The first night, three-fourths of the way through a bottle of champagne, when they're both laughing and as bubbly as the drink can make them, he tells her he loves her.

He doesn't mean for it to come out-Arceus alive, he doesn't-but there it hangs, too slurred to count and too late to mean anything.

May stops laughing, stares for a moment, face serious and eyes intense, searching his. Then, as suddenly as she stopped, she starts laughing again, kisses him first on the nose, then the mouth, a too-loud "I know, dummy," echoing around the room.

It's only after he pulls back that he realizes that, in their drunken kissing, she's slopped thousand-poke champagne down the front of his dress shirt.

May swears and scrambles for a towel, but he just laughs, grabs her wrists and pulls her to him, kisses her cheek when he meant to kiss her mouth but he doesn't care, he's thousands of feet in the air and nothing can weigh him down.


The second day they spend in public, holding hands and taking pictures, buying (and almost dropping) cheri and blu-razzberry slurpees high in the trees. The morning is...domestic, to put it one way. Nice, to put it another.

It's mid afternoon and May won't look at him. At the ground, yes. At her slurpee, yes. But not at him.

He has an inkling as to what's on her mind.

"May," he says, filling his voice with gentleness instead of the authority that almost creeps in.

She glances at him for a moment out of the corner of her eyes, but returns her gaze to the sky faster than a Beedrill's wingbeat. Steven stops and watches May, eyebrows raised, as she walks forward a couple steps before realizing her partner is no longer beside her.

"Steven, come on," she sighs as she stares...not at him, exactly, but more through him.

"What's wrong?"

She gapes at him, incredulous for only a moment before her stare hardens into a mask of put-upon cheer he knows from the Cafe.

"Nothing. Just a bit of a headache, 'sall. Sorry if I seem a little drifty," she laughs, and walks over to grab his hand. She smiles when she meets his concerned gaze, but it doesn't reach her eyes, and her hands are too tense in his.

"Are you sure?"

"Never been more sure about anything in my life, Steven, now come on."

And with that, the conversation is over, but she pulls her hand away too soon. Later, when she's not paying attention, he studies her face, her hair in the breeze, her eyes and how they've darkened from something that's not the falling dusk, her eyebrows, twisted up just a tad like she's lost and confused and asking for directions from someone who doesn't speak her language.

Steven sighs. He knows what's wrong, knows how he can (probably, hopefully) ease the pain, if only she would talk about it.


The third day is spent mostly in silence. Silence as Steven packs in the emptiness of his suite, silence when he's done and staring at the clock wishing it was already four and he could see May, silence when he gets the text: I'll be there in ten. Save me some roomservice.

Silence as he waits, tense, tapping the heel of his foot in the same one-two-three wait a beat pattern.

Silence as he stares at the clock.

Silence as he almost throws it against the wall.

Silence tense and hard, choking, making his heart race and teeth clench.

Silence broken by a knock on the door, quiet yet so deafeningly loud in the silence of his room he almost falls out of his chair. He straightens, smooths his shirt, and goes to open the door.

May stands a few steps back from the door, arms crossed and expression unreadable, looking at the floor.

"Hey," she says, giving him a small smile as her eyes flick to his.

"Hey."

Moments pass, and Steven feels the silence begin to settle over him again.

"Are you gonna let me in, or do I just get to stand here all night?" May asks, humor tracing her voice for the first time in what seems like forever. Eyebrows arched, eyes sparkling, hair tucked behind an ear...this is May. It grounds him, pulls him out of that tight, stretched silence.

He leans against the doorway with a chuckle, stretching his legs across the entrance in a parody of arrogance. "Maybe if you ask nicely."

She laughs, arms falling to her sides as she steps forward.

"That was fast. Eager, are we?" She asks, and the lilt of her voice and way her eyes meet his for the first time in two days brings his heart to a stop.

"Always." It's barely a breath, and his face is likely as red as May's shirt, but it seems to be enough. He doesn't see her smile as much as feel it in the press of her lips to his, warm and soft and tasting of chapstick and coffee, and oh, Arceus-

What starts out sweet and chaste turns grabbing and hard, fast. Jacket balled in fists, hands gliding over the angled lines of shoulders, he's stumbling backwards and she's slamming the door with her foot. He loses both himself and several articles of clothing in the give of her skin, the smell of her hair, the roll of her hips, the giggles in his ear and a husky is that nice enough for you? somewhere around his chest.

They're there for themselves and they're there for each other, and even though this isn't what he had planned for tonight Steven has never been so blissful.


Later, when all is said and done, he tells her he loves her.

Again, he doesn't mean for it to come out, but he'll be damned if he regrets it. Unlike the last time, it lays over them like a warm blanket, warm and soft and definitely counting.

His arms are wrapped around May's stomach, his face buried in the curve of her neck, and he can feel her tense for a moment before May sighs.

"I know, Steven," she sighs, voice heavy and sad. "Me, too."


Somewhere behind him, his clock reads four-thirty-three AM in bright green lettering. May's breathing is deep and even, face peaceful and hair spread out behind her in a tangled, glorious brown halo. Sometime in the night, she had rolled to face him, and he was grateful-not because being curled around her was in any way unpleasant, but because when his phone went off at four o'clock telling him to get out of bed so he doesn't miss his flight at five, her face was the first thing he saw.

He takes another moment to memorize her, then slides out of bed. He immediately regrets this decision in the freezing wasteland that is the rest of his hotel room. He dresses, gathers his clothing from last night (except for one sock that somehow wound up on the ceiling light), and grabs his backpack and two suitcases in silence so as not to wake May. By the time he's ready, she's still out like a light, snoring softly, spread out over the entirety of the bed.

By Lugia, she's beautiful, he thinks, moving to kiss her forehead, or wake her, or something. He can't just disappear; she deserves an explanation, a goodbye, literally anything other than one-and-done sex with a rich guy. The silence envelopes him and he stops. Surely, it would better this way. She wouldn't have to deal with the regret, wouldn't have to...shit, he doesn't know, blink tears out of her eyes or something stupid and cliche and he's most certainly overthinking this and he just can't, he has to get out of there and now, before she wakes up.

Just let her live in last night a little while longer, and when she wakes up…

Well.

All that's left of him when he closes the door is a pokeball and an envelope with a promise inside. Something she can't refuse. Or rather, something Steven hopes she can't refuse.


A/N: Thanks to the wonderful soaringillusions (Samko FFN) for promoting my story on Tumblr! I go under the names its-cullenminating on Tumblr and Sylphie3000 most everywhere else (including FFN), so the story's up on two separate places for your reading enjoyment. Also, thanks to Lady Deviance and JazzieLouise FFN for your reviews, and to everybody who's followed, favorited, and reblogged! It really means a lot.

As a side note, this update took forever for two main reasons: School, and then I got hit by the anxiety bus because my life is on it's bleeding head right now and when I have time to write, I'd apparently rather stare blankly at a wall for hours. I'm sorry for the wait, guys. Really I am.