Title: Come Here Often?
Rating: PG, I suppose
Disclaimer: Must you keep pestering me? I don't own Pokemon, because if I did, the plot would surround Team Rocket, and would most likely be from lemon and medicine induced thoughts. Got it?
Author's Notes: Based on a mental image I had after leaving the doctor's office for what seems to be the millionth time these last three months, (long story) about Tear being asked the oldest pick-up line in the book, from none other than the infamous Brock. I hope ya like it, and don't forget to REVIEW when finished.
Tear sat alone in the hospital waiting room, the only sound coming from the clock's impatient ticks and the occasional clunk of a soda popping out of the beverage machine when a Meowth emerged from the ER every hour or so. The lounge chairs were extremely uncomfortable, and her pale skin stuck to the leather material, causing her soiled, white hospital robe to slide up her legs occasionally, making it look as if she were trying to reveal something she scarcely had. She had been visiting this hospital lately, involuntarily of course, and she was getting very tired of it. Under any other circumstance, she would have used the Team Rocket hospital, but seeing as lately Team Rocket's hospital rarely changed their patient's sheets, she had decided to use a civilian hospital instead. She had noticed, however, that she wasn't the only Rocket with the same idea. She had seen several other Rockets in the past three months, and had sworn she had heard that Meowth complaining about some yellow rodent in the past. She had, in fact, been sure she had seen the cat only a few weeks ago, talking to what seemed to be only himself in the HQ cafeteria, muttering obscenities about a boy, while bandaging a broken paw.
She sunk deeper into the chair, shielding her eyes with her black cap from any visible light. She must have fallen asleep, because when she woke, she found herself in a hospital bed, the blankets twisted around her in a tangled heap. She grunted slightly as she heard the wheels of a stretcher approach her, the occupant questioning the nurse about a date.
"So baby, how about you and me go out sometime, huh?"
"I think I'd rather go out with someone whose arm isn't horribly out of proportion." Tear tried to laugh at the nurse's remark, but found herself unable to, because when she tried to chuckle, her wrist was jerked by an IV drenched in blood.
"Well, I'm sure with your healing touch, I'll be back to normal in no time," he said suavely. The nurse swiftly injected the teenager with what seemed to be a sleeping shot, and turned on her heel, leaving the two patients alone in the room.
Tear noted that the boy had quickly fallen asleep, but had been identified as Brock Slate, or "The Man of Your Dreams," as he had referred himself as to several passing nurses before he had fallen asleep for several hours, leaving Tear to dull silence.
He had woken to the sound of the hospital room door opening, revealing what Tear assumed to be the guy's friends. She immediately took somewhat of a dislike to the two children, finding their appearance rather annoying. The boy, who looked around the age of twelve, wore an Official Pokemon League hat, and sported a Pikachu on his shoulder. The girl who was with him had tied her hair in a ponytail, wisps of orange jauntily placed on the side of her head. Tear turned on her side, burring her face deeper into the bloodstained sheets and grunted, already growing bored from the younger boy's sympathetic, but utterly fake, smile.
Brock's face lighted up, looking as if he had momentarily forgotten his arm was in an extreme amount of pain. "Ash! Misty!" Even their names reflected their aggravating appearance.
"Hey Brock-o," Ash cried, slapping Brock on the shoulder warmly, making him wince. "How ya feeling?"
"Well how do you think he's feeling Ash?!" Misty sighed, "It's not everyday you get your arm viciously attacked," at this she snickered, trying in vain to stifle her laughing, "… by a Togepi!" She and Ash began laughing, causing Tear to engulf herself further into the sheets.
At the mention of its name, a small Togepi appeared from inside Misty's backpack, chirping merrily. Tear, who had gone completely unnoticed until then, caused the three children's heads to snap in her direction, from a low, growling sound emitting from her seemingly empty stomach. She could feel their eyes on her, so with a sigh, she turned around to face them, her knees curled to her chest.
Misty gave her a suspicious look, and prompted her egg Pokemon back inside her backpack, its star-like flaps wrapping themselves around its head.
"I – I'm sorry," Tear said, wondering in the back of her mind why in thehell she was apologizing. "It's just I haven't eaten and a while, and scrambled eggs happen to be one of my favorite foods."
"Well," Misty scoffed, already making her way to the exit door, dragging Ash by his jacket, "I think we'll just sit out in the waiting room then."
"Fine by me," Tear mumbled, once again covering her features with the blankets.
"We'll see you later, Brock," Ash called out wearily, after having been dragged down the hospital wing. The door shut behind the two, leaving the sick pair in silence once again.
After the next few days of Brock's recovery, Tear had made a mental note to not try to attempt conversation, seeing as he asked anything out that happened to be female. On the last day of his stay in the hospital, he had assumingly asked out every female nurse working on their wing, and found it safer to try and talk to the only other occupant in the large room, rather than provoke any more nurses that happened to have penicillin in their hand.
"So," he started, after Tear had gotten her blood drawn again, "Your name – it's Tear, right?"
She grunted at the mispronunciation of her name. "Yeah, except it's pronounced "Tear," like when your cry, not "Tear," like what I'm gonna do to your head if you don't shut up and let me sleep." It was still in the early hours of the morning, and she had been deprived of any sleep the night before. Once again, a doctor had examined her, the bright hospital lights blinding her vision for hours.
"Right…" he said nervously, cutting off their conversation entirely. But not for too long, because in a couple of hours, he spoke once again, this time having felt rather deprived of any girls for awhile.
"So," he started again, fiddling with his bed sheets, "Ya come here often?"
Tear turned to face him. "What?"
His face began to turn a crimson hue. "Do you come here often?"
This, Tear thought, was defiantly the oldest, not to mention the most pathetic pick-up line in the book. "Yes" she hissed, his scarlet appearance not phasing her, "As a matter of fact, I do come her often."
At this Brock became completely silent, burring himself into the bed as to not be seen by Tear, or any one else. Although his last rejecter's red hand print was still engraved onto his face, the woman's nails leaving lasting marks onto his reflection, the sinking in his heart was deeper this time, knowing that he had been rejected using the very first pick-up line he had been taught, not to mention the one that he had given the most credibility to. He sighed. It was a sad, sad world.
Author's Notes: Alas, another one finished. More likely than not, I will never be asked that question, which is completely fine by me. Not to mention, I never really even go out anywhere, seeing as I'm normally glued to the T.V. watching Pokemon reruns. Yeah, I do suck. But hopefully, my writing doesn't suck, so PLEASE REVIEW!!! If you don't review, which you MUST, leave me be so I can sulk properly. I also hope to have the next chapter for "Deadly Serious" and "Not Your Blood Anymore" up soon.
Till We Meet Again,
Tear22