Author's Note: Dedicated to a good friend of mine. Fight the power and ignore the bullshit!

Where are you?

Not a question, but a demand. Words on Gold's Pokégear that didn't need to be said out loud to understand the urgent connotation behind them. The name at the top, Silver, had the raven-haired boy blinking in confusion before he realized that it was Tuesday, his fiery rival was texting him, and he was in Kanto.

Gold's hand slapped up to meet his forehead. He had forgotten to tell Silver where he was! Normally, Tuesday was the day he made an unspoken allegiance to not only battle, but visit, his companion in Dragon's den.

I'm sorry! he replied automatically. Did Silver even know how to text? Did he have someone else do it? I didn't tell you, did I? Gosh, Silv. I made it to Kanto. Isn't it great? I've been fighting the gym leaders here for more badges (I just beat Brock), then I think I'll challenge the Elite Four again. There's also rumors about a place, Mt. Silver, actually, where the previous Kanto champion awaits challengers!

It was a very long time until Silver replied—at a whole day, if not more.

So in the mean time, Gold tended to his female Typhlosion by brushing the fur underneath her blazing mane and filing her claws. Though his rival had the tendency to make fun of him for putting so much (almost feminine) care in his team, he started to lighten up a bit and realize that maybe, just maybe, Pokémon could be more than just tools to use for battle.

Besides, Gold thought shamelessly, Silver's not the best battler out there.

The contented boy liked to call it 'room for improvement' rather than form it into an insult, as his red-haired friend used to do in a not-so friendly way. It was nice that he eased up on the harsh words, but by no means did that mean he ever wavered from his normal Silver-like behavior.

That didn't mean Silver was bad, per se. There hasn't been a time where he'd beaten Gold, but that could change at any time! Gold had complete faith in that, cross his blessed heart.

"Flare, what do you think of that Charizard? Weird, huh?" he mused to the faithful Pokémon in front of him as his free hand absentmindedly trailed along the light honey fur.

The Typhlosion looked at her master, then the object of the conversation. She let out a disinterested huff through her nose. Gold laughed; he hadn't meant to imply anything like breeding, just her opinion. All these Kanto-originated Pokémon were new to him! It wasn't his fault that he was whipping out his Pokédex nearly every moment of the day. At least the professor would be happy.

Eventually, the moment came, when the sun was dipping just underneath the roofs of Pewter City. Silver replied.

It's okay. I should be apologizing for the delay. Bad reception in the den, you know how it gets. Anyway, I was just curious, that's all.

Bullshit, Gold thought without any sort of censorship. He was surely disappointed! Either that, or Gold was just merging his own hopes in the nonexistent tone of the words. They were becoming so close now, he couldn't help but think that, one day, they would be best friends. Right now he had to take it slow and steady in fear of scaring him away. Silver could get like that (he fled—a lot), but Gold didn't put under the category of 'unfortunate'. It was just … him.

Another part of him was confused. Gold himself had never had any trouble with his Pokégear reception in the Dragon's den, yet Silver did? Odd, but he'd let it pass for now.

He ventured along the road leading to Mt. Moon, Pokégear locked into his grip like concrete. His golden eyes strained to type a response in the darkness, but he eventually gave up in frustration and shoved the device back into his pocket. There was a Pokémon center just next to Mt. Moon, he read earlier, and that's where he'd crash for the night and get some light so he could give a proper response to his friend.

A few commoners were just finishing up whatever they were doing when Gold came along. When they all cleared out, he strained his ears in the silence; if he heightened his concentration just a tad more, he could barely hear flap flap flap emitting from the Mt. Moon entrance.

It was Wednesday, now, so it couldn't have been the antics of a Clefairy. A Zubat would have been most likely, but with the almost hurried, rapidly approaching sound, maybe it wasn't …

Flare, the massive entity next to him, gazed over at him expectantly when he stood in his tracks and simply listened. She radiated both light and warmth, so the aspiring trainer had no issues with just waiting.

Next, a voice. Claws. Then a dull, "Oh, you found the entrance. Remind me to never rely on you to get us through a damned cave next time. I'll do it like any other normal person and use flash."

A spot of red. Gold grinned.

"Maybe he's still in Pew …" the voice died away, clearly spotting the boy and his Typhlosion from his stance in front of the cave's stone-carved doorway. As if his voice box was instantly ripped out, he said no more and averted his gaze without a second thought. It was as if he knew Gold was going to rush towards him and say everything necessary anyway.

"Silver! Hello Golbat, Sneezy," he recited kindly, acknowledging the flying helper and the little Sneasel attached to Silver's back like a chilly backpack. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you," he blurted strongly. It sounded practiced. "If you're going to wander aimlessly around my home region, I want to join you."

Gold's eyes widened. He didn't know whether to be shocked or gushing with happiness! Of course, he settled with the happy medium. "Hell yeah! Come on, we were just going to rest up in the center." He couldn't restrain the laugh at Silver's ruffled appearance. "You don't look like you had much fun in Mt. Moon. I'll make dinner while you get washed up."

Silver raised an eyebrow, but his feet had him following the other towards the center's doors. "You cook?"

"What else am I supposed to do, starve?"

"There are restaurants around every corner …"

"I don't have unlimited funds," he admitted, a cheeky grin plastered on his face despite the words. "I don't accept battle money unless I absolutely need it—or I'm forced by the kind old ladies to take it, ha ha—and I'm always using it on supplies for my friends," he explained with a lazy hand gesture in Flare's direction. "It's a good routine, I don't mind fixing my own meals. Besides, I like to think I'm a good chef. I guess you'll be the judge of that." His elbow nudged the other boy playfully.

Silver did have unlimited funds, as opposed to his generous friend, therefore tossing the idea of cooking lessons out the window. Admittedly, he was a bit anxious to try said dinner that Gold spoke of—not that he'd say it out loud, so he simply stayed silent.

It was a treatment that Gold was not bothered by; he understood by the facial expressions Silver probably didn't even realize he was making.

From fourteen to seventeen, the boys fought, made up, changed each other, and most of all, knew everything about them both. That vanished like thin air when Gold disappeared sometime after they finished scouting through Hoenn together.

Now, as Silver passes glances every once in a while on a Sinnoh road, he expects to see a fluffy-haired, somewhat idiotic trainer-turned-breeder. He does not.

What he does see is grass. Maybe a bush, some trees. There's a fisherman down the road—Alec, if Silver remembers correctly, but he's not good with names, never has been. The only name in his head right now is Gold; at least, the only prominent name.

There's also sun. Even his ever-present Sneasel had retreated to her ball. The time is at least mid day, somewhere in front of Sunnyshore City. He knows he will get burned if he doesn't leave the sunlight soon.

He hopes it's damn well worth it to go here. Gold wouldn't shut up about it.

It wasn't as dramatic as it sounds. Gold was practically begged by his mother to take a break from region-hopping. Silver didn't really blame the slightly-flaky woman; she was attached to the boy like everybody else was. Perhaps he was being a little greedy by keeping him away from his mom.

If he had said that to the other boy, he would have gotten a stern, defiant opposition. No, it wasn't his fault, never was. Though he was the one that asked to travel with him (and suggest exploring all regions), Gold accepted.

Still, Silver is lonely now. His Pokémon have never been closer than now, but it's not enough. After spending enough time near Gold, he adapted some of his caretaker methods.

He pulls out his Pokétch, something he had picked up back in Jubilife. Just when he had gotten used to the Pokégear (and how to text; he was so incredibly slow, Gold would say), some newfangled tech had to come out and taunt him again. His only reasoning for having one was because Gold wanted it. Silver bought two of them, matching.

The red head feels pathetic, mulling over his friend's absence. He can't fight it, though, so he simply reflects and—hey, is that him?

"Silv! Yooooo!"

He knew he must be sporting a ridiculous grin, but hell, who cares? Gold sure didn't. Both of their voices are deeper, their bodies more built (well, Silver is still pretty lean and a tad flimsy, but at least Gold had some muscle accumulation), but their personalities remain parallel to when they were younger.

Silver doesn't flinch like he would have back then, though, at Gold's crushing hug.

"What? It's only been a month or something." Silver's words are airy, bordering breezy, thanks to the increase in tightness.

Tentatively, the skinnier one returns the gesture. It's the first hug that he's given Gold, he realizes, and so he lets it last longer than he would have to make up for that fact.

X x x

Three more years and it's like they haven't aged a day. Their relationship had been described as bromantic a number of times, but neither really could care. Silver allows himself to be wrestled down by Gold when he claims the last candy bar, writhes at the feel of grass tickling his sides until he realizes that it's his friend's fingertips skimming along the pale skin that's decorated by the illuminate of flames.

At first he thinks it's tickling, and so he sports a smile until it's wiped off by Gold's lips on his own. He's too stunned to move, and the other is afraid that he might be reverting the red head back into his introverted state with that one sentiment.

So he pulls away, tentatively, and the air is thick, silent.

"I'm sorry."

"No," Silver responds automatically (that's his usual reply when Gold tries to blame himself), "why should you be? Did I shove you away, tell you to get lost? I'm just … shocked, is all." He had always assumed that he was the follower of a strictly heterosexual friend that flirted with nearly every woman he came across. "You're still sitting on me, fat ass."

"Oh. … Really?" He smirks, and just like any other time, Silver is unnerved by whatever might be flitting through his mind. "Silver-" he states loudly and obnoxiously, "I'm-" he pointed to himself, "going-" a gesture of his hands that made two feet walking, "to kiss-" he puckered his lips in an unattractive way and stuck a pose, "you! And I'm not getting up!"

Silver tries to hold in a laugh but fails terribly. "Okay," he says with a shrug.

So when he's gently pushed on the grass again, he doesn't really expect the shocking tenderness that Gold puts forward. His tan hands are resting on the sides of Silver's face, and before he initiates another kiss, he leans forward to rest his forehead against his counterpart's.

The red head is even more surprised by that than his playfulness displayed a few seconds ago; now it was replaced with an almost uneasy shaking. Because of that, Silver reaches up a hand of his own to tangle into the black fluffy mass of Gold's hair—not to urge into the kiss, but to slowly trace his fingertips along the scalp and let his friend relax.

Gold rolls over lands unceremoniously with a plop next to Silver. "Never mind, I think I'll wait."

Silver turns to him and props up on an elbow. "What? Why?" It's after he says this that he realizes this was all part of Gold's plan.

"So I could see your disappointed pout."

"I don't—but—Gold," he groans, lashing a hand out to thump him in the chest and return to lying on his back. "Whatever, we'll play it your way. We always do."

"Are you saying you have a different way?"

"I'm not saying anything."

Gold seems to muse this for a few moments, and then he outspreads his hand near Silver's. It's an unspoken question, and Silver answers it more easily than the other anticipates. The hold is just a little bit awkward, but more so new—definitely not unwanted.

Hell, Silver had gotten used to everything else Gold put him through. This wouldn't be any different.