I decided that, instead of Pearlshipping for my second addition to FF (there's tons of that, and I will write tons of that, so it's not like I'm abandoning the ship) I'd have a bunch of oneshots/twoshots/redshots/blueshots about the female characters of Pokemon, and their friendships outside of Ash, or any pairing. There's probably not going to be much discussion of any ships, 'cause I like to think that the girls of Pokemon have more things to talk and disagree about than who's dating whom and which boy's the cutest.

I don't own Pokemon.

This one is about Iris and Dawn. Word prompt is 'Run.'

Enjoy!

Iris tiptoes through the Berlitz residence, cringes at the petulant creak of a floorboard, and decides that, ultimately, the sound doesn't matter, 'cause Dawn is going to have to wake up soon, anyway. As she opens Dawn's bedroom door, she thinks that, in fact, the creak served as forewarning, so there's no need to wake Dawn gently. She's had time to brace herself, after all.

"Good morning!" Iris whisper-shouts; then, at Dawn's 'go away', she yanks back the covers and whaps Dawn on the head with a pillow.

Dawn gives a pillow-muffled scream. Her right hand shoots out and intercepts the swinging pillow, as her left fumbles around wildly on the dresser for either her hairbrush or a weapon. Perhaps they can function as the same thing.

Thinking on this, Iris picks up the brush and takes a step back as Dawn, failing to find the hairbrush, mutters, "Don't even say a word."

She grins. "Hey, no need to worry. Words can't express how silly you look."

"Shut up." Dawn groans, rubs her eyes. Then she blinks, does a double-take, and scowls. "Iris."

"Yeah?"

Dawn thrusts her alarm clock at Iris, like an accusation. "It's seven. In the morning. Tell me why I'm awake."

"Hmm." Iris crosses her arms, frowns thoughtfully. "Because you should really try living up to your namesake? Get up. We're running."

"I'm not exactly –"

"– gonna find a good reason not to, so." She hardens her heart to Dawn's tiredness, but softens her tone, knowing and hating the reason why Dawn needs this. "C'mon. It's for your own good."

A sigh. "Okay, fine, I'm coming."

They start out with a good pace, so that in twenty minutes they're out of Twinleaf and in the forests near Lake Verity. It's not late enough in the run for them not to talk for want of air, but Dawn's being awfully quiet. Iris gives her a sidelong glance, trying to discern her mood.

"Stop staring at me," Dawn snaps, eyes ahead.

Well. That's certainly telling.

But Iris keeps checking on her as the minutes pass, as they fall into the rhythm of it; Dawn's fists are clenched, her hands a quiver; her feet slam against the earth. Iris wonders if Dawn's trying to injure the path or herself.

Whichever it is, Dawn's slowing down. Anger, even self-directed, can only fuel a person for so long. Speed is imperative to Dawn's move improving: Iris is sure of it. She adopts a tough coach persona and takes a breath.

"Pick," says Iris, "up. The. Pace!"

Dawn slows even more, and at Iris's frown, she starts to walk.

"I'm exhausted," Dawn says, and stops, hands on knees, sweaty hair falling out of her ponytail, huffing and puffing to beat the band. Their breaths are visible; Iris jogs in place to keep up her heart rate and ward off the cold, stupid insidious thing that it is. Oh, how she hates it. But it's what formed the dew-turned-hoarfrost on the grass beneath her shoes, that sparkles in the grey predawn light, so she supposes there are some upsides to it.

Wind cuts through her sweater, and Iris shivers: upsides or no, cold and Iris are not compatible, and Dawn's stationary-ness isn't helping.

"Dawn." Iris rubs her arms, pulls her hoodie over her head. "C'mon c'mon c'mon."

Dawn continues to stare at the ground. "No."

Iris lets loose a long sigh. Despite the smallness of the action, she pleased with the billow of steam that comes of it. "Let's go."

"No. I'm finished."

"No, we are not finished. Does this look like Lake Verity to you?" Iris waves her hand at the silent leafy sentinels looming over them. "No? Well, maybe that's just because we ain't done."

"I –"

"Save it for the Lake." She offers Dawn a hand. "I'll race you, and maybe I'll go easy –"

"Be quiet, Iris." Dawn straightens, crosses her arms, and looks away from her. "I'm finished. I am done. I…I" – she half-growls, half-screams: at Iris, at the forest, herself most likely – "I quit, dammit."

They are no longer talking about the run.

Iris shouldn't be surprised: the run was never about running, really.

She's surprised at it anyway.

"You can't quit," Iris says.

Dawn whips around so her back faces Iris, and throws it over her shoulder: "What do you know about being a coordinator? Oh, that's right: nothing. And why shouldn't I quit? 'Cause you say so?" She begins striding away.

" 'Cause I believe in you."

The words come out quieter than Iris would've liked – her original plan was to yell some sense into Dawn – so quiet she isn't sure if she thought it or whispered it.

Dawn hesitates, then looks at Iris over her shoulder. "After my last contest, I got booed, Iris. Then I told Coordinator Watch that I was thinking of retiring, and after the segment aired" – she sighs, runs a hand through her hair – "I got congratulatory notes. People were glad."

"Oh, okay." Iris shrugs. "So you're quitting 'cause you're bad at contests."

Dawn blinks. "No, I'm – that's not the problem."

"Not the prob – so, then," Iris says, controlling herself at the last moment, "you're quitting because of people's – people who you don't even know – opinions?" She shakes her head. "You are such a kid. Obviously running isn't helping. You should spend today training, because tomorrow, we are going to battle."

Dawn opens and closes her mouth, shakes her head, and sighs. "Fine."

They walk back towards Twinleaf together, not speaking – Iris decides to give Dawn time to mull over the problematic reasons behind her 'retirement'.

As they climb over the last hill, Dawn says, "Wait a sec. So you've been waking me up early for the past month, and making me run, just to have this talk with me? Couldn't we've talked this over in the afternoon?"

Iris grins. "Actually, I just wanted to make you run. And" – she shrugs, and isn't sure if Dawn's cheeks are reddening from delayed anger or the sunrise – "also, I got to see the infamous bedhead, which was quite worth –"

Dawn shoves her, and Iris falls over, begins rolling down the hill. She trips Dawn (later she'll swear it was accidental), who too begins rolling, and Iris cackles as she goes through the cool grass.

And – above the sound of the world awakening, the Pokémon greeting the sun – is the sound of Dawn's hill-broken, resigned laughter.