"protecting the city requires sacrifice, at least after watching paxton that's my conclusion" - naveen
paxton who doesn't sleep enough eat enough anything enough because he's running around like a madman just trying to do everything. he's working to keep the city safe from the rogue mega evolutions, he's helping emma with all of her requests, he does work as a science research assistant, he's affiliated with the fucking mafia and on top of this he spends almost every night in the royale tearing through the masses of trainers just trying to reach the top because maybe it means that he can help more people. naveen seems to be the first character to really acknowledge what paxton is giving up to do all of this, and i think this really adds to his character as someone who is incredibly observant
in a conversation with the lovely @lesbrarian we came upon the idea of punk paxton. paxton, who after the events of the game realises that things can really go south, and that he isn't the perfect hero the game wants him to be. the reason they were able to defeat the tower was with people from all walks of life helping him. he acknowledges that he's dangerous and that he defeated the tower, yes with help from zygarde, but primarily through his own insane power. he's dangerous, but he's also supported and he wants to reflect that in his clothes
to this end i suggest punk paxton. paxton who starts to dress like he's dangerous, because he is. he's lethal and he's kept in check with the sheer love he has of the world. he will defend his world forever, and if that means allying himself with people like the rust syndicate and people like team flare nouveau then he will. his force is contained because he has this support network
black cargo pants with reinforced knees and sides of his legs for all of his roof running escapades, thick cotton shirt with painted logos of all that's dear to him, a love letter to all the people that helped him save the city he's come to love. a punk vest modelled off one of philippe's old vests, with embroidery showing off his pokemon team because the recovery time associated with a full back tattoo would be too long and he can't be out of commission protecting his city and his people. he keeps the hat because it was a gift from naveen. he wears the friendship bracelet lida makes for him and the earrings taunie bought him and he keeps a piece of all of those that make him him with him because it's the least he can do
Paxton who once he's able to sleep following everything becoming the least morning person known to mankind. Corbeau and Philippe trying to wake him gently, kissing him, petting him, talking to him. Paxton being combative and fighting back, uncoordinated swiping at them and incoherent grumbling. They let him sleep in at first, because it feels like he's catching up on years of insufficient sleep, and Paxton is self-employed, bouncing between the hotel, charity organisations, the royale and odd jobs for the syndicate. Paxton is of course very apologetic about it when he's properly awake, and vows to get better about it (he doesn't). Corbeau and Philippe find it very adorable
cw: implied/referenced smoking, trans female character still using he/him pronouns (non-distressing)
rating: t
genre: fluff
wc: 1033
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Safe for Me
Philippe comes home late that day, tied up in his own negotiations with some upstart trying to make the Rust Syndicate look frail and nonthreatening (a quick talking-to had shown immediate results; he doesn't think they will try to take over running the city anytime soon). It's been a long day.
"You smell like smoke," Paxton says by way of greeting, wrinkling his nose. Philippe knows that his partners don't mind his smoking habit, though they wish for him to quit (they have their own vices, it's only fair that he has his own), so there must be something going on. A date night he's forgotten?
"It was a long day," Philippe explains, exhaling the words more than he says them. "Some punks trying to encroach on Syndicate territory."
"Silly," Paxton says affectionately, "all of Lumiose is Syndicate territory. Go shower, I have something for you."
"Yes, dearest," Philippe says obediently, still leaning down to give Paxton a kiss. Paxton sputters, but it's more of a show than actual distaste. "You seen our better third anywhere?"
"He's gone insane and decided to take up sport for fun," Paxton says. "He's probably in Wild Zone 5 by now running circles around the Venipedes."
Philippe raises an eyebrow. "Intervention needed?"
"Don't think so," Paxton says cheerily. "He promised to be back by nine. Now go shower, you stink."
He showers quickly, perfunctory. It does admittedly feel great to wash off the grime of the day, and ten minutes later finds him in front of the large mirror washing his face properly. He's not one for skincare, unlike Corbeau, but even he can do a bit of lotion.
They keep spare pyjamas in the bathroom cupboard so as to not have to run across the apartment butt naked to grab a clean set (not that any of them would mind the sight, they're more than comfortable with one another), and while Philippe doesn't actually wear clothes save for underwear to bed, he does enjoy the sensation of wearing loungewear around the apartment.
The idea of white cotton nightdresses come back to him, or maybe something black and satin-y, something that slides against his skin.
He looks in the mirror, observes himself as he always does, before picking up the toothbrush. As he deposits some toothpaste on it, the name Denise comes to mind again. If he ever transitions (he's not sure if that's the right word, but it's the one Paxton had used when describing himself and his journey) he thinks he'd like to go by that name.
"Corbeau just got home," Paxton calls through the door. "Come join us when you're ready!"
Philippe spits into the sink, and calls out, "One moment."
Denise can wait. She's not going anywhere.
He leaves the bathroom, turning off the light behind him (just because the utilities are all covered by the Syndicate doesn't mean that they can be frivolous), and enters the sitting room where his partners, the lights of his life, are sitting with two gift bags in front of them.
"We got you something," Paxton says, and he's wearing his scary face again, the one Corbeau calls out when Paxton is about to do something especially devious.
"It's not my birthday for another two months," Philippe says, and there's the hint of a question there.
Corbeau tilts his head to the side, and his smile is softer than usual. "Is there anything wrong with getting our partner a gift every now and then?"
He sits down in his armchair, the one that's moulded to his shape and form. "I suppose not."
"The green bag first."
Paxton gets up to drop it in his lap. There's silk band tying it closed, and it takes a moment to undo the knot. When he finally gets it open, there's tissue paper inside, obscuring the contents.
"You really went the full mile," he notes evenly. "One would think you're proposing to me."
"Not quite," Paxton says, but there's a knowing smile on his face. "Polyamorous marriage still hasn't been acknowledged, unfortunately."
The tissue paper seems to go on forever, but finally all of it is on the floor. He lifts the fabric out of the bag and when he sees what it is, his heart seems to stop.
It's a dress, so clearly a dress. Black, a thick and soft cotton blend, with long sleeves and black-thread embroidery across the bust. It's hard to tell exactly how long it'll be on him, but it looks long enough to—
—to twirl around in.
"It's the dress you talked about a few weeks ago," he says dumbly. "I thought it was a thought project."
"We thought you might like it," Corbeau says, and there's the undercurrent of nervousness that he's been expecting all along.
"You don't have to wear it if you don't want to!" Paxton says quickly. "If you're uncomfortable, you can just say so!"
"I like it," he assures them. Words almost feel hard right now. They can't possibly know the significance of this. "I said I would wear a dress, after all."
Corbeau pushes the second bag, this one a dark purple, over, just in front of him. "There's more."
The second bag reveals the accessories that Paxton had off-handedly mentioned — a belt in the form of barbed-wire and chains, dark stockings. All the way at the bottom, there's a jewellery box. Inside is a pair of silver flower earrings, perfect for his pierced ears.
"You didn't have to do this," he tries to get out, and his voice doesn't feel nearly as stable as he wants it to. "This is far too much."
"One could argue it's not nearly enough," Corbeau counters. "Why shouldn't we make you happy?"
He can't argue with that. And even if they don't know the true significance of it yet, even if they think that he's a man that happens to sometimes like dressing up, he feels honoured to be seen like this.
"Thank you," he says. If he was younger and more impulsive, he'd have clutched it all to his chest, desperate to hold onto it. As it stands, this is his and this is safe. All for him. "Thank you, genuinely."
cw: implied/referenced sex, transfem character still referring to herself with he/him pronouns (non-distressing) note: this could read as fetishising crossdressing. they have an established agreement where philippe dresses up in bed, no discrimation here
rating: t
genre: fluff
wc: 431
"Cunty goth dress"
"You'd look good in a dress," Paxton says off-handedly one day over breakfast. "Have you seen those really cunty goth dresses?"
Philippe looks down at the eggs he's frying and pretends that the idea doesn't make his heart beat double time. "Oh?"
"Yeah, like, high collar, corset, maybe some chains," Paxton says. "I think it'd look really good on you."
"Is this a sex thing?" Philippe asks, flipping the eggs. "It's okay if it's a sex thing."
"No it's—" Philippe doesn't need to turn around to know that Paxton is flapping his hands around trying to find the right words. If Corbeau was out of the bathroom yet, he'd scold Paxton for it, for waving around a sharp knife. "—it's like. I just think you'd look good in a dress. You look so comfortable when you dress up for us. And it'd be similar to what you wear to work."
"I don't think a 'cunty goth dress' would be very intimidating in my line of work," Philippe says evenly. He's not out to his partners yet, but it's less out of fear of rejection, and more because he doesn't want stuff to change.
"It would be, though," Paxton argues. "You could wear platform boots and you'd be even taller and scarier. The barbed-wire chain on the corset would be lit as hell. Bonus points if you can detach it and use it like a really scary whip."
"You've had a lot of thoughts about this," Philippe notes, and he picks up the frying pan to deposit three eggs on Paxton's plate, and four on his own (he doesn't know where Corbeau had found such a large frying pan, it really is almost abnormally large). "Should I be concerned?"
Paxton grins brightly, eyes screwed shut and legs kicking out under the table. "Nope! Don't worry about it."
"Worry about what, exactly?" Corbeau says from behind them. "Paxton, darlin', I love you, but that's your scary expression."
"I don't have a scary expression," Paxton says, wearing said scary expression. "I'm innocent!"
"He wants me in a dress," Philippe says, and he can almost imagine it.
Corbeau stares him down, eyes half-lidded behind tinted lenses. "It'd look good on you," he ends up saying. "You seem so content in all the other things we dress you up in. Wouldn't you try on a dress for us?"
Philippe can feel himself flushing a little. "I wouldn't be opposed," he says.
"Great!" Paxton chirps.
He imagines it briefly, getting to dress up as Denny (Denise) in the daylight. The thought makes him feel warm.
