More than a week passed before he returned to Vermilion. Blaine didn’t like to think of himself as predictable, but Victory Road had sort of been his default training ground for a few years. Over time, the Carrier-Pidgey just learned to head there first if they had mail for him—or, in this case, an invitation to a yacht party. The Silph Corporation president still thought Blaine was just The Greatest Kid Ever (and had since the Team Rocket fiasco), so he was always invited to these things. The dress-code was a bit uptight, but it was a rare opportunity for him to take a break from training. And there was always the chance that bored well-to-doers wanted to battle.

“Dude, I kind of want to dip a chicken leg into the chocolate fountain.”

Blaine turned to look incredulously at Finn. “Why a chicken leg?”

His friend shrugged, still looking at the catering table. “Because that’s something you wouldn’t expect. Plenty of people know what a chocolate-covered pretzel tastes like, but how many people know what a chocolate-covered chicken tastes like?”

Blaine couldn’t help but shake his head and chuckle. Impulses like these were what made Finn so fun to bring to highbrow events in the first place.

He first met Finn in Pewter City, a few days before he challenged Brock. Finn had been an impressionable young student with too much hair who had never even owned a Pok�mon, until Blaine expressed worries about going through Mt. Moon alone. After some deliberation, the boys made an agreement: Finn would accompany Blaine through the cave if Blaine helped Finn catch and train a Pok�mon on the way. They hadn’t planned on keeping in touch after that, but then again they hadn’t planned on running into a slew of uniform-clad criminals calling themselves Team Rocket either.

And, crime-fighting obligations aside, he liked hanging out with Finn, for many reasons. One of them was the way he acted as a hate sponge whenever Gary Oak was around.

For instance, in the middle of his first battle with Finn, Gary periodically called out things like, “Do you understand how battles work at all?” and “No one even gives their Pok�mon nicknames except six-year-old girls!” and “Is that Jigglypuff your first Pok�mon? What man in his right mind even has that as a first Pok�mon?”

And for the most part, Finn looked more confused than offended. “Uh. Rachel, use Sing!”

No one remembered much after that.

The problem was Finn had been avoiding Gary and his posse ever since he stole Finn’s girlfriend. So, naturally, when a flash of spiky brown hair entered the lounge, Finn legged it out like there was a fire.

And so there sat Blaine Anderson, seasoned trainer extraordinaire, pretending to admire the scenic view of the city lights on the coast through the lounge’s enormous windows while the people around him convened and laughed and socialized.

It was as he was examining the catering table, contemplating how many people had ever tasted a chocolate-covered chicken, when he saw him.

Or rather, he was pretty sure it was him. All he could really make out was a profile. Then he was moving and—no, the hair was wrong. But it did have a beret on it before, and his suit seemed to be more intricate than normal, and his neck was familiar, and how weird would it be that Blaine recognized him by his neck, and before he could stop himself he’d already crossed the room and gotten close and said, “Kurt?”

Kurt’s eyes caught his. “Blaine?”

The involuntary grin took over again as Blaine said, “Hey! What are you doing here?”

Kurt shrugged, head tilting with it. “I was in town.”

“For a minute there I wasn’t sure. You look different without the hat.”

The boy brought his hands to rest at his middle, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. “I’m glad for an opportunity to wear something else. The life of a traveling trainer is definitely not compatible with that of a fashion-conscious gentleman.”

“Where’s the Umbreon? I thought he was perpetually free,” Blaine said, leaning against a table and crossing a leg over the other.

“He sure wishes he was.” He looked down to the string of Pok� Balls on his belt, amused by something. “Your namesake is quite a character, by the way.”

Blaine pressed his lips together as he smiled, nodding slowly. “Mm. Isn’t he just?”

“Did his peons grill you on trivia when you first challenged him?”

“Yeah. He’s always done that. How’d it go?”

“Great.” Kurt’s face lit up pleasantly. “He said it had been a while since he’d had a real challenger. I think the people watching had a good show, too.”

“My first battle with him was pretty confusing for the spectators, ‘cause the gym guide didn’t really know what to call us to differentiate.”

“But he knew you were named after him, right?”

“Well, my mom was the one who knew him—she met him while she was studying science in Cinnabar. Then she moved to Pallet to work under Oak, and then she met my dad, and then I happened. So when I first told him about it, he didn’t believe me. Like, he didn’t think I was really her son and I was just making it all up.”

Kurt craned his head forward in surprise, eyebrows raised and mouth parted.

“And even when I went back to Cinnabar to do rematches, he would say my name with a nudge and a wink, like, ‘Right. Uh-huh. Suuuuuure.’ And it wasn’t until the Gym Leaders had a conference in Saffron, and I brought my parents along, and we went to say hello to him—”

“Did he look surprised?”

“No! He was completely unfazed! And he says hello to my mom and he goes, ‘Yeah, when I first heard that your son was going to battle me, I knew I was in for a challenge.’ And I’m standing there. . .”

Kurt’s shoulders shook with his laughter.

“. . .and in my head I’m going, ‘No you didn’t! You thought I was a fraud until five seconds ago!’”

This was a new spectacle for Blaine: Kurt in complete and uncontrolled mirth, teeth peeking out from lips that pulled across his face to expose dimples, eyes scrunched up so much that he could probably barely see the silly grin Blaine was sporting in return.

Kurt seemed to become aware of himself, however, and he reigned it in with a hand across his mouth and a few weak coughs. “I have a—”

“Anderson!” a voice shouted from across the room.

Blaine exhaled slowly and squeezed his eyes shut. Maybe if he wished him away really hard. . .

“Anderoni! Anderoo! Anderlicious! Blubber Anderblub!” Gary trotted over to their corner of the lounge and sidled up to Blaine, swinging an arm around his shoulders. “Have you met Quinn?”

“Yes, Gary. You’ve introduced me to her three times.” When he finally looked at Gary, he did a double-take and asked, “Why are you in your everyday trainer clothes?”

“Because I can.” Gary brought his attention to Kurt and waved in greeting. “Bonjour. I’m Gary. Gary Oak. Pallet Town.”

“Kurt Hummel, from Azalea Town.” He turned his head to the side thoughtfully. “Are you related to the Pok�mon Professor?”

“Why, yes! I’m his grandson.”

Blaine rolled his eyes so hard they hurt.

“I’m a fan of his work.”

“Everyone is,” Gary said with a shrug. “And Azalea Town is in Johto, of course. What brings you to Kanto?”

“Training.”

“God knows we have plenty of that over here.” Gary chuckled loudly, using the hand on Blaine’s shoulder to shake him from side to side.

Blaine made an effort to look amused for half a second before it was too much.

“So you and Blaine are both from Pallet Town, then,” said Kurt.

“Yeah, this one and I have known each other forever.” Gary swung his head back to look at Blaine. “Speaking of—Wow, Anderson. Have you gained weight?”

Blaine’s eyebrows knotted as he chanced a look down at his stomach, unconsciously sucking it in. “I—”

“No, no no, Anderson, I completely understand. Your Charizard is feeling self-conscious about being the most gargantuan thing in your party, so you’re trying to make it feel better by being even bigger. It’s very honorable. I’m in awe of you. And I’ll tell you something. . .”

While Gary was focused on Blaine, Kurt gestured tipping a bottle to his face and mouthed, “Is he drunk?”

As Gary shifted to look at Kurt, Blaine mouthed back, “No,” then pointed at his own crotch and mouthed, “He’s just a dick.”

Kurt suppressed a smile, apparently forgetting to pretend he was paying attention to the actual conversation.

This didn’t go unnoticed by Gary.

In fact, he abruptly stopped mid-chat to glance between the two of them suspiciously before perking up and giving Blaine a worryingly knowing look.

“So. You say you’re here to train, Kurt?”

“Yeah.”

“And you and Blaine, you guys. . . train a lot?”

Blaine narrowed his eyes. Kurt probably hadn’t caught it, but knowing Gary Oak for thirteen years came with a recognition of the inflated tone his voice adopted any time he thought he was onto something.

“Uh—well, we actually met in Vermilion last Monday,” Kurt said with a nod to Blaine.

Gary’s jaw fell open, laughing breathily before composing himself. “That’s a bit early to be training with someone for me, personally, but I’m not gonna judge.”

Blaine shot him a glare, hoping with a desperate fervor that he wasn’t doing what Blaine thought he was doing.

“Really?” asked Kurt, perplexed. “Blaine and I were talking about training together before we even knew each other’s names.”

Gary sputtered in disbelief and gave an impressed look to Blaine, who’d dropped his head into one of his hands and was gently massaging his eyelids. “Anderson! I didn’t know you had it in you!”

“Gary,” Blaine said in a low voice.

“Fu-cking hell. I haven’t even gotten Quinn to train with me yet!”

“Gary.”

“Right, right. Well, I’m not going to keep you guys any longer. You’re practically training each other with your eyes.” He gave a smirk and a congratulatory pat to Blaine’s back and then took off.

By the time Gary disappeared to the other side of the lounge, Kurt seemed to have caught on. He was staring at the wall with a pensively uncomfortable look on his face, as if he were trying to chew on Gary’s parting words without tasting anything embarrassing.

Blaine cleared his throat. “The key to being Gary’s friend without punching him is just to ignore everything he says.”

“Got it.” Kurt shook his head briefly, as if to get rid of his train of thought. “You know, I actually was just in town for this. My battle with Surge was a few days ago, and Sabrina is Sunday.”

“How did you get into this thing in the first place?”

“My dad works with a guy in Johto who makes custom Pok� Balls, and he works for Silph. That’s, uh, actually what I was going to say before your friend came by. He’s my namesake.”

“Really? Two Kurts in the same town?”

“Oh, of course. Why do you think I left in the first place?” Kurt said in a pseudo-haughty tone, tilting his head up to look down his nose at Blaine.

Blaine rolled his eyes melodramatically. “To crash fancy yacht parties in Kanto, obviously.”

Another giggle. “Not to mention it gives me an excuse to make eyes at plenty of eligible young trainers.”

Blaine’s responding laugh climbed into falsetto. “What?”

“You must be familiar with the eye contact rule.” As if to illustrate his meaning, Kurt turned to face Blaine directly.

For his part, Blaine just focused on breathing normally. “Hmm?”

“You know. If one trainer makes eye contact with another, they have the right to challenge one another then and there.”

Eye contact. Yes. Eyes. As far as eyes go, yours are good.

“Blaine.”

“Uh—Yeah.”

He probably should have been embarrassed by how long it took him to figure it out. But in that moment, as Kurt looked at him with more emphasis and drove the point home by taking a firm step forward, all Blaine could do was stare back.

“Y-you want to battle?”

Kurt simply smiled.