Apparently spending Christmas alone in a tent was unacceptable and fucking sad. Someone wasn’t having any of it when they found out, anyway; which is why Angelo finds himself in Lilycove, being led down a quaint street consisting of brightly coloured houses, aglow with festive lights. [break][break]

None of them are quite as enthusiastically decorated as the Dross’s sunshine yellow home. [break][break]

Skyler is holding onto him, leading the way as they approach an imposingly tall figure standing within a carefully tended garden. The courier has been telling himself that staying over at the parent’s house of a friend for Christmas isn’t anything strange, even if he hasn’t done it before... And especially not with a friend that takes him to her bed. But he's sure it’ll be fine. [break][break]

Angelo doesn’t protest when the warmth of her touch falls away so she can launch herself into the waiting arms of her father, leaving him to linger back and watch as Skyler is spun around with – dare he even think – innocent sounding laughter tumbling from her lips.[break][break]

If a hint of homesickness materialises from the exchange, he doesn’t show it; ignoring the bittersweet twist in his gut with a lopsided smile that’s unintentionally soft at the edges. [break][break]

He steps forward when the weight of brown eyes focuses in his direction, Angelo not wavering in reaching his hand out, accepting the greeting shake. “Nice to meet you. Thanks for putting me up over the holidays.” He briefly wonders if Skyler had let her parents know he was coming or if he was a spontaneous addition to the festivities. [break][break]

Judging by a comment from Mr Dross however, it seems that they at least knew of his existence. Angelo peers over towards his adventure buddy out of the corner of his eye, blue eyes briefly sparkling with smug amusement. Imaginary, huh? [break][break]

It’s not until Skyler’s mother appears, every inch of her wheelchair adorned with Christmas themed stickers to match their illuminated house, that they’re bundled out of the garden and into the warmth. Angelo isn’t given time to contemplate on this arrangement now that it’s actually in front of him, not when his attention is drawn towards a pair of eyes peering up at him, familiar but alight with a different wealth of experience. [break][break]

“I can cook,” he confirms to Skyler’s mother. It sounded like her asking was less of a question and more of an invitation but Angelo welcomes it; he doesn’t have much to offer in return for them inviting him into their home for Christmas but at least in the kitchen he could pull his weight. His Nonna would definitely smack him around the back of the head if he dared even think about sitting around on his ass, after all. [break][break]

“Sometimes I think that’s the only reason why Sky is friends with me.” His smile turns naturally playful at the corners, ocean blues twinkling, unable to help himself from shooting said friend a teasing look.



[break][break]

+ skyler dross

There’s a delighted, smug sparkle in Angelo’s eyes as they all gathered around to mock Skyler’s lack of compatibility in the kitchen; officially joining the ranks of those that had fallen victim to her cooking. “Sounds familiar.” He catches the narrowed, silver glare that his adventure buddy shoots his way and chooses to ignore the warning. “Please tell me that the fireman incident was from practicing eggs?” It’s worth it. Angelo gives her one more smirk as he turns back to her parents. “But hey, I don’t think I’ve seen any hair melting yet… Maybe it’s a sign of very, very slow progress.” [break][break]

Skyler decides then to ditch him with her parents, stomping up the stairs on heavy feet in a hasty retreat. He doesn’t have time to feel too awkward, Mr Dross’s hand suddenly patting against him with the strength of a Nidoking swing, almost making Angelo stagger. It does knock a chuckle out of his lungs. “Okay, that sounds good. Save me an assistant spot on the line?”[break][break]

In a new blur of bright colour, Skyler reappears – Angelo’s gaze instantly drawn to her grin, then quickly falling to her ridiculous sweater. His lips part, about to comment on her comical choice before she’s holding another out that’s just as stupid. He instantly knows it’s for him. The sailor passes over the second part of the matching pair and Angelo holds it up, surveying the ‘Ho’ emblazed in large, bright knit with his lips pressed tightly together – attempting to appear disapproving and failing miserably. It is pretty fucking funny. [break][break]

“Fine. But only ‘cus its Christmas,” he responds on a hushed breath, blue eyes crinkled at the corners as he breaks into a secretive smile. [break][break]

It doesn’t take a moment to shrug off his jacket – hanging it up, as he’s learned from Skyler’s near miss – so that it’s replaced by the bright red sweater he’d been assigned, too-short sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Then they make their way into the main hub of the Dross household, Angelo adjusting the braided bracelets on his wrist that had ridden up from his quick outfit change, far from self-conscious as he’s introduced to the other family members despite his humorously inappropriate attire. [break][break]

Homesickness gradually begins to ebb away when confronted with the cosy, comfortable cheer in the room; no space for it to ache when the extended Dross family demands his attention. He’s used to far more relatives filling every corner with chaotic, energetic din during the festive season back in Alto Mare but this was nice in its own way. It’s relaxed in comparison. Much easier to remember all their names, too. [break][break]

At one point Angelo is dragged away from Skyler’s side while in mid-conversation with an aunt, blue eyes blinking in amused bewilderment as he’s all but shoved into the kitchen to meet someone called Jules, both Dross’s looking enthusiastic at the idea of being in the presence of someone who could use an oven. He briefly wonders if poisoning by cooking is a hereditary skill in this family. It’s then that Angelo passes off a bottle of red wine to Skyler’s mother (smuggled from Remiel’s vineyard as self-procured payment for a day’s helping out) having remembered he’d brought it along. It’d taste better here than being drunk alone next to a campfire.[break][break]

Mrs Dross then calls them to dinner once all the food is dished up on the table, her voice easily cutting through all the conversations and cheesy Christmas tunes. Everyone filing in quickly like they'd been listening out. [break][break]

His hands go underneath his chair when he takes his place, gripping the edges so he can shuffle closer to the table. Skyler leans close, bumping into him and Angelo takes the opportunity to steal a hidden touch against Skyler’s thigh. His fingertips tingle with a dangerous spark. “Hm… Yeah. Just a bit,” he teasingly downplays with a warm grin, tone sounding more like a confirmation that being here hit the alternative out of the park. They get stuck into the dinner then, unable to resist the tempting scents that drifts towards their noses any longer. [break][break]

Angelo’s mouth is full of potato when a voice cuts through the chatter of multiple conversations, his gaze drawn towards a pair of silvers that focuses in on himself and Skyler from the head of the table. He swallows so he can answer – this one’s an easy, unobtrusive question. [break][break]

“Well, it’s not the craziest story to tell. I just took over the delivery route from the guy before because he couldn’t find Sky if his life depended on it.” That guy was so convinced that Skyler Dross was just an elaborate work prank; that she didn’t live at her address, there was no such boat and that the complaints were all fabrications to wind him up. It probably wasn’t funny for the sailor but for the others on the delivery team, his outrage was hilarious every time he stomped back with her undelivered packages.[break][break]

“And yeah, got to talking after deliveries. Started hanging out outside work and that was that. Haven't been able to shake her off since.” Angelo pierces his fork into a vegetable and takes a bite, grinning at Skyler's expense. There might be a hint of fondness visable in his eyes, if they weren't then pointed towards his glass.

[break][break]

“I bet he’s still convinced that you don’t actually exist,” there’s amused whimsy in his tone as he takes a sip of his drink, remembering the day he’d told his colleague he’d successfully delivered to Skyler. He’d quit the next morning.





[break][break]

+ skyler dross

“Yeah right, nobody needs that many parcels a week,” he counters, shooting Skyler a narrowed flash of blue from the corner of his eye – harmlessly challenging. There’s no way he’d give her free reign to tarnish the story on a normal day, let alone do it in front of the Dross family. “I just thought you might be lonely. So I stuck around to chat. At least get a good job review from you.”[break][break]

There’s a toothy, unapologetic grin on the sailor’s face when she turns to look at him that Angelo can’t help mirroring. Relishing in the moment of calm before the inevitable storm. [break][break]

Signs of the incoming disaster are missed as he turns his attention back to his plate, not noticing the warning glint in Mrs Dross’s eyes nor the way that Skyler tenses in the seat beside him, far too busy shovelling a homecooked meal into his mouth. He probably wouldn’t have been able to save the situation even if he had noticed. [break][break]

Skyler’s mother drops the first mine down in the form of a general dating question pointed at her daughter. Nothing too alarming or out of the ordinary for a parent to ask. Angelo slows in his chewing but otherwise doesn’t say anything, pointedly keeping his eyes focused on his plate rather than join the rest of the table in their curious stares. [break][break]

It seems like the blonde beside him has it under control, with what sounded like a well-rehearsed answer automatically being recycled across the table. [break][break]

Then cousin Max steps on the bomb that had stealthily been planted, his incredulous response causing a chain reaction of disbelieving comments, scoffs and questions; all attention rounding on them with the realisation that he and Skyler were not actually a couple. Angelo almost wishes he’d choke on his mouthful of carrot. [break][break]

It takes every ounce of his resolve to not look increasingly frazzled, Angelo suddenly the one to sit upright in his chair as he tries to ignore the awkward heat burning against the back of his neck. But even he falters underneath the expectant stare of Mrs Dross, grip around his fork tightening like an anchor as she directs her perfectly orchestrated questions at him.[break][break]

“No, I’m not interested in –” He manages to get out just as she asks him if Skyler would be good girlfriend material, making Angelo awkwardly overlap with the first question. Oh, shit. “That’s not what I –” Angelo can feel eyes on him, bearing witness to his poor attempts to land vaguely on his feet and laying the pressure on thick. “We’re just friends. Really. I don’t have time to fit a girlfriend around work, anyway.” This was not going well, at all. [break][break]

Everyone chimes in then, situation starting to go beyond just picking up steam and instead sharply increasing in momentum, train beginning to derail off the damn tracks. Blue eyes drift around the table, trying to avoid drawing attention before settling on Mr Dross’s pout, his expression crinkling into something sheepishly apologetic, for some reason. “No, uh… Sorry?” [break][break]

He chooses (for everyone’s sake, noticing Skyler and Max put their heads in their hands) to not give Jules’s comment acknowledgement, his mouth instead put to use drinking wine like its water – suddenly very thirsty.[break][break]

“Sure you don’t want to come back to the tent with me…?” He murmurs under his breath, low enough for only Skyler to hear. Just before she snaps. [break][break]

Ocean blue eyes are drawn to the woman at his side, unknowingly widening in confusion – her frustrated choice of words startling him. I would, she’d said. Angelo’s not sure whether he imagined that there was no ‘but’ to interlock her words when Skyler backtracks.[break][break]

He quickly looks away, something in his chest betraying him, painful and delicate like newly metamorphosed butterfly wings. It’s squashed – crushed into some internal box – before it can properly unfold and take flight.
[break][break]

As if figuring out that they wouldn’t get anything more out of them, the conversation gradually shifts to other topics; leaving them to settle back into a more comfortable arrangement of food and talk. Happily full, Angelo helps out with the dishes in the kitchen, at least until he’s forced to retreat with a bathroom excuse – fleeing a tipsy Jules after having his ass pinched more than once. [break][break]

It’s when he’s walking down the stairs that he catches sight of Skyler. Alone.[break][break]

He remembers the way her hand burned against his in a tight grip, daring him to squeeze his fingertips fiercer into her thigh underneath the table. And after everything... There’s pent up frustration to vent.[break][break]

Angelo hadn’t even been aware there was a closet behind him until he’s suddenly being shoved into it, backed up until he’s between the wall and Skyler’s body; her fingertips pressing into the nape of his neck, encouraging him to lean down into her as the darkness begins to swallow them. Excitement crackles over his skin from the thrill of their stolen moment. [break][break]

He hadn’t needed the encouragement, already tilting down to crush his lips against hers in a hungry, long overdue kiss. Fingertips slip underneath the thick material of her stupid Christmas sweater, one hand gripping tight against her waist to keep her against him and the other grazing up her spine; seeking the heat of her skin despite the mugginess of their confined quarters and stuffy jumpers. [break][break]

“You're used to this, so you tell me. On a scale of one to ten - how crazy is today so far?” He asks with a wearily amused smile, whispered huskily against her lips. [break][break]

+ skyler dross

“That’s not too bad,” he pauses, her lips tickling pleasantly against the corner of his mouth. “The seven. Not the burning down the kitchen on Christmas thing.” Fingertips pressing into her waist lift to twist around soft curls instead, wild strands entangling him as Angelo contemplates how much gold had been burned away all those years ago. [break][break]

A soft, content hum is pulled from his throat as Skyler maps the line of his jaw with kisses; chasing away the more frazzled memories of earlier. His fingertips slowly draw nonsensical patterns over the sailor’s back while her voice breathes against his neck - a nice distraction. [break][break]

“We can handle it.” Angelo doesn’t notice the innocent referencing of them as a unit, too busy appreciating the sensation of her mouth against his neck and how Skyler sends a delighted shiver down his spine, pooling warmly in his stomach. “Would be kind of awkward if we can take on lava death traps and desert islands but can’t handle one Dross family Christmas.” [break][break]

She leans back then and Angelo unconsciously presses the fingers on her back deeper into her flesh, keeping her warmth to him. “Some more than others,” there’s a grin on his lips as they share a moment of knowing amusement; one that fades at the sound of a creaking floorboard. [break][break]

Instinctively, his gaze drifts towards the closet door. If he thinks that his pulse flutters at the rush of being caught, it’s only intensified when he’s drawn back into Skyler’s orbit by the sensation of her digits burning against his skin. That look on her face stealing rational thought away; leaving only hunger and a wild glint in his eyes behind. [break][break]

Thumb, previously buried in strands of gold, seeks out the wicked curl that pulls temptingly on her mouth. Lightly tracing the shape, half-lidded ocean blues become consumed by gluttonous inky depths when the slow drag of his touch exposes a hint of white; teeth peeking dangerously at him. Angelo pushes the pad of his digit against sharp edges, daring. [break][break]

Then lips are brought down to brush against her ear, whispering sweet nothings of their own interpretation. “This is a dangerous game, Sunshine…” And he welcomes it, encourages it even, with a kiss against her neck.
[break][break]

+ skyler dross

His calloused fingertip – aching pleasantly from teeth indentations – lingers against her bottom lip as she releases an alluring, trembling exhale. Catching it. Angelo grins sharply against her neck, smothering his own satisfied, almost-moan into her skin with a kiss. [break][break]

There are footsteps drifting just beyond the thin wall of their hiding place but Angelo’s attention is drawn elsewhere, his breath hitching in his throat at the sensation of dexterous fingers working on the button of his jeans. His own digits bite into the flesh of her back, clinging to her – to his resolve to stay silent – as the thrill quickens his heartrate. Danger and Skyler equally intoxicating. [break][break]

Slowly drawing back, warm breath fanning against her cheek and bitten thumb brushing against the other, he guides the sailor towards his mouth – parted and readying a word that threatens to drip off the tip of his tongue. [break][break]

Her name is called; but it’s not from his lips. [break][break]

Angelo pauses, unsure whether he’d imagined it or if his pulse, fluttering in his ears with the rush of adrenaline and longing, had distorted his own whisper. Muscles tensing, his breath stills in his throat, resisting the urge to greedily steal hers. [break][break]

Then it materialises again, undeniably originating from out in the hallway. This time louder. This time Skyler not Sky. [break][break]

A conceding exhale is ghosted across her lips, disappointment poorly masked yet not making any obvious attempts to move. Angelo’s eyes focus on moonlight silver, illuminated in a thin beam that leaks through the closet door. “Later,” he promises, inky depths still wolfish – unable to resist a slow, purposefully fleeting brush of his lips against hers before letting her heat slip away.

[break][break]

+ skyler dross

Mentally, Angelo sighs in relief when the extended Dross family steps over the threshold and disappears down the path, leaving the house in noticeable quiet. Skyler’s family had proven to be a likeable group, even if all of the attention – some more than others, he’d had to nearly pry Jule’s hands off his arm not five minutes ago as she threatened to take him home – had proven to be exhausting. [break][break]


And Angelo meant that in a good way. He’d barely had the chance to let his thoughts drift to Alto Mare before someone had pulled him back to the present… [break][break]


With the remaining Dross’s, he slips back into the now quite spacious living room, sinking into couch cushions. Angelo barely has the chance to flash the sailor a look, blue eyes drawn to her at the sight of a languid grin; as if being taken care of held a secret meaning only the two were privy to. Then he’s suddenly approached by her father, followed quickly by her mother, brandishing albums and innocent (or maybe not) intentions. [break][break]


There’s a slight twinge of discomfort for the familial intimacy that comes with the act of sharing Skyler’s childhood memories; private and no doubt cherished so easily placed in his hands. He doesn't know if it's his place to be included in this. In the warmth of being sandwiched between two parents, comforting and endearing as they point out particular photographs, both eagerly regaling him with the stories behind each. [break][break]

Paired with Skyler’s almost tangible embarrassment as she buries her head in a cushion, it’s effortless to be drawn in; his grin lazily amused while his friend cringes. [break][break]


(That’s what makes it so unsettling. It’s too easy.) [break][break]


Moments from Skyler’s childhood are shared, giving him a peek into her life prior. There are pages upon pages with the ocean as a backdrop, small versions of her collecting seashells or jumping into the waves, toothy or with a dribbling ice-cream clenched in hand. Lots of them are blurred and those are the ones that need more exposition from her parents but they’re also the ones that make Angelo laugh the most.[break][break]

Save for one of Skyler dressed up in a blush coloured, princess dress. Although for his own safety his delight is muffled behind tightly pressed, wobbly lips; smothering the chuckles but failing to hide the spark of something deviously satisfied in his eyes. He tells her that she looks good in pink, just to rile her up. [break][break]


“I think I’ve found my winner,” he proclaims finally, smile smug as he turns the album around and holds it up so Skyler can see the one that had caught his attention. She’s probably around eight years old, on the beach and her hair in pigtails – although its hard to tell with the motion blur – with a Pyukumuku held in small hands. Its innards, in the shape of a fist, are an unfocused swing inches from her chin. It’s no doubt an unplanned photo, immortalised at just the right moment. [break][break]


Blue eyes sparkle mischievously, reminded of the one on his keychain. “Captain Skyler Dross. Losing against wild pokemon from age seven. An origin story.”


[break][break]

+ skyler dross

Everyone leans in to look at this particular picture. Even Skyler, who had so far not gotten involved, shuffles closer to take a peek at her childhood memory with a feisty comment as she reminisces. Angelo glances down to look at the picture again, something endearing about the moment that’s persevered on a glossy sheet; ocean blues drifting when the sailor’s fingers brush against the photo, precariously close to his own. He resists the urge to shrink back or inch them closer, pretending not to notice. [break][break]

Thankfully a hand on his shoulder draws his attention, Mr Dross affectionately musing on his daughter’s hardy tenacity even at a young age. Angelo lets out a breath of amusement, he can imagine the scenario all too well; any other reaction from her wouldn’t have sounded right. [break][break]

“Don’t worry,” he tells Skyler with a languid smile, catching a babe just before it could unconsciously slip out over the edge of his lips. Angelo blames the wine sitting pleasantly in his stomach, even though he’s long accustomed to the warmth the red liquor brings. “You’ll meet again someday. Better start training for your revenge match.” [break][break]

There’s a short, comfortable silence after humorous comments have been shared, the photo album left on his lap. Before, Skyler’s parents had been the one to determine the flow of the pages as they delved into their story telling, Angelo just the listener. Now that it’s left in his hands the courier is again struck by uncertainty, his fingertips thumbing at a crisp corner without committing to turning it over. [break][break]

Another palm rests against his shoulder, small and warm but just as comforting in its ability to distract. “Oh, it's not too bad a trip. I think it feels further away than it is because you can’t get there by plane – you’ve got to sail in and out.” There’s no room for an airport in a tightly condensed island city built upon canals, after all. “But who knows, it’s been a while since I went back. Maybe they’ve modernised.” Angelo smiles in good humour but the light doesn’t quite reach his eyes; guilt perhaps not so easy to decipher to the unaccustomed. [break][break]

There’s a thought that passes through his head that he shouldn’t share too much, if only to save himself from irritating pains in his chest but, somehow, it doesn’t go to plan. Just like how sharing Skyler’s memories had been too easy, his tongue was strangely loose; telling the family of three more details about Alto Mare than he intended. Again, he internally blames the wine. [break][break]

About the canals. About the pokémon that lived in the depths, how some would be brave enough to climb into boats. About how many, after the daily grind, would sit on the edges during particularly hot weather with their feet in the water and drink together to unwind. Painting a brief picture and linking in stories here or there when prompted - usually about his siblings, rather than about himself. [break][break]

“You should go someday. You’d probably like it there,” he directs to Skyler, said in sincerity before his eyes suddenly crinkle at the corner in light amusement – backtracking. “Actually, maybe not. Everyone owns a boat. You wouldn’t be able to throw your captain title around as effectively.” [break][break]

Angelo pauses, lips quirking as he refuses to break eye contact with her. Observing. “I had a boat.”



[break][break]

+ skyler dross