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*sneaks into old comm and posts fic*

Stealth fic attack!

...Well, uh, hi, my name is Skiba, I love PreciousMetalShipping, and I wrote a fic this past week. I'll let it speak for itself. *shifty look*

*copies and pastes from Fanfiction.net*




Kinda random kink meme-ish thing. Probably woefully inaccurate, but I haven't really kept up with Pokémon Special like, at all.

So... please forgive any accidental out-of-character-ness, and I totally and readily admit that the events of the FRLG and Emerald chapters have been summarized and altered in way that likely vastly differs from how they unfold in the manga.

Also, don't ask me how it is that Silver can see/feel. I had to make it that way in order for the fic to work... just go with it. XD

Enjoy the PreciousMetalShipping. ;3

— — —

The first thing Silver can remember is blind panic.

Deoxys.

Mewtwo.

Sird.

The memories are flashbulb, staccato. Like the moments after a car crash, his recollection of the events is scattered and disorganized. All he knows is that they (RedGreenYellowBlue) were in the midst of saving Deoxys from Sird; Mewtwo rushed forward, they followed and—

Silver tries to move.

His body fails to respond.

His entire body is a leaden weight, frozen, immobile. Primal fear bites into his mind, thoughts screaming desperate pleas in a flurry of emotion before his rational brain silences them. His eyes are fixed straight ahead, staring into an empty room, evidence of a recent skirmish marring the floor and walls. He is conscious, he realizes, and as he slides his gaze to the left as far as it can go, he catches sight of Blue. The pleats of her skirt are a terrifying slate-gray, flecked with minerals and strangely still. Her flesh follows the same coloration, and Silver can feel his stomach drop. Stone, he thinks, and moves his eyes directly downward to where he holds his Pokédex. Fingers curled tight around the device, and no amount of willpower will move them. Stone, he repeats in his mind, and makes the horrifying connection.

We've all... been turned to stone.

Instinct drives him to call out, but no words escape him. The desire to speak builds, escalates in a blaring frenzy in his mind, his petrified lips refusing to cooperate. Itching to do anything—call for help, reach his Pokégear, anything at all—Silver returns his sight ahead and forces himself to calm. The others should know where they are, what they've been doing. Help will come.

He has to have hope.

— — —

It takes only a few hours, at his estimation, for the crowds to come. Professor Oak takes notes as he passes each of them, a grim frown line forming on his forehead. Bill stands by his side, looking just as tense, fiddling with a cell phone. A few adults Silver doesn't recognize talk in hushed tones. Both men stop in front of Silver; he focuses his gaze upward. I'm here, he thinks, wishing he could voice the thought. I'm awake, I'm here, rescue us... His thoughts go unheard, unvoiced, as Oak does not react to his internal pleas.

"Do you think they're...?" Bill ventures, hands clasped together. Awake? Alive?

The professor shakes his head. "I seriously doubt it."

"What are we going to do, Professor?" the man pleads.

"...I'm not sure," the elder finally admits. "Our hope rests in the hands of the others."

"Who should I talk to, Professor? Ruby and Sapphire are much too young to—"

"Get Gold and Crystal." The definite tone in Oak's voice has Bill standing straight and nodding.

— — —

It doesn't take long for Silver to learn of the plans.

Someone, somewhere, must make use of Jirachi, the legendary wishmaker Pokémon.

It's a distant shooting star of a plan.

But it is a plan, at least.

— — —

Gold feels like a part of himself is missing.

He can't explain it, going through the day with his normal business, until his Pokégear rings.

It's Professor Elm, and, like the man always is, a hurried rush of information informs Gold where he's needed.

At the sound of Silver's name, he can't move any faster.

— — —

When he arrives, his stomach flips and his knees lock.

He can do nothing more than rush and stumble forward, a Beedrill-line to Silver's form, sudden hot and angry tears searing at his eyes. Oak leaves him be, quietly backing out from the room, not a word exchanged between them. Gold knows the truth, as Elm had informed both him and Crys when they arrived, but seeing it firsthand was almost more than he can bear. Kneeling before his friend, he feels a strong desire to be alone; removing his belt of Pokéballs (and with a quick apology to Eitarou), he places most of his belongings with Oak, then shuts the door on his return trip.

"Silver," he whispers, returning to his friend's place.

Empty, pewter-coated eyes stare upward, almost eerily into Gold's own, and part of him wishes to avert his gaze. The other part raises his hands, coming to rest on Silver's jaw.

"How could this have happened?"

— — —

Gold's touch feels incredible.

Even through the stone, Silver feels the warmth of Gold's hands, the sound of his voice inspiring hope within him. Calloused thumbs brush over his cheeks as Gold, so folorn, searches Silver's eyes for any sign of life. Desperately, Silver wishes he could speak. Wishes he could tell Gold that his presence is all he needs to feel like maybe, just maybe, their pie in the sky dream could come to fruition. And wishes more than anything to be able to move, wrap his arms around Gold, and tell him everything will be fine.

"How could this have happened to you?" Gold repeats, metallic eyes meeting Silver's own.

I wish I knew, Silver responds in his mind.

Gold hugs him, awkwardly as it is from Silver's frozen position.

"I'll find a way to change you back," he promises, then, as if it tears him apart inside, extricates himself from Silver and, hesitantly, from the room.

The sight of his friend leaving about breaks Silver's heart.

— — —

Gold can't sleep that night.

The Pokémon Center nearby has a comfortable room for passing travelers, but much as he tries, every time he closes his eyes, all he can see is Silver's inanimate form.

— — —

Silver can't sleep at all.

His eyes cannot close, and his mind will not rest; he focuses on the strips of artificial light flooding in from above and pretends that Gold is with him.

— — —

Every day, sometimes for minutes, and sometimes for hours, Gold comes in to visit.

His arrival is the best part of Silver's day.

His departure is the worst.

On the days that Gold is there only briefly, he says little. Sometimes he'll just palm Silver's cheek with a melancholy expression, sigh to himself, then leave in a languid hurry. These are the days that Silver wishes he could cry out. Other times he'll hug his form, then back away and keep his eyes on Silver until he's left the room. These are the days Silver wishes he could return the embrace. On the days that he is there for hours, Gold seems upbeat, optimistic. He'll tell Silver of all the things that go on in his life, all his little adventures, and Silver listens patiently (not like he has a choice, but he enjoys it). His respect for Gold grows with each day that passes, even if sometimes he can't help the sarcastic inner remarks he makes, a carryover from the days before he came to actually like the dark-haired boy.

There's a strange sort of day where Gold comes in for two hours and spends the entire time sitting next to Silver in comfortable silence.

Once he brings something to eat. Silver feels a small twinge of hunger at the sight, though his body's needs have effectively ceased.

Everything culminates suddenly.

Gold is in the middle of one of his adventurous recounts when he trails off mid-sentence and regards the ceiling with a blank look. From his position on the floor, with his hands linked under his head and his ankle crossed over his knee, he sits up. His expression is unreadable as his misty eyes meet Silver's.

"Silver," he starts.

— — —

"There's... a lot on my mind," Gold admits to his friend, who has been his confidant these past two weeks in between every meeting the professors hold as they continue to discuss the situation. He feels slightly guilty for using his friend the way he does, but at the same time, it brings him courage. "There are... things I want to say to you, y'know." It's made all the more easy by the fact that Silver can't hear him, doesn't even know he's there.

"For all the time we've known each other..." He looks up at the ceiling again and sighs. "I don't know why but I've come to... really like you."

Gold shakes his head. "Actually, 'like' isn't the right word." Strange compulsions drive him to his feet, heat rising to his cheeks even though no one knows what he's doing. He nears, climbing onto the platform, then kneels before Silver. His hand goes to Silver's face again, a thumb tracing along Silver's bottom lip.

— — —

If Silver could move, he would shiver now.

"Maybe if I were brave," Gold says, and Silver's eyes fall to his mouth as he forms the words, "maybe I could tell you... to your face... that..."

The sensation of that thumb brushing along his lip has Silver aching for more. The contact is euphoric, warmth rising in his gut. Please, Gold, he finds himself begging, though he's unable to do anything more than watch and hope.

Gold is silent again, eyes going back and forth as he focuses on Silver's. "Look at me," he laughs, blush deepening, "I can't say it even when you're just a statue..."

Please, Gold, please say it, Silver begs. If only he could twitch his hands just the slightest, let Gold know he's there and he wants this more than anything...

— — —

Gold inches closer, lowering his head and tilting it. His heart races, pulse pounding in his ears. Why should this matter so much? Silver isn't even aware of him, won't know this happened, will never know. It'd just be a simple confession, to get this weight off his shoulders and this load off his chest, to confront the feelings that have grown wild in his heart. Just a kiss, he reminds himself, just a kiss on the lips of someone who'll never, ever know...

— — —

Hot breath ghosts over Silver's mouth.

Just a little lower, Silver thinks, just an inch more.

Gold kisses him.

— — —

It lasts all of a few seconds, just a press of the lips to the figure's open, frozen mouth. The surface is coarse as rock, nothing like skin and nowhere near as warm. It's wrong, Gold feels, but he had to do it. As he pulls away, slowly, in almost disbelief, he searches Silver's face yet again. Nothing is different, nothing has changed. Just that same petrified expression of blank shock, the still frame of a moment Gold had not witnessed. Somehow he can't help but feel like the expression is a reaction to what he did, and he tears his eyes away.

— — —

At the sight of Gold turning from him, Silver panics.

Don't go, don't leave me...!

— — —

One hand comes to rest on Silver's shoulder. Gold can't move from the spot, feeling as rooted as Silver is. He can't believe he just did what he did, but why is he not moving? Why is he coming closer, curling his arms around Silver's form instead of running, fleeing? He presses his body flush against Silver's, the cool surface of the stone sending a shiver through his body. It's so wrong to him that he can't feel the warmth of Silver's body against his, and maybe that's what draws him even closer.

His hands run all over Silver's petrified figure, one over the curve of his lowered shoulder to where his hand grips the Pokédex, the other down Silver's right side, under his raised arm down to his hip. He withholds the instinct to pull Silver toward him, terrified beyond words of what might happen should he break, and settles for resting his head in the crook of Silver's neck.

He breathes, expecting Silver's scent.

All he gets is the earthen aroma of rock.

— — —

Silver hates the paralysis in his limbs, unable to react even in the most reflexive of ways to just how good it feels to have Gold so close. Torn between frustration and exhilaration, he tries to focus on where Gold is touching him, the sensation of his breath on Silver's neck.

Gold kisses his neck, then just barely licks at the stone-encased skin there. Silver can almost see the expression on Gold's face at how that must taste, eyes trained as far down as they can go though not enough to see for himself. The hand at his hip tightens, Gold's nails scraping the rock, and he nuzzles at Silver with a sigh. "I'm sorry," he breathes out, then kisses him again. His tongue flicks over Silver's bottom lip, Silver longing to kiss him back, and he rolls his hips against Silver's thigh.

"I'm sorry," he repeats breathlessly, and the hand at Silver's hip moves to his waist, over stony belt loops and petrified fabric. Silver's thoughts go blank as Gold palms between his legs, heart pounding without notice from the boy above him. It feels so good but his body will not, cannot react.

— — —

The feeling of guilt only grows as Gold leans against Silver and continues to feel at him, vaguely pretending that Silver makes some kind of reaction. His hips are moving against him almost involuntarily, a tight, pleasurable sensation deep within him. Perhaps it's good, then, that Silver is unaware of his presence, unaware of how shamelessly Gold is rutting against his frozen form.

He keeps bringing his lips to Silver's, kissing his open mouth as his free hand finds a place on Silver's neck. He wants to dig his fingers into vibrant red hair, hold him close, see Silver's reactions to his ministrations, but the stone is unforgiving as ever. He tries to imagine Silver tilting his head back into Gold's hands, moaning out, and Gold curses under his breath as his nails scrabble uselessly over the statue's fly in an attempt to return the favor.

His hand returns to its former position, cupping the spot instead, and the frequency of his thrusts increases as his pleasure grows to a fever pitch.

— — —

Silver can't help but feel disappointed when Gold attempts to undo his pants and fails, his thoughts screaming out at how unfair it was he should be trapped like this. His stomach roils with pent-up need without an outlet, teetering on the impossible edge. As his body will not move, not even with the tiny involuntary spasms that come with the sensations he feels, he delves into his mind and draws all the feelings into a mental tempest of pleasure.

Gold's breathing becomes erratic, soft moans escaping between sighs as he kisses Silver's mouth, jawline, and neck. Silver can feel how close he is to release, if the tumescence against his leg is any indication. Curiously, he wonders if this behavior is more a result of his statue form, or is a true respresentation of what Gold wants to do to him, with him.

He hopes it's the latter.

— — —

Gold is close, so deliciously close; with surprising care given his mental state, he sets his teeth on Silver's shoulder and comes with a shudder and a shout.

— — —

At the sound of Gold's orgasm, Silver collects the images in his mind and focuses intently on Gold's touch, bringing himself to a still, silent climax.

— — —

It takes a few moments for Gold to collect his thoughts, eyes squeezed shut and form slumped over Silver's. A wet stickiness alerts him to his recent advent, and, blushing with one part shame to two parts nervousness, detaches himself from Silver. He can't believe he did what he did, hurriedly stripping off his soiled clothes and fishing out replacements from his pack. He redresses in a rush, then turns back to look at Silver.

Still the same.

"I'm really sorry," he apologizes again, uselessly, then rushes up to give Silver one last kiss. "I... I have to go... for a while."

As he leaves, he sends one last glance toward Silver.

"I promise," he murmurs under his breath, "when you're back to normal... I'll tell you everything."

— — —

Silver wishes he could smile right then, at that final line.

— — —

When Jirachi's third eye opens, the flash of light releasing the five from their stony prisons, Silver meets Gold's smiling face with one of his own.

When they join the battle against Guile Hideout, Silver casually admits his consciousness to Gold.

When Gold looks horrified, all Silver can do is smirk a little to himself.

— — —

Some time later, when the dust has settled and the world seems safe again, Silver finds himself with Gold curled against him, sound asleep in the bright sunniness of the National Park. His mind replays the events that transpired when he was trapped in stone, and a tiny shiver courses through his body.

He can't help but feel grateful about it.

After all, it's what drew them together.

Comments

( 3 comments — Leave a comment )
lurora
Mar. 10th, 2011 02:56 pm (UTC)
Brb, blushing forever.
O-oh. o///o

Thank you for this, though~<3 =///=)b

...Poor Silver. ;A;
skibalovesya
Mar. 10th, 2011 03:59 pm (UTC)
Re: Brb, blushing forever.
Mweeheeheehee. *patpat* It's okay to blush. ;3

You are quite welcome! ♥

Poor Silver woulda been if I didn't make him orgasm, like I almost initially intended... but I felt like a jerk if I did that. X3
reldyju
Nov. 1st, 2011 09:25 pm (UTC)
Great read! I wish you could follow up to this topic

( 3 comments — Leave a comment )