Redenne_Moon
Rival Lover
- Location
- Australia
- Pronouns
- They/She
"Can you hold still?" said Hugh, who struggled to speak through the bobby pins clenched between his teeth. "You keep pulling away."His model, or self-proclaimed victim, Silver, wouldn't comply without making his grievances known. "Then hurry up. If I knew it would take this long, I wouldn't have let you rope me into this," he said. Then, with a great effort, he straightened his back to angle his head closer to Hugh's hands, which worked diligently to braid a small section of Silver's long red hair.
Hugh scoffed. "It's barely been five minutes."
"Could have fooled me," said Silver. To him, each stroke and brush of the other man's fingers felt like an eternity. Even the ends of his hair being held sent pulses of electricity running all the way up to his scalp, setting off alarm signals in his brain.
Silver couldn't recall a previous instance of being touched like this. Not, perhaps, since the hazy and distant memory of Silver's mother brushing his hair when he was small. A flicker of tenderness buried in years of neglect and cruelty under the ice cold shadow of his father.
That blood still ran through him, even now. The blood of Team Rocket. The blood of Giovanni. It made moments like this almost comical in nature. He didn't belong in the same world that Hugh inhabited. That world was filled with loving parents, an innocent little sister, and life-long affectionate friendships with the likes of fellow idiots, Rosa and Nate.
Collages of sentimental photos hung all over the walls of Hugh's bedroom, surrounding him with reminders. Silver's gaze lingered on the one of Hugh's sister, teary eyed as she pet her Liepard for the first time since Team Plasma stole her Pokémon as a tiny Purrloin years prior. Hugh stood in the background of the shot, covered in scratches, on the verge of tears himself.
Silver, an outsider from another region, with the dark history he guarded close to his heart, could never fit into that picture.
So why did he let himself pretend?
A hand pressed to the side of his head to re-position it, short-circuiting Silver's train of thought. Hugh secured the end of the tiny braid behind his ear and got started on the next one.
"If I can get this right, it's gonna look so good on Violet," Hugh gushed.
The way he fawned over his sister couldn't be more alien to Silver.
He reached back to grab the reference image that Violet printed off of Pinsirest. He re-examined the photo with a critical eye, noting the hair hearts above the pigtails and the ribbons woven through the tiny braids on the woman's head. So many bows and ribbons… "At least it will look good on someone." Flatly.
Hugh paused for a moment, seemingly considering him. "Thanks again for helping out. I know it's sort of a pain, but it means a lot."
He finished the second braid and tied it off.
"I'm doing this for Violet, not for you." Silver swiftly dismissed any potential for earnest feelings with his usual snark. "I just don't think she deserves the humiliation of arriving to her school dance with a horrific hairstyle just because her brother is incompetent."
He could feel Hugh flinch behind him. As usual, getting a reaction out of him was too easy. "Hey! I'm not incompetent!" he barked, sending bobby pins flying. "I'm great at doing her hair!"
"Debatable." A smirk tugged at his lips as he turned to face the other. "If you were that good, you wouldn't need to practice on me first."
"You…" Hugh trailed off into an amusing, growl-like noise. He held his hands out in a vague threatening gesture, clearly fighting his internal urge to give Silver a noogie in retaliation.
"What are you going to do about it? You can't ruin the work you've already done." Brushing and sectioning his hair, creating a zigzag shaped parting, the braids. It would be self-sabotage. Silver crossed his arms smugly.
He thought he had the upper hand, but then Hugh's expression darkened with a sharp-toothed grin.
"What is that disgusting look fo— Agh!" Silver's body jolted and twisted to escape from the fiendish hands that dove to tickle his sides. Involuntary laughter forced its way up, broken up by adamant protests. "Damn you. Aha… Ahaha.. Stop! Hahahaha!" He tried to push away, but struggled to apply the necessary force to be effective.
"That's what you get!" Hugh's laughter mingled with his, but it was one of triumph.
Silver couldn't allow that to last.
"Hugh. Enough." In a single movement, Silver grabbed the other man's wrists and twisted them to immobilize him. He rose to his knees and pushed Hugh's back down onto the bed, eliciting a surprised grunt. Silver kept his grip firm and surveyed him from above, the severity of his expression only partially undermined by his half-done pigtails and braids. "You are such a child."
"You started it!" Hugh countered.
The man before him didn't hold a trace of fear or intimidation.
Not that he ever had before.
Childish. Loud. Stubborn. So handsy. Too overfamiliar.
Like a Bouffalant in a china shop, ignoring every warning sign.
Everything about Hugh should bother him.
And yet here Silver was, in his room, on his bed, letting him play hairdresser.
"Unbelievable." Silver let go of Hugh's wrists with a limp toss and sat down in defeat. "I can't believe I've let myself entertain you to this extent."
Some residual laughter bubbled from Hugh's throat as he beheld Silver in disbelief. "… Because we're friends?" He spoke the words so easily, like they were obvious. Like they were the most natural thing in the world.
"Say another word and I'll change my mind about helping you,” he warned.
“Sure, my lips are sealed.” Hugh rolled his eyes and held his hands up in playful surrender.
“Those are five more words.”
“What? Are you just saying I’m not allowed to speak anymore?”
“What was your first clue?”
Hugh punched his arm. “You asshole.”