[Pokémon X&Y] A Torch in Search of a Flame
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teamflareTitle: A Torch in Search of a Flame
Fandom: Pokémon X&Y
Pairing: Professor Augustine Sycamore/Lysandre
Rating: T
Summary: "How are you so fucking hot."
Notes: Written for Writer's Month, for the prompt: heat. Title from Dark Saturday by Metric. Part 2 of the Bodyswap Saga.
AO3 Link: Here.
Being stuck in Lysandre's body, as it turned out, was like being stuck under four layers of bed sheets, while wearing a full set of winter clothes, inside a boiler room. It had only been two days and Augustine was already reaching his limit.
They'd gone to check on the musharna that was likely – although they really had no way to be sure – to blame for their current conundrum and found her still asleep. Lysandre had more or less managed to play his role in front of Sina – though he confessed to Augustine when they got home afterward that she'd asked him in private if he was alright, citing his less cheery attitude – and she'd explained what she knew about the pokémon: someone had brought her to the lab after stumbling upon her in an alley and noticing that she seemed unwell. Sina had taken her to the pokémon center, where the nurses had told her that she was fine, if perhaps a little weak, probably from surviving on scraps in the streets. It was when she'd taken her back to the lab that she'd begun to act strangely, as if she'd been suddenly dragged out of her slumber.
Lysandre had tried to look up what could be wrong with her on Augustine's computers, mumbling to himself the entire time – something about Augustine's desktop shortcuts making no sense – but had been unsuccessful. Then he'd tried looking up keywords related to what they were going through, and had mostly found stories about Bill, the kantonian researcher who'd accidentally swapped bodies with a pokémon he'd been experimenting on teleportation with.
They'd tried to find a way to contact him, but all of the numbers he listed as contact were either deactivated or led to a variety of voicemails, one of which explained that he was currently on vacation and would not come back until at least two months.
So now Augustine was stuck in a very large, very heavy body with a temperature comparable to that of a fire-type pokémon. It had some advantages: he could finally reach the higher shelves in the lab, for example, and the first time he'd lifted Lysandre in his arms the expression on his face – well, on Augustine's face, technically – had been priceless. The heat, though, he was having a hard time dealing with.
"How are you so fucking hot," he whined, for maybe the fiftieth time, as high as Lysandre's voice could get. He was sprawled on the couch, wearing only a light shirt and boxers, only because Lysandre had forbidden him from lounging around naked. "I need a shower. I'm melting."
"My best guess would be genetics," Lysandre said from the spot where he was sitting next to the coffee table, typing and scrolling furiously on his laptop. "Though there is probably a hormonal component."
"Oh yeah," Augustine groaned. He ran his hand over his face, marveling internally at how large it was. He still hadn't gotten used to it. "You're absolutely full of hormones. You're like a pokémon ready to mate."
Lysandre made a sound like he'd just knocked his knee on the side of the table, which was probably what had happened. "Professor–"
As always whenever he said the word in Augustine's voice, it took him a few seconds to recover from the sheer oddity of their entire predicament.
"It's only been two days," he went on once he'd collected himself. "We'll find a solution."
"Great, you keep at it." Augustine slid off the couch and straightened himself up. He still couldn't believe how far down the ground was. "I'm going to take a shower."
"Absolutely not," Lysandre said.
Augustine took a deep breath, counted to five caterpies, and released it.
"Listen." Lysandre glanced at him. The entertainment he got from seeing his face with Lysandre's frown and the tight line of his mouth hadn't gotten old just yet. "Do you want everyone in Lumiose to think you reek of sweat?"
"I– You." Lysandre worked his jaw for a second. "We took the week off."
"I am going to shower. You should shower too, actually."
Lysandre's expression darkened further. "No."
"Oh, come on!" Augustine held up his arms in what he now realized was a very him gesture and looked very much out of place when he was not in his own body. "I know what your dick looks like. You know what my dick looks like. Intimately."
He rolled his eyes. The flush that had already begun gaining Lysandre's – Augustine's – face spread from his ears to his cheeks at record speed.
"It's different," he mumbled, staring intently at his laptop's screen.
"It is different. I intend to take full use of it while we have the time." Lysandre shot him a worried look, which he ignored. "Right now though, I'm going to take a very cold shower."
Lysandre sighed but didn't try to argue further. Instead, he went back to typing on his keyboard, looking like a man on his way to the gallows.
"I promise I won't touch your dick except to clean it," Augustine said, his hand resting on the door leading to the bathroom. He waited for Lysandre to look back at him before adding, "For now."
Witnessing his own face get this red shouldn't have been this satisfying, and yet.
Fandom: Pokémon X&Y
Pairing: Professor Augustine Sycamore/Lysandre
Rating: T
Summary: "How are you so fucking hot."
Notes: Written for Writer's Month, for the prompt: heat. Title from Dark Saturday by Metric. Part 2 of the Bodyswap Saga.
AO3 Link: Here.
Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6
Being stuck in Lysandre's body, as it turned out, was like being stuck under four layers of bed sheets, while wearing a full set of winter clothes, inside a boiler room. It had only been two days and Augustine was already reaching his limit.
They'd gone to check on the musharna that was likely – although they really had no way to be sure – to blame for their current conundrum and found her still asleep. Lysandre had more or less managed to play his role in front of Sina – though he confessed to Augustine when they got home afterward that she'd asked him in private if he was alright, citing his less cheery attitude – and she'd explained what she knew about the pokémon: someone had brought her to the lab after stumbling upon her in an alley and noticing that she seemed unwell. Sina had taken her to the pokémon center, where the nurses had told her that she was fine, if perhaps a little weak, probably from surviving on scraps in the streets. It was when she'd taken her back to the lab that she'd begun to act strangely, as if she'd been suddenly dragged out of her slumber.
Lysandre had tried to look up what could be wrong with her on Augustine's computers, mumbling to himself the entire time – something about Augustine's desktop shortcuts making no sense – but had been unsuccessful. Then he'd tried looking up keywords related to what they were going through, and had mostly found stories about Bill, the kantonian researcher who'd accidentally swapped bodies with a pokémon he'd been experimenting on teleportation with.
They'd tried to find a way to contact him, but all of the numbers he listed as contact were either deactivated or led to a variety of voicemails, one of which explained that he was currently on vacation and would not come back until at least two months.
So now Augustine was stuck in a very large, very heavy body with a temperature comparable to that of a fire-type pokémon. It had some advantages: he could finally reach the higher shelves in the lab, for example, and the first time he'd lifted Lysandre in his arms the expression on his face – well, on Augustine's face, technically – had been priceless. The heat, though, he was having a hard time dealing with.
"How are you so fucking hot," he whined, for maybe the fiftieth time, as high as Lysandre's voice could get. He was sprawled on the couch, wearing only a light shirt and boxers, only because Lysandre had forbidden him from lounging around naked. "I need a shower. I'm melting."
"My best guess would be genetics," Lysandre said from the spot where he was sitting next to the coffee table, typing and scrolling furiously on his laptop. "Though there is probably a hormonal component."
"Oh yeah," Augustine groaned. He ran his hand over his face, marveling internally at how large it was. He still hadn't gotten used to it. "You're absolutely full of hormones. You're like a pokémon ready to mate."
Lysandre made a sound like he'd just knocked his knee on the side of the table, which was probably what had happened. "Professor–"
As always whenever he said the word in Augustine's voice, it took him a few seconds to recover from the sheer oddity of their entire predicament.
"It's only been two days," he went on once he'd collected himself. "We'll find a solution."
"Great, you keep at it." Augustine slid off the couch and straightened himself up. He still couldn't believe how far down the ground was. "I'm going to take a shower."
"Absolutely not," Lysandre said.
Augustine took a deep breath, counted to five caterpies, and released it.
"Listen." Lysandre glanced at him. The entertainment he got from seeing his face with Lysandre's frown and the tight line of his mouth hadn't gotten old just yet. "Do you want everyone in Lumiose to think you reek of sweat?"
"I– You." Lysandre worked his jaw for a second. "We took the week off."
"I am going to shower. You should shower too, actually."
Lysandre's expression darkened further. "No."
"Oh, come on!" Augustine held up his arms in what he now realized was a very him gesture and looked very much out of place when he was not in his own body. "I know what your dick looks like. You know what my dick looks like. Intimately."
He rolled his eyes. The flush that had already begun gaining Lysandre's – Augustine's – face spread from his ears to his cheeks at record speed.
"It's different," he mumbled, staring intently at his laptop's screen.
"It is different. I intend to take full use of it while we have the time." Lysandre shot him a worried look, which he ignored. "Right now though, I'm going to take a very cold shower."
Lysandre sighed but didn't try to argue further. Instead, he went back to typing on his keyboard, looking like a man on his way to the gallows.
"I promise I won't touch your dick except to clean it," Augustine said, his hand resting on the door leading to the bathroom. He waited for Lysandre to look back at him before adding, "For now."
Witnessing his own face get this red shouldn't have been this satisfying, and yet.