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The streets of Mossdeep were mostly vacant at this hour, with a majority of citizens having retired to their homes to settle down for the evening. Occasionally there was the sound of a child’s laughter drifting from a nearby lawn, or the cawing of a flock of Wingull as they soared overheard, but overall the early spring was air was pleasantly undisturbed. Walking home from the Pokémon Center, rolling his suitcase along behind him and with his travel bag slung over his shoulder, Wallace found a certain comfort in the calm and quiet. His face tilted up toward the pink-orange sky.
The week-long trip to Hearthome City in Sinnoh had been fun, certainly—he always loved judging contests, seeing passionate Trainers and their Pokémon putting their hearts into their performances—but he’d quickly grown homesick. Accustomed as he was to bustling city streets and enthusiastic fans, he would always prefer the serenity of his seaside homes in Hoenn, would crave the peaceful nights spent with his husband on the beach.
When his private plane had touched down on the roof of the Mossdeep Pokémon Center, Wallace had felt himself immediately uplifted. He’d quickly gathered his things and thanked his pilot before setting out onto the streets with an air of eager anticipation. Now, the thought of Steven Stone, no doubt anxiously awaiting his return, quickened his step. When he at last mounted the final hill and the little cottage came into view, it was all he could do to keep himself from sprinting.
Their cottage was beautiful at this time of year. Spring flowers were beginning to bloom in the garden out front, and colorful little buds were sprinkled across the bushes lining the path to the door. Wallace took a moment to admire the scene, hands on his hips, taking in the sweet scent of flowers that drifted toward him on the ocean breeze. He lingered, filled with memories of tending the garden together with Steven on slow Sunday mornings, before heading on up to the patio.
He fumbled in his pocket for the house key and unlocked the front door; stepping inside, he was greeted immediately by a crying and excited Aron, who had heard him coming up the lawn and had tumbled out of her bed by the sofa to meet him.
“Oh, hello, little one!” Wallace exclaimed, setting his bags aside to kneel on the floor. Aron rubbed her head against his legs, pushing into him, and Wallace giggled and ran his hand along her shiny, armored back. “Yes, my girl, I missed you too.” He scratched under Aron’s chin and she shivered appreciatively, continuing to nestle against him.
“I’ve got to say, I’m a little jealous,” came Steven’s voice from the hall. Wallace delivered one last pet to Aron before rising, dusting off the knees of his slacks and adjusting his suit vest.
“Well, now,” he mused, his smile widening. “Maybe if you’d greet me this enthusiastically…”
Steven laughed, a languid, drowsy sound. “I’m sorry, dear. I’m afraid I was up a bit too late last night at my study—”
“As usual.”
“—And I’ve only just woken up. Welcome home, Wallace.”
Wallace grinned, watching Steven’s form emerge from the dim hallway. The man was barefoot and dressed in rumpled gray pants and a white dress shirt, no doubt the clothes he’d fallen asleep in the night before, and his hair, too, was mussed from sleep. Wallace couldn’t help but chuckle as Steven continued to come forward. Looking closely over his husband, however, Wallace noticed something strange about him—something different. He blinked a few times; when the image did not change, his eyes widened.
“Goodness me!” Wallace gasped. “Steven!”
Alarmed, Steven quickly stopped to look down at himself, stretching his arms out and examining them, patting down his shirtfront. “What?! Have I got something on me?!”
Wallace coughed, raising a hand to run his fingers through his forelock. He tossed his glance to the side. “N-no, it’s nothing like that. I was—” He cleared his throat. “I was simply surprised. I’m sorry if I startled you.”
“Surprised?” Steven asked, concerned. “Surprised at what?”
Wallace studied Steven’s face, examining the features—the gorgeous gray eyes set under brows currently arched with confusion and worry, the sharp nose, the thin pale lips—which were all so familiar to him, so ingrained in his memory that, had he been a painter, he would have been able to reconstruct them perfectly in a portrait. All of these features were now, to Wallace’s dismay, contrasted strangely with the layer of silver stubble that was spread across Steven’s cheeks and around his mouth.
“Wallace?” Steven was saying, coming closer and reaching a hand up to rest against Wallace’s neck. “Are you alright? What’s going on?”
Wallace faltered; his gaze fell away from Steven and flickered to the rocks housed in the glass display case against the wall. “Your, um.” He hesitated—held a hand over his mouth, lowered his voice. “Your beard.”
Steven blinked; he stepped back after a pause with a perplexed expression. “Beard?” he murmured. He ran fingers over his cheeks, and as he did so, realization hit him. He began to laugh.
“Oh, yes,” he said. “I was so caught up in my research, I must have forgotten to shave.” He continued to rub at his stubble; to Wallace, it truly did appear that he was discovering it for the first time.
“Gracious, Steven,” Wallace teased, smiling now as well. “Don’t you ever look in a mirror?”
“Does it look bad?” Steven asked, coming closer to rest his hands on Wallace’s shoulders.
“N-no,” Wallace said. “It’s different, that’s all. I wasn’t expecting it.” This much was true—the beard didn’t completely ruin Steven. It gave him a more rugged appearance, as though he really had been in up in the mountains for days without supplies. The new look disarmed Wallace, to say the least.
“Do you still love me?” Steven asked, raising an eyebrow in mock innocence as he looked up at his husband. “Even with my stubble?”
“My dear,” Wallace murmured, a gentle, adoring smile playing across his lips. He nuzzled against Steven’s temple. “I’d love you even with a Hiker’s beard.”
Steven laughed, relishing in the sweet kisses that Wallace was sprinkling along his forehead. “I’ll go and shave in a minute now, don’t worry.”
“Alright,” Wallace said. He guided Steven back a bit from the embrace to hold him at an arm’s length, examining him thoroughly. “But then we’re going out for a walk. You look like you haven’t had any fresh air in days.” He pinched Steven’s cheek, a playful and teasing punishment, to which Steven responded by grinning and pulling Wallace in close to rub his prickly stubble against Wallace’s neck.
“Steven!” Wallace exclaimed, giggling, pushing feebly at the man. “That tickles!”
Steven took Wallace’s hands and laced their fingers together; he nestled his face in the nook between neck and shoulder and kissed the lovely, fragrant skin there. Wallace settled gladly into the affection, his eyes fluttering shut, still smiling and chuckling occasionally from the tickle of Steven’s beard.
“Come now,” Wallace said softly, laughter lingering on the edge of his voice. “Go on and get yourself cleaned up.”
Steven hummed quietly in protest but complied eventually, delivering one last smooch to Wallace’s neck before pulling away. He headed back toward the bathroom with a small, sheepish smirk glued to his lips.
Once he heard the water running, Wallace moved into the living room. He tidied up while he waited, organizing the clutter on the coffee table, fluffing and arranging the throw pillows on the sofa. Aron trotted along at his feet as he went, occasionally stepping in front of him to wiggle playfully, asking for attention, so that Wallace had to bend to pet her briefly before stepping around her.
When the place was sufficiently tidy to Wallace’s liking, he wandered into the bathroom, where he found Steven toweling down his face. Wallace leaned in the doorway, laughing when Steven spotted him through the mirror and turned to beam at him.
“What do you think?” Steven asked. He turned his face to one side and then the other, giving Wallace a view of his profiles. “Better?”
“Much better,” the Champion said. “Except…” He came close to cup Steven’s chin in his hand, tilting the man’s face up and turning it gently. “You missed a few spots here,” turning Steven’s face to the other side, “and here.”
“And here I thought I was being thorough.”
“Let me help, darling.”
Wallace took the towel and ran it under warm water before pressing it to Steven’s cheeks. Then, he lathered shaving cream onto the missed patches of stubble before gingerly beginning to shave them away. His touch was experienced, deft, yet exceedingly gentle; Steven tilted his face up toward Wallace, enjoying the attention and even relaxing into it. He closed his eyes and let Wallace turn his face this way and that.
Meanwhile, Wallace, looking down at Steven’s peaceful face, was completely charmed. He couldn’t stop the smitten smile from remaining fixed to his lips. When he was done, he wiped away the excess shaving cream and patted Steven’s face down carefully with a dry towel. Before Steven could move, and still cradling the man’s cheeks in his toweled hands, Wallace leaned down to deliver a long kiss to the slightly parted, waiting lips.
Steven’s eyes opened for a moment in surprise but soon shut again as he wrapped his arms around Wallace. He poured himself into the kiss; Wallace discarded the towel to run his fingers across Steven’s now smooth cheeks.
“I missed you,” Steven mumbled against Wallace’s lips, and Wallace began kissing him again, a series of quick and soft pecks that had Steven pushing up on his tip-toes, aching for more.
“I missed you too,” Wallace answered.
Steven clutched at Wallace’s arms, bringing him closer; Wallace coaxed him back against the sink, and for a while they simply enjoyed one another, savoring each other’s presence.
A loud, high cry from the doorway broke their spell; they turned to see Aron watching them, wiggling impatiently and pawing at the carpet.
“Sweetheart,” Wallace chuckled. “When was the last time you walked Aron?”
“We’ve been out!” Steven insisted. “She’s happy to see you, that’s all. She wants to go outside with you.”
“Well, why don’t we get a move on, then.”
Wallace smooched Steven’s forehead before drifting out of the bathroom, cooing softly to Aron, who pranced after him excitedly. Steven stood smiling dazedly for a moment, his fingers lingering over his forehead where Wallace had kissed him. Finally, he pushed himself off against the sink and followed Wallace to the front door.
~*~
By the time they made it out of the house, the warm evening hue of the sky was gone, replaced by a deep blue interspersed with thick gray clouds. Aron dashed across the yard as soon as the door was opened, running headlong into the garden to romp in the flowers.
“Aron!” Steven called after her, but the little Pokémon paid him no mind.
“Come along, sweetheart!”
Hearing Wallace’s summons, Aron allowed herself one last roll in the dirt before shaking herself off and running after her masters. She trotted along contentedly at their feet.
“She always answers to you,” Steven said. As they walked, his hand instinctively sought Wallace’s, and once clasped, their fingers laced seamlessly. “And she prefers to sit with you, too. I think she likes you much more than she likes me.”
“That isn’t true. She misses you dearly when you’re away at work. And the way she looks at you? My, Steven, she adores you.”
Steven looked over at Wallace, smiling. “Well, even so. You should have seen her while you were gone this past week.”
“Did she miss me?”
“Oh, yes. Very much so. She and I both were in a similar state, I’d say.”
Wallace laughed. “Well, I hope my absence wasn’t too distressing.”
“We survived. Barely,” Steven teased, delivering a quick peck to the Champion’s cheek.
As they walked, they continued to talk about their week apart—Wallace recounting the more special highlights of the contests he’d judged, Steven explaining the various details of the research he’d begun regarding the formation of certain rare gems. They wandered habitually down their usual path around the outskirts of the city and down to the beach, where the lull of the ocean and the sound of lapping waves served as a lovely ambient melody. Together they began strolling along the shoreline, their clasped hands swaying to and fro between them. From time to time they’d stop to exchange small kisses.
Their walk continued on into midnight. Eventually, as she began to stagger sleepily and yawn, Aron was returned to her Pokéball, which Steven slipped into his pocket. Together they reached the sliver of beach bordering Route 127, and here they stopped to rest and take in the sight of the ocean.
“Oh, Steven,” Wallace breathed. “Look at that.” His eyes were trained skyward, and Steven followed his gaze up to where the clouds were gradually drifting apart to reveal a dazzlingly clear night sky—an enormous moon, surrounded by a scattering of stars, sent its light down to blanket the world in a silver glow.
The two stood for a moment in admiration. Steven, absorbed in locating constellations, did not notice Wallace leaving his side to wander a few steps off. He turned to say, “There, do you see Ursaring Major?” and found the Champion removing his vest, folding it carefully and placing it atop a small boulder before starting to unbutton his shirt. His shoes were already off, placed neatly side by side with the socks stuffed into them.
“Yes, I saw it,” Wallace answered casually. He let the shirt slide away from his shoulders.
Steven cleared his throat, a warm rosiness creeping across his cheeks. “Ah, Wallace?” he said after a moment. “What are you doing?”
Wallace hummed softly in response; his shirt had joined his vest in a neat pile.
“Wallace?”
The Champion’s slender fingers worked deftly to unbuckle his belt; he slipped it off and coiled it into a loop. His attentions then turned to the button and fly on his pants.
Steven swallowed as his watched, his gaze moving down from the muscled torso to follow the pair of navy blue slacks as they were tugged down along toned legs. Wallace was left in his underwear—black, form-fitting briefs—which, both to Steven’s relief and slight disappointment, were kept on.
“It’s a lovely night for a swim, don’t you think?” Wallace said at last. He looked over innocently at Steven.
“A swim! It’s a bit cool for a swim, isn’t it?”
Wallace gave another dismissing hum and began towards the water’s edge. Steven hesitated for a moment before following.
The ocean was dark, gentle; the waves sparkled under the light of the moon and stars. Wallace stepped in fearlessly, wading in up to his thighs. He felt immediately at home in the water. A serene, lovely calm settled over him and he breathed in deeply, letting the breeze fill him. He longed to dive in, to be completely submerged—completely free. He was about to step forward, but was halted by the memory of Steven still waiting behind him.
He turned around and outstretched his hand to the former Champion. “Darling,” he cooed. “Won’t you join me?”
Steven paused. The invitation was incredibly enticing; still, he didn’t fare well with cold, and even more fearful was the possibility of being discovered by an unwitting citizen of Mossdeep. His and Wallace’s relationship was well-known throughout the region—they had become, as Lisia said, something of a celebrity couple. Still, celebrity couple or not, public indecency was a punishable offense.
Steven stood pondering, a fist to his chin.
“Darling,” Wallace said coaxingly. He returned to Steven’s side, bringing a hand up to brush the man’s cheek. “It’s past midnight. Who would be out at this hour?”
Steven tilted his head into Wallace’s touch. “Aside from us?”
“Aside from us, of course,” Wallace continued. He began tugging gently at Steven’s shirt collar, loosening it and undoing the buttons just below.
Steven allowed Wallace to undress him slowly, casually, button-by-button. Wallace’s lips rested against Steven’s ear.
“Come, dear,” the Champion murmured. “Won’t you swim with me?”
Steven felt his pants being opened and slid down. His face flushed; he bit his lip and pushed his hands against Wallace’s shoulders. “Alright,” he laughed shakily. “Alright.”
“Wonderful,” Wallace said. He watched amusedly as Steven finished undressing. When all that remained were his underwear—gray boxer briefs patterned with small Thunderstones—Steven scurried back to add his clothes to Wallace’s in the pile. Returning to the water’s edge, he accepted the hand that Wallace offered him and laced their fingers together.
“Ready?” Wallace asked.
“Yes,” Steven said, although he was already beginning to shiver as the cool night air touched his chest and spine.
Wallace led Steven in gradually, giggling when the man jumped and yelped at the waves washing over his feet.
“Are you alright, dear?”
“Y-yes. It’s, ah. It’s a bit cold.”
Steven clutched Wallace’s hand tighter as they waded in deeper. When they were chest-deep, he dug his toes into the sand in an attempt anchor himself, but the waves continued to push him about. Suddenly, Wallace’s fingers slipped away from his; he grasped out instinctively to pull them back but found only empty ocean.
Turning, he was able to catch a glimpse of the top of Wallace’s head as the man submerged himself. The water was dark with the night, but just under the surface it was clear. Steven scanned the waves for a sign of Wallace—a flash of skin or hair, a kick or a splash—but saw none. Wallace was more than likely diving deep into the open expanse of ocean—the only place Steven would not, if given the choice, follow him.
Steven could swim, surely, but it was only thanks to Wallace’s lessons, and even still he wasn’t the greatest at keeping afloat. He sank, as Wallace once commented with a self-satisfied smirk, “like a stone.” That being the case, Steven didn’t trust himself to go any deeper than this and risk an incident. He stood, shivering a bit when the breeze hit him, and waited for Wallace to return.
To his relief, the Champion soon resurfaced with a splash, inhaling deeply and running his hands up across his face. He pushed his slick hair back and smoothed it against his head; the light of the moon haloed him in a silver glow. Opening his eyes, he turned to search for Steven and found the man where he’d left him.
“Love?” he said, swimming over. “Aren’t you coming in any more?”
Steven blinked; he realized he’d become slack-jawed while watching Wallace, and he quickly brought his hand up from beneath the water to hold a fist to his mouth.
“Ah, yes, sorry. Just a minute.”
He felt much more confident with Wallace beside him. He took a step forward and immediately tripped, lurching forward with a small cry. His head fell briefly below the surface, but soon Wallace was there, pulling him up by the arms and helping him regain balance. He sputtered for a moment, rubbing his eyes, gasping and laughing.
“Are you alright?” Wallace asked; his hands slid down from Steven’s biceps to rest on his hips, coaxing him closer. “Watch your step, darling.”
Steven chuckled sheepishly. “Yes,” he mumbled. “Sorry.” His mouth opened as if to say more, but he was silenced by Wallace’s lips pressing gently against his own.
Steven recovered quickly from the surprise; he began to lean forward further into the kiss. Water sloshed between them as they shifted—Steven draped his arms around Wallace’s neck, Wallace raised his hands to run fingers through Steven’s hair. He sprinkled soft kisses along the man’s cheeks and nose and over the closed eyelids. His heart skipped a beat at the light, breathy laughter that fell from Steven’s lips.
“My love,” Wallace murmured, soft voice hitching with the sudden surge of emotion in his chest. He cradled Steven’s head in his hands and pressed their foreheads together.
The two remained like this for some time, nuzzled together, reveling in each other, all the while floating and keeping their footing among the gently lapping indigo waves. They’d drifted out a bit more and at this depth Steven stood precariously on tip-toe, barely touching the bed of sand below. He relied on Wallace to keep him steady; he pressed closely against his husband, arms wrapped tight around him.
Eventually, as the night began to grow colder and the two began to sink themselves deeper into the water to escape the breeze, Wallace suggested that they return home. He tucked a lock of Steven’s hair behind the man’s ear and kissed his forehead, saying, “I wouldn’t want you to catch a cold.”
“Now you’re worried about that,” Steven answered teasingly. “You weren’t so concerned earlier.”
“I only wanted to have a swim with my sweetheart,” Wallace replied. His fingers slipped down to wiggle just slightly into the back of Steven’s boxers; he trailed his lips down to rest at Steven’s neck. “I missed you so much, after all.”
Steven felt the blush returning to his cheeks. His hands clutched at Wallace’s shoulders. “Alright, well!” he declared. “Let’s go on and get ourselves home then.”
Wallace hummed. His fingers worked their way deeper into Steven’s underwear. Goosebumps ran up Steven’s spine. He laughed quietly and wormed out of Wallace’s embrace.
“I’d like it if we could, ah. If we could. Continue this at home.” The tips of Steven’s ears were stained bright pink; Wallace kissed each one affectionately. “Maybe after a warm bath.”
“I’d like that too,” Wallace answered. “Very much.” And Steven’s heart leapt at his husband’s kind, charming smile.
Together they waded back up to the shore, Wallace with his arm around Steven’s waist. Steven began shivering almost as soon as he was out of the water. Wallace fussed over him; he draped himself over Steven to protect him from the wind, and Steven laughed as he tried dressing with Wallace clinging to him.
After they were both dressed, and after Steven had triple-checked that Aron’s Pokéball was still safely in his pants pocket, the two of them began making their way back to the cottage. They treaded along beneath the streetlamps with their arms linked and Steven pressed close against Wallace. Once they passed through the doorway and into the warmth of their cottage, they headed directly for the master bathroom, hastily peeling off damp clothes as they went, Steven setting Aron’s Pokéball on the hall table.
Steven sat on the rim of the bathtub, shuddering a bit at the cold porcelain on his bottom, and turned the knob for hot water. Wallace stood at Steven’s side, playing absently with the man’s hair as they waited for the tub to fill. He was overcome, suddenly, with a sense of gladness—to be here at this moment, with Steven, in their home together. It was a sensation he’d experienced many times before, and would doubtlessly experience again in the years to come. It was a feeling of security, of rightness, of being so spectacularly home.
Slipping into the bathtub with Steven—who nestled between his legs and leaned back against him, Steven’s back to Wallace’s chest—Wallace knew that it was this man who made him feel this way. That no matter where he was or who else he was with, he would feel home as long as he was at Steven’s side. The thought made him smile broadly, made his heart thud. He circled his arms around Steven and squeezed him tight.
“Wallace?” Steven chuckled. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing. I just love you so incredibly much, is all.”
Steven settled back further into Wallace. He slid his hands to rest over Wallace’s, which were clasped below his chest.
“I love you too. You’re my world, Wallace.”
The words almost undid the Champion. It was all he could do to exhale shakily, happily, and nuzzle closer against Steven, against this wonderful man who was his everything, who was the meaning in his life, who was, in Steven’s very self, Wallace’s home.