A/N: I think Gold might be my most favorite uke if I keep pairing him in these shippings nobody (;_;) writes about. There's a reason when I posted this it didn't say complete. I hope this very cruddy two-parter (which was originally a one-shot) will inspire some MortyxGold fics out there (or ProtonxGold, either one works~) so I hope you enjoy. My apologies for any mistakes you see. :x
As for ages…Gold is seven in this first part, sixteen in the next. Since there are many young gym leaders, Morty is seventeen, in the next part he's twenty-six. :y I was actually going for twenty-four but went like, "Meh."
Extra note: Ghost type are bullies. They like mischief. That's my picture of them, so I tried. Neo Team Rocket does not exist. And I haven't read the Adventures manga in ages, I totally forgot about Morty's ability. (I know some things are inaccurate, but I really didn't want everything to be technical) Because apparently he's able to see things in the distance, so I used that and seeing in the future a bit (which may or may not be true, but I'm done with this I don't even want to bother correcting. :U)
Summary: Gold wanted to clear the reputation against hypno, not become its next meal. As a gym leader it was Morty's obligation to save him, but it was not his intention nine years later to become frustrated Gold was confessing to some hostile redhead. —Goldenaurashipping
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING AND NEVER WILL. SADNESS. CRIES. -gets distracted by 3DS- n.n
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|◄◄| Nine Years Ago
As Gold's mother she would huff an exhausted sigh when her seven year-old son would run around in a crazed sugar rush—often she scolded him to keep his hands away from the cookie jar, somehow the energetic amber-eyed boy would find every hiding place regardless of her efforts—patiently she waited in the sanctuary of her kitchen for the energy stored inside her son's body to die down for the day. The boy would fall in his bed, tiredly rubbing his eyes, curling up in a ball and stuffing a finger in his mouth, his mother's lips would twitch upwards in a warm, motherly smile. Like usual she expected her son to be jumping on the bed, attempting to touch the ceiling with his stubby fingers, or a bright colored marker in his hands scribbling nonsensical doodles on the walls, with a sense of dread she peeked inside her son's room.
She repressed the surprised gasp almost escaping her chapped lips, her large ebony eyes spotting her seven year-old child resting on his pokéball streaked bed sheets, his legs swinging back and forth aimlessly, a hand under his chin, his other hand flipping through pages of a yellowing, bind-tattered encyclopedia. It was her encyclopedia she bought as a student in trainer school—she modestly blushed, recalling how long ago since her trainer days…—and taking the responsibility of motherhood much later, she hardly gave the book a second glance. Who was she to bother Gold? He would normally be jumping on his bed until the posts began to creak from the abuse. The peace was almost unworldly that it made her sigh contently; she retreated away from the door, shrugging as she accepted the steel tray of warm milk and sugar-free cookies for herself.
Gold flipped dreamily through the sketched images of pokémon—he frowned momentarily when both text and image were close to fading, or when he skipped through pages to find several sheets stuck together or torn completely from the binding—admiring the fully evolved form of the three common starters of Johto, especially typhlosion. His stubby childish fingers traced the faint outline of the fire pokémon artwork, its arms bared mightily, its pose featured as if was roaring with all its might, the background colored in red streaks that he presumed were wispy flame-like designs. Giving his attention span for books, which he rarely touched if ever, he skimmed through the pages categorized by different element types. The bug type pokémon ran a shudder down his spine, his lithe body shivering when his amber eyes fell on the sketch of beedrill. Poison, he reasoned, was a frightening factor for bug pokémon.
He quickly glanced at the pidgey wall clock: half an hour before his bedtime. His finger flipped the pages; he hurried his pace before stopping on the ghost section of encyclopedia: his large eyes fixated on the sketch of gastly patrolling a dark grassy area, its trademark smile flashing its small, razor sharp fangs. Gold giggled childishly reading about its body composition, he could easily blow the pokémon away if he felt threatened and avoid the possibility of being engulfed by its poison, but the more he read about the ghost type the more he felt slightly apprehensive the temperature of his room would drop, signaling the presence of a ghost pokémon. He shook his head stubbornly, I'm a brave boy! he repeated in his head as an encouraging mantra.
Gold nodded eagerly, flipping through the pages before he skipped over the ice types completely, his hand stiffened when he reached a very obscure picture surprisingly still preserved on the page. The text was more faded than the other pages he had passed; rather than a full-body sketch the particular pokémon on the page was shadowed almost completely. The ring-tuff around its neck appeared like some form of collar, the faint coloring of yellow—Gold assumed it might have been a nose—its human-like fingers holding a pendulum lightly colored in. The setting was eerie for the pokémon: a dark background, the sky colored the darkest purple, the shading of swaying trees rocking, but the intensity of the hollow expression in its faintly drawn eyes nearly ran shudder down his spine. He blinked, cleared his throat, and drew his attention on the legible bits of text.
"If you lock eyes with it, it will try to hypnotize you. It is best to close your eyes quickly before you get hypnotized."
His eyes widened.
"It carries a pendulum-like device. There once was an incident in which it took away a child it hypnotized."
"Pfft, this is so full of lies!" he snorted. The pokémon had a terrible reputation, and Gold felt the need to clear its name. The encyclopedia was tearing apart; there were always new yearly editions: the information had to be faulty, he reasoned.
Even though the pidgey clock was going to hoot to indicate his bedtime—his ten o'clock bedtime—he would have to wait until midnight before his mother slipped away from the television and its awful nightly soap operas she was always fond of. Once she was asleep in her bed, there was nothing that could wake her up. Absolutely nothing.
Gold prepared his backpack for the meantime: he zipped up his red and white sweater, slipped on his black shorts, strapped on his sneakers—he has yet to learn to tie his shoelaces, his fingers constantly stumbling around looping the knots properly—a flashlight, and packed an extra pair of undergarments, specifically his blue undies with pikachu's head printed in diagonal rows, sparks of electricity surrounding the red spots on its cheeks. The boy frowned, failing to see his gold and black cap, instead opting for the hood of his red sweater. He forced his eyelids to remain open rather than fluttering down slowly and tiredly, his mind screaming for few minutes' worth of sleep, the pidgey clock nearly indicated midnight—
footsteps padded across the hallway, a door creaking as it was being closed shut.
Time to make his getaway!
He was skittering downstairs, immediately running into the fridge to secure several snacks in the smallest baggie of his backpack; excitedly he closed the front door behind him, meeting the nightly life of remote town of New Bark. He trekked into the field of tall grass, lacking a pokémon at his age served as the greatest disadvantage against the outside world in such condition, to turn ten and claim his first pokémon was going to become a dream come true – his animated thoughts came close to distracting his priority for night. He clapped his hands on his cheeks to direct his focus on the hooting hoot-hoot perched on the branch of a tree, staring him down with their gleaming eyes, his legs trembling from the gust of wind sweeping past his exposed legs.
Having never stepped outside during the darkening hours, he could hardly compare the nightly breeze to that of the morning breeze, the windmills situated around the small town swiftly spinning from the breezy wisp of winds enclosing the field and the town. The white collar adorning the pokémon, as he recalled from the sketch, would serve as a distinctive marker to track the pokémon, he would then return home before his mother woke up in the early morning and probably publish—like the essays and articles Professor Elm published throughout the years—an eye-witness report on his encounter with a hypno. That amount of fame could gain him pokédollars, pokédollars could earn him buckets of coins to spend at Goldenrod's Game Corner on the weekends…and he would be able to clear hypno's name, of course…
He reached further into the field, startled every so often when a nocturnal pokémon would scramble past his feet or whiz past his head, like the hoot-hoot, until he stopped deadpanned.
Gold had no idea where a hypno could be found in Johto's vast land. His previous excitement reading about the pokémon's biography in the encyclopedia had him overlook the most important piece of information – he turned on the heel of his foot, squinting he could see the faint white dot in the distance that was his house.
Turn back? Face another night without sleep? Prolong the hypno's bad name to be written in books because he failed to pinpoint the location of the pokémon on the map? He was a boy filled with dreams of journeying; a minor wrinkle in his courageous nightly adventure would not make him return to his house. Besides, he mused thoughtfully; his mother would wring his neck if she caught him during her nightly bathroom breaks.
Gold valued his life. His mother saw through his lies. He would be grounded forever.
Which means he won't have his cookies delivered to him room anymore.
The color on his face visibly whitened. The horror!
Throughout his tantrums—the nocturnal pokémon questioned the sanity of the many reactions flickering on Gold's face—he spotted out of the corner of his eyes an abra feeding on a berry tree, its hooked-like claws ripping several oran berries tipped on the thick tree branches. He read alone the lines of abra's teleportation capabilities; the yellow creature was ravenously feeding on the berries to detect the boy creeping behind it discreetly. Holding his breath, Gold walked closer, also recalling that once the psychic pokémon detected his presence for even a split second it would teleport without warning.
Rather than approaching from the side of the abra feeding, Gold had securely pounced on the small pokémon, his small hands firmly latched on the abra's tail.
Both pokémon and child teleported.
Morty shook his head, his hand gripping his head from the abrupt flurry of images invading his mind without warning. Ever since he was gifted as a child with clairvoyance he made it his responsibility to oversee Ecruteak's safety. But in the darkening night hanging on the rural area, Morty and his pokémon lingered in the Burned Tower, complying to his pokémon's entertainment rather than earning a restful night for the possible upcoming gym battles the next morning. He would kick aside the timber in the blackened ashy pile, forming a safe mound for him to sit while his pokémon eagerly roamed the abandoned tower: well, only the ghost pokémon and poison types remained in the historical tower, the other pokémon remained in the fields in their new shelter than the refuge of the shoddy burnt remains of the Tower.
His purple eyes peered forward; lightly he smiled to reassure Gastly hovering beside him, an evident amount of concern on its regularly grinning face.
Gengar reappeared to the surface from the mass black puddle entity hiding in the scorched hardwood floor, it tilted its head curiously, devious smile intact.
Regaining his composure with a quiet cough, he bent his knees to reach Gengar's level. "I need you to search route thirty-seven for a boy before he comes in contact with hypno. Cloak yourself in the shadows."
Gengar nodded, it raised its stubby arms upwards, jumped up, and then its entire body dissolved in the shadows of the floor.
The mass of purple-black entity was gone in a blink.
Morty adjusted the blue band around his head before nodding at Gastly, the pair rushing past the thick mounds of ash and broken beams of wood to reach the field in time.
Gold wiped off the oran berry's juice the abra smashed underneath his left eye with his sleeve, irritably he scanned his surroundings, as if expecting to be telported no farther than Cherrygrove's fields, yet the tall trees surrounding the forest blocked any traces of city nightlife. He swallowed the lump in his throat, his body trembling from the colder temperature flooding the air – he bit his bottom lip, hoping with every fiber of his soul a ghost pokémon would not lick or steal his soul away for a feast. Gold's trembling fingers made it difficult to grip the small zipper, his head whipped in every direction as he heard the bushes rustling, the trees swaying, nocturnal pokémon growling or cawing.
He hurriedly fished the neon-green flashlight from his backpack, his hand shaking from the cold and fear running through his small body – what he would do to be in his bed, what he would do to be in the safety of his mother's arms. He exhaled heavily from his nose, gathering his wits he strapped the backpack on his shoulder, his flashlight striking several patches of grass whenever he heard even the slightest scuttling noise from the grasslands. A stantler appeared from behind the trees, its black eyes boring holes on the child staring at it curiously, and with disinterest it walked across the small boy to jump into another maze of trees.
Gold's heartbeat was thumping madly in his chest, he laughed nervously to lessen the tension in the atmosphere, as well as to actually encounter a stantler of all pokémon: he heard recounts of trainers having a tedious time capturing a stantler in a pokéball; the beast had a knack for escaping. Gold felt a chill, oddly not from a rush of wind or anything of the sort, but he felt paranoid he was being watched.
His light centered on a glittering object from the distance, excitedly he rushed past the dark maze of trees to flash his light on the glimmering object again. Amber eyes screwed shut, momentarily blinded by the reflection of the light hitting his eyes before opening them slowly to examine the object.
The flashlight fell from Gold's loosened grip.
Hypno's—the pokémon evidently identified by reciting its name as most pokémon were only capable of doing—squinted eyes observed the fear-struck child, its finger toying with the pendulum rocking left and right monotonously. The pokémon's structure made it appear like a deformed human without a mouth, and although he knew he was here to clear hypno's name, Gold could feel his blood running cold staring at the black irises gazing at him with a sickly fascination.
"Uh-Uhm. I…I'm Gold! And I-I wanted to…"
Hypno beckoned the child with a yellow, human-like finger.
"I…I'm good right here…" Amber eyes parted from the yellow creature, he was fully absorbed with a newfound interest to see the blades of grass trampled under his sneakers.
Hypno called again, out of reflex Gold tipped his head to engage direct eye contact.
Three seconds was all it took for the amber eyes to be drained completely, leaving him a hollow and listless expression.
Gold stepped forward, his conscious departed from Hypno's masterful hypnotism, the pokémon far too hungry to have the child fall asleep. Hypno would feast on the dreams, but a new taste would be for the boy to struggle against his hypnotic self: its hunger was a priority, for all it knew its feast would become a hollow shell that could only breathe.
Hypno came close to luring Gold into its homemade abode; from the distance a large ball of darkness blasted the psychic user off its feat, it squawked pathetically in agonizing pain. Gold's shadow was used as a destination for a gengar to appear, the plump purple creature hastily formed another ball of concentrated darkness to finish off the disadvantaged yellow struggling to regain its stance.
"Gen, gen. Gengar?" the ghost pokémon cooed wickedly. 'A curse, a curse. What curse shall I place?' It released its shadow ball, chuckling ominously to the harmonic melody of the hypno's pitiful groans.
Gold consciousness returned, he squeaked baring witness to a gengar raising its arms in the air, its hex attack scaring him out of its wits from the gleaming red eye forming in the middle of the attack. For an attack to feature an eye was disturbing enough, and it took him a few seconds later to realize he had nearly become the meal of a hungry hypno for the night. He was seven years old, was almost (mentally) eaten, and encountered a gengar notorious for causing schemes and stealing the life force of living beings.
Gold's eyes brimmed with hot, salty tears.
He cried: scared, lost, alone, he cried harder nobody would ever find him to save him. If falling meal to a hypno had not traumatized enough, he was sure the gengar attacking the other pokémon brutally would do the deed.
Hypno retreated reluctantly, all its attacks had little to no affect, and gengar was a difficult pokémon to lull to sleep, even with the help of its pendulum. It was necessary for a pokémon or any creature to remain motionless for the three necessary seconds; gengar would easily disappear in the darkness before it could be lured into a never-awakening sleep. Gengar turned, frowned, its hands scratching its bulgy body uncomfortably.
The ghost pokémon warily approached the boy, however it stopped midway, startled when the sobs became ear-splittingly loud enough it backed away instantly. Gold frantically crawled backwards, screaming at the top of his lungs for the pokémon to keep its distance. Gengar closed its eyes for a brief moment to collect its patience, reopened them the next moment, relieved beyond words Morty called out to it even if he was nearly out of breath himself. Gengar shrugged when Morty's purple irises gave it a pointed look, as if expecting Gengar to confess it was at fault the small boy was reduced to a fetal position.
Gastly, accompanied by Haunter, were released from their pokéballs to search for Gengar in the field. Having noticed the other presence besides themselves and their trainer, the pair began to prod in Gold's personal space.
Gold shrieked detecting their presence, their ghostly bodies nearing his body.
Morty rolled his eyes at his deviously snickering ghost pokémon, "You guys are such bullies, I swear." The blonde scooped Gold's trembling body off the grass, he blinked absently as Gold quickly wrapped his arms around the gym leader's neck, his small fingers gripping the fabric of his blue shirt for dear life. Morty sighed in relief the boy in his arms was saved—and horrified all at the same time by the mere prospect having another incident spreading like wildfire in Ecruteak—by Gengar. The elderly women in the town shared the story of the disappearance of a child that alarmed all the gym leaders, Morty was blissfully unaware considering he was still a young boy at the time but the story circulated throughout the region to the point he thought he would never hear the end of it…
Morty's arms were wrapped securely on the lithe body-
and one arm was strangely warmer than the other…
He groaned silently, his blue sleeve darkening from a large patch of wetness that cushioned the ebony haired boy's thighs and bottom. Morty followed Gengar's previous actions: breathing in deeply, closing his eyes to relieve the minor headache forming.
He did not just wet himself. He did not just wet himself.
Gengar, Haunter, and Gastly roared in a gale of laughter.
Blue shirt crinkled.
A sleeve moist with urine.
A night interrupted by a child's curiosity.
Morty was fortunate to have the patience of a saint.
The blonde man seated himself on his round wicker chair, the muscles on his legs tightening from the stress of running: it was a tiring night, he felt accomplished he saved someone from a hypno, it boggled his mind envisioning himself arriving later than he had. The old story took years to absolutely silence in the small, gossiping city of Ecruteak—the residents were old, without much strength left in their weary bodies all they had left was gossip in their monotonous lives—now as a gym leader, Morty wanted to avoid having another chilling story weighing the city for the next several years. Soothingly he patted the sobbing child in his arms—his pokémon observing their trainer from the opposite side of the room—his fingers running through the shaggy ebony hair matted with a thin layer of sweat.
Gold quieted down eventually, his fists wiping the excess amount of tears slithering from the corner of his eyes. He found himself blushing madly at the scratch marks on his savior's collarbones: while walking into his home, Gold felt himself slipping away from the comforting arms, in a frenzy he latched on without realizing his nails dug into the pale skin. The last thing on his mind was his location; he was more concerned about his backpack, the time…
"Have you calmed down?"
Said boy rested his chin on Morty's shoulder, nodding.
"Your name?" he asked patiently.
"G-Gold…" he answered shyly, fidgeting in the gym leader's grasp, "'m sorry about your shirt…umm…?"
Morty chuckled airily. "Morty. And it's fine," the fingers raking through the tousled black hair departed—much to Gold's dismay, although he would never admit it—and rather tipped the boy's chin up, "where do you live, Gold? Your parents should have noticed-"
Gold adverted his eyes from the purple irises, he rested his amber orbs on his fumbling fingers restlessly twiddling, "New Bark…"
The ghost pokémon lingering in the background did a double take; Morty suppressed the urge to bury his face in his hands.
The blonde's smile visibly faltered, he certainly only foretold the events of Gold succumbing to the hypno's hypnosis, he was completely unaware how the little boy had found himself in Ecruteak's forest and not in the remote town of New Bark.
Gold sensed the faintly visible changes in the gym leader's expression, "An abra teleported me," he said slowly, pausing thoughtfully before continuing. "I grabbed its tail…it left me behind and hit me with an oran berry…"
The trio snorted, they mused on with their own affairs after Morty regarded them with a glare. Gold pushed Morty's hand away, his mouth quivering and incapable of forming words to clear the evident fear paling his sun-kissed skin. Morty lifted Gold's body briefly, he turned the boy sharply to face the three ghost pokémon, then seated Gold back on his lap to continue focusing on the ghostly trio rather than him.
Morty stretched his arms under Gold's arm, subtly calling Gastly to hover over. The trio exchanged looks of mingled curiosity and concern—they may have received a good amount of amusement from their presence evoking fear in the small human, however they preferred not having to agonize over a child's bloodcurdling screams—Gastly accepted its trainer's silent demand, its gaseous body resting in the blonde's hands. Gold was shifting restlessly, as is trying to back away, his hands desperately searching for a vice grip.
"You have nothing to fear," Well, except their curses, "my pokémon are harmless. They are just a bunch of pranksters, as most ghost pokémon are. Here, hold Gastly."
Gold reluctantly extended his hands outwards, his fingers pressing on the ball of blackness that composed the ghostly pokémon's body, to his surprise he felt the roundness was lightly solid rather than…squishy. The change of atmosphere had Gold's frown disappear completely, it was replaced with a widening grin playing with the pokémon in his hands, Gengar and Haunter quickly joined the energetic mood of their new playmate.
Gold hopped off Morty's lap, giggling loudly as Haunter's floating hands were swaying his nearly weightless body off the floor, swinging him back and forth. Feeling accomplished, the blonde relaxed on the wicker chair, closing his eyes in relief he not only saved Gold but made one more person in Johto unafraid of ghost. He yawned tiredly; he planned to rub his tired eyes but stopped: the stench invaded his nostrils, he retracted his hand immediately.
When Morty left the comfort of his seat for the bathroom, Gold rushed for his backpack to toss aside his shorts and underwear for the pikachu printed undergarment, he was feeling self-conscious enough to be playing in soaked pants. His eyelids grew heavy despite having the only thrill trying to search Gengar's hiding spots amongst the furniture's shadows, finally exhausted he settled between the ghostly trio. Gold's back was supported by Gengar, his head resting on Haunter, his arms coiling around Gastly…
Morty returned, absently wiping the moist sleeve with a rag, unable to hide the earnest smile gracing his lips discovering his pokémon snoozing beside the sleeping child.
By the next morning, Morty awoke with a start—reality slowly steeped in: he slept through the night on the wicker chair—he could have sworn his heart stopped as he spotted his pokémon outside.
Haunter hovered in the air, the other two following close, with a giggling Gold—in his underwear no less—in its ghostly hold. If Haunter were to loosen its grip, even in the slightest…
Morty stormed to the window, ordering loudly enough to be heard for the trio to deliver Gold back inside the house. The three rolled their eyes, as if to say, 'Tch. Kill joy.'
While scouting the city for someone willing to lend Ecruteak's gym leader an abra—he went alone to search. He was surprised he was not scolded by the elderly morning risers who could have noticed his pokémon and Gold earlier, he would never hear the end of it about his trio holding a boy in his underwear recklessly in the air—Morty restlessly stole a glance at the town clock. The longer it took to return Gold home, the longer a parent would have to worry: Gold was of no help either, confessing pathetically he has yet to memorize the number to his mother's pokégear.
Sure enough he found himself an abra, feeling rather awkward confronting Gold's sobbing mother rather disturbed her son was returned in his just his sweater and underwear. Gold remained uninterested, busily munching on the snacks he packed yesterday night, groaning in his mother's tightening embrace made it difficult to swallow his food.
The pokémon ghost trio—their sudden presence startled Gold's mother—frowned, disappointed their playmate was leaving them.
"Say thank you to the nice gym leader, hunny."
Gold deadpanned. Gym leader? Somehow he was always to preoccupied to distinguish the gym leaders of Johto, his attention more focused on the pokémon. His mother discreetly pinched her son's shoulder, forcing an apology outright.
"Now say goodbye, sweetie."
Gold shook his head violently, "No! No! I wanna see Morty again, momma!" To prove his unyielding selfish request, he small hands clung to the fabric of Morty's blue shirt, face hidden from view.
Morty pried Gold away, the blonde petting the messy black hair affectionately, reassuring the boy he was fully welcomed to visit as often as he wanted and whenever he wanted. It was strange impulse Gold could never describe – he hugged the blonde man showering him with kindness, he hardly expected for Morty to return the hug.
And that was the moment Gold fell completely and hopelessly in love.
Gold's visit became so frequent that the citizens of Ecruteak became familiar with his name and face; they would pass him with hearty chortle and ask, "Here for Morty?" Gold would respond with an enthusiastic nod, his smile bashfully stretching to cover the embarrassing traces of pink shading his cheeks.
It was not long until Morty gave Gold the key to his home: he felt guilty during the harsh winter nights Gold would be huddled on the doorstep of his house, shivering, red at the nose, offering him a warming smile to welcome his return.
A/N: This is broken into two parts. I was planning a one-shot, then I noticed I was reaching over 10,00+ words. ._. I was like, "Lololol NO." :T Next update should be tomorrow or sunday. The next part features Morty in his HG/SS wear. :v