Work Text:
Stone stirred, waking in the middle of the night. It was colder than it was when he'd fallen asleep. He shifted further under the blankets and grimaced as his feet brushed the cold part of the sheets.
"Mon cœur?" Robotnik's voice was quiet.
He pried his eyes open. The moonlight fell, gently, over Robotnik's face. He was laying on his side, looking at him.
"Did I wake you?" asked Stone. His voice was hoarse with sleep.
"No. I was already awake."
"Is something keeping you up?"
"I'm just thinking."
"Penny for your thoughts?"
Robotnik raised an eyebrow at him.
"Surely you're aware of how massive of a lowball that is."
"It's just a phrase, and you know it."
Still. If he didn't want to talk about it, he understood. Stone shifted closer, seeking warmth. Robotnik opened his arms for him and held him close, with one hand in his hair, his cheek resting against the top of Stone's head and their legs intertwined. His muscles unwound. His usual vigilance melted out of him. He used to get nightmares. Both of them did, really, though Robotnik never admitted to them. He'd gotten them nightly when they were particularly bad. Those memories were fainter now, though, and overshadowed by nights slept through or nightmares interrupted by a kiss on the shoulder and a soothing voice in his ear. He sighed contentedly and tried to get back to sleep.
"What do you think about marriage?"
The question came when Stone was on the line between awake and asleep, and for a moment he didn't realise Robotnik had spoken at all. He blinked and tried to get his thoughts in order through the bleary soup of his brain.
"It's a lot of paperwork."
"Is that all?"
He pulled back just enough to see Robotnik's face.
"That's what you always said."
He wrinkled his nose. "I was working with a limited data pool."
"You changed your mind?"
"It's a whole day to brag about how in love you are." His face lit up. His eyes were, if he didn't know him better, almost pleading. "Cake. Dancing. Roses. No, not roses, fussy little organic things. Much too short lived. I'd build you flowers."
It finally clicked that he meant the two of them. His eyes widened. He'd turned the idea over in his mind dozens of times, long before they were together; he'd imagined their rings beneath different versions of the control gloves from prototype to all white. He always kept the thought at a distance. It was something nice to look at, but impossible to have. He let it draw closer until he was engulfed. He could spend weeks writing his vows alone. His chest warmed and it crept up to his face. He broke into a grin. For a moment all he wanted was the piece of paper that said, Let's fall asleep exactly like this, every night, forever.
"It does sound nice," Stone whispered.
"Then let's."
His grin widened.
"You're asking?"
"I'm not asking yet. I want to do it properly."
"But really asking? You're sure? It's very—" he hesitated, searching for a word—"permanent."
Not that he was going anywhere, but there was still a part of him that wondered how long he was allowed to have this.
"I'll stay," he said, and Stone relaxed. "And you?"
He rolled husband over in his mind a few times. He reached back and grabbed Robotnik's wrist to guide his hand. He held it between both of his and kissed the palm. The cologne he'd worn to dinner that night lingered faintly on his wrist.
"Always. Oh, God, Always. Ask me soon." He turned his hand over and kissed the back of it. "I'd like to have it all enshrined and legal that you're mine."
Robotnik beamed at him. His eyes shone in the silvery light. Stone's breath caught in his throat and tears pricked at the corner of his own eyes.
"I've got so much to plan." Robotnik disentangled their limbs and sat up.
"At three in the morning? Have you slept at all?"
"Er."
"Tomorrow. Please?" He grabbed his hand again and tugged him closer.
"Alright, alright. Stop pouting."
"Good."
He pressed his lips to the corner of his mouth. Robotnik tilted his head to chase his lips with his own. He wrapped his arms around Stone's waist. He pulled them both down onto the pillows, and Stone let out a soft oomph into his mouth on impact. His brain went fuzzy, too tired for any thoughts beyond lips on his and warm, languid kisses. They separated just enough to breathe. He could tell, even in the dim, that Robotnik's ears were flushed red.
Cute, he thought. Then, I can't wait to marry you.