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Finally Identical

Summary:

Emmet forgets to delete his search history, but luckily it's Ingo who discovers it. Not-so-luckily, he now has to come out earlier than he planned.

Work Text:

“I will be your brother now. I am Emmet.”

Archen chirped and clicked his claws on the desk.

“More practice does not make it easier…” He’d been rehearsing for weeks now. At this point, all of their shared Pokemon heard the spiel at least once. Except Lampent, who only escaped by virtue of being nearly inseparable from Ingo. Though knowing her, she’d figured it out already anyway. Hard to hide anything from a ghost with a hobby of sneakily phasing through walls.

He was supposed to come out last month, but put it off, using a Geography final as the reason. Then it was an end-of-semester party, job applications, and visiting home in Anville Town. But now they were back at the dorms with summer jobs starting next week at the local Mart. They had some downtime, and Emmet had run out of excuses.

Archen squirmed up the chair and onto Emmet’s head, scraping claws along his shoulders. He’d already had to replace three shirts because of Archen’s flying practice. Archen jumped off and crashed face-first onto the desk. He hopped to his feet and spread his wings in triumph.

“You glided a little that time.” Emmet scratched under Archen’s chin. “You are not good at flying. I hope you can do it someday.”

“GOOD MORNING!” Archen scrambled under Emmet’s jacket then darted under the bed as Ingo slammed the door open. There went shirt number four.

“I must speak with you.” Ingo closed the door behind him but Lampent went through it anyway and floated above his head. “Inform me if I’m too loud, as I believe this should stay between us.”

Too loud was his default volume, and within the thin walls of their dorm, not a thing Ingo said went unheard. Their roommates had frequently complained about his late-night gaming sessions until Emmet surrounded the computer desk with a thick layer of foam panels.

This time, he was clearly putting effort into speaking at a semi-normal volume, as shown by him frowning even deeper than usual. Quiet Ingo sounded wrong. It made Emmet’s skin prickle.

“Did you use the computer at around 6pm last Friday?”

“Yes..?” Archen snapped at Eelektrik, who shot out from under the bed and made a beeline for Emmet’s lap. They stuck their tongues out at each other.

“It’s lively in here today!” Ingo said. “As I was saying, yesterday I was on the computer searching for something I’d accidentally closed and I happened to see that our internet history included ‘how do trans hormones work’ and ‘transmasc surgery.’ It appears the one doing these searches was you?”

Emmet wanted to leap out of his skin. If it weren’t for Eelektrik in his lap, he’d fall through the floor like Lampent. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. He wasn’t ready, even after all this time he wasn’t ready! Every word he’d carefully rehearsed got caught in his throat all at once. Any minute they’d start spilling out his eyes. He managed a pitiful nod.

“I see! You’re lucky I’m the one who found it. I erased it, of course; I’m not sure of our roommates' opinions on these sorts of things. Make sure to delete your search history in the future!” His voice grew from conversational volume to megaphone as he spoke.

“You are… Okay with this?” He scratched Eelektrik’s fins to hide his shaking hands.

“I have no problem with whatever research you wish to do.” His eyes widened slightly. A movement no one but Emmet would have noticed. “Ah. I’ve misunderstood this, haven’t I?”

“I, um.” It would be so nice if he could organize any of the words in his head in the correct order. The crying didn’t help. He covered his face with his hands but Eelektrik slithered underneath his arm. He had to do it someday. Now seemed a better time than most.

Emmet took a deep breath, snatched three words that fit well together and forced them out into the world. “I am Emmet.”

“Are you saying you researched those things because you’re interested in them, the implication being you’re trans, and you’re now telling me the name you’d like to use?”

“Yes.” He made a mental note to thank Ingo later for being way too perceptive; a quality he and Lampent shared.

“Alright, Emmet.” Ingo drew him into a hug. “You realize you are going to look exactly like me?”

“Gross.” Emmet said. “Also, false. I already look better than you. I am younger.”

“By thirty seconds, you pest.”

A few years later, and as predicted, they ended up identical.