A/N: So I finally got this pairing off my chest, even though this document was intended for another pairing instead of this one. It warms my heart thinking about these two whether anyone would agree or not. But, of course, I've gave it a try to see how it would end up. Do I expect reviews for this? To be perfectly honest, I don't expect it one bit. But if you happen to end up fond of the pairing too, then I'm satisfied. 83
Extra note: This is my first (or maybe second…) real attempt writing a protagonist and an antagonist together, but what I really want to address is the characters. Gold can be complex (IMO) and it's suicide to try to get Silver's character right (which is exactly why I never attempted it before~!) but it is my second time dealing with someone who is naturally sadistic. (Lulzzz, this is Star Ocean's Albel all over again. IT WAS SUCH A PHAIL. :'D) Like I mentioned before, I'm going to give it my best shot.
Warning: High rated T because everything is just touches and kisses, nothing below the belt at all. But if it really does bother anyone, I guess I'll switch the rating to M in a few if anything. Possible but likely chance of OOC-ness.
Summary: Gold is sent to deliver a two-week old nidoran to its new owner. He least expected the delivery would be for the same man he sent to prison. —Goldenlaunchshipping [GoldxProton] Light presence of Preciousmetalshipping
Disclaimer: I will never own anything, but my impossible fantasy having ownership is what helps me sleep at night. OTZ
『•° ∂σи'т єχρєcт cнσcσℓαтєѕ αи∂ яσѕєѕ •°』
Whitney lightly punched Gold on his shoulder, her loud voice ringing in the air for Goldenrod's citizens to give an applause for the "hero" that successfully manage to overthrow Rocket's power over the radio tower: he barely reasoned with his decisions at the innocent age of twelve to take it upon himself to become one with Team Rocket as their newly appointed grunt. Silently amongst the hostility earned being the youngest, Gold was able to leak information to Lance without detection, but in the end he was able to overcome his near failures with his own strength that lead to the arrest of the three executives stalking quietly behind the female police officer, their scowls harshly embedded on their lips having to absorb the crowd's snarling verbal attacks or avoiding their faces taken by the bright flashing cameras. Uneasily he shifted the weight on his foot, his normally radiating amber eyes listless at the passing grunts shuffling inside the vehicle.
Praised, adored, the hero of Goldenrod—no, the prime star of the Johto region enduring the spotlight was completely unbearable. He would have never minded, the attention is what he lived for, but he could not bring himself to twitch a smile at the sincere gratitude he was receiving from the town. The day was inevitable for Team Rocket to meet their end; it was his special day to be blissfully indulging the appreciation he would receive much later from the rest of the town, including the leader of the Elite Four as soon as he arrived on his majestic dragonite…
He did not want any of this.
Truth be told, he would have given everything up after absorbing the treatment caused by Ariana's resenting sneers, tolerating being bullied—he chose not to fight back to avoid bringing attention to himself—day in and day out by the grunts, Archer's madness for the return of their former leader. Petrel, Gold would reluctantly admit, served to be useful to pry information from, although his nature of disguise and sly behavior ran a shudder down his spine.
Then there was Proton.
The worst punishments alive was derived from Proton's sadistic tendencies; Gold himself rebelled against the executive's nature at first having to witness the torture both pokémon and very few uncooperative grunts had to undergo. Slowly he began to fight off the urges to intervene from Proton's darkly fascination at the sight of unbearable torment dealt to another—Gold always made certain his typhlosion's pokéball was tucked safely in his pocket for his own protection—eventually Gold was as obedient as Proton wanted him. Proton would scout off in his missions for the benefits of Team Rocket, he never failed to drag Gold with him, and gradually he was able to detect a side of Proton that remained completely non-existent in the Rocket's base.
It was not that he was gentle—that would only be a wayward fantasy Gold only hoped in the executive—but that the green-haired executive knew how to have…fun. It was an awkward display in the beginning, he found himself struck with awe when Proton first invited Gold to play billiards and won without breaking a sweat – his face lacked the creases the grave trademark smirk he wore around the base when he would be chosen to propose the punishments. In the billiard's game however, Proton wore a straight, determined expression when he played.
At the end of the first game, Proton perked a snicker, vaguely complimenting Gold's skills. It was his first genuine compliment from Proton not relating to a Team Rocket mission…
…and it was the best feeling ever.
He would be complimented on his work from the executives, their approval lead to a gradual acceptance, but it never felt as fulfilling unless it was Proton. He knew against his own judgment the last thing he needed was praise from the executives, they were infamous for creating havoc, which meant he had to create destruction alongside despite the very essence of his soul plaguing him to quit before he reached the point of no return. He fought with his conscious, his stay with Team Rocket unwavering, his partnership to Proton completely faithful to the very end. Gold seldom made mistakes in his work with Team Rocket, if it were any grunt it would be a great offense to Proton. Those that shamed the Team Rocket name or have failed throughout their mission would form a line in front of the sadistic executive, Proton's sea-green eyes would be fixed on the child before dismissing him: no form of pain ever came to him after; he would leave with a subtle warning.
He was finally able to understand the gut-feeling, as if millions of butterfree were released in his stomach, when he finally observed the Rocket receptionist adoring rave for the green-haired executive. Her eyes lovestruck when he passed by, her tongue sliding over her teeth hungrily, occasionally she would sort through her desk for her favorite wine-red lipstick, her sugarcoated laced voice would call for Proton if a parcel arrived. Gold noticed she would raise a heavily penciled eyebrow up, disappointed and angered how frequently he accompanied Proton to the front desk of the base. In the pit of Gold's stomach a spark of frustration would have him unconsciously clench his fist, her voice ringing in his ears like a sickened beedrill, and his eyebrows would furrow at the few moments Proton begrudgingly accepted her gifts. He wanted to yell at the top of his lungs at Proton to trash the gifts away, he would happily allow the presents to be engulfed in his typhlosion's powerful flames.
Realization dawned on him one night: he was as enamored with Proton just as much as the receptionist. It was the last thing he expected, it was the last thing he needed.
Then several weeks past, offering a fleeting smile every so often playing billiards, darts, just about anything they were able to smuggle from Johto's people. Gold was scaring himself from the attachment he had to Proton, he was deathly afraid…the small glimmer of reflection reminded him he was still better than all of them, he was human, and he would never be able to feel that ill fascination for domination like the executives. The ebony-haired trainer knew one day everything will eventually shatter the relationship, the partnership he gained after the long months spent together…
So when he walked into Goldenrod's radio tower one afternoon, blinking absently at the commotion drawled from the grunts and the loud snarls emitted from a feraligatr, Gold cautiously followed the racket upstairs. The grunts were sprawled on the floor, their pokémon's weight toppling over them lead to their unconscious state, amber eyes drifted away from the goons to meet a familiar face.
Silver has never been so enraged to see Gold wearing the Rocket's wear; angrily his hands were planted on either side of Gold's waist, his cold hands yanking the hem of the black uniform shirt upward. Everything circled out of control within those few moments, Ariana discovered the two children first, her scarlet eyes narrowing in realization to the identity of the traitor. She briefly informed Gold of her suspicion, her awareness of the information being leaked from somewhere… Gold and Silver reached a mutual understanding by exchanging looks, Explotaro was released from its ball, releasing a gruff battle cry. Feraligatr joined, the distant friendship between the typhlosion and feraligatr in Elm's lab recollecting into a greater strength that flawlessly took the female executive down.
The pair made their way up. From there it was Petrel, the last floor in Goldenrod's tower left the last two executives. The two Rockets were struck with expressions of mingled incredulity and irritation. Gold avoided Proton's eyes, hoping everything would end quickly before he broke down in guilt: sure enough it took some time being the last offensive Rocket had to stake. Silver barely had time to react when Gold stormed out of the building, the crowd shuffling aside for the officers to enter the building.
"Let's give it up for Gold! Hip hip hooraaay!" Whitney cheered excitedly.
Silver remained discreet amongst the attention, his pale steel-eyes observing Gold's evident uneasiness. The crowd dispersed to take pictures of the executives in handcuffs, Silver sighed, hesitating before joining Gold's side. Nothing in his power could revitalize the natural quirky delight Gold radiated, the redhead chose to take his leave when Gold would seize the initiative to move from his spot first, crossing his arms Silver boredly witnessed the Rocket executives being the last to enter the open metal cart attached to the police cars. His eyebrow curiously quirked upward, silently he watched a single officer accompanying the beret wearing executive moodily approaching.
Gold's tensed at the two shadows looming over, gulping down the lump stuck in his throat he slowly tipped his head up, amber eyes fixated on Proton's piercing glower. He never wanted all of this to occur so untimely, he wanted to prepare himself to face to the overwhelming hatred carried on by someone he attached himself to—
"Not only have you lied to Team Rocket, you lied to me who the hell you are. Ethan, no…Gold, I thought you were a smart kid not to get me angry," he turned on his heel, cracking his knuckles in blind rage. "I strongly advise you never to show your face around me again."
Gold feebly opened his mouth, the words he wanted to say caught in his throat, in the end his mouth closed. The police dispersed from the scene, hot tears welling in his eyes, his childish pride fighting the tears nearly leaking from the corner of his eyes. He beamed a terribly false grin to Silver – he did not care, he did not care on bit at all. He tossed the uniform hat over his shoulder and plopped his head on the crook of Silver's shoulder despite the awkward protest, he was proud of himself he was able to contain his emotions in front of the redheaded rival.
Arriving home to his worried mother, however, was the breaking point.
"Gold, sweetie, breakfast!" his mother's voice called from downstairs.
Gold sluggishly shot up from his bed, his mind trapped in a languid daze merely staring absently at his plain brown walls, he groaned loudly, rubbing the bridge of his nose having a nightmarish nighttime recollection dream from four years ago. He was hoping to wake up gnawing on his pillow, his dreams to be invaded by the irrelevant or the average teenage dreams than his child self miserable that day in Goldenrod. He yawned loudly; his feet slipping into his favorite blue cushioned slippers, unhurriedly making a beeline around his pokémon sprawled terribly amongst each other in the most uncomfortable sleeping position yet. The past few months were becoming an exceptional bore: he challenged the Elite members periodically without officially accepting his reign for championship; the responsibility seemed like a tedious chore considering his lack of patience being cooped in one location for more than half an hour.
His mother affectionately ruffled his unruly jet-black hair, groaning he brushed her hands away, his fork stabbing into his berried waffle; impatiently he stuffed his mouth full with the food. His mother gave a grimace of disgust, much to his delight, before she loomed over him, fork and knife in hand slicing the waffle in small, even slices for her son. She kindly handed the teenager an envelope with money, she snatched it before Gold's honey-coated fingers could even brush against a corner. She straightened her back, her lips pursed; these signals immediately had Gold roll his eyes. Here we go again, he twirled the fork in his hand, pretending to pay a moderate amount of attention, otherwise his mother would have more of a reason to complain of his lack of attention.
"This is your allowance for the month. Arceus knows how many times you choose to suddenly stop coming home," she huffed; she tapped her son's nose with the corner of the envelope. "This is not money to be spent at Goldenrod's Game Corner."
Gold stuffed one hand under the table, making yapping motions according to his mother's speech.
"Am I clear?"
Gold nodded, snatching the envelope eagerly from his mother's grasp. "Loud and clear," he assured, his fingers tearing at the side of the envelope to sneak a quick look of the amount within. The Game Corner was his salvation from his boredom; he kissed his mother's cheek, departing on the back of his togekiss to Goldenrod to fulfill his natural role to do exactly what she advised him not to. He would have sniffed melodramatically and hugged the beam of the building if it were not for the early risers roaming Goldenrod: the Game Corner offered the best diversion in his worst moods, yet his face darkened depressingly he could only find emotional comfort in money-grubbing machines that usually cheated him out of his coins, especially the newly installed Voltorb Flip game.
He crept away sullenly—he nearly threw a fit when the double doors refused to open, an elderly woman cleared her throat, her shaky finger directing Gold's attention to the business hours—excluding the department store, every other business would open within an hour. Narrowly avoiding several women gouging each other's eyes in the discount floor to walking past the heavily perfumed invading his nostrils, he finally reached the peaceful last floor. The elevator was unfortunately in the process of being repaired, he heard last week the mechanisms were going haywire to the point of dangerous; many were forced to meet the dreaded stairs everyone seemingly avoided.
Slipping in five pokédollars, he tiredly failed to realize he jabbed the soda icon button on the machine twice, the loud clank accompanied by another had him groaning – he liked soda, but even he knew one was enough. His pokémon fancied the lemonade regardless; boredly he popped open one soda can, the fizz rising from its violent shake in the machine. Gold peered forward, blinking to make sure his eyes were not deceiving him, his lip curling into an enthusiastic smile.
"Silver!" he called excitedly from across the room, his arms flew wide open as if inviting the redhead into his warm embrace. Silver's eyes twitched; nonchalantly the redhead proceeded to return back downstairs, mumbling inaudibly to himself.
The ebony haired teen planted his soda on the bench, steel-colored eyes widening as he felt a soft yank on the belt of his pants dragging him backwards clumsily, he glared at the faint sight of the finger that pulled him. Gold retracted his hand quickly at the very second Silver's hand twitched, without hesitation he wrapped one arm around the redhead's neck, dragging the victimized teen to the bench. Silver was rendered into compliance as Gold pushed his shoulders down, gesturing the longtime rival for a seat, his harsh scowl slightly faltering at the offered drink shoved near his face.
"It's been awhile!"
Silver grunted, accepting the drink was one thing, actually thanking Gold was another – he certainly had no intention of doing so. "We saw each other last week near the Lake of Rage," he corrected quietly.
Gold ignored the input. "Missed me?" he asked cheekily.
Silver's eyes fell moodily half-lidded, "Hardly."
Gold melodramatically scoffed, "So cold." For an added affect of false emotional distress, he yanked several napkins from the dispenser and patted his fake tears dry; he snickered deviously spotting the faintest trace of Silver's smile hidden by the soda can.
"Guess what day it is? Well, I'll tell you since you'll probably just stay quiet this whole time unless I say it. Have I ever mentioned how much you're no fun sometimes—don't give me that look, you know it's true—but anyway!" he paused to regain his breath. "It's our four-year anniversary!"
Silver hitched a brow, obviously lost in Gold's logic, although this would definitely not be the first time he assumed his rival lost the little trace of sanity he claimed to have.
"Wow, I feel the love. Seriously, Silver, you're just amazing," Gold commented with every drip of sarcasm intended. "Where's my present? Four years of bro friendship doesn't come cheap. You weaseled out last year, oh yeah, I remember."
Four years…I wondered if Pro—no, no, no! I shouldn't have to worry about this anymore!
The redheaded trainer eyes narrowed into slits, he would never openly admit the friendship he had with Gold, but he was not as heartless as everyone pegged him. Gold always made the effort to preserve their friendship, although socializing was never his best subject he knew how to read the ebony-haired teen like a book after four years, so he too made an equal effort for Gold's sake. Having to deal with sentimentalities always ran a shudder down his spine; Silver snapped his fingers in front of Gold's face to cut his distant inner conflict short.
Silver cleared his throat, sighing through his nose at the glaringly sheepish smile Gold tried to meld into his running list of excuses. "You're out of it," Silver carefully elaborated his blunt statement, "there's…something bothering you, isn't there…?"
Gold summed up the events that occurred throughout his time as a Rocket grunt to his recollecting dream haunting him ever since he tore himself away from his bed. It became a terrible habit for Gold to rest his head on Silver's shoulder when something deeply bothered him; it became worst of an acceptance for Silver to allow it without dispute. Both were grateful the customers were too preoccupied talking amongst themselves or buying refreshments to notice two teenage males closer than they should be. Taking a sharp intake of breath, Gold admitted something he buried far too long ago: the wonderful happiness he honestly had, the time of his life with Proton during his infiltration.
Silver took this information with well-hidden shock, he was in a sour mood recalling Gold's appearance in the radio tower dressed in a Rocket's uniform – he knew nothing Gold felt, he didn't think he would in a lifetime having a deep resentment to Team Rocket. His gray eyes drifted over to the broken elevator, he allowed Gold to keep on talking, and sometimes the teen would skip from one subject to another entirely…
…and although Silver knew words would fail him, just listening always seemed to brighten Gold's mood. And soon enough Gold regained his composure, Silver was certain because it took every cell in his body to keep a straight face at the finger insistently poking his cheek.
"So where's my gift?"
Silver snatched the napkin crumpled in Gold's balled fist, wordlessly the redhead scrapped off the gum stuck to the heel of his left sneaker. Gold stared blankly as Silver covered the wad of sticky gum with the tissue, offhandedly flicking the trash on Gold's lap. Dusting off the imaginary dust off his pants, Silver strode away from Gold's side, offering the dumbfounded teen a single smirk.
"Happy anniversary," Silver said bemusedly.
Gold shot up from the bench, a wide look of disbelief etched on his face, "Bet'cha it took you long and hard to decide what to get me…"
"Excruciatingly long," Silver amended. The redhead waved and proceeded down the stairs.
"You ass," Gold chuckled, pocketing the trashy present in his pocket.
"Aww, what? I almost had three in a row!" Pulling the lever to the slot machine, Gold's eyes focused on the symbol's timing to press accordingly to the other slots. Steadily his finger hovered over the key, tongue plastered on the side of his mouth, determined on his selection he pressed the first two rectangular keys to the machine. Explotaro watched its trainer with a mild flicker of amusement, the teenager heavily concentrated on the slots; it was left to guard Gold's backpack, its small feet accidentally pressed on a pocket that began to buzz. It hardly noticed the device resting in the smallest pocket; Explotaro went on all fours and began to paw the device from the pouch, its beady eyes attempting to distinguish the number brightly illuminating the front screen.
It glanced at its trainer, unaware of the buzzing pokégear hollering its loud ringtone; sighing Explotaro carried the device in its short arms. The fire-type pokémon was curious and hesitant on its timing to reel Gold's attention apart from slot machine during his utmost peak of concentration. It chose the opportune moment the machine's last slot unfortunate speedy past at number symbol '7'—in all these years it was forced to tag along at the Game Corner it steadily learned the last slot to the machines never ended in its trainer's favor—Gold growled, resisting the furious impulse to pummel the machine taunting him with its feminine automated voice urging him to "Try again!"
Noticing the pokégear held in his pokémon's arms, he answered the call before it dismissed to voice mail. "Gold here," he answered, absently stuffing his hand into his pocket for another coin. Suddenly he exploded with a boyish excitement; his animated disposition unintentionally loosened his hold on the coin, its fallen impact lightly clattering on the white marble floor. "Seriously? No way! That's great, I'll be right over!"
Explotaro rounded the backpack, shortly chasing after its trainer's hurried sprint to the south of Goldenrod. As usual, Explotaro had not the faintest idea what processed in Gold's mindset.
"Careful, Gold, a nidoran develops poison in its horn a week after its birth. One little prick has enough toxins to make you ill," the daycare man warned. The elderly man was nervously fidgeting having to watch Gold teasing the purple pokémon by cupping his forefinger and thumb around the sharp pointed skin projection.
"Don't worry, I got this!" he laughed, the nidoran chased his dodging fingers in silly circles. The unnamed nidoran—it recognized its identity as 'Nidoran' regardless— was born before Gold periodically volunteered to assist the elderly couple finding homes for hatched pokémon, if he had enough time he was able to help the babies train with his victimized typhlosion through a series of test-run laps, the basics of dodging in a timely manner, practicing attacks, and once everything was well and settled he shared his attention amongst the infant pokémon to play around with. The offspring of pokémon lessened during the fall in the daycare center, leaving Gold handling no more than four hatched pokémon in his care while the couple trained the parents or older pokémon in their care.
He tickled the nidoran's lavender tinted underbelly: he delivered the previous infant, a four week old growlithe, to a new home. From there his pokégear registered no calls from the couple, thus it meant no offspring to care for. He grew rather attached to the male nidoran, being the only offspring the daycare discovered after the growlithe, his fingers covered in scarring bite marks of Nidoran's habitual nipping; Gold's fingers were sacrificed for the teething purple creature as it groaned in pain occasionally at the budding front tooth in its mouth. The nidoran crawled on Gold's shoulder—he decided to have all limbs sprawled on the ground to loosen his stiffened back—mischievously nibbling the fabric of his sweater: another sacrifice that barely mattered as he scratched behind Nidoran's large ears.
"Where do I gotta head to?" he asked, ignoring Nidoran busily shuffling from his shoulders to his face. He had to admit, the growing claws on the nidoran's front legs burying into his skin was becoming rather painful to endure.
The elderly man laughed, "A recently constructed house on the off-shore island near Cherrygrove. What worries me, however, is the caller's insistent need to keep himself anonymous…we cannot deny anyone, but…"
"Gramps, you're worrying over nothing. I'll be fine! I promise to protect this little gu—ouch, ouch! My nose isn't for chewing!" Gold scratched behind Nidoran's ear once more, the affectionate touch had the little nidoran pry its tiny teeth from its caretaker's nose. With a dark grimace, Gold ran a finger on the wincing sting on his nose. Clearing his throat, he offered the daycare man a sheepish grin, "As I was saying, you can count on me! Nothing will happen to Nidoran, just leave it to me."
The daycare man sighed in relief, "Thank you, Gold. Please, come inside, my wife would want to bid Nidoran a safe trip."
Why would anyone live on an island near Cherrygrove? It's such a hassle getting back to the city.
Gold knocked on the door, the nidoran in his arm gnawing restlessly on his sweater; he shifted his weight in the sand impatiently after hammering his fist on the oak door four times in the past five minutes. He offered his finger to the male nidoran absently, its teeth biting into his skin, his attention fixated on the small house than his wrist accidentally pricked by Nidoran's sharp horn. The momentary fleeting pain around his hand pulsated; Gold ignored the sensation assuming the infant was merely sinking its tiny teeth further than usual into his finger. Togekiss tugged on the hem of Gold's knickerbockers, it fluttered its wings open, gesturing its trainer to mount its back and return to the daycare center.
Three pairs of eyes darted at the door opening ajar; Nidoran flailed its arms excitedly, greeting its new owner. Its enthusiasm cut short as the protective embrace around its body tightened, its keen ears resting on its caretaker's chest overheard the unsteady beat of Gold's heart. Extremely alarmed, Nidoran pawed at his sweater and voiced its concern, large red eyes worriedly gazing at the trainer transfixed with dread. "Niii, nido, nido…"
Gold offered a lopsided smile; he rested his hand on the back of Nidoran's head, his fingers running soothing circles near the spiny neck. Gold took a precautious step back, his legs losing all sensation edging away from the familiar face at the door. The former Rocket executive, Proton, seemed hardly fazed by their encounter but rather had a glint in his eyes spotting the nidoran and togekiss in Gold's possession.
"Welcome," he greeted simply.
"W-What are you…how can you…" Rather than questioning the executive's absence from prison, he turned his body to obscure Nidoran from Proton's sight. Assembling the leftover bravery in his heart, Gold's face contorted with rage, "You're not taking him. Nidoran is—"
Throat running dry, his face draining of color, his vision hazing—
Proton hoisted a look of bewilderment, "Ethan…?"
—Gold collapsed.
Proton: "No need to be alarmed, sir. The poison in Nidoran's horn had him fall faint; I administered an antidote that should have him back on his feet in a few hours. He should feel rather light-headed when he awakens though, so allow him to rest in my care. He will be return to your daycare center by the early afternoon. Yes, yes, and good day to you as well." The light sound of a metal device falling carelessly on a table alerted Gold more than ever, the voice dripping with malicious lies near the end of the conversation.
That would explain what happened to me all of a sudden, Gold drawled, his eyes fluttering open, he propped his weight up with his elbow, blurry amber eyes scanning the room sluggishly. He rested on the comfort of a plush sofa, the inside of the house as plain as his own room in Newbark, his body felt feather-light to maneuver around the room absently – eyes widened as large as saucers, his togekiss was nowhere in the living room. He patted his pockets, searched his belt, the weight of backpack slung over his shoulder no longer felt, and his party's pokéballs gone without a trace—he growled, his pokégear was taken as well. The entrance to the kitchen was not barred by a door like the multiple rooms inside the house; he spun around at the familiar light clicking noise from Nidoran's claws against the hardwood floor. Leaning on the doorsill, Proton watched Gold's frantic spectacle with a spiteful amount amusement.
Nidoran returned to Gold's side relieved, the ebony-haired teenager crouched to the purple's creature level to scoop the pokémon off the floor, his arms holding the infant protectively. His vision was splitting in two, his thoughts cursing a chord from the lack of recovery from Nidoran's poison; safely he leaned against the only decorative table holding a vase of wilting flowers to prevent himself from stumbling over. The teen concealed his fear unconvincingly as Proton pried himself away from the doorsill, his paced steps advancing towards the sofa, his curling smirk unfaltering in the slightest from Gold's evident hostility. The former executive seated himself; he hunched forward and rested his chin on his folded hands.
"Have a seat."
"I rather stand," Gold responded almost immediately.
Proton chuckled. "Are you hungry?"
"Cut the crap, Proton," Okay, maybe I shouldn't be too forceful. Any minute and I might end up digging my own grave. "Where are my pokémon?"
The green-haired man ignored Gold's question. "Four years certainly has made you grow. You are sixteen now, I presume?"
"Where are my pokémon?"
Proton closed his eyes for a moment, opened them again, and continued as though he never heard Gold's loud outburst, "Accept my presence as your sixteenth birthday present, just last week I was granted my freedom for good behavior. Here I thought little Ethan would be overjoyed to see me again."
Gold personally knew Proton's façade of gentleness directed towards anyone, other than him in the past, usually meant he was angered beyond belief. Gold's train of rational judgment was ebbing away: he was terrified taking part in Proton's company on an off-shore island, if he were subjected to torment not a single soul would be aware, but despite everything he truly was overjoyed to see Proton. The partnership long ago is something that lingered the back of Gold's mind, several months he would have the same reoccurring memory witnessing the traitorous hate contorting the man's face before he was taken away—he acknowledged the bittersweet trace of jealousy he constantly felt plaguing his heart if the receptionist so much had her manicured acrylic nails touching Proton's arms.
Lovestruck just as much as he was four years ago, Gold diverted his attention to the wilting flowers, a shriveled leaf falling amongst the rest of the dried leaves surrounding the porcelain vase. Without pokémon, Gold was left in a difficult position to escape, the massive body of water would take him nearly an hour to swim back to Cherrygrove's shore—he had to escape, the baby nidoran deserved a life full of happiness, not a life of mistreatment Proton would have surely constructed for it. The ex-executive bore a grudge, his words laced with venom mentioning Gold's alias, the four year statement a representation of the very year Team Rocket's intentions for domination fell to ruins.
"Your anger towards the receptionist took me awhile to understand, even then I allowed you to remain by my side," Proton snickered, noticing Gold's sun-kissed skin delving to a flustered hue of red. "It was endearing to realize my subordinate was in love with me."
Gold physically flinched, Nidoran squealed by the applied pressure to its body in its caretaker's arms.
"Oh?" Proton hummed bemusedly, "Then allow me to reiterate my previous suggestion: have a seat beside me if you still love me. If not, remain standing." His hands unfolded, he pat the cushioned seat invitingly, "Make your choice, Ethan."
Gold refocused his attention on Proton; he lessened his hold on Nidoran for the little creature to breathe. He desperately wished his pokémon were by his side to snap him out of the former executive's captivating force. Struggling against his own decisions, a voice blaring inside his head to reason better judgment against his conflicting feelings, he withdrew for the weaker latter and strode across the room. He screwed his eyes shut and plopped his body on the cushioned sofa, the spines on Nidoran's body like a well deserved painful reminder for allowing the infant pokémon approaching a life of torment than protection like Gold originally intended. Gold felt thoroughly dispirited upon his choice, the guilt weighed heavily on his shoulder.
"…It's Gold…" he feebly corrected, amber eyes reopening.
"You are absolutely right," he purred, his finger fastened around the zipper of Gold's sweater.
Gold's blushed deepened, his eyes concentrated on his zipper. "W-Why did yo-you c-call for a Ni-Nidoran?"
Proton laughed darkly, he used his free hand to place a finger underneath Gold's chin and tipped his face up. "I overheard the information spreading around Cherrygrove of a particular boy helping the daycare couple with pokémon offspring. They mentioned your name, your appearance, and I knew it could be no other. I waited for the next offspring, having it delivered was meant for you to come to willingly and unknowingly."
Gold blinked, clearing his throat from the fumbling words. "But…you said you never wanted to see my face?"
"Four years can change a person," Proton curtly answered. Distractingly he unzipped the sweater at once; his hand swiftly crawled under the black sleeveless shirt.
Nidoran squirmed away from Gold's embrace, scurrying hastily upstairs.
Gold sunk in the sofa, submitting to the ghostly touches crawling on his skin. "Does—Does this mean you forgive me?"
"Hush, Gold, just relax…Surely you have been waiting for something like this…" he whispered hotly in Gold's ear, the melodic tune of his voice sent chill down the trainer's spine.
Gold nodded, he clamped his mouth shut from the vocal moan almost tearing the intense silent atmosphere the room created, his eyes screwed shut shuddering uncontrollably as his sensitive ears were being nipped, the warm tongue running down the shell of his ear. Just a few minutes ago he reminded himself to maintain Nidoran's protection as his priority; he was reduced to a submitting fool raggedly breathing at the tongue trailing down his neck, planting the lightest butterfly kisses on his collarbone. Daringly he opened his eyes, Gold bit down on bottom lip accordingly to the surge of stinging pain on the crook of his neck, his hand clutched a patch of emerald-green hair as Proton's teeth sunk down into the flesh to deliver the darkest lovenips that would surely, but slowly take its time to disappear. Bruising the skin until a bead of blood ran down satisfied Proton to move onto the next bite marks he could cause, oblivious to the trainer's moderate discomfort.
Gold bit down on the sleeve of his sweater, his toes curling and uncurling at the excruciating hardening sensation beneath his torso, he refused to give Proton the satisfaction feeling completely dominant. Proton was noticing this as well; he furrowed his brows, pausing in actions to clamp the thin wrist together over Gold's head to lower the resistance. Lips curled, his free hand tugged the hem of the sleeveless shirt forward, his tongue running over his teeth as if he were to devour a wonderful meal. Proton sunk his nail on the teen's flat stomach, the sharp pained hissed from Gold's mouth excited the former executive, the trails his nails left behind tore and bruised the skin a bright red.
The beautiful damage he could cause on Gold's body was like indulging in the sweetest ambrosia, his viridian orbs possessing a sickly glint at the masterpiece the four red lining marks his nails left behind. His finger ran down a red trail, the warm inner skin of flesh scraped made him wickedly smirk, in fascination he wondered if the bruising would scar to serve an eternal reminder. Proton advanced forward by smashing his lips on Gold, he laughed under his breath at the high-pitched squealed, his tongue prodding at the closed lips for entrance. There was a hesitant pause, Gold squirming to have his wrists released, but he yielded to the silent commands to pry his mouth open – he barely had time to intake a breath of air before Proton was kissing him fervently.
The ebony-haired nervously fidgeted, having never been kissed—it was not entirely his fault either, he lacked the interest having his time occupied with the offspring he helped draw the potential of. In spite of his attachment to Proton, he could neither find himself liking another male just the same; he could only be attached to Silver as his rival and close friend: everything remained platonic in the last four years—he struggled catching his breath in a timely manner. The hand on his chest was steadily crawling forward to his neck; Proton briefly coiled his tongue with Gold's, finally earning the fleeting moan as Proton was edging away before biting down sharply on Gold's bottom lip. The teen's wrists were released, both Proton's hand danced around the bony collarbone, fingers brushing over Gold's neck…
"I have been meaning to tell you something, Gold…"
Gold breathlessly looked down, "What…?"
The fingers clamped tightly around Gold's neck, amber eyes widened, both his hands flew to Proton's wrists, desperately trying to pry himself away from his strangler's grasp. The gentle, feline expression Proton wore throughout disappeared, sinking into a darkening flare of hatred, the hold on Gold's neck steadily tightening.
"You little bastard, you ruined me!" he roared, bitterly he sunk his nails in Gold's neck. "You have no idea how much effort it was to become a Rocket executive! Our plans for Giovanni's return came so close! That day at the radio tower, Archer was about to congratulate me with a white executive uniform. I was to exceed expectations being the youngest of the three and you ruined it! On the first day of dinner at prison, I was left isolated, humiliated, by everyone. I was lower than our lowly grunts; I was the scum everyone wanted dead!"
Cynically he cackled, "The torment ricocheted back to me in the end, you meddling brat. Maybe I will find some use for that nidoran you delivered, I'm positive I could destroy the prison cells by the time that useless little mongrel becomes a nidoking."
"'S…not…useless!" Gold managed to retort, he coughed pathetically at the tightening grip.
"One day Archer confronted me—he never looked so disgusted to see me—but he told me I could prove my worth if I have you dead. So for four years I acted like the most innocent, well-behaved soul the prison guards have ever met, like I turned over a new leaf that ultimately ended my sentence short. Prison television should be able to receive news on the beloved hero of the Johto region found dead by means of suffocation. Because you were once my partner, consider your ticket to death a lucky one. It could have been much, much worse. Any last words, o'loved hero?"
Proton loosened the fingers around the teen's neck; he smiled darkly as Gold gasped violently for air, the discoloration from the lack of oxygen quickly restored the teen's sun-kissed tone. He met eye contact with the pools of yellow, no longer frightened but firm – he hissed at the pitiful look Gold gave him.
"I'm sorry," Gold answered softly. "I'm happy enough you're out of prison, but I'm sure the other executives aren't going to be coming out anytime soon. If I stayed alive, I could make sure those guys never even have the chance to get out, and you wouldn't have to be bound to them any longer. I already ruined something for you once; I'm not planning on doing it again. It's…it's your choice, Proton." Gold's eyes scanned the room thoughtfully, he laughed nervously before adding, "Oh, but if you happen to get anyone out, leave that receptionist skank inside her cell. I'm not gonna be much of a well-departed soul if I get a whiff of her around you again."
Proton's grip was shaking, his hands were perfectly circled around the teen's neck to murder him but he stared at Gold in disbelief. "Are you serious? You could die right here, right now by someone from Team Rocket."
Gold simply shrugged. "If you let it happen. You wouldn't have to be part of Rocket, and being the hero at least has the advantage of saying who should stay in the slammers. I swear in Arceus' name they'll never get out."
"Why should I trust you?"
"'Cause most of Team Rocket already doesn't trust you. Even if you get them out that doesn't mean they're going to accept you with open arms. And all that effort it took just to become executive? Yeah…it's gonna take a lot longer than before."
Proton's hands rested on Gold's shoulders, he analyzed every flicker of possible changes in facial expression to detect a lie. Working with Gold once before and familiarizing it currently, he loathed the fact the teen he had the impulse to kill in mad rage was being entirely truthful.
"The receptionist…?"
Gold rolled his eyes, "I'm sure nothing has changed about her. She worshipped the very ground you walked on; she prettied herself up when you were about to pick up any deliveries. She might use the opportunity to console you—although I doubt you'll need any of that—all the more reason why I. Don't. Like. Her. At least have enough consideration for the dead to keep her locked up…" he huffed childishly, by surprise this earned a wholehearted laugh in Proton's end. Gold smiled modestly; unconsciously he rubbed the back of his neck to soothe the pulsating sore.
"I sat down with you for a reason, it's not a lie…but it's okay, aha…I'll leave you alone…Don't worry, I'm not going to say anything about this! You've been to prison once, I'm not sending you again—and…and, uh, yeah…I guess this whole t-touching thing was just for me to end up dead, so I-I'm not expecting much after this…"
Both were caught in silence, the lack of responsive lead Gold to assume the worst-case scenario, shyly he looked around the room for an excuse to return the nidoran to the daycare center. He had to worm his way back inside his house to cover the bite marks and the strangulation marks before his mother noticed and before he headed over to the elderly couple—oh, what explanation what he tell the elderly pair? The effects of nidoran's poison in his body subsided; he was running his own tangent of an excuse related to Nidoran's poison that made the 'anonymous' caller reconsider owning the infant…perfect! He nodded in agreement with his train of thoughts, but first he honestly needed togekiss and the rest of his party before he departed from the isolated house on the off-shore island—
"Gold."
—and then in a few months he could the past behind him, this very day behind him, then return to his boring days mooching off his mother for the rest of the season.
"Gold!"
Gold jumped, amber eyes blinking absently at the caller. "What?"
Proton cupped Gold's mouth forcibly, the pressure applied on his jaws had the teen flailing his arms in pain, the viridian orbs were staring intensely at amber eyes, "If you truly are telling the truth…are you willing to be in a relationship with someone notoriously known as the cruelest Team Rocket ever had? I may have had to be well-behaved in prison, but that will never be a part of who I really am. I was close to killing you today, surely you would never—"
"I didn't care before, I don't care now. Proton, honestly, the 'nice guy' act in the beginning seriously scared the living hell out of me. I'm use to your attitude whether you believe me or not," Gold angrily pointed at the red inflamed marks on his belly. "I'm not going to walk out of here with these if I didn't know already how rough you are. But I could do without the strangling because I like breathing, thank you very much."
The man snickered, his fingers releasing his hold on Gold's mouth. "Fair enough. Although my point is…just…don't expect chocolates and roses, I'm…"
"Not that type of guy? You would creep me out if you were actually," Gold threw his arms over Proton's shoulders; he summed up the courage to quickly kiss his lips. Maybe I should've included how I wanna go through my days without getting my mouth abused either… "Besides, chocolate causes us poor teenagers breakouts and too much pollen triggers my allergies. So I'm totally cool with you being yourself around me, it's what got me to fall for you in the first place."
The mood broke entirely when Nidoran lead Gold's party downstairs, thoroughly enraged hearing the information from infant and the drugged togekiss—that could barely hover in the air without swaying—their eyes having a deathly glint for Proton's demise. Gold laughed heartily at their concern, he called to his typhlosion before the pokémon could blast the concentrated ball of fire energy at his new lover.
By the next two days everything felt perfect and soothing.
The fall season brought frequent chilly winds in Johto, the cold worsened in Cherrygrove having its city beside the massive ocean, although Proton's home felt comfortably warm unlike his bedroom in Newbark. Gold hardly complained returning to Proton's house despite the weather, his pokémon were more hesitant to accept the newfound relationship, and the little nidoran was eventually accepted into the former Rocket executive's care. He abruptly shot up from Proton's lap, demanding the green-haired man to search his dirty laundry for his prison wear—Proton tried to explain they would never allow him keep the orange garb but Gold was insistent finding anything—a scheming grin etched on the ebony-haired teen's face.
He called Silver on his pokégear: it was a decisive battle of rock-papers-scissors for Silver to give Gold the number to his own pokégear. Proton eyed his lover peculiarly—he decided he was better off not knowing—shrugging away the lingering curiosity, he returned to the sofa, his attention flickering from Gold's jittery disposition to the television screen.
Silver stepped inside Goldenrod's department store, the service carrier handed him a manila envelope before departing. Flipping the envelope on its backside, Gold's scrawled handwriting read:
'Happy anniversary~ ;*
Since you spent so much time thinking of my gift,
I thought just as much for yours. At least where it came
from is creative unlike a certain someone.
- Gold'
Why not have this written in a letter instead?
The redhead stuffed his hand inside, twitching at the warm feeling item pressed inside the envelope's contents. The smell was horrid, by the time he plucked the present Gold thoughtfully sent he realized it was a very graying sock being held between his fingers. Silver tossed the sock inside the trash bin, his piercing gray eyes glaring at Gold's name printed on the envelope.
"You ass," Silver growled. Then again, Gold knew exactly how to surprise him…for better and worst. Silver left the department store, planning the next anniversary present similarly as foul as the one he received.
A/N: Well, this was extremely difficult. Character-wise, I mean. I didn't think I did a decent job at it…at least I gave it a shot how Gold and Silver would act if they were friends, excluding the shoulder thing because my fangirl heart wanted to add that in so badly ahahaleavemealone. Lawl, phail all the way again. At least it's not bothering me anymore to post something Gold/Proton related. :P I've tried fix spotted mistakes, so please excuse me for that.
This was also my previous icon and source of inspiration, except I just colored it and stuff:
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And here are my absolute favorite sources of inspiration too:
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i56(dot)tinypic(dot)com/2q1fkwn(dot)jpg
^And I own not a single one of these images though ;o; But they are still so purdy.