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Dash's shivering body was pressed up against the pillow. Bedrest was not somewhere he wanted to be, but his chills, constantly trembling hands, and burning fever were making it impossible for him to stand. Allison had begged him to stay home, and even brought him a bowl of hot chicken soup, but even with the warmth and comfort it brought him, it could not make him feel better. He had places to go, people to see. He couldn't let anyone down.
Allison wouldn't be back for Who knows how long, and he was getting hungry. So, against his better judgement, he grabbed onto the rail and with Great effort, pushed himself to his feet.
After a few shaky steps, he made his way through the house to the kitchen. Making oatmeal was easy, he wanted to tell himself, but his trembling hands and general sluggishness made it impossible to even pour the oatmeal into a bowl.
He had no idea what time it was, but he figured it was late. He had a list of errands to run and people to visit, but he was certain he would never hear the end of it from Allison if he even so much as thought about leaving.
He was steps away from the microwave when he heard the door open.
"Aha!"
Allison stood beside him, regarding him with a look of suspicion. "Back to bed with you, Amber-Eyes." She took the bowl from him and set it down on the counter. "I'll finish making this for you, you go back to bed. Please?"
Arguing with Allison was pointless, especially in his current state, so he just turned, trying to keep his body as close to the wall as possible for balance, and slowly made his way back to his bedroom.
Hoisting himself up onto the bed, Dash pulled the covers up to his chin and rolled over, his eyes heavy. He could hear Allison faintly through the doorway as she moved around the kitchen.
His body was so tired, he could barely keep his eyes open. He was just going to close them for a minute and then get up and...
He felt a hand gently cup his face. Then, the taste of chocolate with a hint of blueberry as a spoon touched his lips. He sighed, and his eyes fluttered open. Allison was sitting beside him, carefully spooning chocolate-blueberry oatmeal out of a bowl and into his mouth. He noticed a second bowl on the bedside table and assumed it to be hers.
"Oh, before I forget, I canceled tomorrow's champion title defense match on your behalf, and the Challenger wishes you a speedy recovery," she said, her face just a few inches from his. "And before you protest, if you can't even hold a spoon without dropping it, there's no way in hell you'll be able to throw Pokéballs. As for giving commands? don't even think about it. Not with a voice that can barely get words out."
He could only let out a long sigh.
She took a spoonful of oatmeal from her own bowl and chewed it slowly, before returning her attention to feeding him. How about you just pretend you're a little noble child in your family's chateau and I'm your servant in charge of taking care of you!" A small chuckle escaped her.
"Please don't," he croaked, embarrassment burning hot on his cheeks.
A cheeky grin spread across her face, and she leaned in to kiss him, ever so softly. "You know, a tiny part of me likes it when you're sick. More of yourself is exposed."
Dash closed his eyes and groaned. "You're just asking for someone to break in and attack me in my most vulnerable state." He may have been sick, but that sure didn't stop him from rasping out a comeback.
Allison gave him a playful nip on the cheek, before leaning back. "You're cute when you're snarky."
He opened his eyes and met her mischievous gaze. Her eyes crinkled at the corners, and a small smile graced her lips.
"You know what I mean!" she continued, her tone slightly frustrated, though it quickly vanished, a more gentle quality replacing it. "You show more of how you feel when you're sick. None of this ‘whatever you want, I'll be’ shit. I know it's probably because you don't have the energy, but still, it's nice to see you not putting on a performance."
Dash smirked. How dare she have the nerve to throw his main principle back in his face. Though, he supposed he should've expected as much coming from her. "But what if I told you-"
"Oh please, I've known you long enough that I know exactly how you work. You masterfully read the room, identify the most appropriate reaction, then act accordingly," she said, leaning in to kiss him again. "Or, you hit 'em with the classic ‘what do you want from me?’ Unfortunately for you, that fever of yours absolutely wrecked you, so can't exactly-."
"If you only knew-"
"Oh I do," she cut him off. "I know why you do it. But you don't have to. Not around me. So please just drop the act already. Let the facades fall away and just...be you. Oh, and before you say it, I know you don't know exactly who you are, but I can help you find him, if you'd just let me."
Dash had no idea how she did it, but Allison always had the right words somehow. People always told him things based on the outcomes of perfect performances—well-rehearsed yet also improvised—but Allison: she saw past all that. The facades, the carefully constructed personas, the joy and anger and sadness and calmness he seamlessly shifted through like a rolodex—it didn't mean anything to her. She knew exactly what to say, how to make him laugh, how to touch his heart. For her, there was no point to playing a role— she'd see right through it. All she had ever asked of him was that he be authentic and true. So, despite the fact that he didn't exactly know what that entailed for him, he would be that. Because whatever she wanted, he would be.
"Now, if you'll excuse me," her chipper tone broke through his thoughts. "I've got dishes to wash and twice the number of errands to run. So, can I trust you not to leave this room while I'm gone?"
"Hmph," was all he could manage, exhaustion apparent.
She snickered before turning to give him one last kiss. Their eyes settled on each other's, their gazes long and deep. But there, in place of Dash's trademark chilling stare, was a light of love and warmth. And that made Allison smile.
Because she knew for certain this was no act.
Dash was being real.