While Kanto burned, sometimes more abstract took over Temp's dreams. A mix of colors and sounds, the feeling of a healing warmth, the sensation of love. Only Temp was pulled out of it, a light sleeper, when sudden shifting and movements beside him started to happen. Temp blinked awake, confused, blinked again, realized, and then slowly sat up. Cillian Quinn was twitching and whining in his sleep, face pinched. Gavin sitting up almost startled him.

Instead he sleepily but slowly draped an arm around his boyfriend, rubbed his back in soothing circles. Quiet 'I'm here, it's okay.' were muttered soft in his ear, his other hand trying to curl over where Gavin clutched at his chest. Not to pull away, just to provide some form of comfort.

"Are you okay, Cillie?" Rasped with sleep but still so gentle and concerned, Temp would stay awake the rest of the night if it meant that Gavin would be alright.

Gavin flinches under even the gentlest of touch, wild eyes struggling to find their focus. A shuddering gasp strangles into something like a sob and his jaw quivers under the force of it.

He blinks at his lover, confused.

"Temp," he chokes. "Arceus. W-Where...?"

He shifts, at last, bringing both hands to clutch desperately at the one Temp had laid over his own. For how fragile he might seem, his grip is like iron. Too tight.

"I thought... Kanto..."

He lets out a shuddering breath and looks away, neck flushed hot with shame.

Pathetic. Weak.

Tempest Quinn

Gently, Temp tries to guide Cillian Quinn more under his arm, to press against his side, be a physical weight and warmth for him as he comes back into himself.

"I'm here, you're alright." Gentle and easy. Temp accepts the crushing grip for what it is and continues to rub his back. It's not much, Gavin is fighting to get out of a mental maze, so he won't push it.

"I told you not to eat that sketchy looking egg, dude." Try to lighten the mood. More importantly, fill up the bad thoughts with a good one, until it's so covered up the bad one is safe to let out. It's how his dad always helped him. "Do you need some water or anything? Want me to talk about how cool fish are until you're feeling better?"

He's not all right.

He never will be. No amount of love nor time will fully heal the psychological damage that's been done over the years he'd spent in Kanto Rocket. But Temp helps in what ways he can, the solid bulk of his presence a comforting anchor in Gavin's mental prison.

His laugh is weak and strangled.

"Talk," he agrees, "anything."

It helped, if only a little.

As he shakes off the shackles of sleep, Gavin focuses on the feel of Temp's hand against his own. He slackens his grip to trace the lines of his lover's palm, the edges of his nails, the bone of his wrist. His skin is warm.

Grounding, like he had to do when he was alone, when there was no one around to help.

Tempest Quinn

Temp takes just a moment to collect his thoughts, pry through sleep to be a little more coherent.

"I think you're getting a little bit of a farmer's tan, babe." Is what he finally settled on starting with. The last few days helping out on this ranch, doing hard farm labor was... well, Temp was always 'tanned'. Dark skin that was beaten down by the harsh sunlight of his ocean home. "I noticed tonight when you were getting dressed. It's cute on you." The ring of color on Cillian Quinn's skin was as adorable as it was amusing.

Dropping his head on Gavin's shoulder, Temp hummed before peppering quick kisses on his skin.

"I'm glad you've been helping me out so much, babe. Like, I hate having to come out here on my own, so being with you makes it easier."

As Temp speaks, Gavin's fingers explore the ridges of knuckle and the flat plains of skin beneath, marked with veins like small rivers. His thumb brushes over callouses formed by recent hard labour, feeling out the changes and imperfections.

A soft huff of air that doesn't quite reach laughter escapes from Gavin's lips with wisps of miasma.

"M'not meant for all this sun."

His skin's not quite so pale as it had been in Galar or even Kanto, long since adapted to Hoenn's harsher climate, but a few days labouring under the sun in earnest had added extra colour to his skin. He'd burned before it had settled into the so-called 'farmer's tan', leaving Temp to rub soothing calamine over his shoulders where he couldn't easily reach.

"Course," he mumbles, tilting his head to lean against Temp's own.

He'd do anything to repay Temp for the love he's been given, even if it means spending nights in an unfamiliar place and toiling over farm fields through the day. It wasn't the sort of work he was used to but it was nice, in a way; like he could almost pretend they were a normal couple, that this was their rural haven.

But only almost.

Tempest Quinn

A pleased hum leaves Temp and he leans into the head-bump, nuzzling Cillian Quinn so their hair will further stick up like an Unfezant's in the morning.

"One of those types, are you?" The tease is gentle, not even a proper barb as it's whispered between them.

"A little prince who wants someone to wait on him hand and foot so he never how to go outside?" In a way, the idea is appealing, but this isn't really the time to voice that.

Another soft kiss, sweet and slow, any closeness Temp can get.

"Could have fooled me, though. You could be a real workhorse if you wanted to be." And Gavin already was, in his own way, but Temp meant more in the physical sense.

Where he'd have normally laughed and made a dramatic display of fixing his hair, Gavin's response is only a muted hum in his throat and a lackluster shift in position. It still feels like he's wading through the mud of memories, every reaction and interaction delayed by the muck.

He does smile softly under the teasing, tilts his head to grant better access for the kiss.

He focuses on how it feels, the warmth of it, the brush of Temp's lips against his own. Nothing this gentle could be a product of Kanto, of the nightmares. This was real. This was his.

He's quiet for a moment, processing, before,

"Maybe your prince just wants to impress you."

His jaw parts with a yawn, dark bags beneath his eyes. "I don't think I'm getting back to sleep." His brow knits together as he struggles to find the right words. "Will you stay up with me a bit longer?" There's hesitation in the request. He adds, soft, "You don't have to, it just — it helps, not to be alone."

He'd always been alone, before.

"My prince doesn't have to impress me. I'm already wrapped around his finger." There isn't a hint of shame about it, either. Temp just gives Cillian Quinn another soft squeeze before he starts to clamber out of the bed.

"Want some coffee?" He offers his hand to Gavin, to help him out of bed, too. An indirect answer to his question. "Worst comes to worst, we can take a nap after mucking out the Mudsdale stables." Those ground types really knew how to foul the place up. Actually, coming in after a hard day's work, taking a nice bath, and then snuggling in bed sounded nice. He'd gladly be a little tired for a while for that.

"So long as we feed everyone on time, 's not lot we have a set schedule. Hell, we could go start on the chores now if you really wanted." Might be harder to do in the dark but Temp thought they could do it.

Coffee. It's exactly what he needs, right now.

"Please."

The hand offered is taken not because he needs the help, but because he never misses an opportunity to relish in the strength of his lover. Yet there's nothing indecent in the way he steadies himself against Temp's shoulder, only a gentle gratitude in the brush of their lips.

"I was going to offer to teach you how to ride, actually." He'd mistakenly assumed for the first couple days that Tempest Quinn already knew, but had learned through their idle chatter during yesterday's labour that it wasn't the case. "If you'd like."

The dark is more a comfort than a hindrance, to Gavin, who nods.

"Coffee first," he insists, "but then I think the distraction'll help."

---

bingo 2/4 - 'horse riding'

"I already know how to ride quite well, thanks." Cheeky and a bit flirty, but lighter than his usual teasing. It's not the right time but Temp hopes the normalcy will help Cillian Quinn feel better. "Unless you mean the horses... I would love a lesson, Cillie."

Another small peck and he pulls Gavin, gently, towards the kitchen. It's quaint in a different way than his own home. Temp's apartment was small and worn down, sure, but the appliances inside were just dated. This old farmhouse was more antique, the stove needing to have the pilot manually lit and the coffee pot just an old kettle. He works to start the water to boil as he preps the slow-drip coffee maker. It's the kind from before electricity, using heat and pressure and steam to brew the coffee.

"When we get back, can I stay with you for a day or two?" Gavin had reassured him he didn't need to ask, but Temp always felt weird just showing up at his place with his bag packed.

The normalcy helps.

Gavin blinks away the fires of Kanto to smirk at his lover.

"Oh, so you're saying you don't want a demonstration. Your loss."

As Temp sets the water to boil, Gavin picks up an apple from a bowl on the table and flicks it gently. It was a habit he'd picked up from being raised in Galar; Applin were more common there, and it wouldn't be the first time he'd nearly bitten into one by mistake. This, thankfully, is just a fruit. Crisp, fresh from the fall.

"Was my mum who taught me," he says, after swallowing. "Didn't get a choice in the matter. Her Rapidash was a right cunt. Should have an easier time with the Mudsdale; they're not nearly as spoiled."

There was an older, gentle mare that would be perfect for a beginner.

The smile Gavin offers is soft, crinkling around his eyes. "You're always welcome round at mine."

Honestly, it was preferable to being alone... but he won't say that aloud, not wanting to guilt his boyfriend into staying longer than he wished.

Tempest Quinn

Someday, him and Cillian Quinn would have that talk about moving in together. For now, though, Temp let the other see the slightly flushed but pleased expression from being allowed in his home. It was getting harder to sleep at night when he was on his own, even if his dogs did their best to smother him. It just felt lonely to wake up without Gavin.

"We never had much room for that large pokemon like that." Most of the pokemon that Gavin would have seen in Pacifidlog were water types or the smaller sort. It was also hard to justify something like a horse when you didn't have the land to let it graze. "I can swim like a fish but stuff like that... no clue. I ain't that good with flying, either. The flying taxi make me a little sick to my stomach."

Plus it was so high. How did anyone like being up that high? What if they fell?

"Did her Rapidash do that... trotty stuff you see on TV?" Briefly, he imagined Gavin on the back of a Galarian Rapidash, doing dressage.