[Pokémon X&Y] Premier Amour
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teamflareTitle: Premier Amour
Fandom: Pokémon X&Y
Pairing: Lysandre & Trevor
Rating: G
Summary: Trevor wasn't lonely – Tierno, the dancing boy, had appointed himself the one who made sure of it – but he was, perhaps, subdued. If his friends were to be compared to colorful flowers, he was more akin to a clover, hidden between the blades of grass, waiting to be found.
Notes: Written for the prompt "redheads." Could be considered as loosely tying back to this fill, if you'd like. Also could be read as Sycamore/Lysandre if you really squint (or if you know me and realize that most of what I write should be assumed to be Sycamore/Lysandre, lol.)
AO3 Link: Here.
Seeing children united by a common goal always brought a smile to Lysandre's face. Professor Sycamore's pupils were an eclectic bunch. There was the new boy, bright-eyed and ready to take on anything, who seemed to be at the center of it all, and around him were his neighbor, a girl with the sternest look on her face Lysandre had ever seen on a child this young, and her three friends: a girl whose enthusiasm for everything was clearly unstoppable, and two boys, one preoccupied largely by his passion for dancing, and the other enamored with the study of nature and pokémons.
The latter was perhaps the most innocuous. When seen around his friends, he didn't shine particularly. On the contrary, he often appeared to retreat within himself, preferring to stay behind to take notes on berry species he'd never seen before and how the surrounding pokémons reacted to them. Trevor wasn't lonely – Tierno, the dancing boy, had appointed himself the one who made sure of it – but he was, perhaps, subdued. If his friends were to be compared to colorful flowers, he was more akin to a clover, hidden between the blades of grass, waiting to be found.
He was also, as far as Lysandre could tell, the least at ease with his presence. He often shot worried, even fearful, glances at him whenever they were at the lab at the same time, especially when Lysandre was exchanging with the professor. The others minded their own business, but Trevor always kept an eye on him. It was somewhat disconcerting.
Lysandre watched him, too, in a stubborn sort of retaliation. He was a small, thin child – frail would have been the bluntest way to describe him – managing to just barely reach over Shauna's height. His hair, bright orange and thick, followed the shape of his head like a helmet. When he wasn't crouching in the grass in search of pokémons to photograph, he was looking things up on his holo-caster or on his pokédex, or carefully taking notes in his diary, his minuscule handwriting hardly legible to anyone other than himself. The rest of his time, Lysandre soon realized, was spent yearning for Professor Sycamore's attention.
He was always the first to ask questions, the first to eagerly point out a new thing he'd learned, the first to ask for his pokédex data to be looked over. Every time Augustine spoke, he would listen intently, his eyebrows held together in focus, no matter how much Augustine rambled or went on tangents that had nothing to do with his initial point. If there was a reason to follow Augustine around, he was the first in line, raring to go before they'd even started.
Lysandre found himself growing oddly wistful from observing him. That pure kind of affection and admiration was one he could only respect. It didn't occur to him that it could be the reason behind Trevor's wariness around him, until the boy came up to him one afternoon, after Augustine had gone to the garden to take care of something.
"Ahem," was all that came out of Trevor's mouth upon stopping in front of Lysandre. Lysandre blinked at him.
"Good afternoon," he said, kindly. "Is something the matter?"
Trevor was staring at his own feet, his pale cheeks growing redder and redder as the seconds stretched without him saying a word.
"Um," he finally managed to get out, his voice so strangled that Lysandre had to lean forward to hear it, "could I ask you something?"
"Certainly."
This was a peace offering, Lysandre thought. If he made a good enough impression, he could gain this boy's trust, and no longer have to worry about causing him undue stress.
Trevor mumbled something incomprehensible, took a deep breath, let out a sound not unlike a squeak, took another, even deeper breath, and asked, so fast that all the words almost mashed together, "What–kind–of–flowers–does–the–Professor–like?"
Realization dawned on Lysandre and left him feeling foolish for being so utterly clueless. He brought his fist to his mouth in an attempt to disguise a chuckle into a cough and cleared his throat.
"I believe lavender is among his favorites. He often stops to enjoy the smell whenever we pass by Rivière Walk."
He didn't ask any questions, for fear of embarrassing him. Trevor, still staring resolutely at the floor, nodded once, turned to flee, and then, with an expression that Lysandre could only describe as abject mortification, mumbled, "Thank you," before absconding at last.
The next time Lysandre visited, a few days later, there was a slim glass of water on Augustine's desk containing four neatly cut branches of lavender, and Trevor looked so radiant that Lysandre couldn't hold back a smile.
Fandom: Pokémon X&Y
Pairing: Lysandre & Trevor
Rating: G
Summary: Trevor wasn't lonely – Tierno, the dancing boy, had appointed himself the one who made sure of it – but he was, perhaps, subdued. If his friends were to be compared to colorful flowers, he was more akin to a clover, hidden between the blades of grass, waiting to be found.
Notes: Written for the prompt "redheads." Could be considered as loosely tying back to this fill, if you'd like. Also could be read as Sycamore/Lysandre if you really squint (or if you know me and realize that most of what I write should be assumed to be Sycamore/Lysandre, lol.)
AO3 Link: Here.
Seeing children united by a common goal always brought a smile to Lysandre's face. Professor Sycamore's pupils were an eclectic bunch. There was the new boy, bright-eyed and ready to take on anything, who seemed to be at the center of it all, and around him were his neighbor, a girl with the sternest look on her face Lysandre had ever seen on a child this young, and her three friends: a girl whose enthusiasm for everything was clearly unstoppable, and two boys, one preoccupied largely by his passion for dancing, and the other enamored with the study of nature and pokémons.
The latter was perhaps the most innocuous. When seen around his friends, he didn't shine particularly. On the contrary, he often appeared to retreat within himself, preferring to stay behind to take notes on berry species he'd never seen before and how the surrounding pokémons reacted to them. Trevor wasn't lonely – Tierno, the dancing boy, had appointed himself the one who made sure of it – but he was, perhaps, subdued. If his friends were to be compared to colorful flowers, he was more akin to a clover, hidden between the blades of grass, waiting to be found.
He was also, as far as Lysandre could tell, the least at ease with his presence. He often shot worried, even fearful, glances at him whenever they were at the lab at the same time, especially when Lysandre was exchanging with the professor. The others minded their own business, but Trevor always kept an eye on him. It was somewhat disconcerting.
Lysandre watched him, too, in a stubborn sort of retaliation. He was a small, thin child – frail would have been the bluntest way to describe him – managing to just barely reach over Shauna's height. His hair, bright orange and thick, followed the shape of his head like a helmet. When he wasn't crouching in the grass in search of pokémons to photograph, he was looking things up on his holo-caster or on his pokédex, or carefully taking notes in his diary, his minuscule handwriting hardly legible to anyone other than himself. The rest of his time, Lysandre soon realized, was spent yearning for Professor Sycamore's attention.
He was always the first to ask questions, the first to eagerly point out a new thing he'd learned, the first to ask for his pokédex data to be looked over. Every time Augustine spoke, he would listen intently, his eyebrows held together in focus, no matter how much Augustine rambled or went on tangents that had nothing to do with his initial point. If there was a reason to follow Augustine around, he was the first in line, raring to go before they'd even started.
Lysandre found himself growing oddly wistful from observing him. That pure kind of affection and admiration was one he could only respect. It didn't occur to him that it could be the reason behind Trevor's wariness around him, until the boy came up to him one afternoon, after Augustine had gone to the garden to take care of something.
"Ahem," was all that came out of Trevor's mouth upon stopping in front of Lysandre. Lysandre blinked at him.
"Good afternoon," he said, kindly. "Is something the matter?"
Trevor was staring at his own feet, his pale cheeks growing redder and redder as the seconds stretched without him saying a word.
"Um," he finally managed to get out, his voice so strangled that Lysandre had to lean forward to hear it, "could I ask you something?"
"Certainly."
This was a peace offering, Lysandre thought. If he made a good enough impression, he could gain this boy's trust, and no longer have to worry about causing him undue stress.
Trevor mumbled something incomprehensible, took a deep breath, let out a sound not unlike a squeak, took another, even deeper breath, and asked, so fast that all the words almost mashed together, "What–kind–of–flowers–does–the–Professor–like?"
Realization dawned on Lysandre and left him feeling foolish for being so utterly clueless. He brought his fist to his mouth in an attempt to disguise a chuckle into a cough and cleared his throat.
"I believe lavender is among his favorites. He often stops to enjoy the smell whenever we pass by Rivière Walk."
He didn't ask any questions, for fear of embarrassing him. Trevor, still staring resolutely at the floor, nodded once, turned to flee, and then, with an expression that Lysandre could only describe as abject mortification, mumbled, "Thank you," before absconding at last.
The next time Lysandre visited, a few days later, there was a slim glass of water on Augustine's desk containing four neatly cut branches of lavender, and Trevor looked so radiant that Lysandre couldn't hold back a smile.