Characters: Ash, Misty.
Genre: Romance.
Shipping: Pokeshipping.
Notes: Yes, I do feel like stating the characters AND the shipping, problem? And about this lil' one-shot, it was inspired a bit by Some Enchanted Evening.
Misty sat on her knees and hastily splashed water over her face from a water spring, rubbing her hands over her face to wash it thoroughly. After drying off with a towel, she looked down at her reflection and frowned slightly. Her side ponytail no longer spiked out to the side, but now it drooped down.
"It grew longer," she mumbled, running a hand through it. Without a second thought, she zipped open her backpack and begun rummaging through it. She hated it when her hair grew longer. The longer it grew, the more annoying it was to manage.
She sometimes felt so annoyed with it that she desired to hack it all off, but then her girly side kicked in and talked some sense into her. How horrible would Misty look like that?
After finding a pair of scissors(wait, when did she even put those in there?) she made clicking sounds with them and moved them closer to the edges of her hair.
"What are you doing?"
The voice startled Misty as she nearly jumped a foot in the air, dropping the scissors and spinning around to face the voice.
Then she scowled once she saw Ash. "Cutting my hair Ash, what does it look like? You scared me half to death," she spoke, still trying to calm down her quickened heartbeat.
"Why?" he asked, his tone sounded disbelieving. He sat down next to her cross legged and stared at their own reflections in the fresh water spring.
"Because, I don't like it when it's long," Misty replied as if it was obvious, although she stalled with her motive, the scissors still lying on the ground.
Ash sat against the oak tree next to them and put his arms behind his neck, tipping his hat over his eyes ever so slightly. "Keep it that way," he said.
"Hmm?" Misty raised her eyebrows at him. She couldn't tell what he was thinking now that his eyes were hidden behind the red and white cap of his.
"Well," he started. He stood up from his position, staring down at her mirroring her expression. "I like it that way."
Misty stared for a moment, flabbergasted before it sunk in. Before she could say anything he had left to Brock's calling. Probably to "clean up your own darn mess, I'm not your mother!"
She flushed a vibrant shade of pink before stashing the scissors away in her backpack.