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Shadow’s becoming a bouncer was the result of a series of mistakes. That being said, he was well aware this particular string of mistakes was his own fault. More recently, he had developed the inability to say no to a certain nocturnal winged roommate of his when she asked for favors, especially after owing her for turning in multiple overdue mission reports for him.
Admittedly, it wasn’t the worst job in the world.
Club Rouge consists of two floors. The first floor features what Rouge has described as a lounge. Nearest to the entrance is a series of lounge chairs and couches, soft and rounded edges illuminated by amber and burgundy light. A well-stocked bar lines the furthest wall, past a series of scattered poker and roulette tables. To the left and right, walls of slot machines create a maze of flickering lights.
Shadow has not frequented the second floor, but he knows it's mainly for dancing.
Typically, his shifts were spent either zoning out to the muffled blend of bass-driven music from upstairs and the easy jazz from downstairs oozing through the front door, or mentally preparing for an upcoming mission, tattling away at a mental checklist. He was surprised that the actual roughhousing he presumed bouncers had to handle wasn’t routine. On rare occasions, he escorted people out who refused to pay off their losses or those who drank too much—though Rouge’s tolerance for drunken misbehavior seemed much more elevated than other establishments nearby.
The drunker, the dumber, she had said one day, counting up the bills at the end of the night.
He’s only had three memorable experiences manning the door of Club Rouge so far.
First, rejecting Vector who was on a case. Rouge insisted on no detective work in the facility, cautious of having some of her shadier clientele becoming wary of her establishment. Vector, to Shadow’s silent amusement, had given up once he was refused. Shadow assumed the pay must not have been much.
Second, rejecting Knuckles after he and Rouge fought. Rouge had given Shadow abundantly clear instructions to not let the echidna in under any circumstances, but Knuckles insisted. Just as Shadow was about to repeat that no, he could not come in, or else, a glass from inside flew by dangerously close to one of his ears. Knuckles managed to duck just in time and after a disheartened sigh, left.
Third, rejecting Sonic after he arrived with Amy and Blaze. After a brief greeting, he stepped aside as Amy and Blaze made their way through. Just as Sonic was about to follow, Shadow blocked his way with an easy step.
Sonic had laughed, propping a hand on one of his hips.
“Haha, funny, man. Come on.”
When Sonic tried taking a step further, Shadow didn’t budge.
“Really?” Sonic questioned, proud brow giving way for just a moment to annoyance. “Why aren’t you letting me in?”
“It’s my job.”
Sonic laughed, “Wow. Alright.”
Shadow crossed his arms over his chest.
“I didn’t think you would be interested in this kind of place.”
Sonic shrugged, “I’m not usually? I don’t like to drink and the music is kind of whack if you ask me.”
Shadow almost snorts. Granted, the repetitive music that leaked outside through the walls wasn’t particularly something he’d feel naturally inclined to listen to, but he wasn’t sure he’d label it “whack” either.
Sonic groaned, tapping a foot against the ground.
“Come on, dude. Amy and Blaze are waiting for me.”
Shadow turned his head to glance back through the door to peer inside. From where he stood, he could see the two seated at the bar, already speaking with Rouge, Amy animated as ever.
“They’re not,” he said.
Sonic tried to peer over, and Shadow shoved him back by the shoulder, not entirely hostile, but not entirely friendly either.
Sonic frowned, “Taking your job real seriously, aren’t you?”
“I always do, I’m the ul—”
Sonic turned his face away, shaking a hand in front of Shadow.
“Nope, no. Don’t you dare say it.”
Shadow quirked a brow. The reluctant amusement he sometimes feels at Sonic’s antics reared its head.
“Why did they bring you anyway?” he found himself asking.
Sonic shrugged, “Amy wanted to hang out and she had plans with Blaze. I told her I’d be third wheeling but you know how she is.”
A beat passed between them after Sonic’s explanation. A song upstairs transitioned into another, a stronger bass muffled through the walls dribbling outside. Shadow could feel it reverberating in his jaw.
Sonic tilted his head, “You’re really not going to let me in, huh?”
“No.”
Sonic released a dramatic breath.
“Alright,” he said. “I’ll get in eventually. Not even worried about it.”
And Shadow knows that bratty, willful tone.
Sonic left that night, but that’s how this new game of theirs started. Shadow’s a bouncer, Sonic tries to convince him to let him inside or tries to sneak past, and fails every time.
One night, Sonic tries running in after a group of girls and has the breath knocked out of him as he slams straight into Shadow’s outstretched arm. He tries to lie, claiming he has to speak with Rouge about something urgent, to which Shadow replies, “Call her then.” He even tries to bribe him with coffee beans of all things. Despite crunching on them in front of Sonic, he still doesn’t allow him inside.
And then he surprises him.
“Come inside with me.”
Shadow furrows his brows, “What?”
Sonic motions towards the club behind him with a nudge of his head.
“Yeah, take the night off. Go inside with me.”
Shadow squints at him, and Sonic responds with a grin, though there’s a slight nervousness woven into the expression, a tick in the corner of his mouth. Shadow wonders if getting into the club is something Sonic actually cares about, although it feels that it wouldn’t be.
“That's your plan? Have me go inside with you?”
“It would work, wouldn’t it?”
He peers past Sonic into the street. It’s a slow night, as most weekdays are. The asphalt roads are still slick from the rain earlier in the day, the black turned into reflective strips of neon light.
He could take the night off. It was unlikely there’d be any trouble tonight.
The moment he considers it, Sonic seems to notice.
He leans further towards him, “Come on, Shads. I’ll even buy you a drink.”
Shadow huffs, “This doesn’t count as you winning.”
“It absolutely does,” Sonic says, just as they step through the doorway.
If it’s the first time Sonic has been inside, he doesn’t show it. He glances around for only a moment before following Shadow straight to the bar.
The counter manages to be thinly coated in a sticky residue, despite the high standards Rouge held her employees to. Jazzy lounge music plays as they settle at the counter, deepened by the low chatter of people speaking. Randomly, an erratic cheer from one of the game tables or a winning streak from the slot machines cuts through. It teeters on overwhelming.
“So, why are you a bouncer? Are you short on money or something?”
Shadow turns to look over at Sonic, who’s seated facing him, resting his weight on the counter with an elbow.
“It’s a favor to rouge.”
Sonic hums, “Long favor.”
Shadow shrugs, “I don’t do it every night.”
“Gonna quit G.U.N to do it full time?”
Shadow rolls his eyes, “Yes. I already quit.”
Once the bartender comes around to get their orders, Sonic gets himself something that sounds obnoxiously sweet, and Shadow an old fashioned. Admittedly, he isn’t one to drink often, or heavily. His tolerance was absurdly high as a result of well, who he is, but to his discovery, Sonic seems to not be the biggest fan of alcohol either.
His counterpart barely sips his drink, and restlessly taps a finger against the glass, smudging the condensation with his glove. Shadow’s attention narrows to the small, repetitive action, the noises around them muffled until his attention is brought back by the feeling of his phone vibrating.
Rouge: Checking in! I might stay the night at Knuckles fyi
That’s right, she was supposed to be out on a date with Knuckles tonight. He taps out a reply quickly.
That’s fine. Drinking with Sonic.
The response is almost immediate.
Rouge: Oh??? Have fun ;)
Shadow outright squints at the emoji. Why did she use the winking—
“Do you uh, like this music?”
Shadow's eyes flicker back to Sonic, who’s watching him, though he’s subtly eyeing his phone. Crap. He really did zone out.
“What?”
Sonic raises a brow, “I asked if you liked this music?”
“It’s fine.”
Sonic huffs, tapping away at his glass.
“Always a long conversation with you, my man.”
After putting his phone away, Shadow reaches to finish his drink, “Well. Why do you think it’s whack?”
Sonic blinks, confused. “What?”
Shadow traces the rim of his empty glass, “The first time I prevented you from coming in, you called the music whack. Why?”
Something about what Shadow says makes Sonic laugh. The hedgehog takes a sip from his drink and immediately regrets it. His nose scrunches up as he sticks out his tongue, placing the now watered-down drink onto the counter.
“I don’t know? Amy invites me out with Blaze sometimes to parties and the music is more energetic, this is—” he swirls around on his chair, crossing his legs. “It’s chill, I guess? Just not something I’d listen to on my own, y’know?”
Shadow hums, “There’s different music upstairs.”
Sonic quirks a brow. Shadow shrugs.
“It’s more energetic.”
“Oh? Should we check it out?”
Shadow huffs, “We is presumptuous.”
“Not when you’re the one who mentioned the music.”
Sonic slides off his chair, grinning. Shadow turns on his barstool to look at him.
“Come on,” he says, tilting his head towards the direction of the stairs.
Shadow could just leave. Rouge is clearly fine with him taking the night off, and he wanted to be up earlyish tomorrow to pick up their apartment before babysitting cream. And yet, he finds himself agreeing, silently stepping off his own stool to follow Sonic upstairs as he leads the way.
Where the upstairs lacks in width, it exceeds in height. The warehouse-style high-ceiling houses lighting fixtures that shine undulating rays of red and purple onto the moving crowd of bodies below. A DJ plays on an elevated platform by the furthest wall to the back, framed by thundering speakers. There isn’t much decor in the room outside some seats by the edge of the room, Rouge favoring the industrial aesthetic.
Shadow looks over the crowd and recognizes most of the people he let in before Sonic distracted him.
Speaking of.
“You’re right,” Sonic says, and he has to lean in toward Shadow over the loud music. “It is better.”
Club Rouge doesn’t make Shadow uncomfortable. Observing a varied mix of people dance and drink and overall enjoy themselves doesn’t make him uncomfortable, he doesn’t have to socialize with any of them, and if he reaches his limits with the stimuli, he knows he can leave.
But when Sonic steps towards the crowd without him, already starting to dance and insinuating he’s waiting for Shadow to join him with the way he watches him, Shadow feels he could crawl out of his skin.
He just stares at him by the edge of the dancefloor, and Sonic mouths “Come Here.”
Shadow frowns, and is about to head downstairs when Sonic smirks before opening his mouth.
Shadow doesn’t have to hear him. He can read his lips perfectly.
“Coward.”
It’s bait, Shadow recognizes it for what it is as Sonic waves him off and sinks into the kinetic crowd, and yet.
And yet.
When he takes the plunge and steps in between moving bodies around him, he isn’t dancing. He makes his way towards the peak of blue always a few steps away from him, jostling against others as he follows. Some notice and look towards him, but look away just as quickly. It feels like Shadow’s slowly being absorbed into a great other, some ravenous body-fed movement throughout the night.
Where was Sonic even going?
He finally stops moving once they’re dead center in the crowd, and as Shadow pushes through the last series of shoulders and elbows, Sonic is—.
Sonic is dancing.
It shouldn’t be as jarring as it is, but Shadow’s staggered.
Sonic is supposed to be dancing. They’re in a club, and everyone around them is dancing, but Shadow realizes he’s never placed himself in a situation where he would see Sonic like this. He’s in no position to judge whether or not he’s exactly good at it, but Sonic is swaying with the beat, mimicking those around him fluidly.
A hand reaches out to him, and Shadow frowns, Sonic watching him knowingly. Shadow stares at the gloved hand, the white fabric dyed ruby by the lights overhead.
When he finally takes Sonic’s hand, he’s jerked closer instantly. He still isn’t dancing, and Sonic laughs at him. Shadow thinks it sounds good with the music.
“Do you know how to dance?”
Sonic has to raise his voice and Shadow leans towards him to listen.
He shakes his head, “Not like this.”
“Old man,” Sonic taunts, and Shadow considers tripping him when Sonic’s gaze shifts heftily. He’s watching Shadow with half-lidded eyes that were usually reserved for taunts before the two fought or competed, but this was different, it felt different. An uncomfortable weight lodges itself in Shadow’s chest.
“Just move. It’s like running, find the rhythm.”
This isn’t anything like running, Shadow thinks, but then Sonic is touching him.
It’s a tepid, steady movement, one best reserved for a reactive animal. Shadow has dozens of chances to stop him, to shove Sonic away, but he doesn’t—and then his hands are on him. He applies pressure softly, trying to guide Shadow into moving alongside him.
It’s fucking weird.
But Shadow tries to adhere to Sonic’s cues, following along. It all borders dangerously on overwhelming—Sonic touching him like this without the excuse of rescue or brawling, the music hammering away, the occasional brush of a stranger’s elbow or hair grazing him.
He closes his eyes for a moment and tries to focus on the ground beneath his soles. After a breath, he opens them to see Sonic. He hasn’t taken his eyes off Shadow, and in the shifting red light, his blue fur appears dark purple, nearly ink.
Shadow doesn’t notice that Sonic has moved his hands away from his sides to settle on his shoulders until he feels him brush his quills. He’s been dancing on his own.
“See,” Sonic says, something in his tone worsening the strange sensation in Shadow’s chest. “You’ve got it.”
It breaks the spell. Shadow falters and steps on him with a curse. Sonic stumbles and bumps into someone behind him with an oop! Shadow wants to snarl from the embarrassment, but Sonic is grinning as he leans in again toward him.
“Let’s head out, yeah?”
“Where?”
Sonic raises his shoulders, “Don’t know. Where do you go after work, Mr. Bouncer?”
“My apartment.”
Something shifts on Sonic’s face, and Shadow, not for the first time, feels his frustration flare at the feeling of missing something.
“That’s presumptuous,” Sonic teases, and Shadow furrows his brow.
“What?”
Sonic shakes it off, “Never mind. We can eat. I know a place.”
The place is a diner out of the way from both the club and his apartment, but it’s fine, Shadow can always just teleport back home. The orange 24 Hours sign reflects onto the table where he and Sonic are seated by a friendly waitress who seems to know him. Shadow glances around as Sonic starts to rummage through the menu. It’s mostly lit with warm overhead lights dangling down to individual tables, with a few strips of neon lining where the walls meet the ceiling.
Shadow turns his attention back to Sonic as he begins to speak.
“I come here sometimes if I’m running late in the city before heading home—”
That’s right. Shadow remembers that Sonic doesn’t live in the city proper, but in a house with Tails out of the city limits, towards the beaches.
He looks down at the menu and frowns at the coffee stain encircling portions of the “ sides” and “ desserts” options. It’s absolutely a place Sonic would love: burgers, hot dogs, all day, everyday breakfast. He puts the menu back down, closing it shut. He’s not hungry; he ate dinner with Rouge yesterday, and despite his attempts, he’s unable to break his habit of eating every other day.
“If you ask,” Sonic says. “They might give you coffee beans.”
Shadow actually snorts, and Sonic rests back against the squeaking vinyl booth.
Sonic orders a burger, fries, and a shake, and Shadow a regular, black coffee.
“Not sleeping tonight?”
Shadow shrugs, and Sonic nods along, “Same, honestly.”
Once his food is there, their conversation stalls into a lull. It doesn’t bother Shadow, he sips away at his coffee as Sonic manages to eat the impressively greasy food in front of him. Eventually, he motions toward Shadow to share some of his fries, and Shadow takes one before feeling his phone vibrate.
When he glances down, he has a new message from Rouge.
He also realizes it’s close to midnight.
Rouge: coming home tonite or no??
Why would I not be?
“You can have another fry—” Sonic says, and Shadow waves him off as he waits for Rouge’s reply.
Rouge: Bluee
In theory I still have to sleep
Rouge: doesn’t mean it has to be in ur bed >:)
“How come you don’t text me?”
Shadow jerks his attention back to Sonic, who’s resting his chin in a hand.
“Because I don’t want to,” Shadow replies, putting his phone away again.
Sonic tries to kick him under the table, “Do you even have my number?”
He doesn’t.
“If I needed it,” he says. “I could acquire it.”
“I’ll trade you for yours.”
That has Shadow rolling his eyes.
“Why do you need my number?”
Sonic shrugs, shoving his finished plate aside to drink from his shake.
“You never know,” he says. “What if I have an emergency and my emergency contacts don’t answer—”
“Then you would die because I wouldn’t answer.”
Sonic almost chokes on his shake with the startled laughter he lets out. Shadow smirks.
When they’re done and both hedgehogs are loitering outside, Shadow assumes this is where they split, but there’s a gnawing dissatisfaction at the realization.
“What next?” Sonic asks, and Shadow glances over.
“You tell me.”
Sonic rests his weight on the back of his heels as he makes a dramatic show of thinking.
“Wanna race?”
“Seriously?”
He doesn’t know why he had expected anything else, but Sonic has his arms behind his back as he’s leaning forward, pleading.
“Fine,” Shadow says.
Sonic grins, “Race to my place?”
He doesn’t even give Sonic a chance to countdown. He can hear him yell after him before spotting a streak of blue in his peripheral vision. Once Sonic is beside him, he bumps into him, and when Shadow shoves back with an adrenalized grin of his own, Sonic cackles. Racing like this with Sonic, outside of any real danger or greater purpose, was as soothing as it was exhilarating. There were dozens of times when their races ended with a brawl, Shadow snarling and growling without shame as Sonic responded with his own borderline hysterical laughter.
But tonight, when they both reach Sonic’s house, Sonic keeps running. Shadow’s confused and a bit alarmed, but follows.
Once he’s beside him, he shouts, “Where are you going?”
Sonic looks at him and places a finger in front of his mouth as if to shush him. Shadow, for the second time tonight, considers tripping him.
Sonic ends up guiding him to the more rural, coastal area. Shadow can smell the sea, can feel the cool humidity of the air along his fur as he glides alongside Sonic. They run along the coast until they hit more elevation and then Sonic suddenly skids to a stop.
Shadow stops too, and finds himself on a grassy cliffside overlooking the ocean.
“Where are we?” he asks.
Sonic plops down onto the ground unceremoniously, “A spot I like. I come here sometimes during the day to nap or chill.”
Shadow looks around. The main highway is far from here, its few street lights distant smudges on the horizon.
“Why did you lead us here?”
From below him, Sonic shrugs.
“Didn’t feel like going home yet, and it didn’t seem like you wanted to, either.”
Shadow huffs, “Presumptuous.”
Sitting beside Sonic on the grass, Shadow stares out at the sea. Come to think of it, he doesn’t see it often, typically cooped up in the city or underground somewhere investigating a bunker for G.U.N. Out here, far from the reaches of humanity’s pollution, the sea is ebony in motion, highlighted by the brilliance of the moon and its debris. Stars envelop the sky above them, and Shadow tilts his head up with familiarity to regard them.
He feels rather than sees Sonic adjusting closer to him, and although he doesn’t rest his head on his shoulder, Sonic tilts it in Shadow’s direction as he stares out.
“You find the ocean calming,” Shadow says, quiet.
“When I’m not in it, yeah.”
“Refusing to learn how to swim is stupid.”
“Jeez,” Sonic says and stretches out his legs in front of him. “Thanks.”
Shadow doesn’t look away from the stars. His time in space was years ago now, but some symbols persisted in his dreams: Maria, the moon, and Sonic golden as a sun.
Sonic sighs beside him.
“I don’t know. I like just sitting here and looking at it, especially at night. It feels like a breather, I guess? Like ‘ Oh. That’s right. I’m not that big, after all .’”
I get it, Shadow thinks.
“I liked dancing with you.”
That gets him to turn his head towards Sonic. A part of him thinks Sonic wasn’t expecting him to with the startled expression that flashes on his face, but it’s gone almost instantly, replaced with an obnoxious gleam in his eye and a smirk to match.
“Though, I don’t really know if I would consider what you were doing as dancing—”
“Fuck off,” Shadow interrupts and Sonic laughs. This time, when he tilts his head in Shadow’s direction, he lets it rest on his shoulder. Shadow can’t help his rigid reaction, but he tries to ease up, and with a deep breath, he manages to minimally.
Tonight has been strange. He can’t stop thinking of everything— Sonic’s attitude towards him, the dancing, Rouge’s texts, Sonic’s weight on his shoulder. An overwhelming sensation similar to that he felt in the club blooms, and Shadow frowns. The gnawing thought that he’s confused about something, or possibly missing something crucial entirely, aggravates him.
“What do you want, Sonic?”
The words come out harsher than he means them to be, but it’s fine. They’re out in the open.
“What are you talking about?”
Disrupting their position is burdensome but Shadow moves to stand and look down at Sonic. His ears are tucked back with uncertainty.
"Tonight. We don’t, I don’t—”
And this, this frustration, was so exasperating. Shadow clenches his hands into fists, but Sonic gives him time to orient himself.
“Tonight felt different than usual,” Shadow decides. “I don’t know what or why, but I don’t want to be confused about you, of all people.”
Sonic’s ears twitch, “Oh.”
“We race. We spar. On occasion, we work together. We don’t—”
“Share drinks and dance?”
Shadow swallows whatever he was going to say.
With a gruff huff, Sonic stands. Below them, the waves continue to crash against the cliffside. Shadow knows they haven’t changed, but they feel louder, closer.
“I went with my gut,” Sonic says, and Shadow frowns.
“I wanted to drink with you,” Sonic quickly adds at his reaction. “I wanted to dance with you. I don’t know, Shads. It felt nice. Didn’t it?”
Shadow doesn’t trust himself to answer, but it’s answer enough for his counterpart.
“I get it, I do. It was different, but it wasn’t bad. I’ve—” Sonic hesitates. “I think I’ve been confused about you for a while now.”
“What?”
Sonic rubs at the back of his neck, “Only started to notice when Amy pointed it out. Tails hopped on too but he still thinks it’s weird to talk to me about romance stuff.”
Romance. The word rattles around in Shadow’s mind, accompanied by romantic images of him and Sonic, some bordering on far too intimate.
“It’s okay if you don’t,” Sonic says, nervous, and no, that isn’t good. “I just thought—”
“I haven’t done this before,” Shadow blurts.
Sonic quiets.
“I don’t like feeling confused,” Shadow adds, softer, and Sonic takes a step towards him. Shadow swears he can hear the earth begin to give out underneath him.
“Well,” Sonic says. “You don’t have to be.”
Shadow meets his eyes, and the close-lipped smile pulling on Sonic’s mouth is the fondest Shadow has seen. It’s nauseatingly brilliant.
“I like you,” Sonic finally says. “A whole lot, actually, which some might consider concerning since tonight was technically like a first date.”
The realization makes Shadow’s face flush. He thinks back on the dates Rouge has described with Knuckles and others, and while they don’t quite match up given their different interests, some aspects do.
Her texts to him resurface in his mind, and Shadow growls under his breath.
“What?” Sonic asks, concerned.
Shadow shakes his head, “Nothing. Thinking about Rouge.”
Sonic doesn’t get it, but he laughs, small and awkward.
“Well, don’t leave me hanging. Kind of confessed to you there, man.”
And Shadow knows it's all bravado as he looks at him. He’s nervous, a hand still on the back of his neck as he watches him. Shadow knows vulnerability is still a rarity to him, but it’s always been comforting to know it’s somewhat of a difficulty for Sonic as well, in his own way.
Shadow has always struggled with words, much preferring some sort of physical act to exhibit his feelings. He felt his emotions so carnally that coming up with descriptors for them was borderline impossible. In a way, it’s what he was made for: to take care of, to show rather than speak.
So it’s what he does.
He steps closer to Sonic, and while a part of him is still confused, it feels right. Sonic holds his breath, and a voice in the back of Shadow’s mind thinks that’s cute as he tilts his head to kiss him.
It’s entirely modest. Shadow has never kissed anyone before and despite the very scant conversations he’s had with Rouge over romance, he’s unsure how long the kiss should last. But Sonic is kissing him back, arms looping around his neck and impossibly close, chest to chest.
When he feels Sonic nip at his lips, the anxiety tangling his mind twists into something else entirely. He kisses Sonic again and again, and when he feels his tongue press against one of his fangs, he bites down gently to prick it. Sonic shudders against him, and Shadow groans at the new metallic taste mixed into their kisses.
Sonic guides him to the ground, and once they’re lying together, Shadow pulls away. They’re both breathing heavily, and Sonic is watching Shadow with hazy eyes as he holds himself up above him.
“I like you, too,” Shadow says, and Sonic snorts, smacking his chest.
“You’re a sap.”