pokemon; Scarves & Snowflakes | Barry/Dawn, Erika/Sabrina, Flint/Volkner

[kitsuneasika.livejournal.com]

Title: Scarves & Snowflakes
Pairing(s): Barry/Dawn, Erika/Sabrina, Flint/Volkner
Wordcount: 3400
Summary: Dawn knew that she and Barry would always be friends— and that maybe, one day they could be something more. She never considered another what if. Until now.
Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon in any shape or form.
Notes: Written for megageek for the pkmnficxchange.

Scarves & SnowflakesDawn didn't expect to become a hero. She didn't expect to defeat Team Galactic and save the world, or to become a strong Pokémon trainer that practically swept through the gyms, or to defeat Cynthia and become champion of Sinnoh. She didn't expect a lot of things, but through it all, Barry was by her side, meeting her again and again as she grew up and struggled to make her own way in the world.

It's almost as though their journeys are not separate, but one.

She knew that they would always be friends. And sometimes, when she looked at him and could hear the pitter-patter of her heart, when her stomach started to twist up in the best possible way, she thought, maybe.

She didn't let the thought get much farther than that. But she kept it locked up close and held it close, through each battle and whirlwind encounter, confident in her certainty that maybe, one day—

And then she met Erika.


—


She was only visiting because of Gardenia— she needed something from Erika, and asked Dawn if she'd pick it up when she had mentioned that she had plans to head to Kanto. The gym was strangely empty, but Dawn ignored that, silently making her way through the puzzle, enjoying the feel of a new challenge.

She knew something was wrong, though, the moment she set her eyes on her. She had only met Erika once before, and then briefly, but she remembered her as smiling and pretty and elegant. Now, though, her face was pale and strained. Every so often, as Dawn watched, she began to wring her hands.

Dawn stepped forward.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Erika turned to her. For a moment she was utterly silent, and Dawn wondered if she was wrong— if all Erika wanted was to be alone, and that she'd just ruined it for her and should just leave before she did more damage.

Then, Erika spoke. "...You're the champion from Sinnoh, correct? I believe your name was Dawn?"

Dawn nodded. "I'm sorry to bother you— but—" She stopped, paused. "What's wrong?" she asked again, gently.

It takes another moment before Erika answered, and even then, her voice was quiet. "I believe... I may have just made a really stupid mistake," she whispered.

The story came out quickly after that. Two gym leaders— "I have no idea what I was thinking, we didn't even specialize in compatible types," Erika muttered, a bit hysterically— a growing friendship— "I may have been distracted," Erika said with a tremulous laugh as she described how she had actually tripped and spilled tea all over her when they first met— and even stronger feelings. "She was always so very composed," Erika said, wringing her hands again. "But not as I usually am— she had this strength with her, like iron. But when she laughed, she seemed— do you understand what I'm saying?"

Dawn nodded, slowly. Barry was anything but composed, but when she remembered the way he grinned, so confident and carefree, she thought she could understand Erika perfectly nonetheless.

The rest of the story, however, was new— a discovery, and the moment when everything went wrong— and when Dawn eventually left, she hardly noticed the tall woman she nearly ran over on her way out, so full was her mind of this new knowledge.

Barry had been her best friend for as long as she could remember, and she could hardly remember the moment when she first thought, maybe.

Everything had always worked out for her. Her rivalry with Barry, battling Team Galactic, trying to become champion of Sinnoh— she'd never failed at anything she really cared about. She had never considered another what if.

But now, it was all she could think about.


—


Winter had always been Dawn's favorite season, because Dawn had always loved snow. She had clear memories of herself as a child, thrumming with energy and eager for her mother to finish suiting her up in a coat and gloves and hat and boots everything else a child could need to brave the cold, so she could run outside. So she could hear the snow crunch under her feet and feel beneath her gloves how it felt as she gathered it together and pushed it into a tight ball, so she could throw snowballs at Barry and laugh as she fell into the snow trying to dodge him. She loved sitting by the window and watching the flakes fall, loved sneaking outside at night when her mother was asleep and stare up into the sky, snowflakes catching in her hair.

Barry knew this. That's why she was only startled, not surprised, when she found him waiting for her when she arrived at Snowpoint City on what in Twinleaf was a particularly warm fall day.

His arms were crossed, and for once, she saw none of his usual good humor when she looked at him. She had only seen him this serious a handful of times before, and she cringed at the thought that she could elicit the same response as Cyrus or Jupiter.

"You're avoiding me," he said, as quick to get to the point as ever.

"I'm not," she said quickly, too quickly. She tugged one of her gloves higher up her wrist, a nervous habit she'd half-forgotten.

He didn't believe her. Of course he didn't. Barry had been her friend as long as she can remember— he knew her as well as her own mother.

She had never been good at lying.

She was even worse when it came to him.

"You're lying," he said, uncrossing his arms and shoving his hands into his pockets. That serious look never left his face. "Tell me why— or I'll charge you one million," he added, a hint of a smile finally entering his voice.

Dawn turned from him. She thought of Erika, wringing her hands. She saw her pretty face, pale and strained. "I believe... I may have just made a really stupid mistake," Erika whispered again, and again, and again and again.

In her brown eyes, Dawn had seen herself.

"Dawn—" Barry began, with just the faintest strains of impatience in his tone. In any other circumstance, it would have made her smile.

Instead, it made her snap.

"Could you just leave me alone!" she burst out, desperation coloring her voice until it was high and sharp. She didn't look at him.

For a long moment, all she could hear was wind.

"Aye-aye, captain," Barry said softly, a throwback to their childhood games. She listened to him breathe, in, out.

His footsteps crunched against the snow as he walked away.


—


She saw him in Canalave, in Floaroma, in Pastoria. She saw him in Veilstone, in Hearthome, in Eterna. She saw him everywhere she went, it seemed (not in Snowpoint, not in Jublilife, not in Twinleaf, not in Sunyshore), and every time she had to bite her cheek and stop herself from saying hello.

She didn't realize how much time she always spent with him, until she stopped.

Until he stopped.


—


She didn't even know Volkner had a house.

That is— logically, she knew that he did, that while he did spend a ridiculous amount of time in his gym he couldn't actually sleep there— but it was one thing to know something and another to see it with her own eyes.

She didn't even know how she had come here, not really. She had come to Sunyshore almost on a whim, and had settled for wandering around the bridges when she had run into Volkner. They had talked a bit, and it hadn't been anything out of the ordinary at all. But she must have said or done something odd, because one moment everything was normal and the next Volkner's eyes had narrowed, and not too long after she had found herself sitting in a chair.

In Volkner's house.

He came out of the kitchen— the kitchen! She can't even begin to imagine Volkner cooking— carrying two nondescript mugs of tea. He set one before her and kept the other, taking a chair on the other side of the table for himself.

She took a sip, even though she could see that it's black tea, which she's never liked. She barely stopped herself from making a face— there wasn't even any sugar in it. Still, she drank it, mainly to occupy herself while she tried to figure out why Volkner had brought her here.

He made it easy on her. "You're acting strangely," he said, quick to get to the point.

"And Flint would talk your ear off if you didn't at least try to figure out what it was?" Dawn guessed.

He made a face, and she made an amused sound.

He continued as if she hadn't spoken. "It's none of my business... but if you haven't already, you should talk to someone about whatever's bugging you. It doesn't have to be me— I'm a gym leader, not a counselor—"

The idea of Volkner as a counselor was almost enough to make her giggle, especially when she remembered how he was when they first met, but his next words cut the sound off at its source.

"—or maybe that friend of yours, whatever his name was. The mini-Flint."

She couldn't help it; her face fell at those words. Volkner shut up as soon as he saw the look on his face.

She looked down at her tea, almost absurdly glad that he made it now. It gave her something to do while she thought through her thoughts.

"You and Flint, you two are best friends, right?" she finally asked.

"...Unfortunately."

She smiled a bit at that, but it didn't reach her eyes. "When you were avoiding Flint, that one time... did he ever get mad at you about it?"

He was silent for a long while at that, and for a moment, she worried that she had pried into something that she shouldn't have.

"Are you done with that?" he asked suddenly, nodding towards the cup of tea she held in her hands.

She looked down at it. It was only half-empty, but when she watched the dark liquid slosh around what little desire she had to drink it fell away. "Yeah, I'm done."

He set his own cup down and stood. "Follow me," he said, shortly, and began to walk away. After a moment, she followed, reminded somehow of the many times Flint dragged her to somewhere he wanted her to go.

He took her to a secluded section of the beach. He turned towards her, pulling out a pokeball, and called out his Luxray.

"Let's battle," he said, completely failing to explain himself.

She blinked at him— then shrugged, and called out her first Pokémon.


—


She won, of course, but it was a tough battle. When it was over she fell onto the ground, covered in streaks of dried salt water and sand, her heart beating quick and her lungs straining for breath.

Volkner took a seat beside her, and she looked at him sidelong, furrowing her brow. "What was that about, anyways?" she asked, entwining her fingers around her knees.

"Returning the favor," he said, simply.

She cocked her head at him, frowning. "I don't—" she began, when a thought struck her. "I, I wasn't depressed about battling," she said, feeling embarrassed by the misunderstanding.

Volkner shook his head. "Not that," he said. "About your friend."

"...What do you mean?" she asked.

It's her imagination, she knew it has to be, but for just a moment, she swore she could see a dash of pink across Volkner's cheeks.

He looked away from her, sighed. "I was the same." He glanced at her. "About Flint."

It took her a moment.

Then—

"Wait," she said. "You— and Flint?"

Slowly, he nodded.

She took a moment to absorb this. It made... a frightening amount of sense, actually.

Another thought struck her.

"Wait!" she exclaimed, jumping to her feet. "Is that why you were all down in the dumps when we first met? Because of Flint?"

The look he gave her said quite clearly, don't be ridiculous.

Blushing, she sat down again.

"That was after," he said, after another long, quiet moment. "Me and Flint, that is."

"Oh," she said. She frowned, looking down at her knees. "But... weren't you worried?"

"About what?"

"Your friendship being ruined," she said, simply.

"Not really." He shrugged. "We've gone through a lot together. It'd be stupid for something like this to screw that up." He gave her a sidelong look. "And believe me— if your friend is half as much like Flint as I think he is, he won't let that happen."

"Even if he— thinks, differently than me?" she whispered, wrapping her arms around her knees.

"I repeat," Volkner said. "Flint."

"But... I said something to him, something awful." Admitting it was harder than she thought it would be. "I don't know if I can fix things anymore."

"I doubt he'll let you go that easily," Volkner said, then paused. "You've fixed worse things before," he said, quietly.

She looked at him for a long moment. "Thank you," she said, softly, and stood to leave.


—


Spear Pillar was colder than she remembered, but she didn't mind. The wind was softer than it was the last time she had been there, and the snow slowly swirled down, landing gently in her hair.

She had been standing there for a while when she heard footsteps tap against the stone behind her. She wasn't too worried— there weren't that many people who knew enough or cared enough to go up there, and few of those were dangerous. And if they were— well, her Pokémon were only a pokeball away.

When the footsteps stopped, she turned to face their owner.

"You forgot your scarf," Barry scolded, as if there was nothing odd about his being there. He began to unwind his from around his neck. "I don't know why everyone thinks I'm the irresponsible one."

She didn't forget her scarf, she thought, curling her fingers around her collar. She just wanted to feel the wind, icy and smooth against the curve of her neck.

"What are you doing here?" she asked after a moment. "I thought— I thought you were avoiding me, after what I said."

He looked up at her, oddly, and for a moment she felt as though she was looking at a stranger. Then he chuckled, the sound catching strangely on the breeze. His tone was as light as ever as he answered her.

"Haven't you realized it yet? I never listen to you."

She giggled, but the sound was shaky.

"Here," Barry said, holding out the scarf to her, looking so uncomfortable, so much like himself, that she felt like her heart could burst.

"I'm— I'm so sorry," she apologized, nearly tripping over her words in her haste to get them out. "I should— I should have never said, what I said— but Erika— and I was so scared— and I thought that if, if you realized how— how I felt, about you, that you wouldn't want to be my friend anymore."

Barry stared at her for a moment. Then he looked skyward, rolling his eyes. "And she's the responsible one?" he asked. "The level-headed one?"

"Yes?" she tried, uncertain. Her voice shook.

He laughed, then, and stepped forward to envelop her into a hug.

"Stupid," he murmured affectionately into her hair, tightening his arms around her.

"Yeah, well, even I can't be perfect all the time," she said, and she felt him shake as he let out a laugh.

"Still," he said. "I thought you knew. Or am I the smart one now too?"

She leaned her head against his chest, and let her eyes fall closed. His heart was beating as fast as hers.

"First responsible, then level-headed, and now smart?" she asked, smiling. "Careful, or soon I might not recognize you anymore."

"Getting dementia already in your old age?" he teased her right back.

She pulled back, opening her mouth to make a snappy comeback, but the words died on her tongue when she saw how he looked at her.

"Hey," she said after a moment. She hooked her arms around his neck, and looked into his eyes. "Can I try to ruin our friendship again?"

"That depends," he said. She couldn't help but notice that his voice shook the slightest bit. "If you yell at me again, I'll have to fine you. 100 million, at the very least."

She laughed, and raised her head up to his. "Stupid," she murmured before she kissed him.

He kissed her back, and his scarf fluttered to the ground, forgotten.




epilogue, part one

Erika breathed steadily, in and out. Dawn had just left, and although it was quite embarrassing that the champion of Sinnoh had seen her in such a state, she was grateful that she had come nonetheless. Just the knowledge that another person was listening helped, helped her pull herself back together and gain some semblance of her usual composure.

Still. It's hard, especially when she remembered the look on utter surprise on Sabrina's face when she finally realized—

Footsteps. Dawn, Erika realized— there had to have been a reason why she had come to the gym. It was probably Dawn, returning for whatever it had been she had come there for. She couldn't say that she was looking forward to it— as grateful as she was for her listening to her, at that moment she just wanted some time alone.

But the champion of Sinnoh is a pretty, delicate-looking kind of girl— maybe she would let her dress her in a kimono and do her hair— maybe that would help her forget the way Sabrina's eyes had widened, and—

Erika turned to greet her— but it wasn't Dawn who stood there before her.

"Sabrina," she breathed, her heart skipping a beat.

Sabrina inclined her head. "I looked all over Saffron for you," she said in lieu of a greeting.

"I— I believed that it would be best if I returned to my gym," Erika said, lifting her head with all the dignity she could muster.

"In the middle of our conversation?" Sabrina asked.

Pink filtered across Erika's cheeks. "I was under the impression that you wanted to end our... conversation," she said, her voice very soft.

"I did," Sabrina said. She placed her hand on her hip. "But not in the way you're thinking."

"I don't understand," Erika said.

Sabrina stepped forward, and before Erika could react, she leaned down and kissed her, briefly, softly.

"You never even gave me a hint before," Sabrina murmured throatily as she pulled away. She leaned her forehead against Erika's. "How was I supposed to realize?"

Shakily, Erika began to smile. "You're the psychic," she whispered, looking up at her. "You tell me."

Sabrina's stern expression melted into the softest of smiles, and with a short laugh, Erika leaned up to kiss her— properly, this time.



epilogue, part two

"Get off," Volkner grumbled, shoving at Flint's arm.

"I can just see it now!" Flint declared to the sky— or, at the very least, to the lights on the ceiling of Volkner's kitchen. "Volkner, Matchmaker Extraordinaire!"

"It wasn't match-making," Volkner protested, but there wasn't as much heat in it as there normally was.

"You've missed your true calling!" Flint continued as if Volkner hadn't said a word. "Sell the gym and start up a match-making business! You'll make millions!"

"I'm pretty sure I'll be breaking at least twenty laws if I sell my gym," Volkner pointed out. "Also, it wasn't match-making."

"Of course it is!" Flint said cheerfully. "Mark my words, our little hotshot and her speedy little pal are going to be making heat because of what you said!"

The look on Volkner's face said that he really did not need that mental image, thank you very much.

"...I hate you," he said. "And I repeat: get off me."

"You like it," Flint teased, flicking his nose.

Volkner narrowed his eyes at him.

Flint waggled his eyebrows at him.

"Oh, screw it," Volkner grumbled, pushing Flint into the kitchen counter.

"Score!" Flint managed to say before Volkner's mouth crashed down onto his, finally shutting him up.