Someone's in the Kitchen with Delia
folder
Pokemon › General
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
2
Views:
4,730
Reviews:
9
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Pokemon › General
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
2
Views:
4,730
Reviews:
9
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Pokemon, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Part 2
Someone's in the Kitchen with Delia
Part 2
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“That’s no fair!” Brock said as they sped along the main road leading out of Viridian. It would have taken him all day to walk to Pallet; driving, they’d be there in forty minutes. “I traveled with them all; I’ve put my time in. I want to hear your answer first.”
“I know you traveled with them! That makes you the expert!” Mrs. Ketchum – Delia – insisted. As they slowed for a traffic light, she gave him a smirk. “Come on, who did you think was best for Ash?”
“I know I’m the expert. Experts are busy people – you have to make this worth the expert’s time.” Brock crossed his arms and stood his ground.
Delia sped up again as the light turned green; she sighed and gave up. “Fine, fine, Mr. Expert…they were all such nice girls, though.”
“Great girls, all three,” Brock agreed. Delia didn’t respond, and Brock let the pause play out for a few seconds before adding “But…”
“But…well, Misty’s too old for him.”
“How do you mean? Like, mature?”
“Misty’s the girl that Ash is going to want to date in five years,” Mrs. Ketchum elaborated. “I love the girl and the poor thing is crazy about him, but Ash…”
When she trailed off, Brock finished. “In a lot of ways, Ash is wise beyond his years. He’s allowed to still act like a kid in other matters.”
Delia nodded, still smiling. “Thank you, Brock, that’s a very nice way of putting it. I mean, to blow off Misty, May, and Dawn, all in a row, it’s…it just must not be something he’s thinking about yet, you know?”
“I know exactly what you mean Mrs. Ket…I know exactly what you mean, Delia.”
“That’s better!” Delia looked over her shoulder, put her left turn signal on, and merged onto Route 1. Traffic looked pretty sparse; Brock imagined they’d be able to make pretty good time. “How about you? Still the little Casanova?”
Brock chuckled. They had just been discussing the romantic failings of this woman’s son for the past ten minutes, so Brock felt like the table was pretty well open. “Be fair. Casanova actually got the girls; I just make a fool of myself.”
“Handsome young man like yourself?” She took her eyes off the road quickly, sneaking him a sly, doubtful glance. “Handsome, handy young man like yourself? Young man with domestic skills and family experience? I’m sorry, Brock, I find that difficult to believe. If you want, I could pass your resume out to some of my girlfriends, I guarantee you’ll get some offers.”
Brock almost said that he wasn’t looking for a job, but stopped himself. Then again, if I’d said it, she would have understood the “making a fool of myself” thing a little better.
“Really? Exactly how many friends do you have with a thing for little boys?”
Delia snorted. “None that I know of, dear, but plenty that have a taste for good, sensible men.”
“Hmmm…” Brock didn’t actually consider the offer, if indeed there was an offer being made, but he wanted to play along. “Any of them good looking?”
“Good looking? Priorities, Brock!” Mrs. Ketchum replied quickly. “I know how much you like pretty girls – who doesn’t? – but pretty girls get old. Sometimes their metabolism changes and they put on a few pounds. Not that there’s anything wrong with an older or heavier girl, but…I don’t know.
“Don’t think I’m just picking on you. I think we’re all a little too slow in realizing that we don’t want the pretty girl or the handsome boy, that we don’t just want someone who makes us laugh or makes our heart flutter for… for a little while.
“What you need, Brock, is someone who understands you, someone who appreciates exactly who you are. That’s where you get a connection going; that’s what actual love is.”
Brock had no response. He looked over at Mrs. Ketchum in the driver’s seat. She wasn’t smiling anymore. It sounded, just for a second, like he’d look over and see tears in her eyes, but she didn’t actually look like she was going to cry. Not quite.
No. She can take it.
She’s been here before.
Not for the first time, Brock thought about how he’d never heard Ash talk about his father.
“Hm…well, anyway, their looks aren’t the problem. For girls of my ripe old age, they’re a good looking bunch.” She smiled again, small but sincere. “It’s their husbands that might give you problems.”
“Uh, husbands?”
“Uh huh. These things get a lot more complicated as you get older, dear.”
---------------------
They got back in just as the sun started setting and the first cold breaths of night air hit the wind. Brock wasn’t worried about the time; as Delia said, the Pewter bus left from Pallet town, the next bus leaving in just over three hours. More than enough time for dinner at the Ketchum house, and that was what really held his interest. He’d had an early lunch before starting off for Viridian, and food kept infringing on his thoughts every few seconds, like a need to go to the bathroom.
“All right,” Mrs. Ketchum said as she turned the car off. “I’d say this was a pretty productive day for both of us, but I’m famished.”
Brock needed no further indication. He opened passenger’s-side door and practically jumped out of the car. “Let’s get cooking…”
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Part 2
-----------------
“That’s no fair!” Brock said as they sped along the main road leading out of Viridian. It would have taken him all day to walk to Pallet; driving, they’d be there in forty minutes. “I traveled with them all; I’ve put my time in. I want to hear your answer first.”
“I know you traveled with them! That makes you the expert!” Mrs. Ketchum – Delia – insisted. As they slowed for a traffic light, she gave him a smirk. “Come on, who did you think was best for Ash?”
“I know I’m the expert. Experts are busy people – you have to make this worth the expert’s time.” Brock crossed his arms and stood his ground.
Delia sped up again as the light turned green; she sighed and gave up. “Fine, fine, Mr. Expert…they were all such nice girls, though.”
“Great girls, all three,” Brock agreed. Delia didn’t respond, and Brock let the pause play out for a few seconds before adding “But…”
“But…well, Misty’s too old for him.”
“How do you mean? Like, mature?”
“Misty’s the girl that Ash is going to want to date in five years,” Mrs. Ketchum elaborated. “I love the girl and the poor thing is crazy about him, but Ash…”
When she trailed off, Brock finished. “In a lot of ways, Ash is wise beyond his years. He’s allowed to still act like a kid in other matters.”
Delia nodded, still smiling. “Thank you, Brock, that’s a very nice way of putting it. I mean, to blow off Misty, May, and Dawn, all in a row, it’s…it just must not be something he’s thinking about yet, you know?”
“I know exactly what you mean Mrs. Ket…I know exactly what you mean, Delia.”
“That’s better!” Delia looked over her shoulder, put her left turn signal on, and merged onto Route 1. Traffic looked pretty sparse; Brock imagined they’d be able to make pretty good time. “How about you? Still the little Casanova?”
Brock chuckled. They had just been discussing the romantic failings of this woman’s son for the past ten minutes, so Brock felt like the table was pretty well open. “Be fair. Casanova actually got the girls; I just make a fool of myself.”
“Handsome young man like yourself?” She took her eyes off the road quickly, sneaking him a sly, doubtful glance. “Handsome, handy young man like yourself? Young man with domestic skills and family experience? I’m sorry, Brock, I find that difficult to believe. If you want, I could pass your resume out to some of my girlfriends, I guarantee you’ll get some offers.”
Brock almost said that he wasn’t looking for a job, but stopped himself. Then again, if I’d said it, she would have understood the “making a fool of myself” thing a little better.
“Really? Exactly how many friends do you have with a thing for little boys?”
Delia snorted. “None that I know of, dear, but plenty that have a taste for good, sensible men.”
“Hmmm…” Brock didn’t actually consider the offer, if indeed there was an offer being made, but he wanted to play along. “Any of them good looking?”
“Good looking? Priorities, Brock!” Mrs. Ketchum replied quickly. “I know how much you like pretty girls – who doesn’t? – but pretty girls get old. Sometimes their metabolism changes and they put on a few pounds. Not that there’s anything wrong with an older or heavier girl, but…I don’t know.
“Don’t think I’m just picking on you. I think we’re all a little too slow in realizing that we don’t want the pretty girl or the handsome boy, that we don’t just want someone who makes us laugh or makes our heart flutter for… for a little while.
“What you need, Brock, is someone who understands you, someone who appreciates exactly who you are. That’s where you get a connection going; that’s what actual love is.”
Brock had no response. He looked over at Mrs. Ketchum in the driver’s seat. She wasn’t smiling anymore. It sounded, just for a second, like he’d look over and see tears in her eyes, but she didn’t actually look like she was going to cry. Not quite.
No. She can take it.
She’s been here before.
Not for the first time, Brock thought about how he’d never heard Ash talk about his father.
“Hm…well, anyway, their looks aren’t the problem. For girls of my ripe old age, they’re a good looking bunch.” She smiled again, small but sincere. “It’s their husbands that might give you problems.”
“Uh, husbands?”
“Uh huh. These things get a lot more complicated as you get older, dear.”
---------------------
They got back in just as the sun started setting and the first cold breaths of night air hit the wind. Brock wasn’t worried about the time; as Delia said, the Pewter bus left from Pallet town, the next bus leaving in just over three hours. More than enough time for dinner at the Ketchum house, and that was what really held his interest. He’d had an early lunch before starting off for Viridian, and food kept infringing on his thoughts every few seconds, like a need to go to the bathroom.
“All right,” Mrs. Ketchum said as she turned the car off. “I’d say this was a pretty productive day for both of us, but I’m famished.”
Brock needed no further indication. He opened passenger’s-side door and practically jumped out of the car. “Let’s get cooking…”
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