disclaimer: i don't own anything.
notes: yes this is a au one-shot about the dreamy minor character georgio and his admiration for misty. and yes i know he will probably never be shown again ever but will that stop me for appreciating how cute he was especially when pining after misty? i don't blame him she is a knock out. if anyone doesn't know georgio he was shown in episode 11 from pokemon chronicles called "a date with delcatty". please watch it if you haven't its sweet!
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She's the most beautiful girl he's ever seen.
The moment I moved to this pit of a forest town, I've spent my nights in bed anxiously awaiting the end of the summer but my afternoons wandering around, keeping an eye out for something interesting, waiting for the new school year to start. I hoped for New York City excitement but all I got was an off brand Twin Peaks, sadly it seemed to lack Shelly Johnson. The town was a haven of green landscape and small businesses. Today was no different, I woke up to freshly brewed local coffee and the sound of lumber being chopped from a quarter mile away.
Quickly, I dress myself in my usual light blue t-shirt, tan jeans, and my go-to dog tag necklace. My chestnut hair fights with my hairbrush as I try to style but it just comes out as a somewhat wavy animal of its own. I reach for my wallet and keys.
This morning I set off without breakfast, deciding to go against spending my day inside watching classic baseball trivia like I did last summer. I wanted my last remaining days to be interesting, something straight out of a poorly directed eighties film. I already moved to a small woodland town from suburbia, got a cool new cat named Mittens, all that was missing was love and adventure but that isn't simple for the average Mark "Rat" Ratner type of guy like me. Especially when being new included lacking a squad of your own. Making friends was hard the older you got.
Summer is coming to an end and then its sweaty socks and accidentally touching gum stuck under my desk in a small-town school with kids who have probably known each other since diapers. My parents were apologetic about moving me to an unfamiliar place knowing how intimidating high school can be. They bought my favorite cereal for two week straight and lent me the car plenty of times as some silent form of apology.
School wasn't going to start till next week anyway. I walk out of my house, minding the cardboard boxes and my sleeping kitten on my way out.
The sun graces my face mercifully. I have to give it to the country-the days are as breathtaking. All around me was clear skies and clean air. I grab my bicycle and pedal towards the hub of the town. I pass multiple people and buildings going on with their life. I smell freshly made pastries passing by the bakery. My mouth waters and a reach for my jeans. With a buck twenty in my pocket, I ride five blocks down to stop right in front of a steel haven.
Del's Diner was one of the more eye-catching places I've seen when first driving into town. It was a small restaurant with a metal exterior, classic and welcoming to every passerby. There are fresh flower out front, a neon open sign blinking, and a small blackboard displaying the statement "Gary was here. Ash is a loser!" in chalk.
After parking my bike, I pop my head through the glass door, shyly. A tiny bell rings.
A number of customers scattered around, some having coffee or just reading the newspaper. A voice screams, "Idiot, get back in here and take your shift!"
As soon as I walk in a dark-haired boy around my age dashes by grinning like a maniac, quickly apologizing as he hits my shoulder. He smiles brightly, his tan skin covered in tiny scars looking like rugged Indiana Jones-type with his large brown leather jacket. Before I knew it the tiny bell rings again and the kid salutes, bag on his back, and rides off in his onyx motorcycle parked in the front. As if the world wasn't filled with enough clichés, the guy who could possibly be the small-town hero just saluted me as he rides off towards the grasslands.
Quickly, my focuses turns to my slightly rusted bicycle. If that guy's bike was cannibalistic and capable of developing teeth, it would eat my measly bike for dinner.
I turn in confusion to face the owner of that shrill voice, but I forget how to breathe because the prettiest girl is standing behind the diner counter, wearing a yellow waitress uniform, a pencil behind her ear and an annoyed pout.
If my palms were not hidden in the pocket of my jeans a stream of sweat would start a waterfall right here. My mind was sending mass signals to my body to move but I could barely make my way through the door. The disgusting, romantic side within me that all my friends back home would mock and poke at was oozing through my pores. I've seen and read this moment over a hundred of times but I didn't realize that falling for someone on sight would equal the intensity of having to shit your pants.
I register her completely.
She is bewitching, almost like fire-standing tall with her ginger hair pulled into a twisted bun, a few loose hairs framing her face. Her hair had to be natural. She's wiping her hands on her stained apron angrily, as if she wanted everyone watching to know she was a little ticked off. The slight buzzing in my ears heighten the second I find that her eyes are as clear as blue-green sea glass. Since when have eyes been capable of being that sparkly? She is Shelly Johnson, and then some. A beautiful diner waitress with a perpetual pout.
"I'll drown him later," she says, to no one in particular, turning to pin a slip of orders in the kitchen window for the cook. Holding two strawberry milkshakes on her platter, she glides her way to a table where a little boy and his mother sat placing both concoctions neatly with a sweet smile.
I find the strength to move my legs and sit down at the counter, almost slipping, and a bit still stunned by the force of her voice. I nervously crack my knuckles, lost in my thoughts. What am I can do when she comes over? Recite Def Leppard's 'Pour Some Sugar on Me' in hopes she'll either be somewhat flattered or pour a malt on my head? Either option is fine with me at this point. Questions invade my mind-like if she is my age? Does she prefer cats or dogs? Are we possibly going to go to the same high school? If so, will she be my date to every dance and lab partner? I give myself a small slap on the cheek, knowing how desperate I sound.
I feel every nerve in my body fray. She'll have to come over here eventually, she seems like the only one on duty.
Please be the only one on duty.
I look back swiftly, trying not to capture any attention.
She whispers into the ear of a regular, the customers burst out into a fit of giggles and holds up their coffee mug for seconds. I smile, admiring everything visual about the waitress, her existence and her ability to pour hot coffee effortlessly.
From the way her worn out red converse were covered in scuffed sharpie drawings to the way her left leg bends slightly more than her right, her long legs that made my throat quiver if I dare look to long at them. The smaller kids drinking milkshakes and eating chicken tenders are blessed, the waitress gives them a heartwarming smile that lasts a few seconds longer than the one she shares with the other customers. A smile that is almost motherly, genuine.
Out of the corner of my eye she shifts towards the counter, in return I turn and give the counter top my full undivided attention. It's cherry red and clean as a whistle and oh look there is-
"Menu?"
She offers me a wrinkled folder.
"Thank you," I say, "C-can I start with a coke and fries?"
Her name tag says Misty.
Misty smiles knowingly, "And you didn't even have to look at the menu."
My lips twitch trying to smile back without looking like a spazz.
The order is placed and within minutes she is back with a bucket of fries and a tall glass of coke. My mouth waters and I nod my head at her, saying a quick 'thank you' a little too enthusiastically.
One fry after the other, I fidget in my chair, my hand twisting in my lap, as she stands on the other side of the counter, tangling the damp cloth between her fingers as she wipes the counter surface clean, humming along as she does so.
I'm growing antsy. She probably thinks I'm some socially inept loser that can't chew properly without looking like a tensed up weirdo. I try to open my mouth but instead I plop another fry in to occupy it, fearing what embarrassing thing I might possibly say to the first girl I have met in my life that unintentionally caused my mind to malfunction.
"So-"
Misty leans in, towel still in hand.
"I gave you cold fries," she says, breaking out a grin, "You didn't notice, though. Aha, I was waiting for you to cringe and spit it out. Let's be real, you and I, nothing is worse than cold fries."
Suddenly, I'm helpless, the sense of vulnerability overcomes me the moment we make eye contact. She lifts up the basket of fries and shakes them, tossing them in the wastebasket. My eyes are wide but my thought process isn't as much, so I struggle to find something charming to say, to get her somewhat interested in continuing the conversation.
I swallow the amount I have in my mouth, almost choking, "Uh, you know teenage boys? We're animals that'll eat plastic."
Misty lifts a finger and rushes to the back, quickly request a new order of French fries from the kitchen. Bucket of warm fries in hand, "Here-I'm sorry I messed with your order."
"You didn't need to do that, miss."
"It's Misty. Don't act like you're doing me a favor, I'll take it out of Ash's paycheck. And don't think I'm out to get you or anything. It was a test, not sabotage, considering you're a stranger and it's a hell of a way to break the ice when you meet a new face."
The more she looks at me the more blood rushes to my face. The witty remarks and overall attention coming from Misty brought a sense of clarity. She's funny and even a little cruel, because the fries were awful but why notice such a small thing like that when the girl serving them to you is this distracting.
I smile, "By feeding me cardboard?" This is good. Casual conversation is good.
"Like you were complaining!"
I pick up a new fry and pop it in my mouth, moaning. She grins at my response to the perfectly salted potato baby, which makes me blush madly.
"Delia Ketchum's food is the town's pride and joy. Anything she creates is said to be blessed! That is, except for her demon spawn, the same spawn that runs out on his bathroom shift."
"So, Delia as in Del's Diner, fries as in really good, and spawn by-?"
"His name is Ash, my best friend that bails for no good enough reason."
And spawn by handsome best friend that rides a motorcycle, probably knows everything about Misty already and practically oozes adventurous golden kid.
"Are you going to tell his mom?"
"Oh I'm no nark, and Delia's very attentive she'll find out somehow, anyway I'm good here with company, good fries, and a new kid with no taste buds. Life is good," she lifts up her cup of coffee and takes a swig, "I should get back to work-?"
"Georgio! Uh, my name…its Georgio."
She raises an eyebrow, "That's a nice name. Spanish?"
"Italian, actually." I lean on my arms, maintaining eye contact.
With a small chuck and flick of the wrist, "Georgio, put that twenty away. Fries are on Ash, anyway."
Giving me a smile, she turns her back to me. My throat dries up as I try to keep myself from staring at her figure too long. I can't help but process the conversation in my head, it was simple and clean, boring if anything. I could've added how nice she looked in that uniform, even if it was covered in sauce stains, or offer her a fry but instead I got free fries on some lucky kid's behalf. At least it was something of a conversation versus me contagious with verbal diarrhea.
I continued eating while she hustled throughout the diner, taking orders swiftly. Everyone looked at peace here, especially with each other. Misty and I exchanged a few smiles and nods during her shift, twenty minutes passed by and I was done with my meal. This is only so much time you can drag on until your plate of fries actually grow cold.
I lift off from the seat, leaving a wrinkled twenty dollar tip in the tip jar. Heading out to the door I walk slowly, holding a high hope for a simple 'Come back again'.
Instead she laughs at a joke that the old woman told and I sigh contently, knowing that whether or not she'd give me the time a day again I'll be back. I look back once more time at Misty, the girl with the sea for eyes.
"Uh, Misty?" I say, with as much confidence I can develop.
She turns to face me, looking slightly confused, "Yes?"
"Sorry, I know you're busy but I was wondering…"
"…Wondering if?"
"I was wondering if you go to the high school up the road," I say, "because I'm going to be new there this upcoming week so seeing a familiar face in the hall might be really nice especially since I had such a good lunch with yo-"
Desperate, Georgio. You sound too desperate.
"Georgio! Breathe for a second," she warns, "I'm a junior so you'll be seeing me around, and it's not a big school so rest assured you'll keep seeing me. Find me under the oak tree near the parking lot, that's where my friends and I sit in the morning. If you need me I'll help, don't worry."
Just the right amount of desperate, you romantic mess.
I can barely suppress the happiness in my voice, "Really? Wow, I'll see you then!"
"Wait a minute!" She walks over to me, a reassuring smile plastered on her face. Misty brings herself closer, her soft hand cupping my shoulder. I lost all feeling in my upper body the moment I could smell her perfume up close.
"I was new to town once too," she says, "but it grows on you the longer you're here and the more people you meet, I've made lifelong companions and I have no doubt you will too. The people are kind, even if they give you a basket of cold fries."
I'm conflicted on whether or not it'll be forward to confess how I so deeply wanted her to be a lifelong companion, in the 'we wear matching wedding bands and drink from the same cup' kind of way. I choose not to.
"That makes everything a lot better," I smile shyly, "I appreciate it, Misty. It was an honor to be served cold fries by you." She rolls her eyes and groans jokingly at my pathetic excuse for banter.
She winks at me, lightly jabs my shoulder, and my spine tingles with possibility. A small family politely call for her and its Misty's cue to attend to them. Her red converse squeak against the tile and she's off again picking up plates and taking orders.
My heart beats rapidly in excitement that I didn't know was possible. With a final wave, I bid Misty a goodbye fully knowing I was going to be a frequent customer at Del's Diner. On the way home my bicycle feels better than any motorcycle as I ride, hoping that come Monday morning she doesn't forget my name and I don't forget to breathe.
I rush home hoping to catch the remaining minutes on this afternoon's game. As the breeze hits my face I think to myself that sometimes life is better than the movies.
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notes: i hoped you liked the story and the stupid references! i know its a bit of a rarepair but i was disappointed in the lack of fanfics about misty and georgio and decided to give it a shot. his softness really compliments misty's bite and i like that. comments are always appreciated!