I am a grown ass woman in my twenties and I still play Pokemon and watch TV shows about teenaged werewolves. We all knew this was coming.
A few things to know: I'm upping the age that people get their first Pokemon to 18, because sending 10-year-olds off on adventures without parental guidance is hella stupid. Also, there's basically a personality test to see what Pokemon you get.
I might expand this universe if it's well received?
Also, this was previously published on AO3 under the name hai-mae.
X
Stiles was, to put it mildly, freaking the fuck out.
"De-stress your breasts, Stilinski," he told himself as he stared in his bathroom mirror, running a hand nervously over his head. There were smudged purple shadows under his eyes from a night spent nervously fidgeting in bed, and he looked pale- pale and terrified. He certainly didn't look old enough to finally be eighteen years old- the baby fat still lingering on his cheeks made sure of that- and he sure as hell did not look like he was ready to be a Pokemon trainer.
And yet… Well. He was about to be.
He was excited to be a Pokemon trainer, okay? Like, it was all he had ever wanted. But now that it was finally the morning that he would actually get a Pokemon he was scared out of his freaking mind.
He knew in a few short hours he would be responsible for this creature's happiness and safety; like, it would be up to him to make sure that it ate regularly and didn't drop dead of some weird Pokemon disease. But Stiles wasn't too worried about that part. He basically already did that with Scott.
He was more worried about his Test results.
The Test was relatively new thing; Pokemon researchers from all over the world had implemented it about twenty or so years ago as a way to more efficiently match trainers with their starter Pokemon. Apparently the whole "pick whatever random Pokemon I have in my office right now" route was getting a little old.
Stiles had taken the test about a month ago, along with all the other kids in town who had just turned 18. He honestly thought it seemed pretty bogus; it was just a three hour long test, with a practical portion and then a personality test, where he was asked stupid shit like "You consider yourself to be an adaptable person: True or False?" and "On a scale of 1-10, with one being a definite no and 10 being a definite yes, how likely would you be to join a criminal organization which aims to take over the entire world?"
Okay, he may have been making that last one up.
But still- Stiles wasn't sure how efficient this Pokemon matchmaking service was going to be at finding him his new BFF. He kind of wished that he could just fight all the other kids to the death over whatever cool Pokemon Dr. Deaton already had chilling in his office.
"That's exactly the reason they implemented the Test, Stiles," his father said with a put-upon voice after Stiles voiced his opinion at the breakfast table for- okay, yeah, like the millionth time that week. "The increase in people deciding to be Pokemon trainers over the past twenty years has made it impossible for everyone -"
"Yeah, yeah, this way everyone gets a fair shot, I get it," Stiles grumbled, half-heartedly poking at his scrambled eggs (which were overcooked, since it was his dad's turn to make breakfast and even at forty-six he still couldn't cook for shit). His dad smiled at him fondly, the big smile that made his eyes crinkle into half moons, and it helped, a little. Stiles could almost believe that this was any other morning where he was just eating breakfast with his dad, and the biggest thing he'd have to worry about was Scott accidentally sleeping through his alarm again and missing first period.
"You have nothing to worry about," his dad said gently before plopping some burnt toast on his plate, "Now eat up- you have a long day ahead of you."
"But what if I get something really lame?" Stiles asked nervously, "Like, what if I get a Magikarp?"
"You won't get a Magikarp," his dad said as he washed his plate in the sink, "Calm down. I've only heard of that happening once or twice. I doubt it will happen to you."
"Wait, it's actually happened before?" Stiles asked incredulously, "I was mostly joking, but- dad? Dad you can't leave this is an emergency!"
"Go talk about this with Scott!" the Sheriff yelled as he walked towards the front door, the click-clack on the tile a clear sign that his lazy Persian had finally deigned to get off the couch so she could follow him to work. "You'll be fine, Stiles- I'm sure you'll get a great Pokemon. Make sure you come home for dinner so I can meet it!"
The door slammed shut, and Stiles was left dreadfully alone with his thoughts. In a few short hours he would never be alone again, because he would have his first Pokemon- his partner. It was an extremely comforting thought, but…
"Fucking Magikarp," he grumbled, and took another bite of his father's horrible, horrible eggs.
X
"Dude, I am so pumped!" Scott said as they walked to Dr. Deaton's, a wide grin on his face. He was practically vibrating with excitement; it was like it was his birthday and Christmas and buy-one-get-one-free pizza day at the grocery store all rolled into one.
"Really, Scott?" Stiles drawled, "I couldn't tell. You don't look excited at all." Scott rolled his eyes and shoved Stiles' shoulder good-naturedly.
"This is going to be awesome, Stiles," Scott said as they opened the door to the lab, "It's everything we always dreamed of- traveling the world, challenging Gym Leaders…" His eyes turned dreamy. "Maybe we'll even meet some girls."
"Girls. Boys. I'd just like to meet someone who doesn't look at me like I'm the gum they need to scrape off of their shoe," Stiles said, "Speaking of- Hey, Lydia!"
Lydia Martin, the most flawless creature to have ever been born in the humble town of Beacon Hills, was sitting primly in one of Deaton's rickety waiting room chairs. Her hair was flowing over her shoulder in gentle waves and she was wearing one of those dresses with the minuscule skirts that Stiles simultaneously loved and hated. Her lips were red, her eyelashes impossibly long, and she would have looked absolutely perfect were it not for the look of complete disdain that appeared on her face as soon as they entered the office.
"Oh," she said, "It's just you. I thought you were Jackson."
"Of course you did," Stiles said with a sigh, plopping dramatically into the chair across from her, "I'm sure he's not far. The pungent smell of idiocy and douchey cologne is already strong in the air."
"Fuck you, nerd lord," Jackson said from behind Scott, who was still standing in the doorway. He pushed him out of the way, ignoring Scott's sound of protest, and moved across the room to sit next to Lydia and throw a possessive arm around her shoulders. It was all a very obvious play to make Stiles jealous.
And it was working, dammit.
Danny trailed in behind Jackson, looking about as nervous as Stiles felt. As if Danny had any right to be nervous- pffft. Danny was the best. Every creature on the planet loved Danny. One time, during a field trip to a Pokemon Sanctuary, a Raticate had become so enamored with him that it had given him a flower. If that wasn't some Disney Prince level shit Stiles didn't know what was.
The air in the waiting room was filled with tension and nerves. They probably would have devolved into a screaming match over something ridiculous if Deaton hadn't walked in that very moment carrying an armful of folders, a mild smile on his face.
"It's nice to see you're all on time," he greeted, "Please, come in so we can get started."
He ushered them past his office to one of the larger rooms in the lab, where there were chairs lined up in a row facing a small table. Deaton gestured for them to sit, and as they did Stiles eyed the table nervously. There were five Pokedexes lined up in a neat row, obviously intended to be given to the five of them, but… there were only four Pokeballs.
What.
"You should all be very proud of yourselves," Dr. Deaton said, and Stiles was too nervous to even roll his eyes or whisper a snarky comment to Scott. "You would not be here right now if it wasn't for all of your hard work. From this moment on, you are all officially licensed Pokemon trainers. You will be able to legally battle, challenge Gym leaders, and enter into different Pokemon-centric events. While I do hope you will take the career recommendations that the Test provided for you, your future is entirely up to you."
He walked up to the table and picked up a Pokedex and a Pokeball. "Miss Martin," he said, and only Lydia's tightly clenched fists revealed just how nervous she actually was, "You had a perfect score on your practical exam, and the personality test indicated that you greatly value intelligence and hard work. It was decided that an Abra would be the best fit for you."
Lydia stood to accept her Pokeball, Pokedex, and the folder containing her test results. She was staring at the Pokeball in her hand with an expression that was positively victorious. Stiles couldn't blame her. Abra were pretty weak and tough to train, but man, once they evolved…
And Stiles had thought Lydia was scary without a Pokemon.
"Mr. McCall," Deaton said, and Scott squeaked, "Your test revealed what everyone in this room already knew; you are loyal and have a strong moral , it is only natural your companion should exhibit the same qualities." He handed Scott his Pokeball with a smile on his face. "Take good care of your new Growlithe."
Scott looked like he was about to cry. "Thank you, sir!" he exclaimed, clutching the Pokeball to his chest. Deaton smiled indulgently.
Scott was totally the favorite.
Danny ended up getting a Cleffa, because his personality test said he was kind and also because he was a lucky bastard. Jackson got a rare Snivy, because- as Stiles always said- he was a total snake. Stiles felt his heart sink when Jackson received the last Pokeball. Here he had been worried that he was going to get a lame Pokemon. He should have been worried about not getting one at all. The others were staring at him pityingly.
Well, Jackson looked like it was his birthday, but he had always loved seeing other people's pain. Especially when it was Stiles'.
"Don't look so upset, Mr. Stilinski," Deaton said kindly, handing him his folder and his Pokedex, "You weren't forgotten."
"But… where is my Pokemon, then?" he asked nervously. Scott put a hand on his shoulder comfortingly.
"The Pokemon you were matched with was a bit… difficult to find," Deaton said, "We almost had to find a substitute for you, but last minute an old friend of mine called to say that she had exactly what we were looking for. She was sending her son here to deliver it, but he ran into some unexpected delays this morning." Stiles sighed in relief.
"Dude, they had to special order your Pokemon!" Scott whispered, "It's probably something super awesome." Jackson looked like he had swallowed a lemon; no doubt he was expecting to have bragging rights on the rarest Pokemon in the room.
Deaton looked down at his watch. "If I'm right, my friend's son may be waiting for me in my office now. Everyone, you can go become acquainted with your new partners- Stiles, please take a seat back in the waiting room. I'll come get you shortly."
"Do you want me to wait with you?" Scott asked as they shuffled towards the exit. Stiles shook his head.
"Naw, dude, don't worry. You go have some bonding time and I'll catch up with you. I'm okay chilling by myself for a while."
"Uh, okay," Scott said as they walked into the waiting room, suddenly looking nervous, "That's, uh, a good idea. I'll see ya!" He positively bolted through the door, leaving Stiles alone in Deaton's waiting room wondering what the fuck had just happened. He turned to take a seat and-
Oh.
He wasn't exactly alone.
There was a monster sitting on the other side of the room.
The Pokemon sitting in the waiting area was terrifying, with shining red eyes that stared at him unblinkingly from across the room. It's teeth and claws looked painfully sharp, like they were made especially for ripping skinny kids like Stiles limb from limb. But it obviously belonged to somebody, and seemed well-trained, if the way it simply cocked its head at Stiles curiously when he gingerly sat down in one of the chairs (the chair farthest aware from the Pokemon- Stiles wasn't taking any chances) was any indication. Lydia had told him once that making eye contact with Pokemon could cause them to get aggressive, so he resolutely stared at the opposite wall and did everything in his power to pretend that the monstrous Pokemon didn't exist.
It was hard, though. Stiles wasn't good at sitting still, and his curiosity finally got the best of him. After a few moments of awkward silence, he decided that he probably wouldn't get maimed if he chanced a look over at the Pokemon. It was still staring at him in a non-blinking way that was definitely in creepy territory, but its head was in its paws and its ears were lowered looking like- Stiles could kick himself for using the analogy since it was giant ferocious probably man-eating beast, but- a sad puppy.
It actually looked a little like Scott. Stiles had never been able to resist Scott's sad face.
When it saw Stiles looking at it its tail started to wag, hitting the wall with loud thumps.
"Oh my God," Stiles said, "You just want attention, don't you?"
The Pokemon's tail started to wag harder.
"You won't eat me if I go over there to pet you, will you?" Stiles asked, standing up and walking over to the Pokemon slowly. There were probably a million and a half reasons why Stiles shouldn't try to touch a strange Pokemon (getting his hand eaten off was number one on that list), but the poor thing was obviously starved for some attention, so Stiles figured it was okay to risk it.
Unless, of course, it was all a clever ruse to get him closer and it was actually starved for Stiles's young, tender flesh.
It was too late to turn back, though, because the Pokemon was already sniffing his hand. Stiles froze, certain that it was going to open its mouth and bite, but the Pokemon just licked his hand gently, as if he had passed some sort of test. Then it looked at him, head tilted, before plopping down on its back gracelessly, legs in the air.
"Oh my God," Stiles said again, "Do you want a tummy rub? Is that what this is?" The Pokemon wiggled, its tail wagging frantically, so Stiles reached out to scratch at the fur on its stomach, laughing incredulously when the its eyes closed in pure bliss.
"Who's a fearsome beast?" Stiles cooed, "Awww, who's a terrifying man-eating monster? You are! Who's-"
"Mr. Stilinksi?"
Stiles yelped and fell backwards onto his butt. Dr. Deaton had opened the door at some point during the belly rub, and he looked- if Stiles could guess his micro expressions right- like he was trying not to laugh. There was a man standing next to him with a cloudy expression on his face and Stiles felt his entire body turn red because holy hell, he was the most attractive person Stiles had ever seen (including, he had to admit, Lydia, which made him feel mildly like he was committing sacrilege). He was tall and muscular and dangerous-looking, sporting a beat-up leather jacket and some truly glorious man looked from Stiles to the Pokemon sprawled on the floor next to him and raised an eyebrow.
"Uh, I can explain?" Stiles said weakly. He was surprised he was even able to formulate words because he was still pretty stunned. Dr. Deaton chuckled.
"Can you?" the unfamiliar man asked, and it was totally unfair that his voice was just as sexy as the rest of him, Jesus Christ. Stiles gaped at him for a moment before he remembered that he was still sitting on his ass in Deaton's waiting room.
Fuck.
Well, never let it be said that he didn't make a memorable first impression.
"This dude and I are totally best friends now," Stiles said as he tried to stand up with as much grace as possible (which was not a lot). "We bonded over our mutual hatred of being stranded in waiting rooms. It was a beautiful thing."
"Uh huh," the man said, his lips twitching slightly. He looked down at the Pokemon, who finally realized that belly rub time was over and was looking rather put-out. "Alpha, it's time to go."
The Pokemon- Alpha, Stiles thought- rolled onto its feet. It tilted its head at Stiles again and then, very gently, jumped up to put its front paws on Stiles's shoulders so it could lick him right across the face. Stiles spluttered, Deaton chuckled again, and the unfamiliar man just looked at Stiles incredulously, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing.
"She likes you," he said quietly, looking oddly intense. Stiles wiped the drool off his face.
"I'm glad," he said honestly, "I hope my own Pokemon ends up liking me this much." Surprisingly, this made the stranger smile a little, and Stiles felt his heart do some seriously hardcore thumping in his chest.
Lydia who? his traitorous mind asked.
"Yeah- good luck with that one," the stranger said, but then he looked down at Alpha curiously and added, "Well. I think you'll be okay."
"Thanks, dude," Stiles said.
"It's Derek," he corrected. Stiles didn't think he would be over-exaggerating if he said there was a seriously significant look that passed between them. Stiles was about to open his mouth to say something, anything, but then Deaton broke the silence (the sexually charged silence? Was Stiles reading this entirely wrong?).
"Thank you for making the trip, Mr. Hale. Mr. Stilinski, why don't you follow me into my office?"
God, Deaton was such a cockblock.
The stranger- Derek- nodded his goodbye and then walked out the door, Alpha following at his heels. Stiles stared after them mournfully for a moment (goodbye, my almost lover, he sang in his head) before following Deaton back to his office. His palms suddenly felt clammy.
This was it.
"Your test results were interesting, Mr. Stilinski," Deaton began, and Jesus, Stiles felt like he was going to pass out from nerves. "Your practical score was almost as high as Miss Martin's, and your personality score shows that you are are extremely adaptable." He handed Stiles his Pokeball and then nodded encouragingly. "You can release her in here, if you'd like."
The Pokeball almost slipped out of his hand because of his sweaty palms, but Stiles clicked the button to expand it and then released the Pokemon onto the desk, panicking at the last minute in case it was too big to fit. Luckily, it ended up being quite small. The Pokemon sitting on Deaton's desk was (and Stiles refused to think of it as unmanly to say) adorable, with overlarge ears and silky brown fur. She looked up at Stiles with huge brown eyes and Stiles immediately fell in love.
"Holy shit," he breathed, reaching a shaking hand out to touch her ear, "I got an Eevee? This is unbelievab-OUCH HOLY SHIT!"
His Eevee, instead of nuzzling up to his hand like he was expecting, sunk her sharp little teeth into Stiles' arm. She growled, playfully, and her little tail was wagging furiously. It would have been cute if it hadn't hurt so damn bad.
"Oh, she likes you already," Deaton said, and Stiles looked at him incredulously. "Mr. Hale said that she likes to bite; he thinks its her way of showing affection. She's very young, so she'll probably grow out of it."
"I hope so," Stiles grumbled, but she had finally let go of his hand and was now letting him scratch her behind her ear so he wasn't too upset, "At least I already know she'll be good in a fight."
Deaton chuckled. "Go catch up to your friends, Mr. Stilinski," he said kindly, "I'm sure they'll be delighted to meet her."
X
"Dude!" Scott said, "She's adorable!" He was petting the Eevee gently on the head, and Stiles was a little bitter to see that she wasn't biting him. But she didn't seem too pleased at his attentions, so maybe Deaton was right- maybe biting was her way of showing she cared.
As if intent on proving his thoughts right, she turned away from Scott in a huff and bounded over to leap onto Stiles' lap, grabbing his thumb in her tiny mouth. "Can't you just cuddle like a normal Pokemon?" he complained, but she wasn't breaking the skin, so he figured it was okay.
"Maybe she's teething?" Scott suggested, running a hand down Apollo's fur. Stiles had been pretty surprised by the mythological nickname; Scott was notoriously bad at mythology. But it was fitting, he had to admit. The Growlithe was small but regal- at least he was until he flopped down on Scott's lap and wriggled around, begging for attention. "Are you gonna give her a nickname?"
"Yeah," Stiles said, a slow grin spreading across his face, "I was thinking I would call her Malia."
Scott snorted. "Wasn't Malia the name of the girl who went to preschool with us?" he asked, and Stiles laughed.
"Yeah- they had to send her to private school because she kept biting the teachers." They both looked down at the Eevee, who had moved on from Stiles' hand and was now attempting to eat his shoe. "I thought it was fitting."
"It totally is," Scott agreed. They sat for a while in companionable silence, trying to absorb everything that had happened in the past few hours.
"Everything is going to change now, isn't it?" Stiles asked.
"Yeah," he said, a smile spreading across his face, "It is."