A/N: This was inspired by the scene in Bad to the Bone where James is recalling the various disguises that he and Jessie had worn between them. The disguises in general just amused me, but I absolutely loved the particular pose used to showcase the Salon Roquet outfits. It was my desktop background for a good while.

I don't believe that James disliked being the woman. Episodes like Flower Power from early Johto just drive the point home. Humour me just for this chapter. :P In regards to this, I like the concept of this chapter, but mayhaps not the execution.

2. Opposite

James pouted as he tugged despondently at the coarse, golden locks cascading down his face. His scalp felt hot and itchy under the wig, and this did nothing to abate the childish temper tantrum he could feel simmering just below the surface. Squashed into the tiny back room of Salon Roquet, the newest fad in town as crowned by the locals, he was currently making reluctant attempts to fix his disguise reluctantly to perfection. He was interrupted in his task, however, with an elbow to the stomach.

"Oof!"

"Sorry," Jessie grunted, managing to regain her balance before she toppled into him and sent them both sprawling to the floor. She wriggled her foot experimentally to make sure her boot was firmly in place.

James wanted to snap at her, to tell her to watch what she was doing, but wisely kept his mouth shut. Jessie had been in a fabulous mood all day due to their newest money making scheme. James did not want to be the one to end her benevolence. He had to admit it; it was nice going through the day without once being slapped. By this time – barely midday – it was not unusual for him to have been whacked a good dozen times.

"'S'alright," he muttered instead, glowering at his reflection in the dimly lit mirror. If only the bloody wig would just stay in its damned position…

"Here, let me help," he heard Jessie's unexpectedly gentle voice from behind him, and he whirled around to find her invading his already hardly-there personal space.

"Uh…" he said stupidly, but she was not waiting for an answer; instead she reached out and briskly began to pat the unruly golden curls into place. James could only stare blankly somewhere between his partner's chest and neck. She'd donned the navy blue general's outfit with an almost unbridled enthusiasm, and as put-out as he was over the fact that he had to be the bloody woman again, he had to admit that Jessie did look very good in that attire. The jacket clung to her irresistibly in all the right places, and the knee high boots accentuated her toned legs perfectly in those beige trousers. The fake sword sheathed at her side finished the look and slid slyly against her side every time she shifted.

She looked…sort of sexy.

He blinked and violently chased the thought away. He made a mental note to smack himself later for Jessie.

"There, all done," the aforementioned woman said brightly, completely oblivious to the inappropriate turn in her friend's thoughts. With a sheer act of will power that he was very proud of himself for, James raised his gaze to meet Jessie's.

"Thanks," he muttered, returning to contemplating his reflection in the mirror. Damn, she'd done it all right. The wig now framed his face beautifully, giving him the beguiling innocence that an angel might be accustomed to, but certainly did not fit a member of Team Rocket. He sighed again, smoothing imaginary creases from the dress whilst Jessie headed towards the door. Noticing that he wasn't following her, she turned back towards him.

"Something wrong?" she asked him casually, fixing the buttons on her jacket for the last time before they made their grand entrance.

For a moment, he weighed up the pros and cons of his next statement. On the one hand he might effectively ruin her good mood, earning himself a good smack for his efforts. On the other hand he could achieve…well, he didn't know what he could achieve, but perhaps he could get his dislike (well…partial dislike – after all, some women's clothes were somewhat beautiful, and he did happen to look rather gorgeous in some of them) across to his partner once and for all. So, grasping his courage in both hands, he began to speak.

"Why do I always have to be the woman?"

For a moment all she could do was blink at him in surprise. Then a slow, lazy grin crawled across her face. Now it was James' turn to stand there blinking dumbly as she approached him once again. Heat permeated from her body and his cheeks began to glow prettily as he realised just how close she was to him. Without breaking eye-contact with him, she sank to her knees in front of him. He was forced to dip his head to follow that intense stare. Golden curls fell becomingly into his face.

"Because," she said, and her voice had taken on a rough, gravelly texture, something he had never heard in his best friend before, "you make such a beautiful woman."

And then she seized his hand in her own, and before he could even register what was happening her mouth was against the back of his hand, warm and wet and perfect. Every nerve ending in James' body seized up and began to tingle deliciously as her lips stayed over the skin. His entire body began to flush pleasantly.

Seconds…minutes…years passed before she finally pulled away from him. She was smirking confidently, her eyes dancing with a mischievous light. James could only stand there motionlessly, his hand still tangled loosely with his partner's. He felt the inexplicable urge to sink to his knees beside her and kiss her sweetly.

The thought took him by surprise and was enough to jerk him out of his partial stupor. Blushing lightly and shivering like he had a fever, he wrenched his hand away from hers. She rose from her knees seemingly unaffected, offering him a cat-like grin.

"You ready to do this now?" she asked, not even waiting for an answer as she made her way over to the door once again. James could vaguely hear Meowth's voice on the other side of the wood, loud and abrasive, ordering them to hurry the hell up. With one last glance over her shoulder, Jessie disappeared from view. He could her hear stiffly telling the scratch cat to hold his Ponyta, they couldn't rush perfection. Their voices faded.

James was still standing motionlessly in the middle of the tiny box room. He was unconsciously holding the hand that Jessie had kissed to his mouth. The feeling of her warm lips was permanently tattooed onto his skin.

You make such a beautiful woman.

The words rang in his ears like church bells, loud and clear. He couldn't think; those words seduced all thoughts.

You make such a beautiful woman.

There had been such a wonderful, feverish gleam in her eye as she'd uttered those words, a maniacal glint that he'd never seen before. He wasn't sure if the shiver that had raced down his spin now when he thought back on it was one of terror or excitement.

Perhaps my sexuality isn't the one that everyone should be pondering, James thought incoherently, but before that consideration could manifest itself any further, he heard her voice calling for him.

"James, what are you doing back there? Come on!"

"Coming!" he called back, his voice dazed and hoarse. He thought he might have heard her snigger. Either way, he stumbled after his two comrades, ready to begin their plan of the day.

They failed, as usual. It ruined Jessie's good mood for good, and everything went back to how it had been before the incident in the back room.

Almost.

James never even thought about complaining about being the woman ever again.

After all, he did make such a beautiful woman.

A/N: Uh...yeah. Review?