LightrockShipping // Brock & Dawn // PG
It had been a decent day's work: our heroes, the terrific trio, had successfully slipped in and out of Galactic Headquarters, picking up some key information about the villains' next plans. Officers were heading towards the scene of the crime at that moment, and it seemed as though everything was once again just fine and dandy.
Except for the little problem that their unorthodox method of disguise had left Dawn in an … interesting state.
In the boring hospital room, Dawn covered her face with the scratchy hospital pillow. "Why did it have to be a catgirl?" she moaned, her voice muffled and uncharacteristically depressed.
Brock honestly didn't have a good answer for that. "I don't have a good answer that," he replied redundantly.
"Urgh." Dawn tightened her grip on the pillow, inadvertently digging her budding claws into the pillowcase. "Stupid Dittomorphine … just had turn me into something that sounds like it'd be cool but really, really isn't. Screw this."
"Well …" Brock glanced at her a bit nervously, wondering exactly how ticked off she was. "You made a really good distraction. Because, you know, Ash and I probably couldn't have gotten hold of their plans without you turning those grunts into drooling loony goons."
"Mhm. Well, good to know that my pain and suffering makes you happy."
He cringed. "Sorry."
A few long moments of silence stretched between them awkwardly. Brock tried not to watch Dawn's tail twitch too much.
After a while, Dawn removed the pillow with deliberate slowness, sighing dejectedly. "It just sucks, that's all," she told him, meeting his gaze with eerily huge and circular eyes. "I look seriously awful. I scared poor Piplup half to death, he didn't understand why my face was shifting and all. And now I think even my color vision's going!"
"Hey," Brock said, placing a hand over hers cautiously. "Just take a deep breath, okay? Nurse Joy'll probably be able to fix this."
"I hope so." She shifted slightly, wincing as the pillow rubbed against the spot where one of her ears had been. "Do I want to know how Ash took it?"
He grimaced. "No."
"Tell me anyway," she insisted, suddenly grinning with a mouth full of sharp cat teeth. "His terrified reaction might have been funny."
"Well, um, actually he just stared and blinked for about a full minute. And then when you passed out, he tried to catch you with an Ultra Ball."
"Yeah." He rubbed the back of his head, feeling embarrassed for his idiot friend's antics. "Then he got over it. Right now he's outside training his Pokemon, probably because he's really embarrassed that Pikachu got defeated by a Magikarp on the way here."
"Sounds like Ash," Dawn agreed, scoffing. "If only I could still roll my eyes …"
"You can still sweatdrop," Brock reminded her.
"Oh, right," she realized, quickly sweatdropping.
"Exactly. Well, Ash can be a bit scatterbrained sometimes, you know. It wouldn't have hurt if he came up here to check up on how you were doing, though."
"But you did. Thank you for being here for me, Brock," she said, smiling again. "It really helps, actually."
"No problem." He returned her grin, although he was rather unnerved by it. "As long as there's a lesson about friendship or something in here, everything will be fine anyway."
Dawn tilted her head to the side. "I thought that the lesson had something to do with misusing drugs," she said, looking confused.
"I guess there's that too," he conceded. "Especially since we want to get the whole business behind us. Speaking of which, would you want to head over to one of those dockside places for something to eat, once this is all taken care of? Without Ash, if you want."
She nodded. "Absolutely. I seem to have a craving for a rare-cooked cheeseburger."
"Sounds like a plan."
Neither of them seemed to notice that they had somehow gone to holding hands. But of course, that's just something that happens in life. Even if the Dittomorphine wasn't.
Coming up next: ClapShipping.