The Gym had been exciting today. He'd seen a few familiar faces and even handed out a badge or two- good work for him. He'd been able to leave a bit early, excited to be spend the day with his boyfriend, and even stopped in one of the Sootopolis shops for a treat. It was a special day meant for love and romance and all that cheesy stuff.

Temp steps through the door and is slapped in the face with the smell of childhood.

The savory fish and the sweet coconut pull him back to a time when his mother was still alive and sister still a baby. He'd been in bed, sick for one of the first times, and his father had made it just for him. His mother's hands, usually so stern, guiding gentle spoonfuls to his lips. When he was feel better, sticky coconut candy as his reward.

He blinks and accepts the kiss, mind in two places, but he wraps an arm around Cillian Quinn and meets the kiss sweetly. A book is in his hand, something stuffy and old about fossils that he knew nothing about but figured Gavin would like. He'd worked hard to track it down.

"It was good." Is muttered against Gavin's lips. Temp had worn his hair up today. Dangling earrings hang, shown off. He smiles at the other, then, and shifts his attention fully on Gavin- tries to steal another kiss and look him up and down. "You feeling okay?" He had been worried about the other over working himself again.

There are signs. Shadows under his eyes, an undisturbed bed, notes spread on the coffee table. He's overworking himself, as always. Yet there's a bright, energetic quality to his gaze that doesn't match the bags beneath.

Is he excited? Nervous?

He licks his lips, smiles as he admires the dangling jewelry.

"I like these ones," he says of the earrings, toying gently with one. He is pliant beneath a stolen kiss, leaning into his lover's comfort. "I'm fine, love."

Chu-e's death has been hard on Gavin, his absence almost as bad. When he'd fought with Temp, he'd nearly fallen apart beneath the weight of all his grief and anguish. But they were back together, now, and Gavin doesn't celebrate holidays but this is one of love and warmth and if there's ever a day to set aside the burdens of his loss, it's today.

So he smiles, and means it.

"Mm, come on, I don't want the soup to burn."

Taking Temp's free hand, he tugs him toward the kitchen.

Tempest Quinn

"Yeah?" Of the earrings. Cillian Quinn fondles one and he leans into it. He'd picked them out because the sheen of them reminded him of when the light bounced off Lugia's back. A small nod to the deity he belonged too, if indirectly.

Temp wants to argue, has the words to scold his boyfriend on the tip of his tongue, but Gavin seems so eager. He allows himself to be led with only minimal resistance. Just enough to tease the other. The cooling coconut bars caught his attention quickly, though, and Temp paused still for just a moment.

"Wait, are those..." A soft scoff from a bewildered, grinning mouth. Temp took the chance to step closer and kiss Gavin on the cheek again. "Cill, you didn't." Like he already knew what he did. And Temp was happy about it! Touched, too. But it still gave him uncomfortable prickles to be cared for like this, insecurities peeking out.

Gavin feels a pleasant warmth blossom at the back of his neck and flush through his skin as Temp kisses him on the cheek. He's nervous; he's not used to doing big things like this for people. His family didn't celebrate holidays, didn't give gifts — their money was a status symbol, and if Gavin was given anything in his youth it was to make his parents look good.

When Emma had given him a Rockruff pup, he'd thought she expected something in return. That was how things had been in Gavin's life, prior. Transactional. But she'd taught him, in her own way, how to express care.

When Temp had made his favourite food, the feeling of warmth and love had been overwhelming. Now, he seeks to return that in some way. Like a Chatot, Gavin mimics the actions of others in the hopes of being understood.

"I asked your dad what you liked," he admits, flushed. "I would've asked you but I didn't want to give it away."

He takes the soup from the stove and doles out a hearty portion to both of them.

Tempest Quinn

While Temp would gladly spend a week, or longer, of time fervently researching how to make the perfect stew for Cillian Quinn, to be shown the same affection in return is too much. His face flushes a pleasant pink as he finds himself seated with a bowl of Sweetfin in front of him. The thin broth looks just how he always remembered it, noodles coiled up with fish, veggies, and the all important roe nested on top.

"Cill, you didn't have to do that for me."

There is pleasure in his tone even if he denies it. Yet, even if he protests, Temp will not waste Gavin's efforts. A spoon is picked up so he can savor a bite. The roe pops in salty bubbles on his tongue which is perfect against the sweeter taste of the fish. The broth is savory and warm with simple spices. It brings him back to childhood and birthdays. Special meals to make him feel better after rough days. He sighs softly and gets another bite.

"Dad did a good job." He says when he comes back for air, licking a drop off his lower lip. "This is delicious. Just like how he makes it."

"You did it for me," Gavin points out, soft.

That's what love is, isn't it? Learning all the little ways to care about someone — what they like, what they don't, what makes them happy and what breaks their heart. It's like starting a puzzle where you don't have all the pieces and working out the best solution with what you've got.

Temp's puzzle is the colour of a sunset over the ocean, warm colours swallowed by the blues. There are sorrows that will never heal and traumas that Gavin can't soothe but so long as he can offer some comfort, well... a home-cooked meal was nothing.

"I'm glad," he breathes, relieved. "It's not what I'm used to cooking — closest thing I've made would be ramen, I guess — so I worried that I wouldn't be able to get it right in time. Or that there'd be too much salt, or..." He blushes, and repeats, "I'm glad."

Anxiety has him in its claws, tight and squeezing air from his lungs. A pristine dive ball is retrieved from a drawer where Gavin had hidden it. His heart is in his throat.

"This is for after dessert."

Tempest Quinn

The "That's different" sticks on his tongue. Temp is always quick to deflect, talk down his own efforts. He knows that Cillian Quinn wouldn't like that when he worked so hard on this. So Temp just thinks it and vows to work harder, be something better than is worth the efforts of his better half learning to cook his favorite dish.

And is that- nerves? He glances at the Dive Ball with a raised brow and takes another few bites as Gavin fumbles with his explanation. Even that, to Temp, is cute. He's so enamored it hurts.

"It's perfect." A reassurance. You're perfect reflected in the sweetness as he says them. "You made Sticky Coconut. You know you'll have to eat some of those too, right?" Had Tulio warned him? That Temp would eat that till he was sick if he let him.

Something in the way Temp says perfect makes Gavin's stomach flutter.

Arceus, he loves this man.

"I like coconut," he says, "but they're for you. I will stop you from eating them until you get sick, though. You know I have my ways."

His golden gaze glimmers with mischief at the promise, fingers trailing lightly over Temp's shoulder and playing with a few strands of long hair that have slipped out from the tie. He twists them and gives a gentle tug, teasing.

And then he circles the table to sit down and tuck into his own soup.

Tempest Quinn

Temp doesn't doubt Cillian Quinn will stop him. But he wonders if Gavin can stop him fast enough? He doesn't know Temp's Sticky Coconut limit. Not like his dad does.

He just grins, though, beaming sunshine across the table as he works on devouring his soup. It's a comfortable silence between them as he eats. Filled with warmth and love from his side, appreciative of what his lover has done for him. His bowl is finished quickly, only a few stray drops of broth escaping him.

One hands finds the coconut bars but with the other he tries to swipe the Dive Ball and look it over.

"Is this another puppy?" Yes, Temp called that Mightyena a puppy.

Only his boyfriend could look at the mangy mongrel that Gavin had brought home, growling and starving, and call it a puppy. His smile is exasperated and fond, but he finds he can't form words.

He shakes his head, nails digging into his palm beneath the table. The sting is grounding.

With his other hand, he reaches across the table and lays it across Temp's with tenderness in place of his earlier teasing. Where Temp had wolfed down his own meal, Gavin's food has barely been touched on account of his nerves.

I love you, he thinks, and says, "Whenever you're ready."

There was more meaning behind those words than the simple opening of a gift.

Tempest Quinn

The sweet treat feels like it slices into Temp's teeth and gums but he loves how it melts in his mouth. Sticky fingers are left behind, which Cillian Quinn holds with such a tender embrace, and Temp can't help but give a soft laugh.

"You're going to get dirty." His other hand flicks the pokeball, tossing it up, and a burst of golden sparkles and white light erupt. Temp quickly raises his hand to catch the... fish?

The Luvdisc sits in his hands, golden and beautiful, and Gavin would be able to see Temp's face shift from expectant delight to shock. Mouth open, eyes wide, eyes trained on the water type and it hums softly. He'd need to put it up soon, but...

"C-Cillian... you...." He glances down, calls it back before it gets hurt, his face red up to his ears, but his shoulders shrink in some, insecurities building again, and he glances away.

"Do, um...." He licks sugary lips. "Do you know what... um..."

Sticky coconut glues their hands together but Gavin doesn't pull away.

His chest feels so tight it's like to burst as he watches the flush spread through Temp's skin. His lover seems to shrink in on himself, and there's a sick and spreading dread in the pit of Gavin's stomach. It could be that Temp simply assumes Gavin doesn't know what he's asking, or...

Gavin swallows hard and tries not to get ahead of himself.

"Yes," he says, so soft as to almost be inaudible over the sigh of the wind through the open window. Candles gutter in its path. "I know."

Tempest Quinn

"Oh." Breathless, quiet. It's like the world shrinks to only this moment between the two of them. Easy, Temp wiggles his fingers to lock him and Cillian Quinn together. Bonded by sugar and love. Slow, he uncoils. The doubt is still there, burning, it always would be. But Temp flicks his eyes up to meet his partner's.

"I accept." Clears his throat, turns more fully to face his fiance. "I mean, uh, I do! Or, yes? Uh..."

Any frost that could have build would be dashed away by the power of his smile.

"I love you. Come here and kiss me."