Chapter 3

They sounded like mating Primeape's.

Ash and Brock had far more stamina than Gary had originally estimated. As soon as one man fell silent, the other gained a second-wind and started up again.

Wild, rabid mating Primeape's.

Gary Oak had once published a case study centered upon a feral Primeape. This particular Primeape could emit the most powerful Screech attack ever recorded in Pokemon history. The creature could actually fracture its opponent's skull with sound. Even the skull of an Onix could not withstand the ear-shredding scream. As Gary lay with wide-bloodshot eyes and pillows stuffed against both ears, he could not help but reflect upon this Primeape subject. Gary could not help but compare his current scenario to the fate of those unfortunate Pokemon who happened to be within the Primeape's ear-shot. Gary wondered how long he himself could endure the incessant moans before his own skull began to splinter?

It was now 7:00 AM and Gary was either going to commit manslaughter or he needed to surrender. After briefly calculating the pros and cons to both plans, he decided against life-imprisonment and instead left his room. The dining hall was open 24/7, and Gary's growling tummy convinced him that now was good time for breakfast. He knew for a fact that Ash and Cindy Lou had a 9:00 AM honeymoon flight to the Orange Islands, and that the hotels check-out was not until 1:00PM. Therefore, after Ash left, Gary could saunter back to his room and crash for a few hours before catching a train to Viridian City.

Gary did not bother changing out of his smiling Electrode-pajamas. It took every ounce of energy and coordination he could assemble to simply drag his body across the dining hall and to the bar. Perhaps it was sleep-depravation infecting his imagination, but Gary pictured himself as a Muk Pokmeon –- slithering with painstaking effort to lug his heavy body one centimeter at a time.

Once seated at the bar, Gary ordered a large bowl of cold cereal and a glass of orange juice. He opted against coffee as he was looking forward to plummeting into 'Slumber Land' soon.

While waiting for his food order, Gary covered his face with his hands. The dining hall was well-lit and his eyes had not quite adjusted. He probably looked like a depressed, drunken, homeless Muk bum with snazzy Electrode P.J.'s sitting here . . . and . . . the fact that he had even just made such a bizarre inner comparison made Gary feel all the more lousy. Ash and Brock may not have cracked his skull, but his sanity was shattered.

"Excuse me? Professor Oak?" A hesitant female voice accompanied a tap upon his shoulder.

Gary straightened up, turning to discover a well-rested Misty Waterflower behind him. His weary eyes were instantly rejuvenated! Misty had traded her sexy red party dress for faded jeans and an adorable Squirtle t-shirt. Her tangerine-tendrils were pulled into a long Ponyta-tail, and a few loose wisps framed her eyes.

Gary cleared his throat, attempting to loosen the strange hitch that had caught there. He suddenly wondered if he had caught some kind of flu? His heartbeat was most certainly expediting, and he could actually hear his pulse thudding behind his ears. Adding to his peculiar list of symptoms were fevered cheeks and a sensation of Butterfree's in the belly. But if he were ill, then why was he currently smiling so broadly that his face hurt?

"G-good morning." Oh Crappers! Did he just . . . stutter? Gary coughed and tried again: "Ah-em, good morning, Misty."

"You too, Professor Oak." She smiled politely.

"Hey, you finally got my name right, 'Oak' not 'Oakie'."

Misty's cheeks flushed fervently. "Um, yeah, sorry about that." She fumbled with her shirt sleeve even though Gary could see nothing wrong with it. He stood and pulled out the stool beside him, gesturing for her to have a seat. Misty accepted.

"Professor Oak?" she avoided his eyes as she spoke.

"Call me Gary, please, that title makes me sound like Gramps."

"Okay, Gary. I wanted to thank you for the water and aspirin you had sent up to my room. That was very thoughtful."

"Did they help?"

Misty finally glanced up at him. She was starting to look like a Pikachu from the persistent blush staining her cheeks. "Yeah, thanks. I still feel kind of lousy, but the aspirin is knocking my migraine back a peg or two."

Gary leaned in closer, catching both her sight and the delectable scent of citrus from her perfume. He smiled softly, hoping to lessen her embarrassment. "I've been there and kissed my share of toilet bowls. Trust me, keep drinking fluids and get some extra rest, you'll be good as new before you know it."

Misty nodded, still fidgeting awkwardly with her t-shirt sleeve. Gary could guess why she was so antsy, she probably only remembered fragments about what happened between them last night.

The waitress arrived with Gary's breakfast, he offered to buy Misty a meal but she graciously declined. Once the waitress was out of earshot Gary was quick to shoo Misty's concerns away: "Hey, Misty, nothing happened between us last night."

Somehow Misty's cheeks burned hotter, but she did release the breath which she had probably been holding all morning. "Oh, I just remember . . . kissing . . .um . . ."

Gary smirked through a mouthful of cereal. "Just because you found me irresistible, does not mean that I was unable to resist you."

Misty's lanced him with a toxic-green glare! Gary would have flinched if he weren't so happy. That nasty glare of hers proved that the sassy, fierce girl he'd met last night was still in there.

"I see that your opinion of yourself is as high as ever." Misty mocked, snatching the spoon from his fingers and scooping a huge portion of his cereal into her mouth.

Yup, she was the same girl.

Gary knew better then to fight her for the spoon, and so he snagged an extra one from a nearby table. "How about we share?"

Misty nodded her approval as she chewed and the pair dined in silence until the bowl was empty.

Misty fiddled with her sleeve again, though less anxiously. As her vibrant eyes met his, Gary felt that pesky hitch catch in his throat once more.

"Gary, I also want to thank you for taking care of me last night. I was really messed up. You didn't have to be so nice, but you were. You've grown up a lot since I last saw you."

Her words caused Gary to laugh the hitch right out: "Well, I should hope so, considering I haven't seen you in like eight years!"

"You're somewhat less annoying." Misty continued, nudging him playfully. "Your voice isn't so whiney, it's actually kind of . . . sexy now."

Gary raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? Well, your body isn't so boyish anymore. It's actually kind of sexy now too."

"I was never boyish!" Misty shoved him and Gary grabbed the edge of the counter, just in time to keep from falling off his stool.

It was official: this girl was turning him into a masochist! Gary could not stop his lips from flapping: "Yeah, you were boyish AND obnoxious as I recall . . . though that sure hasn't changed."

Misty scrunched her face-up as though she'd bitten into a lemon. She did punch him, but it was lighthearted. Apparently she was capable of exhibiting some self-restraint. "Nice jammies. What are you, ten?" she tugged on his Electrode P.J. bottoms. Okay, well, she exhibited physical restraint anyway.

"You're one to talk, Miss Squirtle-shirt. Besides, I was too tired to change."

Misty's expression softened at once. "I'm sorry. I guess that's my fault. You were babysitting me when you should have been sleeping."

"No, no. I'm not tired because I spent time with you. It's just that I had a REALLY long, REALLY loud night . . ." Gary hesitated, wondering if it was rude of him to elaborate.

Apparently he didn't need to, Misty hit the Diglett on the head: "Loud neighbors?"

"You have no idea. My room was sandwiched between Ash's and Brock's rooms."

Misty's eye grew wide, and she failed miserably to stifle a laughing fit. "Hahaha! That just sucks! HA! My sympathies! Do you have anyplace to be today? Maybe you can go back up to your room and crash now? I saw Ash and Cindy Lou leaving when I came down here."

Gary nodded. "That's my plan, actually. I want to nap for a few hours. Check-out isn't until 1:00PM. I have to catch a train to Viridian, but not until much later this afternoon."

Calming her hysteria, Misty took Gary's hands and pulled him right off the bar stool. "Well then, Professor Gary Oak, I insist that you return to bed right now, and that you allow me to tuck you in this time."

Gary halted her pulling, eyeing her suspiciously.

"I'm serious!" Misty insisted. "It's the least that I can do and I'm really good at fluffing-up pillows! I'll wrap you in your blankets like a big burrito and you'll be the epitome of comfort."

Being wrapped like a big burrito was a startlingly delightful thought. Gary surrendered, allowing Misty to continue leading him forward, toward the dining hall doorway. "Okay, I'm game. Thanks, Misty. Do I get to kiss you this time?"

"Try it and I'll knock you on your ass."

"Again? My ass is already bruised from you shoving me off the barstool last night and then spanking me."

Pikachu-cheeks returned and pushed him into the elevator.

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"There you are, Professor Oak! Wrapped-up burrito-style, as promised!" Misty proclaimed, stepping back to admire her handiwork.

This burrito must have been laced with Sleep Powder instead of Chili Powder. Gary was unable to do anything but smile groggily at his spicy chef. The young professor wondered if Misty had ever worked for Taco-Bellsprout, because Misty had folded the blankets with such snug expertise! He actually felt as though he was bound in a Caterpie's String Shot attack — only it was not sticky, it was soft and warm. Despite being incapable of movement, Gary had to admit that he was incredibly comfortable . . . or he was so exhausted that even a real String Shot would feel good so long as he were laying down.

"Well, now that you're bundled-up for nap-time, I have to take-off." Misty announced. Gary wished that he could detect a tad more disappointment in her tone.

Since she was not frowning, Gary tried to frown extra-pathetically for balance. He was literally battling his own brain for consciousness. The problem was: that his Brain fought with a high-level Hypno and he had a newborn Weedle. Gary did NOT want to fall asleep yet, not when Misty was still in his company. He really wanted to talk with her and get to know her, more so he wanted to see her again. Hopefully a lot.

"Don't look so sad, Gary. I have to get back to Cerulean City, I have a Gym to run, you know. I've repaid your kindness and we are now even-steven." She winked, bending over to tousle his hair.

"If I-I could move my arms, I would be stop-pping this assault on my hair you-u know." Exhaustion had him sounding like the drunk one.

"I know." Misty's grin deepened, amused by his sloppy speech she ruffled his hair once more.

Gary yawned, his eye-lids closing and voice but a whisper: "If I could move my arms I-I might even prevent you from leav…ing. . ." His eyes lulled shut, dang Weedle-wits! Straining for consciousness Gary listened for Misty's reply.

"Why do you think I tied those blankets so well?"

"Kinky girl. I like . . . you . . ." Gary was barely audible, he was not even sure if Misty had understood him until he heard her laugh. Gary felt her weight settle on the bed beside him. Misty's fingers were in his hair again, but not to tousle it. Instead she gently combed through his wild spikes, tenderly caressing his scalp and raking the remainder of his consciousness away.

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"Helloooo? Housekeeping!"

BANG!BANG!BANG!

Gary jumped as though his burrito were burning!

"Housekeepingggg! It's 1:30 in the afternoon, checkout was a half-hour ago! Are you in there, sir?"

Gary blinked several times, he was extremely disoriented. He had passed-out so deeply that he hadn't even dreamt. It was a black-out. The last thing he remembered was Misty stroking his hair, and now. . . she was gone, and some lady was pounding her fist into his hotel room door!

BANG!BANG!BANG!

"Oh crap!" Gary struggled free of Misty's burrito blanket treatment, and stumbled woozily to the door. "I-I'm coming!"

I slept-in, he realized, I'm late for check-out.

Gary yanked the door open and found himself face-to-face with a very disgruntled housekeeper. The woman was in her early sixties, dressed in lavender cleaning scrubs and was jabbing a finger of accusation toward his chest. "Young man, check-out was at one o'clock. You are going to have to pay for two nights if you don't leave right away. My manager doesn't cut favors for celebrities, ya know!"

Gary nodded, his senses trickling back. "I understand and I'm very sorry, ma'am. I'll tell you what . . ." Gary dashed to his nightstand and retrieved his wallet. This woman was clearly not going to be bought by his looks or charm. Careful what you wish for Oak, Gary mocked inwardly, you were hoping that just one woman existed that could challenge you, now you've met two.

The housekeeper cocked an eyebrow at the wallet.

"I'll tell you what . . ." Gary repeated, fishing out a twenty dollar bill. "Give me ten minutes to shower and change out of my pajamas?" He flashed the most endearing smile he could muster while waggling the bill in his hand.

The housekeeper snatched the cash faster than Misty had stolen his spoon at breakfast! "Make it an even fifty and I'll have the receptionist mark you as checking out on time. You don't want your credit card charged for two nights do ya?"

Gary forced his smile to remain in-tact and pulled an extra thirty dollars from his wallet. The housekeeper grinned like a Jynx and politely took her leave.

"What the hell just happened?" Gary asked the closed door. "I was swindled by an old lady and she didn't even care who I was." Gary laughed until he realized: "Misty left. She didn't say goodbye and I never got her phone number. Maybe she isn't interested in . . .?" Gary could not complete his sentence out-loud.

Sighing, he grabbed his toiletries and headed into the bathroom for his express shower.

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My name is Gary Oak. I'm a whiney, sulky little baby and I'm not interested in doing a thing about it! He had allowed Misty to walk away and he had not even attempted to ask her out. Sure, he could certainly Google the phone number for the Cerulean City Gym, but it seemed tacky to call her at her business. Sure, he could get his Grandfather to sweet-talk Misty's cellphone digits from Delia Ketchum, but that seemed desperate. Maybe he could just show up at the Cerulean Gym, use the old 'I just happened to be in the neighborhood' line, oh no, was he even considering THAT? It was . . . stalker-ish. But is that what he was. . . Gary Oak: TACKY? DESPERATE? A STALKER?

What the hell had Misty Waterflower done to him – his PRIDE - in only a few hours? Gary was the one who deflected tacky, desperate, creepy girls as a part-time job! He had never EVER thought that he would even compare himself to the likes. The worst part was that: Gary thought this line of thinking was actually the BEST part! HOW CONFUSING! That feisty red-headed chick had manipulated him like cheap origami. Why else would he even be enduring this ridiculous inner-monologue and worrying with such agonizing extent about what Misty would think of him! Gary either had to find a way to contact her — risking the creeper-factor — or wait for their paths to cross at another social event. Perhaps Brock's wedding or Ash's baby shower? Considering last night's chorus of moaning, either occasion could happen soon.

Gary hunkered down upon a stool in the hotel lobby, and buried his face in his hands. It seemed like he was doing that a lot today. The receptionist had been kind enough to call him a cab to the train station, and then she asked for his phone number. Gary actually declined her request, now that was out of character.

"Look mommy, that man is crying!"

Gary spread his fingers wide enough to peer through at a little girl. The kid was pointing at him with one hand and being pulled through the lobby by her mother with the other. The mother, seeming to recognize him, did all that she could to hush her child and move her along. Naturally several people were now staring at him, grotesquely fascinated as to why the famous Professor Gary Oak was hiding his head in his hands. More than one person held their cellphone up, snapping instant gossip pix. Gary was not crying, of course, but at this point he might as well have been. He already knew what the tabloid headlines and gossips sites would start broadcasting:

'GARY OAK SEEN CRYING IN PUBLIC.'

Oh-goodie-effin'-gumdrops, just what he wanted Misty to see the next time she scrolled through her social media newsfeed.

For the next twenty-ish minutes Gary channeled his inner Diglett, and kept his face submerged melodramatically beneath his hands. The cab would be there soon. Gary's pity-party was interrupted by the honking of a car outside. He sat up to identify the source, hoping it was his cab.

A small green hatchback had pulled-up by the main entrance. The driver was rudely beeping his or her life away at nothing. This hotel had an uncanny ability to attract wack-o's. As the car horn blared on, Gary noticed that the passenger's seat window was rolling down . . . revealing the divers identity . . .

"Misty?" Gary was at that hatchback faster than Cindy Lou down the church aisle. "Misty? Hey!" he gawkily bent his tall frame in order to stick his face inside her window. Looking foolish and creepy had suddenly become a lesser concern.

"Hi there, Gary." Misty reached across the seat and opened the passenger door. "Hop in. I'm taking you home."

Gary didn't need to be told twice. "I thought that you had to get back to your gym? I figured you'd left hours ago."

"I did leave hours ago." Misty admitted, a devious smile tugging at her lips. "I circled back."

Gary furrowed his brow — which was challenging while grinning the largest grin of his life — and waited for her explanation.

"I couldn't very well leave, Professor, without getting your phone number, now could I? I didn't wanna be lame and have to get it from Ash."

"Yeah, that would be lame." Gary's jaw-muscles were starting to hurt. "So what makes you think I'll give it to you?"

Misty raised an eyebrow and tossed him her cellphone. On the display was a picture some asshole had snapped of him with his head in his hands. He looked like a huge crybaby.

"Gotta love technology." Misty beamed, winking. "I was already on my way back here before that picture hit my newsfeed. I must need my head examined because I saw it and . . . I kept on coming." Before Gary could formulate a proper defense, Misty laced both of her arms around his neck. With just enough force to be domineeringly hot, she pulled him closer. Her tantalizing lips were inches from his.

"I wasn't, um, crying." Gary murmured, unable to think or see past her smoldering-jade eyes.

"Sure, Gary." Misty sighed his name. Her voice ignited every nerve-ending in his body, devouring him within intoxicating flame. As her lips found his, Gary did not care if the entire world thought that he was crying in that lobby. He had finally found a girl worth crying about.

The End.

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