ONESHOT FANFIC UNDER THE CUT
Auria was sprawled on the couch like the world had just ended. A pillow was pressed against her stomach, her expression gloomy, eyes slightly teary from a dish soap commercial that had just aired on TV.
âThey just wanted a clean sink, Guzma⊠and the Rockruff looked so proudâŠâ
On the other side of the room, standing frozen in indecision, Guzma held three convenience store bags, his face the picture of absolute panic.
ââŠYou cryinâ over the dog in the commercial?â he asked, voice half-loud, half-incredulous.
Auria looked at him, eyes glistening, nose red.
âHe had the whole sink cleaned! I canât even get up to do the dishes! You donât understand!â
Guzma blinked twice, then glanced up at the ceiling like he was begging Arceus for divine help. He dropped the bags onto the coffee table, grimaced awkwardly, and started unloading them like he was defusing a bomb. A strawberry chocolate bar. Some weird herbal tea. Three kinds of painkillers. A pack of pads (very obviously picked in a panic).
âYou didnât have to come, you know? Iâm just⊠PMSing. Itâll pass,â Auria sighed, exhausted.
He shrugged and wandered into the kitchen to pop the tea in the microwave.
âYeah. But the thing is, it passes through me, yâknow? Or did ya forget we got that bond goinâ on? You feel it, I feel it too. I dunno what a uterus cramp feels like, doll, but it sounds like a punch to the soul mixed with the urge to kill a man. And Iâm the closest man. So I figured helpinâ was safer.â
She leaned her head back against the couch, eyes closed, a stubborn smile tugging at her lips.
âThatâs a lot sweeter than safe, honestly.â
He came back with the hot mug (with a Leafeon on it, apparently the only clean one) and handed it over awkwardly, trying not to get too close, like sheâd explode if he messed up the angle.
âDrink up. Smells freaky, but Plumeria swears it helps. If it donât, weâll burn the whole damn tea box in protest.â
Auria accepted it, her fingers brushing his. The soulmate bond between them pulsed faintly, like a warm tide. On days like that, it was actually comforting.
âThank you, Guzma. Really.â Her voice came out softer, vulnerable. Honest.
He paused for a second. The hard look in his eyes softened, just for a moment. But his grin came quick, crooked, trying to hide that warm pinch in his chest.
âDonât get used to it, princess. Iâm still feared and hated all across Alola.â
âAnd you buy overnight pads with wings and packages of strawberry chocolate.â
âYo, I nearly died of shame at the register, alright? The kid at the counter called me a âthoughtful uncle.â I almost jumped out the window.â
She laughed so hard she had to hold her stomach.
âUncle?! I should menstruate every month.â
âYou already do, dollie.â
âNo. I mean you should spoil me like this every month.âHe made a noise of protest, but his eyes were shining; that messy, awkward, completely wrong and utterly sincere shine. He looked kind of proud. Proud that she was relying on him, somehow. -/-/-
The blanket was already a tangled mess around Auria when Guzma came back from the kitchen with two steaming mugs. One was tea (again). The other, his favorite drink,Tapu Cocoa.
âYou already had like, three mugs of that weird tea, so I made a swap,â he said, handing her the hot chocolate. âIf it doesnât kill the cramps, at least it makes ya happy for a few minutes.â
She accepted without protest, feeling the warmth seep into her cold hands. Guzma sat down on the floor beside her.
The silence was comfortable for a while. Just the soft sound of the TV in the background, quiet sipping, and exhaustion settling like a slow tide.
âStill hurtinâ bad?â he asked, not looking at her.
She nodded, making a low, tired sound. âA little. Itâs more uncomfortable than sharp pain now⊠but itâs not going away.â
She laid back a bit more, sighing. The blanket slipped, and she tugged it back up to her chest, curling into a makeshift nest. Guzma kept watching her from the corner of his eye, clearly restless.
âYou want me to⊠I dunno. Do somethinâ else?â
Auria hesitated. Embarrassment bubbled up, but the discomfort, and his presence, won out.
âCan you put your hand here?â she asked quietly, pointing just below her navel, over her pajama shirt. âYour handâs always warm. Might help.â
Guzma froze for a second. The âalmost-boyfriendâ part of his brain screamed. So did the âtough guyâ part, though that one was more afraid than proud.
âLike⊠touch it?â
âOver my clothes, Guzma. Iâm not asking you to reach in and rip my uterus out.â
He snorted, more nervous than amused, and climbed slowly onto the couch, settling next to her like she was made of glass.
Auria turned slightly, letting him rest his big, warm hand over her lower belly. The touch was solid, steady and warm. So, so warm.
âBetter?â
She exhaled slowly, eyes falling shut. âWay better.â
Silence again. The TV was now showing a segment about whipped cream desserts. Neither of them was watching.
Guzma kept his hand still, though every now and then, his fingers shifted just a bit, small movements, almost unconscious. A clumsy kind of affection. A gesture he clearly didnât know he was doing.
ââŠAre you shaking?â she mumbled, eyes still closed.
âNah. Just⊠my handâs somewhere it donât usually go, cutiefly. Gimme a break.â
She smiled, lazy.
âYouâve touched way worse places than my stomach, Guzma.â
âShhh. We donât talk about that when youâre feelinâ all soft and emotional. Youâre in that mode like, âwhy was the Rockruff in the commercial so sad,â remember?â
She let out a quiet laugh and snuggled a little closer, her forehead resting against his broad shoulder.
Guzma swallowed hard, like he was standing on the edge of some emotional cliff and wasnât sure whether to jump or back away.
ââŠYou gonna stay?â she asked softly.
âDuh. Where else would I go?â
âI donât know⊠somewhere where people arenât crying over everything.â
âNah. Hereâs fine.â













