"You try it." The masked psychic handed the small metal spoon to the Gym leader, a mischievous smile painting his soft face. Instead of taking the eating utensil, the Gym leader only stared at the contraption in Will's grasp, blinking apprehensively, as if it were a foreign weapon.

"Will," the Gym leader said with a despondent sigh, "I'm not psychic like you. I can't bend spoons with my mind. I can bend them with my hands and a perfectly poised leg, but not telekinetically. I'm… I'm not that great."

Will wasn't discouraged; instead, he replied by smiling in a much wider radius than before. The white dimples on the sides of his red apple lips as he insistently pressed the inward curve of the shimmering silver spoon into the Gym leader's nose. "C'mon, Bugsy, you sexy, feminine love nugget," he purred. "It's not that difficult. You just need to focus. This is an exercise of great mental strength and endurance. It helps with Pokemon training."

Bugsy nudged away from Will's sudden assail with the spoon, freeing his nose from the cold trap. He was kneeling beside the seated psychic on the floor of the Gym he had been commissioned to lead less than a year ago—the Bug Type Gym in Azalea Town, with its lush jungle interior and intricate puzzle of spiderweb balancing acts and tightrope tiptoeing. Even now, Bugsy could hardly maneuver the place himself. He practically needed a map. Of course, it was no conundrum for Will of the Elite Four—on the occasional day that he did visit, all he needed to do was teleport indoors from the entrance of the Gym.

Most people thought his supreme otherworldly abilities were "beyond cool," but quite frankly, Bugsy knew he was just showing off. Will was a total ham. If he hadn't discovered his latent sixth sense as a child, he probably would have gone into the theater business just so he could live forevermore in the limelight of the stage. And, to be quite frank yet again, Bugsy was a tad bit jealous. He hadn't been graced at birth with an incredible supernatural skill. He was just good with Bug Pokemon, that was all. He could instruct his Scyther to slice stones and boulders in two and make his Weedle do a backflip.

But that was a Weedle doing a backflip. This was Will bending spoons. More people would be lined up to see the latter.

Frowning, Bugsy snatched the spoon from Will as soon as he'd put a good few inches of space between them. "First of all, no, I'm not going to do it, no matter how much you beg," Bugsy snapped. "And second of all, don't call me feminine. That's an insult to my masculinity."

"Almost every challenger that has made it to the Pokemon League thus far as mistaken you to be a member of the Tampon Mafia," Will pointed out. "You have very subtle features." He paused. "So you don't mind being called a sexy love nugget?"

"You're telling me I look like a girl," Bugsy protested. "And do you call women the 'Tampon Mafia' around Karen? She'd disembowel you."

Will ignored that. Bugsy assumed the answer was yes, Will had made that atrocious mistake. Probably not the first of his faux pas—Will wasn't particularly known for his sensitivity.

With a fierce glint in his eye, Will scooted forward. "Are you going to try?"

Bugsy slithered back the exact same amount of room Will had managed to cover with his fluid motion. "I can't bend spoons with my mind, Will."

Scoot. "Sure you can. Everyone can. It just takes practice."

Slither. "Will, I said no. I'm not a clairvoyant."

Scoot. "My last name is Voyant."

Slither. "That's just a creepy coincidence."

Scoot. "You'll be a natural."

Slither. "If I recall, you said the exact same thing to me when we—"

Scoot. "Ooh, when we what? Did something dirty? Please enlighten me. Also, you're about to back into a wall."

Slither. "No I'm no—"

True to the psychic's word, Bugsy's back met with the obstacle of the innocuous ivy-pelted wall of his Gym. There was nowhere to slither now—Bugsy was literally backed into a corner like a meek beast, bending at the advancements of its predator. Will had him.

And Will had probably had enough of playing with his food.

Will leaned in, the tip of his tiny nose lightly touching Bugsy's equally minute one. He still had that characteristically smug grin on his face, breathing a smooth wave of peppermint-scented breath on Bugsy's lips. "Okay, then," he said with a slight bounce in his words. "You said you won't do it no matter how much I beg. Might you give in if I beg in a way that doesn't require speech?"

"W-What're you—" Bugsy didn't have a window of opportunity to finish. Will homed in with playful viciousness and covered Bugsy's mouth with his own.

The peck was only a peck for a few seconds before Bugsy felt himself loosen up at the snug contact—and it was then that Will pounced. Opening his mouth in a gentle reflexive action, Bugsy felt Will's tongue shoot into his cavity, probing as if it had never been there before, roaming an uncharted land. Bugsy reciprocated gladly, their kiss growing deeper as they fought with their slimy, hungry tongues for dominance.

Eventually, Will pulled away, licking his lips coquettishly, a slinky smirk now hiding his triumph. "Bugsy, I'm better at contorting you than I am with spoons."

And twenty sultry minutes later, when they were both partially naked and sweaty on the Gym
floor, Bugsy finally agreed to try the spoon activity. The very instant that he palmed the tool, it rippled and buckled, deforming in a crippling flash.

He'd bent the spoon without even trying.

He would've believed that, had Will not been propped up on his elbow beside Bugsy with that everlasting smile, gazing intently at the spoon without once breaking his majestic peer with a blink.

Peacock.