Sometimes, even in the oppressive humidity and scalding heat of the Team Magma base, Tabitha felt cold. It were as if the chill from the ocean were sneaking up on him, biting at his heels like an unexpected push from the tide and filling his bones like it fancied itself a replacement for his marrow.
On these days, he'd lock himself away in his room, pressed tightly against his Mightyena as dark images of the sea permeated his vision, distorting the reality of cotton fabric before his eyes. He wasn't sure what brought it on (inadequacy, maybe— fear), and it was childish to think back on nothing but that single incident, but it was the event that had essentially shaped the rest of his life. Tabitha had been a child— why wouldn't he be haunted, years later, by the guilt of his father's death and the threat of his own? He'd never had an adult to confide in, to ask for help, and in essence, he'd stayed just as traumatized as the night the fisherman had pulled him from the stormy waves.
Tabitha inhaled deeply, arms wrapped around the Pokemon curled tightly in his lap. The Mightyena worried, of course, but he knew that the most comfort he could provide was his presence as his master stroked his fur, focusing solely on the task until his frantic heart calmed. Mightyena whimpered once, pressing his wet nose against Tabitha's face and eliciting a dim smile from the trainer's otherwise blank expression.
After an hour or so, Mightyena began to fidget, and so Tabitha let him go, falling back to lay splayed across the floor. "This is so fuckin' stupid," he muttered to himself, curling his fingers in the blankets as if intending to tear them.
"Then why're you doin' it?"
The voice, invasive in its sudden appearance, made Tabitha jump. He scrambled, glaring somewhat frantically in the direction of the door, and found there the crouched figure of one blue-haired asshole. The Mightyana greeted him happily, tail thumping against the ground as Brodie scratched behind the dog Pokemon's ears.
Traitor, Tabitha thought, but he could not begrudge the Pokemon its trust of the thief. It was his own fault for falling to unwittingly for the other man.
"What the hell're you doin' here?" he asked, defensive and angry in his vulnerability. "I had the door locked, asshole."
"Hey, no need to hiss, Tabby cat. I was worried." Brodie grinned, patting the dog on the head.
Tabitha narrowed his eyes, scrunching his face into an expression of disgust. "Bullshit. You just missed fuckin' with me." Brodie laughed, standing and moving to sit beside Tabitha in his pile of blankets. Tabitha watched him warily, expecting another remark, but what he received instead was a swift kiss to the cheek.
He felt blindsided. After a moment of staring, baffled, at Brodie's grinning face, Tabitha flushed a violent scarlet and ducked his head beneath the covers. "Get out!" he commanded, voice catching in his throat. Predictably, he was unheeded, and he felt arms wrap around him, trapping him beneath the cloth.
"Aw, honey, calm down." Brodie curled his legs around the flailing, frustrated mass in an attempt to still it, picking at the blankets to uncover Tabitha's flustered face as he did. The older man was all but laying in his lap at that point, glaring petulantly up. "I stopped your brooding, didn't I?" Tabitha huffed, shifting. "What's got you so freaked out anyway?"
"Nothin'," Tabitha snapped, his expression frozen.
"Hmm." Brodie began to softly trace the lines of Tabitha's face, smiling fondly. "It's really obvious when you lie and don't want it to be believed, you know. Besides, you swear a lot more when you're upset. You can tell me."
Once again, Tabitha was taken aback by Brodie's attentiveness. When did he notice these things? Why?
"Think of what I do, Tabitha. I have to pay attention to detail, don't I? I have to see who a person is—" Brodie tapped Tabitha's nose, "not just what they look like."
Tabitha scowled. "Stop readin' my mind, asshole, it's creepy as fuck. Besides, it's none o' your damn business."
Brodie rolled his eyes, gently caressing the side of Tabitha's face. "Darlin', you've made it my business. Or, rather, you made you my business." He leaned in close, winking sardonically. "Besides, I figured I'd take one for the team— tame the wild Tabby cat for the good of all! Don't need the grunts showin' up with cat scratches, after all."
"You little shit," Tabitha snarled, trashing under the prison of his bed coverings. It was halfhearted, however— both of them knew that— and more for the sake of putting up some sort of defense rather than any honest desire to deter the thief. Tabitha was worn, after all, cold and sad and incredibly tired, and he was sorely tempted just to let Brodie take the lead.
Brodie exhaled, pressing his lips chastely to Tabitha's forehead. "You don't have to tell me now, I guess, but I think I have a good idea. Just let me do something to make you feel better. Have you slept at all today?"
What are ya, my mom? Tabitha thought sullenly. "No."
"Pfft." Brodie sat up straight, his hands cupping either side of Tabitha's face. "Sleep might help, then. Wanna? Naps foster healthy commanders, you know."
"Naps are for pansies," he muttered, "and I ain't doin' shit 'til you let me go."
Brodie laughed again, pulling away from Tabitha and allowing the other man to unwind from his ruby red cage. The moment he had, however, the thief scooped him up— a yelp, comically high-pitched, ricocheting in the small room— and carried him over the the bed, plopping him down and jumping beside him. Before Tabitha could throw a fit, Brodie wrapped his arms around the other man's middle, pulling him close and nestling him against his chest.
"Shut up," he demanded, a slight edge to his otherwise affectionate voice. "Whatever it is that's bothering you, pretend it doesn't exist, alright? I'm here, and that's all that matters."
Tabitha slowly relaxed into the hold, fingers fisted in the material of Brodie's shirt. (Not standard issue, of course. Never uniform.) "I certainly bet you think so, ya self-indulgent prick." His words were soft, however, and he leaned into Brodie's body, tangling his legs with the other man's. It was only as he felt his breathing slow, matching the tickling breeze on the top of his head, that he realized Brodie had taken the time to remove his shoes. For some reason, the gesture filled him with warmth, chasing away any thoughts of a deep ocean chill.