Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Part One

It was a moderately quiet day. Mighty hadn't expected anything crazy to happen when he had agreed to stay with the Freedom Fighters for a few weeks to help with errands while he and Ray were in the area.
That was until, of course, the radar began beeping.

That stupid radar.

"Hey, guys? I'm picking up mysterious Chaos Energy signals South of the Great Forest."
Mighty saw Sonic zip over to the desk where Tails' technology was set up.
"Does it say what it's from?"
"No, but it was going at a speed similar to yours a minute ago."
Sonic scoffed. "Don't make me laugh."

Mighty stood up from the cold steel floor, from which he was sitting cross-legged.
"You and your giant ego. Do you want us to go investigate?"
Sonic began to retort, but thankfully, the two-tailed genius cut him off before he could start retaliating.
"If it's not much of a hassle, I'd appreciate it. Whatever -- whoever -- it is, it's radiating a lot more energy than for it to just be a local going for a stroll."
The hedgehog and the armadillo both gave him a small nod and quickly went on their way.

"You see anything?"

Mighty shook his head, glancing around the tall trees of the deeper end of the Great Forest. They had gotten South relatively quickly, yet to no avail, as the possible cause of the energy signal was nowhere in sight.

Wait.
"Shh."
Mighty hushed Sonic quietly, trying to hear a soft noise that caught his attention.
Thunk. Thunk.
The two cautiously approached the direction of the noise, expecting it to be a Badnik repeatedly walking into a wall or something. But when peeking through the trees, they were met with something worse and much more annoying.

"Scourge?! What are you doing here?! You're meant to be in prison!" Sonic groaned, bursting through the trees and into the grassy clearing. He was clearly sick and tired of his nonstop antics. Mighty blinked in confusion. Did Sonic have a miscoloured doppelganger?
"Oh, great. Just my luck," Scourge muttered to himself.

Mighty watched them bicker back and forth, glancing from left to right as if watching a tennis match. There was suddenly a loud CRASH noise from the background that neither of the hedgehogs seemed to notice.
"Um, sorry to interrupt but--"
"Didn't we JUST take care of you?!"
"By throwing me into a cell with the shittiest enforcement ever? Pfft, don't make me laugh!"

He even says similar things to him, Mighty thought, yet somehow he makes them sound a hundred times snarkier. God, do either of them shut up? Why in the world are there TWO?? The GOOD one was bothersome enough, and we're childhood friends!

He sighed, finally getting a word in.
"You two! Stop it! Look, I have no idea who this Scor-"
"Scourge."
"Oh, yeah, whatever! Look, whatever problems you have can be sorted out later! We have a bigger situation!-"

That got the two to stop arguing for a moment and look over in the direction Mighty was pointing. There was a large, heavy-duty mechanical creature looming over the trees, but thankfully, it was slow.

"Of course, a Badnik turns up now! Just wonderful," Sonic groaned, zipping over to the weaponised machine. "Watch the criminal for me, wouldja Red?" He called out behind him, not actually giving him a decision.

"I- but--! ugh, fine..."

Mighty had quickly learnt that Scourge was... annoying. He must've picked up the fact that the armadillo was rather gentle for his big size and very, very patient.
...Usually.

So, as one does, he did the only logical thing in that situation and decided to annoy the living shit out of him, throwing petty insults and mockery at him until he snapped.

It started off as tame. Light teasing of the taller armadillo, nothing crazy. Just being as spoiled as he was always. But then it progressively got more personal.
“You got a girl? Actually, I dunno why I asked that. Obviously not, you’re a Freedom Fighter. All you do is flaunt about how you’re some kind of hero group and rub it in everyone’s faces like you’re better… I bet I could take you in a fight! You don’t even look like you could defend yourself against a child~”

Mighty let out a frustrated groan.
“You sure are full of yourself.”
“Me? Ha! You’re talkin' to the King, doll.”
“Do not call me that.”

The taunting got so obnoxious to the point it was genuinely annoying.
“You’re nothing but a loner tryna make himself feel better by working with these suck-ups, eh? How about we make a deal? Ya get me outta here and I’ll get you somethin’ in return?”

Mighty groaned, finally having had enough of his bullshit. He was NOT going to work with a criminal!

"Be quiet. I'd rather throw myself at a sword than work with a felon."
"Jeez, doll. You're playin' hard to get. I like it."
"Did I ask?"
"Easy there, tiger. I'm just curious what might be going on in that pretty head of yours. I bet you're thinkin' of all the benefits you could get workin' with a stud like me--"
Mid-sentence, Scourge was interrupted by a loud CRACK! and the feeling of his nose getting crushed by a punch.

Mighty looked fully unbothered as he continued to quietly gaze and hum at his surroundings as if nothing had happened.
Scourge, on the other hand, stood there stunned. After his initial shock began to fade, he felt blood seeping through the fur on his snout.
He brought his hands up to his face and grimaced in pain, letting out a rough groan.
“Fuck! Seriously?!”

Mighty had shut his eyes. He was a pacifist; he often avoided violence, yet somehow Scourge had pushed his buttons so much that the anger in his head, which he would desperately try to keep hidden at most times, was seeping through.
Scourge’s nose began to throb in pain.
“God, I didn’t think you had that in you,” he muttered, thick red blood spilling over his fingers and palms. He let out a low growl, yet surprisingly didn’t fight him like he usually would with any person. He had gotten punched in the face plenty of times, but this was different. He put so much force into it without even trying. Never had being decked in the face hurt this much!

“Sorry,” Mighty sighed, trying to regain his bearings. “Sometimes I snap.”
“Are you joking?! Ya broke my damn nose!”
He yelped, more of the crimson liquid fighting through his hands and gushing down his chin and to his throat. He could feel the bones in his nose bridge being shattered and a gnarly bruise forming on his face. It wasn’t enough to make him cry, but he’d be a damned liar if he said it didn’t hurt.

Who does this guy think he is?! Scourge thought as he winced in pain, and why do I want to know?

Sonic eventually returned, dusting himself off as the robot smoked in a puddle of oil and steel on the soft grass.
"Sorry about tha-- What happened?!"

Mighty shrugged awkwardly.
"Um.. sorry. I lost my temper."

Scourge was, for once in his life, silent.

"Wow, Scourge. You managed to actually get him to hit you. That's impressive."
Scourge was too busy pouting to respond.

Sonic cringed internally as he saw the intensity of the hit when he took his hands away... and also because he was about to drop something his armadillo friend did NOT need right now.

"He's... gonna have to stay with us."
"WHAT?!"

The cobalt hedgehog sighed.
"Sorry, dude, but we have to take him back to the base and wait for authorities to come get him."
"For how long...?"
"Usually it takes a couple of weeks or so? We're pretty far away from the cells," Sonic sighed with a shrug.
This was gonna be a long month.

"...Great. Guess you're all bite and no bark under all that, doll. Can't wait to get to know you," Scourge muttered.

"My name is Mighty. Don't wear it out."

Chapter Text

Part Two

Sonic sighed wearily, glancing around their woodsy surroundings.
"We'd better get back... and patch him up."
Mighty sighed.
"Alright, fine. I will."
"Ex-cuse me? Why does HE have to do it?!"
"Because ironically, Mighty's the gentle one. Plus, he's the only one who knows how to use a medical kit."

Scourge blinked before scoffing incredulously.
"You're joking."

Mighty shrugged with a little closed-mouth smile.

"Tough luck. C'mon."

It didn't take them long to get to the base, where they were greeted with... well, Knuckles.

"No. Not doing this. Get him out of here."
"Heeyy, big guy...--"
"Shut your mouth."

Mighty raised an eyebrow at the immediate recognition. Damn, he must've REALLY pissed these guys off.

"Easy Knux. Just--... uh... Come with me, I guess."

Scourge and Mighty walked down the hall, the moss-coloured hedgehog getting glares from every Freedom Fighter in the room. He wasn't bothered; in fact, he was totally smug about it. They got to a small room at the end of the hall.
"Wow. Yer rooms pretty... bare."
"That's because it isn't my room. I don't live here."

Scourge raised an eyebrow.
"Where do you live?"
"Nowhere. I'm a traveller with my little brother."
"...Right."

Mighty gestured lazily at the bed.
"Wait here. Don't steal anything."
"Yeah, as if. There's nothin' here I want to steal, anyway," he muttered.

Mighty walked off for a moment, leaving Scourge uselessly dangling his legs over the side of the bed.
He sat there for a while, until a pair of little, fluffy, oval yellow ears with tan scapha twitched from the doorway. It definitely wasn't Tails.

"M-Mighty? You in h-here?"
Scourge tilted his head in confusion.
"Uh... He'll be here in a second, kid."

The ears twitched again and swivelled towards him, before the face of a tiny round Flying Squirrel peeked around, his gaze darting all over the other's bloodied face.

"Oh, u-um, hello."
"Hey," he muttered gruffly.

Ray stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to think when faced with a very bloody stranger who looked like his other hedgehog friend.

“W-what’s your name?”
“...Depends, who’s askin’?”
“R-Ray. My n-name is Ray.”
“Right… I’m Scourge. King Scourge.”
“Whoa.. yo-you’re a king?”
“Yeah,” Scourge grinned smugly, “I am.”
His voice dropped to a low mutter, “or, um… was.”

Ray just stood there, still trying to figure out what to do in this situation.
“Cool.”
Scourge was equally confused. He wasn’t great with kids. At all. Let alone a very strange and… stutter-y one.

Ray broke the silence again.
“Why’re y-you c-c–... Covered in blood, S-Scourge?”
“Uh… yer friend punched me. He’s a brute.”
“Sonic?”
“No, the other one.”
“...Amy?”
“I- no. The red one.”
“Kn-Knuckles?”
“No!” He groaned. “Uh... Mighty! Yes, that one!”
“Oh!” He looked visibly surprised. “You musta r-really upset him!”

Scourge paused. “Upset? No, no. He just got annoyed.”
“Mighty d-doesn’t just h-hit people when he’s annoyed.”
“Well, he hit ME, so there. Don’t know him very well, do ya, history?”

Ray’s ears flattened back very slightly, uneasy at the snark in his voice.
“I kn-know him b-better than y-you ever w-will,” the little boy muttered, which got a smug laugh from Scourge.
“Yeah, yeah. Not like I wanna know the guy, anyway.”

Ray didn’t like him. He’s got a weird vibe, he groaned in his head. I don’t trust him. Why would Mighty hit an innocent person because he’s “annoying”?
The flying squirrel looked at the floor.
Will he do that to me if I’m annoying him too? Do I talk too much? This guy definitely does…
He tried shaking the thoughts out of his head.

“Cat got your tongue, history?”
“...W-why do you keep calling me t-that?”
“Because you have a habit of repeating yourself,” Scourge snarked, thinking he was the funniest person in the world. Ray tried to hide the fact that it made him a little self-conscious, anxious even.
“You’re p-pretty mean. I see w-why he hit you now,” Ray said quietly, getting an eye roll from Scourge, but also thankfully getting him quiet for a minute.

Mighty eventually returned with a first aid kit.
“Finally found the damn thing,” the armadillo grumbled, before lighting up when he saw Ray. It was subtle, but it increased Scourge’s curiosity about him.
“Oh, hey, little dude. You, er-- met our “guest”, I see.”
Ray nodded feebly, not being his usual talkative self after Scourge made that little jab at his impediment. Mighty, the protective older brother he is, picked up on it immediately.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked softly, crouching to his level. Ray made a gesture with his hands.
“Your friend is harsh.”
Mighty narrowed his eyes and signed back.
“He’s definitely not my friend. What did he say to you?”
Ray shrugged.
“Nothing major… I just don’t like his attitude.”

Mighty took a deep breath, not wanting to lash out at Scourge AGAIN.
“Alright…  You go find Tails, yeah? Hang out with him while I patch this thing up. He’s in his engineering room.”
Ray nodded again, shuffling awkwardly out of the room.

"Was that sign language?" The hedgehog asked curiously.
"Yeah, what about it?"
"...Nothing, nothing. It's cool."

“Have you ever told that kid to take a deep breath?” Scourge grinned, cocking his head sideways.
“Has anyone ever told you to shut the hell up?”
“...That was a good one, I’ll give you that.”

Mighty rolled his eyes a lot as he sorted everything out, extremely unamused at him poking fun at his brother. He looked at the damage on his nose.
“You mind if I put it back into place?”
“Whuh– YES I mind! Are you joking?! You can’t just shove it back, aren’tcha meant to be the medic?!”
“I am, and I’m telling you now. The bone needs to be realigned. We have an anesthetic that will numb the pain. Are you okay with me fixing you or not?” Mighty asked firmly.
Scourge had to admit, he respected the medical knowledge and no-nonsense attitude that came from the armadillo. It was weird. He usually didn’t get bossed around OR tended to by other people. He nodded slowly.
“..Okay, sure. Whatever.”

Mighty sighed in relief at his obedience, rummaging through the medkit and taking out certain items. He had obviously done this a few times before. From the kit now lay a sterile syringe, a small bottle of liquid, gauze, alcohol wipes, and a small splint.
“Hold still."

As he tended to his bloody fur, wiping it away with alcohol soaked material, his voice went firm.
"What'd you say to my brother?"
"...What? Brother?"
"Ray."
Scourge paused. "He's your brother?"
"Don't avoid the question. What. Did. You. Say."
"Uh... I was just curious," he lied, "he stammers a lot."
"That's a speech impediment."
"...Oh. Um, right," Scourge mumbled, unsure of what to think. Children? One of his least favourite things in the world. Was he about to insult the armadillo's brother again now that he knew he had a disability? Hell no. That'd get him destroyed.

Mighty huffed out of his nose. "Alright, whatever. If I find out you're being rude to him while we're here, I'll be the one going to prison instead of you."
"...Don't you mean with me?"
"No. They can't arrest dead people."
That shut Scourge up quickly. This guy was a PACIFIST?? Yeah, right! He'll have slaughtered me in a couple of hours!
As Mighty continued to wipe blood out of his matted fur, the hedgehog couldn't help but stare at him in a mix of bewilderment and something else he didn't even know the name of. Respect? Awe? He didn't dwell on it, yet.

"You're pretty tough for a guy that apparently doesn't like violence."
"I don't."
"Could've fooled me," Scourge muttered.

Mighty rolled his eyes.
"Just... Be nice, yeah?" He said in a soft murmur as he clicked off the cap of the syringe and inserted the needle into the anesthesia bottle labelled "Lidocaine".

"Don't cause more drama than you already have, especially not with my family."
"...No promises, doll."

Chapter Text

Part Three

It didn't take long for Mighty to realign and apply a splint to the broken bones in Scourge's face.

"All done. Broken noses usually heal in at the very least... three weeks?"
Scourge groaned, but didn't say anything aloud. I have to look like a dumbass who faceplanted into a pavement for three weeks?

Mighty was barely paying attention to the ivy hedgehog at this point. All he was doing was mocking everyone and whining, so what was the point? His eyes, big and warm brown, tore away from Scourge as he sat feebly next to him on the plush duvet.

But then, he couldn't help himself.
"..Sorry."
Scourge raised an eyebrow.
"For what?"
"For hitting you. I usually wouldn't have, but there's been a lot going on," he sighed, warily looking back at him with a sheepish grin. "Guess you were just someone who seemed easy to take it out on at the time."

That made Scourge think for a second... shockingly. He's apologising? Why? I'd be laughing if I were in his shoes!

"I also have some... anger issues, I guess you could say. I'm working on it, though, honestly."
"Uh... nah, it's..."
Scourge trailed off, unsure of how to word it.
"...It's okay."
It's okay? Okay?! He decked you, ya moron!--
Scourge huffed at the little pesky narration in his head, feeling like it was a tiny, annoying devil on his shoulder. Except there was no angel on the other side.
Mighty looked away again, leaning back against the wall. Scourge kept his icy gaze on him. Did Mighty have an ulterior motive? Nobody ever apologised when hitting him in the face, which happened a lot.

"You're a strange one, doll. I hate to admit it, but I think you don't hate me as much as you say you do."
"Oh, stop calling me that. And don't get ahead of yourself, I still dislike you."
That actually got Scourge to laugh. No, not the acidic laugh that sounded like cruel venom that he usually spat at people, but something softer. Genuine. Sweet, even. Mighty had to do a double-take.

"...Huh. So you do have a personality under your fake confidence."
"I-- fake?! Uh, no! I'm the most confident guy around!"
"That's what you convince everyone to think."

Mighty stood up, gathering the now-packed medical kit and walking towards the door, stopping when he approached it.

"I can read people, sugar," he grinned before he left briefly again, clearly throwing the dumb nicknames he had been called right back at him and getting a brilliant reaction out of it.
It would be an understatement to say it left Scourge dumbfounded for a hot minute. His strangely velvety accent that came from a distant continent, paired with the fact that he somehow saw through him like glass... not to mention he was the first guy to put him in his place and apologise for it after.
Who was this guy? Why did he intrigue the delinquent so much? And why would a guy with all this talent waste it on the Freedom Fighters? All these questions zipped through Scourge's head like traffic, and getting them under control was proving to be difficult.

Mighty had put the first aid kit back in the infirmary and disposed of the used syringe. Scourge was definitely his most peculiar patient by far.
He didn't return to the room immediately. He turned down the hall to find the other members of the rebellious Freedom Fighter movement in the main room, bickering amongst themselves. He blinked in confusion. Oh, yay. They're arguing. Again. 
His eyes drifted to the corner of the room where Tails was trying to deal with a very overstimulated Ray.
His older brother instincts kicked in without hesitation, and he quickly sifted through the sound of a group of teenagers who can never agree on anything.

"Hey, hey, what's going on? Ray, you alright, buddy?" He said, crouching to his level as his concern was evident. The flying squirrel didn't respond. Thankfully, Tails was a smart enough kid to figure it out.
"It's the fighting and the noise. They're trying to figure out what to do with Scourge..." Tails grimaced when he said the second part, as if saying his name left a sour taste on his tongue.
Mighty frowned. "He really messed something up, didn't he?"
"Yeah. A lot. Sonic wants to run him to the cells himself, Sally wants to wait, I'm pretty sure Knuckles wants to murder him... the others are just trying to come up with better ideas."

Mighty sighed in frustration. "Should've guessed." He glanced at the others, then back at Ray, curled up in a little stammering ball of fluff and nerves.
"Thank you for looking after him, buddy. I'll get him somewhere quieter."
Tails nodded. He had tried offering to take him elsewhere, but it was no use when it came to times like this, as Ray just became skittish and unresponsive.

Mighty had to physically pick him up and carry him out of the sensory overloading room. He gently carried him to a conference room down the hall, ignoring anyone who tried getting his attention on the way there. He carefully placed him on the floor in the corner of the room. Ray looked at him numbly but didn't say anything.

"Wait here for me," Mighty signed with his hands. He was one of two people who had learnt it was better to speak with actions when words became too much.
He left the room and gritted his jaw as he made his way back to the main room. Scourge saw him walk into the conference room with Ray through the ajar door, and couldn't help but let curiosity take over.

"For the love of Chaos, will you all please stop yelling at each other?!" Amy groaned loudly, cutting through some of the arguments that were mainly coming from Sonic, Sally, and Knuckles.

"What else are we meant to do?!" Sonic groaned.
"Wait for the authorities," Sally said, trying to keep her composure.
"Kill the dishonourable fool!"
"Knuckles, no."

Mighty watched Knuckles continue to rant about several ways they could sacrifice Scourge. Everyone started drowning him out at some point. Or maybe he just began talking to the wall, who knows. It wouldn't be the weirdest thing to happen that week.

"Sonic, you were so convinced that keeping him was a good idea before."
"I changed my mind! Why don't I just take him back now?"
"Because the old plan was less dangerous! We don't want him hurting you again!"
"Yeah, well, forget the old plan! I'm capable enough! Plus, I thought about it, and y'know, I actually don't want my evil alternate timeline self to be under the same roof as me for weeks! Besides, one of us will probably have to watch him 24/7. Do you expect any of us to stay in the same room as him with the fact that he'll probably strangle us while we're asleep?--"

"...I'm willing to."

Everyone paused and slowly turned around to look at Mighty as if he had just admitted to being a psychopath.

"...What."
"Yeah, why not? He doesn't seem as smug around me since I put him in his place back there." And also because he had said sorry after, which was even more intimidating to Scourge, apparently. He wasn't about to tell them he had, though.

Knuckles was still not paying attention. Sonic narrowed his eyes in utter disbelief. And Sally? Well:
"Alright. If you're really up for it."

Mighty nodded, knowing she would always be the one to agree since she was usually the most responsible one. The bickering had stopped. They all took a minute to think about it before Sonic let out a loud, melodramatic grumble.

"Hrnfffine. Fine. If you think you can handle him, be my guest, Red. But do NOT come wailing to me when he turns out to be unbearable."
Mighty gave him a crooked and gap-toothed grin. "Alright. Challenge accepted."

"You owe me 20 rings if you stuff this up."

The Freedom Fighters finally went quiet after what felt like a millennium, to which Mighty then made his way back to the conference room to check on Ray.
That's when he felt his jaw legitimately drop.

Scourge was sitting next to Ray, actually having a conversation with him. A pleasant one, at that. And Ray was actually responding to him comfortably? It was near impossible for anyone other than Mighty to snap him out of his panicked state, and even he had trouble with it at the best of times.

Guess Scourge isn't the only one with questions now.

Chapter Text

Part Four

The pacifist and the criminal managed to grow a little closer in the next couple of days. Emotionally and physically. Not by choice.

"Welp, he's your roommate. Figure out the sleeping arrangements yourself."

Sonic had grumbled, unhelpful as per usual, when it came to Scourge. Mighty expected it.
He wasn't aware that the base had little (well... zero) extra beds. And he had ASSUMED Scourge would never sleep on the floor.. which was a stupid assumption.

"You could've just let me sleep on the floor."

Well NOW you tell me, Mighty muttered in his mind, but the kind part of him yelled at him to let him stay where he was anyway.

"No, no. It's alright. You're, uh.. you're alright there."
"Okay, sure. Whatever. You're weird."

Mighty agreed. Was he really about to share a room and bed with a criminal? One he didn't even know? It's fine. He only felt bad. He would be there for tonight, that's all. Definitely.

He did not move to the floor.

The first night was tense and extremely inept. The air was thick with silence that might as well have been tangible.
They were back-to-back; Mighty facing the wall, Scourge facing the door. It took them a solid 20 minutes of awkward staring into the darkness until they eventually drifted to sleep.

Scourge fell asleep first. Mighty expected him to be loud and annoying in his sleep (like Sonic was), but he was surprisingly tame. It was dead silent for a bit, and just as Mighty began drifting off, Scourge mumbled in his sleep.

"I miss you."

Mighty froze.
He risked a glance over his shoulder, just enough to see the green hedgehog’s face softened, all the sharpness gone, arms curled around the pillow like he was clinging to someone that wasn't there. That… wasn’t what Mighty expected.

He looked almost mortal.

Mighty sighed and rolled back over, feeling something twist warm and uneasy in his chest.

By the third night, they’d found a weird balance.

Mighty radiated warmth like a furnace; Scourge slept cold, the kind of cold that seeped through the blanket and made Mighty feel bad enough to shift closer just to even it out.
Not that either of them mentioned it.
They would always wake up tangled in limbs, Scourge nuzzling into his chest since he was the moderately shorter one, despite being older. Neither of them talked about it after.

Ray was the wild card.

The little guy peeked into the room one morning, eyes wide, fidgeting with his hands like he’d stumbled into a crime scene.

"A-are you t-two feeling alright?"

Mighty nearly fell off the bed trying to untangle himself before it incriminated him even more.
Scourge, half-asleep and scowling, just grunted.

When Ray started poking in more, he hovered awkwardly by the door, unsure whether to treat Scourge like a visitor or a bomb.
But Scourge surprised him.

One afternoon, when Ray was stammering about being fine sleeping on the floor, Scourge just sighed, stood up, and draped his own jacket over the kid’s shoulders.

"Floor’s cold, kid. I’ve done worse," he muttered, and before Mighty could say anything, Scourge had swapped places—flopping onto the floor like it was no big deal. Ray beamed like he’d just been handed the Chaos Emeralds.
And Mighty just... stared. 
He's good with kids?
And that's the thing -- he wasn't.

Days bled together after that.
Scourge stopped glaring at breakfast.
Mighty stopped apologizing for existing.
And Ray… somehow found his way under the blankets with them on the sixth night.

It was cramped. It was weirdly nice. Scourge groaned about him stealing the blanket, but he didn't complain about him BEING there.

Ray yawned into Mighty’s shoulder, then blinked at Scourge and grinned.
"Y-you could end up being m-my brother-in-law if you st-stayed longer."

Mighty choked so hard he almost collapsed off the bed. Again.
Scourge blinked once. Twice. Then looked at Mighty like he was trying to imagine that—an armadillo with his name.

"...I’ve been called worse," he muttered, but the tips of his ears and his still-healing nose definitely turned red.

Mighty groaned into his pillow.
Ray giggled himself to sleep between them.
And for the first time in a long while, Scourge didn’t wake up cold and afraid.

Chapter Text

Part Five

It started like any other day.

Which was cruel, honestly.
You’d think bad news would have the decency to come with thunder or alarms — some kind of warning.
But no.

Mighty had made breakfast (burnt toast, as usual).
Ray was chattering about something he’d seen on the monitors — “there was a bird, Mighty, a bird that looked like it had arms!” — and Scourge was pretending not to listen, poking half-heartedly at his food with a fork that had seen better days.

It was so normal that Mighty almost forgot what Scourge was.
Almost.

Sonic knocked on the door. He didn’t even come all the way inside. Just leaned in, eyes flicking toward Scourge like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“Hey. Uh. The higher-ups called. They’re sending a transport next week.”

Scourge looked up slowly.
“…Transport?”

Sonic nodded. “Yeah. You’re being moved back to prison. They’ll take it from there.”

And then he was gone.

Just like that.

The silence that followed was so thick Ray actually whispered, “oh.”

Mighty didn’t know what to say.
He looked at Scourge — the shades were already back on, the posture already sharp again. Like armour slamming back into place.

Scourge shoved the chair back and stood up.
“Cool. Guess I’ll start packing my, uh, nonexistent belongings.”

The sarcasm didn’t land right. It sounded tired.
Mighty hated how it sounded.

The next few days blurred together.

Scourge stopped hanging around the others.
He skipped eating at least 3 times, claiming he “wasn’t hungry.”

Even Ray stopped trying to joke about “brother-in-law stuff,” because he thought his brother might've... taken it seriously for a second.

Mighty caught himself listening some nights, hoping for the soft muttering, the little snores, the sounds that meant Scourge was here.
But there was nothing.
Just silence.

When Scourge did come back to the room, he dropped his jacket on the floor and sat on the bed without a word.
Mighty wanted to say something — anything — but his throat locked up.

So they sat there, two outlines in the low light, pretending not to notice the space between them.

It wasn’t until the night before the transfer that Scourge finally broke the silence.

“You know,” he said quietly, “you’re… really bad at this whole ‘guarding a criminal’ thing.”

Mighty blinked. “…Yeah?”

Scourge huffed a laugh that wasn’t really a laugh.
“Yeah. You’re supposed to hate me, or at least not care. Instead you… I dunno. You made it feel like—”
He stopped. His voice caught on something invisible.

Mighty swallowed hard. “Like what?”

Scourge looked away.
“…Like I wasn’t entirely worthless.”

The words hit harder than they should’ve.
Mighty reached out before he could think better of it, resting a hand on Scourge’s arm.
Scourge didn’t pull away.

They stayed like that for a long time — quiet, still, the kind of silence that says everything words can’t.

Finally, Scourge spoke again, barely above a whisper.
“Do me a favour, yeah? Don’t… don’t look sad tomorrow.”

Mighty tried to smile. It shook a little at the edges.
“Can’t promise that.”

Scourge chuckled, soft and broken.
“Figures.”

When they finally laid down, neither of them pretended to sleep on opposite sides.
The space between them was gone.

Chapter Text

Part Six

The base hummed like a living thing — small noises, distant footsteps, the soft clank of people actually doing their jobs so Scourge would get a ride out tomorrow. Everyone was gone on errands or missions. Even Ray had been coaxed out by some overly enthusiastic volunteer who promised him a biscuit.

So the room felt huge and empty and very, very quiet. Mighty sat on the edge of the bed, hands folded, watching Scourge unthinkingly trace the seams of his jacket like it was some tiny ritual.
Scourge’s shades were off. He’d left them on the nightstand, and without them, his eyes looked older — and tired. He kept his jaw tight, like he was chewing on something he didn’t want to swallow.

“You okay?” Mighty asked, because that’s what he did. He asked. He wanted to ask more than he did; he wanted to ask everything and nothing at all. Scourge didn’t answer for a long time. He watched a shadow move across the ceiling from the faint light in the hallway, then sighed like he’d been holding the breath of a small planet.

“Wanna know something gross?” Scourge said finally, avoiding the previous question. His voice was careful, as if he were handing Mighty a fragile thing wrapped in razor wire.

Mighty blinked. “Gross?”

Scourge gave a humourless snort. “Yeah. You probably don’t want to hear it. Nobody does. But since it’s the night before they shove me on a bus—figured I’d be honest.”

Honesty, Scourge-style, always felt like a trapdoor before he’d fallen. But Mighty’s hands didn’t move. He was anchored to the mattress.

Scourge looked at him. Really looked. “Used to enjoy it. Used to like how people looked when they realized the joke on them was real. Used to think I was the only one who mattered. I—” he stopped, because the words tasted like iron in his mouth.

Mighty could see the memory on his face; the hardened little thing that sharpened whenever Scourge mentioned the past. The room pressed in like the beaten scars on the hedgehog's shoulders that were from a time where he didn't deserve them.

“I hurt people,” Scourge said, voice flat. “Took stupid bets that turned into worse things. Walked away clean. Didn’t think about it. Didn’t want to. I was—” he laughed then, a short, ugly sound. “—I was a piece of shit.”

The confession landed like a stone. Mighty felt his chest pulse in a new, unpleasant rhythm. He’d been braced for sarcasm, for deflection, for one of Scourge’s knives disguised as a joke. Not this — not that quiet, brutal catalogue of who someone once was.
For the first time, Mighty thought of the people Scourge could have been, of the small faces and nameless things that filled memory like unfinished sentences. The fact sat in his stomach, heavy and sharp.

He should have recoiled. He should have listed off reasons, a rehearsed lecture on responsibility. Instead — and this surprised him as much as it did Scourge — he moved closer.

“I don’t… know what to say,” he admitted. “I’m not asking you to be who you used to be. I’m just—here.”

Scourge’s eyes softened in a way that felt dangerous. “Yeah,” he muttered. “I know you are.”

There was a pause that stretched thin. Outside, someone laughed at nothing, the sound carrying like a reminder that their time was short.

Mighty’s hands found each other and started that nervous habit he’d never fully outgrown: he bit the inside of his lower lip. Hard. Not conscious, not deliberate. He bit until the taste of copper filled his mouth and his fingers went damp.

Scourge watched that — the bite, the blood. There was a brief, indecipherable thing behind his gaze and then he was in front of him, close enough that Mighty could smell the cigarette smoke that forever stuck to the leather he wore.

“You gonna be okay?” Scourge whispered, and the words were uncharacteristically small, worried even.

Mighty didn’t answer with words. Just looked him in the eyes with enough confused feelings to share with the world.

Then Scourge did something he never did in daylight: he leaned down and kissed him.

It caught Mighty off-guard at first — a soft scrape, tentative, like Scourge was testing whether Mighty would flinch. Mighty tasted metal and the faint afterburn of the pills Scourge kept tucked in his jacket. Blood warmed between them.

Mighty’s reaction was honest; he kissed back. He always bit his lip when he was nervous; it was an old habit, a ridiculous little reminder of how close his chest could come to breaking. Now the habit was one they could both taste, whether that was good or not was up to your interpretation.

They broke apart for breath and for the room to stop spinning. Scourge’s hands stayed on Mighty’s face, left thumb wiping at the smear of blood with the gentlest pressure. There was no semblance of bravado left in him; his voice was a low thing, almost a rasp.

“You sure you wanna keep doing this?” Scourge murmured. “Knowing what I am?”

Mighty laughed, and it came out small and a touch broken. He didn’t answer the logical way. He didn’t say he forgave Scourge or that the past didn’t matter. He said something simpler.

“I’m here,” he said. “I’m staying. Even if I don't entirely accept your past.”

Scourge’s mouth quirked, not quite a smile, but softer than any of the things he usually offered. He leaned in again, and this time their lips met like a promise that wasn’t brave because it pretended to be; it was brave because it was fragile and real and foolish.

They kissed until the light in the hallway dimmed and the room knew to be calm. When they finally stopped, both of them were breathing with little ragged noises. They looked dangerously content, paired with the blood around their maws.
They sat in the silence that remained, shoulder to shoulder, sharing space like it was the only honest currency they had left.

Tomorrow would be loud. Tomorrow would be people in uniforms and the hard edges of routine. But tonight — tonight had a softness that tasted like blood and something else. Something like mercy.

Scourge rested his forehead against Mighty’s temple, voice muffled. “Don’t look sad tomorrow,” he said, echoing the request he’d made before.

Mighty smiled against his hair. “I can’t promise anything,” he said, but he meant something else. He meant he’d try.

Chapter Text

Part Seven

The morning came too soon. Mighty had been up before the alarms, sitting on the edge of the bed, hands in his lap, eyes trained on the door. Ray had been banished to some last-minute errand by Amy so he didn't have to witness what was happening. Despite simply lingering in the background, she picked up on the fact that he had gotten attached.

Scourge moved slowly, quietly, like the world outside this room was something sharp and dangerous, and he was carefully stepping around it. His shades were back on. His jacket hung loosely over his arm.

“Take care of my jacket, yeah?” he said, voice low, almost casual. “No point in taking it somewhere I can’t hold onto it.”
Mighty’s fingers itched to reach out, but he stayed still. He nodded instead. “I will,” he said. Simple, heavy with more meaning than either of them wanted to voice. He took the blanket, holding it as if it were his only emotional support.

Scourge paused at the doorway, glanced back over his shoulder. Something flickered in his gaze — not vulnerability exactly, but the shadow of it, a tiny crack in the hard veneer.
"Tell Ray I said I'll miss him. And to not be like his older brother. I expect to cause chaos with him when I'm out. If I get out."
"...Alright."

The transport outside groaned like a metallic heartbeat. Scourge’s tail flicked nervously, and he exhaled, long and sharp.
“Don’t wait up on me too long,” he muttered, voice teasing but with that undercurrent that made Mighty want to grab him and never let go.
“You know I will,” Mighty said. His chest ached in a way he couldn’t put into words.
Scourge smirked faintly, only enough to make the edges of his face softer. “Figures.”

The door opened fully. Bright light spilled in. Scourge hesitated, as if he were pausing between worlds, then stepped toward it. Mighty stayed rooted. They met in the middle for one last, clumsy hug.
No words, just arms and bodies pressed together for a heartbeat too long. Mighty felt the rise and fall of Scourge’s chest, smelled the faint scent of winter jackets and smoke.

When they broke apart, Mighty leaned close, voice low enough that only Scourge could hear: “I’ll wait for you.” Scourge's chest tightened, and he swallowed before replying, voice barely above a whisper, trembling but steady in the way that mattered.
“…So will I, doll.”

Then he stepped out, jacket over his shoulders, shades in place, and disappeared into the waiting vehicle. Mighty stayed in the doorway long after it pulled away, eyes fixed on the empty path where Scourge had walked, heart full and hollow all at once. The jacket lay in his arms, heavy with the memory of him. Mighty touched it carefully, running his fingers over the fabric.

He put his hand into the pocket that was still warm from his hands, fishing out a worn dog tag on a chain that had purposefully been left in there and silently letting his hand curl around it, letting the quiet promise settle in his chest.

Doll. Maybe the nickname wasn't that bad after all.