View Full Version : Slumber Party!

Twilight Lune
19th November 2003, 04:25 PM
Hi everyone! How's you doin? I'm good thanks. I came here to post this fic that I found absolutely hilarious. My parents were wondering what the heck was the matter with me I was laughing so hard ^^'''. As you can probably guess I didn't write it and I give full credit to the writer Llyxius/Kimmie for it. It's an AAML so if you don't like that . . . eh . . . read it anyway you might have a laugh or two. Oh 6 chapters to it as well.

Chapter One—Daring Do-Do

How did he get talked into this?

Ash stared weakly at the mirror in front of him. The looking glass also showed Brock and Tracey standing behind him, nearly dying of laughter at the expression on his face, but he was more concerned about his appearance at the moment. This was insane. He pursed his lips, and tasted something funny—lip gloss. He was wearing lip gloss—strawberry kiwi, to be exact. He shook his head and reached up to his wig off. “No way am I going to do this...”

Brock reached over and caught Ash in a stronghold, completely immobilizing his head. Ash grimaced as Brock said, “Oh, no you don’t. I didn’t raise you to be a quitter.” He grinned mischievously.

“You didn’t raise me, and you’re supposed to be teaching me how to train pokémon—not cross-dress!” Ash struggled to break free of Brock’s grip, but it wasn’t until Brock took mercy on him and loosened his hold that Ash was able to lurch away, nearly falling over in the process. Beside Brock, Tracey twittered suspiciously. At Ash’s glare—

“You were the one who agreed to do this,” Tracey reminded him. Ash turned around to face him, his dress slightly askew due to his struggles. He attempted to fix it with some semblance of dignity as he answered.

“I never said yes,” Ash growled.

“Don’t you always say that you never turn down a challenge?” Brock said.


“Don’t you?” Brock crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at Ash, a smug look on his face.

“Yes, but...” Ash’s pleas were futile.

“Well, Tracey and I challenged you. Are you going to refuse our challenge?”

“Well...” Ash began but stopped, stricken, when he caught another glimpse of himself in the mirror. Talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place—he looked over at ‘the rock’ as it spoke to him again.

“Are you chicken?” Brock taunted.

Ash stood helplessly, unable to answer. He couldn’t back down, but he didn’t think there was a wooper’s chance in a volcano that he would be able to do... this. He looked back up at Brock, opened his mouth, but waited one second too long before speaking.

“No, he’s a girl!” Tracey snickered, and he and Brock collapsed into spasms of laughter.


Ash’s shout did no good, and he looked down at his apparel in despair as his two so-called friends continued to have fun at his expense. Pink. He was wearing pink. That would be bad enough any day, but a pink...dress??? And a ribbon in his hair...err, wig. At least it was long black hair, instead of that crazy blonde that Team Rocket had once given him. This color matched his complexion better...wait a minute, what was he thinking? It was a wig, for crying out loud!

This was all Misty’s fault, he decided. Everything could be blamed on Misty. Darn it, who would have imagined that anyone else would ever be patient or crazy or stupid enough to be friends with her—much less best friends? Or that this patient/crazy/stupid girl moved away from Cerulean City when Misty was younger and then ended up moving back to Pallet Town just a year ago, while he and Misty and Brock were gone on their journey? Or that they’d run into her as they were grocery shopping that afternoon, Misty nearly bursting his eardrums with her excited squeals...or that the girl would invite Misty to a slumber party that night...or that Brock would get a crush on said girl and, after being rebuffed by both Misty and her friend, con Ash into the most ridiculous plan ever to get some information about her?

“Misty’s going to kill me,” Ash muttered. “You know she is.”

“Only if she finds out,” Brock said. “Besides, I’m willing to take that risk.”

“Gee, thanks,” Ash said, rolling his eyes.

The sarcasm was lost on Brock. “No problem,” he said, right before his eyes focused on a faraway place. “Anything for...Angie...” he murmured. “I’d swim the English Channel for her...”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ash interrupted hastily before Brock could start that again. It was bad enough that he had been tricked into doing Brock’s dirty work, he wasn’t going to be forced to listen to Brock drool over a British accent as well. “Are we done yet?”

“Not yet.” Brock snapped out of it, but suddenly Ash decided he preferred Brock’s dreamy expression as opposed to the devilish one that replaced it. “You’re missing something.” Ash could hear the guillotine sealing his fate in the tone of Brock’s voice.

“What?” Ash said, stalling. “I’ve got the wig, the hair ribbon, and the dress. What else is there?” A thought dawned on him. “Oh, no. I’m not wearing heels,” Ash protested. “There’s no way I can walk in those things.”

“I know I’m supposed to be aggravating you to the fullest extent—” Ash made a face at Tracey for that remark, and Tracey smirked, then continued. “But I have to agree with you on that one, you trip on your own feet enough without heels. Brock’s talking about accessories, I think.”

Brock snickered. “That’s one way to put it,” he said. Ash felt nervous at the gleam in the other trainer’s eyes. Brock was enjoying this way too much—he was almost as happy as when he saw a Nurse Joy.

“I don’t have pierced ears,” Ash pointed out in an attempt to dissuade him. “What else is there?”

Brock sauntered over to their shared dresser. “Well, you see, Ash,” he said, placing one hand on the top drawer—wait, that was the drawer Ash had lent to Misty. What was Brock doing in Misty’s drawer? “You’re supposed to be portraying an adolescent girl...”

Tracey understood first. “Oh, no...” was what he said, but somehow Ash didn’t think he really felt that way, as Tracey started laughing so hard that Ash wouldn’t be surprised if he fell over and died of amusement. Ash proceeded to ignore Tracey and looked at Brock impatiently.

“So?” he said.

“You’re a growing adolescent girl...” Brock prompted.

Ash got a sinking feeling in his stomach, but he still didn’t get it. “So?” he said, trying to keep the uncertainty out of his voice. But it was a losing battle as Brock then reached into the drawer and pulled out...

“NO!” Ash shrieked, any pretense of bravado gone as he gaped at Brock in horror. He scrambled to the other side of the room, flattening himself against the wall in a desperate effort to get away. Brock kept advancing on him. “No, Brock, no way! That’s too much...I am not wearing that!”

“Tracey, could you go get the cotton balls?” Brock said mildly. “Three per side should do it.”

“You don’t think that’s too flat?” Tracey asked.

“I am flat!” Ash yelled, giving Brock a pleading look as the other boy closed in. It had no effect, and he gave a despairing sigh. He was going to be traumatized for life, he was sure of it. “I’m a guy!”

“No, you’re supposed to be a girl,” Brock said, tugging on of the wig’s curls. Ash shook his head in annoyance, and Brock chuckled. “And girls your age are just starting to develop a chest.”

“Misty hasn’t.”

“I’d advise you not to say that to her,” Brock said. “Besides, obviously she is, if she has this.” He wiggled the garment in front of Ash, and Ash buried his face in his hands.

“But Brock...” Ash said weakly, knowing he was as good as gone, “It’s...a....bra...!”

“Yes, and it’s even got a cute little rosebud in the center, see?” Brock said in admiration.

“Misty would kill you for touching it,” Ash said, averting his eyes from the incriminating item. He hated for his mom to even mention the word underwear in front of him—much less for him to wear girl’s underwear! He almost died of embarrassment at the thought alone.

Brock snorted. “If that’s the case, just imagine what she’s going to do to you when she finds out you’re wearing it!”

Ash moaned. He could imagine it. He just couldn’t imagine surviving it...

“Come on, raise your arms to the side, I can’t get this on you if they’re clenched together,” Brock said holding the bra by the straps as if on display.

“That’s the point,” Ash mumbled.


Ash reluctantly moved his arms, and Brock turned him around so that he was facing the wall and then unzipped his dress. “I feel like I’m being strip searched!” he complained, just as Tracey came back.

“If you were Brock you wouldn’t mind, as long as it was Officer Jenny doing it,” Tracey said with a laugh. Brock smirked, probably because since he was still adjusting Ash’s bra, he could feel when Ash shuddered.

“I did not need that mental picture...” Ash said, then yelped as Brock turned him back around, took the cotton balls from Tracey, and proceeded to manhandle his bra. “Brock,” Ash said through clenched teeth, “tell me again why you couldn’t do this yourself?”

“Because I’m too old,” was Brock’s ready reply. He pulled Ash towards the mirror and stood next to him so that Ash could see the reflection and make the comparison himself. “I’m too tall, and I wouldn’t have the curves.”

“I don’t have curves!” Ash said, closing his eyes so that he didn’t have to deal with the mental shock of seeing himself in a bra.

“You’re not supposed to,” Brock said. “Or at least not many, that’s why we gave you the cotton balls. Now turn back around, I still have to zip you up.”

Ash obeyed but didn’t stop his protests as he asked, “Well, if you’re too old to go to the slumber party, then why aren’t you too old for Angie?”

“That’s different,” Brock said, nodding sagely, as if others should be so lucky as Ash to get the romantic words of wisdom Brock was about to tell him. “Girls like older men. They’re drawn to us like flies.”

“Flies are also drawn to pokémon crap,” Ash muttered. “Oww!” Ash rubbed his arm where Brock had hit him and decided that it probably wasn’t smart to harass someone only two inches away from you.

But that didn’t mean Brock hadn’t deserved it...

“Watch your mouth, or I’ll wash it out with soap. Young ladies don’t say things like that,” Brock said primly. Ash glared at the wall in front of him but kept his mouth shut—knowing Brock, he would have no qualms about carrying out his threat.

“There, done!” Brock said after a moment, tying the bow on the back of Ash’s dress with a flourish. “What do you think?”

Ash didn’t even have to look in the mirror to know his feelings. “I think I’m going to die before the night is over!” he wailed. “How do girls wear these things? It feels like a restraining device!”

“It enhances,” Brock scolded.

“It enhances my pain,” Ash said, wiggling in distaste. He was never going to be able to make it through the night with this torture instrument on. Maybe he could excuse himself once he got there and take it off. Brock would never know the difference...

“It’s not that bad,” Brock said.

“How would you know?” Ash said, then made a face. “Never mind, don’t answer that.”

Brock swatted him again. “Just look in the mirror!”

Ash reluctantly turned around and bit his lip and—what was that? Oh right, he was tasting lip gloss again. He wanted to keep his eyes closed, but he was going to have to face this thing at one time or another. He looked in the mirror and...

Thank goodness for small mercies. The cotton balls weren’t even visible from the front. The side view wasn’t particularly appealing, but maybe he could just keep his back to the wall all night. Now, if he could just ignore the fact that he was wearing a dress...

“Doesn’t he make the cutest little girl?” Brock said in a sing-song voice.

“You know, Ash, you do make an adorable girl,” Tracey said thoughtfully, and pulled out that blasted notebook. “Maybe I could make some sketches...”

“Don’t even think about it, Tracey,” Ash growled, taking the notebook away from Tracey and hiding it behind his back. Tracey just smirked and pulled out another one.

“I have a back-up,” he said smugly. Ash sighed and turned his attention to Brock.

“Tell me again how I’m supposed to pull this off?” he said, putting his hands on his hips and tapping his patent-leather feet in exasperation.

“Here’s the plan,” Brock said. “You go to the party. If Angie’s mom answers the door, you just pretend like you’re one of Angie’s friends that she’s never met. Then when you see Angie, you tell her that her mom invited you.”

“What if Angie answers the door?” Ash asked.

“Then you still tell her that her mom invited you.”

“What if they both answer the door?”

“Then you pretend you’re selling girl scout cookies,” Brock advised. Ash groaned.

“This is never going to work...”

“Sure it is,” Brock said, then crossed over to the window, looked out at the driveway, and glanced at his watch. “Assuming we get you out the door before your mom gets home, that is, and actually, I think you’re going to want to be gone by then. Unless you want to deal with the aftermath of Pikachu after a cut & curl grooming session at the PokéSalon.”

Ash blanched. Pikachu had grown to love his mom enough that he wouldn’t intentionally shock her anymore, even if she was cluelessly forcing a perm on him. Of course, there was a possibility that Pikachu would have mercy on his trainer, considering they were in the same predicament—but more than likely Pikachu would take his frustrations out on Ash in the form of a highly charged vent.

“Okay, okay,” Ash said, making one last-ditch effort to persuade Brock. “You never explained what I’m supposed to be doing. What if I can’t pull it off?”

“It’ll be easy,” Brock said. “Just find out what kind of guy Angie likes—drop some subtle hints about me, if you need to. She was probably just playing hard to get when I met her.”

“I’m sure she was,” Ash said, exchanging a sarcastic look with Tracey. “But Brock, how am I supposed to do that without looking suspicious?”

“Girls hold slumber parties to talk about guys, right? So just ask Angie what qualities she likes in a man. Maybe you could pretend to have a crush on me yourself,” Brock said.

“Maybe not,” Ash said.

“Or if you want,” Brock continued, “start a game of truth or dare. You may even get a few things out of Misty to hold against her, if you do that,” he said, winking slyly at Ash.

“Wouldn’t do any good. I wouldn’t dare use them against her in case she guessed how I got them,” Ash said. He supposed Misty had trained him well—the prospect of her catching him was actually worse than having to go through with this whole dare in the first place.

“Enough talking. Let’s get you to a slumber party,” Brock said. “Do we have your overnight case?”

“Check,” Tracey said, holding up a small suitcase. Ash wondered what in the world they had packed for him—fresh cotton balls?

“Hospitality gift?” Brock asked.

“Double check,” Tracey said.

“What is it?” Ash asked, looking at the gift in Tracey’s hands. If he had to give away something that he’d prefer to keep himself, he was going to have to kill somebody. For that matter, Brock and Tracey had better watch their backs for a while, even if he did make it back alive. Revenge would be sweet...

“A perfume sampler. Girls love it,” Tracey said in response to the face Ash was making to the first statement.

“Then we’re ready,” Brock said. He suddenly sniffled and pretended to wipe tears away from his eyes, batting his eyelashes girlishly. “Look, Tracey. Our little girl is going off to her first slumber party. Can you believe it?”

“They grow up so fast,” Tracey agreed, and Brock and Tracey leaned against each other and gazed at Ash as falsely adoring parents.

“Oh, shut up,” Ash said, and attempted to stomp away, but ended up skidding on the slick soles of his Mary Janes and landed flat on his rear instead. As Brock and Tracey laughed, Ash narrowed his strawberry kiwi lips into a frown and wondered crossly how he was going to walk an entire evening if he couldn’t even make it out the door of his house.


Ash looked at his watch and prayed he wouldn’t lose it—since Brock wouldn’t let him wear his Pikachu one, he had needed to take one from his mom’s jewelry box without her knowledge. He only hoped that he had chosen the cheapest one. It was six o’clock; the party actually started at five, but they had needed time to turn Ash into a female without Misty or his mom around. Brock was really something, asking him to be both an uninvited and late house guest. Well, here goes nothing...

He knocked on the door. In the bushes beside the doorstep he heard a rustling. His two partners in stupidity were doing surveillance to see if he was actually able to make it inside.

“Just a moment...” he heard a woman’s voice call from inside. Maybe that was Angie’s mother. That would make things easier...as long as Angie and her mom weren’t together...

“Mom, who is it?” another voice asked.


The door opened, and a dark-haired woman his mom’s age looked out curiously. A girl Misty’s age appeared beside her and stared at Ash. There was a squeak in the bushes, but Ash wasn’t sure if it was because Brock saw Angie and was swooning or because they had given him no protocol to follow if he had to fake it past both Angie and her mother.

Brock was going to pay for this. He was going to pay...but Angie and her mom were still looking at him, waiting for him to speak.

He forced a smile to his face, held his gift up, and in a high-pitched voice he said, “I’m here for Angie’s birthday party. May I come in?”


So whatcha think? Hope you liked it. Hehe later!

19th November 2003, 05:06 PM
This is so funny! Good work! *laughs out loud and wakes up roomate*

19th November 2003, 08:37 PM
I agree, it's hilarious.
You'll hafta post the rest of it because I really want to know what happens to poor Ash and how good of a girl he makes.

Twilight Lune
19th November 2003, 09:12 PM
I will post the rest of this, one chapter per day. Why am I drawing this out? Cause I feel like it ^^''', nah just be more fun having to wait no? Make it extra funny (er maybe).

19th November 2003, 10:14 PM
^^;;; That... was... very... VERY... .... ... different. :P How in the heck is this going to work out? I KNOW there'll be more to it than Ash making it through the night and giving Brock pointers. But wha- Oh, no. Ohhhh, no. I don't believe it... If I'm right, this is gonna be one crazy fanfic!

See ya tomorrow, then! :wave:

Twilight Lune
20th November 2003, 10:14 PM
Next! Glad your enjoying it people, *wonders what mr_pikachu is thinking oO*

Chapter Two—Never Send a Boy To Do a Girl’s Job

Ash continued smiling brightly as Angie and her mom exchanged a quizzical look.

“I’m sorry, dear, but I think you have some misinformation,” her mom said. Ash’s hopes plummeted—sheesh, he hadn’t even made it through the front door. He didn’t know whether he should be thankful or annoyed. He hated failing, but for once, he didn’t think he’d mind, as long he could take off this stupid bra.

But then Mrs. Tanner said, “It’s not Angie’s birthday.”

“Oh!” Ash said, giggling as he jumped right back in the act and feigned embarrassment. Come to think of it, he was embarrassed, but it wasn’t for that reason. “I’m so sorry,” he said, attempting to make his voice even higher. “I didn’t realize—my mom told me it was a birthday party. I’m so embarrassed...”

Angie and her mom exchanged another look “That’s all right, dear,” her mom said kindly, though her bewilderment was still obvious. “This is all just a misunderstanding, I think. Your mom...umm, can you remind me who she is?”

“Mrs. Master,” Ash said quickly. “Umm, Ima Master. And I’m Ashley.”

“Right, Ashley...” her mom was still at a loss for words. She mouthed his ‘mom’s’ name to herself, her brow creasing, and while she was mulling it over Ash decided he’d better do something, fast. As much he would have liked for that action to be ‘kill Brock,’ he gave another effort to gaining entrance to the slumber party. But thinking of Brock gave him an idea. As Brock was reciting to him before he left, rule number twenty-three in Brock the Love Master’s Book of Romance was: Bribery will get you—everywhere.

Ash lifted his gift again and said, “Here, Angie. I bought this for you, so I’d still like for you to have it.”

“Why, thank you!” Angie immediately warmed up to him, and Ash had hope that his plan was actually working. Wow, Brock was actually right about something? Scary thought.

“You’re so sweet,” Angie continued. “Here, why don’t you get your suitcase, and I’ll show you to the den. That’s where all the other girls are.”


As Ash knelt down to pick up his suitcase, he shot a glance over to the bushes and discretely stuck his tongue out. The bushes shook in response, and Ash grinned. He had to admit—sure, he was dressed as a girl, but hey. If he ever decided to drop the pokémon master thing, at least he could make it in acting.

“So, how are you doing?” Angie asked as they walked down the hallway. She kept casting questioning glances in his direction, probably trying to remember where she had seen his face before. For his sake, he hoped she didn’t remember...not accurately, at least.

“Fine,” Ash said. “Are you having a nice party?”

“Oh, sure,” Angie said. “We’re watching a movie right now, and I just came upstairs to get some—oh!” she said, a look of realization on her face, and Ash jumped, crossing his fingers that it his true identity hadn’t just been discovered.

“I almost forgot,” she said. “Can you wait here for a second, while I go another bottle of soda? We’ve got pizza and chips downstairs, too, if you want some. And the pizza just got here about fifteen minutes ago. My mom was mad because they were thirty minutes late. They had to give it to us for half price, and we’ve got plenty left over.”

“Neat,” Ash said. Neat? That was an understatement. Brock had been so occupied with prissying Ash up that he had forgotten to make dinner. Ash wondered if it was unladylike to devour half a pizza. “Sure, I’ll wait. Do you need help?”

“Nah. Be back in a second.” She left him in the hallway, and Ash looked around. Angie’s house was similar to his, though it was slightly larger and the furnishings were more upscale. His mom would really like it—he felt guilty for a moment, like he always did when he thought about how much his mom spent on him. Training to be a pokémon master cost a lot of money, money that could otherwise be used on nice things like interior decorating. But his mom did it because she loved him, and he loved her for it.

Of course, if she knew what he was doing right now, she’d be killing him...

“Okay, ready to meet the other guests?” Angie said as she returned. He nodded and followed her downstairs, his palms turning sweaty at the thought of what he was about to pull off. He absentmindedly wiped them on his dress, and the quick glance Angie gave him at this action reminded him not to do that again. Sheesh, this was hard—they reached the bottom of the stairs and Angie opened the door and announced their arrival.

“Hey, everyone, I want you to introduce you to—Ash!”

She knew!

Ash was temporarily blinded by panic or insanity, either one would work. He had the bitter aftertaste in his mouth that he usually only felt after one of Pikachu’s thundershocks. “Uh...” he said.

“I mean, that’s what I call her,” she continued. She turned to Ash. “You know me. I always have to give everyone a nickname.”

Whew. “Right,” he said, but his smile was rather weak. Once his heartbeat stopped beating quite so rapidly, he was able to look around. There were four other girls at the party, including Misty. They all sat around a big screen TV watching what was probably some sort of chick flick. Three of the girls were on the floor in front of the TV, and they diverted their attention from the movie long enough to see who he was, then turned back to the screen. Misty was on the sofa by herself, though, and she smiled curiously at him when he looked at her.

“That’s funny...” she said. “You look kinda like my other friend Ash. Except he’s a guy.”

Great, just great. That was all he needed, for either her or Angie to figure out the resemblance. His pulse accelerated again. He was a goner. He was searching his mind for a reply when she suddenly clapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes widening.

“I mean,” she said, laughing nervously, “not that you look like a guy or anything. Just that you could be related.”

Ash’s eyebrows flew up in surprise. Huh. And she called him dense.

Angie and her friends snickered, and Misty flushed. He still needed to get on her good side—on everyone’s good side, actually, if he was going to carry this off successfully. So he tried to help her recover from her blunder. Let’s see, how would a girl reply to this?

“I don’t mind,” he said, “as long as he’s cute.” He grinned to himself...strangely enough, Brock could be right again. It would be fun to figure out how Misty talked about him when he wasn’t around...wait, why was she still blushing?

She shrugged, smiled, and said, “Well, I wouldn’t tell him that, but...”


Ash was sufficiently startled—had Misty just called him cute?—that he almost missed when Misty continued speaking. “By the way, I’m Misty,” she added, and Ash remembered that he wasn’t supposed to know her.

“Hi,” he squeaked, and his voice was even higher than he intended it to be. Gosh, it was warm down here, his face was burning. This was going to be a weird night. Not that he didn’t already know that...

“You can call her Mist,” Angie informed him, “and let me introduce you to the others. That’s Jess, Natty, and Zildy. I’ll let you guess what they’re short for...especially Zildy.” She grinned.

“Nice to meet you,” Ash said, and the other girls said hi or waved and then turned their attention back to the movie. Misty smiled at him again, though, before she did, making him flush once more. Lucky for him, she didn’t appear to notice as she curled up with a pillow and watched the TV with an almost wistful expression. Ash was struck with how small and lonely she looked there—he realized with a jolt that he and Brock had automatically assumed she was going to have fun tonight. But was she...?

Of course she was. He was just paranoid because he was wearing a dress. But ...once he had gotten some pizza, and Angie (despite the look she gave him for getting four slices) acted the gracious host by pouring a drink, he walked over to the sofa and sat down next to Misty. In spite of her uncharacteristic candor, she was still the only one he knew, and it was least awkward that way. Misty smiled and sat up to give him more room.

“Thanks,” he said, attempting to speak lower so that he didn’t interrupt the movie and maintain his girlish voice at the same time. The result made his throat sore. He nodded at the screen, trying not to yawn at the make-up bottles, curling irons, and panty hose displayed on screen. “What are we watching?” he asked.

“The Princess Diaries,” Misty said.

The Princess what? “Ew...” he began.

“What?” Misty gave him a startled look. Oh yeah. Girls liked random fairy tale stories.

“Uh...awwww!’” he said hastily. “I’ve been wanting to see this movie.”

Misty perked up. “Me too!” she whispered in a conspirative voice. “I felt silly when I was the only one who hadn’t seen it, but my two best friends are guys. I get overruled a lot of the time, you know?”

Ash was too busy trying not to smirk to answer. Misty was too stubborn to call him a best friend to his face, but it was amusing to see how nice she was to him when she didn’t know he was around. Of course, the feeling was mutual—but for once that night, he was the one with the upper hand. He just nodded they both settled back to watch the movie.

...Well, attempt to watch the movie. As he quickly discovered, girls never just watch a movie. They dissect it. He didn’t know why he had bothered being quiet earlier. Even as the movie was approaching what he would have thought would have been one of the climatic moments—for a girl, that is, guys could care less about a screen kiss—there was a steady stream of chatter. Right before the guy and girl’s lips met—

“Look at his pimple!” one of the girls shrieked, laughing into her pillow. He racked his brain; he was never good with names. Jess, he thought it was. Jess turned to Zippy—no wait, that sounded like a Disney song, Jess’s friend was Zildy—and they exchanged a girl-type moment as they wrinkled their noses at each other.

“Man, she has big feet,” Angie said, not even answering Jess as the next screen shot was a close-up of the girl’s feet. Ash wasn’t sure why this camera angle was important to the plot, but it must have been the shoes, because as soon it showed,

“Cool sandals, though,” Zildy said. Ash took a moment to puzzle over girls and their obsession with footwear. He liked his sneakers too, but he wouldn’t feature them in a movie.

Ash tuned them out for most of the rest of the movie—it was just as well, all that girl stuff was putting his mind in a daze anyway. Come to think of it, at the rate things were going, it was astonishing he hadn’t tranced out earlier. He tried to act alert when the movie finished and they started discussing it. Considering they had already talked throughout the whole movie, though, Ash wondered when they had had time to figure out the plot. It may have helped that they weren’t exactly talking about the plot...

“Wasn’t that the prettiest dress she was wearing? I want one just like it when I go to prom,” Angie sighed. Ash didn’t know what prom was, but didn’t bother asking. More than likely it wasn’t going to be a pokémon competition.

“Oh, you’d look good in a dress like that, Angie,” Natty complimented, and the other girls nodded in agreement. But then again, Ash got the feeling that anything Angie said or did would be perfect to them.

“Well, I liked the dress she wore to the state banquet,” Misty said. “It was such a pretty blue.” Ash nodded because he thought he was supposed to and hoped no one remembered that he hadn’t even arrived by that point. But Jess gave Misty a critical once-over and shook her head.

“Nah. The color would clash with your hair,” she said. Ash looked to see Misty’s reaction, and it was as he thought—she looked bugged. But there was a hint of sadness to her annoyance. He was probably just imagining things, but he wondered again if she was having any fun. The only time he’d seen her smile was when she was talking to him.

“Maybe if it was white...” Ash offered hesitantly, and Misty looked over at him, still not smiling, but at least willing to listen. “Kinda...like, um, a wedding dress?”

That worked. Girls could be always be counted on to talk about babies and weddings, not necessarily in that order. Misty brightened immediately. “Yeah!” she said. A soft smile played about her lips, and he knew she was daydreaming—he should know, she definitely did enough of that on their journeys. But then she directed her attention to him. “You’re right. Thanks.” She smiled at him, and he felt really warm again. Was it him, or did Angie need to fix that thermostat?

Angie herself was thinking. Ash could practically see the light bulb go off above her head as she slammed her palm down on one of her pillows and looked at them emphatically.

“I have an idea!” she said. Uh-oh...she sounded exactly like Brock had, right before Ash had been forced to wear a bra. Nothing good could come of this. “Let’s have our own make-overs!”

Make-overs...involved make-up, didn’t they? Boy, those two were made for each other...too bad for Angie that Brock would be dead by the time he finished with him!

His was the only less than welcome reception. “Wow!” Zildy said, sighing in happiness. Zildy was the most admiring of the mob...err, other girls. “I’ll help you, okay, Angie?”

“All right!” Jess said. She looked around and her eyes settled on one of the other guests. “Partners, Natty?”

Misty looked over at him. “I guess that leaves us,” she said good-naturedly.

But he already had a make-over...Ash gave a quick shake of the head and then nodded reluctantly and reminded himself that he was supposed to be excited about this.

Angie went to the bathroom to get her make-up case, and everyone else pulled out their cosmetic bags, except for Ash...and Misty. She looked distinctly ill at ease. “I forgot...I left mine at home...” she said uncomfortably.

There was a way out of this thing, after all. He tried not to act too relieved. “I did too,” he admitted...well, failing to admit that he didn’t have one in the first place.

“Oh, do you need some?” Angie said. She brought what looked like a large pocketbook over to them. “My mom’s an Avon lady, we’ve got plenty!” she said cheerfully.


Ash gazed at the vials and compacts in front of him with a look that was a combination of fear and distaste as Misty arranged bottles of nail polish to her heart’s content. “I think you’re a winter,” she told him, holding one particular shade to his skin for comparison.

“A what?”

“Cool shades look good on you,” she told him. “They have blue as a base,” she said in response to his blank look. “Like this. See?”

“That’s pink,” he told her, and she looked at him in exasperation.

“I swear, that was something like my Ash would say,” she told him. He blinked. Her Ash? He supposed she had to have some way to tell ‘them’ apart, but that sounded remarkably affectionate. As did the giggle she gave after she said it.

“I don’t wear make-up very much,” he said. As in, never. Minus that picture of him playing with his mom’s lipstick when he was eighteenth months old...he paled at the thought of someone like Brock finding it. He really should find and destroy that picture before it fell into the wrong hands...

“Oh, then do you care if I teach you?” Misty asked. Ash couldn’t really do anything but shrug and watch helplessly as Misty made a fool out of him yet again. She picked up a headband and took it upon herself to adjust Ash’s hair for him. As her hands brushed the side of his face, he nearly jumped out of his skin. He wasn’t expecting them to be so soft...and warm...

“Your hair is pretty,” she said, and Ash was startled out of his trance.

Thanks, it’s not mine—no, he couldn’t say that. “I like yours too,” he told her.

She made a face. “My sisters always used to make fun of me,” she said. “They said I was hot-haired and hotheaded.”

Boy, did he wish he could use that against her sometime. But ‘Ashley’ had to be a good little girl...

“But yours is different,” he told her. She frowned, and he realized she may not have taken that as a compliment. “I mean, you look like...like...” What else did girls like besides babies and brides? “...a model.”

“Really?” she said, obviously both surprised and pleased as she brushed a lock of her own hair behind an ear self-consciously.

“Yeah. Especially when you wear it down,” he added sincerely. Misty tilted her head to the side, confused, and belatedly Ash remembered that since Misty had had her hair in a ponytail all night, he wasn’t supposed to know that. “That is, I think it would look good that way,” he added in a rush. He fidgeted with the collar of his dress nervously. Man, he was really burning up...and his bra itched...

Misty ignored his discomfort. “Thanks,” she said, giving him another one of her smiles, then picked up one of the torture devices...make-up brush, close enough. “Here, close your eyes, I’m going to put some eyeshadow on you. Do you like this color? It will bring out your eyes.”

It was brown...Ash looked at it suspiciously. Wasn’t all eyeshadow blue? Was Misty playing a trick on him? “I...guess...” he said uncertainly.

“Close your eyes,” she reminded him.

He did, slowly. After a moment he felt the softest pressure of a brush on his eyelid. He twitched.

“Don’t move,” she scolded him, and he sucked in his breath and told himself to calm down. But it felt weird...he was getting goosebumps, and he wasn’t sure if it was the idea of wearing make-up, or the idea of Misty applying his make-up, that was causing them.

“There,” she said in satisfaction, and he opened his eyes. He tried to look at the little hand mirror Misty had laid out, but she saw him doing it and hid it. “Nope, not until we finish,” she said cheerfully. He caught himself before he sighed out loud.

“Now do this,” she said, and puckered her lips so that she looked like a fish. He twisted his lips into a weird smile instead, prompting her to explain, “It highlights your cheekbones so that I can put blush on them.” He had to give her credit. He never knew putting on make-up was so involved.

He puckered his lips, feeling extremely ridiculous as he did, and Misty carefully applied a layer of blush. “Now keep them puckered,” she said, and picked up a tube of lipstick.

But he unpuckered them long enough to give a weak protest, “I have lip gloss.”

“Oh, this is lip gloss,” she said, showing him the tube. “It just has a pink tint to it. Is that okay?”

No, it wasn’t. “Sure,” he said. Might as well complete the torture. He held himself perfectly still again as Misty painted his lips.

“Done!” she said and, acting as though she was handing him a scepter instead of a toiletry item, ceremoniously passed the mirror to him. She smiled at him. “What do you think?”

He picked up the mirror, gave it a wary look, then gathered his courage and looked in the mirror. Oh...dear...mercy. He really, honestly and truly, looked like...a...


He blinked, searching for the most tactful way to avoid the question. “I...”


The shout covered the sound of his voice even to his own ears, and he felt a whack! right against the side of his head. There was strange savior, if not exactly fair. Angie and Zildy had teamed up to tackle an unarmed Ash and Misty, and Jess and Natty, after seeing what was going on, quickly joined in.

“Ash, catch!” Misty shrieked, laughing, as she tossed him a pillow, then turned her attention to pounding her nearest assailant. He grinned to himself; he knew from experience that she could take care of herself in a pillow fight. Not that he was all that shabby, either; he deftly caught the pillow in one hand, lifted it to throw at someone—only to get whacked upside the head again before he could defend himself.

His vision was suddenly obscured by his hair. Before it had time to register, he got hit once more. With time moving surrealistically slow, he felt himself begin to panic as his wig shifted and began to fall off.


Sorry this was late, --''' couldn't get computer off sis without force and I rather not do that ^^'''.

20th November 2003, 10:59 PM
Oh, how I pity Ash. Not only must he endure this hell, but he has to act like he... *gulp* ...enjoys it! Oh, the humanity! ;)

Seriously, though, I have no earthly idea how he can stand it. This is one seriously twisted fic, and I'm loving every minute of it!

What am I thinking, you ask? Well, at this point, I doubt I'm right. But, you never know. ;) This would be a whole lot funnier for you if you knew what I was talking about, but then what fun would that be for me? :D

btw, what site is this from? Oh wait, I forgot, if you told then this thread would get zero fans. Never mind then. I guess I'll just wait. Or search the internet. Whatever works. Anyway, I'll keep checking back here! Until then! :wave:

20th November 2003, 11:16 PM
It must be hard to act like a girl. I should know. Although I am a girl, it's hard to act like a normal one. I have no fashion sense, I can't do makeup, and I watch The Princess Diaries for the humor. It's a good chapter!

21st November 2003, 01:02 AM
Fun! Lol, this fic is cool. Keep posting. It's pretty hard to find a real comedy like this on these boards. Poor Ash, though. And I knew his wig would fall off!

21st November 2003, 09:47 PM
Sheesh, that acting thing kind of scared me. I just saw a school play today where one of the main characters was a profesional female impersonater. The play was also an extremely funny 1940'2 murder-mystery-comedy. And I swear that that is not far from the actual title.

Twilight Lune
22nd November 2003, 10:41 PM
Chapter Three—Truth in a Dare

All night long Ash had thought that when Misty discovered his little secret, he was going to die. Well, he changed his mind. He wasn’t going to die...

...He was dead.

He ducked down execution-style, squatting as he clutched his head, or rather his hair, in a desperate attempt to keep his wig from sliding any further. Any moment now Misty was going to find him out. Maybe it was for the best—it would only hurt for a minute, and then it would all be over. For that matter, maybe the anticipation would kill him before Misty did. That was probably her plan all along, as she had yet to approach him. In fact she was...she was...


Well, that was unexpected. Maybe he really was dead already, because in life she would never let him off that easy. He dared to peek at the scene before him, and he realized why he hadn’t been hit by a pillow within the past few seconds—the girls had abandoned him and ganged up entirely on Misty. Angie also must have remembered how ticklish Misty was (especially on her stomach—he knew from experience,) and in between swipes of the pillow she took full advantage of that recollection to torture Misty mercilessly. Although, he noted with satisfaction, despite Angie’s best efforts he was still the only one who had ever made Misty laugh so hard she had tears in her eyes. (And more than once, at that.)

He had a ten-second window of opportunity—he quickly yanked his wig back around and reached under his hair to make sure that the band that fitted around his head was actually secure this time. He cautiously patted a few stray hairs back into place, adjusted his ribbon, and—


Time was up.

Misty was calling to him as she tried to fight back—pounding Angie aggressively with her pillow—and roll out of the gaggle of girls at the same time. She might have been successful, too, had Jess not been sitting on her legs.

“Ash!” Misty yelled again. “Help me!”

He received no strange glances when she looked at him, so apparently he had fixed his wig correctly...but he couldn’t risk losing it again. He needed an answer, he needed to sound like a girl, but he couldn’t be a party-pooper...this was too hard for him.


“Uh, I can’t,” he stammered out.

Everyone turned to look at him, though Jess was still sitting on Misty, who looked more than a little disgruntled. “Why not?” she yelped.

“I might break a nail.”

The other girls’ instantaneous giggles drowned out Misty’s answer, but she was either yelling his name or expletives—with her, they were practically synonymous, anyway. But once Angie finally let up, the other girls followed suit and allowed Misty to sit up and catch her breath. She wasted no time before shooting Ash a murderous look. He was sure there were more where that came from...at least it was only a look...

“Any more stunts like that and I swear, I’ll be forced to conclude that you’re the female Ash Ketchum,” she said dryly. If she only knew—Ash flushed. Point well taken.

“So, what do we do now, Angie?” Zippo—no, Zildy!—asked. Angie only had to think for a moment before she grinned and answered.

“How about a game of truth or dare?”

Once again, everyone but Ash squealed. Though he tried to act enthusiastic. He looked to Misty to follow her lead, and was surprised to find that he may not be the only one with reservations. She didn’t look unhappy, but she sure didn’t look thrilled.

They gathered around in a circle, Ash almost forgetting to sit like a ‘lady,’ and at the last minute nervously crossed his legs off to the side instead of splaying them out spread-eagle. “Who wants to go first?” Angie asked.

“You mean to accept a truth or dare or to issue one?” Jess asked.

Angie shrugged. “Either one.”

“I’ll start then,” Jess said. She looked around the room, her eyes narrowing until her gaze settled on a victim, and then a smirk spread across her face. “Natty. Truth or dare?”

“Jess,” Natty said, giving Jess one of those maddening girl looks that said I know everything in the world and you obviously don’t or else you wouldn’t have asked that question—Misty was quite good at it too, “don’t you know me better by now?”

Jess returned the look for all it was worth and then some. “You still have to say it,” she said.

“Okay, okay. Dare.”

Jess grinned again. “All right. Let me think for a minute,” she said, giving a dramatic pause, but even Ash could tell that she already had an idea in mind and was just trying to build suspense. All this for a dare. It couldn’t be that bad...could it?

“I...dare...you...to...” Jess drew the words out slowly, and then paused once again before finishing in one large breath. “...Take off your bra and wear it on your head as you go up to ask Mr. Tanner how he’s doing!”

Natty shrieked, and the other girls laughed while Ash gaped at Jess in horror. It could be that bad. When his turn came around, he had better pick the truth—unless he wanted to find out if Misty was able to recognize her own bra on his head.

“Jess...” This time Natty’s tone was a whole lot closer to a whine.

“Hey, you picked the dare,” Jess pointed out.

Natty gave an exaggerated sigh. “All right, all right, if you insist. Give me a second.” And right then and there she reached under her shirt and began unhooking her bra.

She was undressing right in front of them? Of course she was, they were all ‘girls’, but...she was undressing right in front of them?! Brock would have been in heaven now, but Ash was...well, somewhere else. He jerked his head away from the sight and hoped no one would notice how uncomfortable he was. He couldn’t look, he wouldn’t look—he could see movement out of the corner of his eye, but he forced himself to concentrate elsewhere...he wasn’t going to look, nope, not even a little peek...

Hey, how did she do that without taking off her shirt?

Girls were strange creatures. He didn’t know it was possible to undress without...um...undressing. He hoped his face was a minimal pink as he returned his attention to Natty. That had been a close one.

Natty now had a—hot pink? He didn’t know they made underwear in those colors—cotton bra fastened on her head, the cups sticking out like ears. She stood up, and Ash blinked. The girl must be a masochist, she looked like she was enjoying this. “Well, here I go,” she said, and headed up the stairs.

Everyone looked at each other for a moment, and then Angie spoke up. “Come on, let’s follow her!” They jumped up, though Ash’s reaction was a bit delayed, and scurried up the stairs amidst a flurry of hushed shhs that was accompanied by a cropping of giggles. Ash trailed behind, torn between being mortified or morbidly interested in Mr. Tanner’s reaction. Girls were crazy...

Angie’s parents were in the living room. The group of five hung back in the hallway while Natty took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and walked into the room.

“Mr. Tanner?” she asked, giving him a demure smile and batting her eyelashes. How she kept a straight face was beyond Ash’s understanding.

Mr. Tanner lowered his paper and looked at her. If her appearance surprised him in the least it didn’t show. He gave Natty a cordial nod and said, “Yes?”

“How are you doing tonight?”

There was another wave of giggles out in the hallway. Mr. Tanner treated them the same as Natty’s unusual accessorizing and ignored them. “I’m good, thank you for asking. May I assume you are quite well, also?”

“Oh, yes,” Natty assured him, and then she just stood there, a light pink blush rising in her cheeks. Looking at her, Ash came to two conclusions. One was that shock had worn off and she finally realized the delicate predicament she was in. And the second—despite the circumstances, she was still having fun. Yup, that proved it. Girls were honestly insane.

“Um, well, I just wanted to say hello,” Natty said, and Ash gathered from her tone that she was ready for a hasty retreat. “I’ll go now.”

“All right,” Mr. Tanner said mildly. “Take care.”

He picked up his paper and began to read it again, while Natty turned and began to walk out of the room. She made it as far as the door before Mr. Tanner called out one more time. “Truth or dare, I take it?”

“Yup,” Natty said sheepishly, and hightailed it out of there to join the rest of the group. The girls didn’t even try to hide their gales of laughter. Even Ash grinned. There was something to be said for a man who had to live in a household of girls—Mr. Tanner was cool.

They trekked back downstairs, Natty took her bra off her head and stuffed it in her overnight bag, and then they gathered around in a circle. Ash ended up with Misty on his left side and Angie to the right. “Who’s next?” Angie asked.

“I’ll go,” Natty said, and though Ash would have guessed she would chose to inflict revenge on Jess, she turned to someone else. “Zildy. Truth or dare?”

“After that stunt? Truth,” Zildy said, shaking her head. “Besides, my bra isn’t as pretty as yours.”

Natty stuck her tongue out at Zildy and Zildy crossed her eyes before Natty posed her question. “So...what’s the worst lie you’ve ever told?”

“Let’s see, there are so many,” Zildy said, and the other girls giggled—again. Didn’t they ever get tired of that? It sounded like they were all high on helium. “Umm...the worst lie I ever got caught telling, or got away with?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Natty said.

“Okay, then. Last year, remember how Manda had a crush on my ex-boyfriend Kyle? And she came up to me in a jealous rage and asked me how far we’d gone?”

“Yeah...” Natty said eagerly, while Ash trying to figure out what difference it made how far away from home they had been.

“I told her I never even kissed him,” Zildy said smugly.

“And....?” Jess joined Natty in her prompting. Zildy took the time to give both girls a long, ambiguous look before returning her gaze to Natty and giving her a self-assured nod as she said,

“I french kissed him.”

Ash expected and hence was prepared for the squeals that followed this statement. No wonder girls always had headaches—they were always screaming. He had no clue what being French had to do with kissing, though.

Misty apparently knew, but looked more shocked than excited. “He put his tongue in your mouth?” she gasped.

Ash barely held back a gag. He did not need to know that! Was she old enough to do that? Heck, was anyone old enough to do that?

“Yeah. It was slobbery,” Zildy said. Ash shuddered slightly and hoped no one else had noticed. There were intermittent giggles in the silence that followed. Finally they moved on when Zildy turned to Misty. “Your turn,” she said. “Truth or dare?”

Ash felt a weird prickling sensation on his skin, and he felt heady. He couldn’t tell if he was nervous or interested in what Misty was about to do. He wanted her to have fun, but for some reason he didn’t want her to embarrass herself...

“Dare,” Misty said. He could have guessed that.

“I dare you,” Zildy said, the innocence in her tone belying her next words, “to—flash us.”

And Ash’s brain stopped functioning at that point. Change that to embarrass him. Misty...was...going...to...kill....him.

She was currently gaping at Zildy, a faint blush to her cheeks. She giggled nervously. “Uh-oh,” she said good-naturedly.

Well said. Understatement was an excellent form of comic device. He never knew Misty was so funny. He could feel himself break out into sweat. He had to get out of this; he preferred to keep his life intact. He gulped as Misty stood up. He wouldn’t look, he wouldn’t look...

He was still doomed.

“You mean...like mooning?” Misty asked Zildy to clarify. He did not need that mental picture...except it wouldn’t be mental for much longer...oh, dear...he could feel his face growing pale as Zildy shrugged and then nodded in the affirmative...

“Psst.” There was a soft whisper off to the side. “Are you okay?”

Angie was speaking. He turned to her and thought rapidly, then faked a blush. It wasn’t much of an act. “Where’s your bathroom?” he whispered.

Angie grinned, then pointed to the corner. “There’s one over there in the corner,” she said. “Hurry back, you’ll miss the dare.”

Which was exactly what he was hoping to hear. Misty had turned her back when he stood up and bolted over to the corner. He barely made it inside and shut the door when he heard the others squealing and clapping. Misty must have completed her dare—his face burned just thinking of it, and he wiped his brow. If she ever found out that he had been there...

That was it; he was calling it quits. No, he wasn’t quitting; he was cutting his losses. He could claim he didn’t feel good and go home, take his bra off, sleep in his own bed...and he’d never see any of these girls ever again. Okay, Misty, obviously, but she didn’t know ‘Ash’ from Ash, so it made no difference. Besides, they’d probably be nice to him. Girls were sympathetic to sickness; it was Brock and Tracey he had worry about, because they knew the truth.

Wait a second. They knew the truth...


It suddenly occurred to him that they had an excellent blackmailing tactic against him. If he quit, they’d probably threaten to tell Misty unless he returned, and then where would he be? (Besides dead.) And even if they didn’t, they wouldn’t let the matter go easily. He’d never hear the end of it.

He was stuck. He’d just have to grin and bear it, and—sheesh, why was he shaking? Well, the night was young and torturous, there was no escape route in sight—but it couldn’t hurt to hang around the bathroom for a little while longer. He leaned against the bathroom door and slid down to a sitting position, savoring the feeling of just being himself. Well, it was hard to feel masculine wearing a pink dress, but at least he didn’t have the pressure of ‘acting like a little lady.’ Ash suddenly had a new appreciation for Misty’s tomboy behavior. And that’s when he recognized her voice and realized that he could hear through the door.

They were continuing without him...and he didn’t care a bit. But he did pay attention when Angie said, “Okay, I think it’s my turn. Misty—truth or dare?”

“But I just went!”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Okay, okay.” Ash grinned at the indignation in her tone as she said this. “Truth, I guess.”

Ash listened closely as Angie asked her question. The way these girls played the game, this should be good. He almost wished he were out there...

“My question is—and you’ve got to be completely honest, remember. Do you or do you not....have a crush on Ash Ketchum?”

...Or not. He nearly choked, which was a remarkable achievement considering he hadn’t even eaten or drunk anything. Where the heck had that come from? Why did everyone seem to think Misty had a crush on him? At least he had nothing to worry about...

“What?” Misty shrieked. Forget the difficulties of listening through a bathroom door—people in the next house probably heard that scream. He grinned.

The other girls were giggling at her reaction. “I said,” Angie repeated. “Do you or do you not have a crush on Ash Ketchum?”

“Where in the world would you get that idea?”

“You said he was cute.”

“He is. That doesn’t mean I like him!”

Score one for Misty. Ash made a mental resolve to call her pretty next time he saw her. She deserved it.

“Don’t you?”

“No! I mean, well, yes, as a friend...”

“You still haven’t answered the question.”

“I have too!”

“No, you haven’t. It’s a yes or no question.” Ash frowned. Score one for Angie. Misty was stalling, and Angie called her on it again. “Do you or do you not...”

“...I know, I know, have a crush on Ash! I...”

“You what?”


Why wasn’t she talking? Why? It was eerily quiet outside the door, especially compared to the noise from the rest of the evening. Inside the bathroom, there was silence as well as Ash held his breath and wondered why he felt like he was about to pass out. He didn’t dare move for fear of missing Misty’s answer.

“All right,” Misty finally said, her voice subdued. “Yes, okay?”

She what?!

Ash sprang up so rapidly he felt dizzy and stumbled right into the toilet. He reached over to catch himself but tripped, swiping everything off the back of the commode into the trashcan beside it, which promptly tumbled over and spilled its contents onto the floor with a loud clang. Darn it, he was going to attract attention...he bent down to get the wastebasket and only succeeding in kicking it over to the door, which he crashed into himself as he scrambled over to pick the wastebasket back up but tripped over the trash on the floor instead. He tried pulling himself up but accidentally grabbed the metal towel rod, which came off in his hand and dumped three apricot-and-pink hand towels on top of him. There was one final loud, resounding bong as he tried to use the sink for support to stand up and ended up knocking the ceramic with the towel rod instead.

(PN~I KILLED myself laughing here XD!!! Brought tears to my eyes!)

He decided it would be prudent to stop moving. Once again it was quiet outside the door. He closed his eyes and grimaced, and then calmly propped the towel rod up in a corner, placed the towels on the edge of the sink, righted the trashcan and cleaned the floor. He then took a deep breath, pasted a smile on his face, and opened the bathroom door.

Five girls were staring at him with wide eyes—Misty’s were slightly suspicious. Ash gulped—that had been the exact sort of thing that ‘her’ Ash would do. There was at least one small mercy. She was wearing pants again.

“Are you okay?” Angie finally ventured timidly.

“I knocked over the trashcan,” Ash squeaked, looking embarrassed, though the hot flush on his cheek was actually caused by the continued look Misty was giving him rather than by his actions “I’m sorry. I cleaned it up,” he told Angie.

“Oh, that’s no problem,” she said. She did not lose her bewildered look, but didn’t press any farther. “Want to rejoin the game?”
“Sure,” he said, and crossed back over and sat down. Angie shook her head slightly, then regained her composure and turned to Misty.

“Since you’ve gone twice, do you want to issue the next challenge?” Angie asked. Misty nodded. She looked around, and her gaze settled on—drat. His newfound knowledge meant that the simple act of her looking at him could make him blush. Surely she didn't mean what he thought he meant by the word like.

Not that Angie hadn’t made that fact quite clear...

“Ash,” Misty said, and he jumped. But he didn’t think she noticed; she still had a pink tinge to her cheeks herself from her previous admission. “You haven’t gone yet. Truth or dare?”

He rephrased the question to himself—so, Ash, which is the lesser of two evils?—then answered it. “Truth.”

“Umm...” It was obvious Misty was at a loss for ideas. “Well, I know it’s been done, but it’s still fun to know—who do you have a crush on?”

Boy, that was ironic. And tricky to answer. If she liked him...then what did he think about her...? Though he couldn’t answer truthfully in any case. This was a bunch that watched The Princess Diaries—he assumed they were expecting him to tell them what boy he liked. And he needed an answer, fast...oh no.

No, he wouldn’t. He swore he was never going to do that...although, it would be a shame to leave without doing what he came to do, and suffer for nothing. And this probably did count as an emergency situation. But that didn’t stop him from fuming. Worse than bras, worse than panty hose, this was the lowest of the low. If he survived Misty’s killing him—then he would make sure Brock was next on the list. As far as Ash was concerned, if Ash died young it would be tragic, and if Brock died young it would be—justified.

He cleared his throat and looked down at the ground, pretending to go shy at the question. “Well...” he said, one hand on his cheek as if it were just so hard to admit this that he had to hide his face, “There was this one boy, back where I used to live. He was a gym leader, and I thought he was really cute.”

“Really?” Angie said, suddenly interested. “Gym leaders are really cool. Where does he live?”

Ash sighed to himself, and watched Misty carefully. She was grinning to herself, probably about to brag about the fact that she was a gym leader herself, but he bet his answer would knock that thought right out of her head. “He lived in...Pewter City.”

He was right...Misty was sipping her drink and almost snorted it out her nose when he spoke. “You’re kidding,” she said in disbelief. “You had a crush on Brock Slate?”

“He was nice,” Ash said defensively. Misty always took offense when the subject was Brock and girls. She’d better not undermine his plan.

“I know that. It’s just, he’s the other guy I travel with,” Misty explained, still gaping at Ash, though he couldn’t look her in the eye. “It’s a small world.”

“More than you know,” Ash mumbled, then hit himself mentally and put false amazement into his voice. “I mean, wow.”

“You mean that guy who tried to flirt with me yesterday?” Angie said, looking both amused and surprised. “I didn’t know he was a gym leader. And he was a bit...needy, don’t you think?”

“No, he’s sweet, once you get to know him,” Misty said before Ash could open his mouth. He bristled—she was interfering. She always had to be nosy and meddle with other people’s affairs. And just this afternoon she had been making fun of Brock in front of Angie, so why the change of heart now? It wasn’t as if she liked him...

No, that was right, she liked Ash. Ash couldn’t believe himself. He couldn’t have already accepted that fact. And there was absolutely no way he was acting...jealous?

While he was dumbfounded, conflicted about the weird emotions he was feeling, Misty continued. “I mean...yeah, Brock acts really dumb around girls, and it really gets on my nerves, but as a friend, he’s great. He always cooks for us, and makes sure we take our vitamins, and keeps Ash and me from fighting—or at least from fighting too much,” she amended.

Ash recovered enough to jump in and do his part. “But he doesn't even mean to annoy girls, he just tries too hard,” he told Angie. “He had a crush on my older sister once. He always sent her flowers and candy, and when it was time for the town parade, he decorated a float in her honor. It had a big heart on it that said I Love Emily. My sister was so embarrassed that she left the parade and refused to go outside for three days. But he let me ride on the float. I was just a little kid, and I got a crush on him. It lasted until we moved.”

Misty was unsuccessfully holding back a laugh. “Yup, that sounds like something Brock would do,” she said wryly.

But Angie looked impressed. “Wow...he must have really liked her...” she said.

“Brock will do anything to get a girl,” Misty told him. Angie smiled at that.


“Anything,” Ash confirmed.

“Hmm...” Angie said thoughtfully, but otherwise Ash couldn’t read her expression. She turned to Misty and politely asked, “Misty, did you say that both you and this Brock are staying at your friend Ash’s house?”

“That’s right,” Misty said.

“And you said that Brock likes me...and you like Ash...” Angie said slowly. Misty flushed but didn’t disagree. Ash flushed too but no one was looking at him.

“What are you thinking, Angie?” Zildy asked. Angie just stood up, walked over to the bathroom, and walked out two seconds later with her hands hidden behind her back. She was holding something...what object of importance could she get from the bathroom?

“I’m thinking...” Angie said, giving each girl a challenging stare, “Of the ultimate dare. I’m thinking...” she whipped her hands around and displayed them for all to see. In them she was holding...

Ash’s head drooped. Boy, and he thought the night couldn’t get any worse. He was wrong. This was almost enough to put his new dilemma involving Misty temporarily out of his mind. Forget death by Misty’s hands...she would have to fight his mom for the right to be the first to kill him...

“I’m thinking,” Angie said devilishly, “We pay a little visit to Ash’s house, and leave him and Brock a present. I’m thinking...”

And for the first time that night, Ash finished the sentence for her. “Toilet paper,” he said weakly.

He was going to t.p. his own house.


Hey sorry this was late! Didn't get on the comp last night --''' oh and PN was posters note

22nd November 2003, 11:26 PM
:o This... is going... CRAZY!! How is Ash gonna get out of this? And just think... we've still got three insane chapters to go! Sweetness! :D

...Although, I noticed something. I checked the times and dates of the posting of chapters, and you COMPLETELY skipped yesterday's. That means you still owe us one chapter. Everyone else check too, that way you can confirm my own observations. Yep, TL, you've got a chapter to hand over! ;)

Anyway, this just gets better and better. This has got to be one of the best comedies I've seen on the boards. Keep 'em coming... including the chapter you owe us!!

23rd November 2003, 12:36 AM
Lolzez. How did IQ ever guess that Misty has a crush on ash? The bit in the bathroom was absolutely hilarious, though, and when Misty was dared to flash in front of them... how much worse could the whole thing get for Ash? :D

Love this fic. Tell Llyxius that.

Twilight Lune
23rd November 2003, 06:58 PM
Ooooooooooookkkkkkkkk mr_pikachu I'll post 2 for the readers. Your right though I do owe you guys.

Chapter Four—T.P. or Not T.P

Ash’s mind was in a fog the entire trip over to his house. He was torn between two conflicting sides on the same number of issues. First there was the matter of Misty. On the one hand Misty liked him. On the other hand—even if it meant she’d never get another replacement for her bike for the rest of her life—Misty was going to kill him. And then there was his mom. On the surface this should have been the smaller problem—his mom had to love him because he was her son. However his mom also loved her garden, and if it got damaged during their little prank...forget the three months of morning sickness she had when she was pregnant with him. Forget the eight hours of labor she went through to give birth and the eleven years she had raised him under her roof. If even a tomato died—then so did he.

So, Misty liked him—Misty was going to kill him. His mother loved him—his mother was going to kill him. And to his eleven-year-old brain, there was no way that either side could ever be compatible with the other...but wait! Maybe there was a resolution. Hadn’t someone once said, “You always hurt the ones you love?” So theoretically, Misty could like him and kill him at the same time...and the same went for his mom...

Huh. There had to be a better answer.

Misty sat with him in the back seat of the minivan, completely quiet. Ash wondered if her thoughts were as muddled as his were. She was separated from the other girls; even though Ash and Misty had plenty of room in the back, the other girls had decided to sit together in the front two seats so they could talk about the upcoming prank. Misty wasn’t talking or listening to them. She just stared out the window the way she had most of the trip there. She hadn’t even spoken to him, and he had been her only confidante the entire night, even after they stopped playing truth or dare and watched another movie until it was late enough to go roll his house. In a weird way it was funny; Ash was her best friend, even when she didn’t know it was him. He guessed that meant that she didn’t like him for any shallow reason, like appearance or popularity. She just liked him for being him.

...Hey, that was a pretty deep thought. Ash congratulated himself. Not bad for a boy in a pink dress.

“We’re here.”

Ash looked up from his thoughts and gulped at Angie’s announcement—out of the corner of his eye he saw Misty with a hesitant expression on her face as well. He looked out the window and saw his street laid out in front of him. Wow, he never noticed how bright his streetlights were...

“The lights in his house are off,” Angie said in a whisper. Of course they were. His mom always went to bed by midnight, and it was a quarter till. Normally Ash himself would fall asleep standing up if it were this late. But tonight nervous tension kept him awake. His mom could come up with creative ways of torture...he wondered what death by dental floss would be like.

“Okay,” Angie’s sister, who had driven them, said, “I’m going to drop you off, then drive around the block. I’ll park at the end of the street for a few minutes and then start cruising up the street to see if you’re ready. If you’re not, I’ll do it again, and again until you’re ready or you get caught, whichever comes first. Remember, if there’s any trouble—you’re on your own. I can’t afford to lose car privileges, so I’ll take whoever is in the van and I’ll pick up the stragglers later. Assuming there are any left.”

That last sentence didn’t sound the least bit ominous...he never knew he could feel like a refugee on his own lawn.

“Take your ammunition now,” Angie said, and passed them each a can off shaving cream and a roll of toilet paper. Ash stared at the equipment in his hand. Who had eight cans of shaving cream lying around the house?

“Did you plan this?” he asked.

“Duh,” Angie grinned. “It wouldn’t be a slumber party if we didn’t go rolling.”

Oh, yes, how could he have forgotten?

They opened the side door and scurried out into the yard. “Now spread out, be quick, and above all, stay quiet!” Angie commanded in a loud whisper, and each of the other girls ran to her chosen spot of vandalism. Jess worked on his fence and mailbox, Zildy started decorating the bushes outside his house, Natty started rolling—oh please, not his mom’s car!—and Angie put the shaving cream to good use writing on the driveway.

Ash and Misty just stood on the lawn and looked at each other. Before anyone could notice they weren't doing anything, Ash leaned over and asked Misty, “Want to go to the back yard?” Misty nodded and they strolled into the shadows cast by the side of the house.

It was really dark in the back, away from the glow of the streetlights...he could see Misty’s silhouette, and that was about it. He was careful not to trip over anything and sprain an ankle. That would be just what he needed, to hurt himself while pulling a prank on—himself. He blinked. He never thought of it that way; it was pretty strange, actually. Heck, who was he kidding? All his dilemmas were strange...there was one consolation. If he hurt himself, at least he could make Brock and Tracey wait on him while he was an invalid. No, that was too good for them. The punishment would have to fit the crime. How he was going to manage that, though, remained to be told...

“So, what do we do now?” Misty whispered.

Ash gave her a weird look, not that she could see it in the dark. “I thought we were supposed to be toilet papering m...Mrs. Ketchum’s house,” he said, biting the ‘my’ off his tongue at the last minute. He felt himself grow warm at that slip, even though Misty didn’t seem to notice. But she wasn’t very observant of anything right now; she just sighed and walked over to the back doorstep. He didn’t really have a choice but to follow her. She was in the same despondent mood she had been in the van, and this time Ash dared to talk to her. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I don’t feel right doing this,” she told him. Ash raised his eyebrows at this statement; she was really worried. The moon came out from behind the clouds long enough for him to see her wringing her hands, and then the light disappeared again as she continued.

“Mrs. Ketchum has been really nice to me,” she said quietly. “I know it’s just a joke, and if we were just playing a trick on Ash and Brock I’d be fine. They can take it—all they’d do is figure out some way to get even. But Mrs. Ketchum treats me like family; she even got me a birthday present. I feel really guilty paying her back like this.”

Ash felt both sympathy and warmth in his chest. His mom, being one of the few good female role models Misty saw on a regular basis, was a big influence on Misty. It wasn’t that Misty constantly sought her advice; but when Delia did offer it, Misty took it. He didn’t know whether to be proud that she liked his mom so much—or annoyed that she didn’t give him the same respect. Of course, she was right on the getting even part...

“Although,” Misty said thoughtfully, “It may not matter, as Ash will probably be the one who has to clean it up, anyway, and how’s he going to find out who did it?” She giggled, and Ash rolled his eyes to himself. Misty had way too much fun at his expense. For someone she supposedly liked, she sure had a funny way of showing it. Besides, he had ways of finding out things like that. Such as, oh, dressing up as a girl and going undercover to a slumber party...amazing the things you can learn at one of those...

...Hey. That gave him an idea. And for the first time that night, making him think he’d either lost his mind or accepted his circumstances (same difference,) Ash was glad to be a girl. Brock was brilliant—okay, so that was an exaggeration. Brock approached competency. But maybe Ash would just torture him to the brink of death instead of actually killing him. Because, Ash realized, now that he had recovered his senses after finding out how Misty really felt about him, he was in the perfect position to ask her about their relationship without embarrassing either one of them.

“Misty?” he said. “Can I ask you a question?”


“The boy who lives in this house...the other Ash...you really like him, don’t you?”

He had butterfrees in his stomach when she didn’t answer for a moment. “I feel more comfortable talking about it with you than the other girls,” she finally admitted. That was probably because he wasn’t a girl. “Yeah. I do.”

“Have you told him yet?” he asked. Misty’s answer was quick this time.

“No, I couldn’t do that,” she said.

“Why not?”

“Because. He’s a boy.”

Sure, that was logical. Ash blinked. “I thought that was the point.”

Misty giggled. “You’re silly.”

He was silly? He wasn’t the one currently in a state of denial...well, actually...okay, never mind that. He wondered how long Misty had liked him—it’s not like he had noticed a change in her, so there was no telling when she had decided she did. Did that mean that all this time, when he thought she was picking on him, she was really flirting and he just didn’t know it? That was weird. He almost got goosebumps—maybe it was a good thing he hadn’t known that she liked him until now, because he didn’t have to react. Hadn’t, at least—problem was, now that he did know, he owed it to Misty to think about how he felt about her. Misty had obviously been thinking of him enough, if she had figured out that she liked him—that idea was even weirder. He succumbed to the goosebumps.

“Are you cold?” Misty asked.

Drat, she knew something was wrong. “No, I just...I was wondering if they were almost done. I’m ready to go back. I’m too nervous out here.”

“I know what you mean,” Misty agreed. “I really don’t want to get caught. I haven’t heard anyone driving down the road, though, much less Angie’s sister.”

“Me neither,” Ash said. They sat in silence once again. In the field behind his house he saw a soft sparkling; it looked like the mountains had been draped with lights. When he was younger, he used to think it was fairy dust, and in the evenings he would run around with a jelly jar, trying to catch it so he could use it to fly. He smiled at the memory. “Look,” he showed Misty, “there are ledian out tonight.”

“They’re pretty, aren’t they?” she said, her voice soft in admiration. Then to his surprise she leaned against him, putting her head on his shoulder and sighing. It was all he could do not to jump out of his skin—and then he smiled. Was this another girl thing? If so, he wasn’t complaining. It felt...right. His arm felt heavy suddenly, like it needed support—such as, oh, around Misty’s shoulders—except there was one small detail. Misty still thought he was Ashley. Ash frowned. This was one of the few times he and Misty were actually being sweet to each other, and he couldn’t enjoy it because he was wearing a dress. He was back to killing Brock again.

“Misty?” Ash asked her, because he had to know. “Do you think about him a lot?”

When she lifted her head, he was sorry he asked, because it felt nice. But she didn’t seem bothered. “Not all the time,” she said. “But probably more than he thinks about me.”

And she was probably right about that too...until now. “Like when?” he asked.

“Like when he’s just won a battle or something, and I want to tell him how well he did, but I don’t because I’m afraid he’ll start teasing me. And it’s all my fault, because when we first met that was all I did,” she said, and sighed wistfully as she continued, “Or when he does something really cute, or looks nice, and I want to tell him that, but I’m afraid to because he’ll start joking about me liking him.”

She was sitting with her hands in her lap now, and he felt the sudden urge to pick one up to comfort her. Uh-oh...this was not good. If he was feeling sorry for Misty because she liked him and didn’t know if he liked her back...then what was the next logical step? Boy, he was growing up way too fast. He shouldn’t have to face decisions like this until he was, like, forty or something.

“Well, what’s wrong with that?” he asked her, trying to ignore the fact that for the first time in his life, he knew what hormones were. “Isn’t that what you want?”

He could see her face in the moonlight again, and she smiled sadly. “You don’t understand. That’s all it is to him—a tease, a joke. He doesn’t take it seriously. And so I don’t tell him I like him...because it’s no fun liking someone who doesn’t like you back.”

Oh...ouch. Ash winced. Poor Misty. No wonder girls talked about boys so much—boys were so inconsiderate. Only interested in themselves and ignorant of a girl’s feelings...okay, he was way too in touch with his feminine side. But he still felt guilty, even though he hadn’t done anything wrong. Maybe he should have been nicer to Misty...though how was he supposed to know? She acted like she liked his teasing. It wasn’t his fault she was sending mixed messages. Or maybe...maybe she did like his teasing. She just wanted to know that there was something more behind it.

Wow, two insights in one night? Too bad he couldn’t tell Misty. She might have had to stop calling him stupid for a while. Well, at least now he understood better how she felt. But he was no closer than before in sorting out his own feelings...

They heard the sound of a car, and they looked at each other. “I think that’s our ride,” he whispered. “Just leave the toilet paper and shaving cream here, and we’ll pretend we rolled the back.” She nodded, and they stood up to leave.

They were still in the back yard but could see the front when light flooded the front porch. “Who’s there?” a male voice Ash recognized as Brock’s called out.

“RUN!” Angie yelled, and it was met by a chorus of screams as the other girls bolted to the minivan parked on the curb. Ash and Misty gave each other a quick look and started to follow.

Except...Ash made it a grand total of two steps before the ground was suddenly lot closer to his face than it had been. He yelped in surprise and pain as he tried to scramble up and realized that, of all the luck, he had tripped over a hole in the yard and now his left ankle was throbbing. He had forgotten one of the cardinal rules of cross-dressing—forget the make-up, forget the bra—only girls know how to run in Mary Janes.

“Ash!” Misty stopped in place and ran back to help him. She put her arm around his waist and helped him stand as she asked, “Are you okay?”

“Fine, I just twisted my ankle,” he gasped. “Quick, you go on and get in the van, and I’ll find some place to hide.”

Misty was shaking her head and practically dragging him backwards. He had to hop to keep up. “Come on, we can hide in the back,” she said.

“Misty!” Why did she have to act so stubborn? “This is no time to start acting loyal!”

“I’m not leaving you hurt,” she said, and he had to give her credit—he would have done the same thing. “Hurry, if Brock can’t catch the others, then we’re next.”

Ash shook his head and they limped back into the shadows. She led him straight to...not the garden! This night just kept going from bad to worse. Oh well, maybe he could eat one of his mom’s tomatoes as his last meal...

“Quick, hide behind the tomato stalks,” she said. “It’s dark enough that no one should be able to see through the gaps.”

She helped him sit down, and then squatted behind him. “How’s your ankle?”

“It’ll be okay, I think I just need to walk on it a little,” he said, and tried to stretch it to emphasize his point. Although the result was that it just twinged in pain more. “You should have gone!” he told her, annoyed both at her and himself. If he hadn’t hurt himself then she never would have stayed. Now they were both at risk of being grounded—and that would hurt Misty more than it would him.

“Too late now,” she retorted. Then they both fell silent at the voice that joined Brock’s.

“Brock, what’s going on?” Oh no...his mother was awake...

“Somebody likes me!” Brock shouted joyously. Knowing Brock, he was probably dancing in the yard for all the neighbors who had awakened by Angie and her friends’ screams to see. “Look at the driveway, Mrs. Ketchum! It says ‘Brock Rocks!’”

Ash attempted to hold back a snort. Beside him, he heard Misty having a similar reaction. Angie had to be something special to like that nut, that was for sure.

“I see,” Mrs. Ketchum said, but she didn’t sound nearly as happy. “Our yard is a mess! Do you have any idea who did this?”

“No,” Brock said, and his tone sounded significantly glummer. But then it was resolute as he declared, “But believe me, I’ll find out! I’ll search the ends of the earth to find my beloved! Nothing is too much for the one I love!”

“How can he love her when he doesn’t even know who she is?” Ash mumbled under his breath, and he could feel Misty shaking with laughter beside him.

His mom didn’t appear to share Brock’s sentiments either. “Whatever you say,” she said. “In any case—I hate to ask this, with it being so late, but can you clean up this stuff tonight? I would hate for it to blow into the neighbors’ yard before morning. And I can send Pikachu and Mimie out to help.”

“Sure!” Brock forgot about his new love and went back to trying to impress Mrs. Ketchum. “Cleaning is my middle name. I can clean whatever you want, Mrs. Ketchum...the yard, the house, the cobwebs in your heart...” Ash tried not to gag at the thought of Brock hitting on his mother. Speaking of hormones...

They heard the door shut on Brock’s proclamation as his mom went inside, and then open and shut again when she let the pokémon out. Ash sighed and leaned against Misty’s shoulder. His ankle was no longer throbbing but had subsided to a dull ache. Now all they had to do was wait ...he could hear Brock humming as he cleaned up the yard. He rolled his eyes to himself. Brock was a great friend, but he had strange hobbies. He could accept collecting rock pokémon and chasing after girls. He could even accept cooking. But cleaning was just plain weird.

He tensed as he heard a noise in the yard. “What was that?”

“Pika...” a little pokémon inquired hopefully. “Pikapi?”

Oh, great. Just great. Ash had been gone all night, and now Pikachu was anxious to find his trainer again. Except his trainer didn’t want to be found...

“Uh-oh,” Misty said in a low voice. “I bet he can track me...he knows my scent...”

“I don’t think it’s you he’s looking for,” Ash said wryly. Misty looked at him in bewilderment but didn’t answer, because Pikachu was looking straight at them. Ash tried to remember how good Pikachu’s night vision was. And of course Pikachu wasn’t psychic, but they did have a bond...maybe Ash could send him a message using mind power. Go away! You’re going to get me in trouble!

One of two things happened next. Either Pikachu was as clueless as his trainer could be and didn’t hear this command—or he did hear it and decided the idea of getting Ash into trouble was fun. In any case, he stopped for a moment, stared at the garden with his ears twitching—then made a beeline for Ash.

Ash frantically tried to shoo him away. ”Go see Misty, she said she missed you!” he murmured, trying to speak low enough that only Pikachu would hear him—if Pikachu could hear him. Wonder of wonders, Pikachu stopped right before Ash and then leapt happily into Misty’s arms. Now all Misty had to do was explain to him that they were playing a game and wanted to stay hidden...maybe they were safe.

“Pikachu, what are you doing?” Brock called out, walking around back. Okay, this complicated things, but Brock wouldn’t turn them in. Tease them, yes (especially him,) and force them to perform a ridiculously disproportionate chore in return for cleaning up the mess they had made, but he would at least keep their secret.

The back light switched on. “Brock, I heard you calling...is something going on?” his mom called from the back step.

Ash gulped...and then nose itched. Oh, no...they were done for.

“Just stay quiet,” Misty hissed, unaware of his predicament. She peered intently at the back porch. “As long as they don’t look too closely we’re okay.”

“I can’t,” Ash mumbled, and wrinkled his nose up.

“What?” There was a little more light in the yard, and he could see Misty’s eyes widen as she realized the problem. “Ash...try to hold it in!”

“I’m trying...it’s not working...” Ash’s eyes were watering, and his nose was really twitching...he had forgotten he was allergic to ledian dust...



That couldn’t have been any louder if he had tried. His mom immediately ran down the steps. “All right, who’s there...and in my garden...Misty!” Mrs. Ketchum was shocked, then furious as she parted the tomato stalks to reveal two young ‘girls’ peering up at her with scared and contrite faces.

Misty bit her lip and for a horrible moment Ash thought she was going to cry. But she held it together. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I was going to clean it up...”

Mrs. Ketchum ignored the apology. “Inside. Now,” she demanded. Misty waited until Ash stood up, as he still couldn’t support himself fully.

“And who are you—oh my goodness, are you hurt?” His mom temporarily put her anger aside when she saw him limping. Brock also saw him and almost split his face, his smirk was so wide. Ash felt like taking a pumice stone and scrubbing that smile right off.

“I’m okay. I just turned it, I need to walk on it,” he told his mom, his voice high to maintain his disguise for lack of anything better to do. He limped forward as if to prove his point.

“Just so, I’d rather have Brock carry you inside,” she said. Wha....? Ash glared at Brock as the older trainer walked forward.

“I’m okay,” Ash insisted.

“Better safe than sorry, sweetie,” Brock said innocently. Ash growled under his breath and attempted to discreetly kick him, and then—oof! Brock picked him up and carried him up the steps. His mom turned her attention back to Misty, her tone hardening. “Misty, I’m surprised at you.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again, and she sounded even more miserable. Ash wished he was still leaning on her for support—he could have given her a hug. Out of character for him, yes, but tears called for drastic measures. “The other girls wanted to...I really was going to come back and clean up...”

Sure, now she said that. Earlier she had had no problem whatsoever with him cleaning it up...interesting what the threat of punishment can do to your priorities.

“Well, you won’t be going back tonight,” Mrs. Ketchum said as they stepped into the kitchen. “And believe me, Angie’s parents will be hearing about this.”

Misty didn’t say anything—there was nothing to be said. Brock gently lowered Ash into a chair, and then knelt down to look at his ankle. Ash swatted him when he tried to raise Ash’s skirt, causing Brock to snicker again. He gave the ankle a quick examination and looked up to tell Mrs. Ketchum, “It’s a little swollen, but it just needs some ice and a bandage.” He turned to Ash and, winking so that Mrs. Ketchum couldn’t see, said, “You’ll need to be careful with it for a couple of days but I think you’ll be able to walk on it.”

“That’s good,” Mrs. Ketchum said. With the danger over she was could turn her wrath on Ash without guilt. “And as for you young lady,” she said sternly, “I’m not you’re mother—”

Guess again, Ash thought.

“—but I have a feeling you won’t be returning to the slumber party tonight either. I’m going to call your parents to come pick you up, and if I were in their shoes, I wouldn’t be happy at having to come pick up my son in the middle of the night, either.” She got that much right.

“What’s your name?” she demanded. She stalked over to the telephone.

“Ash....ley,” he said slowly.

“Ashley, what’s your telephone number?”

There was a clench in his chest; the game was up. He looked straight ahead and told the truth. Beside him, he heard Misty give a strangled gasp and fall still as she recognized the number. His mom was very tired, though—his words didn’t even register. She dialed the phone and then slammed it down when all she got was a busy signal.

“I’ll try again in a minute,” she said, extreme annoyance showing through in her voice. “Ashley, who is your mother?”

Misty was backing towards the door, her face pale. She shook her head. “No...” she whispered. Ash gave her an anguished look before turning back to his mom.

“Young lady, I asked you a question!” Delia said angrily. “You’re in enough trouble as it is, now I suggest you answer me. Who...is...your...mother?”

Ash slowly reached up and took off his wig.

“You are.”

Delia gasped and she was speechless, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to come to terms with the knowledge that her little boy had turned into a cross-dresser. Brock gave in to the laughter that had been threatening to escape ever since he had seen Ash in the garden. And Misty...

...ran out of the room, the door slamming behind her. He could hear the sound of her sobs as she ran. After all that...it had been him who had made her cry. He hung his head, surprising himself when his eyes stung at that thought. He rubbed at them roughly and bit his lip—now that it was too late, he finally knew.

Funny how you never know just how much like someone until you hurt them the worst.


Me thinkith that Ash is going to have a permanant dent in his head from how many times the mallent is going to land there. ^^'''''''

Twilight Lune
23rd November 2003, 07:17 PM
Ok here's the next one!

Chapter Five—We’ll Always Have the Bathroom

Ash sat on the bathroom floor with his head between his knees, staring at the tile miserably. He alternated between self-pity and loathing. Forget love not being easy—liking someone was hard enough. It would figure that by the time he got over the shock of knowing Misty liked him—and then got over the shock that he actually liked being liked and wanted to like her back—she would hate him.

She didn’t kill him after all. She cried, which was even worse. Last night she had even cried herself to sleep, not that he would know; he had been forced to sleep on the sofa when Misty locked him out of his room. He only found out that morning because Brock told him so at breakfast. The older trainer, having been in on the trick, wasn’t being treated much better by Misty, but since he wasn’t the one she had a crush on, she had grudgingly allowed him to sleep in a sleeping bag on the floor.

Ash tried to apologize over breakfast, he really did. But over the course of the night Misty’s feelings changed from tearful embarrassment to silent anger, and so she made an appearance at the breakfast table only to ignore Ash’s presence completely. She went back to barricading herself in his room straight afterwards. And as for Ash, he hadn’t exactly been grounded, because his mom had forced him to admit the reason for Misty’s behavior, which was that she liked him but thought he had betrayed her. Which, of course, had forced him to admit in turn that he liked her back. Once his mom got over cooing, ruffling his hair, and pinching his cheeks so hard that his face was as red as Misty’s hair, all because he had a crush, she assumed that he had seen the error of his ways and was paying the price for it. She also told him that Misty would eventually forgive him—though Ash had his doubts.

But his mom was also pampering him every moment she got, and though Ash would normally appreciate it, his ankle was all but better and he preferred to be allowed to mope. And then Brock was acting like a colossal pain by both sympathizing and teasing him for his dilemma, of which neither action was appreciated. So he might as well have been grounded, because since he couldn’t retreat to his room, Ash had sought refuge in the bathroom until his mom stopped pinching or Brock stopped singing any and every song that had the word girl in it, whichever came first. Pikachu kept him company for most of the morning, though when Ash got bored, decided it would be cool to be have a toilet-trained pokémon, and tried to convince Pikachu to ‘pika poop’ in the toilet, Pikachu had abandoned his trainer in favor of Ash’s mother. Ash’s hunger drove him out of the bathroom soon afterwards, and he wandered out to the kitchen long enough to get a sandwich and left for the bathroom again when Brock started crooning I’m Not a Girl, Not Yet a Woman. And to think, this was the guy they looked to for expert advice on their journeys.

Later that afternoon, as Ash counted the raised bumps on the ceiling, his mom knocked on the door to inform him that she was going into town to run some errands, and that he’d better not be making plans to waste any more toilet paper—her one grudge against last night’s activities, as after all, think of all the people in the Orange Islands who had outhouses and would love to have Charmin in their bathroom. She also told him to stay off his ankle, make sure he washed his face and had changed his you-know-whats, and—since he was already in the bathroom—would he please clean the toilet? So Ash poured bleach in the toilet, temporarily forgetting that his bathroom wasn’t well ventilated, and then had to lean out the second-story window for a half hour, gagging at the smell. When it finally dissipated and he was back to sulking on the floor there was a knock at the door. With his mom gone, it could only be one person—Ash was suddenly fed up and decided to let him have it.

“Brock!” he yelled. “No, I will not help you with your make-up, I don’t care if that dress makes you look fat, and for crying out loud, would you quit bugging me about tamp—”

“Ash Ketchum! I already know you borrowed my bra, but if you even dared to look under the counter at my supplies—”

“Misty!” Ash gulped and his face turned red. He didn’t even want to think of Misty and tampons in the same sentence... “I didn’t touch them, I swear, I just thought you were Brock!”

“Sure, that makes sense,” she grumbled. “What would he need them for?”

Oh boy. That was even worse. Ash tried to ignore that remark. “I thought you weren’t talking to me.”

There was silence as she was caught off-guard and then curtly replied, “I’m not!” Of course, technically she was right. She wasn’t talking, she was yelling.

“Then what are you doing?” he asked.

“What do you think I’m doing? I have to go to the bathroom. Otherwise I wouldn’t be standing outside the bathroom door,” she said, and the door in reference was unable to block the sarcasm in her voice.

He didn’t really want to face either her or Brock. He preferred to keep his head, and whether by decapitation or insanity, he’d lose it with both of them. “Can’t you use my mom’s?”

Another silence. “Forgot about that,” he heard her mumble, and he heard her started to walk away and then turn back. “Wait a minute! I shouldn’t have to!”


“It’s your fault you’re stuck in the bathroom anyway, so the least you can do is give me the courtesy of choosing whichever toilet I want!”

Girl-logic. There was no use arguing with it. “All right, but be quick.”

He opened the door and reluctantly gave in to the fact that, with the opportunity in front of him, he should try again to apologize. And it wasn’t that he didn’t want to apologize; he just didn’t want his nose broken when Misty slammed the door in his face. “Misty, I—” he began.

She didn’t even look at him as she brushed past and shoved him out into the hallway. “I’ll be as long as I want!” she said haughtily. Seconds later he heard the lock click. He sighed and walked to the other side of the hall to wait her out. Knowing Misty, she’d find a way to get mad at him because he overheard her pee. Why was he putting up with this? Oh yeah, because he liked her. Supposedly.

A noise down the hall distracted him, and he recognized the sound of Brock’s humming. Shoot...all he needed was for Brock to pin his arms to his side and force him to sit through another chorus of Pretty Boy again...he willed Misty to hurry up, knowing it was a lost cause. Misty spent more time in the bathroom than a constipated pokémon would. What did girls do in there, anyway? That was one thing that even dressing as a girl would never help him figure out...

The toilet flushed, the door opened, and Misty started to walk out, her nose wrinkled disdainfully. “Why does the bathroom smell like chlorine...” was all she was able to say before Ash saw Brock out of the corner of his eye and freaked.

“Get inside!” he said, pushing her back and darting into the bathroom himself. He slammed the door so forcefully it made the mirror rattle, and then locked it behind him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Misty asked, her voice dangerously low. He knew to tread carefully—he usually got pounded about now. But the threat was great enough for him to take the risk.

“Shh...” Ash motioned frantically. “Brock’s outside.”

“So, unless you want to have Brock serenade you with Britney Spears songs, shut up!”

“Don’t tell me to shut up,” she said, but the warning had effect. They crouched next to each other silently until Brock passed by. Ash heard yet another few measures of Cinderella, but it could be worse. Much worse. As the music (if it could be called that) faded away he allowed himself a sigh of relief.

“He’s gone,” Ash told Misty, and tried to take advantage of the situation again as he attempted to get her to talk to him. “Misty...”

“Forget it, I’m leaving,” she said acidly, and put her hand on the doorknob. He heaved another sigh, this one frustrated. This had to stop—he reached out and caught her wrist with his hand, taking her by surprise. Good, confusion was an excellent start.

“Can we talk?” he said. “Please—I’ve told you I was sorry.”

Misty recovered and shook his arm off. She put her hand back on the doorknob in annoyance. “There’s nothing to talk about. Besides, sorry isn’t enough.”

“But what can I do?” he pleaded. He wasn’t above begging—after all, he’d already degraded himself by wearing a pink dress. Begging was the least of his worries. “Misty, I didn’t mean to hurt you. Isn’t there anything I can do?”

“No,” she said flatly. “Just let me be. Maybe I’ll forgive you, eventually...” She cast him a dark look. “But probably not. I’m leaving.”

She pulled forcefully on the doorknob, but it didn’t budge. That did what neither Ash’s mom or Brock had successfully been able to do since last night—it distracted both Ash and Misty from their argument. Only for a moment, though. They both looked at the door as Misty frowned and tugged on it once more. When it didn’t move, she turned to him, exasperation quickly turning to anger. “All right, what did you do to the door?”

“I didn’t do anything to it!” he protested. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s stuck.”

“Well, it was locked.”

“I unlocked it, you dimwit!”

“Let me see.” Misty stepped over to accommodate him, crossing her arms over her chest as she did. She tapped her foot impatiently as he reached down and yanked at the doorknob. It jiggled maybe a fourth of an inch but still refused to turn. He leaned back and pulled harder on the door. Still no luck.

“It’s not moving,” he said.

“That’s what I just told you, you stupid idiot!” Misty snapped. She looked suspiciously like she was trying to keep from strangling him, though why she would restrain herself, he didn’t know. He cringed and scratched his head. Great, they were stuck in the bathroom. This was not going to help matters.

“It’s never done this before,” he said. “What do we do?”

She sucked in air furiously, but Ash didn’t think she was trying to calm down. “We have to call for help and admit that we’re stuck in the bathroom together, dork,” she said sharply. “Now look what you’ve done. You were worried about Brock singing to you—what’s he going to do when he finds out you’re stuck in the bathroom with me?”

That was not a good thought. “Do we have to tell him?” he asked nervously.

“Of course! How else do you expect to get out of here?” she asked, and she did punch him for that remark. Ash winced and rubbed his shoulder as he answered.

“We could climb out the window...” he suggested. “My head will fit through it...”

“What do you know, miracles do happen,” she said, rolling her eyes. “And I won’t even ask how you know that...seeing as we’re on the second story, you dork!”

“But there’s a tree close by...”

“No!” She shouted, yanking on her ponytail. She always did that when she was really annoyed. Considering how hard she was pulling, it looked like she would be bald before she forgave him. She continued, “I will not let you kill yourself before I get a chance to kill you first.” Ash sighed. He always knew it.

“But then what do we do?”

“I already told you...”

A scratching at the door interrupted them. Ash brightened—that was the way Pikachu indicated that he wanted in a room. At least Pikachu forgave him for his stupid actions. The scratching stopped, and then there was an inquisitive “Pika?” outside the door.

“Pikachu!” Ash cried in relief. He ran over to the door and jiggled the handle. “Pikachu, we’re stuck! The door won’t open. Can you do something?”

“Pika!” Pikachu shouted his agreement outside the door. “Pi...ka...”

Misty’s eyes widened and she temporarily forgot herself. “No, Ash, let go of the door...!” she said urgently. “Metal conducts electri—”



“—city,” Misty finished lamely as Ash went flying backwards and crashed into the toilet—for the second time in as many days. He looked up in a daze. “Are you okay?” she asked in concern

Ha, Misty did still care about him. He smiled at her as he tried to sit up and said, “Yeah...”

Misty caught herself. “Too bad,” she said, sticking her nose in the air and turning her back to him. Ash sighed again and slumped back down.

“Hey, what’s going?”

Ash didn’t know if he should be happy or seriously depressed to hear that voice. Misty didn’t look thrilled, but she took what she could get.

“Brock!” she shouted. “Help us out here, we’re stuck!”

“What do you mean, stuck?” Brock asked.

“I mean the door won’t open! Ash managed to get us stuck in the bathroom!”

A silence, then a snicker. “You’re stuck in the bathroom with Ash?”

“That’s what I just said, stupid!”


“Brock! Just shut up and get us out!”

And then there was a new a voice. “Who’s yelling?”

“Tracey?” Ash groaned. “What are you doing here?”

“Professor Oak sent me on an errand. I should ask you the same. What are you doing?”

“I’m stuck in the bathroom.”

“With Misty?” There was a longer silence—then a chuckle.

“Oh, shut up and help Brock!” Ash snapped.

“Help me do what?” Brock asked.

“Open the door, you fool!” Misty screeched, and Ash covered his ears. Misty turned around and glowered when she saw him. Oops.

“What?” Ash said weakly. “It echoes in here!”

Misty pulled his arms down roughly. And she had said he had a big head—hers looked ready to explode. “That’s it!” she yelled. “I’ve had it! Get out of my sight!”

Ash looked around uncertainly. There was a slight problem with that. “Umm...Misty...we’re stuck, if you hadn’t noticed...”

“I don’t care!” she yelled. “Get...get...” she spotted something and shoved him away. “Get in the tub if you have to! Just go away!”


“Don’t forget, this is your fault! And pull the shower curtain around you!”

Ash buried his face in his hands. It wouldn’t do any good to make her angrier than she already was, so...without a word he turned around and, grimacing, sat down in the tub. Eww, it was still damp. He pulled the curtain around him, feeling ridiculous in the process. He heard Misty give a hmph and then lower the toilet lid so she could sit down herself.


“Did I tell you that you could speak?”

“You didn’t say I couldn’t.”

“Well then, shut up!”

Ash sighed and did. He wondered if Misty noticed he had stopped arguing. He didn’t mean to pick fights with her. It just happened. For a moment all he could hear was the sound of metal striking metal as Brock and Tracey worked on opening the bathroom door. If they had heard the argument, they had wisely decided to stay quiet—which led him to believe that they hadn’t heard the argument. Though he wasn’t sure how they could have missed it. He dared to speak again. “Are they making any progress?”

“Why are you talking?”

“Can’t I even ask a question?”


“Fine!” Ash leaned against the side of the tub and pouted. He was extremely uncomfortable, but he didn’t want Misty to have the satisfaction of hearing him fidget. He’d settle for a backache.

“Hey Brock?” Misty called after a moment. “Are you making any progress?” Ash opened his mouth to protest, thought better of it, and smirked instead.

“Getting there...I think part of the lock mechanism was rusted and broke. We’re trying to see if we can spring the door before resorting to taking the doorknob off,” Brock said. “I don’t think Mrs. Ketchum would be too happy to come back from town and find a hole in her bathroom door.”

“Why not? There’s one in Ash’s head,” Misty muttered. Ash gritted his teeth and didn’t say anything. This was hard, but for once he was being smart. The silent treatment worked both ways. He heard Misty shifting restlessly in her seat, and he knew she was wondering what he was doing.

“Hey, what’s going on?” A perky, feminine voice entered the fray. Good grief, just invite everyone to see his humiliation. Who was going to show up next, Gary?

“What have you gotten yourself into this time, Ashy-boy?” another boy’s voice said. Oh, good grief, it was Gary. Ash was going to jump out the window now—right after he took that stupid Ashy-boy and shoved it down Gary’s throat.

“Angie!” Brock’s voice jumped two octaves as he fell in a lovesick swoon. “My British blossom! What brings you to this side of the Isle?”

“I live here, remember?” Angie said pleasantly.

“In this house?”

“No, Brock, just in Pallet.”

Brock was undeterred. “Good! Then let me give you a tour of the house!”

“Brock!” Ash and Misty yelled simultaneously. He heard Misty jump up and run over to pound her fist on the door. Ash tried to get up himself, but slipped on the tub and banged his knee instead. Well, that was nice. Now he’d have a bruise on his knee to match the one on his ankle.

“Brock?” Tracey sounded confused. “Aren’t you going to stay and help?”

“What was that?” Angie asked. “It sounded like Ash and Misty...”

“No, it’s nothing...” Brock said hurriedly. “Here, let me show you the kitchen first...and it just so happens to be the furthest room from the bathroom, how about that?” Their voices faded away with the sound of footsteps.

“Nothing?! Nothing is what will be left of his life when I’m finished with him...” Misty yelled. Ash covered his ears again and was thankful that Misty couldn’t see him through the curtain.

A slight rattling sound was heard. “Don’t worry guys, I’m still here...” Tracey said as he continued to wrestle with the unyielding doorknob. “And so is Gary. He’s going to help.”

“He is?” Misty asked, surprised enough she didn’t even sound mad.

“I am?” Gary asked. “I just came to deliver a message for my grandfather...”

“What a coincidence, so did I,” Tracey said dryly. “Here, have a screwdriver.”

“Well, thanks guys,” Misty said, sighing.

“Yeah, thanks,” Ash echoed, frowning. Great, now he was going to owe Gary a favor. The last time that happened he had ended up with his underwear flying from Professor Oak’s weather vane.

“Did I give you permission to speak?” Misty asked.

Ash hit his head with the palm of his hand. He was tired of this—whether she still liked him or not, he wanted his best friend back. And he wanted her to stop insulting him...okay, to insult him without malice, at least. He stopped trying to appease her and played the offensive. Misty would forgive him or he would die trying—which, considering her state of mind at the moment, was quite likely.

“Misty, this is crazy!” he said. “This has got to stop...”

“It’s your fault,” she reminded him.

“You’ve told me that already, but it’s your responsibility to accept my apology! I can’t do it for you!” he said in frustration, then cowered and closed his eyes as he waited for her to stalk over and pound him.


Boy, she was mad. One...two...three...the curtain was going to open any minute now, and the next thing he knew she’d have hit him so hard he’d be trying to dig his head out of a crater on Mars. So he waited. And waited. And waited...

He opened his eyes. Finally! Something he said had gotten through to her. She couldn’t retort to that...there was hope. He may even be able to finish the apology he had planned. He sat up and cleared his throat.

“You know, I don’t understand why you’re so mad,” he began. Which, if that was the best opening line he could come up with after six hours in the bathroom, was pretty pathetic.

“Because you lied to me, you idiot!” Misty said, shocked enough at his stupidity that she sounded more disbelieving than angry. He hurried on with his apology before those emotions reversed.

“No, I didn’t,” Ash countered. “Everything I told you as ‘Ashley’ was true.”

“What, so you do have a crush on Brock?” she said sarcastically.

“What?...NO!” Ash shouted, blushing. Of course. She would have to bring that up. He took a deep breath. “Besides that.”

“Like what?” she challenged. He had learned something from that slumber party—he paused before he answered, because he knew it would drive her crazy. Misty didn’t take secrets very well...he grimaced. He should have remembered that before the slumber party, not afterwards. On second thought, he’d better go ahead and say something.

“Like...” This was really going to throw her for a loop. “That I think you’re pretty...and nice...”

The silence that followed that statement made him wish he could see her face, but he didn’t dare move. “You didn’t say I was nice,” she said quietly, and that was the first thing she said since yesterday that wasn’t dripping with sarcasm or anger. Not only that, but she was keeping her voice down so that Tracey and Gary wouldn’t overhear them. And she was still thinking. “You think I’m pretty?”

This was surprisingly easy—there was a valuable lesson in this, Ash decided. Next time Misty was mad at him, all he had to do was give her a compliment. Pride was easier to swallow than a mallet.

“You were the one who became friends with me at the party when no one knew me,” he reminded her. “You came to help me when I got hurt and didn’t abandon me. Yes...I think you’re pretty.”

Darn it, was that a sniffle? Surely she wasn’t crying, he was being nice to her! Girls were crazy...they cried at the drop of a hat, when they were happy or sad, and then got mad at guys if they didn’t know what was wrong. Or right. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she said, but her voice was wavering.

“Are you sure?” he asked, and started to try to peer around the curtain.

“Stay in that tub!” she ordered, her tone once again strong. He let the curtain fall back and sighed. Yup, she was fine.

“Hey Ash?” she said, more softly. “You never answered my question.”

Ash furrowed his brow—darn girls and their ambiguous statements. He thought over the previous conversation and didn’t remember any questions; he would have to risk an if you don’t know then I’m not going to tell you answer. “What question?”

Misty was still calm; that was a good sign. “The one at the party.”

Ash rolled his eyes...that cleared things up a lot. “Which one?...Oh.” It dawned on him. Misty said it anyway, her voice meek.

“Do you have a crush on anyone?”

Oh boy. His hands started sweating. She did still like him. And since that was supposed to be a good thing, why was his heart pounding so hard? His brain knew he liked her back; now somebody just needed to tell his body that. He gulped. “I...I couldn’t have answered you at the party anyway.”

“Why not?”

“Because. I didn’t know I did.”

“What does that mean?” she asked, confused.

“It means...” Ash swallowed again, his mouth tasting dry. Misty was about to kill him or kiss him—he wasn’t sure which was worse. “It’s no fun liking someone who doesn’t like you back.”

“Ash...” she whispered. Uh-oh, sounded like the latter. He wished he had a breath mint. Especially knowing his next words.

“But if you find out that this person likes you...then you don’t have to be scared to like them back.”

He held his breath, waiting for her to speak. He had been a hypocrite; boys were just as crazy as girls, to go through this just to get a girl. Misty was quiet for an excruciatingly long time.

“How do I know you’re not just saying that to make me feel better?” she finally said. She wasn’t accusing, just timid.

Here it came...he was so nervous, he hoped he didn’t throw up on Misty instead of kissing her. That would not be good. “I’ll prove it,” he said. “But you have to let me out of the tub first.”

“Why?...Oh.” It was her turn to be taken by surprise. She didn’t answer.

“Misty?” he asked for permission again, and then cautiously moved the curtain. She didn’t yell to stop him, so he dared to pushed it all the way off to the side and slowly stepped out of the tub.

He looked at her, and knew in an instant that he was forgiven. The anger in her face was gone, replaced with a look that was just as anxious as it was hopeful. That still didn’t calm the nervous fluttering in his stomach, though. When she saw him looking at her, she bit her lip and offered him a quivering smile. He was almost knocked dizzy with a revelation—girls were just as scared of this ‘liking’ stuff as boys were. They sure hid it well. In a strange way this encouraged him—but not enough. He was sure his grin was just as shaky as he said, “I’m not very good at this...”

“You’re supposed to close your eyes,” Misty told him. There were rules to this? Good grief, he’d had enough trouble learning to tie his shoes. He’d never get the hang of kissing...

“You’re the one sitting down. You close them first,” Ash countered. Anything to delay the inevitable. Misty looked like she was about to protest, thought better of it, and then closed them. She held her breath. Ash gulped. Maybe if he waited long enough, she’d pass out from lack of oxygen...

No, he was going to do this. He took a deep breath and then leaned over and took her by the shoulders—she tensed at his touch, then relaxed when he squeezed her shoulders gently. Amazingly, it made him feel better to comfort her—he liked being the one to make her happy. Maybe there was more to this ‘liking’ stuff than he thought...it calmed him just enough that he gathered the courage to put his face closer to hers, and then took another deep breath, closed his eyes, and...

Click, then slam. The door crashed open.

“Hey, we finally got it....ALL RIGHT!”

At Tracey’s whoop Ash and Misty immediately broke apart, Ash losing his balance and crashing backwards to land flat on his rear. His face went hot, and Misty’s nearly matched her hair. He glared at the door to see Tracey, Brock, Angie, and Gary staring in at them with goofy expressions on their faces—and sheesh, even Pikachu had turned traitor, scurrying into the bathroom and giggling at his trainer’s predicament. And Ash had thought the slumber party was bad. Misty stood up, still blushing furiously, but Ash stayed where he was. There was no point in standing; the other guys would make sure he died of embarrassment any position he was in.

“Took you long enough, Ashy-boy,” Gary said, giving him a thumbs up.

“Aren’t they cute?” Angie squealed.

“Almost as cute as you,” Brock agreed.

“I’ve got to draw this!” Tracey exclaimed, and whipped out his sketchpad. “Hey Ash, could you do that again?”

Ash buried his head in his hands. This was all Brock’s fault. He was going to kill Brock.


Well only one more to go! Next one it cracked me up enough again to make my parents think I was nuts. ^^'''

23rd November 2003, 09:43 PM
This fic is good! Oh man, this is funny! Hurry up with that last chapter, will you?

24th November 2003, 09:00 PM
Ah, boy. :D That was very... interesting. And darn good. ;) I'm anxiously awaiting the final chapter, so don't delay! :no:

P.S. "We'll Always Have the Bathroom". Cute, crazy, and remarkably obscene at first glance. :P Love it!

Twilight Lune
27th November 2003, 08:10 PM
ACCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCK! Sorry peoples! Been very busy lately got a PA Day tommorow though so here yeah go!

Chapter Six—When You Think the Party’s Over

The scene was eerily familiar. Ash stood in his room, staring at the mirror suspiciously, as Brock and Tracey hovered around him. But this time, instead of going to a slumber party, he was going on his first date—at least, according to Brock. But this was the guy who also counted every trip to the police station with Officer Jenny a date. Considering they seemed to have a brush with the law in every town they visited, Brock should be engaged by now. Besides, Ash had just managed to flub his first kiss yesterday—he wasn’t sure if he was ready for the dating scene yet.

“It’s not a date,” he protested again, and fiddled with the noose around his neck. “Do I have to wear a tie? These things are worse than bras!”

“Let’s see. Angie is having a party. She invited Misty, and told her to bring a date. Misty’s bringing you. Therefore, that qualifies as a date,” Brock said, reminding him of the reason Angie had stopped by yesterday and become an accomplice to his humiliation. Ash, a bit spooked at the thought of having to date already, tried to ask her why she was having a party only two days after the last one, but Brock had happily mumbled something about a party girl and clamped Ash’s mouth shut. Brock was currently causing just as many problems as he batted Ash’s hands away from the tie and readjusted it. “And yes, the tie stays.”

“But Brock...” Ash whined.

“No buts,” Brock said, and forced Ash to face the mirror to evaluate his appearance. “It makes you look dashing, like you own a bunch of stock or something.”

Still dubious about the tie, Ash studied his reflection thoughtfully. “Well, I do have those Tauros...”

Brock groaned and slapped Ash’s arm. “Not that kind of stock,” he said, rolling his eyes as Ash rubbed his sore arm crossly. “Never mind. Anyway, just a touch of this aftershave...”

“Perfume?” The pain was suddenly secondary as Ash freaked. “I’m not wearing perfume!”

“It’s not perfume,” Brock scolded. “Perfume is for girls. Aftershave is for men.”

“How can I be a man if I’m not even old enough to shave?” Ash asked.

“Just shut up and wear it,” Brock said, punching Ash for his protests and pinning him against the wall so that Tracey could apply the aftershave. Ash made a face, accidentally got a little in his mouth, and started gagging. “Now,” Brock said as he checked his watch, ignoring the choking sounds his friend was making, “isn’t it time you went down to meet Misty?”

“I guess...” Ash finally got free of Brock’s vise grip and wiped his mouth in disgust. Figures. Brock couldn’t be happy with mortally embarrassing him. He had to try and poison him, too. “Brock? I thought you and Tracey were coming too. How come you’re not ready yet?”

The strange, almost pained look Tracey gave at this sparked Ash’s curiosity. “Maybe I’ll just sit this one out...” Tracey began.

“Not if you want all your art supplies to stay in one piece,” Brock growled, and Ash suppressed a grin. At least he wasn’t the only one suffering at Brock’s hands. Angie had invited Brock as her date on one condition; he had to bring a date for her friend as well. Tracey didn’t want to be a blind date, but he had no choice after Brock took one of the watcher’s notebooks hostage and threatened to show Professor Oak a particular picture of his granddaughter May that Tracey had drawn. Ash didn’t understand the big deal, but as Tracey had gone pale and stammered quick acceptance, it appeared to be an effective blackmailing tactic.

“We’ll be coming—both of us,” Brock said pointedly, and turned to Ash. “But we’re not coming with you.”

“Why not?”

“Do you want two chaperones at your date?” Brock asked, raising his eyebrows. Ash scratched his head, still clueless.

“There will be more at the party...” he said.

“Yes, but you’re walking there alone,” Brock said with a grin. “Now go on, don’t keep Misty waiting.” Ash yelped and scowled as the older trainer tried to swat his backside.

“All right, all right,” he grumbled, backing away so he was out of reach. “Keep your hands to yourself!” He walked out of the room, brushing the seat of his pants off by instinct. Sheesh.

Misty had disappeared two hours earlier, using his mom’s bedroom and bath to get ready. Ash had no clue what took her so long, but he wasn’t complaining; she’d turned weird since yesterday. He knew she liked him, but did that mean she had to walk around humming, pick flowers to put in her hair, and watch goofy romantic movies all the time? Tracey had even caught her doodling hearts in one of his open notebooks last night. Once he’d run her off (at the risk of a mallet—at times Ash thought the watcher was braver than he was) she’d started playing with her hair in front of the mirror, and Ash had thought he’d do her a favor; he brought one of his mom’s roses to put in her hair so she didn’t have to get it herself. For some reason she practically swooned and he had feared being kissed, though the dopey look she gave him instead was almost as bad...maybe she was just going through a phase. Yeah, that was it...just a phase...

She was standing in the living room, waiting for him. “Wow, Ash, you take longer than me to get ready,” she said. The smile that accompanied this statement was cheerful, not malicious, though the comment slipped right over Ash’s head as he stared at her in shock. She didn’t...she wouldn’t...she had.

“I can’t believe you did that,” he groaned, burying his face in his hands so that Misty couldn’t see either the pink flush or the grin that was growing on his face in spite of himself.

“What, don’t you think I look nice?” she asked innocently, twirling around so he could get a good look at her dress. At her pink dress. At the pink dress that he had borrowed and used as a disguise not two days ago...Misty obviously planned for the blush to remain on his face the entire night.

“It looks better on you than on me,” Ash said, recovering, though his voice was still higher than he intended. He cleared his throat, hoping to get rid of the squeakiness. “A lot better, that is...I mean, yes. You look nice,” he finally managed to tell her. Though it was actually her hair that distracted him...she wore it down, and it brushed the tip of her shoulders with a hint of curl. She should wear it like that more often...

She was still giggling, pleased with herself for tricking him. “You look nice too,” she told him. Considering all he had gone through already that night, the words felt like a consolation prize.

“Brock made me wear the tie,” Ash grumbled.

“Well, it looks good,” she reassured him.


The silence that followed was more than a little awkward. Ash fidgeted, unsure of what to say or do, and wondered what in the world they would talk about the rest of the evening if it had already taken them a grand total of two minutes to run out of conversational topics. He finally glanced at the clock and offered, “Uh, should we go?”

“Okay.” Misty picked up a light sweater off the sofa and stood patiently, waiting for him to join her. She looked disgruntled when he walked right past her on his way to the door.

“What?” he asked, pausing with his hand on the doorknob as he realized she wasn’t following him.

“Aren’t you going to hold my hand?” she asked expectantly.

Erk. Ash scratched his head nervously. “Do I have to?”

Misty hmphed and put her sweater on. “Never mind,” she said, stomping over to the door. She knocked his hand away and opened the door herself. Oops...he shouldn’t have said that.

“I mean, we can if you want to...” he amended.

“No, let’s just go,” she said curtly and slammed the door behind her, leaving him on the other side. He sighed. This was going to be a long evening.


“This is weird,” Ash objected, shifting from foot to foot as they stood on the front doorstep and he rang the doorbell. Misty giggled. In addition to Ash’s cajoling on the way there, her disposition had lightened considerably when they arrived and she saw his discomfort. Minus the fact that she had a tendency to try to stare into his eyes as they talked, their relationship was almost close to normal at the moment. Ash was even starting to remember why he liked her—both as a friend and as a girl.

“I don’t think it’s weird,” she said.

“That’s because you didn’t have to crash a slumber party in a dress the last time you were here,” he complained, and she giggled again and bumped him lightly against the hip.

“Yes, and whose fault is that?” she teased. He thought ‘Brock’ but didn’t get to answer before Angie opened the door. It was just as well—he wasn’t the only one planning revenge against Brock, and he preferred not to hear another tirade on immature pokémon trainers. She’d probably get carried away and include him in it as well.

“Hiiiiiiiii!” Angie yelled exuberantly. “Yippees, you’re here! Hey Ash, you look better in a tie than a bra,” she pointed out.

Ash blushed furiously. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered. Either would be useful to strangle Brock with, though. Speaking of which, despite his caution, he felt obligated to mention something to Angie. “I tried to get Brock to come with us, but he said he had to finish getting ready.”

To his surprise, Misty seemed amused at this comment instead of annoyed. Ash eyed the two girls suspiciously as they exchanged a smirk. “He’s helping out with the...entertainment,” Angie said, and neither girl could restrain a giggle. Ash wondered how much he should be worried—girl conspiracies were frightening. He was just lucky he was on their good side right now for liking Misty. Angie noticed his look and finished, “But don’t worry, he’ll be here. Everyone’s down in the den. Come on, I’ve got someone for you to meet.”

Ash lagged slightly behind the girls as Angie led them down the hall; he needed the space to steel himself to go downstairs. As bad as it was to have his first date in a public arena—making him have it in front of girls who had seen him in a bra? Now that was cruel and unusual. He had a bad feeling he would be constantly reminded of his misadventure all night, and the first guest he met as he stepped inside the den did nothing but confirm that.

“Hey, Ashy-boy, no dress tonight?”

“Gary!” Ash jumped back and groaned. His cross-dressing exploits had already reached Gary’s ears—he should have known. This was the guy who still harassed Ash because his mother cluelessly gave him a Barbie doll when he was three years old. Even worse was the fact that for a period of two or three weeks after that, he had innocently used the doll as a teddy bear during naptime. His mom even had the picture to prove it—err, he probably needed to burn that one, too. “What are you doing here?” he asked, though it was on the brink of a complaint.

“He’s with me,” Natty said, stepping over to Gary’s side and draping herself over his shoulder; seeing as she was about four inches taller than him, it wasn’t hard. Ash thought that fact was funny, but if he mentioned it, Gary would just claim Ash was jealous because Gary’s date was prettier, which would entail Misty kicking Gary in the shin—at least he hoped it would only be the shin. And then she would kick Ash just to make sure he didn’t agree with Gary—so Ash decided to keep his mouth shut.

“Hi, Ash,” Natty greeted him. “I gotta admit, you did look cute in pink.” She winked.

“Uh...” was all that Ash managed to say. He could spar with Gary, but this was the girl who had worn a bra on her head. She wasn’t scared of anything. Natty laughed at his embarrassment, and Misty elbowed him playfully in the side. Ash smiled; it was nice to have her by his side—both literally and figuratively—for a change.

“Well, once again it was nice talking to the little people, Ashy-boy,” Gary smirked as Ash threw him a withering look. Gary ignored this and turned to his date. “Come on, Nat, time to dance,” he said, and tried to pull her away, but Natty held her ground. “Natty, let’s dance,” he tried again.

“Gary, you’re supposed to ask a lady if she wants to dance, not command it,” she said primly, fluffing her hair in cool indifference to her date.

“But you’re not a lady.”

“Gary Oak!” Natty sputtered. “You can dance with a mirror for all I care!” She turned on her heel and stomped away, her skirt flouncing behind her. Ash couldn’t help but gape.

“They sound like you and me, Mist,” he said. Gary sighed, and Ash had the sneaking suspicion that this wasn’t the first time that had happened that night.

“It’s the red hair,” Gary said patronizingly. “Makes them feisty.” As if Ash didn’t know that already. Gary turned to Misty next, and Ash didn’t like the gleam in his eye. He winked at her before leaving to reclaim his date. “Good thing I like feisty, eh?”

Okay, what was that? Misty blushed bashfully as Ash glared at Gary’s retreating back. Gary had not just flirted with Ash’s date—had he? Though he was swaggering as he walked away. Maybe he had...that Gary! Ash felt a slow burn coming. It was bad enough for Gary to make fun of his pokémon training, but enough was enough. Gary had better not even think of trying to steal Ash’s girlfri—

Wait a minute, what was he thinking? Ash shook himself out of his trance, anger replaced by shock. He did not just say Misty was his girlfriend; dating was bad enough. That is, he knew he liked her, but if she was as bossy as she was when she was just a friend, what would it be like if they were a couple? “Ack!”

“What’s wrong?” Misty asked.

“Oh, did I say that out loud?” Ash asked nervously. Not a girlfriend, girl who’s a friend, he reminded himself. And they weren’t dating, it was just one date...yeah, sure, and by the way, he was giving up pokémon training tomorrow and taking up professional water ballet instead. He signed in resignation. Oh well. If he had to have a girlfriend, at least she was his best friend, too.

“I was just...uh...hungry. Yeah, that’s it,” he said, covering.

And she bought it, giving him a look. “You’re always hungry.”

“Make that thirsty, then,” he amended.

She rolled her eyes, but had to smile. “Cute, Ash,” she conceded. “Actually, I am too. Will you bring me a drink?”

It was starting already. Even if they did like each other, she’d better not think he was her slave. He’d better put a stop to this right now. “Why can’t you get it?” Ash asked.

Misty’s mood shift from affectionate to annoyed was quite obvious. “Fine!” she huffed, and stomped off towards the refreshment table. Oops. He shouldn’t have said that—again. Okay, so he’d just have to get used to servitude.

He ran to catch up with his date, hoping Gary didn’t notice that he had just made the same mistake as Gary had. Was this a common thing with dating? Guy messes up, guy apologizes. Girl messes up, guy still apologizes. He shook his head and caught up to Misty, who, seeing as she was speaking with one of her friends, was cordial to him.

“Hey, Ash,” Misty said, “You remember Latonya.”

Ash blinked. “I thought your name was Zildy,” he said, and Latonya laughed.

“Are you kidding? I have enough trouble with Latonya. Besides, my mother would kill me,” she said, and Ash furrowed his brow, puzzled. More girl-logic—he shouldn’t even bother trying to understand. Latonya/Zildy didn’t appear to notice his bemusement as she caught the eye of someone across the room. “Gotta go catch my date now,” she told him. “Hey Gianni! Let’s dance!” She sped off, pausing right before she disappeared into the crowd to toss over her shoulder, “By the way Ash, like your haircut!”

Ash let his head sag as Misty giggled. “Is anyone going to let me forget that?” he groaned.

“In a word? No,” Misty teased. “Come on, the others have the right idea. Let’s dance.”

Dancing? Ash gulped. Half the time he had trouble walking. He’d found more invisible holes than Team Rocket could ever build; i.e., he was a klutz. Seeing as he was living proof that someone could be born with two left feet, he didn’t particularly care to try his luck on the dance floor.

“Um...do you really want to?” he asked. Misty’s face gained an angry flush. Oops, he really shouldn’t have said that. Even if he resolved to keep his mouth shut the rest of the night, he had already crossed the line.

“Ash Ketchum!” she shouted, and he cringed as a couple people turned to look at them, “I thought you l liked me, but you are the most insensitive, unromantic...”

Shriek. Ash jumped back at the shrill sound of a maladjusted microphone, thanking it for interrupting Misty’s tirade. But his shoulders slumped as even as they both turned to look at the source. It was only his first date, and he’d already broken up with his first girlfriend before she had even agreed to be his girlfriend. That had to be a record. He wondered what it would take to make it up to her this time; the bathroom door had already been fixed. Maybe the basement was available...

“May I have your attention,” Angie said, grinning into a karaoke machine microphone. “I am pleased to announce tonight’s entertainment.”

Entertainment? That sounded familiar...Ash’s eyes widened as everything connected in his mind. Oh, no...

“Ladies and gentleman, give it up for...the Old Spice Girls!”

“The what?” was all Ash had time to stammer before his voice was drowned out by screams at the sight of the emerging performers. His mouth dropped open, and he stared at the stage dumbly as the opening strains of a country song began blaring out the speakers.

Ash didn’t know if Misty enjoyed the performance or his reaction more. She didn’t bother trying to hold in her laughter, despite the dirty looks she was receiving from the stage, and temporarily dismissed her grudge against Ash as she turned to him and smirked, “So, is this good enough for you?”

Ash’s mouth opened and closed again, and he stood blinking at the stage. “This...is...disturbing,” he finally managed as he watched Brock and Tracey take the microphone and break out into a karaoke version of Man, I Feel Like a Woman—

—wearing blonde wigs, pink dresses, and underwear outside their clothes. Girl underwear. And Ash had thought he had been traumatized by having to wear a bra. He was wrong. Seeing Brock wear a bra was ten times worse. And he only had to take one look at Brock’s lace thong before he turned away, blushing.

“When did this happen?” he asked, carefully shielding his eyes from the scandal taking place on stage.

“When Angie found out that Brock was teasing me,” Misty said smugly. “We thought we’d let the punishment fit the crime. She made it a condition of their date—no dress, no kiss.”

“I thought she liked Brock,” Ash said. If this was what girls did to the people they liked, maybe it was a good thing that Misty had already dumped him.

“She does. But she can’t make it easy for him,” Misty said. “Besides, girls have to stick together on things like this.”

Aha. Now that explained a lot..

Ash alternated between gaping at his line-dancing, cross-dressing friends and looking away in horror as the song finished. Though he couldn’t miss the big flourish when Brock yanked off his ‘outerwear’ underwear and tossed it out into the audience—seeing as the underwear landed on Ash’s head. Ash squealed, shaking his head frantically in a desperate attempt to get it off. He backed into someone in the process and when he had finally tossed the underwear off, some girl tripped over it and fell on her backside, taking three other people down with her, but hey—the important thing was that he had gotten away from it. He’d gotten over believing girls had cooties when he was eight—well, every once in a while he still had his doubts, but forget it. Girl’s underwear was forever tainted.

Misty nearly died of laughter at the expression on his face, and Angie approached them, giggling just as uncontrollably. A petite dark haired girl with a quizzical yet pleasant smile followed her.

“Are we even?” Angie spit out between giggles.

“Even,” Misty said, and they highfived. Misty brushed tears from her eyes only to start laughing again as they saw Brock and Tracey fighting their way through the crowd. Brock had a wide grin as he waved to the laughing crowd; he looked like he was enjoying the attention. Good grief, he was as crazy as a girl. At least Tracey had the sense to look significantly less happy at the turn of events.

“How...cute,” was the first thing Misty said, pinching Brock’s cheeks as he arrived. The other trainer ducked away, grinning good-naturedly. “Isn’t he, Ash?”

Hmm....well, it wasn’t his revenge, but who cared. He’d be happy to milk it for all it was worth. “Adorable,” he agreed. “Someone should take a picture. Got a camera in your purse, Tracey?”

“Shut up,” Tracey mumbled, and Ash smirked. Ah, yes, revenge was sweet. Never mind—Misty was quite handy to have a girlfriend. He’d just have to stay on her good side...oh yeah. He grimaced slightly as he realized that he currently wasn’t. He’d have to fix that.

“So, everyone meet Kimiko!” Angie said, and waved at the girl beside her, who smiled hesitantly. “She’s the reason for the party—she’s a foreign exchange student at our school. We thought we’d help introduce her to some people. Say hi, Kimiko.”

Kimiko obviously didn’t understand much of the conversation around her but got Angie’s intent. “Hajimema****e. Kimiko desu. Dozo yoroshiku,” she greeted them. Ash stared at her blankly while Brock elbowed Tracey in the side, indicating him to claim his ‘date.’ Tracey looked less than thrilled again; not only did he have a blind date, but he couldn’t even communicate with her. He gave a half-hearted attempt at answering.

“Sí,” he said, forcing a smile to his face and nodding. Kimiko looked confused while the others exchanged nervous grins.

“If these are your role models, Ash, I’m starting to understand your dating problems,” Misty mumbled. At least he had an excuse now. Brock stepped squarely on Misty’s foot, prompting her to offer less antagonistic advice. “Ouch! I mean, why don’t we play a game? To get to know each other.”

“Great idea!” Angie clapped her hands, and without bothering to reclaim the microphone, yelled so loudly that Ash felt deafened. “Hey, everybody! Let’s play Spin the Bottle!”

Eek. He didn’t want to know Kimiko that well. Ash blanched and Misty grabbed his wrist.

“Come on,” she hissed, yanking him through the den so quickly that he didn’t even have time to turn around; he walked backwards, watching the commotion Angie’s statement had caused. So he both heard and saw Brock whoop and grab Angie around the shoulders so that he could start the game early. Ash could be wrong, but it didn’t appear that Angie was trying very hard to fend Brock off.

“Where are we going?” he asked, managing to wrench his arm away from Misty so that he could turn around and actually face forward as they escaped undetected up the stairs.

“Away,” she said. “If you can’t even kiss me in the bathroom, there’s no way you can handle a public setting.”

She had a point—though somehow Ash didn’t think that statement deserved a thank you. Besides, he had a feeling jealous tendencies may have been a factor as well. He’d be kissing earthworms six feet under before she let him kiss another girl. He just followed her through the hallway and asked another “Where are we going?” when she took a sudden detour through the kitchen.

“Outside,” she said. “I need some fresh air.”

“What’s wrong with this air?” he asked, and she threw him a look. He held his hands up in an I surrender gesture. “Kidding, that was a joke,” he said.

“It was a bad one.” He shrugged helplessly and allowed himself to be led out to the back yard.

It was darker out than when they first arrived, so Ash was glad for the light from the porch lamp—hopefully it would keep him from spraining another ankle. He walked with Misty to a wooden porch swing hung in a back yard gazebo, and Ash held the seat steady for Misty before he sat down next to her. He relaxed as he leaned back. Angie’s party had been...uh, interesting...but he was glad it was just Misty and him again. The stars were beginning to come out, and he peered over the lattice railing to look at them. He liked to be out under the open sky on their journeys. In fact, he and Misty sometimes played a game to see how many stars they could count. Whoever got the most, won. Misty must have been thinking of the same thing.

“The stars are pretty tonight,” Misty said, and nudged him in the side. “I wonder how many there are?”

Ash pretended to think for a moment. “I don’t know. How many do you think there are?”

“Twenty three million,” she sighed, kicking her legs back and forth impatiently. Ash had trouble keeping the smile from his face. She hadn’t even tried to guess.

“Then I say twenty three million and one,” he answered, and she smiled. They fell silent again, but this time it was more comfortable. More like how they usually acted, though Ash felt he was more honest with her now. He wasn’t sure why; it wasn’t as if he’d ever lied to her before. Well, besides the whole Ashley thing...which didn’t really count, sort of...well, maybe not...oh, he might as well make amends. But he’d ease into it.

“Actually,” he said, hesitating, as he wasn’t sure if this was a good memory for her or not, “The stars almost look like Ledian dust. Don’t you think?”

Moonlight was strange stuff...the moon was shining on her face as she answered, and for some reason it made him acutely aware of how pretty she was. He had to look away before his face turned red.

“You’re right. It does,” she said. She cocked her head to one side and smiled—something was making her act shy around him as well. Maybe she thought he was pretty too...err, he’d already ditched the dress. He meant cute. He had to blush at himself as Misty continued speaking. “And that reminds me of when we were sitting on your back step, and I thought you were Ashley.”

That’s what he was afraid of. And then she giggled, and Ash was relieved that she could laugh at it now. He was safe; at least she felt good about that night. But his insecurities hadn’t stopped after the slumber party...if anything, they had grown bigger. His contentment with the moment faded. After a few seconds he pulled his legs up to his chest and sighed.

“I wish I were still Ashley,” he said abruptly. Misty looked at him, surprised, but as his next words were as much an apology as an explanation, he didn’t have the courage to look her in the eyes. “Ashley didn’t make you mad or accidentally insult you. Ashley knew the right things to say and do. You liked Ashley.”

She understood—she didn’t laugh at him, but looked at him sympathetically. In a way he wished she had teased him, because it would have been easier to react. But he had to admit that he liked it when she reached out to squeeze his knee and said, “Oh, Ash. You’re right. I did like Ashley. But I liked Ash first.” She shrugged self-consciously when he looked up at her. “You’ve got to remember, I’m new at this stuff too.”

Ash smiled and hugged his legs. He thought that meant he was forgiven. And even though Misty would rather kiss a bug pokémon before she said the words “I’m sorry,” if he wasn’t mistaken, she had just apologized herself. He lowered his feet back down...he could live with that.

Although...that reminded him of something. There was a way to make sure of both...and amazingly he had thought of it before Misty did. Now there was an unpleasant thought...dressing like a girl had better not have made him start thinking like one. But still, his first idea didn’t scare him quite as much as it had the day before. Either he had had time to get used to the idea...or this time, he really wanted it. In any case...

“How do I know you’re not just saying that to make me feel better?” He cleared his throat and tried to look innocent, but the words hadn’t come out quite as casually as he’d meant them. Actually, they sounded suspiciously nervous.

But her eyes were twinkling. “I’ll prove it.”

He didn’t have to be told to close his eyes—though it did take him a second to remember to breathe. How do people live through these things? He couldn’t withhold his curiosity or his worry. He clutched his hands into fists so they wouldn’t shake and betray his anxiety, and wondered if it was as hard for Misty to initiate a kiss as it had been for him....

The soft pressure came unexpected to him. He almost pulled away, startled, before he remembered—oh yeah, he was supposed to kiss her back. So he leaned forward and could hear, could actually hear Misty catch her breath at this...this was incredible, he’d never been so close to someone before. Her lips were soft, though they trembled slightly, and he could sense her apprehension. So he slowly uncurled a fist, and then reached out to place his hand on top of hers. He squeezed it to comfort her, like she had for him, and he felt her relax and intertwine her fingers with his. And then they broke apart.

Wow. That was nice. That was very nice, in fact. And...


...And he had no idea what he was supposed to say next. Figures. He should have known it wasn’t the first kiss he would have to survive—but the awkward silence after it.

“Well?” Misty asked after a moment. Sure, make him speak first. No fair—it was easier to kiss than talk about it. If he felt like provoking Misty, now would be a good time to say, it was okay. She’d break his jaw for that, and then he wouldn’t have to worry about the answer any more.

Except for one itty-bitty, teeny-tiny problem. It wasn’t just “okay,” and he was in this odd happy mood for some reason. And he was finding it hard to think. But if he had to, maybe he would think that he had finally realized that liking a girl didn’t mean they stopped being friends—they were just even better friends. And that kissing was one of those things that you didn’t realize how good it was until you tried it—especially since Misty was wearing strawberry kiwi lip glass, and it tasted much better on her than on him. And that he was still holding Misty’s hand, and he didn’t want to let go...and that he could have missed out on everything, if it hadn’t been for...

...Another wow. How weird was that. He smiled broadly at his revelation.

“I love Brock. I could kiss him,” he suddenly declared.

Misty’s short laugh voiced her surprise. “What?” she asked, astonishment and amusement mingled together on her face. Ash didn’t exactly answer that. But he did wink and answer her first question instead.

“But,” he said, “I’d rather kiss you.”

And so he did.

The End


And there you go! Hope you liked, maybe loved this story. I did kept laughin the whole way. ^.^

28th November 2003, 04:26 AM
Can you say LOVE IT?! ^_^ That was quite possibly the best comedy I've read on the boards. It had just about everything I look for in a good fic. The comedy, the romance, the suspense, and of course, the CHARACTERS. That fic was sweet!

The last party was... creepy. ;) Brock and Tracey singing karoake with underwear as outerwear - sorry, girl's underwear as outerwear. And Spin the Bottle would've been too much for me, also. I was about ready to seriously start pitying Ash. :D

Anyway, the fic was great, the ending was cute, and I applaud both writer and poster! wtg, you guys! :yes: