Work Text:
The stench of domescuity permeated through every inch of the Crab. Stone tirelessly flipped around on the shoddy couch that he had called his bed for then past four years.
Stone drew her arms close to his face, resting his cheek on a palm. His fingers twitched as he stared up at the blue TV display, eyes bouncing around as they drooped with exhaustion. From behind he could hear the rumbling and almost hoarse snoring.
God, what had happened.
For nearly four years he and Robotnik had been playing out what felt like the same routine of an old estranged couple. They looked as if they were in a marriage always teetering on an impulsive and messy divorce, but Stone knew that wasn’t what they were. He knew that he needed Robotnik and he knew Robotnik knew that he needed Stone much more than he’d care to admit. They mutually understood how much they had come to rely on each other.
By all definitions, they were like a married couple. They spent nearly every waking moment of the day in this demented furniture show room, as if they were merely acting out some made up fantasy, going along with it all just for the hell of it. But no matter what either truly wanted, Stone had to admit he welcomed the predictability of it all.
He swallowed the buildup of spit in his mouth, tasting the remnants of take-out Mexican food even after scrubbing his teeth. Stone didn’t have the same affinity with cooking as for baking. With baking, he fell into the comfort of knowing how predictable it was. He was safe when he could follow instructions and get the same results every time. Because of this, he and Robotnik had opted to mostly get takeout for all of their meals. Costly, yes, but nothing their hefty remnants of paychecks from their previous front of a life couldn’t sustainably cover.
Stone flipped to his back as he blankly stared up at the metallic layers and plating of the ceiling. Their old life was easy. Go into work, meetings, some bursts of fits and screams towards him that Stone didn’t mind. Hell, looking back he almost missed them. He and Robotnik’s routine had shifted. Robotnik had lost his vigor and edge that Stone had so comfortably settled into the routine of. In a way, Robotnik as he was now was even more closed than he had been years ago. Robotnik finally had to face the blatant fact that he depended on Stone, but by no means had they made any progress in closeness. Any glimpse of either letting down their barriers, finally showing signs of vulnerability was met with two steps back from progress like a never-ending waltz.
Stone couldn’t imagine marriage, but what else were they? Spending every day together, settling into a routine, resembling in a twisted way the typical cookie cutter greeting card smiles of couples. Boss and henchman, sure, but he couldn’t describe what they were. They both knew they were more than just that but in an endless trifle with vulnerability, Stone knew that nothing would change.
He finally closed his eyes. He missed how Robotnik used to be. He missed how they used to be. But although it was different, it was a routine, predictable, and Stone would take what he could get.