A Winkle in Reality

[Despacitoleo]

Haha fuck surge gang

 

[6NuttBuster9]

Let eevee evolve into sylveon and learn drain kiss PLEASE

 

[HankPankylol]

Thank you for reading. Hopefully you enjoy. If you REALLY like it, I have a P-a-t-r-e-o-n, under the same name, where you can read 5 chapters ahead.

Happy holidays! Last chapter of the year, as I'm taking next week off.

---

I paused outside the door, leaning my back against the white-painted walls for a second to try and clear my head. I could hear faint murmurs from inside, nothing distinct enough to make out but the voices were recognizable.

The walk from the Gym to the PokéCenter had happened in somewhat of a blur, lost in my thoughts as I was, yet somehow it ended up taking as long as the Gym battle itself. I didn't register most of it until the doors slid open and I was nearly pushed over by an older girl rushing through with her PokéBall.

Apparently, my match with Surge didn't have the impact that I hoped.

The entire lobby of the healing establishment was filled, a line stretching from the door to the counter as people fought to be the first to get their Pokémon checked out by the professionals. Others crowded around coffee tables and clusters of chairs on either side of the foyer, both in front and behind the staircase that led up to the rentalable rooms. A fair number of people had been at the Pewter PokéCenter, but Vermillion blew it out of the water with what looked like 50 cramped together in enough space to hold little more than half that. The smell of unwashed humans completely overpowered the usual scent of disinfectant, and it was a symphony of screaming as everyone fought to be heard.

Several large screens hung high on the walls silently, either on mute or crushed under the auditory nightmare. A video played on it, displaying a very familiar-looking arena as an Electabuzz battled against a Graveller, hammering blows into the Ground-Type until it fell onto its back, unmoving.

I felt a surge of satisfaction when I noticed that Surge's victory laugh looked less boisterous than before our match.

Oh, and a lot of people were staring at me as I crossed the threshold and started shoving my way towards the stairs, instantly giving up on asking Nurse Joy for Ash's room number and scooping up Eevee after looking at her for permission. Most of the gazes were considerate and calculating, keeping their faces blank as they studied me. Another group nodded appreciatively my way when our eyes met, one guy in his mid-thirties getting his hand slapped away when he patted me on the back, having the gall to look offended that the 13-year-old didn't like it when a grown-ass man grabbed him from behind.

I guess the sentiment was nice, but that didn't mean strangers could randomly touch me as they pleased.

And then, there was the last group. Sneers and whispers followed me through the crowd, glares and upturned noses like the owners had smelled something terrible. Sore fucking losers.

Did the fuckers sit around all day, watching other people battle, and then getting pissy when they won? No wonder a simpleton like Surge kicked their asses.

Cursing exploded behind me as I lifted my foot extra high to avoid the outstretched leg attempting to trip me, and brought my heel down hard on their toes. The dude trying to trip me yelped and windmilled his arms, falling into the others around him, much to their annoyance, as I turned around 'to apologize' and kicked him right in his good ankle.

The rabble standing around like morons laughed at the interaction, but I couldn't find the humor myself as the attention had made them close ranks and block my path.

Fine. I could scream, too.

"FUCKING MOVE!"

An awkward silence replaced the hubbub, quiet spreading from my exclamation like the ripples of a stone thrown into a calm lake. Eevee pressed her face tightly against my chest, yet, while I would've liked to think it was affectionately, I was pretty sure it was mostly because everyone was now staring at me.

On the plus side, the way to the stairs parted like I was fucking Moses.

After that, it became much easier to find an assistant and get the correct room number.

I was drawn from my thoughts as the door opened and the pink hair of a Nurse Joy stepped out and started closing the door behind her, jumping a foot in the air when she spotted me, hand flying up to clutch her chest.

"OH! Mew, you scared me! I didn't see you." I gave my best smile at her breathless chuckles, tipping my head apologetically.

"Sorry, Nurse Joy, didn't mean to lie in wait for you like that."

"Oh, no, it's fine. Did you need me for anything?"

"No, no." I denied, pointing into the room. "I know the guy."

"Ah, well then, don't let me keep you!" She smiled brightly, patting me on the shoulder. I kept myself in check since it was Nurse Joy, and she didn't deserve my issues. Glancing up and down the hallway, the healer leaned in a little closer conspiratorially. "Congratulations on the Badge, by the way. Don't tell anyone this, but while I, of course, don't condone Pokémon ending up here for a prolonged period of time, I can't deny that there is a certain sense of satisfaction in seeing Surge getting a taste of his own medicine." Thanking her for the words, she departed and left me standing like an idiot outside the room.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door the rest of the way open and stepped in.

"Who-oh, Peri, you're done. How did it go?"

Throwing Brock a quick smile, I saw Ash sitting hunched over in a chair with a downtrodden look on his face. In front of him, lying in a human-sized medical bed with the sheets pulled up to his chest, Pikachu's ears briefly flickered at my entrance, though the Electric Mouse's eyes remained glued to the window. A couple of wires ran from under the bedding to a pair of beeping machines, yet seeing him awake and not obviously beaten to shit did a lot for my mental state.

And resting innocuously on the bedside table was a case with a big, yellow stone in it. The Thunder Stone almost had a tinge of green to it, with a darker, lightning-bolt-esque pattern in the very middle of the transparent rock. Or gem. I wasn't sure what Evolution Stones counted as. The surface gleamed in the sunlight pouring in through the large windows, almost seeming to spark as the incredible number of facets and sides constantly caught the light in new ways.

"I won."

That only got a deeper sigh from Ash. Shuffling uneasily, unsure of how to be… supportive or whatever, I moved closer to the bed. Collapsing into a free chair, I kept my hands in my pockets and jabbed my chin at the Thunder Stone. "Evolving Pikachu?"

Ash bit his lips while the Pokémon in question stared out the window. "...no, Pikachu doesn't want to. He wants to prove to Raichu and Surge that he doesn't need to evolve to win."

"I mean, it's possible," I tried to cheer him up, weirded out by the lack of an instant return to his usual, obnoxiously energetic self, "Pikachu to Raichu isn't the straight upgrade that most evolutions are, and especially not the Raichu you fought. That thing was slow as hell, and Pikachu is pretty fast, so…" I trailed off, put off by the lack of change in Ash's expression. It didn't usually take more than a couple of words for his mood to change.

"Yeah, Brock said the same," Ash sighed. Right, that made sense. We were silent for a moment while I searched for something to say.

"I did it with Hercules!" I blurted out, getting confused looks in return. "Beat Surge, I mean. I beat Surge with Hercules." I meant it as a 'ha, I've avenged you!' type thing; however, Ash simply slumped even deeper into his seat.

"Aw man, you've only had him for like two weeks and he's already stronger than Pikachu?"

I froze at the question, not knowing how to respond. My natural urge told me to say 'yes', but that didn't feel like the optimal way to cheer him up.

Thankfully, Brock was an actual human being with empathy and shit, so he quickly stepped in.

"Don't say that, Ash. First of all, it is not as simple as being stronger or weaker. Tactics and training matter just as much. Beyond that, while Hercules is an Electric-type, he's not of the Raichu line. There is a difference."

"Yeah, Ash." I did my best to support. "Listen to Brock." I shrugged at the look the Pebble Clan member gave me. I was fucking trying, give me a break.

Fuck, being nice just wasn't my thing. But, I realized, gentle consolation wasn't Ash's, either.

"You know what, I don't have time for this. I got a date to get ready for and even if I didn't, I don't want to hang around such a crybaby bitch, anyway."

Brock frowned at my words, looking ready to speak up on Ash's behalf, yet the boy himself got there first.

"I'm not a crybaby."

"Sure you are," I snorted, hamming it up, "The fuck else would you call this? Pikachu's already told you that he wants to go again, and instead of making plans, here you are, whining like a Whismur!"

"Shut up, Peri! I'm not crying!" He growled as best he could with his high-pitched voice, Pikachu squeaking in agreement.

"You are bawling like a little bitch! It's fucking sad as well, one loss and you spiral into a depression?" I shook my head mockingly, using my unwilling smirk at the emotion in his eyes to appear even more like an asshole while turning to walk back out. "Man, I thought better of you. Guess you were never going to become a Pokémon Master."

"SHUT UP!" I was grinning from ear to ear when I heard the chair tip over and hit the ground, looking over my shoulder to see Ash on his feet and pointing at me, Pikachu doing his best to match it from the bed. "I'M NOT DEPRESSED AND I WILL BECOME A POKÉMON MASTER, YOU JUST WATCH! FIRST, I'M GOING TO BEAT SURGE, AND THEN I'M GOING TO BEAT YOU, AND GARY, AND THEN THE CHAMPION! YOU HEAR ME, PERI!? PEEEERIIIIIIIII!"

His voice trailed me down the hall, the scream doing a lot to lift my earlier mood.

When in doubt, just be an asshole. It worked for me fairly often.

Yes, that was definitely the lesson to be learned from that.

For now, though, I needed to shower and be prepared for when Misty was ready. It was still a little early for dinner, but I'd rather be prepared a little before than too late.

---

"Hoooooot!"

I stared in mute shock at the 'speaker', gazing into the enormous, spherical, red, unblinking eyes of the bird Pokémon perched on the table. 'Spherical' was the best way to describe the Pokémon in general; its brown-feathered body, with a cream-colored belly, was as round as a ball, with no neck or head – just a pair of crimson, fist-sized orbs set in the upper part of its frame, with black makeup-esque markings around them. The lower rims of each ring had three protrusions that resembled the teeth on a gear, while the upper rims had extensions that resembled the hands of a clock, with a small, pinkish beak underneath that twitched as I looked at it. The stubby wings and three-feathered, fan-like tail protruding from its ass were unremarkable in comparison. The only reason the five-clawed foot drew my notice was that I could've sworn the Normal/Flying-Type only had one leg, yet every time I wasn't looking at them, it seemed to switch whether it was the right or left one.

Oh, and it was wearing a tiny uniform: a white T-shirt with the restaurant's name on it and a pair of orange shorts.

"Hoohoooot!"

"Stop making this weird!"

Tearing my attention away from the staring match with the Hoothoot – which I was bound to lose anyway, on account of it being an owl – I directed my focus to my companion sitting on the other side of the small table with her arms crossed, seeming distinctly displeased by my behaviour.

"Uh, right, sorry. It's just…" I trailed off, not having a clue how to begin.

"What, you've never been served by a Pokémon before?" Misty asked, leaning over to grab the menu and piece of paper hanging around the Hoothoot's neck.

"That's the one, yep, that's absolutely the reason. There's none in Pallet, and don't get me started on Orre. You're so smart for picking up on that." I shamelessly took the out. No fucking way I was going to try and explain the real reason and the existential dread it instilled in me. As I did so, I couldn't help but once again take in her appearance. Some might say that she really hadn't dressed up for the occasion – unlike me, who'd found the dress shirt and pants the Waterflower sisters had snuck into my bag – however, those people didn't know Misty very well.

Well, I didn't either, to be fair, but I was getting there.

I definitely noticed that although the pants and a short-sleeved shirt weren't that far from her usual get-up, the black pants were as tight, or even tighter, than her regular shorts, and the cleavage was a lot more pronounced – though I would never tell her that there wasn't that much to display.

I was even fairly sure she'd put on makeup. It was subtle, but her eyelashes were more prominent than usual, and her blue eyes popped as well. Hell, she might've been wearing blush. It felt good, knowing that she'd at least looked forward to our date enough to do a little extra.

"Some people think it's unhygienic or weird and have similar reactions. It's good that you don't think like that. You're getting a Wingull's Feather, by the way." She said, then closed the menu and wrote down our orders without my input.

"Sure." I didn't know what that was, but I'd give it a shot. I'd glanced at the laminated list and hadn't recognized anything other than water and lemonade, so I might as well listen to the expert. "Surprised it's your kinda thing in the first place." I mused, watching as she handed the cord holding the papers together to the owl Pokémon. I felt extreme vindication when a second, thin, pink leg shot out from under the feathers and grabbed the string before taking off with another 'Hoot', flying through a big hole in the top part of the wall that I presumed led to the kitchens.

"And what the fuck is that supposed to mean!?" She asked sharply, glaring at me from where she'd been watching the Hoothoot fly with a slight smile that transformed into a snarl. I looked around, taking in the small booths with benches of brown, furry material, small Hoothoot-shaped lamps hanging over them. Feather patterns in more brown, but with blue, red, and pink mixed in, decorated the walls, while the flooring had pictures of – you guessed it – Hoothoot pasted everywhere.

There were a fair number of people besides just us, yet I couldn't help but notice that it was mostly younger children or couples on a date. I had left Eevee in Ash's room, as it was utterly impossible to get one myself with how many people there were. However, watching as other small Pokémon sat by the tables – or on them, in some cases – made it clear that I hadn't needed to bother.

It might be a nice bonding experience for the whole team, getting together for some good grub. However, I'd have to leave out Betty, which was probably for the best, as she was more likely to eat the servers than the food.

"Nothing, nothing at all."

"That's what I thought." She growled, looking away from me with a blush.

A silence fell over the table for a moment as Misty watched the Pokémon flying around, bringing orders to the tables, while I fidgeted with a napkin.

We'd spent time together before, even alone. Why was it suddenly so fucking awkward?

"Soooo, uh… how about that weather?"

I fought the urge to slam my head against the table as Misty turned to look at me incredulously.

"Seriously? How's the weather? That's the best you've got? Did you lose your balls in Cerulean?"

"Hey, I just want this to go well and shit. Fucking excuse me," I grumbled, pulling at the stupid shirt as it itched against my neck. She wasn't wrong, though. I really was doing a terrible job. It was a whole lot fucking easier to get a date than to do well on it. Turns out you needed to put in some effort.

"That shirt," I blinked, seeing Misty staring at said piece of clothing with a frown. "My sisters gave you that, didn't they? I'd recognise Giorgio's work anywhere."

It was readily apparent from her tone that she wasn't very pleased by that observation, but it was always going to happen. "Yeah, they insisted that I had something to wear for our date."

"Didn't take you long to fall in line. I'm not surprised. Everyone falls for them eventually." She refused to look at me as two Hoothoot came flying over, each carrying a tall glass filled with a light blue liquid balanced precariously onto their head. We gently relieved the Pokémon of the burden to soft, thankful hoots and Misty immediately chugged half the glass in agitation.

"It wasn't quite like that," I protested, taking a sip of my own drink while sliding one of the menus the birds left behind over to myself. It was overly sweet, in my opinion, and the Oran flavor was extremely artificial, but it could've been worse. "Honestly, I didn't see them for days after you guys left, and when I did, I went right back to hurling shit at them. Verbally, I mean, not actual-whatever." Don't bring up throwing feces on the first date, bro, what the fuck was I doing? "And I think I was doing a pretty good job at getting to them. Daisy ended up getting so angry that she released your grandpa's Gyarados to scare me and-"

"WHAT!?" The entire clientele of the Hoothoot-themed restaurant looked our way at the loud shout, only to turn away again when met with both our glares. Neither Misty nor I was the shy type, though she did lower her voice as she leaned in and hissed. "What the fuck do you mean she sent out Leviathan!? Is she fucking crazy!? That thing can, and has, killed stronger Trainers than you for being in the general vicinity!"

"Yeah, Violet and Lily weren't super impressed either, though I was a little too fucked up to appreciate it. Not because I was hurt," I quickly explained as the wrath in her eyes intensified, "No, no, she recalled it before it could do anything. No, I-..." I hesitated before surging forward. It was getting easier each time, and I'd already told her sisters. It would be weird to keep it from Misty. "Has Ash told you where I'm from? Like, before Pallet."

"You mentioned Orre a few minutes ago, so I can make a guess, but no, he hasn't." I nodded, conceding the point.

"Right, well, I'm from Orre, kinda – long story. Anyway, when I was leaving that shithole with some others I'd met and… and my Vulpix. We got intercepted by some thugs on the ocean. Don't know if Walter's told you this, but the waters between Sevii and Orre are almost as fucked up as the desert itself. Anyway, they had a Gyarados, and I was the only one who made it. So I had a… moment." It was a significantly shortened version, but it was a heavy topic. I didn't want to trauma dump too much.

"That's…" She didn't seem sure what to say, which was fair. There really weren't good words.

"It's fine, I'm over it." No, the fuck I was not, which I was sure she knew from the look she sent me, but I persevered after quickly picking something random from the menu. Flaming Tauros had to be some kinda beef-esque dish, right?. "Anyway, they felt bad about it, and we talked for a bit, getting into why they don't like battling. They wanted to tell me about your parents, but I stopped them. The two of us started that conversation, so it only felt right for us to finish it."

Once more, she appeared lost for words, though for more positive reasons, based on the pleased smile and the way she wouldn't meet my eyes.

"Tell you what, some other day, we'll share those stories." Her voice was quiet, but she didn't refuse eye contact that time.

"Oh?" I waggled my eyebrows. "Does that mean we'll have a second date?"

"Don't push it, the first one is rocky as is."

Conversation flowed more easily after that, as I regaled her with the tale of Walter and me fighting the Eevee thieves, not embellishing at all, in any way, which she clearly believed. After a bit, our orders arrived, and I was relieved to see that the stir-fry-esque dish was made with tofu and what appeared to be Ditto meat. Hopefully, anyway. Still weird, but those thing were fucking freaky and have me the creeps. According to the Professor, 'pain' wasn't quite the same for them as it was for more natural organisms.

"Saw your fight with Surge, by the way," Misty said as we dug in.

"Oh yeah, impressed?"

"More like concerned that I agreed to a date with a psycho. What was that last bit?" I grimaced, knowing what she was referring to. I didn't regret it, but it also wasn't a great look.

"The guy was pissing me off, shit talking to people way younger and less experienced than him and sending them to the PokéCenter, yet he's a shit battler himself, who flinches when pushed. Pussy." I grumbled, stabbing at my food and shoveling in a mouthful. Okay, when they wrote 'flaming', they fucking meant it. Why the fuck was it that spicy?

"1. Surge is one of the stronger Gym Leaders. Not Giovanni, Blaine, or Koga level, or even Sabrina, perhaps, but still. He's just not interested in anything he considers 'teaching', though to be fair, he didn't want to be a Gym Leader in the first place." Misty pointed out, though she didn't sound fond of the guy herself. "And 2. When you say 'people', do you mean people in general, or Ash and Pikachu?" I kept my eyes locked on my plate, refusing to give her the satisfaction. I wasn't comfortable with it myself, much less pouring out my heart.

"Don't know what you're talking about."

"Careful, your tough guy image is slipping." She smirked, clearly enjoying my discomfort.

"Guess I'll have to threaten some more Gym Leaders, then." It was my turn to smirk as she rolled her eyes, picking at her noodles. Tempting Tentacruel Tentacles, if I'd read her order correctly.

Pokémon had some weird ass names. At least it was actual noodles, and not real Tentacruel. I still shivered sometimes, remembering Grant.

"I wouldn't. You'll get away with it this time, because it's Surge, and he's been even more insufferable than usual lately, due to the cruise ship." She sniffed. Something tingled in the back of my mind at the mention of a ship, and it wasn't just the PTSD.

"The cruise ship?" I asked.

"The S.S. Anne is in Kanto at the moment, down by the harbor. It's been years since she's been here, and people are excited. Though calling her a cruise ship is a bit of an understatement, she's more of an oversized, floating luxury hotel. They're having a tournament on board between every stop, and tons of Trainers are coming over, not to mention the Hoennese Trainers that stayed on after the ship left Sootopolis. Their prices are insane, both for winning and for joining. A single ticket is worth more than most Trainers make in a year, like, exuberant even by Clan standards."

Right, the ship with Cut and a shit load of battles in the games. "Well, good luck to them, but I'm-"

"-thanks, but I don't need luck since I've got actual skills and intelligence, rather than a bunch of freaks directed by an overhyped Orre thug."

I grinned despite the interruption as Misty's eyes narrowed at something over my shoulder. I didn't need to look. The smarmy voice and terrible insult gave it away.

"You sure? Don't think your grandpa's name is gonna pull the kinda weight you're used to with these people. You might be forced to rely on yourself, and that… well, at least I'll get to laugh." I smirked as a brown haired boy around my physical age walked up to the table, laughing sarcastically.

"Still with the schoolyard insults, eh? Then again, don't suppose I can expect everyone to keep up with me. Or, anyone, really." Gary-Motherfucking-Oak sneered down at me, though it lacked the heat it once had. These days, we were mostly going through the motions for the sake of fun.

Well, other than having to beat his ass for the shit he pulled outside Viridian, but it would be a semi-friendly ass kicking.

"That's true, it's hard for normal people to be that slow. They would have to put in effort."

"You wouldn't know effort. You take your fucking date to Hooters? Seriously, bro?" I twitched violently at the name I'd done my best to avoid thinking about since I saw the sign. It couldn't be a coincidence, right? Someone from my dimension must have come over before me and thought they were funny. Which they were, but fuck them.

"Uh, excuse me," Misty interjected, surprisingly politely. "Who are you and why should we care? I'm not signing autographs." Yep, thought so.

Predictably, Gary didn't miss a beat. "Who am I? I'm Gary-Fucking-Oak, that's who – future Champion in the making, genius extraordinaire. Much better question," he turned to me instead of addressing Misty directly, "is what fucking corner you picked up this street trash from? If you're strapped for cash, then call me; no need to risk every venereal disease at once."

"This," I quickly spoke up before Mt. Misty could erupt, based on the almost literal steam I could see shooting from her ears. How the fuck did I end up playing peacemaker? I was the one who fucked shit up! "Is Misty Waterflower."

I don't know why I thought that would help.

"Oh, ew, dude! A fucking Waterflower? This one doesn't even have tits like the rest!"

"THE FUCK YOU SAY!?" Misty jumped out of her chair, sending it crashing to the floor, again drawing all eyes onto us. That time, I felt a little more self-conscious about it, as I didn't want that shit either.

"OKAY! Gary, we're in the middle of something, so what do you want to fuck off?" I tried to simply cut it off there, before Gary could fire whatever nuke he'd cooked up under the pleased look on his face.

"Weren't you listening? The S.S. Anne, dipshit!" He answered his own question instantly.

Oh. That made sense.

"Nope."

"What do you mean, 'no'?" He genuinely seemed confused at my refusal. "You can't say no! Do you have any idea how much money Gra-I mean, that I spent on the tickets!? Exposure therapy time, bitch, no way out of it!"

"Oh yeah?" I looked him dead in the eyes, and whatever he saw made a hint of uncertainty flash across his face.

"Watch me."

---

Stones crunched against concrete under his hiking boots, the sturdy soles crushing the pebbles without issue as Brock Pebble walked down an outer street of Vermillion. The sun was setting over Sunset Port, its dying rays of red and orange bouncing off the many windows of the skyscrapers that dominated the city, coating the settlement in a fiery glow. A fresh breeze drifted in from the sea, salty and cool after a particularly hot spring day, not a trace of the trash stench that plagued even Pewter.

Say what you would about Surge – and many did – but he took Vermillion seriously, if not the Gym Leader part.

It was a wonderful evening.

Unfortunately, Brock didn't have time to enjoy it. No, he had to console the children.

Again.

As much as he'd been enjoying the last few weeks – when he wasn't worrying himself sick about the kids back home – he sometimes wished that his companions were a little older. Part of finally being able to leave for his own Trainer journey was to escape being a parent.

Instead, he'd somehow picked up three strays.

He entered an out-of-the-way training field, the type of place you wouldn't know about unless you were a native. Or was looking for a place to hide.

Or was a former Gym Leader who could ask the local authorities.

In the back of the vast plain of grass surrounded by trees and a small wall, a rapid pitterpatter of thuds rang out as a series of compressed balls of water struck several targets set up for such a purpose. Siren the Feebas was easily visible, levitating front and center as she relaunched her attack. Brock still remembered the Water-Type taking down his team with surprising competence. He'd been impressed with both Siren, for the determination, and Peri, for training such an unpopular Pokémon to a decent level in a short amount of time. It spoke well for him that he was willing to put in the time and effort.

Especially when Brock met the rest of his team.

A wide cone of small fireballs sprayed over the targets and everything in between as Betty the Titan Bagon spewed a large Ember all over the field, not caring how much she destroyed as long as her targets were among it. Knowing the almost cliché Dragon-Type, she probably enjoyed it more that way.

The second most normal member of the team, the Elekid – Hercules, if he remembered correctly – was sitting in front of a large battery that Brock recognized as rechargeable by Electric-Type Pokémon. The small humanoid was glaring at the box, clutching the two protruding prongs in its hands, before it lit up with electricity. The small frame tensed as it tried to hold it, but Hercules was eventually forced to return it to the battery when it grew too much for it, much to its whirring disappointment.

Brock didn't know much about Electric-Types, other than to throw a Ground-Type at them, but he knew Fighting-Types. His eyes lingered on the broad shoulders, the slightly longer than average legs, and the evenly distributed musculature. While it wasn't quite the monster some of Peri's others were, it was still very well suited for battling, especially the close-quarters combat Peri seemed to be grooming it for.

Sol, the genetic freak of nature Growlithe that Peri – lucky bastard – had stumbled into was on his belly in the grass, tail wagging furiously behind him. He kept himself pressed flat while ever so slowly shuffling forward, nose sniffing and mouth panting. In front of the Fire-Type was Peri's newly acquired Eevee, like the boy needed another rare Pokémon for his collection. The Normal-Type was keeping its eyes firmly locked on the canine, looking distinctly unimpressed by his efforts to slide closer. Eevee waited until Sol was almost upon it before getting up and starting to move away, leaving the Growlithe to whine pitefully at his new playmate's escape.

Mew, what Brock wouldn't give for an hour of examining Peri's team. The sheer amount he could learn about deviation within a species, and the alternate coloration – casually known as a 'shiny' Pokémon– that sometimes appeared, beggared belief. He'd been on the verge of asking so many times, but the red-haired youth was extremely defensive about his team, and understandably so. Part of being a parent was knowing when not to take a losing fight. It would just make the future harder for no improvement.

Still, even from a distance, it was evident that they were well taken care of. Their fur was smooth and even – other than Elekid's scars – Betty's and Siren's scales glistened, and if Brock wasn't mistaken from the brief glimpse he caught, Peri had picked up something for their teeth, too, as Brock didn't see any plaque buildup.

The chewable sticks, if the boy had been smart and done his research. If not, Brock would advise him to switch, at least for Sol and Betty.

And near the center of it all, sat the boy himself, trying desperately to look like he hadn't seen Brock enter. Unfortunately for him, Brock was an old hand at that game and simply walked up close and crossed his arms. He didn't fail to notice the wounded knuckles clutching a brush, or the blood staining the bark-stripped, half-ruined and deformed wood of a nearby tree, but didn't comment.

A little scary, he would admit.

Ignoring him wouldn't make him go away, though. Peri may be a master of pissing people off, but Brock had learned from Rock-Types in many ways, and his patience was legendary.

It had to be when Billy and Tilly started screaming, Timmy and Tommy were fighting, and Salvadore had somehow lit the couch on fire.

At the same time.

Peri held out his brush to Eevee in a silent offering, their gazes locking for a moment while Brock stood silently and watched. The two of them weren't familiar with each other yet, and it was an essential time in a Pokémon-Trainer relationship.

Eventually, though, Eevee cautiously moved closer. It hesitated again, just out of reach, looking back up at Peri – and even glanced at Brock, who kept himself neutral – before finally lying down in front of the boy stiffly and letting him get to work.

He truly felt bad for interrupting what was clearly a step forward for the pair, and as such, gave them a few minutes to continue. But he was there for a reason.

"You know, when Misty came back with that… polite friend of Ash and you, and said that you bailed on your date, I thought that you would be back within a couple of hours, and we could talk about it. Didn't think you would disappear for a whole day."

Peri sighed, keeping his eyes on Eevee as he slowly ran the brush through the brown fur. "Guess Misty's pissed at me, huh? Kinda just left her. With Gary, of all fucking people."

"Not as much as I'd thought. Not the greatest date of all time." Just because Brock was there to cheer the guy up didn't mean that they should completely abandon their previous rhythm. Kids got angsty if you switched up on them too much.

"Oh, sorry. I forgot I was talking to a god of charming women. Let me guess, I should scream my eternal love at her on first sight and try to propose to all the Waterflowers at once, right?"

Brock coughed awkwardly, quickly moving on. He was fully aware that he wasn't the smoothest with women, but damnit, he was trying! He'd been stuck taking care of 12 kids since puberty hit. How was he supposed to learn!? And who was going to teach him, after Flint just vanished? Grant? That's who Brock learned it from in the first place! All the old fossil could say when questioned was that 'women were less bothersome in his age' and that screaming at women used to work!

"Anyway," He hurried on, "I'm not here to lecture you, or anything. Just thought you might want to know that Ash beat Surge on his second try, with Pikachu. Took a page out of your book and outsped him. Dumb of Surge to fall for it twice, but it still happened." Peri seemed pleased at the news about Ash, though he tried to hide it, and surprised at Brock not scolding him for his admittedly immature actions.

It was a fault of his; Brock could admit that. He'd spent so much time playing parent that he sometimes looked down on those younger than him as if they were children – and Peri was a child, he would stand firm on that point, no matter how many explicit curses the boy knew or how much violence he could inflict.

But that didn't mean that he was an infant, or that Brock needed to babysit him constantly. The boy could be surprisingly mature.

"Lil' bitch stopped whining? Good, I could hear it from here. Mew damned loser, wait until I tell Gary."

Sometimes. Occasionally.

"Well, if you want to tell Gary, then you will probably need to be on the ship." He could almost smell Peri's brain frying from how hard he was trying to think of an excuse.

"We've just met back up, though! It would be a shame to part ways so soon-"

"-acutally, the rest of us got tickets as well," Brock smirked at the look of panic on Peri's face, like a Stantler in a Noctowls sight. "We ran into a couple of fans of Misty's, who had an emergency and couldn't make it, so they gave the tickets to us. They're not first class or anything, but we'll be on board. So if you really don't want to be separated…" He trailed off meaningfully, hiding his own excitement at going on the cruise. He'd heard about it as a child and had always dreamed of going on it to learn about all the foreign Pokémon there, but life had kicked him in the groin and said no. Better late than never, though.

"... thought you weren't here to lecture me."

"And I'm not," Brock assured him, taking a seat next to the boy and Pokémon, with enough distance that he didn't spook Eevee too much. "I'm not going to try to force you on the ship if you truly don't want to. You're a licensed Trainer, you can make your own decisions."

"Don't wanna."

"Okay," Brock held up his hands in surrender, "if that's all it is, then that's your choice." And with that, he let silence consume them once more, leaning back and watching the target practice. The Pokémon were doing well with the stationary goals, but they would be better served with moving ones. Brock made a mental note to suggest that Peri had them attack each other's moves.

After the boy finally cracked, of course.

"It's fucking stupid." When the words finally came, they were so quiet that Brock almost didn't hear them.

Almost.

"It's the farthest thing from stupid," he disagreed. "You experienced something terrible, and that leaves its scars."

"Yeah, almost four years ago!" The Pebble Clan member wasn't surprised at he heat behind the words. It wasn't directed at him. "It's been four fucking years since then, and I've tried to put it behind me, I've tried therapy, fuck, I've tried beating the shit out of criminals, and nothing works! I still lose my shit when I see a Gyarados or fucking run away when thinking about going out to sea! It's fucking pathetic!"

There were many ways to handle that kind of breakdown. Most were gentle and slow, coaching the person to realise the problem and potential solution themselves. It was the way Brock preferred. Things tended to stick better when you learned them yourself.

That said, the approach had to be tailored to the individual in question. And Peri was an aggressive brat that didn't really do gentle.

"It's not the most adult thing I've ever seen. Even by your low standards." He cringed internally at the offended look he got from both Peri and Eevee. He hated playing the bad guy, but necessity compelled him. "I'm mostly confused about how you think this is going to help." He gestured to the training field.

"The fuck you mean?" The older teen knew he deserved the anger behind the words, and quickly continued. He wouldn't put it past Peri to start swinging and seeing the damage he was doing to trees, Brock had a bad feeling about his chances.

"What I mean is that, what do you think staying here while we head off is going to accomplish? Do you think it's going to make you feel better? Is hiding from your problems going to make them disappear?"

"Fuck you." The boy threw the brush away in disgust after Eevee flinched a little from the increasingly forceful tugging. "I don't know, okay! I-... I don't know." Brock's heart went out to the kid, hating the uncharacteristic weakness in his voice. He'd never bought the bravado, but it was jarring to hear the absence nonetheless.

Yet he persevered.

"Of course you don't. If you knew the solution, then you wouldn't have a problem in the first place. You want to know my thoughts?" He waited for the confirmation, not wanting to push too hard either. "I think that your words to Ash apply to yourself as well. You had one bad experience – a truly terrible one – but then you stopped trying. While I wouldn't phrase it the same way as the young Oak," or say anything at all in the same way as Gary, "There is something to his words. You listed all the things you've tried, but nowhere on that list is slowly exposing yourself to build up a resistance."

The purple-eyed teenager didn't say anything in response, staring into the distance blankly while his Eevee pressed against him a little closer, despite the rough treatment. Brock suppressed a smile. Peri really had a way with Pokémon that might rival even Ash's. He would love to know what they fed the kids in Pallet.

"There are Teleporters on the ship. World-class security, literally. There are usually top notch Trainers, or even bona-fide Masters who spend years on board that ship. Chances are, you will never get as safe an opportunity again. So, it would be a shame to let it pass you by. Still, as I said, it's your choice."

"...if I go, will you promise that you'll never try to console someone with tough love ever again? Seriously, that was so fucking sad. You were as transparent as fucking glass."

"I promise." Brock chuckled, letting him have that one unopposed. He wasn't wrong anyway.

"... then fine. I'll go on the dumb ship. It's not that big of a deal." The Rock-type Trainer wasn't sure who Peri was trying to convince – though he had a fair guess – but once more let it go.

Brock smiled, reaching over and squeezing the younger boy's shoulder in support.

"It will be okay, you'll see. I promise you that nothing bad is going to happen on board the S.S. Anne."

---

AN: Such a nice guy, Brock, convincing Peri to face his demons head-on.

Nobody seemed to notice that when Peri was listing the Team Rocket events he remembered, the S.S. Anne wasn't on it. That's because I didn't remember that the S.S. Anne being attacked was an actual canon event and not a fanfic trope. For some reason, it just doesn't stick out in my memory.

Thank you for reading. Hopefully you enjoyed. If you REALLY liked it, I have a P-a-t-r-e-o-n, under the same name, where you can read 5 chapters ahead.

 

[Pandaemonium04]

Huh, maybe the best way for Peri to get over his trauma is to associate beating up Team Rocket on a ship. That way very time he thinks of ships and water, he gets reminded of beating Team Rocket instead of being downed by them.

 

[The Radiance's Follower]

I like that Peri has many goals. But while he is motivated by revenge and self-improvement. Does he have any idea on what he will do after succeeding. This is the most important question he needs to answer to himself so he can start to heal.

 

[GNB]

"It will be okay, you'll see. I promise you that nothing bad is going to happen on board the S.S. Anne."

Click to shrink...

Oh no. You should't say that at all.