Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The literal white picket fence was a bit much.

Ivo stood at the gate, one hand resting on the painted wood, and frowned. He’d known things would be different, it wasn’t like Stone was going to live in the crab by himself, but the suburbs? The man had a lawn, for crying out loud.

Maybe this was his version of lying low. Maybe there was a big basement, or an innocuous shed in the back, brimming with computers and holograms and badniks. Maybe there was some strategic high value target nearby Stone was infiltrating. There had to be some reason for this.

There was even a car in the driveway. A nice, sensible sedan. Surely the death trap he called a bike was parked out of sight. Surely he hadn’t given that up too. Surely.

Ivo took a deep breath. It was just after dawn, and the neighborhood was waking up. Someone was walking a dog a few blocks away, and he’d seen a kid on a bike tossing out papers (which couldn’t possibly be the way anyone actually did things anymore, except here, apparently). The longer he stood here, the more witnesses he accrued. Besides, he had no real reason to hesitate beyond maybe being concerned about the impropriety of knocking on a door at such an early hour, and he wasn’t about to start worrying about being rude now.

He pushed through the gate, letting it click behind him, and walked to the front door confidently. And he definitely didn’t hesitate or nearly turn back before knocking.

Stone was probably awake, unless that had changed too. Ivo waited for an agonizing thirty seconds before knocking again, louder. Stone must have heard him. If he had to -

A tiny whirr drew his attention to a little white disc set in the doorframe, a shiny black lens in the center. A camera. But a consumer model, nothing like Ivo’s brilliant tech. Ivo peered at it as the lens moved, changing angle like it was looking at him top to bottom. The movement stopped, but now Ivo heard something else, a rapid thumping from inside the house. Footsteps.

The door flew open, and there - there was Stone.

He looked good. Ivo’d been expecting, or maybe worried, to find his henchman drunk and depressed in some squalid little corner. Nope. His hair was messy, and he needed to trim his beard, but he looked well kept. Hadn’t let himself go at all, a fact that was painfully obvious because apparently Stone slept shirtless. Thankfully he wore some loose linen pants, or this encounter would have taken a sharp turn for the awkward. It was already weird enough.

Ivo waited as long as he could, trying to let Stone process, but the silence got too heavy. He spread his hands and said, “Surprise!”

Stone actually rubbed his eyes, something Ivo didn’t think anyone did outside of cartoons. Apparently convinced this wasn’t a particularly detailed smudge, he finally said, “Doctor?”

“In the flesh.” Ivo was going to say more - he’d prepared a pithy little introduction, expecting Stone to be stunned to silence - except Stone did something he did not expect, and never in a million years would have.

Stone started crying.

Ivo half-reached for him but stopped in midair. “Woah, hey.” He’d never seen Stone cry before, and he didn’t like it. It made him feel… bad. “Don’t, uh. Don’t do that.”

Stone’s deep brown eyes glittered in the early morning light as tears swelled in them and overflowed down his cheeks. “Doctor,” he whispered, almost reverently. “Is it - is it really you?”

“Yes, yes, it’s me, it’s a miracle, stop blubbering about it.”

Stone sniffled - gross - and wiped his face with the back of one hand. “I’m - I’m sorry, Doctor, I’ll - you’re here? You’re alive?” He reached forward, his hand shaking, and Ivo didn’t flinch away when Stone touched his arm. “Oh my god. You’re…!”

“Yyyeah.” Robotnik quirked an eyebrow. He’d decided, on the Eclipse Cannon, that he’d be nicer to Stone if he ever saw him again. He hadn’t expected that resolution to get tested so soon. “Is this going to take a long time? Should I go get some coffee and come back?”

Stone’s fingers tensed around his arm. “No! No, please, don’t - I’ll make you a latte. Please. Don’t go.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.”

Ivo followed Stone into the house. It was… nice? Bland. Neutral walls and boring modern furniture. The whole place looked like a magazine spread, in the worst way. If Stone hadn’t been here when he arrived he wouldn’t have believed he lived here.

But Stone was definitely here, as evidenced by his refusal to let go of Ivo. Probably going to leave a bruise, given how hard he squeezed Ivo’s arm.

Hmm. Ivo didn’t hate the idea of that.

Even when they reached the kitchen, Stone didn’t release him. He just stood there, staring, until Ivo cleared his throat meaningfully and Stone jumped.

“Right! Sorry. Sorry.” Stone finally let go and took a step back. “Uh… just a couple minutes.” He darted over to a gleaming silver espresso machine that dominated a corner of the kitchen (the first thing that Ivo’d seen he would’ve pegged as Stone’s) and flicked it on. “It’s - the water needs to heat up. You can have a seat. Or, or stay standing, or - you can do whatever you want, I guess. Sir.” He laughed, a weak little thing. “Sorry. I’m - I wasn’t expecting this. I didn’t, um. I.”

Stone fell silent. Ivo let it stand for a minute. The urge to trash this banal little suburban hellscape grew by the second, but he swallowed it down and instead took a seat at the boring kitchen table. “It’s been a couple years, I take it.”

“Five years. Four months. And three days.” Stone smiled sheepishly. “I try not to keep track as closely anymore, but today’s the 16th and it was on the 13th, so.“

Hm. He’d known time had passed, but five years was longer than he’d hoped for. Damn. “You remember the exact date?”

Stone hesitated. “I can’t forget it.” Then he smiled again, or something like it; his eyes stayed sad. “You didn’t know?”

“Long story. For now, I’ll say it hasn’t been nearly as long for me.” He looked around again. “And how long have you been in this… charming little hovel?”

“Uh. Two years? I guess? It’s more space than I need, but I wanted…” He shook his head. “Sorry. You’re not interested in that.”

“If I wasn’t interested, I wouldn’t have askedAUGH!”

The yelp was triggered by something brushing up against his leg. Ivo nearly fell out of his chair, barely catching himself, in his scramble to avoid… a cat. A long-haired calico stared up at him with wide green eyes.

Ivo narrowed his eyes. “What the hell is that?”

“Oh!” Stone hurried forward and scooped the beast up. “That’s Sasha.”

“Sasha?” Ivo glared at the creature, who gazed back at him with an aura of smugness way too big for its body.

“I found her out in the rain as a kitten. She was so small and wet and shivering, and I couldn’t just leave her like that. And now,” he continued, nuzzling against the thing’s head, “she’s all grown up and constantly causing problems. Right, Sasha?”

The beast kept staring at Ivo, so Ivo stared right back. Right up until Stone let it slip out of his arms back to the floor, at which point he was staring at Stone’s chest. Oops.

The espresso machine chimed. “Ah, it’s ready,” Stone said unnecessarily, turning to the machine. “I’ll have your latte in a minute, Doctor. Oh, but I only have cow’s milk. Is that okay?”

Ivo sighed, long and low, exaggerating his disappointment. Stone could have made the latte with turpentine and he’d still drink it. “I guess.”

“Sorry about that, sir,” Stone said as he worked. “If I’d known you were…” He trailed off, then cleared his throat. “I’ll have to see where I can find some. I might have to order it.”

“Uh huh.” Ivo leaned against the table, propping up his own head. “What, Piggly Wiggly doesn’t carry it? I’m shocked.”

Stone laughed. Then he froze again, clinging to the countertop in front of him. When he didn’t start to move again, Ivo stood up.

“Stone.”

Stone sniffed. “S-sorry, sir. I’ll - ah, I’ll just - um, I - “

His voice was starting to wobble, and even from the back Ivo could see him starting to tremble. Ivo approached him from behind slowly, and laid a hand on Stone’s shoulder.

“Listen, you know I’m not good at this mushy stuff, but if you need a hug or something - “

Stone turned and threw his arms around Ivo, squeezing hard enough to choke, burying his face in his shoulder. “You’re alive,” he sobbed. “You’re alive. You’re - you’re alive.”

It took a few seconds for Ivo to figure out what to do with his hands. He settled for patting Stone’s head with one and his back with the other. “There, there,” he said, trying to remember what “sympathetic” sounded like. “It’s all right. You can stop - no, wait.” He swallowed down the weird dry feeling in the back of his throat. “You can cry if you want, or whatever.”

“I’m - I’m sorry, Doctor. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Stone’s words were slurring together but at this point they didn’t really seem to matter much. Stone was getting heavier the longer this went on, and Ivo’s eyes were starting to ache. How long was this going to take?

Long enough, apparently, for Stone’s knees to buckle. Ivo managed to control their collapse enough to keep them from getting hurt, but once they were down there was no telling when they’d get over this. Stone was going to leave a puddle on the floor. Jeez.

Eventually, his minion managed to pull himself together enough to stop weeping. He sat up, looking decidedly less well kept than he had when he opened the door, and rubbed his eyes with his wrist. “Sorry, sir,” he said, again. “I just, um. I’ve been. I missed you.”

A simple phrase that hit Ivo like a meteorite. “I missed you too.”

“I don’t - I thought you were dead.“ Stone’s face kept flickering between a grimace and a smile, like it couldn’t decide how he felt. “I saw it happen. How - how?”

“To be honest, Stone, I don’t know all the details myself.” He had died - or at least, he’d felt it, his skin blackening in the flames, the air torn from his lungs, the strange electric crackle of the chaos energy tearing at the very atoms of his body. But there wasn’t much point in burdening Stone with all that, especially not if his reaction was already so dramatic. “Aliens, probably.”

“Right. Them. There’s a pink one now.”

“More? Honestly, you die for a mere five years and suddenly the place is swarming with aliens.”

“I know, sir. I…” Stone sighed. “I tried, for a while. A lot has happened.”

“I can tell.” He stopped and looked at Stone for a long moment. Stone was… hmm. “You look guilty. Why?”

Stone’s eyes went wide. Then he looked down at the floor. “I worked with them. The aliens.”

Robotnik gasped as loudly and dramatically as he could, one hand flying to his chest.

“Not a lot!” Stone added hastily, as if he could smooth over the betrayal. “And I wouldn’t give them any of your tech. It was - missing Badniks would show up in some lowlife’s plans, and I’d take them back, and - it was mutually beneficial, I thought you’d - I - “

Robotnik cut him off with a wave of his hand. “All right, all right, stop your simpering. That’s what I get for not leaving you clear instructions this time.”

“I’m sorry, sir. They said it was what you’d want.”

Robotnik raised one eyebrow. That expressed his thoughts on the topic quite neatly.

“They were very persuasive,” Stone mumbled. “And I wasn’t… thinking straight. For a while.”

It took a minute for Robotnik to understand what he was feeling, because it was novel. This had never happened before. Stone was hiding something from him.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

For a moment, Stone’s eyes went wide with panic. Then he swallowed and forced a smile. “Nothing important, sir. Honestly, it’s been boring without you.”

“Oh, I could figure that out from the state of this place.” Robotnik groaned as he heaved himself to his feet. “Did you buy it like this, or did you pay someone to let you live in a Pottery Barn catalog?”

“You don’t like it?” Stone stood as well, watching Robotnik while Robotnik looked around. “I thought it was… tasteful.”

“Tasteful! Blegh.” Robotnik stuck out his tongue. “This can’t possibly be how you’d decorate.”

“Ah, well… when I first moved in, I wasn’t really… I hired a designer and just sort of gave him free reign.”

“Oh, Stone. You poor thing.” He was still hiding something, but Robotnik had had enough of the conversation. “And where’s that latte?”

“Oh! Right! Sorry.”

While Stone busied himself with the machine, Robotnik strolled around the house. It wasn’t entirely sterile. The cat had some toys, and there was a takeout menu stuck to the fridge. There was even a photograph, one of those photo booth strips, of Stone and… the fox alien. Ugh.

“Doctor?!”

Stone’s voice had the edge of panic. When he came around the corner to find the doctor in his living room, his eyes were wide. He stopped so suddenly that the latte in his hand sloshed over the edge of the mug, dribbling to the floor.

“Oh - I - sorry, sir.” Stone offered the latte. Its traditional little heart drawing was smudged.

Robotnik took it, but cocked an eyebrow at Stone. “Is this going to be a thing with you now? You’re developing some kind of complex?”

“N-no, doctor. I - I’ll…” He took a deep breath. “You won’t leave without at least telling me, right?”

“I don’t plan on going anywhere right now, agent.”

“But - but when you do, will you… please?”

When. Not if.

Robotnik sipped his latte.

“If that’s what it takes to keep you from having a panic attack every time I leave the room, fine. I promise not to ghost you.”

Stone sighed, tension visibly leaving his shoulders. “Thank you, sir. I’m - thank you.” His watch chirped. He glanced at it. “Oh. Ah.”

“Now what?”

“Nothing. It’s - I need to leave for work or I’ll be late.”

“You have a job?” How could Stone be living such a dull life and keep surprising him?

“Yes. But now that you’re back, I’ll quit. I’ll do it right now.”

“Woah, now.” Robotnik lifted a hand. “Let’s not be hasty. Do you like this… job?”

Stone thought for a moment, then shrugged. “It’s okay. The people are nice and the work isn’t hard. I’d much rather be working for you, though.”

“Oh, make no mistake, you’re always working for me. But my plans are still percolating, and it might wind up serving our purposes for you to be established as a nice innocent civilian…” He gestured for Stone to finish the sentence.

“Data technician.”

“What the hell is a ‘data technician’?”

“It’s just IT work. I’m a little overqualified for it.”

“Yeah. No doy. Don’t let a little thing like my miraculous return from the dead keep you from your exciting day of turning things off and on again.”

“Right. Yes. Okay. If you say so.” Despite his words, Stone didn’t move. Robotnik waved him away, and Stone finally walked out of the room, only to return seconds later with a slightly wild look on his face that settled when he spotted the doctor again.

“I - I think I’ll take the day off,” he said. “If that’s okay.”

Ugh, okay, this was going to be a thing. Hopefully once the shock wore off Stone would regain some object permanence. “Go ahead,” Ivo said. “You can catch me up on what’s been going on in my absence.”

“Thank you, sir. I just need to make a phone call.”

Stone pulled his phone from his pocket - the same one Ivo’d given him years ago, which would be wildly outdated by now and yet still miles better than anything available commercially - and stepped into the hallway. This was kind of pointless, given that Ivo could easily listen in, but Stone kept glancing back at him so it was clear privacy wasn’t as important as making sure Ivo stayed put. Not that he had the slightest intention of leaving.

Hearing Stone speak to somebody else in that subservient manner really pissed him off, though.

Stone wrapped up his call and returned to the room. “All set. I don’t think Dave believed I was actually sick.”

“Do you need a doctor’s note?”

Stone laughed a little too loudly. His face wilted, but he screwed his eyes tight and shook his head like he was willing the expression away. And maybe he was, because when he looked back up at Ivo he was smiling again. Mostly normal, except for the tears.

“Sorry,” he said, wiping them away. “Ignore that. I’m fine.”

Sure he was. On the verge of a fine breakdown, maybe. Robotnik shook his head. “What happened to you, Stone?”

Stone went quiet. “I didn’t handle things well.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“I know. I - I’m sorry, sir. I don’t - it’s hard to talk about.”

Very few things made Robotnik more curious than being told he couldn’t know something. But, he was trying to be nice, theoretically, so instead of pushing the point he flopped into one of Stone’ pristine accent chairs. “Fine, whatever. Fill me in, but you can skip all the nights you spent crying in the bathtub listening to Jewel.”

Stone’s face was pathetically grateful. “Of course, Doctor.”

Stone started with the destruction of the crab, capsized in the Thames. (Robotnik was unaware of this, and rather pissed off. He’d liked the crab. Stupid aliens.) After Robotnik’s final broadcast, Stone was alone in London with no tech, no connections, no money, not even a passport. After some time, G.U.N. tracked him down and brought him in. Unlike the first time Robotnik had vanished, he was being regarded as a hero, so instead of arresting Stone they offered him a new position. When he declined, they were at least kind enough to sort out his paperwork and put him on a flight back to the States so he could start his new life.

He didn’t stay put for long. Robotnik’s sizable assets were more than enough to fund whatever he wanted to do, and this time no IRS goons got their mitts on it. He traveled for a while. That got boring fast. He picked a spot in rural Africa as a new base of operations, as far as he could get from G.U.N.

At this point, Stone got sheepish. He gathered what he could get of Robotnik’s tech, dredged the crab up and restored some of its functions, and then -

“I tried to attack the aliens, but it… didn’t go well.”

Stone offered no further details.

After that, he returned to his desert base and decommissioned it, storing every bit of Robotnik tech in a heavily fortified underground bunker in an undisclosed location (somewhere in the Peruvian mountains). Then it was more aimless wandering until one of the aliens reached out. Tails had been tracking his smartwatch all along, apparently.

(“That’s the yellow one? Tails?”

“Yes, sir. He’s actually pretty smart. Nowhere near as smart as you, of course, but more than most people.”

“What, are you trying to get me to take him on as an intern? Get on with it.”)

There was some crime syndicate using Robotnik’s code to get into banks, or something. The aliens were having trouble figuring out how to solve that with brute force, so Tails asked Stone if he could help. He should have refused, but the idea that someone was using the doctor’s technology to threaten the planet after he sacrificed himself to protect it pissed Stone off enough for him to act.

Something along those lines happened a few times until working with the aliens was common. And then, after, once he’d tucked away the latest reclaimed tech safely in the Peruvian vault…

Stone skipped some parts here.

This pattern - aimless globetrotting interrupted by brief bouts of heroism - kept up until the night he found himself in San Francisco, walking the streets in the rain. That was when he found Sasha, the pathetic wet furball yowling and shivering and alone. He picked her up, tucked her under his shirt, and got a hotel room to keep them both comfortable for the night.

He couldn’t take a kitten wandering all over the world, so he bought this house and settled in.

“It’s a nice neighborhood,” Stone concluded. “Quiet. I’ve got a space in the basement where I stash any tech I come across untilI take it down to the vault. Otherwise the most exciting things I do these days are volunteering at the library and buying full-size candy bars for trick or treaters.”

Robotnik had long since finished his latte. He’d listened quietly, and carefully. The parts about his tech being appropriated were annoying and definitely merited further investigation, but that wasn’t what he was most concerned about. It was all the things Stone didn’t say, and all the little things he let slip. Like why he was in San Francisco, near the base of the very building where Robotnik had confronted Sonic, without a place to stay for the night. Or what he’d been looking for in the dark corners of foreign cities. Or why the yellow one was apparently around often enough to merit compliments on his intelligence and a trip to some carnival photo booth.

Robotnik could take some guesses. He didn’t like them.

“So, long story short,” he said, setting his empty mug on a side table, “you eat-pray-loved your way around willy-nilly, occasionally dabbling in heroism, until a stray cat domesticated you and you bought it a house.”

“…yes, sir. That’s… that’s about right.”

Aside from all the gaps Robotnik would rather not fill in. “Hmm. Not what I would have expected.”

“What would you have expected?” Stone leaned forward, suddenly intense. “What was I supposed to do? What did you want me to do? What should I have done?”

“Well first of all I would have thought you’d be a dog person.”

Stone laughed. It was good; it broke the tension, which was getting unbearable. “I didn’t have a lot of choice in the matter. Sasha’s very insistent.”

“It weighs like eight pounds and doesn’t have thumbs.”

“Spoken like a man who has never tried to control a cat.”

“Stone, are you telling me you can’t get a cat to behave?”

“She’s nearly as stubborn as you, Doctor, and I couldn’t - “ He cut himself off mid-sentence, again.

Ivo was perfectly aware it wasn’t a terribly nice thing to do, but he rolled his eyes. “It’ll be less irritating if you just say the thing and then weep about it for a few minutes.”

“I’m - I’m sorry, sir. I’m having… difficulty keeping my emotions in check, but I’ll do my best.”

Be nicer to Stone. “Why?”

Stone blinked. “What?”

“Why?” Ivo shrugged. “There’s nobody here but me. And given that I am personally the direct cause of your distress, I am granting you explicit permission to get all weepy about it.” He waved a hand dismissively, but his eyes were fixed on Stone.

But Stone furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand.”

“Really? I could’ve sworn I used small words.”

“I mean - why would you - you’ve always hated when I got emotional.”

“You know what that is?” Robotnik lifted a hand and splayed his fingers like a blooming flower. “Growth.”

That got a smile from Stone. A small one, but it seemed real, so he’d count that as a victory. And it got him out of explaining the real reason that seeing Stone in this borderline state hurt so much. He might have grown, but he wasn’t ready for that yet.

Sidestepping the issue, he said, “Fill me in on what else I’ve missed. Is La Última Pasión still on? Did Miguel take over the drug business or did Carmelita talk him out of it? Also, who’s the president now?”

The shift in topic worked nicely, and they spent some time discussing what Ivo’d missed in his long absence. Some of it was urgent (they recast Luisa??) and some of it was useless (a new pope, like he’d ever cared about the old one) but it was easy, safe conversation. Aside from a couple particular celebrity deaths, nothing emotionally shattering there.

In fact, Ivo managed to avoid making Stone visibly cry again for the rest of the day. The closest was when Stone made lunch and Ivo said something nice about it. It really wasn’t that big a deal but he still caught Stone turning away to hide his face.

Most of the day was spent in the basement, where Stone hauled aside a steel shelving unit to reveal the secret sub-basement (a few feet of walled off space). The space contained stacks of plastic crates and a small, suspiciously clean and unused workspace. Had Stone set this up for himself and never used it, or had it been some kind of tribute to Ivo? Either way, it was decently equipped, and depending on what exactly was in those crates he could probably get up to a lot of trouble.

The crates held three badniks, one heavily damaged and the other two with their power sources removed. There were also bits and pieces - screens, wires, hydraulics, the usual materials, mostly in rough shape, having been yanked from the hands of lesser minds. And it was clear that, despite Ivo’s misgivings, Stone had been right to take these things back. Someone had taken an old prototype prosthetic arm and duct-taped padding around it. One of the badniks had been painted camo green. The worst was definitely the jetpack prototype: gutted, and then outfitted with - eugh - consumer grade PC parts. He didn’t even want to finish the jetpack project, but that didn’t mean he was okay with seeing it desecrated.

Ivo picked at the painted badnik with a fingernail; a fleck of deep green came off. “Is everything in Peru in this kind of condition?”

“Not all of it. Depends on how long it was out there before I found it.”

Ivo sighed heavily, his lips drawn in a tight line. He was not going to berate Stone. His henchman had done his best in absence of instructions, and Ivo was better off with a handful of defaced tech than nothing. He was in control of himself. He would simply keep the disappointment and anger bottled up, like a healthy adult. It was certainly a change, but a necessary one. For Stone’s sake.

“Could be worse,” he said out loud. He didn’t add a “well done” or “good job,” because he wasn’t that much nicer. But he didn’t chew Stone out, either. His certificate of sainthood was probably already in the mail.

Chapter Text

Ivo’s sleep schedule rarely aligned with the traditional circadian rhythm. Yet it was barely past ten when he caught himself yawning.

“Stone, would it be cool if I crashed on your couch for a couple nights?” He couldn’t imagine it being a problem, but asking was probably polite.

Stone looked aghast. “No, of course not! I have a guest room!”

“Ooh, swanky.” See? Politeness paid off. Dusty guest room was almost certainly an upgrade from catalog couch.

“It’s upstairs. I guess you don’t have any luggage?”

“Yeah, that’s a Tomorrow problem. Lead the way.”

Ivo followed Stone up the stairs to a nice, bland second floor. Stone opened a door to reveal a nice, bland bedroom with simple furnishings and the general vibe of a corporate B&B.

“It’s all ready,” he said. “I don’t really need the space, so I just leave it made up in advance. The bathroom’s through there, and there’s clean towels and toiletries.”

“Thank you, Stone.”

“I think I moved all of your clothes to Peru. But I’ll see if I have something for you to sleep in.”

Ivo glanced down at his current outfit - the same red coat he’d died in, filthy and singed. Bits of it crumbled off. His poor gloves had been nearly melted to his hands and were long gone. “That would be lovely.”

Stone disappeared for a few minutes, then returned with a bundle of fabric. “I’ll get you something better tomorrow. I should have gone out today. I’m sorry, I just didn’t think about - “

“Stone.” Ivo took the clothes with both hands. “Thank you. I mean it.”

Stone swallowed hard. “My room’s across the hall,” he said, his voice wobbling. “If you need anything. Good night Doctor.” This last part was a little rushed, his voice rising rapidly in pitch as he swerved away.

“Good night, Stone,” Ivo replied before closing the door. The constantly-about-to-cry thing was going to have to be dealt with. Why had Stone become so… fragile? He gave the problem some thought as he got ready for bed. It was tempting to just flop right onto the mattress, but his coat was gross and he smelled awful. He forced himself into a quick shower, then pulled on the clothes Stone had provided. The gray sweatpants were a little tight, and the tee shirt kept riding up on his belly - he hadn’t lost all that weight from his convalescence. But they were soft and clean, and that was good enough.

Ivo’d never slept well in unfamiliar places. Yes, Stone was in the next room over, but that knowledge didn’t do much to temper the instinctive low-level wariness of lowering his guard. He was still awake when he heard the door creak open, but he stayed still. Slowly, he cracked one eye to see the door to his room slightly open and the shape of Stone in the gap. Checking on him? Making sure he hadn’t vanished? There was a term for this sort of thing. Insecure attachment? Psychology was never Ivo’s field of giving a shit. And Stone left after a few seconds, so, whatever.

It happened again some time later, then again. If Ivo’d actually managed to fall asleep between these incursions he would’ve been pissed. As it was, he allowed it. Stone could have his silly little coping mechanism. Ivo would simply lie here, desperately tired yet wide awake like all mentally sound individuals.

He had almost managed to drift off when it happened for a final time. This time, however, the door opened wider, and when it closed again Stone was inside. He stood there for a moment, his face impossible to make out in the dark. Then, slowly, he sat with his back against the wall, facing the bed. Ivo bit his lip to avoid laughing. Was he just going to sit there? That was so weird. Stone was so weird. But if it made him feel better, fine. Whatever. Stone could do whatever weird shit he wanted.

With Stone in the room, Ivo fell asleep almost instantly, but that was probably a coincidence.

Chapter Text

Stone was gone when Ivo woke up, but he could smell coffee and something cooking. Bleary-eyed, he stumbled down to the kitchen to find Stone in front of the stove, doing something to something. Context clues would suggest ”cooking” and “breakfast” but it was too early to be making such dangerous assumptions. He was already dressed in black slacks and a black button down shirt, but with a few key differences from his usual outfit. The sleeves were rolled up, he’d donned a pink apron, his tie was missing, and Sasha the cat was actively twining between his legs making the black slacks steadily less black.

Stone beamed at Ivo when he entered. “Good morning, Doctor!”

Ivo grunted (his usual morning greeting). He sat heavily in a chair at the table and glowered (his usual morning expression).

Stone rested his spatula on the edge of the pan. Stepping over Sasha with a practiced grace, Stone picked up a coffee cup and set it on the table. “Your timing is impeccable as always. Your latte, sir. And breakfast will be ready in just a couple minutes. Assuming you still like eggs.”

Ivo took a moment to inhale the earthy, warm scent of the latte. The pattern on the surface was just a heart, much simpler than some of the things he’d seen Stone produced but charming nonetheless. As pleasing as the visuals might have been, though, they were nothing compared to the taste. The latte was just on the verge of too hot, and Ivo sighed as the warmth flowed down his throat and spread through his chest. Rich, deep, creamy -

“Perfect,” he declared after his first sip. “Absolutely perfect.”

“Thank you, Doctor. It’s good to know I haven’t lost my touch.”

With his first taste of caffeine, Ivo’s brain whirred back to life. He was still tired, but he was always tired, so nothing new there. He watched Stone cook and steadily consumed his latte.

Stone appeared to be in a good mood. He was humming something, and occasionally bobbed his head or shimmied his shoulders to the unheard beat. It struck Ivo with an odd nostalgia for their days back at G.U.N., when he would occasionally catch a glimpse of his assistant enjoying Ivo’s music - when he didn’t sneak up on him, which was much more common. Ivo never fully understood how he managed to be so stealthy. Ivo’d tried, on occasion, but the agent always saw him coming a mile away. He wanted to try now, actually, was sorely tempted to sneak up behind Stone and lay his chin on his shoulder, snake an arm around his waist, and maybe Stone would lean into him, smiling, and maybe -

Ivo scowled at himself and tucked that thought away. One thing at a time. First, he had to figure out what he was going to do next. Then he could handle the… situation with Stone.

Unless that was backwards. He should deal with Stone first. Because Stone’s response might affect the rest of his life, if he was receptive or - no, of course he’d be receptive. He wasn’t worried about that. Of course not.

Ivo caught himself drumming his fingers against his coffee cup and took another sip to cover it up.

Stone slipped a porcelain plate onto the table in front of Ivo. It held a pile of scrambled eggs, two buttered pieces of toast, several strips of bacon, orange wedges, a couple strawberries, and a blueberry muffin. Ivo gawked as Stone set down his own plate and sat next to him.

“You do know the cereal commercials are lying about what constitutes a complete and balanced breakfast, don’t you?”

“Of course, Doctor.” Stone grinned as he gestured at the table. “You’ll notice there’s no orange juice.”

“Or an extraneous glass of milk! I’m a growing boy, Stone. I need my calcium.”

“Eggs have calcium. More importantly,” he added as he rose from his seat and went to the fridge, “they have vitamin D, which you have always been deficient in.” He returned and set a bottle of ketchup on the table in front of Ivo without comment, then sat down again.

Ivo was picky about eggs. Scrambled, especially. When he was a child, they were served too wet and completely unseasoned, cooked en masse and plopped onto the plate. He’d literally thrown up when the orphanage workers forced him to eat them. (That didn’t stop them. Not until the third time, when they also made the grave error of refusing to let him leave the table. (No one ate eggs for weeks after that.)) Stone made them correctly. Ivo squeezed out a bright red squiggle of ketchup over the yellow pile of eggs and dug in.

Despite his earlier comments, Ivo cleaned his plate plus some of Stone’s bacon and muffin. By the time he was finished he was pleasantly stuffed. He sat back, satisfied, while Stone picked up their plates and carried them to the sink.

“So, what’s the plan?” Stone asked as he cleaned up. “Shopping? Plotting? Trip to Peru?”

Ivo patted his stomach; the tee shirt had slipped again, exposing his round tummy. (He might not have been thrilled with all the weight he’d gained but he couldn’t deny there was a certain satisfaction in being stuffed so full it felt like it was stretching him taut.) “I’m going to take stock of what tech you’ve got here before we get into what’s in Peru. You have to go to work.”

Stone frowned. “Are you sure? I could stay home to assist - “

“No, no, you go right on ahead to your ‘civilian’ job. There’s no point in blowing a perfectly good cover until we have a reason for it.”

Stone looked ready to protest, but he deflated. “Yes, sir. I should be back by 6. Uh - make that 6:30 so I can stop by the store.”

“And I will be waiting right here.”

It took another few minutes to get Stone out the door, but eventually he was on his way and Ivo was left to his own devices. The first of which was to sit and digest the massive breakfast he’d eaten. He chose the boring ass living room sofa for this, which led nicely into his second activity: a nap.

When he woke up, Sasha was lying on his stomach, paws neatly tucked away under herself, staring at him with those big green eyes.

Ivo scowled. “Get off me.”

Sasha didn’t move.

“Shoo. Scoot. Git.”

Not even a blink.

Ivo sighed and let his head fall back. “Stupid cat. What good are you? There’s no way there are mice for you to catch here in Pleasantville.”

He could dislodge the cat, of course. It was tiny. He could just sit up and it would fall off and leave. But it didn’t feel right to treat this creature harshly when it was so important to Stone. Because Ivo actually did, in fact, care about Stone.

Damn.

“Listen here, furbag,” he said, “I’m not going to be charmed by your big ol’ eyes or delicate little steppy paws or hilarious antics, got it? You’re nothing to me. But Stone seems to like having you around, so I’ll let you stay. Don’t throw up in my shoes or I’ll have to reconsider. Clear?”

The cat slowly blinked.

“Good enough.” Ivo scratched Sasha behind the ear. He wasn’t going to feel foolish about talking to a cat. He talked to his robots plenty, and they didn’t even have audio inputs. “Thanks for keeping an eye on him,” he added, which maybe was a little foolish, but he had to say something to somebody and Stone himself wasn’t an option. “Sure seems like he needed it.”

The cat made a little noise, somewhere between a chirp and a purr.

“Your conversational skills need work,” Ivo muttered. He kept petting her anyway.

Ivo didn’t like being without a plan. He’d always had something going on. When one project was completed, he started the next; when one scheme came to fruition, he was already ankle deep in the next one. Those aimless months in the crab were some of his lowest, and he wasn’t going to let that happen again.

“Fixing the badniks is priority one,” he told Sasha, who wasn’t listening on account of being a cat. “Then, the rest of what’s in the basement. Once that’s all back in working order, it’s off to Peru for the remainder.” He wrinkled his nose. “Has Stone been flying commercial? Yikes. If the vault’s good enough to serve as a base at least it’ll be a one way trip.” He stopped and frowned. “Stone’s not going to want to leave you behind. What do I do about Stone?”

Sasha laid her head down on her paws and closed her eyes.

“Thanks, furball.”

In the past, he’d have thrown the cat out and burnt the house down. And likewise, in the past, Stone would’ve joined him without hesitation. But now, Stone had grown attached to this creature, and Ivo had grown attached to Stone.

He’d had that revelation on the Eclipse Cannon, but between stopping his evil grandpa and heroically sacrificing himself he hadn’t really had time to think it over. It had been so clear, so suddenly, and even now he was still reeling from the shock. He’d known Stone for years, seen him put his life on the line to protect Ivo, watched him put up with all the abuse, seen the way his face lit up when Ivo unveiled a new invention or said a kind word to him. It was hard to say how long he’d felt this way, but in retrospect, he probably should’ve figured it out at some point after Stone dragged his mutilated body from the wreckage and nursed him back to life.

Which meant that in addition to figuring out how to conquer the world with a box of scraps and coping with his minion’s new fragility, he had to deal with being in love.

Barf.

“What am I going to do about Stone?” Ivo groaned. This was a much trickier problem, all about feelings and human interaction and nonsense like that that he’d never cared about. “He saw the broadcast. So he heard me say… that stuff. About him. Why did I say all that!?”

Sasha chirped.

“Shut up, I know, I know. I don't need somebody who shits in a box telling me what to do. I need to talk to him. Right? I need to just… use my words to express… this.” He waved a hand through the air. “And if he doesn’t react well then I’ll just have to kill him.” He huffed. “That was a joke, Sasha. Get a sense of humor. Sheesh. Besides, I'm sure he’ll - hang on. He did see the broadcast, right? He must have. So why hasn’t he said something about it? What if he - Sasha, Sasha, what if he really doesn’t react well? Sasha, what do I do?”

Sasha stood up, stretched, and hopped off Ivo’s chest. She trotted away, tail up like a flag, as Ivo sat up, free of the inescapable burden of a comfy cat.

“Go take a nap in the microwave,” he grumbled as he stood up. Sasha had been extremely unhelpful. What a pointless thing to keep around. He stretched, himself, arms up over his head, and headed for the basement. His tech, his babies, he knew how those worked. He could fix them. He’d deal with this whole Stone situation later.

Chapter Text

Ivo spent the rest of the day fixing up his babies. His sweet, beautiful babies that could never reject him or develop some weird abandonment complex. He didn’t have the parts he needed for a proper charging station, or to power the two relatively intact badniks. The damaged drone was in very rough shape - Ivo would need to ask Stone what happened because it looked like someone had shot his baby with a missile - but enough of the core processing units were intact that he was sure he could save it.

True to his word, Stone returned at 6:28, carrying a set of shopping bags. Not that Ivo would have noticed or cared if he’d stayed out until 3am; he was busy planning out how to jury rig a charger with only parts from a standard hardware store.

Distantly, he could hear Stone’s voice. ”Doctor?” The edge of panic was muffled, but Ivo was sure it was there anyway. If he’d thought about it, he would’ve gone back upstairs to be obviously visible when Stone arrived, but, well, he had a project. Time was meaningless.

“I’m in the basement!” he shouted, looking over the drone to see if he was at a good stopping point. He wasn’t, of course, but Stone was about to interrupt anyway so he scooped the loose parts on the workbench into little plastic organizers and shut down the soldering iron.

Stone’s footsteps were clearly audible through the floor, and Ivo tried not to notice how rapid they were. The basement door swung open and Stone descended the stairs. “Ah! There you are. For a second, I thought - never mind.”

Ivo draped a drop cloth over the exposed drone. “I said I’d be here, didn’t I?”

“You did, Doctor. Of course. I apologize. I was… I bought clothes.” He lifted one of the bags. “They’re not perfect, but they’re the best I could do for now.”

Ivo glanced down at himself. Still wearing the sweatpants and tee shirt. Had he really let himself look like this for so long in the crab? What was wrong with him?

Don’t answer that.

“Anything’s an upgrade at this point,” he said, taking the bag and looking inside. Black, which was a decent start. He rubbed the material between his fingers and frowned - thin, and rougher than he liked. But it would do. “Thank you, Stone.”

Now why the hell was Stone looking at him all wide-eyed and flustered like he’d just been slapped? “Y-you’re welcome, Doctor.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll bring dinner down shortly.”

Ooh, that meant he could keep working on his baby. Ivo glanced at the workbench. Tempting as it was, he had to work on his… other project, too. “No need, agent. I’ll come upstairs.”

“Oh! Uh.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No, of course not! I just… didn’t expect it. You hate stopping to eat.”

Extremely true. “I’m trying something new,” he replied, which was also true. He didn’t feel the need to enlighten Stone as to what that “something” was.

While Stone cooked, Ivo took the bags upstairs to sort out his new clothes. Several black shirts, ranging from a tank top to a turtleneck, and both black and white dress shirts; black slacks, black jeans, black sweatpants; a pack of briefs and a pack of socks; two pairs of shoes, one dressy and one sporty; a black leather belt. Basic, but more than acceptable.

The pajama set stood out; made of light blue cotton, it bore a pattern of little cows jumping over dopey moons. He also noticed that Stone had included a pair of black leather driving gloves - obviously not a true replacement for his control gloves, but he did feel more secure wearing them.

The last item was the only one in its bag; Stone must have gone to this store particularly. Inside, the item was wrapped with tissue paper, and when Ivo unfurled it it was immediately obvious that this was much more than merely acceptable. The garment in question was a long coat, a rich bright red with black silk lining. Ivo inspected it closely. It was well made of a solid material, strong but light, and a clean silhouette broken at key points by polished brass buttons and adjustable straps. Inside it hid several pockets, and outside, too - there was even one inside his left sleeve.

In a rare moment of consideration for hygiene, he took a shower first. Then he put on a turtleneck and a pair of slacks. They fit him well, even over his extra weight. He pulled the coat on, too, and took a moment to examine himself in the mirror.

He’d given up on being attractive decades ago, but he could still look good, and he did. Damn good. Even the weight didn’t bother him. Hell, it kind of looked good too. Imposing. He’d always been tall, but he’d never been big.

Would Stone like big?

Ivo shook the doubt off and shot himself double finger guns in the mirror. Of course Stone would like it. He looked great. Confidence was key. And he was confident, and he looked great, and he felt great - well, no, actually, he was starving, but aside from that - and he’d go downstairs and Stone would fall at his feet at the mere sight of him.

That probably wouldn’t happen, but he liked the idea.

He spent a few seconds at the top of the stairs debating the best way to make an entrance. Stone’s house was laid out in such a way that the bottom of the stairs would be visible from the kitchen, and he wanted to, well, preen a little. Sue him. But worry not, he was immediately punished for his vanity.

“Well, hello beautiful. How’s my pretty princess tonight? Ah ah, not on the counter, sugarpie.”

The realization that Stone was talking to his cat, not Ivo, was slower than the jolt of adrenaline that surged through him. Ivo slouched against the wall, clutching his chest and trying to steady his breathing. Of course he was talking to the cat! He hadn’t seen Ivo yet, and even when he did, he wouldn’t call him… any of that. Like he’d want him to!

No, he did, he very much did. Damn. Damn damn damn. He’d been back less than forty-eight hours and the Stone problem was getting exponentially worse. Maybe he should put the sweatpants back on.

He didn’t, but he did give himself a couple minutes for his heart rate to settle and the flush to leave his face. With one hand on the railing and the other on the lapel of his new coat, he climbed down the stairs. “Stone,” he said halfway down, as casually as he could manage, “where did you get this coat?”

Stone was standing in front of the stove, holding a skillet and moving something onto a plate. “Do you like it?” He set the skillet down and turned around. “I actually - “

He froze, completely silent, when he caught sight of Ivo. His eyes went wide and his mouth, already open to speak, hung there. It could have been horror or shock. Or maybe it was a positive thing! Yes, people often covered their mouth and started to tear up because of how happy they were.

If he really put his mind to it, maybe Ivo could die again right now.

“Come on,” he said, picking at the fabric of his shirt, “it’s not that bad. Is it?”

Stone shook his head quickly. “No, Doctor, you look - you look magnificent, sir.”

Oh. Well. Okay then. “Thank you, Stone. You did a fine job picking out clothes for me.”

“You could make anything look good, sir.” Stone cleared his throat and turned back to the stove. “A-and your timing is perfect. Dinner’s ready.”

Ivo rubbed his palms together. “Excellent! I’m starving.”

He may not have an actual plan for Project Stone - or even a clear idea of what his final goal was - but this seemed like a good first step.

Chapter Text

The next few days passed calmly. Ivo got two of the badniks running and cobbled together an extremely primitive version of his control gloves. They weren’t capable of the fine orchestrations his real ones could manage, but they’d be able to tell the badniks who to shoot and that was the important part.

The only electronics store that might carry the right parts for a charger was an hour away, which meant that they had to wait for the weekend for Stone to have a free day. By the time they piled into Stone’s sensible sedan, Robotnik was twitchy and fidgeting from a mixture of excitement and unspent energy. He was already itching to get construction underway, and he didn’t even know if they had all the right parts for him. But he’d make it work. He was a genius, after all.

A genius who definitely thought about being recognizable on his own, and who had the idea to put on a mask and a hat independently of any hints from anybody else who might have just so happened to have those things on hand in the back of their stupid sensible sedan.

With his glorious moustache tucked neatly away and his bald head covered, he was relatively inconspicuous; all he had to do was act casual. He was so capable of that. The way he swept through the automatic doors and gazed upon the aisles of the store as if he were evaluating his newest territory was almost too casual, really. He breezed along, tossing things into the basket Stone carried, and only insulted his fellow shoppers internally.

Frankly, he was killing it.

He’d stopped to consider power supply units (none were strong enough individually, but perhaps he could combine them) when somebody called out.

“Jake?”

The name meant nothing to Robotnik, but Stone lifted his head. “Oh! Hey!”

Robotnik remained super casual, holding one of the PSUs to read the back and only watching whatever the hell was happening from the corner of his eye. Somebody was approaching - a woman, about Stone’s age, dressed casually in a tee shirt and jeans. She was pretty enough, if you were into that kind of thing, and she was walking towards Stone holding a basket of her own.

“Hey!” she said. “Fancy seeing you here!”

Stone’s reply was light. “Yeah! Hah. What are the odds?”

“I know, right? I need a new power supply.” She made a face, nose scrunched up. “At least, I’m hoping that’s the only thing I need. Otherwise I’m gonna go home to a very expensive paperweight as a long day of troubleshooting.”

“Oh, trust me, I’ve been there.”

“What are…” The woman glanced into Stone’s basket, laden with wires and connectors and stuff well beyond the average hobbyist. “…you, uh, building?”

“This?” Stone lifted his basket. “Secret project.”

They both laughed. Ugh.

“Well, I won’t pry,” the woman said. “I just gotta grab - excuse me, sir - “ She reached past Robotnik to pick one of the boxes off the shelf, examined it for a moment, then dropped it in her basket. “That should do it. I’m gonna go home and see if I can resurrect my computer. See you later!”

“Good luck!”

Robotnik waited until the woman disappeared around a corner to snap his head up. “What the hell was that?”

“That’s Jennifer. She’s one of my coworkers.”

“Uh-huh. And you’re Jake?”

“Um.” Stone had the decency to look sheepish. “Jacob Walters.”

“Walters?”

“I always struggle with surnames! And I couldn’t exactly use yours!”

Robotnik lifted an eyebrow. “But you considered it?”

Stone looked pointedly at the shelves. “I do wish I’d picked something that doesn’t end in an S.”

“Yes, I’m sure the Walterseses have grappled with possessives for generations. Walters.” He snorted. “And what’s your excuse for Jake?”

“What’s wrong with Jake?”

“It’s so… common. Who’s going to look at you and think, ‘Ah, yes, that looks like a Jake?’ Five years to pick an alias and you pick Jake.”

“I didn’t have five years! I had twenty minutes, and I needed to use most of that time for the actual forgery!” Stone said that a little too loudly and froze, but fortunately they were alone in the aisle. Lowering his voice, he added, “It was a rush job, okay?”

“Oh, well, okay then, Jake.” Robotnik rolled his eyes. He really needed to update his contingency plans. Leaving Stone alone had apparently only resulted in disaster. He swept four of the strongest PSUs into the basket and pushed past Stone. “Hurry up. Before we run into any more of your new friends.”

He expected a denial. That woman wasn’t his friend, she was just a coworker, she meant nothing, they’d never hung out or gone for drinks after work or been in the office Secret Santa together. But there wasn’t one. Just a resigned, “Yes, Doctor.”

Robotnik didn’t like it.

Robotnik kept not liking it, even once they’d gotten back to Stone’s house with their haul. He was able to forget it for a time, focusing instead on his project, but once he had both of his babies sleeping peacefully on their new chargers it came back to mind. Jennifer. Jennifer.

He wasn’t jealous. That sounds like denial, but it was true. He knew what it felt like to be jealous, and he had very little urge to fire a laser through Jennifer’s empty cranium. So why, exactly, was it that he couldn’t stop thinking about Jennifer?

Or maybe it was Jake.

Oh, no. That was a dangerous thought. Ivo tried to ignore it, but it kept pushing back into his mind. Jake Walters, who had a job with friendly coworkers. Jake Walters, who had a home and a pet cat and a sensible fucking sedan. Jake Walters, who volunteered at the library (which might have been the most baffling part; who used libraries anymore?).

Was Jake Walters happy?

Had Jake Walters been happy before Ivo showed up?

Because Stone sure didn’t seem happy now.

Ivo dug into the shell of the damaged Badnik and failed utterly at forgetting about Jake.

Chapter Text

He’d been eating and sleeping regularly, like a human, but that night he stayed up working. He still had the third badnik to fix up, and he had to see what he could salvage from the jet pack. And he still hadn’t completed an inventory of what he had on hand, and at some point he needed to either refurbish or disassemble the prosthetic arm, and there was so much to do that definitely justified him not going to bed where he’d stare at the ceiling for hours thinking about Jake. Yup.

It worked for one night, at least. Stone brought him dinner, and occasionally a latte. It was comfortingly familiar, almost nostalgic. The time went past unnoticed, and his only indication that the next morning had arrived was Stone asking if he’d like to have breakfast brought down or if he’d like to come up.

Reluctantly, he opted to go up.

Stone watched him with fussy eyes as he placed a plate of eggs in front of the doctor. “Did you sleep at all, sir?”

“Why do you ask questions you know the answers to?” Ivo seized the ketchup bottle and squeezed it way too hard, drowning his eggs. He immediately decided that he’d always liked them that way, actually, and started shoveling them down. Mmm. Ketchup.

Stone sat slowly at the next seat. “Doctor, is something wrong?”

“Nope.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

At that, Ivo paused. Right. The Stone thing. He let out a breath. “No, Stone. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Before Stone could start worrying his head off about that statement, the doorbell chimed.

Stone sat straight upright, peering down the hall towards his front door, and said, “Shit.”

Ivo frowned. “Stone? What’s - “

Stone was already out of his seat and heading for the door. Ivo followed, but he stayed back far enough to hide around a corner. He stuck his head out, though, because he had to see what was up.

Stone opened the door just a crack and filled it with his body, like all people with nothing to hide do. His head was angled down, so whoever it was, they were short. Ivo couldn’t really make out the other voice, but it was high. A kid? Was it Girl Scout cookie season? Ooh, did they still have Tagalongs?

“Sorry,” Stone said, “I’m, uh. I’m not feeling well. Not today. M-maybe next week? No, no, it’s fine, you don’t have to - “

The door opened wider, and now Ivo could understand the other party. “Don’t worry! I’d be happy to. Besides, I’m pretty sure I can’t get your germs - “

Oh, balls.

The little fox alien was here.

And he was sneaking between Stone’s legs.

“Can I at least say hi to Sasha? I think she’s starting to like me.”

“She’s not,” Stone said quickly, “and I really don’t want you to get scratched again - “

“No, it’s okay, I’ve been watching some videos - “

“Tails, stop - “

Too late.

The fox locked eyes with Ivo and froze.

“Y… you… you’re…”

Ivo opted to smile. “Hi.”

The fox yelped and turned around, only to crash into Stone - who, Ivo noted, had closed the door. “Stone, what - what is he doing here?”

“Funny,” Ivo said, stepping out into the open. “I had the same question.”

Stone sighed. “I - we - okay, everybody, relax. Calm down.”

“I’m calm,” Ivo said. “I’m super calm.”

The fox was hyperventilating.

Stone knelt in front of it. “Tails, buddy, breathe. It’s okay. Deep breaths.”

Ivo watched as his henchman comforted the alien invader. Buddy? Buddy?

The fox - Tails, right, god what a stupid name - followed Stone’s lead, his breath normalizing. “W-what - b-but - Stone?”

“It’s okay. Yes, the Doctor is back. But - “ He lifted his eyes, meeting Ivo’s over the alien’s head. Ivo shrugged and nodded. “He’s not going to hurt you,” Stone finished.

“But - but - “ Tails turned around, wide-eyed, staring at Ivo in horror. “He can’t - he wasn’t - “

“Maybe plan the whole sentence before you start,” Ivo said.

Tails swallowed hard. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

“Yeah. Funny ol’ world, huh?” He looked back at Stone. “So are you, like… friends?”

Stone sighed. “We were… supposed to go apple picking.”

“Cute.”

“You’re supposed to be dead!” The little fox had gotten his shit together and now glared at Ivo, fists balled up tight. (Adorable.) “What are you up to?”

“What? Can’t an evil supergenius mysteriously come back to life without some ulterior motive?”

“Not you!”

“Your suspicion is hurtful.”

“Tails,” said Stone, “he’s not up to anything. He’s only been back a few days.”

“A few days?” Tails turned again. In what sounded like genuine sorrow, he asked, “Stone, why didn’t you say something?”

Stone opened his mouth, then closed it again. “I… I’m sorry.”

Ivo inhaled sharply. This was real. Stone really was friends with this thing. Stone was friends with Tails. They went apple-picking.

Something clicked.

“I have to tell the others,” Tails said. He took a step towards the door, and Stone moved to block him. Tails took a deep breath. “Stone, don’t… don’t make me fight you. Please.”

Stone’s face twisted as he looked to Ivo.

Who cleared his throat and made a decision.

“Don’t worry, little guy,” he said. “I’m good now.”

Tails and Stone both looked at him and said, “What?”

“I’m good. I’m a good guy. I’m not going to be evil. No more world domination, no more hunting down you and your little friends.” He shrugged. “Just a guy.”

Stone frowned. “Doctor, are you serious?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” Ivo lied, “and you know what? I don’t think world domination’s really worth it anymore.”

Tails still glared at him. “Why should I believe you?”

“Uh, I did save the world, didn’t I?”

Tails’s fists relaxed. “Yeah… I’m still going to tell Sonic, though!”

“Go ahead. Spread the word. I’m all reformed or whatever. You can go apple-picking in the full confidence that I’m not building a death machine.”

“Uh…” Tails looked up at Stone. “I… don’t think I want to go apple-picking anymore.”

Stone nodded. “That’s fair.”

Tails kept his eyes on Ivo as he backed towards the door. He didn’t look away, even while he fumbled blindly for the handle, until he made it through the door and closed it. Then there was a fwoosh of rushing wind, and he was gone.

Stone looked at Ivo, both eyebrows arched. “Doctor, did you… mean that?”

Ivo took a deep breath. “I did,” he confirmed. “I’m going to be a good guy now.”

“But… why?”

Ivo shrugged. “Change of pace.” He sure as hell wasn’t about to tell Stone it was because he’d realized Stone had a whole normal life, and friends, and Ivo was going to ruin it.

“Oh… okay.” Stone looked unsure, which wasn’t surprising. It was kind of a dramatic move. But Ivo hadn’t gotten to where he was without being confident!

Besides, how hard could it be?

The first challenge to his goodness came barely an hour later.

Ivo’d gone back to the basement after breakfast. Just because he was good didn’t mean he couldn’t have his badniks! He’d just make sure they didn’t shoot anyone. Or, no one who didn’t deserve it. Like, actually deserve it.

Unfortunately he’d already gotten used to a real sleep schedule, so he wound up zonked out at his workbench, only to be awoken by a crash. Startled, he beckoned his two functional badniks to undock and follow him upstairs. He skidded around the corner to find the front door flattened and some familiar nuisances standing there. Sonic stood in the middle, all posed like he thought he was cool, with Tails slightly behind him, and Knuckles -

Knuckles had Stone pinned against the wall by his neck.

“Hey hey hey!” Ivo snapped his fingers and his badniks whirred to life, laser sights trained on Knuckles. “Hands off the sycophant, space rat.”

Knuckles glared at him; Stone wheezed something that might have been, “Doctor…”

“Back off, Eggman,” Sonic sneered. “I don’t know what you’re planning this time but we’re here to put a stop to it!”

“Uh, you’re the ones who broke in and assaulted my minion. This,” he flicked a finger and the badniks hummed menacingly, “is a defensive measure. Drop him. Drooop hiiim.”

“Defensive? Hah! I’m not that dumb!”

“Yeah, defensive. You’ll notice I haven’t shot you. Yet. Now put him down before I find out if this state does castle doctrine.”

Knuckles glanced over his shoulder at his companions.

“Let him go,” Tails said.

“Hmm.” Knuckles released Stone, who fell to his knees gasping for air. Ivo grabbed Stone by the shoulder and pulled him back, away from the insane space rodents. (Wait, was a fox a rodent? Eh, close enough.)

The badniks remained focused on Knuckles. “Stone, you good?”

“Yes, Doctor,” Stone wheezed. He coughed, then clumsily stood up. “I’m good.”

“Well?” Tails prompted.

Ivo snarled, but lowered his hand and pulled the badniks back. They stayed hovering behind him and Stone because he wasn’t an idiot, but their weapons powered down (because maybe he was).

“You’re not gonna fool me!” said Sonic, still doing his darndest to look menacing. Seriously, Ivo knew perfectly well how dangerous the hedgehog was, but he was still like three feet tall and bright blue. He looked stupid. “You’re just trying to get us to let our guard down!”

“I hope you plan on fixing that door.”

“What?” Sonic looked over his shoulder. For the first time, he seemed to realize the damage they’d done. “Uh - “

“And that hole in the drywall, too. Not to mention Stone. And what if the cat got out? Huh?”

Tails’s ears perked up. “I could get her!”

“Not if she’s pancaked under the door!”

“She - “ Tails went very quiet. They all looked at the door and stepped off it. Gingerly, Knuckles lifted it to peer underneath.

“I do not see any pancakes.”

“Phew.”

“My point stands,” Ivo said. “You’re being extremely rude right now.”

“Uh…” Sonic scratched the back of his head. “Are you sure you’re Robotnik?”

“Doctor Robotnik.”

“Right, right. Uh.” Sonic looked back at his friends. Tails shrugged; Knuckles crossed his arms and shook his head. “Okay. Well.” Suddenly, Sonic sprang back into an action pose. “You still won’t fool me!”

“Oh, don’t worry, my little blue nemesis. You make enough of a fool of yourself as it is.”

“Hey!”

Tails tapped Sonic on the shoulder. “Uh, Sonic? Maybe we should talk about this a little more.”

“Hmm. I’m keeping an eye on you, Eggman.” Sonic backed away, eyes fixed on Ivo. Tails waved over his shoulder. Knuckles went last, hefting the door up and carefully setting it back in its frame behind him.

And Ivo didn’t shoot any of them. Not even a little.

He did, however, turn and grab Stone’s face. “You alright?” he asked, examining him from different angles. “Knucklehead hurt you?”

“I’m fine, Doctor," Stone answered. His voice might have been a little hoarse, but he didn’t have any obvious injuries aside from some redness on the throat. “Just had the wind knocked out of me.”

“Stupid aliens.” He released Stone with a huff. “There wasn’t a pink one.”

“Yeah. She’ll probably be pretty pissed about that.”

Ivo slowly turned his head. Before he could ask Stone how the hell he knew that, though, the door creaked and fell inward again. They both stared at it.

“So does insurance cover that, or…”

Stone shook his head. “I’ll get the toolbox.”

Chapter Text

The rodents vermin didn’t come back that day, which gave Stone plenty of time to get the door back in place, roughly. (The badniks helped.) He didn’t keep any kind of drywall patch kit on hand, though, so that would have to wait.

The next day, Ivo shooed Stone off to work despite his protests. Sure, the aliens might come back while he was gone, but if Ivo was gonna be good now then someone was going to need to pay for all the stuff he wasn’t stealing. Plus, Ivo had some alterations to make to his badniks if they were going to be goodniks. Mainly shutting off certain, uh, automatic target detection functions. (For now.)

He was elbow deep in code when the basement stairs creaked. “Sasha,” he said without looking, “if you get a single cat hair on my delicate electronics I’m turning you into a fashionable purse and apologizing to Stone after.”

“Um, it’s not Sasha.”

Ivo whirled around, instinctively (and uselessly) spreading his arms to hide his babies. Neither of them were up and running, which was good, because he was pretty sure he’d get yelled at for vaporizing the little fox standing at the top of the stairs.

Tails waved. “Hi.”

Ivo groaned. “What do you want? Stone’s not here.”

“I know. He’s at work. I, um… I wanted to talk to you.”

Ivo narrowed his eyes. “Why.”

“Well, it’s… did this room get bigger?”

“Focus, Vulpix.”

“Right. Sorry. The thing is I wanted to talk to you about Mr. Stone.”

“Uh-huh. You’re, what, besties now?”

“Well, no, but…” Tails sat on the bottom step. “I have gotten to know him a little, and he’s a nice guy, really. I don’t know why he hangs out with you. No offense.”

Ivo shrugged. “It’s a fair question.”

“He really didn’t handle it well when you… disappeared.”

“Stone has already told me all about his crash out, so if you’re here to gossip I assure you I have it handled.”

“Did he tell you about San Francisco?”

Ivo paused. “He told me he found his cat there.”

“But he didn’t tell you why he was there?”

Something was stuck in Ivo’s throat, which was weird, because he wasn’t eating anything. “No. But I have a pretty good guess.”

Tails looked down at his own hands, fidgeting. “He… he was in rough shape. He actually called me, which was the first time he’d ever done that. He called me for help. I think he just didn’t have anyone else.”

“Seriously, is there a point to this, orrrr…”

Tails looked Ivo in the eyes. “He’s not going to make it if you disappear again.”

It wasn’t anything new, but hearing it said so plainly… “Pfft. What do you know?”

“I know he’s doing better now, but he still has really bad days. And I know he’s still collecting all your stuff, and I know he doesn’t want G.U.N. to know where he is, and I know he’s never stopped chasing every fake sighting or dumb internet hoax that might be you. And I know he’s just a tool to you, but he’s a real person, too. So, so don’t hurt him.”

Ivo took a moment to think. Then, slowly, he walked over to the stairs. At a gesture, Tails scooted over, and Ivo sat next to him. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Not if it’s an evil secret.”

“It’s not. It’s a really normal one, actually. Stone’s not just a tool to me. I… I actually care about him a great deal. That’s why I’m trying this whole ‘good’ thing. So he can keep his boring house and his stupid cat and his sensible sedan and his friendly coworker Jennifer and his boss Dave - “ Ivo twitched. “Actually, Dave might have to go. But aside from that.”

“Killing Stone’s boss isn’t good guy behavior.”

“I didn’t say I’d kill him. The point is, I have absolutely no intention of leaving. As long as Stone wants me here, and nobody banishes me to an alien planet or blows me up or whatever. Hint hint.”

Tails looked at Ivo closely. “Sonic might take a little convincing. But I think I believe you.”

“I don’t need you and your band of colorful numbskulls to believe me. I just need you to leave me alone. And on that note,” he added, standing up, “get out of my lab. I’m sure fox fur can make just as nice a purse as cat.”

Tails stood as well; even standing up on a step he could only glare up at Ivo from below waist level. “I’ll be keeping an eye on Stone.”

“Perfect. Wonderful. Shoo.”

Ivo considered following the fox upstairs to make sure he really did leave, but it wasn’t necessary. Do-gooders were so predictable. Tails was going to give up a perfectly good opportunity to poke around Stone’s place just because it would be “rude” or whatever. Dumb.

He shook his head and tried to forget that he’d promised to be just as dumb.

Ivo wasn’t going to decommission his babies entirely, of course. They were too precious to him. Besides, there were plenty of non-lethal uses for flying murder drones in the average domestic household. Loads. Tons.

They could, um.

Do… laundry?

Sure.

Both goodniks (it hurt every time he said it) received enhancements to their stealth protocols and instructions to patrol Stone’s small property without being seen. They’d trade off automatically so one could charge while the other kept watch. And instead of shooting if they spotted an intruder, they’d merely send an alert. His elegant killing machines, reduced to glorified security cameras - but that was fine. He was so fine with that.

Those routines took a couple hours to implement. By the time the first goodnik (ow) set off on its route it was late afternoon, and Stone was due home in a couple hours.

Ivo decided to make dinner.

He’d never cooked, but how hard could it be? Stone did it all the time. All he had to do was see what was in the fridge, sprinkle salt on it and apply heat. Easy.

The smoke hadn’t fully cleared by the time Stone arrived, but there were no active fires, so it was an improvement. “Doctor!?” he yelled from the front door.

“Everything’s great!” Ivo shouted back, jumping for the button on the stupid shrieking smoke alarm. “Don’t worry about it! It’s so cool back here!”

Based on the way Stone ran into the kitchen it was almost like he didn’t believe him for some reason. “Oh my god. What happened?”

“I - was - “ Ivo finally slapped the alarm, silencing it. “I made dinner,” he announced. “It was unsuccessful.”

“Oh. Okay.” Stone took in the carnage. Most of the smoke was coming from the frying pan in the sink, filled with a black mass that was once chicken. A little more leaked out from the edges of the oven door. Stone quietly flicked on the vent fan. “Why?”

Ivo did not want to answer truthfully. He wanted to tell Stone that he was testing his planned cooking drone, or expanding his own capabilities, or felt like setting something on fire. But he didn’t lie. “I thought it would be a nice thing to do.”

Stone grew very still. “I appreciate the thought,” he said. “It was very nice even if it didn’t work.”

“It would have been nicer if it did.”

“Still. Thank you, Doctor. I - is that lettuce?”

Ivo glanced at the leaf that stuck out from under a pot lid still on the stove. “You might want to just buy a new set of cookware.”

“I’ll look into it. How about for tonight we order take out?”

Ivo pouted. “After I slaved over a hot stove for you?”

Stone snorted, then slapped a hand over his mouth. When Ivo broke into a grin, though, he laughed.

“Any chance there’s a good Indian place in this town?”

“Pizza or Chinese.”

“Is it good Chinese?”

“Not really.”

“Chinese it is.”

Ivo helped with cleanup, or at least tried to. Stone seemed convinced that he’d only make it worse, which was completely unfair given that all he’d done was utterly obliterate the kitchen trying to make a simple meal. He was more used to a supervisory role anyway, so he did his part by pointing out bits Stone hadn’t gotten to yet.

When the food arrived, Stone answered the door and returned with a big sack of take out containers. He went to set them on the kitchen table, but hesitated. Presumably because the kitchen table was still splattered with what was hopefully ketchup.

Ivo had a plan for that, though. “Want to watch something while we eat?”

Stone blinked. “Like what?”

“There must be at least one decent movie I’ve missed. Or… whatever. You can pick.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. Is that really so hard to believe? Don’t answer that.”

Stone frowned at him for a moment, but lifted the bag and headed for the living room. “I can probably come up with something.”

They spent two hours together on the couch, eating mediocre Chinese food and watching some British comedy game show. It was something Ivo hadn’t done in… well, ever. Sure, he’d eaten junk food while watching TV, but he’d never done it next to someone else. Who was smiling and laughing and commenting on the moronic decisions of the contestants and messing with his cat.

Was this what being good was like?

It was kind of nice.

Yeah. He could do this.

Chapter Text

Life settled into something resembling a normal domestic routine. In the morning, Stone made breakfast and coffee, then went off to work. Ivo descended to his basement workspace to tinker about. The third badgoodnik, the green one, was being modified to complete domestic tasks. Ivo added a vacuum, a mop, and some softer grabbers. When that project got too sickening to work on, he messed with the jetpack instead. It was an extremely dangerous and stupid concept, but it involved fire and explosives and proper engineering and was therefore immensely more enjoyable than teaching his baby how to scrub toilets without breaking them.

Ivo wasn’t officially banned from cooking, but there were some very pointed stares that got the message across. Stone made dinner, and breakfast, and did all the cleaning and housework, and went to his job. When he thought about it as helping lighten Stone’s load, demoting one of his babies to a Roomba didn’t feel as bad. The day Stone came home to find the still-mostly-green goodnik successfully vacuuming the living room was genuinely one of the proudest days of Ivo’s life, if only because of Stone’s effusive praise.

Even the Stone Problem started to chill out. Apparently just being around Stone fulfilled a lot of whatever the heck Ivo felt, and eventually Stone stopped sneaking into Ivo’s room at night and panicking when he left the room.

Things were good.

For a couple weeks.

Every couple days, his sentries would alert him to a flash of blue circling the house. The rat was gone by the time Ivo got there. Clearly he was just scouting, which was irritating enough on its own, but all too often he found a footprint in Stone’s carefully kept herb garden or part of the fence knocked down. Seems like the little shit couldn’t even spy on them without causing damage. But booby traps or shoot-on-sight protocols weren’t “good,” so all he could do was sigh and try to revive the trampled rosemary or stick the fence back up.

They were just little things. It was always little things.

Like the day Stone came home in a sulky mood because his stupid idiot asshole boss Dave had blamed him for something that wasn’t his fault. Ivo could comfort, distract, reassure, but he couldn’t hack Dave’s files to find out who was actually at fault and then staple that information to Dave’s charred corpse.

Or when Tails got curious and poked his head into Ivo’s basement workshop, asking questions and touching things, and nearly fried a fairly complex microchip with static electricity, which would have bricked the entire project, and Ivo wasn’t allowed to bodily evict the runt.

Or when Sonic existed.

He tried to focus on the nice stuff. The pleasant domestic parts. Stone’s cooking, and lattes. Eating crappy takeout and watching movies. Sasha leaving a dead hedgehog at the foot of his bed. And when it got really bad, he thought about Jake Walters, who occasionally ran charity 5ks and had strong opinions about HOA enforcement actions and did eventually go apple picking with an alien fox thing. Stone liked being Jake. Ivo couldn’t take that away. Not when he’d taken away so much already.

And that line of thought was always a bummer.

The problem was, in the end, Ivo. It always was. He didn’t know how to handle all the minor annoyances and disappointments of an average life. If something annoyed him, he removed it. If it disappointed him, he rebuilt it. But he wasn’t allowed to remove or rebuild living people anymore, and those were the most annoying and disappointing things of all. (Well, that plus aliens. He refused to think of them as people.) For the first time in many, many years, he was trying to live with a modicum of consideration for his fellow man, and holy fuck was it hard.

But he was Doctor Ivo fucking Robotnik. He could do anything.

And yet again it was that god damn mother fucking son of a bitch shit eating alien douchebag who screwed it all up.

Ivo grew used to Tails’s visits. After the incident with the microchip the fox had the decency to stay out of the basement, which was where Ivo spent most of his time. As a result, he barely saw the thing when it came over for a tea party or whatever the hell it did with Stone. Something to do with fibercrafts, maybe? It involved yarn, and sitting in the living room chatting for, like, ever. And sometimes actual tea.

The mere fact that he’d almost accepted this alien’s presence in what was supposed to be a normal life should have been a red flag, but the truth was he couldn’t bring himself to get mad about it anymore. It happened, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it except sulk in the basement. Somewhere along the way something had gone quiet after being ignored long enough. Maybe that was how good people did it. They just killed off the part of themselves that cared.

But if there was one being on this planet that could stoke that fiery rage, it was Sonic the Fucking Hedgehog.

Ivo didn’t know why Sonic had come with Tails on this visit. The basement door creaked open and Sonic heralded his arrival with, “Hey, Eggman! What’s crackin’?”

Yay. Puns. “Working,” Ivo replied, tersely. Maybe a bit of good old fashioned passive aggression would take care of the problem.

But either Sonic didn’t notice or didn’t care. “Oh, yeah?” He vaulted down the stairs and appeared at Ivo’s side way too quickly, looking at the workbench. “Whatcha workin’ on?” he asked, picking up the nearest random part and inspecting it.

Ivo snatched it out of his hand. “A jetpack.” Actually, the jetpack had been near completion for a while now. He just kept messing with it because he didn’t know what he’d do when it was done. All his other ideas were Evil, apparently, and manufacturing weapons in Stone’s suburban basement was exactly the kind of behavior he was trying to avoid.

“Woah, cool.” Sonic hoisted himself up onto the edge of the workbench, which did not have enough empty space to hold him, and completely disregarded the clatter of tools being knocked aside. “Uh, is it supposed to be for you? Because it’s going to need to be really strong for that.”

Ivo grit his teeth. “It should be able to lift 350 kilograms, which is more than enough for most humans.”

“What’s a kilogram? Wait, ‘should?’ You haven’t tested it?”

“Not yet. It’s not ready.”

“Are you sure? It looks pretty done to me.”

Ivo would never understand this creature. Not just his alien physiology or ludicrous speed or insanely powerful electrical quill things. No, there was something in the alien’s mind that was utterly incomprehensible, because what kind of being on any planet would do something as buckwild as pushing the big red button on an unfinished jetpack for no goddamn reason?

This one.

The jetpack roared to life, right there on the workbench. Sonic vanished. Ivo barely managed to scramble backwards quickly enough to avoid having his own face burnt off by the exhaust. Shock gave way to instinct and he reached for it, aiming to shut it back down, but he wasn’t fast enough. The thing took off, doing one big circle of the basement before launching itself through the ceiling - and, by nature of how basements worked, the living room. Depending on the angle of trajectory it may or may not have taken out Ivo’s bedroom, too.

Ivo sat where he’d fallen, staring up at the gaping hole his invention had just blown through Stone’s house. The metaphor was not appreciated.

Sonic crept out from his hiding spot behind a crate. “Oops.”

Deep breaths. Steady. No strangling the little twerp. Or shooting at him. Or anything. Literally anything he could think of doing at this moment fell under that dreaded category of “evil,” so he just sat and stared.

The door slammed open. “Doctor!?”

“He’s fine!” Sonic yelled. “Everything’s fine! Nobody got hurt and really, isn’t that what’s important? I mean, things are just things am I right?”

Stone rushed to Ivo’s side while Tails stood at the foot of the stairs, surveying the damage. “Doctor, are you alright? What happened?”

Deep breaths. Deeper. Or maybe he should hold his breath. Maybe he should hold his breath until he passed out. Maybe that was the right way to cope with this. If violence was off the table, surely there was still something.

“There was a teensy tiny little accident,” Sonic said. Ivo wasn’t looking at him but he could hear the idiot’s sheepish pose and stupid fucking grin.

“Sonic,” said Tails, “what did you do?”

“Who, me? Nothing! I just, uh, I was helping with testing and hey! The jetpack works! That’s good news, right? Eggman?”

Ivo clenched his jaw so hard he thought his teeth might shatter. “Please,” he hissed, “leave.”

“Uh, Sonic, I think we’d better go.”

“Yeah. Um. Sorry about the… sorry. Bye!”

Just like that, the aliens were gone. Leaving Ivo and Stone in the wreckage of his workspace.

“Doctor,” Stone said as Ivo slowly got to his feet, “are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine.” It might have been more convincing if it wasn’t a snarl. “I’m just fine. The fucking - Sonic activated the jetpack. But it’s fine! It’s all fine! Like he said, nobody got hurt! It’s just a jetpack. It’s just a house. It doesn’t matter. None of it matters.”

All things considered, he thought he was doing a pretty damn good job of keeping his cool. Which made it all the more shocking to hear Stone sob.

Ivo whirled around. “Stone?”

Stone still knelt where he’d landed when rushing to Ivo’s side. “Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“You’re not fine. What happened? Did you get hit? If that little menace hurt you I’ll - “

“You’ll what? Kill him? Skin him? Disembowel him? Capture him and keep him in your lab, running painful and invasive tests until you’ve discovered all his secrets?”

If Ivo didn’t know better, he’d think Stone sounded hopeful.

“No,” he sighed. “I won’t. I won’t do anything.”

Stone looked at him with big, round eyes. Tears were already building up. As he watched, one escaped, running down Stone’s cheek until it disappeared into his beard.

Why?

Why? Why? Fucking why? What had he done wrong this time? He hadn’t gotten angry. He hadn’t sent his badniks after the vermin. He hadn’t even yelled at him. So why was Stone upset?

“Is it about the house?” Ivo crouched next to Stone and put a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll fix it. How hard can it be, right?”

“It’s not about the house.” Stone lowered his gaze. “It’s… you.”

Ivo’s heart sank. “Stone,” he said, “I’m - I’m trying. I really am. This isn’t easy for me, and I know I keep screwing up, but I’m trying.”

Stone looked up at him, brow furrowed. “What?”

“I - I don’t know what I’ve done wrong. But I’m trying to do better and - “

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Stone sniffled and smiled weakly. “How could you? You’re Doctor Robotnik.”

“Okay, well, something is amiss, because you are crying on the floor, and that’s not a thing people do when they’re happy. I know that much.”

“I’m not - it’s, it’s fine. I’m sorry.”

“Stone. Please.”

Stone sighed heavily. “You’re… different,” he admitted. “You don’t… act like yourself anymore. You should have attacked Sonic, and screamed at him, and chased him out of your lab with gunfire, and instead you did nothing.”

“I… I thought that was what I was supposed to do. Isn’t that what a normal person does?”

“Why would you want to be normal?”

Ivo froze. Stone was looking at him with those stupid beautiful eyes of his, confused and sad and miserable in every way Ivo had sworn to never make him feel again. “For you,” he said, too shaken to lie. “So I didn’t blow up this whole life you built without me.”

“What life? This?” Stone gestured vaguely. “A house in the suburbs and a desk job? You think I’m happy here?”

“You’re not?”

Stone opened his mouth, but hesitated. That was all Ivo needed.

“Tell me you’re not. Tell me you don’t care about any of it. But don’t lie to me.”

“I… I like this house. I like my job, and I get along with my coworkers. I even like hanging out with Tails. But I’m just… existing. I’m bored, and I’m lonely, and - and I never thought you’d come back, and I tried to be okay with it but the best I could do was try not to think about it. And then you showed up. And… and I love making you lattes, and cooking your eggs just right. I loved seeing you wear clothes I picked out. I loved taking you to the store and watching you turn a bunch of consumer grade junk into art. I loved knowing the badniks were around again. For five years, nothing has made me as happy as knowing you were here. All I ever wanted was to be with you. And if you wanted to give it all up and retire, I’d gladly follow you. But the idea that you’d hold yourself back for my sake horrifies me. I can’t be the thing that dulls your brilliance, Doctor. That’s… that’s worse than death.”

Ivo sat for a long moment, trying to absorb all this. “So… you want me to be evil?”

“I want you to be you. I want you to be the brilliant, irrepressible, bold, incredible Doctor Robotnik. And I don’t care if you’re evil or good or whatever. But please, don’t - don’t limit yourself. Don’t hide your glory. Not for me.”

“What if I told you I was done here? If I said I was going to Peru to get my stuff and starting again?”

“Doctor, I would burn this house to the ground for you. And everything in it.” There was a brief moment of something on Stone’s face, a twist of displeasure he tried to hide.

Ivo laughed. “Sasha can come too. She’ll love being evil. She’s a cat.”

Stone’s shoulders sagged. “I… thank you, Doctor. I know she’s just a cat but she’s… important to me.”

“She kept you from throwing yourself off a building. I think that earns her being spared from a fiery grave.”

Stone’s face fell. “How did you… did Tails - “

“I figured it out. I’m very smart.” He stood up, groaning as he stretched his back. This was probably one of those subjects that was best handled with care and grace, and he was short on those. But he had his own way of dealing with things, after all, and doing things the ‘right’ way turned out to be bullshit. “And it’s a damn good thing that cat showed up,” he added as he reached a hand out to Stone to help him up. “Because when you die, it better be in my service or by my hand, or I will be very upset. Consider that an order.”

“Yes, Doctor.” Stone looked at him with breathless wonder, and Ivo remembered what he was here for. What he wanted all along.

The Stone Problem.

“First thing’s first,” he said. He hooked an arm around Stone's waist to pull him in close and kissed him.

Stone actually squeaked in surprise, which made Ivo laugh against his lips. Not for long, though, because Stone grabbed Ivo’s face with both hands and kissed him back, long and hard and deep, melting into him. Ivo wasn’t a sentimental man, and definitely not a romantic one, but for a moment he felt like he understood everything a little more clearly.

“Now,” Ivo continued when he could bring himself to stop kissing Stone, “how long will it take you to pack everything you give a crap about in this dump?”

“I have a go bag,” Stone answered.

“Of course you do.” Ivo smirked. “Here’s the plan. We’re going to crash your fucking sensible sedan into the nearest motorcycle dealership and steal the biggest, fastest, sexiest death machine on the lot. A quick detour past Dave’s house, and then it’s off to Peru.”

Stone quirked an eyebrow. “You want to drive to Peru on a motorcycle?”

“Of course not, we’ll probably steal a plane well before we hit Mexico, but that’s not as cool and spontaneous. You have one of those carrier things for Sasha?”

“Yes. I have a harness, too. She hates it, but it might make it easier.”

“What color is it?”

“Purple.”

“That’ll do. Let’s say fifteen minutes. Go!”

Fourteen minutes later, Ivo leaned against the side of Stone’s sensible sedan. He wore a messenger bag loaded with the more useful parts and tools from the basement workshop. Two of the badniks hovered behind him, chirping merrily, while he tapped at the air, restoring full function to the green one. Stone ran out of the house wearing a backpack and carrying a duffle bag in one hand and a very disgruntled Sasha in the other.

“Right on time,” Ivo said, wiping the space clear and releasing greenie to go hang out with the others. “Last chance. Any memorabilia or sweet memories? Any final regrets?”

“Not a single one, Doctor.”

“Excellent.” He flicked his hand and a holographic button appeared midair, flashing red. “Would you care to do the honors?”

Stone grinned. He set down the duffle bag, grabbed Ivo’s gloved hand, and used it to press the button. For a moment, nothing appeared to happen. As they watched, though, lights started to flicker through the windows of the house. Stone kept hold of Ivo’s hand as they stood there, eyes sparkling in the firelight as it broke through the windows and licked up the sides of the house.

They stayed for several minutes until the distant sound of sirens caught their attention. Ivo hummed cheerfully and kissed Stone on the temple. “Time to go.”

Stone smiled. “Yes, Doctor.”

They piled into the car, Stone in the driver’s seat and Ivo holding Sasha in the passenger side. Ivo couldn’t help it; he started to laugh as they pulled away. Stone joined him, and the two left their laughter ringing behind them as they roared into the future.