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It was dark out. It was usually dark when they went outside. Dark and cold, but so was Johto in the winter, especially so close to the ocean. It was the first time in a while they weren't out on orders, though they weren't supposed to. It had been difficult for his lover to sneak out, especially with Archer back from Lugia knew where, and he had been waiting for a long time- a very long time, if the size of the puddle surrounding him was anything to judge by. But that was alright. It was worth it. With how busy his lover was, lately, he would have given anything to be alone with him for even just a little while.

"Are you cold?" He shook his head- a lie, of course, it was even colder than the Ice Path had been, if that was even possible. But he didn't want him to worry. He never wanted him to worry, about anything. And so he shook his head and smiled and stuffed his hands into his pockets to keep them warm, for even though he was wearing his gloves the chilly winter air bit right through to his very bones. As he settled himself down on the edge of the dock with a squeltch, boot-clad feet dangling over the edge and skimming the water, his companion sighed, heavy and exasperated, before removing his coat and draping it around his shoulders. Then, without a word, he sat down next to him and wrapped his arms around him. "You're a terrible liar, Proton."

The younger man, Proton, smiled sheepishly, awkwardly, and shrugged one shoulder, snuggling close into the elder's side. "Only when I'm lying to you, Petrel," he replied softly. Petrel laughed at that, his deep voice soothing Proton's weary mind, and pulled him, if possible, even closer, tilting his head down to place a tender kiss on his temple.

"I'm glad for that," he whispered, "it means you care." To that, there was no reply, merely a hum, and Proton stared out across the dark, churning waves to the horizon. He simply enjoyed Petrel's presence, trying to absorb his warmth, his heat, his love, everything positive the man radiated. Not much longer, however, his lover laughed again, this time bitter, and ruffles his hair affectionately. "You're soaking. What, did you go for a swim before I got here, or did you just piss off a chinchou?" Proton returned the laugh and grinned, shaking his head.

"I guess you could say I treaded some water," he snickered, "but not for very long. Turns out that 'wait thirty minutes after you eat' thing is kinda true. Swimming cramps are a bitch. As are tentacool, naturally."

"Oh, of course!" Petrel said, "and the quilfish, too, pointy little bastards." Another hum, another silence; Proton's attention turned to the blackness where the lighthouse was supposed to be. It seemed the ampharos there was sick, again- a shame. He remembered the last time that happened. It'd been a bit of a drag.

"They need to replace the ampharos," he mused aloud, "if it keeps getting sick like this, someone else will..." He allowed the thought to trail off, but by the stiffening of Petrel's embrace, he knew he didn't need to finish it. Petrel understood. He always understood, even after so long.

"It's been almost a year." His lover's voice trembled now, full of shoddily hidden emotions- for such a master of disguise, Proton had always been able to see through each and every one of his ruses. It was something he'd teased the man about relentlessly. Looking back, he often wondered if he should have just played along. "I miss you."

"I miss you, too."

"What's it like?"

"What's what like?"

"Y'know... it."

"Well..." He frowned, brow furrowing as he tried to remember. It seemed like it had been a lifetime ago, he could barely recall much of anything. Just darkness, panic, cold and wet, confusion, and most of all, fear. But that would just upset him. He couldn't recount that. "It's not painful, not really. After a while, everything just sort of fades. Not as nice as falling asleep, of course, and there's a lot of pressure, but... It could be worse, I guess." He waited for one of Petrel's usual replies- his doubt, maybe, or one of his usual jokes. But when his lover was unusually silent, his frown deepened, and he turned to peer at him only to find him staring intently, conflicted, at the darkness beyond, and then he understood. "Petrel... Petrel, no." His words, edged with finality, drew the purple Executive's attention away from the ocean, but just to be on the safe side, he cupped the man's cheek in his hand and forced their gazes to meet, gently toying with his sideburns. "Don't even think about it. They need you."

"I don't think I can take much more of this, Pro," Petrel murmured. "Mew, I don't think I can take much more of anything... I need you. I need to be with you. I don't care what it takes, I just want to be with you, again."

"Don't make me watch that, Petrel." The older man tried to turn away, tried to hide his guilt, but Proton was having none of it, and forced him to face him yet again. "Don't make me. I promise you, I will always be with you, just don't make me watch that. You know I'll always be with you, don't you?"

"Yeah," came the admission. A warm, dry, bare thumb swiped across his cheek- was he crying? It was nearly impossible for him to tell, as soaking wet as he was, everything seemed to meld together- and hot breath caressed him, a euphoric feeling in and of itself to him. "I know." And the next thing he knew, Petrel's warm lips were pressed to his own stone-cold ones in a chaste yet thoroughly emotional kiss, and all he could think about was how he never wanted the moment to end, how he would love nothing more than to sit, freezing cold and soaking wet in a puddle of water on the deck for all eternity kissing Petrel. There could be worse fates. There could be many worse fates.

"Petrel?" A light at the far end of the dock; the two glanced up and frowned at the intrusion, a dark figure against the black sky wielding a single beam of light that penetrated the night and beckoned them back towards reality. "Petrel, is that you?" The figure came close, with each step becoming more and more discernible, before Archer stood before them in his crisp white uniform, a look of deep pity on his face as he stared down at the purple-haired executive.

"Hey, Archer," Petrel greeted quietly.

"It's been a year, Petrel. He's gone."

"I know he's gone, you asshole, I was there when it happened. I... I just wish I-"

"There was nothing you could have done. We've talked about this. He was too far out into the water, and with the tentacool in the area... I'm just surprised they didn't get to him, first."

"They need to fix the lighthouse." Archer sighed.

"I know. You say that every time. Come on, now. Get your jacket. We're going back." Petrel's frown deepened.

"I want to stay out a bit longer," he protested. Archer gave him a dry look.

"You know you're not supposed to be where Ariana and I can't keep an eye on you, after that stunt you pulled last month. And don't give that 'but you're here now', bullshit, if I took my eyes off you for one second you'd put rocks in your pockets and jump in before I realized what was going on. Let's go, Petrel, back to base." Petrel sighed heavily and turned his gaze down to his jacket, which was laying on the dock in a puddle of water. He wasn't sure if that puddle had been there when he sat down. Maybe he really was losing it. Archer tapped his foot impatiently, and Petrel decided it was wiser not to push the interim boss' buttons. Obediently, he donned his jacket, shivering at the cold water that had soaked into it, and took the pale hand that was offered to him, pulling himself to his feet.

"Can't wait to be locked in my own Mewdamned room, again," he muttered sarcastically. "You should have just let me do it."

"I couldn't have," Archer replied off-handedly as they began the long walk back to base, "he wouldn't have wanted you to."