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“You’re beginning to piss me off,” Shadow growled, crimson eyes flashing as she watched the blue intruder slink through the window of her safe house like it was her goddamn apartment.
Sonic dropped down with a grunt, landing on the hardwood floor with more weight than grace.
She let out a breathy laugh, only to hiss and stiffen halfway through.
Her hand clutched her left side, blood already seeping through the jagged tear in her tactical suit.
Shadow’s gaze sharpened, zeroing in on the jagged tear in Sonic’s suit. The dark red patch spreading over her blue fur made Shadow’s stomach twist. Blood.
“You’re hurt,” she said, stepping forward, her voice cautious but laced with an undercurrent of concern.
Sonic gave a strained grin, leaning against the wall. “Gee, Shads. I didn’t know. Thought I was just leaking cherry syrup for fun.”
She staggered forward, ignoring the dark smear she left against the wall, heading toward the bathroom like she owned the place.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to borrow your first aid kit again.”
Of course, Sonic knew that Shadow kept her first aid stuff in her bathroom. She’d been here before.
Too many times.
Shadow moved from the couch in a blur and stopped her with a firm hand on her shoulder.
“Let me,” she said flatly, but her grip betrayed a quiet urgency.
Sonic tried to twist free, scoffing. “It’s fine, Shadow. It’s just a bullet wound, I’ve handled worse. I don’t need you to baby me.”
But Shadow didn’t let go. Her paw tightened slightly as she nudged the blue hedgehog toward the couch.
“My safe house, my call,” she said, tone clipped. “Besides, I don’t really trust you.”
Sonic froze mid-step, turning her head to glare at her. “Seriously?”
A disbelieving scoff escaped her lips before morphing into a vicious smirk.
“Strange,” she said, voice low, sultry with venom. “I remember a lot more trust when you were whining under me last month.”
Shadow’s ears twitched, a dark snarl rising in her throat. The moment hung taut in the air like the moment before lightning strikes, brittle and dangerous.
“Do you want me to help you or not?” Shadow snapped, stepping closer, face inches from Sonic’s. Her eyes burned like twin infernos, but her tone sounded concerned.
Sonic’s smirk faltered. Not because she was intimidated but because she saw it now. The tight line of Shadow’s jaw. The way her eyes lingered on the wound. She wasn’t angry because Sonic showed up.
She was angry because Sonic came here bleeding.
And for all her biting words and flaring temper, that anger came from worry.
“…Fine,” Sonic muttered, gaze dropping, the fight momentarily gone from her voice. “But if you make this painful, I’m biting you.”
Shadow rolled her eyes and gently pushed her down onto the couch. “You bite me, I muzzle you hedgehog.”
“Kinky,” Sonic muttered under her breath, sinking slowly onto the couch.
Shadow reigned in her urge to jab Sonic’s wound in retaliation, and went to retrieve her first aid kit.
Sonic gazed around in boredom and noticed dust on the surfaces.
“Huh, seems like she hasn’t been here in a while.”
Shadow returned with the first aid kit, dropping it beside the couch with a soft thud.
In her other paw, she held a bottle of painkillers. She popped it open and handed one to Sonic, then went to the kitchen to get a glass of water.
“Take that. It’ll dull the pain for a while.”
Shadow didn’t wait to see if Sonic had taken the pill, instead, she focused on pulling out tweezers, sterile saline, sterile water, nitrile gloves, gauze, antiseptic, a scalpel, forceps, hemostatic gauze, lidocaine, several suture kits, and trauma shears, laying them on her coffee table in order of usage.
She knelt with her back straight and movements sharp, like tending to Sonic was a chore to get out of the way and not the deeply personal thing it really was.
“Lie back,” she muttered, already pulling on black nitrile gloves.
Sonic shifted and leaned back against the arm of the couch with a groan, shamelessly stretching one leg over the other like she was lounging at home, not bleeding out on someone else’s upholstery.
“What were you even doing for you to get shot?” She asked as she cut away the fabric of Sonic’s suit around the wound.
Sonic rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly, “Eh, well I wasn’t aware that the thugs I was sent to stop from stealing the shipment of ammo for Robotnik had backup in the form of a rookie. He had a handgun and well…I got shot.”
Shadow finished cutting the fabric and then stared at her unimpressed.
“You really should pay attention to your surroundings, maybe it’ll keep you from always raiding my supplies.”
Sonic opened her mouth to make a sarcastic comment but hissed when Shadow injected the lidocaine around the bullet wound.
Shadow inspected the wound. There was no exit meaning the bullet was lodged near Sonic’s external oblique muscle. It didn’t look too bad but it was bleeding quite a lot.
Though the blood was flowing slowly, it wasn’t arterial.
It was superficial enough to warrant not going to the hospital if Sonic could still move and be annoying.
Shadow's eyes scanned the entry wound, narrowing. “Angle’s shallow. Bullet’s stuck between the layers, didn’t penetrate deep.”
“Yeah, well, tell that to the nerve endings,” Sonic grunted.
She craned her neck to look at the wound herself.
Blood welled at the puncture, sluggish but steady. The skin around it was inflamed and irritated. The bullet hadn’t gone deep, she was lucky, but it was lodged just under the muscle, and it burned like hell.
Shadow used a piece of sterile gauze to wipe away the excess blood that had matted Sonic’s fur to get a better view of the wound.
She then doused a sterile cloth in saline as she prepared to squeeze it over the wound to flush any debris in it.
“This is going to sting,” Shadow warned.
“I can take it.”
Satisfied with the answer, Shadow poured the saline onto the wound and watched as Sonic grimaced in pain.
Sonic cursed softly as the saline flowed down her side stained pink by her blood,
“Fuck! That stings.”
“You said you could handle it,” Shadow remarked as she cleaned the area with the wet gauze.
“Yeah, well that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna cuss about it.”
Shadow did not dignify that statement with a response and instead grabbed another piece of gauze and a bottle of antiseptic.
“You still using the same antiseptic?” Sonic asked, eyeing the faded label as Shadow uncapped the bottle. “The one that stings like hell?”
Shadow didn’t answer. She soaked a sterile gauze pad and leaned in.
“Sharp breath, hedgehog.”
The antiseptic hit raw skin.
Sonic flinched hard, jaw clenched. “Tch—yeah, there it is. Burns like a bitch.”
Shadow paused. Her eyes narrowed, but her hands didn’t waver as she carefully cleaned the blood away in gentle, outward strokes minimizing infection risk.
“I could do this faster if you shut up.”
“But where’s the fun in that?” Sonic said through gritted teeth, voice still laced with a smirk. “You get all flustered when I talk.”
Shadow pressed the gauze a little harder.
“Watch it,” Sonic hissed, “I’m not scared to bite.”
“And like I said, I am not above muzzling you,” Shadow replied flatly, ears twitching in irritation.
Shadow worked with practiced precision. She wiped the area clean, then picked up the scalpel.
“It’s close to the surface,” she said. “But I need to open it slightly.”
Sonic’s breath hitched.
“You asking for consent?”
“I’m telling you what’s about to happen.”
The scalpel glinted under the low light. Sonic’s hand clenched the back of the couch, muscles tense, but she didn’t move.
Shadow made the incision, just enough to access the embedded metal. Sonic grunted but stayed still, save for a sharp inhale.
“You’re being gentle,” Sonic murmured, voice softer, almost slurred from pain or adrenaline. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”
Shadow, as much as she itched to, did not rise to the bait, swapping the scalpel for the forceps. The forceps slipped into the wound. There was resistance. Then—
She caught the bullet between the jaws and pulled.
Slick metal, bloody and warm, dropped into the tray with a dull clink.
Sonic exhaled shakily.
Shadow grabbed hemostatic gauze and pressed it against the wound firmly. Sonic hissed, muscles twitching.
“Pressure. Three minutes.”
“I know how this works.”
“Shut up and do it.”
Sonic chuckled weakly. “You like telling me to shut up.”
“Because I don’t have to listen to you spout nonsense that aids in killing off my brain cells.”
They stayed like that. Shadow kneeling between Sonic’s legs, hand pressing firm against her bleeding side, Sonic’s hand lightly gripping her wrist.
Not a word passed between them for the next few minutes.
When the bleeding slowed, Shadow cleaned the site again, retrieved the suture kit, and threaded the curved needle.
“Are you stitching me up or sewing me a dress?”
“I can leave it open, you know.”
“Rude.”
Shadow reached for a sterilized suture clamp, aligning it just above the clean, bleeding gash.
The silver tip pierced Sonic’s skin with a clean push, and the blue hedgehog inhaled sharply, every muscle tensing under the pressure.
She didn’t cry out, only hissed softly through her teeth.
Shadow’s hands never wavered. She drew the black thread by methodically stitching Sonic’s wound shut.
One stitch. Then another. The metallic scent of blood lingered in the air, clinging to their skin like a second presence.
“You good?” Shadow murmured, not glancing up.
Sonic cracked a grin, lips dry. “Yeah. Your bedside manners suck though.”
Shadow pulled the next stitch a bit tighter than necessary. “You’d prefer I sedated you?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time you tried to put me to sleep,” Sonic muttered with a pained wince.
“Only because you never shut up,” Shadow snapped, tying off the last suture.
She reached for the gauze again, taping a fresh pad firmly over the stitched wound. Sonic tensed, then exhaled slowly as the pain dulled to a manageable throb.
Shadow leaned back, peeling off her gloves with practiced flicks. She started to rise.
But Sonic’s hand closed around her wrist, fingers still sticky with blood.
“Wait.”
Shadow paused.
Sonic tugged with enough force to bring her down. Down and forward.
Right onto her lap.
The contact jarred Shadow slightly, her knees straddling either side of Sonic’s thighs as she hovered uncertainly, their chests brushing.
Sonic leaned back a little on the couch, gritting her teeth from the tension in her bandaged side, but not backing down.
Their faces were inches apart. Breathing the same tension-charged air. Sonic’s hands, one clean, one stained, curled around Shadow’s waist, caging her there.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Shadow said, voice rough, barely more than a breath.
Sonic smiled. Tired and tainted by pain and longing.
“But we’ve done this so many other times.”
Shadow’s jaw clenched. Her crimson eyes flared with emotion; rage, lust, ache, guilt, all braided together. She stared down at Sonic like she wanted to shove her away.
Or kiss her breathless.
"You enjoy making me suffer, don’t you?"
The words hung between them, heavy and accusatory. Shadow's hands had somehow found their way to Sonic's shoulders, whether to push away or pull closer, she couldn't decide.
Sonic's grip on her waist tightened almost imperceptibly. For a moment, something vulnerable flickered across her features, a crack in that infuriating smirk she always wore. But then it was gone, replaced by that familiar, maddening expression that made Shadow want to throttle her and kiss her in equal measure.
"Maybe," Sonic whispered, her voice barely audible. "Or maybe you just make it easy."
Shadow's breath hitched. The proximity was overwhelming, Sonic's warmth, the scent of blood and antiseptic clinging to them both, and the way those brilliant green eyes seemed to see straight through every wall she'd built.
She should move. Should get up, walk away, pretend this never happened. Again just like she usually does.
Instead, she found herself leaning closer, drawn by some gravitational force she couldn't name or fight. Her hands slid from Sonic's shoulders to brace against the couch on either side of her head, effectively caging her in.
"You’re aggravating your injury,," Shadow said, though her voice lacked conviction.
"I've had worse." Sonic's hands moved from Shadow's waist to trail along her sides, slow and deliberate. "Besides, you patched me up real nice, Doc."
The nickname sent an unwelcome shiver down Shadow's spine. She shifted slightly, trying to find a more stable position without putting pressure on Sonic's bandaged ribs, but the movement only served to settle her more firmly in place.
Pain flickered across Sonic’s features before being quickly masked by something else entirely. Something that looked suspiciously like amusement.
"I dunno, Doc. Sitting on me like that, I think you're trying to distract me from the pain. That's very unprofessional—"
Shadow didn’t let her finish.
“We’re inches apart,” she snapped, “and I still can’t decide if I want to kiss you or hit you.”
Sonic laughed, breathy and low. “You could always do both.”
Her thumb brushed along the edge of Shadow’s hip, barely grazing fabric.
Shadow’s breath hitched. Her fingers twitched where they lay near Sonic’s head. She leaned in just a fraction more, enough for Sonic to feel the heat of her lips but not close the distance.
“I hate you,” Shadow whispered.
Sonic’s grin faded into something softer, something vulnerable under the bruised humor. “No, you don’t.”