Disclaimer: Yo, listen up, here's a story about a bunch of stuff that I don't own, and all day and all night everything gets disclaimed.

Forgiveness and trust weren't the same thing. They weren't the same thing, at all. Proton had assumed that when he'd found it in him to forgive Petrel for years of lies, deceit, and sabotage, things between the two of them would return to normal, and he would have been able to put all of the bad things behind them. It was a lot harder than he'd thought it would be.

On the day of his birthday, he'd gone out to the beach near Olivine, where they were constructing that fancy new battle tower, and had spent the entire day sitting around in the surf and thinking as he stared out at the horizon. Yes, they had made up, and yes, their nights were spent with as much cuddling and other intimacies as before, but things didn't feel the same, any more. At one point in time, he hadn't even a shadow of a doubt that Petrel always had his best interests at heart- but then, he had intentionally sabotaged Proton's projects. He'd believe Petrel when the taller man had said his injuries were why he never got field missions, but it was all the more likely that Archer simply didn't want him making contact with the cops. His lover was, Proton thought, for all intents and purposes, a traitor, and the fact that he hadn't been killed for his crimes baffled the green executive. How could they possibly trust one who had, just a few years ago, been planning to hand them all over to the IP on a silver platter?

That was why he hadn't brought Petrel with him to the beach; it was perfectly acceptable in Guardianism to bring close friends and family along on one's rejuvenation, and he had even considered inviting his boyfriend to share such a special occasion with him. Then, however, his mind turned back to the events of their arrest, and the things he had discovered, and he had hesitated, retired early, and left before Petrel had woken to avoid the issue. He was a terrible friend, he had thought, to not trust Petrel with something as simple as his own religious beliefs. How dearly he had wished for his lover to find him, to show up and whine and gripe about how long it took him to figure out where Proton had gone, how Archer had barely been any help at all, and to sit down next to him in the surf and hold him and laugh about how crazy his religion was. And yet, at the same time, he had been terrified- terrified that if that had happened, he would have shown a weakness, and Petrel would have seen it and used it against him, blackmailing him into the two of them going rogue, turncoating, and delivering their home straight to the IP's front door. As much as Proton complained about his subordinates, and as much joy he took in punishing grunts in the U, he would never wish the Team's destruction.

When he had returned to their apartment later that evening, Petrel had asked him about his day, and for some reason he had found himself lying- he'd been in the forest, he'd claimed, enjoying a long walk and getting lost until he'd somehow found himself in Azalea, and it had seemed like a solid story to him, but Petrel had stared at him, long and hard, before going back to whatever book he was reading- it looked like the Tome, but that would have been silly; Petrel had no interest in religion, he'd thought. He had tried to subvert the conversation, then, asking Petrel if he'd been hungry enough to go out for dinner in town, and he offered to pay, as well, but Petrel had simply given him an exceedingly fake smile, apologized, and claimed he wasn't feeling well before he disappeared into their room, shutting the door a little harder than was really necessary.

They'd barely spoken, since then. It wasn't like that week after the rave, of course, they weren't spending their time shooting each other death glares, or anything, though Proton had to admit Petrel seemed to be in a bit of a bad mood more often than not. Though true conversation was scarce, they remained civil, ate together in the mornings and evenings, and still had movie night, but it was like there was a wall between them. They were distant with each other, both of them coming up with lame excuses on Saturdays as to why they wouldn't be able to participate in date night, and though it seemed they could see right through each other's lies, neither called the other out on it. Intimacies between them quickly became few and far in between, the occasional good-morning kiss and hand-holding, but they began to sit on exact opposite sides of the couch, and they kept as much room between them in bed as they could without either of them falling off. Nights seemed to be a lot colder, Proton noticed, when he wasn't wrapped in Petrel's embrace.

Silver seemed to notice what was going on, of course. He would give them weird looks as they had their awkward morning smalltalk, and once he had the audacity to walk up to Proton and ask him if he and Petrel were going to stay together. He'd completely flipped out, yelling and threatening and telling the kid to mind his own damn business. Silver had run and locked himself in his room, and Petrel had come flying in from the balcony, cigarette in hand, and they'd gotten into an argument, yelling and shouting at each other until the purple executive's cigarette had burnt down to his fingers and he swore and accidentally dropped it. Proton had quickly stamped it out before anything could catch fire, and before Petrel had said another word, he'd packed his necessities and left for his office. They'd gone back to their quiet civility after that, but even their smalltalk became forced.

Honestly, Proton wasn't sure what to do, any more. He was sleeping on the couch, now, nearly a week after their fight, though only because there wasn't room for a futon in his office, and only because he would feel terribly guilty if he made Petrel sleep on the couch, what with his back issues and all. He was starting to miss his lover something awful- his stupid jokes and deep laughter and inability to shut the fucking hell up. The quiet that had settled into their apartment was unsettling as hell, and Proton just wanted it gone.

But then, he told himself, once they did start talking again, what would happen if Petrel got him to talk of his work? He didn't want to wake up one day and find prisoners released, wires cut, generators sabotaged- he didn't want to doubt Petrel. He'd rather slaughter each and every one of his subordinates before he doubted Petrel, but he had no choice, as Petrel was a traitor. And it pissed him off, too, that Archer had nearly killed him just for fucking up at Silph, but gave Petrel barely even a slap on the wrist when he had threatened the entire organization's livelihood. He scowled as he stared at the TV. It wasn't fair- it wasn't fucking fair, at all.

"Can you turn that down?" Petrel didn't even look up from his laptop as he asked, and Proton shot the back of his head a sneer. He didn't reply, he didn't move- he just kept on watching whatever the hell movie was playing. Honestly he wasn't even sure, he hadn't been paying attention to the last two hours of whatever the fuck channel he was on. A few minutes later, however, and Petrel tried again. "Proton. Turn it down. I can't concentrate."

"Yeah, well maybe you should have gotten your Lugiadamn adderall prescription filled," he finally snapped. "Fuck, it's already on ten, any lower and I won't be able to hear the damn movie!"

"Maybe that's why they invented subtitles," Petrel said bitterly. "Try reading for once, it wouldn't fucking kill you."

"Just wear your motherfucking headphones." The conversation ended there as Petrel was already pulling them out and unraveling the cord, muttering darkly to himself. He was lucky Proton couldn't hear what he was saying, otherwise, the green executive knew that he would be getting pissed as all hell, for sure, and as he hadn't had a reason to use his knife in the past couple weeks, he was actively looking for an excuse. Not a moment after Petrel had his headphones on, however, there was a knock on the door, and Proton growled as he got up and marched over to answer it. Upon opening it, he was surprised to see Archer and Ariana standing before him; Archer looked rather disgruntled, while Ariana was smiling sweetly at him. He knew that smile. That smile promised blood sacrifice.

"Archer, Ariana," Proton greeted wearily. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Oh, we were just wondering if you knew where Silver was," Ariana replied. "Do you know?" Proton rolled his eyes and leaned back to get a clear line of sight on Petrel.

"Petrel! PETREL! Dammit, asshole, I'm talking to you!" Petrel threw his hands up in exasperation and removed his headphones, turning around to scowl heavily at Proton.

"What the hell do you want?!" the purple executive snarled.

"Don't give me that fucking attitude! Where the fuck's Silver?!" Petrel's scowl deepened, and he opened his mouth, presumably to be a sarcastic bitch, but he paused and leaned back, catching sight of Archer and Ariana, and he sighed.

"He's in his room," he said, rubbing his temples. "Now can I please get back to work?"

"There you go," Proton said, turning back to the twin executives, "he's in his fucking room. You want him?"

"Oh, no, we came to return him." Ariana stepped aside to reveal one thoroughly scared-looking red-head boy, and as soon as Proton saw the kid, he swore. "May we come in?" Without a word, he stepped aside, and his superiors entered, Silver clutching tightly to Ariana's hand. She stopped in the kitchen to get Silver a snack, then took him to his room, and when she came back out, closed the door behind her. "You two," she snapped, glancing at Proton and Petrel in turn, "on the couch, now. Both of you, let's go."

"It's in your best interest to obey her," Archer added. The younger two executives exchanged glances, and without a word, did as they were told, sitting as far away from each other as the couch would allow. Archer took residence in the chair at Petrel's desk, merely watching as Ariana paced in front of the coffee table.

"Well?!" she snapped. "What do you have to say for yourselves?!"

"I'm sorry, Ms. Ariana, I didn't mean to break the vase," Petrel said, mimicking the voice of a small child. Proton ducked his head to hide his smirk, though it seemed Ariana was less than amused, as evidenced by her stopping abruptly in her pacing, striding up to Petrel, and backhanding him, hard, across the face, the force nearly knocking the purple executive over.

"That boy has been living with Archer and I for almost four days, now," she seethed, "and you mean to tell me you never noticed he was gone?!" Petrel merely rubbed his cheek and shook his head.

"He's a quiet kid," Proton murmured, "even when we make an effort to keep track of him, we barely ever notice he's here." That was the wrong thing to say, it seemed, as Ariana turned her fury on him.

"So you weren't even trying to look after him, is what I'm hearing. You know, I might have expected as much from you, Proton, but from Petrel?!" Her glare was enough to make the purple executive lower his head in shame. "I trusted you with the boy's wellbeing, and this is what happens!"

"Shouldn't've even bothered to trust him, in the first place..."

"Look, Proton, if you have a problem with me, just fucking say it!" Petrel scowled at him, and though Archer tried to speak up and end their argument before it started, Proton cut him off.

"I'm sorry, was I not bein' direct enough, you lying sonuvabitch?!"

"Oh, I'm the lying sonuvabitch? What about you, huh?! You've been lying through your teeth to me about fucking everything for almost two months, now!"

"You think that's long?! You think fucking two months is long?! Bastard, you've been lying to me for three motherfucking years, how's that for long?!"

"I told you! I fucking told you, I never lied about us!"

"Do you honestly expect me to believe that?!"

"I thought you forgave me, dammit!"

"I forgave you for sabotaging my fucking project, not for fucking lying to me!"

"Will both of you shut up?!" Archer shouted. Proton and Petrel immediately quieted, turning their attention to their blue-haired boss, who crossed his arms impatiently. "The boy mentioned you were having a lover's spat, but I didn't realize it was this bad. It seems quite clear to me, now, why I've been getting so many complaints about the two of you these past months, and quite frankly, I am shamed of both of you for handling this so poorly." He glanced to his sister. "I think we should take the child back with us, for now, and wait until these two morons kiss and make up."

"We're doing a perfectly fine job of looking after Silver!" Petrel protested. Ariana laughed outright at that.

"Oh, you are, are you?" she replied. "You didn't even know where he was for the past four days- he could have been lying dead in a ditch, for all you knew. I agree with Archer on this one- we're looking after the child until you two can get a grip on yourselves. It's not just the boy's wellbeing at stake, either."

"Indeed," Archer agreed, "it's the organization's, as well. You know our output is dropping, don't you? Morale, as well- it's times like these our subordinates look to us as their leaders, and with such a poor example the two of you are setting, I have half a mind to fire the both of you." He checked something on his pokegear and stood, moving over to stand by his sister. "The both of you are off-duty until you can show me you are the leaders our grunts need. I have a project I will be putting the two of you on, however, in your current state I am afraid you would blow the base sky-high. If you have not worked things out within the next two days, I'm sure I can find a nice little cell for you to share in the Underground until you do. Do I make myself clear to the two of you?"

"Yes, sir," Proton and Petrel deadpanned in unison. Archer nodded.

"Shall we, Ariana?" Ariana cast the younger pair of executives one final glare before going to retrieve Silver. The boy waved solemnly to Petrel and Proton as he was led out of the apartment by the white-clad rockets, and Petrel waved back at him. They remained on the couch after that in silence for quite some time- twenty minutes, at the very least, not like either of them were counting. It was Petrel who broke the silence, first.

"I didn't realize it bothered you that much." Proton scowled at him and grabbed one of the couch pillows, hugging it to his chest.

"What did you fuckin' expect?" he growled half-heartedly. "I'm sorry, do you even know what it's like to find out the one fuckin' guy you would ever fuckin' spill your heart out to was lying to you for three motherfuckin' years?!"

"For a while you played it off like you didn't care," Petrel pointed out. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He looked tired, Proton noticed. Exhausted, in fact. He must not have been sleeping well, as of late, and for some reason, that thought just made the greenette feel guilty as fuck. It couldn't have been his fault, he tried to reason with himself, he had no reason to feel badly- but the last time he'd seen Petrel look even relatively close to being that tired was that week after the rave so long ago, when they'd refused to speak to each other. "I didn't understand why you started lying to me all the time, or why you didn't at least tell me what you were doing on your birthday."

"How did you know I was lying about that, anyways?" Proton asked. Petrel shrugged one shoulder non-noncommittally.

"Archer gave me a lecture, and I followed his cryptic old man hints to Olivine," he admitted, "I almost joined you, but everyone else was giving you so much space, I thought you were supposed to be left alone."

"...You should have stayed," the younger whispered. "I know I should have told you, but you should have stayed..."

"Why didn't you?" When he didn't reply right away, Petrel scooted closer and reached out, stroking his cheek before gently grasping his jaw, forcing Proton to look up at him. "If you wanted me with you, why didn't you tell me?" Proton tried to remove himself from Petrel's grip, but said grip only tightened, and it was clear that he wasn't getting out of anything, this time.

"I was scared," he said at last. "I was scared I was going to say something personal, something you could use against me if... if you ever..." He let the sentence hang there, but Petrel seemed to get the gist of it, and the taller man's brow furrowed before he pulled away several moments later.

"Oh, Mew," he murmured, "if I had known... If I had fucking known what all of that shit would cause, now... I can promise you, Lance, I would have made some very different decisions." Proton opened his mouth to try and say something, but Petrel beat him to the punch. "I know, I know, you're not sure if you can even trust that. Look, sweetheart..." He turned slightly to face him better. "I understand why certain choices I've made in the past would make you uncomfortable with me, now, and why it would make you think you can't trust me, but I... I want you to know- even though the organization may not have my full, unquestioning loyalty, anymore, you have it in its entirety. Whatever you fight for, I will always have your back, and when you decide to be an idiot and get yourself shot, I'll be there to pull the lead out of you. You are the best thing that's happened to me in my entire Mewdamn life, and I'll be damned if I lose you to anyone or anything- even my own stupidity. All I ask is you give me one more chance to prove it to you." Proton laughed softly and shook his head.

"I'm not sure if I have it in me," he replied earnestly, "I'm honestly not."

"Hey." Petrel placed a hand on his shoulder and shook him gently. "For the jacuzzi tub." Proton couldn't help but crack a small smile.

"...Alright," he agreed, "for the jacuzzi tub. But only one more chance. If you screw up this time..."

"I won't. I promise."

"Good." The matter settled, Proton scooted to fully lean against Petrel, snuggling down against him, and grinned lazily when he felt the purple executive's arms wrap around him. "I've missed this."

"Me, too," Petrel agreed. "You know, we have two entire days off, as long as we don't run into Archer. Maybe we can finally go to that restaurant I've been meaning to take you to..."

"Hey, kid-free vacation?" Proton laughed. "I'm good for anything. Though, it occurs to me we should be looking into that whole morale drop thing..."

"Eh, we can worry about that, later. For now, it is seven 'o clock on a Saturday evening, the sun is just now setting, and it appears that, for once, neither of us are predisposed with having to remove prior engagements from the oven." Ah, and the first crappy joke had arrived- Proton couldn't help but snicker, his amusement earning a proud grin from his lover. "What say you and I sneak out and go for a walk in the forest, sweetheart?"

"I say, 'race ya to the gates'."

"You're on." With nearly identical grins, the two leaped to their feet and ran about getting their boots and gloves before they raced out of their apartment and towards the elevators, taking care to avoid anyone who would rat them out to Archer and end their so-called 'vacation' early.

Forgiveness and trust weren't the same thing. They weren't the same thing, at all. But Proton knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Petrel would earn both from him, no matter how terribly he ever screwed up. That was just how they rolled.

:D Have a shiny-sparkly new chapter, just for you. Don't worry, we'll hit the GSCHGSS events before the end of the semester.

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