Late Night Check-Up

The clinic was quiet, the only sounds being the faint hum of the air conditioning and the occasional rustle of papers from the front desk. The dim lights cast a soft glow over the waiting area, and beyond the doors of the examination rooms, all was still.

In the smallest of those rooms, Ash lay curled up on the patient bed, fast asleep. His breathing was steady, but his body was slightly curled in on itself, as if he were unconsciously protecting himself. Pikachu was nestled against his chest, rising and falling with every slow breath Ash took.

Gary stood at the doorway, arms crossed over his chest as he observed his best friend. His lab coat hung open, revealing a deep purple shirt underneath, and his stethoscope was draped around his neck, the cool metal occasionally brushing against his skin. He exhaled softly.

Ash had come in earlier that day, exhausted from training, barely able to keep his eyes open. He had tried—oh, how he had tried—to stay awake while Gary scolded him about overworking himself, but the second he sat on the examination table, he had passed out.

Gary had planned on waking him up for the check-up, but looking at him now—his best friend, exhausted, vulnerable, clinging to Pikachu like it was the only thing keeping him grounded—Gary decided against it.

He sighed and rolled up his sleeves. “Guess we’re doing this the quiet way, huh, Ashy-boy?” he murmured, stepping forward.

The first thing he did was gently move Pikachu aside. The electric mouse twitched but, after recognizing Gary’s scent, relaxed again. Gary shook his head fondly. “Good job looking after him, buddy,” he whispered, giving Pikachu’s head a gentle pat.

Next, Gary pressed two fingers to Ash’s wrist, feeling for his pulse. It was steady but a little faster than normal. “Hmph. Probably from how hard you pushed yourself today, idiot.” He shook his head but didn’t say it with any real anger.

After noting the pulse, Gary grabbed his stethoscope and pressed the cold metal against Ash’s chest.

Ash stirred slightly, a soft whimper escaping his lips.

Gary froze.

Ash shifted a little, but he didn’t wake up, only snuggling deeper into the pillow. His breathing hitched for just a second before evening out again.

Gary let out a breath of relief. “Didn’t mean to startle you, buddy,” he muttered before listening closely to Ash’s heartbeat.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

It was strong, steady, but still a little too quick for Gary’s liking.

“Probably dehydrated too,” Gary murmured, moving the stethoscope lower to listen to Ash’s lungs. He pressed the diaphragm against Ash’s back now, careful not to wake him.

Ash let out a soft breath. It was clear, with no signs of congestion or wheezing. That was a relief.

Gary pulled away and scribbled something onto his clipboard before glancing at Ash’s arms. There were faint marks—scars left behind from countless battles, training sessions, and years of reckless adventures. Some were older, some newer.

Gary gently took Ash’s hand, running his thumb over a particularly recent scrape. He frowned. “You really don’t take care of yourself, do you?” he whispered.

Ash didn’t respond, of course. He was still lost in the world of sleep, his face peaceful in a way Gary rarely saw when he was awake.

Gary let out another sigh. “Alright, let’s check that temperature.” He pulled out a thermometer and, as quietly as he could, pressed it under Ash’s arm.

The seconds ticked by.

Gary used the time to adjust Ash’s blanket, making sure he was comfortable. His fingers brushed against Ash’s forehead—warm, but not concerningly so. He would still tell Ash to drink more water in the morning.

The thermometer beeped, and Gary quickly grabbed it before it could wake Ash.

98.4°F. Normal.

“Good.” Gary exhaled through his nose. “At least you didn’t run yourself into a fever this time.”

He continued the check-up, gently lifting Ash’s shirt just enough to examine his abdomen. No swelling, no bruising—just the faint outline of muscle from years of training. Gary pressed down lightly in a few areas, checking for any signs of discomfort.

Ash flinched slightly but didn’t wake.

Gary smirked. “Ticklish, huh?”

He made a mental note of that.

Finally, he checked Ash’s reflexes, gently tapping his knee. A small twitch. Normal.

With a satisfied nod, Gary wrote down his final notes before standing up straight. He studied his best friend for a long moment.

Despite everything—despite how reckless he was, how much he pushed himself, how little care he had for his own well-being—Ash was okay.

And that was enough for Gary.

He reached out and, in a rare moment of softness, ran his fingers through Ash’s messy black hair, brushing it away from his face. “You’re lucky I’m your doctor, Ashy-boy,” he whispered. “Anyone else would wake you up and lecture you.”

Ash stirred again but only turned to his side, now fully curled up beneath the blanket.

Gary smiled.

He cleaned up his things, placed a bottle of water on the nightstand for Ash to see when he woke up, and quietly exited the room.

The receptionist raised a brow as Gary walked past. “Did you really do the check-up while he was asleep?”

Gary smirked. “Yup.”

She scoffed. “And?”

“He’s fine. Just an overworked idiot, as usual.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re too soft on him.”

Gary chuckled. “Yeah, yeah. Tell me something I don’t know.”

And with that, Dr. Oak—who was a doctor to many, but only “Gary” to one—headed off to finish the rest of his night.

Late-Night Checkup

The clinic was silent. The dim glow of the nightlight cast soft shadows across the room, giving it a peaceful, almost ethereal atmosphere. The clock on the wall ticked quietly, its rhythmic sounds the only indication of time passing. Outside, the world was still, save for the occasional rustling of leaves in the wind.

Gary Oak stood at the bedside, arms crossed, gazing down at his sleeping best friend. Ash lay curled up under a soft blanket, his dark hair messily splayed across the pillow, his breathing deep and even. Pikachu was nestled beside him, its tiny chest rising and falling in sync with Ash’s.

Gary sighed. He hadn’t wanted to do this while Ash was asleep, but there hadn’t been much of a choice. The stubborn idiot had refused to come in for a checkup during the day, brushing off Gary’s concerns with a carefree grin. "I'm fine, Gary! You worry too much."

Gary clenched his jaw. Too much? After what he had learned about Ash’s past experiences with doctors, of course he worried. Ash never said anything, never complained, never admitted when something was wrong. And Gary knew that by the time Ash actually acknowledged pain, it was already serious.

Which was why he was here now.

Gary took a deep breath and pulled his stethoscope from around his neck, the cold metal glinting under the soft light. He moved carefully, not wanting to wake Ash. Alright, buddy. Let’s see how you’re holding up.

Carefully, he eased the blanket down just enough to expose Ash’s upper chest. His best friend stirred slightly, shifting under the covers, but didn’t wake. Gary let out a small breath of relief before gently pressing the stethoscope’s diaphragm against Ash’s chest.

The steady, rhythmic thumping of Ash’s heartbeat filled Gary’s ears. Strong, consistent. Good.

Gary moved the stethoscope slightly, listening closely. He wasn’t just checking Ash’s heart—he was listening to his lungs, too. Inhale. Exhale. Each breath sounded clear, no signs of congestion or strain. That was a relief.

Ash let out a sleepy mumble, stirring again. Pikachu’s ears twitched, and it blinked blearily at Gary, looking slightly suspicious.

Gary put a finger to his lips. “Shhh, Pikachu. Just checking on him,” he whispered.

Pikachu blinked again but didn’t move, simply watching as Gary continued.

Next, Gary gently reached for Ash’s wrist, feeling for his pulse. Strong, steady—just as it should be. He glanced at Ash’s face, checking for any signs of discomfort. There were none.

Moving slowly, Gary placed his hand on Ash’s forehead. Normal temperature. No fever. Good, good…

His gaze trailed down to Ash’s arm. He knew from experience that Ash always came back from journeys covered in scratches, bruises, and who knew what else. Carefully, Gary lifted Ash’s arm from the blanket and inspected it. As expected, faint bruises littered his skin, no doubt from training battles or just his general recklessness. Nothing too concerning. But still.

Gary sighed, shaking his head. “You really don’t take care of yourself, do you, Ashy-boy?” he murmured.

Ash shifted again at the sound of his voice, a soft sigh escaping his lips. Gary froze, watching for any signs of him waking up. But Ash merely turned his head slightly, nuzzling deeper into the pillow.

Gary exhaled and continued. He carefully rolled up Ash’s sleeve to get a better look at his arm, checking the area where he had given him a shot earlier that week. It looked fine—no redness, no swelling. That was good.

Then, Gary’s brows furrowed as he spotted a faint but noticeable set of old scars near Ash’s elbow. They weren’t from a battle. These were precise, uniform.

IV marks.

Gary’s grip on Ash’s wrist tightened slightly. He recognized these scars. They were the kind you got from repeated needle insertions over a long period of time. Not from simple shots. From hospital stays. From treatments.

From something Ash had never talked about.

Gary swallowed hard, his mind racing. When did this happen? Why didn’t he ever say anything?

Pikachu, noticing Gary’s change in demeanor, let out a quiet, concerned, “Pika?”

Gary quickly loosened his grip, running a soothing thumb over the skin. “It’s okay, buddy,” he whispered. But his stomach churned. It’s not okay. Not at all.

With extra care, he rolled Ash’s sleeve back down, making sure not to disturb him. He couldn’t ask Ash about it now. But he would.

Gary sat back slightly, rubbing a hand down his face. He hadn’t expected to find that. He had just wanted to make sure Ash was okay, that his health was stable. Instead, he had found another piece of the puzzle—another thing Ash had hidden from him.

His best friend. The one person he had known since childhood. The one person who was always so full of energy, so stubborn, so unbreakable.

Except, he wasn’t.

Gary exhaled slowly, reaching over to pull the blanket back up over Ash’s shoulders. The kid had been through more than he let on. And Gary was going to get to the bottom of it.

Just as he was about to stand up, Ash mumbled something in his sleep, shifting slightly.

Gary froze.

Ash’s lips parted, and in a soft, barely audible whisper, he murmured, “Gary…?”

Gary’s breath caught in his throat.

Ash didn’t wake. His breathing remained steady, and his body relaxed once more. He had only spoken in his sleep.

Gary swallowed past the lump in his throat, then reached down and gently brushed Ash’s hair back. “I’m here, buddy,” he murmured, barely audible.

He gave Ash one last look, then leaned back, shaking his head slightly. You are so much more than you let people see, Ashy-boy…

And as Gary stood up, making his way out of the room, one thing was certain.

Ash might not want a checkup while awake.

But Gary would always make sure he was okay. Whether he knew it or not.