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Sipping on his still-warm cup of tea, Stone moves through the apartment, checking that everything was in place. The new Badnik prototypes were resting in their charging nest, flocked around Metal, and all the various machines and screens in the makeshift lab have been powered down. Shadow is in his room, listening to music and seeming to be asleep, not stirring when Stone reaches just past the cracked-open door to flick the nightlight on. Just in case he needs it. Door locked, fire escape locked, windows locked. Everything is as it should be.
He leaves the hallway lamp on before entering the main bedroom, steps quiet and smile soft as he regards Robotnik's sleeping form. With him still recovering from his injuries gained from the black hole that the Eclipse Cannon became, the Doctor needs as much rest as possible, and that includes taking up most of the master bed. Pillows line each side of Robotnik to keep him from rolling over in his sleep, as well as provide something soft for his broken and burned arms to rest against - along with a pillow under his broken femur, too.
Stone had taken to a routine of moving between the sliver of bed and the living room couch this time, much different to how it was last time Robotnik was injured this badly. He knows well from the months spent recovering in the Crab that the Doctor grew uncomfortable with Stone's constant presence by his bedside, as if he was some pitiful broken thing that needed constant surveillance. To be fair, for a time, he was. But Ivo Robotnik has always been too proud to act like he's anything less than fully independent, even when he can't be. At least this time, the Doctor had been more willing to listen. Stone still knew not to push it, though. So, a routine was made.
It starts when Robotnik gives up for the night to rest. Each Badnik is put to nest with a kiss goodnight, Metal given a headpat and some praise as he follows Stone around to clean up the workshop, and a spoken goodnight through the gap of Shadow's door, allowing him the privacy he needs while including him in the nightly ritual. This was important - despite all the Doctor's best efforts to once again denounce all emotion and feeling as a fault in the human genome, Gerald Robotnik's manipulation of familial loyalty knowing that Ivo and Shadow had been unloved orphans who would do anything for somewhere to belong had effected both of them greatly. A shred of regaining normalcy that had been torn from them. They can afford that, now.
Then, he would retire to the singular bedroom in the apartment - the other bedroom had been made into their makeshift lab and office, and a storage closet made into Shadow's room after he had been found sleeping in there several times. Robotnik would reset and rearrange the pillows just so, even if the bed had already been made to specification, taking back just a little of the control his broken body took from him. Of course, he trusts Stone to take care of checking over the whole apartment, ensuring no petty thief or government goon would be able to even think of broaching the carefully crafted defenses around the seemingly ordinary apartment. It's this trust and security that allows Robotnik to lay down and sleep easily, even if he cannot bare to vocalize something so damning to his general antagonistic demeanor.
In the meantime, Stone goes about his part of the routine, mug of still-warm chamomile in hand. He places it down on the bedside table before carefully slipping into place, sitting back against the headboard with one leg hanging off the side of the bed. Not the most comfortable position to read in, but it works. Robotnik had once compared this part of the routine to Stone hovering over him like a predator guarding a fresh kill, which had made Stone laugh a little at the time. Both of them knew his behavior was much more like that of a trained dog at ease, comfortable and relaxed but ready to spring into action the moment a command is given. Every few pages of his book, Stone takes a sip from his mug of tea. Once it runs empty, Stone quietly exits the room to sleep on the couch, at least for a few hours until the pull of paranoia leads him to check up on Robotnik again, to check his vitals, to make sure he's comfortable. To make sure he's still here. A compromise worked out after Stone nearly fell sleep standing up and ended up stumbling into a metal rack, ashamedly taking a verbal beating from Robotnik while he gingerly nursed his sprained shoulder. After that, Stone had to do whatever he could to not burn the candle at both ends, sacrifice himself for the Doctor's sake. He couldn't see that kind of fear and concern in the Doctor's eyes again, even if it felt nice for just a single guilty moment to know that he cares so much.
A soft noise of complaint escapes Stone as he frowns into his empty mug. The time always passes too fast. It was better like this, though. The unspoken thing between them, the emotions only admitted in small, quiet voices shared barely inches from the receiving ear, it was still too fragile for loud expressions like sharing a bedroom, even if they share other things easier. This routine is a comfortable compromise. A right amount of closeness for both of them. Near silent as he always is at this time, Stone saves his place with a bookmark and places the book next to his mug on the bedside table - he always leaves it to pick up in the morning, a subtle reminder Robotnik needs that Stone is always nearby if he's needed. A small comfort when nightmares raise their ugly heads. One last visual check over the Doctor's sleeping form, then, Stone slips from the bed and stands with a stretch, wincing slightly as something in his back pops. He crosses the room as quiet as he can, hand bracing on the door to pull it open from where it laid ajar.
"Stone." Robotnik rasps quietly, one eye partially open as Stone immediately turns on his heel to face the bed once again.
"Doctor? I'm sorry if I woke you." His eyebrows knit together in concern, as they tend to do lately. Making a dismissive noise, Robotnik carefully shifts to pull the comforter out from under his broken arm, peeling it back across the empty space of the bed. He doesn't say another word, but the offer is obvious. Stone swallows, taking a tentative step forward.
"Are you sure? I'd hate to accidentally hurt you in the night, your burns are still pretty sensitive, and I'd be on the side of your broken arm." Never mind the fact that it's in a sturdy cast, nor that the break has been healing well and can likely come off soon. In the dark of the room, Robotnik's rolling eyes are unfortunately hidden, but still felt.
"Get in before I make you, Stone." He threatens, comfortingly empty of real intent and staring hard at his assistant until he relents, pacing back over to the side of the bed.
With a careful grace, Stone tucks himself close to Robotnik's side and lays down next to him, curling his arms across his own chest after pulling the pillow that usually sits against the headboard down under his head. The Doctor's head turns to look at him, eyes drawing down with brow furrowed as he spots Stone's arms crossed and wedged between their bodies. Huffing softly, he lifts his arm, causing Stone to cock his head to the side like a confused animal.
"You're always putting your hands on me to check my heart rate instead of using a monitor. So put your hand on my chest so you don't wake me up with your cold hands on my jugular like some clingy ghost." Robotnik grumbles, distinctly trying to avoid looking at Stone's automatic beam of a smile.
Stone's hand comes up to gingerly rest against Robotnik's chest, directly over his heart. While it's not the best way to take a pulse, it's comforting enough to hopefully keep him settled through the night. The Doctor tucks his arm over Stone's, noticeably hesitating before placing his hand over the one on his chest, too. An ultimately small gesture, but it means the world. Stone rests his head against Robotnik's shoulder, glancing up at his face bashfully. It's flushed a soft pink, decidedly not due to the added body heat in the bed, and his heart is fluttering under his dear assistant's hand. Slowly, Robotnik inches his face closer to press his lips to Stone's hairline, lingering there with his eyes closed.
"Goodnight, Ivo." Stone speaks barely above a whisper, a common practice to not break the delicate seal of safety around them. A safety in which they're no longer doctor and assistant, higher and lower. Equals, as they know each other to be.
"Goodnight, Kotik." The Russian term of endearment rolls easily off his tongue, far more easily than speaking Stone's forename aloud ever would be. A line far more sensitive than anything else between them. The first thing Robotnik ever respected in their relationship, professional or otherwise. It's soft, quiet, affectionate, a private inside joke to the time Stone hissed out loud at a nurse delivering lunch to Ivo's private hospital room. It makes Stone breathe a soft chuckle, making a point to nuzzle lightly into Ivo's cheek, much like the little cat his nickname suggests, eyes closing with contentment.
Neither of them wake during the night, as they had become accustomed to.
Without a word shared between them, the routine is adjusted just slightly. The machines are put to bed, the boys are wished a good night, the locks and defences are checked, and Stone sleeps comfortably by Robtnik's side.