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Downtime on the Isle of Armor was rare, while downtime with the man who considered you his rival was far more of a rare occurrence. Typically, during these times, he would press you for a battle. Even if it had been so late that you were nearly slumbering standing, he would still ask. Once a day, the two of you would always go at one another, and every day, it turned out to be the absolute same. Your victory had been assured since the moment you stepped onto the Isle of Armor, and yet, somehow, he would learn from every battle with you. You had to admit it was nice, but spending some quiet time with him had been something you were fishing for since the beginning.
It would be a flat out lie to say you didn't want to feel how silky those long blond locks of his were. More than once, you complimented them in passing, or complimented his cerulean eyes. Never did you admit straight out that you found him to be outright gorgeous, stunning, ravishing, or any other insane ego boosters, but you would throw in the occasional compliment.
Sitting outside the dojo together, you lived in a comfortable silence. Avery needed a break, or to recharge his psychic energy, as he said, and you had been training for a week straight. He had not spoken up about you just sitting beside him, nor had he sparked any sort of conversation with you. Staring off into the beauty that the Isle of Armor encompassed, the two of you peacefully shared the same fallen log.
Taking another glance to the psychic type gym leader, you bit your lip gently, before quickly looking away once more. The way that you did so was not as subtle as you hoped, the gentle breeze your y/h/c locks made as you shifted back to the view catching his attention. Though you made it seem as if you were simply staring out at the roaming pokemon, Avery was always quite astute.
Cerulean eyes flickered over to you, a blond eyebrow raised in question. "My psychic energy is far too drained to read your mind, Y/N," he pressed. His gaze stayed for more than a minute, far more than enough time to notice the way your cheeks heated with crimson.
"I-," you started, furrowing your brows as you tried to think of how you could even ask to invade his personal space in the way you wished. Allowing a sigh to escape your parted lips, you just allowed the words to tumble off your lips. "I was wondering, ah, if I could braid your hair."
"You want to…" he questioned curiously, his tone fading as he contemplated it. He never allowed anyone to touch his hair, let alone style it in such a manner. The psychic gym leader had been perplexed to say the least, the thought of your nimble fingers in his blond locks both a tempting and terrifying curiosity.
"I, yeah," you said softly, barely above a whisper. Your cheeks darkened as you quickly tried to play it off. "It's fine if it's a no. I just think it would be nice."
Avery allowed a sigh to escape his lips, though he proceeded to use his telekinesis to place the hat he adorned to the side of him, pokeballs gently tucked underneath. "If you pull," he spoke lowly, a hint of warning in his tone, "I will never allow you near my elegant locks again."
"Understood," you hummed out, a smile making its way to your lips as you moved to position yourself better to do a small braid. You picked his left side, your nimble fingers gentle as you collected and separated the silky blond locks. As a hum of approval graced your ears from your blond rival, you could not help how your lips curled upwards more.
Each time you weaved his hair into a braid, you did so slowly so as to not pull or discomfort the man. With each motion, you could feel the sheer silk of his locks, how well-maintained he kept his hair. The faint sounds of your surroundings could be heard, from the gentle patter of wild pokemon to the sifting of the breeze through the berry trees, but in this moment, it was just the two of you.
The contented way he sighed as you played with his hair filled your heart with warmth. Occasionally, you would steal a side glance to his cerulean eyes, admiring the handsome profile of his sharp features before doing another weave. Reaching the end, you found the bright smile against his lips so serene.
Though you had nothing to tie the braid with, it stayed rather well in his silky locks as you gently set it down, admiring your work. As you admired it, his head turned, cerulean gaze meeting you as his cheeks pinkened the slightest bit. "I can admit, that was rather pleasant," he murmured softly. "...thank you. Now, let me see your rotom."
You hadn't questioned why he needed yours, calling out rotom for him to use. In moments, the man had your rotom in camera mode, one swift motion pulling you upon his lap. Your flustered face, brilliant smile, accompanied his smirk, his head tilted far enough to show off the braid. With another snap, he had you more comfortably sitting upon him, resting back against his chest, as he moved his head to press a gentle kiss against your cheek. One last command and he sent the pictures to his phone as well, before allowing the rotom to head back into your bag.
As you queried a brow to the male, he chuckled in reply, wrapping slender arms around your waist. "You mustn't think I'm oblivious to your pining," he murmured as he held you close, closing cerulean eyes as his chin rested upon your head. "Admittedly, I feel a cosmic power to you as well."