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The elevator doors slid open with a quiet chime and Stone stepped out into the pristine hallway of Robotnik’s luxury condo building, where bustling city below was barely audible from this high up. The air was crisp and cool, filled with the subtle scent of polished marble and expensive cologne. Stone made his way down the hallway, his boots barely making a sound against the carpeting.
In one hand, he held a bouquet of deep red roses, their petals velvety and rich. In the other, he held two motorbike helmets— one for the man he was about to take on their first official date.
A date.
The thought still felt strange. Not because he didn't want to—God, he really wanted to—but because he never imagined this moment would actually happen.
Five months ago, he had said the words that changed everything.
They had been on a particularly dangerous field mission, things going south faster than either of them had expected. One moment, they were executing a flawless escape plan. The next, they were cornered by pursuers, their backs quite literally against a wall.
Stone had his priority—get Robotnik out.
Stone had managed to find an escape route, a narrow window of opportunity for Robotnik to flee while he prepared himself to hold the line. Even if it meant he wasn’t coming back.
“Go!” Stone had barked, his voice tight with urgency as he shoved Robotnik toward safety.
“And leave you to die?” Robotnik had snapped, his expression an uncharacteristic mix of frustration and fear.
“Better me than you!” Stone had retorted, the weight of his loyalty and love pressing down on his chest. He’d known the risks when he signed up for this life, but he’d also known, deep down, that he’d do anything to protect the doctor.
But then, as the moment stretched thin and the sound of their pursuers grew louder, something inside him snapped. He couldn’t let Robotnik go without saying it—not when this could very well be the end.
So he quickly and firmly grabbed Robotnik by the front of his coat, yanked him in and kissed him.
A firm, desperate, final kiss.
Then, before Robotnik could react, before he could say anything—Stone had turned and ran straight toward their attackers.
In the end, he had survived. Barely. Bruised, bloodied, but still alive. But he wished he hadn’t survived.
Because surviving meant he had to face Robotnik in the aftermath.
The talk they had back at base had been…awkward. Well, he had been awkward. Robotnik had been impossible to read, his usual sharp and calculated demeanour offering no hints of what was actually going on in his head.
But then, after a long, silent moment, Robotnik had simply smirked. “What took you so long, Agent?”
Stone had blinked. “What?”
Robotnik had leaned forward, his voice a low murmur, full of amusement. “If you were going to confess your pathetic feelings, you could’ve done it at literally any other time. You really had to do it mid-combat?”
And just like that, the tension had shattered.
That was five months ago. Since then, things between them had shifted. They weren’t just colleagues anymore. Weren’t just friends. There were late-night conversations that stretched until dawn, the kind of touches that lingered longer than before, stolen moments in between the madness of their lives.
And now, this. Their first official date.
As he walked toward Robotnik’s condo, Stone smirked, now recalling the conversation that had led to this special night. It had been a late night at the lab, one of many. Where the glow of monitors and the hum of machines kept them company.
Robotnik was hunched over his latest invention when Stone had offhandedly mentioned the night carnival happening at the edge of the city, his tone light and conversational.
"They’ve got a food market, too. Hundreds different stalls, selling all kinds of—"
"Take me."
“Huh?” Stone had blinked in surprise, thinking he had misheard. "Come again, Doc?"
Robotnik swivelled in his chair, fixing Stone with a gaze between curiosity and calculation. "If we are to engage in this farcical concept of ‘dating,’ I should experience a proper one. You will take me there. On a date."
It hadn’t been a request—it was an order. But Stone had seen past the bravado, the curiosity peeking through. And that’s how he found himself here, standing outside Robotnik’s door with flowers in hand.
Stone nervously smoothed out his leather jacket. Then, taking a steadying breath, he pressed the doorbell and waited. The muffled chime was sharp and elegant, much like the man who answered.
The door opened to reveal Robotnik, his sharp, elegant features framed by the warm light spilling from inside.
Stone took in the view, as well as the doctor’s all-black evening outfit. He was dressed in a fitted turtleneck, a tailored coat pressed slacks, and polished dress shoes.
His sharp features and carefully groomed moustache made him look every bit the intimidating and elegant genius he always is
Robotnik's gaze flicked to the bouquet in Stone’s hand. “You spent your hard-earned salary on flowers?” He asked, crossing his arms to lean against the door frame. “An illogical purchase, considering their short lifespan.”
Stone smirked, holding the bouquet just out of reach. “Well, since you don’t want ‘em and I have no use for them, I’ll just throw them away.”
Robotnik’s eyes narrowed. In an instant, he snatched the bouquet from Stone’s grasp. “Gimmie those pathetic rosas!” He then retreated into his home.
Stone chuckled. The door remaining open just wide enough for him to catch a glimpse of him placing the roses in a crystal vase on a nearby table
Robotnik reappeared, shutting the door behind him with a definitive click. “Let’s get this over with,” Robotnik said, striding past Stone toward the elevator whilst buttoning his coat.
“Don’t sound too excited,” Stone teased, falling into step beside him.
They both entered the elevator and made their way down to the lobby floor. Whilst descending, Stone hands one of the helmets to Robotnik.
Robotnik stared at it like it was a foreign object, turning it over in his hands in confusion. “What is this?” He demanded.
“It’s a helmet,” Stone replied casually, donning his own.
“Yes, I gathered that,” Robotnik remarked. “Why do I need it?”
Robotnik stood on the sidewalk, arms crossed, staring in disbelief at the sleek black motorbike parked in front of them. "Absolutely not," he declared, pointing accusingly at the vehicle like it had personally offended him. “No way am I getting on that!”
Stone, already securing his own helmet, shot him an amused look. “You literally build death machines for a living, but a motorcycle is where you draw the line?”
“There is a distinct difference between calculated technological advancement and reckless, leather-clad idiocy!”
Stone sighed, stepping closer. “Come on, Doc. You’ll be fine. It’s the best way to get through the city traffic. Besides,” he added with a grin, “You trust me, don’t you?”
For a moment, Robotnik looked like he was about to argue further. But then his lips pressed into a thin line, and with an exaggerated sigh. “This is an offence to my dignity,” he grumbled, fitting his helmet over his head.
Stone suppressed a laugh as he mounted the bike. “Noted. Now hop on, Doc.”
With a string of muttered curses, Robotnik carefully swung his leg over the bike, stiff as a board as he settled behind Stone. “You’re gonna have to hold on,” Stone pointed out, smirking beneath his helmet.
Robotnik’s hands hovered awkwardly before he let out a frustrated sigh and wrapped his arms around Stone’s waist with far more force than necessary. “If you crash this thing, I will haunt you,” Robotnik growled, his voice muffled by the helmet.
"Guess that means you’d have to stick around me forever. And that sounds like a win to me." Stone smirked under his helmet, revving the engine before Robotnik could say anything in return “Now hold on tightly!” With a twist of the throttle, they sped off into the night, Robotnik’s protests drowned out by the roar of the engine.
The city lights became a blur around them. The wind whipped past them as Stone sped through the city streets, weaving effortlessly between cars, taking sharp turns with a confidence that bordered on reckless.
“YOU’RE INSANE!” Robotnik shouted over the rushing wind. Robotnik’s hands tightened instinctively. His analytical mind scrambled to calculate their speed, the likelihood of a crash, the coefficient of friction on the tires—
"Relax, Doc! You’re in good hands," Stone shouted back, his voice filled with amusement. “Just enjoy the ride while you can!"
"Enjoy? Enjoy?!" Robotnik snapped. “Why can’t you drive like a normal person!"
Stone just laughed and pressed the throttle harder, leaning slightly to the side as he expertly weaved the bike between cars. The wind whipping against them as they raced through the city, the towering buildings flashing past in streaks of neon and steel.
Stone tilted his head to glance over his shoulder, catching Robotnik’s expression. "Normal is boring. Besides, I promised you a proper date, didn’t I? Might as well make it memorable."
Robotnik grumbled something inaudible, but his grip on Stone’s waist didn’t loosen.
With each sharp turn and burst of acceleration, Robotnik’s initial protests began to fade. Stone could feel the tension in his grip slowly easing. By the time they sped through a wide, open stretch of road leading toward the glowing lights of the night carnival, Robotnik’s silence wasn’t one of disapproval—it was begrudging fascination.
Stone slowed as they approached the entrance, the vibrant lights of the carnival casting a colourful glow over them. The smell of hot foods and the sound of laughter and music filling the air.
By the time Stone parked the bike and kicked down the stand, Robotnik's grip was still firm around his waist. "You can let go now, Doc," Stone teased, pulling off his helmet. Robotnik quickly released him, clearing his throat and pretending he hadn’t just spent the last ten minutes clutching Stone like his life depended on it.
"Yes, well, I was merely stabilizing my centre of gravity," Robotnik insisted, adjusting his coat with practiced nonchalance. "Not holding on for dear life. That would imply fear, which is an emotion I do not experience."
Stone smirked. "Told you you’d survive." He helped Robotnik remove his helmet, his hair was slightly mussed, his moustache slightly askew and his cheeks flushed from the wind. "I’m going to need a few minutes to recover from your recklessness," Robotnik muttered.
Stone tossed his keys around in his palm. "Sure thing."
Robotnik shot him a glare but said nothing, instead turning his attention to the carnival lights ahead. A vibrant, bustling chaos of colours and sounds stretched before them.
They both disembarked the bike, the lingering rush of the ride still pulsing in Robotnik’s veins, and made their way through the entrance and into the lively crowd.
They strolled through the grounds, side by side, the scent of fried dough, buttery popcorn and sweet treats drifting through the air. Vibrant lights flickered against the dark sky, the hum of laughter and carnival music creating a symphony of chaos and fun.
Robotnik didn’t say a word as they walked, Stone could tell he was taking everything in, processing the sights and sounds with the analytical precision of a government genius. They wandered past the carnival games, their hands brushing briefly before Stone stuffed his into his jacket pockets.
“It’s been years since I came to one of these,” Stone mused aloud, his voice carrying a note of nostalgia. “Last time, I was a kid. Me and some of the other boys at the home used to sneak out at night and go to these. We’d use most of the money we earned from jobs and chores on the rigged carnival games.” He chuckled softly, mostly to himself, as he recalled old memories. “Didn’t win much, but it was fun.”
Robotnik hummed beside him, his hands clasped behind his back. “I have never attended these sorts of…night activities.”
Stone glanced at him. "What, never?"
"No," Robotnik said simply. "My time was far too valuable to be squandered on such giddiness."
Stone smirked. "You ever snuck out for anything?"
“...No,” Robotnik replied flatly. “Nothing was worth the risk.”
Stone tilted his head slightly but didn’t press further, leaving Robotnik’s answer lingering in his mind. Instead, they came to a stop near a carnival game where a little girl, around 8 to 9 years of age, struggle with the classic milk bottle throw.
She clutched a ball tightly, her face set with determination. The girl wound up her arm and threw the ball—only for the ball to bounce off the stacked metal bottles with barely a wobble.
The carnival worker, a gruff man with a cigarette tucked behind his ear, let out a sharp laugh. “C’mon, kid, that was pathetic,” he scoffed. “You think you can win one of these big prizes with a throw like that?”
The girl’s face fell, her shoulders sank, and her small fists clenched at her sides.
Stone’s easy-going demeanour shifted. His jaw tightened, and he exhaled through his nose. “Tch.” Without a word, he strode up to the booth. “Hey!” he called out, his voice sharp enough to make the carnival worker flinch. “Why don’t you stop picking on kids and let me have a turn?”
The man scoffed, looking Stone up and down. “Fine. Let’s see what you’ve got, tough guy. Three balls for ten bucks."
Stone handed over the cash and took the balls, testing the weight of one in his hand. Robotnik stood just behind him, watching with interest.
Stone lined up his shot, threw the first ball—and missed entirely. The carnival man laughed. "Wow, even worse than the kid!"
Stone ignored him and threw the second ball—a hit, but not enough force to take them all down. The bottles wobbled, but they remained standing.
“Oh, how embarrassing mate. Maybe you and the kid should train together.” The man snickered once again. Stone considered using his last throw towards the carny man, but he knew what was coming up next would be an even better sight.
Meanwhile Robotnik sighed, already mentally crafting a mathematical solution to counteract the game’s obvious rigging. But Stone just smiled, rolling the last ball in his palm then gripping it tightly. He exhaled through his nose then with a sharp flick of his wrist and a controlled burst of strength, he threw it—hard and fast. The ball hit the base of the pyramid dead centre, sending all the bottles flying. The ball then rebounded off the wooden backdrop of the booth and came hurtling straight back toward Stone. Without missing a beat, he reached up and caught it effortlessly.
A hush fell over the small crowd that had gathered. The carnival worker’s smirk vanished, his mouth opening slightly in shock. The little girl stared at Stone in complete awe. Even Robotnik, usually one to be unimpressed by human theatrics, raised an eyebrow. Though he wouldn’t admit how satisfying that was to watch.
Stone tossed the ball back onto the counter with a casual smirk. "Guess I do know how to try, huh?" Still stunned, the carny man grabbed a large, soft dragon plushie and shoved it into Stone’s arms without another word.
Stone knelt down, handing the plush to the girl. "Here. A prize for giving it your best shot." he said with a warm smile.
“Really!” She gasped, staring up at him like he was some kind of hero before gingerly taking the plush and tightly hugging it. “Thank you, mister!” Stone ruffled her hair before standing back up, grinning. “No problem, kiddo.” The girl quickly ran off toward her parents, excitedly showing them her new treasure.
Stone straightened up and rejoined Robotnik, who had been watching the entire scene with crossed arms and a raised eyebrow. “A tad overdramatic, don’t you think?”
Stone smirked. “Yeah? But you enjoyed that, didn’t you?”
As they walked away from the stall, Robotnik shook his head. “You could’ve just left it alone.”
Stone shrugged, his expression softening. “I could of, but that carny was a prick to that kid. I was like her once and wished someone stood up for me, just once. Sometimes all it takes is for someone to step in to help build one’s strength and courage.”
Robotnik was silent for a moment, his gaze lingering on Stone. Then, with a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, he muttered, “Chivalrous fool.”
Stone just smirked. “You enjoyed it.” Robotnik didn’t reply, but the faintest hint of a smile remained on his face as they continued through the carnival.
As they strolled through the carnival grounds, Robotnik suddenly let out a quiet but unmistakable huff of discomfort. “Ugh. This is intolerable,” he muttered, slowing his pace. “My feet are killing me.”
Stone raised an eyebrow, glancing down at Robotnik’s polished dress shoes. “Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you come to a carnival in fancy dress shoes,” he teased. “Were you expecting a red carpet?”
Robotnik shot him a glare but said nothing, begrudgingly admitting to himself that Stone had a point. “Come on,” Stone said with a grin, motioning toward a nearby bench. “Let’s take a load off.”
They made their way over to the bench, which was positioned just far enough from the crowd to offer a bit of peace. Robotnik sighed in relief as he sat down, stretching out his legs in front of him.
Stone, standing in front of him, tilted his head slightly. "So," he began, hands in his pockets, "you in the mood for something sweet or savory?"
Robotnik looked at him, brow furrowing. “What kind of question is that?”
Stone smirked. "A simple one, Doc. Sweet or savory?"
Robotnik exhaled sharply. "Sweet, I suppose," he muttered, waving a hand dismissively.
Stone grinned, nodding in approval. "Good choice. Stay put, I’ll be back in a sec.” Before Robotnik could demand more details, Stone was already walking away, slipping into the crowd. Leaving him alone on the bench.
At first, he simply observed the world around him. The carnival remained lively—children running around with sticky cotton candy fingers, couples laughing as they played games, the distant hum of music blending with the murmurs of passing conversations.
The energy of the carnival buzzed around him, but he felt oddly detached, his gaze wandering.
His gaze landed on a couple sitting a few benches away. They were clearly deeply infatuated with each other, leaning in close as they talked in hushed voices. The man brushed a strand of hair behind the woman’s ear before placing a kiss against her temple. She smiled at him, her entire face lighting up with warmth.
It was…uncomplicated. Their movements were effortless, natural, like they belonged together.
Robotnik frowned.
Romance. Affection. Connection.
These were foreign concepts to him. He somewhat understood the logic of relationships—companionship, mutual benefit, biological drives—but experiencing it firsthand was something else entirely.
Robotnik frowned slightly, his fingers curling against his knees.
Is that what Stone wants? That kind of romance? The easy, effortless kind?
Because Robotnik was anything but effortless. He was cold, calculating, difficult. The idea that someone could genuinely like him, not just tolerate or admire his intelligence, but want him—it was still so foreign.
His mind drifted, unbidden, to memories of his childhood. Years spent alone, outcast by his peers, dismissed by adults who found him too intense, too strange. No one had ever looked at him the way that couple looked at each other.
Not until Stone. But he had been alone for so long that the idea of someone genuinely wanting him felt…illogical.
What if Stone was just pretending? What if this was pity?
He rubbed his temples as a dull ache formed in his skull. He leaned forward as the conflicting thoughts gnawed at him.
What was he doing here?
He had almost cancelled tonight. He would have simply told Stone that he was too busy, that work needed his attention. It would have been easier—logical, even—to stay home and bury himself in equations, schematics and blueprints rather than step into the unpredictable mess of dating and feelings.
And yet…he had wanted to go out with Stone tonight. To be with Stone.
That realization made his headache worse.
With a frustrated sigh, he dropped his head into his hands, elbows resting on his knees. The pressure against his temples didn’t help, but at least it kept his spiralling thoughts at bay. He inhaled slowly, closing his fingers over his forehead, trying to steady himself.
Why does this feel so difficult? Why does this—
“Doc?”
Robotnik blinked and looked up to see Stone standing in front of him, holding two bags of what seemed to be food and 2 bottles of water. His usual teasing smirk was replaced with something softer—concern. “You okay?”
Robotnik straightened up immediately, forcing any lingering thoughts into the farthest corners of his mind. He adjusted his coat, waving a hand dismissively. “Of course. Just merely processing the overwhelming amount of sensory stimuli this place has to offer.” Stone didn’t look convinced. He sighed through his nose but chose not to press further. Instead, he extended one of the bottles of water toward Robotnik. “Here.”
Robotnik accepted it without a word, twisting the cap off. He took a long sip, the cool liquid easing the tension in his throat. Stone sat down beside him then extended his hand once again to hand Robotnik one of the small paper bags. “Thought you’d like these.”
Robotnik wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before taking the bag. With a mixture of skepticism and curiosity, he peered inside the bag. His gaze flickered to the golden pastries, dusted in powdered sugar, their edges crisp and flaky. The scent of cinnamon and sugar drifted up to him, warm and sweet. "What are these?" he asked.
Stone, already a step ahead, had already taken a bite out of one of the pastries, the powdered sugar clinging to his lips. His response came through a series of muffled noises. “A fried apple pie ‘nd funnel cake bites,” he managed, crumbs escaping with every syllable.
Robotnik frowned at the lack of properness. "Charming." he muttered, his voice laced with dry sarcasm. He crossed one leg over the other, leaning back slightly as if distancing himself from the unrefined display. But despite himself, his thoughts betrayed him. 'And to think this is the man I actually like,' he mused silently, his mind latching onto the admission with an air of reluctant inevitability.
Stone meanwhile grinned, swallowing the bite and licking the sugar from his lips before pointing at the apple pie in Robotnik's hand. "Try one. Maybe you’ll like it."
Robotnik studied the pastry for another second before finally taking a small, cautious bite. The crisp, buttery shell gave way with a satisfying crunch, and almost immediately, his taste buds were met with the warmth of spiced apple filling. The sweetness was rich but not overpowering, balanced with the subtle tang of fruit and the slight kick of cinnamon. The texture was perfect—soft on the inside, crisp on the outside.
He took another bite.
“Well?” Stone asked, a slow, knowing smile creeping onto his lips. "Good, right?"
Robotnik took his time chewing, swallowing, and dabbing his lips with a napkin before replying. “It’s…adequate.”
Stone burst out laughing, leaning back on the bench and shaking his head. “Adequate? You’ve got one of the best carnival food in your hands, and that’s all you’ve got to say?”
“It’s a fried dessert,” Robotnik said, taking another, slightly larger bite despite his tone. “Hardly groundbreaking.”
“Yeah, sure,” Stone replied, smirking as he reached into his own bag for another bite of funnel cake. “Keep telling yourself that while you eat the whole thing.”
Robotnik didn’t dignify that with a response, instead focusing on the pastry in his hands.
The two of them sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the warmth of the food and the soft glow of the carnival lights wrapping around them like a blanket. Robotnik found himself sneaking glances at Stone, who seemed perfectly at ease, his eyes occasionally drifting to the sights and sounds of the carnival.
The corner of Robotnik’s mouth twitched. Maybe this wasn’t such a waste of time after all.
“Watch your step, sir.”
The gentle crash of waves against the shore filled the silence as Stone led Robotnik down to the beach and across the uneven terrain of the beach. the soft crunch of sand mixed with the occasional clink of loose pebbles beneath their feet. The waves created a rhythmic backdrop, and the glow of the carnival lights faded into the distance behind them. Above them, the stars twinkled faintly.
Robotnik scowled, pulling his coat tighter around himself as he carefully maneuverer over a particularly jagged patch of rock. Dressed in his pristine attire, he wasn’t exactly prepared for trekking across sand and stone. "This is absurd. What was wrong with watching from the pier?"
"Too many people," Stone replied easily. "This spot’s better. No one to bump into you. No interruptions. Not too loud. It'll be perfect."
Robotnik didn’t argue. The thought of being jostled by the loud, sweaty crowd at the carnival was enough to make him reconsider his earlier complaint. Besides, despite the slight inconvenience of getting here, the location was… nice. Secluded. Quiet.
Stone stopped at a secluded spot where the beach widened, the flat rocks offering a place to sit. They were close enough to hear the waves but far enough from the waterline to stay dry. Most importantly, the spot gave them an unobstructed view of the sky, where fireworks would soon paint the night with bursts of colour.
“This is it,” Stone said, motioning to the rocks. “Best view without a crowd in sight.” Settling down on the rocks, he then leaned back on his palms.
Robotnik hesitated briefly, then he adjusted his coat and carefully lowered himself onto the smooth surface of the rocks. He brushed at a few grains of sand with a frown before settling in. He glanced around, taking in the gentle moonlight reflecting off the ocean, the salty breeze ruffling Stone’s jacket, the way the distant glow of the city barely reached this far out.
For a moment, neither of them spoke, content to simply exist in the peaceful moment.
Robotnik’s gaze wandered, eventually drifting to Stone’s hand resting casually on the cold rock between them. The way his fingers just barely curled. Close. Not quite touching.
His fingers flexed slightly, hesitating. A part of him wanted to reach out, to bridge the space between them. The idea of holding Stone’s hand was ridiculous. Completely unnecessary. And yet, some stubborn part of his mind wouldn’t stop entertaining the possibility.
Would Stone mind? Would he—But…what if Stone didn’t want to?
Robotnik exhaled sharply, shaking off the thought before it could root itself deeper. Instead, he pulled his hand back slightly, folding it neatly in his lap instead.
The silence stretched until Robotnik finally cleared his throat, his voice breaking the stillness. “Stone.”
Stone turned his head, his expression open and curious. “Yeah?”
“Do you…truly have romantic feelings for me?"
The question came out more pointed than he intended, and immediately, Stone’s brows furrowed in confusion. "Feelings?"
Robotnik’s jaw tightened. He wasn’t one for emotional discussions, but this needed to be addressed—before it spiralled any further. “Yes. The ones you so dramatically declared during that mission five months ago.”
Stone raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.
“I’ve been considering the circumstances under which you…expressed those sentiments,” Robotnik said carefully, his words measured. “It was a high-stress situation. You thought you were about to die. And with your heart rate having increased, it would have caused adrenaline to course through your system. It can make people say things they don’t mean in moments of distress. It’s a well-documented psychological response."
Stone stared at him, his expression unreadable.
“So I’ve considered the possibility,” Robotnik went on, “that you only said those things in the heat of the moment. That you didn’t actually mean them." He inhaled slowly before adding, "And that since then, you’ve been pretending to be interested in me to spare yourself the awkwardness of retracting your words."
Silence stretched between them, the crashing waves the only sound filling the space.
Stone looked genuinely stunned, as if the very idea was so far from reality that he had trouble processing it. "You think—" Stone said finally, voice softer, but firm. “You think I’m faking my feelings for you?”
Robotnik finally turned to face Stone fully, his lips pressed into a thin line. "I think," he said carefully, "that if you were, in fact, faking it… you no longer have to." He sat up straighter, squaring his shoulders as he forced an indifferent tone. “I won’t dismiss you from you employment. There’s no need to keep up the act."
Stone blinked, then let out a sharp, breathless laugh—not one of amusement, but of disbelief. "Gez, Doc." He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. "You really believe that, don’t you?"
Robotnik didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he exhaled through his nose, his gaze dropping. "It wouldn’t be the first time," he muttered, almost to himself.
Stone frowned. "What do you mean?"
Robotnik hesitated, then exhaled deeply, the tension in his shoulders visible even in the dim light. Then, with an exasperated sigh, he leaned back slightly, gazing toward the horizon. "Back in high school, I didn’t have friends," he said flatly. "Nor did I want any. I liked being alone. Social interactions were tedious at best, and at worst, they were nothing but opportunities for dismission. It was simpler to remain detached."
Stone listened intently, his body leaning slightly toward Robotnik.
"But then, one day, a girl approached me during lunch. She asked if she could sit with me. She wasn’t loud or obnoxious, so I allowed it. Over the next few weeks, she continued sitting with me. She would occasionally compliment my blueprints and designs I did back then." Robotnik’s voice grew tighter, the bitterness creeping in. “And then one day, she told me she liked me. She wanted me to meet her back at the school that night so we could talk."
Stone’s chest tightened as he watched Robotnik’s face harden, the memory clearly still raw.
“So I went,” Robotnik continued, his voice low. “Against my better judgment, I…snuck out and went to the school. She was there," he paused. "So were a group of other students. Boys from the football team, other girls. I tried to leave but being a mere weak child, they cornered me. And then, they dumped a bucket of water over me. They laughed and laughed and laughed.” He lowly growled, his jaw clenched and eyes narrowed in anger. “I finally ran away, alone. Wet and humiliated. The next day, the school was plastered with photos of me and the words ‘A Wet Nerd’ in bold letters." Robotnik let out a humourless chuckle. “I managed to scare away everyone who laughed or looked at me with mockery off. Brought some prototype Badniks to school and demonstrated precisely why I was not to be trifled with.” Robotnik leans his head back to the sky, his eyes going shut for a moment then continuing. “I was expelled, of course. But I swore that I wouldn’t waste my time on…close connections.”
Robotnik shook his head slightly, looking back at Stone. “That’s why,” his voice was low, almost vulnerable, “I didn’t...I can’t fully believe. Not for people don’t…like me. But yet, here I am! Allowing myself to entertain the notion again." He scoffs.
For a moment, neither spoke, the sound of the waves filling the silence. Till Stone reached out, hesitant, but eventually his hand laid gently on Robotnik’s. "Listen to me," Stone said firmly, his voice steady. “I’m not faking anything. What I said that day wasn’t adrenaline or fear talking. I meant what I said. Every word of it."
Robotnik glanced down at their joined hands, his fingers twitching slightly beneath Stone’s. It wasn’t demanding. It wasn’t insistent. It was simply there. A silent reassurance.
His throat tightened, and when he spoke, it was barely above a whisper. “Why?”
“Because you’re brilliant,” Stone said, smiling softly. “And stubborn, and complicated, and maybe a little impossible. But you’re also passionate, and creative and you have this way of seeing the world that no one else does. And I admire that. That's why I'm willing to countlessly risk my life to ensure you are protected. And your heart is something I will always protect and cherish."
The words hung in the air, raw and sincere. The weight of it all settled in his chest, heavier than he expected. He swallowed, tilting his gaze toward the horizon where the dark ocean met the sky.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Robotnik exhaled. “It might be a while till I’m ready for…proper romance,” he admitted, voice quieter than before. The idea of it still felt foreign, like something fragile he wasn’t sure how to handle.
“I’ll be patient,” Stone said softly, his thumb absently brushing against Robotnik’s knuckles. “Even so, I don’t need your kisses. I don’t need intimate touches.” He paused, then added with quiet certainty, “I just want to be with you. Romantic or not.”
Robotnik’s breath caught slightly, the words hitting him harder than he expected.
“I just want to be yours.”
A pause.
“Please. Believe that.”
Robotnik finally turned to look at him, really look at him, searching his face for any sign of deception. But Stone’s face revealed nothing but quiet certainty and admiration.
He meant it all. Every word.
Before Robotnik could process it, Stone lifted his free hand up, brushing his thumb over Robotnik’s cheek. That’s when he realized—he had a tear trailing down his face he hadn’t even noticed escaped. Stone wiping it away with the same gentleness he always carried.
Robotnik clenched his jaw, inhaling sharply as if trying to regain control of himself, but he still didn’t let go of Stone’s hand. Instead, slowly, hesitantly, he leaned his head onto Stone’s shoulder.
Stone didn’t move. Didn’t react with surprise or triumph. He just let Robotnik lean. To let him exist in the moment, let him breathe and rest.
The warmth of the moment wrapped around them, fragile yet unbreakable. They both simply looked out at the ocean’s night landscape.
Then, Robotnik whispers, “Ivo.”
“Hm?”
“Call me Ivo. When we’re alone, of course.”
A small smile tugged at Stone’s lips. “Then you have my permission to also use my first name when we’re alone. Ivo.” He teased, grinning as he said the name.
Robotnik tensed slightly, then frowned. It was then that a realization struck him.
He didn’t even know Stone’s first name. Not his real first name.
It had always been Agent. Stone. You. Imbecile. There had never been a need to say, let alone remember, his first name. The last time he might have seen it was when Stone’s employment file was first placed in front of him—but that was years ago.
Stone must have noticed his silence because he let out a small chuckle. “You don’t remember my first name, do you?”
Robotnik scoffed, pulling back slightly. “It’ll come to me, don’t rush me!”
Stone huffed a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Well, let me speed up the process. It’s Aban.”
Robotnik blinked. “Aban.” He rolled the name around in his mind. “I’ll work on remembering it.” He resettled on Stone’s shoulder.
Stone chuckled. “I’d appreciate that, Ivo.” He gave Robotnik’s hand another squeeze before settling into the silence with him, both of them watching the sky as the first firework bloomed above.
The first firework shot up high and loud, a streak of gold against the night sky. It explodes in a cascade of shimmering light, illuminating the shoreline in flickering hues of gold and crimson.
Robotnik watched in silence, his eyes reflecting the bursts of colour above. His hand remained entwined with Stone’s, resting between them on the cool rock.
More fireworks followed—blue, green, violet—each explosion painting fleeting patterns across the sky. The distant sound of the carnival music faded beneath the crackling booms of the display.
“Not bad for your first night carnival experience, huh?” Stone asked, nudging Robotnik lightly with his shoulder.
Robotnik hummed, neither confirming nor denying. His gaze stayed locked on the sky. A particularly large firework burst overhead, its golden streaks branching out like tree limbs before dissolving into tiny embers. “It’s…adequate. Though, with the right engineering, I could easily make something superior. Larger bursts, more intricate patterns, greater efficiency.”
Stone smirked. “Of course. I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
They sat there, the fireworks reflecting in their eyes, the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore beneath it all.
Then, as the finale began, a rapid succession of explosions filling the sky with golden brilliance, Robotnik hesitated only for a moment before giving Stone’s hand a small squeeze.
Stone turned to look at him, surprised by the rare gesture. Robotnik didn’t meet his gaze, instead keeping his eyes trained on the sky, but the slight curve of his lips was unmistakable.
Stone smiled to himself and squeezed back.
And under the dazzling light of the fireworks, they stayed like that—together.