#outcomeshipping

There’s a crater taking form in Raihan’s stomach. It’s deep, grotesque, with sharp debris that stabs- hard , with every titled breath he takes. 

The locker room is drenched with silence. Which is laughable considering the roar of the crowd featured on the television screen. All of Galar is in an uproar from the very foundations of their world shattering from a single battle.

Leon lost.

Galar has a new champion. 

Raihan remains rooted to the bench while the rest of the leaders break, one by one, from their shock. But Raihan-he’s consumed by the crater continuing to grow and swallow him whole. Leon lost. The TV screen pans to the trainer who had beat Leon. They looked worn but glowing, excited to have beaten the unbeatable. And who wouldn’t be excited to destroy ten years of glory in a single turn of the tides? 

Raihan is being swallowed. By this weird, hollow ache that stings and makes his eyes see green. His throat burns and he wants to move but he can’t because all he’s thinking about is how Leon lost and it’s not because of him. 

He feels heat rise and fall and ashes stain his tongue as the heat boils. How can someone so fresh and so young make the impossible, possible? How could some kid come in and take the crown that Raihan had been gunning after for years?

How could someone beat his rival?

How could someone beat him ?

It seems unreal, and at some level, it’s not. Because he knew this would happen. He had a feeling in his gut, wiggling into like roots of a tree, when he first met the young trainer Hop called his rival. They had an air of change around them that blew, furiously, like a whirlwind. Like they could topple the very foundations of the world if they tried. All they’d have to do was act. 

And act, they did. 

They won. They won and Raihan can’t help but feel so feeble in this moment because who was he to call himself Leon’s greatest rival if he’d never even won . And then some new competitor rolls in and-

“Raihan.”

Raihan looks up but doesn’t respond as Piers and Nessa walk over to him. Concern is written across both their faces and his first instinct is to tell them to give him some space when the camera cuts to Leon. 

Leon’s smiling at the camera, talking about the battle and how refreshing it was to get such a formidable challenger. But he doesn’t look right. His eyes are bright and his smile isn’t reaching the way it normally does. It’s tight and his shoulders are too square-he’s normally more relaxed, more strong and confident. 

“Fuck,” Raihan goes to stand and forces down the weird heat in his stomach to worry about later. 

“There he goes, overprotective dragon mum Raihan ready to pick up their baby from the masses,” Piers drawls. 

Nessa snorts, “Are you on your way to grab your man and whisk him away from all the reporters? You’re gonna cause a scene.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

“We know,” Piers and Nessa say at the same time and if Raihan wasn’t already being tugged in there different emotional directions he would have started a brawl. He’s out and storming for the pitch. The crowd is still roaring, and the cameramen are still talking to Leon and the trainer who wasn’t Raihan that beat him. 

Leon catches Raihan coming for him, eyes wide in question before the realization hits. And Raihan knows Leon gets exactly why he’s here. The camera people cut their attention towards Raihan who’s storming for his target. 

“And here we have the master of dragons, the tamer of weather, Raihan entering the field! No doubt the self-proclaimed greatest rival of former champion Leon has something to say for everyone watching!”

The microphone gets pushed into Raihan’s face. He frowns and slips out a, “Absolutely no comment ,” because he goes for Leon. 

“Raihan,” the way Leon says his name is incredibly intimate. And vulnerable. And if it gets caught by the camera and microphones then the entirety of Galar would put the pieces together that Raihan and Leon have… never really tried to hide. 

“Come on,” Raihan takes Leon’s hand in his and leads him towards the locker room. “Interview is over! I’m taking him home! Good day!” 

As they’re leaving (read: running out of the stadium) the press behind them go into an uproar. But Raihan doesn’t care, and neither does Leon, who squeezes Raihan’s hand particularly tight as they exit the stadium. 

They manage to escape the crowd thanks to Nessa and Piers intercepting the camera crew. Raihan makes a mental note to treat them to drinks and food later. Much later, after him and Leon are able to be alone for a few hours-or hell, maybe even a day. Because Raihan can feel it, through their hands, and the deep shadow that crushes over them, that Leon isn’t okay . 

“Thank you,” he catches Leon saying as Raihan waves down a Flying Taxi.

Raihan looks back, eyes searching and face tight. Leon’s face looks dark, shadowed. His hat is still on his head and he’s biting down on his lip, hard. Raihan can only nod, his heart twisting as the taxi pulls up. Fuck. He hasn’t seen Leon like this in a while.

And he hates it. 

“Where to?” the Flying Taxi driver asks as they board.

Raihan slides in and Leon follows suit. They haven’t let go of their hands. And Raihan peeks as Leon pulls the brim of his hat down a little further, sinking into the seat. “Hammerlocke,” and he rattles off his address and throws a couple of extra Pokedollars with the instructions to make it fast. 

For the ride, neither men talk. But Raihan squeezes Leon’s hand every so often and Leon’s shuddering breaths become less and less heavy as the ride goes on. 

  /

  Raihan’s flat is pretty spacious, considering all the money he’s poured into it to make his home the ultimate bachelor pad. Though, “bachelor pad” wouldn’t really be the right terminology for it anymore. 

Once home Raihan takes Leon to his bedroom and rests on the bed. They sit together, side by side and the silence is still heavy. Enough that Raihan feels the cracks forming, splintering again in the crater he tried very hard to ignore ever since the loss. They haven’t let go of each other yet. Hands still tied and connected and tethered. 

Leon’s face is still shadowed, but it’s not so guarded anymore. The Champion Mask fading away now that he’s safe, and sound, and it’s only Raihan. Raihan who has seen Leon at low points, and breaking points, and near tears. 

“I,” Leon works, slowly. And Raihan presses his nose to Leon’s cheek, nuzzling. “I don’t know-I don’t know where to start.”

“That’s fair.”

“I was so sure I’d win. Even after,” another pause. Leon inhales, and exhales deeply. “After not being able to catch Eternatus and seeing them pull it off. Even then, I never-I was so sure I’d still be called Champion even at the end of the day.” 

And then Leon keeps going in circles and down tangents. Through winding alleyways of confusion and hurt, but also bursting through the doors of acknowledgement and excitement that Galar is entering into a new world where someone else is Champion. Someone else can carry the crown. Someone else can lead a new generation into believing that they, too, can conquer it all.

He does this all through tears. They start running down his face at some point (Raihan knows, because he was watching Leon carefully but he won’t say when) and Raihan pulls Leon closer. Has his head rest on his chest as he talks it out through the sobbing. Every shuddering breath, and shaking shoulder, Raihan holds on tighter and kisses the top of Leon’s head still covered by his cap. 

They sit like that for who knows how long. Until the sun starts to set and orange beams start to filter through Raihan’s bedroom window. 

Leon pulls back, one hand cupping Raihan’s face. Raihan turns to kiss his palm, holding his gaze. Leon smiles. “Are you alright?”

Little flowers begin to bloom in the crater Raihan had ignored in favor of Leon’s own ache. For a minute, Raihan doesn’t know how to respond. And really, the only words that come out at first are, “I love you.” which Leon chuckles and responds with a, “I know. I love you too.”

Of course Leon, sweet and scarily perceptive when Raihan least expects it, could tell. Raihan offers him a crooked smile, and goes to steal a kiss before he really responds. “No. I’m jealous as all hell but…”

Leon’s face on the giant television screen after his defeat crosses his mind. He wonders if he could stomach knowing he made Leon feel that way. With emotions surging forward he wouldn’t be able to properly acknowledge because the time and setting were off. Because the Champion needed to keep going in times of sudden loss, and continue putting on a brave face because the people don’t want to see their Champion feel . 

And then he thinks, would Leon have even made that face at all if it were Raihan and not the trainer who defeated him? 

Leon looks at him expectantly, waiting for Raihan to finish. Raihan instead, shakes his head. “Nah, it’s cool. I’ll be ok. I was more worried for you, though. I knew you were gonna bawl like crazy if I didn’t get you outta there.”

“I would have held it in!” 

“Yeah yeah of course you would. I saw that little teardrop trying to escape,” Raihan teases. 

Leon pouts, which Raihan can’t help but devour. A simple kiss that slips into something more intimate. As Leon’s hand cups the back of Raihan’s head, and Raihan slides his tongue into Leon’s mouth. They know each other well, in the way their mouths move in memorized fashion. The way Raihan bites Leon’s bottom lip just right in the way Leon enjoys. That makes him gasp, and his eyes flutter. 

Raihan sighs, gently, as they part. And presses his lips to Leon’s cheek. Enjoying the soft chuckle that vibrates from Leon. “You hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Bet. Let’s go make food.”

“Sounds good to me,” Leon gets up with a stretch that Raihan watches, lazily. Then Leon scrunches up his nose as he sniffs his jersey. “I’m gonna change first, yeah? I can meet you downstairs.” 

Leon makes a go for Raihan’s closet and Raihan may or may not lightly tap his bum as he goes-lightly! Leon shoots him a look that Raihan simply smiles back at, fang peeking out at the corners. 

“That was a tap for good luck so ya don’t get lost!”

“Stop!” Leon’s face slightly flushes, “I won’t get lost. It’s literally right down the hall.”

“Mhm, mhm. That’s what you said last time,” Raihan walks up to hug Leon from behind, kissing the back of his neck once before letting go. “I’ll see you downstairs.” he murmurs. Leon twists around so they can kiss, once more, before Raihan detaches himself and heads downstairs to start making dinner. 

When Leon comes down he’s wearing a pair of Raihan’s sweats and a hoodie. Raihan can’t help the small heat that pools in his stomach seeing Leon in his clothes. Raihan’s got a few inches on Leon, so his clothes are a little baggy, but Leon still looks tall and carries himself with the pride of a Charizard, still Champion-like. Still holding onto some semblance of regality.

Rotom flies out to take photos as they cook. Well, it’s mostly Raihan cooking and Leon handing him the necessary cooking ware but they’re still a team about it. And if Rotom happens to snap photos of Leon sneaking in kisses then! So be it! Raihan will make sure to post at least one photo on his social media sometime this week. But not tonight, because tonight-Leon is his. 

They retire to the living room, where they’re curled up eating dinner and watching the cheesiest Pokemon movies that Leon and Raihan can act out word for word. In the middle of it all are stolen kisses and touches and the flowers still blooming where the cracks in the craters formed. 

Leon cries a little bit later, again, before they go to bed. And Raihan holds him tightly, fiercely, as the sobs crash like tidal waves. Tonight, is raw. Losing is never easy, especially for someone like Leon who hasn’t tasted defeat in so long. 

But Raihan, rather ironically, knows a thing or two about losing. That it’s horrible dealing with it alone, but a little more bearable when you have someone else to lean in through the loss.

“You’re still as strong and brilliant now as you were before today.” Raihan reminds him, over and over. 

They fall asleep like that, with Raihan’s lips pressed to Leon’s temple and their legs all tangled.