Chapter Text
The sky was dumping buckets of rain when Sonic finally made it back to the cottage he shared with Shadow. Lightning flashed, thunder rumbled, and the wind tore through the trees like it had a grudge against anything green and leafy.
Sonic trudged up the wooden stairs to the front porch, soaked shoes squelching with each step. His entire body was soaked, and he could feel his waterlogged quills dripping rainwater down his back. He was so tired, and so glad to finally be home, that he barely cared at this point.
The front door was unlocked when he turned the knob. Shadow must already be back from his mission, Sonic thought. He felt a flicker of warmth become rekindled in his chest.
He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, ears swiveling to try and catch any sounds of movement from Shadow. Sometimes when Shadow came back from a mission, he’d take a nap afterwards. Sonic didn’t want to wake Shadow if this was one of those times, but if it wasn’t, he wanted to let him know he was home.
Sonic almost immediately caught the sound of the hall bathroom shower running, and he smiled. I can greet him when he’s done, thought Sonic.
But until then...Sonic had to try not to track water and mud through the house.
That’s what Shadow put these towel rags here for, Sonic thought with a grin, grabbing a neatly folded rag from the set of shelves that stood by the front door. He dabbed at his quills with it, mainly focusing on getting dry enough to stop dripping everywhere.
To Sonic’s surprise, when he looked down, he saw there was already a rag on the floor, where Shadow’s air shoes had been placed, the mud on their soles getting the towel dirty instead of the hardwood floor. I guess Shadow didn’t make it here before the storm either...
Sonic took off his shoes and socks and put them next to Shadow’s on the towel, frowning. If Shadow’d had a chaos emerald with him, he could have easily teleported home from his mission, rather than be caught in the storm like Sonic was. Either Shadow had forgotten to bring his emerald for this mission, he’d somehow lost it, or he hadn’t had the energy to teleport... Whatever the case, signs were pointing towards Shadow having had a not-good day.
He’s not the only one, Sonic thought wryly, his mind flashing back to the hours he’d spent that day fighting badniks, trying (and nearly failing) to keep civilians safe, and then helping with cleanup afterwards—all while in the middle of downtown Station Square, during a crafts festival. The one that was supposed to go all week, but had now been almost completely ruined on its first day. The one that Sonic had been planning to take Shadow to later in the week. And now Sonic wasn’t sure that the festival wouldn’t be canceled entirely.
All because Eggman had apparently been certain that one of the artists’ booths had a chaos emerald, and thus decided on the totally rational action of sending an army of badniks to search every single booth for said emerald.
The whole situation had been a mess sundae from start to finish, topped with the cherry that was the storm that rolled in at the end of it all, just as Sonic was starting to help with cleanup. Of course he’d stayed long enough to make sure that everyone was safe (only a few humans and mobians had been mildly injured, thankfully), and that whatever needed to be kept dry at the festival was properly covered or had been stashed away. But that meant he was now tired, wet, and more miserable than he had been in a long while.
And he now missed Tails, Amy, and Knuckles more than ever.
(But it was all worth it. Of course it was worth it. Saving lives, with the bonus of ruining Eggman’s plans, was always worth it, and always would be. And even if his friends were away on their own adventures, he could definitely still handle Eggman.)
Sonic suddenly realized he’d been standing there, staring into space, for who knew how long. He shook his head and sighed, bringing himself back to the present.
Sonic was home, out of the storm. And Shadow was here. Even if Sonic had to wait a bit longer to see him.
For a split second, as Sonic rubbed the rest of his fur dry, he considered surprising Shadow by joining him in the shower. But he immediately discarded the idea. Shadow had told him once about what showering meant to him, how it was one of the few situations in which Shadow not only felt soothed and completely in control, but also like he had space to sort out his thoughts, or any lingering emotions that he couldn’t identify or needed to figure out the cause of. Sonic didn’t want to intrude on a routine that seemed so important to Shadow, particularly if his day had been anything close to as bad as Sonic’s.
Instead, Sonic draped the towel he’d been using to dry off around his shoulders, before going into the kitchen to see what he could put together for dinner. He found a package of pre-made pasta in the fridge, the kind where the only prep work involved was combining the packets of noodles and sauce in the provided container and then microwaving the whole thing.
He took out the package, scanning the outside for the instructions so he didn’t mess up how long he was supposed to put the pasta in the microwave for. But it took him far too long just to find the directions, and once he did, he found he couldn’t process the words he was reading, even after scanning them at least five times.
Sonic was so concentrated on not letting his exhaustion get the best of him that he didn’t notice that the shower noises had stopped, and that the hall bathroom door had opened. He caught a brief whiff of Shadow’s shampoo (Lavender, so nice, he thought vaguely), just before he felt a hand land on his wrist.
Sonic jolted with a gasp, his quills raising as he lowered the package from being five inches away from his face. Shadow was there, in front of him, looking at him with his customary frown.
“Ah, hey, Shads. You startled me.” Sonic’s voice came out in a low murmur. It didn’t feel right to be loud at the moment.
Shadow didn’t say anything, but his eyes seemed to be studying him for a second, before they widened, catching on a place just above Sonic’s eye line. He reached up to a spot on Sonic’s left brow, gloved thumb carefully stroking the fur there. Sonic suddenly remembered that he’d gotten a scratch there earlier in the day, one that had even bled a bit into his eye, before the wound could properly close. He supposed the blood hadn’t been completely washed away by the rain.
“I forgot about that,” said Sonic. “Badnik caught me there with a sharp claw thingy. Don’t worry, it didn’t hurt much, and it’s already healed anyway, so...” Quick healing: a perk of having used the chaos emeralds so much. Plus everything that happened to me on the Starfall Islands... Sonic thought (that’s how Tails had explained it, anyway).
Shadow lowered his hand again, shaking his head. Then his gaze dropped to the package of pasta Sonic was holding, before he slowly, carefully grasped the package, pulling it from Sonic’s hands. He brought it close to his chest, gaze still lowered, and then pointed towards the hallway.
Sonic chuckled softly. “Okay, Shads. I’ll go shower.”
Shadow just nodded.
Just before he left, Sonic gently put a hand to Shadow’s face and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I love you,” Sonic said. He then moved to walk past Shadow, only for his wrist to be caught and tugged back slightly.
Sonic turned around, a question on the tip of his tongue, but when his eyes met Shadow’s, the question died. Shadow’s hand slipped from Sonic’s wrist into his hand, and then he brought that hand up, brushing his lips against Sonic’s knuckles, never breaking eye contact with Sonic.
Sonic’s whole being filled with warmth. He felt like he might melt into a puddle, right there on the kitchen tile. He let that warmth leak into the smile he gave Shadow in return. The corner of Shadow’s mouth quirked upward just a little bit as he lowered Sonic’s hand again.
Sonic reluctantly slipped away to shower, hearing Shadow open the package and begin to make dinner.
***
When Shadow saw Sonic standing all bedraggled and barefoot in the kitchen, package of pasta in his hands, struggling to read the instructions, he couldn’t help but sigh fondly, another part of the tightness in his chest loosening (the shower had helped a small amount with that, but it hadn’t worked as well as just seeing Sonic again).
Shadow didn’t have the bandwidth for words right now, or for making much eye contact, but Sonic hadn’t seemed to mind (he never seemed to mind). And then Sonic had told him he loved him...
Shadow paused while opening the sauce packet for the pasta, putting a hand to his cheek, right where Sonic had kissed him. Even though Sonic had clearly been exhausted and worse for wear (not unlike the way Shadow felt at the moment), he’d found it in himself to think of Shadow, to treat him with such sweet gentleness...of course Shadow had to return it with gentleness of his own. The smile Sonic had rewarded him with afterwards had been more than worth it.
Shadow finished prepping the pasta and put it in the microwave, ears flattening at the high-pitched beeps the buttons made as he pressed them. While he waited for the food to cook, he set out bowls and silverware on the counter top, before leaning back against it, content to wait a few more minutes until the food was finished (and, hopefully, he’d be able to stop the microwave just before it beeped when it was done).
He crossed his arms over his chest, fingers on one hand drumming against his upper arm. He listened to the sounds around him: the hum of the microwave, the minuscule buzzing of the kitchen light and the electricity in the walls, the pattering of rain outside, the rumbling of thunder. When he heard Sonic start the shower in the hall bathroom, he expected to then hear him singing, belting out the words to some pop song like there was no tomorrow. But he heard nothing.
Bad day for us both... Shadow thought. He let out a low growl. Sonic doesn’t deserve to have bad days.
Shadow, on the other hand...
No. Stop it. Shadow grit his teeth. He was not going to do that today. Not when Sonic clearly needed him this evening.
And yet, for once, Shadow couldn’t help but admit to himself that he needed Sonic, too.
Sonic came out of the shower just as Shadow was dividing the pasta between the bowls. Shadow could smell his citrus shampoo the moment he stepped into the kitchen.
“Thanks for making dinner, Shads,” said Sonic, walking up to Shadow. Shadow turned his head to give Sonic a nod, but then he caught another whiff of Sonic’s scent, and he couldn’t stop himself from setting down the pasta and turning completely, leaning forward towards Sonic. He closed his eyes and let his head fall, his forehead bumping against Sonic’s chest.
“You want a hug now that I’m all nice and clean, huh?” said Sonic.
Shadow felt the vibrations of Sonic’s voice through his chest. Finally finding a piece of his own voice, Shadow said, “Mm-hm.” His forehead rubbed against Sonic’s chest fur as he nodded. A clean Sonic is the best Sonic, Shadow thought.
Sonic gave a soft chuckle, and Shadow felt it, a rumble in his chest that was a bit lower than Sonic’s normal register. Shadow felt warm arms wrap around him, gently closing over and below his back spikes, and he pressed his face into Sonic’s chest, nuzzling into his fur and inhaling the strong smell of citrus, beneath which was still a trace of rain from outside and, as usual, a bit of warm sunshine (Shadow hadn’t known sunshine had a smell until he met Sonic).
The hold around him tightened, and he let it. Then he felt Sonic’s hand start stroking through his quills, and Shadow felt a large part of the tightness in his chest loosen some more, his body relaxing into Sonic’s hold, his own arms coming up to wrap around Sonic’s torso.
It was so hard for Shadow to let his walls down, to drop the mask he wore nearly twenty-four-seven. It was a mask he wore to protect others as much as it was to protect himself; he didn’t trust himself not to hurt someone without it, to not say the wrong thing or be far more scathing with his words than anyone deserved. At the same time, he didn’t trust others enough to show them who he was beneath the mask, to not be somehow offended or disgusted or afraid by what was hidden underneath it, or exploit or pick apart what few weaknesses he had (as certain scientists had done to him in the past...). By now, wearing the mask was second nature to him. Automatic. He was used to dedicating energy to upholding it, and trying to find time to himself to recharge that energy. And on days like the one he’d just had...he’d need a lot of time to recharge.
But with Sonic...
Ever since he’d met Sonic, he discovered that with him, his tailored mask didn’t have to hide as much of himself. He didn’t have to be quite as careful with his words or actions, didn’t have to worry about how Sonic might react. At first, he’d found it unsettling; no one Shadow had ever met before had patterns of behavior that lined up with Sonic’s—no one except...no one except Maria, of all people. But Sonic wasn’t Maria, he was just a strange blue hedgehog that didn’t know when to quit—to quit fighting, to quit talking, to quit pestering Shadow, to quit acting like he wanted to be friends with Shadow. It took a while (and a few battles together, plus several near-death experiences and two episodes of amnesia) for Shadow to understand that with Sonic, it wasn’t an act.
With Sonic...Shadow could let his walls down, and be met with nothing but kindness, understanding, acceptance. With Sonic, Shadow felt seen.
That was one of Sonic’s greatest strengths, Shadow figured: his ability to accept and understand others. To truly see them, and not look away, but smile and reach out a hand instead. Shadow had once seen this as Sonic’s greatest weakness, but that was before he fully understood the power of having allies, of having...friends.
Now, Shadow had friends (Rouge and Omega in particular came to mind, with Sonic’s friends as more recent additions). And he had Sonic.
And he couldn’t shake the fear of losing them.
Shadow frowned, tightening his hold on Sonic. He wasn’t going to lose them anytime soon. Not if Shadow could help it.
The hand that was stroking Shadow’s quills moved higher to rub behind Shadow’s ears, and Shadow relaxed again as he started to purr. He couldn’t stop the sound from emanating from his chest, and when he heard Sonic’s own purring, he couldn’t think of a single reason why he’d want to. He turned his head, pressing an ear to Sonic’s chest to listen more closely.
Shadow got the feeling that Sonic would have stood there forever, holding Shadow, in the middle of their kitchen, if that’s what Shadow needed. But then he heard a long growl from Sonic’s stomach, and he felt a stab of guilt that made him immediately shove Sonic away.
“Wha—okay, guess you’re done with that,” Sonic said, taking a step back from Shadow.
Shadow tried to ignore the thread of disappointment he detected in Sonic’s voice. He turned to grab a bowl of pasta and the fork that went with it, and then held them out for Sonic to take.
“Oh, right, dinner,” said Sonic with a smile. “Yeah, we should definitely eat before the food gets cold.”
Shadow grabbed his own bowl of pasta, and then the two of them sat down at the kitchen table to eat. Shadow expected Sonic to fill the silence between them with chatter about his day, but Sonic just stared down at the table, his fingers tapping the side of his bowl as he ate, while his leg bounced under the table. Shadow wanted to ask him what was wrong, or how his day had been, or really anything, but...he couldn’t. He’d thought his voice had been returning, but he instead found that he still couldn’t utter a word. All he could do was clench his fork in his fist, hardly able to think about eating the food in front of him.
Why could he still not speak? Why was he letting himself be beholden to such a weakness in himself? How could he call himself the Ultimate Lifeform when something as simple as “a bad day” reduced him to...this? Maria wouldn’t have wanted this, Sonic wouldn’t want this; and yet he was powerless against it, no matter how hard he fought to say something. He was powerless, he was useless, he was—
“You okay there, Shadow?”
When Shadow looked up from apparently staring down at his pasta, he saw Sonic gazing at him with nothing but concern. Concern for Shadow.
A shock of anger shot through Shadow, and he suddenly slammed down the fist that was holding his fork, rattling the table.
In a split second, Sonic shot up from his chair and leapt back, landing in a fighting position, quills bristled.
Shadow stared at him, and Sonic stared back with wide eyes.
Sonic slumped over with a small chuckle. “Sorry, Shads. I guess I’m a bit jumpy right now.”
Shadow took a breath and looked away, at his fist on the table, and slowly opened it, revealing that he’d bent the handle of his fork into a strange, wobbly shape. The words he’d spoken to Maria less than a year ago, back in Whitespace, right before he’d fought Black Doom for the second time, popped into his head: “It’s alright, Maria. I’m letting go of that destructive anger.”
Shadow shut his eyes against the memory.
He’d frightened Sonic with his...his destructive anger, the thing he’d thought he’d gotten over. And Sonic was the one who apologized.
But Shadow still couldn’t say a word in return. Couldn’t apologize to Sonic, couldn’t offer him assurances. Even when he stood up and opened his mouth, looking at Sonic and desperately trying to maintain eye contact, he couldn’t say anything.
He dropped his gaze in defeat, backing away from the table. He couldn’t do this anymore. Couldn’t be here anymore.
So he turned and left, darting away to his bedroom, ignoring Sonic’s calls to him as he shut the door behind him.