The quiet of the Ketchum house was a comforting balm, a stark contrast to the often-formal silence of her own ancestral home or the buzzing energy of a Pokémon stadium.
Cynthia slowly, carefully pushed Ash's bedroom door open, the old wood emitting a faint, protesting creak that sounded unnaturally loud in the stillness.
She held her breath for a second, listening, before stepping inside with the light, almost reverent steps she reserved for exploring ancient ruins... or, apparently, for observing a sleeping Ash Ketchum.
The room was bathed in a soft, golden light filtering through the simple lace curtains Delia favored, painting stripes across the wooden floor and illuminating dust motes dancing lazily in the air.
It created a peaceful, lived-in, cozy atmosphere that wrapped around Cynthia like a warm blanket. This room, much like the rest of the house, felt like home in a way her own grand estate never quite managed.
There, in the center of the room, amidst a comfortable tangle of blankets, was Ash.
He was deeply asleep, utterly peaceful, his usual boundless energy completely contained. One arm was flung out over the edge of the bed, fingers slightly curled, while his face was turned towards the window, mouth slightly parted.
A small trail of drool glistened innocently on his cheek, a detail Cynthia found inexplicably endearing.
Beside the bed, nestled together on a small, round sleeping mat Delia must have provided, were the current younger members of Ash's ever-growing Pokémon family.
The two Charmanders, X and Y, were curled tail-to-snout, flames burning low and steady at their tail tips. Tucked between them, looking surprisingly comfortable despite the potential warmth, was the newest addition – Gible.
The small Land Shark Pokémon snuffled softly in its sleep, its tiny dorsal fin twitching occasionally. They were all curled up, a little pile of potential and slumber, their tiny chests rising and falling in gentle, synchronous rhythm.
It was a picture of pure domestic tranquility.
"Ahhh~ look at this cutie," Cynthia breathed out, the words escaping in a near whisper, barely audible even to herself.
Her eyes, usually sharp and analytical, capable of dissecting an opponent's strategy in seconds, were wide and soft, filled with an almost embarrassing level of obsessive adoration.
The sight of Ash, so peaceful, so vulnerable, surrounded by his equally peaceful Pokémon... it did strange things to her usually composed heart.
"He looks so incredibly cute when he's not shouting about battling or stuffing his face," she murmured, a fond smile playing on her lips. It was undeniable.
Observing her internal reaction – the rapid pulse, the warmth spreading through her chest, the almost overwhelming urge to just stare – she had to concede the point.
Her star-struck gaze, the way her cheeks flushed a soft, tell-tale pink... she was completely, utterly, head-over-heels for Ash Ketchum.
Perhaps, she admitted wryly to herself, even bordering on being a simp. What would her grandfather think? The thought almost made her laugh.
Shaking off the momentary self-deprecation, she approached closer, her steps making absolutely no sound on the wooden floor – years of navigating treacherous ruins had honed her stealth.
She gently, carefully sat on the very edge of his bed, the mattress dipping slightly under her weight.
Ash didn't stir. Her gaze remained fixed on his sleeping face, cataloging the curve of his eyelashes against his cheek, the slight upturn of his lips, the way his dark hair looked messy due to sleep.
She reached out a delicate hand, long fingers hesitating for a moment just above his shoulder before lightly touching the fabric of his pajama top, intending only to give him a gentle shake.
But... as her fingers made contact, feeling the warmth of him through the thin cotton, a different thought, daring and electrifying, suddenly bloomed in her mind.
It was a mischievous and undeniably romantic impulse, fueled by the intimacy of the quiet room and the sight of his unguarded face.
He looks so... kissable, the treacherous thought whispered. Will he even notice if I give him just a little smooch? A tiny peck? We've never actually... well... we haven't. Their relationship existed due a arrangement after all, and this burgeoning, mostly unspoken affection. They hadn't crossed certain lines. Yet.
Her internal debate began. Don't be ridiculous, Cynthia. He's asleep. It's taking advantage. countered the responsible part of her brain.
But it's just a tiny kiss! A little morning greeting, argued the hopelessly smitten part. He'd probably sleep right through it. And think how sweet it would be... our first kiss, even if he doesn't know it.
What if he wakes up halfway through? Imagine the awkwardness! He'd be startled, confused... maybe even angry!
Or maybe... maybe he wouldn't mind? The hopeful part persisted, fueled by the memory of shared glances and supportive smiles. Maybe it's time we moved past just... being friends who got together due to marriage?
The internal back-and-forth raged for a few seconds that felt like an eternity. The desire, the sheer want, was surprisingly strong. It tugged at her, urging her forward.
"Fortune favors the bold," she thought to herself, quoting some ancient Sinnoh proverb she'd probably read once.
A newfound boldness solidified her resolve, chasing away the last vestiges of hesitation. A playful, almost wicked glint appeared in her blue eyes.
Okay, just a quick one. For science. And... affection.
Taking a steadying breath, she daringly leaned closer to his face, her own reflection momentarily visible in the slumbering darkness of his pupils.
Her heart was pounding in her chest like a frantic drum, a chaotic rhythm against her ribs. She could feel the warmth radiating from his skin, smell the faint, clean scent of his soap mixed with that unique, indefinable Ash-ness.
She tilted her head slightly, mirroring the angle of his, and softly parted her lips, her gaze dropping from his closed eyes to his mouth. Closer... closer... just a fraction more...
"Ahmm... more syrup..." Ash let out a soft, mumbled sound in his sleep, shifting slightly in the bed, his brow furrowing as if dreaming of pancakes.
Cynthia's eyes snapped wide open in panic. She immediately recoiled, pulling back so fast she almost tumbled off the edge of the bed.
It felt as though she'd touched a live wire. A deep, mortifying blush spread instantly across her face, engulfing her cheeks, ears, and neck in vibrant crimson.
He's awake! He heard me! He felt me! Oh, Arceus, kill me now!
She froze, holding her breath, eyes glued to him, expecting him to blink awake any second and demand an explanation for why she was hovering inches from his face.
But... nothing happened. After a tense moment, his breathing evened out again, his expression smoothing back into peaceful slumber. He hadn't woken up. It was just a sleep-mumble.
Cynthia let out the breath she'd been holding in a shaky sigh of relief. Her hand flew to her chest, pressing against her still-racing heart.
That was close! Way too close! What was I thinking? The boldness evaporated, replaced by flustered embarrassment. Okay, new plan.
Traditional wake-up methods only. No more impulsive kissing attempts on a sleeping Ketchum.
Gathering her slightly frayed composure, Cynthia again moved closer to Ash, perching back on the edge of the bed, though perhaps a little further away this time.
She gently nudged his shoulder, applying slightly more pressure than before. "Ash-kun? Ash, it's morning already. Time to get up, sleepyhead," she said softly, pitching her voice to be sweet and melodious, hoping it would gently coax him awake.
"Okaasan is making breakfast downstairs."
"Nnngh... five more minutes, Mom... pancakes need... champion level syrup..." he mumbled again, his voice thick and muffled by the pillow he snuggled deeper into, his eyes still firmly clamped shut. He clearly wasn't cooperating.
Cynthia sighed, a mixture of amusement and slight exasperation bubbling within her. He really was hopeless in the mornings unless a battle cry was involved.
"Umm, how should I wake up this stubborn sleepyhead?" she pondered aloud softly, tapping a thoughtful finger against her chin. Shaking him harder seemed ineffective. Yelling felt rude.
Pouring water on him seemed... excessive (though momentarily tempting). Then, her eyes landed on the peacefully sleeping trio on the mat beside the bed. Specifically, on Gible.
An idea sparked in her mind, mischievous and perfectly suited to the situation.
A tiny, devious smile touched her lips. He did say Gible needed more training in following commands... perhaps a practical application is in order?
"Ahh," she realized with a silent chuckle, pleased with her own ingenuity.
She slid off the bed and moved closer to the Pokémon mat, careful not to disturb the sleeping Charmanders.
She crouched down so she was at eye level with the Land Shark Pokémon and gently nudged Gible with her hand Unlike its trainer, Gible's eyes snapped open instantly, wide and alert, instinctively ready for action, just as she expected from a Pokémon breeded by proffesionals of Sinnoh.
Gible blinked, focusing on Cynthia, a slightly confused "Gib?" sound escaping its throat.
"Gible," Cynthia whispered, keeping her voice low and conspiratorial, leaning in slightly.
"Psst. Can you do me a little favor? Could you wake up Ash for me? He seems determined to sleep through breakfast." She gestured towards the oblivious figure on the bed.
Gible looked from Cynthia to Ash, then back to Cynthia, its head tilting. It then gave a small, decisive shake of its head, letting out a soft "Gib-gib" – a clear refusal. Its loyalty, even in small matters, was already firmly attached to Ash.
Cynthia feigned a slight pout. "Oh? But why not? I know that you usually only listen to Ash's commands, but,"
She leaned in even closer, dropping her voice further and adopting her most charming smile, "technically, I am his wife... . Doesn't that count for something? Think of me as... temporary co-commander?" She tried to inject authority and sweetness into her tone simultaneously.
Gible still looked unwilling, its small brow furrowed, its eyes conveying a steadfast, almost stubborn loyalty to its new trainer. It seemed the 'wife' argument wasn't cutting it.
Cynthia sighed dramatically, slumping her shoulders slightly. Defeated.
Or so she wanted Gible to think. Then, remembering a crucial piece of information gleaned from observing Ash's training sessions and her own Pokémon's interactions, a mischievous, calculating smile spread slowly across her face. She knew Gible's weakness.
"Alright, alright, you're very loyal, I respect that," she conceded, before leaning in one last time, her voice dropping to a near-inaudible whisper, laced with irresistible promise.
"But... what if... I were to arrange a little meeting for you? A private introduction? Perhaps even... a date? With someone very special... someone strong, elegant... someone like... my Garchomp?" she whispered conspiratorially, her eyes twinkling with playful manipulation.
The effect was instantaneous and dramatic. Gible's eyes widened to comical proportions, its pupils dilating.
Its mouth fell open, then stretched into a wide, impossibly excited grin, revealing rows of sharp little teeth.
A faint blush even seemed to appear on its rough, blue cheeks. It straightened up instantly, puffing out its chest.
"GIBLE!" it replied enthusiastically, practically vibrating with excitement. It then shot Cynthia a surprisingly determined, almost manly look for such a small Pokémon, and gave her a decisive thumbs-up with one of its stubby claws.
The deal was sealed. Loyalty to Ash was strong, but the allure of the mighty Garchomp was apparently stronger.
Traitor! Cynthia thought, hiding an amused smirk behind her hand.
Falling for the oldest trick in the book.
Of course, she knew perfectly well that this particular Gible had harbored a rather obvious, puppy-dog crush on her powerful and undeniably impressive ace Pokémon ever since he was born.
A little bit of strategic matchmaking never hurt anyone, especially when it served her immediate, Ash-waking purpose.
She'd figure out the logistics of the 'date' later. Maybe Garchomp could give Gible some pointers on Dragon-type moves.
With a burst of newfound energy fueled by romantic aspiration, Gible gathered its little legs and leaped. It sailed through the air and landed squarely, not gently, on Ash's bed, right next to his head.
Its small, shark-like form cast a comical shadow that loomed over the still-unamused, still-mostly-sleeping Ash Ketchum.
Then, without any further hesitation, without waiting for a secondary command, and with the same enthusiastic fervor it had just shown for the prospect of wooing Garchomp, Gible opened its impressively large mouth, took careful aim, and bit down firmly, with considerable force, on Ash's head.
...
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! GIBLE! GET OFF! OW OW OW OW OW!!!"
The ear-splitting screams, significantly louder and more pained than a simple wake-up yell, erupted from the room, shattering the morning peace.
They echoed through the entire house, rattling the windowpanes and undoubtedly sending every bird Pokémon within a half-mile radius scattering in panic.
The sheer volume seemed to vibrate through the floorboards, carrying downstairs where Delia was likely humming over her pancake batter.
Cynthia winced sharply, clapping a hand over her own mouth, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and guilt. Oops. Major oops.
Okay, maybe I should have specified the level of force, she thought, her brow furrowing slightly as Ash continued to yelp and flail, trying to detach the surprisingly tenacious Gible from his scalp.
I told him to wake Ash up, not perform impromptu cranial acupuncture! Though, considering his sudden motivation regarding Garchomp, I suppose one could say he was... a little overzealous. Enthusiasm fueled by love, perhaps?
She sighed inwardly, watching the chaotic scene unfold. Gible wasn't letting go easily, clearly believing this was part of the 'favor'.
Well, Cynthia resolved, already mentally preparing her apology and perhaps a healing salve, I'll definitely have to apologize to my poor hubby properly later for this... slightly aggressive, Garchomp-motivated wake-up call.
She just hoped Delia didn't come running up with a frying pan.