Okay, here's where things start(?) getting weird. Lucy... sorry in advance.
+ + +
+ + +
"Prepare for trouble!" Jessie crowed from her perch atop the stage in the main
convention room.
"And make it double," James purred, posing seductively beside her. They were both
wearing quite fetching minidresses, in blue and pink, respectively.
"Team Rocket!" Ash stated the obvious. "You guys must want to steal all the
pokemon from the convention. Well, I'm not gonna let you do it!" Pikachu leapt to
the fore, cheeks crackling with electricity.
"Nn-nn-nn," the female Rocket scolded, waving a finger. "I don't think you want to
electrocute us... unless you want to hurt our hostage too." She flicked a glance
over to James, who led a third figure out from behind him. She wore a bag over her
head and a matching purple minidress, and was tied to James by the waist. "Any
shock to us will travel through that metal wire. Now hand over that pikachu!"
"Never!" He reached for a pokeball, but had none. Oh no, they must still be at the
Pokemon Center! Well, time to take matters into his own hands. He rushed the
stage, untying the knot and grabbing the hostage. "Oof." She was heavy...
"Hey, he's mine," James cried, dismayed.
He?
The hostage removed the mask, revealing Gary. "Hey there, Ashy-boy."
"Uh..." Ash said, at a loss. "Nice legs."
"Pi pi -pi-!" Pikachu insisted.
"Oh, right. Go ahead." Grinning unhealthily, Pikachu let out a mighty
thundershock, blasting Team Rocket off again. Sometimes Ash worried about it...
"Ash, thank you for saving me. You're so brave," Gary gushed, glomping the younger
teen. The dark-haired boy couldn't really say anything, his head buried against
Gary's chest. Oh well, there were certainly worse positions to be in. "Now," Gary
said seductively, "let me give you a hero's reward." His hands began to creep down
his sides.
Ash's voice caught. "G-gary..."
"Oh, Brock," replied a horribly high falsetto.
+ + +
Ash wished he could say he woke up screaming. Instead, he woke up pressed against
Brock's chest, with the older teen mumbling incoherently and drooling into his
hair. -That- was when he started screaming. Then Misty chucked the alarm clock at
his head, and it was back to blessed unconsciousness.
+ + +
driving on the right
by erin ellis
three: thinking of you
+ + +
When Ash woke again, it was to a mild electric shock. "Wha-- Pikachu? What the--"
Pikachu and Richie stood at the foot of the bed looking sheepish. "Sorry, Ash, but
you were pretty deep asleep," the human said, "and I didn't think you'd want to
miss the '2 B A Master' panel."
"Eh? Augh," the dark-haired boy cried, finding the clock upside down on the
opposite pillow. It started in ten minutes. "Misty!"
"What?" she snapped, poking her head out of the bathroom.
"Move it," he yelled, pushing her out of the way and slamming the bathroom door.
She stumbled forward, turning and banging at the door. "Ash Ketchum, you'd better
get out of there right now!" She gave the door a last kick, then whirled, crossing
her arms and sitting on the bed. "Hey, Richie," she greeted, noting his red face
and closing her robe a little tighter.
"Um, uh, hi," he blushed.
"If I miss the secrets of becoming a pokemon master because of you Misty, you're
in big trouble," Ash yelled, muffled through the door.
"Well, maybe if you weren't screaming and carrying on with Brock all night, you
wouldn't oversleep!"
The brown-haired boy looked inquiringly at Pikachu, who just shook its head.
"Wa... that wasn't me, that was him!" Ash blustered. "And if –you- didn't think
the solution to everything was blunt trauma, I would've been up -early-!" He burst
from the bathroom, seething. "How could you--"
"Um, Ash?" Richie began, gaze directed lower than his friend's face.
"You forgot your pants," Misty gave a withering stare. "Moron."
Ash popped back into the bathroom. An instant later he reemerged, fully dressed
this time, stuffing his hat onto his head. "Richie. Pikachu. Let's go." He stomped
out of the door, the others following at a less angry pace.
"See you, Richie, Pikachu," Misty said sweetly. "Sorry Ash made you late."
"WHAT?!"
"Um--"
*slam*
*SLAM*
"Er, have a good one, Misty," Richie said to the closed door.
+ + +
Misty could never be told that the best part about the '2 B A Master' panel was
getting breakfast afterwards. Richie had actually volunteered to grab a bite
during the session (probably because Ash's stomach was growling louder than the
speakers), but Ash refused to miss a second of potential secrets revealed. Shaking
their heads in some sort of pikachuian communication, Pikachu and Sparky had run
off mid-panel. Ash wasn't quite sure what to think of that... it was good that
they were friends, but maybe Pikachu needed to learn some discipline. Without the
tips given on the panel-- okay, to be perfectly honest, it was pretty much common
sense -- take care of your pokemon, make sure you win badges, etc. Who knew that
they wouldn't say anything he didn't already know? Maybe Gary...
His rival had never showed... Ash wasn't sure what to think about that either.
Hmm, less competition was always good, right? ...But maybe he ditched because he
knew something Ash didn't, and was someplace with better tips... No, calm down;
Richie tended to know what was going on, and would keep Ash straight-- er,
wouldn't let Ash go ignorant.
Anyway, after looking at the prices of the hotel restaurant, they decided to go
off campus; there was a little diner about four or five blocks from the convention
center that Richie knew of, so they went to check it out. It was small, dark, and
the waitress sounded like she'd smoked three packs a day for the past twenty
years, but they made the best pancakes Ash had ever tasted (he ate four or five to
make sure). His counterpart had an egg over easy and a bowl of grits, claiming it
was more than enough food for him if Ash wanted to try some. Yeah right... "What
the heck is a grit anyway?" he asked, looking disapprovingly at the steaming bowl.
Richie chuckled, shaking his head. "Ash, there's no such thing as one 'grit'.
They're named because the texture is a bit gritty, I think. But they're good.
They're made of some grain, and you heat them up, sortof like Cream of Wheat or
oatmeal. Except grits aren't sweet-- you put in salt and butter, or cheese, or any
number of things. It's good, it's good. You should try it!" He offered up a
spoonful, the rather lumpy substance glooping back into the bowl.
"...That's okay," Ash replied, trying not to look too dismayed at the vague
explanation to the unappetizing food. "I'll stick to things you can eat in the
singular."
"Aw, it's really not that bad," he said, demonstratively taking a bite. "Mmm,
grits." He made an exaggerated grin, as if in a commercial.
Ash stuck out his tongue. "So, what you been up to?"
They spoke of various things; Richie had most recently visited the Orange Islands,
taking time to train and visiting the league there. (Haha, Ash had already done
that... er, not that they were competing or anything.)
"Hey," Richie began, looking forcedly casual. "Do you... um... have a girlfriend?"
Ash choked, torn between the desire to scream and-- well, it was screaming either
way, either in frustration, or in surprised embarrassment. As it was, he gave a
little yelp, then decided to chew his food before it ended up across the table.
"No, he said in what he hoped was a normal tone. "I'm not really in the market for
a girl right now." -That- was the understatement of the year.
"Oh, good," Richie said, relief evident. "Everyone keeps telling me you've got to
meet someone, or trying to set me up. It's so annoying. I mean, I've never even
met a girl I liked that I could talk to. I just... can't seem to find common
ground."
This sounded oddly familiar. "Well," Ash stalled, wondering how he'd gotten
himself into the position of love counselor. Now what was it that Mom always said?
"Eventually you'll find that special someone. You'll meet them and things will
just seem to mush. Er, match."
"All right," Richie said, nodding. He exhaled slowly. "You're always so together,
so I figured that if you didn't have anyone, it would be all right if I didn't
either."
Ash didn't think that anyone had ever called him 'together' before. 'Incredibly
lucky', 'bull-headed', 'scatterbrained', those he'd heard; but 'together'?
"It might sound a little strange," Richie continued, looking shyly at his
breakfast, "but I've always admired you. Even when we first met, all those years
ago. You had so much trust in your pokemon's innate abilities." Trust? Gary had
said he was just too lazy to train them properly. "I envy that connection with
your pokemon."
Ash scratched his head. "Aren't you and Sparky really close?"
"Of course, he's one of my best friends. But you and Pikachu are so close, you
seem to share a mind sometimes." Gary had said that too, but said the mind was
Pikachu's.
"You know... I never really thought about it that way." Maybe Pikachu knew that
there was no advice that would be good for how to deal with Gary, and that's why
it hadn't talked with him last night! That was it! It was showing him that you had
to just go out there and act! "I'm sure you can be a more personal trainer,
Richie!" Ash smiled, eyes crinkling. "You've just got to think of pokemon as your
friends first, and then as your pokemon second. Everyone knows that if you respect
your pokemon, they'll respect you, but if you're a friend to your pokemon, they'll
be a friend to you as well. I know you and Sparky can do it!"
"A-ah. Thanks." A smile crept across Richie's face, tentative at first, but seemed
to grow in intensity over his rosy cheeks.
"Are you okay? You look a little flushed."
"Oh?" he put a hand to his cheek, and flushed a deeper red. "I think I ate the
pepper in my grits..."
"Okay," Ash said doubtfully. "Hey, let's get back to the con. There're some things
I want to take care of." They rose from the booth, going to the front register to
pay. Ash's mind slowly began whirring on how to take action with Gary. Maybe there
was something to this 'discussing feelings' stuff Mom kept talking about. "Thanks
for talking with me, Richie."
"I should say the same to you," the brown-haired boy exclaimed, handing the woman
a couple bills. "I hope that I can-- well-- your words mean a lot to me," he said,
looking away until the waitress nudged him with his change.
He was red again... "You know, I don't remember seeing any peppers in your grits,"
Ash said, confused.
"Hey, we're going to be late to the next panel!" Richie announced, walking towards
out the door. He laughed nervously, hand behind his head. Geez, Richie was acting
weird too. Must be something in the air.
+ + +
The rest of the day was a lot more productive. Richie stopped changing colors, and
they went to a couple more panels, then hit the dealers room. It was simply huge,
and they spent longer than intended wandering the stalls. Richie found a cute
'baby's first pokeball' ball that would be sure to embarrass his little sister
(who even knew he had one?) when she grew up. Ash had saved up for a heavy ball--
he didn't know what it would be, but he'd decided the next pokemon he caught was
going to be big, so it was good to prepare. Then he figured he should get
something for Misty, since she'd been feeling poorly earlier. Richie suggested
some water pokemon bauble that was blue and shiny but still seemed utterly
worthless. He seemed insistent though, and Ash didn't have any better ideas, so
Ash went through with it. At least it wasn't perfume.
Having spent enough money for now, the boys walked back towards the hotel. In the
lobby, they ran into Ash's mother and Professor Oak. (Tracey wasn't –really-
coming; Brock was a big liar.) Ash wasn't really sure why his mom was there; the
professor had said something about cheaper room rates with two people, then Mom
had blushed and smacked his arm, but neither really gave any explanation. Oh well.
This way he didn't have to bring her a souvenir, right? They made plans to meet
after tomorrow's panel and parted ways. Richie excused himself soon after, giving
him his room number and telling him to call later. Ash ran back up to the room,
where surprisingly enough, both of the others were present.
"Hey guys, how's it going? Panels okay?"
"Boring, as expected," Misty sighed. Oh, he'd forgotten he was mad at her from
this morning, but she seemed to have forgotten as well, so it worked out. "The
water training panel would be so much better if they'd let us have a full-sized
tank."
"I saw Suzie," Brock said, voice clipped. "She looked well."
"Still with that other guy, I guess," Ash said sympathetically.
"Whatever, I don't care," the dark-skinned teen returned, obviously lying. "I
wasn't there alone, anyway. May wanted to go."
The redhead's nostrils flared. "Oh? So she hasn't dumped you yet?"
"Only in your dreams, darling. I'm sure she wants someone to escort her to the
dance tonight," Brock said loftily, waggling his tongue. "You can keep Ash
company, and I'll tell you what the adults did later."
"I am so going to beat you up," Misty grinned, cracking her knuckles.
The dance! Previous to yesterday, he'd spent his time alternately trying to ignore
it and complaining about the lack of panels during its duration. But now... Gary
would be there, and, confused as he was as to why, Ash wanted to be there with
him. Take action! ...But Gary would never do anything like that.
But maybe...
+ + +
Pikachu had come by during their late lunch (Mom brought them sandwiches for a
picnic! she was so cool), and was giving him a funny look between munching on
apples and being fawned over by his mother.
"Is there something wrong, Pikachu?" Ash asked, scratching that place between its
ears it really loved.
"Ka chuu, Pikapi," it said, giving him a disapproving look.
"You don't think it'll work?" he said, sadly.
The tirade Pikachu broke into was interrupted as his mother offered it a ketchup
packet, luring the small pokemon away from Ash.
"Well, I think you're wrong," Ash said defiantly, setting his chin.
"About what, honey?" Mom asked, idly stroking Pikachu's fur as it devoured the
ketchup.
"Um... nevermind. Misty... do you have a minute?"
+ + +
Now Ash knew why he'd gotten that gift for Misty. Unfortunately, once he'd
presented the box, instead of being pleased, her eyes narrowed and she wanted to
know what he wanted. Geez, she was so cynical... just because he only -seemed- to
give her gifts when he had some ulterior motive didn't actually mean that was the
only time he -would- give her one. Of course, it didn't help his protests that he
did want something. And, it didn't help what that particular something was.
Incidentally, Misty had taken the news he was gay surprisingly well.
"God -damn- it!"
...considering it was Misty.
"Please?"
Misty shook her head vehemently, arms crossed. "I -said- no way. There are just so
many levels of why this is wrong that I don't even want to talk about it."
"But Misty..." Ash trailed, looking desperately at her. "Hasn't there ever been
anyone who you liked and you didn't know why? And so you wanted to find out, so
you did something really stupid to be with them?" Misty continued to frown, but
was silent. Ash came closer, tentatively placing a hand on her shoulder. "I just
want a fair shot-- to talk to Gary without all of our history getting in the way,
but I can't do it alone. I wouldn't even ask you-- I wouldn't tell you about it if
it wasn't important to me that you know. You're my best friend, Misty. I know it's
a lot to ask, but... please. Help me with this. Help me with him." He stopped,
nothing more to say. Both were silent for a while, Ash hoping his cute expression
would crack her stone face. Hey, had to use whatever assets one had.
"I'm not letting you wear my best dress to the dance," she said finally. "I'm
wearing it. But..." here her voice softened. "You can wear the skirt combo I was
going to wear for the panel tomorrow. I'll borrow something from my sisters."
Thankfully, Ash made no comment on how a garment of her sisters' would hang on her
body. Instead, he pulled her into a warm hug. "Thank you so much, Misty."
"Yeah, well, I've done some stupid things for guys too." Her voice was unreadable
over his shoulder, and Ash knew not to pry. "All right," she said, all business.
"Well, if I'm to change you to Gary's dream girl," Ash thought this last was
spoken rather more snippily than necessary, but whatever, "then we'll have to do
something about that hair."
+ + +
Through maybe ten gallons of water and twice as much gel, Ash's hair had been
coerced into two smooth ponytails at the base of his neck. Misty's outfit was more
of a problem. While in no way a large person, Ash was bigger than Misty, and her
clothes really did not fit him. Of course, he didn't realize this until he'd
already gotten her blouse half-on.
"Take it off, you're going to rip it!" she shrieked.
"I don't think I can," he said, muffled by fabric. "I'm stuck."
"You'd better not really be stuck, or you won't live to see the dance, much less
Gary!"
Through a lot of yelling and yanking, they got the tiny shirt off, only minorly
worse for wear. Well, he'd actually had to promise that his mom would sew up the
(barely noticeable, really) rip in the seam the minute they got back to Pallet, if
not earlier, but other than that, no problems. After a brief argument over the
relative merits of dressing as a woman, going to the dance, and Gary Oak, Brock
showed up with a small suitcase of women's clothing, which he presented to Ash.
Questions concerning its origin were met with an enigmatic smile (he later claimed
it came from his family, who were elsewhere at the con, but who really knew).
Either way, diplomatic relations between Ash and Misty began anew, and they ended
up choosing a shimmery cyan top, with some wide-legged trousers, and a long black
sweater-coat that tied across the chest.
"The black slims, and the line of the jacket keeps your shoulders from looking too
square," Brock explained, knowing perhaps too much about the subject.
Ash had just shrugged uncomfortably; they made him wear a bra and it itched. Brock
had argued that Gary seemed to enjoy girls with curves, but Misty rallied hard for
the lesser-endowed. They compromised, so Ash didn't have to be quite so
voluptuous, but he still felt like he was going to attack something with his
chest. Maybe Misty -had- lucked out in not having any breasts. She hadn't seemed
to value the sentiment when he'd voiced it, however.
Of course, the clothes weren't the end of it... Misty and Brock soon began
flipping through girl magazines looking for Ash's "ideal look" for makeup. Yuck,
he hadn't thought all this much into it when he'd come up with the idea to dress
as a girl. "I think I've gained a new appreciation for James," he murmured.
"Hey, what about this?" Misty pointed to a specific picture, Brock nodding
vehemently. "I think it'll go well with his eyes."
"Yes, very classy," Brock agreed. "Oh, is this the newest issue of Seventeen? I
heard that Howie from the Backstreet Boys was stabbed by a jealous ex."
"Yeah, that story's in here; pretty racy, you should check it out."
"Definitely."
"You guys are such freaks!" Ash exclaimed.
"...Says the boy in drag. I think -you're- the freak here."
"-Everyone- here is a freak. We're at a damned con!" Misty smacked both boys with
the magazine, then opened it back, clipping Ash's hair out of his face. "Pass me
my compact, will you?" Brock did, and she started smoothing a cream over Ash's
face. It was cold. "Stop twitching!" she cried.
"I always wanted to be in a boy band," Brock commented, voice far away.
"Why?" Ash tried to put as much disdain and ire into the word as possible.
The teen shrugged. "Dunno. It'd be neat to be famous, get to travel, get to
perform. Legions of screaming fangirls wouldn't be much to complain about either."
"God help us all," Misty said, rolling her eyes. She worked quickly and
efficiently, doing his makeup with a minimum of fuss, though she seemed offended
when he refused to let her near his eyes with an eyeliner brush. Finally, she sat
back, calling Brock over to view her work.
"What?" Ash said, wary.
"Look," Misty instructed, leading him to the mirror.
He did. Peering back was a raven-haired girl, thick lashes framing wide brown
eyes, baby pink lips in a friendly smile. "Hey, I'm pretty cute!"
"Yeah, you really don't look like you at all," Misty smirked. "What a beautiful
job I've done with you. Don't think I'll ever forget this." As if he could... he
knew from experience how long the girl could carry a grudge.
"Oh, let me get a picture with our widdle sweetheart," Brock cooed, pinching Ash's
cheek. "They grow up so fast..."
"Knock it off," he snapped, knocking his arm away. Misty actually took a couple
pictures, and Ash scowled for all but one-- he'd probably be blackmailed with them
anyway; he might as well look pleasant.
"Now, don't get too full of yourself; those are still partially my clothes you're
wearing, and they'd better not turn up on anyone's floor but mine."
"Misty!" both boys yelled, horrified. "If I've taught him anything," Brock said
self-righteously, "it's to always hang up your clothes before bed."
"Augh, I don't want to think about Ash and-- oh God, I already have," she moaned,
clawing at her eyes.
Ash sighed, face blazing. "Don't worry, Misty, I'll be a good girl."
"You have no idea how disturbing that promise is."
"Hey, ready for your first test?" Brock grinned.
"I'm ready for my first drink," the redhead muttered, rubbing her temples.
"Test? Drink?" Ash parroted. How did he end up the clueless one to his own plan?
"Richie's having a room party, and we're going."
"'We'? You didn't tell him--"
"Oh no," Brock grinned. "But he'll probably figure it out when baby cousin Ashley
shows up."
The transvestite looked searchingly to the sky. "So, not only am I humiliating
myself in front of my friends, but I'm related to –you-?"
He spread his hands, expression open. "Hey, it was your idea. Besides, no one'll
mess with you if you're with me."
"It's also the only plausible explanation as to why Brock wouldn't be hitting on
you himself," Misty said dryly.
"Gary would never be able to compete with Brock the Rock," he said, rolling with
the insult. "Be happy I don't like younger women, or else Gary would just take one
look at me and give up."
The younger two exchanged a look. "...Yeah. Ash, when Brock returns from the land
of make believe, tell him to get ready. I'm gonna return this stuff to my sisters'
room; I'll meet you at Richie's. It'll be less suspicious that way. See you later,
lovergirl," she smiled, letting in Pikachu, then leaving herself.
"Pi... Pikapi?"
"Don't ask," Ash sighed.
+ + +
tbc.
+ + +
+ + +
[notes]
+ hmm, wrong 'shi'. Oops... (lucy: die erin die)
+ what was Ash/I thinking? Well, even Mom said it: everything's funnier with men
in drag. (of course, there's an exception to every rule...)
+ eh... I think that's the end of Team Rocket in this story. I've also realized
there is no Togepi. Maybe that's why Misty is so swoll. Well, the thing's evil
anyway... no great loss. :P
+ this could be the only pokemon fanfic involving grits. I try to hit those tough,
timely issues.
+ thanks so much for the positive reviews. You have no idea how much they've
encouraged me. Brightened my day and gave me a reason to live and other warm and
fuzzies like that. If you haven't already (or even if you have) you can feel free
to leave reviews. It's the 'in' thing to do. ...uh, yeah.
+ forgive the delay; I have successfully moved back in with Mom (temporarily,
thank God), with no casualties other than a slightly squashed disk and a nasty
looking cut on my thumb (my own fault, don't ask). It doesn't seem to inhibit
typing, so expect chapter four... eh... expect a chapter four. ^____^; And just
for you, since it was a longer wait, I've given you a longer chapter... all I had
to do was refuse to cut out scenes that didn't advance the plot. How can you
complain about that? (uh... don't answer that.)
[next]
Everyone knows that the epitome of an anime con is the dance. I mean, even if you
went to all the panels, you spent hours volunteering in the video rooms, you
braved the fanboy smell to get through the dealers room, it's just not the same
until you shake what your momma gave you to anime songs with a four-four thumping
bass. Stir that pot! Shake those maracas! Watch skinny would-be raver kids attempt
to bludgeon you with glow sticks on strings! ...What? The PokeCon isn't an anime
con? Uh...
[next (revised)]
Party at Richie's! Yeah, that's it. And Gary! Lots of Gary! I'm not lying this
time! Really!
+ + +
+ + +
"Prepare for trouble!" Jessie crowed from her perch atop the stage in the main
convention room.
"And make it double," James purred, posing seductively beside her. They were both
wearing quite fetching minidresses, in blue and pink, respectively.
"Team Rocket!" Ash stated the obvious. "You guys must want to steal all the
pokemon from the convention. Well, I'm not gonna let you do it!" Pikachu leapt to
the fore, cheeks crackling with electricity.
"Nn-nn-nn," the female Rocket scolded, waving a finger. "I don't think you want to
electrocute us... unless you want to hurt our hostage too." She flicked a glance
over to James, who led a third figure out from behind him. She wore a bag over her
head and a matching purple minidress, and was tied to James by the waist. "Any
shock to us will travel through that metal wire. Now hand over that pikachu!"
"Never!" He reached for a pokeball, but had none. Oh no, they must still be at the
Pokemon Center! Well, time to take matters into his own hands. He rushed the
stage, untying the knot and grabbing the hostage. "Oof." She was heavy...
"Hey, he's mine," James cried, dismayed.
He?
The hostage removed the mask, revealing Gary. "Hey there, Ashy-boy."
"Uh..." Ash said, at a loss. "Nice legs."
"Pi pi -pi-!" Pikachu insisted.
"Oh, right. Go ahead." Grinning unhealthily, Pikachu let out a mighty
thundershock, blasting Team Rocket off again. Sometimes Ash worried about it...
"Ash, thank you for saving me. You're so brave," Gary gushed, glomping the younger
teen. The dark-haired boy couldn't really say anything, his head buried against
Gary's chest. Oh well, there were certainly worse positions to be in. "Now," Gary
said seductively, "let me give you a hero's reward." His hands began to creep down
his sides.
Ash's voice caught. "G-gary..."
"Oh, Brock," replied a horribly high falsetto.
+ + +
Ash wished he could say he woke up screaming. Instead, he woke up pressed against
Brock's chest, with the older teen mumbling incoherently and drooling into his
hair. -That- was when he started screaming. Then Misty chucked the alarm clock at
his head, and it was back to blessed unconsciousness.
+ + +
driving on the right
by erin ellis
three: thinking of you
+ + +
When Ash woke again, it was to a mild electric shock. "Wha-- Pikachu? What the--"
Pikachu and Richie stood at the foot of the bed looking sheepish. "Sorry, Ash, but
you were pretty deep asleep," the human said, "and I didn't think you'd want to
miss the '2 B A Master' panel."
"Eh? Augh," the dark-haired boy cried, finding the clock upside down on the
opposite pillow. It started in ten minutes. "Misty!"
"What?" she snapped, poking her head out of the bathroom.
"Move it," he yelled, pushing her out of the way and slamming the bathroom door.
She stumbled forward, turning and banging at the door. "Ash Ketchum, you'd better
get out of there right now!" She gave the door a last kick, then whirled, crossing
her arms and sitting on the bed. "Hey, Richie," she greeted, noting his red face
and closing her robe a little tighter.
"Um, uh, hi," he blushed.
"If I miss the secrets of becoming a pokemon master because of you Misty, you're
in big trouble," Ash yelled, muffled through the door.
"Well, maybe if you weren't screaming and carrying on with Brock all night, you
wouldn't oversleep!"
The brown-haired boy looked inquiringly at Pikachu, who just shook its head.
"Wa... that wasn't me, that was him!" Ash blustered. "And if –you- didn't think
the solution to everything was blunt trauma, I would've been up -early-!" He burst
from the bathroom, seething. "How could you--"
"Um, Ash?" Richie began, gaze directed lower than his friend's face.
"You forgot your pants," Misty gave a withering stare. "Moron."
Ash popped back into the bathroom. An instant later he reemerged, fully dressed
this time, stuffing his hat onto his head. "Richie. Pikachu. Let's go." He stomped
out of the door, the others following at a less angry pace.
"See you, Richie, Pikachu," Misty said sweetly. "Sorry Ash made you late."
"WHAT?!"
"Um--"
*slam*
*SLAM*
"Er, have a good one, Misty," Richie said to the closed door.
+ + +
Misty could never be told that the best part about the '2 B A Master' panel was
getting breakfast afterwards. Richie had actually volunteered to grab a bite
during the session (probably because Ash's stomach was growling louder than the
speakers), but Ash refused to miss a second of potential secrets revealed. Shaking
their heads in some sort of pikachuian communication, Pikachu and Sparky had run
off mid-panel. Ash wasn't quite sure what to think of that... it was good that
they were friends, but maybe Pikachu needed to learn some discipline. Without the
tips given on the panel-- okay, to be perfectly honest, it was pretty much common
sense -- take care of your pokemon, make sure you win badges, etc. Who knew that
they wouldn't say anything he didn't already know? Maybe Gary...
His rival had never showed... Ash wasn't sure what to think about that either.
Hmm, less competition was always good, right? ...But maybe he ditched because he
knew something Ash didn't, and was someplace with better tips... No, calm down;
Richie tended to know what was going on, and would keep Ash straight-- er,
wouldn't let Ash go ignorant.
Anyway, after looking at the prices of the hotel restaurant, they decided to go
off campus; there was a little diner about four or five blocks from the convention
center that Richie knew of, so they went to check it out. It was small, dark, and
the waitress sounded like she'd smoked three packs a day for the past twenty
years, but they made the best pancakes Ash had ever tasted (he ate four or five to
make sure). His counterpart had an egg over easy and a bowl of grits, claiming it
was more than enough food for him if Ash wanted to try some. Yeah right... "What
the heck is a grit anyway?" he asked, looking disapprovingly at the steaming bowl.
Richie chuckled, shaking his head. "Ash, there's no such thing as one 'grit'.
They're named because the texture is a bit gritty, I think. But they're good.
They're made of some grain, and you heat them up, sortof like Cream of Wheat or
oatmeal. Except grits aren't sweet-- you put in salt and butter, or cheese, or any
number of things. It's good, it's good. You should try it!" He offered up a
spoonful, the rather lumpy substance glooping back into the bowl.
"...That's okay," Ash replied, trying not to look too dismayed at the vague
explanation to the unappetizing food. "I'll stick to things you can eat in the
singular."
"Aw, it's really not that bad," he said, demonstratively taking a bite. "Mmm,
grits." He made an exaggerated grin, as if in a commercial.
Ash stuck out his tongue. "So, what you been up to?"
They spoke of various things; Richie had most recently visited the Orange Islands,
taking time to train and visiting the league there. (Haha, Ash had already done
that... er, not that they were competing or anything.)
"Hey," Richie began, looking forcedly casual. "Do you... um... have a girlfriend?"
Ash choked, torn between the desire to scream and-- well, it was screaming either
way, either in frustration, or in surprised embarrassment. As it was, he gave a
little yelp, then decided to chew his food before it ended up across the table.
"No, he said in what he hoped was a normal tone. "I'm not really in the market for
a girl right now." -That- was the understatement of the year.
"Oh, good," Richie said, relief evident. "Everyone keeps telling me you've got to
meet someone, or trying to set me up. It's so annoying. I mean, I've never even
met a girl I liked that I could talk to. I just... can't seem to find common
ground."
This sounded oddly familiar. "Well," Ash stalled, wondering how he'd gotten
himself into the position of love counselor. Now what was it that Mom always said?
"Eventually you'll find that special someone. You'll meet them and things will
just seem to mush. Er, match."
"All right," Richie said, nodding. He exhaled slowly. "You're always so together,
so I figured that if you didn't have anyone, it would be all right if I didn't
either."
Ash didn't think that anyone had ever called him 'together' before. 'Incredibly
lucky', 'bull-headed', 'scatterbrained', those he'd heard; but 'together'?
"It might sound a little strange," Richie continued, looking shyly at his
breakfast, "but I've always admired you. Even when we first met, all those years
ago. You had so much trust in your pokemon's innate abilities." Trust? Gary had
said he was just too lazy to train them properly. "I envy that connection with
your pokemon."
Ash scratched his head. "Aren't you and Sparky really close?"
"Of course, he's one of my best friends. But you and Pikachu are so close, you
seem to share a mind sometimes." Gary had said that too, but said the mind was
Pikachu's.
"You know... I never really thought about it that way." Maybe Pikachu knew that
there was no advice that would be good for how to deal with Gary, and that's why
it hadn't talked with him last night! That was it! It was showing him that you had
to just go out there and act! "I'm sure you can be a more personal trainer,
Richie!" Ash smiled, eyes crinkling. "You've just got to think of pokemon as your
friends first, and then as your pokemon second. Everyone knows that if you respect
your pokemon, they'll respect you, but if you're a friend to your pokemon, they'll
be a friend to you as well. I know you and Sparky can do it!"
"A-ah. Thanks." A smile crept across Richie's face, tentative at first, but seemed
to grow in intensity over his rosy cheeks.
"Are you okay? You look a little flushed."
"Oh?" he put a hand to his cheek, and flushed a deeper red. "I think I ate the
pepper in my grits..."
"Okay," Ash said doubtfully. "Hey, let's get back to the con. There're some things
I want to take care of." They rose from the booth, going to the front register to
pay. Ash's mind slowly began whirring on how to take action with Gary. Maybe there
was something to this 'discussing feelings' stuff Mom kept talking about. "Thanks
for talking with me, Richie."
"I should say the same to you," the brown-haired boy exclaimed, handing the woman
a couple bills. "I hope that I can-- well-- your words mean a lot to me," he said,
looking away until the waitress nudged him with his change.
He was red again... "You know, I don't remember seeing any peppers in your grits,"
Ash said, confused.
"Hey, we're going to be late to the next panel!" Richie announced, walking towards
out the door. He laughed nervously, hand behind his head. Geez, Richie was acting
weird too. Must be something in the air.
+ + +
The rest of the day was a lot more productive. Richie stopped changing colors, and
they went to a couple more panels, then hit the dealers room. It was simply huge,
and they spent longer than intended wandering the stalls. Richie found a cute
'baby's first pokeball' ball that would be sure to embarrass his little sister
(who even knew he had one?) when she grew up. Ash had saved up for a heavy ball--
he didn't know what it would be, but he'd decided the next pokemon he caught was
going to be big, so it was good to prepare. Then he figured he should get
something for Misty, since she'd been feeling poorly earlier. Richie suggested
some water pokemon bauble that was blue and shiny but still seemed utterly
worthless. He seemed insistent though, and Ash didn't have any better ideas, so
Ash went through with it. At least it wasn't perfume.
Having spent enough money for now, the boys walked back towards the hotel. In the
lobby, they ran into Ash's mother and Professor Oak. (Tracey wasn't –really-
coming; Brock was a big liar.) Ash wasn't really sure why his mom was there; the
professor had said something about cheaper room rates with two people, then Mom
had blushed and smacked his arm, but neither really gave any explanation. Oh well.
This way he didn't have to bring her a souvenir, right? They made plans to meet
after tomorrow's panel and parted ways. Richie excused himself soon after, giving
him his room number and telling him to call later. Ash ran back up to the room,
where surprisingly enough, both of the others were present.
"Hey guys, how's it going? Panels okay?"
"Boring, as expected," Misty sighed. Oh, he'd forgotten he was mad at her from
this morning, but she seemed to have forgotten as well, so it worked out. "The
water training panel would be so much better if they'd let us have a full-sized
tank."
"I saw Suzie," Brock said, voice clipped. "She looked well."
"Still with that other guy, I guess," Ash said sympathetically.
"Whatever, I don't care," the dark-skinned teen returned, obviously lying. "I
wasn't there alone, anyway. May wanted to go."
The redhead's nostrils flared. "Oh? So she hasn't dumped you yet?"
"Only in your dreams, darling. I'm sure she wants someone to escort her to the
dance tonight," Brock said loftily, waggling his tongue. "You can keep Ash
company, and I'll tell you what the adults did later."
"I am so going to beat you up," Misty grinned, cracking her knuckles.
The dance! Previous to yesterday, he'd spent his time alternately trying to ignore
it and complaining about the lack of panels during its duration. But now... Gary
would be there, and, confused as he was as to why, Ash wanted to be there with
him. Take action! ...But Gary would never do anything like that.
But maybe...
+ + +
Pikachu had come by during their late lunch (Mom brought them sandwiches for a
picnic! she was so cool), and was giving him a funny look between munching on
apples and being fawned over by his mother.
"Is there something wrong, Pikachu?" Ash asked, scratching that place between its
ears it really loved.
"Ka chuu, Pikapi," it said, giving him a disapproving look.
"You don't think it'll work?" he said, sadly.
The tirade Pikachu broke into was interrupted as his mother offered it a ketchup
packet, luring the small pokemon away from Ash.
"Well, I think you're wrong," Ash said defiantly, setting his chin.
"About what, honey?" Mom asked, idly stroking Pikachu's fur as it devoured the
ketchup.
"Um... nevermind. Misty... do you have a minute?"
+ + +
Now Ash knew why he'd gotten that gift for Misty. Unfortunately, once he'd
presented the box, instead of being pleased, her eyes narrowed and she wanted to
know what he wanted. Geez, she was so cynical... just because he only -seemed- to
give her gifts when he had some ulterior motive didn't actually mean that was the
only time he -would- give her one. Of course, it didn't help his protests that he
did want something. And, it didn't help what that particular something was.
Incidentally, Misty had taken the news he was gay surprisingly well.
"God -damn- it!"
...considering it was Misty.
"Please?"
Misty shook her head vehemently, arms crossed. "I -said- no way. There are just so
many levels of why this is wrong that I don't even want to talk about it."
"But Misty..." Ash trailed, looking desperately at her. "Hasn't there ever been
anyone who you liked and you didn't know why? And so you wanted to find out, so
you did something really stupid to be with them?" Misty continued to frown, but
was silent. Ash came closer, tentatively placing a hand on her shoulder. "I just
want a fair shot-- to talk to Gary without all of our history getting in the way,
but I can't do it alone. I wouldn't even ask you-- I wouldn't tell you about it if
it wasn't important to me that you know. You're my best friend, Misty. I know it's
a lot to ask, but... please. Help me with this. Help me with him." He stopped,
nothing more to say. Both were silent for a while, Ash hoping his cute expression
would crack her stone face. Hey, had to use whatever assets one had.
"I'm not letting you wear my best dress to the dance," she said finally. "I'm
wearing it. But..." here her voice softened. "You can wear the skirt combo I was
going to wear for the panel tomorrow. I'll borrow something from my sisters."
Thankfully, Ash made no comment on how a garment of her sisters' would hang on her
body. Instead, he pulled her into a warm hug. "Thank you so much, Misty."
"Yeah, well, I've done some stupid things for guys too." Her voice was unreadable
over his shoulder, and Ash knew not to pry. "All right," she said, all business.
"Well, if I'm to change you to Gary's dream girl," Ash thought this last was
spoken rather more snippily than necessary, but whatever, "then we'll have to do
something about that hair."
+ + +
Through maybe ten gallons of water and twice as much gel, Ash's hair had been
coerced into two smooth ponytails at the base of his neck. Misty's outfit was more
of a problem. While in no way a large person, Ash was bigger than Misty, and her
clothes really did not fit him. Of course, he didn't realize this until he'd
already gotten her blouse half-on.
"Take it off, you're going to rip it!" she shrieked.
"I don't think I can," he said, muffled by fabric. "I'm stuck."
"You'd better not really be stuck, or you won't live to see the dance, much less
Gary!"
Through a lot of yelling and yanking, they got the tiny shirt off, only minorly
worse for wear. Well, he'd actually had to promise that his mom would sew up the
(barely noticeable, really) rip in the seam the minute they got back to Pallet, if
not earlier, but other than that, no problems. After a brief argument over the
relative merits of dressing as a woman, going to the dance, and Gary Oak, Brock
showed up with a small suitcase of women's clothing, which he presented to Ash.
Questions concerning its origin were met with an enigmatic smile (he later claimed
it came from his family, who were elsewhere at the con, but who really knew).
Either way, diplomatic relations between Ash and Misty began anew, and they ended
up choosing a shimmery cyan top, with some wide-legged trousers, and a long black
sweater-coat that tied across the chest.
"The black slims, and the line of the jacket keeps your shoulders from looking too
square," Brock explained, knowing perhaps too much about the subject.
Ash had just shrugged uncomfortably; they made him wear a bra and it itched. Brock
had argued that Gary seemed to enjoy girls with curves, but Misty rallied hard for
the lesser-endowed. They compromised, so Ash didn't have to be quite so
voluptuous, but he still felt like he was going to attack something with his
chest. Maybe Misty -had- lucked out in not having any breasts. She hadn't seemed
to value the sentiment when he'd voiced it, however.
Of course, the clothes weren't the end of it... Misty and Brock soon began
flipping through girl magazines looking for Ash's "ideal look" for makeup. Yuck,
he hadn't thought all this much into it when he'd come up with the idea to dress
as a girl. "I think I've gained a new appreciation for James," he murmured.
"Hey, what about this?" Misty pointed to a specific picture, Brock nodding
vehemently. "I think it'll go well with his eyes."
"Yes, very classy," Brock agreed. "Oh, is this the newest issue of Seventeen? I
heard that Howie from the Backstreet Boys was stabbed by a jealous ex."
"Yeah, that story's in here; pretty racy, you should check it out."
"Definitely."
"You guys are such freaks!" Ash exclaimed.
"...Says the boy in drag. I think -you're- the freak here."
"-Everyone- here is a freak. We're at a damned con!" Misty smacked both boys with
the magazine, then opened it back, clipping Ash's hair out of his face. "Pass me
my compact, will you?" Brock did, and she started smoothing a cream over Ash's
face. It was cold. "Stop twitching!" she cried.
"I always wanted to be in a boy band," Brock commented, voice far away.
"Why?" Ash tried to put as much disdain and ire into the word as possible.
The teen shrugged. "Dunno. It'd be neat to be famous, get to travel, get to
perform. Legions of screaming fangirls wouldn't be much to complain about either."
"God help us all," Misty said, rolling her eyes. She worked quickly and
efficiently, doing his makeup with a minimum of fuss, though she seemed offended
when he refused to let her near his eyes with an eyeliner brush. Finally, she sat
back, calling Brock over to view her work.
"What?" Ash said, wary.
"Look," Misty instructed, leading him to the mirror.
He did. Peering back was a raven-haired girl, thick lashes framing wide brown
eyes, baby pink lips in a friendly smile. "Hey, I'm pretty cute!"
"Yeah, you really don't look like you at all," Misty smirked. "What a beautiful
job I've done with you. Don't think I'll ever forget this." As if he could... he
knew from experience how long the girl could carry a grudge.
"Oh, let me get a picture with our widdle sweetheart," Brock cooed, pinching Ash's
cheek. "They grow up so fast..."
"Knock it off," he snapped, knocking his arm away. Misty actually took a couple
pictures, and Ash scowled for all but one-- he'd probably be blackmailed with them
anyway; he might as well look pleasant.
"Now, don't get too full of yourself; those are still partially my clothes you're
wearing, and they'd better not turn up on anyone's floor but mine."
"Misty!" both boys yelled, horrified. "If I've taught him anything," Brock said
self-righteously, "it's to always hang up your clothes before bed."
"Augh, I don't want to think about Ash and-- oh God, I already have," she moaned,
clawing at her eyes.
Ash sighed, face blazing. "Don't worry, Misty, I'll be a good girl."
"You have no idea how disturbing that promise is."
"Hey, ready for your first test?" Brock grinned.
"I'm ready for my first drink," the redhead muttered, rubbing her temples.
"Test? Drink?" Ash parroted. How did he end up the clueless one to his own plan?
"Richie's having a room party, and we're going."
"'We'? You didn't tell him--"
"Oh no," Brock grinned. "But he'll probably figure it out when baby cousin Ashley
shows up."
The transvestite looked searchingly to the sky. "So, not only am I humiliating
myself in front of my friends, but I'm related to –you-?"
He spread his hands, expression open. "Hey, it was your idea. Besides, no one'll
mess with you if you're with me."
"It's also the only plausible explanation as to why Brock wouldn't be hitting on
you himself," Misty said dryly.
"Gary would never be able to compete with Brock the Rock," he said, rolling with
the insult. "Be happy I don't like younger women, or else Gary would just take one
look at me and give up."
The younger two exchanged a look. "...Yeah. Ash, when Brock returns from the land
of make believe, tell him to get ready. I'm gonna return this stuff to my sisters'
room; I'll meet you at Richie's. It'll be less suspicious that way. See you later,
lovergirl," she smiled, letting in Pikachu, then leaving herself.
"Pi... Pikapi?"
"Don't ask," Ash sighed.
+ + +
tbc.
+ + +
+ + +
[notes]
+ hmm, wrong 'shi'. Oops... (lucy: die erin die)
+ what was Ash/I thinking? Well, even Mom said it: everything's funnier with men
in drag. (of course, there's an exception to every rule...)
+ eh... I think that's the end of Team Rocket in this story. I've also realized
there is no Togepi. Maybe that's why Misty is so swoll. Well, the thing's evil
anyway... no great loss. :P
+ this could be the only pokemon fanfic involving grits. I try to hit those tough,
timely issues.
+ thanks so much for the positive reviews. You have no idea how much they've
encouraged me. Brightened my day and gave me a reason to live and other warm and
fuzzies like that. If you haven't already (or even if you have) you can feel free
to leave reviews. It's the 'in' thing to do. ...uh, yeah.
+ forgive the delay; I have successfully moved back in with Mom (temporarily,
thank God), with no casualties other than a slightly squashed disk and a nasty
looking cut on my thumb (my own fault, don't ask). It doesn't seem to inhibit
typing, so expect chapter four... eh... expect a chapter four. ^____^; And just
for you, since it was a longer wait, I've given you a longer chapter... all I had
to do was refuse to cut out scenes that didn't advance the plot. How can you
complain about that? (uh... don't answer that.)
[next]
Everyone knows that the epitome of an anime con is the dance. I mean, even if you
went to all the panels, you spent hours volunteering in the video rooms, you
braved the fanboy smell to get through the dealers room, it's just not the same
until you shake what your momma gave you to anime songs with a four-four thumping
bass. Stir that pot! Shake those maracas! Watch skinny would-be raver kids attempt
to bludgeon you with glow sticks on strings! ...What? The PokeCon isn't an anime
con? Uh...
[next (revised)]
Party at Richie's! Yeah, that's it. And Gary! Lots of Gary! I'm not lying this
time! Really!