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Eight months. Eight months he spent on that miserable planet with miserable mushrooms and no one else save for a carved rock he named ‘Stone’. Now, after sending a short and quick message to the real Stone, the man felt slightly more like himself again. Not entirely, no. He would never be fully himself ever again, but it didn’t matter, not when he was back on Earth and on his way to his Agent’s base. The view of the coffee shop was nothing but ordinary, it was well-kept, sharp as well as welcoming, reminding him instantly of who was running it in the first place. He couldn’t help but smirk.
Stepping to the front door, Robotnik stopped, suddenly hesitant. The blinds were down, the door firmly shut with a cheery ‘closed’ sign displayed, and he knew, of course he knew, it was meant to keep civilians away, but his hand stopped mid-air all the same. The echidna glanced at him, waiting for him to act, but he was stuck. His eyes were unfocused, brows together as he tried to understand why this was happening, why was he here, one step away from the Agent and from the beginning of his new master plan, and yet couldn’t move a muscle.
It was with a jump he finally looked up to stare at the blinds again, not sure when his head had turned to the ground, as Norah Jones softly escaped the confinements of the coffee shop. He knew the song; it was on his ‘Dinner for One’ playlist. One that he kept private and away from curious brown eyes to no avail, it seemed. The breaking point, what made him firmly plant his hands on the door and open it, was Stone’s voice. Eight months slowly made him forget what the Agent sounded like, the pitch and tone of his voice, how his smile could be heard on each eager word, and his dreams served no purpose other than to desperately grasp what was left of his appearance. Soon enough, all that was left of Stone in his memory were his eyes, deep brown and shining with devotion, following his every step, and changing into a rich shade of gold when the sun hit just right. The last part might have been the mushrooms, his brain provided quickly.
Instead of jumping or flinching, Stone fixed the coffee on the counter one more time, grinning wide as the double doors opened to let in the fresh breeze of the night as well as Robotnik. He circled the counter with the coffee in hands, trying to push down his emotions in favor of handing the cup to Robotnik with shaky fingers. Not a single word was exchanged between them until the man took a long, satisfying gulp of coffee, sighing when the liquid went down his throat blessedly hot and sweet.
“Could use some mushroom” he joked, realizing a second later it would only make sense to himself as Stone frowned in confusion. “I’m kidding. Perfect as ever, Stone.” He continued to sip the drink, watching Stone turn to the echidna.
He was not prepared for the disapproving note on Stone’s voice, or how his face contorted in disdain at the alien, it made the air catch inside his throat, and he hid a cough behind the cup. Never, in all the years they worked together, had the Agent been so bothered by another person’s presence, alien or not. A laugh was threatening to burst out of him any second now, watching the Agent call the echidna a ‘space porcupine’ and offering his hand. He recalled how disastrous his own meeting with the echidna had been and let out a sharp whistle before they could shake hands, drawing their attention.
“There’s no time for formalities, Agent Stone,” he hissed. “Let’s renovate this dump!”
Stone nodded with a smile, commanding the coffee shop to transform into their secret base with a simple phrase that brought a satisfied grin to Robotnik’s lips. He watched the cozy and warm place turn and twist into a high-tech lab, adorned with blue and red lights and sporting his logo on the main screen, shining smugly. He handed Stone the cup, not worrying if it would fall to the ground, as the other already had a hand underneath, predicting his every move without thinking.
Robotnik looked to the side as the transformation kept on going, for the first time since his arrival truly paying attention to Stone. The shimmering lights of the lab danced across his skin, coloring everything into a faint purple that brought out the dark color of his suit and highlighted the few grey strands along his beard and well-kept, slightly longer hair. Stone’s smile was nothing short of pride, paired with a quiet ferocity in his gaze as he watched the shop, his shop, turn into the perfect base, on par with every single detail the Manifesto had to offer. Pride looked magnificent on him, Robotnik concluded, feeling his hand twitch at his side and rising to touch Stone’s shoulder before he could stop himself. The Agent looked at him, big eyes and a cheerful smile engraved on his face and Robotnik felt his brain shut down. When he didn’t say anything, but grasped Stone’s shoulder more aggressively, the Agent frowned and scanned him up and down a few times, searching for any signs of injuries or if he was about to faint.
He stepped away from Robotnik, “Doctor, are you alright-”
“Don’t!” Robotnik barked suddenly, grabbing Stone by his forearm with a firm hand, strong enough to feel the muscles beneath the layers of clothing. “Stay right where you are,” he hissed, but it came out like a plea, desperate and violent.
The wide-eyed stare Stone gave him forced Robotnik to think about his countless dreams. How the Agent never once looked at him with the uncertainty he did now. No, no, no, this was wrong, it was not how the reunion was supposed to go; they should be putting his plan into action, seizing the blasted hedgehog and acquiring ultimate power, not dwelling on emotions and personal connections. He let go of the other like his hands burned, feeling them tingle and shake as he distanced himself from Stone as fast as he could without bumping into the glass counter or the dammed echidna on his path. His temporary lack of self-control jeopardized his entire persona and the years he spent building walls, distancing himself from humanity, and all for a single touch. He miscalculated the strength of the effect it would have on him, foolish man that he was.
“Doctor!” He heard Stone call, quick steps catching up in no time. Robotnik took a deep breath and turned on his heels, making the Agent stop short and stumble so as not to crash into him. No longer tidy and proper, Stone gulped before placing his hands behind his back, trying to gather as much professionalism as he could. “I’m sorry Doctor, I-”
“Stone.” He hissed, shutting down any attempts at reasoning.
Stone pressed his lips tightly, staring at him with worry. He longed to ask what was wrong, if he did something that upset the Doctor, and if he could help, but his voice was promptly stolen from him by Robotnik’s command. It was somewhat familiar, the feeling of being pushed around by words coming from the most intelligent man alive, making his heart flutter when it recognized the situation. How inappropriate of him, a small part of his brain whispered.
Looking down at Stone, Robotnik couldn’t help but be hyper-aware of every single detail, of the way the Agent’s shoulders were tense, waiting for the next command, or how the colored lights reflected on his eyes and turned them into an unnatural neon blue. He looked void of a soul, like one of the nightmares he was painfully used to having, like a machine. Was this whole thing a dream? Could he still be trapped, dreaming of Stone on a cold and insufferable night? The mere thought was enough to send a shiver down his spine, forcing a gasp out of him like he had been shocked as he fumbled with his glove, taking it off to abruptly place a hand on Stone’s neck, searching desperately for a pulse, for a sign he was alive, for a sign he was real.
Stone’s heart skipped a beat, every hair on his body standing up when two cold fingers were placed on the side of his neck without warning. He couldn’t help the sound that left his lips at the contact, not used to the sensation of Robotnik’s bare hands or to the intensity of the situation. The crazed shimmer in Robotnik’s eyes was the only thing keeping him in place, like a deer in the headlights. The Agent steadied his breath, drawing in deep and letting it go through his mouth as Robotnik watched like a falcon, fingers never leaving their place.
Raising his gaze to look directly at the other’s unstable, anxious eyes, Stone asked, “What’s wrong, Doctor?”
“Are you real, Stone?” Robotnik asked in return, voice alarmingly small. He abandoned the two fingers in favor of placing his entire hand on the side of Stone’s neck.
“Of course I’m real, Doctor,” he replied, frowning.
Scowling, Robotnik brought Stone closer by his tie with his gloved hand, now face to face with Agent. “Prove it.” An order, spoken with the familiar tone of a hidden threat, but underlined with immensurable uncertainty.
Stone missed this. The tug at his tie ignited old instincts, guided by years of service and devotion, sending a pleased tingle through his body. Robotnik must have felt something underneath his hand, for his grasp got tighter. He tilted his head slightly. “How would you like me to prove it, Doctor?”
When no answer came, Stone smiled wildly, teeth shining in the unnatural lights. Free reign to do as he pleased, something so out-of-character for both, Robotnik for allowing it, Stone for taking the chance.
“Very well,” he whispered, raising his hands to grasp the one entangled in his tie, momentarily stopping to watch Robotnik’s reaction. Not a sound, not even a twitch of a muscle, but his pupils were dilated, trying to take in everything at once in the dim lights. Painfully slow, Stone removed the control glove finger by finger, holding Robotnik’s hand delicately, each finger unveiled making the air catch in their throats.
Stone could feel his own pulse, powerful and constant, but it didn’t seem to convince the other of his existence, so, gently, slowly, he guided Robotnik’s free hand to his chest, underneath the suit and in direct contact with his dress shirt, right above his heart, never once breaking eye contact. He breathed in deeply, feeling the cold palm move with him as the other clutched the side of his neck like a lifeline. They stood still, in complete silence, for what felt like an eternity, breathing slowly and steadily so Robotnik could feel how his muscles moved, how the air occupied his lungs and the blood coursed through his veins with each heartbeat.
He rubbed small circles along the Doctor’s hand, savoring the feel of skin against his own after so long. Eight months away from each other and Stone had not once thought of the possibility of leaving their work behind, starting anew somewhere he could be a normal person and forget about the brilliant man before him. It didn’t even cross his mind to give up, because he knew, deep within him, that Robotnik would come back, no matter the time it took. He would have waited forever if he had to, always hopeful and loyal and slightly obsessive, truth be told.
“Am I real enough, Doctor?” Stone asked, surrounding the hand with his own, watching with careful eyes as Robotnik drew yet another deep breath and averted his gaze to Stone’s chest.
“Yes.” He muttered, dragging the word in a deep, confident tone. He squeezed Stone’s neck softly before taking his hand away, feeling it hot and numb as consequence of the prolonged contact. He couldn’t help but blink a few times, trying to get ahold of his scattered thoughts. Stone’s eyes shone no more with neon light, now reduced to the deep, rich brown Robotnik could pinpoint the exact HEX color in his sleep, as he had done countless times when the image of his Agent started to fade away.
Stone smiled softly, the tiniest hint of sadness seeping through the surface, “Is there anything else I can assist you with, Doctor?”
Robotnik frowned, recalling the thousands of times he heard the Agent say those words in thousands of different contexts, but never like this. He sounded distant, somehow, and even the stable heartbeat beneath his hand couldn’t chase away the awful feeling that lodged itself in his stomach, churning and mixing up his insides until he felt like throwing up. Swallowing, he stepped forward, arms going around Stone quickly and with the strength of a constricting snake. The Agent stood uncharacteristically silent, stiff and tense; all his forwardness forgotten in an instant.
“Prove to yourself I’m real,” he said, holding onto Stone for dear life as the Agent started to shake. Soon enough, he felt arms encircling him in return, clutching his back with enough force to make the fabric of his new coat squeak. He sighed deeply, finally feeling like the world was back on track as his bare hands held the Agent.
“How-” Stone’s voice came muffled, as he had his head buried into Robotnik’s shoulder, “how did you know I-”
“We are all plagued by dreams,” he whispered in return. Stone’s weight provided a powerful grounding sensation, chasing away the unease that lingered. Robotnik never thought he would be the one comforting another human being, much less his Agent, or seeking touch so desperately it would physically halt any other instinct, but here he was.
“You’ve been away for so long, Doctor,” Stone started, voice shaky, “and this happened so many times, in so many different ways and I-” he stopped for a moment, burying his fingers on Robotnik’s coat. “I wasn’t sure- When you let me touch you, when you took the gloves off, too much like one of those dreams to be real-”
“You’re rambling, Stone,” he noted with a small smile and Stone instantly drew a sharp breath, silent again. They stayed quiet for a moment. “I forgot how short you are,” he muttered, suddenly aware of how close they were, how warm Stone was against him. “I forgot your face, your voice…”
“I drew you into a latte every day, Doctor,” Stone replied, distancing himself from Robotnik just enough to see his face.
Robotnik scoffed with an amused smirk. “Of course you did, overachieving sycophant.”
At Stone’s slightly wet giggle, his smirk morphed into a fond smile. He had missed this. Missed him.
“We have work to do, don’t we, Agent?” He said, getting away from Stone by only one step. A fierce spark took place in Stone’s eyes, replacing the doubts and sadness. What a magnificent image it was, Robotnik’s mind supplied.
“Yes, of course,” Stone nodded. “Please forgive me for my… outburst, Doctor.”
Robotnik grinned, sharp and wide and alive. “You’re forgiven, Stone,” he said, admiring how the Agent preened at his words, always eager, always ready to obey the next command. “First, we must seize that blasted blue rat, then ultimate power, and then…” he purred, tilting his head as Stone followed his every move with his whole body, he curled a finger on the Agent’s askew tie, bringing him closer, “you’re going to tell me all about the dreams you’ve been having in my absence.”
For all his bravado, Robotnik couldn’t help but gulp at the way Stone’s eyes darkened, half-lidded in the low lights. His brain shut down again when the Agent placed a hand on top of his, the warmth of it sending chills through the Doctor.
“Only if you tell me about yours, Doctor,” Stone whispered back.