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Chapter Text

Ash and Misty fancied a lazy Sunday. 

Training his Pokémon had been Ash’s joy and lifeblood for most of his life. But at twenty-five, even he found he could use a break now and then, so Sundays like this were always welcomed.

Similarly, living alone had been Misty’s dream for as long as she could remember, but after tasting what it was like to live with the love of her life, she predictably preferred to always have his company, preferably for the whole day without any disturbances. Hence, a Sunday was the perfect opportunity to become the centre of his attention.

When Ash was home from one of his trips, like he was this week, he’d ease into the weekdays with slow mornings. A bit of running with his pokemon in the woods and some light training, and when he came back to his house in the outskirts of Cerulean City, he’d find his wife had already departed for the Cerulean gym to train with her pokemon and to do other chores. She’d always leave a little note on the fridge under the Politoed fridge magnet— sometimes a Polaroid selfie, if she was being generous. He’d stare at the selfie with a goofy smile before starting with breakfast. 

He never liked cooking in his early years of life, but after traveling alone forced him to learn to cook if he wanted to stay alive, he’d managed to learn a few simple recipes. It was still better than anything Misty tried to cook. Though he would never dare to admit that in front of his wife or his mom, who would scold him for even teasing Misty about it. She favored his wife in every little banter with Ash, saying Misty was the daughter she always wanted. Misty obviously loved that.

Breakfast at home was better than breakfast during his travels, not just because he’d get a kitchen countertop full of appliances and electricity, but also because once he was finished with whatever he had managed to cook, he’d bounce happily towards the Cerulean Gym and force Misty to eat with him. 

“This is so good,” Misty would usually gush with starry eyes, and Ash would, with excitement, prepare himself for the reward— a kiss on the cheek if Misty was still tired, a peck on the lips if Ash was too eager, a long kiss if Misty felt generous, and if they were both energetic in the morning, well, let’s just say Misty opened the gym a bit late on those days.

But after that, to the gym leader’s disappointment, her husband would either just go back to train with his pokemon or go on a quest to finish the tasks that the league had probably been expecting to be finished days ago. Even with the Master status, some things would stay the same after all. 

Sundays were different, though. 

Just like this Sunday.

The break of dawn felt more like midnight for the two of them after the inevitable entwinement and more they’d found themselves wrapped up in the night before. When the sun finally rose higher in the sky, it didn’t find them nestled sweetly in each other’s arms, or spooning with cinematic grace the way Misty used to daydream about as a teenager.

No, they were a mess. Limbs tangled in every direction, sheets half-kicked off the bed, hair mussed from sleep, and something that was the best welcome gift Ash could ask for. Misty’s leg was thrown over Ash’s hip, and his leg somehow over her other leg like a sandwich, one of his arms tucked under her back at a strange angle, and their fingers had somehow found each other in the chaos. More wrestling than resting.

Misty woke up first, purring and groaning at her husband, whose heavy leg was draped over her like a weighted blanket that wouldn’t let her move. Her cotton shorts and one of Ash’s old tees were creased and half-twisted from the way Ash and Misty tended to sleep. Her hair, predictably, was a wild mess. Unlike Ash’s, whose unruly bedhead somehow added to his charm. He always looked like he'd just come from some windswept mountaintop, even after sleep. Misty looked like she’d been in a fight with a Lickitung and lost.

She tried to wiggle out of Ash’s web of limbs, but Ash stirred at the movement, slithering an arm around her waist and pulling her closer with a sleepy grunt. 

She knew he wasn’t fully asleep— he often pretended just to cuddle for a few extra moments in the mornings. Misty would’ve protested, had he not been away so much lately... and if it wasn’t a Sunday. So instead, she smiled, brushing his cheek and scratching lightly at his scalp—the way he liked—until his lips twitched into a lazy smile and he gave up the act.

“Good morning, love,” she said, and Ash scooted even closer, face burying itself into the crook of her neck with a sigh of pure contentment. She closed her eyes, knowing he’d take his time now. 

His breath was warm against her neck, right over the mark he’d left there the night before. She kept caressing his hair despite knowing it made him fall asleep. Moments passed, and her hands slid down, making their way towards his ear. Tracing a path she remembered too well, her fingers now travelled from his ear to the back of his neck, then his shoulder, and finally his waist, halting there, moving in circles just to tease him.

he smiled victoriously as he finally raised his head with a sleepy smile and looked at her with half-lidded eyes. “Good mornin’,” he mumbled with a smile in that husky-morning voice she loved. 

She smiled back, her expression enough of an invitation for him to lean in and kiss her.

Morning kisses were her favorites. Weekday mornings were usually rushed, interrupted by alarms, duties, schedules, and the kisses would only leave them with a desire for more. But Sundays? The desire for more was the reality.

The kisses turned into something deeper, something that made the bedsheets crease with every move, clothes hanging precariously from the edge of the bed, and their hair an even bigger mess than when they’d woken up. That fantastical, grounding feeling followed that left their souls stretched out and satisfied. 

When they finally collapsed back against the mattress, tangled and warm, laughter replaced the heat. Giggles and quiet kisses, whispered teasing and tickling fingers. They lay cocooned in each other under, the soft sunlight peeking through sheer curtains.

Eventually, Misty let out a dramatic sigh. “It’s finally time to get up.”

Ash groaned in protest and nuzzled into her neck again, but they both knew that they’d squeezed every golden drop from the morning, and the rest of the day would come with its own kind of joy.

Feeding their pokemon was the first thing they did. As trainers, the norm made sense that Ash fed his pokemon and Misty fed hers, but it never translated well in practice. Because in reality, they could never guess which of their pokemon were in the mood to play with whom. 

Their teams had grown used to the idea that both of them were in charge, and no one followed the feeding chart exactly. Pikachu, affectionately known as “Ash-magnet” by their friends, often switched sides mid-breakfast, depending on his mood or Misty’s snacks. Ash would mock-pout whenever Pikachu took Misty’s side in an argument, but at this point, it was second nature. He teased her Starmie constantly for not even having a face, but was still the one splashing around with it on picnic days. Their Pokémon liked them both equally, which made mornings quicker, if not always calmer. 

Breakfast, unlike the clock-bound rush of weekdays, happened whenever the feeding was done. Today, that meant nine o’clock.

“I’m making pancakes,” Ash announced with the kind of confidence usually reserved for battle declarations.

Misty would admit she was disappointed, but not for the reasons someone might assume. “Are you sure?” she asked, twirling a strand of her hair as she watched him rifle through the fridge.

He shrugged. “Course, Mist. I can totally pull it off.” He was already stacking ingredients beside her like he was participating in some kind of culinary contest.

Misty sighed at her husband’s obliviousness, which she found cute at times when he acted dumb in front of anyone hitting on him. 

She hopped up onto the counter, legs swinging as she tried again. “But... maybe we can eat outside today, so you don’t have to make anything at all.” Her voice softened, turning just a little sultry. “I was planning on taking a long bath.” She stretched out her legs slowly, letting one graze the other with deliberate ease.

He snickered, his nose high with confidence. “I’ll make such good pancakes that you’ll forget about that overpriced brunch place you love.” He placed the ingredients beside her, examining them for any expiration dates.

She rolled her eyes. “Okay, but I’m planning to take a long bath, Ash,” she repeated, putting extra weight on long.

“Sure, Misty!” he said brightly, still missing the point. “They’ll be ready before you're out!”

Right. Her mistake for forgetting how gloriously dense her husband could be. Sighing, she hopped off the counter, padded over behind him as he reached up for a pan, and slipped her arms around his waist. Her hands slid under his shirt, cool fingers finding warm skin. 

“Oh, my brilliant Pokemon Master,” she whispered in the back of his ear, her thumbs softly circling the skin of his pelvic area. “Just join me for the bath, for Arceus’ sake.”

Which finally rang the bell in his head, prompting him to drop everything and stand straight. “Oh!” he said, spinning to face her with a grin. “We can definitely go out to eat.”

She giggled, kissing him on the nose. “Idiot.”

He followed her as they walked toward the bathroom, her fingers tangled in his, their bickering trailing behind.

“Had I not spelled it out, you’d really be making pancakes right now.”

“Ah, c’mon. It would’ve taken me just a few more minutes to figure out. It’s you who’s impatient.”

“Really?”

“Yup. Can’t resist my sexy butt, can you?”

“Sure I can.”

“Can’t.”

“Can.”

“Why you blushing then?”

“Shut up.”

The door clicked shut behind them, and what followed was an hour full of soft splashes, echoes of laughter, quiet chatter, and that unmistakable, low hum of intimacy that made up for every missed morning and late-night call they’d had over the past month.

When the hour ended, they came out glowing, but not just the kind that comes after being soaked up in the water. Their pokemon knew better than to disturb them in those moments, so when the two finally got dressed and came out of their room, it was only then that Pikachu climbed up on Ash’s shoulder and chirped a happy ‘Kaa!’ telling them he was also ready for the day. 

Another thing that the Ketchums liked about Sundays was the lunches. On any other day, Misty would just grab a salad takeaway from a place near her gym and eat in her car. When Ash was not travelling, they’d try to have a thirty-minute lunch together as much as possible, which was less often given how busy Misty was with the trainers flocking in. So, a Sunday where they could eat together? Bliss.

Last Sunday, Ash had just returned home the night before, and Misty planned a cute picnic by the river. She wanted to keep it aesthetically pleasing, hoping to even take some pictures with the new camera she had bought. She wore a baby-blue and white plaid, flowy sundress, and laid out an outfit for Ash of her choice. A nice pair of white pants and a matching baby blue button-down shirt. 

Ash? He had other plans. He had recently bought a bright orange Charmander-themed hoodie. The hood of it was the face of Charmander— he was in love with it and wanted to wear it just in case the paparazzi wanted to click pictures. Misty found it morbidly ugly. 

“But we’d match so well!” she complained as her husband flexed the huge pockets of the hoodie, claiming it would fit half of Pikachu.

“But Mist,” he said with a lopsided grin, “look at this!” He turned around to reveal the back of the hoodie; a print of charmander’s tail with the bright red and yellow flames on the tip.

She scoffed. “I’ve never seen anything uglier.”

“Aww, c’mon!” he whined. “It was pretty expensive!”

“Ash! You got scammed, then! I’ve seen better hoodies being sold in a clearance sale!”

He smirked. “You’re just jealous I look this good in it.” 

“Take it off.”

“No.”

“Take it off, Ash!” She reached for the hood and slid it back, revealing his hair pointing in all directions.

He simply grabbed the hood and slid it on with an evil smirk on his face. “No.”

“Take. It. Off.” Misty’s glare was enough. Anyone else would’ve given in under her wrath.

But Ash was not just someone else. He stepped closer to the redhead and leaned closer to her face. “But this is more practical.”

Her stare remained unchanged. “And how’s that, Mr. Pokemon Master?”

“I’m eventually gonna feel hot in this weather.”

Call it the perks of knowing your wife’s weakness of seeing him shirtless under the sun, which she hadn’t been able to for a whole month. It was an easy win for Ash. 

Anyways.

Ash and Misty loved Sunday lunches. 

Today, though, after a fun brunch at Misty’s favorite place, they slumped on the couch and watched a movie, in the middle of which they fell into a coma-like nap.

When Misty opened her eyes, she stood up in panic, and Ash groaned at her suddenly going missing from under his arm.

“What’s wrong?” he asked grumpily.

“We forgot to do the dishes for the last two days. And do laundry. And I had to call the gym-badge maker.” She counted it all, her eyebrows furrowed. Which woke Ash up from the hand-numbing nap.

“It’s like,” he turned his head to check the time on the wall clock, “just two pm.”

“And we have so much to do!” She turned to face him, her face pink.

Well, Sundays could also mean panicking over all the chores Ash and Misty had procrastinated all week. Okay, mostly Misty, because Ash procrastinated all the time without panicking. Misty lived in a carefully organized mental planner, where tasks had invisible timers, and each one unchecked was a loose thread threatening to unravel the whole day. Ash, on the other hand, could let the world fall apart and still find a way to nap through it.

They started with dishwashing, refusing the help of their Pokémon, a decision made after the last incident, where Psyduck had knocked over a stack of plates while trying to “help,” and Pikachu shocked everything that was soaked in water. Three dishes were sacrificed, and Misty still mourned her favorite coffee mug.

“This time,” she said, sleeves rolled up and an apron tied firmly around her waist, “no helpful paws or flippers.”

Ash saluted dramatically. “Aye-aye, Captain.”

They worked side by side in a rhythm built from years of quiet companionship. Ash washed; Misty dried. Occasionally, they’d bump elbows or get splashed with water, and Misty would playfully threaten retaliation with the spray nozzle. Ash, of course, dared her to do it and yelped when she actually did.

Next came laundry, a mountain of it, all gathered into two overflowing baskets Misty had labeled his and hers, though half of Ash’s shirts were technically hers by this point.

“Why do you own five versions of the same shirt?” she asked, holding up a black tee with a lightning bolt design that Pikachu had chewed on at some point.

“Because they all feel different,” Ash replied, completely serious. “And you steal some of them.”

Once the laundry was in the machine, Misty took a deep breath and finally called the badge-maker, a somewhat grumpy artisan who carved her gym badges by hand. She'd been putting it off for days.

“Cerulean Gym, Misty speaking,” she chirped into the phone.

“Ah, good,” came the gruff voice. “I was just about to leave town. If you want the new batch of badges before next week, you'll need to pick them up today.”

Misty glanced at Ash, who was currently arguing with Pikachu about which laundry detergent smelled better.

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” she said, grabbing her purse.

The badge run was uneventful, unless you counted Ash making snarky comments about their “boring adult transportation choice.”

“My Dragonite could’ve gotten us there in five minutes,” he muttered as they pulled out of the driveway.

“You can take Dragonite,” Misty replied, speeding up the car, “but only if it promises not to land in someone’s flower garden again.”

Ash grumbled, clutching on the seatbelt, well aware of his wife’s fast yet somehow safe driving (which he loved, being the adventure-loving person he was). Misty turned up the music just to set the atmosphere.

They picked up the badges, grabbed a pastry or two from a bakery nearby, and returned home by five.

Ash, naturally, slumped onto the couch as soon as they entered, Pikachu hopping onto his stomach like a plush toy reclaiming its rightful throne.

Ash stretched an arm lazily across the back of the couch and exhaled, watching soft evening light spill across the living room floor. It wasn’t the adventure of a far-off region or a new badge to chase, yet this kind of Sunday spent with his wife was its own kind of victory.

Misty plopped down beside him, the cushion shifting under her weight. She rested her head against the backrest, arms limp at her sides.

“Why are Sundays so short?” she groaned, closing her eyes.

Ash let out a tired grunt of agreement. “I’m leaving for the week tomorrow.”

“I hate that part,” she muttered.

“I know,” he said, gently bumping her shoulder with his. “Me too.”

They sat there for a long moment in silence. Being apart sucked, no matter how much Ash loved travelling and Misty loved battling. If they were apart, if they were not getting a good-morning kiss or a polaroid selfie, at least one meal together and a good amount of cuddles, the day just felt incomplete. Pikachu shifted slightly, nestled between them now, letting out a sleepy little chirp.

Misty reached across to scratch behind Pikachu’s ear, then glanced over at Ash.

“Did we fold the laundry?”

Ash sighed. “Let’s just sit for a few minutes before even thinking of it.”

Misty smirked. “You’re so lucky I like your stupid face.”

“That’s what I keep telling people.” He grinned. 

She leaned over to kiss him. 

Ash turned his head slightly toward her, not quite catching her lips but close enough to feel the warmth linger. “That wasn’t a real kiss,” he mumbled.

Misty raised a brow. “Was too.”

He leaned in, still lazily reclined, eyes half-lidded. “If it didn’t make me forget what we were talking about, it doesn’t count.”

“Oh, is that the metric now?” she teased, crawling over just enough to swing one leg across his lap, straddling him comfortably as Pikachu made a disgruntled sound and hopped off to the nearby armchair.

“Better,” Ash said with a grin, resting his hands on her hips. “Now I’m definitely forgetting something.”

“The laundry?” she offered.

“What laundry?”

She laughed, and for a moment neither of them said anything, just gazed at each other in the hush of early evening, sunlight catching the tips of Misty's hair. Her fingers played absently with the collar of his shirt.

“I’ll miss this,” she admitted softly.

“Me, too,” he said, and he wasn’t smiling now, just looking at her like he was trying to memorize every inch of her face. It was a bit similar to the look of determination he had during battles, but it was also similar to the look only Misty knew he gave at certain times when the two of them were alone. “Every time I’m away,” he said, his hands on her hips, making their way on her waist. “I think about a moment like this. Us on our couch, you in my lap, probably poking at me about chores that I know I should be doing.”

Misty gave a quiet laugh, and her thumb brushed along his jaw.

“I wish I could come with you more,” she said. 

“Oh, it’d be so fun,” he smiled.

Her eyes softened. “Maybe next time.”

They both knew it was the kind of conversation that was meant to end up in something more sensual. Despite the banter, the friendly nature of their marriage, and being with each other for as long as they have been, the magnetic pull was still strong. Ash’s mind still short-circuited over a kiss from Misty, Misty’s knees still went weak at the sound of his husky voice, and he’d still pull her into a kiss like there was still a part of her he wanted to discover. 

They had closed their eyes as the heat grew. He tilted his head a bit, deepening the kiss as their tongues met. 

She made a soft sound against his mouth when his hand slipped under the hem of her shirt, his calloused fingers brushing along her waist, light and familiar. It sent a shiver up her spine. He smiled into the kiss, smug and teasing, and she nipped his lower lip in retaliation.

“You always start something right before I have to leave,” he murmured against her mouth, knowing fully well they were both equally responsible for initiating this.

“Maybe I like sending you off distracted,” she whispered, voice barely more than breath, lips brushing his again.

When they finally pulled apart again, Misty rested her forehead against his. “We still have to fold the laundry,” she whispered.

Ash groaned. “Can’t I bribe you with another kiss?”

“I said I like your stupid face, not that I do chores for it.”

“You’re brutal.”

“I’m married to you. It’s a survival instinct.”

His answer was to pull her back in, hungrier now. Their mouths moved in sync, heated and open, teeth clashing slightly in the way they always did when things got desperate. His hand moved to cup her jaw, tilting her face just the way he liked, his thumb brushing her cheek like she was something precious, even as he kissed her like he was starving.

Misty let herself sink into him, one leg curling around his thigh, her body arching into his. The couch creaked under the shifting weight, Pikachu wisely hopping off with a squeak of protest and relocating to the other room.

Ash pulled back just a little, lips swollen, breath uneven. His eyes flicked to hers, dark with something heavy and wanting.

“We don’t have to fold the laundry,” Misty offered breathily.

“I agree,” Ash whispered, pulling her back in.

Sundays, after all, were the day the Ketchums fancied the most.

__________________________________________________

The scent of something sweet and just a little burned pulled Misty from sleep.

She blinked at the light pouring in from the living room and rolled onto her side, instinctively reaching across the bed only to find the space beside her empty, but still warm. A note sat on the pillow in Ash’s handwriting, barely legible and slightly smudged with—was that jam?

“Didn’t want to wake you. Burned one pancake, made three more. They’re on the counter. Left you a Polaroid. Check the fridge. I’ll call when I get there. Love you always. – A (and Pikachu)”

She smiled to herself and hugged the pillow a little tighter.

In the kitchen, the pancakes were stacked on a plate. Next to them sat a tall glass of juice with a straw in it because Ash insisted juice tasted better through a straw. 

A Polaroid held in place on the fridge by a magnet shaped like a Poké Ball.

It was Ash and Pikachu, both grinning wildly, Ash shirtless with bed hair and flour still on his jaw, holding a half-burnt pancake up like a trophy. He had scrawled on the bottom of the photo with a marker:

“Bet this still makes you smile, Mrs. Ketchum.”

It did.

She didn’t bother putting on a robe, just took her plate, sat cross-legged at the kitchen table, and ate slowly as psyduck popped out of his pokeball and stared at her with his thoughtless, loving eyes. She was glad to have his company. 

Monday mornings used to be harder when Ash and Misty were younger. She used to dread them, the start of another long week, another stretch of responsibilities, while he used to hate waking up early and doing chores. Now, they were just another rhythm in the life Misty and Ash had made together, because she knew that Sunday would come again.

And so would he.

Chapter Text

“That is bullshit,” Ash grumbled.

Misty raised an eyebrow at him. “Excuse me?”

So she really was gonna walk away, which Ash clearly did not like. He was enjoying the cuddles more than he could dare to admit. 

After a week of travel, training, and sleeping in tents or tiny Pokémon Centers, Misty’s lap and the feeling of her fingers in his hair felt like home. When he returned home after a week this morning, he was delighted when his wife jumped on him to give him a big, warm hug. 

Maybe they could get a bit clingy— as their friends had previously pointed out on multiple occasions— but in their defence, they also spent a lot of time apart, and they were merely making up for that time as much as they could. 

Now, freshly showered and finally out of his dusty travel clothes, when Ash came out of the room, he found Misty all ready to go to the gym.  

“Oh, good, you’re ready,” she said, snatching her purse and keys from the table.

Ash blinked as she moved around the living room, stuffing things into her purse like she was already running five minutes late. As she turned away to zip the bag, he couldn’t resist walking behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her gently back against him. Her top had risen slightly, and the soft warmth of her bare skin against his hands made his heart do a little flip. Misty smiled, but continued to pack her purse. Ash, lost in the familiar scent of her coconut shampoo, leaned in and buried his face into the side of her neck, letting her hair tickle his face. 

Misty responded with a giggle, her fingers reaching back automatically to brush through his hair, scratching his scalp with the practiced ease of someone who knew exactly how to melt him in seconds.

“I’ll get late, Ash,” she said, unable to resist a smile.

“Can I come with you today?” 

She turned slightly to look at him over her shoulder, eyebrow arched. “To the gym?”

Ash nodded against her neck. “Mhm. I’ve got nothing scheduled. No meetings, no battles. Just me and you.”

“And a bunch of challengers,” she replied with a smirk.

Ash grimaced. “Still sounds better than you leaving me behind.”

“Well,” she said with a teasing smile, “it wouldn’t hurt to have a hot guy hanging around me. It’ll make Saturday easier.”

“I’m more than a cute piece of butt, you know.”

And that was how Ash ended up in the Cerulean gym for the day. 

Ash had been to dozens of gyms throughout his life, but there was something entirely different about being at Cerulean Gym, beside Misty, not as a challenger or a mentor, but simply as her partner, quietly sharing her world for a few hours.

They started with feeding the Pokémon, a familiar rhythm that Misty moved through with the ease of someone who had done it a thousand times, her hands moving confidently between the buckets of pellets and trays of poke-food, her voice soft but clear as she greeted each pokémon like an old friend. Ash followed her lead, more than willing to play assistant, even as he found himself dodging a particularly energetic Marill who seemed to think his hat was part of the meal.

After feeding, they moved to warm-ups. Misty led the larger Pokémon through swimming drills in the deeper pools while Ash crouched beside the smaller tanks, helping the young ones stretch and roll and hop across the markers Misty had laid out the night before. Now and then, she’d call out a tip or offer a correction to one of the pokemon, and Ash would catch the smile in her voice that she used when she was fully in her element, confident and focused.

As the morning progressed, the first trainer of the day challenged the gym, which made Ash more excited than anyone else present there. 

The trainer instantly recognised him.

“A–Ash Ketchum?” she asked, starry-eyed.

“That’s me!” Ash flashed her a wide grin, feeling giddy to be appreciated in front of his wife. He always liked Misty’s validation. 

Misty didn’t miss the extra half-inch of height he stood with, or the way he subtly checked her reaction out of the corner of his eye.

She rolled her eyes fondly.

She knew Ash had always liked being admired, especially when Misty was watching. Even back when they were kids, he'd puff up whenever someone complimented him within earshot of her. It had only gotten more obvious over the years.

Still, the trainer blinked at him again, nervously clutching her Poké Ball. “Wait... you’re really here? Like, just casually?”

Ash shrugged, trying not to sound too proud. “Helping out for the day. But don’t worry, I’m just here to cheer from the sidelines. You’re here for Misty.”

The trainer turned to Misty like she was seeing her for the first time, eyes widening again. “Oh! Right…of course. I mean, I knew that, I just... wow.”

Misty smiled, used to this exact reaction by now. “Don’t worry. He’s just here for moral support and towel duty.”

Ash pretended to look offended. “And snack duty. And moral superiority.”

“Not in my gym,” Misty said under her breath, but she was already heading to her side of the arena, hair tied up, voice commanding.

Ash took a seat at the edge of the pool, Pikachu curling beside him, and settled in to watch, not just the battle, but her. The gorgeous gym leader of Cerulean City, with her flaming red hair and bright eyes. The way she moved, the quiet authority, the grace in how she called her commands and trusted her Pokémon. He could have watched her battle every day for the rest of his life and still never gotten tired of it. 

Between him and his heart, her wearing a swimsuit had always been a bonus. Ever since they were teens. Back then, it had made him flustered and weirdly quiet, too embarrassed to look her in the eye and too proud to admit why. Now? It just made him smile like a fool and remind himself, yet again, that somehow, this woman had married him.

Watching her like this, strong and brilliant and just a little bit terrifying in the best possible way, made him fall for her all over again.

He reached down to scratch behind Pikachu’s ear, eyes never leaving the arena. “You think I’ve got a shot with her?” he whispered.

Pikachu snorted. “Ka!”

As the day progressed, more trainers showed up.

The battle with a twenty-something trainer wrapped up just past noon, and the gym was quiet again. Misty offered the trainer a few kind words and sent the trainer on his way with a fresh badge, a Gatorade, and a full tank of confidence.

Ash stood as the doors closed behind the trainer, stretching his arms over his head with a satisfied sigh. “You crushed that,” he said, already walking over. “That last round? Gorgeous, ruthless. I got chills.”

Misty smirked, flicking sweat-damp hair off her forehead. “I know.”

Given that no more trainers were lined up to challenge her, she collapsed onto the bleachers near the edge of the pool and patted the space beside her. Ash didn’t hesitate, sliding in close, throwing his arm around her shoulders.

For a few quiet moments, they just breathed together, her head resting on his shoulder, his thumb tracing small, absent circles on the outside of her knee. Pikachu napped near their feet. The air smelled like chlorine, cotton, and Misty’s shampoo. It was perfect.

Then, Misty sat up.

Ash’s heart dropped a little. “Nooo,” he moaned dramatically. “Don’t get up, we were cuddling.”

She laughed. “I know, but I want to get in a quick workout before more trainers show up.”

He blinked at her. “Workout? You just had a battle, and you swam for hours this morning. What kind of hyperactive schedule are you on? And what about lunch? I’m hungry!”

Misty was already stretching her arms overhead. “It’s just a light one. I’m trying to build curves.”

Ash squinted at her. “What?”

She glanced down, completely casual, gesturing to her chest. “You know. Curves.”

He blinked again. “That’s... That is bullshit.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Excuse me?”

Ash turned fully toward her, hands gesturing wildly now. “You don’t need curves. You are curves. You’re a literal goddess. Your body makes statues insecure. Do you understand how hard it is for me not to stare at you all day? You’re perfect. Unfairly perfect. The mom from the Pokémart billboard has nothing on you.”

“You are so full of shit,” Misty rolled her eyes.

“But I’m also right.”

She rolled her shoulders, stretching her neck. “And I am working out.”

“Okay, but counterpoint, you could not work out, and we could cuddle instead. Revolutionary, I know.” 

Misty tried to suppress her grin. “Ash.”

“I mean it! You think I care about whatever muscle group you're targeting? You walk past me in pajama shorts, and I forget my name.”

She snorted. “You’re such a disaster.”

“I’m your disaster,” he said with a proud little smile.

Misty grabbed her towel and walked towards the mat in the corner of the gym. “Well, this disaster can either watch or join.”

Ash groaned again but stayed planted. “I was promised cuddles.”

“No one promised you anything,” she called over her shoulder.

Ash leaned back on the bench, arms crossed, clearly pouting. “Unbelievable. Denied cuddles and forced to witness my wife squatting in front of me like it’s not a direct attack on my willpower.”

Misty dropped to the mat and started into her first round of stretches.

Ash tried not to look.

He failed.

She arched into a cat-cow stretch, and Ash swallowed hard.

“Okay. Okay. I take it back,” he said, leaning back as if it was the start of some movie. “This is fine. I support you. I respect your goals. I deeply respect your form.”

Misty glanced over her shoulder, half annoyed, half entertained. “Ash, stop narrating!”

“I’m just saying. You’re out here doing war crimes with your hips.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re—” he paused as she moved into her first round of squats—“gonna make me pass out.”

Misty flushed, turning back around sharply. “If you faint, I’m leaving you on the floor.”

Ash stretched out across the bleachers with a dreamy sigh. “That’s fine. Just know I died happy.”

She shook her head, lips twitching with amusement.

After the last set of the last exercise, Misty flopped onto the mat beside her towel, chest rising and falling, hairline damp.

Ash appeared beside her a moment later, dropping a cold bottle of water onto her stomach and then lying down next to her on the gym floor.

“So?” she asked between breaths.

“Still think curves are bullshit,” he muttered. “But damn if the process isn’t fun to watch.”

She smacked him with the towel. “Stop being dirty-minded.”

He caught it, laughing. “Now can we cuddle?”

Misty rolled her eyes, but turned her body toward him anyway.

“Five minutes,” she said.

Ash was already pulling her close. “Deal.”

They lay there in the quiet hum of the gym, the filtered water gurgling faintly in the background, their bodies warm and just a little sore. Pikachu had curled up beside them again, one paw draped lazily over Ash’s shoe.

Ash didn’t ease into the cuddle; he claimed it.

He dragged her into his arms with a sigh that sounded more like a groan of relief, tucking his face into the crook of her neck like he needed the contact, like he’d been running on fumes all week and could finally breathe now that he had her skin against his.

Misty let out a soft “oof,” startled by the sudden weight of him, but didn’t resist. One of his legs tangled with hers; his hand splayed over her hip.

“Okay,” she murmured, a little breathless, “you really did miss me.”

He didn’t answer. Just buried his nose deeper into her shoulder and let his grip tighten.

His breathing was heavier than it had been during her workout. Like all the restraint he’d practiced in public had worn off the second she gave him permission to touch her.

Her fingers found the back of his neck, tracing the short hairs there, and only then did he move, lifting his head just enough to kiss her collarbone, slow and firm, no teasing this time.

“You smell like gym mats and coconut,” he muttered.

“And probably sweat too,” she joked, half smiling, wondering how her husband could even want to cuddle after she had just worked out.

But she didn’t protest. Honestly, this was something she missed too– his impulsiveness, the kind of rough affection that didn’t ask permission because it already knew it was welcome. The way he clung to her like she was gravity itself, as if his whole body had been wound tight from travel and nights without her, and now he finally got to exhale.

She missed the way he paid attention to her like she was the only thing in the room. The compliments that were ridiculous half the time and embarrassingly sincere the rest. The way his hands always found her waist, or the spot behind her ear he liked to caress at times like these.

But more than that, she missed being wanted like this. Wanted and known and held all at once.

So she let him stay like that, draped over her, arms around her waist, and face tucked against her neck. She let her hand slide under his shirt to rest against his back, fingertips dragging lightly across skin that was warm and just a little damp from the heat of the gym.

“You okay?” she murmured.

Ash nodded into her throat. “Just... gimme a minute.”

She closed her eyes. “Take two.”

Both of them thanked the legendaries for not sending another challenger to interrupt the moment they’d been waiting for the whole week. Neither of them wanted to let go, until Ash’s stomach made a sound Misty was too familiar with.

It was only then that Misty shifted.

“Okay, cuddle time’s up. You’re starving.”

Ash blinked. “I am?”

She gave him a flat look. 

Ash sat up slowly, his stomach suddenly making a dramatic growl that confirmed it. “Oh, right. I am hungry.”

“Go get takeout,” she said, nudging him with her foot. “Your favorite place is open.”

“You mean our favorite place,” he corrected, standing and stretching with a dramatic yawn. “Be back in twenty, with extra dumplings.”

“Don’t forget the sauce this time,” Misty called after him.

“I never forget the sauce,” he called back, already halfway out the gym doors with Pikachu trotting behind him.

He definitely would forget the sauce, but she’d forgive him anyway.