Shameless, endless fluff. Okay, so this takes place a couple years in the future. Merry Christmas, everybody. There's nothing too inappropriate here, but if you're still rather innocent then maybe don't read this. It's not sugarcoated, I'll just say that. There will be some heat. ;) Please don't be the one to cry 'OOC'- just try to remember how much more mature they would be nine years into their friendship. That's all I gotsta say.
Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon, but I do own this story!
Ash tried to get his hands as close to the fire as possible without actually shoving them between the coals in an attempt to capture some warmth. It was pointless. There was an ice cube core at the center of his palms that would not be thawed, and his skin would be singed away before he could warm his frozen bones. He heard Misty go 'tsk tsk' in an irritatingly motherly way, before he felt a heavy blanket fall around his shoulders. He wanted to protest, but the fabric was so enticingly warm that he let the blanket stay. It had been lying on Misty's bed all day, saturated in the hot air blowing from the heater that Nurse Joy kept on a very high level. So now as his surface was starting to burn and itch uncomfortably with the heat from the fireplace and blanket, his insides were still icily chilled and with the combination of sensations he felt like a melting popsicle.
"Th-thanks, M-Misty," was all he said out loud.
"Hmph." She plopped down on the floor next to him. While he wore only a pair of thin cotton pajama pants and that thick blanket she had dropped on him, she wore a pair of comfortable shorts with a pattern of little purple horseas and a green spaghetti-strapped shirt that read "Redheads do it better." Upon arriving at the room Ash had stripped out of his icicle covered clothes as quickly as possible, only bothering to pull on pants before collapsing in front of the fire to try to warm himself. Misty had been in here for hours, so she was fine even though she was barely wearing anything. He shivered again, wondering how he could feel cold so deep down and way too hot on the outside.
"It's your own dumb fault, you know," she chided.
He turned to retort rudely, but noticed she was offering him a mug. He let the blanket slide off his shoulders as he reached out and accepted her offer. He brought it to his lips, smelling the steamy liquid. Hot chocolate. The first sip felt like molten lava in his stomach. It was heaven.
"It's not like I could have helped it," he replied, licking a bit of marshmallow foam from his upper lip.
She raised an eyebrow in barely concealed amusement. "You could have, I don't know, not accepted the challenge."
Ash laughed, almost spilling his full mug of hot chocolate.
She didn't laugh with him. "It wouldn't hurt to turn down one challenger every once in a while, Ash."
"I have to battle at every opportunity I get," he reminded her. "I may be a champion, but there's always room for improvement. If I want to be a Pokémon master by the time I'm-"
"Yeah, yeah," she cut him off, used to the spiel. "I know, I know. You're more of a broken record than Team Rocket!" Before he could rebut, she added, "But you couldn't have chosen a worse time to have a battle with water Pokémon."
He couldn't argue with that. It had been borderline insanity to use Ice Beam when the weather outside was already a flurry of frozen slush and waste, verging on blizzard-strength winds. But he had won, and that's what counted. It had been a terrific and kind of tough battle, and now several of his pals were recovering downstairs, including Pikachu. They'd feel fine by tomorrow. Although admittedly, Ash wished he hadn't come into contact with the opposing Blastoise's attack. He'd used a heavy water attack, and Ash had been caught in the wave. When he'd arrived back at their room in the Pokémon Center soaking wet and beginning to freeze over Misty had nearly wrung his neck. "I'll let you have that one," he conceded.
"Now you're going to get pneumonia or something else horrible, and it's going to ruin your Christmas."
He let himself laugh at her again, amused by her ability to see the negativity in every situation. Even at the Christmas Eve party earlier that they'd been invited to by the local gym leader she had complained endlessly. The weather, the decorations, the corny music.
"Nothing could ruin my Christmas, Misty. And I'm not going to get pneumonia. You're overreacting."
She turned up her nose, stealing back the mug of hot chocolate to take a sip for herself. "Well when you're coughing and running a fever you can call your mom to come take care of you then."
He gave her a baby-growlithe look, reclaiming the steaming mug. "You'd take care of me," he said in complete certainty.
"Whatever, Ketchum. No one else would take care of your sorry butt so I guess I would be stuck with it."
"I could always call Brock," he joked. "At least he could make me some decent soup."
She faux-glared at him. "Hey, my instant hot chocolate is just as healing as any Brock-recipe." She said this as she stole the mug once again from his hand and took a long gulp.
"I guess…" he said, reaching for the mug. "I need that, Misty, I need it to heal me."
"No!" she said, suddenly all fun and games. She rolled away from him, keeping the mug raised in the air. "Mine."
Ash was becoming warm again, however, and the limberness was returning to his limbs. He quickly leapt to the side and tackled her from behind. She was brought down easily since she couldn't struggle lest she spill the hot liquid all over them. He sat straddling her legs as she lay pinned on her stomach, and he pried the mug from her grasp. "Mine," he said triumphantly, taking a victory sip. "You can have the eggnog."
"I hate eggnog," she growled into the carpet.
"You hate everything," he said smugly, letting her struggle to get up. He was way too heavy for her to move from that position of disadvantage.
"GET OFF!" she yelled, her cry muffled into the carpet. She writhed in defiance, and he decided that the hot chocolate in his hand was in jeopardy so he quickly rolled off. Feeling guilty as she looked at him murderously, he offered her the mug as a peace offering. She regarded him cautiously like it was a trap, and then accepted it graciously.
Ash glanced at the clock above the fireplace. 11:46
"Fourteen minutes until Christmas!" he announced. Misty didn't seem as thrilled as he was, but he didn't let her sour spirit bother him.
He settled back down in front of the fireplace, pulling the heavy blanket onto his lap. This reminded him of his childhood Christmases in Pallet Town. He his parents would make hot chocolate on the night before Christmas and just sit in front of the fire together in the living room. Sometimes they told stories, sometimes they opened a present or two, but mostly they just enjoyed each other's company. It seemed like so many years ago.
"Thanks for staying, Misty," he said without looking at her. "I know you could have gone home for Christmas, so thanks for sticking around." Brock had gone home to visit his siblings for the holiday, and Ash had wanted to return home but it just hadn't been an option with his travelling schedule. He felt guilty because this would be the second Christmas in a row he hadn't been able to spend with his mother. It was his only consolation that at least she wasn't all alone- she had Professor Oak. He hadn't really understood why Misty had chosen not to return home but instead to spend time with him, but he wasn't complaining. Who wanted to be alone on Christmas?
"It's fine," she replied nonchalantly. "To be honest, I couldn't care less about spending Christmas at home."
"What?" he said incredulously, turning toward her. She had joined him in front of the fire again, stealing a portion of his blanket for her own lap.
She shrugged indifferently. "I just don't care all that much."
"How can you not care about Christmas?" he asked sadly.
"I just don't, okay?" Her tone very clearly said 'Drop it.' However, Ash usually wasn't one to take a hint, especially from Misty.
"I think it's important to spend Christmas at home, with your family," he told her. "I would be there if I could. Wouldn't you be home with your family?"
She scoffed. "You mean my sisters?" she said dryly. "They're not exactly the most festive and fun of crowds."
"But still," he pleaded. How could it not be important to her?
"I don't expect you to understand, Ash. Nevermind."
Ouch. What the hell? Why was that a jab in his specific direction? "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked in irritation.
Misty folded her arms defiantly. "Nevermind, I said! Just leave it alone, will you?"
"No," he argued, leaning in to get in her face. "Now I'm interested. It's your own fault. What do you have against Christmas?"
"I never said I had anything against Christmas, stupid," she growled dangerously, meeting his glare with one of her own, refusing to back down. "I just said I don't care about spending Christmas at home. And you wouldn't understand, because Christmas at the Ketchum household is all tinsel and happiness."
"Oh," he said, backing up out of her face. "Is… is Christmas at your house not happy?"
She cast a sidelong glance at him. He couldn't help but notice the way the glow of the fire made her skin look a lovely warm color, and made her hair glow brighter than usual. The flames flickered in her eyes, casting yellow in with the speckled sea green.
"Sorry," he said, watching how her expression was slowly falling. "I don't think sometimes."
"You don't think ever."
How stupid of him. Of course Misty's house wasn't happy, and of course it made sense that the holidays would be an especially rough time for them. He may be forgetful but he could never forget when he had asked Misty what had happened to her parents. It had been one of the only times he had ever seen his friend with the stony disposition dissolve and cry. He had never wanted to ask her about it before, not wanting to pry, but eventually he hadn't been able to stand the curiosity. It must be hard to spend Christmas with your family when half of them were dead. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he scolded himself. So stupid for bringing this up.
She looked sadly into the fire, bringing her knees up to her chin and wrapping her arms aroung her legs.
"Aw Mist, I'm so stupid." He took the empty mug out of her drooping hand and set it aside near the wall. Taking the blanket off their laps, he draped it around her shoulders.
"Don't worry about it," she said, giving him a small smile. "Really, it's nothing."
He frowned, wishing he could reverse time and punch himself before he could approach this touchy and horrible topic. How to fix it? Fix it! a voice in his head yelled at him. He had an idea. Albeit it wasn't the most pleasant idea, it was still an idea. "We're kind of in the same boat, Mist."
She looked at him curiously, not catching the meaning in what he was saying. He wondered exactly why he was telling her this, and why now. In fact, he couldn't recall the last time he had told anyone about this ever. The only person he could remember having a conversation about this with was Gary, and that was when they were nine years old.
"What do you mean?" she said, looking slightly less angry but looking kind of wary.
This was a bad idea. Turn back. "I mean…" Deep breaths. "I don't know why I'm telling you this." He blushed, laying down with his back on the carpet and his feet toward the fire. He brushed his hair back from his eyes nonchalantly; it was still kind of damp.
She lay on her side next to him, propping her head up on a crooked arm. "No, now you have to tell me, Ash."
Good job, Ketchum. "It doesn't matter." He blushed deeper.
She sat up and crossed her legs and arms, glaring down at him. He looked up uneasily as she towered over his face, leaning in close to intimidate him. "You tell me right now, or else I'll go back to being upset at you for being so tactless." Her close and warm breath heated his face, and he experienced a sharp intake of breath as a little bit of her breath made its way to his own mouth.
"Okay, okay!" he relented, turning his head away from hers. He sat up so that they were facing each other, cross-legged on the carpet like a pair of preschoolers playing one of those clapping games. "I only get to spend Christmas with part of my family, just like you," he said. She raised an eyebrow, but he continued. "I don't talk about him much, but I did used to have a dad, you know."
He watched as Misty's mouth fell open in shock. He never, ever talked about his father. Her shock was perfectly justified. "Ash-" she began, with a sympathetic expression, reaching out a hand like she wanted to console him.
He hadn't even told her yet. Why did she have to be like that? He was trying to comfort her. He didn't need comfort; he put up a hand to stop her advance. "It's okay," he said briskly. "He didn't die or anything, at least as far as I know. He left to go fulfill his dream of becoming a great Pokémon trainer. That was…" he started counting the years on his fingers, and quickly lost interest in the task. "I don't know, more than a decade ago. When I was six. The next time we heard from him was when I was seven. The next time after that was when I was nine, and he was calling from his new house and new family in Sinnoh. We didn't hear from him anymore after that." He chuckled darkly. He wasn't sad about it, like he used to be. Whereas thinking about it used to leave him feeling hollow and achy, now thinking about it left him feeling bitter but also made him feel like a better person.
"Oh, Ash." She put a reassuring hand on his knee, looking at him empathetically. "Why have you never told me that before?"
"I don't like to talk about it," he said shrugging. "I don't need it bringing me down. I don't focus on the past," he said with a weak smile, "I focus on the future."
She returned his smile. "Well I guess I should take back what I said at least. About the 'Ketchum household.' That was pretty judgmental."
"An apology? From Misty?" he said incredulously, feigning passing out.
"Shut up, Ash, I'm trying to reach out to you here!" she said, removing her hand from his leg and placing it on her hip scoldingly.
"You don't have to so serious, Mist!" he said, chuckling again.
"I was only trying to be a good friend," she retorted, sticking out her tongue like a child. "And thanks," she added as an afterthought. "For telling me that. I'm glad to know."
"I just thought I should tell you. So you know you're not alone."
"I guess it's fitting that we're spending Christmas together then," she joked. "The two family misfits, stuck together."
"Stuck?" he said sadly, puffing his bottom lip out. "I thought you wanted to spend Christmas with me."
"I do, you baby," she said, poking his bottom lip back into proper position. "And don't give me that look."
"Anyway," he said as she poked at his expression, "I'm glad to be spending Christmas with you. It's the next best thing to home."
"Next best?" she said, giving him a pouty look of her own.
"Okay," he sighed. "Next Christmas you're coming to Pallet, and you can see how we make Christmas our own. Even with a broken family you can still have a family, Misty."
"I think I'd actually really like that," she admitted. "My sisters won't be happy that I've taken 'home for the holidays' to mean 'Ash's home for the holidays' though. They hate that I never come home for Christmas."
"Home is wherever you want to be," he assured her. "So if you want to be at my home, then that's home for you. And if we feel at home here in this Pokémon Center, then this is home for the holidays for us! And if Team Rocket feels at home with each other, than whatever hole they spend the night in is going to feel like home to them."
Misty looked at him like he was crazy. "While that made absolutely no sense, it was kind of sweet in a weird sort of way." She looked lazily over at the empty chocolate-stained mug. "Was there something in that hot chocolate?" she asked. "I feel funny."
He laughed, replying, "You made it, Mist."
"Oh yeah."
"So did I make you feel better?" he asked hopefully. She certainly looked much happier than she had looked a few minutes previously.
"Oh, definitely. Though to be honest, it's not like you ripped out my soul before. The holidays are just always a sad time for me. It's hard because they bring up all these happy memories that I can't ever get back. I'm sad with or without tactless Ash Ketchum bringing them to mind."
She giggled at the glare he gave her due to the insult. Then, to his surprise, she leaned forward and brushed the hair back from his face and kissed him on the cheek. "What was that for?" he asked in shock.
"For being nice to me. For once," she added with a wink.
"Oh. Well you're welcome." Stupid, he thought. Say something smart for once. Flirt back, maybe!
He felt himself blushing madly and had to turn to look back into the fire. Things with Misty had been so weird lately. Sometimes it felt like the ground was shifting under them, like something was trying to occur and every time it happened Ash would start to lose his balance. The first time they had kissed had been nearly three months ago. Up late one night, Brock asleep, and a late night conversation turned into something a little bit more. Ash had kissed her out of a moment of pure stupidity, and had thought for a second that he'd ruined their friendship forever. After all, you can't just kiss your best friend of nine years and expect things to go back to normal, right? But things had done just that- gone back to normal.
Well almost.
There had been that one night. Ash blushed further just remembering it now, especially in the current hot temperature of the room. It hadn't been a date, or at least Ash hadn't really considered it a date. They'd dropped by Pallet Town to visit between travels, and Ash had taken Misty to see the town from his favorite lookout spot at the top of one of the hills. Just for fun. It was only for friendly fun… But sometimes harmless things led to things that were slightly less harmless. She'd started talking about how romantic it was, being all Misty about it. He'd only meant to peck her cheek, but she had reacted really strongly. That little kiss turned into a pretty long kiss- a pretty long, pretty freaking fantastic kiss. He wasn't sure exactly how long they were up there, but when he had showered later he'd found enough twigs in his hair to plant a small forest.
He couldn't believe that after that night things could go on like normal, but go on they had. It was like nothing had ever happened. Every time Ash looked at Misty all he could think about was repeating the episode, but he tried to shake those thoughts. If she wanted things to continue as they were and not to change, then who was he to decide otherwise? Even though it was almost pain to look at her, so much skin exposed (why, oh why so much skin exposed?), and restrain the aching urge to kiss her again.
Taking a deep breath to compose himself before he did something stupid, he glanced at the clock again. 12:16
"Merry Christmas, Misty," he said joyfully, pointing up at the clock. Then he yawned, stretching out his arms and legs. "I think I'm gonna go to sleep, Mist. I wanna wake up early to get my Pokémon. No one wants to spend Christmas in the recovery ward! Can I?" he asked, gesturing to the light switch. She nodded her head and he flipped it off, stumbling back toward his bed in the darkness. He nearly tripped on her as she crawled toward her own bed.
He slunk into the sheets and pulled the covers all the way up to his chin. Dozing in a sleeping bag most nights made you really appreciate the feel of fresh cotton sheets against your skin. The warm sheet against his bare chest was the best Christmas present ever. He closed his eyes and let himself begin to drift off.
Then he felt a pressure on the side of his bed. A light pressure, like Pikachu had jumped up next to him. But Pikachu was downstairs. He started to sit up in alarm when he heard Misty's voice. Oh, it's only Misty. She's so small I almost mistook her for Pikachu, he mocked inwardly.
"Sorry," she whispered. "Were you already asleep?"
"No," he whispered back. Why are we whispering? There's no one else here. "Well almost. Do you need something?"
She scooted closer to him, inching onto the bed as his eyes readjusted in the darkness. She folded her knees under her, looking at him. "No," she said softly. "I just… do you mind?" She pulled his covers down smidge and inched her legs underneath.
He shook his head, a little astonished but not about to argue.
"I'm just a little cold," she whispered. "And I can't sleep. I can never sleep on Christmas Eve. Used to be from excitement… now from just too many thoughts."
She wiggled her way in under the covers the rest of the way, bringing them up to her chin to match Ash. Even though there were two pillows on this bed she chose to rest her head on his. There was only a foot of space between them, and to Ash that small space felt like a lake of electricity. Couldn't she feel that? Was she doing this to him on purpose? Was she being legitimate, or was she deliberately flirting with him? Maybe both, he decided.
"I'm sorry you can't be at home," she whispered across the pillow, her breath brushing his face like a soft snowflake. "I know I don't like being at home, but I know you do. So I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize," he said, trying not to focus on how her warm breath was touching his face. "I told you, home is where you want to be. I have a home in Pallet, but I have a home here with you, too."
Even through the thick darkness he could make out her smile as it stretched across her face involuntarily. "Then I suppose I have a home here too."
For some reason, that really got him. Misty could be really sweet and sometimes even a nurturing person, but those sentiments were usually never directed at him. Fumbling through the covers, he slid his arm through trying to locate her hand. After a second he found her arm and slid his hand down until it made contact with her fingers. Her skin was torturously smooth and enticingly cool against his now-thoroughly-heated body. All he wanted was to pull her closer, but this was nice too. Just this. He was glad that she let him twine her fingers in his without protest. He rubbed her little fingers between his own, trying to bring warmth to them. They were so thin and fragile he wondered how they held any warmth on their own at all. Girls always have such cold hands, he thought idly.
As he was doing that he began to notice her edging closer. He stopped stroking her hand abruptly as he realized that now barely inches were left between them. He wasn't sure if her eyes were closed and she as doing this sleepily or if she was wide awake and toying with him. He rolled on his side to face her and found that she was now facing him as well. Just another inch…
With her free hand he felt her reach up and rest her hand softly to his face. Almost against his will he pressed up against it, not wanting her to take it away. She pushed back his bangs and felt his forehead, letting a small giggle loose. "I think I'm feeling a fever coming on, Ash," she whispered. "I warned you." She didn't remove her had right away however and let it slide back down to his cheek, where Ash pinned it to the pillow with his head so it couldn't escape.
He didn't reply. He was sure he didn't have a fever; in fact he was nearly positive the heat was coming from an entirely different source.
It was unbearable.
He let his hand come loose from Misty's and felt it slide of its own accord up her arm and find itself a resting spot just below her shoulder on her upper arm. He slid forward, leaving her hand behind on the pillow as it clutched helplessly for his face. He placed one very soft kiss on her lips, tasting the breath that had been teasing him all evening long. Three, his mind tallied.
He pulled back, thinking twice about the sudden decision. He'd suddenly become very self-conscious of where they had chosen as their kissing spot. "Is this okay?" he asked quietly.
"Yeah, it's okay," she whispered in response, using her hand on the pillow to pull his head back toward her own, twisting her fingers into his damp hair. She kissed him again, closing the inches between them and pressing herself against him under the sheets. He nearly had a heart attack. Had she forgotten that he was only half dressed? He could feel her whole upper body pressed against his bare chest, and it was not doing wonders for his 'fever.' However, he was not exactly in the mood for logical thinking. Sliding his hand back down her arm he then found her waistline, tracing it to the small of her back. He slid his other arm under her to meet his other hand and then pulled her body even closer into his.
She reached her other hand into his hair, deepening the kiss. This was even better than their last kiss. Most of all because there were no twigs this time, and no dirt. Best of all for Misty, he thought, no bugs. He traced her lips with his own, wondering how long she would let it last. Please don't stop, he begged silently.
Her tongue teased his playfully and she had one hand resting on his chest- he considered as he felt his heart throb against her hand that maybe she was trying to kill him. He let one hand slip under the back of her shirt, feeling the groove of her spine up her back; the coolness of her skin was like silk on his feverish hand. Suddenly she broke away. Oh shit, he thought spastically. Stupid. Shit.
"Shit. Sorry," he whispered, removing his hand from beneath her shirt rapidly. Why do you do this to me? It's your fault. Evil temptress.
"No it's okay," she whispered quickly, drawing herself back into his arms, rewrapping her arms around his neck. "You just… surprised me is all."
But he couldn't shake the horrified and embarrassed feeling she had unearthed, and he kept his hands around her waist when she leaned in to kiss him again. She kissed him more passionately than before, like she was trying to make up for pulling away and startling him. Slowly he melted back into it, unable to help himself. Maybe there really was something in that hot chocolate after all.
He didn't know what it was he and Misty were doing. Not literally- he was rather aware of what there were doing right at this moment. But he wasn't sure what they were doing on the whole… like what their relationship was. He decided that was a conversation that could wait until the morning, however, as Misty decided to roll over on top of his chest.
Yes, it's official. She's trying to kill me.
She placed a series of small kisses on his collar bone. He'd never guessed Misty could be so… tender. I guess everyone's a little different behind closed doors. He realized with a smile that maybe this was a Misty only Ash had ever seen, because he knew Misty had never made out with anyone else but him.
He pushed himself up, which didn't dislodge Misty. She kept kissing him defiantly and she was now straddling his lap, which made it especially hard for him to break away from the kiss and break up the fun. "Mist…" he breathed, panting as he pulled his lips away.
"What?" she panted back. Did she have any idea how irresistible she was? How was he supposed to act like a gentleman when she was wearing that, with her shirt twisted up like it was, and when her arms were wrapped around his neck like that, and with her fiery messy hair falling out of its flimsy ponytail, and when she was sitting right on top of him like that? How was a guy supposed to have any kind of self-control around a girl like her?
Instead of answering her he just looked at her, allowing her to take in their position and think it over for a moment. She folded her arms, not removing herself. "So you decided you don't want to kiss me anymore?" she said demurely, in a falsely hurt voice.
"Misty," he said in agitation. "That's not-"
She pushed his arms down as he reached up to wrap his arms around her again. "It's okay, I'm bored now too." Tender Misty was gone and defensive Misty was back on the scene. Her voice was completely detached and devoid of emotion.
He let his arms fall down, hurt. Why did she have to do this every time? It was like each time the walls came crashing down between them Misty had to go freak out and throw up the defenses as soon as she realized they were gone. One of these days he would finally get through that wall of hers, but apparently it was not today.
She moved off of him fluidly, swinging her legs over the side of the bed haughtily.
"Misty," he said, knowing it was already too late. It was gone. "Don't go, Mist."
She looked at him contemplatively.
"I'm sorry. That's not what I meant. I just thought we were going a bit fast." He might as well have slapped her in the face for the effect that statement had. He had to hold her wrist tightly to keep her from stalking off to her own bed in a tantrum. "We don't have to kiss anymore. Just… just stay and sleep by me."
He knew he sounded whiny, like a baby. He sounded like he was pleading. He should probably just let her go. She was pissed enough at him already. But to his pleasure, she let herself relax back into the covers. The anger was gone from her face, but she turned and faced the other way, leaving her back to Ash.
It's a start, he thought, marveling in the fact that Misty had not run away from the argument. Maybe they really were growing up after all. Maybe in the morning he would talk to her about it. And maybe they could talk about their relationship status.
Hesitantly he slipped his arm around Misty's waist, inching closer to her. She was pretending to be asleep. That was okay. He pressed his face into the crevice between her neck and shoulder, leaving a light kiss on her skin. "Merry Christmas, Misty."
He smiled against her skin as she dropped the charade to whisper back, "Merry Christmas."
He twined his fingers with hers again, wanting to say more.
It can wait until the morning, he thought as she turned around to leave him with one last goodnight kiss.