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A gala would not have been Steven's preferred way to spend his first night back home.
It had been four years since he had spent any length of time in Hoenn—four years since he'd bequeathed the formal duties of League Champion to a nervous but terrifyingly competent teenager and decided the best thing he could do was give her room to find her feet. He'd left her with his contact information, but May's initially frequent protocol questions had gradually drifted into funny anecdotes on League hopefuls and photographs of her Pokémon lounging around what appeared to be a cozily-decorated treehouse. She'd established herself well and thoroughly. At this point there was no reason for Steven to make himself scarce.
Still, he wished he hadn't scheduled his return on the eve of Devon Corporation's annual charity ball. When he was picking his flight back from Galar, it had been far too tempting to sneak in some extra time to visit Stow-on-Side, even if it meant he would only have twelve hours between arriving in Rustboro and needing to get ready for the event. Now, jet-lagged and bored out of his wits, he was cursing himself for the decision. This room, full of gowns and glitz and shareholders he couldn't risk offending, was the last place he wanted to be.
The fashion of the season was large, flashy diamonds, the larger and flashier the better—which of course meant that most of them were either lab-grown, or weren't diamonds at all. Still, there was only so much boredom Steven could alleviate with idle identifications of diamond versus moissanite versus cubic zirconia. So far tonight, Glacia's comparatively-modest diamond earrings were the only stones he'd spotted that he was positive were real.
He could see Wallace across the room, but the role of Devon Corporation heir meant that Steven couldn't spend the night catching up with old friends and instead had to prioritize schmoozing with his father's business partners. His business partners, he supposed he should consider them.
"I understand that you've just returned from Galar?" A question from his current conversation partner pulled him back from his self-pity. She was the president of a new subsidiary in Mauville that Steven was pretending he hadn't forgotten the name of—something to do with Pokénav accessories—and the row of emerald-cut diamonds encircling her throat had the type of uniform perfection that could only come from a lab. Steven had to confess he didn't see the point.
"Yes." He flashed her a smile carefully measured to hit the right note of charming yet polite. "Wyndon, to be precise. I've been meeting with executives at Macro Cosmos for the last few months, representing Devon Corporation's interests." He suppressed a wince at the memory of exactly how the trip had gone—his father had wanted a deeper partnership with Macro Cosmos that Steven had decided not to pursue based on nothing but an uneasy hunch. They'd had quite the row about it, and Steven suspected that if one of his previous uneasy hunches hadn't been proven spectacularly true the previous year, with Altru Inc's holdings crashed to nothing overnight, he'd have been ordered to ignore his gut and pursue the partnership anyway. Still, he'd set Devon up for a number of short-term collaborations, so on paper the trip had been a success.
"Oh." His companion's smile broadened, and she looked at him with new interest. "I hadn't realized it was a business trip. Joseph must be glad to have a successor he can trust to represent the company."
"I still have a long way to go to reach my father's level," Steven replied with rote modesty, noting to himself that he still hadn't shaken his reputation as the heir who'd been coddled to the point of irresponsibility.
In recent years Joseph had made it increasingly clear that he would not tolerate his son gallivanting around chasing rocks and legends on the family dime indefinitely. Steven had enough awareness to know he could hardly complain, but there was a deeply-buried childish part of him that was sulking regardless. His father had always been indulgent with him: allowing him to chase his dreams in the Pokémon League, which had at least been good press, and providing a generous allowance Steven had used to fund a plethora of hobby trips, which hadn't been. Now, it was clear he wished he'd been a little stricter. Steven wished he'd been a little stricter too—he suspected that the version of himself so raised would be feeling less unreasonably put-upon.
"My daughter would do well to follow in your footsteps. If you're ever in Mauville, perhaps you could give her some advice."
Ah. Steven hadn't realized she had an eligible daughter. He'd thought that ambitious young ladies and their parents had been a bother before, but the moment they'd gotten the scent that there was no risk of his father choosing a new heir, their attentions had tripled.
It took several minutes, and a promise to attend her daughter's panel at an upcoming conference, to extract himself from the conversation without agreeing to some sort of lunch date.
Not for the first time, Steven thought to himself that now that he was planning to stay in one place for a while, he should find himself a lover to ward off such matchmaking attempts. It was easier said than done when his instinctive reaction to the thought of meeting potential candidates was to feel like a piece of meat being graded. His father had never pressured him to marry for business, but a suitable partner would still have to be enough in the public eye to handle the scrutiny that would come with dating the Devon heir and former League champion. It filtered his options significantly.
He was scanning the room, looking for the next person he should talk to, when a hand offering a champagne flute appeared in his peripheral vision.
Steven turned to find a petite young woman at his elbow, and sighed internally.
His admirers didn't usually get so forward—frankly, given that they were strangers, the overture bordered on gauche. The woman's slate-blue gown was a touch too simple for the venue, even if the fit was flattering, so she was probably new to this sort of setting.
Opening his mouth to politely decline the drink, Steven got a better look at the woman’s face. "May?"
She grinned. Steven took the glass.
Logically, he had known that Hoenn's champion was now a woman in her twenties, but somehow May had been frozen in his mind as the image of a gawky teenager he'd stored as her contact photo in his Pokénav. The photograph had already been a few years old when he'd left Hoenn—her grin broad and cheeks flushed from wind, arm slung around Latias' neck. May never sent pictures of herself, and Steven kept up with League news in audio format, so after four years of regular texting that photo had crystallized into his mental image for "May."
The real May had changed quite a bit from that girl in his mind. The line of her mouth was more confident now, and the baby fat that had still clung to her cheeks in his mind had moved—elsewhere. (Steven quickly focused on her face lest he consider that particular aspect of her appearance too closely.) Her light brown hair was pinned up for the occasion, and the strands left framing her face had been fetchingly curled. Her gown matched her eyes, he noted.
"It's been a while," she said. "In person, at least. Is this the first time you've been in Hoenn since I took over as Champion?"
"The first that I plan to stay for more than a week or two. I've missed the nature here." He took a sip of champagne, still subtly examining her. Her earrings looked like pearl and carnelian, a welcome change from the parade of diamonds on display this evening. "What does the League have you doing these days?"
Her necklace was a sardonyx pendant, carved so that pale bands of onyx spilled into the carnelian like cream, making layered gradients from fiery orange to white. Suspended just above her décolletage, the stone was large enough to be the focus of her outfit. The wealthy heir in Steven knew it would be considered an odd choice for an event like this, and the rock hound in him knew it was the most interesting piece of jewelry he'd seen all night.
"Oh, the usual. I did gym inspections last month—that's always a bit awkward with my father. And Drake's still threatening to retire, so—um—I've been scouting for a replacement. Mostly it's...ah...it's...you know. More publicity than battling." May sounded increasingly self-conscious the longer she continued, and Steven suddenly realized that from her point of view it must look like he was staring at her bust.
"Your necklace," he clarified quickly. "It's sardonyx, isn't it? It's an exceptional specimen."
Her awkwardness vanished. "Isn't it beautiful? I've wanted one ever since you sent me that picture of the rocks you found in Orre. The craftsman I got it from has his Medicham help with the carving—the other side has a completely different pattern." She flipped the pendant over, showing him the back.
"May I?" Steven gestured.
May nodded, so he took hold of the pendant, lifting it up for a closer look. On this side it had been carved to show off just how crisp the bands were—it really was an exceptionally high quality specimen. He leaned in, tilting it to catch the light.
A camera flashed from somewhere off to the right, and suddenly it hit him how intimate the gesture probably looked to a bystander. He dropped the necklace, taking half a step back for good measure.
"That was careless of me," he told her under his breath. "Apologies if you find yourself branded my lover in the morning tabloids."
May’s cheeks, pink even before he spoke, flushed a shade deeper. "I'd be the one who'd ought to apologize in that scenario," she muttered. Then, louder, "So how was Galar?"
Now Steven, wondering if he'd interpreted that correctly, was the one who felt flushed. He would have expected that May would consider him a bit old for her. "I think I sent photographs of the interesting parts. I spent the majority of it in boardrooms and business dinners." He thought he'd kept his tone light, but she fixed him with a piercing look.
"And how do you like it?" she asked. "Working for Devon instead of the Pokémon League."
Steven had several canned responses to this very question, which started by clarifying that he'd actually worked for Devon (on paper, and occasionally even in reality) since he was 17, and went on to extol the value of hard work and talk about how his time as League Champion had given invaluable perspective on the importance of Devon's mission and prepared him to lead the company into the future. Instead, he found himself pursing his lips.
"...I want to change the world for the better, and I think becoming president of Devon puts me in an enviable position to do so. And I do value our company's mission, as trite as that may sound. But," he admitted, "sometimes the day-to-day gets tiresome. Especially my current role, which is more about establishing business connections so Devon's partnerships can stay strong after my father retires. It's not as different from Champion as you might think. A lot of meeting new people and attending things to show your organization thinks they're important. Like this gala." He gestured around them.
"It's actually my first year at this," May said a bit sheepishly. "Wallace and Glacia handled it until now. I should have asked one of them for help—I realized once I got here that I didn't quite nail the dress code." She looked down at herself critically. "Not sure I could have afforded to even if I'd understood it."
"A lot of the outfits you're seeing are rented." Steven leaned in, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "And a lot of the diamonds aren't diamonds."
Another camera flash. He ignored it.
"For what it's worth, yours is my favorite jewelry I've seen tonight," he continued.
May stood a little straighter, but her eyes were shifting over in the direction the flash had come from. "...Would they really think we're lovers just because you looked at my necklace? Everyone knows you're interested in stones."
Steven chuckled wryly. "You're underestimating the degree of interest in my love life. Well, in who'll be marrying the next head of Devon, really. I've had to fend off three matchmaking attempts and two determined bachelorettes tonight alone."
May looked thoughtful. "Will they leave you alone if they think you have someone?"
"Most of them, yes. They'd at least be less brazen about it."
"Then maybe it's a good thing if they misunderstand. Serves them right if they get tripped up by their own fixation on your love life."
Steven laughed, finding her indignation on his behalf rather adorable. He hadn't realized her penchant for heroics would extend even to this. "I appreciate the thought, but it wouldn't be fair of me to do that to you. I'll make sure to clear up any misunderstandings that get published."
"If you'd like to take your time clearing them up, feel free." May's eyes sparkled mischievously. "I don't mind being your Repel."
"Careful," Steven teased. "I might be tempted to take you up on that, and the next thing you know my father will be pestering you for our wedding plans."
"At the Battle Resort, obviously," she shot back, cheeks pink and eyes dancing. "We can get married on the beach and reserve the Battle Maison for the reception. I'll tell him we have to make plenty of visits first to check out the venue."
Steven wanted to continue the banter with a crack about her fake wedding plan, but when he pictured it, it didn't feel like a joke. "You just keep making this prospect more tempting," he said instead. "Next you'll be telling me we can go fossil-hunting in Kalos for our honeymoon."
May's eyes lit up—and then her mouth did a complicated twist, pulling her expression from eager to flippant. "Sounds perfect," she said. "You're the one who'd better be careful, or next thing you know I'll be making hotel reservations."
Steven should probably drop the gag—the flirtation, if he was being honest—but he was having too much fun to obey his sense of prudence.
"Smart," he said. "I've heard the best honeymoon suites can be booked out for at least a year."
"I'll get right on it then. Wouldn't want us to miss out on the rose petals and mirrored ceilin–" Mid-sentence, May clamped her mouth shut, her face turning progressively redder. "Sorry," she said. "I guess that's taking the joke a little far." She eyed the half-empty champagne flute in her hand accusingly.
"Don't worry," Steven said, trying desperately not to think about what the pair of them might do with a mirrored ceiling. "I'm not that easy to scandalize."
They moved onto safer topics, but it was a while before his face stopped feeling warm. Eventually, he had to bid her a regretful farewell to go greet some important guests he hadn't spoken to.
"Like I mentioned, I'll be staying in Hoenn for a while. Let me know if you're ever in the mood for a battle."
"Definitely." Her eyes were bright. "I want to see how my team fares against that new Pokémon you got in Galar—Duraludon? I'll message you."
Steven floated through the rest of the night with bolstered spirits, and several times found himself watching the Hoenn Champion out of the corner of his eye. When the gala was finally over and he was taking off his suit in his room at the Stone estate, his Pokénav lit up with a message.
Battle Resort? That way we can do 1v1 or 2v2, depending on what we're in the mood for.
Good plan, Steven messaged back. We can ask if they host weddings while we're there.
May sent back her first selfie in the years they'd been messaging—her hair mussed out of its knot, her tongue stuck playfully out, and the sardonyx pendant hanging on her chest.
It was about time he updated her contact image.