Pokemon Oneshots

Ash x Paul // ComaShipping

Ash's POV~

"Paul," I said, squinting at the boy sat across from me on his bed. I leaned forward with my chin resting on my hands, saying each word slowly, "we are boyfriends, remember?"

"Yeah," he replied, a 'duh' expression on his face. "So?"

"So," I continued, reaching out to place my hand on his. He scrunched his nose a little, pulling away his hand, and I pointed at him accusingly. "So that!"

He shook his head in confusion, giving me a look like I was being weird. I was not the weird one. Paul and I had been dating for an entire month, and he still gagged most times when I kissed his cheek. Or swatted me away when I tried to hold his hand. Or pushed me off when I tried to hug him. He gave me a 'what?' and I gestured wildly.

"Boyfriends touch each other, Paul!" I dragged my hands down my face when he rolled his eyes. "They aren't disgusted every time they bump shoulders."

"That is an exaggeration," Paul said simply, and when I gave him a deadpan look in response, he averted his eyes and shrugged. "I don't like to be touched."

"Really."

"I don't like be touched most places," he corrected, a small smirk forming on his lips. I snorted, pulling my cap down over my face, and he allowed himself to chuckle a bit.

I pulled my cap off, reaching over and fitting it onto Paul's head. He readjusted it, giving me a side eye, a small smile still on his lips. I smiled at the sight. He looked good in it.

My eyes studied his tan face as he watched me. There had to be more to it than Paul just not liking being touched. I had never met anyone who didn't want to be touched by someone they loved. It seemed unnatural. And I knew Paul loved me, even though he had only said it once, a little over a month ago, in reply to my own declaration. 

Maybe Paul had just never been touched by someone he loved. The thought made me frown a little, and Paul frowned in return.

"Why?" I asked, and Paul thought for a moment before replying, face turned towards me but eyes looking up at the ceiling.

"Just not used to it is all," he decided. "I guess." I let out a quiet hum.

"Well, I love you," I said, and he nodded. I reached over and placed my hand on top of his. I could tell he had to put in an effort not to pull away. "And I wanna touch you. So try for me. If not for you, then me."

I rubbed the back of his hand with my thumb, and he turned his head away, rolling his eyes when he thought I couldn't see. He thought this was dumb. It's like he couldn't help it.

I didn't, though. This was important to me. I slid my hand slowly up his arm, sliding over his shaped, flexed muscles, and rested it on his shoulder, rubbing it soothingly. Paul tilted his head towards my hand, sandwiching it between his cheek and his shoulder. Deciding to take it up a notch, I carefully straddled his lap, my hand still on his shoulder, and he hesitated before placing his hands firmly on my hips. He gulped quietly, a blush rising on his cheeks despite the relaxed attitude he tried to carry. He bit the inside of his cheek, annoyed at himself and the blood rushing to his cheeks. 

I leaned forward, the brim of the hat on his head bumping into my forehead. He let go of me with one hand to reach up and turn the cap around, and after, I placed my hand on the back of his head, pulling him to my chest. He struggled only slightly before slumping his shoulders, relaxing into me, and slowly moving his hands from my waist to wrap around my back. 

I had never been this close to Paul, chest to chest, arms around each other, basking in each other's heat and each other's presence. And to think, all I had to do was ask. 

Paul's shoulders shook slightly, and I heard him sniffle into my chest. My eyes widened, and I panicked. Was he crying? I moved to pull away, but he only tightened his grip on me.

"Just hold me," he said with a slight rasp, and I was happy to comply. I let him cry silently into my chest, and I didn't ask why. I don't think he would've given me an answer, anyway.

So I did hold him; I held him until his face was dry and his shoulders still. We held each other for several long, warm minutes before he pulled away, rubbing at his tear-stained cheeks. I tried to fight my own tears. I had never seen Paul cry. I never wanted to again, I decided.

"Hey," he started, looking up at me with tired eyes and a soft blush still settled on his cheeks. "I love you, idiot."

A goofy grin made its way to my face, and my heart fluttered at the mumbled words. I could get used to hearing that. But maybe the fact that Paul didn't say it often was part of what made it so special when he did. He closed his eyes before leaning forward, planting a soft, unmoving kiss on my smile. It was over as soon as it began, but it still made my heart do backflips and somersaults alike. 

"Don't expect this all the time, but I'll try, okay?" he said, giving my toothy smile an unimpressed look before his face softened. "Promise," he added as an afterthought. 

I reached for his hand, hooking his pinky with mine and squeezing it.