Blaine sighed, rolling up the sleeves of his woollen cardigan and running his hands through his tousled curls as he felt his neck heating up. He never minded being the centre of attention, but this was obviouslynot *the* grand arrival to the big city he had dreamt about.

“I’m so sorry about this,” he groaned, looking up at the stewardess apologetically. “He’s never done it before, I swear. I think he’s just a little stressed from the flight.”

She raised her flawlessly pencilled eyebrows and Blaine knew there was no way he was kidding her.

“He doesn’t seem stressed to me,” she drawled, looking down at Blaine’s Snorlax who lay sprawled all across the plane aisle, his limbs sticking up in all directions, his huge mouth closing and opening and his huge belly raising and falling as he snored. And man, did he snore.

“You know there are rules, Mr., err,” the stewardess looked into a seating chart she was holding in her manicured hands, “Anderson, about bringing Pokémon on board.”

Blaine nodded, shifting his feet. He absolutely hated being put on the spot. And twice as much when it came to his training skills. He gritted his teeth, taking a deep breath.

“Believe me, I know. This is not my first flight. I know that all Pokémon are supposed to stay in their Poké Balls for the duration of the flight,” he rattled out, his eyes darting over the sleeping Snorlax guiltily.

“Why yes, they are, Mr. Anderson. As well as for your journey across the airport and all the way until you reach the security, where your Poké Balls go under the scan. These rules are not to be taken lightly.”

“I’m sorry, ok? It was his first flight and he’s never done this before and I guess that, err, the time difference must have gotten to him,” Blaine babbled, almost feeling the invisible drops of sweat prickling on his forehead.       

The stewardess suddenly spluttered, and presented Blaine with a Poké Ball of her own, a high pitched laugh coming out of her mouth. (And ok, Blaine would be staying in the New York City for the rest of his life, thank you very much, because nobody was getting him on a plane ever again.)

“Look, hobbit, formalities aside. My clipboard says you’re flying from CMH, so unless you want to meet my lovely Arbok, who I’m sure would just love to give you a big hug, stop playing games with me and get Winnie the Pooh here out of my sight, before it sheds all over my carpet, pronto.” She then turned around, her long black hair whipping Blaine in the face, and stalked off.

“Oh, my Snorlax doesn’t really shed,” Blaine started saying, but she was already far away, arguing with somebody over the phone in Spanish. He groaned in frustration again, scraping his hands across his face, and bent down to try and wake up his little monster.

~

“God. I just don’t know what to do about you anymore,” Blaine complained, sitting back in his chair and finally relaxing for the first time after getting on the plane in Columbus. He took a sip of his latte, grimacing as he swallowed. His ears still ached from the flight and he was tired and dirty, not to mention really short on money already (Turns out they charge extra money for letting a Pokémon who is not in his Poké Ball through the security. How unexpectedly lovely.).

“I mean, you can’t just pull a stunt like that on me and think that it’s ok,” he grumbled, shooting a glare across the table.

“Snor.”  

“Yeah, I know,” Blaine snorted, shaking his head. “You’re not sorry. I noticed. But that was certainly not the first time this happened to you, Snorlax. You can’t just bust out of the Poké Ball every time you feel like taking a nap in a starfish position. That’s not how it works. You’re supposed to rest inside, you know.”

“Lax.”

Blaine let out a long-suffering sigh. His Snorlax’s ass was covering three of the four coffee shop chairs that were at their table while still hanging over the edges, his short feet dangling in the air as he shovelled spoonfuls of ice-cream in his smiling mouth.   

“Nghh, I give up. Finish your dessert, we need to go get settled at our new apartment. And get the fuck in your Poké Ball, I don’t think I can take walking more blocks with you trailing behind me like a duckling. I already feel like a cartoon character in here, even without you.”

Snorlax didn’t say anything to that and just continued enjoying his ice-cream, his clawed feet kicking Blaine under the table (much to Blaine’s chagrin).

“I’m sorry, but are you feeding your Pokémon human food?”

Blaine looked up, following the strangely high voice, his jaw going a little bit slack as his eyes met a pair of the most impeccable coloured ones. It turned out that they belonged to a handsome barista, who was looking down at him with a not so handsome frown on his fair-skinned face.

“Err,” Blaine managed, patting himself on the back inwardly for his eloquence. The barista was still frowning, his hands coming to rest at his waist. He was wearing a dark green apron over a white, tight long-sleeved Henley and skinny jeans. There was also something Blaine could only describe as very fashionable tool belt around his waist, and he was pretty sure there were no actual tools in it.

“What – what do you mean?” he finally stuttered out, trying hard to keep his eyes above his waistline (and ok, not just because of the tool belt).

The barista quirked an eyebrow.

“We have a special menu for Pokémon I can bring you, sir. There was a gentleman earlier today who said that his Blastiose really liked the soup.”

Blaine finally tore his eyes away from the barista’s chest.

“Blaine. Uh… my name’s Blaine, please don’t call me sir, if you can, I mean, you don’t have to, obviously, I just that it’s…” he paused, taking another deep breath. He was sure he saw a fleeting smile fly across the barista’s face.

“Ok. Blaine, do you want me to bring you the Pokémon menu?”

“Oh. That won’t be necessary.” Blaine cocked his head in Snorlax’s direction (who was licking the ice-cream remains out of the tiny bowl, barely holding it between his enormous paws).

“This is Snorlax,” Snorlax stopped licking the cream at the mention of his name and looked up, staring at Blaine dully. “Snorlax likes food and he has the best digestive system of all the Pokémon. Maybe even better than most people. He gets really grumpy if I try feeding him Pokémon food, and I like my Snorlax to be happy. Even though he doesn’t really deserve it for what he did today,” Blaine mumbled the last sentence. 

The barista blinked and looked Snorlax up and down again with an interest in his eyes.

“So he really just ate five bowls of ice-cream and he’s gonna be completely fine?”

Blaine nodded, laughing.

“More than that. It will put him to sleep for a couple of weeks so I can finally have some fun in New York.” He smiled widely and totally missed how deep the boy blushed, because his eyes squinted so hard.

“Oh. So I take it you’re new here, judging by the suitcases and whatnot?”

“Yep. Just landed, actually. The words bad flight don’t even cover it. So I thought I’d get us something to wake us up before we dive into the city.” Blaine smiled pointing at his coffee. “Well, wake up in my case, put to sleep – in a Pokéball – in his case.”

“Snorlax?”

“Yeah, I’m talking about you, big guy. You’re going to take a nice long nap, ok?” Blaine reached across the table to pat Snorlax’s paw. He saw the barista smile from the corner of his eye.

“I’ve never actually seen one before.”

Blaine looked up again.

“What? A Snorlax?”

The barista nodded.

“Well, granted, there’s not many of them, especially not in big cities like New York. People don’t usually like having them on their teams, so most of the Snorlax are still wild.”

“But you have one,” the barista’s smile didn’t leave his face.

“Yeah,” Blaine chuckled. “He’s not been on my team for very long yet and we have issues,” he side-eyed Snorlax, “but I guess I do have one.”

The barista laughed (And man, did Blaine like this boy’s laughter. It tickled his insides.).

“So, Blaine, tell me, am I wrong when I say you’re one of those Pokémon trainers who always have one of their Pokémon out of their Poké Ball as a companion?”

“As a matter of fact, I am! Not this one, though. It wouldn’t be very practical to drag Snorlax with me to get groceries,” Blaine joked, enjoying the little lines around the barista’s eyes as he laughed.

“I usually travel with my Mareep, but I had to leave him in till I deal with this… little problem,” he sighed and once again cocked his head in Snorlax’s direction.

“I know what you mean,” the barista giggled. “I only ever let my Pokémon out when I’m home or when we’re at the Pokémon park,” he shrugged. “The city can be dangerous for them, especially after it gets dark.”

“Oh,” Blaine exclaimed, eyeing the tool belt once again. “So you are a trainer, then. I thought so. Too bad I can’t see your Pokémon.”

“Why, Blaine, are you asking me to take you to my home?” he quirked one eyebrow again.

“Not at all! I was just asking-”

The barista laughed. “Relax, Blaine, I was just kidding. You’d love my Pokémon, though, they’re all colour-coordinated. Which, obviously, is not the point,” he paused to giggle again. “But I like to tell people I did it on purpose.  I do have a really good sense when it comes to fashion. And again, I’m not saying that Pokémon are accessories. That would be a bad thing to say. I’m actually a good person, I promise. I’m even active in Poké-rights. Wow, I’m embarrassing myself right now, aren’t I,” The barista laughed anxiously, running his fingers through his light brown hair.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’m the one who’s on a coffee date with a Snorlax whose face is completely covered in melted ice-cream.”

They both snorted at the sight and then fell silent for a bit, smiling at one another, before somebody dropped a dish and the shattering sound made Kurt jump.

“Oh god, I should be working right now,” he exclaimed, his cheeks colouring. “It was very nice to meet you though, Blaine. Oh and welcome to New York City,” he smiled cheekily before walking away.

“Wait!” Blaine blurted out, making the cute barista stop in his tracks and turn around one more time.

“Do I get to know your name?”

“It’s Kurt,” the barista winked, blushing even deeper and quickening his steps as he hurried towards the counter.

~

Later that night Blaine lay in his bed (well, it was really just a mattress, but he made do) inside of his new apartment, absently staring out of the window with a dopey grin on his face. Snorlax was finally in his Poké Ball and Blaine was about to have a good night’s sleep before his first big day in the city.

“First person I talk to in my new home, and that pissy stewardess totally doesn’t count, turns out to be a fairy-tale prince,” he sleepily addressed the empty room, sighing in contentment. “His skin,” he groaned. “It looked so soft. And his smile was so pretty. His lips. Mmm,” he smiled, blinking into the darkness. He couldn’t get the cute barista, Kurt, out of his head. It wasn’t like he minded, though.

“I think I’m going to like New York,” he mumbled, his hand sliding down his naked chest and across his stomach and he was just about to slip it under his pyjama pants when a sudden sharp bolt of light in the corner of the room made him sit up in surprise.

“Snorlax.”