Archive of Our Own

One might assume that saving the world—partly from himself—and almost, but not quite, dying would be the hardest thing Dr. Ivo Robotnik had ever done. But that assumption could only come from someone who didn’t understand the true challenge that awaited him once Stone and he had returned to their hideout. The real difficulty lay not in engineering a solution to a global catastrophe, nor in cheating death, but in the far more confounding task of sitting down and having an emotionally charged conversation. 

It wasn’t that it was stupid exactly, though he wished he could call it that. At least if it were imbecilic, he’d have an excuse to avoid the whole ordeal altogether. No, the problem was how absurdly complicated something as simple as talking about feelings could be. There was no blueprint, no formula, no elegant solution that could help him navigate the emotional minefield he found himself standing in. And yet, somehow—through a series of awkward missteps and a mutual avoidance of the most crucial topics—they managed. Or, rather, they stumbled through it, skipping over the hard parts as if they were pieces of debris they could ignore for now. It wasn’t perfect per se, but Robotnik was a genius, and he was confident that he could figure out the missing pieces … eventually.

Although he had to admit that there were still certain uncomfortable realities he’d left unaddressed, the lingering consequences of wanting someone that he’d chosen to ignore. Stone hadn’t brought them up either, though perhaps he had simply forgotten, too distracted by the fact that this was really happening after everything Robotnik had done to lead them astray. 

Maybe they wouldn’t need to address them in the first place. After all, they’d known each other for over a decade and if Stone had wanted… those things, surely he would have mentioned or hinted at it by now. It was true that they hadn’t spent every single second in each other's company, however, Robotnik had still felt like Stone had never seemed particularly driven by such desires. Which, conveniently, worked out perfectly for him. For wouldn’t it be perfect, if the one person who he had allowed himself to trust ended up being just as asexual as he was himself? The thought made his lips twitch. Aban had after all always been a remarkable exception to the inferior, undistinguished meatbags that plagued this planet. 

See? He was not just good at partnerships—he was magnificent . In every way that mattered, and some that didn’t. And now that they were in possession of another one of Sonic’s quills, things were finally looking up. The world would soon remember that, no matter what the circumstances, Dr. Ivo Robotnik always came out on top. Because emotional conversations might be a mess, but science? Science was clean. It was predictable. And with Stone at his side and his brilliance restored, there was no problem he couldn’t solve. Even the ones that made his heart race for reasons he’d rather not admit.

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Things didn’t turn out to be as smooth sailing as Robotnik had hoped. 

And yet. For the first week, their dynamic remained largely the same. He had made a half-hearted effort to yell less, but glaring, cursing, and eye-rolling still came as naturally as breathing. Stone surely didn’t expect him to change entirely anyways. After all, Robotnik wasn’t a good man. He hadn’t called his lab the “evil lab” just for show. Still, that first week was fine. Stone continued bringing him lattes, though the art in the foam had gotten a bit more… expressive. Secretly, Robotnik didn’t mind, not that he commented on it much either way. 

Stone was also still cleaning up after him, though he spent more time now at Robotnik’s side, tinkering with machines or listening to his manic plans. His intellect wasn’t at Robotnik’s level— no one’s was—but he was competent. Slow, sure, but capable. Robotnik even told him so once. Maybe. Kind of. He was sure Stone had figured it out. It wasn’t like it mattered. More importantly, he hadn’t blown them up, nor had he made a mistake that Robotnik couldn’t fix in a matter of minutes. So Robotnik had waved his hand, shoved a machine into his lap and they had continued on in silence. The extra hands were certainly a bonus, but he hoped Stone knew that that wasn’t why he had let him anywhere near his babies. He might have claimed it was, but Stone had known him long enough. He could read between the lines. Surely he didn’t require Robotnik to tell him that this was nice. 

But then, during one of these cooperative moments, it happened. Their first real hurdle. Proof that all the talking they’d done a week ago had been a monumental waste of time. Robotnik had been handing Stone a set of tools when a single word stopped him cold.

“Ivo, could you pass me the blueprint again? I’m stuck.”

Stone’s voice was casual, completely unaware of the atomic bomb he’d just dropped. And Robotnik, he just… froze. Ivo. His first name. He hadn’t heard it spoken like that in… decades. His body locked up. He couldn’t even blink. His eyes burned, his mind spiraled. Ivo. It sounded wrong. Foreign. The last person to call him that had been his grandfather. And before that? Maybe his fifth-grade teacher? He couldn’t even remember. It had been so long ago, the name barely felt like his anymore. Gerald had dropped it after one try, sensing that it didn’t hold the key to manipulate him like he’d hoped it would,  switching to “my boy” instead which had been its own horrid weight.

And yet… This… this was worse. His mind was racing—he knew logically that in a relationship, people used first names. It was a sign of closeness, of intimacy. He knew. He had an IQ of 300. Of course he knew. And yet, yet, yet ! It was unbearable. Too intimate, too raw. 

Stone was still working on the outer shell, blissfully unaware that Robotnik’s entire world had just tilted off its axis. Panic clawed at his chest. He needed to shut it down, needed to function, to not fall apart. Reboot. Reboot. Reboot. 

“Doctor?” Stone’s voice cut through the storm. 

Robotnik whipped his head around, staring at the wall as if it held the secrets to survival. And in a way, he was sure, it did. For if Stone saw him now. Saw even the smallest fragment of his face, he’d know. He’d know, and then they’d have to talk and then- 

“Peachy, Stone!” He forced out a laugh, his fingers shaking as he picked up a random blueprint and tossed it at the man. “You’re a smart cookie, you’ll figure it out! I’d help, but suddenly I need to… use the restroom. Human needs, I'm sure you understand.”

He barely registered Stone’s concerned look before he shot up, knocking over half the equipment on his workbench as he all but fled to the bathroom. The second the door closed behind him, the panic hit full force. His back slid down the cold metal until he hit the floor, his knees drawn up to his chest. His breath was coming in shallow, jagged gasps, his fingers tearing at the fabric of his pants as if ripping through the material could somehow pull him back from the brink.

This is stupid. Ridiculous. You’re being a complete idiot, he berated himself, but the spiraling wouldn’t stop. If Stone comes in here, he’ll see it. He’ll see everything. And then he’ll realize that this - you - wasn’ worth the effort after all.  And then there would be another conversation. More vulnerability. His chest tightened at the thought, his pulse spiking painfully.

He pressed his palms against his temples, desperate for control. The panic swirled, rising like a tidal wave he couldn’t hold back. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think . He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to hold on, just for another second. If Stone knocked, if he came in, Robotnik wasn’t sure he could handle it.

But for now, the door stayed shut. He was alone, choking on his own thoughts, trying to claw his way back to the illusion of control he’d built so carefully. And getting it back he would. Because he was a genius, practically perfect. And perfect people didn’t have breakdowns. 

When he finally emerged from the bathroom half an hour later, Robotnik didn’t bother glancing at his workbench, nor did he acknowledge Stone’s presence. He walked straight past everything and everyone, his movements sharp and deliberate, heading to his bedroom with the air of a man trying to outrun his own thoughts. The slam of the door behind him reverberated through the space, a clear signal that he wasn’t to be followed. In the past, when Stone had been nothing more than his assistant, he wouldn’t have dared pry, knew better than to interrupt the doctor’s "tantrums." But now? Now, they were partners . And that word felt like it should mean something. Like it mattered. 

So who knew what Aban would do. Funny how he didn’t mind using the man's own name. He hadn’t used it out in the open quite yet, but felt confident that he’d be able to use it. Confident that it wouldn’t feel quite as constricting as his own. 

Something heavy tapped against his shoulder, and Robotnik sighed, tension still riding his spine, though a bit lighter now. He glanced over at the badnik hovering loyally at his side and, with a resigned huff, threw himself onto the bed. He patted the space next to him, beckoning the little machine to follow.

“Just this once,” he muttered, voice barely more than a rasp. The badnik settled in beside him without hesitation, its cold metal frame shifting and squirming into the crook of his arm. Robotnik allowed himself the smallest of smiles as he held it close. The mechanical weight against him was comforting, a reminder of control, of simplicity. No awkward emotions, no complicated words—just the cold, unfeeling companionship of his creation.

If only things with Stone could be this easy.

Robotnik pressed his eyes shut, his grip on the badnik tightening as if it could somehow ward off the inevitable. Eventually, he’d have to face it, face him and this mess he’d found himself in. It would be easier to take it back and return to their status quo. Easier, yes, but also less satisfactory. Besides, it wouldn’t undo his want. 

"What do you want?" Stone had asked him that day. The answer had slipped out before he could stop himself. "You."

It hadn’t been a lie. Not entirely, anyway. And it had certainly done the trick—Stone had lit up like a Christmas tree, eyes bright with a hope that Robotnik didn’t have the heart (or the stomach) to crush at that moment. It had been a little more than a week since then, and he’d hoped— foolishly —that he’d have everything sorted out by now. That clarity would somehow fall into his lap, making this new dynamic something he could navigate as easily as his machines. But the truth was, he didn’t feel any closer to an answer than he had that day.

Stone clearly wanted more . He wasn’t entirely sure what things were included in said more, but he had a feeling that he’d find out soon enough. The freedom to use Robotnik’s name had certainty not been the only item on his list. So again: What did he want? 

The hug had been easy, surprisingly so. He had wanted to embrace Stone, to feel the warmth and weight of another person pressed against him. It had been comforting, grounding in a way he hadn’t expected. And the kiss? Well, he hadn’t followed through, but that had been nerves—just nerves. Nothing more. He could work through that. Eventually. Probably.

But then… There was the other thing. The thing he didn’t want to think about. Didn’t want to admit was part of the equation. And he knew, without a doubt, that he didn’t want that . The thought alone made his skin crawl, twisting his stomach in knots. No, it wasn’t nerves. It was something deeper, more fundamental. He was a man of science, not sentiment, and certainly not driven by the base urges that seemed to control so many others. Coitus repulsed him. It always had. The very idea of it felt wrong, foreign, like something he was never meant to engage in.

He couldn’t imagine Stone felt the same, though he clung to a faint, desperate hope that maybe, just maybe , Stone wouldn’t want it either. But that hope was fragile, and Robotnik knew better than to rely on fragile things.

Maybe he should stop making such a fuss over the name, let Stone have that small victory. He could learn to get over the knot in his gut whenever Stone said "Ivo." He could endure the discomfort—after all, wasn’t that easier than confronting the larger issue looming between them? Maybe if he gave Stone that intimacy, the man would be less likely to press for the kind Robotnik couldn’t give.

The badnik in his arm let out a distressed noise. His vital scans must have been disagreeable. He sighed, forcing himself to take a few deep, not very calming, breaths until the machine was satisfied. 

He’d need to stop acting like a toddler eventually, but for now, he felt content to pretend a while longer. Pretend that everything was under his control, as the steady hum of his baby lulled him to sleep. 

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Stone could clearly tell something was off, but to his credit, he hadn’t tried to pry the truth out of Robotnik. He must have been curious, probably worried too, the emphatic buffoon that he was, but he kept his silence, giving Robotnik the space he didn’t dare ask for. On top of that, there were no more attempts to use Robotnik’s first name, not the next day or the day after. This made Robotnik wonder if Stone might have said it by accident, a mere slip of the tongue if one willed. That would be a convenient explanation, wouldn’t it? It would make his entire anxiety attack seem even more ridiculous— not that he was still thinking about that. Nope. 

Robotnik had bigger things on his mind anyways. His hands itched to dive into a new project, something groundbreaking. His last attempt had failed, embarrassingly so, because he hadn’t accounted for human error—his own, of course. But this time, he had a plan: remove the human element altogether. If he built a machine capable of independent decision-making, a machine that didn’t rely on flawed human input, then maybe, just maybe, he’d finally create something powerful enough to destroy Sonic for good.

He hadn’t ever built an AI as complex as what this new project—dubbed ‘Metal’—required, but that challenge thrilled him. Maybe he could even have it finished in a few months. Perhaps even less, especially if he trusted Stone to handle rebuilding their lost badniks. A few years ago, the idea would have been laughable. Robotnik would’ve scoffed at the notion of letting anyone , let alone Stone, tinker with his precious creations. But now?

Now he was ready to admit that Stone had earned that trust. The badniks were as loyal to Stone as they were to him, and Stone knew them inside and out, had his hands elbow-deep in their mechanical guts more times than Robotnik could count. He’d helped build them, maintain them, even improve on them. It was time to take the training wheels off.

In fact, the thought of letting Stone loose on a project of his own stirred a strange sense of excitement in Robotnik. It was a challenge, yes, he almost dared Stone to impress him. To prove he could not only keep up but excel in a field that meant everything to Robotnik. There was an undeniable appeal in seeing Stone thrive, in watching him take on something monumental and succeed. 

“You’re a brilliant man, aren’t you, Aban?”

The suddenness of the compliment made Stone jolt, his head snapping up, eyes wide with surprise. “What?” His voice was tight, almost disbelieving, as though he hadn’t heard Robotnik right. A flush of red crept up his neck, blooming across his cheeks.

Robotnik’s grin widened, a sharp edge to it, his eyes gleaming as they locked onto Stone’s. He could practically feel the heat radiating off the man—an amusing mixture of confusion and flustered delight. Stone was trying to compose himself, but that telltale flush betrayed him.

“Fishing for compliments now, are we?” Robotnik drawled, the teasing tone a perfect blend of mockery and amusement. He let a soft, almost uncharacteristically warm chuckle slip from his lips as he turned away, a lightness in his chest that felt… strange.

Even with his back turned, he could feel Stone’s gaze linger, heavy with unspoken questions and quiet adoration. Robotnik allowed himself a fleeting smile. Did you see that? Now that was intimacy—subtle, effortless, wrapped in wit. A step beyond his usual brand of mocking jabs, and yet there was an undeniable allure in it, a satisfaction that tugged at the corners of his mind.

It was strange how simple it was, in a way. To break through the stiffness that usually accompanied any emotional exchange. And yet, it hadn’t felt awkward, hadn’t felt forced.

Just… natural. Almost unsettlingly so.

If intimacy could be this easy, if seeing Stone like this, in awe of him, was part of the reward, then perhaps…there was something worth exploring in all this.

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The first time they ended up sharing a bed came sooner than expected. They hadn’t even solved the whole first name usage thing yet. Not that Robotnik had planned to force or discuss that issue anytime soon.

It had only been two weeks since Robotnik had narrowly escaped death for the second time, but the echoes of that near-death experience still haunted him. Two weeks should’ve been enough for his brilliant mind to adjust, to accept that he was still very much alive, but human frailty had other ideas. The nightmares had begun almost immediately—vivid, relentless flashes of darkness and failure that left him cold and trembling in the dead of night.

He hadn’t planned on sharing any of this with Stone. What good would it do? Stone couldn’t simply make the nightmares vanish with a pat on the back or a few comforting words. Robotnik wasn’t a child who believed pain could be kissed away, after all.

But that night, when he awoke to the familiar electric hum of his badniks hovering around him, frantically scanning for invisible enemies, the sweat still clinging to his skin, he was startled to see Stone burst through the door, a look of alarm etched on his face.

“Doctor! Are you alright?” Stone’s voice cut through the chaos like a lifeline, but Robotnik, still shaking, barely registered it. The badniks were still in search mode, their lasers scanning the room, and for a moment, he wished they could lock onto his racing thoughts, his restless fear, and erase them.

“Doctor?” Stone tried again, stepping forward, his worry evident. His gaze softened as he saw Robotnik’s pale face, the tight grip he had on the bed sheets, as though holding on for dear life.

Robotnik forced himself to loosen his grip, to sink back into the mattress, trying in vain to regain control. If he could just lay down, maybe everyone would believe he was fine. Maybe he would believe it.

But then the bed dipped, and he knew, without needing to look, that Stone wasn’t about to leave him alone. Because of course he wasn’t.

“I’d ask if you wanted to talk about it,” Stone began carefully, his voice gentle, “but I know the answer already.”

Robotnik’s bark of sarcasm was immediate but lacked its usual sting. “What gave me away, genius?” His voice sounded tired, frayed at the edges. The exhaustion wasn’t just physical, it was deeper, crawling into places he didn’t know how to fix.

Stone didn’t flinch. “Is there anything I can do?”

For a moment, Robotnik’s first instinct surged—the sharp impulse to yell, to snap, to push Stone away, to pretend that none of this was happening. That he was fine, that everything was under control. But… he couldn’t. He couldn’t close his eyes again and return to the haunting memories that awaited him there.

Without turning, Robotnik shifted, facing the wall, his voice tight and unsteady. “Come here. Put your arms around me. I don’t care if it’s over the covers or under, just—just do it.” His breath hitched slightly, betraying him. “And shut those idiots up,” he added, motioning vaguely toward the buzzing badniks. “They’re making it worse.”

Stone didn’t hesitate. He silenced the badniks with a quick gesture, ushering them from the room without a word. Then, quietly, he removed his shoes and slipped into bed beside Robotnik, moving with a soft, steady presence that didn’t demand, didn’t push—just was .

At first, Robotnik tensed as Stone’s arms wrapped around him, not out of discomfort, but out of the sheer unfamiliarity of it. But slowly, breath by breath, he allowed himself to relax into it. Stone’s warmth seeped into his skin, a quiet reminder that he wasn’t alone, that he was here, and he was safe.

Stone’s breath tickled the back of his neck as he whispered, “We’re safe.” His voice was soft but firm, an anchor in the storm of Robotnik’s thoughts.

Robotnik squeezed his eyes shut, his hand instinctively reaching for Stone’s, clutching it tightly, not intertwining their fingers, but gripping it, holding on to something solid.

“You’re safe, Ivo,” Stone repeated, his voice a touch softer now, almost reverent. Robotnik’s entire body stilled at the sound of his name. His heart pounded, every beat echoing in his ears.

They both froze. The name hung in the air between them, fragile and heavy all at once.

Robotnik’s grip tightened on Stone’s hand, his breath caught in his throat. And then, in a voice barely more than a whisper, he said, “Say it again.”

Stone didn’t hesitate, his lips brushing Robotnik’s ear as he whispered, “Ivo.” He pressed closer, their bodies fitting together in a way that felt so natural, it was almost unnerving. “Ivo.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, Robotnik didn’t fight it. He didn’t push it away or bury it under sarcasm. He simply let himself feel —the warmth of Stone’s hand in his, the steady rise and fall of his chest behind him, the soft whisper of his name.

“I’m not sure if I want to find you still here when I wake up,” Robotnik lied, his voice a soft murmur in the quiet room.

Stone didn’t flinch. “I can leave,” he offered gently, but Robotnik was already drifting, his grip loosening but never letting go.

Maybe he answered, maybe he didn’t. But when he woke the next morning, the soft warmth of Stone’s arms still wrapped securely around him, he knew: he was glad Stone hadn’t left.

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It became their new routine. Robotnik pushed himself to the brink of exhaustion every night, working alongside Stone until the lines of code blurred and their hands trembled too much to hold a screwdriver. They would bicker, of course—Robotnik thrived on making things difficult—but eventually, they retired for the day, their bodies weary but minds still buzzing with ideas.

That first night after it all began, Stone hadn’t said a word about what had transpired between them. He was already halfway to his own room when Robotnik caught him by the wrist and tugged him back. This didn’t have to be a big deal.  After all, Stone had seen him at his most vulnerable before. He’d bathed Robotnik when his body had been broken beyond his own care, mended his limbs, helped him heal. So when Robotnik began changing out of his clothes, Stone’s brief blush was noted but ignored.

Then, they slipped under the covers, Stone’s arm instinctively wrapping around Robotnik’s middle. The awkwardness evaporated, replaced by a warmth that had nothing to do with the temperature in the room.

The night after that, Stone made his way to Robotnik’s room without being asked.

Weeks passed. A new norm was established. Their work on ‘Metal’ moved slower than expected—not because Stone needed help, quite the contrary. His progress on the badniks had exceeded even Robotnik’s high expectations. He found himself biting back compliments, waiting until the project was complete to express his admiration. In the meantime, he allowed himself stolen glances, brief moments of distraction caused by Stone’s presence.

But Metal... Metal required more of him. It required more than just his genius; it required him to abandon his old plans. At first, he had planned to use his own brain's neurological map as a blueprint, going and adapting the AI as he went, but after some reconsideration, he chose to abandon that plan. The emerald had been in his possession, fused with his brain, expanding his mind far beyond its limits. And yet. Even in his most ultimate form, his brain had been unable to defeat Sonic. So, if his brain wasn’t the key, he’d build Metal a new one, a better one.  Without the weaknesses of a human mind, Metal would be perfect. 

“Doctor?”

Robotnik blinked, pulled from his thoughts. It was late. Stone’s voice came soft from beside him, barely louder than the ticking of their machinery in the next room.

“Go to sleep, Aban,” Robotnik muttered, though his own mind was too restless to power down.

“Permission to make a request?” Stone’s tone was hesitant, almost unsure.

Robotnik rolled his eyes in the dark. “As long as you don’t expect me to grant it. Sure.”

There was a pause, and for a moment, Robotnik thought Stone had changed his mind. But he wasn’t asleep. Robotnik could feel it—the tension in his body, the way his heart was beating just a little faster, pressed so close to him.

“Do you- I … I mean, would you... be very opposed to…”

“Spit it out, Stone.”

“Could I kiss you?”

Robotnik nearly jumped out of bed. He blinked in the darkness, trying to make sense of the question, as though the words hadn’t quite landed in his mind.

Without thinking, he pressed a button, bathing the room in a dim light. He could see Stone now—the blush creeping up his neck, the way his eyes refused to meet Robotnik’s.

“You’re right. Maybe we should sleep after all,” Stone muttered, trying to brush it off, as if he hadn’t just dropped a metaphorical bomb, destroying any and all possibilities that Robotnik could fall asleep after that .

So he shook his head. “Oh no, Mister. I certainly didn’t plan on having this conversation at 3 in the morning, but you brought this upon yourself, so we might as well get on with it.” 

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” Stone admitted, finally meeting Robotnik’s eyes, sitting up. And when he slid further away, Robotnik felt a strange pang of... something. He wasn’t sure what.

“Kissing me?” Robotnik’s voice betrayed his shock, his eyes widening almost comically. 

Stone gave him a small, sympathetic smile. “Yes, Doctor. But... I’m not trying to push you. If this isn’t something you want—”

Robotnik’s heart clenched. There was a rawness to Stone’s gaze that unsettled him—an openness, a vulnerability that felt foreign in his world of sharp intellect and cold logic. Stone had always been the exception.

“I would love to kiss you,” Stone said softly, “but I will survive if you don’t.”

Robotnik’s heart did that odd thing again, twisting in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. What did he want? Would Stone laugh if he told him he didn’t know? Society had all these rules, these expectations, these requirements, making kissing sound like the bare minimum any functioning relationship needed to cross into something else. Something other than friendship. Therefore, it would be only logical if he desired to kiss Stone in return. But the truth was... he didn’t. He had never felt the need to at least. But Stone was different. Their relationship was different.

“Don’t expect it to be any good,” Robotnik muttered, feeling his chest tighten. “I’ve never done this before. So if you need to laugh, now’s your chance. I won’t give you another one.”

Stone moved closer, his fingers brushing lightly against Robotnik’s shoulder, ready to withdraw if needed, his expression one of pure adoration. He’d seen Stone smile a thousand times, but this was different. Like the physical proof of Stone’s want, his love, was just a touch away.  It felt... good. Comforting. 

“I would never laugh,” Stone whispered, his fingers trailing gently up to cup Robotnik’s cheek.

Robotnik’s heart raced, his mind whirring, calculating, analyzing the situation. But there was nothing to analyze. Nothing but Stone’s warm hand on his skin, the soft smile that carried no expectation, no demand. Just a quiet offering of affection.

“If you don’t kiss me soon, I might consider changing my mind,” Robotnik murmured, his own fingers reaching out to brush Stone’s face. It felt strange, foreign, but not unwelcome. It felt... right.

“Then kiss me, Doctor,” Stone whispered.

There was another hand on his cheeks, holding him softly, delicately, as Stone’s fingers whispered patterns into his skin, a non-verbal question that made his breath hitch in anticipation. Because, alright, now that they were in this moment, he could admit that he didn’t mind this at all. Maybe he even wanted it. If only Stone would stop teasing. 

“Aban.” 

There was no hesitation this time. Stone leaned in, his lips brushing Robotnik’s with a tenderness that surprised him. It was soft, delicate—nothing like the monumental, earth-shattering event people made it out to be. It was just... warm. Stone melted against him, his hand steadying him as he deepened the kiss.
He didn’t feel the rush of desire others described, but did feel something. A sense of closeness, of being understood in a way no one else had ever tried. And maybe that was enough.

Stone pulled away, his breath shaky, his eyes wide with emotion. Robotnik just smirked, his hand still resting lightly on Stone’s cheek.

“Not bad for a first attempt,” Robotnik said dryly, earning a soft laugh from Stone.

Before either could say more, the door burst open, a swarm of badniks flooding the room, their sensors pinging in alarm. In their defense, there had been a moment, or more,  where he had felt like he was going to experience cardiac arrest.

“Idiots,” Robotnik muttered half-heartedly as Stone laughed, burying his face in Robotnik’s shoulder.

Robotnik looked down at him, a small smile tugging at his lips. No, he didn’t mind kissing Stone. Not at all.

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Robotnik hated thinking about the three-letter word. He really didn’t want to talk about it. And yet, it seemed like he wasn’t going to be given a choice.

He liked what they had, the way they worked side by side, the way he still called Stone and imbecile for old times sake, a term Stone hadn’t taken seriously in ages. Robotnik enjoyed falling asleep next to him, though he’d be the first to admit he’d prefer if they spent less time sleeping and more time perfecting their work. But even a genius couldn’t win every battle. Sometimes they kissed, and it lit up Stone’s entire face, made him obnoxiously happy. And maybe, potentially, it brightened Robotnik’s day as well, though he’d never admit that to Stone. Some things were better left unsaid.

Another month passed, and he was content with their routine. As far as Robotnik was concerned, they could carry on like this until Metal was finished, before getting back to more important matters, like conquering the world.

But then it happened.

One morning, he woke to the familiar warmth of Stone next to him, his body pressed against his back. That part was fine. Normal. But what wasn’t fine, what nearly sent him into full-blown panic, was the unmistakable hardness pressing against him from Stone’s side. Robotnik froze, eyes wide in the dim light of the room. He could hear the soft, rhythmic breathing of Stone still asleep behind him, blissfully unaware.

Robotnik, however, was very aware. And his heart hammered in his chest, adrenaline flooding his veins. If his badniks had burst through the door this very moment, as they sometimes did when his heart rate spiked, he doubted he would have been able to compose himself enough to scold them. No, this time, it felt like he really might experience cardiac arrest.

He practically fell out of bed, barely managing to contain a panicked yelp as he fled to the bathroom. He didn’t care if he woke Stone; he couldn’t stay there.

He slammed the door shut behind him, his mind racing. He knew the science. Morning erections were common, the result of high testosterone levels after REM sleep. He was a genius, after all—he knew it didn’t have to mean anything. But that thought offered no comfort, because the reality of what had just happened, the physical proof of Stone’s arousal, made his stomach churn.

It wasn’t that he was disgusted by Stone. No, that wasn’t it at all. The problem was that this complicated things. It added a layer of messiness to their relationship that Robotnik wasn’t sure he could handle. And worse, it made him question everything.

What if Stone wanted more? What if he expected more? 

He stayed locked in the bathroom for an hour, avoiding his reflection, avoiding the inevitable question gnawing at the back of his mind.

And then, once he finally emerged, he dodged Stone for the rest of the day, keeping his distance, his mind too rattled by the morning’s discovery. If Stone noticed, he didn’t say anything, probably chalking it up to one of Robotnik’s infamous mood swings.

But that night, when they were supposed to go to bed, Robotnik made his stance clear.

“Save it,” he said sharply, cutting off Stone’s attempt to follow him to his room. “I’m not in the mood.”

The doors slid shut before Stone could even respond. Robotnik knew he was being unfair, shutting him out without explanation, but the alternative was worse. Finding out that Stone might … He couldn’t deal with the implications. 

The next night, Stone found the doors locked again. As well as the night after that.

Robotnik knew they would have to address it eventually. Stone wasn’t the type to let things linger unresolved, and Robotnik wasn’t stupid enough to believe avoidance could last forever. But the truth was, he didn’t know if their relationship would survive that conversation.

He didn’t need Stone. That was a mantra he repeated to himself, as if saying it enough times would make it feel true. He wanted him, certainly. Stone made his days better and his presence brought an irritating lightness to Robotnik’s otherwise focused life. But there was a difference between wanting someone and needing them. And he had managed to walk that fine line until now.

People did stupid, reckless things for the people they believed they needed, thought they couldn’t live without. They gave up power, sacrificed control (or offered to have sex they didn’t actually want to have). Robotnik had seen it before. And he wasn’t going to become one of those people.

Not for anyone.

He just hoped, with every calculated thought, that he’d be able to keep it that way.

٨ـﮩﮩ٨ﮩ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨

“If I did something to offend you, Sir, I’d prefer if you told me.”

Robotnik froze mid-step, the door to his room just a crack from sealing shut. Sir . It had been weeks—no, months—since Stone had used that word. It was distant, formal, like they were back to the beginning. Before the shared looks, the quiet evenings, and... everything else. He blinked, his hand still on the doorknob.

"Nonsense," Robotnik deflected, pushing the door slightly wider. “You snore. It’s been keeping me up. No need to get offended, Stone.”

He forced a smile, the kind he knew looked right but felt entirely wrong. Stone, however, wasn’t buying it. His expression remained unyielding, not a flicker of amusement or warmth in his features. He just stared, that steady gaze, unspoken words hovering somewhere between them. Then, without another word, Stone turned and left.

He didn’t stomp or slam the door. It wasn’t even the speed of his retreat—it was how deliberate the motion was. There was a sharpness in it, a quiet storm that left Robotnik standing there, gripping the doorknob a little too tightly.

Stone had never been angry with him before. Not like this. Not visibly. The pit of unease in his stomach tightened.

The following day, Stone was back to being professional. Distant, cold—no, not cold. Efficient. Efficient in a way Robotnik hadn’t seen in ages. It was like Stone had slipped back into his role of the loyal assistant, but without the constant undercurrent of adoration and that particular warmth he’d grown used to. It left an odd emptiness in the air. Everything between them felt forced now.

The final straw came with the coffee. Robotnik took the cup out of habit and froze when he noticed the lack of something that had become so... normal . No latte art. No silly little smiley face or design, just a cup of coffee. Stone wasn’t just upset. He was furious.

Robotnik stared down at the plain coffee for a long moment, his chest tightening. It shouldn’t bother him, but it did. He’d gotten used to those personal touches—used to being cared for in such small but deliberate ways. And yet, he still couldn’t bring himself to say anything. To confess anything.

That night, as he hovered at the threshold of his bedroom, hesitation gnawed at him. The silence between them was stretching, growing more unbearable with every passing hour. He hated it, hated the gnawing feeling in his gut. Maybe... maybe if he just ignored the issue, ignored all the tension that had built up, they could slip back into the comfortable routine they had had. He opened his mouth, grasping at some version of reconciliation.

“Stone, do you want to—”

Stone, who had just approached, cut him off. The interruption, under normal circumstances, would have been enough to spark Robotnik’s temper, but this time, he found himself strangely silent, watching as Stone's eyes flashed with something raw.

“Do you know what turns a partnership into a partnership , Sir?” Stone asked, the word "Sir" a sharp barb, more wounding than respectful. “I’ll tell you. All parties involved are equals.”

The statement landed like a physical blow. Before Robotnik could think of a response, Stone was gone, his back disappearing down the hallway, the weight of his words lingering heavily in the air.

Equals.

Robotnik stood there, frozen. The realization began to unfold in his mind, slowly at first but growing louder with each passing second. Had he ever really seen Stone as an equal? Or had he simply expected Stone to fit neatly into his world, to orbit around him like a planet around the sun? 

He had never done any of this before. 

He was a genius. 

The Dr. Robotnik. 

And Stone had known what he was getting himself into. 

Therefore, all those things were … 

Excuses. 

He turned restlessly in his bed for another hour, his mind running in circles, unable to quiet down. The thought of Stone’s words gnawed at him like a broken machine, sparking and sputtering, refusing to shut down.

Finally, the tension became unbearable. He couldn’t stay still. Couldn’t stay in bed. With a frustrated growl, he threw off the covers and stormed back to the lab, his hands itching for something to fix. Anything to keep him distracted. He began tinkering on one of his badniks, trying to drown out the gnawing feeling in his chest, but no matter how hard he worked, Stone’s words echoed in his mind, refusing to be silenced.

“Equals.”

٨ـﮩﮩ٨ﮩ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨

“Sir, are you already awake? I thought I heard— Doctor !”

The concern in Stone’s voice was touching, but of course, it had to return at the most inconvenient time. Not when they were having coffee, or when Stone’s stupid latte art reappeared, but now—when Robotnik was sitting in a small but significant puddle of his own blood, trying to stitch his thigh back together. He waved his machines away as they attempted to offer assistance, hissing in frustration.

“Ivo! What the hell happened?” Stone practically threw himself onto the floor next to Robotnik, all traces of their earlier tension forgotten.

“Breathe, Stone. You’re making this into a much bigger deal than it needs to be,” Robotnik said, forcing a smile despite the pain. “It’s just a laser wound. I’ll life.”

“You’re bleeding! How are you just—oh god, how did this even—what happened?”

Stone snatched the bloodied first-aid kit from Robotnik’s hands, ignoring the doctor’s attempt to wave him off as he inspected the wound himself. The touch was gentle but firm, as though Stone was trying to balance between being careful and not losing his mind over the sight of his injured boss.

“Ivo, please tell me you weren’t trying to mutilate yourself on purpose.”

“Offended,” Robotnik retorted dryly, leaning back against the wall. “A badnik malfunctioned. It happens. No need to panic.”

“Why did you even touch the badniks? If you weren’t satisfied with my work, you could have just told me! I know you’re far more—”

“I was more than satisfied,” Robotnik cut in sharply, eyes narrowing. “In fact, I was awestruck. I expected great things, but you managed to surpass even that. I thought I made that clear.”

Stone blinked, clearly taken aback. “Forgive me for not picking up on the fact I was supposed to hear you call me ‘mediocre’ and ‘subpar’ and magically translate that to ‘breathtaking.’”

Sarcasm. Stone, of all people, using sarcasm. Robotnik couldn’t help but smirk. The man was picking up some of his bad habits after all. He felt a surge of pride, even if this probably wasn’t the best moment to be grinning like a madman.

“I mean it, Stone. You kept smiling and shaking your head, so I thought that was enough to communicate it. But... fine, excuse me for not being clearer.”

Stone paused in his ministrations, staring up at Robotnik. “Is that an apology? Because it sure sounds like an apology.”

Robotnik gave a begrudging grunt, turning his head away to avoid looking directly at Stone’s smug expression. “Perhaps. Don’t get used to it.”

“Alright, I’ll take it,” Stone said with a small, genuine smile. “But seriously, if you were impressed by my work, why were you still tinkering with the badniks in the middle of the night?”

Robotnik huffed, the air leaving his lungs in a rush. “Couldn’t sleep. Needed a distraction. So I worked. What else is new?”

Stone’s hands stilled on Robotnik’s thigh, the tension between them thickening again. “Doctor… are you telling me you didn’t sleep at all last night?”

Robotnik rolled his eyes, exasperated. “Isn’t that obvious? Yes, Stone. I didn’t sleep. I just said that.”

Stone straightened, his face serious now, the earlier sarcasm replaced with something more intense. “Alright, that’s it. The second you’re not actively bleeding out, we’re going to sit down and talk about what’s actually bothering you. Because we both know it’s not about my ‘nonexistent’ snoring.”

Robotnik felt a pang of discomfort at Stone’s words. See, this was why he’d been out all night to begin with. Because he’d tried to do exactly not that. 

“You sure about that? Because you were asleep. You wouldn’t really know if—”

“Ivo.” Stone’s voice was firm, cutting him off. And that was that.

Robotnik sighed, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. His eyes flitted to Stone’s face—stone-cold resolve mixed with concern. He was used to deflecting, to shutting things down before they got too close to the truth. But with Stone, that strategy wasn’t going to work anymore. He mused that was what happend when you knew a guy for 10 years. 

"Fine," Robotnik said, though it came out more like a tired growl than an actual concession. He didn’t want to have this conversation, didn’t want to admit what had been gnawing at him since the morning he’d freaked out. But Stone wasn’t going to let this go. And … it wasn’t like he was happy with the current situation either, so sure. Whatever. 

Stone worked in silence, the tension hanging between them, until finally, the bleeding was controlled and the wound dressed. He was surprisingly efficient when he wasn’t fussing over every little thing.

“I’m not breaking up with you, you know,” Stone said softly as he packed up the first-aid kit.

Robotnik blinked, startled by the comment. “Who said anything about that?”

“You’ve been acting like I’m going to leave, like you’re waiting for it to happen.” Stone stood, wiping his hands on a towel. “But I’m still here, Doctor. I’ve always been here.”

Robotnik didn’t have a response for that—at least, not one that didn’t feel too raw, too close to the thing he couldn’t say. So instead, he settled for, “You’re not going anywhere. I’d hunt you down before you got very far.”

Stone smiled faintly, shaking his head. “Yeah, I know.”

And for the first time in days, it felt like maybe, just maybe, they could work through this, together.

Stone had made him coffee. Latte, with steamed Austrian goat milk and, this was the most important part, foam art. A small balm for his worrying heart. Robotnik hadn’t touched it yet, just stared at the swirls of foam for a good ten minutes, unsure if he deserved the peace it offered. Eventually, it was Stone who broke the silence, as always.

“I’m aware you’d rather avoid the conversation, but we really should talk,” Stone offered, his tone softer than Robotnik deserved.

As much as it irritated him, Stone was right, of course. But that didn’t mean Robotnik had to like it or make it any easier.

“Can’t we just laugh it off as me being me and move on?” he muttered, gripping the cup a little tighter, as if it could anchor him through the conversation he knew was coming.

“I’m sorry, but we left ‘bad mood’ territory a while ago,” Stone said gently, with an underlying firmness that was impossible to ignore. “So no, we can’t just laugh this one off.”

Confidence looked good on Stone. It always had. But Robotnik would have preferred if Stone used it on someone else, perhaps their enemies, and not him.

“Ivo,” Stone tried again, softer this time, his hand reaching out to rest on Robotnik’s arm.

That touch nearly made him flinch. Sarcasm, manipulation, smugness—Robotnik had taught him well. But this softness, this gentle touch—it was almost unbearable. For a man like Robotnik, it was dangerously disarming. Especially considering that he hoped Stone would do it again. 

Robotnik put his cup down, stealing one last glance at Stone’s encouraging smile, which only made him feel worse. Alright. Fine. He might as well get it over with. Goodbye relationship. It was nice while it lasted.

"Are you asexual?"

Stone blinked, visibly caught off-guard, furrowing his brows as if Robotnik had asked if the sky was green.

“No,” he said, the simple honesty of his answer landing like a punch to the gut.

"So you find me sexually appealing?" Robotnik pushed, even though he didn’t want to hear it. He had to.

Stone's face flushed red, and he turned his head, coughing into his fist like he was embarrassed. He murmured something, but Robotnik knew it was a yes. Stone wouldn’t be blushing like that otherwise.

“Alright,” Robotnik said, throat dry. “So this leads me to conclude that you'd fancy for us to engage in the associated activities. Yes?”

There. He’d laid it all out in the open now, but it didn’t make him feel better. He needed Stone to confirm it, to say out loud that their needs didn’t align. He needed Stone to tell him that this was doomed from the start.

“I…” Stone began, coughing again, “I can't deny that I've allowed myself to… consider it. But—”

“No need for details,” Robotnik cut him off, his voice sharp, even though he was cracking inside. “We both know where this is heading.”

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to look anywhere but Stone. “You’re probably aware that no two asexuals are the same. Shaped by personal experience and bla bla bla. Thing is, some still end up having sex. The matter at hand is: I don’t”, he bit his lip, trying not to think about how he’d considered if he couldn't try after all, if he couldn’t maybe force himself to endure, if Stone insisted, if he truly required…  But the idea of forcing himself into something so alien, so repulsive to his nature, felt like betraying himself. Even for Stone, he couldn’t—no, he wouldn't. 

“I can't. And a week ago when I woke up and you—” He cut himself off, the words almost sticking in his throat. “When I saw that you were… aroused… by my presence, I panicked. Overreacted, perhaps. And yet, while my reaction might have been questionable, it doesn’t change the reality of things. For, you need to understand, Stone, our needs contradict each other.”

Stone opened his mouth to protest, but Robotnik raised a hand, silencing him.

“Let me finish,” he growled. “You want to be seen as an equal, but how can you be when I can’t compromise on this? You’ll never be satisfied. And if I let you find satisfaction elsewhere… Well, there would be a long trail of bodies, and I’d be the one putting them there.”

He swallowed hard, his heart feeling heavy. “So, I understand if you wanted to end this. We can part ways and I promise this little failed experiment won’t affect how I treat you in our plans. You’ll still be by my side when we take over the world. But… you deserve more than I can give.”

Stone stared at him, silent for a moment. His expression was unreadable, and it unnerved Robotnik more than anything.

"Are you done?" Stone asked, his tone infuriatingly neutral.

Robotnik nodded stiffly. He was done.

“You can go now,” he dismissed, waving his hand. “Get some sleep or something.”

He turned away, fully expecting Stone to leave. But instead, Stone laughed.

Not a gentle chuckle either—no, this was a full, rich laugh. Robotnik turned back, confused and more than a little annoyed.

“It’s outstanding to know that you’re truly one of the most stupid geniuses I’ve ever known,” Stone said, still laughing.

“Hey!” Robotnik protested, his voice indignant, but Stone just gave him a look—a look that could silence even him.

“You’re a genius, Ivo, but you really don’t know how human biology works, do you?” Stone crossed his arms, his smile softening. “You can’t hold me accountable for something my unconscious body does. If my dick offended you, I’m sorry, but I didn’t really have a say on the matter. But hey, if it makes you feel better, I’ll reprimand it for you later.”

Of course he’d known that! Hello?? 300 IQ!! But… perhaps saying so out loud would only make him look more stupid, so he stayed quite. 

“And no, I don’t want to leave you,” Stone added, his voice serious now. “I know you. I’ve known you for ten years. You’ve never been subtle when it came to your distaste for sexual acts. So I’ve never expected anything from you in that way.  Besides, that’s not what being equal means. It’s also not what compromise means. A compromise stops being a compromise the minute it requires someone to hurt themselves.”

Robotnik stared at him, his mouth suddenly dry. “Stone… Are you sure? Because I don’t think you—”

“Ivo,” Stone cut him off, stepping closer, his eyes warm. “I’m here because I want to be. Not because of some unfulfilled need, but because you’re enough. We’re enough. Next time just … talk to me, would you?”

Robotnik’s throat tightened, and for a moment, he couldn't speak. His hand reached out before he could stop it, gently cupping Stone’s cheek. He half-expected Stone to pull away, but instead, Stone leaned into the touch, closing his eyes for just a moment.

“I guess you’re way too stubborn for your own good,” Robotnik murmured, his voice unsteady. “Not that it’s one of your worst attributes…”

Maybe they should talk more, work out the details, go over all the emotional intricacies of this mess, but right now, Robotnik just wanted to—

“My beloved sycophant,” he whispered softly, the words laced with both mockery and affection.

“Only for you”, Stone answered, before Robotnik leaned in to give him a kiss.