While I should be completing the next chapter of my F29D story, this little tale just wouldn't get out of my head. The idea popped up while watching some an episode where they tried out being stylists or something like that (the one where way too much of Ash is revealed as he and Pikachu are dressed up in loincloths). James and Brock were just sitting there complementing each other's style and I thought they were a pretty cute couple, especially looking back on some of their other interactions where Brock doesn't realize that James is James. So, I've never written anything like this before and my basic searches didn't reward me with any James/Brock fics – though if you know of any good ones please share – so I hope I have it in me to write this so it's a good read.

Disclaimer: I own nada, especially when it concerns the world of fanficage.

~PokemonnomekoPPokemonnomekoPPokemonnomekoP~

James had only had just one other. But she was crazy and didn't care for him the way he did. And James hadn't given any emotion back besides fear and panic. Before he had met him he hadn't allowed himself to – dare he say it – love anyone. Much less anyone who happened to be the same sex as he was. Not that his relationship could be called normal. Not when they couldn't be together. Neither of them were strong enough for that, unfortunately. And they couldn't even meet in the open. James suspected that was the only thing that bothered him about his forbidden relationship. They couldn't do anything in the open because then he would lose the only friends he had ever had, besides his Pokémon. If one didn't count Meowth as a Pokémon, anyway.

No; James couldn't let that happen. Not even for love. He would sneak around, though. He was good at that. About the only thing he was good at, too, he thought. To most he seemed to be a drama queen (well, drama king) who wore his heart on his sleeve. That just went to show how good he was at sneaking. No one knew of his forbidden love. Sometimes he doubted if his only love realized just how much he did love him. But he could never tell him. No. But he would sneak out and meet him. Because that's what he was good at. Sneaking.

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Brock quickly glanced around at the camp scene and, just as fast, his attention was back on the meal he was preparing. But it wasn't really. It was on him. Like always. But he couldn't help it. Before him Brock had never really understood love, or even something as simple as attraction. His father had made sure of that. It was women or nothing in his household, and even after his father had deserted him and forced him to leave behind any remnants of his childhood to take care of his younger siblings, he had kept that lesson to heart, jumping at all woman, even though none of them would have him.

Brock had thought that was the way it supposed to be. Until he met him. Really met him. That was when Brock finally realized what attraction and love was. Sadly. But that didn't bother him. Only the time apart and the fact that neither of them were strong enough to brave the world together. Oddly enough, only apart from each other, could they feel safe in the world. That was what bugged Brock most about the relationship. The fact that he couldn't use their strength together as an excuse to tell anyone. Because together they weren't strong. Not really. But he also supposed that's probably why the hidden relationship worked. Because of its secrecy.

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Brock sat in the glade, contentedly relaxing against a boulder that still held most of the warmth from the sun shining on it the whole day. Cool grass tickled his legs, pushed by a light breeze. He was waiting. But he didn't mind waiting. He had great friends who would wait for him. Although James always claimed differently, he didn't. So Brock was the one to wait, as James was finally allowed to take his time. He never kept him waiting long, though. He was just kind that way.

And right on time a twig snapping to the left of the boulder made Brock aware of another presence. His fight or flight instinct seemed nonexistent. He knew it was only James. Brock continued to lean against the rock, waiting for James to make the first move. Again, as he rarely got to do unless he was with Brock. There was a swift rustling and Brock knew that James had sat down so that he could see Brock, but Brock couldn't see him. This was fine, too, though.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

They both meant it. Brock knew James didn't mean any of the names he called them when James was in Team Rocket and Brock was with "the twerps". But James always apologized, always on guard that Brock wouldn't know. But the short exchange was like their greeting now, and they were able to sit in a companionable silence for a while afterwards. The silence lasted as long as James was comfortable with it. Brock was okay without the control. In fact, he preferred it that way when he was with James.

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If James let the silence go on for too long he always felt like Brock was judging him during it. But if Brock ended it, as he never had, James would have felt even worse. He didn't know why. But now the silence was starting to get uncomfortable to James. He wasn't used to any quiet times unless Jessie, Meowth, and himself passed out from the hunger. But he never had to be that way with Brock, even if that's how he was. He didn't have to be.

"You were brilliant."

"So were you."

"Liar," James snorted disbelievingly. Brock always loved to fill his head with lies of how good James was. Lies that Jessie and Meowth were always willing to dispute if he ever mentioned them. Even if it was just friendly teasing, it cut him deep. His time with Brock was sacred and no one should know just how much pleasure he took from being complimented.

"I am not. Well, I may be. But never to you. Especially not when we're alone." Brock's tone was gentle, full of a patience well beyond his years.

James smiled. But only secretly. That's why he always sat behind Brock for these times. "Whatever," he replied lightly.

Brock only 'mmm'd' in reply. That brought them back into silence but James didn't mind. This time the silence wouldn't choke or strangle him. The silence didn't promise to judge him. Just like Brock never would.

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Again, Brock waited. James would make his move when he was ready. He always did. And that was one of the many reasons why Brock loved James. His ability and capacity for love and forgiveness was amazing. Much bigger than his own, really. And he was able to stare fear in the face and walk straight towards it until fear was cowering from him. Even if he couldn't see it for himself, Brock could. And that's why he admired James.

Another rustle sounded and suddenly James was beside Brock, who sat up from the rock a little. James never glanced at him, but he hesitantly leaned into his partner. Brock smiled and wrapped his arm around James' shoulder, hugging him closely. James was so cold. Unlike at Brock's camp, he had no fire. So it was up to Brock to retain his warmth just so he could pass it onto James.

Brock leaned back onto the rock, bringing a tense James with him, letting the rock share its warmth with the other man, too. Brock snuggled closer, despite the stiffness in James body – he was far too used to that by now – and laid his head upon James shoulder. James hair tickled Brock's forehead faintly and he hummed. It felt so nice to be with someone who loved him back. It felt much nicer than all the rejection he received from woman who, once upon a time, hurt him with their coldness much more than he would have liked to admit.

James slowly relaxed into him and Brock returned the favor, all the while making sure James kept the control. Brock didn't want it. He felt much safer when someone else had it, especially seeing how many times Brock ended up with it when with his friends. And that rarely turned out well. He just wanted to be taken care of. And he trusted James to do that. Just like he had in the past.

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This was always what James was most afraid of. Trusting Brock enough to lean into him and having him reject him. But he never did. He always seemed to make James warmer somehow, even though he didn't so much notice the cold anymore. Not as much as he had when he had first joined Team Rocket, in any case. But he didn't want to think about that now. It was just Brock and his time together, now, and nobody could take that away from him. He wouldn't let them.

Once his emotions had caught up mind, his body relaxed a bit. James always cursed his body for letting Brock know of his betrayal of not trusting him. Even if Brock never seemed angry. Only trusting. James always thought that it would anger him that Brock was so nice and trusting of James, but it just felt too good to feel anything but loved. Even if he was secretly angry with Brock later, for not giving him the hate he so deserved. Even if he was really just secretly angry with himself for finding it to hard to trust in love like he just might deserve to have.

And it's just in this moment that he can maybe really begin to believe that he deserves the love. It scares him, but that makes him become bolder. He always tries to take Brock by surprise, but the man knows him too well. In a stroke of rare courage James – accidentally – jerks Brock's head too roughly off his shoulders. To make up for it he immediately dives into the kiss, his hands exploring the back of Brock's head, even though he knows it so well, as his tongue cautiously explores Brock's mouth at the same time. He doesn't know why he becomes more cautious after he does the actual deed, but he furiously suspects it's because he's secretly harboring thoughts that Brock will push him away. But he never does.

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Brock knows it's coming and a surge of pride wells up in his chest at James for his immense courage, and then he's being gently munched on by James. Brock lets James lead for a few seconds, hoping he won't have to take back control here, but James steadily gets gentler and gentler, losing confidence as he goes. If Brock doesn't reply soon James will withdraw and then stalk away, and it will be days upon days that seem like forever before he gets to see James again. Brock waits for James every night, hoping he'll be there every night. He isn't, of course. Sometimes it's impossible to get away, but Brock always walks away those nights feeling like he wronged James.

And if he doesn't recognize the signs and let James know that he wants – no, needs him to stay, he will have wronged James. Just as he accidentally did their first night together. Brock has never made the same mistakes with James, though. So he gently starts to press back in James mouth, taking his time exploring the heat of his partner's mouth. He leaves one hand on the ground to steady them, the same hand that hadn't held James earlier. He doesn't deserve to soak up that much love.

But he gladly lifts his other hand to bury itself in the mess of tangles that is James hair. He didn't have time to comb it before coming, but Brock likes that. The thought of James hurrying to meet him makes him just a little euphoric. He's the only person that ever has, really. And to Brock, that's the most special gift anyone could give him. Their time beyond their love. He just doesn't get that as much as he'd like. Much less from anyone as special as James. The thought pushes Brock on and, forgetting his self-imposed punishment, brings up his other hand to wrap it around James' back, and bring him closer. Now, he needs the warmth.

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When Brock finally seems to properly reply to his ministrations, James gains more confidence, glad of Brock's reassurance. Without knowing it he takes the control back. If he realized, he'd probably stop. But he doesn't, so he keeps going with the little confidence he has. With Brock, it's enough. When Brock removes their support from the ground James pushes against Brock's pulling hands, and maneuver's them safely onto the ground. James can feel from above that the ground is a stabbing cold, but Brock doesn't acknowledge it, gripping James as hard as he dares.

James feels a flash of guilt at making Brock suffer the cold when he isn't as used to it as himself, but Brock's groan of want in his mouth makes him forget it. Brock is grabbing him close, seemingly protecting him, and it makes James feel more wanted then ever. He tries to keep his mouth glued to Brock, trying to hold back his own moans of pleasure, and goes for more. It's up to him to see that they can do this, and Brock's trust seems unwavering.

It always surprises James, and shakes him to his core. He believes that's the only reason he can gather up his courage to defile Brock in a way he may not want, no matter what Brock's body or words tells him what they want. They want him, but he can't believe it. Actually, he can't not believe it. He thinks he only does the things he does for Brock, but Brock knows he does them for himself, too. Though James has been taught to not demonstrate that kind of selfishness, it feels okay in Brock's presence.

With Brock there it's almost as if he's supposed to be a little selfish for once in his life. So, unknowingly, he is. But he never dwells on it afterwards since it's okay. He also never dwells too much on what comes after the kissing, and the ground. He'd never be able to get through the day, or nights that he forces himself to go without Brock, to give him a rest, of course, if he did. That would be too much.

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James wakes up to a familiar sight the next morning. Actually, he wakes up to a familiar sound the next morning. The sun is barely up and Jessie is already screeching away. She's screeching about him, Meowth, the twerps, their boss, the lack of food, the ungodly hour she had to wake up at, their lack of money, how far they are from a town, how they never seem to know where they are, the upcoming manual labor that always results in nothing, the cold, and how she might have broken her ribs from their blasting off two days ago. And that's just to start with. Meowth groggily catches his eyes and rolls his own. James allows himself a small smile, then turns away from the scene, keeping the smile on his face.

He rarely wears one these days. Only after his night's with Brock does he smile all morning before it's beat back out him. And he doesn't want Jessie to see. After all, if she's unhappy – as she always his – why should he be any different? He doesn't know, but he's grateful for it every second of the day. It frightens him that he almost turned into that. He would have, too, if he hadn't found Brock. His Brock, who always recognized James, even when he's in some ridiculous costume. His Brock, who can never bring himself to tell his friends that they're staring Team Rocket in the face, because if he doesn't, maybe James can escape the humiliation of yet another defeat, and the pain of the consequences.

He allows himself to soak in the smile with the memory of Brock shining in front of his eyes. Maybe this time the smile will last longer than it should – than it usually does. But then Jessie comes over and kicks him. James turns around to squint into her face, ignoring the sharp pain in the side of his stomach. It's easier now to ignore than it first was. Now he's used to it. "Isn't there something you could whip up with what we have left?" Her tone is sharp. It always is when she's hungry. As they always are.

James sighed and urged himself to get up, cowering under Jessie's glare. "I could try," he mutters, and crawls over to their meager supplies to paw through them. Nothing. He searches through his past conversations with Brock. Sometimes they talk about the unimportant things, like Brock's favorite recipes or James' favorite bottle caps. Jessie glares down at him, 'humphing' and 'hurring' every five seconds. It seems like a light bulb goes off over his head when he remembers the simple recipe. Trust Brock to save his life when he's not even around. Maybe this time the smile will last longer than it should – than it usually does. Then Jessie "accidentally" stomps – er, trod, on his foot for taking too long. Or maybe the smile won't. It never does.

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Brock is the first one awake. Just like always. He smiles indulgently at his friends (or their tents, rather) and forces himself to get up and fix breakfast. He doesn't particularly enjoy it, but it keeps his mind off other musings. The siblings he's neglecting while he's traveling to avoid his father, how Misty is doing without them, what Max and May are up to now, what Team Rocket's plans are for today, and James. Mostly James. It's just about all he can think about these days. Oddly enough, he doesn't mind.

He can hear waking sounds coming from within the tents. Ash and Dawn are both gradually getting up. He doesn't seem the type, but Ash wakes up pretty early to train most days and Dawn wakes up early so she isn't left behind. Dinner pops behind him. It's almost ready. He jumps. That was about the longest he's ever gone without James on his mind in one way or another. Those few minutes. Is it sad that he is now the one so dependant on someone?

He doesn't even know how it happened. One day he was fine by himself with just the curt rejections of all the women he was around and then James stumbled upon him contemplating with tears in his eyes. Something that day clicked when he and James, miraculously, didn't automatically up and attack each other. When James so skillfully took control and he didn't have to that day; Brock dreams about that on the nights James doesn't come to him.

But he supposes that's just all a part of handing over the control he's so used to. For some reason, he likes it. But mostly, he just likes James. No, he loves James. Even if they can't be together, he loves James, and he's pretty sure James loves him. Ash and Dawn exit their tents at the same time and give Brock a wide smile. He nods his smile back and turns off the stove. He'll save his real smile for James, but his friends will never know it. James will, though. And for now, that's enough for Brock. And if he thinks about it, that's probably enough for James, too. Which is really what they both want, whether they know it or not.

~PokemonnomekoPPokemonnomekoPPokemonnomekoP~

Phew. Not exactly what I was picturing, but when does a story ever turn out like it's supposed to. Anyway, I'm fairly pleased with it, and I hope you are too. Let me know whether you are or not with a review, please. It would be muchly appreciated. (And yes, I know muchly isn't a word.) Also, I didn't really read through this that well, so let me know how I did mistake-wise.