Disclaimer: "Pokèmon" and all things associated with it do not belong to me.

Pairing: Egoshipping. That's Misty and Gary. Together (well, sort of).  So if you're a die-hard AAML fan, or you just have a serious problem with either Misty or Gary, then…well, you can't say I didn't warn you.

Rating: G (But don't count on G-rated fics from me often, people.)

Author's Note: Wow – I wrote a Pokèmon fic! I love to read them, but I could never see myself actually writing one. But, after visiting several egoshipping sites and thinking, "Hey, Misty and Gary look cute together…" I decided to go ahead and try my hand at writing a Pokèfic. I know what you're thinking and yes, flames are welcome. I request mercy, of course, although I am expecting a few.

Girl of Your Dreams

            He's my friend, and, in all honesty, I do kind of like him. But I don't love him.

            Which isn't to say that I love you, either. I'm kind of young for that. But I like you. A lot.

            The first time I met you, I thought, what a jerk. Well, OK, first I thought, what a cute smile, and then I thought, what a jerk.

            But I hate it when you fight. I like him, even though he'll never know it. I like you even more, even though you probably think I hate your guts.

            Well, maybe that's not true. I've never given you any reason to think I hate your guts. But you probably don't even think I regard you as a friend – which, really, I don't – let alone have a crush on you – which, really, I do.

            I never thought you hated me. I never even really thought you hated Ash. But…I never thought you thought much of me. I guess I never gave you a reason to.

            But you never gave me a reason to, either, and I think plenty of you. So maybe I'm the girl in you dreams.

            Or better yet, the girl of your dreams.

            Because you're the boy of mine. I think. Maybe he is. I'm confused about this that way. I like you, but I also kind of like him and he is my friend.

            Well, I'm…at "that stage" of my life I guess. We all are. You are, too, as much as you like to pretend you know so much more than everyone, as much as you like to pretend you're tough.

            Please. You're not as tough as you'd like us all to think. He and I both saw you cry when you didn't get that Earth Badge.

            But it doesn't matter. The boy in my dreams always cries.

            Does the girl in yours always comfort him? Or does she whack him over the head with her mallet?