Work Text:
From the outside, it counted as miraculous luck, all things considered.
The swarm of Rouge Mega Evolution was endless; knock out two of those violent Pokémon, and four more would emerge from thin air to collect their revenge. Naturally, the Rust Syndicate was broken into several groups to secure their route, which happened to be connected to a nearby neighborhood. Not one of those enraged Pokémon could afford to sneak into civilian territory, though, and Corbeau remembered barking an order about protecting Lumiose with their lives to his scared, frozen grunts, before he took his post with Philippe.
That was two hours ago, and ever since then, Corbeau and Philippe were stuck in an exhausting, ruthless cycle of battling and healing their Pokémon team, swiftly maneuvering amidst the cracked ground and piles of rubble to cover each other’s back at all times; a dance that, really, only the two of them could hear the tune to tap their feet to. Despite the mayhem that had descended upon Lumiose, the night was not grim for Corbeau, when it was spent fighting with Philippe. Be it Pokémon matches or back-alley brawls, they have long established their deadly duet, and they were not dubbed as this city’s fearless duo for nothing. It was thrilling to get a firm confirmation that, even when there was no need for them to team up as often these days, that telepathic-like bond between them still sang when it was called upon.
But alas, they were only mortals; no amount of catching their breaths and drinking water could rejuvenate them instantly, the way a Full Restore worked for their Pokémon.
One moment, Corbeau’s Gyarados was holding off a lethal pair of Mega Pyroar from burning its Trainer into a pile of ashes, launching consecutive Water-type attacks to douse their anger. The smaller Pyroar managed to sneak behind Gyarados, however, and one well-timed Hyper Beam was all it took to knock his dragon out. His surprise costed Corbeau precious seconds to recover, and before the mafia boss could release his next Pokémon or put some distance, the larger Pyroar already bared its jaw open in a war cry, the tell-tale sign of a Flamethrower attack burning from the depths of its mouth; immense heat that no human could survive from, all aimed at Corbeau’s way.
In the next second, Corbeau was harshly pulled away.
The light that followed was blinding, yet Corbeau only saw it consume his surroundings for a split-second, as darkness soon enveloped his vision like someone had put a bag over his head. Well, except the makeshift blindfold was not a sturdy sack and was, instead, Philippe himself, as the man’s large back shielded him from the brunt of the fiery attack. His partner’s humongous Aggron had sacrificed itself to be their last line of defense, and as soon as the flames were out, the Steel-type Pokémon instantly succumbed to the stronger element, dropping to the ground in a deafening thud.
“Philippe, get up!” Corbeau hissed, looping both arms around Philippe’s left one in order to hoist his assistant up faster. The two Mega Pyroar were closing in on them, snarling with each step they took. Corbeau was not going to foolishly dump Philippe’s quick thinking down the drain to save him, so it was up to Corbeau now to ensure that they both lived to see the sunrise. His partner was not budging, though, and Corbeau’s stomach dropped to the floor when he demanded, “Oh no. Are you hurt?!”
Gone was the solid bravery that brought waves of respect from their henchmen, as even Philippe’s weak, but solemn nod has pain written all over it. Only then did Corbeau spot the singed fabric from his left calf, the fire eating past all the layers of fabric until, eventually, they burned his skin to a blistering red color.
The larger Mega Pyroar bellowed again, giving them one last warning as it charged for its final attack: Overheat.
It was no exaggeration when Corbeau’s short life flashed before his eyes, reminding him of how much he still wanted to accomplish in it; of all the dreams and hopes that have yet been breathed into existence.
Lumiose was still far from the ideal that he had imagined it to be, and with the chaos from Prism Tower stirring dirt and grime all over the place? The Rust Syndicate would be needed now, more than ever, to restore the city back to its pristine state. His grunts and the civilians needed his guidance, and Corbeau could not afford to abandon either of them, just because he was killed in action. Lysandre was up there on his list, too, and aside from the years-long regret that still haunted him to this day, he mentally berated himself for not seeking his old mentor sooner— that Corbeau needed to wait for his courage to be gathered before facing the older man, when all that he wished was to repay his kindness.
Then, there was Philippe.
All of the nasty fights that they had encountered to get this far into life has never reduced his loyal assistant into this: muscular body shaking from the poorly-hidden agony that it endured, as those wide-eyed, gray irises that rarely showed what Philippe was thinking now looked at Corbeau for a solution— to be saved from a brutal end.
Oh, and how Corbeau fervently wanted them to survive and live to tell this tale. It was not just about how the Rust Syndicate would be different without one of its core pillars, anymore— Philippe was the only man that Corbeau ever loved, and his right-hand man has tied himself so intimately to his everyday life, the boss simply could not imagine moving forward without his reliable presence.
Corbeau did not want the gentle greeting he got from Philippe every morning to ever stop, nor did he want a gaping absence by his side when he surveyed Lumiose’s districts during daylight. The office would be terribly lonely at night, too, if Philippe’s pitter patter in their shared space went missing all of a sudden, and all that Corbeau longed for after each day of hard work was to slip into bed with those strong arms curled tight like a blanket around him. It was impossible, then, for Corbeau to picture his breakfast, lunch, and dinner spent quietly by himself, when Philippe has always been there to trade stories and smiles for every occasion, making even the most simple meals romantic solely with his presence.
At that moment, Philippe must have shared the same thoughts, as the man put pressure on his bad leg and attempted to stand up again anyway, despite the world of pain that quickly overtook him.
Call it desperation, or maybe even hope, but Corbeau knew that if they did not act now, then this would be the end of their hard-earned story, and he has decided now that this was not the way for them to go.
“I’ll save us,” Corbeau whispered, giving a gentle squeeze to Philippe’s shoulder. That was all the warning his assistant got, as he had no time to question why Corbeau snatched the last Pokéball strapped on his belt, leaving Philippe to trust into the determined gleam that overtook his boss’ sharp eyes, when their gazes met. “I’ll get us out of this mess.”
With Skarmory’s Pokéball in his grip, Corbeau was forced to let Philippe go in order to grab Scolipede’s own. It was the craziest gamble that he ever dabbled in, but this was also their only chance to win and flee to safety— as their two ace Pokémon emerged in a blinding light, Corbeau could only pray that he would be lucky enough to hit the jackpot.
“You two!” Corbeau shouted, calling to their Pokémon. Once Scolipede and Skarmory had its eyes on their fallen Trainers, Corbeau grabbed his and Philippe’s Key Stones, nearly crushing their metal pins in his grip from the adrenaline that coursed in his veins. The mafia boss then channeled the love that he shared for his longest friend and partner, along with the hope to see their bond outlast the tests of time and space, just like what Corbeau focused on before tapping into his connection with Scolipede. He must be doing something right, as both mystical stones glowed harshly in his fists, triggering their side of the Mega Evolution phenomenon. So, riding the euphoria of his success, he then called out to their strong links, letting the shared protectiveness between human and Pokémon manifest to be the key to get them to safety. “I’ll protect Philippe, so I’ll leave you two to protect us! Now, show them that our bonds will persevere, and Mega Evolve!”
From the corner of his eyes, Corbeau caught the unmistakable awe and slacked jaw that overtook Philippe’s face, as their Pokémon’s magical transformation bathed them both in their iridescent sparkle. The emotion stayed there even when they had to wobble for a few minutes to a nearby building, not an inch of pain clouding Philippe’s amazement for Corbeau.
“How did you do that?” was the first thing that Philippe asked, when Corbeau propped him to sit against the wall of an abandoned pharmacy. Even when Corbeau was ready to part from his assistant to scavenge for burn ointments and bandages, Philippe did not let his right wrist go, tugging his boss closer to his face as he clarified, “I thought Trainers could only Mega Evolve their own Pokémon? How’d you get Skarmory to…?”
That was the million Pokédollar question for Corbeau, too, especially considering the mental strain that his mind currently tolerated, attention now split in half as he both catalogued what Philippe needed to clean his burn and ordered attacks to their two Pokémon through their telepathic bonds.
It was not his top priority, though, and Corbeau resisted the urge to glare Philippe into silence, for ignoring his injury in favor of an enigma that they could decode later on. So, the best option that Corbeau could do was cradle Philippe’s face and steal a passionate kiss from him, conveying every ounce of worry and fear that had wrought him as he deepened their touch. This must not be the response that Philippe was expecting to get, but the man was adored wholeheartedly by Corbeau for his persistence in adjusting to whatever life threw at them, and this was no different: Philippe simply fixed their angle, taking control once Corbeau’s intensity faded to savor the kiss into a softer, sweeter one.
The words were easy for Corbeau to find, when they came up for air with panting breaths, their hearts bared for the world to see in the fondness that crinkled their eyes.
“I love you too much to let you die,” Corbeau confessed, and distantly, he marveled at how his cheeks still had the ability to flush a rosy pink; warm in a way that the physical exertion and rush of adrenaline did not make him feel. The surprise that slackened Philippe’s face seemed awfully wrong to his heart, though, and so Corbeau vowed that he would repeat the message again and again until, eventually, the words clung to him as permanently as the tattoos across his partner’s muscles. He was determined for that to be his first order of business, once Philippe’s wound was properly tended to. “I reckon that’s what Skarmory feels about you, too, and that’s probably how we managed to pull it off. Now are you going to let me save your leg, or are you going to let me be Skarmory’s next meal if I fail in doing so?”
With their bodies pressed intimately close, Corbeau could hear the faint, rapid heartbeat that echoed from Philippe’s chest, but the man’s next action betrayed none of that shy nervousness, as he slowly moved to pepper the inside of Corbeau’s right hand with a fleeting, butterfly kisses, nodding gratefully as he said, “Got it, Boss.”
If Scolipede and Skarmory found them cuddled with each other later on, talking in hushed whispers about all the things that they looked forward to as a couple, once Lumiose was rebuilt?
Well, Corbeau and Philippe were simply cherishing the victory that their love achieved, after all.