Title taken from Cinque, dieci, venti, a duet from The Marriage of Figaro, in which a man measures a bridal bed in preparation for his marriage. Inspired by a preview at the end of SM15 subbed, in which Jessie requests a bed for the secret base and James declares that he'll build one for her.

It needs to be perfect.

Frowning slightly, James scrubs out a few lines with his eraser, then squints at his unfinished design. The sun is directly overhead now, making it difficult to focus even under the beach umbrella. He rolls his shoulders back a few times to stretch, then carefully redraws the lines.

There, that's better.

The structure needs to be at least seven feet long, and probably almost as wide. Large enough to accommodate two adults of above-average height, a small but restless cat, and a blue balloon pokémon prone to talking in his sleep. James supposes they'll sleep in their usual configuration: Jessie on the right, himself on the left, and Meowth sandwiched between them. Wobbuffet will likely want to be as close to his "mother" as possible, so the design will have to allow for some extra space on the right side of the mattress. For the frame, a fallen acacia koa he'd spotted a half-mile from Bewear's cave will do nicely. For the mattress stuffing, he'll collect pikipek feathers. According to his guidebook, the woodpecker pokémon will soon begin molting in preparation for their evolution into trumbeak.

"Here! Pass it here!"

"Wobbuffet!"

"Pipe down, will ya?!"

James smiles as he continues his work, hearing the distant voices of his little family. Jessie, Wobbuffet, and Mareanie are frolicking in the surf, tossing a large white beach ball back and forth. Meowth floats on an inflatable raft a bit further out, sunglasses on and paws folded neatly on his furry stomach. Mimikyu skulks on the beach a few feet away from the umbrella, clicking ominously and pushing sand into little piles. James tries to ignore the pokémon's frightening voice, and instead focuses on Wobbuffet's exuberant cries and Jessie's screams of laughter. His heartbeat quickens at the sound of her voice, audible even over the winds and the tides.

In Alola, Jessie is happier than he's ever seen her. She's still assertive and fiery, but he hasn't sensed desperation in her voice or detected loneliness in her eyes since they made their home in the island paradise. She's more likely to be affectionate with Wobbuffet and to joke with Meowth, and she's made friends with Mareanie, despite the initial animosity between them. Startlingly, Jessie has even allowed him to take the lead on a few missions... and in another arena as well. James bites his lip, remembering yesterday's moonlit tryst, her moans of pleasure, the imprint of his fingertips lingering on her thighs.

Perhaps Jessie is happy because she knows now that I am hers and she is mine.

He flushes guiltily, berating himself for the thought. Though the tenderness in his partner's blue eyes tells him everything he needs to know, Jessie is still reluctant to put her feelings into words. James won't rush her. He'll continue to show her in every word and action how much he adores her, and someday soon, she'll be ready too.

"Are you going to join us, or are you going to waste the whole day on that silly sketchbook?" He lifts his head from his design at the teasing words, and can't suppress a gasp. The pokémon continue their game in the surf, but Jessie has left the water and is now standing before him in her simple black bikini. She wrings out her wet hair, causing rivulets of seawater to roll down her pale curves. Jessie is some ocean goddess come to captivate and claim him, and James is utterly helpless before her.

"In a minute, Jess," he manages, feeling his blush return. Jessie basks in the attention, cocking one hip to show off a little more. Her pale skin shimmers in the sunlight, water droplets sparkling like jewels. "I hope you remembered to wear sunscreen," he says, and Jessie rolls her eyes.

"You worry too much, dear," she says, crawling under the umbrella and kneeling behind him. She presses her torso flush against his back, her knees on either side of his hips. James dares to place an affectionate hand on one of her smooth thighs, and Jessie winds an arm around his waist in response, pulling him close. Her sharp chin is nestled in the crook of his neck, and tendrils of damp crimson hair soak his shirt.

"What are you working on, anyway?" she asks, peering over his shoulder at the sketched design.

James smiles sidelong at her. "It was supposed to be a surprise." She pokes him in the side, eliciting a small yelp. "Hey! All right, I'll tell you. I know I'll never hear the end of it otherwise." Jessie hums contentedly into his neck. She's always admired his talents for architecture and mechanics, especially because such pursuits have always mystified her.

"It's the bed you asked for," James admits, his voice shaky despite himself. Jessie's heart jumps in her chest. That was her James, unfailingly loyal and infinitely capable of the deepest, most enduring type of love. No one has ever taken care of her like this; she's always been too afraid to let them. But now...

She swallows, trying in vain to dispel the tightness in her throat. "Fit for a princess?" she tries to tease, but the words are choked and watery.

James lifts her left hand to his lips, pressing a kiss into her palm. "No. A queen."

"Oh, James." Jessie can't bear the moisture welling in her eyes. With gentle fingertips, she turns his head to meet hers and kisses him, the design forgotten in his lap.

Jessie tastes like lipstick and saltwater, and James can't get enough. He wonders fleetingly if Meowth is watching before he surrenders completely to the feeling of Jessie's velvet mouth on his. When her soft tongue slips past his parted lips to lick softly at his own, he melts into her embrace, tangling one hand in her damp hair. The kiss is over far too soon, and when he whines a little at the loss of contact, she chuckles and kisses him again, slow and sweet and deep.

James sucks gently at Jessie's lower lip as they pull apart, enjoying her soft moan. She pecks his cheek, then rises to her feet, brushing sand from her knees. Her cheeks are pink, and he knows it has little to do with the sun and wind. "James?" she asks, smirking.

"Yes, dear?"

"About the bed. Make sure it's sturdy." She grins at his dumbstruck expression, then turns and runs back into the surf to join the others. James can do nothing but flop onto his back under the umbrella, nearly catatonic with joy.

She'll be the death of me. But what a way to go.