To Arms!

Summary: Ash and Misty find themselves embroiled in a vicious, bloody, drawn-out…practical joke war?

A/N: I apologize for the delay in posting this chapter. I wasn't really busy, per se; I was actually lounging around the house in my pajamas, eating Chocolate Peanut Butter Cup ice cream and watching crappy Lifetime movies.

I got a review from cultnirvana! Two of them! ME! Sorry, but she's been one of my absolute favorite authors for awhile now, so that really made my day.

Also, Erina-chan reviewed "J'attendrai". If you haven't read her stories yet, close this window and peruse them now. (I am not worthy!)

I should probably note that Ash (and possibly Misty) may seem a bit OOC, but since these are the characters' older personas, there's really no definite rule about how they act. Artistic license…how I love thee…

Props to Ben Johnson and Optimus Magnus for getting the 'Van Halen' reference (Back to the Future).

Disclaimer: see chpt. 1

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Brock glanced nervously at the two people sitting in moody silence at the breakfast table, shooting vicious glares at each other between mouthfuls of cereal. He wasn't exactly sure what had occurred in the middle of the night, but he knew that it involved much screaming and cursing. "So…anything interesting happen last night?" Brock asked hesitantly as he sat down in the chair across the table from them.

"Sorry, Brock, could you repeat the question?" Ash asked sarcastically. "I'm having a little trouble hearing since some crazy bitch came into my room and blasted Van Halen into my eardrums at a mega-decibel level."

Misty rolled her eyes a little but remained silent.

"Uh, okay…" Brock said nervously, not at all comfortable with the thick tension hanging between his two traveling companions.

"Well," Ash began, getting up and dropping his bowl with a loud 'clank' into the sink, "if anyone needs me, I'll be in the shower."

"Make sure you remember to bring a towel," Misty said in a mock-cheery voice, smiling dangerously as he left the kitchen.

"Okay, now that Ash is gone, you wanna tell me just what the hell is happening between you two?" Brock asked seriously, crossing his arms across his chest and leaning back in his chair.

"Ash is being a complete asshole, that's what," Misty informed him, pouring herself another bowl of Frosted Flakes. "Last night, he stole all the towels out of the bathroom while I was in the shower and left me without a stitch of clothing."

"And where was I when this happened?" Brock said jokingly. "Kidding, kidding!" he quickly amended as he observed that telltale dangerous glint in Misty's eyes. "Seriously, Mist, he was probably just trying to get you back for being such a slave-driver yesterday; you were working him pretty hard."

Misty sighed a little and rested her chin in her hand. "I really don't mean to be so hard on him; it just sort of always ends up that way."

"Why don't you just apologize?" he asked.

"Are you kidding?! Apologize to Ash? No way, Brock; I refuse to let him have that kind of satisfaction. Besides, this whole thing's his fault."

"Who cares whose fault it is? You have to be the mature one here; we both know there's no way Ash is."
Misty frowned a little as she grudgingly admitted to herself that Brock was probably right. "…okay, I'll apologize." She grinned a little. I got the last laugh, anyway.

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Ash furrowed his brow as he distractedly lathered the shampoo into his dark locks. I've got to get her back somehow, he thought to himself, so immersed in his thoughts that he failed to notice that he was using his mother's strawberry-scented shampoo. But how? He let out a low growl of frustration. Let's see…it has to be thoroughly humiliating—that's a given. But I don't want to really hurt her…yes, the key word here is definitely "humiliation".

For some reason, try as he might to keep his mind on the task at hand, his thoughts kept drifting back to that incredibly alluring mental image of his dream girl standing before him, dripping wet, clad in only a slightly frosted shower curtain. Ash rested his head against the cool tile of the shower, imagining Misty seductively pushing him into the bedroom, slowly peeling off the curtain—

"Damn it, Ash, would you hurry up in there?! I have to talk to you!"

Ash's eyes flew open as he realized just where his mind had been. Way to ruin a fantasy, Mist, he thought with a deep sigh, begrudgingly switching off the water and stepping out of the shower. "I'll be out in a minute, Misty!" he yelled back, making sure to inject just the right amount of annoyance into his voice. Getting Misty mad in just the right way was a very delicate operation. Almost an art form, Ash mused as he wrapped a towel around his waist. One that's taken me…oh, eight years to master.

"Now, Ash!"

Smirking a little (and still more than a bit restless from his little 'shower fantasy', but he was willing to chalk that up to too much steam in the room at this point), Ash nonchalantly unlocked the door and strode out of the bathroom. "Yes?" he said in an amused tone, fully expecting some barely coherent noises of shock and indignation to come from Misty's mouth when she realized that he was only wearing a towel.

She didn't even bat an eyelid. "I wanted to talk about last night," she said frankly, leaning against the wall.

"Don't you have anything to say about this?" he asked expectantly, motioning to his terrycloth-ed lower region.

"About what?"

"My…state of undress?"

"Ash," Misty said in that ominous tone that indicated she was quickly losing her patience, "I honestly don't care."

Her words hit him like a ton of bricks. She doesn't care?!  he thought incredulously. I'm standing here half-naked and she's completely unaffected?! Well…I guess it shouldn't exactly make her throw herself into my arms…but I did expect at least a little shock. Although I think I could've handled the former…damn it, what reaction did I want out of this again?

"Hey," Misty said, annoyance creeping into her voice. "Deal with your own inner turmoil or whatever later. Right now, we have to settle this little score between us before it gets out of hand."

"Okay, I'm listening," Ash said, trying to keep his thoughts chaste for the time being.

Taking a deep breath, Misty began. "I realize that we've been at each other's throats since yesterday morning, and I know that it was at least partly my fault. So I just wanted to—" She stopped in mid-sentence as she observed that infuriatingly cocky expression upon Ash's face. She grit her teeth and suppressed the urge to reach out and physically remove it. Be the bigger person, Misty, she thought to herself. "I just wanted to—"

"Hey, Mist," Ash said in a sickeningly sweet voice, placing an arm around her shoulders and smiling down at her condescendingly. "It's okay; you don't have to say it. I know this whole thing was your fault; you don't have to tell me."

SMACK!

Down in the kitchen, Brock stopped loading the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher just long enough to fleetingly glance at the ceiling. Ash, you just don't know when to quit, do you? he thought, chuckling to himself.

"My fault?!" Misty yelled angrily, forcefully removing Ash's arm from her shoulders. "You're the one who stranded me naked in the bathroom!"

"I never would have done it if you hadn't turned into the Neo-Nazi of Housekeeping!"

"Well, excuse me for trying to make things a little easier on your mother!"

"Forget your stupid apology!"

"I never even said it!"

"Well…I don't accept it, anyway!"

"Idiot!"

"Bitch!"

The two simultaneously glared at each other and stormed off—Ash to his bedroom, Misty to the kitchen. "Better person, indeed!" the furious redhead yelled as she sat down at the kitchen table, scowling viciously. "It's kind of hard not to be the better person when the other person you're dealing with has the intellect of a toenail!"

A few moments of silence passed, broken only by Misty's indignant huffs. Finally, Brock turned back from the dishwasher and, smiling sympathetically, noted, "I'm guessing it didn't go too well?"

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Misty yawned as she fell upon the bed in the guestroom that was her home for the next two weeks. She had spent the entire day meticulously weeding the garden and tilling the soil in the backyard. Misty would have much rather preferred an indoor job, given her rather strong aversion to bugs, but he had been inside, and she didn't want to even look at him, much less risk another encounter with him.

"I can't believe the nerve of him," she said irritably, reaching for her blue-and-white striped pajamas. "Saying that this whole thing was my fault. Well, he's going to learn that it's not very wise to go up against Misty Waterflower when it comes to war. Just wait until—" She let out a shriek as she pulled on the pajama bottoms. "Ash..." she said, trembling with barely suppressed rage, "I am going to kill you."

The bastard had coated the lining of her pajamas with shaving cream.

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I really do apologize for how long it took me to write this chapter, but I was actually in a bit of a block for a while there. This story is probably going to end up being four or five chapters long instead of three, as I had originally intended, but I'm having way too much fun to really give a damn about length. Reviews greatly appreciated, as usual.