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Knuckles had always been a good observer of behavior. It was a necessity as he traveled the galaxy. One must observe his surroundings before acting, so all dangers could be recognized and dealt with accordingly.
So after the fight with Robotnik, when the Wachowskis had offered their home to him and the fox, Knuckles had done what he always did.
Observe.
Watch.
Learn.
He watched as the humans seemed to accept the fox into their tribe. He watched as they offered food and shelter, care and safety. They seemed genuine in their kindness, which was a stark contrast to many he’d encountered before.
Safety was not something easily attained. To have such an offer, such a promise, was no small feat. So he appreciated the humans’ generosity. Their compassion.
But that was where the confusion came in.
He watched as the fox and hedgehog initiated soft touches. They would often seek out the humans for hugs and pets and scratches on their muzzles and behind their ears. The fox was hesitant at first, but soon seemed to relish the attention. The hedgehog was less obvious about it, but he also smiled when Maddie spoke softly to him, or ran her thin fingers through his quills. Affection sought and given with hardly a word.
But not for him.
Which was fine. Seeking comfort from physical touch was for others. Things children did. He wasn't a child. He was a warrior. He'd long since overcome his need for such affection.
But still, he watched. And something in his gut churned when the other boys received such physical affection so freely. When Maddie would simply give Tails a little scratch on the head as she passed by. Almost as though she hadn't even thought about it.
Tom wasn't immune to the lure of physical affection. He often received a quick hug by the hedgehog, or his wife—which obviously wasn't so strange—but the man also gave it freely as well. Pinching Sonic's ear, or giving a 'high five'. It was curious how much they all touched each other, seemingly without thinking. For no reason at all.
But no one touched him.
He didn't blame them, he had made it clear that he wasn't comfortable with touch. His life in the arenas had shown him touch was pain. A hand coming near was a fist, not a caress.
And so it went, for weeks. He and the fox settled into a new routine with the Wachowskis, a new life. Tails joined the family with little trouble, welcomed into the fold and the subsequent affection without pause.
But Knuckles still stood outside the circle.
They gave him space. Told him he was safe, and they were there if he needed them. He could come to them when he was ready.
He was never ready.
Because he didn't know how.
How does one ask for affection? He'd never seen Tails or Sonic ask for a hug. Ask for a scratch. Ask for a gentle stroke on their muzzle or the top of their head. Knuckles had no exposed ears, but he supposed there were other areas that were pleasurable to get scratches. Between his shoulder blades, for example. He could never reach that spot and it sometimes itched like mad.
He wasn't sure how to broach the subject. Would they laugh if he asked? If he simply stepped forward and initiated himself? Would they freeze, push him away? Would they pull him closer, wrapping their arms around him?
He didn't know.
He was the most dangerous warrior in the galaxy, and he was terrified of something as simple as a hug.
Time passed, and Knuckles was starting to feel jealous of the other boys. Of the affection that they so freely gave and accepted.
Why not him? Why were they still 'giving him space'? Did they not see he was just as touch-starved as they? That he needed that connection, that acceptance into the tribe?
His people had been free with touch. Touching their palms together, clasping their forearms in a firm shake, pressing their foreheads against each other. As the youngest in the tribe, he’d been the recipient of all manner of kind touches, of head strokes or nuzzling.
Touch was comfort. Touch was uniting.
Did they not want him to be part of their tribe? They'd welcomed him in, yet treated him differently. They didn't offer Tails 'space'. They didn't keep their affection from the fox, even from the first moments after the battle with Robotnik. He was hugged immediately after. Yet none had reached out to him.
It had been three months since the battle, and he still felt on the outside. Still felt separate from the others.
Knuckles sat tall and still on the cold metal table. Maddie had insisted he come in for a 'check up', even though he was in peak physical form, and didn't need to be examined. She insisted, and the hedgehog had claimed that she needed to do this to set her own mind at ease, so Knuckles had agreed. He was nothing if not a good guest.
She would examine him, see he was in top shape—and one million percent muscle—and she would be satiated.
He sat still as her hands ran across his limbs. She told him everything she was doing, in a soft, gentle voice, so as not to startle him.
Her hands were gentle, and warm, and soft. He had to keep a shiver from running up his spine every time she touched him. It had been so long since anyone had touched him in such a gentle manner. Not since his tribe had fallen.
It was quiet in the room. Maddie asked questions at first, mostly where his various scars had come from, but she grew silent when his answer was the same for each. “Received in battle, either in the arenas, or in a bid to escape bounty hunters.” He sensed her tense, as though she didn’t like the answer. But it was the truth, and Knuckles didn’t see a reason to hide it. He’d defeated many foes in his life. A few scars well hidden beneath his fur were a small price for his continued freedom and survival.
She was almost done now. She'd left his face to check last. Her hands were on his muzzle and . . .
Oh.
Oh, Gaia.
They reminded him of his mother, before she died. How she'd taken his muzzle into her hands, running her thumbs across the soft fur. How she would gently guide his head forward, bringing their foreheads together.
Her hands had been so soft. So gentle.
Oh Gaia, he hadn't thought of her in so long. So, so long.
He closed his eyes as they burned, and swallowed hard. Warriors didn't cry. Warriors didn't need affection.
Maddie's hands paused, pulling back slightly. His eyes opened, and they were shinier in the bright light of the exam room. He looked up at her, and she stared at him, her eyes wide, a small pinch in her brow.
They sat frozen for a long moment, before Knuckles closed his eyes again. Slowly, shakily, he leaned forward, placing his face back in her hands.
She seemed surprised, but then her hands cupped him more firmly, her thumbs moving in small arcs over his fur.
Wetness appeared on his muzzle, trickling from his eyes. The thumbs on his face wiped away the tracks, and he sensed her move closer, her warmth right in front of him. He could smell her, the scent of lavender invading his nose.
He sniffed. A wet sound that seemed so loud in the quiet of the room.
He leaned forward, dipping his head down, offering his forehead in an unconscious gesture to seek comfort. One he hadn’t done in countless years. Not since before his father marched with the rest of the tribe, only to disappear into the forest, never to return.
There's a moment of hesitation, and then her forehead is there, pressing against him.
The feel is nostalgic, making his tears fall faster.
His tribe. His people. All gone.
All gone.
He released a breath he felt he had been holding for years, deflating against her. Her hands moved from his muzzle to curl around his shoulders, holding him gently, but firmly. There were words, she was saying something soft in his ear, but he didn’t hear them. His focus was on this moment.
On the soft arms around him. On the forehead pressed against his own. On the warmth of her body pressed against him. On the sound of her heartbeat, thrumming rhythmically in her chest.
He was trembling, and his arms moved without his consent to reach for her. She moved closer, and he bunched her scrubs into his fists, holding on as though he would fall apart if he let go.
His tears fell silently, and she held him as they did.
After that day, things changed around the Wachowski home.
Maddie included Knuckles in various activities. Grocery shopping, yoga, gardening. When he helped with food preparation, she would stand near him, and let him lean against her. Her hands found him regularly, gently rubbing his back or dragging a knuckle along his muzzle.
Tom’s touches weren’t as gentle as Maddie’s which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. He would offer playful punches to Knuckles’ shoulder, or something he referred to as a ‘noogie’, wherein he would grab Knuckles in a loose hold, and rub his knuckles into the boy’s forehead. At first it was confusing and slightly alarming, but once it was explained to be a gesture of affection, he accepted it with pride.
Warriors didn’t need affection. Didn’t need love.
But Knuckles thought it may be okay to not be a warrior. For a little while. At least as long as the hugs and noogies last.