Work Text:
Doctor Robotnik dragged himself over the threshold to his private apartment. The week had been brutal. Granted, it was possible that he had been solely responsible for that but semantics. He hadn't been home in four days. Hadn't really slept in three. His current project had monopolised his attention entirely.
It was half past two in the morning.
Four hours ago, he had sent agent Stone home. His ever loyal sycophant had been running on fumes. Robotnik had caught him passed out over his desk several times during the last week. He was of no use to the doctor sleep-deprived.
But without his assistant providing him with coffee and repeatedly snapping him out of his microsleep, Robotnik had basically lost all remaining productivity. Eventually, he had simply called it quits. There was no use in repeating the same simulation over and over again simply because he failed to correctly adjust parameters.
So.
A good shower, a hardy meal and few hours of proper sleep at home, and he would hopefully be recharged.
The door fell shut and locked behind him. His hand felt to weak to reach for the light-switch. He dropped the bag with his lab-clothes at his feet. "Alexa, play playlist 'dinner for one'."
Music began playing from the many speakers - the wrong music.
Robotnik was too tired for any reaction stronger than a raised eyebrow. What the hell? Why was he listening to Tina Turner? 'You're simply the best'? That was definitely not on his playlist.
"Alexa, play playlist 'dinner for one'!"
The song started from the beginning.
"What the hell?"
Robotnik gathered the strength to switch on the lights. Naturally, that had no influence on the music but he was less likely to stumble over his own feet as he schlepped himself toward the kitchen area. Eh? There was a plate on his dinner table. With a napkin draped over it. A flute glass. Fork and spoon. A little vase with a single red rose. An unlit candle.
Fuck.
Someone had broken into his apartment and had had a meal.
What the hell?
Carefully, with only the tips of two fingers, he lifted a corner of the napkin. The burglar hadn't eaten anything. There was still food on the plate. Robotnik lifted the cloth a bit higher. Pasta fredda.
Mmh.
His brain had practically powered down due to sleep-deprivation but he would bet his favourite wrench on knowing the identity of the perpetrator. His frown deepened. He was too tired for this shit.
Slowly, he shuffled into the living room and found his suspicions confirmed. Surrounded by a stack of half-folded laundry there Stone was - asleep on Robotnik's couch. He had obviously been in the middle of folding fresh laundry when his own fatigue had overpowered him. He wasn't wearing his jacket. That hung neatly folded over the back of the couch. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, his tie loosened.
And his face was pressed into a cushion.
He was fully out of it and even snoring softly.
Robotnik sighed.
"Stone", he groused wearily, "When I told you to go home, I hadn't meant my home."
He stared down at his passed out henchman.
"Stone."
The agent twitched and responded without truly waking: "Doctor... welcome home... happy birthday."
Huh? Robotnik checked the date on his wristwatch. Well, I'll be damned. That incorrigible adulator. It was his birthday. Miffed, he nudged the agent's foot with his own where it hung from the couch: "Get up. Go home."
Stone made a sleepy noise and wriggled deeper into his resting spot.
Robotnik rolled his eyes. Definitely too tired for this shit. He surrendered. No sense fighting windmills in his current condition... He took a much needed shower, nearly falling asleep on his feet beneath the water spray, and then, dressed in comfortable home-clothes, put away the rest of his laundry.
Somehow, he had no idea when, a blanket appeared over Stone.
Imps. It must have been imps. Robotnik had definitely not put a blanket over his agent.
Grunting in annoyance over the potential magical infestation, he took his meal to the couch table - and the flute glass and candle. He lit the latter and then sat himself down on the recamier-end of the couch. Stone's shoe-clad foot was poking into his side. Rolling his eyes, he tugged loose the ties and pulled it off, letting it drop carelessly to the floor. Better.
He cut off the music, switched on the TV and settled on the first channel that didn't currently show ads.
With a deep sigh, he dug into his pasta.
Half an hour later, Stone stirred. Sleepily he raised his head and blinked in confusion. "Doctor?"
"Quiet! Gabriela just found out her mother is trying to seduce Pablo!"
Stone's frown only increased, as he turned his head to squint at the TV: "What are you watching?"
Robotnik was hugging a cushion to his chest, eyes wide, critically sleepless: "It's a telenovela. Shh!"
"Where is my shoe?"
"SHHH!"
Stone gave in and sat up, looking for his shoe. He could not leave without his shoe. Still half-asleep, he nearly toppled over in his attempt to grope blindly for it beneath the couch. Robotnik reflexively caught his shoulder and flipped him back. Stone grunted and then whined: "Doctor... I can't leave without my shoe..."
"Then just lie back down!", Robotnik growled and tossed the blanket at Stone's face, "Now for the last time, quiet! Pablo is about to abscond with mamá!"
All lights in the apartment were off and only the flickering from the TV was illuminating the living room. Stone rubbed his eyes tiredly, pondered his faculties for a moment and then simply rolled onto his side. He toed off his second shoe and wriggled the blanket back over him. He kept his knees slightly tucked, anxious to not bother his boss.
But Robotnik suddenly caught his ankle and roughly tugged him into his direction. Stone did not squeak, absolutely not, no, and he also did not flail. A moment later he was stretched out comfortably, blanket on top of him, face squashed into his cushion. His feet were resting in the doctor's lap while the man himself was manically focused on the show on the TV. A hand was absent-mindedly stroking his ankle, making him shudder blissfully. Stone smiled to himself and promptly fell asleep again.
*
BONUS:
When morning broke and the first rays of sunlight lit the living room, the TV had long ago switched itself off. The imaginary imps found the pair of them fast asleep. Stone had rolled onto his back, one arm slung over his face to shield off the coming day.
Robotnik had slumped to the side, encased in his henchman's legs, his head resting on a thigh. He was sleeping with his arms crossed as if trying to feign annoyance, unsuccessfully. One of Stone's legs was resting half-wrapped around his waist.
A single badnik was hovering close by - having started a security recording after the candle had burned down and provoked its smoke-detectors to come online.
END