Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Stone worked very hard to not be human.
The doctor had no interest in humans— it was why he was so fond of his “babies”, and not of his superiors, despite the many other reasons they pissed him off. Robots were easily controlled, accurate to a point, and didn’t cry when screamed at.

Stone would appear on time, keep his comments to a low, make the same latte every day just the way the doctor liked it. He’d step out when he wasn’t needed, and working in the background was pleasant to him. It was a harsh change from the way his job used to be, but almost needed.

Humans needed breaks. Humans asked annoying questions, humans desired social interactions, humans were needy (and many other cons the doctor raved on about often). This was something Stone could control. He could step out when he needed to cough or sneeze (it wasn’t allowed in the lab), he could refine his schedule down to the second, he could find a routine, because that was the way the doctor wanted it. He could memorize every mistake, every sign from the doctor, and study it like his own bible, because that was the way the doctor liked it.

Silently partaking in the Doctor’s regimen was heaven for Stone. When he woke up at six in the morning, he didn’t take a second to sleep in or slog. A shower, brushing teeth, drying hair, doing hair, applying cologne; he’d slip into his black suit, black undershirt, black tie, adjust his sleeve cuffs and head towards the lab. His so-called “effortless” appearance did not go without work. Even a millisecond off schedule would send the doctor flying into a tantrum, so not one was spared. When he made it to the lab, he’d start up the coffee machine, delicately repeating the pattern he did every morning and every evening making the doctor’s perfect latte. It was the one thing the doctor praised him for— the one thing he still needed a human for. Needed Stone for.
So Stone was glad to spend so much of his time creating it. He dipped the goat milk into the cup, giving it a little tip at the end to leave a bit of froth floating at the top. His soft smile never left his face the second he stepped into the lab. How was he going to make this easy for the doctor?
No doubt the doctor was hard at work somewhere else in the lab, so Stone lightly stepped into the doctor’s main working area and gracefully placed the cup onto the counter. He quickly left again to make his own drink, and await orders from his superior.

After a few moments of standing silently, he earned the yell he was waiting for.
“STONE!” Robotnik screamed from the next room over. Stone quickly hurried to the doctor’s call while maintaining his composure. Though today, the shout seemed more distressed than the usual angry request for something.

“Yes, doctor?” Stone kept his “at-ease” pose at the doctor’s side, hands behind his back, tied calmly. He had long forgone the “sir” he used to address the doctor with, at his request. Apparently, it reminded the doctor too much of an army camp— although there was a little inkling at the back of Stone’s mind that there was the slightest bit of familiarity there, the want to be close. However, Stone’s comfort in professionalism kept him from a different name.

“Where have you gotten this coffee?” Robotnik pointed accusatorily at the cup, as if the coffee itself had betrayed him.

Stone gave him a confused quirk in his eyebrow, an amused smile always plastered to his cheeks. “What do you mean, doctor? I made it, just like I always do. Does it taste different?” Stone knew the doctor noticed even the smallest difference, which was one of the things he admired. Though, when he glanced at the cup, the paper rim hadn’t been wetted. He hadn’t taken even a single sip.
“Then where is the insufferable art you always stain my latte with? Don’t think you can pull one over on me, agent.” Robotnik sneered, putting air quotes around art.

Stone looked over the cup, finding the doctor’s insights to be true, as they always were. He could’ve sworn that he’d drawn something nice for the doctor today, but now that he thought about it, he couldn’t recall what he had drawn.
“My apologies, doctor. It won’t happen again.” Stone bowed his head slightly.

“What won’t happen again, exactly?” Robotnik raised an eyebrow, a twitch in his upper lip.
“I’m sorry, doctor, I suppose I just forgot.” He smiled sincerely. He’s been told in the past it’s his best trait— but his only genuine smiles are around the doctor.

Surprisingly, instead of the usual chewing out Stone would get, Robotnik just swivels around in his chair saltily, getting back to work on his newest project. Stone knows he’s on a tight deadline, because this is the second time that he’s delayed the presentation for his boss. “Make me a new one. I don’t allow incompetence in my lab.”
Stone nodded, before remembering the doctor couldn’t see him from his vantage point. “Yes, doctor.”

Stone swiftly turned around to remake the latte, sneaking a glance at the doctor as he exited. The doctor was sipping his drink, the same as he always would. Stone smiled a bit at that. He tried to keep it down, but his grin faded anyway as he started up the coffee machine again. Time alone gave him time to think. Thinking of his own wasn’t allowed in the lab— something that had never stopped him before, but gave him an excuse at times like these.

After giving the doctor back his new latte, the day went much of the same as it always did. He stepped in when he was needed, stepped out when he was shouted at, and handed the doctor his tools before he even knew he needed them. However, the entire time, one thought plagued him. He had to do it now. He had the rest of the week, and Stone wanted to spend all the time he still could with the doctor- but every second he spent just thinking about it and not doing it, the more he squirmed in his dress shoes and distracted himself. It was ruining the very image he worked so hard to build for the doctor.

“STONE! PHILLIPS!” The doctor screamed, and Stone snapped back into reality. He quickly handed the doctor the screwdriver he needed— it was not often that Stone failed to recall what he needed. Typically, Robotnik just held out his hand and Stone made his best educated guess as to what he was flexing his gloved fingers for. It had been a long time since he had even specified the type of tool.

Robotnik didn’t seem to care, though, as Stone’s fingers brushed against his as the screwdriver passed between their hands— one gentle, one static. As Robotnik began to twist the handle of the driver with a graceful wrist, Stone opened his mouth. It was now or never.

Spit it out.

But his body wouldn’t let him. Everything he stood for called his name, pulled his lips shut and kept his chest tight and tense. He wanted to get these words out of his mind, but his tongue tied itself into a palomar knot and refused to break (thanks to his earliest days in the boy scouts). Luckily, the doctor didn’t seem to notice him struggling, and if he did, he didn’t say anything. He continued to work in the strangled silence. And Stone decided to let himself breathe for one and rehearse his speech in his head with nervous fervor.

Stone’s mind drifted as he stood next to Robotnik, finding himself far away from the lab he was meant to be grounded in and thinking, because he yet again had nothing to do. He couldn’t force himself back to the project Robotnik was working on, no matter how interesting he found it, as his mind became preoccupied with the ultimatum the commander had given up the day before.

“We trust you, Agent.” Walters smiled, sliding over the heinous and outdated technology on his desk, the one they planned to plant under his tie. It was criminal to even compare to the doctor’s work, but Stone found himself imagining so anyway, and how the doctor would burst into flames if he so much as caught a glance of the primitive device.

“You want to bug me? You know how inquisitive the doctor is, he’ll never let it past him.” Stone gave the commander a light laugh, not daring to get comfortable in the chair he was seated on; he planned to leave the second he could. After so many years with Robotnik, he’d adopted that same hatred for any kind of humanity that wasn’t the doctor (if you could even consider him part of it). “No less something of that caliber. It won’t even make it past his security system without being burned right off my breast pocket with a guided laser.” He chuckled.

Walters didn’t laugh. He leaned back on his chair, connecting the tips of his fingers and nervously tapping them back and forth. “Don’t worry, Agent, we’ve already gone through clearance. And even if he does somehow find anything under your clothes, he’s not allowed to put hands on you.” Not that it ever stopped him before…

“With all due respect, I’m not worried about it at all, Commander, because I won’t be doing it. It’s a breach of the Doctor’s trust and privacy— and I can assure you he’s not hiding anything.” Stone nodded, keeping his hands folded over his lap.

“Now I know that’s a lie.” Walters insisted.

“Nothing important.”

“See, this is why we can’t get anywhere with that man. It’s always something.”

“You’re going to have to be more specific with that, sir.”

Walters sighed. “It’s the bug or nothing, Agent.” He said after 6 seconds. Stone had begun to count people’s pauses instinctively a long time ago, a habit he picked up from the doctor— as Robotnik seemed to like it when he ragged on how slow they were.

“I suppose I’m going to have to go with nothing, sir.” Stone shrugged with an easy smile as if it weren’t even a decision. It wasn’t.

“I mean nothing, Stone. Nothing as in: No more servicing with Doctor Robotnik. We’ll be transferring you by the end of the week if you don’t comply.”

Stone felt the air leave his lungs the second that sentence processed in his brain. He tried to compose himself quickly, letting nothing but a brief blink flit over his face. “Surely it’s not that troublesome? You recall the doctor’s work increase when I was assigned to him in those first few months.” It was his delicate way of saying “You need me.” “I’m a valuable employee after all— you said so yourself. I’m trusted.”

“I’m afraid you don’t work for us anymore, Agent.” Walters drawled, watching the bug on the table. “You work for Doctor Robotnik- and then by the end of the week, you’ll be working for lead scientist Dr. Bushner in Antarctica if things don’t go as planned.”

Agent Stone took a deep breath, trying to let his panic sink into silence, not to let it show. He laughed in disbelief. “Is that a threat, commander?”

Walters dithered and shook his head indecisively, before settling on a fat nod. “Yes, yes it is. You may decide, Agent. I’ll call you in by the end of the week. Don’t disappoint me.”

Stone nodded, trying not to let his falling heart get the best of him as he stood up professionally and removed himself from the room. The second the door shut behind him with a satisfying click, he let out the breath he’d been holding so dearly.
He began to formulate a plan instead of sulking around. He’d figure this out. He was a government agent, after all. He always had a back-up plan.

Robotnik was waving him off, telling him it was time for him to pack up for the day (it had been a while since he hadn’t stayed over time, maybe Robotnik had considered him useless for the day, Stone thought with a sting) and Stone quickly nodded, said goodnight to the doctor, and made him one last drink before slipping on his coat and driving home for the night. It had been a long day, and Stone had failed to bear any news to the doctor. A sense of failure weighed heavily on his shoulders as he lumbered into his home and began to make himself dinner.

He made something quick and easy, not feeling deserving of a nice meal if he couldn’t valor up and just tell the man he’d been working under for seven years that he was going to quit. Or, more accurately, be removed from his service specifically because there was no way Stone would be able to function without constantly having a task shoved in his face— he knew that, but wondered if the doctor did. He had decided earlier that the man would accept it more easily if he up and resigned. Stone would never have considered it before now, but it was what Robotnik had been pushing for so desperately all those years ago. Maybe the doctor would even be delighted to have him gone— to have all that space to himself again, working alone and more vigorously than he ever had. The idea of the doctor being happy just slightly overshadowed the hollowness that burned in his chest. When venturing up to his room and collapsing in his bed, he knew he wasn’t going to sleep tonight. He wanted to consider his options again for his own selfish reasons, but quickly shut it down for the idea that further prodding with the topic would change his mind.

He had known for a while now that he was in love with Ivo Robotnik. However, there was no space in that man’s heart for anything that was human. So as much as Stone tried to be one of his cold and heartless machines, he couldn’t pretend to be something he wasn’t— and in the end, he decided that the best way to solve this conundrum was to not at all. Leaving Robotnik would be the best thing he could do for him.

Chapter Text

The rest of the week went much the same. Distracted, tired, and teeth clenched to keep the words caged inside his mouth. By Thursday, Stone was wondering why Robotnik hadn’t shoved him up against a wall yet.

He had barely slept the day before— the week before, for that matter. He found himself tossing and turning in bed, unlike the typical still posture he kept on normal nights. Right now, Stone chased sleep in the seconds he blinked, trying not to let himself falter. He had meant to keep every second he had left working under Robotnik, but was unable to enjoy it due to the anxiety he was putting on himself. Robotnik kept dismissing him to work on something else in another room. Stone just held his breath and tried to work himself awake.

Robotnik tapped his chin, pulling Stone’s vitals back up onto the corner of the screen as he left again to go find some tool Robotnik was pretty sure they didn’t have. Something was different about the man recently, and Robotnik had made it his personal mission to find out what. His blood pressure was higher than normal, indicating tiredness, maybe, especially with the way he was acting. Perhaps he had a double life, Robotnik perused, pursing his lips in amusement at the thought of his assistant up at night for the same job he did during the day. Robotnik knew Stone held a rigorous sleep schedule, the way his respiratory rate slowed at 2200 every night and picked up again at exactly 0600 the following morning. He had recently begun monitoring it again, though, finding his rate to be elevated instead at those same times. His heart rate had been increased as well, at a steady 80 beats per minute instead of the typical 67 that Stone kept. Of course, Robotnik’s paranoid mind leapt at the speed of sound— Stone was keeping something from him. He had never known his sycophant to lie to him. Stone was an excellent liar, he’d seen it firsthand many times, when talking to his producers and the rest of the pentagoons in this dirty molehill they called a “research base” with as much grace as a bear balancing on a beach ball; he watched Stone cover for him when Robotnik was about to spit out the truths he was accustomed to wielding like a rapier. He studied his agent’s face when he did, no apparent tells other than the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes not crinkling like his genuine smile, the one he used around Robotnik.

Stone was good at half-truths. Tucking something away behind the other half of the sentence, not even letting it into the conversation as an idea that existed. But Robotnik was even better at keeping data, and the more information, the more a mystery becomes a truth. For now, he’d let things run the way they are, a control of sorts. Everything was normal as far as he knew, but something started whispering to him at the back of his mind. A voice hissed at him, “you can’t trust him.”

Obviously, Robotnik already knew this. But after however many years, something inside him had begun to feel a bit of a normalcy with the agent around, that this was his new usual. The idea of him not being there was… Disturbing, to say the least. It wasn’t that he enjoyed his company, but that it ruined his carefully crafted scheduled efficiency. The unnerving voice continued to murmur ideas, feeding his brain with chow for his ever growing paranoia. He’d been subject to many an assassination attempt, so it wasn’t entirely unbased to assume that the agent was plotting against him in a coup to overthrow him and take his life’s work, but it also just seemed unrealistic. He had never known Stone to act that way, and at this point, he decided to take it at face value when the agent promised he had nothing to gain from working under Robotnik for seven years other than the salary. A while ago Robotnik even jested lowering it, and the agent seemed unphased. But Robotnik began to reach through that statement, trying to unravel it like a skein of yarn and see what was inside the cakes of thread. There had to be something behind it all, a reason that Stone would stay after so many years of mistreatment and awful working conditions, a reason buried deep into that world of twine that surrounded Robotnik’s thoughts like red lines trailing between photos and pinned notes on a corkboard. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, he could not find the center of the typhoon of red yarn. It all led to nothing, nothing that Robotnik could understand, at least. He let the thread fall around his feet in defeated clumps.

“A coffee plant? Really?” As was evident by the glossy, wavy leaves that leaned over in their own weight against the countertop of the kitchenette in the government-mandated break room. If it were up to him, Robotnik would have just had a single room with enough space for all of his babies and himself— but then again, then he wouldn’t have the same caffeinated latte every day… So maybe the break room wasn’t that bad.

“I thought it’d liven up the room. You don’t come in here often, anyway.” Stone shrugged, cleaning off the table with a wipe. He seemed preoccupied with keeping the break room spotless. At least Robotnik didn’t have to concern himself with it.

“I’m not watering it.” Robotnik stated, standing back and crossing his arms.

“Didn’t expect you to. I’ll take care of it— I have plenty of plants at home.” Stone quickly replied, ready for anything the doctor may say.

“Do you? I imagine you live in a jungle— do you sleep with a machete next to your bed to cut through your stairwell in the morning?” Robotnik chuckled, watching Stone smile out of the corner of his eye.

“Of course not. I’ve only got two or three.”

“Is it two or is it three?”

“It’s four, but when I say ‘two or three’ it sounds like I have less of a problem.”

“I don’t understand your strange need to have so many living things in your own home.” Robotnik admitted. “Don’t you have a pet, too? How do you stand that mess?”

“A lint roller goes a long way.” Stone grinned. People loved to talk about themselves, Robotnik found— But Stone almost never did. Yes, Robotnik was able to collect short passing anecdotes, but other than that, Stone’s home life was relatively a mystery to him. Sometimes he wondered if Stone even had one. He could move into the lab and nothing would change. The idea intrigued him for some reason, but he quickly let it flit from his mind.

“But why? It must be annoying to have to wake up and check on these things every day.” Robotnik lifted up a leaf of the arabica coffee plant gingerly, observing the strange veiny patterns against the chlorophyll. He couldn’t help but push, wanting to hear his agent talk.

Stone paused, thinking about something for a minute. “I don’t know… I guess I just like having something to take care of.”

Robotnik was launched from his memory back to the present when Stone’s heart rate shot up on the monitor. Robotnik stood up, discontent with just watching from a distance now. He pushed his swivel chair aside, marching into the break room he had just been thinking about. There, he found Stone, standing over the sink, looking almost panicked as he stuck something in his pocket— his phone, maybe— and then turned to the doctor, his face now replaced with the typical calm smile.

“Stone.” Robotnik hissed.

“Doctor.” Stone replied as usual.

“What’s wrong with you?” Robotnik just went out and asked it. It was unlike him to hold anything back.

Stone raised an eyebrow. “Nothing that I’m aware of, Doctor.”

“No sudden development of an abnormal heart condition?” Robotnik began to circle the agent, “perhaps a new medication?”

Stone chuckled. “None of the above. Did something happen, Doctor?”

Suddenly, Robotnik felt his face flush. The idea of him being wrong occurred to him, and although he prided himself on never having made a mistake, the pure concept of it made him grind his own teeth and wave it off. “Nothing of your concern, Agent.” He scoffed. “Just a strange feeling.”

Stone smiled. “I’m fine, Doctor.” The corners of his eyes didn’t crinkle like they usually did.

“That wasn’t what I asked. I do not care if you are fine or if you’re dangling off the top of the Chrysler building. Don’t act like you understand what I’m thinking, Stone.” Robotnik felt a bit of his temper surge through him at the agent’s presumptuous nature. Though, he still had that feeling deep in his chest— that he was wrong, and the opponent across the board from him was right, sliding their piece into check without so much as a hint that Robotnik might’ve been losing. His king was slipping from his fingers, and he didn’t even know it yet.

“Of course, Doctor.” Stone nodded, quickly leaving the room. Robotnik felt a twinge of something negative— he wasn’t absolutely sure what. Add that to his list of unknowns; so many variables that Robotnik didn’t know the definitions of made him antsy, anxious. He assumed Stone went into the other room to get back to his usual work. Robotnik tapped his foot incessantly, slowly starting to pace around the break room. He was never wrong.

Stone was lying to him. Something he couldn’t just brush out of the way. Ideas appeared left and right into the doctor’s head like pop-up ads, clouding his vision so he couldn’t see clearly. Stone was going to betray him. He wasn’t sure why, after so many years, now was the time he’d decided to strike, but it made sense. Stone never made sense, he was that mystery.

Many years ago, when they were first getting started out, maybe a month or two in, Robotnik decided that he had figured him out. Stone was an excellent worker, he had proved himself even by then to be so— and Robotnik had come to the conclusion that he was one of those sniveling brats in grade school who cared about nothing but their A+. Robotnik was just another assignment to him, and the people-pleasing brown-nosing part of him would eventually be satisfied with the praise of the commander.

However, just a week later, that illusion had been shattered. It became very obviously untrue when the agent badmouthed the commander right in front of him, sharing many of his same opinions. He helped Robotnik shut out the unending meetings he never wanted to go to, he shooed off asshole pentagoons from his doorstep with a pistol, as if he were even close to Robotnik’s own level of sanity. He made it apparent that he no longer worked for G.U.N. He worked for Robotnik.

A year or so later, Robotnik cracked the code once more. Stone was a sailor— riding the waves of people more powerful than him. He had decided to follow Robotnik, sniffing out his true genius like a bloodhound tracked down a fugitive. Grabbing onto Robotnik’s stunning red coattails would land him by his side when he inevitably, eventually, took over the world, as he had openly planned for a long time now. It logically added up, the way that the agent complimented his technology, learned how it worked even when Robotnik didn’t ask him to, the way he kept working even during his lunch break and stayed overtime every other day to help Robotnik piece together his next prototype. He made himself useful, someone that Robotnik would want to keep around far past what was due.

Yet, soon after, again his hypothesis was ripped to shreds like a theory published by Marilyn Vos Savant. Within the year, Stone had proved himself much more than just a suck-up. The idiot had gone and gotten himself shot, quite literally taking a bullet for the doctor. The bullet had dug right beneath his heart, and for a minute Robotnik believed him truly dead, a fear instilled in him he hadn’t known was possible. After that incident, he quickly revamped all of their security systems and added Stone to the “protect” list on the Badniks’ software. But the accident also made him revisit his hypothesis, revealing itself once more to be completely false— the man was ready to throw away his life for him. He had nearly died without a single qualm, and Robotnik knew it was no “part of the job” like Stone had insisted. None of the agents before him would even think of throwing themselves in front of the doctor— if anything, they would’ve pushed him into the line of fire. Robotnik knew he was not a pleasant person to be around, in fact, prided himself in it. He had no idea why Stone was the way he was, acted the way he did, said the things he said. To this day, it continued to be a mystery unsolved, until now.

Finally, something clicked for Robotnik. Stone was playing the long game. Invading his inner circle of trust, sneaking his grubby fingers into his work and schedule until he became essential, something Robotnik couldn’t live without. Maybe he was working for someone else, or just trying to get his hands on Robotnik’s technology for himself. Robotnik frowned, a sinking feeling in his chest as he came to this conclusion. He wanted to write it off, ignore the idea, because something in his throat made him want to cough. The feeling, he convinced himself, was the disappointment for not realizing it sooner, and not the distrust in his own theory. Again, it just didn’t right with him as he walked back into the main lab, sitting down in his chair after noting Stone was diligently working on his gifted laptop, probably fixing up a schedule or working with an enemy sniper right in front of Robotnik. The nerve!

Robotnik slipped on his headphones, but didn’t switch on one of his favorite playlists whilst he settled in to configure a new blueprint. Instead, he listened to the near-sulent clacking of the keys of Stone’s keyboard, clicks he normally wouldn’t hear. Eventually, the repetitive clicks helped Robotnik tune out his thoughts, and he zeroed in on his new plans.

Soon enough, Robotnik snapped out of his hyperfocus, realizing that the clicking had stopped. He lifted off his headphones, finding that no, he hadn’t just been tuning it out. He swiveled around in his chair, and found Stone with his cheek on the table, leaned over and asleep. He was a silent sleeper, apparently, as Robotnik hadn’t even noticed, and would’ve assumed he were awake if he hadn’t seen his chest bouncing up and down slowly.

Robotnik stood, observing his agent mischievously— wondering how to get one over on him and tell him “left yourself open” when Robotnik woke him up. However, he stopped when he noticed the peaceful expression on Stone’s face, one he had never seen on his agent before. He’d seen many expressions on Stone before, he’d seen his neutral, at-ease face, his face of awe and wonder whenever he saw Robotnik’s inventions show off, that soft smile with wrinkled eyes that told Robotnik he was genuine. Had that been a trick, too? Lord knows Stone could lie his way out of anything. He began to consider how long Stone had been out when his face began to contort, shifting slightly in his slumber and his shoulders tensing. The sleeping beauty slipped his hand over his head, and Robotnik began to feel like he shouldn’t be watching. Stone was vulnerable in front of him, something Robotnik had never experienced before.

Stone murmured something, and Robotnik began to develop an ethical qualm that had never been a problem before. Deciding that his agent should not be sleeping on the job, Robotnik reached forward and grabbed Stone’s shoulders, trying to shake him awake. “Agent Stone, sl-” Robotnik began to reprimand him, but was cut off when Stone quickly stood up and seemed to pull Robotnik’s arm behind his back on reflex. Robotnik yelped, which seemed to fully wake Stone up, and he quickly let go of the doctor, bowing his head in embarrassment.

“I take it you had a nice nap?” Robotnik patted off his sleeves, disgruntled. Stone seemed more open than usual, letting a microexpression of guilt slip through before it flitted away a nanosecond later and was replaced by his typical neutral style.

“I’m so sorry, Doctor.” He looked up, seemingly waiting for something from the doctor. Robotnik didn’t indulge him in the violence he was expecting.

“You better be. For the better part of this week, Agent, you’ve been acting as if your brain is on another planet, and it might as well be floating in the vacuum of space anyway, if you’re going to be so useless. I have half a mind to fire you if you don’t resign yourself.” Robotnik spat, unsure where this temper had all been coming from. He didn’t let himself waver, even when he saw a bit of hurt behind the agent’s large eyes. “You’re dismissed. Go home.” Robotnik sighed, turning away so he didn’t have to look at Stone.

“Of course, Doctor. Please call me if you need anything at all.” Stone replied smoothly, pivoting on his heel to leave professionally for the day.

“I won’t be. Get some sleep, agent.” Robotnik muttered, hearing Stone stop. He then continued, and Robotnik didn’t move until he was sure Stone was gone.

Chapter Text

Friday. It had to be today.

Stone was already up for an hour before he had to be. He went through his morning routine as usual, hyping himself up and trying to ignore the sinking feeling that the resignation paper in his breast pocket gave him, like it’d burn through his clothes.

As he walked into work that morning, he held his breath around Robotnik. Dodged him, evaded him, and almost turned around once when walking into the same room. He feared he was being obvious, but couldn’t calm his racing heart.

Robotnik stopped him by noon. Stone had just paused by the doorway, unsure if he wanted to enter the room or not. Robotnik put a gloved hand on his shoulder, pushing him into the wall.

“What are you hiding from me, agent?” Robotnik said after a moment of silence, nostrils flaring. Well. This was as good a time as any. He went to reach for his breast pocket, opening his mouth to talk, a second passed before anything even made it past his tongue.

“Doctor, I-” The doctor quickly cut him off.

“It’s that inane group that tried to assassinate me last year, isn’t it?” Robotnik interrupted.

“I- …What?” Stone breathed, confused utterly.

“One of the little rats snuck off. You didn’t kill him.” Robotnik explained. His nose twitched, he was going on one of those rants again, one that wouldn’t end until he deemed it done. “February second. It’s fully possible that the group has recouped and has started planning again, and you’re working with them, aren’t you, sycophant?” Robotnik jabbed Stone in the chest with his emphasis, and then returned to fiddling with his mustache. It was clear he was running himself into a state of paranoia. Stone felt his heart break a little.

“No, doctor, that’s not what-” He tried to shoot down Robotnik’s spiralling early, but he wasn’t successful.

“It makes sense, though, doesn’t it? Maybe it’s not the February group, maybe it’s one of the many generals and commanders or even lowly agents such as yourself that I’ve pissed off. Maybe it’s just you! What a fool I am, allowing a traitor into my space. Was this a recent development, Stone, or have you been harboring that anger towards me for quite some time now?” He leaned in next to Stone’s ear, and Stone tried to focus on the topic at hand and not the fact that his boss’s lips were basically touching his cheek.

“I apologize if I’ve done something wrong, Doctor, but really I don’t know-”

“He doesn’t know!” The doctor erupted, turning around and letting Stone stand on his own again, and he wiped off his jacket before following Robotnik’s anxious pacing. “He doesn’t know, he says, he never does! But, Stone, think critically, for once in your miserable little life!” He squeezed a fist, turning around suddenly, flicking Stone’s forehead. He resisted a flinch. “Honestly! This is the only solution that makes sense— that makes any semblance of a clue as to why you are so… insufferable!” No, that wasn’t the right word. “Annoying!” Nope, not that either. “Perseverant?! Obsequious! No one in their right mind would follow me as far as you have, agent. There has to be an underlying motive. Anything at all! And I can’t believe it’s taken so long for me to realize that you are a traitorous, lying, and selfish bastard.” Each added adjective was like a bullet to the chest, but Stone had experienced those before, and he was sure it didn’t hurt nearly this much. He tried to tell himself what he usually did— that this wasn’t real, that Robotnik was just playing up his words, but Robotnik’s anger was never usually directed at him. Robotnik’s chest was huffing up and down like he’d just run a marathon.

It seemed like his rant had finished just as quickly as it begun. It was time to get this back under control. So Stone slipped on his calmest facade, pretended that his heart wasn’t hammering and that he wanted to throw up and wallow in his own broken pieces.

“That’s not it at all, Doctor.” Stone insisted, a complacent smile hovering above his teeth. The doctor’s eyes flitted to Stone’s, and opened his mouth to argue; Stone shook his head and spoke up again before anything else could be said. “Let me talk. I apologize that I’ve given you the idea that I actually would do something so outrageous as caring for you.” He chuckled, letting air slip from his nose. “I’d also like to say sorry for acting so… strange, these past few days, as you put it earlier. I’m afraid my mind was just a little burdened.” He finally reached his hand for his breast pocket, trying not to let his shakes become visible as the folded up paper appeared between his calloused fingers, marred with evidence of years and years of hard work underneath the man he idolized. He pushed the slip of paper into Robotnik’s chest, who snatched it out of his hand quickly and read it over in just a few seconds. “I’m glad I was able to work with you while I did, Doctor.” Stone had planned to be more mean, to try and lessen the blow with something else for Robotnik to be mad at— he knew it was the way he coped with the world. Find the nearest scapegoat, and beat it down until the problem no longer existed (or in other words, the matter was repurposed, because Robotnik always insisted that Stone’s metaphors be physically correct). Instead, Stone found he didn’t have that capability. It was the one thing the multi-talented agent couldn’t do.

Stone turned to leave, wanting to get out of here before Robotnik literally blew a gasket. It was all his head was screaming at him, like a fight for survival: get out, get out, get out! However, nothing was ever that easy. Robotnik grabbed Stone’s wrist. He froze. He was pretty sure that they had never held hands before— not that that was what this was, but anything close to it, anyway. Stone turned away, praying to a god he didn’t believe in that Robotnik would not make this harder than it had to be.

“You don’t leave until I fire you, agent.” Robotnik breathed. Certainly not the response Stone expected; maybe a you still haven’t paid for betraying me!, or if Stone was really hopeful, even a not until I’m done with you.

“That’s not how that works, doctor.” Agent Stone scoffed incredulously. He forced his hand out of Robotnik’s easily, although lingering for the touch. He wanted it more than anything.

Robotnik seemed to falter. Today was a day of many firsts. One was Stone disobeying him.

Stone turned again, opening the automatic door with his ID. Once more he was stopped in his tracks, by an almost weak voice if Stone was stupid enough to believe Robotnik was capable of a moment of weakness.

“Don’t leave. That’s an order, agent.”

They stood in silence for a moment, and Stone allowed himself a second of fantasizing, of a world where he were permitted to spend his life with Robotnik, by his side, maybe run away from G.U.N, live life the way they wanted instead of what the government ordered them to. Stone was pulled from these thoughts quickly enough, though, when he realized that even in his fantasies he was still forced to be content with what he had. Nothing more than beneath the man he wanted.

Stone turned around, finalizing on what he had to say. Robotnik watched him closefully, a slump in his shoulder that wasn’t there a minute ago. “You’re right, Doctor.” Stone began, “I am selfish. I have been selfish— this entire time. Since the second I began working for you. The reason I stayed so long. But allow me to be selfless for just this once.” To be by the doctor’s side was to be selfish. It was he who wanted to care for him, to love him, to have him. To lie to the doctor about the real reason he had done everything for him, had given up everything about himself was selfish, and simply that.

“I said, that’s an order, agent.” Robotnik croaked.

“With all due respect, sir, I don’t work for you anymore.” And with that, Agent Stone left the room.

He rushed out of the compound. Locked the door the second he entered into his car, fumbling the keys into the ignition with hands about as steady as an earthquake, and didn’t even have the chance to twist them to let the engine noise drown out his brief sobs.

He didn’t let himself cry for too long, the idea unbecoming of himself— at least for right now. Just not here. Not here.

Stone drove home silently.

-

Robotnik watched the door for a while after Stone left.

Maybe it’d been ten to twenty minutes before he moved again. His thought process had been halted suddenly, and as the gears in his head started twisting again, he processed what happened. Watched the scene over again in his mind.

Admittedly, it made a bit more sense that the agent’s anxious struggles could’ve been due to a burden that had nothing to do with him. He berated himself for not having foreseen this possibility, for getting in his own way, and for letting Stone leave.

He sat down with a sigh, looking at the piece of paper Stone had “gifted” him before his departure. Instead of his name signed at the bottom, it was an agent identification code. Names were useless at G.U.N. for agents. You were nothing but a number, a statistic to send out and to die for dear old Uncle Sam. As soon as agent 31185 was transferred underneath Robotnik, he was given a name— something that signified that he was an individual, that he was different— different other than the fact that he had remained.

31185. Robotnik was sure he had heard that code somewhere before.

After just a moment, it came back to him. It was that strange agent’s ID that he had worked with a little less than a year ago— an extraction mission down in Argentina. He had noticed the way the agent looked at him. With large eyes, though not trusting, not completely reluctant either. It wasn’t something Robotnik had seen before. Like he was being studied, but not scrutinized. And though he knew he had a full head, his instincts told him something of adoration, though that thought would be written off soon later.

He remembered the agent getting hurt on the mission— they were supposed to have formally met, Commander Walters trying to set them up like his two barbie dolls that he mashed faces together with. He did this ever so often, trying to get Robotnik to open up and “make friends”. As if he actually cared for the mad scientist. However, the agent, he noted, was reckless enough to divert the mission himself. Go against rules. Disregard the other two agents in the plan, fuck off to who knows where, and have the gall to successfully complete the mission by himself and return the others back to home base in half the time it would’ve taken if they’d followed through with the original plan— at the cost of his own health. Of course, this piqued the doctor’s interest.

On the ride back, before the agent was whisked away to a paramedic, he had a chance to talk to him. The agent had initiated.

“You wrote the paper on bioinformatics and its ethical implications, didn’t you?” 31185 asked him. He had a towel pressed to his head to stop the blood from leaking into his eye.

Robotnik turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow. “That old thing? I wrote that thesis just to graduate from MIT. I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about its ethics.” He harrumphed, unsure why he was giving a random agent the time of day at all. But his curiosity persisted, and he decided that he owed no one a reason for his actions, not even himself.

“It was well researched.” The agent noted, scratching his beard before continuing. “I could tell you at least cared a little bit about the bioinformatics bit, though, right? You typed it up with passion.”

“Passion.” Robotnik huffed as if it were a foreign idea. “I wrote it in a single afternoon. I barely remember the opening statement.” He shrugged, now wishing for this conversation to be over. It was just more meaningless praise. He doubted the agent had even understood a single word in the paper.

“Did you ever end up getting your medical license?” The agent began again, “I’m curious as to if your ideas went anywhere. Your idea to create an artificial biological simulation to study was brilliant. I would’ve never thought to recreate it from scratch.” 31185 smiled, and Robotnik suddenly felt strange. That was when he fully latched onto this specimen, a feeling he’d chased for a while now. He just wanted to figure out what it was— and why it made him so happy.

“Obviously you wouldn’t have, a moronic autophagic amoeba like you couldn’t even comprehend half the words I used. And it was not from scratch, it was recreated painstakingly through a scuffed process of faux evolution.” He coughed, trying to poke even the tiniest hole through the agent’s on the nose descriptor, not minding the fact that the research paper was written almost a decade ago and was probably exactly as how the agent explained. “And yes, I was rewarded with a medical license for my hard work. However, it was quickly and unfairly stripped from me due to… an “incident” that barely injured anyone important at all.” Robotnik sighed, air-quotes around his chosen words. He was lightly surprised as he heard a chuckle from beside him. Was the agent laughing at him?!

There it was again. Those big eyes. Taking in everything around him. Devouring Robotnik. Looking at him like he really was a genius. Of course he was, he knew that, but it was the first time that it seemed like somebody else did.

“I’m sure they just understood the situation wrong.” It seemed earnest enough. Robotnik decided to take these few minutes for himself.

They spent the next 18 minutes conversing lightly, mostly Robotnik showing off. He had no idea why he felt the need to, but impressing this random agent somehow felt good. Because each time he showed him something new, the agent would “ooh” and “ah” and tell him he was really something.

The last thing 31185 had said to him before being pulled away to be stitched up was that he hoped to see more of his work in the future. Robotnik secretly hoped the same.

And it seemed like the agent was about to get his wish.

At the top of the document was the agent’s number, one Robotnik remembered so clearly now. No name, just a picture of an annoying, complacent smile next to the ID. Quick information on the agent, brief history with G.U.N., previous occupations, address, etcetera. Nothing important.

When the agent arrived, Robotnik prepared himself for the barrage of compliments, just as it had been when he first met the agent. He wouldn’t say he was excited, no, maybe excited to drive off a particular challenge of a government babysitter, but nonetheless his leg bounced as he waited.

The agent quickly set up his things, a mediocre laptop most likely supplied to him by the government, and not much else. Robotnik reprimanded him just as fast as he did— don’t touch anything, don’t move anything, don’t change anything.

The doctor took the agent on a quick tour, a smile plastered on his face as he waited for the praise to flow in. However, he was sourly surprised when he showed off an elegant little badnik, and the agent just nodded along. Perhaps a fluke, he thought.

The rest of the tour went much the same. Robotnik found himself even more pissed than the moment he had found out he was being assigned another agent— he thought the barrage would finally be over after being given that two week-long break. It turned out to just be time for the agent to heal.

As much as Robontik tried to scare off the agent, threaten him with death, torture, or worse, he didn’t budge. Robotnik grew furious as time went on, like he was working with a wall. Every time he tried to rant about his creations or show off a new feature, the agent just stood and nodded. It was unlike at all the last time they had met, and Robotnik couldn’t stand it.

Over time, Robotnik subjected the agent to a myriad of different nicknames, not wanting to spout the long number each time he addressed the servant, ranging from “Agent Whatshisname” to “Agent Unescapable-burden-on-my-life”. Eventually, he landed on one that stuck. Stone.

“Agent Stone!” Robotnik screamed from across the lab. He was pleased when he heard the quick footsteps following. “Look at this.” He heard a little hmph escape the agent when he pulled on his tie, bringing his face closer to the computer screen. It was a test for the agent; on the monitor was a bioinformatics concept, all set for the first prototype. He quickly examined the agent’s face, waiting to see that expression again, the one he was enraptured by when they first met. But it never came.

“It looks nice, Sir.” The agent nodded, stepping back once Robotnik let go of his tie.

The doctor felt something in him snap. He stood up quickly, his chair being pushed over beside him. It seemed to surprise the agent, just a little bit, but it was the first bit of emotion he had seen from 31185 since being assigned him. “What is wrong with you?!” Robotnik felt a low growl rise from his throat. “Say literallyanything other than “It’s nice” or “Good morning, sir”, it’s driving me insane!” Robotnik grabbed the agent’s lapels, shaking him furiously. “Does my work not amaze you? Is it not good enough for your ultimately superior brain?!” He queried sarcastically, practically holding the agent now that he was leaning so far over him.

“Are you sure? I didn't mean anything by it, sir-” The agent stammered with a small smile, and Robotnik let him go.

“Obviously I’m sure! You know how to make a man crazy, Agent Stone.” Robotnik scoffed, running his fingers through his hair.

The agent took a deep breath of relief. Like he had been holding something in. He let his masquerade fall over the next few weeks, step by step. It started with praise. “I really did think it was magnificent, sir. You have a penchant for amazing me.”

That was more like it.

Soon after, the smiling followed. He grinned more often, beamed when Robotnik gave him something that wasn’t an insult, and shined his pearly whites when Robotnik accepted his coffee.

Then came the face. The one Robotnik had been working towards seeing again. Wide eyes, astounded by everything around him. Filled with wonder. Especially when he looked at Robotnik.

It went farther than Robotnik had imagined. They soon became experts at conversing with one another, and Robotnik found that (surprisingly) he may not be the only one in the world with something worthwhile to say. He slowly learned more and more about the agent, until a number didn’t seem to justify all that he was. He hoped to rectify that someday. And even past the conversations, Stone was witty, responded even without being spoken to, reading Robotnik’s mind every other minute. He understood everything about the scientist, even the things he himself didn’t know. Robotnik soon grew accustomed to the company. He didn’t remember life without it.

By the time the end of the year rolled around, when exactly 365.4 days had passed since the agent had been assigned to him, Robotnik slipped a white paper over the table towards 31185. A five year contract. He delighted in the smile that got from him— and it was quickly snapped and placed into the folder in Robotnik’s mind labeled “Agent Stone’s Best Faces”. He’d been collecting them for a while now; his top five expressions ranged from awe to admiration. Robotnik watched carefully as 31185 signed the legally binding document, but only realized what had been added to the bottom as the paper was returned and the agent left to prepare them some champagne from the cellar they never used. Right above the dotted line, he had signed it not with his government ID, but with his name.

Agent Stone.

Robotnik smiled with a disbelieving chuckle. What a moron he’d gotten himself tangled up with.

That five year contract had long expired now. Robotnik could only assume that Stone had left G.U.N. as well, and preferred not to entertain the alternative (that he was purely at fault). He wondered briefly if Stone would go back to his birth name, the one he never knew.

For the first time in a long time, Robotnik was at a loss for what to do. No genius ideas popped into his mind. Nothing to aid him. He just found himself utterly and totally alone in a dark lab, without even a cup of caffeine to keep him running.

He humored the thought for a second of just letting him leave.

That idea was quickly shot down. He wasn’t sure why, there were a multitude of reasons— possibly the fact that Stone had become ingrained into his life that the idea that he would be absent was one that didn’t exist within Robotnik’s mind. It was about an hour or two later when Robotnik gathered his courage and decided to follow after the idiot who thought he could leave him. It was Robotnik’s decision who left and who stayed— he should have learned that by now.

Robotnik marched out the base, grabbing his coat and driving one of the government issued vehicles down to where he knew Stone’s house was. He obviously knew where his assistant lived, he’d just never seen the inside. The one time he had gotten close, Stone shut the door on his face like someone who wanted to be fired— looking back on it now, Robotnik felt a curl in his stomach, like his large intestine was being tied up into knots. Had Stone always hated working under Robotnik? Had he truly let himself be fooled into thinking that someone could enjoy his presence?

He parked in the driveway, noting that Stone’s car was still there. Good. He wouldn’t have put it past Stone to run away immediately— although it seemed like more of a Robotnik move. To run away from his problems.

So why was he on Stone’s front doorstep right now?

Chapter Text

Robotnik held his breath and knocked on the front door.

He wasn’t sure why it felt so hard to breathe right now. Was he nervous? No, that wasn’t possible. Robotnik was never nervous. But his heart leapt into his throat when the door creaked open.

Stone seemed to be expecting someone else when he opened the door annoyedly, his blazer off and just in his black polo, sleeves rolled up against his elbows. He paused when he realized who it was, the Doctor standing with a hunched posture he didn’t normally carry. He was preparing already in his head for what he was going to say. This time, he wasn’t going to jump ahead and say everything on his ever-growing mind— it clearly hadn’t worked last time. Before Stone could close the door again suddenly, Robotnik stuck his fingers in between them and pulled the door open. Stone’s eyes widened as Robotnik stepped into his home.

“Sir, you really shouldn’t be here…” He mumbled, but Robotnik closed the door behind him. He made it clear he wasn’t leaving. “Right. Make yourself at home.” He sounded exasperated. It was strange to hear him so… Done.

“Let me speak, Stone.” Robotnik held up a hand, taking in a breath and preparing himself for his monologue.

“Like I haven’t been for the past seven years.”

“Don’t be aggravating, Stone.”

“With all due respect, sir, you’re currently trespassing on my property.”

“I’m your boss, I can’t be trespassing.”

“That’s not how that works.”

“Just listen to me!” Robotnik growled, and Stone looked away guiltily— he seemed as if he didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to see the doctor. “I’m— I’m sorry. You are not selfish, and I apologize if I lead you to believe such a thing. I… apologize for the harsh words I used against you today as well.” He harrumphed, closing his eyes and standing tall, waiting for Stone to sigh and reluctantly accept his apology as he hypothesized he would. He got his sigh, at least, but opened his eyes when silence followed.

“Robotnik…” The doctor frowned at the use of his name and not his title. Yes, it made logical sense due to the fact that he was no longer… In charge, of Stone, but… It didn’t sound right on his tongue. “Are you sorry? Or are you sorry because I left?” Stone had a tired expression.

“What’s the difference?” Robotnik scowled.

“It’s time for you to leave, Doctor.” Stone pushed him aside and opened the door. “I’m not above calling the cops on you.”

Robotnik stayed planted where he was, but turned around to face Stone. “Stone… I do truly want you to know I am sorry. For… For everything I have inflicted on you. Ever since you had the absolutely moronic idea to step into my lab in April of 2012. I don’t know why.” He sensed Stone’s hesitancy, and continued to ramble, evading his eye contact and staying rooted right where he was. He crossed his arms. “I don’t know why you did, but I am forever grateful for it. And I especially don’t know why you endured my verbal abuse—”

“And physical.”

“...And physical abuse, for so long… And you’re right, you deserve better than that. I will treat you better, Stone, I can promise you that. Just… Please, come back.” Robotnik continued staring at a speck on the floor, daring not to move in case his eyes began to tear up. He had never before felt so vulnerable, so open, so… real. He wanted Agent Stone to truly understand him. To finally take what he said at face value.

“I can’t.” Stone said finally, and Robotnik felt like his breath had been taken from him.

“Let me be selfish.” The tears threatened to escape. “Please don’t leave, Stone. I know I said I wanted it so long ago, but I don’t mean it anymore. I want you by my side.” When was the last time he’d spoken such truths? Why didn’t Stone understand how much this meant for him? How badly he needed this? “I don’t care if you were selfish, and I don’t understand you when you say that. Just come back. Whatever you want. Higher pay, more days off, just name it, Stone!”

Stone took his gloved hand. Robotnik let out a little gasp, startled by the sudden touch… But not averse. He let it stay.

“Robotnik.”

“Stone.”

“I can’t come back.”

“Why not?!”

“Doctor… I… I don’t want to leave you hating me. I think that’s more than my heart can bear.” Stone admitted finally, dropping Robotnik’s hands. Robotnik picked up Stone’s this time. “That’s the one last selfish thing I ask of you. Just let me leave.”

“Why would I hate you?” Robotnik insisted, not knowing how to let something go. Everything was always in his control. It could not just… Disappear like that. Not without a fight.

“Doctor…”

“Stone. Please.”

“You really want to know?” Stone looked up at Robotnik with a renewed energy, and he felt his muscles tense underneath his grip. Robotnik steeled himself for whatever was coming.

“Yes. I do.”

Stone took in a deep breath. “I am not here for the pay, Doctor. I’m sure you already know that, you’re not stupid. I’m not just a sycophant like you say every day. I’m not here to steal your inventions, as beautiful as they may be. I’ve been selfish to stay for so long, to compromise you, to… clutter up your life with emotion, I know you hate those. God, I can’t even say it, can I? I can’t have you hating me. Hurting me.” Stone looked away.

“Spit it out, Stone.” Robotnik grabbed his shoulders intensely.

“I love you.” Stone matched Robotnik’s gaze, and before he could say anything, not even an exclamation of disgust, he continued. “And not in a purely sexual way, or a normal way, whatever you may perceive that to be, until recently I was content to just let it lie. I just… I care for you, Robotnik. And if leaving stops harm from coming your way, then that’s what I’ll do. Whatever is best for you.” He frowned in that way that left you wondering whether it was really a frown or not. He waited for Robotnik’s answer, terrified for the outcome. The finality of the statement. What would decide his fate. He almost hoped that Robotnik had a badnik waiting for him, to put him out of his sad misery.

“Are you an idiot? Did all that insomnia kill off the last of your brain cells?” Ah, there it is. Exactly as he had expected. “Leaving is not best for me, you numbskull. If you really cared you would be here with me! I am infinitesimally more unsafe without you by my side! You are the most competent person to ever grace my eyeballs, not to mention tolerable.” Robotnik shook his shoulders incredulously. “If you thought that would make me stop… eugh… wanting you around, your IQ is even lower than I thought. At least it’s still not comparable to the rest of the monkeys on typewriters this plant is composed of.” Robotnik sighed a breath of relief. “Egads… I might even return…. Those feelings… Oh, I don’t want to think about it too much now. What’s more important is making sure you are still here.” He decided finally, realizing that Stone was now crying. “Jesus, Stone, was it really that hard to say?”

“It’s just…” Stone tried to breathe over the warm tears now rushing down his cheeks, leaning into Robotnik, who anxiously held him. “I’ve been holding that in for so long. How do you stand me? I thought…. I thought you…”

“That was your first mistake, sycophant. It seems I do the same. Overthinking everything… Assuming the worst. It’s a curse of the brightest minds on this Earth.” He smiled in relief that Stone seemed more comfortable with him now. He kicked the door closed as he realized the cold night air was now wafting in. The click of the door locking seemed to jump Stone back into his head, and he stood up straight and wiped the tears away.

“Don’t think this is over, Doctor.” He sniffed. “I can’t come back, and that’s final.” Robotnik froze, pulling Stone away from him to properly look him in the face.

“What more can I do to convince you?! I had no idea you had it in you to be so stubborn!” Robotnik exasperated.

“I can’t—”

“And don’t say you can’t tell me. Enough shouldering your burdens, agent. That’s an order.”

Stone huffed a laugh. “I don’t work for you anymore.” But after a second, he quickly confessed. Robotnik softly smiled knowing that trust was still there that he had carefully built over almost a decade now. “Walters… Attempted to place a bug on me. Obviously, I rejected the idea. It was frivolous, it would never work anyway, but I still would never betray that trust, sir-!”

“I know that, agent, you’re loyal to a fault, I would expect no less. Continue.” He tried not to let his growing rage consume him.

Stone smiled. “I told him no. But apparently, that wasn’t an option. So the only other answer is practically an exile. Reassignment. Dr. Bushner.” He quickly explained.

Robotnik leapt to a pace, enraged. “That meritless, third-rate base in Palmer land?!” Robotnik roared, trying not to tear up his own jacket in a tantrum. “Are they obtuse?! Your proficiencies will be absolutely inutile down there! You have much more potential than that, Stone!” He whipped around, expecting Stone to be just as furious— but the agent seemed defeated, for once in his life. He had accepted the unthinkable.

“I was just packing, actually. And I’d like to get back to it before I forget my toothbrush.”

“You are not going to Antarctica, Stone!” Robotnik screamed. “It’s ridiculous! Throw that idea out the window!”

“Robotnik, I’ll be out of a job if I don’t. I don’t think I can take being a minimum-wage barista again. And if you try anything, I’m sure the Commander won’t hesitate to put you out of one, either.” Stone seemed to enjoy gazing at the floor longingly.

After a long moment, Robotnik spoke up. “I have enough savings to last myself at least another decade without a job. With you along, I’m sure we can last another seven years before requiring a real occupation.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Deadly! You signed up for this the moment you signed that contract, Agent Stone. You’re along for the full ride. Don’t tell me you don’t want to aid a poor old roboticist’s childhood dream of taking over the world?” He grinned evilly.

For the first time in a week, Stone smiled genuinely. Those little crinkles showed up beneath his eyes, lighting up Robotnik’s world.

Robotnik’s chest filled with a glee unparalleled in making this man happy. He wanted to scream and shout on the rooftops the name he didn’t know, the name he made for him, and the name he abandoned. He felt the universe boom in his heart like a lovesick idiot.

Yes, he rushed forward. Their lips crashed into each other, and yes, Stone returned the favor with that quick sharp shooter instinct. His reaction time was always unrivalled.

It was not like the movies had said it would be. There were no fireworks, there were no sparks, there was no flashy editing and vomit inducing sparkles. It was just him and Stone, Stone and him, and it was everything he had ever imagined. It was better than an idea. It was real.

Robotnik pulled Stone’s face closer, not stopping for breath, pushing him into the wall and hearing the thump with a satisfying shudder. He didn’t want to stop, but had to pull away just to gasp in the air he had lost. A thin trail of saliva decorated their lips like a shared connection. Stone reached up with a bare thumb and wiped it from Robotnik’s lower lip with a gentle touch, like he had done this a million times before in his head, a practiced efficiency.

Robotnik sighed delightedly and buried his nose in the crook of Stone’s neck, biting softly and holding Stone’s cheeks in his palms like a beggar cupping water, letting his beard tickle his thumbs. He heard a faint sound escape from Stone’s mouth, and he chased that noise like a hound after prey. It was his. Stone was his.

He had no idea until now how depraved he was. How much he wanted to truly own this man.

After a little while of leaning into each other against the wall silently— a calming hug that they both seemed to need— Stone led Robotnik to his living room couch like a muffled tango, slowly inching towards another floor tile at a snail’s pace, manipulating him into taking another step. They collapsed into each other on the couch, not wanting to let go after so long apart.

“Do you want to hand in our resignations, or shall I? I have a bit of practice.” Stone whispered to him in the dead of night.

“I’ll do it. And remind me to add a camera, I want to see his face when the envelope explodes and splinters his desk into pieces.”

“Don’t you think that’s a little light for you?”

“I want the real thing to be in person.”

“That’s more like it, Ivo.”

“...”

“...Can I call you that?”

“...Only if you let me call you yours.” He had to know.

Stone hesitated, and then leaned next to his ear. Whispered something delicious. Robotnik hummed in satisfaction. “A perfect name for a perfect barnacle.” He chuckled, mostly to himself.

“I’m glad you like it. I haven’t heard it in years.”

“I’ll change that for you.:

“You are the biggest source of change in my life. …Not that it’s a bad thing.”

“...”

“I love you, Ivo.”

Robotnik wanted to try out those words for himself. “I love you too.” It was new, and scary. But it also felt natural. Natural for it to be Stone. The man he trusted the most, who protected him even when he didn’t know, who made him his coffee in the morning. The man who nursed him back to health when he was ill, the man who took care of him when he was hurting, the man who covered for him when he was behind. The man who wasn’t as perfect as his robots, but didn’t need to be. The man who tried so hard to be what he needed, even when he was already there. The man who cared about him, the man who brought out his emotions, the man who was human.

And Robotnik thought, maybe that was okay. Maybe it was okay to be human, if it gave him moments like these, cuddling with his agent, assistant, and partner at midnight, planning his future without an idea of where it’ll go, and feeling the best he ever had. If life promised to be all this, over and over again, letting him keep his rock, he decided that it was okay with him to be human.

Let’s shelf the human bionic project for another time. Organs (especially his heart) seemed okay for now.