Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon.
- / - / - / - / - / - / - / -
Paul left the building as slowly as he'd entered it, and crossed Amity Square. He walked purposefully to the Pokémon Center; he could pick up his Pokémon and get some training in before he would have to talk to that girl again.
That girl, Paul snorted. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to ask her. But, he needed someone. And she made sense. Besides, it's not like he'd decided to do this rashly. He never did anything rashly.
"Hello, how can I help you?" Paul's eyes cut to the woman that had spoken to him.
"I'm here to pick up my Pokémon," Paul said shortly. "My name is Paul."
"Oh, of course," Nurse Joy said cheerily. "Your Pokémon are looking excellent. They're in very good shape, and they're all healed up n –"
"Can I just have them?" Paul cut her off, irritated by her small talk. Nurse Joy looked flustered as she pushed him his tray of Pokéballs. Paul took his Pokémon and turned and left.
As Paul walked to the clearing he'd used when training to defeat Fantina, he considered his Pokémon. He needed to perfect his team before he challenged Cynthia again. The next time he battled her, he would win. Her team was still the same – Garchomp, Roserade, Lucario, Milotic, Gastrodon, and Togekiss.
Torterra, obviously, Paul mused. And Electivire. Ursaring could cause her some real damage, as well. Magmortar... could work well against her Roserade, I suppose.. But not if he doesn't get back into it. Magmortar needs to shape up. Drapion? Aggron... Gastrodon.. Froslass, maybe...
He reached the clearing and released his Pokémon – Torterra, Electivire, Ursaring, Honchkrow, Drapion, and Magmortar. Magmortar was released further away from the others.
"Special training," Paul muttered, knowing his Pokémon would be listening for anything he said. "Magmortar, you know where you are right now. You're running out of chances."
The enormous fire-type showed no surprise at the threat.
"We're going to fix this now, got it?"
"Mag," Magmortar nodded. Paul frowned.
"Torterra, Frenzy Plant," Paul commanded. "Ursaring, Focus Blast. Electivire, Thunderbolt. Drapion, Pin Missile. And Honchkrow, Shadow Ball."
The five Pokémon simultaneously launched their attacks, aiming straight at Magmortar.
"Margmortar, Rock Tomb," Paul ordered. The enormous Pokémon released the attack, stopping Focus Blast, Thurnderbolt, Pin Missile, and Shadow Ball. Frenzy Plant smashed through the Rock Tomb and made contact, sending Magmortar reeling.
Paul shook his head angrily. "That's not good enough. Again."
Again and again, Paul had his Pokémon attack Magmortar. And he was dissatisfied every time. After training for an hour, and Magmortar looked sufficiently exhausted, he recalled the other five Pokémon.
"If you would work harder," Paul said, pulling out Magmortar's Pokéball, "you wouldn't have to go through this every day."
"Mag," the Pokémon panted. Paul recalled Magmortar and left the clearing.
That was a waste of time, Paul thought. When he emerged on the street, dusk was falling. He found the apartment near Amity Square and turned away, rolling his eyes.
He wandered through Hearthome City in the general direction of his car, thinking it was time to get home. There was nothing else in Hearthome that interested him in the slightest. He wended his way through the city, retracing his steps from earlier. He got to his car and opened the door when his Pokégear started ringing shrilly. He frowned and pulled the device out of his pocket. He saw the name of the caller and flipped it open with a sigh.
"Hello," he said, still standing beside his car, door ajar.
"Hi," Dawn answered him brightly. "You're still in Hearthome, right?"
"Why?" Paul asked suspiciously. Dawn sighed.
"Because I need to talk to you, obviously," Dawn answered him patiently. "This plan you've come up with is going to take a lot of careful planning, or it's going to be found out right away. So, come over. We can talk and plan, and you can eat something."
Paul didn't answer. He really didn't want to spend any more time with her, and he really didn't want to eat dinner with her again.
"Okay, fine," Dawn said, shrugging. "I'm the one helping your ass out. If you don't want it to look real, and look like a complete idiot when everyone finds out – that includes the League, you know – that's fine. I don't need to take more time out of my life for you. I don't need to make you dinner either. So I guess I'll see you around, Pau –"
"Wait," Paul said, cutting her off. He wrinkled his nose in distaste. "I'll be at your door in five minutes."
He hung up and swung himself into the car and kicked the engine to life.
- / - / - / -
At the knock on her door, Dawn jumped down from the counter she had been kneeling on, trying to reach a pot at the top of her cabinet. She pulled the door open, revealing Paul on the other side – hands in pockets, frown solidly etched into his face. "Hi," she said. Paul said nothing, just walked past her into the apartment.
"Oh, of course, come on in," Dawn muttered to herself, pushing the door shut. She turned and headed back into the kitchen. Paul stood next to the island counter, looking uncomfortable.
"You can sit down," Dawn offered, pointing to a row of stools in the other side of the counter. He did, and Dawn returned to her cabinets. "I'm making a stew Brock taught me to make."
"I don't care," Paul said indifferently. Dawn glared at him. "What do you want to talk about? I have places to go."
"No you don't," Dawn shot back. She pulled the pot she'd been seeking down from its shelf and placed it on the counter before turning back to Paul. "I want to talk to you about how we're going to make this look real. Fooling my mom was nothing, babies could do that – but if you want this to look like the real deal, you're going to have to work a lot harder. I can do it, no problem – I can act like the blissfully happy fiancée. Easy. But you can't. So, since I'm assuming you don't want the whole world to find out about this, we need to talk about it."
"It's not like you want people to find out about it," Paul said, bored.
"It doesn't make a teeny bit of difference to me if anyone finds out," Dawn corrected him. "My career isn't on the line. Neither is anything else, really. Okay, I'll have to tell my mom the truth. Big deal. But no, it'll pretty much have no affect on me if anyone finds out."
Paul stared at her, eyes narrowed. Dawn smiled sarcastically at him and returned gathering the ingredients for the stew. They didn't speak for several minutes. Dawn put the pot on the stove and started pouring things into it, stirring and sniffing occasionally.
"Alright," Paul said stiffly. "What do you suggest?"
"That we make it as real as we can," Dawn answered, "without actually making it real. As in, you move in here, or something. Firstly."
"No," Paul shook his head. "I will not move in here."
"Oh, I can hear your career's funeral march now," Dawn said, bored, returning to the stove.
"We don't have to live together."
"We wouldn't if we really loved each other," Dawn said. "Because people – like friends, not that you've got any of those – would know we were waiting til we got married to live together. But everyone just found out. So we need to take the steps now."
Well, I don't want to be living with Reggie anymore,Paul admitted to himself. He'd figure it out fast if I stayed. Easier to lie to him when I don't see him much.
"Fine," Paul agreed. "When should I move in?"
Dawn glanced at him, surprised at the sudden change. "The sooner the better, I guess. It's kind of up to you."
"Tomorrow?"
"Um... I guess...," Dawn said reluctantly.
"It was your idea," Paul said bluntly.
"I know," Dawn snapped. "I still don't want to live with you."
"Tough."
"Okay then," Dawn said, ignoring him. "Tomorrow. But, I'm just saying: this is my house. So you'll be living by my rules. And I don't want you bringing a bunch of crap into my house. Clothes, fine. You need those because I don't want to see you in any state of dress other than this one. But that's close to it. I'm happy with the way my house looks now."
"Why don't we move somewhere else, then," Paul said.
"I like my house, and I'm not moving, that's why."
"Fine," Paul grumbled. "I'll move in tomorrow. Bringing clothes and very little else."
"Okay. Good."
She snatched up a wooden spoon and tasted the stew, murmuring, "This is almost ready.."
"Next," Paul said impatiently.
"What?" Dawn said absently, looking confused. Paul sighed in exasperation. "Oh, right. Another thing – I'm not changing how I live just because you'll be here."
"Whatever," Paul said. "Wait. What about sleeping... arrangements?"
"You can sleep on the couch."
"No, I can't," Paul snapped. "And I won't. If you won't move to a bigger place with more than one bedroom, you need to make some concessions. I will not sleep on the couch."
"Well, you aren't sleeping in my room," Dawn said firmly.
"It's not your room anymore, it's ours," Paul hissed. "So, yes I will be."
"My room isn't big enough for another bed," Dawn admitted. "I hope you still have a sleeping bag from when you were traveling."
"I don't," Paul said. "So. Either get rid of your bed to get two smaller ones, or make peace with the fact that we'll be sharing a bed."
"I'm not getting rid of my bed."
"Then make your peace."
"Why are you so adamant about this?" Dawn asked him. "It's like you want to sleep with me."
Paul stared at her.
"Not like that!" Dawn exclaimed, blushing furiously. " Just in the same bed. Like, actual sleeping."
"Well, I have no interest in sleeping with you in any sense other than the literal," Paul said. "So it shouldn't be a problem."
"Good," Dawn said vehemently. "Wait. What's that supposed to mean?"
"Exactly what it sounds like."
"There's nothing wrong with me. You'd be lucky to have a girl like me in your bed."
"Well, as of tomorrow, I will have a girl like you in my bed," Paul said nastily. Dawn opened and closed her mouth furiously, saying nothing. "But, as it were, we're still on topic one. I'm moving here and we will be sharing a bed, as you refuse to make any changes for this."
"Right."
"You made it seem like you had more to say."
"Oh, right," Dawn said, still flustered. "Well, do you plan for us to actually get married?"
"I don't know," Paul answered. "I hadn't gotten that far."
"Well, decide now," Dawn told him. "That'll change what I'm about to say."
Paul considered quietly, as Dawn pulled bowls out of the cupboards and ladled stew into them.
"Yes," Paul answered finally.
"Why?" Dawn asked him, not taking her eyes off of the ladle.
"When I beat Cynthia, they'll have no loopholes," Paul explained. "They'll have to make me Champion."
"Okay, then," Dawn said agreeably, pushing a stew-filled bowl across the counter at Paul. "So that brings me to my next point."
"Which is?"
"Kissing," Dawn said conversationally. Paul was glad he hadn't started eating the stew – he would have spat it all over the counter at that word if he had.
"What?" Paul sputtered.
"Oh, what?" Dawn said, pink staining her cheeks again. "You're all calm and collected when sex is mentioned, but kissing freaks you out? There's something twisted going on in your brain, Paul."
"That's because that isn't a plausible thing. Sex is more improbable than your stupid friend Ash beating Cynthia –"
"Which is quite probable, so I'd change your analogy now."
"Please. The thought of Ash beating Cynthia is laughable. But you said that like kissing is something we would actually do."
"Well, we will have too. If you plan to have us really get married, we have to kiss when we say 'I do.' So we may as well get used to it now."
"No."
"What? Have you never kissed anyone before?" Dawn teased. Paul said nothing. "You haven't? Really? Oh... Sorry. But Paul, how was I supposed to know? You're twenty-four."
"Not that it's any of your business," Paul snarled, cutting Dawn off, "But yes, I have. I just don't have any interest in kissing you."
"Why not?" Dawn said, slightly hurt.
"Because I don't like you."
"Oh, but you liked the other girl?"
"More than I like you."
Dawn didn't respond. She spooned the steaming stew into her mouth and smiled. It made her feel like Brock was there with her.
"I'm assuming you've kissed someone before, from what your mom said when we saw her," Paul said under his breath. "Well, from how she made it sound, you probably fu –"
"Finish that sentence, I dare you," Dawn said in a low voice. Paul glanced at her. She was glaring at him, her hands curled into fists on the kitchen countertop.
"Why do you freak out whenever someone mentions this guy?" Paul asked her mercilessly.
"That's none of your business."
"Who was it?"
"That's none of your business, either."
"Aren't we supposed to tell one another everything? Aren't married couples not supposed to keep secrets from one another?" Paul said jeeringly.
"We're not a married couple," Dawn spat. "And I loathe you. And I'll keep as many secrets as I like from you, because I'm keeping more secrets than I want for you. So butt the hell out."
"Is there anything else you wanted to talk about?"
"Yes. But now I just want you to leave."
"Fine," Paul said, standing up. "I'll be over tomorrow with my stuff."
"When?" Dawn asked, without looking up from her stew.
"Around one," Paul decided.
"Fine."
Paul left as quickly as he arrived, leaving his untouched stew on the counter behind him.
- / - / - / -
He arrived at Reggie's house in Veilstone at eight. He parked his car and walked up the steps to the door, which opened without his touching it.
"Hey, little brother," Reggie greeted him, smiling. Paul looked at him for a minute.
"Don't call me that," Paul finally said, pushing past his older brother into the house.
"Sorry. You're not so little anymore, anyways, are you?"
"Glad you finally noticed."
"Growing up and getting married, huh?"
Paul stopped dead in his tracks. "What?"
"It's on the news."
"Something like that is hardly newsworthy," Paul said carefully.
"It is if you read the gossip columns," Reggie said sheepishly. "So, you left in such a big rush today to go propose to Dawn?"
"Yeah," Paul said stiffly. He started up the stairs to his room. "And I'm moving out."
"That's too bad, I like living with you," Reggie said, following him up the stairs. "Maylene doesn't like it much though. She still hates you."
"She's pathetic, that was ten years ago. But, whatever, someone had to break the truth to her," Paul said unfeelingly. "Why are you following me?"
"What, I can't talk to my newly engaged little brother on the last night he'll be living with me?"
"No."
"Fine, then. I'll just help you pack."
- / - / - / -
Dawn stored the leftover stew in a large bowl that covered easily. She groaned at the thought of her next move. She was far from in the mood to act peppy and excited.
Dawn dialed a number she now knew by heart and waited for her friend to answer the phone.
"Hi, Dawn," a voice said cheerily.
"Hey, Zoey!" Dawn said excitedly.
"How are you? You know I don't get home until tomorrow night, right?" Zoey clarified.
"Oh, I know. I just couldn't wait to tell you!"
"Tell me what?" Zoey laughed.
"I'm engaged!" Dawn squealed. She rolled her eyes. She sounded fake even to herself.
"You're... What?"
"Engaged! Paul just asked me to marry him this afternoon!" Dawn told her.
"Oh.. Wow, Dawn," Zoey sounded a little breathless. "I'm so happy for you! That's great..."
"What is it?" Dawn asked in spite of herself.
"Well... I am happy for you, really, just surprised," Zoey admitted. "I mean, maybe he's changed. I dunno, it's been ten years. But mostly... Now I just have to think of a wedding gift to get you!"
Dawn hung up with Zoey shortly and took a minute before she called to repeat the whole conversation with Ash, then Brock, and finally Kenny.
- / - / - / - / - / - / - / -
A/N: This story is based on the movie The Proposal. If you haven't seen it, you should, because it's hilarious. It is not based on Pretender's Fairytale – the similarities are coincidental. I wrote this story past even this point before reading Pretender's Fairytale. I do love that story though. You should read it, if you haven't.