Now that I've written a
bunch on *how* Misty and Brock hooked up, how about a story about what kind of
kinky things they do AFTER they hook up? :) Um, just read "Another Gym Factor"
and assume that this one takes place about a year afterward, k? Don't ask how
they all got houses. I mean, you pretty much blindly ignore their vagrancy on
the show, but here they'll have apartments. They're older anyway. Assume that.
And yes, I know all my words in French are spelled wrong. I don't know how to
spell in French! If it was even SLIGHTLY more phonetic I just MIGHT be able to
get at least close, but it's NOT! Enjoy anyway!
Let it All Go Right
"Misty" Brock shouted, adjusting his tie. "Are you
ready yet?"
"Do you forget what my
gender is?" Misty shouted back from the bathroom.
"Ah," Brock nodded and
sat back down.
Brock twiddled his thumbs
a bit as time wore on, and Misty finally escaped the bathroom and was ready to
go on their date.
Misty hadn't been there
to greet Brock at the door since she was busy getting ready. He had a key
anyway and just let himself into her apartment.
Misty flushed a little as
Brock stood up. She never realized just how sharp he looked in a suit. He had
taken his jacket off, and something about the way he was dressed just ripped
her at the seams. His hair was a little tamer, and he seemed taller and older.
He nervously ran a hand through his hair as Misty gaped at him, and even just
that action made him seem even more appealing.
Brock was having similar
sentiments about Misty's presence. She was wearing a floor length silver dress
with a matching shawl thrown around her shoulders, and her hair flowed around
her shoulders, curled at the bottom.
"You look absolutely
stunning," Brock said softly. "Wow, now I'm actually glad I let you talk me
into going to see Les Miserables."
Misty giggled a little
and walked up to Brock, which was slightly difficult because of her high heels.
She pulled him down (only about an inch, seeing as her heels made her nearly as
tall as him) to her by his tie and kissed him softly.
"Ooh," Brock grinned,
"what was that for?"
"Because Brock," Misty
sighed, "you look so sexy in that suit."
Brock blushed and kissed
Misty again. "Misty, you are a goddess."
"I know," she grinned,
and kissed Brock's neck. His suit felt soft against her compared to his normal
clothes, and she played with his tie as he held her close to him. She just
wanted to feel him pressed against her forever, but she did suggest that they
go and see a play for their anniversary.
"One
year today, sweetheart," Brock whispered into Misty's ear, and they rocked back
and forth as if slow dancing to no music while they stood. "Are you happy?"
"Yes," Misty replied,
"I've enjoyed every minute of it."
They pulled away slowly
as Brock decided that they didn't want to be late to the play. Misty ceased to
care, but Brock had never been to a play before and thought that it might be
interesting.
Brock plucked his jacket
from the sofa and held out his arm to Misty. "Shall we?" He asked.
Misty simply smiled and
held onto his arm. They walked out the door that way, all the way to Brock's
car. Brock was sure to open the door for Misty, and closed it behind her after
he was sure her dress wouldn't get stuck in the door. He went around to his
side of the car and climbed in, feeling stiff and awkward in the suit he was
wearing. He looked at Misty while he put the key in the ignition, and she
smiled at him. He wanted to make sure that the evening would go perfectly. It
had to be a perfect night.
Although Brock's car was
a stick shift, he put his arm around Misty's shoulders for sure whenever he
wasn't shifting gears. She kissed his hand as it dangled next to her whenever
he resumed doing it, and Brock stroked her cheek gently with his fingers while
still watching the road.
Misty felt like she was
arm and arm with the best looking guy in the entire place, and Brock felt much
the same about the looks of Misty. She could hardly even pay attention to the
play as it went on because she was lost in her thoughts about having been with
Brock for six months. It was a long time to be dating someone, but it was hard
to believe that they'd only ever fought once, and Brock actually cried when
they were making up, blaming it all on himself even though it was far from his
fault.
That was previously the
only time she'd ever seen Brock cry. He started crying during the play at the
scene of Eponine's death. It wasn't wailing, Misty just noticed a tear trickle
down his cheek to his lips, and he had his fist clutched at his mouth the whole
time. Misty couldn't help but smile as Brock sighed and pretended that it
hadn't affected him.
Intermission came, and
the couple walked out of the theatre to potty and chat for a moment. They'd
already bought a program, but Brock couldn't help but notice Misty staring at a
plate of chocolate covered strawberries on one of the refreshment tables.
"How much for the
strawberries?" Brock asked, pulling his wallet from his back pocket.
"Two dollars for three,"
the woman at the register replied.
"I'll take six," Brock
said, opening his wallet, "and two Sprites."
The sprite was in tiny
glass bottles, and Brock had never seen Sprite bottled in such a fancy manner
before. He was intrigued, but figured it was just a way for them to charge the
same amount for a two sip bottle as a two liter bottle. He wasn't worried about
it, however. He'd been saving a lot of money for this night, and whatever Misty
wanted he would let her have.
Misty licked her lips as
Brock handed her the strawberries.
"Don't you want some?"
she asked, puzzled.
"Nah," Brock shook his
head, but couldn't resist as Misty put one up to his lips. He laughed a little
as he bit into it, and she didn't relent until he had finished it.
"My turn, sweetheart,"
Brock grinned, and he plucked a strawberry from the plate and dangled it in
front of Misty's mouth. She ate it in two bites, as had Brock, and grinned at
him when she was finished.
"Hey," someone said from
behind Brock. Brock turned around to face who was speaking to him after
grabbing Misty's hand.
"Yes?" Brock raised his
eyebrows.
The man behind him was rather old, and was walking using a cane. Brock
had never seen him before.
"Is she your girlfriend?"
the man asked.
"You bet," Brock grinned,
grabbing Misty around the waist.
"You're a lucky man,"
the old man complimented Misty.
"I know it," Brock
grinned slyly, kissing Misty on the cheek.
"You
gonna marry her?" the man pried.
Misty smiled and looked
up at Brock, who was blushing. Brock looked as if he was backed into a corner.
"Well, um," he choked.
Misty's smile began to
harden into a look of sadness, and Brock wanted to slap himself, wondering if
he'd caused any irreversible damage.
"Someday," Brock finally
answered, hoping his answer smoothed things over. "Today is our one year
anniversary, and if things keep going like they are, I won't hesitate to marry
her."
Misty smiled again, still
a little unnerved by the fact that he hesitated before answering. She began to
devour the strawberries, noticing that intermission was almost over.
Brock groaned mentally as
he looked over at Misty. He couldn't tell her why he¹d hesitated. He felt like
he'd ruined their perfect night by not saying how he felt in the first place.
He began to be very affectionate with her, holding her tightly to him and
pressing his cheek to hers. She returned the affection, but she was silent, and
it was lackadaisical.
"Misty," Brock whispered
into her ear, "I'm sorry, are you mad at me?"
"No," Misty replied,
totally unconvincingly, "I'm not mad. Why would I be mad?"
Brock felt as if someone
had taken a rock and pounded it into his stomach. Nothing could go wrong! It
was a hard thing to do when a woman was involved, but he couldn't let anything
go wrong!
"Oh Misty," he choked,
making sloppy use of his tear ducts to gain forgiveness, "I don't want to ruin
this night. I love you so much, I just didn't want to freak you out if I said
something like, 'hey, yeah, we might get married tomorrow,' you have to
understand, it's a sensitive question, I mean. . ."
"I'm not mad," Misty
said, much more convincingly. She began patting Brock¹s back and trying to
soothe his nerves. "I was never mad, awww, Brock, tonight's been great, don't
feel bad."
Brock did feel bad--but
more for manipulating her through tears to get fast forgiveness. He never knew
until then how well it worked. He knew that it'd always been a huge success for
women, but was twice as effective for men. He didn't plan on abusing this
knowledge, but he surely retained it for future reference.
Brock sniffled sadly and
looked into Misty's eyes. "I knew you'd understand."
Misty nodded. "Now let's
get back to our seats, there's only about two minutes left in intermission."
Brock complied, and they
watched the rest of the play without any major problems.
Their next destination
was a nice restaurant. Misty suggested the Olive Garden, but when Brock said he
was taking her somewhere nice, he meant nice.
Misty had never even
heard of the restaurant he took her to, but she noticed that there were no
prices on the menu, and Brock had to give the matri'd a rather substantial tip
in order for them to get a table.
The
room looked too expensive to eat in, and Brock almost felt like they'd have to
take their food outside to eat it. The carpets were plushy and had some old
time period-looking designs all over it, and the walls were covered in famous
paintings. He didn't believe before that they were eating at an art gallery,
but the paintings coupled with the cathedral-sized windows and the tables with
plushy chairs and the table cloth that looked like it cost more than raising
eight children and putting them through college made Brock and Misty's heads
reel.
"Good God Brock," her
eyes widened, "how did you ever get enough money to take me here? I mean, they
price these things at their whim!"
Brock chortled a little,
and took one of her hands with both of his. He already knew what he was
getting, so he could afford to tease her while she decided.
"I've been putting in a
lot of extra hours in the gym," he replied. "I've been getting a lot better. A
lot of trainers have battled me lately, and none of them have won. I tried a
lot harder because I knew the money I would be earning would be going for this
day."
"Brock," Misty's lip
began to quiver. "I. . ."
"Be happy, love," he
advised, looking into her eyes, "I would do anything for you. Is there anything
you really want right now? Anything at all?"
"Yes," she sighed, her
voice barely audible, "I want to jump over the table and kiss you right now."
Brock smiled, glad that
he could get that kind of reaction. He was also relieved that everything was
going so well.
"What are you going to
order?" Brock asked, as the waiter came within his sight.
"Hmmm," she pondered, "I
think I'm going to get the bow-tie fettuccini with the grilled chicken. That
sounds really good."
Brock nodded, then the
waiter came to their table. They ordered quickly, and he took their menus away
from them. This was good for them as they could now hold each other's hands and
stare into each other's eyes from across the table.
"I love you," they said,
oddly at the same time.
They laughed a little
after this happened, and Misty kissed Brock's hands as she held them. They were
much darker than her own, and much bigger.
Some other couples in the room balked at Brock and
Misty's blatant romanticism, but they cared not. This was something for them
and them only, and the rest of the room could have gone naked unnoticed.
Brock could hardly eat after they received their food.
The butterflies in his stomach crowded it and didn't want to be hindered by
food, but he forced himself to eat
anyway. Misty devoured her food, anyway.
After finishing, Misty stretched her arms into the air
behind her, then recoiled into her comfortable sitting position, checking her
watch.
"It's late," she sighed unhappily.
"So?" Brock smirked. "This restaurant isn't all there is
to this place. It's a park, too."
Brock paid the bill, refraining from wincing best he
could, then dragged Misty through the elegant room into an even more stunning
outside.
The paths outside were made of some sort of speckled,
hard substance, maybe marble. Brock held Misty's hand as he took her along one
that went by every manner of gardens and small, lighted ponds. Huge willows
grew outside the path, dancing to the music of the moonlight and the slight
breeze.
August is a good month, Brock thought, glad the
night weather was so warm.
They walked without saying much for a time. Brock
probably couldn't have said much if he wanted to, he was far too overwhelmed.
"A romantic walk," Misty smiled, "this really is too
much."
"Never," Brock quickly retorted, nervously wondering if
he should put his jacket around her shoulders or something. She didn't SEEM
cold, so he wasn't sure. But then again, it probably wouldn't hurt.
Brock was about to strip when they reached the
destination.
Of course, Misty didn't know it was THE destination, but
Brock did.
"Oh," Misty blinked as they suddenly stopped in front of
a lighted fountain. The water was dyed blue, but different colored lights
resided within the basin, so many rainbow colored spouts of water crossed each
other in the air at timed intervals. Lots of lily pads floated around the
surface, and a plethora of brightly colored, huge koi fish swam here and there.
They stood in silence for about five minutes straight.
Brock didn't move a muscle the whole time, but Misty began to fidget a lot.
"It's beautiful Brock," she prompted, "but isn't it about
time we got going now?"
Brock took a deep breath, then turned to his girlfriend.
"Misty," he gulped, beginning to shake lightly as he took
her hand. "May I have a kiss?"
Misty laughed, and complied. She pressed her lips to him
gently, closing her eyes and teasing his teeth with her tongue. She would have
gone further, but she swore she could taste nervousness, if that were possible.
"Brock?" she asked, pulling away from the kiss.
"Thanks," he let out his breath slowly, "I needed that."
Misty continued to stare at him blankly, until he grabbed
her hand and fell down to one knee. Then she stared at him in complete
stillness, all the blood her heart could manage to pump racing to her face and
extremities.
"Misty," Brock said shakily, "um," his voice cracked, and
he felt as if his vision was dimming. He reached into his pocket and pulled out
a small box, all the while barely able to grasp it between his shaking and
sweating palms.
Now it was time for the speech. He'd practiced it all
night long.
Misty, this year has shown me that there's no way I
could live without you. You make my life so much better, and my dad actually
likes you! I've never felt closer to anyone in my life. You've gone from being
one of my best friends to my true love, and I've been dreaming about this since
the first time I told you I love you. I do love you, Misty, and I'd be
absolutely honored if you'd be my bride, Mrs. Shale. Or I could be Mr.
Waterflower. It doesn't matter to me. I'm PC like that, if you prefer it. Will
you marry me?
He'd actually
decided to leave out the whole last name part when it actually came down to it,
but it was in his original plan.
"You—I—love, um," he opened the box, allowing Misty to
look at it.
"Oh Brock, it's--" Misty began.
But he never got to hear the rest of her statement, for
it was at that moment his vision completely glazed over, and he blacked out
completely.
---------------3 3
3
"Monsegneiur," some doofy looking waiter stood over Brock
as he began to regain consciousness, waving a plate over his face for air. "Are
you all right?"
"Oui," Brock replied absent mindedly, not even realizing
that he had responded in French. The waiter was probably insulted a little, but
Brock was kicking himself too hard mentally to notice.
Misty giggled at the slip up.
The waited dissipated into French air, and Brock sat up,
rubbing his head.
"Oh god," he moaned, "I really fucked that up."
Misty was almost laughing hysterically as she bent over
and threw her arms around him.
"Oh my god!" she squealed, "I love it! It's gorgeous!"
"Muh?" Brock groaned some more, but still put his arms
around Misty who was hugging him frantically.
The ring looked like a Staryu, the raised diamond being
the center. A string of tiny, deep blue sapphires were on each arm, stretching out
to the tips. It was supposed to appear to be water, and it had cost Brock a
small fortune.
"Oh," Misty exclaimed, then planted several loud,
appreciative kisses all over Brock's face. "I'll never take it off."
"Then you'll marry me?" Brock's heart began pounding.
Maybe she just thought it was a gift.
"Of course!" Misty laughed. "Now I know why you were so
nervous when that guy asked if you were going to marry me!"
"You were still upset about that?"
Misty ignored Brock's inquiry and almost knocked him over
hugging him.
So he fainted instead of asking her to marry him. At
least he got the results he wanted.
And he started crying. For real this time. Out of
happiness, and out of love.
