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The afternoon was bright and warm and Amy was content spending it doing crochet on the couch and humming. She didn’t really know how to crochet, but she’d seen a few tutorials and there was this really cute frog plushie pattern she wanted to try making. Big said he would come visit soon, and this would be a great gift, she was sure!
But the biggest, pun unintended, reason she decided to spend such a slow afternoon was because of the robot sitting next to her, unmovingly watching her hands work.
It was still a little new, but she was quickly growing more and more comfortable with him living with her. She was the one to have encouraged him to leave Eggman to grow into himself more, after all! Perhaps a little bit… Forcibly, but hey, it worked!
It was good for him to spend time doing nothing. Productivity was hard engineered into him, otherwise he spent his time shut down, but it visibly did him good to experience other facets to life. One cannot run on adrenaline- or err, the robotic equivalent of it- alone! It hadn’t been long since he had settled in at her home, but he was already so much less agitated.
It was usually in quiet, slow moments like these that Metal would suddenly speak. He was so quiet that she didn’t even know he could until the second day. It had startled her the first times, but now she looked forward to every time he decided to voice something.
… Still, sometimes she had to take the first step. She showed him the clumsy crocheting that was slowly forming the shape of a frog. "Hey Metal, what color should I make the color of its belly?"
His eyes leave its form to look her in the eye. It took a few seconds before he spoke with a detached voice. "Most frogs have underside colors such as yellow or off-white."
She should have expected him to look to facts for an answer. She smiled and fought back a fond chuckle. "What about a more creative color? Something colorful and pretty!"
He took a few seconds to process her request again. "Pink."
Amy internally cheered, she was somewhat wishing for that answer. Any excuse to make something pink is good! She let her smile brighten and directed it at him as silent thanks. "Why pink?"
"Amy Rose." He said simply.
She tilts her head. "Hm?"
"Your last name, Rose. Most people associate it with the flower known for its red hue. It is also ‘pink’ in the human language french. Both colors commonly represent passion and love."
She chuckled with a smirk, trying not to acknowledge the fluttering in her stomach. "Yes, it isn’t the first time I’ve heard that one..."
He seemed oblivious to the connotation of his words, and continued. "I prefer the literal to the metaphorical, I prefer to think of pink when I hear Rose."
She smiled, he always did like to play by his own rules. She picked the pink yarn and got back to crocheting. She hummed. "Oh, that’s interesting. Personally I’m the contrary, I much prefer when my last name is interpreted as the flower! The meaning just being pink is boring." She said with a slight pout. "Besides, roses have a meaning in flower language too beyond their color! Although red roses are my favorite. It’s sooo romantic!"
"Flower language? It is not in my linguistic database."
"Ohmigosh you don’t know about flower language?!" Her disbelief and enthusiasm made her make mistakes in the crochet patterns, but she only sped up. His eyes were no longer on her hands but glued to her face. "It’s very intricate and important and lovely! It makes you appreciate the sight of flowers so much more, and you definitely can’t gift flowers to someone without knowing what they mean!"
He only tilted his head, body language he had learned from her, but Amy rambled on even without seeing it. "Every flower has its own meaning! Flowers have a lot of cultural history and spiritual energy, you know! It depends on the kind, their properties and the color mostly."
"For example, sweet briar is very interesting. Your database knows the name, right? Its name means fragrant thorn, because it has a very nice scent and has thorns, but it also has medicinal properties! They only come in pink and white. White is a more solemn color, while pink is more emotive and optimistic usually. Due to their thorns, the white sweet briar in a bouquet can mean ‘I am wounded’, mostly emotionally. But due to their medicinal uses, the pink ones mean ‘I wound to heal’!" She spoke passionately.
"People often say flower meanings are empty words, but that’s not true at all! The sweet briar meaning is linked with fueling constant love for others and yourself. It is the courage to witness hurt or hurtful behavior and the strength to act according to one’s heartfelt desire. It makes for very heartfelt messages doesn’t it?"
She waited for a reaction from him with a bright smile. It took him some time to respond in any way.
He averted his eyes from her warm face as if burned before returning her stare again. "… I think I now understand the appeal of metaphors."
She remained oblivious, continuing at the first opportunity and turning back to her project more calmly. "Well, obviously, as you should! There are a bunch of flowers, but let’s concentrate on only pink and red ones since we’re comparing the two. Hmm what was it you said, ‘both colors represent passion and love’…? Not exactly wrong, but in flower language pink is much less associated with those than it is generally. Red roses do firmly mean passion and romantic love, whereas pink roses mean more along the lines of admiration and gratitude. Pink roses are often not romantic at all, but they can be used to symbolize a new blossoming romance that can lead to deeper feelings. Different shades of pink also mean different things! Light pink roses mean comfort and grace, medium pink or ‘hot pink’ roses are about joy and appreciation, and then yes dark pink ones are especially used to convey admiration."
Metal was transfixed watching her, Amy talking energetically. "Oh but in a bouquet, the amount of each flower is important as well! See, this is fun! In red roses, the amount changes the meaning in small yet big ways a lot, often about devotion. Giving a single rose is commonly acknowledged to mean love at first sight, a gesture not unlike giving your heart to the person. Four roses mean that no obstacle can stand between the love! Six roses mean ‘I want to be yours’, nine roses mean eternal love, ten roses mean the person is like perfection to you! So you see, despite assumptions and these ‘mathematical conventions’ you like so much, the number of flowers in a bouquet doesn’t just mean ‘more equals bigger emotions’ necessarily, just different things!"
She remembered Sonic giving her a rose once upon a time and her heart full of hope, but of course she shouldn’t have expected Sonic to know any flower language. The memory made her chest feel a twinge of pain, and her smile diminished into a disguised grimace. She had fallen fully quiet when Metal spoke again. "I see. This seems complex for organics to remember."
Amy shook her head and chuckled. She amended. "I suppose you’re right. Perhaps pink isn’t ‘ just ’ pink then. Thank you for reminding me of that."
She looked back down at her green and pink frog, quite messy in some place, but recognizable as a frog nonetheless. Her face lit up with an idea, and she quickly stuffed the crochet plushie with cotton stuffing before thrusting the frog into Metal’s hands. "Gift! This isn’t a flower, but it’s pink, see? You have my gratitude, thank you!"
She smiled at him, thrumming with eagerness for his reaction. There were few things she liked more than gift giving, and something about it felt important with him.
Metal looked down at it for a long moment, expression unreadable. Then, unexpectedly, he took the pink yarn and started crocheting with his slim metallic fingers quickly.
Amy gasped. "Metal! You know how to crochet?!"
His pace didn’t relent as he answered, eyes still fixed on his fingers. "I watched the movements of your hands, the crochet hooks and the yarn. I can easily recreate them when I understand what it is the movements serve to accomplish."
With incredible speed, Metal formed intricately small pink flowers, which he then carefully fixed onto the back of the frog.
Amy was stunned, watching him with wonder as he handed the frog plush back to her with both hands. "Gift. Pink for gratitude, and admiration."
She took the plush with immense care, staring at it with wide eyes. The flowers were in a complex flawless swirling pattern, and to think he had learned from her… This small handmade gesture felt world shattering.
His voice broke through her stupor. "I also remember you saying this was meant to be a gift for Big the Cat an hour and twelve minutes ago."
Amy felt herself flush for momentarily forgetting it. "Ah, I forgot… Oopsie." She had gotten too impassionated, as usual… But Metal only reminded, not chided.
"That is because Amy Rose is incredibly generous, kind and caring. The will to give to people and make people happy so selflessly makes you impulsive."
His words only made her flush harder, and she clenched the frog in her hands perhaps harder than she should.
To her horror, Metal noticed. "Your facial color has changed to a redder hue, are you well?"
"No, no, I’m just a bit flushed..."
"Flushed?"
She attempted hurriedly waving it off in her embarrassment, but when she managed the courage to look back at him he just looked… So curious and inquisitive. She found it harder and harder to say no to that face of his.
Besides, he was too oblivious to social issues to read anything deeper—that was totally definitely not there!— into it, right? She pushed down her reluctance as best as she could and wore her blush with pride. "Yes, like... A flush of color! A flush of red, you know? Well- Someone can flush red from anger, you’ve probably seen that from Eggman a few times," she chuckled. "But it’s most commonly from embarrassment."
Metal seemed to recoil from the notion. "I have embarrassed you?" His body leaned towards her in worry with the same intensity he usually radiated, eyes sharp on her.
Amy didn’t know where to look. "Well- I, um... Flushing can be from pride and happiness as well, or a... positive embarrassment? Blushing is a bit embarrassing in itself, but it doesn’t always feel awful if you’re not in judgemental company. I’m okay with blushing in front of you."
She immediately internally cringed. Oh Chaos why did I say that-?
He simply leaned back and nodded. "Then I find it pleasing. Blushing suits you."
She blushed impossibly harder at the words. The fluster she pushed down came bursting back with a vengeance that felt like an explosion. Her heart beat loudly in her hears. "O-oh yeah?" She timidly watched him out of the corner of her eye.
They made eye contact. "Yes. It’s pink."
His eyes were a passionate shade of red over pure black. It felt intense to have his eyes on her, like they pinned her down.
Yes, red was still her favorite color.
She smiled wider at him, unable to shake off her blush as she held the plush closer to her chest.
It felt strange. Sitting like this with the robotic archnemesis of one of her best friends felt both relaxing and energizing, making her thrum with both peaceful contentedness and a nervous energy that felt more special than regular stress.
Amy was cleaning her house, since Big and Cream were to come by later that day. Metal Sonic had slipped out out of the house for an untold reason earlier, and she was attempting—and failing— to not think about him. What was he doing? Was he okay? Would he come back soon?
He went outside without her sometimes, and so far she had never heard rumor afterwards of something having exploded or the apocalypse being nigh… Sure he had stolen some things twice — twice, no that one other time didn’t count!—, but it was good for him to learn to be independent and free! She told herself this on repeat.
But she went on thinking about what he could possibly doing, feeling a smile form on her face at the mental picture of him taking a walk in a park, or roaming the city watching people mingle. He liked doing those. Last time, he had even handfed nuts to flickies! They’d gotten a birdhouse for Amy’s yard afterwards, and they’d painted it together. She held her cheek fondly at the memory.
So she went about her day, not quite able to get him out of her head.
To say that she eagerly awaited him to come back home would have been an understatement. So when she heard that doorbell sound, she all but dropped the duster she was sweeping in her bedroom.
Amy didn’t have a doorbell, her house was small enough for knocking to be heard anywhere.
Metal had taken to voice a doorbell sound to signify when he was back, and it always felt like a little song he would hum to her ears.
She tried not to look too giddy when she ran towards the front door. However she only got out of her room when she almost ran into him.
She yelped and managed to cut her running short but put her hands forward on his chest to stabilize herself. He remained composed as she apologized and fretted, batting at her skirt to shake off the invisible specks of dust from it.
She smiled at him. "Welcome home!"
But she frowned once she noticed he seemed to be hiding something behind him, an arm holding something that was slightly peeking out from his back, something… Red.
"Metal…?" She puffed out her cheeks, cocking her hands on her hips. "You didn’t steal anything again, did you?"
He averted his eyes. Just as Amy opened her mouth to scold him, he swept his hand forward, presenting to her nose a bouquet of roses.
A big bouquet of red roses.
Amy’s eyes were bugging out.
His gaze was now firmly set on her and unmoving. He spoke. "A search into my data archives of this region have told me that wild roses do not exist nearby. However, no, they are not stolen. Against expectations, the floral clerk gave them to me when I took them. I do not know why."
Amy watched him and melted, probably the sight of him had melted the florist’s heart as well! There were still generous and romantic souls out there! Amy decided that she should pay the local florist a little visit later and leave a generous tip.
Her dreamy expression froze when she registered something. "Wait, ‘against expectations ’?! So you did intend to steal them!"
Her cute mental picture shifted to a terrified clerk letting a combat robot robber leave without resistance. She sighed, she would definitely have to go tip them.
He tilted his head. "Gifts are made and not bought. I made this bouquet by picking the right flowers, and this is a gift for you."
She’d have to fix his misconception later, but ignoring the beautiful flowers right in her face became a lot harder… Keeping on the pretense that she was angry was, too. She caved and let out a squeal at such a sweet gesture.
Her heart was hammering away. Roses, red roses. She couldn’t believe her eyes. "Oh Metal, I love them! B-but… why?"
"It felt appropriate." He spoke without waver.
She frowned at such a simple answer. "Yes, sure, my last name is Rose, very ‘appropriate’. But you remember what these mean, right? Love?"
"Yes, which is why it is an appropriate gift."
That made her freeze. All pretense at composure flew out the window as her heart tried to jump out of her ribcage. She stared down at the bouquet to not have to look him in the face. "How… How many are there?"
"Thirty-three."
She didn’t even know how much this many meant. She opened her mouth to ask but the words died in her mouth.
Perhaps he knew her too well. "Thirty-three red roses is used to say ‘I love you’ with ‘great affection’. You said increasing the amount of flower doesn’t simply increase the intensity of the sentiment, but in this case that is effectively what the number I picked expresses."
Of course. He liked to play by his own rules. She put her hands to her definitely reddening cheeks. Was this a confession?! Was he confessing?!
His posture became more rigid, as if steeling himself for his next words. "Each flower of this bouquet means ‘I love you’, multiplied thirty-three time." The following moment would be the best and most embarrassing moment of her life to date.
Metal pointed at one of the roses without looking away from her, then spoke. "I love you."
He pointed to the other rose next to it. "I love you."
Then the next. "I love you." And the next. "I love you."
Amy could have combusted on the spot when she realized the pattern. He wasn’t going to say it thirty-three times, was he?!
And yet he continued, words and tone exactly the same each time. He eventually stopped pointing and simply repeated it to her again and again. His intense stare felt like it burned a hole in her, cutting her breathing. She didn’t know how to react, what to do-
There was then loud knocking at her door and Amy screamed.
Oh no. She had forgotten! She had forgotten about Big’s visit again ! Get your head out of Metal-shaped clouds, Amy!
She realized Metal was still telling her I love you with no end in sight. She attempted to hush him but he didn’t seem to register it, needing to finish his current command. There were more knocks, and alarmed she shoved Metal back into the nearest room then slammed the door. She quickly leaned back against the closed door, arms splayed out over it as if Metal would try getting out.
Not too quickly either, because right then the door opened. The visitors entered her house, revealing Big the Cat, Cream the Rabbit with Cheese the Chao, and Sonic the Hedgehog.
"Amy, we heard screaming-…?" Sonic’s voice halted when he spotted her.
What a sight she must have made, completely flushed red, leaning against the door as if hiding the worst-kept secret in the world with a few stray rose petals lying on the ground. And Metal was still audible through the door.
Cream brought up a hand to her mouth in surprise, looking curious yet happy. Big seemed oblivious. Sonic smirked. He leaned against the wall with his arm. "The taming of the evil toaster is going well, I see~"
She flushed so hard that she was sure Metal would be proud of himself, the rascal. Through Metal’s continuing ‘I love you’s, she weakly laughed at his joke, walking forward to greet everyone and trying not to let it show that the second they leave she’ll be running back to kiss him silly.
It was perhaps the most embarrassing moment of her life, but a positive kind of embarrassment. And when she would come back to him, he would notice that her blush was red, not pink.