svenssvong - Tumblr blog

svenssvong · 6 months

Text

An Evening at The Treasure with Larry

Words: 2,617

Synopsis: Grusha and Larry spend an evening talking. That's it.

AO3 Version

"Evening."

"Evening." The chair next to him was hauled out, and Grusha threw himself into it with a loud, tired sigh. This sounded like it was going to be a long night. "This place is licensed right?"

"It is, but I wouldn't recommend much. The beer in here's absolute piss." That was the one downside to the Treasure, now that he thought about it. It only sold Johtonese beer. Which would be fine if Johtonese beer was remotely palatable and didn't taste like old beer mats and the sticky underside of a Galaric pub table. Not that Larry knew what either of those tasted like, but the Johtonese beer gave him a good approximation in his opinion.

Grusha didn't seem to care, ordering himself a full pint before he'd even removed his coat. Larry mused, stuffing the rest of his half-eaten onigiri into his mouth. "Fail your inspection?"

"How could you tell?"

"You don't usually drink." In fact, he remembered Grusha telling him a while ago that he couldn’t drink; something to do with extensive internal organ damage from years of snowboarding or something like that. Or maybe he’d told him he couldn’t drink too much, he didn’t remember. Only so many times he could listen to Grusha’s laments over his totally-not-rose-tinted pro days and how physically beaten and broken his body was because of it before he started to tune him out and wonder what the everloving Hell the appeal of snowboarding even was in the first place. “Don’t worry, I failed mine too.”

“Did you get the kid as well?”

Another mouthful of onigiri. “Unfortunately.”

That seemed to worry him even further. "Oh. Right. Forgot she hates you too."

"What do you mean?"

"Sending that girl along. I swear, I didn't stand a chance, there was no way I could beat her, she almost took me out with just one Pokémon, I couldn't do anything to counter-"

"Geeta doesn't hate you." And if she did, she never said anything. Which would be strange with Geeta. She liked to make her opinions known. "And you won't be getting sacked either, trust me."

He could practically feel Grusha’s eyes baring into him. "How do you know that?"

Larry sighed, accidentally pouring far more soy sauce onto his next bite than he’d have liked. "In order to sack any of the gym leaders, she needs the express approval of all four members of the Elite Four-"

“Yeah, and? I barely know any of them bar you, what if they-”

“-And none of them would stand for it.” He made a mental note to drown his onigiri in soy sauce more often. “And even if they did, I wouldn't."

That made Grusha pause. "Huh. Didn't know you cared that much for me."

Truth be told, Larry wasn't sure how much of it was borne out of actual care per se, and how much was just him wanting to mess with Geeta should the question of who to and not to sack ever be asked. It wasn't like she was planning on sacking Grusha anyway; she barely spoke about him, and when she did she was mostly positive. Simply put, he wasn't exactly in her firing line. "You're a good kid. Be a shame to see you let go."

"Thanks, I guess."

He seemed like he had another question on his mind, when a buzz from under the bar caught both of their attentions.

"That yours?" Larry already knew it wasn't his. He’d kept his phone on silent for so long he didn’t even know what his ringtone sounded like. Not wise, perhaps, but it was better than having his moments of peace at The Treasure interrupted by Geeta, or worse, any of the other Elites.

"Yeah it's…" The colour drained from his already pale face. "It's Geeta."

“Best you answer it then.”

Grusha nodded weakly as he got down and headed towards the door, leaving the building just as his beer was placed on the table. Larry contemplated sending it back, and ordering him a nice tumbler of Johtonese whisky instead, imagining he'd probably prefer not only the taste, but the higher alcohol content to boot. But that was expensive. Plus, his beer surely wouldn't get that warm whilst he was gone.

His mind temporarily wandered back to an earlier conversation they’d had together. It had been an otherwise unremarkable inspection day, for him at least, when the solitude had been interrupted by a characteristic huff and the sound of the chair next to him being pulled out.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Grusha had sighed, with a raggedness which suggested he was only barely holding onto his composure. "Just… had a bad day. That's all."

"Doesn't seem like it.” He knew "just a bad day at work" when he saw one, after all, and this was clearly something a bit more serious than that. Of course, he wouldn't pry if it was deeply personal, but he wasn't about to let Grusha sit there and stew in his own misery without at least encouraging him to talk. That would just be rude. "Go on. Tell us."

He'd taken a deep breath. "You're in the Elite Four, right?"

"Unfortunately."

"Has Geeta… said anything about me earlier?"

"Nope."

"Okay." Another long, deep breath. "Okay good."

"Why, you in trouble?"

"I… had an argument with her today. A pretty big one. I was just wondering if-”

“She hasn’t mentioned anything, don’t worry.”

Admittedly he had actually pried some the following day, not really getting anything substantial out of Geeta aside from they’d had a disagreement over Terrastilizing, and naturally the other Elites didn’t know anything at all. Perhaps Geeta was downplaying. Perhaps Grusha was overreacting. Back then, he didn't know either of them well enough to tell which was more plausible, and Hell, he still barely knew Geeta on a personal level.

But having spent multiple evenings listening to a seemingly endless stream of frets and worries after each inspection, he was starting to strongly suspect the latter.

Now granted, he’d managed to successfully convince her that maybe doling out inspection to someone else, someone less officious and socially inept, would be a good "change of pace". Unfortunately this had meant she'd sent Hassel in her stead, as if putting up with him in work wasn't bad enough. He'd avoided visiting The Treasure for three days straight until he agreed to battle elsewhere; last thing he wanted to do after losing a battle was to listen to him bawling his eyes out until he either ran out of tears of fucked off to bother the next person on his list.

His wandering came to an end when he heard The Treasure door open, and the steady sound of heavy winter boots approaching the chair next to him. No exasperated sigh this time, it seemed. A good sign, perhaps. "So did you get sacked?"

"Ha. Very funny." Grusha sat down, hand reaching for his beer but not drawing it close for a sip, before retracting it and resting his folded arms on the table. "Can I ask you a serious, work-related question?"

"If you must."

He took a deep breath. "Apparently that kid said something to Geeta about me, y’know… not having anything to fall back on if I get sacked."

"Not a question, but go on."

"Shut up. But she's offered me another position. One like yours, in the main office, she says I can manage my time between there and the gym, and-"

"Don't bother." He finished his onigiri, tempted to order a third round. “Seriously, don’t bother. It’s not worth it.”

Grusha seemed somewhat taken aback "Well, you said that with a lot of conviction."

"Believe it or not, I actually do feel strongly about some things." He made his mind up, waiting for an opportunity to catch the chef's eye. "And personally I feel like taking any additional job offers from Geeta is the worst decision you could make if you’re looking for a backup plan, so to speak."

"Okay. Any reason why…?"

"Well for one, the job isn’t worth the hassle. She'll tell you you're able to manage the time, but what she won't tell you is only barely." He finally managed to get the chef’s attention, earning a knowing eye-roll in response. “Secondly, you're not at risk of being sacked. Trust me, I'd know."

"You sound very sure of yourself."

"I am." His third order of grilled onigiri was set down in front of him. "So unless you want to end up like me in twenty years time, I suggest you stay well clear of any job that woman offers you."

“Well, what do you suggest as an alternative then?”

Larry thought for a moment. “Can you not do anything with your snowboarding? I'll admit, I don't know much about it or what you did or what happened to you, but can you not do coaching or-"

"No." His answer was abrupt. Larry suspected he may have accidentally struck a nerve. Whoops. "No, I… I mean, I still can snowboard and everyone always tells me I should take up teaching or coaching, but it's just…”

Grusha sat back, hands running through his hair with a sigh. “It's complicated, that's all."

Larry nodded in false understanding. “Okay. And is there really nothing else?”

“Not that I can think of.”

He took another moment to think, thoughts suddenly overshadowed by the grim realisation he should’ve specified which filling he wanted in his onigiri. “Well you can still do your snowboarding, yes? Have you thought about joining the mountain rescue guys or-”

Grusha's face screwed up as though he'd just suggested he take up a job as a sewer cleaner. “Ew, no, they use skis.”

“And that’s a problem because…?”

“Don’t like skiers.”

Larry resisted the overwhelming urge to roll his eyes. “You’re hardly giving me much to work with here.”

”I know, I know.” He leaned back again, readjusting his ponytail into something marginally less messy, then leaning forwards to reach for his beer again but still not taking a sip. "If anything I was thinking of just… buckling down, really putting the effort into being a good trainer above all else."

"Oh?"

"Yeah like, career trainers are a thing, right? I feel like if I just put the effort in…" He slumped back in his chair. "I dunno. What do you think?"

"Can't decide for you, I'm afraid." He could certainly give advice on what not to do, but what to do? That was something he’d never excelled at. “But I take it you enjoy training then?”

“I guess. I mean, it’s not snowboarding but…" He reached for his beer again, absently tracing a circle into the thick condensation on the glass. “I just thought it's something I'm mildly good at, and I already have all the stuff for it, and I'm in a position to train regularly and…"

If he continued to lean back so much, he'd fall off his damn chair. "I dunno. Think I need to sleep on it or something."

"Sounds like a plan." God, how anybody enjoyed pickled plum onigiri was beyond him. Stuff tasted like battery acid. ”You gonna stay a gym leader or…?”

“Not sure. Was actually wondering if I could try out for the Elite Four, if that ever becomes a possibility.”

“Aiming high, are we?” He was tempted to send this plate back. That or order more whisky. “I will say though, if you’re trying to avoid Geeta-”

“It’s probably not the best career choice then, I know, I know.” And again reaching for his beer. "But it probably beats being a gym leader, right?"

"It has its perks." Right, that was enough of the plum onigiri. Time to get the bill. Or more whisky. "Pays better for a start. Less challengers too, plus the ones you get are actually somewhat competent. Don’t feel like so much of a chump when I lose an Elite battle."

"Must be nice."

"I suppose it is.” He decided on another glass of whisky. After all, it was inspection day. “Don't have to hit any win-lose targets either. You can go all out every day if you want.”

Grusha sighed wishfully. “Ain’t that a dream.”

“Definitely good for venting all that gym-related frustration.” He let out a rare chuckle. Maybe he liked this job more than he'd initially thought. “Guess the only downside is having Geeta constantly breathing down your neck. And the other Elites."

"You not get on with them then?"

Perhaps it was the whisky, or perhaps his feelings about his colleagues were that strong, but he couldn't help but snort loudly at that question. It seemed as though his disdain wasn't as obvious as he'd previously thought. Good. "Not at all. Insufferable, the lot of them."

"Do tell." Now that seemed to have perked Grusha up a bit. Thank God, Larry was starting to get tired of his misery. As if he wasn’t tired enough already.

"Not much to tell, other than they do my head in." Time for another whisky, he thought. He'd need it if Grusha wanted to hear about his other colleagues. "You met any of them?”

Grusha shrugged. “Met Hassel a few times. Seemed nice enough.”

“Try working with him for a few days, you’ll want to strangle him after the first.” He admired his own tolerance levels sometimes. How he hadn’t murdered Hassel yet was a miracle, honestly. “The other two aren’t much better.”

“Can’t say I know them. Isn’t one of them a kid though?”

“She’s seven.” Far too young to be remotely close to the League in his opinion, skill level be damned. “She’s a nuisance too. Wish Geeta would just send her off to a gym. Be better for her I’m sure.”

“Why, she not a good trainer then?”

“Oh she’s good, just don’t think the actual League’s the best place for someone her age.” His third whisky of the night was placed down in front of him. “Geeta doesn’t either, but not like she can do much about it. Can’t sack an Elite without the other three agreeing, and I know Hassel and Rika wouldn’t dare vote her out.”

“Rika’s the green haired girl right?”

“Mhm.” Of course Grusha would ask a question whilst he was mid-sip. “Barely talk to her. Suppose she’s the most tolerable out of all of them based on that merit. Not that that means much, still swap her for you any day.”

“Aw, so you do care about me then?” He felt Grusha's head hovering inches above his shoulder. At least he was in a better mood now.

“Ay, never said that.” He took another mouthful of whisky, savouring its spicy burn. “But you would be welcome company, at least. Wish I could say I could pull a few strings for you, but I’m sure you know what the rules are like by now.”

“I know, I know.” He pulled his beer close again, biting his lip. “Would you actually… do that? If you could?”

"Well I can't 'pull a few strings', so to speak, but I can mention you’re interested in joining next time I’m in.” Fuck, this whisky tasted better than usual. Maybe he was just starting to get drunk. “Know Hassel's been trying to get out for a few years now. Says he wants to focus on his teaching. Or something."

"I'd… really appreciate that. Really." Grusha smiled sincerely for what seemed like that first time that night. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

With one last smile, he finally took a sip of his beer, his face contorting mid-sip and haphazardly dribbling some of it back into the glass. "Fuck me, that's-"

"Told you. Piss."

#I wrote a smelly fanfic about larry being a miserable dick pls read #Pokemon scarvi

13 notes · View notes