Chapter Text
He’s dead again.
Sonic groans at the flashing game over screen, harmonizing with the 8-bit jingle that plays.
“Tough,” Tails says without looking. Amy giggles, then returns to her notebook.
“We’re good on decorations,” she continues from where she was interrupted. “Food is taken care of, invites… miss anything?”
Tails hums. “Secluded location.” Sonic nods absently, reloading his save. Amy’s old Playstation buzzes.
“Already taken care of,” she says. “Perfectly secure. It’s a cute little beachside town—I rented a rooftop for that night.”
Sonic flicks an ear at the image of wet, sandy cliffs, but redirects his attention to the stage on the screen. “What’s food?”
Amy flips a couple of pages in her hot pink notepad and tosses it to him from where she’s sitting cross-legged on her equally-pink couch. He squints at the hasty print in between throwing virtual punches.
Then he gives her a look. “For your birthday, Ames? This is sad.”
She pouts. “What’s wrong?”
“This is barely enough for the three of us.” He shrugs and climbs up to the sit on top of the couch, perched just to the left of Amy’s curls. “How many invites did you send out? I’ve seen Shadow alone put down 3 pizzas in one sitting.”
“I have,” comes a voice from the open door. The trio whirls around.
“Shadow!” Sonic practically falls off the couch, voice a little too bright. The game-over jingle plays. “What are you doing here?”
“Returning this.” Shadow hands him a neat brown package and nods to Amy and Tails behind Sonic. His eyes dart back. “I came to discuss something with you, but I see you’re busy.”
“It’s okay, shoot.”
His face twists. “It’s a… private matter. I’ll contact you later.”
“O…kay.” Sonic tucks the package into his quills, the weight already a dead giveaway. He taps the doorframe just as Shadow turns to leave. “Oh, yeah—you got an invite, right? Are you coming?“
“…To what?’”
“Amy’s birthday party. Duh.”
Shadow stares at him blankly. “No, thanks.”
“You know you’re always welcome, Shadow,” Amy chimes in from the couch.
Shadow just nods at her. “Goodbye.”
The front door clicks shut behind him, and Sonic makes sure to chain it this time.
He settles back on the couch and picks at a fluff on his glove. “He’ll be coming. That’s Shadow for ‘count me in.’”
The silence creeps in. A glance up, and… everyone is staring at him. “What?”
“Nothing,” Amy says quickly, wiping the weird look off her face. “Just…”
“There it is,” Tails mumbles.
Sonic frowns. “It’s fine if he’s coming right? I didn’t think you’d have a—“
“Do you…” Amy visibly stifles an awkward smile. “Regularly go out to eat with Shadow?”
Sonic blinks. “Bwhuh.”
“He does,” Tails says, like he just can’t hold it in any longer. The kid looks far too smug for his age. “He never shuts up about it.”
Sonic twitches an ear. “I do not.”
“That’s right, you don’t.”
Amy hesitates, then clicks her pen and crosses something out on her notepad. “So… six pizzas?”
Sonic grabs the controller again. “Good enough.”
o = o
Okay, here’s the thing:
Sonic absolutely does not regularly eat out Shadow. Eat out with Shadow. Go out to—ugh. The point is, he does not.
It was an occasional thing, started after particularly brutal sparring sessions or exhausting races (and Sonic being exhausted after a race is obviously rare. obviously), initiated by Sonic at first with a Chaos, I’m hungry. And one trip to the smallest, quietest pizza shop in the city later, Sonic discovered that despite not having to eat, Shadow occasionally does anyway. And when he does, it… doesn’t stop.
“Shads, when… was the last time you had a meal?” Sonic asked that first time, nervously watching the third tray of pepperoni deep-dish disappear just as quickly as the first two, increasingly concerned.
A beat passed as Shadow chewed thoughtfully, then he shrugged, balled up his paper straw wrapper, and promptly flicked it at Sonic’s glass. “At most, a month and a half. If that.”
He said it so—so casually. “A month and a—”
“I don’t need to eat,” Shadow cut him off. “Tube baby, remember?”
The nickname Sonic attempted once and got punched in the nose for. “Huh.”
Then Sonic eyed the empty boxes with a mixture of awe and disbelief while Shadow just sipped at his Chaos Cola, and then they parted ways and that was that. An odd experience, sure, eating lunch with your ex-rival. But not a bad memory.
The only problem was that it should have stayed as just one memory.
It didn’t.
Sonic fell into the bad habit of looking forward to the post-race lunch or early dinner, so much so that the second Shadow texts him a few days after his visit to Amy’s, he says where to after? at the other’s Run later on?
Shads >Your pick. I’ll pay.
me >aw u big softie i got it tho
Shads >Which one of us has the real job again, faker
me >shut up
me >hot dogs
Shads >Absolutely not.
In all good things, there must be moderation before it grows into codependency or addiction.
And if there’s one thing Sonic is embarrassingly terrible at, it’s moderation.
Still, this was useful information. If Shadow goes to Amy’s nineteenth, then obviously, Sonic must ensure that the tables are well-stocked. Even if Shadow doesn’t need to eat.
Well. Some small part of Sonic has this terrible fear that that’s a lie in itself. But moving on.
Sonic’s own nineteenth birthday a few years ago had been underwhelming. He actually spent most of it on patrol, scouring the countryside for stray badniks after a particularly nasty launch from their master.
It wasn’t until he got home at the piss-early hours of the morning that he ate anything at all, his fast broken with a mushy but heartwarming cake baked by Tails. it was so sugary it made his teeth hurt, but the thought mattered so much more to him anyway.
Recently, Amy being… well, Amy, decided that three months was enough downtime for their acquaintances since her last get-together and immediately began planning her nineteenth birthday party. And then called Sonic and Tails for assistance.
And, then. Well, here they are.
o = o
It’s a long, slightly physical argument later, but they eventually decide on some Greek joint a few blocks from the Team Dark apartment. The two leap over buildings, bright streaks of fur in the soft afternoon light, the race apparently not over (though Sonic definitely won).
Thankfully, there’s only a couple of people in the restaurant when they walk in, so the affair is quick and relatively painless. (Relatively, because how was Sonic meant to know that this was a human-owned business, and they wouldn’t take kindly to his request for extra mealworms? Shadow had just shuddered.)
Sonic bangs his heels against the crown molding of the building’s roof, watching the people filter through the streets four stories down. Shadow settles down beside him.
“It’s not terrible,” Sonic mumbles around his pita bread. Shadow huffs a laugh.
“You’re embarrassing,” he says.
“Yeah, look who’s hanging out with me.” Sonic brushes the crumbs from his hands and leans back on his elbows. “Surprised you would stick around after your humiliating defeat, earlier.”
Shadow flicks him. “The only thing I’m humiliated by is your apparent inability to consume anything besides chili and worms.”
“Didn’t choose the hedge life,” Sonic says, deepening his voice, “hedge life chose me.”
Shadow rolls his eyes, the equivalent of a laugh. Sonic grins back, letting himself look. Just a little bit. The sun is still high, glinting off the huge swathes of glass and making the buildings glow. The warm glare reflects into Shadow’s fur, settling into his edges. He looks soft, somehow.
Sonic looks away. “A-anyway, it’s not like you’ve eaten any of yours, either.”
Shadow nods rather than argue. “I haven’t been particularly hungry today. I’ve been preoccupied.”
“By?”
He holds out his hand to Sonic, who flushes for a second before his single braincell makes the connection. Digging around in his quills, Sonic pulls out the delivery from earlier and places it in Shadow’s hand.
Now unwrapped, the small gauntlet gleams in the light. In shape and size, it resembles one of Shadow’s inhibitors, but in color and model it looks more like an overgrown stone sculpture. Small blue pockets of glass shine hollowly through tiny crevices of green moss.
Shadow turns the gauntlet over in his hands, silent. Sonic waits.
Then Shadow hands it back to him just as quickly. “I’ve found the other one.”
“It’s a matching set?” Sonic nestles the gadget back in his quills, then the scent of adventure hits him and he leaps up. “When do we leave?”
Shadow sighs. “Not today, dumbass. In the meantime, do what I told you.” He gives Sonic a pointed look. Sonic folds an ear.
“Fine, fine.” He cracks his back and looks down into the streets. “I’ll go see what Tails can do. He’d better get started now, before it gets too late for him to stay up.”
Something softens in Shadow’s eyes at that, then passes quickly. Sonic figures he imagined it. “Tomorrow at noon. I’ll send you my location.”
“Sounds good.”
Shadow holds out his hand again and this time gestures for Sonic’s crumpled, forgotten pita and wrapper. Something in his heart goes inexplicably fuzzy. He hands Shadow his trash and he blips away without another word.
Nothing left to do. Sonic heads home.
o = o
Rich greens and browns smear together and blur into long expanses. Sonic rounds a sharp turn onto a packed dirt path, kicking up grass and ferns when he skids to a stop. Shadow looks up from where he leans against an ancient tree.
“Found you, faker,” Sonic says by way of greeting. Shadow blinks. “Which way?”
Shadow nods over his shoulder, quills swaying. “Follow me.”
Walking, frankly, is neither of their styles, but Shadow eyes the forest floor with a scrutiny that suggests that patience is key. Sonic laces his hands behind his quills, uncomfortably aware of the heavy weight of the gauntlet within them.
“We came up empty,” he says after a stretch of silence. “Tails ran tests and it didn’t react to any of them. Maybe it needs batteries.”
“It wouldn’t,” Shadow says, matter-of-factly. “And there’s a reason it didn’t respond to your tests. Its activation is much more archaic.”
“Thanks, I understood all of that.”
“Five minutes of silence. Surely you can manage that.”
It’s a lot longer than five minutes—think the better part of an hour—but Sonic does manage to hold his own pretty well in the quiet game after that. He breaks his peace with an eloquent “uhhhh?” when Shadow comes to an abrupt stop, shoes clunking over a poorly-disguised metal panel.
He kneels and easily pries open the plate (not impressive at all, seriously), revealing a dark pit of nothingness that the breeze whistles through.
“Inviting,” Sonic says, and hops down.
It’s bigger on the inside—a gaping downward slope into the void. Shadow pulls out his emerald and it casts a blue glow over the walls, revealing rusted metal fascias and cables overgrown with mushrooms. Water drips somewhere in the distance.
Sonic’s shoes echo against the grated floor. He doesn’t really want to see what’s through the holes. Shadow leads the way just ahead of him, emerald aloft.
Sonic cranes his neck, seeing glints of archaic tech scattered across the walls—black screens, mossy levers, half-rusted buttons. “It gives me the vibe like Eggman started producing his own indie horror games.”
“It should,” Shadow replies. “This is a structure built by a Robotnik. A research station.”
“Gerald?”
“Before him.”
Sonic whistles. “Really does run in the family.”
Shadow ignores that comment. “That gauntlet is an artifact of unknown origin,” he says instead, glancing back at Sonic. His eyes glint a soft brown in the light. “Gerald studied it for a time on the ARK. I came across the files and found this outpost.”
“So… you’re bringing me along spelunking… why?”
“To find the other one,” he says simply.
“How many are there?”
“Just two in existence. Their effects when united are still unknown.”
Sonic brushes his hand against an unfamiliar logo on the metal wall. “I thought you weren’t interested in continuing y—Gerald’s research.”
“I’m not.” He doesn’t miss the way Shadow’s ear twitches.
It dawns, and he grins slowly. “You brought me along on a GUN mission.”
“Shut up.”
“It’s alright,” Sonic says, knowing full well he won’t, “I get why you can’t tell me. My lips are sealed.”
He can almost feel the eyeroll. “By Chaos, I wish.”
They continue in silence for some time. “How did GUN know the other is here?”
Shadow sighs, louder than usual and obviously more condescending. “Supposedly, there’s—”
He stops. Sonic almost bumps into him.
“Don’t move,” Shadow whispers.
“Badniks?”
His ears swivel, detecting sounds inaudible to Sonic. “Something else.”
The walls rumble. Sonic’s instincts throw him to the side.
An enormous stone ring barrels past them. Taller than Sonic and nearly scraping the ceiling—the ground vibrates, metal grating groaning in protest.
“What the—“ Sonic yelps when it—it disassembles. Thousands of tiny metal limbs emerge. The skittering echoes like rainfall as it leaps for Sonic.
There’s a mechanical shriek as Shadow spindashes into the side of the ring. Stone crumbles away, metal clatters to the ground.
“Thanks,” Sonic says. Shadow turns sharply at the thunk behind them.
This time, Sonic easily slices through the next ring as it careens through the tunnel. But when he spindashes through it—
“Woah,” he breathes. Tugs at the gauntlet, now latched onto his wrist and glowing in a myriad of warbling blue lights. “Look at—“
The ring behind him shatters with a boom. Shadow drops to the ground and glares.
“What’d you do?”
The silence rings in Sonic’s ears. “Dunno.” He twists the gauntlet around his wrist and his gaze flicks to Shadow’s inhibitors. “At least we have more light, now.”
Shadow frowns at the gauntlet in obvious disapproval, but considers his words. “We should split up, then.”
“Uh, okay?” Sonic stuffs down the pang of disappointment he feels at that. Shadow pulls out the blue emerald again. “I’ll let you know if I find anything.”
He nods, and then Sonic’s alone.
“Dunno how I’ll tell you, but.”
Alone for a while. He kicks at the stones of the crumbled robots, but gets bored and moves on. The tunnels are empty and quiet from that point. Sonic gets sick of the sound of his own breathing. The whole while, the gauntlet on his wrist casts blue, watery shapes onto the metal walls.
It’s after several minutes or hours of painfully slow wandering—he’d prefer to run, but after smacking face-first into a wall he uses his brilliant reasoning skills to deduce that’s a bad idea—that he hears metal hit the ground behind him.
Shadow’s already reaching for his hand when Sonic asks, “What’d you find?”
His stomach flips, and the world around them flashes as they teleport.
They materialize in a small, round room. Thick rubber cables run up and down the walls, plugged into metal boxes on the ceiling and disappearing through the grates in the floor. Moss and grime coats everything, as well as a healthy serving of dust.
Shadow drops Sonic’s hand and instructs him to search the room. Sonic rummages through metal bins and the world’s oldest filing cabinet and comes up empty, until…
Bingo. He’s setting a box down on the floor when the plate echoes hollowly, and further inspection—er, dismantling—removes the entire section and reveals a hidden compartment.
“Yo,” Sonic says. “Found it.”
The matching gauntlet is significantly cleaner than the one stuck on Sonic’s wrist. Sonic sees the intent of the original design—intricate, tiny geometric carvings and slots of red glass gleam in the blue light.
Shadow grabs his wrist just as Sonic leans down to pick it up. “Don’t.”
“Huh?” Sonic squints and sure enough, beneath the gauntlet is a dark metal pressure plate, camouflaged among the dust. He taps his foot.
“This room is likely rigged with more sentries,” Shadow muses. “We’ll need to remove the gauntlet some other way.”
The “we” isn’t lost on Sonic, and he tries not to smile. “What’re you thinking?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
“Y’know, those sentries weren’t exactly hard to take out.” Sonic stretches to prove his point. “You and I can handle ‘em.”
“Those weren’t the ones with guns,” Shadow says bluntly. There’s a story there that Sonic fully intends to unravel later.
“Hmm.” Sonic swipes his nose. The gauntlet pulses in a ripple of blue light. Shadow pauses.
“Try removing yours.”
It doesn’t budge. Sonic tries digging his nails under the stone and just bruises himself. He holds out his arm helplessly. Shadow rolls his eyes, but reaches down to help.
The second Shadow’s fingers brush the gauntlet, the one in the floor bursts to life in a shimmering red blast, and the walls come alive.
At least a dozen gray rings slide from invisible sockets, unfolding and mobilizing into a mess of Funyun-danger-robots.
He and Shadow dive out of the blaster fire of the one closest to the red gauntlet. Sonic works on slicing the rings dropping from the ceiling into crumbling pieces while Shadow throws the largest one of the room into the wall. It explodes in a shower of metal.
Dust coats Sonic’s tongue. The entire room echoes with metal and rock. He punches a ring into what might’ve been a computer and it crackles into the abyss.
He shakes out his knuckles and turns to see Shadow, kicking debris out of his way. The room settles into silence, and their attention returns to the red glow in the floor.
“Safe?” Sonic asks.
Shadow kneels at the hidden compartment and sonic watches as he grasps at the gauntlet. It lifts off the plate with a shhk and a click, but then…
It slides right onto Shadow’s arm, settling just above one of his gold inhibitors.
“Huh.” Sonic looks around. Nothing explodes. “Well, now we match.”
Shadow frowns, fiddles with the gauntlet. Nothing. His eyes are slightly wide, but his face betrays no emotion besides that.
“I have what I need,” he says after a long moment. “Let’s go.”
“Gladly.” Sonic grabs Shadow’s gauntlet-ed hand for another chaos control, and just for a second, both gauntlets glow purple.
When they surface, the birds are quiet in the trees and the sky is violet. “Back to base?” Sonic says.
“Mhm.” Shadow replaces the plate concealing the tunnel and they both scrape moss back over it.
Sonic nudges him with his elbow. “Thanks for having me along, Shads.”
He gets no acknowledgement. “I’ll let you know how to remove yours once GUN inspects mine.”
Sonic smiles. That’s a thank you of Shadow’s own.
A dull ache pulses in his wrist. Shadow absently touches his gauntlet. Sonic shrugs.
“‘Kay, see ya around. Maybe at Amy’s?” Sonic winks, and speeds off.
The ache persists, radiating up his arm. Sonic rubs his knuckles. He must’ve been hit harder than he thought. Or he’s a worse puncher than he realized.
By the time he’s returned to his and Tails’ place, his entire arm feels heavy and raw and his temples pulse with a migraine. He can barely say goodnight to Tails before collapsing into bed, which makes his whole body wince.
Sleep, that’s it. That’ll fix it.
Spoiler alert: it does not.
He awakes barely a minute later to a sharp pounding at the door and the shards of electric agony shooting through his body. He strangles out a word and attempts to stand, only to wobble on jellified legs and hit the tile hard.
Sonic distantly registers a click of a doorknob. White bleeds behind his eyes. Everything burns, every breath hurts. His arm is on fire, and—
It’s gone.
There’s a hand on his shoulder, barely making contact. A red gauntlet glows around the wrist.
Sonic blinks, the pain having evaporated so fast he feels almost weightless. “Shadow?”
Shadow’s breathing heavily. “Problem.”