The smell of the room was already getting to Ash as he fidgeted on the edge of the examination table. His legs swung back and forth, his sneakers lightly thudding against the base of the table. He bit his lip, looking around the stark room, hoping Gary wasn’t taking his sweet time.

Maybe he’d forget. Maybe Gary would come back and say, “Oh no, Ash, no shots today. Looks like you’re free to go!”

But that hope shattered when the door creaked open, and Gary strolled in, a tray in his hands. Ash’s stomach flipped when his eyes locked onto the small vial and the thin, gleaming needle.

Gary set the tray on the counter and glanced at Ash. He instantly noticed the way Ash had clenched his hands into tight fists on his lap. Gary sighed quietly, leaning against the counter. “Ash, you look like you’re about to face a Gengar in a dark alley. What’s the deal?”

Ash forced a laugh, but it came out strained. “N-nothing! It’s fine. I’m fine. Totally fine.” His words spilled out like a broken faucet, and Gary raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Uh-huh. Sure,” Gary said, crossing his arms. “Come on, Ashy-boy. Spill it. What’s really bugging you?”

Ash hesitated. He knew Gary wasn’t going to let it slide. “It’s just…” He trailed off, staring down at his tightly clenched hands. His voice dropped to a mumble. “It always hurts, okay? Every time.”

Gary blinked, his smirk fading into something softer. He stepped closer, crouching slightly to get on Ash’s level. “What do you mean? The shot?”

Ash nodded, avoiding Gary’s gaze. “Yeah. Every time it stings so bad, and then my arm’s sore for days after. And, uh… my hands. They get all cramped and stuff. I guess I squeeze them too hard.”

Gary stared at Ash for a moment, his usual teasing demeanor melting away. He knew Ash didn’t complain much about pain—he’d seen the guy fall out of trees and keep going. So for Ash to admit this? It was a big deal.

“Why didn’t you tell me before, idiot?” Gary said, though his tone wasn’t harsh. He reached out and gently pried one of Ash’s fists open, examining the faint red marks on his palm. “No wonder your hands hurt. You’re clenching them like a Primeape in a fight.”

Ash shrugged, his face flushing slightly. “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. It’s just a shot, right?”

Gary sighed, shaking his head. “Ash, you’ve gotta tell me these things. I’m not gonna let you sit there hurting like that.” He stood up and grabbed a small tube of numbing cream from the tray. “Here’s the plan. We’ll use this, and I’ll take it slow. No surprises, okay?”

Ash hesitated, then nodded. “Okay.”

Gary gave a small smile and squirted a bit of cream onto his fingers. “Alright, roll up your sleeve.”

Ash did as he was told, though his hands were still trembling slightly. Gary rubbed the cream onto Ash’s arm in a slow, circular motion, making sure to cover the area thoroughly.

“See? No big deal,” Gary said, glancing at Ash. “Feeling better?”

“A little,” Ash admitted, his voice quiet.

“Good,” Gary said. “Now, when we do the shot, just keep your arm loose, okay? No clenching. I’ll distract you if I have to.”

Ash raised an eyebrow. “Distract me how?”

Gary grinned. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll start talking about how Pikachu totally wrecked my Eevee that one time.”

Ash snorted despite himself. “Hey, that was a fair fight!”

“Sure it was, Ashy-boy. Sure it was.” Gary smirked as he picked up the syringe. “Alright, here comes the fun part. Ready?”

Ash gulped but nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Gary moved closer, his tone surprisingly gentle. “Okay, deep breath in…”

Ash followed his lead, inhaling deeply.

“And out,” Gary said as he quickly and carefully administered the shot.

Ash winced but didn’t jerk away. By the time he exhaled, it was over.

“See? Not so bad,” Gary said, capping the syringe and tossing it into the disposal bin.

Ash blinked. “Wait… that’s it?”

Gary grinned. “That’s it. Told you I’d take care of you.”

Ash flexed his hand experimentally. It still ached, but not nearly as bad as usual. He glanced up at Gary and managed a small smile. “Thanks, Gary.”

Gary shrugged, leaning against the counter. “What are best friends for?”