Work Text:
Every morning for the last ten years had been identical.
Dr. Ivo Robotnik ensured it.
The lab lights came on at precisely 06:45. The security shutters disengaged with a tolerable hum exactly three seconds later. The main console finished booting by the time the coffee machine reached optimal pressure. The man inhaled slowly with a smirk on his face. Everything was in order.
Afterall, routine was not monotony. Routine was control.
He adjusted the collar of his coat and, with the enthusiasm of a mad scientist, jumped into his chair, spinning till he reached the desk, stopping it at once. The man scanned the holo-display, eyes skimming through weapon schematics and progress metrics with practiced efficiency. No surprises. No deviations.
Speaking of no surprises, the doctor looked down at his watch. It was 6:59, which meant Stone would arrive in three, two, one—
The door slid open the second the watch hit 7:00.
Right on time.
“Good morning, Doctor,” the assistant said, voice even, posture immaculate, already carrying a tablet loaded with schedules and reports.
Ivo did not look up.
“Your punctuality continues to be the least disappointing aspect of this operation.”
“High praise,” Stone replied mildly.
The scent of coffee reached him next. Latte. With a precise goat milk foam art on top. Exactly as ordered. Stone placed it within reach, the cup oriented so the logo faced away—another habit. Ivo took a sip and grimaced.
It was just as he liked it.
He swiped through the holographic screens, fingers dancing across the glowing data. He always checked the work from the previous night, making sure that idiot Walters had nothing to complain about. Stone, meanwhile, read off the day’s agenda. Ivo interrupted to correct phrasing, reorder priorities, and insult three separate departments that sent him blueprints in the wrong exporting file.
“Gosh,” Dr. Robotnik said, flicking aside a digital document with visible irritation. “What is this?”
Just from a single look, Stone could tell it was from HR, as anyone sane (or at least with minimal education about design) would never use a hot pink background with blue Comic Sans text. Ivo's eye twitched.
Those low-quality images would haunt him for the rest of the day. Robotnik reading that blindingly blue "Having a baby soon, unavailable till spring!" note with the same disgust as he read a failed energy reading.
The doctor grumbled, flicking the digital file away. “A collective card. How deeply inefficient. If one must reproduce, one should at least have the decency to do it quietly.”
“The department thought it would be polite,” Stone pointed out.
Robotnik smirked, “Politeness is a waste of bandwidth.”
With the flick of a wrist, the file was gone. And with a single word, Ivo’s day truly began.
“Now, let me show you a real waste of bandwidth.”
His fingers flew across the console, and the central hologram shifted, replaced by a three-dimensional schematic of a massive weapon. The familiar, comforting lines of the Death Egg Robot filled the space, a monument of polished chrome and lethal intent.
The man took another sip of his latte and proceeded to explain his new project. Stone resumed organizing paperwork to write it all down, unbothered, as he had been for a decade.
It was only when the doctor moved to writing down some documents for the project that Stone cleared his throat—once, softly, yet loud enough to get the man's attention.
“Doctor, I’ll need to request leave,” Stone said. “Two months.”
Ivo’s fingers paused for half a second.
“Request denied,” he replied automatically. “Next.”
“June fourteenth through the end of August,” Stone added, composed, his tone calm and smooth.
Ivo frowned. Two months? That was… extensive. He recalled only a few times when the man took time off. Almost all of them were just because the man was sick. The longest time the man was gone was 2 weeks for his aunt's funeral, and even back then, the man tried to work online.
Unbothered, the doctor did not look up.
“And why,” he asked, tone dry with irritation, “would you require such an indulgent hiatus?”
There was the faint sound of Stone scrolling through a document. He did not look up either.
“I’m getting married next month,” Stone said, casually, as if announcing a supply delivery.
Ivo’s fingers froze mid-sentence. The only sounds were the low hum of the machinery and the gentle clinking of Stone’s datapad against the table as he set it down.
Ivo slowly turned in his chair, finally looking up at Stone. The look on the doctor’s face was a mixture of annoyance, disbelief, and utter, total, complete betrayal.
“Married?”
The word hung in the air, heavy and foreign.
“Yes,” Stone said, meeting Ivo’s gaze for the first time that morning. “The ceremony is planned on June 14th, with spending the rest of the time on the honeymoon." His eyes met the doctor’s with a surprising clarity. He was not flinching, he was not hesitant, he was dead serious. And he wasn't asking. He was informing him.
For a long moment, the doctor just stared. His brain, usually a whirlwind of calculations and genius, seemed to have blue-screened. Married? Stone? His Stone? The one who knew exactly how he took his coffee, who could anticipate his every need, who was a constant, reliable extension of his own will? Married to someone?
The thought was so absurd. Robotnik was sure that the sycophant could only lay his eyes on him. The only one who truly admired him. To be fair, the whole department gossiped about the two being a couple (how ridiculous). As if the great doctor Robotnik would care for something so pointless and inefficient as love and partnership! He reminded Stone too many times that the only thing he loves is his machines. And Stone still seemed to be enough of a sycophant to agree.
So who the hell was he marrying? Who was so important for Stone to abandon his post for two months?
The doctor's expression hardened. A flicker of something unreadable—pain, perhaps, or just pure, unadulterated rage—crossed his face before being replaced by a cold, calculated stillness.
His mind raced, almost ready to start interrogating the man on the spot, yet he took a deep breath. With an unbothered expression, he looked at the man again, his mask of calm firmly back in place.
“Wedding, huh? And you think I would care? Don’t flatter yourself, you’re not that important.” He finally managed to reply, and the assistant blinked but didn’t falter. Good. The doctor added, “Whatever. Take your stupid leave. But I still expect you to continue fulfilling your duties as you always have, or you are done, marriage or no marriage, am I understood?”
He turned back to the hologram of the Death Egg Robot, forcing himself to focus on its magnificent design, its perfect lines. He could feel Stone’s gaze on him for a few more seconds before the assistant gave a slight nod. “Yes, Doctor. I appreciate your understanding.” Stone’s footsteps were quiet as he exited the lab, the door sliding shut with a soft hiss. As soon as he was gone, Robotnik sighed in annoyance.
Gosh, Stone must have been kidding. Two months of work? Seriously? Ivo took a deep breath, the sterile air of the lab filling his lungs, but it did little to calm the storm brewing inside of him. His fingers tightened around his stylus, knuckles white.
Marriage. Stone. Married? Stone? Getting married?
Robotnik found the thought ridiculous. He couldn't wrap his head around it. Ivo had always been more than aware of Stone's obsession with him. So why this charade? Had Ivo been wrong?
Ivo ran a hand through his mustache--a gesture he often made when deep in thought--but now it felt strained, forced. The familiar comfort of his machines suddenly seemed so distant, the glow of the screens suddenly harsh and unwelcoming. Stone. Getting married. Getting married?
It didn't matter, Ivo tried to convince himself. It was none of his business. Stone was just his assistant, after all. And if Stone would stop keeping up once he was...married, well… It would be Stone's own fault.
Why would Ivo care anyway? He didn't. His work was all that ever mattered to him. ‘And it is,’ Ivo reminded himself. ‘It always will be.’
As if jolted by his own internal monologue, Ivo forced himself to return to his usual posture, bent over to return typing down his operation script for the robot. No, there was no reason for him to care about this nonsense. Especially not if this all turned out to be some dumb stunt Stone was pulling off to get his attention. Not that it was working.
There was nothing to overthink. Nothing at all…
Ivo was not a curious man.
Not as a teenager, not even as a college student at a science fair awards ceremony. Why should he be? Curiosity implied uncertainty, and uncertainty was a flaw he had long since corrected. If something mattered, it made itself known. If it did not, it could be ignored. This philosophy had served him well in science, in warfare, and in management.
Which was precisely why Stone’s engagement did not initially concern him.
Engaged people loved to brag about their weddings. They would post pictures of their rings. Show up to work late with a stupidly wide smile and a half-eaten croissant. They would talk about color schemes, guest lists and what kind of terrible music they were forcing upon their friends. He expected the very same from Stone, albeit with more restraint and fewer sentimental digressions.
The doctor was prepared for those annoying sighs, giggles, and bragging about the family life from that man.
Ivo expected it. He planned around it.
Yet, Stone said nothing.
Two days passed. Then five. Then nearly two weeks, during which Stone continued to perform his duties with irritating perfection. No anecdotes. No scheduling complications. No visible excitement or stress. It was as if there was no wedding to begin with.
It was… odd.
After fourteen days of silence, the absence of information began to occupy mental real estate it did not deserve. Ivo knew Stone loved to express his exciting news to him. So why the silence? What was the man hiding?
If the marriage was real, surely there would be something—a complaint about planning, a comment about compromise, an unavoidable disruption to routine. Instead, Stone behaved exactly as he always had, as if his life beyond the laboratory simply did not exist.
The more the topic was buried with work, the more it made Ivo eager to know more.
He had to find out more about this "fiancé". Maybe he could get some answers.
It started small.
He would glance at Stone’s tablet when the assistant wasn’t looking, hoping to catch a lovey-dovey message or a missed call notification. But Stone was meticulous. His screens were always on a work-related document, closed the second he stepped away.
One afternoon, Ivo “accidentally” knocked a stack of data drives off Stone’s desk. As Stone crouched to retrieve them, Ivo took the opportunity to scan the opened emails on the monitor. Nothing. Just some venue confirmations, as well as some florist receipts. No name, nothing.
A dead end.
This was frustrating. Unacceptable. He was Dr. Ivo Robotnik. He could topple governments and build orbital weapons platforms. Extracting a name from a single, unguarded email should be trivial.
That night, he bypassed the lab’s standard operating system and dipped into the raw network data. He wasn’t hacking, not really. He was simply… accessing files that technically belonged to him anyway. He keyed in Stone’s employee ID and pulled up his terminal activity for the past month.
It was a sea of productivity. Blueprints for the new hover engine models. Supply chain manifests. An annotated report on the inefficiencies of Sector 7’s ventilation system. The sheer, relentless diligence was almost admirable.
Almost.
Yet besides wedding planner emails, there was nothing. And that made the man almost smash the screen. Who the hell was that fiancé? A government agent trying to get information from Stone? No, that was too dumb. Stone would never betray him. Right? He wouldn't. The doctor shook that thought away, trying to dismiss it.
Yet even after two days, he could not stop thinking about it. He had to ask.
And he did.
“Your leave,” Ivo remarked one morning, eyes fixed on a data stream as he typed down the code. “It’s quite extensive.”
“Yes, sir,” Stone confirmed in his usual monotone, eyes glued to a tablet.
“Most people find weddings… disruptive.”
Stone made a note on a paper next to him, returning to his task.
“I’ve accounted for that.”
Ivo waited, expecting the man to complain about the planner or anything.
...Nothing.
Ivo tried again later, tone deliberately casual.
“Your fiancé—does she or he work irregular hours as well?”
Stone did not look up.
“Well, it's a he and yes.”
That was it. No elaboration. No invitation.
Ivo frowned. Was Stone making fun of him? Gosh, that dumbass was capable of bragging about how he got too many spring sprouts in the cafeteria for hours! So why was he now so hush-hush?
By the third attempt, subtlety was no longer worth the effort.
“Okay, stop playing around, Stone. Who is he?” Ivo asked flatly during a planning session.
"Who?" Stone asked as if dumb, Robotnik growling, absolutely pissed. Gosh, was he serious?
"Michelle Obama, who else? Of course, I am freaking talking about your imaginary fiancé!"
Stone paused, almost as if startled, then said with confidence, "For your information, doctor, he is real, thank you."
"Oh, real my ass!" Robotnik shifted on his office chair, saying, "How else am I supposed to interpret that you literally have no freaking proof of his existence. No ring, no photo, you haven't even told me his name!"
Stone’s composure didn't break. He simply put down his datapad.
“He’s a private person,” the assistant explained. “And we prefer to keep our personal lives separate from our work.”
"Bullshit. What is the deal? Is he so ugly that you are scared to show him? Is he even living here legally? Because if you are marrying them just for a green card, I will- what the hell is so funny?" Robotnik stopped mid-sentence as he noticed Stone smirk and let out a soft chuckle. Not a big laugh. No, just a small chuckle, which somehow was more infuriating.
"My apologies, doctor," Stone said, wiping the smile from his face. Yet Robotnik saw the glint in Stone's eye and the twitch of his moustache. The man was clearly amused.
Robotnik's face turned a shade of crimson that had nothing to do with the lights of the lab. He slammed a fist on the console, the metal ringing with a dull thud. "This is not a joke! I demand to know the name of the individual who dares to spirit away my most competent assistant for two full months!"
Stone's expression sobered instantly, though a trace of amusement still lingered in his eyes. He looked Robotnik dead in the eye and, with the straightest of faces, delivered the bombshell.
“Well, his name is Gerald, and no, he is not ugly. But that is all I can tell you, doc."
"Oh, why the hell not?!" Robotnik fumed in anger at this point, leaning closer to the man, his frustration all filled up to the brim.
Stone, however, did not seem intimidated and simply stepped away, pointing out, “With all respect, doc, I’d prefer not to discuss my personal life at work,” he said evenly.
Ivo’s fingers tightened on the edge of the desk.
“You brought it into the workplace the moment you requested leave.”
“I informed you of my availability,” Stone replied. “Nothing more.”
“And you expect me to accept that?”
“I do.”
There it was. Polite. Final. Immoveable.
Stone met his gaze, expression unreadable.
“I value keeping business as business, sir.”
The conversation ended there.
Ivo sat back, irritation coiling tight and sharp in his chest, staring at the man as Stone got back to work, thinking about who the hell this Gerald was.
Whoever he was, he had taught Stone how to lie to him. And that was a transgression Ivo Robotnik could not forgive.
June 14th. For Robotnik, the date was nothing out of the ordinary, and normally, he would not give it a second thought.
Yet standing in a dead silent lab, with no hot coffee at his table, Robotnik could not help but be reminded of the day's event.
It was Stone's wedding day.
The assistant did mention the night before that he would be gone in the early morning, Ivo dismissing the man with barely any care.
Yet... sitting like this, without Stone, the laboratory was wrong.
Ivo noticed it immediately, though he refused to acknowledge the observation as anything but environmental. The absence was subtle—no missed deadlines, no errors, no inefficiencies that could be measured or corrected. Everything functioned.
And yet.
The coffee machine sat idle. There was no smell of Austrian goat milk in the air. No tablet waited beside the main console. The morning briefing had not occurred, leaving a silence in its wake that no amount of humming machinery could fill.
It was.... unsettling.
Ivo glanced at the clock.
10:03 a.m.
He scowled and turned back to his work.
He assumed that Stone would be preparing for his ceremony at the moment. Adjusting his cuffs, most likely. Smiling, his eyes full of happiness. He would be calm. He always was. The thought irritated him more than it should have.
Ivo attempted to refocus, pulling up schematics that had held his interest for weeks. His fingers hovered over the interface, motionless. His work was the only thing that mattered.
As he wrote down his notes, he checked the time.
10:17 a.m.
“Ridiculous,” he muttered to the empty lab. “As if I would attend.”
The audacity of it still burned. Not invited. Him. The great Dr. Robotnik was not invited to his assistant's wedding.
To be fair, Robotnik has never been a party person, yet the audacity!
The man invited almost half of the department, but not his own boss? Even Walters got invited! It made Ivo's blood boil. Not only did Stone have the guts to be so distant about the whole fiancé thing, but he also gave no crap about them working together for ten years? The doctor was furious.
Of course, he would never have gone. Even the thought of standing in a room full of sappy individuals exchanging heartfelt vows was enough to make him feel physically ill. But the principle of the thing! The sheer disrespect!
He had spent years molding Stone, shaping him into the perfect, efficient second-in-command. He had taught him everything. And this was how he was repaid? By being excluded from some trivial life event?
He shook himself from the thought. He was Dr. Ivo Robotnik. He was above this. He had a Death Egg Robot to perfect. He had a world to conquer.
Robotnik forced himself to focus, his movements sharp and precise as he worked through the weapon’s power allocation systems. For a blessed forty-five minutes, he was absorbed. He found a flaw in the secondary cooling conduit—a design weakness no one else would have spotted for months. A small, triumphant smirk touched his lips. This was real. This was power. This was what mattered.
"Look, Stone, what I did- oh." The man turned on his chair in full bravado, only to realize his mistake.
Oh, right. Stone was gone.
He was about to be wed.
The doctor checked the time again to see that it was 11:05.
Stone would be standing at an altar within the hour. Exchanging vows. Promising his love and loyalty to some...Gerald.
The word sat poorly with him.
Marriage implied compromise. Domesticity. A shift in priorities that inevitably ended with resignation letters and polite goodbyes. Stone would move in with the man—whoever he was. There would be shared breakfasts. Shared evenings. A life that did not orbit the laboratory.
Stone would leave.
Leave GUN.
Leave the lab.
Leave him.
The realization struck with unwelcome clarity.
Ivo’s chest tightened. He swallowed, annoyed by the physical response. He had always assumed Stone’s presence was… stable. A constant. Like gravity. Yet the future of him being near the doctor seemed now as fragile as a porcelain doll.
In less than an hour, his assistant would be wed off to someone Ivo was not even sure was a good fit for the man.
What if that guy was not the right one for Stone? Did that guy even know what flowers Stone liked? What was his favourite movie? Did he know that Stone always needed fifteen minutes to fall asleep and to turn on the small fan in the room, no matter the temperature?
He should be there. To at least ensure the guy was worth Stone. He should be there.
He....
Before he could stop himself, he was striding across the lab, throwing his lab coat into the corner. He didn’t bother to shut down the schematics. He didn’t grab his keys. Just clicked his Badnik's remote control; three of his favorite babies soon caught up with their daddy. "Gerald! Oh, I will freaking show him-" he mumbled, slamming the door behind him. He stormed out of the lab, the doors hissing shut behind him, a sudden, suffocating urgency propelling him forward.
Ten years. Ten years of insults, compliments, lattes, slaps, and paperwork....
And Dr. Robotnik finally got a clean, straight thought into his mind: He could not lose his agent.
So, whether Stone would hate him or not, he would break off that wedding.
Robotnik considered himself a mostly careful driver. Not that he drove often. It was usually Stone who drove him around, Robotnik usually sitting in the back. Yet, when one was trying to stop a wedding, one had no other choice but to drive by themselves.
And by ‘driving carefully’, Robotnik meant ‘breaking absolutely every possible road rule on his way’.
The engine roared like it, too, understood his urgency.
The man drove with one hand on the wheel and the other wrestling a cable into the console interface, jaw clenched hard enough to ache. The cigarette Robotnik man lit on the way dropped ash carelessly, the man inhaling it hard like a nurse at her midnight crashout break. ‘Gosh, weren't those things supposed to calm one down?’, Robotnik thought, honking hard before passing a school bus. The driver flipped him off, but Robotnik was too busy to return the gesture. Instead, he shifted his gear and pulled the brake down, a sudden screeching filling the air with the smell of burning tires while making a left turn. The car swerved slightly before correcting itself, and he did not slow down.
“Fuck- Stabilize, goddamit,” he snapped, struggling to reach with his right hand for the badnik's USB cable in the passenger seat. The second he slammed the other end into the car desk's computer, the man groaned again.
'USB drive not connected, try again.' The cable refused to connect. "Are you kidding me?" He swore viciously, his cigarette dropping somewhere down between his legs as he slammed it in again.
This was his only way to find the venue and stop that ridiculous event. As it turned out, that idiotic sycophant not only turned off his phone but also forgot to even mention where the wedding took place. 'No invitation, no venue address, his ass. Luckily, Stone had asked a day ago to borrow several Badniks for ‘security’.” A small perimeter detail for the ceremony. Ivo had approved the request with indulgent amusement.
As if Stone required protection. The assistant may have looked innocent, but the doctor had seen what the agent could do if provoked.
At the time, Ivo had found it charming. Yet now it was his key to get his plan running.
'GPS app coordinated, downloading the location,' The car's system announced as the screen flickered, showing a download bar
“Come on,” Ivo muttered, leaning forward with feet firm on gas, as if proximity would improve signal strength. “Come on—”
The second the doctor passed the crossway, the coordinates populated the display.
Ivo’s lips split into a grin that bordered on manic. “Yes! See that?! Papa still knows his skills!” He announced when cutting off an ambulance, ignoring the red light behind him. The badnik blinked at the man, yet there was a sure, tense tone in its robotic chirping. Apparently, even robots were scared of reckless maniacal drivers. Good.
He accelerated.
“Let’s see how this idiot reacts when I arrive.”
His mind raced ahead of the car. He checked his time. It was almost ten minutes past the beginning of the ceremony. According to his speed research on wedding ceremonies, he had about four minutes till the exchange of vows. His grip tightened on the wheel.
“Unacceptable,” he hissed, taking one last turn, almost running over an old lady.
The building came into view at the end of a long industrial drive soon enough. It was an ultramodern structure of glass, white bricks, and steel, all clean angles and exposed beams. It looked less like a church and more like a converted warehouse attempting transcendence. Sunlight glinted off the metal framework. It looked like something out of a wedding magazine.
As much as he hated to admit it, Stone sure had good taste. The doctor parked, not bothering with a proper space, instead pulling right up to the main doors, tires screeching on the pavement. The smell of burnt rubber filled the air. He didn't bother to shut off the engine. All he had in mind was to stop this damn wedding, unbuckling himself fast and getting up, only to immediately catch his foot on the door frame.
“Oh, for the love of—” He shoved himself upright, brushing dirt from his sleeves with sharp, furious moves. Sweat clung uncomfortably at his temples, and his hair stuck out of his usual slick style due to the adrenaline and snappy ride. Yet he had no time to fix himself.
He had to stop this!
The man jumped to the door without a blink, using all his strength to kick it out. The double glass doors burst open with a satisfying crash, echoing through the vaulted space altogether with a loud yet clear "I OBJECT!" from Ivo's lungs that stopped the soft music playing inside.
At the very same moment, every head turned.
Everyone stared directly back at Ivo, who stood framed in the doorway, chest heaving, coat flaring behind him like a cape mid-tempest. Not at all like someone attending a wedding.
“STOP THIS WEDDING AT ONCE! I-” he thundered again, bit breathless, finally looking up and around, ready to shout more, yet suddenly stopping.
Something was wrong.
The first thing he noticed was the lack of the groom's family. Only the left side was occupied.
The right side was empty. Did they have no family to invite?
His gaze shifted forward. At the altar stood a priest, Stone beside him.
Stone. The very same assistant he knew for a decade, always wearing a black suit and with an outshining smile...
Dressed in white.
Not in traditional gay white tux extravagance, but in something precise. A lace-overlay gown, fitted clean through the torso, sleeves long and tailored, the pattern delicate but restrained. The skirt fell straight, almost architectural, showing more curves than Ivo was aware of.
Stone's hair was styled back, immaculate. He held a bouquet of white calla lilies, and- was that makeup he was wearing?
If Robotnik was not in a full-on panic mode at the moment, he would've been impressed by the man's appearance. Yet he could not believe it.
Stone was the bride.
But besides that, there was one more thing that puzzled the doctor.
The groom. Where was he?
Robotnik twisted his head from side to side, scanning for any man in a tux nearby, yet he saw nobody. There was no groom.
Ivo’s brain stopped functioning. What was going on here?
He checked the clock mounted discreetly along the wall.
12:14 p.m.
He was not early.
His mind began sprinting.
Did the groom faint?
Was there a kidnapping?
Is this some modern symbolic nonsense where the partner enters later?
Is this performance art?
‘Have I interrupted a rehearsal?’
‘Have I broken into the wrong wedding?’
The guests were staring. All of them. As if he walked into the wrong scene.
It was only with Stone's sudden groan that Ivo looked up again, hearing the bride suddenly say, "Finally.”
It was not the usual sycophant relieved tone in his voice. Not emotional.
Annoyed. As if the disappearance of the groom was somehow Robotnik's fault.
The bride shifted his bouquet to one hand and placed the other on his hip. “I was beginning to think I’d have to call you.”
Ivo’s mouth opened. Closed. Then opened again.
Seriously. What was going on?
“Stone,” he demanded, as he stomped fast towards the arch, voice cracking between fury and confusion, “what the hell is-”
"Ta ta ta!" The bride suddenly stretched his arm to stop Robotnik mid-step, finger on the lips. Stone's brows furrowed. “And my gosh, doctor, what are you wearing? Are you kidding me?" His voice was sharp, an insult to Robotnik’s appearance.
Oh, so now he was pissed at him for not dressing up to attend this stupid wedding of his?! "Stone, stop this nonsense! Lemme have a word with that idiot you're supposed to marry-"
He tried to grab the man, yet Stone was faster, dodging the move, shifting his head to nearby bridesmaids. “Hana. Yara. Zeina,” he said evenly. “Would you?”
The three stood in perfect unison. Ivo barely had time to register identical dark eyes and coordinated expressions before they were upon him.
“What—?” The doctor yelped, yet was too late to react as women started swiftly accosting the man, one stripping Robotnik of his dirty jacket while another opened her purse to pull out a jar of hair gel and carelessly put a hefty amount of it in the doctor's hair.
"Hey, stop! Lemme go, women! I am not here to attend this charade! Stone! Stone! I object! Stop this freaking wedding! I will not allow you to marry that Gerald asshole- hey!!" He yelped when one of the bridesmaids pulled a bowtie around his neck, tying it firm, the other one putting a clean new tux on him.
Ivo was furious. Were they all assuming he would simply let go and attend the wedding and let that stranger-danger asshole snatch his Stone? He had to fight!
He would slap that asshole. He would show Gerald that he is nothing to Stone. He would-
The doctor suddenly gasped as being spat out of that crowd of bridesmaids, realizing they pushed him next to Stone.
At the altar.
With music starting to play.
Wait.
.
.
.
Music?
What?
The bridesmaids now stood behind the altar, with Hana giving the doctor a stern look that screamed, "Don't even think about it."
Ivo froze. He stared from the bridesmaids to Stone, whose face was now an inscrutable mask of composure. The only thing that broke this look was an almost invisible shiver in the assistant’s hand, as if being nervous about something. But what-
A beat.
Then another.
A terrible, creeping, dawning realization began to crawl up Ivo’s spine. And as if at the snap of a finger, the man suddenly had a silent click in his mind, his whole composure changing within a blink.
He stared at Stone.
At the wedding dress.
At the three bridesmaids who seemed to be not that random but rather security agents in disguise, but with enough knowledge about fashion and combat to make the doctor's head spin.
At the empty seats for the groom's family.
The fact that Stone was annoyed at him.
He looked at Stone again.
The doctor’s blood ran cold.
“Wait, wait, what is going on-" Robotnik barely managed to stutter, yet his words were interrupted by the priest coughing, calmly uttering words which indeed filled the last puzzle piece in together.
"Ivo Gerald Robotnik, do you take Agent Aban Stone as your lawfully wedded husband to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, from this day forward, for as long as you both shall live?"
For the first three seconds, he couldn't process it. He simply stared at the priest, the words washing over him without meaning, like static from a faulty radio. Ivo Gerald Robotnik.
Gerald.
God. The doctor searched over one-hundred-thousand Geralds in the US database, to find any information on that damn groom... not realizing his assistant actually meant him, using his middle name. Gosh, the name was so rarely used that even Robotnik almost forgot it. Yet now, he felt like the biggest idiot.
With a quick motion of the eyes, his absolutely puzzled face shifted from the priest to Stone, then back at the priest. Holding back from screaming, the doctor looked at Stone, whispering with a note of panic, "Stone, what in sweet heavens are you playing here? You cannot be serious-"
"Doctor," Stone sighed, almost as if tired out by the doctor's absolute confusion, his posture composed yet his clenched fist on the bouquet becoming firmer. "I will be direct, as I've been in my request for leave. I have worked for you for the last decade. I've put up with your antics. And while you may not have noticed, I have had deep feelings for you for the last five years, with me becoming increasingly aware of these feelings and you unknowingly sharing them as well for at least the last eighteen months. I love you, Ivo, but I swear to god I can't wait another decade just for you to consider proposing." He paused, taking a deep breath, as Robotnik just stared at him. "So, do you wanna marry me or not?"
Robotnik got silent. Which was rare, as the man always had something to shout and complain about.
Gosh, was he seriously so clueless about liking the man? Did he overlook all of those signs? Yes, Stone was always affectionate, but Robotnik always assumed it was just Stone being a sycophant. Or at least what he considered to be one. His assistant always had a high admiration for him, but Robotnik always assumed it was just because of his work. Not because of him as a person.
Now the man felt like a massive idiot. He couldn't believe he was so blind to Stone's feelings.
He looked at Stone. The way he was standing. The way he was looking at him. The way he was so certain about this. The doctor was not a man who believed in love. Yet at this moment, he couldn't deny that he felt something. He couldn't deny the way his heart was beating. The way his stomach felt.
He looked at the priest, at the bridesmaids. Everyone was staring at him.
The man was stuck.
What should he say? No? If he said no, he could just turn and walk away. He could act as if nothing ever happened. But would he be able to live with that? Would he be able to go back to the lab, where everything will be changed?
He had spent a decade with Stone. He had gotten used to the man’s presence, to the way he would always be there. The thought of losing him, to see him moving away, the thought of him being with someone else, was just...
As if Stone could read his face, the bride's posture loosened a bit, making a step forward just to gently take the doctor's hand in his, in a nervous, soft voice, adding, "Look, I am not forcing you, doc. We can go off and never speak of this again. But if you feel this is right, just... I think this could be nice. Us. Together. I think we deserve that. Especially after all we have been through. "
Robotnik gulped.
As much as he hated to admit it-- standing right here, with Stone looking so devastatingly pretty-- he knew Stone was right. It did sound nice. Too nice.
But also scary.
Yet seeing the desperation and sincerity in Stone's eyes, he could not bring himself to say no. He couldn't deny the truth. He had feelings for Stone. Maybe he had them for a long time, too.
He took a deep breath, the smell of the calla lilies filling his lungs. He looked at Stone, at the priest, at the guests. He looked back at Stone.
He took another deep breath and, with a trembling voice, said, "I... I..."
The doctor looked from Stone's pleading eyes to the bouquet of white calla lilies, their sleek, waxy petals a stark, perfect shape. He thought of mornings in the lab, the precise way Stone would place the coffee mug on his console. He thought of late nights, their silences comfortable, filled with the quiet hum of shared purpose. He thought of the man's unwavering loyalty, the surprising competence, the rare, genuine smile that Ivo would sometimes provoke without meaning to.
Frick, he’d been a fool. A big, arrogant fool. But not anymore.
He looked at Stone again, and this time, his gaze was clear.
"I do."
The two words, spoken so softly, were a jolt to the entire room. Stone's grip on the bouquet softened, his eyes sparkling with unexpressible joy and relief. The priest smiled, and the guests let out a collective sigh of relief.
"Well, Aban Stone, do you take Ivo Gerald Robotnik as your lawfully wedded husband to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, from this day forward, for as long as you both shall live?" the priest asked, turning to Stone.
"I do," Stone said, his voice steady, a wide grin spreading across his face.
"I now pronounce you married," the priest declared, his voice ringing with authority. "You may kiss the groom."
The cheering and clapping filled the room. Gosh, was it just Ivo or was this whole rom-com situation making the inside of the church incredibly hot? The man nervously looked at Stone once more, letting out an awkward smile, "So... we are married." He could not help it; he let out a shaky laugh, the absurdity of the situation finally hitting him.
"I am so glad you noticed," Stone teased, stepping closer, placing his soft, gloved hands on the lapels of Ivo’s tuxedo. With a smirk of a Cheshire cat, the agent chuckled, adding, "Though I think you still forgot the most important part, doc."
"A signature?" The doctor offered, only to be met with Stone's shaking head and chuckling.
"No, the kiss, you big dumbass."
The man's face reddened. Kiss? Like right now? In front of people? With Walters staring at them? God, he was not ready. What if his breath was bad? What if he-
"Oh gosh, you are so hopeless." A sudden chuckle disturbed the stunned silence. Yet, before the doctor could say anything, the hands on his tuxedo suddenly grabbed hard, tugging Robotnik forward and yanking him off balance.
And like that, with a big twisting motion, Stone pulled Ivo into a dip kiss.
It was a quick kiss, but it was enough to make Ivo's heart skip a beat. He was frozen for a second; then as if on autopilot, he responded, deepening the kiss. The world seemed to fade away, the cheers of the guests becoming a distant hum. All he could feel was Stone's lips on his, the soft fabric of the dress against his fingers, the scent of lilies in the air.
When they finally pulled apart, the doctor felt breathless. The whole room was filled with whistling, clapping, and catcalling, with Walters making a show of fanning himself.
The bride, however, simply stood there, a smug look on his face, winking at the doctor. "There. Now it is official. How does it feel to... Ivo? Ivo?!" A look of panic came over him as the doctor, stunned by the kiss and finally at his limit, slumped forward in a faint. Stone yelped, quickly catching the limp body before it could hit the floor; he adjusted to hold him in a bridal carry, not even bothered by the heavy weight. Jesus, for a skinny man, the doctor sure was heavy.
"Doc?! Are you okay?" He asked in panic, ready to call for medics, yet from the swooned man he caught the faint, "'m.. allright.." in response.
Stone's posture softened a bit, a smile resting on his face.
"Oh, you are such a drama queen."
It seemed they would need to get a proper kiss on their honeymoon. But that was okay. Stone was more than happy to wait till then.
The end