A/N: fatherlyshipping is my all-time favorite hetero ship in pokemon, i love them so much ;_; i've wanted to write them since i was a baby 11yro and only got around to it now...

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There's a point where she wonders why they never seem to tire of arguing over the same thing again and again.

The first time Janine met him was during the inauguration ceremony of him being appointed the leader position for Violet City's gym. Falkner looked uncomfortable in his own skin, gesturing uneasily as the other gym leaders piled on him their attention and curiosity, looking quite like he would rather be at home with his precious bird pokémon, thank you very much. It seemed to her like he was far more used to being alone (she would know, she'd think to herself later). He seemed most at ease when the topic at hand was about his father, she noticed: I'll do my best to make him proud, he said. He's a great man, and I owe a lot to him. The least I could do in return is honor the legacy he left me.

She didn't use the opportunity to talk to him, but she remembered watching him from afar and realizing, with a smidge of pity she couldn't quite place, that he couldn't have been much older than her own age: sixteen like her, perhaps, or maybe seventeen if she was being generous. He looks like he takes himself way too seriously, Janine remembered thinking, and she wouldn't know until later why she'd felt so irritated at the observation, or at him, a boy who was looking to do his best with what his father had left him, simply because he had no choice.

Falkner reminds her too much of herself. That's the thing. And that's why they're never going to stop trading barbs with one another every time they run into each other while – of all things –grocery shopping. Did he really think he'd ever be able to sway her into thinking his dad was the better trainer?

Really, Janine thinks. It's almost like he's looking forward to this. Otherwise he'd have switched his schedule weeks ago. (She has done no such thing, of course, because making a conscious effort to avoid him would be the same thing as admitting his silly case of father-worship bothers her enough to take action, which is almost the same as admitting defeat – and what would her father think then, if she can't defend his objective superiority as a trainer from one smartass, delusional teenage boy?)

It doesn't hit her until the after the fifth time they've argued and she's watching Falkner turn his back on her with an annoyed scowl marring his perpetually-serious face that she wonders if she might be looking forward to it just as much as him. And she's not sure of what to think of that, exactly.

(Nothing good, that's for sure, so Janine resolves to stay an extra two hours in the gym that evening, training her illusions long after the other trainers have bid goodbye.)

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"Do you ever miss him?" she asks him one day, the question leaving her mouth impromptu before she realizes it, hanging awkwardly in the air for a few seconds before she goes on. "Your dad, I mean. He left the gym to you so he could travel, didn't he?"

Janine doesn't know why she asks. All their bickering must be tiring her out, because she's attempting to engage the boy in civil conversation right now, and surprisingly enough, the prospect doesn't even irritate her. Something must be wrong with her today. Maybe it's the heat, she thinks vaguely.

Or maybe it's because for all Falkner gushes about how great a guy his dad is, how wonderful a trainer he is, how he taught his only son everything he knew about raising birds, it's no secret to anyone who cares to do some asking around that the father Falkner looks up to so much had one day up and left the region unannounced, leaving him with only a note of vague explanation for his absence attached to the keys to the gym he was now in charge of.

Janine wishes she didn't have to wonder what it's like, to have the one person you could always count on to catch you when you stumbled to suddenly disappear like that.

Except – no, maybe she can't compare. She thinks of her father, of visiting his post at the plateau every day, delivering his lunch on a clockwork schedule. It isn't the same as childhood memories of clumsily navigating the invisible walls of the gym, watching the challengers facing Koga in the hopes of winning a badge from him, of listening to him delineate to her the various ways poison could slow, incapacitate, or sap away an opponent's strength, of looking at him and feeling sure he would be right there to scold her whenever she made another rookie mistake during training… but least she still has the chance to see his face and talk, even if only for an hour of every day. It isn't the same, but a round-trip to the plateau and back amounts to only a few hours, and she's never been the type to take the small things for granted. But Falkner doesn't exactly have that, does he?

Falkner doesn't reply straightaway, and she wonders if maybe she's hit a nerve. She's been trying to reduce him to silence for weeks, so seeing him do just that, his boyish face frozen into a sullen expression, should feel like a long-overdue victory – except it doesn't. She'd never do it, but for a moment, some part of her tells her she should apologize.

He sighs, brushes his bangs away from his forehead, and to her unexpected relief, that familiar tone of exasperation he's fond of adopting with her returns when he replies, "What kid wouldn't?" His face turns taut; a tense edge of something sour tinges his next words. "I know… he must have left me for a reason. He must've trusted me enough to let me take over the gym. Dad taught me so much in preparation for it, so I guess I should've expected that he leaving me on my own was only the logical conclusion."

"But," he pauses, and exhales, pretending to be distracted by a nearby rack of pokémon merchandise, "that doesn't mean I did. I felt so lost for the first few days… I kept going home, expecting he would be back in the morning. But I know better now. What would my old man think of me if I kept moping around instead of taking care of the gym, eternally hoping for someone to be there to tell me what to do? Some son I would be, right?" he finishes with a halfhearted laugh, but it sounds tired.

At his words, Janine feels her expression soften; she's quick to return it to her usual chilly neutrality, of course, but she can't quite mask the sympathy in her voice when she says, "I think I know how you feel. The first week or two is hard… but, eventually, you learn to adapt. You have to. Sometimes, when I look at my dad, I wonder if he's proud of me. But that's not really something I can just ask him outright, is it?"

"Yeah…" Falkner's voice trails away, something like understanding flickering over his face, but then he huffs stubbornly, arms crossed over his chest. That familiar eyesore of a scowl returns on his face, like slipping on a mask, and she quickly retaliates with one of her own, though she swears he looks less vindictive than he usually does. He must be getting soft. Why did she notice that? "Don't pretend like you know me, though, poison girl."

"You're such a prick," she replies, shrugging in dismissal, and just like that, the moment is over. She straightens up, grabs her plastic basket of potions and berries, and smiles winningly at him, purely out of spite. "I gotta go, birdbrain. I've got better things to do than humor you for conversation. See you same time, same place next week, okay? Don't be late!"

"I could say the same for you," Falkner says, his voice infuriatingly calm, and grins brightly in return. Janine, to her shame, has to force herself not to blush, not to think of something stupid and juvenile and absolutely untrue like, his face looks surprisingly nice when he's not forcing it to develop early wrinkles. Her heart starts to beat faster, and that's something she fastidiously ignores for the sake of her sanity. "Besides, I've still got to convince you how much better my dad is compared to yours."

"Yeah – as if, loser," Janine scoffs, because she'll emerge victorious, and she knows it.

But when her heart rate shows no signs of slowing down as she gets on her crobat's back and flies back to her gym at Fuchsia City, she can't help but curse him for the tactical advantage he's gained over her.

Then I'll just have to turn the tables on him next time, Janine thinks, and smiles wickedly into her scarf.