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Misty loved water, but even she wasn't interested in going out in the frigid, torrential downpour outside. It had started suddenly, but showed no sign of letting up any time soon. She was content to sit by the pool, feet in the (far more peaceful) water, and watch Caserin and Luverin swim together until the storm passed.
She wondered idly if it was raining like this in Pallet Town. She hoped not—Tracey wouldn't let rain stop him from working, and a couple days ago he'd mentioned in passing that he might've been coming down with a cold. He wouldn't let that stop him either; her sweet boyfriend was entirely too sweet for his own good.
The ding signaling someone had entered the gym sounded, jerking Misty out of her thoughts. A challenger, in this weather? She stood up to go meet them—at least a challenge would give her something to do.
And then she heard a loud, familiar sneeze.
Curbing her sudden urge to yell at Daisy, she raced for the gym lobby. The sight that greeted her was an absolutely drenched Tracey, eyes and nose streaming.
"Tracey!" She threw her arms around him. She could feel him shivering hard as he returned the hug, burying his face in her shoulder. "What in the world are you doing here? Did you bike all the way from Pallet in this weather?"
"Daisy said she needed help with an emergency," Tracey said into her shoulder. "The rain caught me by surprise about halfway here. I would've asked to borrow the professor's car if I'd known it was gonna get that bad."
"You should've asked anyway," Misty said, trying to rub a little warmth into his back. She could've sworn the shivering was getting worse. "Or told Daisy you didn't feel well and couldn't come. You shouldn't be biking all the way here with a cold in any weather, you self-sacrificing idiot."
"I can't say no when someone needs my help," he said. "You know that."
"And you need to work on that," Misty replied, reluctantly pulling back so she could give him a stern look. He looked absolutely pitiful, pale and flushed and shaking like a leaf, and she cupped his cheek with a hand. Even his face felt freezing. "You can't keep taking care of everything and everyone before yourself. You're important too, understand?"
Tracey nodded weakly, then staggered as if that small movement had been enough to throw him off balance. He shut his eyes tight, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"You really don't feel well, do you?" She took his hand, leading him further inside. "Come on, let's get you warmed up."
Tracey shivered, wrapping the blanket Misty had brought him tighter around himself. She had sat him down on the couch and gotten him about as comfortable as he could get, then headed off with purpose. He didn't know what she'd headed off to do, but he didn't have the energy to think that hard about it. His head was killing him and his sinuses were killing him and his entire body felt like one big ache from shivering for so long.
It was a shame he was in too much pain to fall asleep. Sleep sounded really nice right about now. He was so exhausted he couldn't even remember what he'd come to Cerulean for.
And then Daisy was sitting beside him, a perfectly manicured hand pressing against his forehead, and he remembered. "Sorry, Daisy, I… don't think I can help with that emergency you asked me over here for."
"Don't worry about that, sweetie," Daisy said gently. "I'm so sorry I asked you to come in the first place when you were already sick. I'll make it up to you, okay? Are you hungry? I can get you like, anything you feel like eating."
"It's okay," Tracey assured her. "I don't feel up for food right now, but thanks."
"Of course," she said, running her hand soothingly through his wet hair. "You're family—and you're so cold, you poor thing. No wonder Misty was so mad. Just, like, take it easy, okay?"
"She gave you an earful, huh?" Tracey said, a little amused despite himself.
Daisy nodded. "She was furious. Don't doubt for a second how much she loves you. She's running a bath for you, that should help you warm up."
Tracey felt a rush of gratitude. A hot bath sounded incredible. He opened his mouth to say so, but then a cough tore itself from his throat, turning into several more.
Daisy patted his back until the fit subsided, and switched to gentle rubbing as he caught his breath. Despite how soaked he still was, she didn't complain when he slumped against her, exhausted and desperate for warmth.
His shivering soothed by her gentle hand on his back, he found he didn't have the strength to keep his eyes open anymore.
He'd halfway dozed off when he heard footsteps, and felt another familiar hand on his face.
"Good, he's starting to warm up." Misty's voice sent a new wave of warmth through him. "Trace, are you awake? There's a bath ready for you."
He mustered up the energy to raise his head, blinking blearily. "Thanks, Misty. I can always count on you."
"Of course you can." She held out her hand. "Now come on. Lean on me if you need to. "
He took her hand, letting her help him to his feet. He didn't lean on her entirely, but accepted enough support to make the walk to the bathroom easier.
In the bathroom, he let Misty help him undress—he didn't have the energy to be embarrassed, and her loving touches as she tugged his clothing out of the way would've been worth it anyway.
Sinking into warm water felt worth everything that had gotten him there too, the relief instantaneous, and the sigh that slipped out of him was completely involuntary.
Misty gave him a fond, amused smile. "How's that feel?"
"Incredible," he replied. "Thank you so much."
"I'll do you one better," she said. "How about I wash your hair?"
"Please?" His voice came out hopeful and excited, and Misty giggled in that sweet way that never made him feel like he was being made fun of.
"Of course." She gently guided his head into the water and back up, and then her fingers were massaging shampoo into his scalp. She took her time, clearly intent on giving her loving attention to every inch of it. That was Misty—she never did anything without putting her whole heart into it.
He closed his eyes, doing his best to focus on the sensation of her touch and savor every second of it. The way her graceful fingers worked in rhythmic motions, just the right balance of roughness and gentleness, her warmth chasing away the chill that had come over him and spreading to his very core. His various aches seemed far away now.
She pressed a kiss to his cheek before rinsing his hair again.
Then came the conditioner, and the gentle tug of her hands running through the length of his hair.
"You have split ends," she said. "You really need to take better care of yourself."
He had a feeling the condition of his hair was the least of her concerns on that front. "I know."
"Then why won't you?" The exasperation in her voice was unmistakable, but so was the love beneath it. "Is it that hard to believe you're worth putting first sometimes?"
He realized he didn't know how to answer that. Why didn't he take care of himself? Why did he put his own needs after everything else?
"I don't know," he finally said. "I don't want to be selfish, I guess."
He hadn't even been able to bring himself to tell Misty how he felt about her, way back when, because he'd thought he knew who she wanted and it would never be him, and he hadn't wanted to intrude while she was waiting for Ash to figure it out. The very idea of admitting he wanted something other than friendship had felt selfish. She'd had to make the first move, to tell him who she really wanted.
He cherished the memory of that conversation—especially when she'd grabbed him by the face, kissed him, and called him the dumbest smart person she'd ever met.
She loved him. She had loved him for years. It was still hard to believe it sometimes.
And maybe how hard it was to believe something so evidently true was exactly what she was getting at. He knew he had good qualities—he knew he was hardworking and loyal, someone other people could rely on no matter what, and that he had plenty of skills and knowledge he could use to be helpful…
… Wait.
"I don't think I know what I'm good for besides doing stuff for other people," he admitted. "I have to be useful or…"
Or I'm worthless and nobody will want me around.
"Trace…" Misty didn't press him to finish the sentence—from the sound of her voice, she'd understood him loud and clear. She had finished with the conditioner, her hands trailing down to wash his body, her touch warm and calloused and gentle on his skin. Her fingers traced the twin hook-shaped scars on his chest, the mark of something he had done for his own happiness. "You are so much more than that. You're a cute, silly, excitable nerd who eats flowers, and takes notes on everything, and thinks too much all the time but still can't put two and two together that I and everyone else who loves you feel that way because you're you, and that's all anyone needs from you."
Her hands slowly trailed lower as she spoke, not shying away from any imperfections they found, instead lingering on the array of scars and freckles that littered his body. She made it down to his stomach, running a finger along the divot to the right of his navel—the memory of how he'd gotten that one wasn't exactly pleasant, barely more than a haze of pain and panic, besides how she'd basically refused to leave his side for an entire week after.
From there, she moved onto his sides, and he knew she was tracing the stretch marks that zigzagged along them. She made sure his love handles lived up to their name, with how frequently and tenderly she handled them.
She'd called all those things beautiful. And seeing beauty where others didn't was the way Misty had always been, but regardless, it meant a lot to be seen that way by someone as beautiful as her. Because Misty's heart was full of conviction, and when she called something beautiful—be it tentacruel or gyarados or any of the marks on his skin—he looked again and saw that it was.
He looked at her. Her brilliant green-blue gaze like the ocean, like his fondest memories of freedom and adventure, wildness one moment and gentleness the next, currently looking at him and brimming with love.
There were still lingering traces of worry on her face, in the way her brows were drawn together, but her smile was soft, showing a glimpse at the cute little gap between her front teeth. What an honor to see her smile like that. What an honor to have a place in Misty's brave, passionate, unbelievably loving heart.
"You're incredible," he said as she rinsed his hair. "Thank you. For everything."
"Anytime," she replied. "But don't make a habit of biking all the way from Pallet Town in the rain with a cold, you hear me? Next time you're sick, you stay home and take it easy. I'll come to you, and I'll bring actual good conditioner, because you deserve better than that five-in-one or whatever you keep using."
He could only nod. "Anything for you."
"No, do it for you," she said fiercely, jabbing a finger at the center of his chest. "Because you deserve nice things and rest and being taken care of."
Tracey couldn't control the fond, amused smile that spread across his face. "Okay, I'll do it for me too."
"Good," she replied, sounding pleased. She cupped his cheek with her hand, and he instinctively inclined his head into it, eyes closing again. "You definitely feel a lot warmer now—maybe too warm. We should probably get you out before you fall asleep in there."
She was right—his eyelids felt heavy, and the water wouldn't stay warm forever—but the idea of moving felt daunting. He groaned.
Misty rested a hand on his shoulder, running it down his arm consolingly. "I know you're tired. But it's not gonna get any easier. Come on, I'll help you out and then you can go to bed."
He blinked sluggishly, watching her stand up and offer him a hand. He took it, accepting her support as he struggled to his feet, head already swimming. He ended up in her arms, body flush against hers, and suddenly he felt hot again.
"Easy, easy." Misty eased him down into a sit on the floor, then draped a fluffy towel over his shoulders.
As he used it to dry himself off, still lightheaded, she carefully towel-dried his hair with a second one. She was spoiling him so much, but he didn't want her to stop. Her tender, undivided attention felt so good.
Once she was satisfied with her work drying his hair, she ran her fingers through it, deftly working out the occasional tangle. Then she reached up onto the counter to hand him a shirt he hadn't seen in weeks.
"You know, it's a good thing you keep leaving clothes here," she said.
"You mean it's a good thing I have a girlfriend that likes stealing my shirts," he replied, earning a playful swat.
"If you want me to stop stealing them, you'll have to find something more comfortable for me to sleep in, and good luck with that," she said with a mischievous grin. "You can have this one back for now."
"So generous of you," Tracey teased. He tugged it on, wishing his sense of smell wasn't absolutely shot right now so he could pick up the traces of her that lingered on it.
But he supposed he didn't need that particular comfort when she was right in front of him.
He had to stand up to put his shorts on, and another wave of dizziness threatened to bring him back to the floor and made his vision dark around the edges. As he braced himself against the sink with one hand, Misty stood at his other side with her hand on his shoulder, clearly ready to steady him if he needed it.
He managed to get his shorts on, a weak groan escaping him. He was so tired.
"I know," Misty soothed. "Come on, let's get you to bed."
He leaned heavily on her this time, and took comfort in the feeling of her arm around his waist as Misty brought him to her room.
And even though he would've been fine with returning to the couch, he decided to accept this. He knew how much more comfortable Misty's bed was—especially since she'd replaced her old twin-sized one with a bed big enough to comfortably accommodate Tracey's latest growth spurt—and she seemed to think he deserved nice things. Maybe he did.
She helped him into bed, sitting beside him as he nestled into the blankets. He curled a little closer to her.
"Comfy?" she asked, voice fond and amused.
"Very," he replied. He wasn't going to be awake much longer, sleep already tugging at him and making it hard to keep his eyes open.
"Good," Misty said with a smile. She ran her hand through his hair. "You deserve it."