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“Two iced matcha lattes, please,” Lando says, a little out of breath. He swears he’s going to die if he doesn’t get what he’s been craving for hours.
As if sensing his distress, his Sprigatito scampers up his back and stretches a little green paw out to pat the top of his head. He smiles at his partner, who meows happily and settles around his neck like a fluffy, grassy scarf.
“Anything else, Lando?” George asks. “Our new guy likes to bake on the side. Matcha cake?”
Lando swears he doesn’t mean to drool at the mention of a matcha cake. Sweet, earthy layers and a cream filling…
Briefly, his thoughts wander over to this new guy and whether he might be open to marriage before he shakes away the temptation to ask about him. Sprigatito sinking its claws into his back definitely helps him snap out of his daydreams.
“Meow.”
“Oh, maybe next time,” Lando replies mournfully. He glances over at the display case longingly and fidgets with the hem of his sweater. “Just the drinks today. Spriggy’s getting impatient.”
“You too, it seems, mate,” George quips as he rings him up. Beside him, his Quaquaval fixes its already pristine feathers.
Lando gives his friend a baleful look.
And his hard-earned money.
He nearly trips over a stray Pokémon in his haste to move aside. Glancing down at the perpetrator and meeting yellow eyes, he can’t help but coo and offer up his fingers for a sniff. Cat Pokémon are just the cutest, and this one’s no exception.
“Hello,” Lando greets, smiling when Litten bumps its cheek against his hand. “I’m Lando, and this is Spriggy.”
“Meow.”
It gives Sprigatito a glance before it jumps onto the counter and disappears behind the double doors.
“Oi, Georgie, is the Litten yours?”
Probably not. George doesn’t really travel to other regions, and Litten is not a Paldea native. But still.
“No, it’s Oscar’s partner,” George replies as he hands Lando his matcha lattes. “Our new guy. He made these, by the way.”
“Interesting. Thanks- Spriggy? What-” Lando yelps as Sprigatito leaps from his shoulders to peer over the counter.
Much to his horror and embarrassment, his partner flops onto its back in front of the entire establishment and wriggles around with all four paws in the air, emitting its signature floral scent as it kneads at the air. It might seem adorable, what with all the meowing and sweet-smelling sparkles, but Lando is not about to let it go into heat in the middle of his favorite café.
Especially since he works right next door, and he’ll never be able to show his face here ever again.
“Blimey,” George says, rather unhelpfully. “What’s gotten into it?”
Lando scoops his Sprigatito up in his unoccupied arm and hauls it out of the café, wincing at the loud caterwaul it lets out as the bell jingles merrily and the door swings shut behind them.
His blush doesn’t fade until they’re both safely in their flower shop, hidden behind tall bouquets.
Sprigatito still has the audacity to meow approvingly when he sets a cup in front of it after practically scrambling out of the café with everything and the remaining shreds of his dignity. It begins lapping at the matcha foam, making delighted little noises.
“What was that back there?!” Lando demands as he takes a sip of his own latte. Simply put, it’s the best thing he’s ever put in his mouth. Not that there’s much competition at all. He’ll take this matcha latte over sex any day of the week. “I’m going to marry this Oscar fellow- no, I’m not. You’re going to explain why you’re suddenly acting like you’re going into heat!”
He’s ignored. Typical.
Lando wipes at the condensation on his cup with his sleeve as he holds back tears. He’s had an emotional day already, and this matcha latte is actually perfect. He would write sonnets about it if he had the ability to.
A sniffle manages to escape, though, probably because he’s never going back to that café, and he’s never going to meet and properly fall in love with Oscar, which means he’ll never get to marry him and have unlimited access to the best matcha lattes in the world.
He only gets a paw to the face in lieu of actual comfort.
“Thanks, Spriggy,” Lando mumbles, cracking a smile when it loafs next to him and cuddles up to his side. For how prickly it can be, it sure is sweet sometimes.
They say that Pokémon resemble their trainers, and a mutual love for matcha isn’t the only thing that Lando shares with Sprigatito.
“Meow.”
“Who was that?” Oscar asks, plucking his partner from the ground and lifting an eyebrow at the uncharacteristically lovestruck look on its face. The flame on its back rises. “I reckon you look a little smitten, Litten.”
Unfortunately, Litten isn’t the only one with a newfound interest. Oscar is grateful that the espresso machines were tall enough to hide him from the cute guy in the green sweater.
With the really loud and fragrant Sprigatito.
Just the way he looked at the cake that Oscar—Oscar!—baked earlier in the morning made him want to give the bloke free muffins. Or something.
Matcha muffins, maybe. With white chocolate.
And watching him flail helplessly and dash out of the shop with his loud Sprigatito has to be the most entertaining thing that Oscar has ever witnessed since he started working here. Impressive too, considering he didn’t even spill a single drop of matcha on his cute sweater.
But why did he look familiar? Oscar scratches his head, feeling like he’s definitely seen his face before.
George peers around the machines. “Oh, that sweet, bumbling fool? Lando’s a mess, but he grows the pretty flowers next door and keeps The Birds and the Beans open with his business.”
That would explain the leaves in Lando’s curly hair, making him look like he should be frolicking through a forest barefoot instead of working at a flower shop. Oscar wonders if he even noticed the leaves.
“And his Pokémon?” Oscar hastily asks, trying not to sound too interested. “I know it’s a Sprigatito, obviously, but.”
At the mention of Lando’s Pokémon, Litten blinks up at him and rumbles. It appears on the counter in a flash, fixing George with an intense stare.
Undeterred, George shrugs and says, “His Sprigatito is just as dramatic as he is, has a very powerful Leafage, and is perfectly content to remain unevolved and help him attract customers. Back in the Academy, though, Lando would win every battle with it, but now, they’re both happily selling flowers.”
Oscar gives his partner a wary look as it seems to devour this information with an alarming amount of interest. Never has Litten ever been this enthusiastic about anything before, not since they became partners over a decade ago.
It’s usually a chill cat, especially since it refuses to evolve, and Oscar just goes along with what it wants. He’s chill like that too.
“I think it wants Lando’s Sprigatito,” he realizes with no shortage of trepidation. Perking up, Litten meows in agreement.
They say that Pokémon resemble their trainers, and Oscar can only sigh at how true that statement can be.
It’s been a whole two days since Lando’s world-shattering, life-changing matcha latte.
He can’t stop daydreaming about it, even if he’s determined to never step foot into The Birds and the Beans ever again. Naturally, this means he returns because his matcha addiction rears its nasty head.
Sprigatito is just as bad. It's been making an absolute ruckus, wailing at the wall separating it from a matcha latte and using Leafage on anything and everything that moves without Lando even commanding it to.
Not even the pesky bug types that loiter around Sprigs and Twigs stand a chance against Sprigatito when it is deprived of matcha.
Before it can do much more damage to his precious flowers and shrubs, Lando flips the sign closed and snatches Sprigatito out of the air, mid-Leafage. It yowls and wriggles and attempts to scratch his hands before it realizes that perhaps relaxing and going with the flow might result in treats.
“You’re so spoiled, mate,” Lando grumbles as he hugs Sprigatito to his chest and shuffles the small distance to The Birds and the Beans.
(He’s the one who proposed the name, but he didn’t think that George was actually naive enough to use it.)
Sprigatito only chirps and snuggles into his arms in response. As long as it continues to be this cute, Lando’s going to continue to buy sweet treats and matcha lattes for his crazy, matcha-obsessed Pokémon.
As he enters the café, wincing at the bell announcing his presence, and approaches the counter, he keeps his face buried in Sprigatito’s fur to avoid making unnecessary eye contact with the other patrons.
“Two matcha lattes, please,” he mumbles, eyes downcast. “And a slice of cake.” It’s what he deserves for putting up with his partner Pokémon and life in general.
“The matcha cake?”
Lando’s eyes widen. He knows everyone who works here, and exactly none of them sound like that.
“Um, yes,” he replies and tries not to blush. This is the man that made his life-changing matcha. He can’t look up now and have his fairy tale moment while he’s still wearing his florist’s apron and holding his squirming cat!
“Is that all for today?” Oscar asks, and Lando has to hold himself back from asking for his number too.
And his hand in marriage.
“Y-yeah. That’s all. Thanks.”
Lando pays for his well-deserved sweet treats and scurries to the table furthest from the counter, where he promptly buries his head in his arms to muffle a little scream. He managed a whole interaction without looking at the guy’s face once.
“Meow.”
“Soon, baby,” he tells Sprigatito as it begins furiously kneading at his arm. “You’ll have your latte soon.”
Green sparkles burst from its paws, siphoning every ounce of Lando’s nervous energy away.
The kneading brings a different type of anxiety when Sprigatito’s sweet scent attracts the attention of every creature in the shop, both organic and inorganic. Lando can only smile sheepishly and glare at his Sprigatito, who meows innocently.
He balks when a familiar Pokémon hops onto the table beside Sprigatito, using his thigh as a springboard. An emotion that can only be described as shock and horror settles in when his Sprigatito and Oscar’s Litten begin grooming each other, purring away like two little engines.
“Oh my God,” Lando mutters under his breath, extracting his Rotom phone to snap a photo. “This is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”
He giggles to himself, taking photo after photo of Sprigatito and Litten, and he’s so lost in his own world that he nearly has a fright when a tray is set down on the table right by his elbow.
“Two matcha lattes and a slice of cake that is also matcha.”
“Eep!”
Jumping in his seat, Lando jerks his head up and- oh.
His throat clicks when he swallows, dry, and his eyes grow round.
He swears that he doesn’t mean to stare, but he can’t help it. This is everything he wanted from a fairy tale moment and more—the princely swoop of Oscar’s hair, the half smile and pink cheeks that hint at shyness, the fact that he’s putting a matcha latte down in front of Lando…
“Marry me,” Lando blurts out.
Oscar nearly smacks himself with his own tray. “Um.”
Fuck. Whaaaat the fuck.
“Oh God, never mind!” Lando exclaims, his voice about an octave too high. He laughs, sounding insane to his own ears. “Ah, going through withdrawal symptoms, you know? I should make like a Magikarp and leave before my big fat mouth goes and does anything else that I don’t want it to!”
“Wait-”
Ignoring Oscar, Lando snatches Sprigatito up for the second time in a week and makes a beeline for the door with the two matcha lattes in tow. The plaintive meow that Sprigatito lets out from being forcibly separated from its new… friend breaks his heart cleanly in two, and the realization that he left his cake on the table shatters it completely.
Lando takes a long, sad sip. He cries when his matcha latte is just as perfect as the last one.
Arm still outstretched, Oscar blinks at the space that Lando hastily vacated.
“You have a flower in your hair…” he trails off, shaking his head. “He even left his cake.”
Litten snorts, causing small flames to burst from its nostrils. It seems exasperated with everything that just went down and disappointed? Odd. Perhaps Oscar should bring it to the Pokémon Center to make sure it isn’t ill or coming down with something.
He’s even more confused when Litten begins meowing and pawing at his leg. It hardly ever asks him for anything like this.
“You need something?” Oscar asks. He offers Litten a hand and lets it scamper up his arm to perch on his shoulder.
“Meow.”
Litten nuzzles him and mimes… Leafage?
Oscar sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose with the hand not holding Lando’s cake. “Of course. I should’ve known.”
“Meow.”
“Okay, okay. Alex, um, I’m taking my break.”
Alex gives him a thumbs-up and promptly disappears from view, presumably to scold his Skeledirge for knocking the cups onto the ground again.
Thankfully, it’s not rush hour.
Oscar still feels the adrenaline of rush hour as he sheds his apron and brings the slice of cake next door. He has no idea how the name of Lando’s flower shop is more respectable than the café’s, considering how unhinged the owner is.
(If he finds Lando’s unhinged behavior endearing at all, that’s between him and his extremely perceptive Pokémon.)
To Lando’s credit, Sprigs and Twigs is very well-kept and organized. Pre-made bouquets line one side of the wall while loose flowers in buckets line the other. The small shrubs are lush and green and the succulents look healthy and dry—that is a good thing, as far as Oscar can tell.
“Spriggy, use Leafage!”
Despite not having battled in ages, Oscar’s shoulders immediately tense up, and Litten jumps down from his shoulder and bristles, flames alight along its back.
A light flurry of leaves flutter down onto the plants, bathing the shop in a soft green glow. Oscar can only watch in awe as Sprigatito’s Leafage makes the flowers stand taller. He also feels rejuvenated, somehow.
Litten darts forward, in search of Sprigatito.
“Litten, wait-”
It’s honestly just Oscar’s luck that he smacks right into a warm body as he chases after his partner. He catches his victim around the waist before they can both go crashing down in a heap of flailing limbs.
Oscar finally braves a glance at Lando’s face, feeling his cheeks heat at the close proximity. Lando’s wide eyes are very blue at the moment—Oscar was certain they were green—and his lips are pink and slightly parted in surprise.
He still has a flower stuck in his curls.
“Um, hi,” Oscar breathes, shifting the arm around Lando’s waist. His sweater is probably the softest thing that he’s ever touched.
Lando smells nice too, not that Oscar is actively sniffing him or anything. That would be weird and creepy. It’s all he can do to distract himself from how perfectly Lando fits against him.
“You left your cake. The matcha one,” he continues when it’s clear that Lando has no intention of saying anything. “I kind of wanted a review from you.”
Lando’s cheeks go tomato red so quickly that Oscar grows concerned for him. He wriggles out of Oscar’s arms and makes grabby hands for the box that contains his precious slice of cake. It’s cute, devastatingly so.
Wait, no. Oscar isn’t devastated over a man just because he’s enthusiastic over some cake. That would be ridiculous.
But he’s sure that he can’t get enough of the way Lando’s eyes sparkle when he has the cake in his hands.
“D’you want to come to the back?” Lando asks shyly. “I have chairs and stuff.”
Oscar smiles. “I think chairs and stuff are great. Lead the way, Lando.”
Lando glances back at him, but most of his attention still remains with his cake. He might even be making cooing noises at it as he cradles the box in his large hands.
“Hm, did George tell you my name? Oh God, what else did he tell you?”
“Not much,” Oscar answers truthfully. “Just that you and Sprigatito were a formidable pair back in your Academy days.”
Lando sighs longingly. “Mm, yeah. Together, we traveled around the region and caught a whole arsenal of Pokémon and battled even more. Have you ever heard of the Paldea Elite Four?”
“Of course.” Oscar stops in his tracks, floored. “Don’t tell me-”
“‘Lando’ isn’t exactly a common name, you know. Even before graduating, I was a member of the Elite Four, but I wanted a change of scenery after years of doing the same thing, so George got me set up right next to him. A humble flower shop is so much more peaceful than a world of fame, and Spriggy likes attacking bug types more than other trainers’ Pokémon, so here we are.”
Fucking hell. Oscar has posters of the guy. In his defense, Lando looks different without all the… leather and the compass gloves. He looks sweeter, more approachable. And much prettier with stray flowers in his fluffy hair.
Oh, Oscar is never going to tell him that he’s a fan.
Lando’s workspace does, indeed, have chairs and stuff.
“So this is where you fucked off to,” Oscar mutters, staring at Litten, who acknowledges his arrival with a small burst of Ember before going back to grooming Sprigatito’s ears.
Lando all but squeals, already taking photo after photo on his Rotom phone. “Look, Osc, aren’t they the cutest?”
While Oscar is glad that Lando doesn’t seem so skittish around him anymore, he’ll have to kindly disagree. He doesn’t think he’s ever come across anything quite as adorable as Lando in this moment as he pets their partners’ fluffy heads and picks them both up to squeeze them to his chest.
Sprigatito mews and cuddles into his arms while Litten gives Oscar a smug look before accepting scritches from Lando and purring loudly.
Oscar fixes it with another hard stare.
“Oh, I’m so rude. This is my Sprig- Spriga-” Lando whines. “My Spriggy. I don’t know how dyslexic people are meant to pronounce all these complicated names.”
“Hi, Spriggy,” Oscar greets, reaching out to give it a pat and smiling when it presses its cheek fluffs into his palm affectionately. “I hear you’re a powerful little one.”
“Meow!”
“All Litten does is cough up hairballs,” he continues dryly. “I’ve invested in fireproof shoes.”
Litten ignores him, as usual, so it’s actually perfectly healthy. Only a bit down bad for Lando’s Sprigatito.
Understandable.
Especially when Lando giggles at his quip.
“The cake,” Oscar manages to croak. He hands Lando a fork and tries not to fixate too much on their fingers brushing. “Try the cake. It’s matcha.”
He’s not ready for the way Lando moans in delight after taking a bite. Not in any capacity.
“Oh God, I need to marry you, so I can have unlimited cake,” Lando whines around the fork in his mouth. “Can this please be our wedding cake?”
Oscar can only stand there, frozen, as his cheeks grow hot. He was able to brush Lando’s little outburst earlier off as a joke, a heat of the moment thing, but this is a lot.
Sprigatito swipes a paw through the matcha cream and meows happily after tasting it. Green powder gets transferred onto its nose when it digs in with gusto.
Lando darts his tongue out to lick the fork, effectively making Oscar shut down completely.
And then, when there isn’t a single crumb left and the cream has been scraped clean, Lando turns his pleading eyes onto Oscar, and, fuck, he doesn’t even need to be married to Oscar to have free matcha cake for life.
“Y-yeah, sure, mate,” Oscar responds weakly. “I reckon I’ll need to find a suit.”
“Matcha time, Spriggy?” Lando calls out after sending a happy customer on their way with a fresh bouquet of chrysanthemums.
As soon as he locks the shop, Sprigatito zooms into view and leaps at him, expecting to be caught. He does, obviously, but he also gets a mouthful of fur.
“Oof.”
Truthfully, Lando is excited for more than just his daily matcha latte. Oscar didn’t seem to be deterred when he made a fool out of himself by proposing marriage twice in the span of an hour, so Lando thinks they could be friends.
Or something like that.
Okay, Oscar is exactly his type. He makes a delicious matcha latte, and that’s really all that Lando looks for in a man. The warm brown eyes and handsome features are just bonus.
Those broad shoulders too. Lando might be drooling.
“Meow.”
“Right. Matcha!”
He hums cheerily to himself, and not even the stupid bell that George insisted on having could bring his mood down.
The lack of Oscar at the front, however, can.
“Oh, it’s just you,” Lando mumbles miserably.
George squawks in mock offense. “Just me?”
“And him.” Lando jabs a finger at Alex. “Your other half or whatever.”
And their partners. There is not enough room behind the counter for two fully-evolved Pokémon. Alex yelps as his precariously tottering stack of cups comes toppling over again.
Lando is so glad he and Sprigatito came to an understanding early on that it wouldn’t evolve into Floragato and then Meowscarada. Partially because he can’t fathom even trying to pronounce those names.
The kitchen doors swing open, slamming into the wall, and Oscar nearly trips over Skeledirge with Litten perched on his shoulder. Sprigatito meows at Litten in greeting, kneading at Lando’s arm impatiently.
“How may I help you?”
“You have flour on your cheek,” Lando says, a bit dumbly.
“And you have flowers in your hair,” Oscar smoothly replies, swiping at the wrong cheek. It’s cute. “Back so soon?”
Lando hides a grin in the turtleneck of his sweater. “I come here every day.”
“This is actually sickening,” George mutters to Alex. “Oscar, you make Lando his matcha lattes. I’m taking my break.”
“I have muffins in the oven,” Oscar says, looking straight at Lando. “They’re, um, matcha and white chocolate.”
Good thing Lando has his arms full of Sprigatito, or he might launch himself over the counter into Oscar’s. To kiss him. On the mouth.
“I’ll get the muffins!” Alex calls out. “As soon as Skeledirge stops knocking my cups over!”
Oscar is looking at Lando expectantly.
“I’m going to become all plump because of you,” Lando says seriously, eyeing the tray of muffins that Alex brings out. “You’re going to have to roll me down the aisle when we get married.”
To his delight, Oscar blushes, bringing a hand up to scratch at the back of his head as he laughs sheepishly.
“Well, I reckon you’ll still look fit even then.”
Oh. Well.
Sprigatito nudges Lando, reminding him that he’s not here to stand around and flirt with the barista, no matter how much he wants to.
He digs out a wad of cash before frowning at the register. “You only charged me for the lattes.”
Oscar’s blush deepens as he stammers, “Uh, the muffins technically aren’t on the menu yet, so I can’t charge you for one. Hah.”
Lando has to have done something right in his past life to deserve Oscar’s kindness. He cradles the muffin in both hands and thanks Oscar repeatedly, letting Sprigatito pad to their table with Litten in tow.
“It’s really no problem,” Oscar says. “Just let me know if it’s any good.”
“It’s good.”
“Lando, you haven’t even tried it yet.”
“It’s amazing.”
Oscar laughs, bracing his hands against the counter as he folds in half. It makes the muscles in his forearms pop under his rolled-up sleeves, not that Lando’s looking at all.
The muffin is soft and fluffy and all things good and wonderful in the world, the sweetness of the white chocolate balancing the slight bitterness of the matcha and a sprinkle of salt bringing out both flavors perfectly.
Lando can’t believe that baking is just Oscar’s hobby. He almost doesn’t want to share the muffin with Sprigatito.
But he does, because he partially has Sprigatito to thank for being a dramatic arsehole sometimes.
“It’s mint!” Lando enthusiastically professes to a waiting Oscar.
“I’m actually pretty sure it’s matcha.”
It becomes a thing, this tentative back-and-forth.
Oscar begins buying flowers from Lando, either to brighten his place up or to have as a little decoration in the corner of The Birds and the Beans. The café feels less stuffy with Lando’s flowers lining the windowsills.
He also likes watching Lando’s face light up when he comes in with Sprigatito in tow and sees his own work on display. The way his face never fails to grow pink in embarrassment and pleasure is nothing short of breathtaking.
“Here. It’s strawberry and matcha this time,” Oscar says as he sets a slice of cake down next to Lando’s matcha latte.
It’s a good thing that Alex and George always make themselves scarce the moment Lando walks in. George pretends not to notice when Oscar inevitably gives Lando a little pastry on the house, and it’s always nice not to have two extra audience members in their busy café when he inevitably begins resembling his smitten Litten.
“I didn’t order this, Osc,” Lando protests. “Take it back.”
Oscar nudges it closer. “You didn’t, but Spriggy looks like it’s going to maul me if I take it back. So you have to eat it.”
Glumly, Lando accepts the fork that Oscar holds out to him, even as his eyes betray just how much he’s looking forward to having the cake in his mouth.
“Wait, don’t cry-” Oscar reaches for the plate as Lando takes another bite. “If it’s that bad, you don’t have to-”
“Don’t you dare,” Lando all but hisses at him as he snatches the plate back. His fuzzy sweater—a cream colored one today—gets a light dusting of green.
As usual, Sprigatito swipes some of the cream, carefully avoiding the strawberries, and purrs as it licks its paw. Next to it, Litten stares unblinkingly at the bloop of cream lingering on Sprigatito’s pink nose like it’s holding itself back from darting forward and licking it off.
Oscar thought they were already well on their way of becoming mates.
As an example, and perhaps to nudge his partner in its endeavors, he reaches out and thumbs the cream from the corner of Lando’s lips before absentmindedly tasting it.
“Mm. Delicious.”
Lando’s mouth drops open at the same time that his fork clatters to the table.
“What the fuck.”
Trust George to interrupt before Litten could even begin to woo Sprigatito after Oscar went through the efforts of showing it what to do.
Lando may never leave his flower shop ever again.
Well, that’s what he said the first time before Sprigatito dragged him back, kicking and screaming. Metaphorically.
This time, though, he fully plans on never showing his face to the world again, intending to hole himself up with his flowers and his Pokémon and the impending withdrawal symptoms of going cold turkey from his matcha addiction.
Sprigatito slumps onto Lando’s table, resting its fluffy tail on the half-finished bouquet of peonies. It’s in a mood, clearly, ignoring Lando when he attempts to pick it up for a cuddle.
“I’m staying right here,” he says with a huff. “You can do whatever you want, you menace.”
“Meow!” Sprigatito flicks its tail at him before hopping off of the table and plodding towards the door with its head held aloft.
“Fine, be that way!”
Truth be told, Lando knows he’ll end up returning to The Birds and the Beans tomorrow, like it’s clockwork. He just needs a moment to recuperate from the nonchalant way that Oscar acted after so blatantly flirting with him.
For all the flirting he dishes out, he’s obscenely bad at taking it.
As a member of the Elite Four in the region, he got used to the limelight and the admiration that came in all shapes and forms as Lando, but now, in this quiet part of Artazon, he’s just Lando, who owns a small flower shop and drinks matcha lattes with his Sprigatito.
So to have someone like Oscar care about him enough to give him free cake… Lando has no idea where to go from here.
There are only so many times he can propose marriage before it starts to feel like a joke, after all.
“Hi, Lando.”
“Eep!” Lando drops his flowers in shock. “Oscar? What are you doing here?”
A familiar green face appears over Oscar’s shoulder. Traitor.
Oscar shuffles in place and produces a cardboard cup carrier. “Um, Spriggy came by, and you weren’t with it, so I asked Alex to take my shift, so I could deliver you a matcha latte?”
Sprigatito scampers off with Litten in tow, leaving Lando to fumble haphazardly with his flowers to make space on his table. He’s going to have a stern talking-to with his most beloved grass cat when Oscar leaves.
“Shit, wait, let me grab my wallet-”
“It’s on the house, Lando.”
Lando opens his mouth to protest further, but Oscar silences him with a shake of his head and a wry smile.
“Employee discount,” he says. “And you can make it up to me by letting me stay back here and enjoy your company for a while.”
Seems like Lando’s stern talking-to with Sprigatito is going to have to wait. He turns away, partly to hide his blush and partly because Oscar’s looking at him so intently that it makes him nervous.
That’s what the fluttering sensation in his chest has to be right? Nerves.
In the corner, Sprigatito is kneading away at its cushion, sending perfumed sparkles flying. Lando watches as it nudges Litten onto the fluffed cushion and curls up next to it, purring.
Litten must be so warm, and Sprigatito, despite being a grass type weak to fire types, looks extremely at ease. Even when flames light up along Litten’s back when Sprigatito licks its face fondly.
Lando startles out of his Pokémon-induced reverie when Oscar touches his hair. He blinks, wide-eyed, in confusion until Oscar holds a stray leaf up between two fingers.
“Sorry, I couldn’t help it.”
Oscar opens his mouth again, like he wants to say something else, but he snaps it shut before he could.
“Spriggy’s Leafage, mate,” Lando complains, brushing the other leaves from his hair. Finally satisfied with his appearance, he peers at Oscar’s goods—two iced matcha lattes and another inconspicuous hot drink—and asks, “What’s in the third cup?”
“Hot chocolate,” Oscar replies, his cheeks pinkening. “For me.”
“Hot chocolate?”
“Not really a coffee sort. I like sweet things.”
Lando, entirely jokingly, blurts out, “Like me.”
The blush coloring Oscar’s face darkens.
“Yeah,” he mumbles. “Like you.”
From an outsider’s perspective, the two of them must look incredibly stupid, just standing there with their drinks in hand while blushing at each other. Apparently, that’s what Sprigatito thinks as it disentangles itself from Litten, who meows forlornly, and leaps at Lando.
“Ow,” Lando whines, carefully cradling his precious matcha to make sure none of it spills. “Spriggy-”
“Meow!”
Its green neck fur glows and unleashes a storm of Leafage, showering both Lando and Oscar with sparkling leaves.
Lando hysterically thinks that it could almost be romantic.
If Oscar even likes him that way at all.
He didn’t specify, and Lando doesn’t want to be presumptuous.
Perhaps as a member of the Elite Four, he would be more comfortable thinking that Oscar likes him romantically and wants to take him out on dates and battle each other at the Artazon gym as a bonding experience, but that’s not Lando’s life anymore. He’s just a skittish flower shop owner with a powerful Sprigatito as his partner and a deep appreciation for Oscar’s matcha lattes… and everything else about him.
“I should get back to work,” Lando squeaks before chugging the rest of his matcha latte at an alarming rate. “Have a nice rest of your day, yup!”
He doesn’t have the guts to meet Sprigatito’s disappointed gaze as Oscar awkwardly makes his exit with Litten trailing close behind.
Maybe, in an ideal world, Oscar would want Lando for who he is—batshit crazy personality and all.
Oscar hates to admit it, but he’s moping.
He has no idea how to approach Lando after that moment from a handful of days prior. Evidently, they weren’t on the same page at all, if Lando’s continued avoidance of him is any indication. Oscar groans, burying his face in his hands. What if Lando got scared off by his matcha offerings?
“Fuck,” he mutters, when he realizes too late that his hands were covered in flour, and all of it has just been transferred to his face.
Sadly, he glances at the matcha cookies in the oven and sighs.
Oscar is at the end of his shift when Litten tugs at the hem of his jeans insistently.
“Not now, Litten. I need to close up.”
Another tug.
It never makes demands, so this must be important. He sets his rag down and follows his partner around the counter to the table by the window.
“Oh,” Oscar exhales.
The scene in front of his eyes is important, as it turns out. Lando is asleep, slumped over the table with his head pillowed on his arms, but more importantly, Sprigatito is also asleep on its back, balancing on top of him with all four paws in the air and twitching like it’s hunting a mouse Pokémon or fighting imaginary enemies in its sleep.
Lando and Sprigatito are a silly and ridiculous pair, and Oscar has never seen anything more endearing. His fingers twitch towards his apron pocket.
Finally, after a few more insistent tugs from Litten, he extracts his Rotom phone to discreetly snap a picture. Just one. He doesn’t want to come across as a creep, even if there’s nobody else around.
And if he stares at his Rotom phone for a moment too long, the only witness of his behavior is his Litten, who is in no place to judge him for it.
He sets the photo as his screensaver.
“Lando,” Oscar softly says, reaching out to rub Lando’s back. Unfortunately for him, Lando only stirs momentarily and hums before nuzzling back into his fuzzy sweater-clad arms.
He’s so cute that Oscar just wants to pull him into his arms and kiss him awake.
Another light nudge. Sprigatito slips from Lando’s back and into Oscar’s waiting hands with a confused meow.
Lando finally blinks up at him, glancing at Sprigatito, who is contentedly purring against his chest. “… huh?”
“I need to close up,” Oscar explains as he hands Sprigatito back. “There are leftover cookies in the case if you want them.”
“You’re too nice, Osc,” Lando mumbles. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes before tugging his sleeves back over his hands. “Do you spoil everyone like this?”
Oscar can’t help his smile as he ducks behind the counter to fetch the rest of the cookies. “Nah, just cute Elite-Four-members-turned-florists with matcha addictions and cuter partner Pokémon.”
In Lando’s arms, Sprigatito wriggles and preens at the praise.
“Bleh,” Lando replies, but his tanned cheeks take on a reddened hue. Cute.
He’s absentmindedly petting Litten when Oscar comes back to his table. Lando must be fucking magical for Litten’s to be so relaxed around him.
“Litten, use Ember,” Oscar tells it, and his partner yawns lazily before blowtorching the marshmallows in the center of each matcha cookie.
Oscar thinks his heart might leap out of his chest as Lando claps in delight and lets Litten nuzzle his cheek affectionately. On his other side, Sprigatito immediately begins munching on a cookie, getting crumbs all over its green fur.
“Does Litten help you with your baking?” Lando asks around a mouthful of cookie. He moans, his eyes all but rolling back in his head at the first taste of matcha in what must be days.
Oscar pulls the other chair out and sits to watch Lando eat. “Sometimes. I call out Arcanine to power the industrial ovens, but Litten’s Ember is good for small things, like blowtorching marshmallows or meringue. Or reheating a drink.”
He’ll never get tired of the way Lando’s eyes sparkle whenever he talks about food or whenever Lando bites into whatever pastry he has to offer. Inching forward, Litten mews and reaches out to playfully bat at Sprigatito’s cheek fluffs.
Thankfully, it doesn’t accidentally set Lando’s partner on fire with its half-hearted attempts at flirting.
“And Litten’s happy to stay as it is, yeah? No dreams of becoming a fearsome Incineroar?”
“Nah. We’re both pretty easygoing, so the big leagues aren’t really our goal.” Oscar can’t mention that Lando’s basically the one that showed him that a fully-evolved Pokémon isn’t necessary to be successful.
He can’t say that out loud, though.
But maybe…
“Do you, um, maybe want to come upstairs? George signed his flat over to me when he moved in with Alex.” Quickly, Oscar adds, “I’ll make you a matcha latte.”
Lando blushes.
Interesting.
Oscar is going to be the death of him, Lando swears.
He acts like a proper boyfriend, spoiling Lando rotten in the ways most meaningful to him after ushering him into the familiar-but-different flat above The Birds and the Beans. The only thing is, he’s not Lando’s boyfriend, even if that’s what he wants most at the moment.
“Just sit wherever,” Oscar says as he fills a kettle with water. “Litten, use Ember on the stove.”
Lando gingerly sinks into the couch, twisting his fingers together. He’s never actually watched Oscar craft any of his drinks before, so he hugs Sprigatito to his chest as he observes, swallowing thickly when Oscar begins whisking the matcha with smooth practiced motions that emphasize the muscles in his forearms.
He feels faint.
Sprigatito meows grumpily when he accidentally squeezes it too tightly.
The moment Oscar hands him a perfectly crafted matcha latte in a tall glass, smiling softly and looking like every single one of Lando’s wet dreams carefully baked into his ideal man, Lando nearly proposes marriage again. Oscar sits down, a respectful distance away, but the stupid, squishy couch cushions dump Lando right up against him.
Unfortunately, Lando now knows how Sprigatito feels when it curls up with Litten.
Right as he thinks that Oscar might pull away or stand up again, an arm snakes around his shoulders and draws him in closer, until his nose is buried in the coffee-scented collar of Oscar’s button-up.
Lando makes a questioning noise while he immediately melts right into the comforting warmth of Oscar’s chest. It’s broad and firm against him, and Lando needs to kiss him to feel his glorious chest in every situation possible. His face must do something weird to mask his desires because Oscar shifts to give him some distance.
Pity.
“Oh, um, sorry? This couch is older than my mum,” Oscar hurries to say, like that explains why they were cuddling. “No structural integrity.”
A beat of silence. Sprigatito gives them an unimpressed look before scampering off to find Litten.
“You also look really cozy in that sweater,” Oscar adds quietly.
“You’re cozy,” Lando retorts. It’s not exactly his best comeback to date.
His best comeback was actually when Max battled him on his way to become Top Champion. Back-to-back Leafage moves, with Hattrem ready to heal Sprigatito on the side and Arboliva to round out his team. A part of him misses those days, but it's all nostalgia now.
Wait.
Speaking of nostalgia-
Lando’s gaze falls onto a poster that he hasn’t seen in years.
“Osc,” he begins slowly, after taking a fortifying sip of his matcha latte, “d’you want to maybe tell me why I’m on your wall?” In leather and wearing the signature compass glove of the Paldea Elite Four, no less.
When he chances a glance at Oscar, he’s met with red cheeks and an embarrassed expression.
“Um.”
Naturally, Lando latches on like a Sharpedo and leans in close, grinning coyly. He flutters his lashes. “Ooh, Oscar, you never told me you were a fan!”
Oscar groans before stealing Lando’s matcha latte and setting it down on the coffee table before any of it can spill. Rude.
“That’s because it’s weird,” he retorts. “You’d also end up thinking that I kept giving you pastries and matcha lattes for free because I’m a fan.”
“Is that not…?”
“No, I keep giving them to you because you always look so happy when you eat the things that I make.”
Surprised, Lando hiccups.
That’s the sweetest thing that anyone has ever said or done for him.
He picks his matcha latte up again and takes a frantic sip while holding it in both hands.
“That’s embarrassing for you,” he mumbles around his straw. “It’s almost like you like me or something.”
Oscar shoots him an exasperated look. “Maybe it’s because I do. As I’ve said before.”
Still clutching his glass for dear life, Lando whines, “Like for real?”
“Yeah, Lando. I like you. In a I'll-make-you-matcha-lattes-for-the-rest-of-your-life-in-exchange-for-kisses kind of way.”
Oh.
Oh!
Lando promptly chokes on a wayward chunk of ice.
He coughs a few times, certain his face resembles a tomato by the time he manages to swallow the ice. The hue only darkens when Oscar pats his back a couple times and rubs it comfortingly.
“Spriggy too,” he wheezes at last.
“Huh?”
“Spriggy needs matcha lattes too.”
Oscar’s hair flops over his forehead as he folds in laughter and hugs Lando close again. “Of course. But then I’ll require two kisses from you, one for each matcha latte, if you’re willing to pay the price.”
Bravely, Lando leans in to peck Oscar’s cheek and murmur, “Deal.”
Oscar freezes, his eyes widening in surprise as he blushes, and Lando would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy witnessing it happen even a tiny bit. He cuddles closer, just to watch Oscar’s blush travel down his neck.
Sprigatito makes its reappearance with Litten in tow, and Lando all but whips his Rotom phone out to snap photos of the two of them while balancing his matcha latte in the crook of his elbow. He’s pleased to note that Oscar’s hands don’t leave his waist for a second.
“You don’t even have my number yet!” Lando exclaims, nearly tipping the remnants of his drink down the front of his sweater. “How are we meant to be proper boyfriends if I can’t send you cute photos of Spriggy at every minute of the day?”
“You hardly stay away from The Birds and the Beans anyway,” Oscar mutters, but he still reaches into the front pocket of his jeans to dig his Rotom phone out.
Lando is too distracted by the blurry wallpaper to even make a rebuttal against Oscar’s baseless accusation. He stares at his own face. That’s what he looks like when he sleeps? Eugh. Sprigatito, on the other hand, looks as adorable as ever. “If you wanted a photo of Spriggy, you should’ve just said so, Osc. You didn’t need to sneakily take one while I was asleep.”
Oscar’s face goes red again, this time at an alarming rate.
“I, uh, wasn’t trying to take a photo of Spriggy- well, not only of Spriggy…”
Lando tilts his head, clueless.
He yelps when Sprigatito sneaks up behind him and gives the back of his head a solid smack, which promptly pushes him further into Oscar’s arms. Who needs enemies when they have insane cat Pokémon as their partners?
“Spriggy-”
“Meow.” Sprigatito does not sound amused, but Lando has other problems. Namely, his face being mere millimeters away from Oscar’s as he practically straddles his poor boyfriend’s lap. His new boyfriend, whom he hopes he isn’t going to scare off anytime soon.
Maybe his fear is misplaced, considering Oscar used to be a fan of his.
Lando opens his mouth to stammer something unintelligible, but he’s silenced by the small smile playing on Oscar’s lips.
“I think Spriggy wants a matcha latte now.”
“Okay-”
“Which means I’m going to collect payment for it first.”
And then Oscar is closing the tiny, nearly nonexistent distance between them and kissing him so sweetly that Lando gasps. He immediately brings both hands up to cup Oscar’s face, feeling like a million Metapod have just evolved into Butterfree and are now fluttering around inside his stomach.
When Oscar pulls him closer by the waist and gives his bottom lip a fond little bite, Lando moans, letting him slip his tongue into his mouth.
“You taste like matcha,” Oscar mumbles against his lips as his thumbs draw circles into the small of Lando’s back. “Earthy, with a hint of sweetness.”
Lando thinks he might die.
Is this what his Pokémon experienced when they fainted in battle? How cruel of him.
But also-
“That was definitely worth more than one matcha latte,” he says, his voice coming out breathier than he intends. “Two, or three, maybe- mmph!”
He’s sinking into the ridiculous couch cushions again with the force of Oscar’s kiss, but this time, he’s a willing victim.
Lando can only giggle at the surprised expression on Oscar’s face when they end up in a heap on the couch before he pulls him back in for another kiss, sliding his hands over Oscar’s shoulders and wrapping his legs around his waist to keep him in place. Nothing is going to get him to detach his lips from Oscar for a long time.
He has many weeks’ worth of matcha lattes and desserts to pay for, after all.
Oscar should be used to coming home and seeing Lando sprawled out on the floor with Sprigatito, absentmindedly waving a feather toy for it to bat at. The domesticity of it all still makes warmth bloom inside him, especially when Litten slinks past him to greet Lando by pressing its nose into his hand before licking Sprigatito’s ears, thankfully without setting Lando’s partner on fire.
Litten lets Lando pet it, purring when he scratches under its chin.
“My partner likes you more than it likes me,” Oscar quips, helping Lando up. “Guess I should’ve known from the start that we were meant to, uh-”
“Be together?” Lando supplies. “Get married? Have a delicious matcha cake at our wedding?”
Oscar smiles at how endearing his boyfriend is, sparkling eyes and all. “Something like that, yeah.”
He watches Sprigatito pad over, coming to a halt in front of him and meowing insistently.
“Well, my partner likes your matcha lattes more than anything else,” Lando translates. He lifts a hand to his mouth to muffle his laughter. “Sorry, Litten, but Spriggy’s got pri- prior-.”
“Priorities.”
“Yeah, that.” Turning towards Oscar, Lando looks up at him through his lashes, batting them pleadingly. “I’ll give you two kisses?”
Oscar, not one to deny Lando or his Pokémon anything, gets to work making two matcha lattes and pulling out the matcha cheesecake that he prepared the day before. He cuts two slices, dusting each one with matcha powder.
Meanwhile, Lando flutters around the countertop, arranging and rearranging the flowers in the vase. He hums to himself as he works, only pausing to command Sprigatito to use Leafage to get the flowers to stand a little taller. It kneads biscuits into the cat bed that it’s curled up with Litten in, perfuming the air with the sparkles under its tiny paws.
In a way, Sprigatito’s sparkles resemble a nice matcha dusting.
Litten doesn’t hesitate to lick Sprigatito’s nose when matcha powder gets transferred to its fur this time. Sprigatito goes cross-eyed, shyly ducking its head.
And Oscar doesn’t hesitate to sweep his boyfriend into the kiss that he’s owed, stealing the bite of cheesecake straight from his lips.
“Sweet,” Oscar murmurs, one corner of his mouth ticking up at the offended look on Lando’s face.
“Oscar!”
“I mean, so is the cheesecake.”
Lando’s mouth drops open.
Oscar takes the opportunity to feed him another forkful of cheesecake, accidentally smearing some on his lips.
“Whoops.”
He takes care of that by collecting payment for the second matcha latte.
“You’re ridiculous,” Lando stammers, like a little kiss is the most scandalous thing they’ve done. In Sprigatito’s and Litten’s presence, sure, but…
“No, just extremely fond of you,” Oscar says. “How’s the latte?”
Lando ducks his head, hiding a smile. He clutches his glass in both hands. Unfortunately for him, Oscar has long since memorized the way his cheeks bunch up in undiluted happiness.
“It’s lovely, Osc. I think I’ll have to marry you for it.”
Perhaps during their vows, Oscar will finally admit out loud that his heart does a little flutter every time Lando mentions marriage. His secrets always seem to come out, whether he wants them to or not. For now, though, he steals a sip of his boyfriend’s matcha latte, enduring the dramatic squawk that threatens to burst his eardrums.
“Mint.”
It didn’t take long at all for Oscar to pick up on a few Lando-isms. Consequences of their mouths always touching, or something like that.
But Lando looks at him like he’s lost his mind. “It’s matcha, actually.”
“Oh, I was talking about you marrying me. Sounds mint.” Unable to resist, Oscar jokes, “You could say that we’re a matcha made in heaven.”
“… I’m divorcing you.”
“No, wait, you can’t do that. I already promised you matcha lattes for life, remember?”
Lando sighs and takes another sip.
“Good point.”
From the little pile on the floor, Sprigatito lifts its green head and meows in agreement before letting Litten carry on with grooming its ears.