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His agent sleeps for the remainder of the journey back. Robotnik is grateful for that, if only so he doesn't have to try and explain himself. Mostly because he doesn't really have a satisfactory answer, not for himself and certainly not for Stone.
Whatever, that doesn't matter right now. His priority is getting Stone back to base and making sure he doesn't get any worse. Robotniks got a thumb pressed to the interior of the mans wrist, counting the beats. Can see the rise and fall of his chest from the way Stone is tucked up against the doctor in the chair.
His heart-rate feels fine, not in danger of slipping. Body-temp has been steadily climbing, but levelled out lower than Robotnik would like. He'll need to try and get the man warmer somehow. His main concern is actually the sound of his breathing.
The coughing earlier had him worried, combined with the visible injuries on his torso and now the almost sharp, crackling edge to his breathing all point to developing pneumonia. Unfortunately there's not much he can do at the moment besides monitor the situation and intervene before it gets too bad.
Absentmindedly, Robotnik reaches down, brushes away a stray piece of hair that had fallen over the agents forehead. Hesitates as the man leans into the touch slightly. His skin still feels cold under his own, concerning.
Stone had, seemingly, been far more worried about Robotnik being there than his own physical state.
He would never admit to the terror that had possessed him when he saw the man just sitting there in the snow, nor the relief that had flooded in after he had gotten himself up. Just how his agent had gotten into such a mess was beyond him. Most of the mission details he had entirely ignored. Only really started paying attention when the biometrics coming in from the watch became concerning.
An injury is perfectly fine, his blood pressure didn't drop that much. An injury, erratic movement and temperature drop were all far more worrisome.
He was lucky he had shown up when he did. GUN likely hadn't even noticed anything gone awry yet, wouldn't until it was far too late for his agent.
Speaking of GUN. His phone is sitting on the console within reach. Screen lighting up with the familiar name of Commander Walters.
Robotnik technically, should be in a meeting right now. Is supposed to be providing updated blueprints for the scaled down, made-for-babies version of his much superior badniks he provides to GUN. However, his agent takes precedent.
Walters has the prototypes, and the blueprints. Anyone worth his time would be able to figure it out (he is decidedly not thinking about how Stone was able to draft the demonstration and the report without any input). It was GUN's issues that meant he had to go rescue his agent, so really its their own fault he isn't there right now. Will tell them as much through a strongly worded email once he's back.
Instead he watches the screen light up, again and again. Until it finally goes dark. Persistent. A shiver runs through Stone against him. Robotnik pulls the blanket tighter around the agent. They're nearly back to the base.
The crab folds itself up and fits neatly into the hangar, landing in the central workspace for better ease of access. It can always be moved later.
Stone is still dead asleep against him, can hear the rattle of his breath on the deep inhale. He's reluctant to wake the other man. The way Stone's face softens slightly in sleep, makes him seem more at ease than Robotnik has ever witnessed before. He wants to maintain that.
Instead, he bundles him up in the blanket and lifts the agent bodily into his arms. Curled up against his chest. There's a slight hitch to his breath and then it evens out again. Years of working on machinery and lifting badniks makes it fairly easy to simply carry the sleeping agent out of the crab and bring him into the apartment attached to the lab.
He ignores the swarm that surrounds him once he gets inside, shooing them away as quietly as he can. Endearing as the concerned little beeps are, he doesn't want them bothering Stone right now. Besides, they can't do much to help with this anyway.
Robotnik takes Stone in through the mostly concealed entryway. Leaving the swarm behind in the lab. He doesn't use it often, and the space is messy but not dirty (the distinction is important to him at least). While he prefers to spend off-hours at his home and working on personal projects, the apartment works well when GUN has him down to the wire sometimes.
He sets Stone down on the bed (after throwing off some sweaters and spare coats that should have been hung up ages ago). And then props him up at a slight angle with the pillows. It should help relieve some pressure on the agents ribs and make breathing easier.
Moves the blankets to tuck around Stone as the badnik from the crab comes into the apartment. She's holding Stone's frozen equipment from the disasterous mission. He gestures for her to drop it to the side, its not his concern. Whatever GUN had wanted his agent to find, they can get it themselves. He needs to clean up their messes right now. The sharp metal clatter makes him wince, momentarily forgetting about the weapons Stone had. At least none of them had gone off.
Robotnik picks up the holster and hangs it up over the closet door, just so he doesn't forget about it and give himself a scare later.
The badnik settles onto the bed next to Stone with a chirp. He can see the rise and fall of the mans chest under the blankets. And thankfully, the colour returning to the ashy, desaturated look of his hands. Robotnik's no medical doctor, but he's sure he got there in time to prevent any lasting damage. No thanks to GUN.
He snorts and then turns away. The watch will provide him with Stone's biometrics and the badnik can raise an alarm if anything goes wrong. He has an email to write and some people to yell at.
Stone wakes up feeling heavy. He's less cold than he remembers, which is nice. And there is a softness to the weight that surrounds him. A shiver runs through him and he blinks open his eyes.
He's staring up at a ceiling he doesn't recognize, can see these dark gray walls that aren't his own and definitely don't belong to a medical wing. There's clothes and various items strewn about the area, though the walls are bare of decorations.
His holster is hanging up on the edge of the closet. Stone shifts, dislodging one of the blankets piled on top of him. Manages to get into a sitting position. His breath is coming in shallow and he can hear the rattle in his ears, dulled under the pain on both sides of his torso. Right, the bullet wound.
He nudges something sturdy and a little warm next to him. Wrinkles his eyes in confusion as he looks down. Settled in the blankets is one of the doctors badniks. The optic lens is a dimmer red, possibly in sleep mode.
Fuck, the doctor.
He remembers the man coming to find him, half-frozen in the snow. Tries to ignore the memories of the doctors gentle hands that makes a blush rise to his cheeks. He's got to be in the lab somewhere.
And now that he's a bit more awake and aware, distantly he can hear shouting.
With some effort he manages to struggle out of the blankets. Bare feet on the cold floor. Out of the bedroom and into a cluttered and messy living space.
God this is a real mess Stone has managed to get himself into. Can't imagine the doctor is particularly happy about having to come save his sorry ass after his first real high-stakes mission since working for him.
The next door opens up into an innocuous hallway in the lab. He can definitely hear the raised voice of the doctor now, angry. There's another voice too, lower, trying to remain calm. Walters' maybe?
He finds them in the centre hall, just outside the main lab space. It is the Doctor and Walters', manages to catch the last end of whatever is going on.
"-SO IT'S A FUCKING WRITEOFF THEN?"
"Ivo-" Walters cuts in with a sharp hiss, "You know that GUN prioritizes agent safety-"
"OH BULLSHIT" The doctor gets right up into the commanders face then.
"Sir?" His voice is hoarse and a little ragged. Stops both men in their tracks to look at him. Stone registers then how bedraggled he must look. In a sweater and pants a little too big (he's been trying to ignore the fact that they're defintely the doctors and how warm that makes him feel). His hair is uncombed, he just woke up. He's not even wearing socks for gods sakes.
"Oh! Agent Stone," Walters pipes up first. "Glad to see you're alright after that mission."
Stone can see the muscle twitching in the doctors forehead, the indication he is about to blow a gasket. Opens his mouth to jump in before the shouting starts up again. Only to double over with a rough cough. The force of it makes his ribs hurt, burying his face into his elbow. A little dizzy too as he struggles to get air in. He sways slightly on his feet. Steadied by a rough hand on his bicep.
Looks up after the coughing fit has subsided to see the doctor standing next to him, holding him upright with a steady hand and worry creasing the lines of his face. Stone makes a dismissive wave with his hand.
"-m fine," He mumbles.
"Agent." Walters cuts in. "We need that data file from your mission."
Before Stone can even begin to piece together a response, Robotnik turns on his heel to face the commander. Fury back in full force.
"Absolutely not."
"Robotnik this is unreasonable it is policy to-"
"Actually, GUN policy dictates that in the event of significant harm upon the partial or full completion of a mission, any remaining objectives are held until the agent(s) in question are capable to provide report and continue as necessary."
Walters swallows, looks a little sheepish. Robotnik is correct, its to try and prevent agents from being worn thin through overzealous commanders. The significant harm portion there is where people like to fudge the policies and play with the gray areas. Still, Stone finds it hard to believe Robotnik cares enough about the agents under GUN to know the policies down to the letter like that.
Stone tries to suppress another cough into his arm.
"I'll have a badnik send over your precious data file commander," The doctor sneers and practically spits the last word out. "Shoo-"
Before Stone can really think about even trying to respond, he is mostly dragged down the hall by the doctors firm grip on him. He's pulled into the main lab, breaking the line of sight with the commander. Only then does the doctor let go and take a step back to survey Stone.
Then the man is pulling off his glove, and he sets his bare palm to Stone's forehead. He manages to suppress a squeak of surprise at the unexpected contact. A full body shiver runs through him, the ambient temperature of the lab is cool and he can still feel the remnants of his frozen escapade.
"You shouldn't be up." Robotnik chastises, "You're injured and running a fever."
"I'm fine." His protest is cut off by another cough, killing his already week argument. He hears the doctor sigh and then without warning Stone is being picked up. The agent can't hide his squeak of surprise, flushing and grabbing onto the doctors coat in panic.
"Sir-"
"We discussed this already Stone. You're mine to take care of."
There's that possessiveness, the tone he thought he had imagined in a haze. He rubs at the band of his watch, the one the doctor had gifted him. To watch over him apparently. He can't remember the last time someone had cared to that extent.
The doctor brings them back into the living space. Back into the bedroom and deposits him against the piled pillows and the still sleeping badnik.
"Useless," The doctor mumbles when he sees the drone. But its a fond tone, no real malice to it.
Sitting back is easier on his breathing and his ribs. More of a dull ache as opposed to a sharp hot pain. The doctor is trying to pull the blankets out from under the sleeping badnik, mostly unsuccessfully. He chuckles and then immediately regrets it when he coughs. At least he's not tasting iron yet.
The doctor has paused, is looking at him. Reaches forward and brushes his hair away from his forehead, cool hands lingering against his skin.
"Thank you sir," Stone lets his eyes close briefly, leaning into the touch.
"Don't thank me for cleaning up GUN's mistakes. The priority is making sure this doesn't happen again."
"You're actually worried," Stone's voice comes out soft, almost disbelieving.
"You're my agent Stone. I like having you here in the lab with me."
Stone blinks his eyes open. The doctors hand still lingers on his forehead but the man is looking determinedly at the wall, a slight colour to his cheeks.
"I'll do better," He promises, "Need to get used to having someone waiting for me is all."
"Surely…" The doctor casts him a look and Stone shrugs,
"GUN cares about whether the objective gets done, its just how it is." He feels the hand on his forehead move back, threading through his hair softly. It feels nice, grounding.
Stone feels safe. Here in the doctors lab, dressed in his clothes and with the mans hand in his hair. Can feel the thread of the possessive mine running through every action. Probably should give him more pause than it does. Instead he relishes in it.
Possessed by something, maybe its the fever or the lingering chills making him not all there. Or the look of the doctors face, softer and more vulnerable and caring than Stone has ever seen him. Stone leans forward, against the protesting of his injuries and presses a kiss to the doctors cheek.
Feels the way the hand stills in his hair and tightens, the way the doctors whole body tenses up. Ah shit, he definitely fucked this up. Then the doctor turns his body, pulls Stone forward and presses a kiss to his forehead. Stone makes a pleasant humming noise.
Then Robotnik is hurriedly pulling a blanket around the agents body. Face red and not looking Stone in the eyes. He smooths the fabric down.
"Stay in bed this time." He chastises. Stone leans back against the pillows with a smile.
"Sir?"
"We'll talk about it later Stone," Robotnik is pretending to move the blankets around in the bed. Stone huffs out a laugh, cut off by a cough.
"I'm holding you to that sir,"