Sanguinifex

Chapter Text

Steven Stone, ever since the year he’d spent in Fortree as a teenager training his Skarmory, had followed the Treehouse City’s New Year custom. In the corner of his living room, he set up and decorated a small tree, to express hope that trees and Pokemon would thrive in the upcoming year. There was, however, a most Rustboro twist: instead of traditional origami birds, from the Rayquaza of iridescent reveal glass at the top, to the smallest bauble nearly skirting the floor, all were of tasteful, delicately carved stone—handcarved by him. All, save a couple notable exceptions.
As he carved out the brow ridge on the piece of biotite hornblende granite that he was slowly shaping into a Geodude, Steven heard a great rushing noise outside his door, followed by excited cheers and shouts. Pausing just a fraction of a second to put down the ornament, he hurried out.
There sat Wallace Sootopolou, sidesaddle upon the back of a Mega Gyarados, cloak blown back to expose all the glory of the elfin gym leader’s most daring battle costume, waving at the assembled, onlooking most of Mossdeep. In that brief moment, this stunning image was branded onto Steven’s mind, as his ever-after calling-card memory of Wallace, before Wallace jumped off his mount and planted a smacking kiss on Steven’s mouth.
“Not here in public, you tramp!” exclaimed Steven, slightly ruffled, “And what are you wearing? It’s freezing out here!” (It was, in fact, nearly 50 degrees Fahrenheit, but that is cold even for northern Hoenn, which Mossdeep is not.)
“I’m really not cold!” protested Wallace, who, Steven suspected, would probably rather freeze to death than not show off his abs to all and sundry. Yet indeed he showed no signs of shivering.
“How are you not cold?”
“I draw the power of Primal Kyogre, as the heir of Sootopolis, that the fires of Origin Cave may keep me warm,” proclaimed Wallace, drawing himself up imperiously—as much as one might do while wearing a sexy sailor suit, at least. “Actually, I don’t know. I just don’t get cold. Could have something to do with working in a gym full of water and ice, though.”
“Well, I’m freezing. Come inside. You’ve given the good citizens of Mossdeep enough fodder for BuzzNav to exclusively broadcast our relationship for the entire next year.”
Fifteen minutes later, Steven’s orderly cottage had become a whirlwind of slightly damp chaos, and not in a sexy way, with Wallace sprawled on the bed with one foot over the footboard and one on the floor, petting the now-un-mega’d Gyarados which had wormed its way under the bed with only its head sticking out. Wallace’s other five Pokemon were making faces at all six of Steven’s, and leaving puddles all over the floor. Somehow, strands of cheap tinsel had wound their way around the room and were leaving bits of plastic foil in growing heaps around the baseboards. And there was yet another indecorous, mismatched, and probably leaky snowglobe ornament on the tree, in addition to the four from previous years. As the berry casserole roasted and Steven carved ever finer lines into his infuriatingly cheerful Geodude, an especially loud hissing rose above the din.
“Wallace!”
“Wha?”
“Your Whiscash is spitting water in my fire! And it is washing ash onto my floor and leaking through my floorboards. I do not need a mold problem!”
Wallace sighed, pulled out a set of pokeballs from a pocket that didn’t seem like it had space to exist, and one by one collected his pokemon. Then, after pulling even the Gyarados out from under the bed, he got up and kissed Steven, more gently this time. Steven, suddenly much less bothered about the state of his floor, decided that now would be a good time to put his pokemon away too.
After a night in which neither got much sleep, Wallace departed for Sootopolis, taking his water pokemon and his tinsel with him. Steven saw him off, along with even more of the population of Mossdeep, and then went back inside to clean up the bits of tinsel. Despite the mess, the house felt empty with Wallace gone, and Steven resolved to invite him back sometime soon. Meanwhile, he’d start carving ornaments for next year. A Magnezone from Unovan chargestone should do.

Chapter Text

What happened was this:  After a couple hours of making out with Wallace, Steven got up to get some water.  As soon as his head got near the ceiling, he immediately smelled something burning.  “The berry casserole!” he exclaimed, and ran to the kitchen, still half-dressed.

The casserole was beyond all salvage.  Even the Ludicolo wouldn’t eat it.  Steven looked up at Wallace as he put the emptied pan in the sink to soak.

“Pizza?”

“Pineapple mushroom?”

"Ugh.  Okay, on one half, but I get olives and feta on the other half.”

When Steven returned with the pizza (no one delivers on New Year’s Eve, even to the Champion), he found Wallace at his desk (still mostly naked), flicking through MovieNav.

"Hey Steven?  MovieNav’s got all the crappy New Year’s kids’ movies right now.  Let’s watch Avalugg Express.”

“That movie?”

“Okay, we’re definitely watching it.”

They sat together on Steven’s bed, eating pizza and watching the movie.  And when they finished Avalugg Express, Steven got up and made spice tea, and then they watched How Darkrai Stole New Year’s.  And then Stantler’s Shiny New Year.  At this point, the movies were an alternation of background noise and targets of mockery, and Steven and Wallace were competing for who could choose the worst movie.  As the night wore on, the two cuddled closer and closer, until Wallace was practically draped over Steven.

Finally, while making the third pot of spice tea, Steven noticed the sky turning dawn-purple outside his kitchen window.

“Well, that’s another lovely New Year’s Eve drawing to an end,” said Steven.  “How many more hours until you have to be in Sootopolis?”

“The ceremony’s at noon, but I’d better be there by ten at the latest.  Last year the trainer I’d assigned forgot to put the Kyogre mold in the freezer.  That was awkward.  And let’s hope this year I can make the clay Rayquaza look slightly more like a Rayquaza.  Last year I overheard someone say that they thought it looked like a Barboach.  Oh, by the way, where will the esteemed Champion be officiating this year?”

“Greater Rustboro.  It really ought to be Dewford this year, but my father is scary and controls half the economy.  So instead of Machamp dances, I’ve got a frightful banquet to sit through, and then an interminable ceremony up at Fallabor’s ash fields that ends with me having to throw handfuls of ash all over the place all the way back to Rustboro proper, and probably getting half of it on my clothes.  I hate getting dirty.”

“That sounds odd, I recall a few hours ago—“

“Oh shut up.”

“All right.”

“Say, can you help me take down the tinsel?  I don’t have room to store it here, and it clashes with the tree.”

“Someday I’ll find a holiday decoration we both like,” grinned Wallace, getting up and stretching.