That's the Sinistea
Author's Note: Enjoy the story and R&R.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to or of the Pokémon franchise.
Pairing: Pre-slash John x Tommy.
Summary:
Who spilled the Sinistea? Who?
"So are you going to confess to him soon?" Sonia nettled the Stow-on-Side Gym's temp.
Tommy swallowed the too-big piece of cake he was having. This was big news. That the details reached Sonia meant she'd rabbit on about it to the much bigger gossip – Hulbury's Nessa – if she hadn't already!
He had to shut this down now! Lick it before it Driflooned into an even bigger problem! Nessa would spill the beans to Milo, who'd spill the beans to Gordie, who'd spill the beans to Raihan. Before he knew it, John would overhear it somewhere!
"Wh-who told you?" Tommy demanded. It was a worthless question, of course, uttered only to recover some control over an uncontrollable situation. He'd only shared his secret with one other person. A person whose timid disposition he believed would act as a nail in the coffin on the matter. To ensure his secret remained buried.
He was genuinely shocked even Allister couldn't keep mum about this! Were the intimate particulars of his life just too juicy not to return from the grave?
An even more mortifying idea seized his chest. Sonia was the grabby sort. If she saw something or someone she thought was cute – and John definitely fell under this category – she had to get her hands around them! What if (and he was hyperventilating here) she had a good chinwag with John directly?
The cup of tea in the hand of his that wasn't holding a fork rattled. He was dead. So dead he almost wished his childhood disease had done him in!
Hang around Ghost-type Pokémon and you develop a morbid sense of your own mortality.
Hang…Haha.
Humour, also.
"Sonia, you didn't! Please tell me you didn't!"
"Don't you want John to know?"
"No!"
Polteageist refilled Tommy's cup, which he slurped up fearfully, and Polteageist refilled it again.
"Oh! Then we have a problem!" she admitted.
"You told him." Tommy dropped like she'd read him his last rites.
"No, I didn't. It was John. He wanted me to find out when you're planning on confessing to him!"
Tommy reappeared pale as a ghost. Perhaps not the best analogy since many Ghost-types are purple.
"John, he…He already knows?"
"Yeah. So you better get on that, mister!" Sonia gave him her condolences.
