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He’s bumbling around town, halfway lost, but mostly taking in the peace and serenity of the countryside. Contrary to popular belief, Leon doesn’t really like the hustle of the city. He cherishes silence. The times when he can return home to his beloved hometown and visit his family. It’s not like he doesn’t see them often; they come up to see him on the regular, but very rarely is it the other way around. Him coming to visit them.
He’s glad he got to do so during the off-season, has been planning this for a while. Just spending time with his family and helping out on their farm. Which is what he was supposed to be doing, running into town with Hop and Granddaddy to pick up some things from the general store. But he’d lost them quite some time ago.
Leon leans on the wooden post of a fence, watching a couple of Wooloo graze. Rookidee and Butterfree flying about without a care.
He doesn’t notice a familiar face approaching.
“Howdy, Champion!”
It’s Milo.
“Howdy,” Leon waves back, then realizes how he would have never said that if he weren’t here in Postwick.
Milo doesn’t seem to notice, just walks over. “Home for the off-season?”
“Mhm. What’re you doing here?”
“Just makin’ a delivery. I stopped by your folks’ farm to say hi. They told me you were in town, so I came lookin’ for ya.”
Everyone knows Milo is a sweetheart. A saint. But no one knows just how much he makes Leon’s heart race. Makes his head spin. No one.
“Lost?” He asks when Leon doesn’t say anything else. “Where’s that Charizard of yours?”
“Nah, m’fine,” A lie. “He’s takin’ it easy back home. Getting pampered by Momma and Dad.”
“Like he should!”
Milo mirrors his lean on the fence. Leon studies his exposed forearms. Faint hair there. Even fainter freckles. Strong hands from steady work. It’s an image he wants to commit to memory.
It occurs to Leon that perhaps he should stop staring.
“Last delivery?” He asks.
“Yep.”
“Headed back home?”
“Not right away. I told Nessa I’d come’n see the new…”
He listens to Milo’s words, something of a symphony, music to his ears. The sweet rises and falls, closing to small quiet but never for long. The gentle drawl of his tone, smooth and bright. Speaking with his hands. Lacing and unlacing his fingers. Apart but always back together.
If his voice is music, then his person is art. Like a paintbrush gliding across canvas. Milo removes his large sun hat to wipe away the sweat from his forehead. His hair is pretty. Pink as a pecha berry, slightly mussed from being underneath his hat. Warm brown cheeks. Arms. A sturdy build. Leon doesn’t consider himself thin by any means, but Milo certainly makes him look that way.
“Speaking of, how’s Hop?” Milo never forgets to ask. It makes Leon smile. “I didn’t see ‘im.”
Bragging about his little brother has become a hobby of his. Milo gets that, gets how awesome little brothers are. How crazy it is to have someone put so much trust in you. How scary it is.
Before Leon knows it, he’s told Milo all about Hop’s progress with Sonia, how he’s still battling when he can, effectively answering Milo’s question and then some. “I’m really proud of him,” Leon finishes. “More than he’ll ever know.”
Milo says, “Me too,” gives the biggest of grins, and Leon knows he means it.
“What about Theo?” Milo’s younger brother who’s the spitting image of him. “I ‘member you sayin’ he was getting into battling too.”
Milo talks about his brother with about as much reserve as Leon. That is to say, none at all. Gushing over how smart he is. Something cool he did with his Lurantis. Tomfoolery he’s gotten into around la huerta. “This’s what he told me last week. ‘Emilio, deja de jugar! You’re the best trainer in town! Well, at least till I get strong enough’ta hand you a beatin’. Someone sure needs to.’”
Leon laughs, knowing the feeling all too well. Competition, innocent rivalry to motivate them both. Never antagonistic. Always conducive to improvement.
They’ve always bonded over this, Leon and Milo. Both have wickedly talented younger brothers. Both from small farming towns. Knowing how stifling those roles can be. Knowing how comforting they can be. Contradictions that make no sense to anyone else.
“It’s always good to see ya,” Milo tells him after a while. “‘Specially outside of work.”
“You sayin’ I look different outside of work?” Leon’s not twisting his words, knows just what Milo means. But the urge to tease him is far too great.
Milo doesn’t fall for the taunt. “Of course. Don’t everybody?”
“I guess so. You definitely wouldn’t wear those to work.” He glances down to Milo’s fancy cowboy boots, quite the juxtaposition from his own dusty pair.
“I could say the same’ta you.”
A smirk pulls at his lips, and then Leon looks up, meets green eyes that are far too genuine. Far too much in them. Leon has no choice but to look away. Down. To where his and Milo’s arms have become unbelievably close. In fact, flush. Flush.
Bicep, elbow, forearm. Skin. Milo’s thicker arm, stretching against the fabric of the flannel he has on. Veins on the back of his hand. Right beside Leon’s. Skin a few tones darker than Milo’s. Scatterings of moles, freckles, other tiny pockets of melanin. And around his wrist, the simple bracelet he’d bought a while back. Blue, pink, and white. He notices Milo staring at it, staring at him.
A kinda placid look. But isn’t that how Milo always looks? He says, “Teddy’s got one just like that.”
Theo’s trans too? This is new. Novel. Another similarity, another connection.
Leon smiles at the intimacy of it all. Side by side with Milo. Sharing things, new and old. Sharing time. Sharing space.
Neither makes a move to step away. Too settled in the moment to break it. The comfortable quiet stretches on and on, up and up.
Then, “You excited for training camp?”
Said training camp for the entire league was to take place during the last two weeks of the off-season, effectively cutting Leon’s break short. But it was all paid for by the chairman and his affiliates. Even though Leon would have liked to spend as much time as possible with family, he’s always down to get better. To get stronger. It’s kinda his thing.
“Yeah,” Leon says. “What ‘bout you?”
“Sure. I hope we get’ta team up.”
Battling beside Milo? Combining two of his favorite things? Leon thinks he may die. “Me too.”
“I’ll see you then,” Milo slowly rises from his lean. “Durin’ camp.”
Leon doesn’t know how to ask it. That he doesn’t want Milo to go. Wants to see him before then. Wants to know more. Touch him, press his lips to the tender skin under his jaw.
He rises from his lean too, fingers feeling stupid at his sides because Milo’s hand is right there, and it’d be so easy to reach out and grab it. He doesn’t know what’s stopping him. Fear? Nah, he wasn’t scared of shit. Respect was more like it. Couth, courtesy. All of the things Momma and Daddy raised him with. Maybe it’s holding him back, keeping him from what he really wants.
So, Leon cuts it down the middle. A deal. He takes off his hat, the two-toned one with Ducklett on it. A birthday present from Dad when he was in Unova. Then he reaches over with the carefullest of hands, takes Milo’s hat, replacing it with his own. Finally, he places Milo’s straw hat on his own head. Surprisingly lightweight despite its large size.
Milo takes it all quite cheerfully. Doesn’t even look shocked while the whole exchange is occurring. He beams, laughs, runs his fingers over the flat brim, giving it a tug.
“Now you’ll have’ta come see me before then,” Leon tells him. “If’n you want your hat back.”
“Or you could keep it. Give it to me at camp.”
“That’s no fun.”
“You’re right. Sure ain’t.”
What happens next stays with Leon for the three days that will pass before Milo returns to see him again. Not that he knows it now. Milo reaches forward, calloused fingertips brushing Leon’s cheek as he does so. The gentlest of touches, his knuckles brushing a wiry lock of Leon’s hair, pushing it over his shoulders to meet the mass of other curls.
Then with an even gentler tone, “See ya, Champ.” Milo tips his hat—Leon’s hat—turns, and heads off.
Leon watches him go all the way down the path, snapback perched atop his head like a crown. When Milo’s gone from his view, Leon starts off the other way. He rounds the corner, almost walking smack into Hop and Granddaddy, both of whom are sporting smug grins.
“Just wait till I tell everybody,” Hop bounces on the balls of his feet. “Lee’s gotta thing for Milo!”
Granddaddy is too old to bounce like Hop, too old to be this messy. That doesn’t stop him from doing either. “I reckon I can help with that too,” He says. “Your aunt Dina, uncle Rick, and uncle Chris’ve been askin’ when you gon’ settle down.”
Leon shakes his head. “I fail to see why it’s anyone’s business.”
“Small towns work like that, son.”
“Uncle Rick and Chris don’t live in Postwick no more!”
“Big family then.”
Yes. The true culprit.
“S’not so bad,” Hop explains. “Sonia’s more embarrassin’ than them. I couldn’t get any work done when she figured out I started datin’ Marnie and Bede.”
“I guess you’re right,” Leon pulls him in for a hug. “You always are.”
“I’m fully aware, Lee. S’why everyone says I’m the alpha sibling.”
The embrace promptly turns into a headlock, and Hop retaliates with several sharp elbow jabs.
Granddaddy laughs.