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“Sonic, are you ill?” Silver’s very suspicious inquiry hits Sonic’s resting form like a truck.
With a stifled snort the speedster opens his eyes, and clears his nose with a loud, trumpetting kind of noise. It echoes against the hills and between the trees that he laid down inbetween to get some rest, one sunny afternoon of a day wherein he’d woken up rather congested and achy. “I mean,” he pipes up with his raspy voice to fill the time between them, “you could perhaps, possibly conclude that I’ve had moments wherein I’ve been more hale and whole?”
Grey arms cross. “You’ve got a cold.”
“Yes,” Sonic nods back with a grin of resigned amusement… as Silver’s glare turns a thousand-fold more scorching.
“And you’re just laying outside in the wind and the humidity, waiting to get even more ill?!”
That makes Sonic laugh in full. The amount of wind today is graced with probably won’t even be picked up for any weather report, and the air is dry as a desert. He knows what spots to pick to sleep an illness away. “You’re overreacting a bit,” he winks towards his fretting pal. “Maybe even a lot.”
...Golden eyes narrow dangerously.
And Sonic has to concede that perhaps he’s a bit more indisposed than he thought, because Silver’s powers barely fail to snag him as he scrambles undignifiedly out of their path.
“Hey!!” Silver yells as Sonic slumps chest-first onto the ground, a meter or so away from his resting spot. With a groan the speedster rubs at his head; it feels rather warm, he can’t deny that, nor can he deny the spell of dizziness that hits him for just a moment. It does nothing to hide the looming presence behind him, though… “We’re going somewhere you can rest properly, and that is that,” gets added, with a tone of voice that indicates Silver will accept absolutely no protests or refusals of his demands.
Which of course means Sonic must make this day into a game, most immediately.
Silver cries out something else behind him, but Sonic can’t hear what, because he’s long jumped to his feet and blasted off. The world blurs around him as he runs and runs and runs, a croaky laugh slipping past his lips as his quills tingle with the feeling of a chase. Escaping from Silver until his cold has receded is going to be all but impossible, but that doesn’t mean he can’t try. And thus Sonic weaves past trees and bushes and slams himself into robots meandering through the Zones… and the more he traverses, the heavier his breaths become and the more the world turns blurry, though not from his motion…
And from his final Homing Attack a robot standing right by a cliff gets torn apart, after which Sonic just… falls.
There’s no ground underneath him for meters, that much he can make out amidst the haziness, and thus he gets pulled down like a rock...
Right into an embrace of cool cyan, that suddenly becomes warm grey fur.
“Sonic,” Silver breathes in Sonic’s ear. “Be careful!”
Sonic hums something quiet back as Silver’s arms move Sonic around alongside his powers, until the speedster sits tucked away in a tight bridal carry. With a groan Sonic opens one eye, then the other, to meet whatever he can make out of Silver despite his fever. A gentle nose nuzzles over his forehead; it makes the speedster laugh quietly, and kick his legs and flap his hands and shake his head as reality returns to him now that he’s no longer running like a maniac.
Handsome features in grey and tan become a bit clearer as well, Sonic shooting them a wink. It makes Silver’s ears twitch, the worried relief on the psychic’s face staying for a second more before Silver’s brow furrows. “Gotcha,” the psychic hisses far louder, eyes narrowing in displeasure. But they get removed from Sonic’s view as his head gets shoved into Silver’s mane, and with that the psychic blasts right off, motion wind tugging at Sonic’s fur.
Any attempt of Sonic to wriggle himself out of Silver’s grasp ends in a prompt failure: his limbs might as well be filled with lead, and Silver’s grip is strong as iron. “I’m fine,” Sonic thus goes to his next line of defense. The fact he all but yawns it into Silver’s mane is something that makes him chuckle. “It’s just a cold, really.”
A scoff reverberates in Silver’s chest. “You shouldn’t be outside when ill.”
“What, do you follow that advice?”
“No, but I’m way more hardy than you are.”
“Hey now,” Sonic huffs back playfully, a finger poking Silver in his tummy for these transgressions. “I got amply far still, even when ill.”
One of his ears gets nipped at with a tender nibble. “That’s true. Catching you was hard,” the psychic agrees… which is probably why he’s holding onto Sonic with arms and powers both, the speedster chuckles to himself. He still got it, even when feeling all droopy and sleepy and sniffly and achy.
And Silver got him too, in the emotional support kind of way, and also the physically-keeping-him-up kind of way, in which he enters one of Tails’ workshops and takes to floating beside the radiator with Sonic snugly kept on his chest. “You might be faster, but I’m better at taking care of you than you are,” gets purred into his ears, the speedster laughing with another fond yawn.
He’ll let Silver have this victory, if it’s so important to him. After all, they both know that Sonic will be the victor whenever Silver has found himself ill instead.
A fun way to spice up both their days amidst an illness, Sonic grins to himself, but first he’ll embrace Silver’s victory some more by taking a cosy, comfortable nap in Silver’s cosy, comfortable mane, and with a content smile he drifts off into a refreshing slumber.