Work Text:
His first encounter with Gloria—outside of the gym challenge, outside of any region saving mission she was taking up—was right outside a grocery store in Spikemuth.
(Contrary to its rather frightening reputation and appearance, Spikemuth wasn’t all that different from most other places. It had all the necessities most towns had: grocery store chains, a post office, a public library, an elementary school, and even an ice cream parlor in the warmer months. The only problem was just that, since the gym was directly across the town entrance, the rest of Spikemuth was pretty easy to overlook.)
Piers wondered if it was a Champion thing, to be just a tad touched. Leon and his directional impairment aside, he had heard strange tales about the Hoenn region’s Champion a few years back, some chap with a rock fetish they said. Unova’s Champion, the new one, was some little girl even younger than Gloria who tamed dragon pokémon, and the one before her had disappeared a year after becoming Champion.
Not to mention the Kanto Champion from some time ago who just didn’t talk, like, at all.
If that really was the case—that Champions had some kind of inherent strangeness that came with the title—then it made a bit more sense as to what Gloria was doing at the moment.
Which seemed to be, currently, cooking curry.
Never mind, it didn’t make any sense at all, Piers decided, watching the current Champion of the region camp in the middle of town without a care in the world. Her tent was bright blue, sloppily pitched against one of the abandoned buildings that dotted Spikemuth. She had even set up a campfire, crackling cheerfully on the pavement.
Piers wondered, for a second, if he should even approach. Maybe he could just turn around, and—
“Oh, hey Piers! Isn’t this a coincidence?”
Gloria walked towards him, her face set in her usual blank cheerfulness.
“What are you doing here?”
“Gettin’ some groceries.” He gestured towards the flickering neon Thrifty Megamarket sign. “Uh...Should I even ask ‘bout what you’re doin’ out in Spikemuth? With a tent set up in the middle of town and all that. Y’know, if you needed a place to stay, you can always hang with me an’ Marnie if you want. You’re always welcome to.”
Piers eyes her makeshift campsite. It didn’t look particularly comfortable, especially in the middle of town like that. It looked cold, damp, and downright awful.
“Ah, that’s not it! Not at all!” Gloria laughs as if Piers is telling her some kind of strange joke, “Marnie and I were having a quick battle, and I’m just hanging out here to fix my team up! I’m leaving in a bit, anyway, so don’t worry. I’ll be out of your hair once my team and I finish up with the curry.” She grins, as if that explains everything.
“...’kay then? I’ll, uh, be seein’ you ‘round, then, Gloria?” Piers nods in understanding.
He feels everything but that. To be honest, none of what she's said so far really explained anything , Piers thinks, considering the Pokémon Center is literally a quick jog away. In fact, it’s actually closer to the gym than the grocery store.
Is she lost or something ? Maybe Leon’s passed down more than just his cape to her...
Piers wonders if Marnie knows about Gloria’s little campsite. Probably not, she’d have definitely invited Gloria over herself if that was the case, and he’d have gotten a text from her about it. Or maybe she’d leave it a surprise for him when he got home. Either way, Marnie was definitely not going to leave a friend camping on the sidewalk. Piers wouldn’t either, come to think about it. Well, maybe he’d leave Raihan out on the curb for a bit.
Piers looks back at Gloria, sitting on the ground simmering something or another in a small pot.
It had rained only a few hours ago. The ground was still quite damp, and quite chilly, too. Autumn was quickly chilling the air, and Spikemuth’s eternal darkness didn’t help.
It sure didn’t look comfortable.
No, Piers thinks, he should really just turn away. He really, really shouldn’t be too concerned about this. Gloria probably had it all under control anyway, considering she was Champion and all. It wasn’t even his place to meddle in her business.
Piers had other problems on hand, anyway: He’d bought Marnie her favorite ice cream—this brand of cute little neapolitan bars shaped like Morpeko— and it was going to melt soon unless he picked up the pace. Plus, he’s pretty sure he left the stove on, and he’d really like his home to not burn down.
He turns away from the debacle, squeezing past the small but quickly growing crowd surrounding the former gym leader and the—ahem— eccentric new Champion.
Honestly though, Piers has half a mind to just ask her to stay with Marnie and him for the night. It was only early autumn and the weather was still pretty warm, but the next town over was still a ways away, and the cold winds flowing down from Circhester dropped nighttime temperatures in the area by dozens of degrees.
If this was how she was going to spend the night…
(‘ Brand-New Champion Freezes to Death in Spikemuth ’ is not a headline he wants to read in the morning papers.)
Plus, he’s sure Marnie would enjoy a sleepover with her friend. They were friends, right? And teenage girls who were also friends had sleepovers, according to all those movies he’s seen. Not that he’ll ever admit to actually watching the cheesy highschool rom-com chick-flicks that happen to be playing late at night, the ones that always happen to air when he’s working on his music and bored out of his mind. He’s never seen a single one of those in his life.
Piers sighs, wondering if this was going to be something he’d have to deal with for the foreseeable future.
“Er, Gloria, Champion, Champion Gloria… Whatever you want to be called… Y'know, I… I’m sure Marnie would really love to have a friend over. My lil’ sis might seem a little cold sometimes, but, uh, I think she really likes you.” That was true. When Piers had asked her about her journey around the region, Marnie had talked at length about Gloria and their battles. About how strong Gloria was, yet how cheerful and kind she was and all that.
Piers thought Marnie was definitely laying her praises on a little thick, but he got the idea. Marnie really looked at her as a proper rival and a proper friend, and from what he knew of her already, she was a nice girl.
Champion or not, this Gloria really must be something to get Marnie so pumped up.
“You can leave in the mornin’, if that’s what you want,” Piers mumbles, “but stay the night.”
“...If you really want me too…okay...”
Gloria nods in response, packing her stuff back into her bag as fast as she put it up, her Intelleon putting out the campfire dutifully. Aside from the suspicious pile of wet ash, it was as if she hadn’t just pitched a tent in the middle of town.
“T-thanks, Piers. You really don’t have to, but um, if it’s for Marnie… Then I’m happy to intrude!”
“You seem to like Marnie quite a bit. That’s good. I was afraid you an’ Marnie weren’t that close, and I made some kinda mistake.”
“No way! Your sister’s the best, Piers!”
She hops up to him, chattering about Marnie, and her battle with Marnie, and her sleepover with Marnie, about how Marnie was probably the best rival’s she’s ever had, and then even more about Marnie and how cool Marnie was, and Piers decides that Gloria’s a good kid. Y’know, maybe letting her sleep over won’t be too bad.
At least, that’s what he hoped.
—
There’s something so empty about Gloria’s eyes.
Not emotionless or dull, just empty.
Like… a completely still pond, or a flat expanse of asphalt. A clear sky, or a blank chalkboard.
Clear. Reflective. As if there was nothing that stopped her from peering straight into your soul.
It was almost calming, looking into her eyes during a battle. Like looking into the eye of a hurricane.
Of course, it wasn’t nearly as calming to wake up to those eyes, unblinking, in the wee hours of the morning. In fact, it was incredibly terrifying—although Piers would never admit that, he had a reputation to protect. That said, he most definitely did not scream, yelp, or similar, and if he did, it was not, as Gloria later insisted, girly nor adorable.
She had been sleeping over— again —with Marnie. Almost a year after he had first invited her over, Piers had, so far, become accustomed to her presence. She made him jump, every now and then, staring owlishly at him in the kitchen as she grabbed a midnight snack, or silently entering rooms, so quiet and creepy that Piers wonders if she’s trying to scare him on purpose. But that was just normal Gloria stuff.
Early morning wakeup visits were both extremely new and incredibly unsettling.
“Gloria?” Piers quickly composed himself, shoving any indication of surprise in his voice underneath his usual cool demeanor, “What’re you doin’ up in my room so early in the mornin’? Is Marnie okay?”
“...”
Gloria’s eyes flicker directly towards him.
He gulps, the air in the room growing tense. There was probably some sort of reason the Champion would barge into his room at three in the morning. Shit, if Marnie was hurt or something—
Piers is already clambering out of bed by the time Gloria finally speaks.
“...I was looking for toilet paper. I think you guys are out.”
Nevermind, she was just bloody fucking insane.
“Can you jus’...” Piers trails off, biting back any irritation he might be feeling. As Marnie’s big bro, he needs to be the voice of reason.
Plus, even if he wasn’t technically affiliated with the League anymore, she was still the Champion. Anyway, the thought of yelling at a seventeen year old girl left a bad taste in his mouth. That would just be plain mean.
“Can I just?” Gloria parrots. She seems to be incredibly confused, as if barging into people’s rooms at odd hours of the morning was perfectly fine.
“...Can you jus’, I dunno, go back to bed? If we’re outta toilet paper, I’ll go shoppin’ later, after breakfast maybe, but you should check the cabinet in the basement if ya haven’t already. Did you ask Marnie ‘bout it yet?”
“Erm, I didn’t want to wake her…” Gloria replies in a small voice, her cheeks going pink, “She seemed really tired, and I didn’t want to wake her up… Not like I wanted to wake you up or anything, Piers! I was just checking if you had another bathroom someplace in here, and I was staring because, uh,” her cheeks go as red as Tamato berries, “...it’s really weird to see you with your hair down. Well, not weird, just different. In a good way, I think.”
In a good way?
“Huh.” Piers fiddles with loose strands of his hair awkwardly, unsure of what to say. How was he supposed to reply to something like that? Especially since the first word to pop into her head about it was ‘weird’.
In the end, he simply didn’t reply, instead doing his best to keep from staring awkwardly at her by looking anywhere else.
(Hmm. There’s a spot of mold on the ceiling, looks a bit like a Wooloo if you turn your head a bit. Fascinating.)
“...Piers? I think your hair is...really nice…l-let down like that...but it’s also really nice up, if that’s what you prefer! ” Gloria was fiddling with the ends of her nightshirt. Piers doesn’t quite hear her. He was now too busy musing, offhandedly, that he’d never really seen her nightclothes in the year she’d been sleeping over. She always got dressed before she left Marnie’s room. It was unusual to see her looking so casual, especially compared to how intimidating and confident she looked while battling. There was something almost scary about her when she battled as the Champion, but Piers could never put his finger on it. Maybe it was her getup.
It was probably the cape, Piers decided. It suited her just as much as it made Leon look like a bit of dumbass when he wore it. She actually looked kinda cute when she was all dressed up like that. Not that she wasn’t cute otherwise. Gloria was very cute in general, in fact.
...But in a completely platonic, non-creepy way, Piers quickly backtracked in his mind. Cute to him like how Morpeko is cute to Marnie. That analogy doesn’t quite fit, but it was better than seriously considering the alternative.
“...Piers?”
Piers blinks, realizing Gloria was looking expectantly at him. He must have zoned out.
“...Hm? You say somethin’?” He really needed to get some sleep. His thoughts were getting pretty screwy.
“Your hair is nice! ...Um, s-sorry for intruding. G-goodnight!” Gloria squeaks, obviously embarrassed at the overly long lull in conversation.
Piers stares at her for a second, before slowly mumbling back a quick, “G’night, Gloria.”
She slowly shuts the door closed, bathing the room back in darkness. Piers leans against his headboard, letting out a sigh as he is left alone to his thoughts.
“What’d she mean by that?” he mutters to no one in particular, fingers still playing with the frayed tips of his hair. He really can’t make heads or tails of the girl.
Hopefully, by next morning, this would all feel like a strange fever dream and he wouldn’t have to think about it any more. He’d swing by the drug store to grab some toilet paper in the morning, and that will be it.
Seriously, showing up in the middle of the night looking like a ghost, just to ask about toilet paper... That was certainly an odd way to go about it.
She sure was weird, this Champion.
Piers didn’t hate it, though.
—
Piers made it a principle to avoid the Wild Area at all costs.
He’d always despised it ever since he and his Obstagoon—at the time, still a Zigzagoon—had ended up stranded there overnight during his own time as a gym challenger.
He was only fourteen at the time—still a dumb kid who got himself into trouble a touch too much—slogging his way through the Wild Area with nothing but the clothes on his back and whatever would fit in his knapsack.
It was only a quick jog to Motosoke, the man at the station had said, early enough he’d get there a few days before the opening ceremony began.
He lied.
Almost immediately after leaving the train station, Piers had found himself and Zigzagoon being chased through the wide open fields by a swarm of Combee, and he had to run for almost an hour into the hills to shake them off.
That crappy hellhole had brought him nothing but pain and suffering, so insanely huge he’d wandered in the wrong direction a whole day, only realizing his mistake when he stumbled right back into the train station he had come out of that morning. The pokémon dens that dotted the fields weren’t a joke either, half crazed dynamax pokémon popping out and scaring the living daylights out of him whenever he’d step too close.
It was a far cry from cozy little Spikemuth, and Piers didn’t intend to pass through it again anytime in this life. Not even if you held a gun to his head would he step a single foot in there ever again.
Never.
Except —Piers realizes with growing dread as the train pulls away from the station—he’s landed himself in the belly of the Wild Area, on a job he practically volunteered himself for.
Although technically , he didn’t actually enger the Wild Area willingly, because it was more like the entirety of the Galar Pokémon League assumed that since he wasn’t a gym leader anymore (and also on break from performing for the next couple weeks), they could force him into doing whatever odd task they wanted. Four years retired, and he was still considered an asset of the League, apparently. Why they couldn’t have just sent someone more capable or willing was a mystery to him.
He’d begun getting the annoying texts from Raihan and Leon first, which he ignored until it escalated into nigh constant phone calls from Opal, Melony, Kabu, and all those other clingy mothering types who happened to have his number. It was a good thing Marnie was the one they sent in-person to ask him to do this job. If anyone else had asked him, he’d probably have told them to fuck right off and let him enjoy his retirement, which he definitely was not getting bored of. It was very fun, to have an entirely clear schedule for most of the summer. Very fun.
...It’s not like he had nothing to do, he just didn’t feel like doing it at the moment.
And that’s why Piers found himself smack dab in the middle of the Wild Area, hunting down a Champion who had decided that the very end of the Gym Challenge season was the perfect time to fuck off to who-knows-where without as much as a note. The reception in the area was completely shot, too, which meant no one was even one hundred percent sure where she was, or even if she was still in the Wild Area, just that she wasn’t answering texts or phone calls.
Piers had already scoured the first half—which wasn’t too bad aside from the bloody awful weather conditions that seemed to change every ten steps—and found nothing. He had half a mind to give up and call it a day, but on second thought, what was worse? Hanging out in this place for a few hours more or returning home and getting Marnie’s disappointed stare directing at him for the next week? The latter, by a landslide.
Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?
Approximately three and a half hours later, Piers had an answer.
Thunder rumbled somewhere overhead, nearly in sync with the blasts of light that struck the ground every few minutes. Freezing rain soaked Piers to the bone, cold seeping through his thin jacket like it was nothing.
Lightning flashed overhead, striking far too close for comfort, illuminating the hulking forms of several Golisopod, mere steps away from where Piers was huddled behind a rock. His pokémon were a real mess, poisoned and paralyzed from an unfortunate run-in with a particularly aggressive Roserade, not to mention the fact that he’d been stupid enough to leave his knapsack of supplies in swiping distance of a Purrloin.
The whole reason he was even in this mess was because he'd stepped on a Wimpod by accident. In response, the pokémon ran to its nest in a panic, which caused even more to scurry out, and the ensuing battles drew the attention of a swarm of Golisopod. They’d chased him into the storm, all creepy and crawly with their wriggling legs and snapping mouths.
(Piers had always hated bugs.)
In the horizon, barely visible behind the wall of Gosoliopod, he could see the gates of heaven beckoning. Or, at least, the gates of Hammerlocke. Only a few minutes away, at the most.
Piers decided that, of all the ways to go, being gutted by a Golisopod wasn’t on his top ten or even top ten-thousand, so he made a decision.
He stood up, the full force of the storm bowling him over almost immediately, icy rain soaking into his bones. He stood up, ready to sprint as fast as he could towards the gates of Hammerlocke, life and limb be damned.
And then he heard someone yell.
“Oi!” A small voice called out, barely audible above the howling wind, “Pick on someone your own size next time!”
There was a bright light and a loud crash. The air tasted metallic and tangy, and Piers saw spots dancing across his vision.
By the time his vision finally focused, Piers realized that he wasn’t looking at a battlefield or a hunting ground anymore, but a massacre. About five Golisopod were on the ground, charred and limp, and the almost twenty others that were escaping fared only a bit better, smoke wafting from their exoskeletons.
In the center of it all was Gloria, dressed up in a bright pink oilskin and galoshes two sizes too large, as if she was a little kid playing in the rain instead of the reigning Champion of Galar, who had just taken down a horde of Golisopod like they were newly hatched Rookidee.
“Hiya Piers,” Gloria greets him cheerfully, sauntering up to the rock formation he was leaning onto for support, her smirking Toxtricity in tow, “Awful weather we’re having. You look like a soaked Scorbunny!”
“...”
“My tent’s only a short ways away; it’s that blue smudge over there. Um, how about I whip up a hot plate of curry for you while we wait there until the storm blows through? You can dry up at the camp, don’t worry! ...S-so, uh, what do you say? Piers? You okay?”
“...”
“Um, Piers? Did you, um, hit your head or something? Bloody hell, did I zap you by accident? Oh dear... Uh...b-blink twice if you can hear me? Piers?”
Piers is speechless, not from her earlier display of power—although that was certainly terrifying and warranted a certain level of awed silence—but instead from the fact that it took seven hours of walking and a near death encounter with a herd of gigantic bugs to find her, and she was quite literally a minute’s jog from Hammerlocke to entire time.
He was going to murder Raihan.
—
“Pretty gutsy,” he begins, once he’s safely at her campsite and bundled up in a warm and fluffy towel, “to run off right before the Champion Cup. Left everyone a complete mess, y’know, an’ now they’re all scramblin’ to reschedule this and that. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t care either way, really, but now it’s become my problem, since everyone thinks I’m so damn free , which means I have to get you back safe to Wyndon by the end of the day.”
Really, when he retired from being a gym leader, he thought he’d finally be able to choose how he spent his time. Not stuck in the Wild Area babysitting a twenty-year-old—or perhaps he was the one being babysitted by her .
Speaking of, Gloria was currently preparing what seemed to be a pot of curry. Seemed, as Piers wasn’t a hundred percent sure with all the ingredients she’d been throwing in.
“Oh, was it so close to the Cup already?” She tosses an Oran berry, unpeeled, into the smoking pot. “I was just getting a quick warm up in before battling. Er, sorry for making you go through all,” she waves her arms at him in a vague gesture, ” this , then. It’s pretty lucky that you dress so flashy, though. Almost missed you in the storm.”
“... Flashy ?”
“Yeah, and it was a good thing too! With all your sparkly spikes and chains and bangles and whatevers, it was pretty easy to spot you in the storm. Actually, the only reason I was even out there was because I saw your hair all flapping about in the wind like crazy, and I thought it was some kind of brand new Obstagoon-Mareanie hybrid! Or maybe just a Zebstrika, which was still pretty cool, since you can’t find them anywhere in Galar. I heard there’s loads of ‘em in Unova, though. Well, anyway, I came charging in there hoping to find something rare I could surprise Hop with, but it was just you! Still, it’s pretty rare to find someone as strong as you in such a sticky situation. Lucky, aren’t I?”
She punctuates this by throwing a handful of Apicot berries, pit and all, into the mix. The pot bubbles ominously.
“...What did you say about my hair?”
She pauses for a second, expression blank, before seeming to realize just what she said.“...I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to overshare, I actually like your hair a lot! Your clothes...are okay? Not my style, really. B-but they really suit you! Oh my god, what am I saying? I finally get to talk to someone as cool as you one-on-one without anyone to ruin it but now I’m the one ruining it!” Gloria babbles, her face tinged scarlet. She’s begun chopping what seems like random nuts and berries in her panic, many of which Piers is sure are definitely not curry ingredients.
“Wait, what was that last thing?”
Gloria’s hands go still, and her cheeks flush bright red. She doesn’t meet his eyes.
“...Your clothes are okay? Not my style?” Now she was just messing with him.
For a second, Piers wonders if she was a huge fan of his or something, but that would be silly. Not to mention a bit full of himself. This was Gloria he was talking about: the Champion, the kind of girl who practically looked the apocalypse-as-a-pokémon in the face, caught it, and made a game of tossing berries into its mouth for fun, and an all around amazing girl (except for her culinary talents, it seems).
In terms of fame or skill, she was definitely a step over him.
Maybe the curry fumes were getting to his head.
There was no way Gloria, of all people, would be flustered to talk to him because she was a fan. They had practically battled side by side when those sword and shield weirdos were stirring things up, and she’s talked to him pretty normally (as normal as she can be) during her sleepovers with Marnie. Piers was pretty sure that, even if she was a fan of his, it wasn’t something that would make her particularly flustered.
Then again, they’ve never been alone like this, talking to each other without some kind of overbearing issue or task to worry about first. Well, except for the Champion Cup bearing down, but Piers isn’t thinking about it at the moment; it’s too stormy to call a Sky Taxi to Wyndon anyway.
He looks at her rapidly reddening face as she dumps an entire clove of garlic into the mix. It’s probably the curry fumes, Piers decides, but he wonders why a little part of him wishes that she really was a fan of his (and maybe even hopes that she’s one of the weirder ones who had a poster of him in her room or a pillow or something). He probably just wants some kind of proof that he meant something to the Champion, that maybe he was special to her.
But why ?
A possible answer flashes through his mind, but Piers chooses to ignore something that absurd. Something so...worrying, to say the least.
“C-Curry’s ready!” Gloria shouts suddenly in the awkward silence. She’s begun spooning heaps of it onto plates of rice before Piers could say anything, passing plates of varying sizes to her pokémon. Some she gave spoonfuls, but others got heaps.
Her Snom, oddly enough, took the largest bowl. Piers eyes it as Gloria passes him a serving.
The smell wafting up from his own plate makes him look down, and he blanches.
“...What the hell are you feedin’ me?” It probably came out a bit ruder than he intended, but it still got the feeling across, because Piers decided that he wasn't looking at a plate of food but—perhaps—at some kind of prank.
Because whatever was on the plate definitely wasn’t food.
Whatever was on that plate was smoking bright blue, and Gloria apparently had the time to top it with whipping cream and garnish it with parsley while he wasn’t looking. It was almost appetizing, or at the very least looked edible, had it not smelled like the entirety of a spice cabinet poured into a pot and looked like a birthday cake.
“Curry?” Gloria replies, as if this could be recognized as curry in any universe.
All her pokémon have already begun eating it with gusto, and Piers wonders if he needs to call pokémon welfare authorities on this. It really couldn’t be good for them.
...Still, maybe looks were deceiving. It could be delicious.
“Well, it’s now or never.”
He cautiously spoons a bit into his mouth, only to immediately choke on it.
Nevermind, tasting it is somehow even worse than looking at it, Piers finds out, as an unholy combination of dry tartness and overpowering sweetness flood his mouth. Chunks of Oran berry peel only serve to add an intense mouth-drying bitterness to the sauce that he really rather would have gone without, and the texture is what you would expect from what was basically just a boiled fruit salad served over rice.
Out of the corner of one watering eye, Piers notes that Gloria seems to have no problem ingesting what might be actual poison, and she instead even seems to be enjoying it. She has an adorable look on her face, cheeks stuffed and eyes aglow, as if she was chowing down on a delicious Clobbopus ice lolly (a Spikemuth specialty that, in Piers’ opinion, wasn’t nearly as well-known as it should be, damn things were amazing) instead of whatever the hell he was stuck eating.
“So, what do you think?” Gloria asks him, eyes completely serious.
(Actually, she could have been joking, but with her it was hard to tell.)
Piers swallows another painful bite of the stuff. “Uh, ‘s it s’pposed to taste like that?”
“Like what?” Gloria cocks her head, confused. “It seems fine to me. Too spicy for you?” She’s almost finished with her plate.
Piers has given up on finishing his. He’s already had enough near-death experiences for the day.
“...Nevermind. Must be an acquired taste, then.”
By the time he’s convinced Gloria that he really isn’t hungry and really doesn’t want to finish her curry from hell, the storm has already cleared up. Weather patterns in the Wild Area are strange, because the instant that the storm suddenly clears up, the sky is immediately filled with a searing haze of sunlight that dries up all the remaining water in Piers’ hair in under an hour.
Gloria seems content to pack up her campsite as soon as the weather clears, just as fast as she had all those years ago when he found her in front of the grocery. Piers, oddly enough, feels a sense of disappointment as he watches her cram her entire campsite into her surprisingly tiny backpack. As if it would have been fine to stay like that for an hour more.
Piers offered to call a Sky Taxi for her to Wyndon. He was heading back to Spikemuth until the Champion Cup actually began, he said, but he didn’t mind paying for a ride to Wyndon with her first. His treat.
She had turned very red at that.
“You really don’t have to,” She squealed, “I’ve already troubled you enough! I can pay for mine just fine, so you can just head home.”
“How’ll I know whether or not you actually reached Wyndon? I’m in charge of you, according to Leon apparently, so I’d prefer to make sure you get there without any more trouble. Even if that means draggin’ you to the stadium.”
“I-I’ll get there! I promise, plus Marnie can call you to make sure, if you’re really that serious about this.”
That sounded good enough, Piers thought, although it was a shame that he couldn’t ride with her to Wyndon. Awful cooking aside, she was a pretty good conversational partner.
He agrees to her terms, only a bit disappointed, and soon returns to Spikemuth.
Marnie rings about an hour later.
“Wow, I can’t believe you managed to grab her without a fuss. I bet Leon’s thinkin’ of makin’ you the official Champion-wrangler.” She gives him a small smile, which he immediately screenshots for scrapbooking purposes. (He really needed a better hobby.)
“Heh,” Piers laughed dryly. “If that ever happens, tell Leon I refuse. Emphatically .”
Marnie snorts, crossing her arms.
“Yeah? Well, whatever’ll stop you from your dumb scrapbookin’, I hope it comes soon. You really need a better hobby, Bro.”
—
Piers notices that Gloria has a very distinct battling style, in that she doesn’t seem to have one.
He finds this out by downloading and watching videos of her battling.
There’s a very fine line between admiration and obsession, Piers notes. He also notes that he has not quite crossed it, because his admiration of Gloria is very normal and healthy.
He’s just, you know, finding something to do in his spare time. Everyone’s been telling him to get a hobby, anyway.
Really and truly, Piers just thinks that watching Gloria’s battles (and saving them to his Rotom Phone) is a productive way to spend his time.
Ever since he retired, he felt his battling skills diminishing in the absence of challengers, and as much as he’d like to battle the other gym leaders to keep his training sharp, it wasn’t really something he could do a couple times a week.
Spikemuth wasn’t really a top tourist spot, so it was pretty hard to find new blood out of season. Battling Marnie was good practice too, but her battling style was way too similar to his own, and Team Yell was great for a quick sparring match or a warm up, but again, he had practically trained all of them.
In an effort to at least hone his mind, Piers had turned to studying the other gym leaders and their battles. The televised nature of league battles has made it incredibly easy to get information on both gym leaders and challengers, which made both adapting his strategies as well as reading opponents way less troublesome.
He’d been having an easier time in his battles after starting this new hobby of his, and he’s even beaten Raihan one or two times during the off-season exhibition matches. That sure took the wind out of Raihan’s sails.
Gloria’s the Champion. Obviously, he’s never beaten her, and probably has no chance, but it’s useful nonetheless to study her.
Entirely for reference and entertainment, of course.
For instance, he knows that she always opens with her Intelleon and closes with her Butterfree, even though the rest of her lineup changes every battle. She only dynamaxes if her opponent does, some kind of courtesy she offers challengers. She throws with her right hand, leads with her left leg, and winds up just less than a quarter turn before tossing, and she doesn’t seem to have much of a type preference. She’s pretty reserved on the battlefield, which is a far cry from Leon’s boisterousness, but she’s chatty and cheerful in her interviews.
(Piers watches her interviews sometimes, but only in a futile attempt to understand what the heck she’s thinking. It doesn’t help at all. Gloria only answers questions related to training and skips anything personal. Piers doesn’t blame her, given how quickly the press is to jump to conclusions.)
Marnie calls him a fanboy. Piers strongly insists that it’s just a hobby.
Obviously, he has other things to do.
His actual job, for one, considering that he spends most of his time either performing or songwriting, and outside of that he’s still a pokémon trainer. He really only dedicates a mere fraction of his time to this whole watching videos of Gloria hobby, which he only realizes later sounds way worse than it is.
In a nutshell, that means he’s really only spending a couple of minutes a day (at the most), watching videos of the current Champion. The chances of anyone even catching him doing it at any given moment are less than one-in-a-hundred.
It’s just his luck that Gloria chooses to drop in, unannounced, the exact day and minute and second that Piers has a video of her battle playing on the TV. Loudly.
He turns it off the second she pokes her head in the door— fuck his soundproof walls, they sounded like such a good idea when he was trying to learn guitar—but the damage is done. Gloria’s eyebrows are furrowed in confusion, and Marnie snickers from behind her.
(Piers notes that Marnie did not mention coming home early, nor did she bother to mention that she had company.)
“See? I told you he was a fan.” The corners of Marnie’s mouth are turned up in a small smile. It’d be adorable if she wasn’t so obviously making fun of him.
“Oi! What’d I say about comin’ into my room? What if I was gettin’ dressed or something?”
Gloria silently flushed red at the statement. Piers chose to ignore that in favor of glaring at Marnie, who seemed to be beside herself with laughter while still keeping a rather neutral expression on her face.
“Really? At three in the afternoon, Bro? All I was doin’ was just comin’ in to tell you that Gloria’s stayin’ over tonight, and I did knock. Maybe you were just...preoccupied?”
Piers wonders if this is her rebellious phase. Marnie had been pretty thorny with him as of late, this was probably part of it. He was fine with it, most of the time at least, but this was a little much.
“Well, now you’ve told me. Anyway, don’t go tellin’ people weird things about me, especially not the bloody Champion ! An’ what do you mean by preoccupied?!” Piers retorts, crossing his arms. He turns and faces Gloria, who has just been awkwardly watching their little row in the doorway. “Er, sorry for draggin’ you into this, Gloria. I was just watchin’ your video, for uh, reference. Nothing weird or whatever Marnie’s suggestin’. Please don’t get the wrong idea about it.”
Marnie scoffs. “Sure, Bro, reference. Whatever helps you sleep at night, I guess. Anyway, me and Gloria are goin’ down to the ice cream parlor. That’s what I was goin’ to tell you before we walked into your business. You want anythin’?”
“Ice cream parlor? What for?”
Marnie leans over conspiratorially, “She doesn’ believe we have Clobbopus ice lollies.”
Seriously? They were one of Spikemuth’s specialties; how had she been visiting them for the last five years and not known about it?
“Really, Gloria? You couldn’t have visited Spikemuth as much as you have and not heard of our famous ice lollies by now. What’ve you even been doin’ here?” Piers teases, watching as Gloria goes from flustered red to embarrassed red.
“W-wait, you weren’t joking about that, Marnie? But that’s so weird! That’s seafood! That doesn't go together with ice cream!”
“Heh, says the one who puts whipped cream in curry,” Piers mutters to himself under his breath.
“Huh?” Marnie whips around and stares at Gloria. Obviously, she’s probably never had Gloria’s cooking, lucky girl.
“You two ate together? When was that? Neither of you told me this!”
Marnie seems to be fixated on something entirely different, though.
“Geez, Marnie, it’s nothing like that!” Gloria laughs. Piers has no idea of what ‘that’ even means, nor does he want to dwell on whatever Marnie thinks is going on between the two of them. Marnie looks unconvinced, regardless. “Look, it was when Piers was trying to find me when I ran off last year. Remember? I rescued him, dried him up, made him some curry, and we went our separate ways. That’s all that happened.”
“If you say so, Gloria. Anyway, Bro, we really have to head out soon, so if you want anythin’, say it now.”
Marnie grins like a Purrloin that’s got the cream and wraps her arms around Gloria, pulling her gently out the door.
“What’s up with you?” Piers asks. Marnie stares at him pointedly. He still hasn’t answered the question. “Fine. Erm, I’d take a toffee swirl, if they’ve got it today. Nothin’ else, otherwise. See you two before dinner?”
Marnie nods, appeased, and leads Gloria out the door, linked arm in arm. Just before the door shuts he hears a snippet of conversation.
“See, Gloria? Told ya he had a poster of you up on the wall.”
Piers jumps up with a jolt.
“Oi, Marnie, shut up!”
—
Gloria knocks on his door later that afternoon. Thankfully, he’s not doing anything embarrassing, just scribbling ideas for a new song into his notebook. The telly’s playing some chick-flick, something cheesy, old, and definitely a box-office bomb. He’s not really paying much attention to it.
“Come in.” Piers calls out, and Gloria steps inside. She’s got a Clobbopus ice lolly in one hand and a toffee swirl in the other. So they had it today, after all.
“What’s up?” he asks, briefly meeting her eyes with a lazy grin, “Sorry ‘bout earlier. Me an’ Marnie dragged you into one of our little rows, and we put you on the spot too.”
“Aw, don’t sweat it, Piers!” Gloria smiles, passing him the ice cream cone, “It was funny to watch you two argue like that! Admittedly, weird to know you watch videos of me battle in your spare time, but I’ll take it as a compliment.”
Piers feels his face heat up in embarrassment.
“Could you please forget that ever happened?”
“Sorry, no can do!”
Piers groans, and wonders if it’s possible to die from embarrassment. He certainly wants to.
“W-wait, don’t worry!” Gloria backpedals, waving her arms frantically, the ice lolly flailing wildly. Piers eyes the carpet for any stray drops of ice-cream. “If it’s any consolation, I watch you too!”
“...What?”
What did she mean by that? That wording was incredibly vague.
Maybe she did the same thing he did, studying his strategy? It certainly explained why her team always countered his perfectly whenever they battled. Piers wonders why he feels so worked up about it. He can feel his heart thudding out of his chest, and his face is a bit warm at the thought of Gloria sitting in her room studying videos of him.
Also, he’s really confused, because this can go two ways and while one possibility is more than fine, he really hopes that Gloria isn’t secretly a serial killer.
Opposite him, Gloria seems to have turned just as red, or even redder. Piers can practically see the steam coming from her head.
“Like, your music videos and stuff, and your battles sometimes, although it’s kinda hard to find those. I manage to find them anyway, though, since you can really learn a lot about a person from how they battle… But not in a creepy way! I-it’s just because I’m like, a r-really big fan of yours, and I like to learn more about you! You’re so awesome, you know? With your approach to battling and life and all that; man, I really love everything about you! ... Fuck , I shouldn’t have said that! Forget what I just said! I should probably shut up now.” She shoves her ice lolly into her mouth in an attempt to shut herself up.
“Blergh!”
It only serves to make her choke, and as Gloria coughs up a lung, Piers tries to process what she has just said.
It’s not like he didn’t know he was popular with Gloria’s demographic or anything—he knew that young women made up the majority of his non-Spikemuth fan base, not that he particularly cared—but it was surreal to imagine that Gloria had even listened to his music before besides the day she had challenged him, or the impromptu concert he’d put on to help her get into Rose Tower. She always seemed so unreachable.
“I—uh, you’re a fan? That’s cool.” Shit, was his voice shaking? Piers discreetly crumpled a page in his hand, hoping his face wasn’t getting too red. Those lyrics were shit anyway. “I didn’t realize the Champion was a fan of mine. Never took you for the type, to be honest, but uh, that’s really cool. I’m a fan of you, too, but don’t tell Marnie I said that.”
Piers flashes what he hopes was a sly smile. It probably ends up as more of a dopey grin instead.
Gloria hesitantly smiles back, and Piers feels his heart skip beat. He chooses to ignore this feeling. Nothing, absolutely nothing good could come from this, he decides. She’s Marnie’s friend, for crying out loud!
“...Thanks, Piers,” Gloria mumbles into her ice lolly.
... She really is cute, though.
“N-no problem.” Piers spreads his hand across his mouth in an attempt to hide the grin he can feel spreading across his cheeks.
Marnie chooses this moment to barge in.
“That’s where you were, Gloria. Do you want to have a battle in a bit?” Her eyes sparkle.
“...Yeah! Just, uh, let me just get ready,” Gloria glances at Piers, “...um, bye, Piers, see you. N-nice catching up with you.” She’s out of the door before Piers can reply, leaving him and Marnie in the room alone.
She grins, looking smug, and nudges the door closed with one heel.
“What do you want, Marnie?
Piers looks up at her darkly. With a grin like that, she’s definitely plotting something.
“I knew you were a fan of Gloria’s, but I didn’t know you had such a huge crush on her. Well, that does explain why you’ve been writin’ such sappy songs as of late.”
Sappy? Piers knew his songs could be a bit melodramatic at times, but they weren’t sappy. Arguing about that would have to wait for another day, however.
“What?! That’s—D-don’t jump to conclusions like that, Marnie. We’re just friends. Just friends.”
“Sure, Big Bro, tell yourself that.” Marnie laughs, decapitating her ice cream with a bite.
Marnie’s eyes, for a second, flash with something contemplative. She studies his face, looking for something, before her face goes serious.
“Seriously though, Bro… If you don’t make a move on her soon, who knows who’ll snatch her up. I’m rootin’ for you, Bro, but I can’t sit and watch for too long. No hard feelin’s though.”
“W-what are you talkin’ about?”
“...Gloria’s ‘just friends’ with a lot of people, Bro, includin’ me. I’m just givin’ you a warning ‘bout it, that’s all.”
She waltzes out the door, leaving Piers—finally—alone.
Piers wonders what he’s done to deserve Marnie’s borderline ire, aside from the whole Team Yell debacle, and maybe sticking too close to her at all the galas and parties. And if what she just was true… Well, she does have a few reasons to hold a grudge.
But she was wrong, though, about him and Gloria. They were friends in a sense, and Marnie really had nothing to fuss over. He was just a fan of hers, and she was just a fan of his.
He still found that to be a little odd, though. The idea that she, the Champion, the region's largest celebrity, thought he was cool.
It was fine that it was a little odd, Piers decides.
After all, Gloria was more than a little odd.
(He thought about her tendency to sleep in weird places, and the drowsy way she blinked back sleep and stumbled through the house in the wee hours of the morning. He thinks about the dreamy, empty look in her eyes, and about that weird hat she insisted on wearing everywhere but the stadium turf. He looks back at her awful culinary sense and her love of camping in the oddest of places, and thinks some more about her ever-changing battle style and her funny flustered face when he mentioned he was a fan.)
Yeah, Gloria could be a bit eccentric at times, and downright confusing other times. But that wasn’t a bad thing at all.
In fact, Piers found it—kinda...maybe...okay, extremely —cute. Not that he’d ever admit it.
Piers thinks about her flustered face again, and feels his cheeks warm up.
...Fine. Maybe he did have a bit of a crush.