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Station Square had been getting a lot of rain recently, so much so that the city had to issue a flood advisory. Whether it was lingering trauma from Perfect Chaos, common sense, or a secret third thing, nobody was on the streets if they didn’t need to be.
Except for Sonic.
“Really?” Shadow uttered once he got those horrid wet sneaker squeaks out of his ears.
Sonic held his palms out in an innocent What’d I do? shrug, the heavy weight of the brown paper takeout bag crinkling loudly at his side. A small receipt was stapled on the fold, and when Shadow caught the number 20 on it, he hoped that was either the order number or the total.
“Hey, I could’ve been a jerk and ordered in,” Sonic pointed out, plopping the bag beside the bed and switching his shoes for socks. He shook the bit of rainwater out of his quills like a Retriever, adding with a grin, “Not so bad now, am I?”
Shadow said nothing and returned to his book, the corners of his mouth twitching when the mattress dipped and bounced unnecessarily.
“You’re incorrigible,” he said.
“Funny, I thought I was in Station Square.” Sonic pried open the bag, the hearty smell of spice, beef, and toasted bread filling the room in seconds. “You want one?”
Shadow’s mouth fell open, tongue flopping out, mimicking a gag. Sonic didn’t think twice; he giggled and flicked some chili right in his mouth. He scrambled backwards into the pillows with a burst of laughter, using his socked feet to block Shadow’s rapidly swinging hands.
“Okay, okay! My bad! If you make me drop my food, you’re cleaning it up,” Sonic exclaimed between laughs.
Shadow slapped his ankle out of his face. “Do that again and die.”
“I’d love to die by your hands.”
Shadow’s fist clenched at that closed-eye smile he somehow fell in love with—he’d probably been under the influence, or just really, really stupid that day—and snatched up his book. Sonic chuckled and leaned over, kissing his nose, then immediately dove into his food.
Soon, the only sound in the studio apartment was quiet chewing, pages turning, and the rain. And boy, did the rain refuse to slow down at all. It pelted a steady beat on the roof and poured blurry waterfalls down the windows. Flashes of lightning lit up the distant apartments, and a chilly, earthy draft swept under the door.
At some point, Sonic had propped himself higher on the headboard, legs crossed at the knee, and Shadow used his legs as his impromptu pillows, nearly done with his novel. His half-lidded eyes absorbed the words slower, and his drooping ears took in the rain more and more.
“Aw man,” Sonic suddenly muttered.
Shadow lazily tilted his head to the side. By the sound of it, Sonic had either finished his food too fast or there was a mistake in the order. Shadow was about to ask, but the question stuck in his throat. Sonic still had a chili dog, but he wasn’t looking at it or at the takeout bag.
He was looking at his stomach. His very plump, very round stomach.
Shadow couldn’t look away. His own stomach felt like someone had lit a firework inside, and his breathing slowed but got heavier all the same. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d seen Sonic’s body a thousand times over. Why was he flustered over a little gained weight?
Well, Shadow thought, ignoring the floating sensation behind his ribs, maybe not “a little.”
“Sheesh, I’m really packin’ it on,” Sonic went on, lightly patting his side. “Meh, I can’t complain. I’ll run it off when the skies clear.”
Shadow forced his eyes down on his book, neck warm and his hands turning three pages at a time. How had he not noticed all of that before? And why did he want to keep looking?
“You mean to tell me all of that”—He stole a brief glance over his shoulder at Sonic’s abdomen—“was because of a couple of chili dogs?”
Sonic snorted, finishing the last of his food and licking the sauce off his gloves. “I’ve had more than a couple in the last few days, and I usually run everything off before the chub shows.”
He stretched his arms above his head, his arched spine pushing his belly out further. Shadow snapped his face away again, shoulders tucked in and a cold chill biting his arms.
“If it wasn’t for this heavy rain, I’d run to San Francisco and back. But alas…” A loud yawn slurred Sonic’s words together. “Tomorrow’s another day.”
“And if it continues to rain?” Shadow asked, feeling weird that he hoped it did.
Sonic shrugged, folding his arms behind his quills and slouching into the pillows with a content sigh. Shadow stayed quiet, flipping the now dog-eared pages of his book between his fingers. All of that ogling made him feel like a pervert.
A pervert for his own partner? It wasn’t like he’d been gawking at Sonic’s behind or chest—though Sonic loved teasing and giving him permission to “look and touch all he wanted”—but still! What was this strange, almost fight-or-flight type of reaction to seeing a part of him with this much bulk?
And also, Shadow began to think, a spike of frustration hitting his gut, is it even normal to admire his body like this if it isn’t his legs? Or chest? Can I do that?
He awkwardly sat on his knees, huffing out a breath that was meant to steady his nerves.
Sonic opened one eye. “You okay?”
“I’m fine. I just…” Shadow cleared his throat, hating how he hesitated and hating it even more that he felt like a stranger as he fully turned to face Sonic. “I guess I’ve never paid that much attention to your metabolism.”
Sonic opened his other eye, brows furrowed. “Huh?”
“I know you have to maintain a certain balance with food to assist with your speed. It’s just interesting knowing how much you have to keep in mind. You never want to go overboard, but you also can’t eat too little,” Shadow added, fluffing one of his back quills, eyes to the ceiling.
Sonic’s smile went lopsided in adoration.
“Aww, you care that much about me when I eat?” he teased, poking Shadow’s nose and sticking his tongue out at his unamused glare. “You’re so sweet. You should’ve seen me as a kid, though. I was way chubbier.”
Shadow scoffed with little heat. “I honestly can’t imagine you any smaller than this.”
Sonic’s laugh put the tiniest smile on his partner’s face, but when his arm hooked around Shadow’s neck and tugged him down—smothering his face smack dab on his stomach—Shadow stopped breathing.
“Sonic! What are you–?!”
“I never pegged you as a big belly guy, Shadow,” Sonic teased, his voice low and almost suggestive in his ear. He couldn’t help laughing when the darker hedgehog completely froze, his ears flat on his head. “Aww, you totally are! When was this adorable little discovery made about yourself?”
Shadow bared his teeth, not sure whether he should get his gun or use the bedsheets.
“Shut up,” he hissed, his words muffled by all the pudgy tan fat.
Sonic laughed at the ticklish graze from his breath and held up his hands. “Hey, it’s cool. Everyone’s into something, and you just happen to like my—”
“Shut. Up.”
Sonic’s mouth broke into an amused grin, but he knew better than to push it. He leaned into the headboard, his fingers carefully dipping and tangling in the black-and-red quills on his lap. Shadow said nothing else, teeth still clenched and face burning.
“I’m not saying it’s a sexual thing. I know how you are with that stuff,” Sonic began, the jokey tone swapped for quiet understanding. “I really am cool with it. I like learning about you when you let me. It’s nice.”
Shadow’s famous little “Hmph” rung loud and clear, making Sonic scoff this time and copy him.
“Say what you want Shadow, I know the truth now. I can stomach it.” Sonic couldn’t help the pun, but dropped the act when Shadow’s murderous scowl hit him tenfold. “Sorry, sorry, I had to. But seriously”—He cupped a hand under Shadow’s chin, softly tapping his bottom lip—“if laying on or touching my stomach relaxes you or helps you with stress, go for it. I don’t mind.”
Shadow’s forehead wrinkled in annoyance, but he didn’t snap or protest. He allowed Sonic to reposition him more comfortably between his legs, with his cheek gently laid in the center of his abdomen and his hand splayed on his hip.
“C’mon now, time to relax. I’m your nice, tubby pillow,” Sonic added in a sing-songy voice, peppering Shadow’s head with exaggerated kisses. “Plus, I’m in the mood for a good nap and a weighted body pillow.”
“I’m not the one with all the weight,” Shadow rebutted.
Sonic snorted. “And you better enjoy it while it lasts. Am I comfy enough for ya?”
Shadow barely heard him; the butterflies inside were doing aggravating circles, and his muscles were stiff, like he was ready to run. He hummed a strained noise and focused on the window. The rain was a bit steadier now, no longer coming down in harsh pellets, and parts of the sky had dark gray and light peach creeping in.
Shadow snuck a peek up. Sonic’s eyes were closed again, one arm behind his head and his free hand trailing soothing lines along each of Shadow’s quills. Every brush of his fingertips sent sparks down his toes, and for every faint rumble of thunder, Shadow physically felt more and more courage to shift his hand from Sonic’s hip onto his stomach. He held down a groan at the embarrassing realization that Sonic was right. He didn’t think he’d been stressed at all that week, but with the constant rain and all the gloom it brought, maybe he had been frazzled and just hadn’t known it.
But now it was okay, because Shadow laying right on Sonic’s stomach and everything was okay.
They were both in and out of sleep, touching the other in their own way whenever they were half-awake—Sonic stroking Shadow’s head, Shadow tracing crescent-moon shapes on Sonic’s skin. And again, the hypnotizing roll of thunder really got Shadow to relax, shedding the earlier worries he’d had. Not by much, but it was enough for him to find peace in Sonic’s arms, no longer feeling stiff but snug and warm.
“Mm…lots of thunder out there,” Shadow mumbled, his hand finding a tender, rhythmic stroke on Sonic’s belly.
Then it hit him seconds later: the constant, hushed thunder he’d been hearing and practically melting into goo for wasn’t thunder. It was Sonic’s stomach settling.
And Shadow…liked that, too. It wasn’t too chaotic and gross-sounding, and it wasn’t too quiet that he missed it. Comparing it to a softened thunderstorm was the best way he could describe it, but it also reminded him of another toned-down ambience.
The light hums of the ARK while gazing at the Earth with Maria. The slow buzzing of electricity whenever they’d walk, hand in hand, down the hallway.
Just an overall sense of security and a hint of familiarity that didn’t feel overwhelming or upsetting. It was…nice. Damn, it was really, really nice.
Shadow squinted through his tired eyes, hearing more of Sonic’s stomach, and felt him sigh in his sleep.
“Sorry ’bout that,” Sonic murmured, wincing out of embarrassment. “I think I ate too much.”
He started to sit up and jumped, fully awake, at the abrupt grip Shadow had on his hips. He kept his cheek pressed in the blue hedgehog’s abdomen, his breath coming out in little huffs.
“It’s fine,” Shadow grumbled, squeezing his eyes shut.
Sonic blinked, taking in the sight until a shy smile took over. He leaned into the pillows, his hand finding home in Shadow’s quills and softly scratching at his skull. It took a moment, but looking closely, Sonic noticed the tension gradually leaving his partner’s arms and from behind his eyes. He didn’t doze off until he was sure Shadow was still comfortable, and once he was close to dreamland, he made a mental note to bulk up every once in a while.
If Shadow liked it, then Sonic was down to try it out a little more.