Let's make one thing straight- Ash was staying at the Oak lab bcz Delia was away and she wanted him to stay until she came back. Also she didn't trust Ash with the keys.)

The faint smell of burnt toast hung in the air as Ash shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His usually lively demeanor was replaced by sluggish movements and a weary groan. He grabbed a glass from the counter, filling it with water and drinking deeply.

"Morning, sleepyhead," Gary called out, leaning casually against the doorway with a smirk. "You look like you lost a wrestling match with a wild Snorlax."

Ash shot him a glare, though it lacked its usual fire. "Don't start, Gary. I feel awful."

Gary's teasing grin faded, replaced with genuine concern. He stepped closer, crossing his arms. "Awful, huh? Let me guess—battling too many wild Pokémon and not enough rest?"

"I'm fine," Ash insisted, though the rasp in his voice betrayed him. "Just a little tired."

Gary raised an eyebrow. "Ash, you're sweating like a Magmar in the sun. Sit down before you fall over."

Ash reluctantly sank into a chair, muttering, "This is so unnecessary."

Ignoring his protests, Gary retrieved a thermometer from his bag—because of course Gary Oak would always be prepared for anything. He popped it into Ash's mouth, leaning back with a smug expression as they waited.

When the thermometer beeped, Gary read the numbers and frowned. "Yep. You've got a fever. Combine that with your red throat and the way you're dragging your feet? Classic signs of Pokémon Flu."

Ash groaned, dropping his head onto the table. "Pokémon Flu? You're making that up."

"I wish," Gary said, already rummaging through the cupboards. "It's real, and it's usually brought on by overexertion. And let me guess—you haven't been eating right, either?"

Ash opened his mouth to argue but closed it again, knowing Gary wouldn't let him off the hook. "Maybe."

Gary sighed, shaking his head. "You're worse than a stubborn Tauros. Stay put. I'll make something to help."

Ash grumbled but obeyed, slumping in his chair as he watched Gary move around the kitchen with surprising ease. Soon, the comforting scent of herbs and honey filled the air, and Gary set a steaming mug of tea in front of him.

"Drink up," Gary ordered. "It's a special blend I learned from Professor Oak. It'll help."

Ash took a tentative sip, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. "This... isn't half bad."

Gary smirked. "Of course it isn't. You're welcome."

For the rest of the day, Gary stayed by Ash's side, making sure he drank tea, ate light meals, and rested. He even fetched a blanket for Ash when he fell asleep on the couch, adjusting it carefully to keep him warm.

When Ash woke up that evening, his voice was hoarse but grateful. "Thanks, Gary. You didn't have to do all this."

Gary chuckled, ruffling Ash's messy hair. "Don't mention it, Pikachu Pal. You might be stubborn as a Rapidash, but you're still my friend. Besides, it's kind of fun bossing you around."

Ash managed a weak laugh. "Yeah, yeah. Just don't tell anyone. I've got a reputation to maintain."

Gary leaned back in his chair with a grin. "Your secret's safe with me. Now get some more rest—you're no use to anyone if you can't stand without wobbling."

The unmistakable aroma of burnt toast wafted through the kitchen as Ash stumbled in, still half-asleep and groggy. His eyes were barely open, and his hair was a mess, but he couldn't ignore the dry feeling in his throat. Without a word, he grabbed a glass of water, gulping it down quickly as if the cold liquid might revive him.

"Morning, sleepyhead," came Gary's teasing voice from the doorway, his tone light but his eyes sharp, taking in Ash's disheveled state. "You look like you've been wrestling a wild Nidoran all night."

Ash groaned, rubbing his temples. "Don't remind me. I feel awful. I think I'm coming down with something."

Gary's playful expression instantly shifted to something more serious. "Let me take a look at you."

Ash waved him off, still not fully convinced. "I'm fine, Gary. Just a bit tired. It'll pass."

"Tired enough to look like you've been dragged through a mud puddle by a Muk?" Gary replied, his tone matter-of-fact as he gently nudged Ash toward a chair. "Sit down. I'm checking you out, whether you like it or not."

Ash grumbled but finally relented, slumping into the chair. Gary, his demeanor now all business, set to work with a practiced ease that surprised Ash. He reached for a thermometer, then pressed two fingers to Ash's wrist, counting his pulse. After a few moments, he held a small flashlight up to Ash's throat, peering inside with a frown.

"Well, well," Gary murmured, tapping his chin as he examined his findings. "Slight fever, rapid pulse, and your throat's as red as a Charmander's flame. Classic case of Pokémon Flu."

Ash scoffed, shaking his head. "Pokémon Flu? That's ridiculous. I don't even have a cold."

Gary gave him an amused look. "Oh, trust me, it's real. Highly contagious, too. I'm guessing all those wild Pokémon you've been battling lately didn't exactly help your immune system."

Ash's lips twisted into a stubborn frown, but there was a trace of concern behind his eyes. "I'm not weak," he muttered, looking away.

Gary held up his hands, his expression softening. "Of course not. You're the strongest trainer I know. But even the strongest Pokémon need to rest when they're sick." His voice was gentle now, no trace of teasing. "I'll make you some herbal tea to help you feel better. You stay here and rest, okay?"

Ash opened his mouth to protest but found himself too tired to argue. He slumped deeper into the chair, feeling unexpectedly... cared for. The rivalry that had once defined their every interaction had dulled over the years, but Ash never expected Gary to be this attentive. It was a side of him that Ash had never really seen before—not in all their years of competition, not in all their heated battles.

"Thanks, Gary," Ash said quietly, his voice filled with an honesty that surprised even him. He felt a twinge of warmth in his chest. Maybe he hadn't given Gary enough credit all these years.

Gary shot him a knowing grin as he turned toward the kitchen counter. "Don't mention it. You're lucky you've got someone like me around to keep you from infecting the whole region with that fever of yours."

Ash chuckled weakly. "Don't worry, I'll keep my distance from Pikachu."

Gary's smile widened as he began gathering ingredients. "Good call. We wouldn't want him catching this. You rest up, and I'll take care of the rest."

And so, the day went on. Gary expertly brewed a steaming cup of herbal tea, full of healing herbs Ash couldn't pronounce. Ash reluctantly sipped it, surprised at how good it tasted despite the initial skepticism. Between the occasional chuckles and Gary's quiet supervision, Ash started to feel a little better—not much, but it was something.

Gary kept a watchful eye on him, refilling his water and offering him snacks every now and then. Despite the usual competitive banter that was so often present between them, today felt... different. Ash found himself surprised by how comfortable it was to just let go of his pride and let Gary take charge for once.

"You know," Ash said after a long, quiet pause, his voice hoarse from the fever, "I always thought you were just the annoying rival. But today, I guess you're... not so bad."

Gary glanced at him with a raised eyebrow, his lips twitching into a smirk. "You're lucky I'm in a good mood today, Ash," he teased, but there was no edge to his words. "But seriously, I got you. I'll always have your back."

Ash gave a weak, grateful smile. He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually felt this cared for, and it wasn't just about the tea or the soup Gary had made for him. It was that steady presence, the kind of friendship that had stood the test of time.

"I'll try to keep it together, Gary," Ash mumbled, sinking further into the chair, his eyelids drooping as exhaustion claimed him.

Gary sat quietly beside him for a while, the sound of Ash's breathing steadying as he drifted into a light sleep. The rivalry they once shared seemed so distant now, replaced with something deeper, something more solid. In this moment, there was no competition—just two old friends, side by side.

As Gary watched Ash sleep, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, he couldn't help but smile softly to himself. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to this whole "friendship" thing than he'd realized. And it was moments like this that reminded him why he always stuck around—because Ash, despite everything, had become more than just his rival. He was a friend. And that meant something.

"Get some rest, Ash," Gary whispered under his breath, his voice gentle. "You're gonna need it for the next battle."

The sharp scent of burnt toast lingered in the air as Ash stumbled groggily into the kitchen, his eyes still half-closed. He fumbled for a glass, filling it with water and downing it in a single, desperate gulp, hoping to shake off the lingering fog in his mind.

Gary was already there, leaning casually against the counter, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he took in Ash's disheveled state. "Morning, sleepyhead," he teased, his lips curling into a smirk. "You look like you went one-on-one with a wild Nidoran and lost."

Ash groaned, his hand pressing to his forehead as if that might help the dull throb in his head. "Don't remind me," he muttered. "I think I'm coming down with something... My whole body hurts."

Gary raised an eyebrow, his expression softening just a bit. "Let me take a look at you."

Ash groaned again. "Gary, I'm fine. Just a little tired, that's all."

Gary wasn't buying it. "Tired enough to look like you've been run over by a Muk?" he asked, his tone shifting to something a little more serious. He placed a firm hand on Ash's shoulder and gently guided him to a chair. "Sit. Let me check you out."

Ash grumbled, but he did as he was told, slumping into the chair with a heavy sigh. He was exhausted, and his body felt like it was being dragged down by some invisible weight. Gary's sudden attention was both a little annoying and... comforting in an odd way.

With a smooth, practiced motion, Gary pulled out a small thermometer and stuck it under Ash's tongue before he could protest. As it beeped, Gary checked it and raised an eyebrow. "See? Running a fever. You're definitely not fine."

Ash mumbled something incoherent, but Gary wasn't done. He checked Ash's pulse, gently pressed his fingers to his throat, and even shined a small flashlight into his mouth, tilting his head to get a better look at Ash's red, inflamed throat.

Gary hummed to himself, tapping his chin as he made mental notes. "You've got a slight fever, your pulse is racing, and your throat's pretty red. Classic case of Pokémon Flu."

Ash rolled his eyes. "Pokémon Flu? That's ridiculous."

Gary let out a soft laugh, but his expression remained serious. "It's real, Ash. You've been out battling wild Pokémon left and right lately. Some of those buggers are more than just a little contagious."

Ash crossed his arms, though his energy was waning. "I'm not weak," he muttered, trying to defend himself.

Gary gave him a pointed look. "Of course not. You're as stubborn as a Tauros, but even the strongest Pokémon need to rest when they're sick." His tone was soft, but firm, and for a moment, Ash could almost feel the weight of it—like a reminder that no one was invincible, not even him.

Gary walked over to the counter, grabbing a jar of dried herbs and a small teapot. "I'll brew you some soothing tea. It'll help with the fever and make you feel better." He moved with ease, like he'd done this many times before, despite the two of them being so far from their childhood rivalry days.

Ash, feeling a little sheepish now that Gary was actually taking care of him, slumped further into the chair. His chest felt tight, and despite his pride, he couldn't deny how much he appreciated Gary's unexpected attentiveness.

"Thanks, Gary," Ash muttered, his voice softer than usual. It surprised him how genuine his gratitude felt, though he would never admit it out loud.

Gary paused mid-brew, glancing back at Ash with a small, knowing smile. "No problem, Ash. You've got to get better so you can go back to being the most annoying person I know. Just... try not to infect any innocent Pokémon with your coughing, okay?"

Ash couldn't help but laugh weakly. "Don't worry, I'll keep my distance from Pikachu. He'd never let me hear the end of it."

Gary chuckled as he finished preparing the tea, then set the cup in front of Ash with a gentle nudge. "Good. Just remember, even the best of us need to take a break every now and then. Don't push yourself too hard next time."

Ash picked up the cup, surprised at how good the tea tasted. It was sweet, with a hint of mint that soothed his sore throat almost immediately. "This actually isn't bad," he commented, savoring the warmth.

Gary leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching Ash sip his tea. "I'm glad you like it. It's a little trick I learned on the road. Can't always rely on Pokémon Centers, you know?"

The rest of the day was quiet, the usual bustle of Ash's energetic adventures stilled as he sank into the couch, allowing himself to rest. Gary hovered nearby, keeping an eye on him, fetching water when Ash needed it, and even grabbing a few more berries from outside when Ash's appetite started to return, albeit weakly.

As the evening approached, Ash was no longer quite as pale, though he still felt drained. He looked over at Gary, who was flipping through a book, but glancing back at him now and then, as though making sure he was still okay.

"You know," Ash said, his voice quiet, "You're not half-bad at this whole 'taking care of me' thing."

Gary raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "I'd like to say it's a special talent of mine, but you're lucky I'm willing to tolerate you at all."

Ash snorted softly, though it quickly turned into a cough, which made Gary frown. He stood and walked over, sitting down next to Ash on the couch, and for a moment, there was a silence between them, comfortable and unspoken. Ash, despite himself, leaned against Gary's shoulder, finally allowing himself to relax.

"You know," Gary said after a moment, his voice a little softer, "Even with all the teasing and rivalry... I've got your back, Ash. You're more than just a friend to me. You're my best friend."

Ash, his eyes already beginning to flutter shut from the exhaustion, smiled faintly. "I know. Thanks... Gary."

Gary gave him a gentle pat on the head, the corner of his mouth tugging up into a rare, genuine smile. "Get some rest, Ash. I'll make sure you don't overdo it again."

And as Ash drifted off to sleep, the warmth of the tea, the comfort of his best friend beside him, and the quiet assurance of their friendship surrounded him like a protective shield. Even in their most vulnerable moments, Ash knew that Gary would always be there, not just as a rival, but as someone who truly cared.

It was a reminder that sometimes, the strongest bonds weren't formed through competition—but through moments like this.

The faint scent of burnt toast wafted through the air as Ash shuffled into the kitchen, eyes barely open and hair sticking out in every direction. He made a beeline for the counter, where a glass of water sat, as if it were the only thing capable of saving him from his current state of exhaustion. He drained it in one go, the cool liquid doing little to ease the pounding in his head.

"Morning, sleepyhead," Gary's voice rang out from the doorway, his tone light but with that mischievous edge Ash had long grown accustomed to. "You look like you got in a battle with a wild Nidoran and lost."

Ash groaned, dragging a hand over his face as he tried to push away the fog of sleep. "Don't remind me," he muttered, his voice hoarse. "I think I'm coming down with something."

Gary's eyes narrowed, his playful demeanor suddenly shifting to something more concerned. He took a step closer, inspecting Ash with a knowing gaze. "Let me take a look at you."

"I'm fine, Gary. Just tired," Ash replied, shaking his head as if he could brush away the discomfort.

Gary didn't buy it. "Tired enough to look like you've been dragged through a mud puddle by a Muk?" he quipped, his voice unyielding. "Sit down."

Ash hesitated, but the firmness in Gary's tone told him it was better to comply than argue. He slumped into a chair at the kitchen table, rubbing his temples. His head felt like it was made of lead, and the world around him swam in and out of focus.

Gary didn't waste any time. He was in doctor mode now, and Ash couldn't help but marvel at how well the usually cocky, overconfident Gary handled himself in this role. Gary checked his temperature, his fingers brushing the back of Ash's neck with a practiced touch. Ash flinched slightly, but Gary was already moving on, listening to his heartbeat, then pulling out a small flashlight to peer into his throat.

"Hmm," Gary muttered, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Slight fever, rapid pulse, and your throat's redder than a Charizard's flame. Classic case of Pokémon Flu."

Ash rolled his eyes, though it was more out of habit than any real defiance. "Pokémon Flu? That's ridiculous."

Gary gave him a look, eyebrow raised. "It's real, Ash. Trust me. You've been battling wild Pokémon all week, haven't you? You're bound to catch something eventually."

Ash snorted, a weak chuckle escaping him despite his discomfort. "I'm not weak," he protested, but even he could hear the exhaustion in his own voice.

Gary softened, his tone shifting to one of reassurance. "Of course not. But even the toughest Pokémon need rest when they're sick," he said, giving Ash a gentle but firm push toward the chair again. "You've earned a break."

Ash didn't argue this time. He felt drained, and the last thing he wanted was to be lectured on how 'strong' he was supposed to be. The truth was, he was starting to feel like he might actually be a bit too sick to keep going. "Thanks, Gary," he mumbled, surprised by the sincerity in his own voice.

Gary gave him a small, knowing smile. "No problem, Ash. You've earned the rest. Now stay here and don't move. I'll whip up some herbal tea for you."

Ash slouched back in the chair, his body practically begging for sleep. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so worn out, and it was strange, to be honest. He was used to pushing through anything, even when his body was screaming at him to stop. But today was different. He wasn't sure why, but it felt like his limits were being tested in ways he couldn't ignore.

Gary moved around the kitchen with ease, pulling out ingredients with the kind of care that suggested he'd done this a thousand times before. Ash watched him, slightly bewildered by how well Gary was taking care of him. In all their years of rivalry, Gary had never been the type to show much concern for others, at least not openly. But now, Ash realized, that had all changed.

It wasn't just about winning or proving who was better anymore. They had both grown, and while the rivalry would always be there in some form, Ash knew that this was the kind of friendship that would endure.

Gary returned shortly with a steaming cup of tea. The fragrant herbs calmed Ash's senses the moment the steam hit his face. He took the cup from Gary's hands and slowly sipped, the warm liquid soothing his sore throat.

"Well?" Gary asked, leaning against the counter, arms crossed, watching Ash carefully.

Ash swallowed another sip before responding. "Not bad, actually. Surprising."

Gary raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into a half-smile. "Hey, I've got a reputation to uphold. I know my herbal remedies."

Ash gave him a weak grin, but his energy was starting to fade, the weight of his fever pulling him under. "You know," Ash muttered, "For a guy who's always bragging, you're not half bad at this... taking-care-of-sick-people thing."

Gary's grin widened, a teasing glint flashing in his eyes. "Don't get used to it, Ash. But for now, I'll make sure you don't infect any innocent Pokémon with your germs."

Ash chuckled hoarsely, glancing at Pikachu, who was curled up on the couch next to him. "Don't worry, I'll keep my distance from Pikachu."

Gary laughed, his voice warm. "Good idea. He's probably already plotting his revenge for all those times you've used him as a battering ram."

The day passed in a haze, Ash too tired to do much of anything other than rest, sip his tea, and let Gary hover over him with surprising tenderness. It was a strange dynamic—one that was both familiar and new.

Gary was always the one who made snide comments, teased Ash relentlessly, and acted like he didn't care about much beyond being the best. But here, in this quiet kitchen with the sun filtering through the window, it was clear to Ash that there was something deeper. Their friendship, however complicated and tumultuous at times, had evolved into something more meaningful than just rivalry.

Later in the day, as Ash finally drifted into a light sleep, Gary quietly pulled the blanket over him, his eyes lingering for a moment on the peaceful expression on his best friend's face.

"Get some rest, Ash," Gary whispered, a rare softness in his voice. "You've earned it."

And as Gary sat there, watching over him, he knew that their rivalry would always be a part of them, but this... this was the part that mattered most. The part where they looked out for each other, no matter what.

The smell of burnt toast lingered heavily in the air as Ash groggily shuffled into the kitchen, his hair wild and his eyes half-closed in exhaustion. He barely noticed the charred remains of the bread in front of him, still sizzling slightly on the edges of the toaster. "Morning, Gary," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes as he tried to shake off the sleepiness.

Gary, who was standing at the counter with a perfectly ripe apple in one hand, glanced over at him with a smirk. "Morning, Ash. You look like you got run over by a herd of Tauros last night."

Ash gave a lazy wave of his hand, clearly unfazed. "I'm fine. Just tired," he muttered, grabbing a piece of the burnt toast and shoving it into his mouth, chewing with little enthusiasm.

Gary raised an eyebrow, taking in the sight of his best friend. "Burnt toast for breakfast?" he said, his voice dripping with mock concern. "You're lucky you're not breathing fire like Charizard after that. Looks like you've got enough charcoal in there to start a campfire."

Ash didn't respond, too busy trying to choke down the dry, bitter toast. But as he chewed, Gary's gaze never left him, narrowing slightly with suspicion.

"You know," Gary began, casually placing the apple down on the counter and stepping closer to Ash, "You don't look so good. In fact, you look like you've been hit by a Thunderbolt without even being on the battlefield."

Ash rolled his eyes. "I'm fine, really."

Gary moved faster than Ash expected, grabbing his wrist and gently pulling it towards him. "Let me see," he said, his voice suddenly sharp with a hint of authority. He felt Ash's pulse for a moment, his brow furrowing. "Hmm. Your heart's racing. What's going on, Ash?"

Ash immediately tensed, trying to pull his arm back. "Nothing's going on. Just... tired, I said."

Gary wasn't convinced. He released Ash's wrist and moved his stethoscope fromhis neck, slipping it on with practiced ease. "You're burning up, Ash," he said, tone suddenly more serious as he leaned in. "I can hear it in your chest. Breathing's a bit labored, and I swear I hear wheezing."

Ash immediately scoffed, but his voice was shaky, betraying his growing unease. "Wheezing? No way. I'm fine."

Gary wasn't having it. "Really?" he said, raising an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. He moved around behind Ash and gently placed the stethoscope on his chest, listening intently. "Yeah, there it is again. Sounds like you're trying to mimic a Squirtle doing a backstroke, Ash."

"Stop it," Ash muttered, but he was growing visibly uncomfortable now. His throat was dry and scratchy, and it felt like his chest was tightening every time he took a breath. He coughed weakly, his discomfort growing as Gary peered into his mouth.

"You've got a bit of inflammation in there," Gary observed, shining a small flashlight into Ash's throat. "And you're still eating that burnt toast. Really?"

Ash's shoulders slumped in defeat as he crumbled the charred bread in his hands, letting it fall into the sink. "Okay, okay. Maybe I'm not feeling that great," he admitted, his voice finally losing some of its stubborn edge.

Gary raised a brow. " Ashy, you've got a bad case of Pokemon Flu."

Ash moaned. " You're joking."

" I wish I was. You've been battling nonstop, haven't you?"

Ash opened his mouth to protest, but when he saw Gary's expression he sighed. " Yeah."

Gary stepped back, crossing his arms, a satisfied smirk spreading across his face. "That's what I thought," he said, his tone softening slightly. "You need to rest. And if you ever try to eat burnt toast again, I swear I'll personally throw out every piece of bread in the house."

Ash groaned, sinking into the couch, but he still tried to protest. "But... I've got my Gym Battle today. I can't just—"

"No," Gary cut him off sharply, his voice firm. "No Gym Battle. Not looking like this. You're a mess, Ash. I'm making you soup, and you're staying put."

Ash opened his mouth to argue, but Gary shot him a look, a silent warning that made him hesitate. There was no way to argue with Gary when he was in full "doctor mode," especially when the stubbornness in his friend was starting to turn into worry. "No arguments, Ash. You're not going anywhere until you're better, understood?"

Ash slumped, leaning back into the couch in surrender. He hated being taken care of, especially by Gary, but he knew when to admit defeat. Fine, fine, he thought. Maybe I need some rest.

Gary, satisfied with his victory, set about making the soup, his movements efficient and no-nonsense. He worked quickly but carefully, preparing a steaming bowl with the same precision he applied to everything else in his life. Ash didn't have the energy to do anything more than watch him from the couch, his body heavy with the fever weighing down on him.

When Gary returned, holding the bowl in both hands like it was the Holy Grail, he raised an eyebrow at Ash. "You still look like you've been through a battle with a wild Gyarados, but I'll get you there, kid."

Ash tried to protest, but all that came out was a weak cough. He had no fight left in him. He sat up slowly, accepting the bowl from Gary, his hands trembling slightly.

"See? Not so bad, right?" Gary teased, though his tone was lighter now, even affectionate. He sat down next to Ash, keeping a watchful eye on him as Ash ate the soup slowly, savoring the warmth.

Ash gave him a half-hearted glare. "You're so bossy."

Gary grinned, his usual smugness returning. "You wouldn't survive without me, Ash."

Ash shook his head, a soft chuckle escaping him. "Maybe not. But I'd still prefer not to be babied like this."

"You're not being babied," Gary said, rolling his eyes. "I'm just making sure you're not dying on me. A little TLC never hurt anyone."

As the minutes ticked by and the soup slowly disappeared, Ash felt his strength return, if only a little. Gary sat with him, keeping him company as the morning wore on, every so often glancing at Ash to make sure he wasn't fading again.

Despite all the teasing, despite the way Gary loved to needle him with his usual sarcastic remarks, Ash felt a strange warmth spreading through him—not just from the soup, but from the simple presence of his friend, his best friend. Someone who cared, even when he didn't want to admit he needed it.

Eventually, Ash leaned back against the cushions, feeling slightly more human, and Gary gave him a satisfied look.

"You're lucky, you know," Gary said, his tone a little softer than usual. "You'd have been miserable all day if I hadn't stepped in."

Ash cracked a small smile, his exhaustion easing just a bit. "Yeah, yeah. I get it. You're the hero."

"That's right," Gary said with a wink. "Now get some rest. I'll keep the Gym Battle on hold for you—just this once."

As Ash closed his eyes, a small, contented sigh escaping him, he realized that maybe—just maybe—he was okay with being taken care of by Gary. Even if he would never admit it out loud.

Gary stood up, looking down at him with a mixture of fondness and amusement. "I'll be here if you need anything, Ash. Don't try to fight it."

Ash chuckled weakly. "I won't. For now, I'm just going to sleep."

And with that, he drifted off, the world feeling a little less overwhelming, knowing that no matter what, Gary would be there—ready to argue, ready to tease, but also ready to make sure he was okay.

The scent of burnt toast filled the air as Ash shuffled into the kitchen, his eyes barely open, still fighting off the remnants of sleep. "Morning, Gary," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes and trying to stifle a yawn.

Gary, who was methodically inspecting a perfectly ripe apple, glanced up at him with a smirk. "Morning, Ash. You look like you went twelve rounds with a wild Abra and lost," he teased, raising an eyebrow.

Ash waved him off, his voice muffled from exhaustion. "I'm fine, just tired. It's nothing." He grabbed a slice of the charred toast and took a big bite, grimacing as the burnt flavor hit his tongue.

Gary winced at the sight. "Burnt toast for breakfast? What are you, a Magikarp trying to evolve by sheer force of will?" He stepped forward, his gaze sharp and assessing as he scanned Ash up and down. "Let me take a quick look at you."

Ash stiffened, a little defensive. "What? I'm fine, Gary, really."

But Gary was already closing the distance between them, taking Ash's wrist in his hand and checking his pulse. His eyes narrowed as he felt the quickened beat beneath his fingers. "Hmm. A bit fast there, buddy. And you're looking even paler than usual. You sure you're fine?"

Ash attempted to pull his arm away, but Gary held firm, his fingers gently pressing to his wrist. "I'm fine," Ash repeated, though his voice lacked conviction.

Gary didn't listen. He moved his attention to Ash's chest, gently placing his stethoscope against his friend's ribs. "Breathing's a bit labored, Ash. And I swear I can hear a faint wheezing. Let me listen closer."

Ash let out a small, wheezy laugh, trying to brush it off. "Wheezing? I'm not wheezing! I'm just... you know, tired. Maybe I caught something from a wild Zubat."

Gary raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. "Sure, Ash. If by 'wild Zubat' you mean a viral strain that's been going around. You sound like you're trying to impersonate a Squirtle mid-sneeze."

Ash's expression faltered as Gary continued his exam. "Look, it's just a little scratchy," Ash said, his voice softer now. "I'm fine."

But Gary wasn't done. He gently pried Ash's mouth open, peering inside. "Throat's inflamed. No surprise there. And you're still eating this burnt disaster of toast. What do you think you're doing?" Gary asked, shaking his head.

Ash, clearly realizing the futility of denying anything further, crumbled the toast in his hand and let it fall to the counter. "Okay, fine," he muttered, his shoulders sagging. "Maybe I'm not feeling so great. But I have a Gym Battle today, Gary. I can't skip it."

Gary's lips tightened into a thin line, his patience wearing thin. "No way you're battling like this, Ash. You're running a fever and your body's telling you something's wrong. I can't have you out there fainting mid-battle and making yourself worse."

Ash opened his mouth to argue, but Gary held up a hand, cutting him off before the protest could even form. "No arguments," Gary said firmly, his voice carrying a weight that Ash knew better than to challenge. "I'm making you soup, you're going to rest, and you're not moving from this couch until you're better. That's an order from your—concerned, highly qualified, definitely-not-overprotective friend."

Ash's mouth opened, ready for another protest, but the stern look Gary gave him made him stop. He sighed dramatically and plopped down onto the couch. He might be the world's most determined Pokémon Trainer, but when it came to Gary's unwavering insistence, Ash knew when to wave the white flag.

He slumped back, resting his head on the pillow. "I'm so screwed," he muttered under his breath, glancing over at Gary, who was already pulling out the ingredients for soup. "I have a Gym Battle and I can't even keep toast down."

Gary chuckled, his tone softening as he went to work. "You've fought legendaries, Ash. But you can't handle a little Pokémon flu?" He shot a teasing glance over his shoulder. "It's embarrassing."

Ash gave him a weak glare, though he couldn't keep the smile from tugging at his lips. "I swear, one of these days, I'll get you back for all these jokes."

Gary set a pot of broth on the stove, and his smile softened, his voice taking on a more serious note. "In all seriousness, though... you need to take care of yourself. If you don't, you'll be down for weeks instead of just a few days."

Ash looked at him, his eyes tired but appreciative. "Yeah, I know. But I'll be fine after some rest, I just need to fight through this. You know me, Gary."

Gary shook his head as he stirred the soup. "That's your problem, Ash. You're always trying to fight through it, even when your body's telling you to slow down. You can't be the best if you burn yourself out like this."

Ash relaxed, staring up at the ceiling for a long moment, contemplating Gary's words. Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter. "Thanks, Gary. For... you know, making me listen to myself for once."

Gary glanced over, his eyes softening in a rare moment of sincerity. "Don't mention it, Ash. Someone's gotta look out for you, and it's not like you're going to listen to anyone else."

Ash let out a chuckle, his lips twitching into a smile. "Guess not."

As the soup simmered, Ash settled deeper into the couch, allowing himself to finally relax for the first time in a while. He wasn't used to letting someone else take charge, but for once, he felt relieved to be in Gary's hands—both the teasing, stubborn side and the caring, dependable one. Ash had always known Gary was there for him, but today, it was more apparent than ever.

Gary returned a few minutes later with a steaming bowl of soup, setting it on the table next to Ash. "Drink this. And then you're going back to sleep. No Gym Battle today, kid. You've got enough on your plate already."

Ash looked up at him, his face softening in gratitude. "Alright, alright. I'll rest. But next time, you're not making me miss out on a battle."

Gary smirked, handing him the bowl. "We'll see. Now, eat up before I have to force-feed you."

Ash rolled his eyes but smiled as he took the bowl. Maybe he wasn't the best when he was sick, but with Gary's care—and a little soup—he was starting to feel a bit more like his old self.

The battle could wait.

"Ugh," Ash groaned, his hand pressed to his forehead as he leaned against the armrest of the couch. His face was flushed, and his body ached with every move. "This is the worst," he mumbled, trying to push through the exhaustion but finding it harder with every passing minute.

Gary walked into the room, a grin already forming on his face as he spotted Ash slumped on the couch. "What, are you still sulking about losing to that Trainer earlier?" he teased. "You didn't look that bad when we were training."

Ash gave him a weak look but didn't respond. His eyes were half-lidded, and the usual fire was missing. Something wasn't right.

Gary narrowed his eyes and took a closer look. Ash was paler than usual, his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, and his breath was shallow. That's when Gary noticed the faint trembling in Ash's hands as he tried to adjust his position.

"Ash..." Gary said, voice suddenly more serious. He put the snack he had been holding aside and walked closer, kneeling in front of his friend. "What's going on? You look like you've been through a battle with a wild Gyarados."

Ash managed a small, pained grin. "I'm fine, Gary," he said, but the tremor in his voice made Gary's stomach drop.

Gary wasn't buying it. "You don't look fine. You look like a Charmander after a run-in with a rainstorm." He reached out to feel Ash's forehead, the heat radiating off him confirming his worst suspicion. "You're burning up, Ash."

Ash barely registered the touch, too tired to even protest. His body felt like lead, and his head was a mess of dizziness and confusion. "I'm... I'm just tired, Gary. I'll be okay," he mumbled, but his voice was weak and far from convincing.

Gary's expression softened with concern, his mind running through what he knew about these symptoms. "You've got Pokémon flu, don't you?" he muttered to himself. He could barely believe it—he'd seen this sickness spread through a few towns, but Ash? He never got sick.

Without warning, Gary stood up quickly. "I need to give you a check-up," he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. Ash tried to protest, but Gary gently placed a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to stay put. "You've been fighting it off for way too long, Ash. You need help."

Ash looked up at him, his eyes unfocused but filled with reluctant trust. "I don't need a doctor, Gary. I'm fine. Really."

Gary sighed, clearly not buying it. "Ash, you're not fine. If you're going to insist on being this stubborn, then I'm doing the check-up whether you like it or not."

Ash could barely summon the energy to glare, but he managed. "Fine," he muttered, though it was barely audible.

Gary carefully felt Ash's pulse and checked his breathing, noting how shallow and quick it was. His hands were trembling too much to give any meaningful response. Gary frowned deeply, concerned. Ash had barely said anything about his condition, but his body was giving away everything.

He placed his stethoscope on Ash's chest to listen to his heart, but when he felt the temperature of his neck with the back of his hand, Gary's frown deepened. Ash was burning with fever, and he could feel the way his body trembled involuntarily under the strain. 

He was definitely not okay.

Ash's body was rigid, each movement seeming to take more effort than the last. Gary could feel the tension in his shoulders, the way Ash's muscles were tightening up, as though he was trying to fight the illness off with sheer will.

"Ash, relax your arm," Gary said, rubbing his thumb over Ash's hand, trying to calm him down. "You're tensing up too much. It'll only make things worse."

Ash was barely able to respond, too focused on trying to hold himself together. He felt helpless, his body betraying him. He didn't want to show weakness, but the flu was taking every ounce of his strength, and he was struggling to stay conscious.

Gary gently pried Ash's clenched hand open, noticing how tight his grip was. "Listen to me, Ash," he said, his voice firm but filled with compassion. "When you're this sick, you've got to relax. You're fighting your own body right now, and you're only making it harder on yourself." He reached for the thermometer and gently placed it in Ash's mouth.

Ash barely reacted, his body feeling too heavy to even speak. He felt like he was sinking into the couch, his vision blurring and his heart pounding like an extra-fast Machop.

Gary waited quietly, watching Ash's pale face closely, his fingers hovering protectively over Ash's wrist as he waited for the thermometer to beep. He could feel the heat radiating from Ash's body and wished there was more he could do.

When the thermometer finally beeped, Gary's eyes scanned the number, his worry deepening. "103.5," he muttered. "Ash, this is way worse than I thought. You're seriously sick."

Ash blinked up at him, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't... I don't want to be a burden," he croaked, his eyes flickering with shame. "You don't have to take care of me."

Gary's expression softened. "You're never a burden, Ash. But right now, you're not getting out of this one. I'm taking care of you whether you want it or not." He reached for a blanket and wrapped it around Ash, helping him adjust into a more comfortable position.

Ash, unable to summon the strength to argue anymore, allowed himself to relax for the first time all day. He felt utterly drained, but there was something about Gary's steady presence that helped him feel just a little safer.

"You need rest," Gary said softly, brushing a few stray hairs from Ash's forehead. "You're going to be okay. I'm here, alright?"

Ash nodded weakly, his eyes fluttering closed, too exhausted to stay awake any longer. "Thanks, Gary," he murmured before succumbing to sleep, finally letting go of the tension that had been weighing him down.

Gary stayed by his side, watching over his friend, the teasing tone long gone from his voice. He knew Ash hated being sick, hated depending on anyone—but Gary had never been the type to back off when it came to taking care of his best friend.

And as Ash lay there, breathing steadily for the first time in hours, Gary quietly promised himself that he would make sure Ash got through this. He would stay by his side until he was back on his feet. Because no matter how stubborn Ash was, no matter how many times he tried to push people away—Gary would always be there, ready to help.