pretty in tents

For Heather, who requested a fluffy kbnz camping trip.

Piers is not much of an outdoorsman.

In fact, it could be argued that he’s more or less a city boy through and through. While he’d made the obligatory journeys out into the Wild Areas to hunt for Pokemon and build up the strength of his team, most of those had been limited to day trips, and were never too far from the nearest phone signal and solid roof. When he was officially a Gym Leader no more, the reasons to venture out beyond the bounds of electric lights and indoor plumbing seemed ever fewer.

He should have known that things would be different when he started dating Raihan.

Raihan, for all his scholarly education and fascination with libraries and literary anthologies that would have brought to mind the word ‘stuffy’ if used around anyone else, was also a dragon trainer. And like all trainers, he loved the things his Type loved—including forests. Mountains. Soaring peaks and sprawling moorlands, trees and rocks and things as old as time itself, stones laid long before man came and ascribed his geography to the natural cast of the land. It called to him, to fly and climb and see the splendors of the world by diving headfirst into them, to feel the wind on his face and hear the lashing of rain against stone, leaf, and earth.

Which is how they come to be here, strolling through the forest with the outskirts of Circhester dwindling in the distance. The sun seems to blare down too hot for Piers’ liking as they pick their way across a craggy field, Raihan whistling a tune that’s completely off-key and entirely too merry.

They crest a small hill, and on the other side, the land falls away to...more short, yellow-green grass baked dry by summer sun, and scattered through with unfriendly pointed rocks. Piers sighs, and hikes his backpack further up his shoulders, wincing when it catches at his hair and he has to tug it free. They could’ve gone to Turffield. Nice, rolling hills of emerald green, mists that roll through like the breath of the land itself until they’re burned away by the rising sun, hearty food and good companionship. Hell, they could’ve hiked in the Hammerlocke Hills, close enough to home that Flygon could have taken them back within half an hour.

But no. They’re here. Piers trots a little faster to catch up with Raihan, whose long legs are carrying him over the bumpy terrain as easily as they might a waxed linoleum floor.

“Oi, not to be that guy, but how much further ‘til we get to the campsite? I’m sweating like a Spoink and this pack is really digging into my shoulders.” It’s whining, and he knows it’s whining, but so sue him. He could be at home right now, ordering them takeaway from the Kanto noodle shop down the street that sells ramen so spicy it’ll make your eyes sweat, before they fall into bed, watch a movie, and have a nice round of lovemaking. Or three. It’s what they do every weekend, but dammit, routines have value.

Raihan slows, pacing himself with Piers and offering up a languid grin that only serves to make his handsome features more inviting, and starts up a twitching somewhere around Piers’ stomach cavity that won’t go away even after all these years. Bastard.

“Trust me. By the time we get over that ridge—“ he points to a tree-lined streak of green in the distance that makes Piers want to throw himself on the ground and groan, “—you’ll see that all of this was completely worth it. Heavy pack and everything.”

The thing of it is, Piers does trust him. That’s why he came on this trip with only minimal griping, and that’s why he wipes his face on the hem of his t-shirt before following along once more. If Raihan says there’s something good at the end of all this, then it’s bound to be true, because Raihan loves beauty and majesty and the sort of things Piers would scoff at if Raihan weren’t so damn earnest about it all. If he didn’t have the nigh-magical power to make other people see the world the way he does, as a fantastic place full of dragons to ride and kings to conquer.

So Piers trudges on, focusing instead on the breadth of Raihan’s shoulders as he carries his pack, the curve of his neck and the steady swing of his arms. It’s a lot easier to trudge when you have someone to trudge after, and Raihan is a great motivator in that respect.

Then, without even looking back, Raihan begins to speak. In a clear, strong voice, he easily weaves tales of wind and tree, rock and cliff, earth and sun, spirits of man and beast and things that are living and dead alike. Stories no doubt memorized from history books and collections of legendary anthologies, but on his tongue, come to vibrant life so real that Piers almost expects to see a giant peering around a peak when he casts his gaze towards the mountains at their left, or a Pokemon whose name has long since been relegated to myth slipping through the approaching tree line. With Raihan’s voice, the world is painted to be full of wonders and mysteries, adventures yet awaiting their heroes, all to fall at Piers’ feet as long as he takes the next step.

Even the sound of the wind whistling down the foothills of the mountain isn’t enough to drown out Raihan’s words, and if anything, adds a rather romantic sort of chorus that Piers almost wishes he could record and play back on sleepless nights.

“And that’s how the druidesses defeated the invaders who were trying to knock down their ring of stones! At least, that’s how the legend goes, anyway. I’m still not entirely sure how they managed to stand up to a bunch of warriors with trained Rock and Fire types, but they did it, and the stones are still standing today. It’s not actually that far from here, maybe we could hike over there tomorrow?” He turns to look back, and Piers offers him what he hopes is an encouraging look.

Raihan talking about his interests is me of Piers’ great pleasures in life, and frankly more educational than any schooling he’s ever been through. Even if his lungs are starting to burn a little.

He’s so busy staring into Raihan’s eyes to catch the spitfire excitement still burning in them that he doesn’t notice they’ve come to the top of the ridge until the world falls away before him, as though sliced cleanly through by some giant knife long, long ago.

It makes the world seem new, to look at it this way, even when he knows that he’s staring across a vista that has been unchanged since time immemorial. The rocks, the trees, the grass and cliffsides, all of them have been rising and falling, living and dying, for thousands of years without the touch of humanity. Somewhere, a Pidgeot calls, and then falls silent, and Piers comes back into himself with the shocking realization that he’d been happily spanning the valley on silent wings of his own for several minutes now.

He turns, and finds Raihan smiling at him.

He wants to kiss him.

“Seems I’ve rendered the great Piers speechless. Not an easy thing, that.” Raihan comments, and Piers’ tongue answers sharply, even as the rest of him softens.

“Shut up. I was admiring.” He gives the closest thing he’s ever managed to an imperious sniff, and shifts the backpack on his shoulders once more. “Where’s the campsite gonna be?”

Squinting against the mid-afternoon sun, Raihan gestures with one hand towards a tall rock whose tip just emerges over the green fringe of the treetops. “See that? We’ll be camping nearby it; there’s plenty of good clearings there. Plus, it’s easy to find our way back.”

Sure. Right. Easy. Piers grumbles, and starts down the side of the mountain, glad at least that he didn’t need to buy new boots for this. “If it’s as far as it looks, you’re carrying me.”

—

It turns out to be not as far as Piers feared; after all, walking down the side of a mountain is much easier than walking up.

The huge rocky outcropping is actually a great spar of marble, all-white but for a single striation around the middle, so dark that Raihan jokes it reminds him of a certain someone. Piers huffs, but thinks privately that the rock has some style. They set up camp not far from the edge of its shadow, in a place that Raihan approves as appropriately flat, not too shady nor sunny, not too rocky, close enough to some trees to string up the overhead tarp but not so close that they have to worry about sleeping on roots.

“Are you bloody satisfied yet, Yer Majesty?” Piers grouses, blowing some of his hair out of his face with a puff. “I think if we make it any more comfortable, we might as well fly back to Hammerlocke and sleep on a proper mattress.”

Raihan only raises a brow, and tightens the knot around the stake he’s just finished hammering into place. “You’re the one who’s going to complain if you wake up with a root jammed into one of your kidneys. I’m just looking out for you, little one.”

He stands, and the tarp flaps slightly in the breeze. “C’mon. You hiked a long way, you’re tired, your feet hurt, and you need a snack.”

If it were anyone else, Piers would roll his eyes and make a snappy quip about oh, you’re a mind-reader now? Didn’t take you for the Psychic type, but the damnable thing about Raihan is that he’s right. He always could read Piers like an open book, and where it ought to be annoying, it’s nothing but endearing.

It helps even more when Raihan tips his chin up with two fingers, and slots a brief kiss onto his mouth. Just a taste of his lips, but it’s enough, and Piers sways slightly when Raihan releases him to head for their packs. He’s been waiting for that all day, and didn’t even know it.

“Now, are you going to stand there and complain all day, or are you gonna come and help me set up the fire pit? Because only one of those things is conducive to getting lunch faster.”

Piers groans. Of course Raihan would use the word conducive in casual conversation.

He walks over to find that Raihan has somehow managed to cram half his pantry into his backpack, because of course he has. It’s a bit like that one movie with the posh nanny, where she has that bag that just goes on and on and on—Piers would’ve liked one of those when he was raising Marnie, but it’s well beside the point.

Deep in the pack, he sees a familiar flash of yellow and red packaging, and his hand shoots forward to snatch the prize out so fast a Seviper would be proud.

“You brought me my favorite crisps?”

Raihan’s chuckle is fond as he watches Piers tear into the packet, opening a baggie of trail mix for himself and picking straight through for the peanuts. “Yeah. I knew you wouldn’t last more than twenty-four hours without those, so I brought them because I’m the best boyfriend in the entire world and you love me.”

Piers rolls his eyes, but dammit, he does. Raihan is always remembering these little details about him and acting like they’re the most important things in the world; how he takes his coffee, what his favorite snacks are, how he always forgets his gloves when he leaves the house and needs to be reminded to stick them in his coat pocket. Tiny, mundane, everyday things, and yet Raihan has them all memorized like gospel. It makes Piers feel seen, in a way that most of his past relationships never did, despite the torrid romance of them all.

Before Raihan, he’s never had someone to live with. People to love, certainly, but no one he would wake up at six a.m. to go hiking across a mountain in the middle of nowhere with. It’s different, a  good kind of different, and that’s why he holds out the bag so Raihan can steal a bite.

They stand in companionable silence for a few minutes, chewing through their respective snacks, before Raihan zips the baggie of trail mix closed and tosses it back in his pack.

“C’mon,” he says, tapping Piers on the shoulder. Always so touchy-feely. “Help me set up the fire pit.”

——

They spend the rest of the afternoon getting set up, and then just relaxing in nature. Piers, as previously stated, never really considered himself the type; the outdoors is full of little annoyances, like pebbles in your shoe and too-bright sunshine and Cutieflies zipping directly at your face. It’s the kind of thing he could do without, mostly.

Yet out here, with Raihan, the wilderness is different. There’s nowhere to go, and yet everywhere to go. Nothing to do, and yet so many possible activities. He sits halfway in and halfway out of the tent, his old-fashioned music player resting in the palm of his hand as his favorite tapes take on new life when set against the quiet backdrop of the landscape. Raihan rests on his unrolled sleeping bag nearby, reading a book.

For once, neither of them have pressing responsibilities to attend to. Marnie doesn’t need to be picked up from school, there’s no press knocking down their door with cameras. No matches, no TV spots, no planning or training or work. Just the two of them...and everything settles into a lazy sort of calm that makes it feel like a Sunday morning, even though it’s actually Friday afternoon.

The tape ends, and Piers listens to the faint whir of it winding back up in the cassette. Then, silence.

Slowly, he raises his hand to drag off the headphones, and opens his ears to the noise of the forest. Quiet, yes, but when he closes his eyes, the trees whisper in a constant ruffle of wind through leaves. Something chirps, and the sound echoes. Raihan turns a page with a dry flick.

Time drips around him like molasses, and for once, Piers doesn’t need adrenaline to make this moment feel like it could last forever.

—

Dinner is made over the campfire, and surprisingly consists of more than just hot dogs and marshmallows. Piers recognizes that he ought to have known Raihan would run out and buy as much expensive, bizarre equipment as possible the second he started planning this trip, and shouldn’t be surprised when Raihan whips out some sort of fancy gizmo for suspending a pan over an open fire. It’s ridiculous and elaborate and takes him almost twenty minutes to assemble, but at least they have a hot meal at the end of it.

(They have gooey toasted marshmallows for dessert, but that’s just traditional.)

Then as Piers is sitting by the fire, starting to feel something remarkably like coziness as his face is warmed by the crackling flames and his dinner settles in his gut, Raihan comes up behind him and covers his eyes.

“It’s not much of a game of ‘guess who’ when you and I are the only two people out here,” he deadpans, though his lips twitch when he hears Raihan’s chuckle above his left ear.

“This is less of a ‘guess who’ and more of a ‘guess where’,” Raihan says, and Piers’ raised eyebrow gets another low laugh. “Just trust me. Stand up, I’ll guide you.”

Piers isn’t sure why he trusts Raihan with this, and is fully expecting to trip at any moment and fall on his arse, but Raihan guides him with shocking sureness through what he assumes are the woods. Not many other places for him to go, besides further into the woods. The thought that they’re wandering blindly into the dark sends his pulse racing for a few moments, until he hears a familiar faint whir and realizes that Rotom must be lighting the way.

Raihan hasn’t had his phone out this entire time, now that he thinks about it. It’s a first that he could comment on, but decides against it. The last thing he wants to do is make a big deal out of positive behavior.

“So, is this the part where my life turns into an actual horror movie? ‘Cause leading me blindly into a dark forest at night is kinda the perfect intro to you having secretly been an axe murderer this whole time,” he quips instead, and steps over a log at Raihan’s behest.

“Hey, between the two of us, you’re probably the one getting the ideas from all those freaky movies you watch,” Raihan shoots back amiably. “Turning left, and then there’s a slight hill.”

“You like my freaky movies. Watching ‘The Grudge’ together was just an excuse to make me shower with you when you pretended to be all scared of it.”

Raihan’s faux-offended gasp is enough to distract him from the fact that he has no idea where he’s been going, and they’ve been walking for long enough that he’s starting to actually get impatient.

Just as he’s about to question Raihan—fruitlessly, he’s sure—on where it is they’re headed, Raihan guides him to a stop.

“Okay, we’re here. And no teasing me about how cheesy this is,” Raihan murmurs, and Piers has his mouth open to say something about how Raihan has never worried about being cheesy before, why should he start now, when the fingers over his eyes drop away.

For the second time that day, the landscape takes his breath right out of his lungs, unfurling in a scene he wouldn’t think was real if he weren’t standing right in front of it.

Moonlight has painted the forest with a dusting of silver like so much glistening sugar, and the world is frosted with it in a way he never thought possible. Piers loves the neon lights of the city, the harsh contrasts, the spinning kaleidoscope of colors, but this is a whole different breed of brilliance. Desaturated, the forest is spanning out before him like a blanket of uncountable tree-tops, growing fuzzy and hazy in the distance, dotted here and there by rolling hills and further outcroppings of rock. Yet where they stand, there’s no canopy of tree-cover to hide them from the moonlight, and when Raihan circles him, Piers’ jaw is hanging slack.

“You’ve gotta stop showin’ me these incredible views. I’m gonna turn into a hiker. I’ll be beggin’ you to buy me flannel shirts and growin’ a beard, next thing you know.”

Raihan’s teeth are white as pearls in his face when he smiles, and Arceus above, Piers wants to look at him forever. Feels dazed, mesmerized, stumbles after him to a little blanket that Raihan already has laid out. When did he do this? Probably while Piers was taking that afternoon nap earlier.

“You’ll be a regular lumberjack someday, I’m sure of it,” he says as he folds his lanky legs underneath him, and pats the blanket.

It clicks into place.

This was all for him. Raihan had done this...for him. Piers had been assuming this entire time that he was the one going along with his boyfriend’s wishes, being supportive and trying new things for Raihan’s benefit when it was he who stood to gain.

He plops down next to Raihan, and feels one of those broad hands engulf his own, keeping out the chill of the night. Raihan smiles again, softer this time, a gentle curve of the lips.

“Now look up.”

He tilts his chin up. Above, the velveteen blue of the sky is a riot of stars and now he understands why all those poems reference them. Wild, chaotic, spinning into an infinity he can barely comprehend even here, even now. Breath clouds in front of him as a puff of steam, then vanishes, and the sight is no less wondrous.

Raihan’s hand is an anchor, even as they tilt back together, shoulders meeting the blanket. They’re not just little lights in the sky—the stars are alive, twinkling, the universe breathing and erupting across itself. A billion suns across a billion worlds, an infinity of experience, and here he is, so small, yet grounded into his own tiny ball of dust and rock by the single grip of the man who loves him.

What a blessing it is, to be so infinitesimal, yet so beloved by one just as small as he.

“See that one there?” Raihan’s hand is extended, long fingers pointing up at one specific dot, and Piers doesn’t need to hide his smile in the dark. Raihan’s going to teach him something, and he can’t wait to hear it. “That’s the eye of the constellation Tauros…”

Raihan’s words flow around him like ribbons, like rivers. So much knowledge; it always shocked him how brilliant Raihan was, and how willing he was to share what he knew. For a long time it had made him insecure, always wondering what a rich, handsome, intelligent guy would want with a dumbass like him, but tonight those fears feel smaller than the blue-white pinpricks above. Piers allows himself to lie back and hear the stories of the cosmos, the fables and facts alike that shape the human understanding of what lies beyond their world.

“And over there is—“

Piers reaches up, and catches Raihan’s hand in his own, drawing it down between them so Raihan has to roll onto his side.

“Hey Rai?”

Raihan blinks at him, with wide eyes. His own twin stars, the orbit he’s caught in.

“Yeah?”

“Tell me more later.”

Their kiss is worth every mile, blister, and sunburn he’s gotten today. It would even be worth every star in the sky, if he could ever be bothered to count them.