Chapter Text
Mesagoza—and most of Paldea, for that matter—is so balmy year-round that even during winter, it never quite feels like the holidays. It might've been more thematically appropriate for the Pokémon League to host their annual holiday party at one of their two Gyms on snowy Mount Glaseado, but somehow you can't quite imagine the standoffish ice-type gym leader taking well to having his turf intruded upon by a crowd of merrymakers, even (or perhaps especially?) if they're his coworkers; Ryme would probably be far more receptive to the idea, provided that all the space at her Gym wasn't already booked out for one of her concerts or something. The League Headquarters is the largest and most centrally located of the League facilities, though, so you suppose it makes sense that they'd prioritize convenience over vibes alone. Still... you wouldn't mind the sight of a snowflake or two.
You're a bit warm in your sweater as you let Nemona tug you along behind her on the path from the Academy campus to the Pokémon League Headquarters. She's awfully confident considering she's about to be the youngest in attendance (save for Poppy) at the League's little yearly get-together, which will include the Gym Leaders, the Elite Four, any Champion-rank trainers who wish to attend, and a handful of other League higher-ups. As a relatively new Champion, and a younger one yourself, you can't help but worry you might feel a bit out of place. Nemona will be fine—she's got the charisma (or perhaps just the cheerful bullheadedness) to make herself at home in just about any room, and already has an existing, well-established rapport with most of these people besides. You're feeling a bit more apprehensive, though, and can't ignore the nervous sweat starting to prickle beneath your clothes.
Still, Nemona's perpetual merriment is infectious as always, and you can't help but smile as she gushes on about something or other. Her own festive sweater errs just on the right side of tacky to be endearing, her eyes already bright with a fierce glint that makes you hope she won't drag anyone into a Pokémon battle in the middle of the venue—although, now that you think about it, maybe that extra flush and sparkle is just from the mild pregaming the two of you did in your dorm before beginning the short walk over. Nemona is well and thoroughly thrilled to have you on her arm for the evening, or at least until she inevitably wanders off to talk strategies with some of the best battlers in the region. You should be able to hold your own without her, though—at least once you get a little eggnog in you.
Soon the gleaming doors of the League HQ are sliding open before you, one of the staffers recognizing you both on sight and waving you further inside. The holiday decor is nice for all its genericity; there's nothing too tacky or overtly symbolic, mostly just some deep red drapes and delicate string lights with simple, classy evergreen wreaths and the occasional PokéBall motif decking the halls as you're directed towards the large open space designated for the occasion.
Before long, the two of you are stepping inside. It's just a normal room and not one of the battle courts you'd seen during your challenge, although that would've been kind of funny (and only served to encourage Nemona, the maniac). You're fashionably late, but not egregiously so, and a quick glance around the space reveals that most of the guests are already here, with a smattering of plus-ones to boot. You recognize the faces of a few other Champion-rank trainers from social media and League newsletters; the totally unfamiliar people who aren't obviously arm candy must be some of the League administrators, a handful of them in conversation with Geeta across the room.
The vibe definitely seems to lean more towards professional than rowdy, although there's still plenty of levity to be found amongst the attendees, your gaze wandering over the dim, warmly-lit space as you and Nemona go to grab some drinks and hors d'oeuvres before setting out to mingle. Professor Hassel catches your eye, nudging Brassius—animated as always—to wave in you and Nemona's direction, which you both return. Larry, looking as exhausted as ever, dons a rumpled Santa beard for a delighted, giggling Poppy, while Rika leers good-naturedly and snaps photos, to her coworker's chagrin. Iono appears to be in the middle of a livestream, or is at least recording something, having wrangled one of the other Champion-rank trainers into an impromptu Q&A. Katy comes up to greet you and Nemona warmly; she's handing out cutely packaged cupcakes she's prepared for everyone, decorated to look like their partner Pokémon. It looks like Tulip has prepared some gift bags as well, with samples of her new skincare line and gender-neutral fragrances, although she barely has time for more than a breezy hello to you both as she flutters prettily amidst the tables and standing groups of guests. Kofu banters with some of the caterers, probably about cooking techniques, and eventually you spot Grusha and Ryme chatting in a corner, although the conversation looks more to be Ryme gesturing animatedly and Grusha just nodding along.
The ice-type gym leader can't help but catch your eye. He's like a breath of fresh air, the cool blues of his outfit setting him apart from the veritable sea of greens and reds around him, and he looks stunning as always, despite the somewhat bored expression on his doll-like features. He's wearing a deep blue sweater, nice sneakers, and dark jeans, plus his usual scarf—no better excuse to keep it on than for the spirit of a winter holiday party—although it's tugged down low enough around his mouth for him to eat and drink, the former of which he's doing sparingly, and the latter... less so, as he punctuates each occasional nod and comment he makes with a sip or two of whatever's in his cup, one arm folded across his torso.
From behind you, Nemona clears her throat, giving you a nudge with her foot. You fumble and nearly drop your plate, glancing back over your shoulder to see a few other people stuck waiting in the appetizer line while you stand there and gawk shamelessly. With a muttered apology, you quickly gather yourself and move along, feeling your ears grow warm in embarrassment. Nemona's responding smile is just a little sly; you don't like that look on her one bit.
You make your way to the drinks table, pouring yourself something and hoping to Arceus that she doesn't make a comment—if she decides to start teasing you, you won't hear the end of it all night, and neither will anyone else in your vicinity. Luckily, Nemona seems disinclined to press the matter now, and the two of you take a few minutes to stake out a table and get your bearings before she herds you back out among the other guests, practically chomping at the bit to grill everyone about their latest Pokémon battles. The both of you make quite the pair, two young Champions working your way through the crowd, you trailing along just behind your friend like a baby Ducklett while she bounces cheerfully from one conversation to another. You're more than content to just follow her lead, your head starting to get a little warm and fuzzy from the booze, and it makes your smile come easier as you do a respectable amount of chatting yourself, enjoying the chance to catch up with some of the people who have been such a formative part of your journey.
After a while (and a brief detour for refills), you've just about finished making your initial rounds, having greeted mostly everyone. Your stomach flutters, though, as you realize where Nemona's beelining towards next; a certain snowboarder is still standing a ways away from the bulk of the socializing, alone now that Ryme has drifted off to mingle, and Nemona clearly has no intention of leaving him unspoken to. To her credit, she manages to make the both of your (mildly tipsy) approach look natural, even considering the fiendish gleam in her eyes that you're absolutely certain doesn't bode well. Grusha blinks at you once you're standing in front of him, greeting you both by name somewhat cautiously.
"Grusha! We're always wondering how you're doing all the way up on that big icy mountain. If I wasn't so bad with the cold, I'd come visit more often." Nemona beams, sunshine incarnate, although Grusha doesn't seem especially wowed, cutting a quick glance to you when you nod your hello before he turns back.
"I'm managing, thanks. How's the Champion-rank life treating you both?" The twist of his mouth when he says it is wry, but not cruel; at any rate, you doubt you'll hear him apologize a second time for sounding bitter about your success, but it's pretty clear to you that he isn't being nasty on purpose. Nemona just laughs, launching straight into a riveting retelling of the latest battle you and her had shared—before she's almost immediately cut short by another Trainer wandering up to the three of you. You vaguely recognize them, although it's no one you're acquainted with personally.
"Nemona! La Primera was looking for you. It seems like she's finally got a minute, if you're free to talk with her now." The trainer nods over their shoulder across the room, and Nemona quickly turns to spot the chairwoman in the crowd, shooting you and Grusha an apologetic wince.
"Oh shoot, yeah, I should go! I'll be right back, you two!"
And then she's off like a shot, the other trainer giving you an awkward wave of apology before following Nemona's path back through the clusters of people. You blink a few times, your brain just buzzed enough to need a moment to comprehend that all of a sudden, you're on your own now. With Grusha. For the first time... ever? Your heart pounds in your ears.
"Uh." After a few moments of awkward silence, you swallow thickly, taking a sip of your drink to soothe your suddenly-dry throat. As you raise your cup to your lips, you glance sideways at him across the rim. "I don't suppose you're terribly interested in hearing the rest of that story? My last battle with Nemona really wasn't anything special."
Grusha shrugs, not quite meeting your gaze. There's a faint dusting of pink across his pale cheeks, visible even in the relative dimness of the glowing string lights along the walls, but it's probably just from his drink, assuming he's nursing some of the mulled wine or eggnog like yourself and most of the other guests. "Your call. If you feel like telling it." Great, very helpful, thanks.
"Are you having fun over here?" You try again after another pause, the attempt at sarcasm more than a little weak. Now it just sounds like an earnest question, and a stupid one at that. "You never struck me as much of the party-going type."
"What's that supposed to mean?" His brows lower as he narrows his eyes at you. Prickly, as always, although you suppose that your assumption might've come across as a bit uncharitable, so maybe that was warranted. Then he shrugs again, the intensity of his expression easing off as he takes a sip of his drink. "But yeah, I guess you're not wrong." He sighs through his nose, and the effort it takes him to keep the volume of the exasperated breath he exhales under control is obvious. "It's not technically mandatory, but I really can't worm my way out of making an appearance at these things. 'Good PR' or whatever." His voice trails off into a grumble. "Don't need Geeta on my ass for anything else."
He seems to react to his own words then, wincing slightly and glancing around as if to see whether anyone overheard. It's clear that whatever he's drinking has already loosened him up, just a little. He sighs again, letting his eyes flutter shut and bringing his fist up to his forehead the way he does when he needs a moment to gather his thoughts. The way his long eyelashes fan across his cheeks is mesmerizing. How is this allowed?
"So, not to be nosy, but are you and Nemona, like..." He clears his throat, startling you out of your daze; luckily, he doesn't seem to have noticed your staring. "Here together?"
He's making a point to not meet your eyes, in fact, so he doesn't get to witness the marvelous journey of expressions your face surely takes as you attempt to process his question. Eventually, the most you can manage in response is a dumb-sounding "Huh?"
Grusha's eyebrow twitches. Is he annoyed? "You and Nemona. You like, showed up together, and you've been following her around like a lost puppy all night, and—" He cuts himself off with a sigh, shoving his free hand through his hair and taking another gulp of his drink. "Sorry. None of my business."
You can feel your cheeks grow warm. Has he been watching you from the corner this whole time? To be fair, you don't blame him for making that assumption, although you can't help but giggle aloud. His head snaps back to you, and he's wearing an adorably perplexed expression, a furrow between his brows that looks quite out of place on such borderline-angelic features (despite the fact that it's a pretty common sight).
"N-no, uh, it's not like that. She's one of my best friends, yeah, but—we're both at the Academy still, so our dorms are just right down the road." You hurry to explain, hoping it will make sense why the two of you arrived together, and Grusha's shoulders do seem to relax just a touch.
"Oh, yeah, that's right. Convenient for you both, then." You nod. He doesn't seem satisfied, though, still frowning a little. "And the puppy thing?"
"The, the what—? Hey!" You frown right back, not sure how to feel about his choice of analogy. His lips twitch.
"Sorry. You really should see yourself, though."
You let out a huff, rolling your eyes a little and taking another sip of your drink. "She's just—better at navigating all this stuff than I am, okay? She's the one who wanted me to take on the League in the first place, and she's known everybody here for longer, and... it's hard not to just let her take the lead. I mean, look at her—can you blame me?" You gesture across the room, where Nemona's excitedly talking with Geeta, a small group of other trainers already gathered around them.
When you turn back Grusha is watching you, his face expressionless, but the intensity of his gaze makes you feel a bit like a bug-type Pokemon pinned to a display board. You can't quite decide if it turns you on or not.
After a few moments, it still doesn't seem like he's planning to speak. You wet your lips nervously. "And you? Uh... you're here alone? No plus-one, I mean."
He turns to give a pointed glance around his otherwise-empty corner—dramatic bitch—before looking at you again flatly, a snarky retort probably already on his tongue. All he ends up saying, though, is, "Yeah, I'm here alone. No plus-one."
Something about the way he's looking at you is making heat crawl beneath your skin. His striking blue eyes are pretty blank as always, not offering you any overt clues as to what he's thinking; before you can ask, though, someone's Rotom phone is bobbing in the air in front of you, shortly followed by its owner.
"'ello, 'ello, hola~!" Iono cheers, waving at the pair of you gleefully—even her shiny Christmas dress has oversized sleeves, no doubt custom tailored to suit her signature aesthetic. Grusha nods in greeting before raising an eyebrow.
"Hey, Iono. Using your Gym Leader clout to film some celebrity clickbait for the holidays, eh? You out here getting those sponsors?" he asks, his cool tone masking just a hint of amusement. Your jaw nearly drops at his audacity—but the two of them must have some existing rapport, because Iono just puffs out her cheeks and shoots him a playful glare, her sleeves flapping around as she folds her arms.
"Hmph! On about all that again? It's hardly in the holiday spirit to go around callin' me a sellout, Grusha. I'm hurt!" The influencer gives an exaggerated pout, her self-propelled camera not missing so much as a flutter of her eyelashes before zipping back to circle you and Grusha again. Something about the way Iono approached you is making you nervous, and it seems like you're not alone in that, if the way your companion shifts his weight restlessly between his feet is any indication. You also can't help but notice that Iono didn't strictly deny his 'celebrity clickbait' comment...
"Uh, are you live right now?" You ask, hoping you don't look too visibly frazzled to be on camera. Iono shakes her head. "Nope! Just always on the lookout for content, yanno how it is~ I'm collectin' looots of footage to use for videos later! With all y'all's permish, of course."
Her initially angelic expression begins to widen into what you can only call a shit-eating smirk, her jagged teeth glinting rather ominously as she claps her hands together. "And, actuallyyy... this is absolutely perf! I'm oh-so-jazzed to announce that you lucky, lucky two get to be the very first pair of the evening featured on theeeeeee... Iono Zone Christmas Kiss Cam™️!! Whoop whoop!"
You stare at her blankly, and notice Grusha's fingers tighten visibly around his cup. "...The what."
Iono giggles while you stand there dumbfounded, your brain still trying to process what she just said. "Okay, ya got me, I just made that up on the spot. But it's catchy, right? And, come ooonnn, what's a girl to do when she spots her pals hangin' out and makin' goo-goo eyes in such a prime smooching spot without even realizing?! Sooo... pucker up, you're on camera~! All the shippers out there are 'bout to go craaazy!"
As she cackles with unbridled delight—you really can't tell at this point how much is truly genuine or just staged for the sake of her viewers, but either way it makes you uneasy—her Rotom phone tilts back so it can pan dramatically up to the ceiling above where you're standing. Your gut leaden, you tip your head so your gaze can follow it, and you see...
Yup. Mistletoe.
If anyone feels like splitting hairs, you and Grusha aren't, technically, directly beneath it, although there isn't anyone else to share the blame in your secluded little corner, either. "This feels like an HR nightmare for the Pokémon League just waiting to happen," you mutter, your gaze flitting hopelessly around the room to see if there's more hung anywhere else. As you do so, you can't help but notice that all the commotion Iono's making—between her monologuing, periodic camera flashes, and her Rotom phone and Magnemite buzzing around in the air excitedly—is starting to draw the attention of the other guests, a few heads turning in your direction and some murmurs arising from the groups of people standing closest to you. You bite your lip, your heart pounding in your ears, and look over at Grusha.
You're surprised to see his face practically glowing red, his near-translucent complexion not doing him any favors to hide his blush as he turns abruptly away from Iono's phone—and from you. You catch just a glimpse of the darkest scowl you think you've ever seen before he yanks his scarf back up over the lower half of his face, until you can only see his eyes, blazing fiercely. They appear even bluer against his now-rosy skin, and it would be downright mesmerizing if you weren't busy feeling sick to your stomach at the look of absolute disgust marring his pretty features.
"Are you fucking serious right now? Ugh... so uncool. I'm outta here."
Iono lets out a dismayed yelp at Grusha's profanity—something about how her editor is gonna have to censor that later—but he just knocks back the last of his drink before jostling her aside as he storms away, making a break for one of the room's side doors and leaving you standing in the corner without so much as a second glance.
Well, shit. There goes any hope that he might like you back, you suppose.
Through the overstimulated buzzing in your ears, you can vaguely hear Nemona calling your name, and soon she's back at your side, a comforting hand on your elbow. You barely respond, still watching Grusha cross the room until his disappears through the door, your heart sinking further and further. You can't unsee the way he looked so... repulsed. You've seen him annoyed, even angry, plenty of times, but this... this was something else.
Nemona says your name again, giving your arm a tighter squeeze to get your attention. Her warm brown eyes meet yours, and she gently takes your drink from your hand, nodding towards the exit. "I saw what happened... You should go after him."
Your head swings back and forth between your friend and the door, weighing your options as the room starts to feel noisier, more oppressive. You gnaw at your lip, unsure, your cheeks hot and your head spinning. "Sh-should I, though...? Are you sure—?"
Nemona nods her head firmly, giving you a little shove in the direction Grusha left. "Don't wait—just go!"
So you go.
❄️ ❄️ ❄️
It takes a good few minutes of poking around, but after following the route Grusha took through the side hallway, you eventually manage to track him down—you find him lurking in an empty coatroom, leaning against the wall and scuffing his shoe against the carpet. When he notices you appear in the doorway, he hisses a curse under his breath, his head snapping up. You can't help but dread what you might see on his face.
It's not revulsion that awaits you, though—not even irritation—but something more akin to guilt, his brows sloping in a bit of a wince. That's as good a read as you can get with his scarf still obscuring his face, anyway, but it's enough to keep you from turning around and heading back the way you came. Your footsteps slow, and you draw to a halt a few feet away from where he's standing. Before you can speak, he scratches the back of his head sheepishly.
"Shit. I sort of left you to the wolves in there, didn't I? Not very cool of me."
You blink in surprise. He's really not mad at you? "Uh, no, it's—don't worry about it. It was all a little... overwhelming. I'm sorry if you need some space—I, I can go, if you want? I just wanted to make sure you're okay, and to say I had no idea about the mistletoe, and—"
He cuts you off with a shake of his head, and a weary sigh. "No, I know. I didn't notice it either. I should've been paying more attention, but I was—I was distracted." He makes a tch sound and shoves his hands into his back pockets. "And you... don't have to go. It's not you I need space from."
He's still glowering darkly, although now that you know his anger isn't directed at you the effect is almost humorous, his brows knitted tightly together and his eyes peeking out from his big, fluffy scarf. He's sulking, you realize, and it's actually... adorable, in spite of all your sympathy for his genuine distress.
"You should go back in and enjoy the party, though," he continues. "You don't have to stay here and babysit me 'cause I lost my cool like that."
It's your turn to shake your head, taking a deep breath before your next words. "Nah, it's fine. I... was enjoying talking to you. So if it's all the same, I think I'll stay awhile."
Grusha looks back at you, eyes wide. One of his hands has come up to fidget with the end of his scarf. "No kidding? Huh... okay. Your loss."
Your next comment is probably a bit ill-advised, but you're feeling bold and cheeky, alcohol warm in your stomach and your heart pounding in your chest. You try to keep your tone light, teasing. "Not as much of a loss as it would've been for you to have to kiss me, apparently."
It takes him a moment to react, but eventually he snorts, rolling his eyes. "You're telling me you'd want to kiss anyone in front of the whole Pokemon League—and the entire goddamn Iono Zone? Hey, whatever you're into, but that's not my style." His face is flushing red again, though, evident even with his scarf still pulled up. "I've spent more than enough time with cameras in my face. I don't need to be made a spectacle of."
You nod, feeling a bit guilty now for your joke—although it wasn't a joke, not really, not as much as an attempt to gauge how he feels about kissing you. He hasn't openly admitted that you repulse him, so that's something, at least; in fact, he's starting to give you that appraising stare again, and you barely manage to hold back a visible shiver.
"You sure your definitely-not-a-date won't be looking for you?" he asks, deadpan. Now it's your turn to snort.
"What if I told you my absolutely-not-a-date insisted that I ditch that shitty party and go track you down?"
That seems to take him aback, his dark lashes fluttering for an instant as his gaze darts around your face, assessing your expression. "...Did she really? God, that's embarrassing..." His ears are practically glowing pink now, and he burrows his chin even deeper into his scarf, looking away from you. You panic a little, even as your heart squeezes in your chest from how goddamn cute he looks.
"N-no, don't be embarrassed! Please, I... I really wanted to keep hanging out with you. If anything, I should be embarrassed for being so... obvious."
You're not quite sure what you're even saying at this point, and you realize that your hands have found his arm, tugging lightly on the sleeve of his sweater as if to angle him back towards you. He acquiesces, just slightly, one ice-blue eye peeking in your direction over the bundle of striped wool around the lower half of his face. The intensity there makes you gulp, your hands frozen in place.
"Obvious... about what?"
You lick your lips nervously, almost too frazzled to notice the way his gaze darts down to follow the motion of your tongue. "Uh, well, it must not be that obvious, if you have to ask. So... n-never mind." Maybe this was a bad idea... you start to take a step backwards, but he reaches out suddenly, his hands wrapping around your forearms.
"Maybe I just want to hear you say it." Is he leaning closer to you? Your head is spinning; all you can see is blue, blue, blue, his eyes and hair and sweater clouding your vision. You swallow again, thickly.
"...Maybe we don't need to say anything." Your voice sounds a little like a croak—definitely not very sexy, but it doesn't seem to bother Grusha as he raises an almost-playful eyebrow. Your hands are wound up in his scarf now, pulling it loose, slowly, slowly; when did that happen? All you can hear is your heartbeat thundering in your ears.
And then the instant his scarf falls undone around his neck he's leaning in, bracing his hands on your upper arms and kissing you, a bit clumsily but with no lack of enthusiasm. It's hard not to get the sense that all this passion has been raging just beneath the surface for a good while now, and it leaves you breathless; he seizes the opportunity to lick into your mouth when you gasp, surging forward to cage you in against the wall.
This... escalated quite quickly, but you aren't complaining one bit.
"Heh, I—I guess you weren't kidding when you said I was able to melt straight through your ice, huh?" you manage after a few moments, breathing heavily. His lips just barely curl up in a smirk, and he leans back in to nip at your lower lip before nuzzling along the curve of your jaw.
"Oh, I'd never kid about something like that. I meant it when I said I kinda like your burning passion, too."
A little sigh escapes your throat, and you grin, knotting your hands in his scarf to haul his body even closer. "Well, I've got plenty more where that came from."
You never found out who hung that mistletoe; but, needless to say, the Pokémon League's HR department never heard so much as a peep out of you.