Don't. Just Don't.

He looked ridiculous standing on her doorstep, in what looked like a tuxedo one size too big for him, a poorly knotted tie, by the look of it was probably choking him, and a flimsy looking flower clenched in his right hand.

Misty's arm barred in the doorway, as if guarding the entrance to her apartment. But the boy's eyes kept their innocent stare, asking without words for allowance inside.

"You look completely ridiculous," she answered candidly, before he had a chance to ask the question.

His mouth hung with the first word.

"Look at you!" she started again. "Where did you get that suit, 'cause I know it's not yours."

"I could own a suit." His head dropped timidly, as if examining his attire stitch by stitch.

"But you don't. Who's is it? Gary's? Tracey's? Brock's?"

He nodded, and it didn't matter who's it was because she was right either way.

"And this!" Her finger flipped the overstrewn tie out of his suit jacket and held it nose level. "Did you get dressed in the dark, or something?"

He shook his head 'no,' and followed with a "thought I could do it myself."

"How long did that take?"

The question was rhetorical, not meant to be addressed, the point was made, but the mind of Ash found a way to make it worse. "Like forty-five minutes."

She bent down slightly, eying the frail object in his grasp. "And that is?"

Now this he couldn't understand. They both knew Ash wasn't the best with clothes, especially dressing himself, and was the last one to offer advice on fashion, but a lone flower seemed like the single gesture of affection good enough to rectify all the things he had done wrong tonight.

"It's a daisy!" he exclaimed, holding it by the stem, outstretching it between them. "What's wrong with that?"

"Have I ever expressed an affinity for daisy's, Ash?"

Once again, he tried to explain. Once again, he was cut off.

"Don't. Just don't," she sighed.

He stammered. He stammered longer than he should have, and his luck shriveled with every passing second. "I just thought, if I came here, put on a suit, shined by shoes, brought you a present, it'd show you, you know, how much, I like you."

Sighing again, she rubbed her temple with her combined index and ring finger. "Do you remember what we discussed last week?"

He thought hard, really hard, but the only thing he could conjure up was a large surprise breakfast his Mother made for him.

She went on, regardless. "Honesty. I want honesty out of this relationship. And this," she extended her hand, "is not honesty. Ash in a tux is not honesty! Ash in a tie is not honesty! Ash with flowers is definitely not honesty! It's just a cheap attempt to impress me."

"It's not cheap!" he countered, dropping the flower. "Do you really think I like dressing up like this? Do you? Never mind, don't answer that. Because I'm not sorry I dressed up for our date! I'm not! Because these last few days I've been wracking by brain trying to figure out why you're with me in the first place! Me! Ash Ketchum! Out of the thousand other guys! Because I'm not good enough for you, Misty! I know that! And I know you know that! I'm just a stupid kid from Nowhere-ville, who's never won a Championship and never been on a real date before! Why you're not with some rich doctor or smooth lawyer who could give you the world, I'll never know! But I thought if I looked like this, maybe then, I could give you a fraction of what those guys could... and give you what you deserve!"

He stiffened when she grabbed him by the collar, and his high pitched yelp was drowned under her lips. Their kiss would have lasted a lot longer if it wasn't for the annoying necessity for air, to which he breathed in heavily after she released him, but still retained him in a tight embrace.

"That," she whispered in his ear.

"That what?"

"That's exactly why I'm with you, Ash. Thank You."