#expressshipping

Suddenly (unfortunately) awake, Ingo’s eyes darted to his left side. The first thing he saw was the wild mane of White’s hair, freed from its usual ponytail and allowed go anywhere and everywhere it pleased.  She had one arm draped over his stomach to keep him in place, while the other gripped her pelt. Now that he was up close, he couldn’t help but realize how… unnerving her pelt was up close. Every part of his mind told him that seeing her like this,  with her pelt undisguised and vulnerable, was unnatural.  And yet, despite looking like she had wrapped herself in the skin of a freshly killed Dewgong, White looked peaceful. Far more peaceful than the way he’d found her last night, huddled outside his bedroom door like a frightened child.  He reached out and brushed some hair from her face, before drawing his hand back like it had been burned.  He covered his face with his hand and turned his head away.  Sweet Arceus, he really was deep in the hole, wasn’t he? It was bad enough that he had almost kissed her in a moment of weakness.  He could almost see to miniature versions of himself in his mind’s eye. One of them, the logical one, was trying to rationalize his growing affections and figure out a plan to not chase White away. The other one was cackling like a madman, setting Logical’s carefully crafted plans on fire, and urging him to just kiss her and be done with it.  

White stirred at his side and groaned. Clearly she had no inhibitions about waking up in the same bed with someone else. On the contrary, this seemed to be completely normal to her. She pushed herself up, rubbed one of her eyes with her hands, and then flopped  herself across Ingo’s chest.  

“White-“ He began, somewhat strangled. She pushed herself up, half-lidded eyes meeting his, before she muttered something he wasn’t even sure was English and pressed their noses together. And then, as if nothing happened, she laid back down with a heavy, contented sigh and tucked her head under his chin.  She looked completely at peace. Ingo, in sharp contrast, felt his cheeks burn like he had a fever. His heart threatened to kick its way out of his chest, and he swallowed thickly.  As much as he wanted to just stay in bed all day with her, he was completely awake now. Sleep was no longer an option. He steeled himself and spoke again. “White,” his voice was louder and firmer, and it seemed to finally cause her to stir awake.

“Gnnnnnnaaaah?” Was the response he got. A deep sound from the back of her throat that sounded more animalistic than human. She muttered something into the crook of his neck. A series of grunts and guttural sounds that didn’t sound right coming from human vocal chords. Slowly, White realized she wasn’t speaking English and sluggishly corrected herself. “Early,” she croaked.

“Be the that as it may, I need to get up.”

“Why?”

Truthfully, he didn’t have a reason. He was certain he would come up with one once he was fully awake and thinking like a functioning person. “I have chores to do,” he supplied smoothly. 

White wasn’t happy, but she relented eventually and rolled off him, taking most of the blankets along with her.  Ingo murmured his thanks and hauled himself off his bed. He plucked White’s Seel plush off the floor (it must have fallen during the night), and  placed it next to the roll of blankets his guest had wrapped herself in. 

——————

Ingo stumbled into the living area to find a hand written note from Emmet cheerfully wishing a good morning/afternoon/whenever, and informing Ingo that their Pokémon had all already been fed and taken out to stretch and do their business. It continued:  Emmet had gone out to meet Elesa before her photo shoot, and wouldn’t be back home until late, probably. 

“Have a good day~ <3 

Love, Emmet. 

P.S. Mahogany is still grumpy and wouldn’t let me brush her.” The note concluded. 

Ingo smilled and rolled his eyes when he noticed the arrow pointed to Mahogany’s Pokeball with “rude!!” Written in uppercase letters. He grabbed the Pokeball, the grooming supplies from under the sink, and released Mahogony in the living room.

His Excadrill shook herself out, stretched and yawned widely, being mindful of her claws so they wouldn’t snag on the rug. She sniffed at the couch and very, very loudly made her displeasure at the unknown scent known. She squeaked indignantly at Ingo as he approached, staring up at him like he had done some horrendous act against her in particular. 

“Yes, she’s still here,” Ingo said plainly. It was odd that he had never noticed it before, but Mahogany had been even more antsy ever since White became a frequent visitor. Did White smell like a Dewgong to  her? Were ground types naturally distrusting to whatever scent water types had due to the type disadvantage? Definitely something to think about some other time.  He clicked his tongue and sat down on the floor, grooming supplies at his side. Reluctantly,  Mahogany plodded over to him and nestled into Ingo’s lap for her morning pampering. 

There was something therapeutic about grooming Pokémon. In another lifetime,  he may have forgone competitive battling all together in favor of grooming. Competitive battling had a much more lucrative pay, however, which was preferable for two boys who barely had enough money for food.  Maybe when Ingo retired, he’d pursue that old pipe dream. For now, he had to focus on not cutting himself on the Excadrill’s blades.

Some time later, long enough for Ingo to put a new pot of coffee on while he finished polishing Mahogany’s blades, White padded into the room. “Behave,” Ingo told his Pokémon firmly as she growled in White’s direction.  He wiped away the residual polish before packing everything back into the grooming kit.  There was a second growl, deep and guttural, that came from White’s general direction and Ingo pinched the bridge of his nose. “That goes for you, too.”

“She started it,” White said indignantly. 

“Yes, well. I am ending it,” Ingo said resolutely. He patted Mahogany’s head comfortingly and, not wanting the two of them to get into a spat of some kind the second he turned his back, returned her to her Pokeball.  He could practically feel Mahogany’s annoyance and perceived betrayal emitting from the capsule, and knew he would have to earn her affection back with treats the next time he let her out.  

White huffed and muttered something that sounded vaguely like “stupid dirt rat”, and kicked at the floor.  It partially confirmed his theory that water and ground types seemed to naturally be antagonistic towards each other. A useful little nugget of knowledge that Ingo could, perhaps, store away for another time.   “Would you like breakfast?” He called as he walked back into the kitchen to return the grooming kit to it’s rightful place. “We have coffee as well, if you would like some.”

White approached the counter and leaned over it, sniffing the air in the kitchen curiously. Her nose crinkled in distaste and she recoiled as if the scent had purposely offended her. “Is that what that smell is? Ugh, No. Tea please.” She had asked the question like she had done so for years and years, rather than what was, most likely, a little more than a week of actually spending time with Ingo and Emmet in their home. Her revived familiarity and comfort made Ingo’s chest warm and he couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. 

White wandered into the kitchen as the electric kettle was heating water for tea up, following Ingo around like a lost Lillipup and staring the supposed marvel of preparing a simple breakfast of toast and scrambled eggs. 

“Have you never watched anyone cook?” He asked as he nudged White away from the frying pan of eggs as she tried to, once again, sniff them. 

“In the wild, we eat our food as nature intended; raw.” She replied proudly, straightening up and tugging her skin tighter around her shoulders.  “Nothing at all like... whatever that is.” She pointed a finger at the sizzling mass egg dismissively. “At the shelter though,” she continued, “they serve us soup and veggies and crackers. We get fish and meat sometimes, but only on special days.” 

Ingo hummed in response. Sad as it was, it did make sense that a homeless shelter couldn’t afford to give their tenants anything other than what would sustain them. It ran entirely on the good will of people, and there were some who didn’t have any to spare. “I’ve tried to bring some fish back, but Eva keeps on telling me it’s unsa-...unsana...Unnnnnnn-”

“Unsanitary?”

“Yeah, that!” 

Into took the pan off the heat and separated the eggs onto two plates, ushering White aside so he could set the table and not get steaming hot egg on either one of them. “And I asked her: ‘What’s unsaans -tsk, that word you said- about fresh caught Basculin? They’re tasty and good for your skin!” She stroked her pelt lovingly to accentuate the soft gleam it had to it. “But she still told me to stop.” She finished her rant with a pout as Ingo set his and her plates on opposite sides of the table. It was a futile attempt, because just as quickly she slid hers as close as possible and occupied that chair. 

“She feared parasites, maybe?” Ingo suggested as he pulled a mug and a lemon tea bag down from the wall-mounted shelf above the counter. He paused, contemplative, before continuing cautiously. “Am I correct in assuming that, even in your human form, your digestive system is the same as when you’re a Dewgong?”

“Kiiiiinda..?” White replied. “When we shift, our guts have to be moved around so they fit our human bodies. It takes a while before we can eat anything in big amounts. We get used to it though, if we eat our normal diet.”

“Does it hurt?” He continued, placing White’s steaming mug of tea in front of her. “Shifting?”  The question left his mouth before he could fully process it, and he fought back the urge to clasp a hand over it for asking such an intrusive and rude question.  He was about to apologize for his brashness but noticed that, rather than insulted or disgusted, White’s eyes were shining with joy. Slowly a smile split her face and she began bouncing excitedly in her chair. 

“More painful than you can imagine,” she replied a touch too cheerfully for such an admission. “It feels like your skin is peeling off, and your bones are breaking and fixing themselves into a human shape -you guys have weird shapes, by the way- and our guts have to move around because -Sweet Kyogre! We’re human now! And-” White paused when she noticed Ingo’s increasingly horrified expression as she continued her explanation.  “...What?”

“Why would you do that,” He muttered, aghast. “Mutilate yourself yourself?”

“That’s only the first few times!” She amended quickly, “after a few times, it doesn’t hurt at all.”  Ingo sighed in relief as White, sheepishly, began smashing her eggs even further with the blunt of her fork. 

“...That raises another question,” he began. He took a bite of his food and sipped his coffee to steel himself before continuing. “Why did Selkies come on land in the first place? In the stories I’ve read-”

“-You read stories about me?” White chirped, grin returning. 

“-I’ve read stories about your...” Ingo cleared his throat, “about Selkies. There are some consistencies; some stories you come ashore to seduce dissatisfied men and women,” 

White scoffed and smushed her eggs even further. before tepidly taking a bite.

“Others say that you are called to the shore by distressed widows and give them comfort and love.”

No response but she sound of her being more bold with this new and interesting food. 

“There are others...” Ingo paused again and took a breath through his nose. “That claim that you are fallen angels. Betrayers of Arceus’ holy decree and condemned to a life among mortals.” 

White stifled a cough, then shamelessly hacked out some chunks of egg onto her almost completely clean plate.  She gulped her tea, thankfully avoiding swallowing the teabag, before she she composed herself. 

Her reaction made Ingo’s shoulders stiffen. Based on her reaction, was that the truth? Was she -and others like her- divine creatures who had been cast from grace for some sin so atrocious that even Arceus, in their never-ending benevolence, abandoned them?  

Echoes of the sermons he and Emmet had been forced to attend when they were children echoed in the back of his mind. Herald Matthew, with a voice that beckoned all of Celestic Town to listen, detailing the damnation and absolute nothingness that awaited those who sinned against The First Born.  The cold sharpness when he had told Ingo, naught but a terrified eight year old, that his parents were in prison and his little brother was plagued with seizures and nightmares because Arceus was cursing his family for aiding in Team Galactic’s heresy.... 

“-go? Ingo?” White’s alarmed voice and her hand patting against his cheek thankfully brought him back from whatever dark place his mind had decided to drag him off to. He blinked and, cheeks suddenly flaming red, realized just how close White’s face was to his. The tips of their noses touching. He could feel her breath on his face. 

“Just a little more and you’d be kissing her,” The illogical side of his mind from earlier that morning whispered giddily. “Just a little taste. You know you want to~” 

“I’m fine,” Ingo said with a chocked voice. He licked his lips, breathing in through his nose, counted to ten, then exhaled through his mouth. “I’m fine,” he repeated more confidently.  “Your reaction just.. caught me off guard.”

White frowned, several emotions flashing across her face before she pulled away and began twisting a lock of hair around her fingers. Her breathing came out in ghostly white puffs as she trained her eyes on her feet. 

“They got it wrong...” She hissed in a voice barely above a whisper. “The humans from when my mother’s, mother’s, mother was alive. “Aoife didn’t know what would happen. And the humans... the humans.” Ice sprang up from her fingertips I as she muttered the last two words like they were a wretched, disgusting curse. When Ingo noticed that ice was also creeping up her legs.  Slowly and carefully, so carefully, like she would shatter like the ice she was creating if he so much as grazed her,  reached out and touched a hand to her shoulder. Even through the thick fur of her pelt, she felt almost dangerously cold. Like if he maintained this contact for too long, she would freeze him.  White sucked in a breath through her teeth at the contact, eyes flashing frigidly blue for a fraction before slowly melting into the deep blue that Ingo knew so well. 

“I apologize,” Ingo said evenly.  White shook her head and clasped a hand over his.

“What for? You didn’t know. How could you? That story is hundreds of years old and humans back then... didn’t like anything that wasn’t entirely human. So we’re told.”  White smiled reassuringly at him, but it didn’t reach her eyes or her voice.  “Humans now are different. You’re different.” There was something hidden in the way White emphasized ‘you’re’. Something hiding underneath a thin veil that Ingo could see if he wasn’t such a Gods damned coward. 

“I-I mean... you’re understanding ...and stuff...” White finished lamely. She kicked at the ice at her feet and sighed. “I’ll clean this up.” She stepped out of the ice she had created with a sharp crack and kneeled down beside it. Her eyes narrowed in concentration and her hands trembled slightly as she hovered her hands above the ice. She gave out a long exhale and Ingo watched, transfixed, as the ice melted, gathered into a glowing sphere of water that hovered at least two inches above the ground and, in a flash, refroze and fell harmlessly into White’s awaiting hands. A large crack cut through the sphere from the sudden and drastic change in temperature, but remained in one piece. “It’s harder to do that as a human,” White informed tepidly. She gave Ingo a sheepish, lukewarm smile before walking over to harmlessly deposit the ice in the sink. 

Ingo knew that he should’t have been surprised. Despite all appearances to the contrary, White wasn’t a human.  The real her -no, no that wasn’t right. White was always the “real” White- the her that she had been born as was a water and ice type. A Dewgong who could probably drown a man with a thought if she so desired. 

Ingo took another bite of his eggs, swallowing heavily when he felt how cold they were on his tongue. As if he needed more cold to add to the growing feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

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