So this chapter is a bit more raunchier (especially near the end at the last scene shift). Nothing explicit or R-rated, of course, but just a little warning, especially if you're uncomfortable with that stuff. ;P Does ye need to read it to get the plot? Nah. Just wanted to attempt it really.
Enjoy!
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Tuesday – May 15th, 2009 (6:43 A.M.)
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"It's too early for this crap."
"I know."
"And my hate for you just went up a rung on my 'ladder of hate'. You are now on rung five."
"I know – wait. When did I ever get past rung three?"
"When you ditched me a few days ago to hang out with May, leaving me with all those little kids touching and petting my poor delcatty with their sticky hands. Do you know how long it took me to brush through her hair, getting out all those tangles? Let me tell you, a riled up delcatty is not a delcatty you want to deal with. And furthermore ..."
Brendan stopped listening to his grumbling friend and rubbed sleepily at his eyes, yawning and inhaling the cold, salty air that whipped at his face. He flew on the back of his flygon, the tip of her head slapping his chin. Annoyed, he scooted back a bit to avoid it, his legs pressed up against her hard, green body as he turned his head toward his right. Flying next to his flygon's wide green wingspan was Wally, clinging onto the fluffy white feathers of his altaria. As Brendan turned his head, he merely smiled innocently and nodded as Wally's eyes met his in a cold glower while he ranted on. He tapped the back of his flygon, and his flygon turned her head, looking into her trainer's eyes through the red covers that protected her own. Pointing down, the flygon obeyed, diving down toward the ocean, Wally and his altaria following suit.
Brendan dug his heels lightly into his pokémon's side, and the flygon pulled herself up, her wings grazing the ocean water. Although it was dark, Brendan could see the shadow of his pokémon and himself reflect on the bumpy waves. The sun had barely risen over the dark mountains that bordered Lilycove, rays of pinks and yellows grasping at the nighttime canvas, the warmth of the morning dispersing, like butter spread on toast.
Now traveling with Wally for the past seven or so years made him learn a lot about his rambling companion. One thing, for starters, was his incessant need to ramble. Another would be his morning grumpiness. Well, technically, Wally was always grumpy, just a tad grumpier when the sun wasn't above his head. He wasn't really sure what happened to him back when they first met. So quiet. So humble. So shy. So ... not ... whatever the hell he was today.
"... And speaking of which, you never told me how it was going with May anyway. Are you getting along with her? You know, that reminds me of that one time ..."
Ah, there he goes on what Brendan liked to call his "grandpa rants" about the "good, old days" when they were younger, even though Wally was a few months younger than he was. So tough, Wally's life, as the green-haired trainer doth murmured about whenever he reminisced, of constantly being watched and protected because he was "sick."
Sick with what? Brendan thought, his eyes narrowing a bit, focusing on a spec of land up ahead. As they came closer toward it, the details of the spec became more clearer. The famous, glittering white sand that blanketed all Hoenn beaches became more apparent, sham diamonds in the peeping sunlight. The sand lead up to a man made cavern carved out of the hard, gray rock, darkness trapped within. Brendan could already smell the wet rust that he was to be greeted with when he set foot inside.
"There it is," said Brendan, tapping the back of his flygon lightly before pointing in front of him toward the cavern. "When we get closer to it, land on that cavern, okay?" He smiled a bit at the happy hum of his flygon as she nodded in agreement, lowering her head.
Questions about his oddly silent friend continued to run through Brendan's mind, though he figured it was a nice change since all he seemed to worry about was May and infiltrating old Team Aqua bases, like the one Wally and he were headed to. Wally never really told him exactly what he was sick with, but Brendan knew better than to pry at it; it was probably a sensitive topic with the green-haired man, and it would be rude to pester him about it. He guess he kind of understood Wally's flip of attitude, being locked up inside a stuffy house all day until he finally snapped, though it seemed to be more of a gradual development than a complete 180 degree turn. Wally constantly joked that Brendan was the one that finally got him out of that house after he defeated him in battle back when they were younger, stating that he wanted to "wipe that snotty, arrogant grin off his face" but that was a joke, right?
Brendan glanced at Wally through the corner of his eyes, noticing the determined, solemn expression on his face. Why did Wally care this much to help him even after groaning about it? Again, Brendan supposed this had a lot do with his past; after all, one really can't run away from the teachings parents taught you, and he supposed that their "caring" nature, much to Wally's pseudo – and sometimes real – grumbling, carried on toward his friends.
It was times like these where Brendan realized how much he took his friend for granted as they landed on the beach, watching through curious eyes as the green-haired trainer scratched the head of his altaria lovingly before returning her.
"Stop staring at me," Wally rumbled from the back of this throat. "Ass."
Though, he was always quickly reminded why they fought so much as soon as he thought positively.
With an eye roll, Brendan thanked his flygon by feeding her a pokéblock before returning her to her appropriate ball. Clipping the ball back on his belt, he shoved his hand into the pockets of his baggy denim jeans and looked toward the cavern, water dripping from its ceiling into puddles. The salty breeze whipped around his clothing, puffing up the light, cotton cloth of his dark green button up shirt. He held his bandanna down for it was slipping off in the harsh wind. Motioning his head to get Wally's attention, he began to walk toward the cavern, sidestepping a bit to avoid drops of water that fell neatly in line before being absorbed into the sand.
"Wasn't this a Team Magma base when we first encountered it all those years ago?" questioned Brendan, sliding one of his backpack straps off his shoulders so he could swing it around to the front. He unzipped the back pocket and dug around in it, pulling out a flashlight, turning it on.
"Well, yeah," Wally muttered, flicking his own flashlight across the sandy walls. "But I'm pretty sure Team Magma drove Team Aqua out of this base. I doubt Team Magma would pick a base so close to the water not unless it already had machine and equipment and rooms and whatnot set up already."
Pictures of explosions, the red heat contrasting with the dark night, flashed before Brendan's eyes. "Er ... Wait. I remember that one night we flew off into the night and there was an explosion in that cavern. So wouldn't the entire place be in shambles?
Wally motioned his hand toward a broken down machine, its parts scattered along the concrete floor in piles of wet rust and sand. "So one machine explosion means the entire base explodes as well?"
"Well ... I thought – I don't – fine."
With a smirk, Wally walked ahead of Brendan, sand crunching underneath his sneakers with Brendan closely behind, flicking his flashlight toward the path in front of them. They passed underneath an archway, drops of water dripping from it, and entered a bigger room bare of anything except a cold metal railing. The two men walked toward it and grasped the metal in their hands, peering over the bar, greeted by the sea breeze and the roaring ocean below.
"This must have been the port Team Aqua used for their submarines," remarked Wally. "They went on a lot of aquatic missions, researching water types and the ocean, before they turned ... um, evil."
Brendan pushed himself backward and walked across the large room, running his hands up and down his arms to rid them of goosebumps. His eyes swept across the room down toward bare, narrow hallways. "Seems deserted now, though. So I suppose we can mark this place off as, well, useless."
"Not quite," answered Wally, pushing himself back up. He nudged his head toward another hallway, and the two crossed the cold tile flooring toward it. Their footsteps and drops of water echoed throughout the narrow passageway. "I mean, well, technically you're right but it marks off one less place we have to check."
The two emerged into what seemed to be an office with its metal desk still intact and rusty file cabinets pushed up against the walls. Nodding at each other, Brendan headed toward the desk while Wally turned to the closest filing cabinet, trying to jar it open by tugging at the handle.
Brendan, meanwhile, walked around the desk, observing it, before bending down a bit to look at the handle of the drawer in front of him. Gripping it tight, he thrust the drawer open and peered into it. Empty. Again, he did it for the drawer below it and found nothing. "Find anything yet?"
Wally closed another filing cabinet and went toward the table. He threw a manila folder on the table, alerting Brendan's attention. "A bunch of old papers," he muttered, opening the folder and picking up a few sheets of paper, yellow and wrinkled with age. "Most of them are memos. I suppose Team Magma, when they captured this base, kept them so they also had records on Team Aqua, though most of this crap is things about getting their pokémon evaluated and whatnot. Nothing too interesting."
"Same – ooh a pen." Brendan stood up eagerly, clutched in his hand a blue pen. Wally stared dully at him, and Brendan merely shrugged back, pocketing the treasure. He flipped through the pages. "Well, they have the last names of the grunts or admins on these memos." He put the papers back in the folder, Wally following suit, and stuffed it inside his backpack. "Maybe we can contact some of the older members. I'm sure Sean or Dean or whatever still has a database of the old Team Aqua team, so maybe he contacted them if he really is planning something. And then we can call them or something."
"I guess," was all that Wally replied with. He shivered, using his hands to rub up and down his bare arms. "Let's get out of here and get coffee, or something. I think this is all that's in here that's important. We can look over these papers later." He nudged his head toward the exit to get Brendan's attention and started to walk in that direction, Brendan staring at his back. Shaking his head, he quickly followed, turning his head to take one last look at the office, before rushing after his friend.
- - -
"It's suppose to rain later tonight back in Mauville."
"So?"
"So ... you should dress warm?"
"Thanks,
Mom."
Wally rolled his eyes and put down his newspaper as Brendan stood next to the small table in the stuffy coffee shop, two cups of coffee in his hands. He handed Wally the steaming beverage before sitting in the wooden chair opposite of him, his pants sliding over the smooth texture. Placing his cup on the shaky mahogany table, he glanced outside the grimy window as Wally took a sip of his coffee, breathing in the swirling steam before lifting his paper once more to read.
"What time are you leaving?" asked Wally from behind the newspaper.
Brendan tore his eyes away from the window and looked at the back of Wally's newspaper. He then looked at the clock on the wall. Thirty past seven. "Well, I don't have to meet May until later in the afternoon so ... Don't know. I might go home and make sure everything is in contact first. What about you? Have any gym plans?"
"I have a life outside of the gym, you know," muttered Wally, lowering the paper a bit to look at Brendan.
Brendan merely stared back in disbelief.
"... All right, fine. More renovation plans, and I'm getting some of my grass pokémon accustomed to the field."
"Ah, so you did choose grass types. Very appropriate for a Verdanturf gym."
"Yeah." Wally nodded, putting his paper down. He wrapped his fingers around his coffee cup. "My roserade will love it. I've got a bit of training to do with my other grass types, but I still have a year and a half before the gym actually opens."
"Well, you can borrow my tropius if you want," remarked Brendan helpfully. He kicked his feet across the rough, gray carpet. "She's been doing a lot better with her ... craziness."
"That's good. I'll think about it. Anyway, I can be there anytime, so I might hang around here for a bit. Maybe if I ask around and figure out where Sean works by talking to some locals or something. Oh, and I need to get some shopping done at the department store. I need a suit and tie for ... you know. May's ... thing."
"It's not going to happen," muttered Brendan, tearing his eyes away from Wally to look up at the ceiling fan up ahead. The cool breeze the fan produced felt nice against his flushed skin. "I told you that I would win her back before the thirty-first."
"I know, I know." A bit uncomfortable, Wally raised his paper to hide his head. He shook the paper a bit to rid it of wrinkles. "Brendan, I've been thinking about our ... situation lately. Your half of it, rather."
Brendan's eyes made their way to a clear glass counter displaying bagels and pastries in a pale, white light. "And?"
"I can't be alone in thinking that this isn't ... right."
Brendan was quick to respond, like he had rehearsed this conversation in his head. "He's lying to her, Wally. Even if he isn't planning to do anything with Team Aqua, he's still lying about his name – his whole life. I can't ... I can't let her marry this guy."
"But ... but why can't we just tell her about it?"
"With no proof? Isn't this the whole reason why we're prodding around old Team Aqua bases? For proof about Sean's or Dean's or whoever's identity?"
"Well ... It'd at least raise her suspicions. All I'm saying is that two wrongs don't make a right, Brendan. And I know you feel the same way I do, deep down, whether you want to admit it or not."
"What wrong am I doing?"
The naivety that surrounded Brendan, whether he meant it or not, was starting to irritate the green-haired trainer. He didn't respond, though, as Brendan continued to speak. "I'm not doing anything wrong. I'm only trying to help May get out of something she's going to regret later, and if it's making her have feelings for me again, then so be it," he rambled, glaring at the back of Wally's newspaper. The fine black lines of print were beginning to blur together through Brendan's narrowed eyes. "Sean is a liar. He's lying to the woman he supposedly loves and cares about. Real men don't do that."
"Real men don't try to take away happily engaged married women either," snapped back Wally. He put down his newspaper and smoothed out the wrinkles with shaky fingers, looking into the angry face of Brendan. He remained calm, his lips in a slight frown. "Dammit, you know this is wrong. Stop whatever the hell you're doing with May before it's too late. You can be her friend, but hell, Brendan. This is no worse than actually
cheating on someone."
"For latios' ... Eff it, Wally. Just eff it." Brendan stood up abruptly, the tops of his thighs colliding with the bottom of the small mahogany table, making it shake back and forth. He grabbed hold of his coffee cup, clenching onto it tightly, bending it a bit in the middle. "And eff you. What Sean is doing is bad, and I'm only trying to stop him before it's too late. I'm not the bad guy in this! Stop making it out like I'm the bad guy!" With a huff, Brendan stomped toward the door of the coffee shop before Wally could respond and pushed it open, the bell on the door rattling as it collided with the cold glass.
"Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better, B Boy!" he heard Wally yell back as the door swung shut.
As he stomped to latias knows where, Brendan couldn't help but wonder about what he was mad about. Wally, obviously, but why? Was it because Wally didn't know any better about the situation? Sean was bad. Bad. A liar. He would be HURTING May if no one stopped him. Who knew what else he was lying about, or where the lies would stop. Or was he mad because, deep down, he knew that what he was doing was wrong and Wally telling him that just made him ... go nuts? Dammit, he knew Wally was right; Wally is
always right.
But still ...
Brendan, lost in his thoughts, found himself walking ankle deep in long, swaying grass. They waved and twisted in the salty breeze, flowing together in a mass sweeping motion like the ocean. Putting down his cup of coffee in the grass, he ran his numb fingers down the rusty railing that bordered the grassy landscape from the end of the cliff before pressing his stomach against it, leaning forward, peering down toward the ocean below. The waves beat against the sharp, rocky wall, spraying his face lightly in salt water. Wiping at his face frustratingly, a twisted, nervous feeling gnawed at his stomach. Like always, Wally's words were embedding itself into his skin. So annoying.
Why did he bother traveling with Wally? All he did was make him feel bad.
"Yeah, dude. I got the same message from this Sean guy, too."
Voices from behind made Brendan turn his head, noticing a couple of older men walk down the path toward Lilycove.
"The letter said that this Sean guy is interested about my expertise in water pokémon," the man replied casually to his friend as they walked past the suspicious Brendan. "Did yours say something like that?"
"Yeah ... Guess we'll figure out what's up with him at that meeting later, right?"
The two men laughed, distancing themselves from Brendan as they entered Lilycove. The white-haired trainer pulled out his pokénav from his pocket and flipped it open, numbly dialing his green-haired companion's number. That was why he needed Wally.
Brendan impatiently tapped his foot, listening to the dial tone, waiting for Wally to answer.
- - -
"Is something bothering you, B Boy?"
"Hmm?"
Brendan looked up from the clock on the wall he was staring at to the doorway where May positioned herself. She hooked a pair of silver hoops to her ears before releasing the earrings from her grip, letting them swing back and forth for a bit. She then strode into the room, her clean white sneakers flattening the equally white carpet beneath her feet. She sat on the arm of the couch Brendan was sitting on, turning her head a bit to look at the worried man while adjusting the bandanna on her head.
Like hell he'd tell her what was really bothering him. "Just ... lost in my thoughts, really," muttered Brendan, looking into May's eyes and forcing a weak smile on his face. "Don't worry about it."
May gave Brendan a reassuring pat on the arm and stood back up, stretching, the bottom of her shirt rising a bit, revealing her flat stomach. "So um ... what are we doing tonight? Anything I need to dress up for or is what I'm wearing fine?"
Brendan's eyes swept over May's appearance. She was dressed casually like him, a plain red polo (it reminded him of the top of her old traveling outfit) and jeans. "Dinner. Just dinner. Nowhere fancy."
May laughed a bit. "Hanging out with you is going to make me fat. All this food you're treating me with ... It can't be cheap."
"I already told you, May, that money means nothing to me if I get to spend time with you."
She snorted in response.
"All right, all right. So I thought I'd save some money tonight. I thought, well ..." He hesitated, biting his bottom lip a bit. "This might be a little odd for you, but I thought we'd go back to the motel I'm staying at."
"Er ..." May raised an eyebrow. "Brendan, I –"
"Don't think so dirty, pervert." Brendan smirked, crossing his arms. "I meant the kitchen at the motel there. I wanted to make you dinner, if you think you could stomach it."
"Sounds cute. I can't wait to see you in a little pink apron." She giggled, sliding backward on the arm of the couch and plopping into Brendan's lap, her legs in the air. Brendan shifted a bit awkwardly but smiled back all the same. Since the two had been spending nearly everyday with each other ever since they made up on the sixth, May had become more ... friendly with him. He would say flirty even, but he'd rather not get his hopes up – it had only been a week and a half after all. Not that he didn't mind the new attention or anything.
Scooping the girl up in his arms and dropping her on the floor so she stood on her own feet, Brendan turned toward the door. "Ready then? I managed to pay off the motel owner to keep the kitchen empty for me for only two hours."
"Oh, so you still paid, huh? What's the point in that?" May asked smugly, nudging Brendan in the arm with her elbow. She waved at a maid passing by before walking with Brendan toward the entrance of the mansion, turning the knob and letting the cold air in. Shivering, she ran her hands up and down her arms and stepped out, Brendan closing the door behind them.
"Maybe I just wanted to show you how crappy I cook," he simply retorted as the two began their descent down the asphalt slope toward the gates that protected the mansions from the "common folk." May pulled out a remote control from her purse and pressed the button as they got closer to the gate, and it shuddered to life, opening so the two could pass.
The sun had already set behind Verdanturf's hills, so the moon basked the quiet town in an eerily silver glow. What was warm wind in the afternoon quickly changed into a chilly, snappy breeze that bit at any bare inch of open skin. Brendan felt May occasionally brush up against him, her slender, soft fingers sliding down the back of his hand, sweeping over his knuckles before resting in between the gaps of his fingers. Their hands would lay there, entwined for a few blissful seconds, until she teasingly pulled away and repeated the process in a mindless taunt. The simple brushing became more apparent as the two walked the dark path between Verdanturf and Mauville where the only lights were from the tails of dancing volbeat.
"It's cold," May shivered, pressing her body against Brendan's arm as the two got closer to Mauville. Slowly, she wrapped both her arms around the man's arm, hugging it tight. She began to linger back, walking slowly, so what was once a leisurely pace turned into a slow, almost romantic, trod along the nature-made path. She looked at Brendan through her thick eyelashes, her blue eyes sparkling
Coyness was something new to Brendan ... or he hadn't really come in contact with it for a long, long time. What other girlfriends he had in the past always knew what they wanted – him – and never really ... alluded to it. They just asked – no, demanded it. May was different, though, like she wanted him to make the first move. She gave off this aura of innocence, like she needed to be protected and saved. Damsel in distress, really. There was something troubling about it, especially since that was the reason why she left him the first time. Why would she revert back to it if she declared that she hated it so much?
Shaking his head, Brendan went ahead and wrapped an arm around May's waist and pulled her in closer to warm her up. She didn't fight back and, much to his surprise, pressed her head against his chest, releasing his arm from her grasp to wrap her arms around his body instead.
"You're odd," was all Brendan could muster up, resting his chin against the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. And it was true; she was acting clinger than usual.
"Just a little," she replied with a sigh as the dirt ground turned into the hard pavement of Mauville. They quickly turned the corner, walking past the infamous diner toward the motel. Brendan lead May to the second door of the first floor of the motel, reluctantly letting go of May to open the door.
Brendan spent a good portion of the day, as soon as he flew back from Lilycove, cleaning up the grungy, cramped kitchen so it wouldn't be too disgusting to cook and eat in. Luckily, since Mauville had some pretty good restaurants and most people echoed his thoughts about eating a bag of chips instead of setting foot in that kitchen, Brendan was sure they wouldn't be interrupted by a stranger. In fact, there probably was no reason to pay off the motel owner, but he'd rather be safe than sorry.
May didn't seem to care about the yellow tinge of the small square tiles that made up the floor or that the corners of the ceilings were covered in cobwebs as she bounced into the small kitchen and squealed in delight at the table pushed up against the paint-peeling walls. Brendan had set up a small table covered in a checkered tablecloth (he dared not tell her that he had to kill a whole bunch of ants to clean it and scrub off latios only know what type of mold) and adorned it with two white candles, tall and thin, held up by elaborately carved glass holders. In the center of the table was a vase filled with different colored roses, mostly red, their petals slightly sprinkled with dew. He already set up the plates and utensils, clean white plates that sparkled under the bright kitchen light and silver forks and spoons that lay neatly on folded white napkins.
So cliché, thought Brendan as he closed the kitchen door behind him and immediately walked to the stove where he left a crock pot simmering with sauce. He let it simmer for a good fifteen minutes or so before leaving to pick up May so it wouldn't take be that long before they could eat. Even though it wasn't the fancy, smancy recipe his mother taught him that literally took all day to simmer, he figured May would be impressed all the same.
And he was right. "Aw, you did all this for me?" she asked, smiling, her hands laced together and clasped against her chest. She then whiffed the delicious air that wafted throughout the room and turned around to the stove where Brendan, who's back was toward her, was stirring something. Strolling over, she stood on tippy toe and peered around that broad shoulders of the white-haired trainer, grabbing him lightly by the arm to maintain her balance.
"I didn't know you could cook," she remarked. "It looks good."
"Eh, it's just sauce," he admitted, "and not the ones that take the entire day to make either."
"More than I can do."
"Really?" He raised an eyebrow. "You can't ... cook anything ... at all?"
May dropped back down to stand flat on her feet and twiddled her fingers, embarrassed. "Well, not like an actual meal ... meal. I mean ... I can microwave stuff and use the toaster and all that, but ... I don't know. I never really had to learn. Being a coordinator made me a decent earning, enough so that I could just go out to eat, and unlike a trainer, I didn't need to really to learn since I was never out in the wilderness or anything. And when I met Sean, he always treated me out to dinner or his servants made food for me and ..." Her cheeks flushed. "I guess I should learn."
"It's not that hard once you learn the basics." Brendan walked past May toward the table and bent down, lifting the tablecloth and pulling out several brown paper bags. The bags crinkled as Brendan pulled out the contents from them, a chrome stock pot and a package of spaghetti. "I can teach you something if you want."
"Like what?"
Brendan handed her the pot, making the girl "oof," and pointed to the sink. "One of the most easiest thing to learn is how to boil water. Once you learn that, a million doors open. Fill this up with water."
"Um ..." May gripped the handles of the pot and glanced at Brendan with an unsure look on her face. "How much water?"
"Well, not too little. The more the better, really, so the pasta doesn't stick."
"Er, right." May strolled over to the sink and laid the pot in the sink, fiddling with the sink handles. The faucet made an odd rumbling noise before spurting out water in a stream of bubbly liquid, running into the pot and filling it up quickly. As soon as the pot was more than half filled, May turned off the taps and, grunting lightly, heaved the heavy pot back onto the counter. Gripping the handles tightly, she lifted the pot and half walked, half stumbled, to the stove, letting out another loud groan as she lifted the pot higher to rest on the burner next to the sauce. Brendan stared amusedly at her, and she merely blew up her bangs in return.
"Cute," he remarked, crossing his arms as May peered into the pot of water. "Okay, now that that's over, turn the burner on so the water can boil."
"What?" asked May, foreign to the world of cooking.
"Never mind," he muttered. "Just watch."
May pouted and crossed her arms. "Fine."
Laughing a bit, Brendan turned the heat on, the blue flames of the burner flaring out from below the pot before settling back down. Since he was already in front of the stove, Brendan took the time to stir the thick sauce again, swirling it in small circles with a wooden spoon. Meanwhile, May, her hands behind her back, paced behind Brendan slowly, her head turned slightly to watch his back. She couldn't help it; she knew that the physical attraction she had for Brendan never went away. Even when he was scum, he was still handsome scum.
She couldn't help it – hell, she didn't even realize what she was doing before it was too late. She stood behind Brendan, her fingers grasping lightly around his firm shoulders. Brendan didn't seem to take notice or ignored her as he continued to stir the sauce. Her grip around his shoulders became firmer, though, and her arms slowly slid down his chest before lacing her fingers together, locking him in a warm embrace. Building up courage and fighting back her nerves, she lightly brushed her lips against the nape of his neck, smirking a bit when she felt him tense up and shiver. She stood up on tippy toe, kissing the nape of his neck again before her lips slowly trailed down to the side of his neck, the tip of her tongue lightly brushing against the skin.
Brendan immediately released the spoon from his grip at this, closing his eyes, his heart racing, his breath more shallow. Whatever thoughts he had quickly disappeared when he felt May's tongue dart quickly against his neck before she gently kissed it again. He took a sharp intake of breath when he felt her gently nibble on his neck.
What a tease.
How nice, though ...
Latios, she knew how to get him worked up ...
So bothered ...
Cheeaterrrr.
"Whoa! Okay, May!" Brendan quickly jumped back away from May, quickly wiping at his neck, frantic. His red eyes were wide. Of course Wally, even though he wasn't there, had to ruin his moment with his "cheating" lecture. "Let's uh – how about we ... I don't know if we should be ... Can you check if the water is boiling?"
May, her cheeks flushed pink, obeyed, most likely to turn her back toward him. She peered into the pot, and sure enough, it was to a rolling boil. "Yeah," she answered, her back still turned toward Brendan. "It's boiling."
You can say that again, thought Brendan in his head, turning toward the counter and putting his hands on it, leaning his weight again them. He shifted uncomfortably, his head bowed down, his heart still racing. Dammit, how did it get so hot in here? What the ... Why did she ... How could she ... What was he ... The poor man couldn't even think coherently anymore, this unbearable lust running through his veins, and he had to try with all his might to keep it under wraps – pun possibly intended. Dammit, May.
"Okay." Brendan spun around, ran a hand through his hair, and walked toward the stove where May awkwardly stood, her eyes focusing on the ugly yellow tiling. "Uh –"
"Want to pretend that just ... never happened?" she interrupted.
"Y-yeah," he trembled back. He grabbed hold of the box of spaghetti that he put down next to the stove, his shaking fingers fumbling over the cardboard box, trying to open it.
"I'm not sure what came over me." God, why was she still talking about it? "It just ... it just happened."
"Yeah, things like that happen all the time." Mental eye roll. Dammit, why won't this stupid box of spaghetti open? Brendan's fingernail continued to scratch at the box opening, but the glue – or whatever held those stupid boxes together – held firm. Stupid box. Stupid spaghetti. Latios, why is it so hot? Dammit, someone open the door already.
May didn't catch onto his subtle sarcasm. "Yeah ... Anyway, sorry ..."
"It's ... It's no –" Brendan, frustrated, finally slammed the box of spaghetti against the counter, and the box split open, dropping the sticks of pasta all over the floor and, being so brittle, broke on impact. "... Problem." With a sigh, Brendan stepped over the broken spaghetti and turned off the burners of both the water and the sauce. He rubbed his forehead through the cloth of his bandanna. "So ... Want to order pizza?"
May used her foot to sweep the sticks of spaghetti in a neat pile. "That sounds great, B Boy."
- - -
Brendan watched in amazement as May downed her fourth glass of wine. She then shook the glass a bit, gesturing that she wanted it refilled. Obeying, Brendan put down his slice of pizza before reaching for the wine bottle, pouring the dark red liquid into May's glass. She swirled it a bit before taking a sip, putting the glass down and replacing it with another slice of pizza instead.
"Don't you think you had enough?" he said, a small smile on his face. He leaned backward on his arms, his legs sprawled across the rough carpet of the motel room.
She let out a giggle. "Of course not. And even if I did, I know you'd take care of me." She hiccuped a bit before letting out another loud giggle, falling backward, eagle spread on the carpet. After a few seconds, she quickly popped back up and crossed her legs, gazing at Brendan's bewildered face. She then rolled her eyes. "I'm only joking, Brendan. I'm not really that drunk."
"Oh, I know that. I just stare at you because you're ... weird."
"Thank you."
Brendan picked up his slice of pizza and quickly ate it up before picking up the empty box and stretching a bit to put it in on the coffee table behind him. He then turned back toward May who, now that the space next to Brendan was free, quickly slid over and sat down next to him, grabbing his hand and playing with his fingers.
"Whatever I forgot about you in the past, I'm glad I remember it again," she remarked absentmindedly, entwining her fingers with Brendan's. She then blinked, shaking her head and releasing Brendan's hand from her's. "Er, sorry. I guess I am a little buzzed."
"Don't worry about it." Brendan took a sip of his wine, his mind reveling over May's last statement. Finally, she was glad that she saw him again, even if she did want to forget about him in the past. "May, I'm glad you remember me, too."
"You're so weird." May let out a small laugh and gave Brendan a friendly, chaste kiss on the cheek.
Brendan looked at the clock on the wall. The short hand was slowly creeping it way toward twelve. "Mm ... almost midnight. I better walk you home." He stood up, though May continued to sit on the floor, staring up at him, her arms outstretched. "Oh, don't be lazy." With an eye roll, Brendan pulled May up to her feet and lead her toward the door. Wally, like always (again, how annoying), was right; he could hear the rain pounding on the sidewalk. He planned ahead, though, and quickly grabbed the black umbrella he placed near the door. "It's going to be cold."
May nodded, quickly grabbing onto Brendan's left arm and pulling herself closer to his body. The white-haired trainer opened the door, opening the umbrella, pulling it above their heads. He winced as a flash of lightning stuck against the dark, rumbling sky, the rain drops gold under the glow of the streetlights. Stepping out onto the sidewalk, a tug on his arm caught his attention, and he turned around, noticing that May hadn't moved an inch. Confused, Brendan stepped back inside, his right hand and the umbrella still positioned outside the door.
"What's wrong?" he asked worriedly, noticing that the girl had her hair bowed down. He shook May off his left arm to brush a strand of loose hair away from her face. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah ... Never better, really," she trembled. All of a sudden, May looked back up and directly into Brendan's eyes, an odd, unrecognizable emotion flashing in her bright sapphires, confusing him. With a slight smirk, she pulled him in, throwing the open umbrella to the side, and closed the door, slamming him hard against it, pushing her body into his. Her hands pinned his arms down (not that she was strong enough to keep him pinned down anyway, but he wasn't going to fight her against it either), pressing her lips against his.
Brendan managed to move his mouth away. "May, what are you –" He was cut off as May's lips pressed themselves firmly against his again.
She's buzzed, he thought, trying to avoid May's lips by shifting his head even though he wanted nothing more than to kiss her back. Unfortunately, or maybe luckily, May gave up chasing his lips and went for his neck instead, gently sucking and biting it, her tongue softly moving back and forth. He bit his lip, squirming a bit, unsure about what to do. His instincts – stupid instincts – kept telling him to enjoy it, to kiss her back, to please her, but his mind was still working for some odd reason, flashing warning signs.
Don't do anything you'll regret ... or anything she'll regret, he continued to repeat in his head as he closed his eyes, squirming more. He felt May smile against his neck from all his tension.
It's cheating ... Don't take away an engaged woman ... Don't do anything –
Andddd she went for the ear, giving his earlobe a soft lick, and he let out a gasp. She remembered that getting nibbled on the ear was his weakness.
"You want me, don't you?" she whispered seductively in his ear before gently biting down on his earlobe.
He couldn't help but let out a small groan at that, sliding down the door a bit, letting her take control.
Fight it, Birch, he thought urgently in his head, his eyes closing. He felt May fiddle with the buttons of his shirt, slowly unbuttoning it. While he wasn't doing anything back, he sure as hell didn't do anything to stop it either. He didn't think he had the power to stop her anyway; he was having trouble keeping his hands to himself as they roamed the back of the door, grasping desperately at anything that allowed him to get a grip. Don't let her do anything she'll regret.
Brendan, his eyes still shut, felt May's body lift away from his, and he mentally let out a relieved (or frustrated) sigh, hoping that she got all her tension out. She wasn't done though as she picked up one of his hands and let it rest on the below her neck, and, unknowingly to the closed eyes of Brendan, began to unbutton her polo. Smirking, she slid one of Brendan's hands down the open v of her shirt and let it rest there. She then noticed that Brendan's eyes were still closed.
"Open then," she ordered in an alluring tone.
Brendan took a deep breath and slowly opened his eyes, took one glance at where his hand was, and lost it. With shaky legs and a racing heart, Brendan pushed himself back up, scooped May into his arms, and quickly ran towards the bed.
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Anyway. :3 Yeah, I'm not sure if all that was necessary ... but dammit, it was fun to write. XD
LaTeR dAyZ!
