Work Text:
Lear tapped his fingers briskly against the wooden table before him, the sound dampened by his gloves. Everyone was quiet- only the noises of clinking silverware permeating the stilted atmosphere, faintly echoing down the long dining hall.
This was not the dinner he’d hoped for. Not at all.
It never really occurred to him just how cavernous his palace might be to other people. To him, it was a great improvement from the palace his father had, much more suited to his own liking in both shapes and colors; most of the interior consisted of cool grey tones in sharp angles, broken up with desaturated reds and yellow, all patterned across the floors and walls. Glittering gold accents, carefully placed, served to brighten up the area without being overwhelming. There was an air of sophistication inside, and the appearance of it all implied wealth beyond most means, but it wasn’t sterile or unlived-in like what his father built, no. He felt contented in this environment, finding peace in its winding corridors and multitudes of rooms he could duck away into when in need of privacy. It certainly helped that he knew all the ins and outs like the back of his hand- or glove- but he’s only now realizing that it wouldn’t be something Cheren was used to. He was all the way from some rinky-dink town in Unova, a far cry from the opulence Pasio provided, and this potential issue would become glaringly apparent as he’d led Cheren into his palace to begin with.
Almost the entire way in, once past the Battle Villa portion of the palace, Cheren was wide-eyed and awe-struck. Lear kept a close eye on him for the sake of gauging his reaction, and he couldn’t help but notice how he seemed to be wary of touching anything, his arms held close to him, gait awkward. Strangest of all, his gaze was practically fixed to the high ceilings. Lear certainly couldn’t tell why; It wasn’t as if there were dust bunnies and cobwebs up there, he made a point to have even the rafters be dusted! So… He began to wonder if perhaps the issue was the palace itself. Maybe Cheren simply wasn’t used to being in such a space, possibly feeling intimidated, or maybe he didn’t appreciate its aesthetics, even though he had spoken fondly of Lear’s design choices in the past. He had no clue.
It certainly didn’t help that Cheren was almost completely silent, too. And he’s usually quiet, mind you. Lear isn’t so inattentive to his boyfriend’s personality as to expect him to be a chatterbox. However, this was a quieter quiet, a stiff kind of energy, and this was maintained even as they entered the dining area and had their food served to them. At least Rachel and Sawyer managed to talk amongst themselves, but it hadn’t quite breached past small talk.
Great job, Lear. Wonderful. This endeavor might’ve just been doomed from the start, embarrassing you in front of your partner and retainers, and now…
He paused drumming his fingers to pass a discreet glance towards Rachel. She smiled at him slightly, mouth quirked to the side. He glanced to Sawyer next. He let out a hum and bobbed his head towards Cheren. Ugh. He knew what they were telling him.
“S.. so.” Lear started, having to fiercely resist the urge to cringe at the wobble in his throat. He was a prince, soon to be king. He couldn’t sound insecure like that. Once Cheren finally turned his attention away from the decor to look at him instead, he continued carefully. “Is the food to your liking..? Rachel and Sawyer helped put it together.” Spaghetti alla Nerano. It was a rather simple dish, he thought, but that’s why he chose it; when it came to food, Cheren had fairly simplistic tastes and favored his vegetables. Surely this was a safe option. They also had sides of roasted potatoes and asparagus.
“It was, like, mostly Sawyer doing the cooking.” Rachel added with a drawl, fiddling with a glass of wine. “Soo, compliments to him. I just, yanno, prepped the veggies and stuff.”
Cheren nodded along. “It’s amazing,” He smiled sweetly. It made Lear’s heart pound to see, while simultaneously making him breathe a sigh of relief. Small as it may be, getting a conversation going was hopefully step one to breaking down the awkwardness lingering in the air.
Meanwhile, Sawyer was beaming at the praise, his face flushed with pride. “Thank you! But, Rachel, don’t sell yourself short. She also made the noodles! My hands are pretty big for handling something so delicate.” It kind of went without saying, but in order to emphasize this anyways, he splayed his hands out.
“Wait– the noodles are handmade?” Cheren gawked at the concept. He twirled up a forkful to inspect.
“They are! Our young master would have nothing but the best for you.” Sawyer laughed.
Lear’s eyes widened slightly. Well– when put like that, it made it sound as if it was an uncommon occurrence for them to do so. It really wasn’t as if this was done solely for the sake of impressing the other man... A red blush crept up his face and ears, he was regretting not wearing his shades at the moment, but having them on for a family dinner would be improper. Then he looked at Cheren, noticing the sparkle of wonder in his eyes and ah, he was flushed too.
“Really? All that effort for me?” His smile wobbled in his bashfulness. “I really appreciate it, all of you, but you didn’t have to put that much effort into something for me.”
Hearing that, Lear buffered. He couldn’t just deny it now, could he? He looked so appreciative. It would be cruel, borderline uncouth to try and tell him that it was something they always did, no matter who was visiting. So he dodged, just a little bit. “Why bring you into a palace if not to grant you a taste of luxury?” Lear asked, immediately grabbing for his sparkling water afterwards. He tried to act casual as he took small sips, aiming to rid himself of a clumsy warble in his voice.
Cheren let out a little chuckle. “I guess.” He mused aloud, tenderness in his expression. He paused for a moment, then kept talking, seemingly a bit hesitant. “Being here is like… Truth, it feels like a totally different world at times.” His fork shuffled food around his plate aimlessly, eyes flitting around the table briefly. “I have to admit, castles make me a bit nervous.” Both Rachel and Sawyer glanced over, surprise painted across their expressions.
That made Lear sit up a bit more, raising an eyebrow. “Do they now..?” Oh no. So that’s what the issue was. It did beg the question of why, though; Whether it was a phobia of sorts, finding discomfort in the large stature, the potentially imposing.. Something clicked inside of his head. “Because of Team Plasma?” He tilted his head, tone softening. He knew he had to be careful, he would hate to sour the mood by even invoking their name, but that was the only reason he could think of.
A nod. “I think so.” He admitted. “The only other time I’ve been in a place this large was when I was in their castle. Not to be morbid, but seeing it crumble was… Well, it was something. Terrifying might be the word for it.” His expression didn’t fall as he spoke, still maintaining a small smile, but he gave a stilted little shrug.
“I see. I could only imagine.” He offered in sympathy. He could certainly understand how an experience like that could make Cheren anxious in this environment. He should’ve taken it into consideration before bringing him here, damn it. “I apol–”
“Wasn’t their “castle” like, sooo ugly though?” Rachel propped her chin on her hand as she interrupted. It caught everyone off guard enough that there was a brief silence, some bewildered blinks. After a few seconds, Cheren broke the quiet with a little snicker, hand over his mouth.
“Hehe. It really was, now that I think about it. It was closer to a featureless monolith than an actual building- seriously, I don’t know what they were thinking..” He stopped to take another bite of food, humming pleasantly at the flavor. Lear found himself all but melting into his chair in the wake of worry leaving his body. “This one’s a lot better. Did you three design it, or was that left entirely to someone else?”
That's when Sawyer chimed in. “There was a particular vision Master Lear had in mind, but when it came down to floor planning and structural integrity, all of that was handed off to actual architects and engineers.”
“Mhmmm.”
“You wouldn’t believe just how many contractors came and went in the early days, trying to get it all set up.” He continued. He gestured vaguely as he spoke, motions broad, causing Rachel to discreetly move his glass a little more to the side so he wouldn’t knock it down in the process. “Even getting the best in their practice couldn’t save us from our projects constantly changing hands.”
He wasn’t wrong. Lear never wanted to relive those initial days of Pasio’s overhaul, all that construction noise, the running around, planning, sinking money.. What a nightmare. “Honestly, maybe it would have been easier if we had done it ourselves.” Now that things seemed to lighten up again, he’d decided to join in the conversation. That erratic thrumming in his chest began to mellow out- Thank Arceus for Rachel and Sawyer. “Though, we would hardly have the time to do all of the technical things like that while still running everything else.”
Cheren raised an eyebrow, pointing his fork at Lear. “You have time to make pasta yourselves.” He remarked, smiling slyly. Almost immediately, laughter broke out across the table.
“Hey! It’s called “picking your battles”, thank you!” Lear fired back, smacking his palm on the table for dramatic emphasis. Sawyer’s booming laughter threatened to bring the ceiling down, making poor Cheren jump in surprise before cracking up himself.
“Oh my goodness! My apologies!” Sawyer gasped after a few seconds, wiping tears from his eyes. He had to take a drink, then drew in a deep breath to compose himself. Everyone’s snickering started to settle down in tow.
“Yeah, we have our priorities, yanno?” Rachel added with a smirk. “You two are sooo funny.” Her utterly flat tone could trick the vast majority of people into thinking she was being sarcastic, but Lear knew her well enough to recognize that she was earnest.
They settled into a more comfortable conversation as they finished their food, and Lear had to keep from outwardly sighing in relief. He should’ve known it would work out; Cheren always got on well with Rachel and Sawyer, and of course, with Lear himself. It seemed to be the fault of the new environment more than any fault of his own. That thought took a weight off of his shoulders. He wasn’t utterly failing at this whole relationship thing.
Once everyone’s plates were clear, he looked over to Cheren expectantly. “Did you have enough?” He asked.
“I did, thank you. Everything was amazing.”
That answer didn’t stop him from his following question, a somewhat coy smirk creeping across his face. “How about dessert?” He tried not to giggle when Cheren’s face lit up with interest.
“What kind?”
He did a little hand wave, though his expression betrayed that it was a faux nonchalance. “Oh, just tiramisu.” It was a totally unfair move- Cheren LOVED coffee, this was well known. You could catch the man at essentially any hour of the day with a cup of coffee in hand. Maybe it was the teacher in him, those late nights staying up grading papers, always resulting in rising early just a few hours later with daybreak. Even being on summer break, visiting Pasio didn’t seem to stop him from having the sleep schedule of an anxious watchog... Not like Lear could talk.
That being said, “Yes please.” He answered quickly, sitting upright. As soon as it set in just how eager he sounded, his face flushed pink, and he fiddled with his tie. Lear did his best to not blatantly admire just how cute he looked when he got flustered. It’s a shame, really, because it was usually the prince himself who was the one getting embarrassed around his boyfriend.
“Allow me to take us to the balcony, then.” It was only a suggestion, not a demand, but he had to sound cool and confident. “The sun should be getting low by now; We would have the most scenic overlook to admire out there. Perfect for dessert, don’t you think?” He kept his composure, but sweat started to collect at his forehead as he awaited an answer. His hands were wringing together underneath the table.
His face softened with what Lear hoped to be fondness. “Sounds like it.”
“Right!” Lear snapped, pointing up. “Rachel, Sawyer?”
“Oh, no, go on without us. We’ve had our fill, young master.” Sawyer had an almost smugly knowing look in his eyes, the corners of his mouth turned upwards into something catlike and mischievous. He recognized it almost immediately. And as if he didn’t get the point across already, he added a wink in for good measure.
“Yup. We’ll like, clean up over here.” Rachel was already up and gathering plates, snickering to herself.
… These fools were conspiring against him. He couldn’t believe he let himself be blindsided by such betrayal.
“W.. well then,” Lear stood up, clearing his throat. “I suppose it’s just me and you in this case, hm? Come with me.”
He strode around to Cheren’s side of the table, the other man looking up at him with eager anticipation. Their eyes met as he grabbed for his wrist, and if they didn’t have places to go, he might’ve just been content to stay like this; Admiring his features, holding onto him. He swore he could get lost in his eyes. It was cliche, yes, but he was beautiful.
That, however, would have to wait. Lear finally brought him to a stand and led him off, deeper into the castle. As they walked together, his hand slid downwards, and Cheren laced their fingers together carefully.