Today's episode of (japn) Pokemon involved the evil green thing that Satoshi
hatched being possessed by an unown and going through severe psychological trauma
that needed sensitive hero As-- er, Satoshi to solve by cracking the beat-over-the-
head symbolistic shell of his hatred towards humans through electricity and fists.
This chapter of 'driving' is almost exactly like that, except with a lot less
angsty green pokemon, symbolism, trauma, electricity, and giant togepis. There is,
however, the requisite commercial for Pokemon noodles.
+ + +
+ + +
Three minutes later, Ash's buoyant mood had begun to flag. "Brock-- what am I gonna
do?"
The taller boy rolled his eyes as he primped in front of the mirror. "First thing,
calm down. Your name is Ashley Slate. You're my cousin from outside of Fuschia
Town. Nobody lives out there, so you shouldn't get many questions."
"Right. Okay. Got it, Pikachu?"
"Pika..." it said amusedly.
"Actually, Pikachu, you'd probably better not go-- it'll be too suspicious if a kid
named Ash with a pikachu shows up."
"Sorry," Ash said. "Well, uh, see you 'round, then." Somehow he felt slightly naked
without Pikachu at his side... but he had to be strong. Pikachu was counting on
him!
"I'll keep tabs on any good dirt for you," Brock grinned to the animal. "Ash. Keep
your key and con badge in your pocket. All other personal details are up to you.
Try not to lie too much so you won't forget. Be general. Don't act like a guy,
don't act like a kid, and don't mess up. I've put too much into this to fail now,
Ash! We must be victorious!"
"Wow, Brock... Do you really think this will work?"
"Honestly? I'm thinking crash and burn. But it'll be entertaining either way, so
why not help out?"
"Thanks for the vote of confidence..."
+ + +
driving on the right
by erin ellis
four: lie lie lie
+ + +
Ash checked his breath and made sure everything was in place, and Brock knocked the
door. After a second it swung open, the smiling face of Richie just behind. "Hey
Brock, glad you could make it. And who's this?"
"This is my cousin Ashley. The rest of the family's out with the children, so I
thought I'd show her around the con. Ashley, this is Richie."
"How do you do?" Ash said in a passably female voice.
"Um, hi, I'm Richie," the brown-haired boy flushed slightly. "Come on in." Richie
or his parents (who, like most family of people Ash knew, may or may not have
actually existed) had splurged on a suite, so in addition to having a huge king
bed, there was a table and chairs and a couple small couches scattered about the
large living space. These were all filled with young folks, some of whom Ash
recognized, more who he didn't. Maybe it wouldn't be too hard to pass here after
all.
"Here, cuz, let me show you around." Brock led him through the groups of people,
introducing 'Ashley' to some, but passing by others. Ash was certain that Duplica
was giving him a funny look... he smiled faintly and moved closer to Brock.
"How about I get you a soda?" Brock said helpfully, and before Ash could make any
protests, the taller boy had left him, in search of actual females, most likely.
Great. Now what was he supposed to do? He hadn't seen Gary during their case of the
joint, and everyone else he knew to talk to, 'Ashley' had probably better avoid.
Geez, if it were possible for him to feel more out of place, he'd be pretty darned
surprised. Ash just didn't -do- parties, especially not while wearing women's
underwear. ...Wow, that sounded even worse than it actually was, if possible.
"Ah, uh... Ashley, was it?" Someone tapped his elbow, and Ash jumped, almost
knocking over Richie's proffered plastic cup full of snacks. "Would-- would you
like-- Um, want a chip?"
Oh dear.
+ + +
He knew someone was going to sing out an 'I told you so.'
"So, what happens when you run into trouble?" Misty had asked.
Ash had blinked. "Trouble? What do you mean?"
"For example, someone you know starts making a scene; you have to actually prove
you're a girl. Gary calls you on something. Your mom finds you out. You know,
trouble."
"Please stop saying that word... I keep thinking Team Rocket's going to show up,"
Brock had interrupted.
Ash had frowned. He was perfectly justified to dress up as a girl to catch guys,
right? If he absolutely had to, he meant. And he did. Really. So of course the
correct response was righteous indignance. "Why don't you understand that I'm going
to do this? I told you I'd fix your shirt, is there something -else- you want from
me?"
She'd given him a pointed look as she rifled through her magazine. "Yeah, I want to
make sure -you- understand what you're getting into, and how hard and how long
Brock and I will laugh at you if we have to get you out of it."
Ash had snorted. "Whatever. I've got things under control," he waved off. "I know
what I'm doing."
+ + +
"So, that's how I caught a lapras only using low-level rock types!" Richie finished
triumphantly.
Yup, Ash knew what he was doing all right... being bored to tears. Really, Richie
was his dear friend, and they'd laughed over some of the exact same stories just a
few hours before-- actually, perhaps that was part of his frustration.
Alternatively, it was the fact that he couldn't very well counter "Yeah, I had a
lapras too and we wandered around the Orange Islands together" without blowing
Ashley's cover story before it had even had a real reason to be used. Either way,
nowhere in Ash's plan for the evening was 'get the long version of Richie's every
exploit', and it wasn't turning out to be an exciting bonus. However, keeping
Richie talking about himself seemed to avoid the still more painful Making Small
Talk, and the longish silences that seemed to pepper each event. Who'd have thought
such a nice guy would have such trouble talking to the opposite sex (as it were)?
"Oh, was... was that okay?" Richie asked (again), sounding as if he'd run over
someone's cat, not told a slightly boring story about a slightly difficult task.
"Yeah, no problem," Ash giggled half-heartedly (again), wondering when it was
polite to run away screaming.
"Oh!" the boy exclaimed, brightening (again). "Ah, uh, maybe-- maybe I could do--
could tell one more?"
"Um," Ash replied, failing at not squirming uncomfortably.
"Is this guy bothering you?" broke in a familiar, deep (though still somewhat
nasal) voice. Like some sort of guardian angel -- if angels could be smug jerks who
wore leather -- Gary Oak appeared. Never before had Ash been so happy to see
someone. He leaned over the couch between Ash and Richie, giving Ash a winning
smile which changed to a disdainful sneer once turned to the other boy. The
brunette wilted, excusing himself and hurrying off to some other corner of the
room. "Now that's better, isn't it?" Gary smiled again.
A small part of Ash wanted to tell him that it was pretty mean to humiliate someone
at his own party, but a bigger part replied that it was stupid to insult the person
who saved you from dying of boredom, especially when you've been waiting for them
all night in drag. "Thanks," he said weakly.
"No problem," he waved off. Ash noted Gary had changed clothes from earlier today;
he now wore a purple and black baseball-style shirt made from some shiny material,
and black leather pants.
Hold on.
Who the heck wears leather pants?
Since when did Gary wear leather pants?
Since when did Gary look good in leather pants?
"Ah... nice pants," Ash said, shamefully having troubles looking away from them.
"You wear those all the time?" Oh yeah, there's some sweet talking. What kind of
line was that?
"Nope, wore 'em especially for you."
Was it possible to choke if you weren't drinking anything? No? Then Ash guessed he
wasn't choking, but it was close. "That's... nice," he managed.
"What, you don't like them?" Gary was mock put-out, turning around and showing off.
Leather was soft and shiny and body-hugging, and Ash was finding little complaints
with the idea of hugging this particular body. ...Oh no, he was beginning to think
like Brock... he was in trouble already.
"No! No... just a little surprising. Looks great." Understatement. He'd dreamt of
leather pants. Reality was not a disappointment.
"Well, coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment." He jumped the back of the
couch to land beside him. "Gary Oak," he said, sounding rather suave.
"I'm Ash-- Ashley Slate," he saved.
"I know." He smirked at Ash's expression of surprise. "I make it a point to know
the attractive people at every function." Now Ash blushed deeply. Gary sure was
good at spreading on the charm. "A pleasure."
Ash stuck out his hand to shake, but Gary took it palm-down in his, and kissed his
hand. Ash could feel heat prickle his neck, as he politely returned his hands to
his lap. He'd kissed him! On his hand, yeah, but still..! Was Gary hitting on him?
He thought Gary was hitting on him! This was just crazy. Ash felt giddy. This was
so much different than their exchange just a few hours earlier.
+ + +
And it wasn't like he hadn't tried. He had actually run into Gary that afternoon,
wandering around through another panelless hour.
"Oh-- hey," he'd stuttered, slightly embarrassed to have seen the teen, especially
as he'd been... thinking about him.
"What now, Ashy-boy?" Gary had eyed him archly, that same smug, challenging look
that Ash had always been sorely tempted to wipe from his face. Of course, the exact
method of doing so had decidedly changed of late, and Ash had reddened at the
thought.
"Enjoying the con?" Geez, he wished he could come up with something clever to say
for once.
The teen's expression had shifted slightly, though there was the same amount of
disdain. "As expected, there really isn't anything here worth my time. These panels
and workshops, while good for beginners and amateurs, are pretty worthless to
anyone who knows what they're doing. If not for my panel tomorrow, I wouldn't have
come at all."
"Maybe you shouldn't have," Ash had snapped automatically. "The PokeCon is a great
way to exchange ideas and information about pokemon training, breeding, and
everything. If you don't like it, it's not like you were asked to come."
"Actually, I was," Gary had replied nastily. "Though, I suppose if they'd invite me
to the same panel that you're on, it probably wouldn't be much of a loss to skip
either."
Clenching his fists, the dark-haired boy had visibly restrained himself from
leaping at Gary and having it out. "Why don't you just not show up then? It's not
like anyone will miss you or anything."
Gary had twitched; that had been what affected Ash the most; the look in his blue
eyes dark and roiling. Wresting his mouth into something barely controlled, he'd
stared at him, a cutting gaze that almost looked hurt. "Just leave me alone,
loser," he'd said finally, turning and walking off, hands stuffed into his pockets.
"But I was lying," he'd failed to say, as well as anything else to halt him. And
then Gary was gone.
He'd seen him again a bit later, but he'd been talking to someone, some girl, some
friend, some admirer, who knew. But he'd looked happy, and Ash had retreated
unnoticed, angry with himself. He hadn't been able to stop himself from arguing,
from deepening the chasm between them, and that had been exactly what he hadn't
wanted to do.
+ + +
Now he had the complete opposite-- Gary seemed more than willing to talk to him. Or
more. And oh boy, more...
--But. He couldn't just go crazy here. Hitting on -Ashley- wasn't doing anything
for -Ash-. And he had just wanted to -talk- to Gary, right? ...Of course, that was
before the leather pants... oh man...
Uh oh, silence; something he had learned from Richie that he must avoid at all
costs. "Gary... you're on that trainer panel tomorrow, right?" Geez, what had
posessed him to bring that up?
"Yeah. You planning on going? Your hands feel like a trainer's. You have some
pokemon of your own?"
"You could tell that just from k-- from touching my hand?" Ash examined his own.
They looked the same as always to him, save the painted nails. (There -was- a way
to get rid of that stuff, right?)
Gary chuckled. "You're not a typical girl, are you? You've got slight calluses on
your palm, like what you'd get from throwing a pokeball. You train a lot?"
So observant. That must be how he got all the good pokemon. Ash would have to be
really careful. "When I have time. I love pokemon, and helping them reach their
full potential. I know that if we train hard enough, my pokemon and I can be the
best we can, and do anything!"
"Like be a pokemon master?" Gary said, amused.
"Uh," Ash pontificated, trying not to completely freeze. "I... guess that's a
possibility. I never really thought about it much." Hopefully that sounded somewhat
believable.
"Really. You know, you really seem familiar. Have we met before?"
Yarg. "Well, um, you could be thinking of my cousin Brock, you might have met." Ash
angled his head towards where the dark-skinned boy was talking to a group of girls,
including Misty, who was sitting with her head buried in her arms. He squinted his
eyes, doing his best Brock impression.
"I see the family resemblance," Gary deadpanned.
"Yeah... you know us Slates. A little bit different than the norm," he laughed
nervously. Couldn't they please change the subject?
Gary snorted, a strange expression on his face. "Maybe the hoppip of humanity...
pretty worthless, but some people find them kinda cute."
"A hoppip?" Ash confirmed, not liking it any more the second time, despite
concentrating harder on the 'cute' part versus the 'worthless'. "I want a better
pokemon than -that-. It takes more than a strong wind to make me go away," he said
stubbornly, feeling rather pleased at how deep he sounded.
Gary raised both eyebrows, leaning back and appraising him. Ash wondered what he
saw... a mildly attractive girl with too much interest in him? A fool in drag? Or
just another warm body, someone useful for passing the time and that was it? It
actually frightened him, how much he was curious, how much he wanted a good opinion
from someone he'd fought with for the past however many years.
"So," Ash began shyly. "What honestly do you think?"
"An unown," Gary replied, wiping an invisible smudge from his pants. No, no, look
at his face, he's still talking. "Don't know their powers, don't know their type,
don't really know anything about them until you battle them or capture one."
"I'm that much of a mystery to you?" he said, a bit dismayed.
Purple-clad shoulders shrugged. "We've only met today, right?" Was that mocking in
his tone? "I guess you've got more insight? What pokemon do you think I'm like?"
Ash considered, scratching his head. "Well... maybe... a sandslash. Because it's
powerful. It's got a hard shell that's pretty tough to get past, but inside, it's a
solid, good pokemon. ...And it's spiky."
"Spiky?" Gary said with dismay, touching his (finely styled?) coif. "Guess with
your cousin, you would know."
"Ho ho ho," Brock approached, laughing mirthlessly though pleasantly, something
which sounded better before Ash had tried defining the thought. "My hair is a
carefully crafted pinnacle of style. You, Mr. Oak, have a Sonic the Hedgehog/bed-
head thing going on," he defined, then clapped his hands down on Ash's shoulders
hard enough to make him jump. "Ashley, dear, I was just letting you know that I'm
leaving. I expect I'll see you at the dance later on," he grinned. "Now, don't let
him get fresh and always remember you're a -lady-." This he whispered into Ash's
ear, though it was loud enough for everyone nearby to hear clearly. Ash was sure
this was intentional.
"Yes, -Mom-," he growled, face blazing.
"Ta-ta," Brock grinned, patting his head before walking off.
"Geez..." Ash smacked his hand to his forehead. "Sorry you had to hear that. It's
like he gets some perverse pleasure from teasing me."
Gary chuckled, placing his arms on the back of the sofa. "Well, it's not like it
happens all the time."
"Yeah, only like every day," he said sourly. "Why doesn't he ever pick on--"
Uh oh.
"Every day?" Gary said casually. "I thought you said you lived in Fuschia Town." He
left the rest unsaid, but he didn't need to elaborate. The image of Misty rolling
on the floor in laughter flitted through Ash's head.
"...I do. Brock calls, or one of his brothers... they all look the same." A rough
save, but Gary dropped it, and that was all that mattered.
"Okay, so with a gym leader in the family, do you feel a lot of pressure to be a
pokemon trainer?"
"Not really pressure. My mo-- my folks don't really mind whether I go or not," he
answered truthfully. "But I've always been interested in pokemon, and I hope I can
do well and not disappoint them." He smiled, emboldened. "What about you, Mr. Oak?
How is it being related to one of the greatest minds in pokemon academia today?"
Ash spoke with a tinge of mirth, but more honest curiosity. In all the times he'd
actually sat down and really thought about it (times admittedly few and far-
between), he honestly couldn't imagine what it'd be like to be related to Professor
Oak. Tracey would have probably offered to bear his children by now, for one... Ash
decided against asking Gary if he'd yet recieved the offer, especially considering
the dark expression that had flickered over his face at the words. "Is... is
something wrong?" Ash said timidly.
Gary stiffened, beginning one remark, then interrupting himself with another.
"Actually, it's pretty annoying to have people always asking about your family all
the time instead of you. Sometimes you get sick of playing second best, sick of
playing catch-up, sick of your own achievements being notable only as a comparison
to others'. Sometimes..." and this last was whispered away from him; Ash wasn't
certain he was meant to hear it, "sometimes I don't think I ever -can- catch up.
Sometimes I don't think I'm meant to."
He paused and Ash said nothing, absorbing this revelation. What... was he saying he
felt overshadowed by Professor Oak? ...Or someone else? ...Oh, come on, Gary Oak,
feel unconfident? This was the guy who showed up to some random party in leather
pants. You've gotta have self-confidence for that (among other assets...). Ash
shook his head. "I don't understand."
"You wouldn't, would you," he said oddly. "Sometimes I want to go away somewhere,
and see how long it takes anyone to notice. But then, I suppose no one would miss
me." Ash's head snapped up at this, the words from their earlier exchange stabbing
at him. He couldn't have taken that to heart... could he? Ash could feel him
mentally backing away; physically.
"No, Gary." He placed a hand on his arm, staying him. Ash wasn't exactly what
anyone would call a 'sensitive guy', someone in touch with the feelings of himself
or others, but he could tell this was probably something important, and they should
talk or something. He couldn't let him pull away now. "Help me understand. Or if
you don't want to talk about it, then let's change the subject. Just don't--" He
stopped, realizing he sounded rather pathetic.
Silence for a beat, auburn hair a shield from his gaze. Ash still stung; he had
never imagined that Gary might have worries; even when they were children, Gary had
always seemed so together...
Oh wow. That line was familiar... and he was just as wrong as Richie had been. More
wrong. Who didn't worry about something sometimes? If Ash hadn't Misty and Brock,
Tracey and Richie to talk through his problems with, who knew what he might be
like? So, of course, Gary talked to... who? Ash had often seen Gary alone, but for
an instant, he saw him as -lonely-. And that was a frighteningly illuminative
thought. What if that was what Gary had wanted back then? Someone to pull him out
of his shell, to squeeze out his insecurities, and then comfort him? Ash hadn't
done that; hadn't tried. He'd thought Gary cold and distant, and they grew apart.
What if instead, Ash could've...
No. 'what if's were pointless. This was now and maybe Ash could salvage something.
When Gary turned back, his face was back to a carefree mask. "Don't worry, it's not
a big deal. I'm used to it by now... I've been used to it for years. You do an
admirable job of sounding penitent, even if you aren't," he smirked, humor somewhat
returned.
"I am too penated, or whatever," Ash shot defensively. "You have a problem with me
being here, talking with you?" Not for the first time, Ash was afraid of the
answer.
Gary lazily stretched back, arching an eyebrow, though his body seemed slightly
tensed. "You're getting awfully agitated. You tell me."
"Fine, I will." It took effort not to just throw out some insult; to unclench his
fists. This wasn't what he ws here for. And while arguments were a convenient
crutch, he'd felt better sitting pressed against Gary on the couch, pretending to
have a quiet corner in the middle of the party. He sighed, considered running his
hands through his hair but thankfully remembered it had been gelled into
submission, and were he to touch it he may never detach said hand from his head.
"Come on, let's do something," he said, standing.
"Like what?" Gary queried, not moving.
"I dunno," Ash shrugged. Actually he did know, though it surprised him-- he wanted
to explore the feelings he'd stupidly only just realized Gary had; he wanted to
have a heart-to-heart and have Gary rely upon him like he'd relied on Gary when
they were children. He wanted to know what Gary wanted and needed and to become
that thing. He let all of this play over his face in the hopes that Gary might
breach the subject again. But he didn't, and Ash didn't know how. "Just walk
somewhere, move somewhere -- I mean -- if you still want me around," he said,
suddenly shy.
Gary made a show of considering, then nodded, taking Ash's outstretched hand. Ash
steadied himself to support the other teen's weight; he figured he'd just help him
up-- then he was yanked, falling forward. "Gary!" he yelped, cursing himself as
much as his companion. How many times as children had he done this? Ash would offer
to help Gary get his balance, and Gary would turn the tables, making him lose his
own.
...But this was slightly different. Instead of the drop to the floor or getting
caught in a headlock or whatever he usually ended up in, he was just balanced
there, one arm braced against the seat back, the other hand still in Gary's. Ash
could see the swirling emotion in his deep blue eyes, see the slight sheen on his
lips as he licked them (consciously? he would, conceited jerk), and could barely
breathe. Oh man, he was turning into one of those sappy losers from those stories
Misty didn't know he knew she read.
For once, Gary had no knowing smirk, no words, sour or otherwise, and Ash was left
floundering. It was fine and good feeling attracted to someone even if it was
another guy who was your biggest rival who hadn't seemed to like you since you were
eight, but actually -doing- something about it? Not that he wasn't curious, or
hadn't dreamt it already... Now that the pants were taken care of, he wondered how
Gary would really look in a dress... But no, there was no time for that, his blood
was pounding and the world seemed to focus on the one, his one beneath him, though
that could have just been a lack of oxygen-- oh yeah, breathing, forgot about that-
- but even his warped and unromantic sense of timing knew it was time for something
to happen, and his eyes half-lidded even as he knew that this probably wasn't a
good idea or even if it was maybe not right here or right now and he sure hoped his
breath was okay and--
"Ashley?" Richie attempted, tapping the transvestite on the shoulder. Jerked out of
his reverie, Ash whirled to face him. Of course, due to a mix of breathlessness and
surprise, he didn't quite account for the fact that he was coming from a strange
angle, and he ended up flinging himself into Richie, the pair knocked heads and
went crashing to the floor.
Uhh...
Faintly, Ash heard barely muffled laughter, even as he felt Richie's breathing
quicken atop him. "Are... are you okay?" he asked, too dazed to look.
This reply was muffled too, though it seemed to be coming from a lot closer. Ash
finally raised his head. "Richie..."
Of all the-- Geez. He was trapped in a boys' manga story-- except he wasn't the
boy. While Ash himself had run into part of a chair or discarded shoe or something
else that would probably make his back sore for the rest of the weekend, Richie had
done a great job of breaking his fall with Ash, and now was lying red-faced, head
cradled in Ash's rather ample chest. Oh come on, Richie, they weren't that
exciting; they weren't even real.
oh wait.
Upon Misty's suggestion (and any comments on how she may have come across such
information were threatened with fates worse than death), Ash's 'breasts' were
water balloons filled with pudding. "They have the most natural feel," she claimed.
He didn't know to disagree, and both refused Brock's offer to try them out, so
that's what was decided on. Where the heck they got pudding on such short notice
from was a mystery to him. A waste of good dessert, in his opinion. Anyway, they'd
been stuffed into his (itchy!) bra and Ash had done his best to ignore their
existence. However, his brain churned, water balloons weren't the most structurally
sound items in the world. If his boobs started leaking...
"YAAAH!" he yelled, shoving Richie off and running from the room. After checking
that the hall was clear, he pulled up his shirt, checking for leaks.
"Hey, you okay?" Gary asked from behind him, way too much mirth in his voice. Ash
nearly jumped out of his skin (again), dropping his hands out of his shirt.
"Don't -do- that," Ash accused, noting thankfully that his hands were chocolate-
free.
"That was an interesting show. I think you'll be keeping Richie awake for weeks,"
he commented with a pleasant smile.
"Please don't talk about that," Ash said miserably, pulling at his blouse.
"He's just seen the motherland; gone where no Richie's ever gone before. He'll
never be the same."
"I think I'm going to be ill," he said, stumbling towards the elevators. Gary
slouched beside him, laughing. Why did he like this guy again?
"How 'bout we hit the dance after this? It'll do you good."
Ash paused, blinking for clarification. "You want to go to the dance? With me?"
"Unless you'd rather go with Richie," Gary said innocently. "I'm sure at this point
he'd be more than willing."
Ash grimaced, giving Gary a scathing look. "Let's go then," he bit, stabbing at the
button for the elevator. His companion just chuckled. The ride down to the lobby
was in a companionable silence; Ash had nothing to say, and Gary volunteered
nothing, but he assumed they were all right. At least they weren't fighting. He was
so confused...
"Hey, Ashley," Gary said seriously, putting a hand on his opposite shoulder. "Don't
get too freaked out by anything so far. I've been having an interesting time, and I
hope you have as well. Let's see what the rest of the night will bring, eh?"
Ash nodded mutely, at once confused by the statement and achingly curious as to
what the rest of the evening -would- bring. Then Gary squeezed his shoulder
reassuringly, and he allowed himself a slight flush. Maybe... well, he said he
wouldn't 'what if', but, maybe...
The elevator opened onto the lobby, and they stepped out, Gary dropping his
shoulder, but still walking close enough beside him as to just barely brush arms.
On impulse, Ash grabbed Gary's hand. After a second's hesitation, he closed his
fingers over Ash's. And so they walked to the dance.
Ash really didn't know that he'd made any progress with Gary at all... but he was
still convinced that he wanted to.
+ + +
tbc.
+ + +
+ + +
[notes]
+ the part that will never end... So, I guess there's going to be six chapters
now... blarg.
+ I told you there'd (finally) be some Gary. Gary in leather no less. Too much J-
Rock for Erin, perhaps? Hey, be happy I didn't give him the red vinyl outfit I saw
on some boy band on TV the other day... that'd just be horrifying. (God, they
couldn't sing.)
+ Poor Richie... *snicker*
+ Yay, I didn't destroy my prereader! Thanks to eRN56! You rock! There's only
myself to blame for the horrible OOCness tho, which is even more pronounced now
than in the draft... *sigh*
+ Okay, I lied about the Pokemon noodle commercial... I forget how it goes. They
look really scary, anyway; who wants to eat Pichu-shaped fish cakes?
[next]
So it looks like next week's (japn) Pokemon is going to have a confrontation with
the people who stole the evil green thing and shot it's mom in a graphic angstily
symbolic scene out of some other anime that it irks me I can't place. Apparently
the mom isn't dead, so maybe they'll return it because I should think Pikachu would
be angry it isn't the love of Satoshi's life anymore, or at least Bayleef would try
to kick its ass. I mean, howcome Takeshi doesn't get an animal to carry around?
Satoshi has -two-, and who doesn't benefit from hearing more Ueda Yuuji? Really,
they should just write all those others out of the show, and just have Team Rocket
and Brock wander around, maybe with Pikachu guesting from time to time. They could
call it the Brock Show. Like the Brak show, but not. Hey, -I-'d watch it...
[...er... next 'driving']
Aheh-heh-heh... sorry, got a little carried away. Um, dancing, Gary, oblique
eldershipping references, hot nekkid Brock action. Okay, not that last. (*snif*)
hatched being possessed by an unown and going through severe psychological trauma
that needed sensitive hero As-- er, Satoshi to solve by cracking the beat-over-the-
head symbolistic shell of his hatred towards humans through electricity and fists.
This chapter of 'driving' is almost exactly like that, except with a lot less
angsty green pokemon, symbolism, trauma, electricity, and giant togepis. There is,
however, the requisite commercial for Pokemon noodles.
+ + +
+ + +
Three minutes later, Ash's buoyant mood had begun to flag. "Brock-- what am I gonna
do?"
The taller boy rolled his eyes as he primped in front of the mirror. "First thing,
calm down. Your name is Ashley Slate. You're my cousin from outside of Fuschia
Town. Nobody lives out there, so you shouldn't get many questions."
"Right. Okay. Got it, Pikachu?"
"Pika..." it said amusedly.
"Actually, Pikachu, you'd probably better not go-- it'll be too suspicious if a kid
named Ash with a pikachu shows up."
"Sorry," Ash said. "Well, uh, see you 'round, then." Somehow he felt slightly naked
without Pikachu at his side... but he had to be strong. Pikachu was counting on
him!
"I'll keep tabs on any good dirt for you," Brock grinned to the animal. "Ash. Keep
your key and con badge in your pocket. All other personal details are up to you.
Try not to lie too much so you won't forget. Be general. Don't act like a guy,
don't act like a kid, and don't mess up. I've put too much into this to fail now,
Ash! We must be victorious!"
"Wow, Brock... Do you really think this will work?"
"Honestly? I'm thinking crash and burn. But it'll be entertaining either way, so
why not help out?"
"Thanks for the vote of confidence..."
+ + +
driving on the right
by erin ellis
four: lie lie lie
+ + +
Ash checked his breath and made sure everything was in place, and Brock knocked the
door. After a second it swung open, the smiling face of Richie just behind. "Hey
Brock, glad you could make it. And who's this?"
"This is my cousin Ashley. The rest of the family's out with the children, so I
thought I'd show her around the con. Ashley, this is Richie."
"How do you do?" Ash said in a passably female voice.
"Um, hi, I'm Richie," the brown-haired boy flushed slightly. "Come on in." Richie
or his parents (who, like most family of people Ash knew, may or may not have
actually existed) had splurged on a suite, so in addition to having a huge king
bed, there was a table and chairs and a couple small couches scattered about the
large living space. These were all filled with young folks, some of whom Ash
recognized, more who he didn't. Maybe it wouldn't be too hard to pass here after
all.
"Here, cuz, let me show you around." Brock led him through the groups of people,
introducing 'Ashley' to some, but passing by others. Ash was certain that Duplica
was giving him a funny look... he smiled faintly and moved closer to Brock.
"How about I get you a soda?" Brock said helpfully, and before Ash could make any
protests, the taller boy had left him, in search of actual females, most likely.
Great. Now what was he supposed to do? He hadn't seen Gary during their case of the
joint, and everyone else he knew to talk to, 'Ashley' had probably better avoid.
Geez, if it were possible for him to feel more out of place, he'd be pretty darned
surprised. Ash just didn't -do- parties, especially not while wearing women's
underwear. ...Wow, that sounded even worse than it actually was, if possible.
"Ah, uh... Ashley, was it?" Someone tapped his elbow, and Ash jumped, almost
knocking over Richie's proffered plastic cup full of snacks. "Would-- would you
like-- Um, want a chip?"
Oh dear.
+ + +
He knew someone was going to sing out an 'I told you so.'
"So, what happens when you run into trouble?" Misty had asked.
Ash had blinked. "Trouble? What do you mean?"
"For example, someone you know starts making a scene; you have to actually prove
you're a girl. Gary calls you on something. Your mom finds you out. You know,
trouble."
"Please stop saying that word... I keep thinking Team Rocket's going to show up,"
Brock had interrupted.
Ash had frowned. He was perfectly justified to dress up as a girl to catch guys,
right? If he absolutely had to, he meant. And he did. Really. So of course the
correct response was righteous indignance. "Why don't you understand that I'm going
to do this? I told you I'd fix your shirt, is there something -else- you want from
me?"
She'd given him a pointed look as she rifled through her magazine. "Yeah, I want to
make sure -you- understand what you're getting into, and how hard and how long
Brock and I will laugh at you if we have to get you out of it."
Ash had snorted. "Whatever. I've got things under control," he waved off. "I know
what I'm doing."
+ + +
"So, that's how I caught a lapras only using low-level rock types!" Richie finished
triumphantly.
Yup, Ash knew what he was doing all right... being bored to tears. Really, Richie
was his dear friend, and they'd laughed over some of the exact same stories just a
few hours before-- actually, perhaps that was part of his frustration.
Alternatively, it was the fact that he couldn't very well counter "Yeah, I had a
lapras too and we wandered around the Orange Islands together" without blowing
Ashley's cover story before it had even had a real reason to be used. Either way,
nowhere in Ash's plan for the evening was 'get the long version of Richie's every
exploit', and it wasn't turning out to be an exciting bonus. However, keeping
Richie talking about himself seemed to avoid the still more painful Making Small
Talk, and the longish silences that seemed to pepper each event. Who'd have thought
such a nice guy would have such trouble talking to the opposite sex (as it were)?
"Oh, was... was that okay?" Richie asked (again), sounding as if he'd run over
someone's cat, not told a slightly boring story about a slightly difficult task.
"Yeah, no problem," Ash giggled half-heartedly (again), wondering when it was
polite to run away screaming.
"Oh!" the boy exclaimed, brightening (again). "Ah, uh, maybe-- maybe I could do--
could tell one more?"
"Um," Ash replied, failing at not squirming uncomfortably.
"Is this guy bothering you?" broke in a familiar, deep (though still somewhat
nasal) voice. Like some sort of guardian angel -- if angels could be smug jerks who
wore leather -- Gary Oak appeared. Never before had Ash been so happy to see
someone. He leaned over the couch between Ash and Richie, giving Ash a winning
smile which changed to a disdainful sneer once turned to the other boy. The
brunette wilted, excusing himself and hurrying off to some other corner of the
room. "Now that's better, isn't it?" Gary smiled again.
A small part of Ash wanted to tell him that it was pretty mean to humiliate someone
at his own party, but a bigger part replied that it was stupid to insult the person
who saved you from dying of boredom, especially when you've been waiting for them
all night in drag. "Thanks," he said weakly.
"No problem," he waved off. Ash noted Gary had changed clothes from earlier today;
he now wore a purple and black baseball-style shirt made from some shiny material,
and black leather pants.
Hold on.
Who the heck wears leather pants?
Since when did Gary wear leather pants?
Since when did Gary look good in leather pants?
"Ah... nice pants," Ash said, shamefully having troubles looking away from them.
"You wear those all the time?" Oh yeah, there's some sweet talking. What kind of
line was that?
"Nope, wore 'em especially for you."
Was it possible to choke if you weren't drinking anything? No? Then Ash guessed he
wasn't choking, but it was close. "That's... nice," he managed.
"What, you don't like them?" Gary was mock put-out, turning around and showing off.
Leather was soft and shiny and body-hugging, and Ash was finding little complaints
with the idea of hugging this particular body. ...Oh no, he was beginning to think
like Brock... he was in trouble already.
"No! No... just a little surprising. Looks great." Understatement. He'd dreamt of
leather pants. Reality was not a disappointment.
"Well, coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment." He jumped the back of the
couch to land beside him. "Gary Oak," he said, sounding rather suave.
"I'm Ash-- Ashley Slate," he saved.
"I know." He smirked at Ash's expression of surprise. "I make it a point to know
the attractive people at every function." Now Ash blushed deeply. Gary sure was
good at spreading on the charm. "A pleasure."
Ash stuck out his hand to shake, but Gary took it palm-down in his, and kissed his
hand. Ash could feel heat prickle his neck, as he politely returned his hands to
his lap. He'd kissed him! On his hand, yeah, but still..! Was Gary hitting on him?
He thought Gary was hitting on him! This was just crazy. Ash felt giddy. This was
so much different than their exchange just a few hours earlier.
+ + +
And it wasn't like he hadn't tried. He had actually run into Gary that afternoon,
wandering around through another panelless hour.
"Oh-- hey," he'd stuttered, slightly embarrassed to have seen the teen, especially
as he'd been... thinking about him.
"What now, Ashy-boy?" Gary had eyed him archly, that same smug, challenging look
that Ash had always been sorely tempted to wipe from his face. Of course, the exact
method of doing so had decidedly changed of late, and Ash had reddened at the
thought.
"Enjoying the con?" Geez, he wished he could come up with something clever to say
for once.
The teen's expression had shifted slightly, though there was the same amount of
disdain. "As expected, there really isn't anything here worth my time. These panels
and workshops, while good for beginners and amateurs, are pretty worthless to
anyone who knows what they're doing. If not for my panel tomorrow, I wouldn't have
come at all."
"Maybe you shouldn't have," Ash had snapped automatically. "The PokeCon is a great
way to exchange ideas and information about pokemon training, breeding, and
everything. If you don't like it, it's not like you were asked to come."
"Actually, I was," Gary had replied nastily. "Though, I suppose if they'd invite me
to the same panel that you're on, it probably wouldn't be much of a loss to skip
either."
Clenching his fists, the dark-haired boy had visibly restrained himself from
leaping at Gary and having it out. "Why don't you just not show up then? It's not
like anyone will miss you or anything."
Gary had twitched; that had been what affected Ash the most; the look in his blue
eyes dark and roiling. Wresting his mouth into something barely controlled, he'd
stared at him, a cutting gaze that almost looked hurt. "Just leave me alone,
loser," he'd said finally, turning and walking off, hands stuffed into his pockets.
"But I was lying," he'd failed to say, as well as anything else to halt him. And
then Gary was gone.
He'd seen him again a bit later, but he'd been talking to someone, some girl, some
friend, some admirer, who knew. But he'd looked happy, and Ash had retreated
unnoticed, angry with himself. He hadn't been able to stop himself from arguing,
from deepening the chasm between them, and that had been exactly what he hadn't
wanted to do.
+ + +
Now he had the complete opposite-- Gary seemed more than willing to talk to him. Or
more. And oh boy, more...
--But. He couldn't just go crazy here. Hitting on -Ashley- wasn't doing anything
for -Ash-. And he had just wanted to -talk- to Gary, right? ...Of course, that was
before the leather pants... oh man...
Uh oh, silence; something he had learned from Richie that he must avoid at all
costs. "Gary... you're on that trainer panel tomorrow, right?" Geez, what had
posessed him to bring that up?
"Yeah. You planning on going? Your hands feel like a trainer's. You have some
pokemon of your own?"
"You could tell that just from k-- from touching my hand?" Ash examined his own.
They looked the same as always to him, save the painted nails. (There -was- a way
to get rid of that stuff, right?)
Gary chuckled. "You're not a typical girl, are you? You've got slight calluses on
your palm, like what you'd get from throwing a pokeball. You train a lot?"
So observant. That must be how he got all the good pokemon. Ash would have to be
really careful. "When I have time. I love pokemon, and helping them reach their
full potential. I know that if we train hard enough, my pokemon and I can be the
best we can, and do anything!"
"Like be a pokemon master?" Gary said, amused.
"Uh," Ash pontificated, trying not to completely freeze. "I... guess that's a
possibility. I never really thought about it much." Hopefully that sounded somewhat
believable.
"Really. You know, you really seem familiar. Have we met before?"
Yarg. "Well, um, you could be thinking of my cousin Brock, you might have met." Ash
angled his head towards where the dark-skinned boy was talking to a group of girls,
including Misty, who was sitting with her head buried in her arms. He squinted his
eyes, doing his best Brock impression.
"I see the family resemblance," Gary deadpanned.
"Yeah... you know us Slates. A little bit different than the norm," he laughed
nervously. Couldn't they please change the subject?
Gary snorted, a strange expression on his face. "Maybe the hoppip of humanity...
pretty worthless, but some people find them kinda cute."
"A hoppip?" Ash confirmed, not liking it any more the second time, despite
concentrating harder on the 'cute' part versus the 'worthless'. "I want a better
pokemon than -that-. It takes more than a strong wind to make me go away," he said
stubbornly, feeling rather pleased at how deep he sounded.
Gary raised both eyebrows, leaning back and appraising him. Ash wondered what he
saw... a mildly attractive girl with too much interest in him? A fool in drag? Or
just another warm body, someone useful for passing the time and that was it? It
actually frightened him, how much he was curious, how much he wanted a good opinion
from someone he'd fought with for the past however many years.
"So," Ash began shyly. "What honestly do you think?"
"An unown," Gary replied, wiping an invisible smudge from his pants. No, no, look
at his face, he's still talking. "Don't know their powers, don't know their type,
don't really know anything about them until you battle them or capture one."
"I'm that much of a mystery to you?" he said, a bit dismayed.
Purple-clad shoulders shrugged. "We've only met today, right?" Was that mocking in
his tone? "I guess you've got more insight? What pokemon do you think I'm like?"
Ash considered, scratching his head. "Well... maybe... a sandslash. Because it's
powerful. It's got a hard shell that's pretty tough to get past, but inside, it's a
solid, good pokemon. ...And it's spiky."
"Spiky?" Gary said with dismay, touching his (finely styled?) coif. "Guess with
your cousin, you would know."
"Ho ho ho," Brock approached, laughing mirthlessly though pleasantly, something
which sounded better before Ash had tried defining the thought. "My hair is a
carefully crafted pinnacle of style. You, Mr. Oak, have a Sonic the Hedgehog/bed-
head thing going on," he defined, then clapped his hands down on Ash's shoulders
hard enough to make him jump. "Ashley, dear, I was just letting you know that I'm
leaving. I expect I'll see you at the dance later on," he grinned. "Now, don't let
him get fresh and always remember you're a -lady-." This he whispered into Ash's
ear, though it was loud enough for everyone nearby to hear clearly. Ash was sure
this was intentional.
"Yes, -Mom-," he growled, face blazing.
"Ta-ta," Brock grinned, patting his head before walking off.
"Geez..." Ash smacked his hand to his forehead. "Sorry you had to hear that. It's
like he gets some perverse pleasure from teasing me."
Gary chuckled, placing his arms on the back of the sofa. "Well, it's not like it
happens all the time."
"Yeah, only like every day," he said sourly. "Why doesn't he ever pick on--"
Uh oh.
"Every day?" Gary said casually. "I thought you said you lived in Fuschia Town." He
left the rest unsaid, but he didn't need to elaborate. The image of Misty rolling
on the floor in laughter flitted through Ash's head.
"...I do. Brock calls, or one of his brothers... they all look the same." A rough
save, but Gary dropped it, and that was all that mattered.
"Okay, so with a gym leader in the family, do you feel a lot of pressure to be a
pokemon trainer?"
"Not really pressure. My mo-- my folks don't really mind whether I go or not," he
answered truthfully. "But I've always been interested in pokemon, and I hope I can
do well and not disappoint them." He smiled, emboldened. "What about you, Mr. Oak?
How is it being related to one of the greatest minds in pokemon academia today?"
Ash spoke with a tinge of mirth, but more honest curiosity. In all the times he'd
actually sat down and really thought about it (times admittedly few and far-
between), he honestly couldn't imagine what it'd be like to be related to Professor
Oak. Tracey would have probably offered to bear his children by now, for one... Ash
decided against asking Gary if he'd yet recieved the offer, especially considering
the dark expression that had flickered over his face at the words. "Is... is
something wrong?" Ash said timidly.
Gary stiffened, beginning one remark, then interrupting himself with another.
"Actually, it's pretty annoying to have people always asking about your family all
the time instead of you. Sometimes you get sick of playing second best, sick of
playing catch-up, sick of your own achievements being notable only as a comparison
to others'. Sometimes..." and this last was whispered away from him; Ash wasn't
certain he was meant to hear it, "sometimes I don't think I ever -can- catch up.
Sometimes I don't think I'm meant to."
He paused and Ash said nothing, absorbing this revelation. What... was he saying he
felt overshadowed by Professor Oak? ...Or someone else? ...Oh, come on, Gary Oak,
feel unconfident? This was the guy who showed up to some random party in leather
pants. You've gotta have self-confidence for that (among other assets...). Ash
shook his head. "I don't understand."
"You wouldn't, would you," he said oddly. "Sometimes I want to go away somewhere,
and see how long it takes anyone to notice. But then, I suppose no one would miss
me." Ash's head snapped up at this, the words from their earlier exchange stabbing
at him. He couldn't have taken that to heart... could he? Ash could feel him
mentally backing away; physically.
"No, Gary." He placed a hand on his arm, staying him. Ash wasn't exactly what
anyone would call a 'sensitive guy', someone in touch with the feelings of himself
or others, but he could tell this was probably something important, and they should
talk or something. He couldn't let him pull away now. "Help me understand. Or if
you don't want to talk about it, then let's change the subject. Just don't--" He
stopped, realizing he sounded rather pathetic.
Silence for a beat, auburn hair a shield from his gaze. Ash still stung; he had
never imagined that Gary might have worries; even when they were children, Gary had
always seemed so together...
Oh wow. That line was familiar... and he was just as wrong as Richie had been. More
wrong. Who didn't worry about something sometimes? If Ash hadn't Misty and Brock,
Tracey and Richie to talk through his problems with, who knew what he might be
like? So, of course, Gary talked to... who? Ash had often seen Gary alone, but for
an instant, he saw him as -lonely-. And that was a frighteningly illuminative
thought. What if that was what Gary had wanted back then? Someone to pull him out
of his shell, to squeeze out his insecurities, and then comfort him? Ash hadn't
done that; hadn't tried. He'd thought Gary cold and distant, and they grew apart.
What if instead, Ash could've...
No. 'what if's were pointless. This was now and maybe Ash could salvage something.
When Gary turned back, his face was back to a carefree mask. "Don't worry, it's not
a big deal. I'm used to it by now... I've been used to it for years. You do an
admirable job of sounding penitent, even if you aren't," he smirked, humor somewhat
returned.
"I am too penated, or whatever," Ash shot defensively. "You have a problem with me
being here, talking with you?" Not for the first time, Ash was afraid of the
answer.
Gary lazily stretched back, arching an eyebrow, though his body seemed slightly
tensed. "You're getting awfully agitated. You tell me."
"Fine, I will." It took effort not to just throw out some insult; to unclench his
fists. This wasn't what he ws here for. And while arguments were a convenient
crutch, he'd felt better sitting pressed against Gary on the couch, pretending to
have a quiet corner in the middle of the party. He sighed, considered running his
hands through his hair but thankfully remembered it had been gelled into
submission, and were he to touch it he may never detach said hand from his head.
"Come on, let's do something," he said, standing.
"Like what?" Gary queried, not moving.
"I dunno," Ash shrugged. Actually he did know, though it surprised him-- he wanted
to explore the feelings he'd stupidly only just realized Gary had; he wanted to
have a heart-to-heart and have Gary rely upon him like he'd relied on Gary when
they were children. He wanted to know what Gary wanted and needed and to become
that thing. He let all of this play over his face in the hopes that Gary might
breach the subject again. But he didn't, and Ash didn't know how. "Just walk
somewhere, move somewhere -- I mean -- if you still want me around," he said,
suddenly shy.
Gary made a show of considering, then nodded, taking Ash's outstretched hand. Ash
steadied himself to support the other teen's weight; he figured he'd just help him
up-- then he was yanked, falling forward. "Gary!" he yelped, cursing himself as
much as his companion. How many times as children had he done this? Ash would offer
to help Gary get his balance, and Gary would turn the tables, making him lose his
own.
...But this was slightly different. Instead of the drop to the floor or getting
caught in a headlock or whatever he usually ended up in, he was just balanced
there, one arm braced against the seat back, the other hand still in Gary's. Ash
could see the swirling emotion in his deep blue eyes, see the slight sheen on his
lips as he licked them (consciously? he would, conceited jerk), and could barely
breathe. Oh man, he was turning into one of those sappy losers from those stories
Misty didn't know he knew she read.
For once, Gary had no knowing smirk, no words, sour or otherwise, and Ash was left
floundering. It was fine and good feeling attracted to someone even if it was
another guy who was your biggest rival who hadn't seemed to like you since you were
eight, but actually -doing- something about it? Not that he wasn't curious, or
hadn't dreamt it already... Now that the pants were taken care of, he wondered how
Gary would really look in a dress... But no, there was no time for that, his blood
was pounding and the world seemed to focus on the one, his one beneath him, though
that could have just been a lack of oxygen-- oh yeah, breathing, forgot about that-
- but even his warped and unromantic sense of timing knew it was time for something
to happen, and his eyes half-lidded even as he knew that this probably wasn't a
good idea or even if it was maybe not right here or right now and he sure hoped his
breath was okay and--
"Ashley?" Richie attempted, tapping the transvestite on the shoulder. Jerked out of
his reverie, Ash whirled to face him. Of course, due to a mix of breathlessness and
surprise, he didn't quite account for the fact that he was coming from a strange
angle, and he ended up flinging himself into Richie, the pair knocked heads and
went crashing to the floor.
Uhh...
Faintly, Ash heard barely muffled laughter, even as he felt Richie's breathing
quicken atop him. "Are... are you okay?" he asked, too dazed to look.
This reply was muffled too, though it seemed to be coming from a lot closer. Ash
finally raised his head. "Richie..."
Of all the-- Geez. He was trapped in a boys' manga story-- except he wasn't the
boy. While Ash himself had run into part of a chair or discarded shoe or something
else that would probably make his back sore for the rest of the weekend, Richie had
done a great job of breaking his fall with Ash, and now was lying red-faced, head
cradled in Ash's rather ample chest. Oh come on, Richie, they weren't that
exciting; they weren't even real.
oh wait.
Upon Misty's suggestion (and any comments on how she may have come across such
information were threatened with fates worse than death), Ash's 'breasts' were
water balloons filled with pudding. "They have the most natural feel," she claimed.
He didn't know to disagree, and both refused Brock's offer to try them out, so
that's what was decided on. Where the heck they got pudding on such short notice
from was a mystery to him. A waste of good dessert, in his opinion. Anyway, they'd
been stuffed into his (itchy!) bra and Ash had done his best to ignore their
existence. However, his brain churned, water balloons weren't the most structurally
sound items in the world. If his boobs started leaking...
"YAAAH!" he yelled, shoving Richie off and running from the room. After checking
that the hall was clear, he pulled up his shirt, checking for leaks.
"Hey, you okay?" Gary asked from behind him, way too much mirth in his voice. Ash
nearly jumped out of his skin (again), dropping his hands out of his shirt.
"Don't -do- that," Ash accused, noting thankfully that his hands were chocolate-
free.
"That was an interesting show. I think you'll be keeping Richie awake for weeks,"
he commented with a pleasant smile.
"Please don't talk about that," Ash said miserably, pulling at his blouse.
"He's just seen the motherland; gone where no Richie's ever gone before. He'll
never be the same."
"I think I'm going to be ill," he said, stumbling towards the elevators. Gary
slouched beside him, laughing. Why did he like this guy again?
"How 'bout we hit the dance after this? It'll do you good."
Ash paused, blinking for clarification. "You want to go to the dance? With me?"
"Unless you'd rather go with Richie," Gary said innocently. "I'm sure at this point
he'd be more than willing."
Ash grimaced, giving Gary a scathing look. "Let's go then," he bit, stabbing at the
button for the elevator. His companion just chuckled. The ride down to the lobby
was in a companionable silence; Ash had nothing to say, and Gary volunteered
nothing, but he assumed they were all right. At least they weren't fighting. He was
so confused...
"Hey, Ashley," Gary said seriously, putting a hand on his opposite shoulder. "Don't
get too freaked out by anything so far. I've been having an interesting time, and I
hope you have as well. Let's see what the rest of the night will bring, eh?"
Ash nodded mutely, at once confused by the statement and achingly curious as to
what the rest of the evening -would- bring. Then Gary squeezed his shoulder
reassuringly, and he allowed himself a slight flush. Maybe... well, he said he
wouldn't 'what if', but, maybe...
The elevator opened onto the lobby, and they stepped out, Gary dropping his
shoulder, but still walking close enough beside him as to just barely brush arms.
On impulse, Ash grabbed Gary's hand. After a second's hesitation, he closed his
fingers over Ash's. And so they walked to the dance.
Ash really didn't know that he'd made any progress with Gary at all... but he was
still convinced that he wanted to.
+ + +
tbc.
+ + +
+ + +
[notes]
+ the part that will never end... So, I guess there's going to be six chapters
now... blarg.
+ I told you there'd (finally) be some Gary. Gary in leather no less. Too much J-
Rock for Erin, perhaps? Hey, be happy I didn't give him the red vinyl outfit I saw
on some boy band on TV the other day... that'd just be horrifying. (God, they
couldn't sing.)
+ Poor Richie... *snicker*
+ Yay, I didn't destroy my prereader! Thanks to eRN56! You rock! There's only
myself to blame for the horrible OOCness tho, which is even more pronounced now
than in the draft... *sigh*
+ Okay, I lied about the Pokemon noodle commercial... I forget how it goes. They
look really scary, anyway; who wants to eat Pichu-shaped fish cakes?
[next]
So it looks like next week's (japn) Pokemon is going to have a confrontation with
the people who stole the evil green thing and shot it's mom in a graphic angstily
symbolic scene out of some other anime that it irks me I can't place. Apparently
the mom isn't dead, so maybe they'll return it because I should think Pikachu would
be angry it isn't the love of Satoshi's life anymore, or at least Bayleef would try
to kick its ass. I mean, howcome Takeshi doesn't get an animal to carry around?
Satoshi has -two-, and who doesn't benefit from hearing more Ueda Yuuji? Really,
they should just write all those others out of the show, and just have Team Rocket
and Brock wander around, maybe with Pikachu guesting from time to time. They could
call it the Brock Show. Like the Brak show, but not. Hey, -I-'d watch it...
[...er... next 'driving']
Aheh-heh-heh... sorry, got a little carried away. Um, dancing, Gary, oblique
eldershipping references, hot nekkid Brock action. Okay, not that last. (*snif*)