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Cradling a bowl of water in one arm and a small towel in hand, Ash eased the flap of the tent open. Stepping inside, his gaze landed on his red-headed friend lying on her side, eyes closed and breathing softly. Beside her lay Pikachu, who shared both her pillow and blanket. Her hand rested on the small mouse, fingers wrapped around his back as if to pull him closer.
Tip-toeing towards the pair Ash knelt down, resting the bowl and cloth besides them. The evening rays peered through the tent, casting shadows of swaying branches over the sleeping duo. Misty’s eyelids tensed and her mouth pursed for a moment, her head adjusting before going still once more. Ash leaned forward silently, pressing the back of his fingers against her forehead. Her temperature was normal, the way it should be.
Were anyone else to take a look at her, they’d never even guess she’d felt sick in the first place.
Leaning back to sit on the ground, a swell of pride ballooned in Ash’s chest as he admired Pikachu’s sleeping form. Anytime someone in the group felt ill, Pikachu stayed by their side while the other two tended to them and the campsite. He had thought that he was the only one Pikachu would fall asleep with; however, Misty had clearly earned that privilege at some point.
And, if Misty’s hand on him was any indication, the feeling was mutual.
Following her hand up her arm and to her face, he studied the way her lips moved the tiniest bit with each breath. She almost didn’t resemble the girl who’d usually chastise him over every mistake, or argue with him whenever she was convinced she was right. A joyful calm wafted through him, replaying the concept of her as one of his best friends in his mind. It wasn’t just in the way they’d shared numerous experiences together and bonded over them, but in how she took the closeness he’d offered her and not only returned it to him, but to his best Pokémon partner.
His gaze ran back down to her hand, fond of the way her fingers rested among Pikachu’s fur. Pokémon were amazing at being in tune with how people felt; it was one of the many things he loved about them. The fact that Pikachu had so readily attached himself to Misty in the first few days of their journey stuck with him even to this day, though he wouldn’t so easily admit it. Ash’s friendships with Pikachu and Misty individually were obvious, but it was in moments like these that he was able to see their own friendship for himself.
When his hand moved to rest itself on Misty’s, he justified it to himself by saying that in doing so, it was as if he and Misty were caring for Pikachu together. In reality, though, his thoughts quickly turned to the warmth and softness of her skin. He’d held it before, as various darkened caves and foggy woods were witness to. In spite of that, he’d never taken a second to really notice how much he liked his thumb absentmindedly running over her knuckles.
Misty let out a hum, and the sudden, inexplicable thought that he’d caused it pulled at his heart. He smirked to himself at the way he’d expected to find her smiling, but he was willing to settle for the tint of rosiness on her cheeks. It was likely the effects of her still feeling unwell, but the color there sent some pink to his own. Pulling his hand from hers, the backs of his fingers trailed the softness of her jawline. His heartbeat began picking up, and as he ran his fingers in millimeters across her skin-
She’s pretty.
He gulped, strangely unafraid of the emotions starting to bubble up from his chest. His hand was frozen, but a curiosity took hold of him. It was hazy for a moment, but as he watched her the image of holding her cheek in his palm materialized in his head. She seemed so tired, in need of rest, in need of nurture. He placed the pads of his fingers against her cheek, his palm inching closer and closer-
Misty hummed again, her eyelids tightening as her lips pressed together. Ash snatched his hand away, his blood running cold in momentary fear. Everything else faded into the background as he watched her, his breath bated as he waited to see whether she’d wake up or not. Seconds inched by as Misty eventually relaxed, returning to her stillness. Ash heaved a small sigh of relief, his palm landing on his chest.
“Ash, food’s almost done!”
Brock’s distant voice stole his attention, turning his gaze to the flap of the tent. The evening’s dinner had been made with Misty’s sickness in mind, so a stew awaited them by the campfire. Though, in Misty’s condition, he’d probably end up having to help feed her, seeing as the food would be hot.
“Here you go. Don’t burn yourself.”
Memories of Stun Spore sickness, Salveyo weed tea, and a tender voice flashed through his mind. It was the first time Misty had really been the one to care for him in his time of illness. She’d done it a few more times since then, and he was always grateful for the care and kindness she’d show him.
“Don’t get used to it!”
He held back a chuckle, recalling that snippy tone and how opposite it was from the previous tenderness. His lips pursed as he dwelled on her words. If nothing else, she had been right. It was true that he wasn’t used to that behavior from her, but deep down he knew that when he really needed her, she’d be there to take care of him.
And to the best of his abilities, he’d always be there for her, too.
Bracing himself for any potential snappiness, he gently shook her shoulder. “Misty, wake up, dinner time.”
It only took four shakes before Misty scrunched up, a groan escaping her as her eyes slowly opened. Her brain hadn’t caught up to her hand on Pikachu right away, tenderly gripping his fur before reflexively easing up. This was enough to wake him, and seconds later he was sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. Something indescribable swelled in Ash’s chest at seeing their post-sleep faces, but he opted to scratch Pikachu behind the ears in lieu of trying to decipher it.
“Hey, buddy. Thanks for watching over Misty. Do you mind telling Brock we’ll be out in a sec?”
“Pi-ka,” he nodded, giving himself a shake before leaping through the flap.
Ash smiled before scooting closer to Misty, finally placing the towel in the bowl. “How are you feeling?” he asked, wringing out the excess water.
She turned to lay on her back, putting the back of her hand against her forehead. “I still feel a little under the weather, but I should be fine by tomorrow.”
Ash nodded, folding the cloth into a small square. Nudging her hand out of the way he wiped at her face, strongly aware that he was using the same gentleness he’d used before. “That’s good to hear. Dinner should be done in a bit.”
“I can do this myself,” she mumbled drowsily, though she made no effort to stop him.
“I know.”
A few more wipes and another wringing of water later, the cloth rested on her forehead. She eased her gaze to his, growing a weary smile. “Thanks for taking care of me.”
In line with his previous impulses, his hand made its way into her hair. It was a bit more intimate than their normal friendship allowed, but she didn’t seem to mind. He wanted to call back to that feeling of nurture, of wanting to care for her, but his habits were strong and he instead just smirked. “I’ll wait until you feel better before I tell you not to get used to it.”
She closed her eyes, huffing with a smile before shaking her head. Ash didn’t know for certain, but maybe she felt the way he did; whenever they needed each other, they’d be there. They’d almost never brought it up aloud, but then, it didn’t seem necessary. It was kind of a given at this point, and he cherished that from the bottom of his heart.
When Misty’s hand landed on his, his body jolted the smallest bit. Her eyes stayed closed, though her smile remained. “Can you keep your hand there, just for a minute longer?”
Though a hoarse voice tried to disguise it, that former tenderness of hers returned. It tickled his ears in a way that brought about nostalgia and a deeper feeling he couldn’t describe that warmed his cheeks. It was the care he’d wanted to show her, but softer, kinder, harder to put into words. The way Misty eased into his touch, however, was a perfect translation to explain the moment to him, and he smiled.
“Sure, Misty.”