Her first thought when they make it back to her apartment is that she wishes she'd done a better job cleaning up, but then she remembers who is by her side, and the thought flies out the window.

Misty kicks off her sneakers-or at least she tries to-but she struggles to take them off with her dominant arm is in a sling, and her laces are tied tight because she was dumb enough not to wear slip-on-shoes. She crouches down and leans forward, using her good hand to pull at the taught laces of her shoes, only to fall backward on her butt. She must look as helpless as she feels because the next thing she knows, Ash is kneeling in front of her, delicately untying her shoes and pulling them off one by one.

"Thank you!" She gives him her biggest smile, preparing to fling her arms around him in a grateful hug.

"Careful," he whispers as he gingerly grabs her arm, preventing her from further injuring herself. "Now, let's get you to bed before you hurt yourself even more."

She pouts like a child before giving in and letting Ash lead the way. Misty immediately collapses on her bed, and Ash sits beside her, the bed sinking slightly under his weight.

"I can't believe I did something so stupid," she groans as her good arm falls across her face.

She can't see him, but she can hear it in his voice that he's trying to hold back a laugh. "It could have happened to anyone, really," he tries to assure her. She wants to believe him-she really does-but just the thought of her tripping down the steps and breaking her elbow causes her face to flush with embarrassment. Burying her head in a pillow starts to sound very appealing.

Misty uncovers her face and sits up. Her eyes shift to the sling covering her right arm-because, of course, she had to break that elbow-and she sighs, already anticipating the inconveniences that would soon encumber her everyday tasks.

A clicking sound pulls her attention away from her arm and to Ash, who is busy typing something into his phone. She hears the whoosh of a text message being sent before he closes his messages, and the screen goes dim. "Just texting Brock," he explains when she gives him a puzzled look. "I was letting him know what the doctors said and that I'll probably stay here tonight."

Panic immediately sets in as her eyes grow wide. "Stay here?"

Ash stares back at her as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Well, yeah. Somebody's got to make sure you're not going to roll off your bed and bang yourself up anymore. And since I'm already here…"

"Oh."

Silence falls as she continues staring back at him, slowly processing his words. She doesn't know why his offer surprises her so much, but she appreciates it nonetheless.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm beat," he announces, breaking eye contact as he stands up. It's nearly eleven at night, and with the unexpected turn of events and the hours they spent in the emergency room, her exhaustion-and the painkillers-are starting to wear on her. "Need anything before I head to bed?"

She didn't think she said anything, but she must have made some noise of distress because Ash's brow furrows and his brown eyes darken. "You okay, Mist?"

The way he says her name-the special nickname he only uses for her-sends a shiver up her spine, and not in an unpleasant way either.

"Yeah, I just…I don't think I'll sleep very well in jeans…"

Understanding flashes across his face. "I could help you change," he offers before quickly adding, "If that's okay with you."

She's convinced the painkillers have blocked any sort of filter in her brain because she teases him with a flirtatious wink saying, "Don't get too excited about helping me undress."

Ash's face flushes as red as the fire on a charizard's tail. "Misty!" he yells, his voice cracking. "What the hell? That wasn't what I was thinking at all!" Misty tries hard to keep a straight face, but he just looks so flustered, and she can't help but find the whole thing adorable. "Arceus, Misty, I'm not Brock…"

Misty giggles as she slides off the bed and walks over to her wardrobe to grab her pajamas. Whether done intentionally or not, it isn't lost on her that the pajamas she picked out are an old t-shirt of his that he'd long outgrown and a flimsy pair of bottoms that have little pikachus all over them.

"Is that mine?" he asks, seeming to have noticed his old t-shirt in her hands. "Why do you have one of my shirts?"

"Your mom gave it to me," she explains. "I was visiting one time and forgot to bring pajamas, so she gave me one of your old shirts and told me I could keep it. Now please help me. I've had a shitty day, and I'm starting to feel drowsy."

Ash steps forward until there's only an inch or two between them and reaches for the ribbon-like belt looped around her shorts. With a tug, the belt comes loose, and he pulls it from the belt loops before he unfastens the button on her shorts. With his help, he pushes her shorts over her hips just enough so she can do that weird dance of sorts to shift her shorts over to one foot to toss them aside. Next, he drapes the belt across her wardrobe before helping her remove her sling, which he folds neatly and places on her bed.

"What next?" he asks as he looks up to meet her eyes.

"Um, how about my shirt?"

Ash nods and then gets to work unbuttoning, starting at the top of her blouse and working with the precision of a brain surgeon. His breath is warm against her neck as he breaths, his face pinched in concentration. His hair tickles her chin, and she tries not to laugh, unwilling to face the pain of a bruised rib. He occasionally stops to glance up at her, waiting for her to nod or give him a reassuring smile before moving on, and she realizes that he's checking to make sure he's not hurting her.

Next, she and Ash work together to finagle her arms to remove her shirt without causing her further pain. Once removed, her shirt falls to the floor, and she only seems to realize then that she's standing in front of Ash in nothing but her bra and underwear. Granted, it's not any different than the bikinis she wears around the gym or that she wore when they traveled together. Still, something about his role in everything makes the situation feel more intimate.

She visibly sees Ash swallow as his eyes flutter toward the ground. He clears his throat, his cheeks tinged a light pink as he asks, "Do you…? Do you want your bra off, too?"

Do I?

Had she been more aware of her surroundings, she probably would care more that the bra she was wearing was among the least flattering she owned. But instead, all she can focus on is how much more comfortable she would feel without the wire digging into her or the hooks scratching up her back.

"Misty?"

She takes too long to answer, getting lost in the image of Ash's fingers trailing up her arms to rest on her shoulders before hooking his thumb underneath the straps of her bar to pull them down slowly.

"Yes!" She feels her face burn at the enthusiasm in her voice. He looks just as embarrassed by her outburst, his neck flushed a soft red. She clears her throat. "I mean, if you can help unhook the back, I can take it from there."

She turns around and, despite years spent battling the harsh elements, his hands are smooth as he rests them on her skin. Her body shivers, but it has nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with the patches of heat his fingers leave as they press against her back. Misty closes her eyes, hoping Ash doesn't notice the hitch in her breath.

"Are you cold?" His fingers remain still against her back, and the genuine concern in his voice leaves her wanting to melt into his warm embrace. Instead, she shakes her head, willing herself to breathe normally.

When she feels her bra come loose, Ash pushes the straps forward just enough so she can straighten her arms and wiggle it off. For a moment, her drug-infused brain ponders what he might do if she suddenly turns around. Would he freak out as his younger self would, slap his hands over his eyes, and run out of the room? Or would a more mature version of him roam over her body, taking in every curve, admiring what he saw with a glint in his eyes? She knows which one she wants, but the drugs are making her too drowsy to act.

"Here," Ash's voice pulls her from her impure thoughts once more, and she feels a light tap on her back. She nearly turns around, but Ash is quick to hand over her t-shirt before she accidentally flashes him.

With one arm covering her chest, she attempts to use the other one to maneuver the t-shirt over her head. Yet again, she fails to complete such a simple task, struggling to stay balanced with her head and arm stuck at awkward angles.

"Ash," she whimpers, her voice wavering. "I need help."

She's grateful he doesn't laugh or pass judgment because she's going through a rollercoaster of emotions. She's nearly frustrated to the point of tears, on the brink of exhaustion, and wanting nothing more but to curl up in her bed and escape this horrible nightmare.

"Stop moving for a second." His voice is calm and reassuring, with an underlying sense of caution. His fingers once more tracing over her bare skin, leaving tiny patches of heat. "I'm not looking, I promise."

She almost tells him that she doesn't care if he looks, that only moments ago, she was fantasizing about how he would react. But she understands his need to clarify he's not taking advantage of her. Despite all his annoyances, Ash is a gentleman and a kind soul.

With her t-shirt finally on, she sits down on the bed so she can pull on her shorts. And then, as quickly as it began, the whole ordeal is over, and she's sitting on her bed wondering what just happened.

"Do you need anything else before you go to bed?" Ash sits down beside her, his head slightly tilted.

Without thinking twice, she leans forward and wraps her arms around him, sinking slightly into his chest. "No, but thank you. I really appreciate your help."

She closes her eyes and leans into his chest, breathing in the scent that is just so Ash it makes her chest ache. She can hear his heart racing, and her chest flutters with excitement about the effect she has on him.

"Of course," he replies, his voice shaky as he breathes out. "I'll just wait here until you fall asleep, just in case you need anything."

She nods but doesn't let go. Ash doesn't seem to mind, and he gently pulls her hair loose from her ponytail before trailing his hand across her hair and down to her back. His hand glides up and down her back, the repetitive motion instantly calming her. Before she knows it, she's fighting to keep her eyes open and manages to fight off sleep just long enough to be aware of Ash tucking her into bed.

A jolt of pain wakes her sometime in the middle of the night, and her eyes fly open to assess her surroundings. It only takes her a few seconds to realize the painkillers have worn off, and it's her arm that's throbbing because she's resting it at a weird angle.

She tries to reposition her arm but is quickly distracted by the small puffs of air blowing in her face and the person with their arm draped across her waist. She smiles as she watches him sleep peacefully, his hair falling across his face and his t-shirt bunched up just enough to expose a sliver of smooth skin.

Despite the pain and the whole ordeal of the day, she lets herself drift off to sleep with Ash securely beside her, and, for a moment, everything is wonderfully perfect.