Chapter Text
Steven always hated the cold. His fingers felt like ice shards as Skarmory bumped through a patch of turbulence, making his hair whip around him and his stomach do backflips. The warm embrace from Wallace was the only thing stopping his teeth from chattering. He turned his head behind him to check on the coordinator, who was looking surprisingly calm for someone squeezing him so tight. What little adrenaline was left in Steven's body hummed through his veins as his mind replayed everything that just happened again and again. The resurrection of Teams Aqua and Magma, Wallace's agonising injuries, the red and blue orbs… He had to keep reminding himself that they were here now. Alive and on their way to somewhere where they'd be safe to hide for a while.
Steven placed a reassuring hand over Wallace's, using the other to steer Skarmory as they soared through the night sky. A strange part of him wished this flight would never end, relishing in the warm feeling of Wallace's strong arms wrapped around his waist. But as the sparse twinkling lights of Mossdeep city came into view, Steven knew they were now minutes away from their destination.
He rapped his knuckles against Skarmory's neck and the Pokémon squawked, diving beneath the dark clouds as Steven held on tight. They'd flown to Mossdeep so many times over the past few years that they practically ran on autopilot, knowing exactly where their bunker was hidden away in the hillside. Skarmory circled above the island until it spotted their porch light where it came in to land, diving towards the ground in a sudden burst of acceleration then suddenly pulling up flapping its wings until the Pokémon landed on the grass with a heavy thud, its claws sinking into the dirt.
"Welcome to Mossdeep," Steven said cheerfully and Wallace's grip around him loosened.
"Finally," he breathed, as though it was the first breath he'd taken since climbing on Skarmory's back. He looked slightly less graceful as Steven helped him down, throwing his legs wide and waddling like a Stonjourner. It took everything in Steven's power not to let out the laugh that was threatening to escape his throat. Wallace was lucky to walk away from that fight. Watching him wail in anguish as that fire tore through his skin was going to haunt Steven's dreams.
"It’s the fastest way to travel," Steven said mindlessly, turning to pet Skarmory while Wallace stretched out his hips.
"We'll see about that next time," he pouted, flexing his back and wincing. Steven could see the burns which stretched across the water Champion’s back, and when he turned, his face almost looked worse. A large scab had already formed over his eyebrow, his lower lip split with a smear of dried blood across his jaw.
"Let's get inside," said Steven, frowning in concern. But the oh-so-stubborn Wallace Mikuri gritted his teeth, straightening his spine as he reached up to pet Skarmory.
"Thank you for flying us here," he said, his voice like satin despite the pain he must have been in, as he gently stroked the Pokémon's beak. "I'll be sure to find you some nice berries to snack on." Skarmory cooed eagerly, shaking its head with a metallic ting of feathers.
"Shall we head inside?" asked Steven, returning Skarmory to its Pokéball. He went to press his hand to the small of Wallace's back to guide him down the path but quickly realised his mistake. He moved it away, but landed it on Wallace's ass who gave him the most bombastic side eye before Steven jerked it away completely. There had to be something he could do to clear the rubble between them… Then an idea suddenly popped into his head. Why hadn't he thought of this before?!
"I can show you my rock collection!" he beamed. Wallace turned his head slightly, a smile tugging at his split lips.
"I'd like that,” he hummed, but maybe I'll clean up first."
Steven nodded in understanding, trying his best to keep a straight face despite the excitement crackling through his chest. That is a serious vibe killer, Riley used to say whenever he re-organised his collection. Well not today brother!
Wallace limped to a halt near the door, leaning against the mossy concrete wall as he wheezed to catch his breath. Now that he was stood under the light Steven could see the full extent of his injuries. They’d looked bad enough in the dark. Under the industrial glow of the porch light Wallace looked like he'd been wrestling with a Bisharp and lost badly. The blood had congealed over the nasty gashes and his smooth skin was now littered with blue and yellow splotches. Gods and here I was talking about rocks…
Steven thumbled in his suit pocket, his cold hands were so numb he was struggling to pull out his keys. The heavy metal jangled against the door as he thumbled through the keychain, finding the heaviest one and jamming it into the lock until they heard a soft click. The heavy locking bar mechanism released and Steven pushed the solid door, stepping into the darkness. The musty air in the bunker reminded him of the Cave of Origin, but at least in this place he could flick on a light switch. The warmth of the bunker swept over him as he felt his body begin to shake off the shackles of the cold flight.
"Sorry about the mess," said Steven, awkwardly hoping that Wallace wouldn’t be too disgusted. It wasn’t exactly a five star hotel, but his father had done his best to make it as homely as possible when he renovated it. A large fluffy rug woven from Mareep wool sat in the middle of their living room complete with a coffee table and sofa, which had seen better days. Being a steel-type specialist meant that most things in the room had been crushed, knocked over, or half eaten if it contained anything resembling metal. He had to keep all his cutlery and frying pans in the highest kitchen cupboards just to stop Aron from munching on them.
"You should see Juan's office," Wallace chuckled, and Steven felt a little wave of relief to see his playfulness returned. The coordinator slowly walked around, holding his hands together as though he were observing a museum, and in a way he was with all the rare stones on display shelves across the walls. But instead of looking at those, Wallace stopped to admire a cluster of family photos that Steven's father had hung up so long ago he'd almost forgotten their existence.
"So this is little Steven," Wallace snickered, "I can't say you look much different." Steven followed his gaze to a photograph of himself and Riley standing in front of a huge rocket at the Mossdeep Space Station. It was one of the first Devon cooperation satellite launches, something Steven reminisced fondly. The world seemed so much simpler back then.
"You're the spitting image of your father," said Wallace, drawing Steven's eye to a photo of him and his brother standing in the control centre with their father behind them. Although this one was taken a couple years later at another satellite launch, and Steven's knees were muddy where he'd been digging for stones just moments before. Their father had always been pretty tall and slim, Steven guessed that's where he got most of his genes from, not that his father ever spoke of his surrogacy.
"I hear that a lot," sighed Steven, but Wallace squinted closer to the photo as though it held the secrets to finding Mega Stones.
"If you swept back your hair you'd actually look identical to him. It's like you're a clone."
"Thanks?" muttered Steven, feeling a sense of panic raise in his chest. He was nothing like his father on the inside, couldn’t anyone see that?
"I'm assuming you have a working shower here?" Wallace asked, thankfully losing interest in his family photos. That was an identity crisis Steven certainly didn’t need to revisit tonight.
He nodded, leading Wallace around the corner to the bathroom where he handed him a spare a towel and some toiletries. It may have not been the luxury he was used to but Wallace didn’t complain, giving Steven a thankful smile as he left to give him some privacy.
"I'll leave some spare clothes for you in my bedroom upstairs," said Steven, a grin bursting into his cheeks as he closed the door behind him. The Wallace was in his house! Soon to looking at his stone collection! A squeal escaped his lips as he skipped up the stairs to his bedroom, quickly throwing on a pair of slacks and a white shirt, leaving some baggier options out for Wallace. Hopefully they wouldn’t aggravate his wounds too much, but they were in serious need of antiseptic and dressing.
Steven headed back downstairs into the kitchen to prepare the medical kit, grabbing every bottle and band aid that was left across the kitchen counter and throwing it back into the box. Fortunately Riley and Steven had kept it well stocked, with Steven's caving adventures and Riley's martial arts the brothers were pretty accident prone, much to their father's dismay. They didn’t even bother putting it away, leaving it open and accessible for whatever injury the day brought. The creak of the bathroom door opening echoed in the quiet hallway followed by Wallace's irregular footsteps as he slowly limped up the stairs. Steven secured the latch on the med kit and grasped the handle, hurrying after Wallace when he came to a stop in front of the family photos on the wall.
I don't look that much like father, Steven pondered with a frown, tracing every sharp feature of his father's complexion with his gaze. Do I? The way father's cheekbones cut the light the same way Steven's did when he turned his head caught his attention. That angular jawline was softer on Steven's but seemed to follow the same outlines as though they were carved by the same sculptor. Of course they shared the same hair colour, but father's was slicked back, styled without so much as a single strand out of place. Unlike Steven's which looked like a Skarmory had nested in it. But father's eyes had that gleam to them that reflected Steven's like polished metal, and the more he stared, the more it felt like he was staring into a future version of his own.
Gods I'm way too tired for this, Steven thought to himself as he banished the thoughts and scurried up the stairs. The bedroom door was ajar so he pushed it open, but the sight of Wallace stopped him in his tracks. Wallace stood in the middle of the room, combing his fingers through his azure hair, wearing only the white towel which hung loosely over his hips and exposing that delicious V below his stomach. Oh my gods.
"May I help you?" Wallace smiled mischievously, quickly flicking his eyes away but Steven caught that glimpse of pain before Wallace could hide it. He half turned away, his skin bathed in the warm light from the desk lamp that made him glow brighter than any polished stone. Steven licked his dry lips, suddenly remembering the box in his hands.
"I've brought the medical kit," he said, sheepishly walking over to place it on the desk. "I can tend to your wounds?"
Wallace's shoulders rose as though he were about to argue, but he quickly hissed in pain and the tension melted away as they slumped back down. Slowly he nodded, dragging himself over to sit on the edge of the bed. He quietly watched as Steven prepared some cotton pads with antiseptic, knocking the ointment over with his shaky fingers and cursing under his breath as the liquid spilled into the wooden grooves of his desk. But he managed to pull himself together, turning back to Wallace cradling mounds of cotton and bandages, his mind set with the promise of making Wallace feel better.
"Take these first," said Steven, handing him the strongest pain killers he had which Wallace knocked back without question.
Wallace's skin was so torn up it was hard to know where to begin. "This might sting," Steven warned, his fingers hovering lightly above a nasty gash on Wallace's shoulder before lightly dabbing it with the soaked cotton pad. Wallace hissed through gritted teeth, his muscles tensing as Steven used his free hand to hold him still, dabbing hard to make sure the area was clean. Once satisfied it wasn't getting infected he patched it up with some dressing. That was one less wound to worried about, though there were so many littered over him demanding attention.
Wallace's back seemed to bear the worst of it, with angry blisters starting to bubble along the skin. They didn’t look like third degree burns, at least Steven hoped. He narrowed his eyes in concentration, slowly making his way down patch by patch with antiseptic, followed by a Rawst berry serum to soothe it, wrapping each one carefully in a fresh bandage. All the while whispering apologies under his breath. If they hadn't been forced into hiding Steven would have taken Wallace straight to hospital, but with their safety compromised that wasn’t an option. He'd just have to do his best and pray to the gods that the scarring wouldn’t be too bad.
"I never did thank you for earlier," Wallace murmured as Steven reached for more dressing. He was barely flinching now, so hopefully the pain killer had kicked in. Nonetheless Steven worked with a feather-light touch, smoothing out the final bandage on his burns.
"You shouldn't thank me," Steven answered with a low voice as he fought to calm the panic raising in his chest. "If I hadn't upset you this would never have happened."
"Do you know why I was upset, Steven?" Wallace peered back through locks of messy azure hair, his eyes locking firmly with Steven's.
"I should have been more upfront about the Mega Stones," Steven sighed, feeling the burden of it lie heavy against his thrashing heart. "Roxanne was onto something when she called it my white Wailord."
Wallace sighed and Steven got the feeling it wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear. But then what was it? He knelt down to the floor, shifting his attention to a nasty gash on Wallace's leg, feeling his muscles tense and quiver beneath his touch. "It's okay, I'm nearly done," he murmured, smoothing ointment over the tender skin. Once it was bandaged Steven shifted to sit beside Wallace as he gently lifted his arm in his hands. He traced over every graze and bruise which seemed to blossom beneath his fingertips, blowing a breath as he wiped every one of them clean.
"That's not what I was upset about at the meeting," Wallace said, his voice low as something darker wove into his eyes. Steven turned his palm over in his hand, tracing the cotton pad over the lines carving his soft skin.
"You were upset because I was rude to you," muttered Steven, a crease forming between his eyebrows. Wishing he could turn back time and have another shot at today. He lowered himself to crouch back in front of Wallace, tending to the wounds on his other arm while Wallace's gaze quietly followed him. "I'm truly sorry about everything I said. I take it all back. I didn’t mean any of it."
"It felt like you meant it to me," Wallace said in a low, fragile tone that made Steven's stomach knot with remorse.
"I'm so sorry, really I am," Steven's voice wavered, catching on the heavy feeling weighing on his chest. Though Steven knew the words wouldn’t heal the wounds, no matter how many times sorry came tumbling from his lips. He stood, leaning in close to see Wallace's face. His beautiful face. It wasn't fair that it had been so cruelly battered. He cupped his cheek with one hand, tracing his split lip with his thumb, cleaning it with tenderness as he silently vowed to never let anyone lay a hand on him again.
Even when he'd cleaned the wounds, Steven found himself lingering over Wallace's face, his fingertips tracing the outline of his strong features as he drank in his beauty. A sickening cocktail of emotions were mixing in his gut as he cursed himself for letting this happen to Wallace, reliving the pain of watching him throw himself into that savage fight at the Cave of Origin. More than anything Steven just wanted to hold him close, make himself the barrier between Wallace and those criminals so he would never be thrown in harm's way again.
A tear slid down Steven's cheek and Wallace reached up to swipe it away. Any tension that had been between them came tumbling away. Steven arched his neck down, pressing a soft kiss to Wallace's lips, the coppery taste of blood lingering on his tongue.
Wallace's hooded eyes flickered up when Steven drew back. "I won't let anyone hurt you," growled Steven, his breath hitching in his throat making the words come out between sobs. "I couldn't stand it when I saw you- hurt like that- I won't let it happen. Not again- not ever."
Wallace's lips parted in surprise, his sea-green irises shifting like a tidal pull. "I'm the one that stormed out," he argued, grasping the back of Steven's neck to stop him pulling away. "It's my own fault, Steven. Anyway, I was once the Champion of Hoenn I'll have you know. I had it under control."
A laugh bubbled up Steven's throat and he was relieved to see Wallace smiling back at him too. That stubborn glint returned which Steven knew all too well. He wiped his face on his sleeve, feeling an urgent tug on his collar as Wallace yanked him down and claimed his lips. He trailed his hands down Steven's back to his ass, eliciting a surprised gasp from the Champion as he squeezed his cheeks and pulled him onto his lap. Drawing a soft groan as their erections ground together through the fabric of the towel, winding his arms tight around Wallace's shoulders.
Wallace gently tipped Steven's back onto the bed, the rising sun casting a soft glow over the room and making Wallace's bare skin sparkle around his battle wounds. Just looking at the coordinator made Steven's heart race, his stomach cartwheeling amongst the Butterfree as the heat of Wallace's body carved a line of need through Steven's.
Wallace's eyes flashed hungrily as he trailed his kisses to the crook of his jaw, sucking at the sensitive skin there as a growl caught in his throat. He could feel his shirt becoming looser as Wallace smoothly unbuttoned it, placing kisses from the nape of his neck all the way over his chest and down his stomach which twitched beneath his touch. His symphony of gasps urging Wallace further until he reached his belt, playfully skimming his tongue beneath it.
"May I…?" asked Wallace, flicking his eyes up in a lustful gaze. Steven feebly nodded, his core aching as he watched Wallace unbuckle his belt at a painfully slow speed. Steven lifted his hips as he unbuttoned his trousers, tugging them down to his thighs when Wallace snickered.
Steven pulled himself onto his elbows, his heart thrashing as heat prickled his cheeks. "What?" he asked as Wallace's snickers turned into full blown laughter.
"Your boxers," he said, leaning on his forearms to wipe away a tear. "They have little Metagrosses on them!"
Steven felt his body immediately combust. The boxers. The godsdamn boxers. It wasn’t as though romantic partners had crossed his mind when he was shopping for undergarments.
"What's wrong with Metagrosses?!" Steven exclaimed, his voice cracking under the heat rushing to his face. But in one quick swoop Wallace slid them away along with his pants, leaving him with just his unbuttoned shirt for comfort.
"There's nothing wrong with Metagrosses," teased Wallace. "Actually I think it's cute. You are very cute Mr Stone."
"Please don’t call me that," huffed Steven, embarrassment getting the better of him as Wallace raised an eyebrow.
"What would you prefer?" he hummed, slowly trailing his fingers over Steven's thighs, sending a shiver rolling up his spine. "Pretty? Handsome? Beautiful?"
"I'd prefer Steven," he answered and Wallace's eyes sparkled inquisitively, but he didn’t press. Steven quivered as Wallace placed a lingering kiss on his thigh, sucking the pale skin hard enough to make his cock twitch desperately for attention.
"Duly noted, Steven." Wallace hummed. Without warning, he grasped the base of Steven's cock and took the entirety of its length into his warm mouth, swallowing him all the way to the back of his throat.
"Ooh gods," Steven whimpered as a bolt of pleasure split the centre of his body. He reached down, knotting his fingers in Wallace's messy wet hair as he writhed beneath him, his heart hammering against his ribs like it was chiselling to break free. Steven watched as Wallace bobbed his head, sucking and licking as heat pooled under his stomach on the verge of an avalanche that he fought to hold off.
"Wait," Steven breathed and Wallace immediately stopped, dropping the erection from his lips which fell to Steven's stomach with a wet thud.
"Did you not like it?" he asked in disbelief, making Steven scramble onto his elbows as panic coursed through him.
"No!" exclaimed Steven, "I mean yes! It was erm… pleasant." Wallace frowned, indicating to Steven that pleasant was not the right word here. But Steven quickly pressed on.
"Is there something I can do for you?" he asked, and Wallace blinked back at him as though he'd just grown an extra head.
"For me?" he echoed, as if he hadn't been expecting the sentiment to be returned. He thought for a moment, leaving Steven waiting on a knife's edge as a growing ache throbbed inside him desperate to be fulfilled. "What's that over there?" he asked, pointing at a vial of liquid on the desk.
"It's Chesto oil," explained Steven, arching a brow in confusion. "It's good for joint pain."
"That will do."
Wallace reached over to retrieve the glass vial and removed the cork with a squeaky pop. He poured the oil onto his fingers before leaning back over Steven, palming at his thighs with his free hand to spread his legs. Steven flinched, gasping as Wallace's finger unexpectedly slid into his ass. When he'd offered to return the favour he thought he'd be the one fingering Wallace, not the other way around! Godsdammit!
"Try to relax," Wallace hummed. He kissed Steven's lips, the taste of himself stirring something feral residing in his soul as he tried to ignore it and focus on loosening his muscles, which wasn't the easiest thing to do with a finger up one's asshole. He'd never been particularly flexible, and feared that this was the coordinator's revenge for having him sit on a metal Pokémon all the way to Mossdeep. But as Wallace slid his finger in and out, Steven's could feel his muscles becoming more and more malleable. His pulse quickened when Wallace announced he was sliding a second finger in and somewhere deep amongst the pain and discomfort, Wallace curled them. Steven threw his head to the side, hoping he wouldn't see his embarrassing expression as his abdomen fluttered with pleasure, but nothing ever went past Wallace unnoticed. He pressed harder, making smaller faster movements in the same spot until Steven was fisting the bedsheets, a groan of ecstasy escaping him as Wallace worked him with an expert touch to the promise of oblivion.
Without warning, he pulled out and Steven forced his eyelids open to look up at his tormentor as he was once again left with a throbbing need. And despite his own coyness, Steven couldn’t help but stare. Wallace's outfits often left little to the imagination, but seeing him completely naked made him understand why he chose to wear so little. His body was truly breath taking. Steven never thought a cock could look pretty, but it was the first word that came to his mind when watching Wallace slick it with oil, pumping it as his eyes hooded with desire over Steven's body.
"May I enter you?" Wallace asked as he slowly climbed back on top, trying not to flex the tender skin of his wounds.
Arching his neck Steven kissed him, muttering a quiet yes. But truthfully Steven was feeling really freaking nervous, and he was pretty sure that Wallace was much more experienced than him. What was he meant to do with his legs, or his arms? And by gods, where was he meant to look?!
Wallace lined himself up. He entered the tip and suddenly Steven wasn’t so worried about the placement of his limbs as hot pain tore through him, making him dig his nails into Wallace's arms. Why does it hurt again?!
"Hey, you need to stay relaxed." Wallace quietly spoke, raising a hand to cup Steven's cheek. "If it’s bad we can stop."
Steven drew a deep breath, waiting for Wallace's patience to wear thin. But it didn’t. He continued kissing him, wrapping his arms around Steven's body like he was the most precious stone on the planet. Slowly he wound his legs around Wallace's waist, drawing another calming breath before announcing "I'm ready." Wallace guided the tip of his cock into Steven's entrance, who squeezed him tightly while he concentrated on taking the hard length of him in.
"That's good, you're doing great," Wallace whispered, until he was all the way in and Steven felt like he'd been skewered. "Can I move?"
Steven nodded and gently, Wallace began to rock his hips. They were only small movements at first, but like before, gradually, the pain seemed to ebb away as Wallace thrust harder, deeper, finding a growing rhythm that had Steven falling apart for him all over again.
"You can open your eyes," Wallace murmured and Steven obliged, his gaze flicking up to meet Wallace's magnetising stare and by the gods this man was the hottest human being Steven had ever laid eyes upon. He panted as Wallace increased the pace, rocking Steven back into the pillows with each thrust as he drove into him, leaning on his elbows and hugging Steven's back tighter. Steven worked to meet every thrust with his hips until he was seeing stars, wondering why he hadn't dared to do this sooner as his spine arched and pleasure gushed through his body as his orgasm finally broke free.
The release washed over Steven like the angry waves through shingle at Mossdeep beach. He came with a cry, his body tightening around Wallace's cock with hot cum slicking their stomachs. He breathed heavily into Wallace's neck who shuddered, their bodies flush as he realised Wallace spilling into him too.
Wallace rolled onto his stomach beside Steven, who pulled the blankets over them as they sloppily kissed. Steven hadn't realised how tired he was until he closed his eyes and allowed the sleep to wash over him, with his most treasured discovery safely returned to his side.
Steven's eyes fluttered open as rain pattered against the heavy bunker windows. This would be a great day for hunting Mega Stones. Then again, every day was a great stone hunting day.
Still half-asleep he rolled over to see the back of Wallace's head who was quietly snoring next to him, breathing a sigh of relief that it wasn’t all a dream. But as his vision blinked into focus, his stomach lurched. There were so many murky green and purple bruises mottling his skin, as though Wallace was trying to cosplay a bush. He certainly needed all the rest he could get, and Steven definitely didn’t want to be around when Wallace caught sight of them in the mirror.
Careful not to wake him, Steven rolled his feet out of bed and pushed himself up, only to feel the weight of his chest dragging him down as he slumped back onto the mattress. He must have got up too fast. His head throbbed and his body ached, making him wonder whether Wallace had bashed him over the head last night. He sat with his head in his hands while he waited for the room to stop swaying.
Water. He needed water.
He pushed himself off the bed, reaching to the wall for support, a bitter feeling setting in his stomach that told him he wasn’t just tired. He was sick. He focussed on placing one foot in front of the other and managed to shuffle his way downstairs to the kitchen.
He managed to pour himself a glass of water, his hand shaking a trail of it across the counter as he brought it to his lips. But the moment he swallowed, something churned in his stomach. He slammed the glass down and quickly stumbled to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him and dropping to his knees. His body shuddered when he threw up, a cold sweat beading across his skin as he sunk against the toilet seat. Times like these always brought back unwelcome memories of his first night out in Rustboro. Throwing up by the lake after Brawly had given him one too many bright blue drinks. Although he guessed this occasion was down to being ill-prepared for a long, exposed flight across Hoenn.
He had no idea how long he'd spent hunched over the bathroom floor, but he prayed to every god of Hoenn in hope that one would pity him and stop his nausea. His throat burned, his eyes watered, and there was nothing left in his stomach to bring up. Which was hardly surprising considering how little he'd eaten in the past twenty-four hours.
He managed the gather the strength to drag himself up to the sink. He could barely recognise the person staring back at him in the mirror. His eyes were sunken, his skin paler than usual, and his hair looked like a Zigzagoon had taken up residence in it. All in all, a terrible look for someone who was trying to impress the prettiest man in the region. He couldn’t let Wallace see him like this. He ran the tap, desperately scrubbing his hands and face under the gushing water and scrubbing any evidence of vomit away from his teeth. He rifled through the cupboard where his eyes landed on a comb, managing to brush a semblance of style into his hair.
When Steven exited the bathroom, he staggered backwards, almost bumping into Wallace who stood sporting a concerned frown.
"I thought you were never coming out," he said, stepping closer but Steven managed to sidestep him.
"All yours," he smiled weakly, desperately trying to keep himself upright as the room swayed. He made his arduous journey to the sofa where he collapsed, curling up among the cushions and drawing his knees to his chest while his body broke out in a violent shiver.
He heard footsteps on the concrete floor as Wallace emerged from the bathroom, praying that he would head straight back upstairs and not see him in this state.
"What's going on with you?" he asked, making Steven look up at the man towering over him with an expression drawn tight in concern. Steven forced his body to stay as still as he could, offering a thin smile. "Nothing, I'm fine."
Wallace cocked his head to one side and furrowed his eyebrows, letting Steven know that his body had betrayed him completely.
"Well that’s a lie," he stated, leaning over him. "You are clearly unwell."
"So are you," Steven mumbled, trying his best to keep his eyes open even though he was losing focus.
"I'm fine I'll have you know," sneered Wallace, though Steven couldn’t fight his heavy eyelids any longer and closed them with a sigh. "You, on the other hand, look like death."
"I'm fine, I just need…a…need…" Steven trailed off, unable to concentrate any longer. He felt Wallace's soft fingers sweep the hair from his forehead, before pressing their heads together.
"You're burning up. Hang on, I'm going to get the medical kit."
Steven awoke with a shiver. There was a great weight bearing down on his chest as he tried to take in his surroundings. He didn’t remember falling asleep in a bed, yet somehow he'd been warmly wrapped up in several blankets hugging a fluffy Torchic hot water bottle to his stomach. He dragged himself upright, rubbing his aching temples, realising a cold patch had been stuck to his forehead.
Something squeaked and Steven glanced around to see the source of the weight which had been crushing him. Aron was sitting on his lap, nudging Steven's hand as it beckoned him to stroke it, squealing happily when Steven ran his fingers along its smooth head.
"Wallace," croaked Steven, gently moving the Pokémon aside and throwing himself out of bed, swaying on his feet. He blinked hard, trying to cut through this mind fog and focus on finding Wallace as panic burned through him hotter than his fever. He tried to focus on placing one foot in front of the other, but with the floorboards rippling beneath him he lost his balance and stumbled forward.
"Ag-aaarg," came a grumble from the wall he thought he'd fallen into. But as it swept its huge tail behind it, knocking over the desk, he quickly realised it was Aggron.
"I need to get past," mumbled Steven, fighting his way upright despite the dizziness clawing at his vision. Just as he steadied himself, Aggron swept his legs up and placed him back into bed.
"Hey!" he tried yelling, but his throat was too parched and it came out as a croak. The Pokémon looked away bashfully, giving Steven the guilty side eye as it often did when choosing to ignore its trainer.
"I instructed them to keep you under bed rest," came Wallace's voice, relief crashing over Steven as he laid eyes on the man standing in the doorway.
"Are you alright?" Steven asked, his gut wrenching as he took in the nasty scabs and bruises which had blossomed all over the coordinators beautiful skin.
"Yes I’m alright," Wallace said with a scowl, squeezing past Aggron as he limped to Steven's bedside.
"You on the other hand, must be missing something in your head!" he scathed, waving a rolled up newspaper in his hand before whacking Steven on the head with it.
"Ow!"
"What on Earth were you thinking?!"
"What are you talking about?!"
"You know what I'm talking about!"
Steven frowned. But before he could protest his innocence any further, Wallace unrolled his newspaper and thrust it into his hands. It took a moment for Steven's mind to steady, Wallace pulling over the desk chair impatiently, dropping into it with a huff.
"I'm on the front page," mused Steven, eyeing the photo taken of himself looking a little nervous at the press conference. Well, that could have been much worse. Wallace puckered his brow as he leaned in, tapping his finger to the headline.
STEVEN 'MEGA' STONE - HOENN'S NEW CHAMPION SHOCKS SCIENTISTS WITH IMPOSSIBLE DISCOVERY
A shocking discovery has been made by Hoenn's very own Champion, which is sure to change the course of history for the Pokémon League. Steven Stone, son of Devon Corporation's Mr Joseph Stone, has announced his discovery of the first Mega Stone in the Hoenn region. Wallace Mikuri, former Champion, was cast aside at a recent conference where Steven Stone repeatedly denied the rumours of an alleged relationship between the current Champion and the ex.
"Oh no," Steven groaned. He couldn’t bring himself to read anymore, letting the newspapers fall to the bed as he sunk back down into the pillows. He'd nearly forgotten about the Pokémon Association meeting yesterday. Somehow that had become the least of his worries after Wallace's disappearance. But now it was back to bite him.
"I leave you alone for five minutes and you lie to the press about having a Mega Stone?!" Wallace fumed and Steven just wanted to curl up into a ball and be swallowed deep underground.
"I'm sorry," Steven croaked. "I didn’t mean to."
"Sorry doesn’t undo this, Steven!"
"I'll find a Mega Stone, they'll never know!"
"Yes they will," Wallace heaved a sigh while slowly dragging his hand down his face. "The press find out everything. They'll even find out about us soon enough."
Us? Steven wondered. Assuming he was referring to the fact that they were secretly hiding on Mossdeep, and definitely not the obscene things they got up to last night… That's all he needed plastered over the newspapers now, candid photographs of his Metagross boxers. Although it looked like Wallace was hung up on something, swallowing his annoyance as though it were a pill.
"What is it?" murmured Steven. He blinked slowly, his eyes glazed over with fever.
"It's nothing," spat Wallace, crossing his arms as he straightened in his chair, wincing at the discomfort of wood against his flesh.
"You should go rest," said Steven, turning his head in the pillows to face Wallace.
"I'm rested," Wallace retorted. He took the newspaper from Steven's hands and tossed it to the desk.
"But your back-"
"Steven," Wallace hissed, his eyes narrowing into sharp slits. "I can assure you that my wounds have been appropriately dressed. I didn’t become top coordinator with just a few scrapes and bruises and I will not be sat around feeling sorry for myself all day."
Steven's brows lowered. Not at Wallace, but at his own body for failing him when Wallace needed him. But by gods, he looked just like his Gyarados when he was mad, and Steven was in no fit state to throw himself into the coordinators war path.
Satisfied he'd won the argument, Wallace called to his Sealeo who came bouncing in with a bowl of food balanced on its head. "I don't suppose you mind that I cooked?" he asked sarcastically, which Steven didn’t answer. It was beneficial to keep quiet when asked such questions. He simply watched as Wallace took the bowl and handed it to him. He'd just been expecting a bowl of rice, maybe topped with some of the tinned food he'd stored away. Not colourful heaps of freshly sliced fruit and berries. He looked from the bowl to Wallace, his mouth agape with confusion.
"Where did you get these?" he asked. Wallace raised his chin, looking down his nose at him the same way he had with Teams Aqua and Magma.
"You won't get better on tins of baked beans."
"You went to the grocery store?!" Steven fumed, although his exhaustion left his voice sounding thin. "You'll be recognised!"
"Me? Recognised?" Wallace scoffed, clutching his pearls as though being an international contest star offended him. "I am the master of illusions."
He wafted his hand, tossing the dark scarf that was hung loosely around his neck over his head and threw a pair of thick sunglasses on to prove his point. They must have come from Riley's room because Steven had no idea such garish items existed in his house. He supposed that he just had to trust Wallace on this instance. He owed him that much. Especially when Wallace was trying to help him recover, at a time Steven should be looking after him. He pushed himself upright against the pillows and picked up the chopsticks which clicked in his quivering hands.
"What do I do?" Steven muttered to himself. Wallace was right. He'd well and truly screwed them over. It had taken him years to search Hoenn for a Mega Stone, and he still hadn't found a single one. There was no way he'd discover one any time soon. And with Team Aqua and Magma after them too…
"I don't know," sighed Wallace, reaching out and resting his hand over Steven's in a quiet truce. "But we'll think of something."
A weak smile tugged at Steven's lips, but his gaze drifted, unfocussed on Wallace as the bowl of fruit slipped from his grasp. Thankfully Wallace was quick to catch it, placing it on the bedside table.
"Get some rest," said Wallace. As he stood to leave the room Steven caught hold of his sleeve, his trembling fingers curling around the soft fabric before he could turn away.
"Wallace," Steven murmured, the words drifting out like a sigh as his eyelids fluttered open just enough to meet Wallace's. "I love you."
Wallace's lips parted in shock. Before he could word a response, Steven's hand slipped away and he faded back into sleep.