per usual , his brain malfunctions, per usual.
A small gasp from her as she takes in his red ensemble-- “your hair makes you a really good Bedey-Claus.” And he couldn’t help but noticing they were a matching pair, her own Santa dress swishing as she turns.
His mouth opening to compliment her; to say that she looked beautiful, to say anything remotely nice -- but she doesn’t give him the chance. Looping her arm through his, dragging him into the festivities, per usual , as her laugh gets drowned out by the Christmas jingles and the loud celebratory “look who finally showed up!”
But as he gapes at Gloria interacting in and out with everyone at the party, his knew his goal was clear.
That this would be the year.
The year he would kiss her.
The year he would admit his feelings.
The year their unspoken tradition would stop.
“Hey Bede,” the voice so undoubtedly hers that he turns almost immediately and he notices her hand tugging at the sleeve of his red sweater. “Do you maybe, want to talk outside?”
Bede follows without a single complaint, but there’s something in her aura that feels strangely off. Something antsy, nervous, yet resolute. When she’s leaning against a doorframe, he can see her eyes watching the guests enjoy themselves to the merriment inside. But it doesn’t seem like she’s longing to join them. Instead it seems as if she’s surveying to see if they really were left to their own devices.
Her hazel eyes flicker to his with a soft smile he could recognize was only ever shown to him. Had she wanted to be with him only?
A foolish thought surely, but one that now lingered in the back of his head, and it’s one that pushed him forward for the first time that night.
“Gloria.”
His stomach flipping at how her head tilts cutely. “Yes, Bedey?” Her eyelashes batting inquisitively as he braces himself with the last two steps between them.
“The plant,” is all he can haphazardly say.
Gloria blinks in confusion, Bede’s hands clenching in anticipation.
“The plant. The green one. Where is it?”
An amused chuckle fills the silent night air. A single digit points up above their heads.
“I know we have our traditions to meet under the mistletoe, but I never thought you would seek it out, Bede,” Gloria smiles.
It’s in this smile that Bede finds a little bit of hope. A Christmas miracle, if anything. She doesn’t move and it occurs to him that she brought him out here in hopes for them to be caught underneath the mistletoe again.
“It’s our tradition, no?”
And dare he say, there was a hint of a challenge in her tone. His eyes flickering from her lifted eyebrows down to her lips--this year they were red, enticing, tempting.
And easily twitching into a smirk.
“Is our tradition to meet under it? Or to avoid the kiss?”
Gloria hums, “your call,” she pauses, mirth dancing in her eyes. “But it’s never too late to start a new tradition, don’t you think?”
Bede’s heart picks up in speed. Staring at her with the utmost surprise. Had he heard her right? Was it not only him who wished to kissed her?
He takes a step closer, noting how her cheeks rivaled her red hat. How Gloria was incessantly biting her bottom lip. Her gaze flighty yet always stealing glances at his own lips.
Gloria liked him.
“You know the longer we stand under here, the longer the kiss we owe each other.”
Gloria wanted to kiss him.
Bede feels himself still, eyes widening in a panic, flush rising to the tips of his ears, Gloria giggling at his visceral reaction.
“T-that’s not a rule!”
“You also didn’t deny wanting to kiss me,” she points out all too easily in a sing-song voice. Stepping in closer with a much firmer resolve.
“We’re up to three minutes now.”
“G-gloria!,” Bede gasps as he feels himself unable to move forward. His fists were opening and closing repeatedly, he could feel his face only turn hotter, the ticking of his watch growing louder and louder in sync with his pounding heart.
He knew he wanted to do this. He knew he wanted to dismantle their friendship and explore the potential more between them. But it was all so different in practice especially with Gloria’s knowing look staring him down and unnerving him.
And he knew that she knew what she was doing. It was in her eyes, in the curl of her lip, in how she began to slowly snake her arms up and around his neck with the confidence he needed in himself right now.
“Four.”
Tip toeing as she pulls him down slightly. Beckoning him to finally act--to give him the chance to act before she did because Gloria was aware of his pride. Of his need to be first in everything, except maybe the Championship, but if he didn’t act, she would take away this chance too.
And that was the last thing he wanted.
“Fiv--,” he cuts her off, sure that her counting was off and unfair, but it makes him act all the same. The kiss soft, light, almost indiscernible if Gloria didn’t know he was trying to kiss her. But it was a kiss nonetheless, and one that he could feel her smile into, as he tried his best to not leave it at a clumsy mashing of their lips.
“I-I don’t know what I’m doing,” Bede admits.
“Me either,” is her cheeky response, but she chases his lips all the same.
A soft pass there. Another linger there. It was his first, and hers, but they knew it felt right.
All they could hear was the bass of the music, growing whispers, high-pitched whistles, but all they could focus on was each other. And while it wasn’t the five minutes Gloria joked about, the momentary kiss produced the best sight to bless Bede’s eyes. The dazed look, the flushed cheeks, the giddy smile on her lips as she flusteredly looks away from him.
Her serenity had broken and he couldn’t help the low chuckle coming from him. “If I get this look on your face I’ll have to kiss you more often,” Bede mumbles just loud enough for her to hear, his fingers gingerly reaching to turn her face. He could feel the heat radiating off her cheeks, but proud to know he wasn’t the only one affected as Gloria brings herself to glance up at him again.
Or at least she tries as her gaze dips down shyly.
“I wanted to break tradition last year, but didn’t think you would want to,” she quietly admits. Both of them realizing they skirted around their feelings for this long.
“Ah…,” Bede murmurs, his own composure faltering with the bubbling positive feelings dwelling inside. “I guess I should kiss you for those five minutes to make up for that then.”
In response the mischievous smile he had grown to love presents itself underneath the splash of red on her face. “You need to kiss me for three years worth then, Bedey, ” a tease, but one that gets him to roll his eyes and lean down again.