She's been here time and time again, spatula in hand and poised before a decision that would dictate either certain doom - or a peaceful, relatively uneventful evening. And like all other times, Skyler decides to choose violence.

Muffled sounds of distress can be heard somewhere behind the captain as she takes position in front of the stove, holding onto a large pan as if she were about to ram it into someone's head. She might as well have, considering the damage that would probably follow in the wake of her cooking.

But Arceus damn it, she'd fry this egg if it was the last thing she did. Because Angelo would be home soon and she'd show him- she'd show him she wasn't utterly helpless in the kitchen if it was the last thing she di-

Skyler blinks and the pan is gone, along with the stove and the kitchen. A presence she's often felt floating by Angelo's side rushes into her mind, and she feels- panic panic panic, cold why is he so cold, is that blood? what- what is going on- Latios?

Blood on salt-stained wood. It's so cold. Knees falling onto the deck. A faint cough. And beneath all of it, a desperate plea.

Help him.

The connection cuts and Skyler is jarred back to reality. She doesn't allow herself time to think, to feel, flying out of the kitchen with the drumming of her heart drowning out everything else, a steady rhythm of nononononono... 

The door to the deck slams open into the dying light, sunset colors long gone to make way for a creeping nightscape. 

He looks dead. 

She doesn't remember walking or pushing herself under Latios' downy feathers to reach for angelo vestri . She doesn't take notice of the blood or of how cold his skin feels, doesn't care as hands reach out to cradle his face. 

"Angel?" It's a broken, senseless whisper that sounds more like a plea, like a please, oh please no. Dear Arceus, don't you dare. Don't you dare leave m-

He's unresponsive, prayers falling on deaf ears as the man she loves bleeds out in her arms. Who the fuck did this to you- who would dare-

Help him.

I will kill them.

AQUA RINGS bleed a cold blue light onto angelo vestri 's broken body, trickling into his skin and underneath to try and patch whatever damage he's received. When the AQUA RINGS fade out, Angelo isn't in a much better shape. 

And so Skyler summons them again. And again. And again. Her breath's raspy and she feels the toll it's taking on her. But it's not enough. Not nearly enough. 

Angelo was made to chase the stars.

And by Arceus, she'll make sure he will.

No matter what.

angelo vestri

☉

He says her name and its like a lighthouse calling her home. It breaks past the haze with heart-breaking gentleness, like fingers reaching to offer comfort even when he's the one bleeding out in her arms. She's convinced he'd be dead before he'd allow the anguish to settle in her eyes. She'd do the same for him.

She'd fight the world and all its ugliness for just a moment to press her forehead against his. To look into beloved ocean blue and find him looking back. To share even a second in a world where he exists.

The ocean's depths do not compare to the lengths she'd brave to bring him back to her.

"You're home, Angel. You're home." It is a plea as much as it is a promise, weaved into her voice - as if by speaking it she'd make it true. She'd once held his dreams in the palm of her hands and dared him to take them. 

Now she holds his life, and begs him not to go. 

Even as he fades, she holds on. Throat tight with the weight of swallowed tears, because she refuses to have even that be a barrier between them. 

Please don't go. Please.

Not you, Angel. Everyone but you.

Please.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

"I love you."

---

Morning sunlight trickles in through the curtains, bathing the bedroom in ethereal shades of gold. Within, Angelo's resting figure is haloed by sun-kissed limbs and a wild mane of curls.

Out cold over the covers and drooling into the pillow, Skyler's soft snores are the only thing that can be heard over the distant cawing of (wild?) Wingulls and the banging of pots and pans in the kitchen.

Occasionally a shadow cuts through the sunlight to peer into the room from outside the window.

At the foot of the bed rests a pudgy Feraligatr, awake and attentive. Drool gathers in the corners of her maw as the delicious scent of baked goods starts waffling into the room. Her tail tap taps into the wooden floor, excited.

Beyond the slightly ajar door, a small green blob peers nervously into the room, chef's hat unusually crumpled as he holds onto a full tray of baked cookies. Hope lingers for a second, then disappears in a dejected sigh when none of the figures move.

Next to the Gulpin rests a pair of Angelo's shoes, purposefully left at the door - untouched. 

"Give 'em some more time, champ. They'll wake up soon, you'll see."

After some shuffling, Sammy follows Mr Dross back into the kitchen. A small plate with freshly-baked cookies is left on the bedside table, waiting.

Jolly eats the rest.

angelo vestri

☉

He'd been watering his carefully groomed garden when he got the call.

It was date night, he remembers thinking, and he needed to prepare everything in advance before his wife came home. His special roast was in the oven and dessert was cooling in the fridge. He'd gotten them that special rosé both of them got stupidly giggly with and- ah, shit, the candles!

Before panic could overtake his features, the sound of Beyoncé's 'All The Single Ladies' shrieked from somewhere in his pocket. Frowning, he'd taken the call to find frantic, anguished squeaks on the other side.

"Sammy?"

After a brief call to his wife, he'd flown over to the Sotally Tober expecting to find the kitchen aflame in the wake of his daughter's cooking prowess. As he does every other week. Less so since Angelo had moved in.

Exasperated amusement drained at the first sight of blood.

It trailed over the wooden deck, leading to two crumpled figures. Beloved golden curls ('she takes after you', 'no, she's got your curls') tipped in red, and the figure of his daughter curled around a young man he'd long since welcomed as his son.

It broke his heart.

That night easily became one of the worst of his life.

---

"...Nghh... Tryin' to sleep..." Heavy with sleep, Skyler's words are less a string of comprehensible sounds and more grunted gibberish. She's pulled into the land of the living gradually, silver eyes fluttering against the brightness in the room. 

Her brow creases in a frown, as if she'd as soon fly herself to the sun and command it to stop shining, than to give in to wakefulness.

Reality trickles in along with yesterday's memories, and it jolts the captain enough to realize the rough digits that trail along the curve of her jaw. 

"An-" Her body's protests are swiftly cast aside as she rolls to face him, silver eyes opening wide to find ocean blue, tired but alive. Gloriously, beautifully alive. "Angel." 

Hands reach out to cradle angelo vestri's face, halting midway through. Her awed expression lasts all of three seconds before crumbling.

"I thought you were gone." 

She doesn't move, doesn't go to him immediately. There's accusation in her tone, but beneath it lies something brittle and sharp-edged. Something like heartbreak. "I thought you were gone, you absolute fucker."

Her voice breaks then, liquid mercury going blurry with what tears she wouldn't shed last night no matter how hard she fights them. Breathing past the knot of thorns in her throat proves near-impossible, but there are few things capable of withstanding her stubborness. Lack of oxygen included.

"Turn me into a widow and I will kill you." She's poised at the edge of conflicting emotions, and the threat hangs from her lips like a brandished blade.

It's made lesser by the way she seems to fold into herself, a wild animal caged.

angelo vestri

☉

Drowning had felt less agonizing than the daggers that crack her ribcage open now, to pierce at what rests within. Skyler hadn't been aware of it until blue eyes had cracked open with love unbound, catching on a soft adoration that swelled, silent, between them. Reminding her of what could've been lost. Of what had nearly been lost, last night.

Her hands are shaking when Angelo reaches for her, his featherlight touch a path that would always bring her home, coaxing her towards him on a ragged plea. 

A second passes. Two. Skyler had always brandished pain  like a weapon, teeth bared in challenge at anything that dare hurt her. Spitting blood and waging war, because that was better than crashing against the shore.

But here is no war she can win. Here is no battle she can face without losing more than she's willing to. Faced with a whispered plea, the captain's belligerence drains away with single ragged breath that rattles down her throat. 

Shields crumble to hint at the devastation beneath, swiftly gone as leans down to follow Angelo's call to the safe haven of his embrace. Exhaustion lines her eyes and lingers in the languorous stupor of her movements as she fits into his side - exactly where she belongs.

Silently marvelling at the rise and fall of his chest.

"You were dying last night." Skyler's head lifts to face ocean blue, a calloused hand raising to cradle the side of his face. "Dying, Angel." 

And, with it, half of her world. He's an unfinished story she never wants to see the end of, not while she lives.

That she'd dragged him back with single-minded focus, that she'd held on tooth and nail till exhaustion unwillingly pulled her under, goes unsaid. The lengths she'd go for him are reflected in the devastantingly soft brush of her lips on his.

Beyond Skyler and Angelo's own personal bubble, others are made aware of the rise of voices. A slow creak reveals a green blob bearing yet another tray of cookies, the hopeful look on his face blooming into a full-blown squeak. A couple of cookies fall on the floor from sheer excitement alone.

Jolly takes those for herself, the tapping of her tail pausing as she peers over the foot of the bed.

angelo vestri

☉

"You brought me home."

Hadn't she promised him as much, back when confessions had stalled behind closed lips? Even at the dawn of their budding romance, hadn't she known that to follow the constellations in his eyes would mean finding her way back home?

Devotion is whispered in a salt-stained kiss, ghosted over the familiar shape of his lips. "I promised you I would, didn't I?" A quiet, wet laugh trembles past the tight knot in her throat, voice cracking under the weight of emotion. "We belong to each other, Angel. Death will have to pry you from my cold, dead hands." Or not at all, is left unsaid.

The sun had yet to set over their story, and Skyler would do her damnedest to make sure it wouldn't, not yet. She wanted to watch wrinkles grow on his face, wanted to grow her own alonside him.

Anything else is unacceptable.

When a calloused thumb rasps softly over her skin, Skyler releases a shaky sigh and gently leans into it like a Sunflora chasing after sunlight. Only when she blinks do the gathered tears trail down her face, which she uselessly attempts to brush away. 

It's like this that their loved ones find them. 

The smell of baked goods preludes a dip in the mattress, and Skyler rolls slightly to the side to make space for a trembling blob of green. Half of the cookies failed to survive Sammy's jump onto the bed, but he doesn't seem bothered about it. The small cookie tray is all but shoved in their direction right before a miserable, squeaky sob emanates from the pokemon. 

"Sammy?" The captain reaches her arm out to the Gulpin, and it proves enough encouragement for the tray to be all but forgotten. Skyler's eyes widen briefly and a soft 'oof' is breathed out as Sammy all but tackles them. Muffled sobs quickly follow. 

"Hey, it's okay..."

Jolly's tail thumps on the floor when she approaches Angelo's side of the bed, sneaking a few cookies in before setting her jaw on the mattress and looking up at the pilot with the most puppy-dog eyes she could muster.

Far more subtle, a feline shape hops onto the mattress. Coarse fur rasps over Angelo's and Skyler's legs as Dorado curls up at their feet. Another pair of Angelo's shoes has miraculously joined the first.

angelo vestri

☉

"I love you too, Angel." It feels like a confession every time Skyler says it, coated in an awed sort of reverence. She keeps its truth close to her chest like a jealously guarded secret, as if sharing it with the world would make it a little less hers. Theirs. 

Skyler had never been very good at sharing. The good or the bad.

No, these particular words are for Angelo's ears alone. 

Sammy's wailing opens the floodgates to other concerned pokemon, uncaring for the unhappy groan of the mattress as they pile atop it. Jolly is by far the most enthusiastic, and even with Angelo's admonishments she manages to flop her upper half onto the bed, head tilted just enough to ask for more pets - and maybe snag another cookie while at it.

Dorado is the unfortunate collateral damage in this struggle, a furious hiss interrupted when Jolly's tail all but shoves him from the bed and onto the ground. In typical feline fashion, he doesn't let go of it, claws sinking in as he's thumped over and over against the floor.

Alarmed, Skyler stretches slightly to peer over the edge of the bed. 

It's about this time that the door to the bedroom slams open, revealing the portly shape of one Mr Dross. His hand immediately reaches to cover his eyes, and by proxy half of his face. Behind him, the tall shapes of Clarabelle and Johnny push him slightly into the room, clearly wanting to go in. 

"Honeybee, champ! I-uh, I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" 

As if afraid some unholy vision would greet his eyes, Mr Dross fearfully peeks from the space between his fingers. It proves enough to reveal the dark half-circles under tired brown eyes. 

"I- uh, I brought tea! It's that special blend I grow in my garden, you know the one. Can't tell your mom, honeybee! She'll kill me if she knows. It's not really the legal kind of thing, but it's said to be good for, y'know, injuries and those sorts of things- ah..."

He trails off, and Skyler doesn't think she imagines the slight wobble of her father's lip. 

angelo vestri

☉

The lively chaos chases away at the ghosts of would-have-beens and what-ifs. The cold reality they'd been forced to face last night quieted for the moment as warmth trickles in, loved ones - human and pokemon alike - squishing into the room without a care for the limited space within.

Her father doesn't know how close they'd been to tragedy last night. Despite the blood, Mr Dross isn't aware of how death had brushed an icy dread down the back of her spine - how the stars had nearly been stolen from a beloved blue gaze. She's reminded of it in the barely concealed devastation in her father's eyes, breaking past a flimsy surface of relief.

Angelo reaches for her, and Skyler doesn't have to think before entwining her fingers with his own, filling the empty spaces between his fingers with her own and squeezing.

"...Papa?"

"Right! Tea! I will- will bring you some. One of my best secret batches, I tell you. Got a little special something in there too. Unique blend. Will sort you out right away - I promise." The wobble of Mr Dross's lip becomes more noticeable, and he attempts to bring his composure together by clearing his throat. It catches halfway on a swell of emotion, however - right before it spills over.

A blink is all the reaction Skyler gets before Mr Dross surges forward to catch Angelo and herself in a bear hug, with unfortunate Sammy squeezed somewhere in the middle. His little squeaks of protest are muffled by the absolute unit that is Mr Dross as he gently squeezes the couple in a heartfelt hug. Was that a sob?

"I thought I lost you, honeybee." The whisper breaks Skyler's heart anew, and she squeezes her eyes shut as she fiercely returns the embrace. "You too, champ. Can't be losing my favorite son-in-law now."

Johnny and Clarabelle peek out from behind Mr Dross's wide back, confused at the pile of human and pokemon alike.

"You didn't, papa. We're still here." What else could she tell him? That danger had knocked at their door, that all their attempts to remain neutral had been for naught? That they would be caught in the crossfire whether they wanted to or not?

It wasn't in hers or Angelo's nature to stand there and do nothing. In the end, whatever promises her parents forced out of her would eventually become lies.

The mattress creaks ominously when Mr Dross leans back, sniffing piteously like a puppy-eyed Growlithe. A hand reaches out for a cookie, unknowingly swiping it from a gluttonous Jolly. A second one quickly follows, then a third.

Eventually tea would be had. Mr Dross would worry and fuss over them. After some convincing, he'd return home with the promise of returning on the morrow with more of his special blends.

The sunset casts an amber glow over the kitchen when Skyler and Angelo make their way over, dislodging the mountains of baked goods in order to sit down.

angelo vestri

☉