Lucien

Lucien adjusted the strap of his pastel pink crossbody purse for the tenth time, anxiously smoothing the front of his short, ruffled skirt. His lavender-tipped hair bounced lightly as he shifted on his seat at the little outdoor café, trying (and failing) not to fidget. Sylveon, curled up neatly under the table, flicked her ribbonlike feelers against his legs in a soothing motion.

Stay calm, stay calm, Lucien thought frantically, twirling a strand of his hair around his finger. It's just a date! It's not like you're going to blurt out 'I love you' like an idiot, right? ...Right?

Then he looked up — and saw him. The man who approached was casually handsome, dressed simply in workout gear that somehow made him even more appealing. His smile, easy and genuine, lit up the whole world. Lucien's heart slammed against his ribcage so hard it nearly lifted him out of his chair.

He shot up, nearly knocking over his chair, and awkwardly clutched at the hem of his soft crop top, cheeks burning a fierce pink. "H-hi!" he chirped, voice an octave higher than normal. "I'm—I'm Lucien! It's really nice to meet you and um—"

The man chuckled warmly, reaching out to steady him, and Lucien just about melted into a puddle on the floor.

Don't say it. Don't say it. For the love of Arceus, do not say it, he begged himself internally. You literally just met him!

"I love you!" The words exploded out of him before he could stop himself, bright and reckless and so embarrassingly loud that nearby diners turned their heads.

There was a beat of stunned silence. Lucien's hands flew to his mouth, horrified. "I—I mean! I love... coffee! And... dates! And this weather! And you look... really nice!" he squeaked, voice cracking adorably as he tried desperately (and unconvincingly) to backpedal.

The man just laughed — a deep, genuine laugh that made Lucien's knees wobble — and gently ruffled his hair, sending his pink hair clips askew.

"I like you too," he said, smiling in a way that made Lucien’s heart do somersaults.

Sylveon yipped in agreement under the table, her feelers happily curling around Lucien’s ankles.

Lucien sank back into his chair, face flushed, heart racing, and a giddy smile tugging at his lips. Maybe blurting it out wasn’t the worst thing after all.

It had been three months since Lucien had moved in with him — a dream come true, really. Their little apartment was cozy and cluttered with all the things Lucien loved: pastel pillows, scented candles, makeup scattered across the bathroom counter... and most importantly, him.

Today, he had just come back from a heavy workout, and left his sweaty gym shirt casually tossed over the back of the couch before hopping in the shower.

Lucien stared at it. The shirt looked so soft, worn-in, and... smelled exactly like him.

He glanced around furtively, pastel hair bouncing as he leaned closer. Sylveon, lounging nearby, tilted her head suspiciously.

No one's watching, Lucien reassured himself, hands twitching.

With a small, almost guilty whimper, he snatched up the shirt, burying his face in it with a blissful sigh. The deep, earthy scent of sweat and something so uniquely him flooded Lucien’s senses, making his knees wobble slightly.

"I swear you even sweat handsomeness..." Lucien murmured dreamily, squeezing the fabric tighter.

Of course, that was exactly when the bathroom door opened.

Lucien froze like a Skitty caught in a flashlight beam, the shirt still pressed against his blushing face.

There he stood — dripping from the shower, towel around his waist, staring at Lucien with one brow arched in clear amusement.

Lucien let out a tiny squeak, frantically trying to shove the shirt behind his back — but he fumbled it, the damp shirt slipping through his delicate fingers and landing limply at his feet with a wet plop.

"I-I-I was just—!" Lucien stammered, hopping in place, his skirt flouncing as he scrambled for words. "I was checking if... if it needed washing! Yes! Super responsible house... boyfriend duties!"

His bright green eyes were wide and sparkling, and despite the embarrassment, he still looked ridiculously adorable.

The man just laughed, low and fond, walking over to ruffle Lucien's messy, lavender-tipped hair.

"You’re hopeless, you know that?" he teased, pulling him into a warm hug.

Lucien pouted against his bare chest, but secretly clung tighter. Hopelessly in love, he thought, his heart fluttering like crazy.

Sylveon barked once, like she was laughing at him too.

Lucien sat on the loveseat, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his cheeks puffed out in an obvious pout. His bright green eyes were narrowed in silent accusation at the man who sat across from him, obliviously reading a magazine, as if he hadn’t committed a crime against humanity.

Sylveon sat at Lucien’s side, mirroring her trainer’s energy with a low whine.

Lucien huffed dramatically, flicking his pastel-blue hair out of his eyes. He knew... He knew how much those nuggets meant to me!

See, last night, Lucien had carefully boxed up the last five precious chicken nuggets from their takeout dinner — planning to savor them later in secret. They were his reward for being "responsible" and doing laundry all day.

Now? Gone. Vanished. Devoured.

He pulled the fluffy throw blanket tighter around himself, sulking like an abandoned Eevee.

The man finally noticed, looking up from his magazine. "...Are you mad at me?"

Lucien gave a theatrical sniff and turned his nose up, refusing to answer.

"...Is it about the nuggets?"

That earned a betrayed glare so sharp it could have been an Ice Beam.

"But you told me I could have them last night," the man said, laughing a little. "You said you were full and shoved the box into my hands!"

Lucien blinked. Paused. Searched his memory.

And, sure enough — a hazy memory surfaced of him dramatically proclaiming, "I’m soooo full! Eat them! I sacrifice them to you!" He had even dramatically clutched his stomach and everything.

Lucien’s ears burned pink with embarrassment.

Still, he wasn’t about to give up the moral high ground that easily.

"That was... different!" he insisted with a tiny stomp of his foot. "That was last night! Time resets! New day, new rules!"

The man burst out laughing, setting the magazine aside and pulling Lucien — blanket and all — into his lap.

"You’re such a brat," he teased affectionately, resting his forehead against Lucien’s.

Lucien let out a little "hmph," but didn't resist curling into him, still pretending to be annoyed.

Sylveon, sensing the forgiveness in the air, yipped happily and leapt up beside them, snuggling into the mess of tangled limbs.

Inside, Lucien was melting. He’s lucky he’s cute, he thought, breathing in the scent of his favorite person. Nuggets can be replaced. Him? Never.

Three years later, their little family had grown — not with a baby Lucien had worried he might break by accident — but with the adoption of their daughter, Vivi. Bright, sassy, and full of fire, Vivi had fit into their lives like she had always been there.

Today, a serious war was being waged across the living room floor.

"Mama," Vivi said stubbornly, arms crossed over her chest, "fries are way better than chicken nuggets. They're crunchy and salty and you can dip them in anything!"

Lucien gasped, pressing a hand dramatically to his chest, the pastel sleeve of his frilly sweater flopping comically. "Vivi! How could you betray your own family like this? Chicken nuggets are life! They're tender, golden little treasures of happiness!"

Papa — sitting at the kitchen counter sipping coffee — watched the argument unfold with barely restrained laughter.

Vivi huffed and plopped onto the carpet, arms crossed in defiance. "Nuh-uh! Fries can be crispy, soft, curly, cheesy — they're, like, the ultimate snack, Mama!"

Lucien crouched down, pointing a pink-painted fingernail at her dramatically. "And what about nuggets, Vivi? Perfectly shaped, seasoned magic! You can eat them plain, dipped, in a sandwich—"

"In a sandwich??" Vivi screeched, her green eyes wide with betrayal. "That's just wrong, Mama!"

"You're wrong!" Lucien squeaked back, sticking out his tongue.

Sylveon watched them both with exasperated patience from the couch, her feelers twitching every time they got louder.

"Papa!" Vivi whined, whirling around to her father for backup. "Tell Mama that fries are better!"

Papa chuckled, setting down his mug. "I think you’re both adorable," he said diplomatically, "but whoever wins has to cook dinner tonight."

Lucien and Vivi froze.

A beat passed.

"...Chicken nuggets are okay, I guess," Vivi muttered.

"...Fries have their charm," Lucien mumbled, cheeks puffed adorably.

Papa just smiled as Vivi tackled Lucien in a hug, both of them giggling uncontrollably as they collapsed into a mess of pastel hair, frilly sweaters, and pure love on the carpet.

"Best family ever," Vivi said into Lucien’s side.

Lucien kissed the top of her hair, squeezing her tight. "Only because we have the best daughter ever."

"And the best Papa!" Vivi chirped, looking up with a huge grin.

Lucien’s husband smiled — and in that tiny, perfect moment, Lucien felt like every bit of his too-big, too-soft heart had finally found its home.

The sun had dipped low behind the Kalos mountains by the time Lucien finally returned home. His arms were heavy with shopping bags — mostly filled with groceries... and a few secret, naughty purchases he couldn't wait to spring on his husband later. (Once Vivi was at a sleepover, of course.) He hummed a soft tune to himself, kicking off his pastel sneakers at the door.

The house was quiet, warm, filled with the faint scent of cinnamon and laundry soap.

Lucien peeked into the living room — and his heart immediately melted into a soft puddle.

There, curled up on the big couch, were two of the people he loved most in the world: Vivi, now sixteen and somehow even sassier than when she was six, was fast asleep, her head resting comfortably against her Papa’s side. Her legs were tangled with his, and a soft snore escaped her lips every so often. Lucien’s husband, hair messy from the long day, had one arm protectively wrapped around her, his own breathing slow and deep in sleep.

Lucien pressed both hands to his mouth to muffle the giggle that bubbled up.

They’re too cute. Too dangerous. Must join.

Abandoning the grocery bags by the door, Lucien tiptoed closer, heart thudding softly with happiness. Carefully — carefully! — he crawled up onto the couch, squeezing himself into the tiny space between the back of the couch and his husband’s other side.

It was a tight fit, but Lucien didn’t care. He wiggled into place, resting his head on his husband’s shoulder, his pastel hair brushing his husband's jaw.

At the shift, his husband stirred, blinking blearily awake for just a second. Without even opening his eyes fully, he pressed a sleepy, affectionate kiss to Lucien’s cheek.

Lucien froze, cheeks lighting up pink.

Then, his husband mumbled something incoherent — something that sounded suspiciously like "love you" — before dozing right back off, his arm reflexively curling tighter around both Lucien and Vivi.

Lucien lay there, absolutely still, eyes wide and full of stars. He smiled so hard it almost hurt.

This... this is everything, he thought, feeling the warmth of them both pressed close.

In the soft quiet of their home, Lucien drifted into sleep too — tangled with his family, surrounded by love, and knowing without a doubt that he would never, ever let go.

The house was too quiet.

Lucien fidgeted on the couch, his cheeks flushed a soft pink as he hugged a throw pillow tightly against his chest. Vivi had left that morning to stay at her best friend’s house for a few weeks — a rare, glorious break where they didn’t have to parent at full throttle.

It’s fine. Totally fine. You’ll be normal, Lucien told himself for the fifth time, bouncing his leg anxiously.

Across the room, his husband was sprawled out at the kitchen table, sorting through some boring work papers, completely oblivious to the fact that Lucien was seconds away from combusting.

The honey-brown hair, the faint smirk of focus on his lips, the way the muscles in his arms flexed whenever he shifted—

Lucien let out a tiny squeak and slammed the pillow harder against his face. Control yourself!!

He peeked over the edge of the pillow with a bright green eye, watching him like a starved Sylveon watching a plate of Poképuffs.

It’s just because we haven’t had alone time in forever, Lucien reasoned desperately. It’s not like you’re some kind of wild beast! You’re dignified! You're—

The man stretched, arms lifting above his head, his shirt riding up just slightly to reveal a sliver of toned stomach.

Lucien dropped the pillow with a whump, his hands twitching.

Okay no, you’re doomed, his brain supplied helpfully.

He practically launched himself across the room before his better judgment could catch up. Before he even realized it, he was clambering into his husband's lap, legs straddling him like a clingy Sylveon, arms winding around his neck.

The man blinked up at him, amused. "Well, hello there."

Lucien, cheeks burning, buried his face in the crook of his neck.

"I lasted fourteen minutes," he confessed miserably against his skin. "Fourteen minutes without Vivi and I’m already..." He groaned dramatically. "I'm pathetic."

His husband laughed, low and warm, wrapping strong arms around him and pulling him closer.

"You’re not pathetic," he murmured against Lucien’s hair. "You’re just... passionate."

Lucien huffed, pulling back just enough to pout at him — but it was betrayed by the stars twinkling in his eyes.

"And if I don’t kiss you right now," Lucien mumbled, "I'm gonna explode."

"You better, then," his husband teased, tugging him down into a slow, teasing kiss.

Lucien melted instantly, sighing happily into it.

Maybe, he thought dazedly, being dangerously unsupervised isn’t so bad after all.