A/N: I'm caught between Advancedshipping and Contestshipping for my OTP. I could accept both if they weren't conflicting…XP. Sighsighsighsighsighsigh. Well, this is Contestshipping for those of you who like May and Drew. Yeah. I figured it would be more fun to write.
So let's get this baby going :D
Disclaimer: If I owned Pokémon, it would have been waaaaay different. There would be a rivalry for May between Ash and Drew, for instance. And Ash wouldn't be a fucking dense-as-hell retard. No offense, Ash. Even though it was totally intended. But yeah, don't sue my ass and all that jazz
And if I owned Dictionary dot com…I don't know, some things would happen. Like, apocalyptic things. Because me owning an educational website? Baaaaad news.
ok, let's start for real now.
HOW IT ALL STARTED: PROLOGUE
Drew's POV
I woke up in my giant king-sized bed. I stretched and smiled. I always got a good night's sleep on this mattress. It was like heaven in memory-foam form. I was stretching my arms above my head and savoring the delectable feeling that stretching always gave me when a wave of hunger hit me. It was the kind of hunger you got when you skipped dinner and lunch the previous day and woke up and realized what an idiot you'd been not to eat.
"Owww," I moaned, my stomach gurgling in response. I bet the fangirls found that sexy. "Sonya!" I called my personal maid. She should have brought me my waffles with whipped cream and strawberries by now. Just the thought of my usual delicious breakfast sent another wave of angry hunger at me. "SONYA!" I screamed. That girl was getting more careless each day. Was it so bad to want to start my summer off with waffles? I deserved waffles. I fought long and hard in the Kanto/Johto War for waffles.
...Well, okay, I never did that. But I needed my waffles!
I groaned and walked down the grand staircase to the Gathering Room. Sure, I wasn't presentable -I was still in my silk PJ pants and walking around shirtless (Love it fangirls, love it)- but I was starving.
My mother and father were chatting amiably with each other while seated on the very, very expensive leather couch.
"And that's when I said to Marcus: 'If you're going to play croquet, then you should learn to keep control of your balls.'" I almost snickered at the accidental double meaning in my father's words. But then I was reminded, once again, of the pain in my stomach.
"Precisely. This is why we never play with the Monroe family. They're so queer." My mother agreed. Apparently unfortunate wording was a shared thing.
Here's something you should know about my parents; they're such gossip hounds. My mother really shouldn't have been calling anyone strange, anyways, considering she had green hair.
"Mom, where's Sonya? She neglected to bring me my breakfast. We really should fire her." I said, standing in front of her. I could see her disapproval at my attire, but I couldn't care less.
My mother pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head before looking up at me again. "Drew honey, you did that yesterday, remember? You said, and I quote, 'I CAN MAKE MY OWN DAMN WAFFLES!'"
"Oh. Right." I said. I'd forgotten that. To be honest, I wasn't really that surprised. My maids didn't last that long. But I still had one problem. "Mom, I'm huuuunnngggrryyyyy. I want waffles." I whined.
"Well, we don't have anyone to fix them for you. You've earned a reputation, mister, and to be frank, only a fool would agree to be your maid." My father said, piercing green eyes glaring at me. Clearly, this had damaged his reputation.
I sighed and walked the entire way to the kitchen, which was very far away from the gathering room (sometimes living in a mansion had disadvantages). How hard could it be to make waffles?
Apparently it was very hard. I had batter in my hair, a whipped-cream beard, and somehow some maple syrup had worked its way inside my silk PJ pants. Great. I decided to abandon my attempt-at-cooking-that-looked-more-like-a-chemical-experiment-gone-wrong and opted for some berries that were picked by our gardeners. I felt the crushing emptiness that could only be caused by being promised waffles but given fruit.
That was it. I needed a new maid. Somehow, someway, I would get one.
May's POV:
"Glaceon, use Ice Shard!" I cried, and my beloved Pokémon complied as usual. The Squirtle I was battling fainted, eyes going all swirly.
"And this contest goes to May Maple!" The judge-lady-person wailed, and I got that high that I always got whenever I won a contest.
The girl I was battling –her name was Katarina or something– shook my hand and smiled warmly. "Good job. I haven't had such a good battle in forever." I smiled and it was like I took another puff of whatever it was giving me my high.
"Thanks. You were really great, too." I responded genuinely.
I accepted a bouquet of roses and my ribbon graciously. No one likes a bad winner. Plus, I didn't really like to gloat; it hurt people's feelings.
Besides, coordinating was my passion, and I was going to be the best. Both in skill and attitude.
Nothing could bring me down from my high.
I saw Drew at the contest, and I smiled at him. He congratulated me, albeit reluctantly, on my win. Well, sort of.
"Yeah, yeah, June. You aren't the worst coordinator ever." Drew said flippantly.
"Oh shut it, grass head! You aren't so great!" I responded. He made me so mad! Infuriating!
"Oh yeah? Wanna prove it? Let's battle!" Drew challenged. He had fire in his eyes, and it was like it was warming my insides, creeping through me, until I was completely engulfed in flames. Talk about getting fired-up (OOC: Huzzah for bad puns!).
"Sure, why not! Wait…is that batter in your hair?"
That shut him up.
I was happy that, for once, I'd out-talked Drew.
Then I got the phone call.
Drew's POV:
I'd cleaned up, but I didn't have time to shower before the contest, or I'd have missed it. So the batter in my hair was completely justified. And I didn't respond because I didn't have to dignify it with a response. I wasn't embarrassed because May saw me when I didn't look completely sexy (which wasn't very often, considering). Honest.
Then the most annoying ringtone I'd ever heard filled my ears, but I didn't really pay attention to what May was saying. At least, until her voice rang loud and clear through the room, clearly upset.
"What?" I saw May ask into the cell phone, disbelieving. I wondered what she was talking about. There was a pause. She had my full attention now.
"But, Mom! That's not fair!" She looked flustered. Some vague part of me said that this was wrong, I was the only one allowed to make her uncomfortable. Another part of me said I sounded like a jealous boyfriend. The first part then smacked the second one upside the head accordingly.
"Mom!" May cried, frantic. It sounded half squeal, half scream. She looked really broken up. My chest tightened, like someone put my heart in a vise and then pulled upward.
"But Mom, how can I get enough ribbons for the Grand Festival if I have to—yes, the Grand Festival is that important to me. No, but—you're being unfair, Mom. This is my dream. What? No! Mom, please don't do this! No!" Tears were threatening to spill over her cheeks, and I rushed forward.
I grabbed the phone and snapped it shut. May looked at me funny. "May, what's wrong?" I asked, and then flipped my hair so I didn't appear too concerned.
"My mom decided I need to learn the value of a dollar. She's making me get a summer job." May said simply.
"But why's that so bad?" I asked, confused. She seemed far too upset about a summer job.
"Because, this was my first ribbon towards this Grand Festival, and I'll never be able to make up the lost time. I can't travel, because it has to be a full-time job."
I sympathized with her, really I did. But it still didn't seem that bad.
"May, there's always next year." I said reassuringly.
"No, there's not. My mom said that if I don't get a job and find a way to balance it with coordination, I can't coordinate until I'm eighteen and out of the house." Harsh. Poor May. "She says I've been spending too much money with my traveling, and she can't fund it anymore." Ouch. If she was gone, who'd be my rival?
That was when I got the idea. It helped her, it helped me, but I didn't think she'd go for it.
"May. What if I said I had away for you to get a job and balance it with coordination?"
May's POV
"What!" I screeched and grasped his chest by his shirt, literally holding on to my last hope. I blushed at the proximity and backed off.
"I don't think you'll like it…" Drew said, looking at the ground.
"Drew! I don't care what it is! As long as it's not like, prostitution. Wait." I looked at him skeptically. "It isn't prostitution, is it?"
"Hardly." Drew scoffed. "Who'd pay to have sex with you?" He flicked his hair. Annoying tendencies. HE IRKED ME! Besides, I was pretty! All the forty-year-old men who still watch Pokémon would probably do just that.
"Hell-o! What job?" I was exasperated, and he was toying with me. That. Bastard. I WAS FRAGILE, DAMNIT!
"Well…"
Drew's POV:
I was stalling. I took a deep breath. I was trying to make it as painless as possible. I took another deep breath. I took a third deep breath. Then a fourth. And a fifth. But that was where I stopped because really, there was a limited amount of times you could breathe deeply without earning odd stares. To be honest, I had passed that mark three breaths ago.
I was quiet for a moment.
definition of procrastination (**):
pro·cras·ti·nate
[proh-kras-tuh-neyt, pruh-] verb, -nat·ed, -nat·ing.
–verb (used without object)
1.
to defer action; delay: to procrastinate until an opportunity is lost.
–verb (used with object)
2.
to put off till another day or time; defer; delay.
[Drew's addition]
verb (used because you are very, very scared)
3.
To not tell May Maple something to avoid getting your head torn off of your body. Think about the fangirls!
Okay, this was officially an awkward silence. I took my sixth deep breath in three minutes.
"I…need a personal maid." I managed to choke out.
"BAHAHAHAHA!"
May's POV:
I almost cried I laughed so hard.
"Drew, you really are too much! Thank you for cheering me up!" I somehow managed to say between gasping fits of pure, unadulterated laughter.
"May I'm being completely serious." Drew said, clearly losing his patience.
I hit him over the head. This would explain all the awkward breathing; he'd been putting it off. I really didn't blame him. Honestly, I didn't. But I still hit him.
"Are you crazy! Me having to do whatever you say!" I screeched. Yes, I knew we were causing a scene. Frankly, I didn't care.
Drew's POV:
I'd be lying if I said I didn't expect this. It was May after all.
"Listen May, let's be reasonable. I need a personal maid –due to unfortunate circumstances, I no longer have one–, you need a job, and as my personal maid, you'd be able to travel to the contests with me. Honestly, it's completely logical."
May was quiet for a while.
"Okay." She muttered.
"What?" I asked, disbelieving.
"Okay!" She said, louder. She was blushing furiously.
"July, you're face is going to catch on fire." I said, though I was secretly elated.
"Shut up! It's just…If I'm your maid, don't I have to do your laundry?" May asked sheepishly.
"Yeah…?" I stated/asked, unsure of what this had to do with her blushing.
"Don't I have to wash your dirty underwear?" May muttered again, looking away. Her blush looked almost painful.
"Oh." I said, blushing furiously.
What else was there to say?
…Except maybe 'I can wash my own damn underwear', but I remembered what happened last time I traveled down that road…
...That reminds me…I NEVER GOT MY WAFFLES!
The End!
Yes. Drew is obsessed with waffles. Because they are the epitome of AMAZING! Yeah, it's kinda OOC, but it will get less so (hopefully). It was me trying to show how spoiled Drew is.
So love it, children. Love Drew and his waffle-y tendencies.
Because I say so.
And I am Jesus. Just kidding! (Hope no one's offended!)
But for serious, I am awesome. ;DDD
To Chapter 1 of my 1st Pokémon fic. Actually, my first fic that isn't TDI T-T I'm sorryyy TDI! I just love Contestshipping. Okay, that's enough. Love y'all! Byeee!
-M
(**) That definition came from dictionary dot com. I don't own it. Read previous AN