Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Mela ran her hands along the soft grass below her as she finally lied down for the night. The mattress that had been chucked on the ground earlier that day sunk under her weight, and it felt like she was just lying on the dirt, but it would have to do for the foreseeable future. A loud rattle sounded through her little room before being followed by a frigid wind flowing through the metal structure. Mela pulled her blanket closer to her body with a huff before shutting her eyes in a futile attempt to sleep. The blanket did little to insulate against the wind that continued to howl outside as her teeth started to chatter. 

She opened her eyes and took a moment to adjust to the dark environment. There wasn't much in her new home. A chest sat at the bottom of her "bed," overflowing with all of her clothes from the academy that had been haphazardly shoved inside. Next to her was a makeshift nightstand made from an upturned carboard box that was painted with red and black patterns, all made on her own. The sight of the shoddy environment didn't help Mela's inability to sleep, so she did the only reasonable thing she could think of.

Mela turned her body so she was facing the barren metal wall instead. It wasn't much better than before, but at least she could pretend it was a normal bedroom and not some shack in the middle of some cliffs. It almost felt colder on this side, the cold air being much closer to her face, but it would have to do. Mela once again closed her eyes and tried to drift off to sleep.

Once again, she failed miserably.

Between the chilly air still filtering in through the walls and the new environment for sleeping, Mela just couldn't drift off. With a groan, she pushed herself off the mattress and went to grab her phone. After a slight shock from the bright light, Mela eventually opened up her contacts. The list of names didn't extend very far, and only a few of them seemed viable to call.

It was too late into the night to call Eri, who would have been her first choice. Atticus was also likely sleeping, and if he wasn't, then he was working on some sort of project. Mela didn't feel like interrupting him and risking hearing a string of old fashioned blabber that she could only assume conveyed annoyance. That left only two, and she had a sneaking suspicion that Mr. Goody Two Shoes council president, wasn't up this late, despite plenty of incidents proving otherwise. Her finger hovered over Ortega's name for a few moments before finally clicking the number.

She didn't even have enough time to get the phone to her ear before the call went through. "What the heck do you want, Mela?" She could feel the exhaustion coming from his words, along with a faint clinking in the background.

"I couldn't sleep, so I called you," she replied, trying to keep her voice neutral. As silence dragged on from the other end, Mela started to regret calling someone. How was she even supposed to explain why she wasn't sleeping? And she certainly didn't want to have a heart-to heart with someone who probably didn't give a damn. The chilly room didn't comfort her in any way. "It's fucking cold too."

Ortega groaned at the last statement. "I'll come fix it tomorrow, or at least try to. Count yourself lucky you don't sleep close to a dang mountain." He sighed as Mela heard a squeaking noise, similar to her own mattress. Maybe he was trying to will himself to sleep as well. A quick check of the time revealed that it was past 1 a.m.Great.

"Don't worry about it yet." A yawn interrupted the rest of her statement. "Figure out your own shit, then deal with mine." Her eyes were starting to droop now, but Mela made no effort to cancel the call. It was kind of nice to talk to someone, even if they weren't saying much of importance. "You should probably go to bed soon."

"Not 'til you do; I've got stuff to fix."

Mela let out a small huff of laughter. "Like what? What is honestly so important that you need to be up 'til stupid'o clock tinkerin' and shit?" The statement seemed much more kind in her head, but the two teens were likely both too tired to care anyway. "It's like what Eri's always sayin', 'Don't stay up too late doing drugs' or something like that." Ok, it wasn't an exact quotation, but hopefully the message would be clear.

Giggling sounded through her phone, and Mela cracked a soft smile. Maybe she hadn't done exactly what she set out to do, whatever that actually was, but she had gotten him to laugh. It was nice. The conversation fell into a lull, but not the kind that makes you want to hang up—the kind that feels like a warm hug. Mela snuggled back down into her blanket and placed her phone next to her, silently wishing for more talk. The wish came true when Ortega's voice came back through her phone.

"I'm sorry," he said, quieter than anything she had ever heard from him.

"For what?"

"Being a jerk." He didn't elaborate beyond that for a long minute before continuing. "I'm sorry for being bratty, and teasing you too much, and roping you into the Starmobiles." He sighed once more, and silence hung between them again.

The ability to be comforting over the phone was difficult, but not impossible. Mela smiled even though she knew it wouldn't carry through and tried to form non-brash sentences in her head, with various results. Eventually, she was able to succeed. "Look, man, none of us are gonna blame you for being a little nasty; I mean, I'm certainly not an angel, y'know?" She hoped her message was working as she hoped it would. "And don't you apologise for the Starmobiles; those things are like the coolest shit I've ever seen. I certainly wouldn't be able to make them on my own, so don't act like you should've alright." 

By the end, her sentence seemed to run on for an eternity, and she was mentally screaming at herself to stop talking, but something must have resonated with Ortega because he agreed, if not somewhat halfheartedly. 

"Goodnight, Mellie, I love you," he half said and half mumbled before finally hanging up before Mela could reply. 

She sat on her mattress, which somehow felt much more comfortable than it did thirty minutes ago, and finally felt her eyelids fall shut. Sleep didn't seem so far away, which was a good thing considering how late (early?) it was now. The cool wind hadn't died down, but her thin blanket seemed to warm her up just a little bit more now. "Night, Ortie,  love you too," she mumbled before finally drifting off to sleep. 

Chapter Text

Eri tried to replicate the motions that Atticus had performed mere moments before, bending her knees and getting ready to push off of the ground. Her feet left the ground, but she didn’t turn all the way, and her attempt to stop herself from hitting her back only led to her stumbling and falling anyway. Eri smiled when she lifted her head from the ground and brushed the small particles of dirt off of her face. "Ok, maybe I shouldn't try backflips."

Atticus extended towards Eri, despite knowing that she could fully get up herself, and returned the smile from beneath his mask. "Nay, mistress Eri, thee mustn't giveth up yet. I shall demonstrate again." He waited for Eri to get up and lean against a nearby tree before crouching down into the right position. He flipped through the air, feeling the cool air on his face. Every move was perfectly practised, and he was sure to land perfectly on the ground.

It's amusing how life differs from expectations.

His left ankle turned inward unnaturally, and he found himself tumbling towards the solid earth. Atticus heard Eri gasp in the background, but all he could think about was the new throbbing in his ankle. He let out a hiss as he tried to apply too much pressure to the injured joint and resigned himself to awkwardly sitting and lying down. He could feel his arms wobble beneath his weight, but he would have to endure it until he regained the ability to move his leg.

Footsteps came from beneath Atticus that could only be attributed to Eri. His guess was confirmed when she lowered herself down to him on the ground. His stomach twisted when he saw the concerned expression on her face with nothing to hide it behind. He forced a smile onto his features and hoped it carried some relief to his companion. When Eri’s expression stayed the same, Atticus turned his head away instead.

“Can you move? Are you hurt?” Eri’s words were calm but held a quiet panic to them, which only increased the guilt coiling itself inside of Atticus. He didn't look at her again but gave a small nod as he tried to push himself up again.

His ankle was screaming with pain when he put even tiny amounts of pressure on it, but he couldn't let Eri worry much more than she already had, so he put his foot down and tried again. He bit the inside of his lip to avoid audibly reacting to the agony, and soon the metallic taste of blood hit his tongue.

The pain wasn't even the worst issue. When Atticus tried to actually take a step, his ankle wobbled beneath him and he nearly fell onto Eri. She looped her arm under his and lifted him with ease, as if he were lighter than a feather. Atticus winced slightly at first before accepting the new sensation as he was brought back to Eri's makeshift home.

It was much cooler inside the metallic structure than outside, and the shade was much appreciated. Atticus was placed gingerly on the mattress before Eri walked off to rifle through a box.

The room was not much different from his own. Boxes and tubs filled to the brim with an assortment of personal objects and food. The intimidating Starmobile sat in the middle of the room, leaving little space for other things. Atticus's own room was much less organised, with scraps of frabric covering every free surface and design sketches stuck to every wall. It felt oddly barren.

Eri soon returned to his side with a menagerie of items crammed into her arms. As she placed them next to her Atticus craned his neck to try and catch and glimpse at what she had brought over but couldn’t see it. “Can I take your shoe and sock off?” Eri asked when she had unloaded her arms.

Without replying Atticus leaned forward and started undoing the straps of his shoes and slowly pulling off his sock. He rried to suppress wincing from the shock of pain her got from brushing the swollen skin. Next Eri grabbed a roll of bandages from next to her and started wrapping them around his ankle. A piece of tape secured everything in place.

Atticus felt something being placed in his hand and looked to see what it was. Two small red pills now sat in his palm. He looked over at Eri, puzzled. “Painkillers,” she said as he handed him a water bottle. He downed the pills as Eri now tried to place his leg on top of a new box she had collected. Boxes seemed to litter themselves everywhere in Star.

 Finally she grabbed a small blue pen and his hand and started to draw small diamonds on his flesh. Once they were finished she placed his hand back at his side and smiled. “All finished, but you need to stay off of your ankle and when possible try and elevate it. I’ll come see you in a week at your base to see how you’re recovering.”

Atticus nodded as he looked at the diamonds now decorating his hand.“Mistress Eri, I Must questioneth the reasoning behind these drawings. Doth those drawings holdeth special meaning to thee?” He asked.

Eri chuckled. “When me or my brother got hurt or sick as a kid our parents would do it. It was kind of like a small prayer to Dialga for a fast recovery,” she shrugged. “Might work might not but I thought the sentiment was nice.” Atticus hummed in approval before trying to get up off of the bed. “No no no, not yet mister. Stay here for a while and rest,” Eri said and Atticus didn’t feel like going against her wishes. He slowly lied down in the bed.

Maybe it would be nice to stay for a while, with a friend and a cool breeze. 

Chapter Text

Giacomo frowned as he slid his headphones down his neck, music still faintly playing through them. The colours on his laptop continued to dance around the screen, yet the tune itself felt dull. There was nothing new about it. Just the same few notes ringing through the software. He finally paused the music before letting out a quiet sigh.

"Is something bothering thee?"

Giacomo jumped slightly at the sound of his friend's voice next to him and turned to look at him. "You're too quiet sometimes, y'know that, right?" he said, looking wide-eyed at Atticus. "Music ain't goin' the way I hoped," he said. "Don't worry about it." He looked back at his laptop screen before continuing to fiddle with the settings. Something was bound to work; it just took patience.

And if there was one thing that Giacomo had, it was patience.

Atticus leaned in closer to him and silently gazed over his shoulder. Giacomo tried to keep working but it was weird having someone watching him. His finger slipped on the settings and ended up turning up the bass to the max. After trying to reverse the mistake he once again look at Atticus, who seemed entranced by all the colours bouncing around. "Wanna have a listen?" He slowly nodded, never taking his eyes off of the screen.

It was pretty adorable to see the wonder in is eyes. Giacomo fitted the headphones snugly over his ears before hitting play. After a brief look of surprise on his face, Atticus smiled and started moving along with the tune. His smile was infectious enough to make Giacomo smile as well, despite not feeling the proudest of his project. 

Atticus removed the headphones once the song had ended, smile never leaving his face, and handed them back. "Thou art truly most wondrous at this," he said, no hint of sarcasm in his voice. "I understand not how thee can maketh such lovely sounds."

Giacomo could feel his face flushing at the praise. It didn't matter how many compliments he continuously got on his tracks, it somehow always managed to take him by surprise. The music didn't feel concert worthy to him just yet, still much more fine tuning to do, but if Atticus thought it was good then that meant something. Right?

"Ah it's really not as great as you're sayin'," he replied. "Anyone could do it if they practiced hard enough." His eyes trailed over to where Atticus was sitting and the sketchbook hidden in his lap. "What're you workin' on anyways?"

Atticus's demeanor shifted at the question, hands shifting to cover the notebook even more than he already had. Giacomo craned his neck in an attempt to see any of the sketches underneath, but Atticus seemed to know where his eyes were looking, and covered that chunk of paper. Sure, Giacomo likely wouldn't understand any of it, it was likely fashion sketches, but his friend had shown interest in his art so he needed to return the favour.

"I ain't gonna judge you, you know that right?"

Maybe it was silly to say, they had barely known each other for a few months, why should Atticus trust that he wouldn't mock him? 

Before he could see what was happening a notebook was placed in his lap. Atticus was now sitting with his hands covering his eyes and trying to curl in on himself. 

The page was taken up the a design for a dress. Deep purple fabric would make up the bottom, flowing outwards but stopping just before where the ground should be. Long sleeves and a scooping neckline were made out of a similar green to the leaves themselves. Even with his limited knowledge of clothing, especially dresses, the sketch already seemed perfect. "It's nice, Who's it for?"

Atticus remained quiet, not pulling his eyes away from his lap. It was nearly uncomfortable to sit like that, no words. Just the feeling of royally fucking up a friendship you had barely begun. Nice going Giacomo. 

He was just about to take back everything before making a hasty escape when Atticus spoke back up.

"Myself."

Oh. Yeah that made sense now. Giacomo looked back at the art and tried not to facepalm with his own stupidity. Who else did they know would wear those exact shades of green and purple, just like his regular uniform. "Looks complicated," he said passing back the notebook. "I'm sure it'll look great on you though."

Atticus looked at him with wide eyes, surely not expecting the response he was given. He pulled the sketchbook close to his chest while Giacomo pulled back on his headphones, beats thrumming through his ears.  

Chapter Text

This was going to be perfect.

Ortega was shaking with excitement (or the cold), and who wouldn’t be in his scenario. The other Star admins were sitting on the top platform of the pink vehicle, while its owner stood on the battle platform. After another long night of endless tinkering he had managed to give his Starmobile a whole new move. 

"So," he started, quieting everyone from their idle chatter. "The Starmobiles are capable of battle, we all know this, but what if we had something new to set us apart?" Ortega paused, partially for dramatic effect but also because he was trying not to yawn. Working all night made you tired. Go figure. Mela raised an eyebrow at him, probably wanting him to continue.

Let the show go on. 

He smiled, a true joyous grin. Ortega pulled himself up onto the platform where his friends were and squeezed himself between Eri and Giacomo. His hand reached behind him to grip the railing in anticipation for what would happen. He refrained from telling the others to copy his actions, it would be more fun like that. "I present to you all, Magical Torque."

All was calm for a split second. Then the screaming started.

The world became on blur of colours with the spinning motion. Ortega could definitely pinpoint Mela's shriek of terror, Giacomo's proclamation that he was going to puke, and his own laughter in the mix of sounds. The rotation caused everyone to fly into each other which only fueled the chaos. Even the slight sick feeling in his stomach did nothing to dampen Ortega's fun. Pure unfiltered fun.

Eventually the motion came to an end and all was silent for a moment as everyone got their bearings. The world was still a little wonky for a bit, with a new woozy feeling taking over Ortega's body. After taking a second to realize who he was squished into (it turned out to be Giacomo, who was pleasantly warm to lean against) he smiled at the tangled heap.

"And that was a torque."

He was waiting for a response, but was only met with silence. His smile fell and he was getting ready to start explaining all the mechanics behind the move and how it would help them in the end when Mela finally spoke.

"That was both awesome and fucking terrifying."

Ortega didn't know how to react. the praise made something warm blossom in his chest, contrasting with the chilly outside, but the idea that it was scary didn't make sense. He had tried to make it so it wouldn't hurt any Pokémon or people that were on board. A new feeling of dread pushed out the other feelings inside of him at the notion of one more long night making repairs.

Giacomo nudged him for a reason that was beyond Ortega's understanding. "You did good." The words were simple but offered small semblance of reassurance. 

"I has't to concur, the art to maketh a whole new attacketh is far past mine own arts," Atticus chimed in as well. Ortega didn't know why he was calling his mechanics an art, but the compliment was still nice. 

Eri ended off the chain of compliments with her own concern. "It's real nice and all Ortie, but how long did this take you?"

Ortega definitely didn't want to answer that question to the teams honorary mother, but lying felt like an even worse idea. "All night."