The sound of the rain slamming against your roof was a very soothing sound.
After all, such things were not a given pleasure. With living on what he could get for so long and crashing in the woods for most of his career, having such a thing as his own house was almost beyond belief. Certainly, his house may be a treehouse inside of the Ilex Forest, but he was more than happy to have such a thing. There was something peaceful about this location, and the on-site training and close proximity—and yet out of its polluted noise—to Goldenrod's bustle was an unplanned bonus. Surrounded by these oaken walls, a sort of odd warmth overwhelmed him. He may not have some fancy central heating, but the pride in owning his own place off the grid was enough to warm his thin frame.
A small squeak sounded from beside him, and silver orbs turned their attention to the green throw pillow beside him on this cream couch. A bit of a smile spread as he found his partner—yes, partner—Sneasel curled up in a ball, covering the small, white leaf design imprinted on the soft cushion with his dark black fur. A pale hand outstretched slowly, cautiously reaching for the sleeping form. Soon, this fingers felt the familiar and reassuring velvet, and a lone crimson eye opened to gleam at the Pokémon's Trainer. The duo exchanged a silent smile before the creature let out a heavy breath and let his chin drop down to the soft surface, lulled to sleep by the pattering of water above them and the slosh from the waterspouts.
Ah, what a life he doth lead. Red locks slowly rested against the waiting embrace of white as the young adult leaned back and closed his eyes, smiling with silent content. A Pokémon Trainer he may be, but such lulls in activity were something he more than welcomed. And now, in his wooden castle, high above the outward stretch of foliage, he sat with an interesting sort of peace. With this early February air suddenly turning into warm rays of moonlight, the expected snowstorm had melted into a onslaught of water. He was content with such a change of pace; the snow could have easily trapped him inside of his humble abode.
However, such peace can not last forever.
Suddenly, a loud thrash against his front door broke the atmosphere, sending the young man racing to his feet with a snarl of shock. Considering the facts that he was first off, a good ways off the ground, with only three flights of wooden stairs to reach his front door. Secondly, he was a not-quite-liked figure in this place, standing more as the mysterious challenger to many annual events around his region instead of being some well-known hero. Third, but certainly not least, he was in the darkest depths of the Ilex Forest, unknown to almost all of the world. Judging these options, that left literally a single, lonesome soul who could rationally be at the door. With this mixture of knowledge, he raced over to the front door and swung it open in a hurry, nearly crazed at the—perhaps not so—unwelcome breach of his peace.
Just as he had thought, a thin form stood before him, shoulders hiked to block their neck from the assault of water and dripping in this bleak darkness. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes found a patch of red on a ghostly cheek, glittering beside the trails of water that escaped plastered brunette locks. He eventually let out this breath as a hiss as he gave the visitor a glare, upset by their recklessness. Truly, reckless would be an excellent word for them. Standing on a young man's doorstep in a black leather jacket and skin-tight jeans was hardly protection against this torrent, even with an inner flame to rival his own Typhlosion. He knew first-hand the terrible results of this type of weather, and he certainly wouldn't wish it on this late visitor, even if she was a bit of a stubborn woman who knew just how to drive him mad.
"Lyra Soul," a disappointed hiss leaked out into this darkness, bringing vibrant hazels to his face. "Just what in the world are you doing out here this late?!" Before the young woman could open her mouth and defend herself, the redhead grabbed on to her sopping sleeve and dragged her inside, slamming the door behind them and sealing themselves away from the late-night attack. Soon, the sound of dripping water against hardwood floors rang out as the brunette stood there, her left cheek inflated with her usual stubbornness. He then turned to the soft glow resonating from the hallway, ignoring her dangerous glares.
"Typhlosion!" His voice, now loud with a slight edge of panic, woke his slumbering Sneasel with ease. The creature shot him a few drowsy daggers as the man ignored him and cupped his now freezing and wet hands over his mouth. "Get out here! Oh, and bring some towels or something with ya'!" Crimson eyes eventually found the object of his partner's panic, a young woman with dripping brunette hair, standing in the dead center of their quaint living room. An overjoyed squeak rang out as he leaped from his spot and raced to her side, overjoyed to see her again—and so soon, too.
"Lyra," The man with red hair started once again, pulling off the navy blue jacket from his shoulders in the process. "Just what were you thinking?!" Again, she opened her mouth only to be interrupted by the man's harsh tones. "It's stinkin' flood conditions out there, and you're just hangin' out!" He then grabbed his jacket and flung it over her shoulders instead, clamping it shut around her glistening jacket and neck. "You could have frozen to death out there!"
"Look," The woman shot him a look as she struggled under the tight constrict of fabrics, her hands lifting to hold the offered outerwear around her; despite her prideful nature, she wasn't stupid enough to reject such a gift when her knees are slamming against each other. "I didn't realize that things would get this bad. I've been outside plenty of times, Silver, and I'm fully capable of standing in a little bit of rain." Just as she spoke, a large navy-blue and yellow creature rumbled out into the room, tottering in on short legs. In his grasp rested a heap of pristine white towels, warmed by both his fur and his inner fire that radiated outwards. "It's not like I'm gonna die from a bit of water, redhead."
"A little rain?!" That earlier edge returned as he stared incredulously at the young woman before him. "You call that—" He abruptly stopped to motion to the angry stream crashing on his windows. "A little rain?! That's a good blizzard's worth of water out there, Lyra, melted and still freezing cold!" His eyes narrowed at this moment before they snapped to his right. Next to them, the Typhlosion stood with outstretched—and yet still so very short—arms, offering his partner the towels. He broke off from the conversation to take the top towel and get to work on drying his guest off, violently rubbing the fabrics in her hair to stimulate a bit of warmth to rise to her unusually pale skin.
Of course, such actions are not taken so lightly.
"H-Hey!" A bit of a stifled laugh leaked out of the absorbing white, making a bit of a smirk come to the man's face. "Silver! Cut it out!" The offered jacket fell to the floor to be collected by Sneasel, the Sharp Claw Pokémon grinning at the two with bright eyes. The redhead simply ignored her complaints and increased his efforts in drying her off. "Silver!" A bit of a desperate shriek came out as her face was now covered by the white towel. "Please, stop!"
A bit of a chuckle slipped out before he finally obliged and revealed her brightened cheeks. A stubborn pout took hold her features as he pulled the towel away, pleased with the frizzy mass that was her hair. "There," He tossed the towel over his shoulder before grabbing the next one in the pile, revealing glimmering eyes of amusement from his Typhlosion. "Now you don't look so much like a drowned Eevee."
"Very funny, Silver." Lyra playfully snatched the towel away, taking the matter of drying her body off into her own hands. She gently grabbed at her black jacket with the towel, absorbing the stubborn droplets of water that refused to leave her alone and join their fallen brethren at her feet. "Like you don't look funny when your hair's wet." Her bright eyes lifted to his own silver pools for a moment before flirting away with a bit of a narrow. "I just happen to absorb water better than you do."
"And stay out later than I do as well." Lyra Soul looked back to the redhead to find him holding another towel in his arms, waiting to exchange the two when the current one had been deemed too wet to continue. A bit of a growl came out of her throat as she looked away, a bit bitter about his mentioning of the current hour. "Do you have any idea what time it is, Lyra?" The young woman was slightly surprised by the sound of his voice, calm and yet searching. Usually, such a question would be asked with aggression, not this strange sort of patience. Against her better judgement, she decided to answer his question.
"I don't know...around midnight?" Her hopeful lift of her voice was shot down by the sharp glare of his namesake orbs and the slow sweep of his head. She let a sigh escape her lips before she took the towel in his hands and threw the wet rag to the cream couch, ignoring the soaked squish it made upon impact.
"Just so you know," Silver focused in on her face, her eyes fluttering back to his own pale cheeks. "It is currently three-thirty in the morning, Lyra." A bit of shock slipped out of chapped lips as Lyra looked away, embarrassment slipping to her cheeks. "You've been out there for hours, Lyra." A bit of a bitter chuckle slipped out of his mouth as he shook his head again. "I thought you said you were at your mother's already! I had no idea that you were still out there in this storm!"
"Yeah, well," She drew a sharp breath before shaking her head. "I kinda got sidetracked by a skirmish in Goldenrod." Her hand subconsciously lifted her cheek, bringing the pool of crimson back to the young man's attention almost immediately. "You know how those gangs get there; they're more of the type to take desperate attacks than to follow any sort of rules."
"Lyra," An exasperated sigh filled the room as the redhead threw up his hand and walked away for a single moment, rushing to his lonesome hallway. His voice echoed out of the small space, reaching her ears as a fuzzy tone. "You can't keep playing hero like this! Leave some of these problems for the police or something once in a while, will you?!" He emerged a few moments later with a dainty first-aid kit in his hands and serious eyes. "You can't keep putting yourself in harm's way like this."
The young woman let out a quiet humph as the redhead motioned for her to take a seat on the now cluttered couch. Reluctant footsteps slowly headed to the cream sofa, stopping just inches from the soft surface. With a quick sweep of her hand, the soaked towels fell to the floor and provided a dark spot to sit. With another huff, she flopped down and shot the young man a questioning glance. With a quick drop to his knees, the white box was flung open upon the white cushions and exposed an odd and messy assortment of bandages, gauze, iodine bottles and other various medical items.
"You are by far the most reckless person I know, Lyra." Silver's eyes were carefully trained on the small box as his hands parted the supplies, placing the unneeded bandages and other things aside on the surface of the couch. "I've never seen someone come home with bruises, scratches or something bleeding as often as you do." At this, the two Pokémon dropped their loads and lumbered over to the young woman, wide eyes and curious expressions. Typhlosion, being the great beast he was, simply got down on all fours and rested his head upon her lap, his ears laid back with ease as her scarred hand ran through his short fur. Sneasel, not wanting to be left out of such displays of affection, simply crawled up beside her on the couch and resumed his nap from the comfort of the green throw pillow beside her.
"What can I say?" A bit of a bitter undertone slipped into her voice as the young man finally found an opened bottle of iodine and a clean cotton ball. She let out an old, stubborn hiss when the chemical shot a harsh bolt of pain up her face, but she fought for her composure and once again glared at the redhead. "I have a gift for getting into trouble." The redhead frowned at this, but it quickly melted away when Typhlosion gave him a quick nudge with his muzzle.
"Well, stop it." Despite the wording, his tone was light and jesting. "I've been your rival for a good eight years now, and it's starting to get a bit old." His lips cracked into a grin as he lifted his face up to hers for a fraction of a second and gave her a quick peck on the nose. A bit of shock crossed the brunette's face before it was replaced with a knowing, cocky grin. "Besides that, I've been your boyfriend now for a good two of those years. It's my job to make sure you're not killing yourself out there over little gang wars—" He was suddenly cut off with a stubborn shake of the head from Lyra, who had now grabbed hold of one of Typhlosion's blue ears.
"It's not a simple 'gang war' when you've got little kids in the crossfire!" Her eyes gained a sharp flame within them, the brown giving way to a striking orange undertone that had taken Silver so long to find. "Those kids are worth any minor scratch! You can't just let them sit in harm's way like that!" Silver orbs narrowed for a moment before hiding behind heavy eyelids, a sigh slipping out of the redhead's lips.
"I didn't mean it like that, Lyra." He lifted his head and gently gave the wound one last brush, revealing a fresh scab in jagged claw marks. "I just—" He struggled for the words as his hands clutched the sullied cotton, the iodine bottle calmly resting with the rest of the first-aid kit within the confines of the metal box. He let out a quiet growl before shaking his head with narrowed eyes of frustration. "I just...I just get worried about you, you know?" His eyes shot up to her face to find a quiet, sympathetic expression. "You're always getting into trouble, and then you end up hurt! I get that you feel that strange need to go help people or whatever you said it was, but it gets a bit ridiculous when you come home to me in a crumpled heap!"
A bit of a playful frown slipped on her face as her hand switched from Typhlosion's head to his own, her fingers curling in his red locks. "I'm not always being reckless, Silv." A bit of a heavy breath slipped out as he looked up to her face, staring with clouded eyes. "Honestly, I'm not trying to be such a anxiety trigger or somethin'." A bit of a smirk formed as she went on, "It's not my fault that my boyfriend's a huge worrywart!"
Silver just sighed, shook his head and stood up, letting her hand fall back down to her lap. He reluctantly picked up the little kit, clutching the metal, almost lunchbox-like handle and swung it gently. "C'mon, hothead." Lyra just shot him a smile as he went on, "It's about time that you tucked in for the night." He gave the two Pokémon a quick wave of his hand, motioning for them to give the woman her space and a chance to rise to her feet. With a deep rumble of disappointment, the Volcano Pokémon lifted himself to his paws and rose up beside his Trainer, waiting for the brunette to join them.
Lyra Soul reluctantly rose to her feet, stretching her arms above her head with a yawn as she did so. Sneasel took advantage of the situation to race up her back, resting his cheek against hers in a quick display of affection. The brunette simply smiled at this and walked beside the redhead, taking the simple display with ease. "Now," Silver began, "I want you to go ahead and change out of those clothes." He pointed to her whole outfit, his finger lingering over the wet splotch on her knee for a fraction of a second before his hand dropped back to his side. "You've managed to dry off quite a bit, but you're certainly not sleeping in that tonight."
His eyes adjusted to the dark blanket of the hallway gradually, but his mind had long since memorized the locations of the four doors that resided in the space. He stopped before the first one on the right and turned his head to glance over his shoulder, staring off at the low gleam of Typhlosion's flames that danced on Lyra's cheeks. "I went ahead and put some of your pajamas out for you, just in case you came back here tonight." His eyes narrowed at her slight nod, but he continued, "I'll go ahead and take care of the aftermath of Hurricane Lyra again." A quick smile slipped on his face as she just laughed it off—as usual.
"Alright, I've got it." Hazel eyes managed to glimmer in this lack of light, partially from amusement. "Just don't come barging in on me, got it?" Before he could even explain that no, he would never be so rude, she went on, "I'll go ahead and steal the best spot while you're out here doing housework!"
"Very funny, Lyra." His eyes narrowed with a bit of a playful gleam before the sound of the rain pulled him out of his thoughts. He lifted his head to the roof for a moment, staring at the warm oak that sealed the cold out and kept them dry. "Oh," He turned back to his rival—for despite all of their affections, they still had their little flame going—and glared. "And next time, take Glaceon with you." Lyra opened her mouth in confusion for a moment before he cut her off with a bit of a grunt. "He went ahead and tore half of my good socks while you were gone."
"Silver, I'm sure you're exaggerating—"
He deadpanned as he slowly pointed to the open bedroom door—and the spying Crobat—with his stained cotton ball. "He ate only my left socks. Not a single right one, just the left ones."
A bit of a chuckle entered the space before being shaken off by the brunette. "Well, I'll just have to buy you a few more then. I'm sure the Champion of Johto can afford a few socks for her rival, eh Silv?" He just rolled his eyes and shrugged, watching on as the little gleam in her eyes sparkled on. Reluctantly, the brunette leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before heading off towards the end of the hall, leaving him to handle the great mess within the small living room.
As he slipped the first-aid kit to the top shelf, he couldn't help but slip into a bit of a smile. As sharp as he might have been earlier—he'll admit that getting so worked up isn't the best of his qualities—he was happy to have her around. As reckless as she was, he wouldn't have her any other way. There was something about her that just drove him crazy...and yet, he liked it. It was an odd thing, to feel like this. Perhaps, she was a bit like a storm herself, energetic and unpredictable. Perhaps he was just like this house, standing tall against the storm and providing a safe place to rest...
Either that, or he's been watching too many romantic comedies with Lyra again.
"Silver!" His head lifted as a familiar voice rang out, muffled from a closed door. "What's taking you so long?" He narrowed his eyes as she went on, "You're the one who wanted to go to bed, redhead! Leave the mess for tomorrow if it'll take you more than five minutes!"
With a light chuckle, the redhead just rolled his eyes and slowly trudged back to his room, tossing the blotched fluff into the bathroom's wastebasket as he walked by. "I'm coming, Marshmallow-Head! Just calm down."
He then slipped inside of the warm darkness, leaving the hallway to stand alone in the gentle sound of the rain.
Author's Note: Just a bit of a one-shot I wrote for Valentine's Day this year. I wanted to get it out early so I wouldn't be scrambling to finish something like...a day before or something. So, enjoy everyone!