the outfit
/
Did she ever wash that outfit?
There they were, every day, that yellow tanktop and those red suspenders. Ash used to wonder if it was just one outfit or if Misty just had tons of identical outfits in her bag.
One time, he asked her about it. It was within the first month of their traveling together. She just looked at him with confused eyes and said, "I like this outfit." That was fine with him. She liked it. He didn't hate it. That should've been the end of it.
Except…
"Ash Ketchum, you are the biggest doofus in the history of doofuses! I can't believe you got us lost again!"
"Well, maybe if you quit running away from every bug you saw, we would still be on the path!"
"Moron!"
"Weirdo!"
"No, you're a weirdo! Your whole outfit is weird!"
"It is not!"
"Yes it is! What did you do, have a blind person pick them for you? Yech!"
Misty glared at him as she snorted and grabbed her sleeping bag and stomped over to the other side of the fire. "Fine," she snarled, cocooning herself in the sleeping bag with such force that Ash heard seams pop.
Ash smirked, satisfied with his win, and crawled into his own sleeping bag; arguing was normal, and they would act like nothing had happened in the morning.
Except…
Pink. Ash couldn't quite wrap his head around it. Misty was wearing pink. She smiled at him when she noticed him. "Good morning, Ash," she said pleasantly, normally, as if she wasn't wearing a pink jacket.
Ash stared openly, but he didn't ask.
The next day it was light blue with a squirtle.
The next was a purple sweater.
The next day she wore a white long-sleeved shirt with a sparkly pokeball emblazoned on the front. It twinkled happily and made him feel ill.
"Ash, which way should we go tomorrow? Head straight through to Saffron, or take the left fork and head to Vermilion?"
"I don't care."
Misty's grin slipped a little, and she gave him a strange look, but her smile returned as she looked at the map. "Oh! There's a shortcut that could get us through to Vermilion quicker! Do you want to take it?"
"Whatever."
Another odd look, and then Misty shrugged and continued to study the map in concentration. When she lifted the map closer to her face, the sleeve of her shirt slipped down her arm and she adjusted it, pulling it back down. Ash pursed his lips. It wasn't right, her wearing sleeves. It made her look too small, like she was disappearing into her clothes.
"Why are you glaring at me?"
Ash blinked. Her hands had folded across her chest, and he looked at that alien white fabric, and her eyes narrowed.
"I wasn't."
"Well then, what are you looking at?"
"Your shirt. It's stupid," he said without much thought.
Misty puffed up like an angry wigglytuff. People often were surprised by the ferocity with which such a petite girl could strike, and they were often shocked by the proverbial hurricanes such outbursts caused.
"Ow, Misty! What gives?"
Misty squinted her eyes at him angrily. "I-cannot-believe-you-Ash-Ketchum! You doofus, you oaf, you jerk, you bully, you—you—aargh!"
When she was out of things to call him, Misty leaned back on her heels, fists clenched at her sides and chest heaving. Then she stopped. She sniffed. Tears began to ooze from her eyes and her fists trembled as her head drooped. Ash was stunned. Whenever they fought, there was some degree of normality; they would fight, one of them would win, they would move on.
This was different. This was bad.
Ash, at a loss for what to do, waited until her tears slowed and her fists stopped trembling. Finally she looked up at him, furiously wiping tear tracks from her face.
"Do you hate me?"
Ash's eyes widened, and he said immediately, "No way! I don't hate you!"
She gave an almost-smile, and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. Then, she pushed it up her forearm. Better. She just wasn't Misty without her tanktop and suspenders. He couldn't hate her. In fact, that was exactly why…
"Misty," he began, feeling his face heat up. Her eyes were on him, and he looked down at his hands, which were twitching slightly. It was a good moment; it couldn't have been more perfect if it had been scripted.
"Actually…I like…I really like…" Ash made the mistake of meeting her eyes. Her eyelashes were still wet, and her white shirt was dotted with tears. Good, he thought. She shouldn't wear pink or blue or purple or white or…
"…your tanktop and suspenders."
Her eyes welled up again and she smiled in a way that made him remember why he liked her, and she said, "Really? Thanks Ash!" Then, to his surprise, she walked over to him and wrapped her arms around him. Her hair tickled his nose.
/
A/N: Ooh, so close, amirite? I had fun writing this one! R&R (read and review), so I can get some R&R ('riting and 'rrrsatisfaction)! (close enough, right?)