She doesn't make it to the bed that night. A hollow silence shadows her footsteps as she stumbles her way into the apartment, hair dripping from her latest dip in the ocean. A small price to pay for washing away the remnants of tonight's fights, leaving behind only the ghosts of previous savagery.  

It's become routine, much more than Skyler would ever allow herself to realize.

Dorado meets her at the door, weaving between her legs and purring his own version of feline adoration. "Hey, lil rascal..." The world is spinning and vertigo hits fast, but far greater things have tried to stop Skyler and failed - and so she stubbornly stands her ground, leaning down to pet the Galarian Meowth's fuzzy head.

Nothing and no one would ever prevent her from petting Dorado. Just let them try, she thinks half-drunkenly.

Her memories of what happens next are scattered to the winds, recollection coming back only at some godforsaken hour in the morning when she feels a warm presence at her back. A soft smile touches her lips through the cobwebs of sleep, familiarity etched in the easy comfort of Angelo's closeness, arm around her waist holding her close. 

It's home, far more than the walls surrounding them.

For a moment she wants to go under again, to fall back into the cluthes of sleep with her husband, pain in the butt that he is, at her back. But as of late the Sotally Tober has been a resounding echo of absences: a mug left on the counter, maps spread throughout the coffee table, a note on the fridge.

So she finds her hand raising to touch calloused fingertips to the back of his hand in a soft caress. Are you there? It seems to ask. Are you real?

She's still halfway asleep when the words trip out of her mouth, a graceless whisper on a sleep-roughened voice. "Mio tesoro?"

angelo vestri

☉

For a moment, before his voice scrapes across the shell of her ear, Skyler's convinced that he's a vision conjured by her sleep-ensnared brain. A midnight ghost sparked from memories of countless nights spent intertwined in each other's presence, come to remind her of his absence.

She's barely aware of twining her fingers in his, barely aware of shifting just so, that Angelo's not at imminent risk of slipping off the edge of the couch. His greeting is met by a drowsy, unintelligible grunt that could've been construed as an attempt at speaking. Barely.

Silver eyes flutter open, heavy-lidded with the last remnants of slumber. Awareness slowly trickles back, and a scratchy whisper is breathed onto the space between them, faintly hopeful. "Angel?" 

The knowledge sinks in, reflected in the way she melts into his embrace subconsciously, as it were the most natural thing in the world. The Welcome Home needn't be said, not when they fall into each other as easily as breathing. Not when they're willingly cut open and exposed at their most fragile.

The fingers intertwined in his squeeze gently. A stubborn pull on his hand has her all but cradling his arm to her chest, logistics be damned. 

"'S not time for breakfast yet," she mumbles quietly, unwilling the break past the dream-like hush. Surreptitiously, she cleans the small line of drool on the corner of her mouth on her t-shirt. Or, what she hopes is her shirt.

Despite her words, Skyler herself makes no attempt to fall back asleep. 

angelo vestri

☉

Skyler's entirely unaware of what lies beneath Angelo's thin veneer of normalcy as he holds her close. She's entirely unaware of a lot of things lately, rushed morning conversations having become few and far between, distributed somewhere within long strings of silent breakfasts and either charred eggs or reheated ones.

She honestly expected Sammy to quit his job anytime soon. Especially after that whole spatula fiasco.

So when she's met with an opportunity to spent time like this, she greedily takes it - and to hell with having to wake up at the crack of dawn. Wouldn't be the first time she'd spent all night wide awake. Probably wouldn't be the last.

Also, the delicious warmth that lines her back reminds her of far more pleasant possibilities than sleep. A pleased hum preludes a languid shift of her hips, pressing close.

"No." The refusal is immediate, the steely undertone in her voice leaving no room for objections, even through the veil of sleepiness. Even the thought of walking to bed proves unappealing. "You're staying now, Angel."

Drowsiness dispelled, the word starts trickling in. But this is their world, bathed in slithers of moonlight and hushed voices and a tender, unspoken affection, and Skyler happily welcomes it with open arms. 

Shifting, she stiffles a yawn in the crook of Angelo's neck, taking the opportunity to press a kiss there.

"How was work?"

angelo vestri

☉

Skyler takes full advantage of the shifting of bodies to throw her leg over Angelo's hips, body flush against his as sun-kissed skin rasps over the coarse fabric of his jeans.

She's all too aware of the calloused digits that whisper designs on her back, wordlessly coaxing her to partake in his warmth. She doesn't need the encouragement, greedy fingers already sliding under his shirt to rasp a meandering path up his side.

A satisfied sigh escapes her parted lips as she tucks her head in the crook of his neck, shamelessly basking in the proximity, all but one particular type of tension melting from her body. 

Questions simultaneously fall from their lips, and Skyler snorts, amused. "The hell you did." Nails lightly graze his torso, as if to drive her point home. 

Then, after a small pause. "Had to go to Pacifidlog today. Something about Corsola shells. Turned out to be a bust. Still got paid though." Anything about the later part of her day is notoriously absent. Thank Arceus she'd remembered to remove the gauze before she-

Shit, it must still be somewhere in the living room. Probably the floor. She'd have kick it under the couch or something when she had the chance.

But right now her priorities lie elsewhere.

Lips follow the line of his jaw down to his neck, deliberately lingering there. "Your turn now, Angel baby."

angelo vestri

☉

How long has it been since they'd shared a moment like this? Bereft of all intruding thoughts that did not relate to the present moment? Basking in the simple pleasure of each other's presence? Too long, Skyler feels, or at least long enough that she could not immediately place it in her memories.

She doesn't need to look up to feel the smug satisfaction all but exuding from angelo vestri, but her small protest falls silent when his fingers rasp over her back in that way she likes. A pleased hum rattles through her throat in encouragement, neck tilting just enough to give him more access to it. An unspoken command - or plea. More, Angel.

His words flow over her like water as he recounts his day, and that would've been that if not for the snag in his voice. Wandering fingers halt just at the cusp of disappearing into his waistband, deliberately hovering there as Skyler raises her head to find ocean blue in the moonlight-kissed room. 

Her gaze is forged steel, an aimless promise of violence coiled tight. She has to stop herself from demanding the truth from him then, protectiveness rearing its ugly head.

A little adjusting sees her resting her weight on her elbows, looking down at her husband. A calloused thumb rasps lightly over his cheekbone as she tilts his head to ghost a kiss over his lips, dangerously gentle.

"That bust." The words are whispered against his lips, coaxing. She's become familiar with this give and take between them, and doesn't refrain from exacting the price for his previous smugness. 

In this case, the truth. "What was it?"  

angelo vestri

☉

Skyler had never been able to navigate the shifting undercurrents in conversations, not like Angelo. She was brute force and relentless stubborness against the subtle knife and guarded secrets that hid behind Angelo's playful countenance - but she'd unravel him all the same. Slowly and meticulously pry him open to reach for the maelstrom within, to bring it out into the open. She would take nothing else.

Nothing less.

Angelo attempting to placate her would've felt like a slap to the face, and herald a yawning chasm between them. Not insurmountable, but an obstacle all the same.

She feels his resistance under the press of her fingertips, is intimately familiar with the instinctive reaction.

It soon gives way with the smooth rumble of Angelo's voice filling the space between them, and Skyler relaxes back into his affections - unsuspecting, up until that moment, of the tension lining her muscles.

"'Course you did." It surprises her nothing at all - she would've done the same. A smirk catches the moonlight, though it doesn't detract from the steely focus bearing down on the pilot. "Suppose it wasn't a friendly chap just lookin' for a good fishing spot?" 

When was it ever? 

Calloused digits find purchase around Angelo's arm, bringing it close enough for Skyler's lips to ghost a kiss over his wrist. Half-mast eyes reveal slithers of silver, peering from behind dark lashes in the half gloom.

"What next, Angel?"

angelo vestri

☉

As much as her focus stubbornly remains on the weave of the story he tells, a part of her falls into the familiar rhythm of affection between them. Lips that ghost over her forehead soften tense features, and the shape of her mouth relaxes into a pleased sigh.

It proves to be not near enough. She gives into their low-simmering tension, a silver gaze sliding down to whisper softly over angelo vestri's own lips. Deliberately slow.

"It spoke to you?" Precious few pokemon were capable of actual speech, much less one that fit into the description he'd given her. Diving into her admittedly shallow knowledge of legendaries brings up nothing.

Pupils enlarge to eat up the silver around them at the slow, sensuous rasp of his finger on her lip.

Her breath's held hostage by the desire to claim those smug lips for her own - and Arceus damn the story. Frustration wells up, and Angelo's proven right when a flash of teeth follows the motion of his teasing fingers, missing by less than an inch. 

Hands flash out to grip his wrists instead, pinning them to the fabric of the couch below. 

"Bet it didn't." Her voice is a whispery drawl, roughened by something other than sleep. "Bet it tried to get what it wanted by other means." Concern colors the latter half of her sentence, and the grip on Angelo's wrist slackens slightly as she quickly scans him for injuries.

When she meets his eyes again, her own are narrowed in a silent promise of violence. "What did it do, Angel?"

angelo vestri

☉