A/N : The title is so unoriginal. Uh...Yeah. This is my first dive into the world of Kerrshipping. I love both Lacewoodshipping and Kerrshipping, but in the end, Kerrshipping won over. I don't know why but the idea of Calem and Sycamore together is just SO DAMN CUTE! This fic is based upon a headcannon of mine. In which, I always pictured Calem to be more subdued with the professor in public so Sycamore constructed a little game. He would often pretend to be asleep in the most oddest of places whenever Calem stopped by so he could hear his concerned grumbles and light touches as Calem moved him to make him more comfortable. He's basically worried since Sycamore always 'seemed' to overwork himself. All the other prompts and headcannons in Tumblr are so much better but I'm really proud with this one.
That's basically it really. Though, if you're uncomfortable about a romance between two male characters, I advise you to exit this page now. Oh, did I mention this fic being really fluffy? In the words of Jasmin-Liertha, the one who beta'ed this fic, "Were you trying to kill me with diabetes? I'm pretty sure that's what this is. It's chock full of sugar, I tell you."
Anyways, like the statement above, this fic is beta'ed by Jasmin-Liertha. Reviews and constructive criticisms are always welcomed!
"...Really professor?"
Sycamore's lips twitched up into a smile, his face hidden beneath his report on Mega Evolution. Silently reminding himself to keep his breathing steady, his ears picked up Calem's incoherent grumblings and the soft click as the door was shut.
"Didn't I tell you to stop overworking yourself?"
His tone hinted nothing but exasperation and annoyance but Sycamore knew better. Concern clearly radiated underneath that statement, subtle as it was. His smile grew a tad wider. That was just like Calem, he thought fondly.
Calem was always hiding his true feelings behind a carefully concealed wall. Out of necessity, he mentioned when Sycamore brought up the subject once. The world is full of people like Lysandre. It was a harsh slap of reality that the professor couldn't deny.
(He knew better. Calem should've known better than to bring up Lysandre. Sycamore briefly remembered the profuse apologies soon after, and the promises of 'I will never let anyone hurt you again.')
The professor buried those unnecessary, unwanted thoughts and instead focused all his attention on controlling himself from gasping when Calem's fingers lightly brushed his neck. A delicate touch as subtle as the affection the young man pretended he did not give.
Sycamore's smile widened even further. He admitted that he enjoyed this game a bit too much. Telling Calem that he'd always been awake, always been pretending would have spared the Champion the trouble. But he didn't.
The concerned grumbles and delicate touches were worth keeping his mouth shut.
Slightly reserved, Calem was not the most open, touchy-feely person he'd known. (Serena on the other hand… Sycamore wondered how no one had filed a restraining order against her yet.) So, it was moments like these, when privacy became the least of his worries that Calem would lower his defenses and allowed his true personality to peek through.
And Sycamore enjoyed every second of it.
Looking back, the game started out on pure accident. Calem had stopped by his laboratory one day, a couple months after he became Champion. At the time, Sycamore had pulled an all-nighter to finish a report on the most recent breakthrough of Mega Evolution, thanks to Serena's contribution. Exhausted but unable to decline Calem's company, they had sat outside in the laboratory's spacious garden.
He must have dozed off at one point in their conversation. He couldn't remember how long he slept. What Sycamore did recall was the warmth of tender hands gently lifting his head and propping it on something soft as sleep slowly released him from its grasp. A hand was on his forehead, brushing loose strands of hair away before settling itself on it. Prying open his heavy eyelids, Sycamore's vision slowly sharpened from its sleepy haze to find Calem's slight frown just as his hand pulled away.
"No fever," he mumbled, peering down at the professor. "You fell asleep."
Slightly embarrassed, Sycamore laughed awkwardly. "I suppose I did. Sorry about that."
"You're not ill but you're clearly exhausted." He sighed. "Look, you should have told me that you were tired. I would have come another time."
And miss seeing you after two months? "It really is alright!" Sycamore blurted out, hastily pushing himself off of Calem's lap (which, he noted with a blush, was quite comfortable). Calem shot him a suspicious look so he rushed to abate it. "I was just finishing a report on Mega Evolution and kinda forgot to sleep."
"Kinda forgot to sleep," he deadpanned. The professor's cheeks tinted to a nice rosy red and he rubbed his neck sheepishly.
"Yeah. It won't happen again."
Sycamore was not well-known for keeping little promises.
The second time it happened, it was partially intentional. After a tiring day giving three separate talks at three different venues, his mind helpfully reminded him about Calem's visit later on. He only intended to catch forty winks, to avoid repeating that embarrassing (rather fun) experience but maybe napping at his work desk wasn't the brightest idea.
He was on the cusp of sleep when he heard the door to his office open, followed by a smack against a forehead and some mumbled words – something along the lines of What did I say idiot? and Won't happen again, yeah right.
Calem.
Sycamore wanted to open his eyes, stretch his back and greet the trainer with a hug but that plan was thrown out the window when he felt those same delicate touches, a hand brushing his bangs away from his eyes. He expected a lot of things; Calem shaking him awake, chiding him for overworking himself, again and so on.
He certainly didn't expect Calem to fuss over him so much. Smoothing his lab coat, gently adjusting his arms to let his head rest more comfortably on it, draping a blanket across his supposedly sleeping form.
And those gentle fingers swept over all sorts of places, sending electricity through his veins before they finally rested on top of his forehead. The fingers were soon replaced with soft lips.
It felt really nice.
As he had gone undiscovered for faking it the second time, Sycamore decided to construct this game. Whenever he received word that Calem was stopping by, he would make sure the trainer would find him sleeping at the oddest places – in the library, on the front steps of the laboratory, the kitchen – just so he could listen to his concerned grumbles and feel his touch dancing over his body.
This time, he chose the sofa in the waiting room, an arm hanging off the side and coat lying haphazardly on his torso, his report covering his face and smile.
The smile was quickly stifled when Calem lifted the report off of his face. Once again, light touches brushed away the bangs from his eyes (it was like a ritual, Sycamore thought.)
"Time and time again I told you to not work yourself to death," he heard Calem mutter as he lifted his arm. "But do you ever listen? No, of course not." A flap of cloth, and then the soft fabric of his coat settled on his body, comfortably blanketing Sycamore's form.
The fingers returned to his forehead and lingered on his temple for a few seconds.
"You moron. Stop worrying me."
Sycamore smiled lightly at the soft kiss that followed soon after.