Lonely

"Where is he?" an irritated Misty said, driving her hands firmly to her hips. They stood in the entry way of the hollow bar, the continuous sound of 'Free Bird' in their ears, waving the smoky air away.

"If I leave here tomorrow, would you still remember me?"

"Dunno," he replied, sharing in the search. Then finally, before Misty's patience waned to absolute zero, they spotted him. They weaved through a staggered formation of circle tables and ended at the narrow bar. Misty leaned on the counter, to the right of their unconscious friend and crossed her arms.

She cleared her throat. "You're pathetic, you know."

The man's forehead peeled off the sticky counter top and sluggishly craned up his neck.

"I wonder how much to drink he's had this time?" Misty asked, ignoring the half dozen shot glasses in front of her.

The man smiled wearily and swung to his left. "You... look... beautiful."

Ash laughed and tossed a stale peanut in his mouth. "Well, guess that answers that question."

"Yeah, drunk enough to mistake you for a girl. Especially with your ugly mug."

"Come on, Brock," Ash said, ignoring the obvious shot to his credibility. "Let's get you home." He took his arm and yoked it around his shoulder. Misty did the same and together they dragged him away.

"But, if I stayed here with you girl. Things just couldn't be the same..."

"Gosh, Brock, you weigh a ton."

"And your breath could stop a Mamoswine!" Misty jerked her face away.

"One more drink... please?"

"No, you've had enough," Misty mumbled, accelerating her steps. Too bad Ash didn't notice.

CRASH!

"And this bird you cannot change... change... change... change..."

"Hey!" the bar tender yelled. "You break it you buy it!"


"Slow down, Misty. We don't want to get a ticket."

"Ticket? It's one in the morning."

"Duh, its the time when cops are out the most."

"Why does everything look so blurry...?"

"See, you're going too fast."

"That's 'cause he's wasted. Just keep him from ruining my seats."

"Come on, Brock, sit up."

"I don't feel so good..."

"Uh oh."

"Damn it, Ash!"


The lock gave a stubborn twitch before allowing access. The door to Brock's two bedroom apartment swung open as three adjoined human beings stumbled slowly through the threshold.

Misty slipped away as soon as the couch became visible, leaving Ash to carry Brock all by himself. Ash yelped to the increased weight and barely made it to the couch on one hopping leg. He plopped drunk Brock on the sofa and sighed with relief.

"Come on," Misty grumbled and aimed for the door. "Let's go."

"Hold on! We can't leave him like this?"

"Why not?"

"Because... look at him!"

She did. The poor man was half asleep, laying face first on the pillow, mumbling incoherently. His clothes still wreaked of boos and vomit. She could still smell him from across the room. His arm hung off the couch and twitched every so often. He let out a drawn out moan and covered his face with his jacket sleeve from the lamp Ash just turned on.

"Looks fine to me."

"We can't go."

Misty sighed and pressed her palms against her eyes. "It's late. I'm tired. I have an early day tomorrow and I still have to drive all the way back home."

"Misty... please?" He pressed his hands together, interlocking his fingers like a prayer. He was still sitting down and she was still standing. She looked in his ridiculously beady eyes. The tenderness of his voice touched her ears. Ash's voice was always dorky like that. Cute, honest, but still dorky. What makes 'dorkiness' so likable anyway?

She caved. "Fine. But you can't use that look on me for a whole year."

"Thanks," he smiled.

"Never mind. I'm gonna make us some coffee," and with that, she bypassed the living room and forged her way to the kitchen. Ash heard the rummaging of pots and pans. They clanged and clamored, along with a few choice words from Misty now and then. She was definitely doing something in there.

Another groan brought Ash back to his current task. He slid off the couch and propped Brock's feet up on the arm of the couch. With one firm tug on each lace, the knot unraveled and he set his shoes down side by side. Ash grabbed a thin blanket folded over the back of the couch and flung it in the air, with a grip on two corners. The blanket fully unraveled and sank in the thin space before settling on Brock.

"Thanks..." he shifted.

"You up?" Ash sat back on the edge of the cushion.

"Mm hm. Thanks for picking me up."

"Sure."

Brock grabbed his splitting head when another clang from the kitchen broke the air. "What's that?"

"It's Misty," Ash said with a chuckle. "She's trying to make coffee."

He didn't reply. He turned on his side and curled in a small ball under the thin blanket halfway covering his face. A brief paused followed.

"You know... It's a lonely life you've chosen, Brock."

"Yeah?"

"Jumping from girl to girl. Never really settling down. Who was it this time? Suzy? Joy? Jenny?"

"Doesn't matter." His eyes remained closed.

"Guess not. Guess not."

"You don't understand, Ash."

"Try Me."

Brock managed to lift his heavy eyes and sit up as much as the alcohol in his system would allow, the blanket falling to his chest. "You'll never be lonely," he said through the percolating of a far off coffee maker. "You have Misty."

"What?"

"You'll always have Misty."

"Not this again, Brock." Ash lifted off the sofa. "How many times do I have to tell you? Misty and I are just--"

"I know, I know." He really didn't want to get into this conversation right now. Not at this hour. "I'm just sayin', out of everyone why did you come with Misty?"

"What do you mean? You called us to pick you up."

"No. No I didn't. I called you. You didn't have to bring her."

"Well, I sure as hell wasn't gonna carry you by myself."

"Could have called Tracey."

"I figure he'd be busy with research with Professor Oak."

"Why not Gary?"

"He's in Sinnoh. He couldn't exactly hop on a plane and help me out."

"May and Dawn are in town for a local Contest. Why didn't you ask one of them?"

"I don't know."

"My point is... out of everyone, you called Misty. You did."

"Just drop it, 'kay?"

"Fine." Brock yawned and sunk further in his cushion, tucking the blanket just below his chin. He sighed contently. "You're in love."

"You're still drunk."

"You're still in love."

"Go to sleep, Brock," Ash shook his head. His eyes traveled the room and eventually landed at the kitchen, watching Misty trying to make something, pretty unsuccessfully too. Ash chuckled, only she could make boiling water a complicated assignment. Amidst her irritation, Misty felt his eyes on her. She looked up, paused and gave him a 'what the hell are you looking at?' look. She returned to her cooking and Ash couldn't help but smile.

Maybe Brock was right. Maybe, he wouldn't have to deal with loneliness... that is, if he ever was afflicted by such. He took the part of the couch not occupied by Brock, clicked on the remote control, muted the sound and listened to him coo leftover versus.

"...and this bird you cannot change."


I wanted to do a drunk chapter for a while now. But, drunk Ash and Misty have been done... so what's the next best thing? Drunk Brock! Plus, it's probably the only situation seeing Ash and Misty in parental roles without actually being 'parents.' "Free Bird" is a Lynyrd Skynyrd song, for those who don't know. Hope you enjoyed.