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After the first year of his pokemon journey, during which Gary would send a cheerleader to call home for him (and even then only to trade pokemon and demand news about Ash), no one was more surprised than Gary himself to find he was growing into quite the devoted grandson.
Oak was less surprised. Gary had come home from the Johto league surprisingly at peace with himself, but he’d spent a lot of time at the ranch, speaking with pokemon and his grandfather, trying to decide what to do with the two hundred pokemon he’d caught but almost never used. His parents hadn’t really tried to understand. They’d been even less understanding of everything that had happened with Ash. Oak knew Gary appreciated the time his grandfather gave him to work it all out.
Then he’d officially become a researcher, and they became colleagues as much as family. It gave them things to talk about. That led to friendship.
Nowadays, if he travelled, Gary called home at least once a week. Often it was just to discuss findings or their theories, but sometimes Gary still proved himself the young boy he was. He talked about some of the people he’d met, just barely avoided gushing about the girls he was starting to notice, and still demanded news about Ash.
Oak didn’t mind any of it, but particularly not the questions about Ash. Between his genuine affection for his favourite active trainer, understanding of his grandson’s friendship, and memories of his own childhood admiration, Oak enjoyed talking about Ash. He also appreciated having someone else respond to Ash’s frequent life-risking with that same combination of fear, exasperation and pride. Any pride Delia had for her son’s accomplishments came with a healthy dose of panicked protectiveness that could be exhausting, so it was nice to be able to discuss him a bit more rationally.
So Oak was surprised when Gary mentioned he’d run into Ash with the same embarrassed tone he did when admitting he scared a lab pokemon. He cocked his head curiously. “Did something happen?”
“Is it possible to run into Ash without somethin’ happenin’?” he asked. “Seriously, Gramps, name one time someone we know has seen Ash on the road, sat down for a drink or a meal, chatted for a couple hours, then left without somethin’ happenin’?”
Oak considered that for a moment. “You make a good point. But I was referring to something between you and Ash personally.”
He took a deep breath, rolling his eyes off to the side. “Honestly, it was a mess from start to finish. I ran my mouth off, messed up with a pokemon, then said somethin’ stupid after.”
“I think I might need a little more information, Gary.”
He shrugged. “So you know that project team I’m on, makin’ that reserve for Shieldon? I was out countin’ ’em when I come across Ash battlin’ this creep in armour, protectin’ a shieldon. He’s doin’ lousy, so I break it up and take the shieldon back to its buddies, but then the creep brings in a whole bunch of friends. Turns out they’re hunters tryin’a capture a shieldon,” he explained. “From the sound of it, I think Ash has history with these guys. You ever hear about a Hunter J?”
“They stole Pikachu,” Oak supplied. “He didn’t give me much detail, but I think Ash takes particular exception to their methods of catching pokemon.”
“Huh. Well… whatever it was, he was all ready to go chargin’ in an’ battle ’em all. That’s when I told him off. Said it was his fault they were chasin’ Shieldon. And because they didn’t want him to go facin’ off against the whole crew on his own, everyone agreed with me. So… you know Ash,” he said, and Oak did. He’d seen the look before – stubbornness, anger, and self-recrimination all bundled up into one frustrated scowl. It meant Ash was going to take even more of the world on his shoulders than usual. “But he was right – the hunters weren’t goin’ away just because we took Shieldon outta their line of sight. One of them was too tired to run, but I kept pushin’, and it got caught. An’ o’course Ash blamed himself. But when I told him it was really my fault, o’course he just brushes me off like I’m crazy for worryin’ about it. Hypocrite.”
Oak fought very hard not to grin. His boys.
“So, y’know, Ash is Ash so we save the day an’ all, and he’s doin’ his modest hero thing like he didn’t have anythin’ to do with it. And then I go and tell everyone he’s amazing and tell him we’re still best friends and the idiot just stands there lookin’ like a stunned magikarp. Man, I’m so lame!” he groaned, burying his head in his hands. “Who says that kinda stuff? ‘Best friends forever’, geez!”
Oak was trying really, really hard not to laugh. He managed to squash it down into a vaguely thoughtful hum, and point out, “Ash says that kind of thing quite often.”
“Yeah, but that’s Ash,” he cried. “Ash is made of lame! Besides, you’re not kidding! He says that to people he’s spent three minutes with! It doesn’t mean anything from him!”
It was only forty-something years of distance that softened that blow, but Oak still lost some of his urge to laugh. “I suspect he would tell you differently, Gary.”
“Gramps, you’re missin’ the point!” he insisted, dragging his hands away from his face to hold up two fingers less than an inch apart. “I came this close to tellin’ Ash Ketchum I love him. This close! After not seein’ him for a year, and not gettin’ through more than an hour around him without callin’ him an idiot for the better part of five! What is wrong with me?”
“I’m not sure what you’re upset about,” he said honestly. “I thought you and Ash considered yourselves good friends these days.”
“That doesn’t mean I want him to know how I feel!” he cried. “He’s the one who says that kind’ve stuff! I’m supposed to be all cool and tell him he’s the coolest loser I know!”
Oak rubbed his forehead to hide his regrowing amusement. This was why Gary and Ash had been bitter rivals for more than three years. But while Ash had grown out of needing to be better than Gary almost even before he beat him in a battle, Gary still felt the need to be cooler than his best friend. Mostly, Oak suspected, because he didn’t want to be left behind.
“So… you don’t want to argue with him anymore, but you don’t want him to know you care about him, either?”
Despite having only just used the word ‘love’ himself, Gary almost looked offended by the suggestion that he cared, so Oak rephrased.
“You don’t want him to know that you consider him your best friend?”
“Have you met his friends? Even Brock’s a complete lunatic if you get him around a girl!” he pointed out. “I am not like them!”
“But you said yourself that he’s your best friend,” he argued. “Best friends forever, no less. Were you lying?”
“No! Which is worse!” he wailed, and flung himself down so only his spiky hair was visible. “I am so lame…!”
Oak stared at what little he could see for a few moments. “Have you considered spending more than a few hours with Ash? If not to talk about this, at least to try and have something resembling an actual conversation?”
He shoved himself up with a deadpan expression. “Until proven otherwise, I believe Ash is only capable of having entire conversations if they directly relate to pokemon, the world ending, or both.”
Oak would really have liked to be able to argue the point, but he couldn’t. Though he’d heard rumours about discussions regarding either food or technological sciences. So he went the other way. “Gary, you’re a pokemon researcher. One could argue the same about you, except that you talk about Ash rather than the end of the world.”
Gary clearly would have liked to be able to argue that point, but also seemed to fail. So he flopped back down out of sight. “I am so lame! No wonder I have no other friends!”
There was really no arguing with that, either, so Oak just sat back in his chair and laughed.