Gary’s grip on the wipe tightened. His usually calm, professional demeanor cracked as he processed what Ash had just admitted. His best friend—the same Ash Ketchum who had faced down legendary Pokémon without blinking—had been taught to expect pain. To accept it.

That wasn’t right.

That wasn’t right at all.

Gary exhaled sharply, forcing himself to stay composed for Ash’s sake. He wasn’t going to lose it. Not yet.

"Wait, wait, wait—who told you that?" Gary asked, his voice tight.

Ash shrugged, still clutching Pikachu to his chest. "I dunno. It’s just… always been like that. Shots hurt. Doctors don’t really care if it hurts or not."

Gary sucked in a breath through his teeth, his grip on Ash's arm tightening just slightly before he forced himself to relax. He shared a quick glance with the receptionist, who had been listening the whole time, her expression dark with barely restrained fury.

"Oh, no," she muttered, crossing her arms. " This cannot be happening."

"Seriously," Gary growled, still kneeling under the desk beside Ash. "What kind of doctor just punches a needle in without making sure the patient is okay first?!"

Ash blinked at him, completely unbothered by Gary’s anger. "I mean… it’s a shot. It’s supposed to hurt, right?"

Gary almost lost his temper then and there. "No," he snapped, rubbing a hand over his face in frustration. "No, Ash, it’s not supposed to hurt like that! That’s not normal! A good doctor makes sure you’re comfortable, makes sure it’s done right, not just—just jabs it in like some amateur!"

The receptionist scoffed. "Unbelievable."

Ash just blinked at the two of them, looking almost… confused. As if he genuinely couldn’t understand why they were so mad.

Gary pressed his lips into a thin line. He needed to cool his head, but damn, was it hard when Ash had been treated like that for years and never even questioned it.

And now?

Now Ash was so scared he had hidden under a desk just to avoid a simple shot.

Gary closed his eyes briefly, then exhaled. "Okay," he said, calmer now. "We’re gonna deal with this later. Right now, let’s just get this over with, yeah?"

Ash hesitated, still holding Pikachu way too tightly—poor Pikachu’s little face was scrunched up from how hard he was being squeezed.

Gary noticed immediately. "Ash," he murmured, reaching out. "Here, bud. Give me your hand instead, okay?"

Ash hesitated again, looking at Pikachu, then at Gary’s outstretched hand. Finally, slowly, he let go of Pikachu and took Gary’s hand.

Gary barely had time to register it before Ash latched onto him.

And not just a normal hug. Oh no. This was a bone-crushing hug.

Gary grunted as Ash squeezed his ribs like a vice, practically burying his face in Gary’s shoulder. "Oof—okay, kid, maybe not that tight—"

Ash didn’t budge.

Gary just sighed and adjusted his position, draping an arm around Ash’s shoulders. He could feel how tense the poor kid was.

"Geez," the receptionist muttered, arms still crossed. "This is just sad."

Gary nodded grimly. "Tell me about it." He rubbed Ash’s back reassuringly. "Alright, Ashy-boy. Let’s do this real quick, okay?"

Ash tensed again, and Gary felt his grip tighten.

"Shh, shh. I got you," Gary murmured. He looped Ash’s arm over his own shoulder, steadying him while still holding him close. "Just breathe, buddy. I’m right here."

The receptionist knelt beside them, watching closely. "You’re seriously doing this under the desk?"

"Yep," Gary said, not looking up. "He’s comfortable here, so we’re doing it here."

Ash mumbled something against Gary’s shoulder.

Gary tilted his head. "What was that, bud?"

Ash shifted slightly. "...Thanks."

Gary softened. "Anytime, Ashy-boy."

With that, he uncapped the needle. "Alright. I’m gonna clean your arm, and then it’ll be over before you know it."

Ash flinched just hearing that.

Gary sighed but didn’t comment. Instead, he gently rubbed Ash’s arm in slow, soothing circles, keeping his voice steady. "Okay. In through your nose… out through your mouth. That’s it. Keep breathing, kiddo."

Ash obeyed.

Gary quickly swiped the alcohol wipe over Ash’s skin. "Alright. Almost done, bud."

Ash tensed.

Gary hugged him tighter. "Deep breath in—and done."

Ash barely even felt the shot.

His breath hitched slightly, but… that was it.

Gary pulled the needle away and pressed a cotton ball to the spot. "See? That wasn’t so bad, right?"

Ash hesitated, blinking. "...You already did it?"

Gary snorted. "Yeah, bud. Told you it didn’t have to hurt."

Ash pulled back slightly, looking almost dazed. "Huh."

The receptionist smirked. "You look shocked."

Ash frowned slightly. "...I am shocked."

Gary chuckled, ruffling his hair. "Get used to it, Ashy-boy. Because as long as I’m your doctor, that’s how it’s gonna be from now on."

Ash didn’t say anything. But for the first time, he relaxed.

Gary’s blood was boiling. His best friend—the kid he’d known since they were little, the one who used to run barefoot through Pallet Town chasing Butterfree without a care—was terrified of doctors. Not just nervous, not just uncomfortable—flat-out, genuine fear.

And it wasn’t because of the needle itself. It was because some hack of a so-called doctor had treated Ash like a human pincushion.

Gary took a slow, deep breath through his nose, forcing himself to stay calm. He could not lose it in front of Ash, not when the poor kid was still curled up under the desk, holding Pikachu way too tightly. Speaking of which—

“Hey, buddy,” Gary murmured, placing a firm but gentle hand on Ash’s wrist. “Ease up a little. Pikachu’s turning into a pancake.”

Ash startled, looking down at his partner. Pikachu’s little paws twitched as he let out a weak, muffled squeak.

“Oh! Sorry, buddy,” Ash whispered, immediately loosening his grip. Pikachu let out a relieved breath and shot Gary a grateful look before climbing onto Ash’s shoulder.

Gary sighed, rubbing his temples. Then he reached out, taking Ash’s free hand in his own. His fingers were still shaking slightly, though not as bad as before.

“Ash,” Gary said, voice low but firm, “who told you a shot is supposed to hurt?”

Ash blinked, looking down at his knees. “...It just does.”

Gary’s frown deepened. “Says who?”

Ash shrugged a little, avoiding his gaze. “The doctors. The nurses. They always just… did it fast. No warning, no ‘relax,’ just—” He flinched, his arm twitching involuntarily. “They just jabbed it in.”

Gary closed his eyes, took a slow breath, and barely resisted the urge to punch a wall.

“Unbelievable,” the receptionist muttered from above them, arms crossed as she glared at the opposite wall. “Who even does that to a kid?”

Ash fidgeted. “It’s not a big deal,” he mumbled.

Gary’s head snapped up. “Not a—Ash.” His voice was sharper than he intended, but he couldn’t help it. “That is not normal. That is not okay.”

Ash shifted uncomfortably, still avoiding his gaze.

“A shot isn’t supposed to hurt like that,” Gary continued, voice softer but no less serious. “Yeah, it might sting a little, but it shouldn’t make you this scared. It shouldn’t make you think pain is just part of the process.”

Ash stayed quiet.

The receptionist huffed. “I swear, if I ever find out which hospital did this to you, I’m writing so many complaints—”

“Try lawsuits,” Gary muttered darkly. He exhaled slowly, shaking his head. “Look, Ashy-boy, I know you’re scared. And I get it. I really do. But I’m not gonna do that to you. I promise.”

Ash hesitated, then nodded slightly.

Gary smiled a little. “Good. Now, since you’re comfy down here, let’s just get this over with, K?”

Ash tensed slightly, but Gary just shifted, scooting even closer.

“Here,” he murmured, draping Ash’s arm over his own shoulder, letting the kid lean into him. “You can hold onto me, okay?”

Ash didn’t need to be told twice. He latched onto Gary, gripping the back of his coat like a lifeline.

Gary just smiled a little and went to work. He uncapped the needle, wiped Ash’s arm with disinfectant, and—

“All done.”

Ash blinked. “...What?”

Gary smirked. “Told you it wouldn’t be that bad.”

Ash stared, eyes wide. He glanced at his arm, as if expecting to see something worse, but nope—just a tiny, barely-visible mark.

“You—you already—?”

“Yup.” Gary grinned, ruffling Ash’s hair. “Easiest shot I’ve ever given.”

Ash just blinked in awe. “I… I didn’t even feel it.”

Gary chuckled. “That’s how it’s supposed to be.”

The receptionist huffed a laugh. “See? That’s a real doctor for you.”

Gary smirked. “Darn right I am.”

Ash just nodded slowly, still looking a little dazed. But… he looked relieved, too.

Gary squeezed his shoulder. “See? No big deal. You’re good, Ashy-boy.”

Ash hesitated—then, without warning, lunged forward and hugged Gary tight.

“—Oof!” Gary barely caught himself, arms wrapping instinctively around Ash. “Geez, buddy, you really are a hugger.”

The receptionist snickered.

Gary just sighed, shaking his head with a small smile. “Alright, alright. You win. Hug all you want.”

Ash buried his face in Gary’s shoulder, gripping the fabric of his coat tightly.

Gary let him.

Gary’s heart pounded as he processed what Ash had just admitted. Someone had punched the needle into his skin before? Someone had just jammed it in without a second thought?

That explained everything—the panic, the tensed muscles, the way Ash had hidden under the desk like a frightened child. And the worst part? Ash thought that was normal.

Gary clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stay calm for Ash’s sake. He took a slow breath, rubbing soothing circles on Ash’s back. “Ashy,” he said carefully, voice softer now, but still firm. “Who told you that a shot is supposed to hurt?”

Ash fidgeted, gripping Pikachu tighter—so tight, in fact, that the poor Pokémon let out a wheezy squeak, tiny paws flailing.

Gary immediately intervened, prying Pikachu from Ash’s iron grip and replacing it with his own hand. “Whoa there, buddy. You’re crushing your best friend,” he murmured, giving Pikachu an apologetic scratch behind the ear before refocusing on Ash.

Ash hesitated before mumbling, “Dunno… the doctors at the other hospital. They always said ‘just get it over with’ or ‘it’ll be quick’—but it always hurt, no matter what. So I figured…” He trailed off, staring at the ground. “Shots are just… like that.”

Gary inhaled sharply through his nose, his anger barely contained.

The receptionist, who had been quietly listening, suddenly stood up so fast she nearly knocked over her chair. “Are you kidding me?!” she snapped, eyes blazing. “What kind of incompetent—?!”

Ash flinched at the outburst, and Gary shot the receptionist a look. “Easy,” he murmured. “Not helping.”

She huffed, crossing her arms, but took a deep breath. “Fine. But I hope you know I’m about to write the angriest email in existence.”

Gary turned his attention back to Ash, his voice gentler now. “Ash, buddy. Listen to me. It is not supposed to hurt like that.” He squeezed Ash’s hand lightly. “I mean, sure, it’s a needle, so some discomfort is normal, but jamming it in? No. That’s not how it’s supposed to be done.”

Ash blinked at him, as if the concept was foreign. “But… isn’t that just how doctors do it?”

Gary felt his blood pressure spike. “Ash, no,” he said, a little too forcefully. “Not good doctors, anyway.”

Ash still looked unsure, but Gary wasn’t about to let him dwell on it. He needed to show Ash—prove to him—that not all doctors were like that.

Gary took a deep breath and gently draped Ash’s arm over his own shoulder, holding him close. “Okay, Ashy-boy,” he murmured. “You’re safe here, alright? I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Ash stiffened, but he didn’t pull away. Gary took that as progress.

“Just keep your arm around me,” Gary instructed, reaching for the antiseptic wipe again. “And if you get scared, squeeze my hand—not Pikachu, got it?”

Ash gave a weak nod.

Gary worked carefully, wiping the spot on Ash’s arm with slow, deliberate movements. “Alright, deep breath in through your nose…” He waited for Ash to do it. “And out through your mouth. Good, just like that.”

Ash tightened his grip on Gary’s shoulder.

“Okay, just one more deep breath,” Gary soothed, keeping his tone light and even. “In… and out.”

And with that, he slipped the needle in smoothly—no punching, no jamming, just a gentle, practiced movement.

Ash tensed for half a second—then blinked. “Huh?”

Gary smirked. “Already done, buddy.”

Ash’s mouth opened slightly in disbelief. He stared at his arm, then at Gary. “...That was it?”

“That was it.” Gary carefully pulled the needle out, pressing a cotton ball to the spot before securing it with a bandage. “And guess what? You didn’t die.”

Ash let out a shaky breath. “That… didn’t even hurt.”

“Exactly.” Gary gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “That’s how it’s supposed to feel. You shouldn’t be scared of doctors, Ash. We’re supposed to help you.”

Ash was quiet for a moment, then mumbled, “You’re the only doctor I trust…”

Gary’s heart clenched, but he managed a lopsided smile. “Well, I am the best.”

The receptionist scoffed. “Debatable.”

Gary shot her a look. “Not the time.”

She held up her hands in surrender.

Ash, meanwhile, hesitated for only a second before suddenly throwing his arms around Gary’s neck, burying his face into his shoulder.

Gary nearly fell backward. “Whoa—okay—yeah, you’re still a tight hugger—!”

But he didn’t push him away.

Instead, he just sighed and wrapped his arms around Ash, rubbing his back in slow, steady motions.

“See?” he murmured. “Not so bad.”

Ash nodded against his shoulder. “Thanks, Gary…”

Gary huffed a quiet laugh, still holding him close. “Anytime, Ashy-boy. Anytime.”

The moment the words left Ash’s mouth, Gary froze. His grip on the alcohol wipe slackened, and it fluttered to the floor, forgotten. His eyes snapped up to meet Ash’s, but the boy wasn’t looking at him—he was just hugging his knees, shoulders curled inward like he was trying to disappear.

"Hold up, what?" Gary asked, voice dangerously calm.

Ash just shrugged. "A shot’s supposed to hurt. It always does."

Gary’s jaw clenched. He didn’t even get a chance to react before the receptionist, still standing nearby, let out a sharp, indignant noise.

"Excuse me?" she huffed, crossing her arms. "Who told you that?"

Ash blinked at her in mild confusion. "Um… all of them?"

Gary swore under his breath. "No, no, no—" He pinched the bridge of his nose. "That’s not how it works, Ashy-boy. Shots don’t have to hurt like that! They shouldn’t!"

Ash just looked down again, hugging Pikachu tighter to his chest. The poor Pokémon squeaked in protest, squirming, its little paws flailing.

"Buddy, Pikachu can’t breathe," Gary murmured, reaching out.

Ash’s grip immediately loosened, but his hands were still trembling. That was enough for Gary. He scooted closer, offering his free hand.

Ash hesitated, then latched on. Hard.

Gary barely winced. He was used to this—Ash was a hugger, and a tight one at that. But this time, there was something desperate about the way Ash clung to him, like he was bracing himself for something awful.

And that was the last straw.

Gary turned to the receptionist. "Who was his last doctor?" His voice was steady, but his eyes were burning.

The receptionist—who had been holding in her own anger—grabbed the file from her desk. "Different hospital," she said with thinly veiled rage. "Some hack named Dr. Matthews."

Gary scoffed. "Figures."

Ash blinked up at him. "Wait… you know him?"

Gary let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, kid, I know him. And I hate him."

The receptionist nodded in agreement. "Everyone hates him. That guy’s a damn butcher."

Ash flinched slightly, and Gary immediately softened. He turned back to Ash, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Listen, buddy," he said gently. "That guy? Sucks. He’s the worst. He should not be in medicine. But I promise you, not all doctors are like him."

Ash didn’t look convinced.

Gary sighed. "Okay. I know you’re still scared of me, too."

Ash's grip on his hand twitched.

Gary gave him a small smile. "I get it. I do. But I’m not him. And I’m gonna prove it, alright?"

Ash swallowed hard but nodded.

Gary took a deep breath. "Alright. We’re doing the shot here, under the desk, just like we said, okay?"

Ash nodded again, still tense.

Gary wrapped an arm around Ash, shifting so that Ash’s arm was draped over his shoulder. "Lean on me, buddy."

Ash hesitated, then did. He buried his face in Gary’s shoulder, gripping his coat tightly.

Gary murmured softly as he took out the needle, rubbing Ash’s arm again to relax the muscle. "You’re doing great, bud. Just keep breathing. In… out… in… out… there ya go…"

Ash shuddered but didn’t pull away.

Gary worked quickly, smoothly swabbing the area before pressing the needle in with expert precision. His free hand stayed on Ash’s back, rubbing slow, soothing circles.

"Done," Gary said a moment later.

Ash blinked. "Huh?"

Gary smirked. "Told ya it doesn’t have to hurt."

Ash pulled back slightly, looking at his arm like he couldn’t believe it. "But… but I didn’t even feel—"

"Because I know what I’m doing," Gary teased, ruffling Ash’s hair.

Ash scowled. "Hey!"

The receptionist chuckled. "See, kid? Not all doctors are nightmares."

Ash hesitated, looking up at Gary.

And for the first time, he smiled.

"Yeah," Ash murmured. "I guess not."