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The beach was quiet, waves rolling lazily in the background. Jessie’s laughter echoed faintly from somewhere down the shore, but James barely heard it.
His mouth was dry, his pulse was pounding in his head. The sun, too bright, too close, unable to see much. He blinked up at the sky, then tried to sit up but the world tilted sideways.
He tried to call for help, but it came out hoarse. He barely got on his feet but the sand swayed beneath him. He took a step, then another, trying to follow the sound of Meowth’s voice, but the beach was blurred, shimmering like a mirage.
His skin felt burned, the world around him nothing but a blur, and he could feel himself slipping, his thoughts scattering like sand in the breeze.
When Meowth turned to look at James, who was swaying and wobbling toward the Pokémon, something clicked. His ears twitched.
“Hey Jimmy boy, finally woke up from your nap?” Meowth called, squinting against the sun. “Looks like you got a little too much sun there, huh?”
He chuckled at first, but the grin died quickly as James’ knees buckled and he crumpled into the sand, face-first.
“…Uh-oh.” Meowth padded forward warily. “Uh uh. That doesn't look good.”
He tapped James’ back gently with a paw, then recoiled.
“…He’s burning up…”
Meowth’s voice turned sharp. “Hey Jess! I think something's wrong with James!”
Jessie, having just dipped beneath the waves, reluctantly turned her head, soaking wet and mid-sigh. “What could it possibly be now ?”
Her eyes landed on James lying still in the sand. At first she looked more annoyed than concerned. Typical. What a clutz…
But as she started wading out of the water and got closer, her expression shifted.
“What happened to him?” she asked, crouching beside him. She poked his shoulder - nothing. Then, with a little more worry, turned his face to the side. His cheeks were flushed deep red, hair damp with sweat, and he wasn’t responding.
Jessie reached up and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead.
Her eyes widened. “He’s… boiling.”
“I’m telling ya,” Meowth said, voice now tight with concern. “It might be heatstroke or something. Either way, he isn’t gonna make it just laying out here.”
Jessie let out a hiss of frustration, fingers twitching on James’ shoulder. “That would be so like him,” she muttered. “Go all-in on relaxing and end up dying from it.”
She scanned the empty stretch of sand. Their bungalow wasn’t far, but far enough with James unconscious and limp as a Magikarp.
“Ugh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” She wiped water from her brow. “Why am I always the one hauling his dramatic ass out of danger?”
“Well, it’s either that or letting him cook like a Slowpoke tail,” Meowth deadpanned. “And at this rate… he might not make it back without help.”
Jessie groaned in agony. “Fine,” she snapped. “Let’s get this sunkissed princess somewhere cool.”
“Wooooobbuffet!” Their blue companion wobbled up from the shallows, still dripping, saluting enthusiastically.
“Perfect timing,” Jessie said, rolling her neck. “Get over here and help me carry him.”
Between Wobbuffet and Meowth, they managed to hoist James’ unresponsive body upright and slung awkwardly over Jessie’s back. His cheek pressed against her bare shoulder, skin still scorching to the touch.
“Holy hell, he’s really burning up,” Jessie muttered under her breath, but the words had a different edge now. Less exasperation, more unease.
She adjusted her grip under his legs, stumbling a little under the weight.
“Seriously,” she groaned, “there was no need for him to eat that much lunch.”
Step by slow step, Jessie began to march toward the bungalow. James didn’t stir, his weight slumping heavily into her.
Meowth followed behind, ears flicked low. “You think he’s gonna be alright?”
Jessie didn’t answer right away. She only held him tighter and walked a little faster.
Inside the small beachside bungalow, the fan squeaked on its highest setting, but the air still hung heavy with heat. Jessie kicked the door shut behind her, staggered to the couch, and dumped James onto the cushions with a graceless thud.
“There,” she huffed, wiping sweat from her forehead. “Princess is safe.”
Wobbuffet offered a helpful “Woooobbuffet!” and wandered off in search of ice cubes, probably more for himself to start.
Jessie crouched beside James, who lay splayed on the couch like a fainting aristocrat in distress. His skin was flushed, hair clinging to his face. He looked far too beautiful for someone completely wiped and barely conscious.
“Ugh,” Jessie muttered. “Of course this would happen to you on our time off.”
Meowth skidded in a second later with a bowl of water and a towel. “Here, got the basics. Ya want me to-?”
“No. I’ve got him.” Jessie’s voice came out a little too fast.
She dipped the towel in the water, wrung it out, and pressed it gently to James’ forehead. He flinched slightly, which was a good sign.
She moved the towel down to the sides of his neck, her hand brushing damp strands of lavender hair. Then his shoulders, collarbone, arms. His skin felt like it had been absorbing sunlight for hours.
Jessie paused.
He was really warm.
But it was something else, too. Something about the silence. The quiet rise and fall of his chest. The vulnerable slack to his mouth. He looked peaceful, almost too peaceful.
“James?” she said softly.
No answer.
Her fingers moved almost on their own, tucking hair behind his ear. “You better not be faking this for attention,” she murmured, trying to inject some bite into her voice, but it came out hollow.
A breathy sound escaped his lips. Barely audible.
“Jess…”
She leaned in. “James?”
His eyes cracked open, hazy and unfocused, pupils dilated. He looked up at her like she was the moon. His brow twitched, as though he was fighting sleep… or something heavier.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
Jessie blinked. “Sorry? For what?”
“I didn’t mean to ruin today,” he said slowly, voice thick and slurred. “You looked… really happy. Laughing. I didn’t want to mess it up.”
“You passed out in the sand just moments ago, James,” she said. “That didn’t ruin today… not yet anyway...”
But he wasn’t listening… not really. His eyes were only half on her, distant, dreamy.
“And you looked so beautiful,” he added, “I thought maybe… maybe if I did die, at least I saw you like that.”
Her breath caught.
“…What?”
James blinked again, sluggishly. “And just in case I don’t get the chance to say it… I want you to know…”
Jessie leaned closer, heart thudding.
“I love you, Jess… I have for a while,” he breathed. “Perhaps since our early Team Rocket days. Maybe even before. You were loud, terrifying, and perfect. And no matter what, I would always choose you over anyone.”
Jessie’s eyes widened. She didn’t move. Didn’t blink.
James gave a small smile, barely there, and mumbled, “You’re going to yell at me if I wake up, aren’t you?”
Then his head lolled to the side, and he drifted into a soft, shallow sleep.
Jessie sat frozen, towel still in her hand, her brain flatlining like someone had hit the emergency stop button.
“No way,” she said aloud to no one in particular. “You idiot!”
Meowth peeked around the corner, eyes squinting. “He alright?”
“He’s delirious,” Jessie said automatically.
Meowth tilted his head. “Didn’t sound delirious.”
Jessie turned and shot him a glare that could fry a Parasect.
“Not. A. Word.”
She sat back on her heels, arms crossed, lips tightly pressed together, but her cheeks were very, very pink.
As the fan whirred lazily above, Jessie stared down at James, who now looked as if he were simply napping. The echo of his words refused to leave her ears.
“ You were loud, terrifying… and perfect… I would always choose you… ”
Her perfectly built wall now had a crack down the middle.
She didn’t know what to do with it.
Not yet.
But she surely wasn’t going to leave his side tonight.
・┈┈・┈┈・┈┈・ ♥ ・┈┈・┈┈・┈┈
The bungalow was quiet now.
Dinner had come and gone, Meowth and Wobbuffet had gone for a food coma out on the porch while Jessie still picked at her food, eyes flicking every few minutes to the still-sleeping James stretched out on the couch like a wax statue in repose.
The fan hummed overhead. Outside, the Kricketots had begun their evening song. But in the bungalow, time had stopped.
Jessie sat beside him, a half-used bottle of aloe lotion in one hand, and a dishtowel in the other. She would have left James to his beauty nap and deal with it in the morning, but the truth was, she couldn’t stop thinking about the color of his skin.
Red as a Crawdaunt.
His shoulders, his arms, the bridge of his nose, he looked like someone had painted him with a watercolor brush in shades of pink and pain. He’d be peeling in a few days. That just wouldn’t do.
"You better appreciate this," she muttered, squirting lotion into her palm.
She rubbed her hands together and started with his arm. Her fingers worked gently, slow circles of cool relief against overheated skin. His bicep twitched slightly at the contact, and Jessie froze, but he didn’t move again. Just breathing. Shallow. Even.
She huffed. “Still out cold, huh?”
She moved up to his shoulder, smoothing the lotion with precision. Methodical. Like a soldier field-dressing a comrade. Or a woman carefully pretending she wasn’t suddenly hyper-aware of how soft his skin was. How strong his arms had become since they were kids trying to enter Pokemon Tech.
“…You’re such a pain, you know that?” she whispered, moving across to his collarbone. “You sleep through dinner, leave me to babysit Meowth, and then you make me do this.”
Her fingers brushed just beneath the base of his neck.
Her voice dropped.
“You weren’t supposed to say that.”
She didn’t know when she’d started whispering. Maybe it was because the bungalow felt like a confessional booth now.
“You weren’t supposed to say anything, and I was never supposed to feel like… this .” She sat back for a second, staring at his chest as it slowly rose and fell. “You’re the one constant in my life, James. That’s always been enough for me.”
She dipped her fingers into the bottle again, moving now to his other arm. “You know, not long after we met, I would’ve probably gotten excited over a confession like that,” she said with a small, humorless chuckle. “I may have even hugged you or kissed you, and... probably scared you half to death.”
She smirked to herself, easing the cream into his chest now.
“But for years I buried those feelings. Shoved ’em down deep. Because I knew. I knew they were going to be trouble.”
Her smile faded.
“And now… suddenly… you go and say something like that. Just toss it into the air like you’re not even conscious.” She paused, wiping her hand with the towel and looking down at him.
His face was peaceful. Cheeks still flushed from heat. A small wrinkle between his brows.
“You have no idea what you’re doing to me, do you?” she breathed. “I’ve spent almost a decade pretending every hug didn’t mean something. That sleeping beside you in the tent wasn’t the best part of my day. That your dumb, sweet laugh didn’t make me want to melt.”
She reached out and touched his hair, carefully brushing it back from his temple.
“And now, just when I think I’ve got everything buried where it belongs, you go and say that. And I’m stuck here… losing my mind over you.”
She sighed, letting her hand rest lightly against his cheek.
"I should punch you."
But she didn’t move. Her thumb gently stroked just beneath his eye.
James stirred, ever so slightly. A faint hum in his throat. Barely a breath.
But enough.
Jessie froze, watching him. Still sleeping. Probably. She wasn't sure anymore.
“…Yeah. That’s what I thought,” she said, mostly to herself. “Dreaming.”
She leaned in, lips a hair’s width away from his, her breath mingling with his.
“You better forget everything I just said.”
She lifted her head and pressed a kiss, incredibly light, to his forehead.
Then pulled the thin blanket over his chest, grabbed the empty bottle of lotion, and stood up.
From the couch, James stirred once more.
His lips curled into a tiny, barely-there smile.
He wouldn’t remember everything .
But he would remember enough .