Because I suddenly had the idea, I decided to write a little one-shot. Never have I written a Red and Yellow one-shot before, so please bear with me.

Orange Peonies

Red closed his eyes so he could feel the breeze- it was a bit colder than usual, but he fixated his feet on the ground, his stance ready. She, just as always, would bounce up the hill where he was with a giant smile on her face, orange peonies in hand, bag bouncing with her sketchbook and whatever she picked up in the forest- and she would open her arms, nearly tackle him to the ground, and bombard him with soft kisses and tales of her adventures.

He smiled just at the thought.

She should be coming any minute, he told himself.

She was always in the Viridian Forest, always picking flowers, sketching, smiling. She was his better half, his partner-for-life, his soul mate. She was beautiful.

So, so beautiful. They had grown up together, her and him. They were always together, always defeating evil together. He loved her ever since he first laid eyes on her female form. Her determined face, her blushing face, her noble attitude towards Pokémon, everything.

He knew she was the one for a very, very long time. Okay, so maybe he was a little dense at times. He knew that- he had confused her for a boy until she took off her hat, and let those golden locks down.

Ever since then, he couldn't look her in the face without feeling some shame (and embarrassment. He couldn't remember that time without embarrassment). After an awkward period of just-friends, he finally had grown pair, bought her some yellow daffodils, and asked her if they could please just start over, have a new beginning, and would she do him the honor of going out with him? Red knew he wasn't good with words- he wasn't much of a talker. But by the way her face light up and how she blushed madly with vicious nods, he couldn't help but know he had finally said the right thing.

He had fallen in love with her, just as one falls asleep- slowly, then all at once. He couldn't help but always look at her: his eyes were never tired of her form, never tired of her. She was his everlasting sunshine, his everlasting peony.

Her straw hat, covering the top of her head, with flowers stuck into some of the holes.

Her golden hair cascading down her shoulders, caressing her covered shoulders in her long-sleeved black cotton shirt under her orange dress, the same color of her peonies, highlighting her beautiful petite form, showing off all the right places: cupping her small but perfect breasts and her jeans showing off her legs.

Her smile, so bright and beautiful, yet gentle like the spring sun: smelling always of the forest, of freedom, of flowers: her green eyes dancing like the grass in the wind, always sparkling to life and giving him their full attention every time he decided to speak.

Her love for seemingly everything- the flowers, nature, Pokémon… Her personality was exactly that of a healer's- everything she touched became draped in happiness, the healing of the heart, her presence innocent and aura uplifting. Her touch was seemingly light, like the wind, and her laugh was melodious, like birds singing, or the hum of nature during spring.

Her anger… her anger was like a violent thunderstorm. She could lift the levels of her Pokémon by sheer will, for the love of her friends or the land. She had unlimited love, and wasn't afraid of showing it. Even though she seemed to be more social with Pokémon, Red knew better. She was always waiting for the right time to show her love, and wasn't afraid of battling to protect it.

The best way Red could possibly describe her was that she was a Legendary. They were of a higher breed, a one-in-a-billion Pokémon, that were free like the wind, and every time you got close, they would slip through your fingers. But once you caught it, it was yours.

He wanted to spoil her-spoil her rotten. He always wanted the privilege of touching her, of kissing her, of being with her, and he had gotten it. Nothing, not even becoming Champion, was quite like the feeling of catching her.

He smiled at that. Catching her topped his list of great accomplishments.

Sometimes he even wondered if he deserved her. He was good-looking, sure, but wasn't as gorgeous as her. Baseball cap to hide his untamed hair, black shirt and his red jacket, black fingerless gloves, tennis shoes… He was just average. Sometimes he wished he was a little more excellent for her.

She's late, he thought. But, then again, she probably got distracted by flowers and lost track of time, or is sketching something, or just lost track of time… Again.

It was their daily ritual to meet at noon, so they could each train, or draw, or do whatever they wanted to do in the morning, and then meet so they could have their picnic in the forest. They would eat some sandwiches, have some cheese, some berries, and some juice- and talk to each other, and sometimes just cloud-watch.

She often fell asleep on his chest, defenseless, and he would pocket the peonies to put in their house for later. Their house was filled with vase after vase after glass of peonies. It was a house filled with their everlasting love of one another, of their life together- the evidence that it wasn't a dream, that yes, she was his, and he hers.

She loved him in the little ways: how sometimes, they would be walking along in the forest, Pika and Chuchu bounding ahead, and she'd slip her hand into his. He'd look to her, and she'd kiss him, softly, as she spoke softly in his ear, "I love you."

And he would kiss her back, and say, "I love you, too."

Or if they were with friends, talking at the table, and she didn't want any more food: she'd just feed it to Red. She could never look him in the face when she did this, but she'd just take her food with her fork, and put it in the direction of his mouth, and he'd just open his mouth, lean in, and take it.

Or, even better times, when she used his shoulder to sleep after a big battle. First, she'd put her hand in his, kiss him on the cheek, and settle into his shoulder after burrowing in, silently drifting into dreamland as he felt the rise and fall of her chest.

Sometimes, when she got scared, she buried her head into his clothes, and just hold unto him. He never liked it when she got scared, especially of thunderstorms, but he was glad he could comfort her with whispers of love and running his fingers down her hair, and massages to her back.

He would never admit it to her, but he loved when she borrowed his jacket and sometimes forgot to give it back: how her tiny frame was warmed by his jacket, and every time he got it back it smelled of her relaxing scent.

He loved it when she took off his hat, and messed up his hair.

He loved it when she was fishing, how she always discarded her purple boots and took her fishing line to the edge of a lake, and her face when she caught something after a hard day. He just loved everything about her.

Even though he sometimes got annoyed that she lost track of time, he loved how she could get so involved with something and forget about everything else- he loved it especially when she got lost in him.

He loved how they could just be with each other, without words. Even though she was chatty, she was also quiet.

The absolute, hands-down finest part of his day, however, was when she bounded up the hill where he was waiting, Chuchu in front, rushing to Pika and her to him. He could never let go of the sight of her sheer happiness that she was going to see him, how it always amazed and floored him that he of all people could get her so excited, so overjoyed.

He began to hear shuffles, loud ones, coming up the hill. She usually had a light step, so his eyebrows furrowed. Had she stuffed her bag with a heavy surprise for him? That was probably it. He could already imagine the amounts of peonies in her hand, of her getting ready to launch herself at him.

He smiled.

"..Battle!" He heard.

Had she gotten into a battle? What had happened?

He opened his eyes in surprise, only to find the unforgiving landscape of Mt. Silver, the snow dancing around his face, dangling to his very body, clawing at his jeans. Yet, his soul was not here, it was down there, in the Viridian Forest. His heart was warm, unlike his body which was so very cold.

"I challenge you to a Pokémon Battle!" The voice was clearly male, expecting a battle from the Champion who never seemed to show his face. The blizzard forced Red to squint, and he could not really see the figure speaking to him. How long had it been since he had been spoken to, or had spoken? He didn't really know. All the days seemed to run together, hazy memories of the present, like melted crayons.

Right, he thought. She would no longer rush up the hill for me; she would no longer kiss me, or forget to return my jacket. Those times have come… and gone.

His existence that had once found meaning in battling Pokémon had lost its purpose long ago, after the time when he had banished himself to the mountain in sheer grief. The cold sometimes distracted him, but most times, his memories strayed to the Forest, and to the woman who had won his heart. He looked up and wondered if there really was anything left to do in his life: What was there to do except die? Sure, waiting for people to battle had hardened his body and helped distract him every once in awhile, but it was so damn lonely. There was no more anticipation for him in this life, no one was waiting for him and he had no one to wait for; no one would shine like her, and he seemed to wait for someone who would never come. He held no more anticipation for the next day, the next hour, the next minute; only wishes that it would all just end. Even though his body seemed to suffer at times from the cold, his soul remained untouched by the vicious, biting winds; and was instead wallowing in the grief of his memories. He began fingering the last of the orange peonies in his pocket, thinking of their love and the life they had shared together, and maybe, just maybe, if it was time to give it all up and stop running. To stop training, to finally, after a long and hard battle, give it all up for something better.

What do you think, Yellow? Milliseconds after he had thought it, he felt stupid. She would no longer be able to answer his question! Had he forgotten, after so long?

And suddenly, out of nowhere, orange peony petals swirled around him, whispering love and an answer in a way he had not thought possible.

Prosper, they whispered, almost in her voice. Prosper.

A tear escaped his eyes, and he pulled his hat down to hide it. How could he think those things? She never wanted him to suffer, especially on her behalf. He had to continue on, even if it delayed their meeting. Because, even if he delayed it, it would wait for him in the next life: she was patient, and her love, like his, was everlasting.

Their love was everlasting, and she was always watching over him, protecting him, just as she had throughout the years.

His hand went to his belt, and silently called out a Pokémon to begin his next battle, because his first was already over: and here, he had someone waiting for him, even if it was only for a little while.