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teamflareTitle: Cultural Exchange
Fandom: Pokémon Main Video Game Series
Pairing: Professor Augustine Sycamore/Professor Birch
Rating: G (for this chapter)
Summary: Winter in Sinnoh does not agree much with Hoennian natives who suffer through it only for the sake of furthering their education. It's grueling, and freezing, and there is little comfort to be found. Maybe this year could be different, though – and maybe that difference could take the shape of a stranger from yet another region whose odd demeanor is strangely captivating...
Notes:
As soon as he stepped foot outside the plane, Birch found that he'd once again severely underestimated how much colder the Sinnohan climate was compared to what he was used to in Hoenn. He clutched his duffle coat around him, tightened his scarf, and tried his best to seem cool and collected when he spotted the familiar silhouette of Professor Juniper, waiting for him outside the Jubilife airport. Birch dragged his heavy suitcase behind him, the worn-out wheels scraping against the asphalt, and bowed his head in respect. Professor Juniper laughed, his face half-hidden behind his thick woolen scarf, and gave him a slap on the shoulder that would have sent a smaller man toppling over.
"How was your trip?" the professor asked, leading him toward the nearest street. "You've gotten used to planes at this point, I hope."
He'd gotten used to planes as much as one could get used to them, he supposed. The first few times he'd had to make the trip from Hoenn to Unova and back had been absolute nightmares, and even now if he'd been asked he would have said that humans had never been meant to fly inside giant metallic tubes – not that Flying while tied with a harness to a charizard or a salamence was much better. His tolerance had increased with practice, though, and thankfully, the trip from Hoenn to Sinnoh was much shorter. He hadn't even had time to nap.
They were in the middle of debating the merits of Flying when a beaten-up car slowed down and parked next to where the professor had decided they should wait. Through the lowered passenger window, Birch blinked at the stern expression on Professor Rowan's face.
Where Professor Juniper was blond, svelte, and usually sporting a large, welcoming grin, Professor Rowan was dark-haired, bulky, and smiled only when absolutely necessary, which was actually more often than one might have expected. As soon as he met Birch's gaze, his mustache twitched, and he granted him the privilege of one-third of a smile.
"How's it going, son?" he greeted him. Without waiting for an answer, he went on, "You go shove all your stuff in the trunk. There should be plenty of room."
Professor Juniper climbed into the car, leaving Birch to figure himself out. There was enough space in the trunk to store a whole donphan, by his estimate, so he managed to get both his suitcase and Professor Juniper's bags and still have some left. He carefully lowered the hood, mindful not to damage the car further, and hurried onto the backseat.
"I was just telling Cedric that I'd planned on getting my newest student to pick you up," Professor Rowan said as he began maneuvering the car back on the road, "until I witnessed his driving yesterday."
Birch pushed his scarf down to scratch under his goatee. The constant rubbing was starting to make him itch. "Was it that bad?"
"Let's just say I'm not convinced they have speed limits in Kalos," Professor Rowan grumbled. Professor Juniper laughed, covering the soft music coming from the car's radio.
"Kalos?" Birch repeated. "I've never met anyone from there."
It was Professor Rowan's turn to bark out a laugh. "Well, you're in luck. He's quite the character."
They made their way to Sandgem Town without running into anything more exciting than a flock of easily startled starlies. By the time Professor Rowan stopped the car in front of his lab, the slow rumbling had left Birch feeling sleepy despite the early afternoon hour. He could only blame himself for not sleeping on the plane.
Professor Rowan took one look at him once they were all out of the car and shook his head. "Get some fresh air in the garden. Cedric and I will bring your things to your room."
Birch opened his mouth to protest – and closed it immediately when Professor Rowan arched one of his bushy eyebrows at him. He threw his hands up in defeat and began walking toward the laboratory garden. It was only his second time visiting, but one had to be purposely obtuse to miss where it was: it was visible even from outside the building, a sprawling garden dominated by a very tall windmill that Professor Rowan had told him was there before the rest of the facilities were even built. It had been preserved as it was, serving as the perfect hiding spot for a variety of pokémon species, and providing, weather permitting, additional electricity for minimal effort from the strays that were kept in the garden. Birch had spent more than a few of his lunch breaks sitting in its shade and listening to the quiet sounds of water-type pokémons playing in the river.
He waved at the assistant scientists he passed by on his way to the entrance to the garden. Most of them still bore familiar faces, which was reassuring; that meant he wouldn't have to go through the mortifying ordeal of introducing himself to a bunch of complete strangers. One of them was monitoring the biggest probopass he had ever seen, and he stopped for a few seconds to admire it. Its iron sand mustache kept bristling, probably from whatever magnetic experiment it was being put through.
Once he'd finally pushed the door to the garden open and stepped out, Birch found himself walking toward the windmill without even meaning to. His legs felt sore from sitting for so long; climbing over the short hills while avoiding crushing some of the bug pokémons scattered about was a welcome exercise. He'd nearly reached the waterwheel when he realized that someone was already there.
Even though he had no reason to, he froze, suddenly self-conscious. The stranger was wearing a lab coat, so they had to be associated with the lab, but nothing about them was familiar to Birch. The fact that they had their back turned wasn't helping, of course, but he was pretty certain he didn't know anyone whose dark, curly hair was long enough to reach the small of their back.
Not to mention, this had to be in violation of some kind of lab safety code of conduct. They didn't even keep it tied!
They were crouching in front of the river, a little way from the spot where the waterwheel was beginning to stir the water in. Birch could have walked away, to another spot of interest, yet he kept slowly advancing toward them, unable to resist his curiosity.
Without warning, something splashed out of the river, so fast Birch could barely tell what it was. He was so taken aback that he tripped, falling backward and landing butt first on a flat rock, sharp pain bursting through him and making him yelp in both pain and surprise.
He groaned, shifting to massage himself, though the pain was already beginning to dissipate. Knowing his luck, it would probably bruise. He heard another splash and looked up.
"Huh," the stranger said. "Are you okay?"
Birch blinked. They'd turned around, and were holding what appeared to be a wooper, soaking wet and smiling with its mouth wide open. The stranger's face was also wet – probably from the splash – and they were staring at Birch with pale grey eyes. Their voice was lower than he expected, and they spoke Kantonese with the slow, careful diction of someone who wanted to make sure they were being understood. He couldn't place the accent.
"Yes," Birch said, feeling his face heat up upon realizing he was once again making a fool of himself in front of someone he didn't know. "I, huh. I got startled. Sorry."
The stranger chuckled, their expression softening into endeared curiosity.
"I understand. I didn't know you were here." They tilted their head in thought, and the wooper mimicked them, twisting its mouth into an "oh" of confusion. "I've never seen you before."
"Oh, um," Birch let out. He tried to push himself back up and nearly slipped on the rock he'd landed on. His legs shook a little.
The stranger bent down to drop the wooper on the floor and offer their hand. Birch stared at it, and then back at the stranger, who looked like they weighed about as much as one of his legs. He licked his lips and decided it wasn't as if this situation could get any more awkward. If he accidentally threw them both back on the grass, the worst that would happen was that his butt would get even more bruises.
Yet, when he closed his fist around the stranger's palm, he found their grip to be a lot firmer than he would have guessed. They hoisted him back up together, and Birch allowed himself to relax a little.
"Augustine Sycamore," the stranger said cheerfully, gesturing toward themself with both hands.
"Oh, Augustine," Birch said. He realized they were still holding hands and cleared his throat. "That's–"
"I am a man," Augustine cut him off before he could even finish his thought.
Birch felt his cheeks grow even hotter.
"Oh, of course, huh," he stammered. "Sorry. The name's Birch."
Augustine smiled at him, his eyes narrowing at the corners. Now that they were so close to each other, Birch could fully appreciate the grey of his eyes and the minimal traces of stubble on his jaw. The shape of his eyebrows, though they were nearly as bushy as Professor Rowan's, was too sharp not to have been styled that way on purpose.
"No first name?" Augustine asked.
Their hands were, somehow, still gripped together. Birch finally attempted to let go, and Augustine released him after a few more seconds.
"You can just call me Birch," Birch said. His palm was wet, but he resisted the urge to wipe it off on his coat.
Augustine's smile widened. He'd tilted his head further to the side, like he was trying to figure out what kind of strange new pokémon species he'd stumbled upon. Then, as if he'd come to a sudden conclusion, he straightened himself up and clapped his hands together.
"Very well! It's good to meet you!"
"Wait," Birch said, frowning a little, "are you from Kalos?"
❄️
There was enough to do in a pokémon lab to keep a man occupied for hours on end. Between assisting the professors, making sure the strays were fed, and taking notes for his studies, it wasn't as if Birch had any time or, Arceus forbid, brain cells, to dedicate to focusing on anything else.
And yet, he had to admit to himself that when he wasn't thinking about the different types of habitats in the Sinnoh region, or listening to Professor Juniper's lectures about the way pokémons were naturally distributed throughout the world, all of Birch's thoughts revolved around the enduring mystery of Augustine Sycamore, the man from Kalos.
It was kind of irritating, actually, because it wasn't as if he was that interesting. Once they'd gotten past introducing themselves, he'd explained that he was indeed Professor Rowan's new student, and was studying evolution under his guidance.
At some point, he'd started explaining something about some kind of precious rocks they had in Kalos and which could interact with pokémons in some way, but Birch had lost track of what he was saying pretty quickly. Augustine spoke with his entire body, something that Birch had never witnessed before. Even Professor Juniper, as expressive as he was, never moved his arms this much, no matter how passionate he was about the subject.
He'd been in the middle of enumerating all the evolutionary stones and the research that had been done regarding their components when he'd suddenly stopped to stare down at his watch. Then, he'd slapped himself on the forehead – so hard Birch had worried for a second that he was going to send himself toppling over – and exclaimed that he had to leave because he was late for watching over the incubator Professor Rowan had put him in charge of.
Birch hadn't had the time to ask why, exactly, Augustine was catching woopers in the lab garden instead of making sure he was on time to look after the incubator. He'd blinked once, and then Augustine was gone.
The next day, they'd bumped into each other in passing, and not much more than that. All week, Birch had caught glimpses of him, heard him laugh in other rooms, even found some very long strands of hair on some of the lab equipment.
He was sitting at one of the tables inside the lab, staring out of the window at Augustine carrying a few newborn eevees deeper into the garden, when Professor Rowan pulled one of the chairs next to him to sit on it, startling him out of his reverie.
"Birch," he said, his tone midway between amused and authoritative. "You're allowed to mingle with the other students, you know."
"I don't–" Birch started. Professor Rowan's eyebrow twitched, and he deflated instantly. "He's kind of a lot, isn't he? Even if I wanted to 'mingle,' it's hard to get a hold of someone who's constantly running around."
Professor Rowan's eyes crinkled, the only sign that betrayed his smile. "He's the speedy sort, that's true. His enthusiasm is refreshing, especially for his age." He breathed out through his nose, turning toward the window to watch, too, as Augustine disappeared into the taller bushes. "How often have I seen students lose their whimsy as they got closer to their objective..."
"He's older than me?" Birch couldn't help but sound incredulous.
"By a few years." Professor Rowan was really smiling now, his grin visible under his broad mustache. "He's going to be among the youngest to gain access to the field, I think. He's brilliant."
Birch pursed his lips. He had a hard time believing that – Augustine didn't even tie up his hair or remember the things he was supposed to do – but there was no way he was arguing about it. Professor Rowan gave his shoulder three gentle, comforting taps.
"He always eats lunch near the mossy rock, in the furthest part of the garden," he said, standing up from his chair. "I'd arrive early, if I were you: I'm fairly sure he only ever sits down long enough to swallow down whatever abominable mixture he's put inside his sandwich that day."
With that, and a quick nod, Professor Rowan left Birch alone with his thoughts once more.
❄️
Three days later, he grabbed the take-out he'd purchased from the nearby food truck, put on his coat, and made his way toward the darkest patch of wood in the garden. Once you'd reached that point, it was hard to think of it as a garden anymore: the trees, while not very tall, bore leaves and branches thick enough that not much sunlight could pierce through. Many grass and poison types gathered under their shade, eager for some rest after they'd fed off the sun and water. There were water types, too, though they were rarer, and the soil was always a bit damp, allowing moss and mushrooms to proliferate. The bug types, meanwhile, stayed hidden away, inside the trunks and under the rocks, which was for the best. Birch was not particularly looking forward to walking into a pissed off ariados.
He spotted an eevee peering at him from under some low-to-the-ground foliage and figured he was on the right track. The little pokémon, upon realizing it'd been spotted, ran off in a direction that Birch elected to follow. It led him to a clearing, in the middle of which stood one very large boulder, its surface entirely covered in dark green moss. In front of it sat Augustine Sycamore, cross-legged and in the process of biting into the biggest sandwich Birch had ever seen. He froze mid-bite, staring at him like a deerling caught in the headlights, and lowered his food to grant him an uncertain smile.
Birch squared his shoulders and took the last few steps toward him, feeling vaguely lumpish.
"Hey," he said, and immediately admonished himself mentally for being so awkward for no good reason. "Huh, Professor Rowan told me you eat your lunches here, so I thought, um... Maybe you'd enjoy some company?"
He could tell his cheeks were beginning to flush. He kept his gaze firmly glued to the spot next to Augustine's head, where some of the moss had been scratched off the rock, either by him or by a passing pokémon. The eevee he'd followed had slipped in between Augustine's crossed legs to roll into a small furry ball on his lap, seemingly unbothered by the intruder.
Augustine chuckled. He lifted one of his hands to his face and tucked a very long strand of dark hair behind his ear. He was still holding his sandwich in his other hand.
"Sure," he said, and went right back to eating.
Birch stood still for a few seconds, unsure of how to proceed, and then slowly lowered himself onto the damp grass, mimicking Augustine's posture. He put down the bag containing his food and took out one of the boxes, which turned out to contain spring rolls. He picked one and bit into it.
The simple act of eating made him relax enough to glance at Augustine's sandwich. From where he was sitting, he couldn't exactly tell what was in it, just that it was filled to the brim. Yet, Augustine was chomping at it with a dedication that bordered on terrifying.
They ate in silence, Birch moving on to the mid-sized portion of curry rice he'd chosen as his main dish, careful not to spill any. By that point, some curious – and hungry – pokémons had begun to emerge from between the trees and bushes, observing from a distance, not quite brave enough to come any closer. The eevee on Augustine's lap, however, had not moved a centimeter, snoozing away even as some of the sauce in Augustine's meal dripped onto its head.
A skorupi, its little head wagging from side to side, approached Birch from the right, so slowly it barely made a sound. He stared at it, his mouth full of rice, and lowered his spoon.
"Hello," he said after swallowing. The stingers on the skorupi's head twitched. Birch felt his stomach tense. "You, huh... You want food?"
Blinking huge, shiny blue eyes at him, the skorupi chirped. Its fangs and stingers vibrated. Birch blinked back.
It was, unfortunately, common knowledge among both his teachers and fellow students that Birch's luck with handling wild or stray pokémons was, to put it lightly, catastrophic. It wasn't that he didn't like doing it, or that he didn't like pokémons, or that he was bad at it – well, maybe that last one wasn't completely untrue. In short, he had been gifted the innate ability of Making Pokémons Want To Inflict Violence On Him.
For that reason, Professor Juniper had long stopped assigning him tasks that involved interacting with pokémons. At best, he'd help out when it came to taking care of injured strays, or when a pokémon required multiple people around for feeding or transferring. Even that came with risks; he still remembered the one time when he was last in Sinnoh and one of the shinxes they were monitoring got caught in some fencing and nearly knocked him out with the strongest Spark he'd ever had the misfortune of experiencing while he was trying to rescue her.
As a result, he couldn't help but be a little on edge when pokémons, even ones who were otherwise well-disciplined, came into contact with him. A stray skorupi from Professor Rowan's garden, as far as he was concerned, did not count as well-disciplined. Even if it hadn't yet stung him.
More importantly... He didn't want to look like an idiot in front of Augustine. They hadn't even talked yet. He'd been planning on taking it slow, just hanging out while they ate, and then striking up a conversation once they were done. Now he had to deal with potentially getting poisoned by a pokémon and Augustine needing to escort him to the infirmary or something.
Embarrassing.
The skorupi wagged its clawed tail. Birch opened his mouth to say something else – which, at this point, was probably going to be "here, go fetch this" while he threw the last spring roll he'd saved up for later – when the pokémon turned its head toward where Augustine was sitting.
Augustine clicked his tongue, holding out the small piece of bread he was left with, and said something that Birch didn't understand. The skorupi's stingers fluttered for a second, and then it dashed off to grab the offered food.
To Birch's astonishment, the skorupi not only lowered both stingers and tail, but it ate directly from Augustine's hand, nibbling on the bread until there was nothing left. Then, after gracefully accepting a single head pat, it scurried away, back into the darkness.
Something in Birch's expression must have been very entertaining, because Augustine laughed, giggling almost, so loudly he woke up the eevee, who opened one eye and then closed it again.
"Sorry," Augustine said, "you looked scared, so I wanted to help."
"I wasn't scared," Birch replied, too fast. He knew he was blushing again, which did nothing to help. "Thank you, though."
He dragged his spoon along the sides of the take-out box, to try to scrape off the last grains of rice stuck there.
"Professor Rowan told me you get injured all the time." Augustine's tone wasn't mocking, merely matter-of-fact, but Birch couldn't help but tense. "You must be very brave to still pursue a career in pokébiology."
Birch's face was definitely burning up. He distracted himself from the feeling by shoveling what was left of his curry rice into his mouth and chewing.
Then, he said, "I'm just not very good with pokémons." And, because he was already being too earnest, and it wasn't like he could impress Augustine anymore anyway, he added, "I think they don't like me much. As a rule."
"That can't be true!" Augustine exclaimed, with a lot more emphasis than Birch thought was necessary. "Sometimes you just have to try a different approach."
He stood up, carefully picking up the eevee still on his lap, and went to sit closer to where Birch was, his now empty box of curry rice balanced on one of his thighs. Augustine waited for him to put it aside before coaxing the eevee into opening its eyes.
"I don't know if this is a good idea," Birch attempted to protest, but the eevee was already climbing over his leg, sniffing him warily.
"His name's Pétri, by the way," Augustine said. He was smiling, his eyes following the eevee as he bumped his nose into Birch's soft – and very full – belly. "I'm studying how a pokémon's environment affects its evolution patterns."
Indeed, Birch thought he remembered him mentioning something like that when they'd first met. Pétri was now standing on his hind legs, two paws firmly pressed on his chest, and sniffing the underside of his jaw. Birch scratched under his goatee, weirdly self-conscious about the lingering smell of take-out curry on him.
"See? He likes you," Augustine went on, right before Pétri decided to sink his teeth into Birch's hand, which was now very close to his snout.
It didn't hurt that much, in the grand scheme of things, but it took him by surprise, making him jump and shout, scaring Pétri in turn, who tightened the grip of his jaw where he'd just bitten him. To his credit, Augustine instantly dove in to separate them, his cheeks flushing. It took merely a few mumbled words that Birch didn't quite catch for the little pokémon to let go of him, settling into Augustine's lap once more, though not without shooting Birch a – kind of adorable, actually – glare.
"I'm sorry," Augustine said, blinking rapidly. All of his face had gone pale pink, with some darker spots high on his cheeks. Strands of dark hair fell in front of his face, hiding most of it from view. "I didn't think he would do that. He's very well-behaved..."
Birch chuckled. He turned his hand over to check the damage. The bite wasn't very deep, though there were some traces of blood pooling at the surface. However it was, he'd need to get it cleaned up either way.
"I told you. Pokémons don't like me."
Augustine frowned. With his hair like this, Birch could see that his ears had gone redder, too. "No way. I'm sure there's an explanation."
He pet Pétri from the top of his head down to the base of his tail, over and over, as if the gesture was helping him think. Birch scratched one of his eyebrows with his uninjured hand, unsure of what to say to that.
Everybody else – at Professor Rowan's or Juniper's lab, or back at home in Hoenn – had more or less accepted that Birch's relationship with pokémons was... fraught. It was just the way things were: sky's blue, water's wet, don't ask Birch to petsit your vulpix because he will get burnt. He'd grown used to being teased about it. If anything, it gave him something interesting or funny to use as an icebreaker when meeting new people in the field.
Looking at the concerned expression on Augustine's face, someone who'd only known him for less than a week, he thought that maybe he kind of enjoyed the novelty of not being made fun of or dismissed as incompetent or unlucky.
"Do you bathe?" Augustine asked. He was still frowning.
Birch felt his whole body grow hot with a sudden spike of shame mixed with indignation. "H–huh, of course?"
"Maybe you have a very strong smell," Augustine mused. Pétri yawned, showing off his sharp little fangs.
"You–" Birch nearly hiccuped, his voice way louder than he'd meant for it to come out. "Are you making fun of me?"
Augustine stared at him blankly. "No? I'm trying to find a logical explanation for this. If your natural body odor is appetizing to pokémons..."
If he'd been able to see himself in a mirror, Birch suspected that his face would have been the color of a slugma.
"Appetizing?" he repeated. "What, you think pokémons attack me because I taste good?"
"Why not? It makes as much sense as every pokémon in the world hating you." Augustine's expression had mellowed out once again, though the grey of his eyes was now lit with what Birch figured was determination – or stubbornness. "Actually, it makes a lot more sense, because pheromones are a thing, and being born unlikable isn't."
"The unlikability could be caused by pheromones as well," Birch argued. He could feel that he was still blushing, but he was relaxing a little, coming around to the absurdity of the situation. He looked down at his wounded hand, where the blood had begun to dry, and added quickly, before Augustine could open his mouth, "Anyway, this is ridiculous. I need to get this cleaned up or Professor Rowan will bite my head off."
"This is my fault," Augustine said. Even through the rough edges of his accent, Birch could hear that he would not be deterred. "I'll take you to the infirmary."
With that, he hoisted Pétri up, one palm under his belly, and tucked him in one of the large pockets of his coat. The eevee let out a little yawn, sort of like a squeak, and settled down. Sleeping seemed to be his main priority at all times.
They gathered the rest of their things in silence. Birch's hand didn't hurt that much anymore, mostly stung at the spot where he'd been bitten, but he still tried to make sure he didn't put too much strain on it, if only so that he didn't make Augustine worry any further.
Seeing him so concerned for his well-being made Birch feel flustered for reasons he couldn't put his finger on. It wasn't so much that people were usually dismissive of his issues with pokémons; nobody was ever cruel or mean about it, just kind of annoyed at worst, which was understandable. They mostly left him to deal with it on his own, was the thing. Once or twice, one of the younger assistants had patched him up in a hurry, and that was that. The other students were more likely to avoid him than anything else, in case his bad luck was somehow contagious.
Augustine smiled at Birch when he caught him staring, which only worsened his turmoil. They'd walked through the foliage, trying to get back as quickly as possible, and there were sticks and leaves stuck in Augustine's messy hair. He looked like he'd been living in the woods for months.
"Why don't you tie your hair?" Birch asked. Augustine tilted his head at him, so he added, "Isn't it, huh, a safety hazard?"
"I tie it when it gets in the way," Augustine said with a half-shrug. He ran his fingers through the strands, apparently not that surprised to find it full of greenery. "Professor Rowan didn't say anything about it being..." He frowned, trying to recall the term Birch used. "A safety hazard."
There wasn't much point in arguing with that, so Birch nodded.
Upon reaching the infirmary, they found it empty, though the door was left unlocked. Birch couldn't help but feel relief that he wouldn't risk getting teased for once again getting himself into trouble with a pokémon. He moved to look through the cabinets for bandages, but Augustine gripped his shoulder surprisingly firmly. With how thin his arms were, Birch hadn't thought he'd be that strong.
"Sit down," Augustine said. He had that stubborn look on his face again. "I'll take care of it."
Birch's heartbeat resonated through his skull. What was this guy's deal, really? Where did he get off having this much confidence while looking like the wind could blow him away at any moment?
He decided that the feelings brewing within him had to be born out of annoyance. There was no other way to justify it. Still, he sat down on the edge of the examination table and waited with his injured hand held up in front of him.
Augustine rummaged through the drawers, humming softly to himself, until he found a pack of bandages and some antiseptic spray. Then he took Birch's hand in his and smiled at him gently.
"It might sting a little," he said.
Coming from someone else, it could have felt condescending, like he was talking to a small child, but, at that moment, Birch felt more like he was a pokémon that was being doted on. He nodded, and watched Augustine spritz some of the spray on the bite before wiping the excess gently with a tissue.
"There you go!" Augustine exclaimed after applying a bandage on top.
Birch opened his mouth to thank him. Before he could even pronounce one syllable, Augustine leaned in and planted a kiss right where he'd just bandaged him.
"Huh," was all that Birch managed to come up with.
"Oh!" Augustine choked out. He pulled away, his cheeks flushing bright red, and covered his face in embarrassment. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm used to doing that with the strays we patch up, so I did it without thinking." He grimaced. His gaze drifted down to stare at the tiled floor under his feet. "I'm really sorry."
"It's fine," Birch said, over the thumping sound of his pulse beating inside his ears. He suspected his face was just as red as Augustine's. "It's okay! I, um. Thank you."
He scratched the back of his neck with his newly healed hand. The spot where the bandage was felt itchy, though he couldn't tell whether it was from the bandage itself or from the kiss.
"Really, it's fine," Birch repeated. He figured the awkwardness could be payback for having made a fool of himself with Pétri. "I thought maybe it was some Kalosian thing I didn't know about," he said, in an attempt to lighten the mood.
It worked, sort of. Augustine's blush didn't fade, but the corners of his lips lifted a little, and he tentatively glanced at Birch.
"Because of all the kissing you guys do," Birch went on, bolstered by his apparent success. "You know, like, on the cheeks and stuff." He rubbed under his goatee with his thumb. Augustine was grinning at him openly now, his expression less mortified and more mischievous. "To say hello?"
"I see," Augustine said.
He looked like he was fighting back a laugh. His hair had fallen in front of his eyes when he'd turned his face down in shame, and so he was stealing glances at Birch through strands of dark hair that shone blue and purple under the harsh overhead light of the infirmary.
"I didn't know that was the kind of reputation we have," Augustine went on. The tone in which he'd said it made it clear that it was a lie. "You're from Hoenn, right?"
Birch nodded. He felt more relaxed now that they'd both done something that made them look stupid. His heart was still beating too fast for his liking, but it was manageable.
"I'm from Littleroot," he said. "It's, huh, in the southwest."
Maybe expecting a foreigner to know about his small hometown was a bit of a stretch.
"I thought so! I've gotten pretty good at identifying the Kantonese dialects." Augustine beamed, all traces of his earlier self-consciousness forgotten. He brushed his hair out of his face, tucking most of it behind one of his ears, and grinned. "But... I don't think I know enough about Hoenn to find a cliché I could use against you."
Feigning a deep reflection, Birch tugged and rubbed at his facial hair, his eyes narrowed. "Well, we've got a lot of water. Not sure what you can do with that. Maybe... argue that I'm secretly a fish pokémon?"
It was barely a joke, even by his standards, yet Augustine laughed, his shoulders shaking so much that Pétri's head poked out of his pocket, confused as to what had warranted all that racket. Birch found himself thinking that maybe he was better at befriending weird Kalosian guys than he'd given himself credit for.
Fandom: Pokémon Main Video Game Series
Pairing: Professor Augustine Sycamore/Professor Birch
Rating: G (for this chapter)
Summary: Winter in Sinnoh does not agree much with Hoennian natives who suffer through it only for the sake of furthering their education. It's grueling, and freezing, and there is little comfort to be found. Maybe this year could be different, though – and maybe that difference could take the shape of a stranger from yet another region whose odd demeanor is strangely captivating...
Notes:
Hi 👐 I started working on this fic in January 2023. I moved in November of that same year, and then moved again 10+ times since then. I've been writing it little by little, putting it down and then picking it back up, and mentioning it here and there on Tumblr et al. A lot of what's in it is actually based on concepts I came up with even earlier than that, art I drew of Birch and Sycamore being fellow students from all the way back in 2015, which makes me feel bonkers insane to think about.AO3 Link: Here.
This year has been complicated for me creatively, especially irt writing, and this project was at the back of my mind all the time. I wanted to wait until I was done writing all of it before posting it, but at this point it's been over two years of writing on and off and over a decade of daydreaming also on and off, and I'm hoping that maybe unveiling the beginning will get my brain to finish it before 2025 is over and Z-A is upon us. No update schedule because I don't know!!! If/when I post the second chapter, it will hopefully be with a writing update.
I have 4/5 chapters written and the last one probably a third of the way done. There will be a bonus chapter/epilogue as well. I went over this first chapter a lot but there is a strong possibility that I'll still allow myself some last minute edits once everything is ready; stating this just for the sake of transparency. The fic is rated E because there will be sex scenes later on, but the first two chapters are 100% sex-free.
As I'm sure you expect, this story is 100% speculative and based on nothing canonical (except the fact that Prof. Rowan was Augustine's mentor.) Birch is my favorite Pokémon Professor so I just wanted him to get to stumble upon a twink he inadvertently caught in his bear trap as a treat. If this turns out to be something you're also into, I'd really appreciate you letting me know that you've read and enjoyed 💗
CHAPTERS NAVIGATION
fresh snow / tbc
As soon as he stepped foot outside the plane, Birch found that he'd once again severely underestimated how much colder the Sinnohan climate was compared to what he was used to in Hoenn. He clutched his duffle coat around him, tightened his scarf, and tried his best to seem cool and collected when he spotted the familiar silhouette of Professor Juniper, waiting for him outside the Jubilife airport. Birch dragged his heavy suitcase behind him, the worn-out wheels scraping against the asphalt, and bowed his head in respect. Professor Juniper laughed, his face half-hidden behind his thick woolen scarf, and gave him a slap on the shoulder that would have sent a smaller man toppling over.
"How was your trip?" the professor asked, leading him toward the nearest street. "You've gotten used to planes at this point, I hope."
He'd gotten used to planes as much as one could get used to them, he supposed. The first few times he'd had to make the trip from Hoenn to Unova and back had been absolute nightmares, and even now if he'd been asked he would have said that humans had never been meant to fly inside giant metallic tubes – not that Flying while tied with a harness to a charizard or a salamence was much better. His tolerance had increased with practice, though, and thankfully, the trip from Hoenn to Sinnoh was much shorter. He hadn't even had time to nap.
They were in the middle of debating the merits of Flying when a beaten-up car slowed down and parked next to where the professor had decided they should wait. Through the lowered passenger window, Birch blinked at the stern expression on Professor Rowan's face.
Where Professor Juniper was blond, svelte, and usually sporting a large, welcoming grin, Professor Rowan was dark-haired, bulky, and smiled only when absolutely necessary, which was actually more often than one might have expected. As soon as he met Birch's gaze, his mustache twitched, and he granted him the privilege of one-third of a smile.
"How's it going, son?" he greeted him. Without waiting for an answer, he went on, "You go shove all your stuff in the trunk. There should be plenty of room."
Professor Juniper climbed into the car, leaving Birch to figure himself out. There was enough space in the trunk to store a whole donphan, by his estimate, so he managed to get both his suitcase and Professor Juniper's bags and still have some left. He carefully lowered the hood, mindful not to damage the car further, and hurried onto the backseat.
"I was just telling Cedric that I'd planned on getting my newest student to pick you up," Professor Rowan said as he began maneuvering the car back on the road, "until I witnessed his driving yesterday."
Birch pushed his scarf down to scratch under his goatee. The constant rubbing was starting to make him itch. "Was it that bad?"
"Let's just say I'm not convinced they have speed limits in Kalos," Professor Rowan grumbled. Professor Juniper laughed, covering the soft music coming from the car's radio.
"Kalos?" Birch repeated. "I've never met anyone from there."
It was Professor Rowan's turn to bark out a laugh. "Well, you're in luck. He's quite the character."
They made their way to Sandgem Town without running into anything more exciting than a flock of easily startled starlies. By the time Professor Rowan stopped the car in front of his lab, the slow rumbling had left Birch feeling sleepy despite the early afternoon hour. He could only blame himself for not sleeping on the plane.
Professor Rowan took one look at him once they were all out of the car and shook his head. "Get some fresh air in the garden. Cedric and I will bring your things to your room."
Birch opened his mouth to protest – and closed it immediately when Professor Rowan arched one of his bushy eyebrows at him. He threw his hands up in defeat and began walking toward the laboratory garden. It was only his second time visiting, but one had to be purposely obtuse to miss where it was: it was visible even from outside the building, a sprawling garden dominated by a very tall windmill that Professor Rowan had told him was there before the rest of the facilities were even built. It had been preserved as it was, serving as the perfect hiding spot for a variety of pokémon species, and providing, weather permitting, additional electricity for minimal effort from the strays that were kept in the garden. Birch had spent more than a few of his lunch breaks sitting in its shade and listening to the quiet sounds of water-type pokémons playing in the river.
He waved at the assistant scientists he passed by on his way to the entrance to the garden. Most of them still bore familiar faces, which was reassuring; that meant he wouldn't have to go through the mortifying ordeal of introducing himself to a bunch of complete strangers. One of them was monitoring the biggest probopass he had ever seen, and he stopped for a few seconds to admire it. Its iron sand mustache kept bristling, probably from whatever magnetic experiment it was being put through.
Once he'd finally pushed the door to the garden open and stepped out, Birch found himself walking toward the windmill without even meaning to. His legs felt sore from sitting for so long; climbing over the short hills while avoiding crushing some of the bug pokémons scattered about was a welcome exercise. He'd nearly reached the waterwheel when he realized that someone was already there.
Even though he had no reason to, he froze, suddenly self-conscious. The stranger was wearing a lab coat, so they had to be associated with the lab, but nothing about them was familiar to Birch. The fact that they had their back turned wasn't helping, of course, but he was pretty certain he didn't know anyone whose dark, curly hair was long enough to reach the small of their back.
Not to mention, this had to be in violation of some kind of lab safety code of conduct. They didn't even keep it tied!
They were crouching in front of the river, a little way from the spot where the waterwheel was beginning to stir the water in. Birch could have walked away, to another spot of interest, yet he kept slowly advancing toward them, unable to resist his curiosity.
Without warning, something splashed out of the river, so fast Birch could barely tell what it was. He was so taken aback that he tripped, falling backward and landing butt first on a flat rock, sharp pain bursting through him and making him yelp in both pain and surprise.
He groaned, shifting to massage himself, though the pain was already beginning to dissipate. Knowing his luck, it would probably bruise. He heard another splash and looked up.
"Huh," the stranger said. "Are you okay?"
Birch blinked. They'd turned around, and were holding what appeared to be a wooper, soaking wet and smiling with its mouth wide open. The stranger's face was also wet – probably from the splash – and they were staring at Birch with pale grey eyes. Their voice was lower than he expected, and they spoke Kantonese with the slow, careful diction of someone who wanted to make sure they were being understood. He couldn't place the accent.
"Yes," Birch said, feeling his face heat up upon realizing he was once again making a fool of himself in front of someone he didn't know. "I, huh. I got startled. Sorry."
The stranger chuckled, their expression softening into endeared curiosity.
"I understand. I didn't know you were here." They tilted their head in thought, and the wooper mimicked them, twisting its mouth into an "oh" of confusion. "I've never seen you before."
"Oh, um," Birch let out. He tried to push himself back up and nearly slipped on the rock he'd landed on. His legs shook a little.
The stranger bent down to drop the wooper on the floor and offer their hand. Birch stared at it, and then back at the stranger, who looked like they weighed about as much as one of his legs. He licked his lips and decided it wasn't as if this situation could get any more awkward. If he accidentally threw them both back on the grass, the worst that would happen was that his butt would get even more bruises.
Yet, when he closed his fist around the stranger's palm, he found their grip to be a lot firmer than he would have guessed. They hoisted him back up together, and Birch allowed himself to relax a little.
"Augustine Sycamore," the stranger said cheerfully, gesturing toward themself with both hands.
"Oh, Augustine," Birch said. He realized they were still holding hands and cleared his throat. "That's–"
"I am a man," Augustine cut him off before he could even finish his thought.
Birch felt his cheeks grow even hotter.
"Oh, of course, huh," he stammered. "Sorry. The name's Birch."
Augustine smiled at him, his eyes narrowing at the corners. Now that they were so close to each other, Birch could fully appreciate the grey of his eyes and the minimal traces of stubble on his jaw. The shape of his eyebrows, though they were nearly as bushy as Professor Rowan's, was too sharp not to have been styled that way on purpose.
"No first name?" Augustine asked.
Their hands were, somehow, still gripped together. Birch finally attempted to let go, and Augustine released him after a few more seconds.
"You can just call me Birch," Birch said. His palm was wet, but he resisted the urge to wipe it off on his coat.
Augustine's smile widened. He'd tilted his head further to the side, like he was trying to figure out what kind of strange new pokémon species he'd stumbled upon. Then, as if he'd come to a sudden conclusion, he straightened himself up and clapped his hands together.
"Very well! It's good to meet you!"
"Wait," Birch said, frowning a little, "are you from Kalos?"
There was enough to do in a pokémon lab to keep a man occupied for hours on end. Between assisting the professors, making sure the strays were fed, and taking notes for his studies, it wasn't as if Birch had any time or, Arceus forbid, brain cells, to dedicate to focusing on anything else.
And yet, he had to admit to himself that when he wasn't thinking about the different types of habitats in the Sinnoh region, or listening to Professor Juniper's lectures about the way pokémons were naturally distributed throughout the world, all of Birch's thoughts revolved around the enduring mystery of Augustine Sycamore, the man from Kalos.
It was kind of irritating, actually, because it wasn't as if he was that interesting. Once they'd gotten past introducing themselves, he'd explained that he was indeed Professor Rowan's new student, and was studying evolution under his guidance.
At some point, he'd started explaining something about some kind of precious rocks they had in Kalos and which could interact with pokémons in some way, but Birch had lost track of what he was saying pretty quickly. Augustine spoke with his entire body, something that Birch had never witnessed before. Even Professor Juniper, as expressive as he was, never moved his arms this much, no matter how passionate he was about the subject.
He'd been in the middle of enumerating all the evolutionary stones and the research that had been done regarding their components when he'd suddenly stopped to stare down at his watch. Then, he'd slapped himself on the forehead – so hard Birch had worried for a second that he was going to send himself toppling over – and exclaimed that he had to leave because he was late for watching over the incubator Professor Rowan had put him in charge of.
Birch hadn't had the time to ask why, exactly, Augustine was catching woopers in the lab garden instead of making sure he was on time to look after the incubator. He'd blinked once, and then Augustine was gone.
The next day, they'd bumped into each other in passing, and not much more than that. All week, Birch had caught glimpses of him, heard him laugh in other rooms, even found some very long strands of hair on some of the lab equipment.
He was sitting at one of the tables inside the lab, staring out of the window at Augustine carrying a few newborn eevees deeper into the garden, when Professor Rowan pulled one of the chairs next to him to sit on it, startling him out of his reverie.
"Birch," he said, his tone midway between amused and authoritative. "You're allowed to mingle with the other students, you know."
"I don't–" Birch started. Professor Rowan's eyebrow twitched, and he deflated instantly. "He's kind of a lot, isn't he? Even if I wanted to 'mingle,' it's hard to get a hold of someone who's constantly running around."
Professor Rowan's eyes crinkled, the only sign that betrayed his smile. "He's the speedy sort, that's true. His enthusiasm is refreshing, especially for his age." He breathed out through his nose, turning toward the window to watch, too, as Augustine disappeared into the taller bushes. "How often have I seen students lose their whimsy as they got closer to their objective..."
"He's older than me?" Birch couldn't help but sound incredulous.
"By a few years." Professor Rowan was really smiling now, his grin visible under his broad mustache. "He's going to be among the youngest to gain access to the field, I think. He's brilliant."
Birch pursed his lips. He had a hard time believing that – Augustine didn't even tie up his hair or remember the things he was supposed to do – but there was no way he was arguing about it. Professor Rowan gave his shoulder three gentle, comforting taps.
"He always eats lunch near the mossy rock, in the furthest part of the garden," he said, standing up from his chair. "I'd arrive early, if I were you: I'm fairly sure he only ever sits down long enough to swallow down whatever abominable mixture he's put inside his sandwich that day."
With that, and a quick nod, Professor Rowan left Birch alone with his thoughts once more.
Three days later, he grabbed the take-out he'd purchased from the nearby food truck, put on his coat, and made his way toward the darkest patch of wood in the garden. Once you'd reached that point, it was hard to think of it as a garden anymore: the trees, while not very tall, bore leaves and branches thick enough that not much sunlight could pierce through. Many grass and poison types gathered under their shade, eager for some rest after they'd fed off the sun and water. There were water types, too, though they were rarer, and the soil was always a bit damp, allowing moss and mushrooms to proliferate. The bug types, meanwhile, stayed hidden away, inside the trunks and under the rocks, which was for the best. Birch was not particularly looking forward to walking into a pissed off ariados.
He spotted an eevee peering at him from under some low-to-the-ground foliage and figured he was on the right track. The little pokémon, upon realizing it'd been spotted, ran off in a direction that Birch elected to follow. It led him to a clearing, in the middle of which stood one very large boulder, its surface entirely covered in dark green moss. In front of it sat Augustine Sycamore, cross-legged and in the process of biting into the biggest sandwich Birch had ever seen. He froze mid-bite, staring at him like a deerling caught in the headlights, and lowered his food to grant him an uncertain smile.
Birch squared his shoulders and took the last few steps toward him, feeling vaguely lumpish.
"Hey," he said, and immediately admonished himself mentally for being so awkward for no good reason. "Huh, Professor Rowan told me you eat your lunches here, so I thought, um... Maybe you'd enjoy some company?"
He could tell his cheeks were beginning to flush. He kept his gaze firmly glued to the spot next to Augustine's head, where some of the moss had been scratched off the rock, either by him or by a passing pokémon. The eevee he'd followed had slipped in between Augustine's crossed legs to roll into a small furry ball on his lap, seemingly unbothered by the intruder.
Augustine chuckled. He lifted one of his hands to his face and tucked a very long strand of dark hair behind his ear. He was still holding his sandwich in his other hand.
"Sure," he said, and went right back to eating.
Birch stood still for a few seconds, unsure of how to proceed, and then slowly lowered himself onto the damp grass, mimicking Augustine's posture. He put down the bag containing his food and took out one of the boxes, which turned out to contain spring rolls. He picked one and bit into it.
The simple act of eating made him relax enough to glance at Augustine's sandwich. From where he was sitting, he couldn't exactly tell what was in it, just that it was filled to the brim. Yet, Augustine was chomping at it with a dedication that bordered on terrifying.
They ate in silence, Birch moving on to the mid-sized portion of curry rice he'd chosen as his main dish, careful not to spill any. By that point, some curious – and hungry – pokémons had begun to emerge from between the trees and bushes, observing from a distance, not quite brave enough to come any closer. The eevee on Augustine's lap, however, had not moved a centimeter, snoozing away even as some of the sauce in Augustine's meal dripped onto its head.
A skorupi, its little head wagging from side to side, approached Birch from the right, so slowly it barely made a sound. He stared at it, his mouth full of rice, and lowered his spoon.
"Hello," he said after swallowing. The stingers on the skorupi's head twitched. Birch felt his stomach tense. "You, huh... You want food?"
Blinking huge, shiny blue eyes at him, the skorupi chirped. Its fangs and stingers vibrated. Birch blinked back.
It was, unfortunately, common knowledge among both his teachers and fellow students that Birch's luck with handling wild or stray pokémons was, to put it lightly, catastrophic. It wasn't that he didn't like doing it, or that he didn't like pokémons, or that he was bad at it – well, maybe that last one wasn't completely untrue. In short, he had been gifted the innate ability of Making Pokémons Want To Inflict Violence On Him.
For that reason, Professor Juniper had long stopped assigning him tasks that involved interacting with pokémons. At best, he'd help out when it came to taking care of injured strays, or when a pokémon required multiple people around for feeding or transferring. Even that came with risks; he still remembered the one time when he was last in Sinnoh and one of the shinxes they were monitoring got caught in some fencing and nearly knocked him out with the strongest Spark he'd ever had the misfortune of experiencing while he was trying to rescue her.
As a result, he couldn't help but be a little on edge when pokémons, even ones who were otherwise well-disciplined, came into contact with him. A stray skorupi from Professor Rowan's garden, as far as he was concerned, did not count as well-disciplined. Even if it hadn't yet stung him.
More importantly... He didn't want to look like an idiot in front of Augustine. They hadn't even talked yet. He'd been planning on taking it slow, just hanging out while they ate, and then striking up a conversation once they were done. Now he had to deal with potentially getting poisoned by a pokémon and Augustine needing to escort him to the infirmary or something.
Embarrassing.
The skorupi wagged its clawed tail. Birch opened his mouth to say something else – which, at this point, was probably going to be "here, go fetch this" while he threw the last spring roll he'd saved up for later – when the pokémon turned its head toward where Augustine was sitting.
Augustine clicked his tongue, holding out the small piece of bread he was left with, and said something that Birch didn't understand. The skorupi's stingers fluttered for a second, and then it dashed off to grab the offered food.
To Birch's astonishment, the skorupi not only lowered both stingers and tail, but it ate directly from Augustine's hand, nibbling on the bread until there was nothing left. Then, after gracefully accepting a single head pat, it scurried away, back into the darkness.
Something in Birch's expression must have been very entertaining, because Augustine laughed, giggling almost, so loudly he woke up the eevee, who opened one eye and then closed it again.
"Sorry," Augustine said, "you looked scared, so I wanted to help."
"I wasn't scared," Birch replied, too fast. He knew he was blushing again, which did nothing to help. "Thank you, though."
He dragged his spoon along the sides of the take-out box, to try to scrape off the last grains of rice stuck there.
"Professor Rowan told me you get injured all the time." Augustine's tone wasn't mocking, merely matter-of-fact, but Birch couldn't help but tense. "You must be very brave to still pursue a career in pokébiology."
Birch's face was definitely burning up. He distracted himself from the feeling by shoveling what was left of his curry rice into his mouth and chewing.
Then, he said, "I'm just not very good with pokémons." And, because he was already being too earnest, and it wasn't like he could impress Augustine anymore anyway, he added, "I think they don't like me much. As a rule."
"That can't be true!" Augustine exclaimed, with a lot more emphasis than Birch thought was necessary. "Sometimes you just have to try a different approach."
He stood up, carefully picking up the eevee still on his lap, and went to sit closer to where Birch was, his now empty box of curry rice balanced on one of his thighs. Augustine waited for him to put it aside before coaxing the eevee into opening its eyes.
"I don't know if this is a good idea," Birch attempted to protest, but the eevee was already climbing over his leg, sniffing him warily.
"His name's Pétri, by the way," Augustine said. He was smiling, his eyes following the eevee as he bumped his nose into Birch's soft – and very full – belly. "I'm studying how a pokémon's environment affects its evolution patterns."
Indeed, Birch thought he remembered him mentioning something like that when they'd first met. Pétri was now standing on his hind legs, two paws firmly pressed on his chest, and sniffing the underside of his jaw. Birch scratched under his goatee, weirdly self-conscious about the lingering smell of take-out curry on him.
"See? He likes you," Augustine went on, right before Pétri decided to sink his teeth into Birch's hand, which was now very close to his snout.
It didn't hurt that much, in the grand scheme of things, but it took him by surprise, making him jump and shout, scaring Pétri in turn, who tightened the grip of his jaw where he'd just bitten him. To his credit, Augustine instantly dove in to separate them, his cheeks flushing. It took merely a few mumbled words that Birch didn't quite catch for the little pokémon to let go of him, settling into Augustine's lap once more, though not without shooting Birch a – kind of adorable, actually – glare.
"I'm sorry," Augustine said, blinking rapidly. All of his face had gone pale pink, with some darker spots high on his cheeks. Strands of dark hair fell in front of his face, hiding most of it from view. "I didn't think he would do that. He's very well-behaved..."
Birch chuckled. He turned his hand over to check the damage. The bite wasn't very deep, though there were some traces of blood pooling at the surface. However it was, he'd need to get it cleaned up either way.
"I told you. Pokémons don't like me."
Augustine frowned. With his hair like this, Birch could see that his ears had gone redder, too. "No way. I'm sure there's an explanation."
He pet Pétri from the top of his head down to the base of his tail, over and over, as if the gesture was helping him think. Birch scratched one of his eyebrows with his uninjured hand, unsure of what to say to that.
Everybody else – at Professor Rowan's or Juniper's lab, or back at home in Hoenn – had more or less accepted that Birch's relationship with pokémons was... fraught. It was just the way things were: sky's blue, water's wet, don't ask Birch to petsit your vulpix because he will get burnt. He'd grown used to being teased about it. If anything, it gave him something interesting or funny to use as an icebreaker when meeting new people in the field.
Looking at the concerned expression on Augustine's face, someone who'd only known him for less than a week, he thought that maybe he kind of enjoyed the novelty of not being made fun of or dismissed as incompetent or unlucky.
"Do you bathe?" Augustine asked. He was still frowning.
Birch felt his whole body grow hot with a sudden spike of shame mixed with indignation. "H–huh, of course?"
"Maybe you have a very strong smell," Augustine mused. Pétri yawned, showing off his sharp little fangs.
"You–" Birch nearly hiccuped, his voice way louder than he'd meant for it to come out. "Are you making fun of me?"
Augustine stared at him blankly. "No? I'm trying to find a logical explanation for this. If your natural body odor is appetizing to pokémons..."
If he'd been able to see himself in a mirror, Birch suspected that his face would have been the color of a slugma.
"Appetizing?" he repeated. "What, you think pokémons attack me because I taste good?"
"Why not? It makes as much sense as every pokémon in the world hating you." Augustine's expression had mellowed out once again, though the grey of his eyes was now lit with what Birch figured was determination – or stubbornness. "Actually, it makes a lot more sense, because pheromones are a thing, and being born unlikable isn't."
"The unlikability could be caused by pheromones as well," Birch argued. He could feel that he was still blushing, but he was relaxing a little, coming around to the absurdity of the situation. He looked down at his wounded hand, where the blood had begun to dry, and added quickly, before Augustine could open his mouth, "Anyway, this is ridiculous. I need to get this cleaned up or Professor Rowan will bite my head off."
"This is my fault," Augustine said. Even through the rough edges of his accent, Birch could hear that he would not be deterred. "I'll take you to the infirmary."
With that, he hoisted Pétri up, one palm under his belly, and tucked him in one of the large pockets of his coat. The eevee let out a little yawn, sort of like a squeak, and settled down. Sleeping seemed to be his main priority at all times.
They gathered the rest of their things in silence. Birch's hand didn't hurt that much anymore, mostly stung at the spot where he'd been bitten, but he still tried to make sure he didn't put too much strain on it, if only so that he didn't make Augustine worry any further.
Seeing him so concerned for his well-being made Birch feel flustered for reasons he couldn't put his finger on. It wasn't so much that people were usually dismissive of his issues with pokémons; nobody was ever cruel or mean about it, just kind of annoyed at worst, which was understandable. They mostly left him to deal with it on his own, was the thing. Once or twice, one of the younger assistants had patched him up in a hurry, and that was that. The other students were more likely to avoid him than anything else, in case his bad luck was somehow contagious.
Augustine smiled at Birch when he caught him staring, which only worsened his turmoil. They'd walked through the foliage, trying to get back as quickly as possible, and there were sticks and leaves stuck in Augustine's messy hair. He looked like he'd been living in the woods for months.
"Why don't you tie your hair?" Birch asked. Augustine tilted his head at him, so he added, "Isn't it, huh, a safety hazard?"
"I tie it when it gets in the way," Augustine said with a half-shrug. He ran his fingers through the strands, apparently not that surprised to find it full of greenery. "Professor Rowan didn't say anything about it being..." He frowned, trying to recall the term Birch used. "A safety hazard."
There wasn't much point in arguing with that, so Birch nodded.
Upon reaching the infirmary, they found it empty, though the door was left unlocked. Birch couldn't help but feel relief that he wouldn't risk getting teased for once again getting himself into trouble with a pokémon. He moved to look through the cabinets for bandages, but Augustine gripped his shoulder surprisingly firmly. With how thin his arms were, Birch hadn't thought he'd be that strong.
"Sit down," Augustine said. He had that stubborn look on his face again. "I'll take care of it."
Birch's heartbeat resonated through his skull. What was this guy's deal, really? Where did he get off having this much confidence while looking like the wind could blow him away at any moment?
He decided that the feelings brewing within him had to be born out of annoyance. There was no other way to justify it. Still, he sat down on the edge of the examination table and waited with his injured hand held up in front of him.
Augustine rummaged through the drawers, humming softly to himself, until he found a pack of bandages and some antiseptic spray. Then he took Birch's hand in his and smiled at him gently.
"It might sting a little," he said.
Coming from someone else, it could have felt condescending, like he was talking to a small child, but, at that moment, Birch felt more like he was a pokémon that was being doted on. He nodded, and watched Augustine spritz some of the spray on the bite before wiping the excess gently with a tissue.
"There you go!" Augustine exclaimed after applying a bandage on top.
Birch opened his mouth to thank him. Before he could even pronounce one syllable, Augustine leaned in and planted a kiss right where he'd just bandaged him.
"Huh," was all that Birch managed to come up with.
"Oh!" Augustine choked out. He pulled away, his cheeks flushing bright red, and covered his face in embarrassment. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm used to doing that with the strays we patch up, so I did it without thinking." He grimaced. His gaze drifted down to stare at the tiled floor under his feet. "I'm really sorry."
"It's fine," Birch said, over the thumping sound of his pulse beating inside his ears. He suspected his face was just as red as Augustine's. "It's okay! I, um. Thank you."
He scratched the back of his neck with his newly healed hand. The spot where the bandage was felt itchy, though he couldn't tell whether it was from the bandage itself or from the kiss.
"Really, it's fine," Birch repeated. He figured the awkwardness could be payback for having made a fool of himself with Pétri. "I thought maybe it was some Kalosian thing I didn't know about," he said, in an attempt to lighten the mood.
It worked, sort of. Augustine's blush didn't fade, but the corners of his lips lifted a little, and he tentatively glanced at Birch.
"Because of all the kissing you guys do," Birch went on, bolstered by his apparent success. "You know, like, on the cheeks and stuff." He rubbed under his goatee with his thumb. Augustine was grinning at him openly now, his expression less mortified and more mischievous. "To say hello?"
"I see," Augustine said.
He looked like he was fighting back a laugh. His hair had fallen in front of his eyes when he'd turned his face down in shame, and so he was stealing glances at Birch through strands of dark hair that shone blue and purple under the harsh overhead light of the infirmary.
"I didn't know that was the kind of reputation we have," Augustine went on. The tone in which he'd said it made it clear that it was a lie. "You're from Hoenn, right?"
Birch nodded. He felt more relaxed now that they'd both done something that made them look stupid. His heart was still beating too fast for his liking, but it was manageable.
"I'm from Littleroot," he said. "It's, huh, in the southwest."
Maybe expecting a foreigner to know about his small hometown was a bit of a stretch.
"I thought so! I've gotten pretty good at identifying the Kantonese dialects." Augustine beamed, all traces of his earlier self-consciousness forgotten. He brushed his hair out of his face, tucking most of it behind one of his ears, and grinned. "But... I don't think I know enough about Hoenn to find a cliché I could use against you."
Feigning a deep reflection, Birch tugged and rubbed at his facial hair, his eyes narrowed. "Well, we've got a lot of water. Not sure what you can do with that. Maybe... argue that I'm secretly a fish pokémon?"
It was barely a joke, even by his standards, yet Augustine laughed, his shoulders shaking so much that Pétri's head poked out of his pocket, confused as to what had warranted all that racket. Birch found himself thinking that maybe he was better at befriending weird Kalosian guys than he'd given himself credit for.